Carnifex's Story Hour (Updated January 20th, "The Union")
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Carnifex
First Post
In celebration of finally completing Morrowind with my 34th level Orc battlemage, here's a new spell on the House Rules thread, elemental claw 
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&postid=696625#post696625
http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&postid=696625#post696625
Carnifex
First Post
Groans, shifting weight, bleeding wounds, and whispers of encouragement were all the sounds Cord expected to hear in the underground chamber. The voices of children, accompanied by releasing manacles, were not a part of that list.
He remained with Ebri as Wyshira rose to care for the children. He knew, much by experience, that they would not welcome an old blind dwarf. Perhaps later, but his sympathy would not help them from this dark prison. Wyshira, the embodiment of cool water and refreshing life, would prove far more effective.
He sat by Ebri's side, nursing her back to consciousness with the smooth, comforting sound of his deep voice. She had taken quite a battering, and Cord was reminded of how close he had come only moments before. He shivered, his hand hesitating, with the memory. Long ago, he had denied the reliance on weaponry, just as he had denied his handicap. To use the instruments given to him was his place. But to be so close, with so little between him and the enemy, between his bare skin and certain death . . . Cord began to understand why many men embraced themselves in layers of iron and hide.
* * *
The clean-up operation worked at a fairly efficient rate, considering that most of the band were either in a state of faint shock or injured. Wolf managed to persuade the children to venture out of their cell once he retrieved the key from the torched corpse of Garus; four, all under sixteen and thin with bad nutrition. He sat them down and tried to find out more from them as others around him ransakced the devastated slaver base. Melisande soon had the chapel torched, the pile of tapestries and pews crackling merrily with warm light.
Burl's magical spells and Kale's skills at searching gathered them up fairly soon a small pile of goods, the necromancer indicating which were magical. The slavers seemed to have gathered up a fair amoutn of money and goods; and a number of the crates contained strange, exotic goods, styled in a manner the band had never encountered before.
From Cancer's body they retrieved his wand, an elaborate ivory piece that glimmered magically under Burl's witch-sight spell. He had a potion on him too, unfortunately unmarked as to what it did, as well as a small pouch of money. From the body of the tattooed monk they found another potion, this time clearly marked as a potent curative, as well as the ornate but non-magical silver bracers he wore and his money pouch. But then Burl noticed the straps he wore over his hands emanated strong magic too, and these were added to the growing pile of gear acquired. The two dragonkin proved to yield objects as well, each carrying a curative potion. The hefty mace of one of them was of a strange and exotic make, inlaid with gold and lapis lazuil and ingraved with odd patterns - it radiated magic. An earring off one of them radiated magic as well, as did a normal ring from the other. Both had a fair amount of more mundane jewellry as well, gleaming rings and earrings and studs. Nothing of use was recovered from Garus's corpse except the slave pen key; a potion he had been carrying had shattered when he fell with the burning platform. The red gem that hung on a necklace around Kaelos's neck strongly radiated magic though. From the other slavers some money was recovered, as well as a pistol; the bowmans pulverised body was found to bear a number of magical arrows in its quiver, thin and slender yew arrows tipped with lapis lazuli. In a pile of mundane weapons in the corner they found too a weapon of an odd black steel, a longsword of fine balance and edge though it was not magical to Burl's sight.
Breaking open the locked chests revealed small heaps of gleaming coin; a mixture of gold and silver and copper. Meanwhile, the crates yielded up strange things; more of the lapis lazuli tipped arrows, oddly decorated pottery (engraved with hieroglyphics and images of scarabs and geometric patterns) and small amounts of precious stones, and a vial of some brown-black powder that radiated magic. Another crate held a quiver of javelins carved entirely out of crystal, that caught the light with their odd facets and multicoloured refractions.
Up in Cancer's study, Burl's ransacking revealed first a trap that Kale had failed to find; a tiny, poison-slicked dart on the desk that shot out to get tangled in the necromancer's roebs and miss his skin by a tiny measure of distance. Within lay two magical scrolls and two potions, as well as a vial of some noxious but non-magical substance; yet the wizard's spellbook was nowhere to be seen. Okay Spike, where did he hide his spellbook. I looked everywhere in the library. I even checked for false fronts in the books. A mage of his caliber has to have a book, but where could it be. This is frustrating. A small box of gems lay in another of the drawers.
The sesk was covered in papers and letters; he was about to have a good look at these doubtless important documents when distracted by a strange occurance in the main chamber.
Kale had just broken open another crate to find a large pot within, sealed with wax. Down its sides, lines of hieroglyphics interwove with odd scenes of scarabs and people and strange jackal-headed beings. He was about to take it out and set it doen, and then just leave it to move onto the next box, when it spoke.
"Um, this is going to sound very strange, I know, but you couldn't let me out, could you?" The voice reverberated from within the pot, deep and rich and slightly embarrassed.
He remained with Ebri as Wyshira rose to care for the children. He knew, much by experience, that they would not welcome an old blind dwarf. Perhaps later, but his sympathy would not help them from this dark prison. Wyshira, the embodiment of cool water and refreshing life, would prove far more effective.
He sat by Ebri's side, nursing her back to consciousness with the smooth, comforting sound of his deep voice. She had taken quite a battering, and Cord was reminded of how close he had come only moments before. He shivered, his hand hesitating, with the memory. Long ago, he had denied the reliance on weaponry, just as he had denied his handicap. To use the instruments given to him was his place. But to be so close, with so little between him and the enemy, between his bare skin and certain death . . . Cord began to understand why many men embraced themselves in layers of iron and hide.
* * *
The clean-up operation worked at a fairly efficient rate, considering that most of the band were either in a state of faint shock or injured. Wolf managed to persuade the children to venture out of their cell once he retrieved the key from the torched corpse of Garus; four, all under sixteen and thin with bad nutrition. He sat them down and tried to find out more from them as others around him ransakced the devastated slaver base. Melisande soon had the chapel torched, the pile of tapestries and pews crackling merrily with warm light.
Burl's magical spells and Kale's skills at searching gathered them up fairly soon a small pile of goods, the necromancer indicating which were magical. The slavers seemed to have gathered up a fair amoutn of money and goods; and a number of the crates contained strange, exotic goods, styled in a manner the band had never encountered before.
