Crossed Paths - Part I

[Manzanita]

Oskar

“They do not present much of a threat to us. We are well defended and they prefer to strike at weak opponents, where victory is certain. We do value our ties to our trading partners in Sevastopol, and sympathize with their plight. We know how to deal with these Wendol. It does not take an army, just brave, powerful individuals, such as yourselves.”

“Brave and suicidal” comments Durvial.

“Ah,” smiles Oskar, but you are alive, are you not, Durvial. We know a secret entry into their stronghold. 200 years ago, a brave group of dwarves, including Durvial, snuck in and killed their high priestess and her ‘pet’. This seemed to sap the will of the Wendol. They are migratory. They only come to this area every 200 years or so. It seems the death of their priestess is the signal to move on North. At least last time, they left without any further fighting. Are you willing try this approach now?”

 

[Thomas Hobbes]

Octar glances at the others, not wanting to speak for them. As for himself, he knows that helping the town in the right thing to do- but he wonders if they, or rather, he, has the courage and the skills needed to do so.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

"Bravery we have, Sir Holderhek, and power we draw from the conviction of our cause. I believe we have encountered this High Priestess already -- she proved to be a difficult adversary, although her retreat may indicate our advantage. We will have to confer, of course, but speaking for myself, yes, I am willing to try this approach."

"I have two requests, however, to help insure our victory, and I appeal to your honor that you should understand. First, and perhaps most easy for you to oblige, I ask if we may receive your wisdom, Venerable Durvial, in the art of battle against these foes -- to train under your guidance, that through your insight we may attain some part of the great prowess which brought you and your company victory so long ago."

"Beyond that, I have a request which may be more difficult for you to accept. I have heard many a story of the glorious and formidable fighting folk of the Hold, and since my arrival I have witnessed that it is indeed no exaggeration, for I have seen it in the eyes of every man in these halls: The sense of history and tradition which breeds determination and strength through the generations. I do not doubt myself or my companions, for our will is righteous and strong, but I know there are risks to our assault which lie beyond our control."

"We have tried our best to encourage the people of Sevastopol to stay in or near their secured garrison, but since witnessing the numbers of the Wendol, we have begun to worry that it might not be so "secure" after all. If, as you say, they retreat North when we have slain their Priestess, there should be no problem: But if they do not, if perhaps she manages to deliver some last infernal mandate, the people of Sevastopol may not have the strength to defend themselves. With a supplement of your forces, not an army, but perhaps a small brigade, I would feel better about their chances, and take more comfort in bringing a confrontation to these wicked beast-men."

"Finally, it goes against my nature to suppose that we should fail at our task, for such thoughts breed the cowardice which turns mens' hearts from Good. But with so many lives at stake, it would be irresponsible not to consider the possibility, and account for it. Given that, of any fighting force you are willing to lend, I pray to your honor and theirs that, if we fail to return, the strongest and most determined contingent among them should follow in our footsteps, to be sure the job is done. I am willing to stake my life that they will not need to take this risk, understand; but if I should fall, I want to fall knowing I have made arrangements to carry out the cause I have staked my life on."

"I know these are great requests: The Hold must look after its own interests, first and foremost, as that is the sovereign responsibility of even the most generous nation. But I appeal to you that we are part of a yet greater nation, the sum of all people who believe that Good is real and precious, that it is worth a cost in life to protect it, wherever it is found."

"But I leave it to your wisdom to judge the worthiness of this cause, and I will bow to your decision either way. It is a gift worthy of praise itself that you have given us audience, and I thank your souls with mine."

Nathaniel bows his head respectfully, eyes down, but listening intently for any subtle responses he might receive -- a contemptuous cough, a moved sigh, what have you.

 

[Manzanita]

Well, I'd give you a bonus on your diplomacy roll, if nothing else, for that speech!