From Cancer's body they retrieved his wand, an elaborate ivory piece that glimmered magically under Burl's witch-sight spell. He had a potion on him too, unfortunately unmarked as to what it did, as well as a small pouch of money. From the body of the tattooed monk they found another potion, this time clearly marked as a potent curative, as well as the ornate but non-magical silver bracers he wore and his money pouch. But then Burl noticed the straps he wore over his hands emanated strong magic too, and these were added to the growing pile of gear acquired. The two dragonkin proved to yield objects as well, each carrying a curative potion. The hefty mace of one of them was of a strange and exotic make, inlaid with gold and lapis lazuil and ingraved with odd patterns - it radiated magic. An earring off one of them radiated magic as well, as did a normal ring from the other. Both had a fair amount of more mundane jewellry as well, gleaming rings and earrings and studs. Nothing of use was recovered from Garus's corpse except the slave pen key; a potion he had been carrying had shattered when he fell with the burning platform. The red gem that hung on a necklace around Kaelos's neck strongly radiated magic though. From the other slavers some money was recovered, as well as a pistol; the bowmans pulverised body was found to bear a number of magical arrows in its quiver, thin and slender yew arrows tipped with lapis lazuli. In a pile of mundane weapons in the corner they found too a weapon of an odd black steel, a longsword of fine balance and edge though it was not magical to Burl's sight.
Breaking open the locked chests revealed small heaps of gleaming coin; a mixture of gold and silver and copper. Meanwhile, the crates yielded up strange things; more of the lapis lazuli tipped arrows, oddly decorated pottery (engraved with hieroglyphics and images of scarabs and geometric patterns) and small amounts of precious stones, and a vial of some brown-black powder that radiated magic. Another crate held a quiver of javelins carved entirely out of crystal, that caught the light with their odd facets and multicoloured refractions.
Up in Cancer's study, Burl's ransacking revealed first a trap that Kale had failed to find; a tiny, poison-slicked dart on the desk that shot out to get tangled in the necromancer's roebs and miss his skin by a tiny measure of distance. Within lay two magical scrolls and two potions, as well as a vial of some noxious but non-magical substance; yet the wizard's spellbook was nowhere to be seen. Okay Spike, where did he hide his spellbook. I looked everywhere in the library. I even checked for false fronts in the books. A mage of his caliber has to have a book, but where could it be. This is frustrating. A small box of gems lay in another of the drawers.
The sesk was covered in papers and letters; he was about to have a good look at these doubtless important documents when distracted by a strange occurance in the main chamber.
Kale had just broken open another crate to find a large pot within, sealed with wax. Down its sides, lines of hieroglyphics interwove with odd scenes of scarabs and people and strange jackal-headed beings. He was about to take it out and set it doen, and then just leave it to move onto the next box, when it spoke.
"Um, this is going to sound very strange, I know, but you couldn't let me out, could you?" The voice reverberated from within the pot, deep and rich and slightly embarrassed.
Carnifex
First Post
"Well, mister... jar," Kale began tentatively as he carefully set the pot down."We're not leaving anyone behind here, but we're in no postition for any more... surprises." How ridiculous, talking to a pot "So I'll take you out of here and we'll see about getting you free once we're a little less... bloody." Kale wasn't searching for approval from the jar. He'd already made up his mind about what to do about the thing, and had enough bad dreams to battle without the addition of some 'releasing the trapped demon' nightmare to chafe his already quite sensitive hide.
After collecting a length of fabric for use like the water-porters he had seen in Drakkath villages, Kale checked in with as many of the team as were available. "We need to get out of here soon. Whoever doesn't have a stake in what just happened, soon will, once they figure some gold is in it for their efforts. These children only add to our need to get the hell out of here. Burl, see if you can collect papers and books that can help us learn what the hell the Gilameshltes are, and what they're up to. This could be a prime resource into the elder god, and we seem to hear ancient, forgotten names spoken an aweful lot recently.
"Ebri? Good gods, woman, I thought you were a goner. It's hardly ladylike to expose one's innards in such a way. Are you ok to move? Good, because this place is getting old, and it's never going to hit Immar's top ten vacation spots, in any case..." That odd woman. Not exactly a church-bound priestess.
"Melisande, a lot of these goods seem to be raw materials for magical creations -I wonder if you might be able to make odds an ends of what's here? Even if we can't figure out what it's for, if you remember what the things were, we may be able to have someone help us divine what these folks were making. I'm guessing they're not party favors..."
After a few minutes, rigging carrying equipment seemed Kale's last obstacle to finally getting himself and his crew out of the little hellhole. Judicious use of dead man's cloaks, ropes, and daggers, made for quick and effective improvized totes. The gear Kale fashioned was both strong and effective- of course, it wasn;t like this was the first time he'd made such things. Handn't found use for that skill as oft as I'd like, though..
Gear in tow, Kale prepared to move out. Four children for company, he was comfortable that Wyshira and Wolf had connected and gained the trust of the kids. Sebastion seemed plenty accommodating, as well- Kale only hoped that the stress of imprisonment did not cause them to do anything crazy on the way out. Crouching near the oldest of the four, Kale looked softly into the frightened girl's eyes. A mercy, their were still hints of defiance and life left hidden in the sockets. "We're getting you out of here, and you're never coming back. This place, gone. These people, gone forever. We're going to keep you safe... but I need your help." It was time the cildren be involved in their own rescue. Kale didn't experience much in the way of slavery, but he had seen broken spirits. Bruised people who'd believed the lie that no one cared. Breaking the will was key to control, but it was a feat seldom accomplished without isolation. Kale continued carefully, his tone light but still with the professional tone known to a bloodied swordsman. "What we do, we do by sticking together. One person watches the other, covers their back. It's important that we keep track of one another, and I can't do it by myself. But we? We are getting out of here, and we're going to make it just fine."
After collecting a length of fabric for use like the water-porters he had seen in Drakkath villages, Kale checked in with as many of the team as were available. "We need to get out of here soon. Whoever doesn't have a stake in what just happened, soon will, once they figure some gold is in it for their efforts. These children only add to our need to get the hell out of here. Burl, see if you can collect papers and books that can help us learn what the hell the Gilameshltes are, and what they're up to. This could be a prime resource into the elder god, and we seem to hear ancient, forgotten names spoken an aweful lot recently.
"Ebri? Good gods, woman, I thought you were a goner. It's hardly ladylike to expose one's innards in such a way. Are you ok to move? Good, because this place is getting old, and it's never going to hit Immar's top ten vacation spots, in any case..." That odd woman. Not exactly a church-bound priestess.
"Melisande, a lot of these goods seem to be raw materials for magical creations -I wonder if you might be able to make odds an ends of what's here? Even if we can't figure out what it's for, if you remember what the things were, we may be able to have someone help us divine what these folks were making. I'm guessing they're not party favors..."
After a few minutes, rigging carrying equipment seemed Kale's last obstacle to finally getting himself and his crew out of the little hellhole. Judicious use of dead man's cloaks, ropes, and daggers, made for quick and effective improvized totes. The gear Kale fashioned was both strong and effective- of course, it wasn;t like this was the first time he'd made such things. Handn't found use for that skill as oft as I'd like, though..
Gear in tow, Kale prepared to move out. Four children for company, he was comfortable that Wyshira and Wolf had connected and gained the trust of the kids. Sebastion seemed plenty accommodating, as well- Kale only hoped that the stress of imprisonment did not cause them to do anything crazy on the way out. Crouching near the oldest of the four, Kale looked softly into the frightened girl's eyes. A mercy, their were still hints of defiance and life left hidden in the sockets. "We're getting you out of here, and you're never coming back. This place, gone. These people, gone forever. We're going to keep you safe... but I need your help." It was time the cildren be involved in their own rescue. Kale didn't experience much in the way of slavery, but he had seen broken spirits. Bruised people who'd believed the lie that no one cared. Breaking the will was key to control, but it was a feat seldom accomplished without isolation. Kale continued carefully, his tone light but still with the professional tone known to a bloodied swordsman. "What we do, we do by sticking together. One person watches the other, covers their back. It's important that we keep track of one another, and I can't do it by myself. But we? We are getting out of here, and we're going to make it just fine."
Carnifex
First Post
The nature of the children soon became clear; they were homeless. Orphans and street urchins, part of the poor class of the city, stolen away by dark-cloaked men, clubbed to unconciousness then finding themselves awake in that small pen, and fed badly. Some of them had even heard of Cancer's slavers before, and horrified to find out where they had ended up.
Ebri felt energy well up from within her at her prayer, sealing wounds and stopping the flow of blood. The gouges weren't gone, and neither was the pain, but she could feel the close sense of the divine as the holy power healed her. At least she'd be able to walk on her own now.
Burl checked over the books and papers; he picked out the more interesting tomes, and the wizard's paperwork looked like it would be an interesting read, seemingly notes and letters. He'd been halfway through writing a letter when they'd assaulted the place, by the looks of it.
The pot spoke out more loudly now, so that the others could clearly hear, after Kale had spoken his piece. "With all respect, this is a heavy pot; there's a reason it was in a big crate, you know." Certainly it was quite a sizeable pot at four feet tall, and Kale found that it was even heavier than it looked as he strained to pick it up and move it. "I'm quite happy for you to take me elsewhere and free me in a more salubrious environment, but to be honest it'll weigh you down quite heavily. You could just free me now, it'd be much simpler. I'd be very grateful too - you see, I'm something of a seer, which is why I'm stuck in here at the moment. A bit like the Fuldarian Auxilliaries ended up stuck in that little ambush at Corvenne? You know, when you were just new to it all and they had you in the vanguard? When the orcs nearly routed you all except for a bit of luck and the arrival of reinforcements? You see, the orcs wanted you all as slaves, hence why they tried to trap you. In the same way, I am a seer, hence some rather unpleasant individuals sealed me up in here so they had, as it were, 'knowledge on tap'. I'm as much a slave as any of those poor sods over there in the manacles were; and I know you've been thinking thoughts about how it might be a good idea to just dump me somewhere without freeing me, master Amegrion, but you'll find me incredibly thankful if you do choose to have the mercy to let me free."
The children all stared at the hieroglyphic-enscribed clay pot. Wolf meanwhile, still limping around in pain from his injuries but active nonetheless, looked up from some more crates he'd uncovered from the debris of battle in the corner of the room.
"We're lucky Cancer didn't throw his fireball a little to the left. These crates are full of black powder, he'd have blown us all to pieces."
From out in the darkness, a snout poked out. Trin carefully picked his way into the room, a polished blade in each hand but in a relaxed stance, surveying the scene of destruction and giving the talking pot an alarmed and confused look. "These slavers, I've seen them getting these crates brought down here not long ago; all crates from a long way away, the southlands of you unfurred types, desert lands, so I heard."
Burl walked to the edge just as the pot began to speak again. “Well, what are we going to do with it? Whoever or whatever is in it is right. It is too big to haul back, especially in our condition. Not only the pot, but” sweeping his hand about the room “what about all of this? It’s got to be worth a small fortune. If we leave it unguarded, the denizens of this underworld will have scavenged it in a matter of hours. Who is carrying the rest of the items we found?
Again looking to the others, “I vote we open the pot. It is either that or leave it.” Gestering to Kale to come closer, Burl whispers, “Do you still have that pistol? I’m not an expert on that gunpowder, but if you would put the crates around the pot and stand back with your pistol ready. If what ever comes out is unfriendly, could you not fire into the crates and blow it to smitherines?
Ushering the children gently together gently, Sebastion turned back to the group as the talking pot continued its commentary and investigated the 'black-powder'. The smell was familiar, vaguely...
"Is this the stuff from the little stubby arrows in that pistol?" he asked, examining the crates, looking for an empty one.
Why would someone need this much? Maybe they're selling it... bring something in on the wagons to make a profit out of the other half of the journey that takes those poor kids away.... Somehow, he didn't think so... people seeking a profit on the inward leg of a dubious business would be unlikely to ship something that would catch that much attention. Something else to report to the authorities when they returned to the streets, but for now...
"Hey, talking-seer-pot... do you know if there's some rope and an empty crate around here somewhere?"
Jury rig a sling, he thought, and two of us can carry this stuff - and the pot - out and sort it somewhere safer...
"I thought if we made a sling of some sort we could carry the pot out without having to open it here... and take some more of the rest of the stuff too... I see how Burl's eyeing those books."
Kale frowned at the thing- he couldn't detect a smarta$$ tone in what it was saying, but it certainly knew that the team's back was up against a wall. And, it seemed, that wasn't the only thing the pot knew. The mercenary's eyes narrowed as the being recounted things of Kale's past. Surely Wolf knew these things, but likely no one else... not in their entirety. The seer was trying to explain itself or make itself useful, to Kale it was only becoming more and more dangerous. Human? Highly unlikely. It had been transported cross-country in a wax-sealed vessel- and his captors didn't see fit to just port the guy around in chains.
"Ah, so I was almost a slave, and you're a slave... and no one objects to freeing slaves." Kale began sarcastically. "Why, we have so much in common, what as fellow slaves and all." A touch of anger began to edge in his voice. "And these kids are slaves, too... no doubt we're both just as harmless." Kale stopped abruptly, listening to himself heat up, and talking about the marginalized children like third-person commodities.
Damn it! Just to hear my name and the Fuldarians in the same context! And that wasn't the only source of his frustration, looking at a tough situation that even with the team would be shorthanded for whatever was ahead. Kale took a deep breath and relaxed his hands.
Walking up alongside, Burl spoke the truth of their plight: only so many hands, and a lot of gear to move. Distancing himself from the situation, the mercenary continued soberly. "This stuff is too dangerous to just leave sitting around. We can't afford to tote along a huge jar, as well. As far as leaving the guy buried in some pit..." Kale pointedly said to the thing, knowing still that it didn't take a seer to consider it'd crossed his mind, "I didn't consider that for half as long as maybe I should have."
What are you talking about? Kale scolded himself inwardly. The thing may be indiscreet and capable of who-knows-what, but he hasn't acted against us... then again, he hasn't had a chance to act against us. The mercenary was starting to get paranoid, and he knew it. Most likely, the thing wanted to be free and get home. He may be industrious enough to slip away with some of the spoils, maybe even ambush the crew at the worst of times... but accommodations could and should be made. Defensively, Kale opted for the benefit of the doubt. Stopping for another long moment, he recentered himself around what he hoped was a wise perspective.
"Forgive me. This hasn't been an easy day, though even now I can't see any reason to keep you or anyone locked up." Kale felt the weight of the children's eyes on him. What would they think if he kept the thing cooped up? "But packed along with such lethal accessories as you are, you'll pardon my caution. We'll have to pack up a whole load of this stuff, and detroy whatever we can't carry. Now, if you can carry some cargo of your own, that would be quite helpful," and Kale was sure that he could find plenty of gunpowder tuns for the thing to carry. They'd compliment well the two javelins the mercenary was carrying. He couldn't know for a fact, but he was pretty sure what those javelin would do to a thing carrying a huge load of blasting powder... and to anyone unfortunate enough to be anywhere close.
"But first, I would like to proceed with introductions. It seems you already know me... While we load up, you can tell me who you are, as well as what you know about the scumbags who are a little too dead at the moment to speak for themselves." Kale listened as he gathered all he could. Producing cloak, salvaged garments, and climbing rope, he equipped as many of the crew with packing gear as he could.
Unbelievably, the bulky heavy-packing techniques of the block-footed Fuld-Aux actually came in handy. Exchanging few silver arrows for sheafs of the blue-tipped kind, he went on to cover and pack as much as he could. The jar hadn't told the whole story of those last days with the Aux, Kale pondered. How Wolf's independant intervention had coaxed to action the thick skulled Aux their reinforcements. Blundering sods they were, Wolf couln't stand to see them slaughtered by orcs. Or not slaughtered, but made slaves. No wonder Wolf intervened.
Later they suspected the ranger a spy for knowing so much about their elementary and exposed movements. It was all so ridiculous, and Kale and Wolf both were fortunate to have survived the idiocy. Nah, Wolf could've fought his way out, Kale gave the man credit. Of course, against the Fuldarians, it wasn't as heavy a compliment as one might first believe.
The being had completed his stories, and everyone seemed ready to go. Shoulders were burdened, and sprits were not at their peak. But the crew wasn't in the clear, and considering their vulnerable state, they'd all have to be extra-frosty. "Let's get ready to move. Feeling okay to move, Ebri?" Kale looked over the recovered woman with an appraising eye. What did she say? 'I can handle this one?' Well, we did survive as a team... and she's got some wicked moves. "Oh, and may I speak with the skull thing?" He finished, betting that in fact the one who could see into a person's past could not actually read minds. Searching for corroboration from the mimir, in any case, the jar surely could not know what the magical archive had inside his metal head...
"It seems I am out of excuses. Kale said at last to the jar. "Thanks for your patience... now, how do you do this? Kale inquired as he drew his flail. Bearing down in a quick chopping stroke, he brought the spiked ball down directly on the jar's stopper. Unsure whether he would be happier with the vessel destoyed, guaranteeing no one could use the thing again, or with the jar intact to somehow recapture its occupant if need be. Perhaps unsure in his mind what to decide, his arm did come down quite hard on the vessel. He couldn't resist tensing, unsure of what he may have unleashed.
Having helped pack up the equipment - without staking any claims - Sebastion eyed the crates of blackpowder warily whilst looking at the ceiling of the place, and imagining the buildings and lives above it. "We can't just destroy this place," he explained, pointing upwards, "bringing the roof in means bringing someone's floor in with it. Besides, the authorities will want to have a look around this place. If we can't carry everything out, then some of us will have to stay behind and guard it. I'll wait here..."
As Kale swung his flail at the bottle, Sebastion reached out his sword to stop it, feeling the blow run along he scabbard to rattle his hands.
"Which means we don't need to make any rash decisions now, without some more convincing, and more impartial, answers..." he added.
Mel's serene smile eventually faded as she watched all the others begin making arrangements for departure. The children were still huddled apprehensively and not one of them had touched Pierre. She'd thought it was a good idea at the time. Suddenly it occurred to her that she was so busy combating evil she'd forgotten to do much good. She'd flippantly ignored Ebri's absence only to discover that the friendly priestess had been upstairs bleeding to death; she'd also ignored the severity of the children's plight, leaving the hungry and frightened creatures with a hideous Manipulated toad --Same to you!-- to keep them busy. Feeling stupid she wandered down to see what she could do to actually help and got what felt like a metric ton of loot dumped on her by Kale, who was running about fixing things up and shouting orders and talking to a big jar. Good thing someone's organized, she thought, though she had her doubts about the jar.
Until it talked to him.
Then she approached it, squinting at the geometric patterns on its sides and wondering if someone like Sandslipper would better be able to identify it, hailing from the southern desert lands as well. Not that Mel was any expert in pottery; it just reminded her of typical Myrmecian designs you got on table mats in exotic restaurants.
She was itching to knock on the thing and ask it a few questions when Kale came at it with his flail. Hastily Mel made room for the weapon as it whizzed past--and then winced when Sebastion reached in with his sword to check the blow.
"Let him open it," Melisande protested, curiosity like hot coals under her feet, making her dance with anticipation. "What is it? What's in there? How does it know so much about you, Kale? How can it breathe? It's very magical, that much is sure."
When Sebastian stopped Kale from breaking the jar's stopper, Wyshira found herself on the side of recklessness rather than caution for a change. "We might as well open it now," she chimed in, moving closer for a better look.
"Are you all right in there?" she called out loudly, placing one hand on the intricately painted surface of the jar. Her eyes travelled up and down the heiroglyphs, searching for familiar symbols. "How long have you been in this thing anyway?"
"He is right," Cord agreed, nodding to Sebastion and stepping to his side. "On both counts. One does not tear up the floors to sweep out the dust, nor does one unchain a silver-tongued dragon. Let us leave this prison and allow those with more experience and knowledge to release whatever captive being lives within that jar."
The voice issued forth from the pot once more. "I wouldn't be too sure that leaving one or two people here would be a wise choice. Firstly, that fire that your blue-skinned ally lit in the room off the corridor might spread and smoke the place out anyway or just burn it, and besides which, the smell of that and the blood, and all the disturbance that was made eliminating those cultists, is going to draw attention here."
"Perhaps not from the city above, but consider that plenty of things live down here too. I wouldn't be too happy about the safety of anyone left here, if I were you."
"Besides, while I don't have the physical stature to help you carry much of your acquired belongings myself, I know the magic call for some friendly beings who would be quite capable of helping you move it all up in one go, without leaving anything - or anyone - behind."
At Wyshira's enquiries, it spoke again. "Oh, I'm alright in here; you see, at the moment all I am is a disembodied spirit of knowledge, my physical form little more than ethereal until I am released. Yet I can tell you that it really can get quite boring at times, after a few hundred years of being stuck in a pot. You see, the people who imprisoned me were struck down long ago, theri city devastated, but I - in my pot - was buried in the rubble of one of their temples. So there I remained for those long decades, until mere months ago I was excavated by a band of robbers who prowled the ancient site for valuables, and then shipped here."
The talking pot, much like the mimir, prattled on helpfully while Mel, mesmerized, drew closer until she could put her hand on the lid.
"You seem to know a lot about us," she said, wondering how it knew she was blue and then wondering how it knew so much about Kale's background but didn't seem to have been able to come up with more than 'blue ally' for her. Then again, Kale had been Cancer's first target, thus perhaps a subject the evil mage had discussed with his slave-in-a-jar. It was all very strange.
She tried to remember where she'd left off. "But you still haven't told us what sort of creature you are, and you'll forgive us but after all we've been through and seen in here we can't be too careful. If you've been living in ethereal form in a jar for hundreds of years you're clearly not something we're familiar with.
"Now I really, really want to open this jar, but I don't think my friend is going to let me until we have some concrete assurance from you that that is not a stupid thing to do."
Only after the fact did she realize she was being tricky. She gave Sebastion a conspiratorial look, to make it seem like she'd planned it that way.
Ebri felt energy well up from within her at her prayer, sealing wounds and stopping the flow of blood. The gouges weren't gone, and neither was the pain, but she could feel the close sense of the divine as the holy power healed her. At least she'd be able to walk on her own now.
Burl checked over the books and papers; he picked out the more interesting tomes, and the wizard's paperwork looked like it would be an interesting read, seemingly notes and letters. He'd been halfway through writing a letter when they'd assaulted the place, by the looks of it.
The pot spoke out more loudly now, so that the others could clearly hear, after Kale had spoken his piece. "With all respect, this is a heavy pot; there's a reason it was in a big crate, you know." Certainly it was quite a sizeable pot at four feet tall, and Kale found that it was even heavier than it looked as he strained to pick it up and move it. "I'm quite happy for you to take me elsewhere and free me in a more salubrious environment, but to be honest it'll weigh you down quite heavily. You could just free me now, it'd be much simpler. I'd be very grateful too - you see, I'm something of a seer, which is why I'm stuck in here at the moment. A bit like the Fuldarian Auxilliaries ended up stuck in that little ambush at Corvenne? You know, when you were just new to it all and they had you in the vanguard? When the orcs nearly routed you all except for a bit of luck and the arrival of reinforcements? You see, the orcs wanted you all as slaves, hence why they tried to trap you. In the same way, I am a seer, hence some rather unpleasant individuals sealed me up in here so they had, as it were, 'knowledge on tap'. I'm as much a slave as any of those poor sods over there in the manacles were; and I know you've been thinking thoughts about how it might be a good idea to just dump me somewhere without freeing me, master Amegrion, but you'll find me incredibly thankful if you do choose to have the mercy to let me free."
The children all stared at the hieroglyphic-enscribed clay pot. Wolf meanwhile, still limping around in pain from his injuries but active nonetheless, looked up from some more crates he'd uncovered from the debris of battle in the corner of the room.
"We're lucky Cancer didn't throw his fireball a little to the left. These crates are full of black powder, he'd have blown us all to pieces."
From out in the darkness, a snout poked out. Trin carefully picked his way into the room, a polished blade in each hand but in a relaxed stance, surveying the scene of destruction and giving the talking pot an alarmed and confused look. "These slavers, I've seen them getting these crates brought down here not long ago; all crates from a long way away, the southlands of you unfurred types, desert lands, so I heard."
Burl walked to the edge just as the pot began to speak again. “Well, what are we going to do with it? Whoever or whatever is in it is right. It is too big to haul back, especially in our condition. Not only the pot, but” sweeping his hand about the room “what about all of this? It’s got to be worth a small fortune. If we leave it unguarded, the denizens of this underworld will have scavenged it in a matter of hours. Who is carrying the rest of the items we found?
Again looking to the others, “I vote we open the pot. It is either that or leave it.” Gestering to Kale to come closer, Burl whispers, “Do you still have that pistol? I’m not an expert on that gunpowder, but if you would put the crates around the pot and stand back with your pistol ready. If what ever comes out is unfriendly, could you not fire into the crates and blow it to smitherines?
Ushering the children gently together gently, Sebastion turned back to the group as the talking pot continued its commentary and investigated the 'black-powder'. The smell was familiar, vaguely...
"Is this the stuff from the little stubby arrows in that pistol?" he asked, examining the crates, looking for an empty one.
Why would someone need this much? Maybe they're selling it... bring something in on the wagons to make a profit out of the other half of the journey that takes those poor kids away.... Somehow, he didn't think so... people seeking a profit on the inward leg of a dubious business would be unlikely to ship something that would catch that much attention. Something else to report to the authorities when they returned to the streets, but for now...
"Hey, talking-seer-pot... do you know if there's some rope and an empty crate around here somewhere?"
Jury rig a sling, he thought, and two of us can carry this stuff - and the pot - out and sort it somewhere safer...
"I thought if we made a sling of some sort we could carry the pot out without having to open it here... and take some more of the rest of the stuff too... I see how Burl's eyeing those books."
Kale frowned at the thing- he couldn't detect a smarta$$ tone in what it was saying, but it certainly knew that the team's back was up against a wall. And, it seemed, that wasn't the only thing the pot knew. The mercenary's eyes narrowed as the being recounted things of Kale's past. Surely Wolf knew these things, but likely no one else... not in their entirety. The seer was trying to explain itself or make itself useful, to Kale it was only becoming more and more dangerous. Human? Highly unlikely. It had been transported cross-country in a wax-sealed vessel- and his captors didn't see fit to just port the guy around in chains.
"Ah, so I was almost a slave, and you're a slave... and no one objects to freeing slaves." Kale began sarcastically. "Why, we have so much in common, what as fellow slaves and all." A touch of anger began to edge in his voice. "And these kids are slaves, too... no doubt we're both just as harmless." Kale stopped abruptly, listening to himself heat up, and talking about the marginalized children like third-person commodities.
Damn it! Just to hear my name and the Fuldarians in the same context! And that wasn't the only source of his frustration, looking at a tough situation that even with the team would be shorthanded for whatever was ahead. Kale took a deep breath and relaxed his hands.
Walking up alongside, Burl spoke the truth of their plight: only so many hands, and a lot of gear to move. Distancing himself from the situation, the mercenary continued soberly. "This stuff is too dangerous to just leave sitting around. We can't afford to tote along a huge jar, as well. As far as leaving the guy buried in some pit..." Kale pointedly said to the thing, knowing still that it didn't take a seer to consider it'd crossed his mind, "I didn't consider that for half as long as maybe I should have."
What are you talking about? Kale scolded himself inwardly. The thing may be indiscreet and capable of who-knows-what, but he hasn't acted against us... then again, he hasn't had a chance to act against us. The mercenary was starting to get paranoid, and he knew it. Most likely, the thing wanted to be free and get home. He may be industrious enough to slip away with some of the spoils, maybe even ambush the crew at the worst of times... but accommodations could and should be made. Defensively, Kale opted for the benefit of the doubt. Stopping for another long moment, he recentered himself around what he hoped was a wise perspective.
"Forgive me. This hasn't been an easy day, though even now I can't see any reason to keep you or anyone locked up." Kale felt the weight of the children's eyes on him. What would they think if he kept the thing cooped up? "But packed along with such lethal accessories as you are, you'll pardon my caution. We'll have to pack up a whole load of this stuff, and detroy whatever we can't carry. Now, if you can carry some cargo of your own, that would be quite helpful," and Kale was sure that he could find plenty of gunpowder tuns for the thing to carry. They'd compliment well the two javelins the mercenary was carrying. He couldn't know for a fact, but he was pretty sure what those javelin would do to a thing carrying a huge load of blasting powder... and to anyone unfortunate enough to be anywhere close.
"But first, I would like to proceed with introductions. It seems you already know me... While we load up, you can tell me who you are, as well as what you know about the scumbags who are a little too dead at the moment to speak for themselves." Kale listened as he gathered all he could. Producing cloak, salvaged garments, and climbing rope, he equipped as many of the crew with packing gear as he could.
Unbelievably, the bulky heavy-packing techniques of the block-footed Fuld-Aux actually came in handy. Exchanging few silver arrows for sheafs of the blue-tipped kind, he went on to cover and pack as much as he could. The jar hadn't told the whole story of those last days with the Aux, Kale pondered. How Wolf's independant intervention had coaxed to action the thick skulled Aux their reinforcements. Blundering sods they were, Wolf couln't stand to see them slaughtered by orcs. Or not slaughtered, but made slaves. No wonder Wolf intervened.
Later they suspected the ranger a spy for knowing so much about their elementary and exposed movements. It was all so ridiculous, and Kale and Wolf both were fortunate to have survived the idiocy. Nah, Wolf could've fought his way out, Kale gave the man credit. Of course, against the Fuldarians, it wasn't as heavy a compliment as one might first believe.
The being had completed his stories, and everyone seemed ready to go. Shoulders were burdened, and sprits were not at their peak. But the crew wasn't in the clear, and considering their vulnerable state, they'd all have to be extra-frosty. "Let's get ready to move. Feeling okay to move, Ebri?" Kale looked over the recovered woman with an appraising eye. What did she say? 'I can handle this one?' Well, we did survive as a team... and she's got some wicked moves. "Oh, and may I speak with the skull thing?" He finished, betting that in fact the one who could see into a person's past could not actually read minds. Searching for corroboration from the mimir, in any case, the jar surely could not know what the magical archive had inside his metal head...
"It seems I am out of excuses. Kale said at last to the jar. "Thanks for your patience... now, how do you do this? Kale inquired as he drew his flail. Bearing down in a quick chopping stroke, he brought the spiked ball down directly on the jar's stopper. Unsure whether he would be happier with the vessel destoyed, guaranteeing no one could use the thing again, or with the jar intact to somehow recapture its occupant if need be. Perhaps unsure in his mind what to decide, his arm did come down quite hard on the vessel. He couldn't resist tensing, unsure of what he may have unleashed.
Having helped pack up the equipment - without staking any claims - Sebastion eyed the crates of blackpowder warily whilst looking at the ceiling of the place, and imagining the buildings and lives above it. "We can't just destroy this place," he explained, pointing upwards, "bringing the roof in means bringing someone's floor in with it. Besides, the authorities will want to have a look around this place. If we can't carry everything out, then some of us will have to stay behind and guard it. I'll wait here..."
As Kale swung his flail at the bottle, Sebastion reached out his sword to stop it, feeling the blow run along he scabbard to rattle his hands.
"Which means we don't need to make any rash decisions now, without some more convincing, and more impartial, answers..." he added.
Mel's serene smile eventually faded as she watched all the others begin making arrangements for departure. The children were still huddled apprehensively and not one of them had touched Pierre. She'd thought it was a good idea at the time. Suddenly it occurred to her that she was so busy combating evil she'd forgotten to do much good. She'd flippantly ignored Ebri's absence only to discover that the friendly priestess had been upstairs bleeding to death; she'd also ignored the severity of the children's plight, leaving the hungry and frightened creatures with a hideous Manipulated toad --Same to you!-- to keep them busy. Feeling stupid she wandered down to see what she could do to actually help and got what felt like a metric ton of loot dumped on her by Kale, who was running about fixing things up and shouting orders and talking to a big jar. Good thing someone's organized, she thought, though she had her doubts about the jar.
Until it talked to him.
Then she approached it, squinting at the geometric patterns on its sides and wondering if someone like Sandslipper would better be able to identify it, hailing from the southern desert lands as well. Not that Mel was any expert in pottery; it just reminded her of typical Myrmecian designs you got on table mats in exotic restaurants.
She was itching to knock on the thing and ask it a few questions when Kale came at it with his flail. Hastily Mel made room for the weapon as it whizzed past--and then winced when Sebastion reached in with his sword to check the blow.
"Let him open it," Melisande protested, curiosity like hot coals under her feet, making her dance with anticipation. "What is it? What's in there? How does it know so much about you, Kale? How can it breathe? It's very magical, that much is sure."
When Sebastian stopped Kale from breaking the jar's stopper, Wyshira found herself on the side of recklessness rather than caution for a change. "We might as well open it now," she chimed in, moving closer for a better look.
"Are you all right in there?" she called out loudly, placing one hand on the intricately painted surface of the jar. Her eyes travelled up and down the heiroglyphs, searching for familiar symbols. "How long have you been in this thing anyway?"
"He is right," Cord agreed, nodding to Sebastion and stepping to his side. "On both counts. One does not tear up the floors to sweep out the dust, nor does one unchain a silver-tongued dragon. Let us leave this prison and allow those with more experience and knowledge to release whatever captive being lives within that jar."
The voice issued forth from the pot once more. "I wouldn't be too sure that leaving one or two people here would be a wise choice. Firstly, that fire that your blue-skinned ally lit in the room off the corridor might spread and smoke the place out anyway or just burn it, and besides which, the smell of that and the blood, and all the disturbance that was made eliminating those cultists, is going to draw attention here."
"Perhaps not from the city above, but consider that plenty of things live down here too. I wouldn't be too happy about the safety of anyone left here, if I were you."
"Besides, while I don't have the physical stature to help you carry much of your acquired belongings myself, I know the magic call for some friendly beings who would be quite capable of helping you move it all up in one go, without leaving anything - or anyone - behind."
At Wyshira's enquiries, it spoke again. "Oh, I'm alright in here; you see, at the moment all I am is a disembodied spirit of knowledge, my physical form little more than ethereal until I am released. Yet I can tell you that it really can get quite boring at times, after a few hundred years of being stuck in a pot. You see, the people who imprisoned me were struck down long ago, theri city devastated, but I - in my pot - was buried in the rubble of one of their temples. So there I remained for those long decades, until mere months ago I was excavated by a band of robbers who prowled the ancient site for valuables, and then shipped here."
The talking pot, much like the mimir, prattled on helpfully while Mel, mesmerized, drew closer until she could put her hand on the lid.
"You seem to know a lot about us," she said, wondering how it knew she was blue and then wondering how it knew so much about Kale's background but didn't seem to have been able to come up with more than 'blue ally' for her. Then again, Kale had been Cancer's first target, thus perhaps a subject the evil mage had discussed with his slave-in-a-jar. It was all very strange.
She tried to remember where she'd left off. "But you still haven't told us what sort of creature you are, and you'll forgive us but after all we've been through and seen in here we can't be too careful. If you've been living in ethereal form in a jar for hundreds of years you're clearly not something we're familiar with.
"Now I really, really want to open this jar, but I don't think my friend is going to let me until we have some concrete assurance from you that that is not a stupid thing to do."
Only after the fact did she realize she was being tricky. She gave Sebastion a conspiratorial look, to make it seem like she'd planned it that way.
Carnifex
First Post
Maldur said:
Kale is certainly proving to be an 'ideas man' which is quite suitable for party leadership. It's this part of the campaign so far that the party dynamics are really developing, since this is after all the first time they've fought and won a battle as a large group and are now having to resolve things.
Kale's player was, at this point, really hoping there's a genie inside the pot
Seeing Burl's obsession with finding Cancer's spellbook was also really cool. Great roleplaying all round from the party here...
Carnifex
First Post
There was a sound that might be translatable as a mournful sigh from within the pot. "You... seek to classify me within your structures of learning, as a this or a that. I am not something that can quite be... understood in those terms. I am me. I am a being of... knowledge, seerhood, but I am not, as it were, a human or dwarf or orc, or whatever other classification you might wish to set upon me. I am a being."
Burl settled himself down and listened to the conversation between his comrades and the voice in the pot. It was true that they could use some serious help in getting the spoils out of here and he was not wanting to leave something of value behind.
“I say take a chance and let it out of the pot. It is either that or leave it. There is no way we are able to haul it. Don’t you think that if it was something that Cancer could have used against us that he would have done so.
Then mumbling to himself, “Maybe he can tell me where the ellusive spellbook is.”
"I don't think Cancer even knew what he had," Wyshira said thoughtfully. "Kale, didn't you say you found the jar sealed up in a crate? It seems to me that Cancer hadn't begun to go through these goods yet. But that's not to say that it couldn't tell you where the mage's spellbook is hidden," she added with an understanding smile for Burl.
IT.... I keep thinking of the voice's owner as an IT, but it sounds male, the priestess mused. A disembodied spirit.... ethereal. What sort of being would they see when they let it- er him out?
"We have to free him," Wyshira said finally, speaking primarily to Sebastian and Cord. "It wasn't right that he was made a captive hundreds of years ago by that forgotten civilization. It doesn't matter what sort of being he is."
Watching Wyshira search the hieroglyphics for understanding, Burl shook his head saying,
“It’s about time I get my head up out of my arse and go help them. Maybe I can make something out of the writing.”
Burl moves to the pot and begins looking at the writing. It is then that Burl stops, slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand in an upward motion and looks at the others. Removing his backpack, he pulls out a scroll case. Opening the scroll, Burl reads it, then with a look of comprehension, reads the writings.
DM's Note: Burl remembered he still had a scroll of comprehend languages from a while back
Pulling his strike with a strain to back and arm, Kale let up as Sebastion blocked his swing. Grimacing in frustration, the young mercenary could do without his interferance.
This isn't a bloody round table, and we don't need to vote, Kale thought indigently as he tried to discount Sebastion's position. But consensus... damn it, you've got no business leading if no one wants to follow.
Many did agree with Kale's 'rash decision,' but that wasn't the point. Half the reason he acted so quickly was that he didn't want any time for second thoughts. Now, he had seconds, and thirds, and a whole multitude of reasons to find a way to be done with the whole talking jar incident.
The jar and its occupant was the most dangerous thing in the whole chamber. It would be better to leave weapons behind... and the crew was in no position to be separated. Seb's offer was bold and practical, but offered too much risk.
The whole crew, and anything they didn't want to fall into unknown hands would have to would have to be leaving, soon.
"I don't think Cancer even knew what he had," and Kale pondered, wondering why Cancer recognized his face in the cellar the night previous, and why the mystic warrior was so intent on watching the chamber entrance. No, it was dangerous to overestimate one's enemies, but the mercenary could suppose that Cancer knew exactly what the jar was.
"It wasn't right that he was made a captive hundreds of years ago by that forgotten civilization. It doesn't matter what sort of being he is." Kale inclined an eyebrow toward the priestess, disagreeing with her conclusion.
"Many beings, and many particular beings, are locked up for good reason." Kale said carefully as he looked to Ebri, hoping her skull-charm could shed some light on their current plight. If he had only borken the damned jar in the first place, this dilemma would not be eating away at them.
"But legal issues of peoples past are not my concern. We have plenty of portable wealth, and we could have been walking out that door long ago. These crates pose a problem, if we do not want this power to fall into other hands." Frustrated that he had to be the bloody Naseria policeman, he continued. "This stuff just can't sit around. We have to pack out what we can, and somehow destroy the rest. Our new friend in the jar, he's the most dangerous of the lot," he said, not caring if the thing knew he thought of it as a tool or weapon, "Matched up by a whole lot of powder and lightning. We shouldn't leave any of it behind, but the first thing take, is him."
People as things... that was the threat slavery posed. The mercenary knew it, and it burdened him, but at the moment, expedience demanded that he see the seer as an object, a dangerous weapon that must not fall into the wrong hands.
But whatever they chose, it had to be chosen quickly. Unfriendly strangers could already be closing to investigate. "Mister Trin, how fast could you rustle some cargo porters?" He wondered how well-connected the scout really was. Giving his reply consideration, he continued. "We'll be getting some kind of company real soon. Rat Trin, could you step outside and keep watch?" Kale asked. Surely the hunched man thought the request an opportunity for the band to talk amongst themselves, but what Kale really wanted was to make sure they were not surprised by visitors when they actually finished their little debate and decided that it was time to go.
To the jar, the mercenary spoke again. "You've made a lot of promises, but with all respect, your altruism doesn't impress me. If it were me, I'd set you free... but I'm also willing to live with the consequences of being wrong. This team, these children, we're not in a position to be wrong."
Kale saw Burl begin to decipher the writings on the jar. Hopefully, they would soon have some of the answers they sought. Stepping back and relaxing as he could, he made himself comfortable for more delays. Maybe, maybe, they could afford to tarry longer. "You've already got my name, what's yours?" Helpless to speed things along, Kale was content to chat with the seer until they hopefully gleaned the information they needed.
Split between needing to free the prisoner, and fearing fell reasons for his imprisonment, the mercenary simply had to relax his tense nerves until the moment turned, and he could actually act.
Burl settled himself down and listened to the conversation between his comrades and the voice in the pot. It was true that they could use some serious help in getting the spoils out of here and he was not wanting to leave something of value behind.
“I say take a chance and let it out of the pot. It is either that or leave it. There is no way we are able to haul it. Don’t you think that if it was something that Cancer could have used against us that he would have done so.
Then mumbling to himself, “Maybe he can tell me where the ellusive spellbook is.”
"I don't think Cancer even knew what he had," Wyshira said thoughtfully. "Kale, didn't you say you found the jar sealed up in a crate? It seems to me that Cancer hadn't begun to go through these goods yet. But that's not to say that it couldn't tell you where the mage's spellbook is hidden," she added with an understanding smile for Burl.
IT.... I keep thinking of the voice's owner as an IT, but it sounds male, the priestess mused. A disembodied spirit.... ethereal. What sort of being would they see when they let it- er him out?
"We have to free him," Wyshira said finally, speaking primarily to Sebastian and Cord. "It wasn't right that he was made a captive hundreds of years ago by that forgotten civilization. It doesn't matter what sort of being he is."
Watching Wyshira search the hieroglyphics for understanding, Burl shook his head saying,
“It’s about time I get my head up out of my arse and go help them. Maybe I can make something out of the writing.”
Burl moves to the pot and begins looking at the writing. It is then that Burl stops, slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand in an upward motion and looks at the others. Removing his backpack, he pulls out a scroll case. Opening the scroll, Burl reads it, then with a look of comprehension, reads the writings.
DM's Note: Burl remembered he still had a scroll of comprehend languages from a while back
Pulling his strike with a strain to back and arm, Kale let up as Sebastion blocked his swing. Grimacing in frustration, the young mercenary could do without his interferance.
This isn't a bloody round table, and we don't need to vote, Kale thought indigently as he tried to discount Sebastion's position. But consensus... damn it, you've got no business leading if no one wants to follow.
Many did agree with Kale's 'rash decision,' but that wasn't the point. Half the reason he acted so quickly was that he didn't want any time for second thoughts. Now, he had seconds, and thirds, and a whole multitude of reasons to find a way to be done with the whole talking jar incident.
The jar and its occupant was the most dangerous thing in the whole chamber. It would be better to leave weapons behind... and the crew was in no position to be separated. Seb's offer was bold and practical, but offered too much risk.
The whole crew, and anything they didn't want to fall into unknown hands would have to would have to be leaving, soon.
"I don't think Cancer even knew what he had," and Kale pondered, wondering why Cancer recognized his face in the cellar the night previous, and why the mystic warrior was so intent on watching the chamber entrance. No, it was dangerous to overestimate one's enemies, but the mercenary could suppose that Cancer knew exactly what the jar was.
"It wasn't right that he was made a captive hundreds of years ago by that forgotten civilization. It doesn't matter what sort of being he is." Kale inclined an eyebrow toward the priestess, disagreeing with her conclusion.
"Many beings, and many particular beings, are locked up for good reason." Kale said carefully as he looked to Ebri, hoping her skull-charm could shed some light on their current plight. If he had only borken the damned jar in the first place, this dilemma would not be eating away at them.
"But legal issues of peoples past are not my concern. We have plenty of portable wealth, and we could have been walking out that door long ago. These crates pose a problem, if we do not want this power to fall into other hands." Frustrated that he had to be the bloody Naseria policeman, he continued. "This stuff just can't sit around. We have to pack out what we can, and somehow destroy the rest. Our new friend in the jar, he's the most dangerous of the lot," he said, not caring if the thing knew he thought of it as a tool or weapon, "Matched up by a whole lot of powder and lightning. We shouldn't leave any of it behind, but the first thing take, is him."
People as things... that was the threat slavery posed. The mercenary knew it, and it burdened him, but at the moment, expedience demanded that he see the seer as an object, a dangerous weapon that must not fall into the wrong hands.
But whatever they chose, it had to be chosen quickly. Unfriendly strangers could already be closing to investigate. "Mister Trin, how fast could you rustle some cargo porters?" He wondered how well-connected the scout really was. Giving his reply consideration, he continued. "We'll be getting some kind of company real soon. Rat Trin, could you step outside and keep watch?" Kale asked. Surely the hunched man thought the request an opportunity for the band to talk amongst themselves, but what Kale really wanted was to make sure they were not surprised by visitors when they actually finished their little debate and decided that it was time to go.
To the jar, the mercenary spoke again. "You've made a lot of promises, but with all respect, your altruism doesn't impress me. If it were me, I'd set you free... but I'm also willing to live with the consequences of being wrong. This team, these children, we're not in a position to be wrong."
Kale saw Burl begin to decipher the writings on the jar. Hopefully, they would soon have some of the answers they sought. Stepping back and relaxing as he could, he made himself comfortable for more delays. Maybe, maybe, they could afford to tarry longer. "You've already got my name, what's yours?" Helpless to speed things along, Kale was content to chat with the seer until they hopefully gleaned the information they needed.
Split between needing to free the prisoner, and fearing fell reasons for his imprisonment, the mercenary simply had to relax his tense nerves until the moment turned, and he could actually act.
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