 

[Inez Hull]

Hmmm, the further down this path we head, the further we deviate from our original quest. Most likely Nathaniel speaks for the other humans though. Will I ever understand them? They take personal responsibility for the fate of one small village of strangers over a sworn oath upon which may rest the future of their greatest ever attempt at civilisation. Perhaps barbarism suits them more naturally than order, the Wendol certainly seemed no less happy than any Roman I have met. Even Brioc for all his seeming wisdom spurns the advances of Rome.

Ehldannis lets out a sigh and mutters under his breath in Elvish, "It seems this decision is outside my influence, best make what good I can of it then".

On the heels of Nathaniel's eloquent request, Ehldannis inclines his head respectfully to Durvial, "I would consider myself honored Elder Durvial, if you would recount the tales of your besting the Wendol priestess and also what manner of beast her pet was. I believe we will attempt to follow in the footsteps of your band, and though we doubtless lack the martial skill of the Dwarves, perhaps with your advice we can prevail."

 

[Manzanita]

Oskar

“OK,” says Oskar. “You bring up some good points, Nathaniel. I find your proposition difficult to refuse. Although I don’t have the personal power to promise you that we dwarves will take these actions, I think it very likely I could drum up some volunteers to follow your brave lead. I’ll work on that. Meanwhile, I’ll try to tell you how we defeated these Neandrathalls (as the Sylvan elves of the North call them) 200 years ago.”

“Our divinations were able to locate an underwater entrance to their stronghold on the coast. It is a somewhat difficult path, given that the entrance is on the bottom of a towering cliff. We can provide some rope to help you down. Then you must swim through a narrow tunnel. You can provide your own light underwater can you not? Then you simply sneak around until you locate their spiritual leader, and kill her. Last time, Durvial and company were able to simply walk out at that point, waving her severed head and that of her pet cave bear in front of them.”

 

[Jarval]

Well, the lad's got guts, certainly. Brioc looks at Nathaniel with renewed respect, moved by his impassioned speech. Let us just hope this little jaunt doesn't get us all killed.

"What distance must we travel through the water?" He asks Oskar, a look of some concern troubling his features. "I do not know how able my companions are in the water, but I have only a little practice at swimming. As far as light goes, I will be of some use on that front, and perhaps some of my companions might also have some capabilities in this area."

 

[Manzanita]

Durvial

Durvial speaks Latin poorly, so most of this is translated by Ehldannis or a dwarf.

"Ah, the swim is tough," says Durvial. "The current is strong, and it bangs you against the jagged stone walls. Only good swimmers should try it. We lost one in the water. The cliff is not so bad. It's a long way, but if you hold onto the rope, well, then you won't fall. Once inside, the witch and her bear killed three more. Only two of us survived."

"Once you're in there," suggests Oskar, "you might want to check things out more. Perhaps they have treasure, or writings. It would be good to know more about them. If nothing else you could probably sell some artifacts to the elves or those Roman archeologists."

 

[doghead]

OOC: During the rest of the journey to the hold.

Since the battle with the Manticore, Marcus has barely said a word. He has been deep thought. The courage of the warriors, the selflessness of the priest, and the dazzling display of power of the users of magick has left him doubting his worthyness to be counted one of the company. Over and over he has taken stock of what he has to offer and weighed it against what he has seen so far and each time, no matter how he accounts it, has come up short.

What can I do that they cannot do better? For years I have traveled the roads of the Empire and even beyond. What do I have to show for it? A quick wit and a easy smile. Adequate maybe for convincing suspicious farmers to permit us the use of a field, smoothing the feathers of pompous merchants, and discerning the way the wind blows with meddlesome town officials. Light feet and quick hands. Sufficient for slipping past lazy town guards and through the hands of a drunk looking for a fight. But what do I have to offer here?

Around and around the thoughts go in his head. Each time he comes back to the same place. The best comfort he can find. The only conclusion available to him.

Yet did I not stay alive long enough to sink some bolts into the creature. Perhaps enough to hasten its end sufficiently to save us from one more volley from its infernal tail, perhaps even a mortal one for one of us.

I will stay because I have promised to do so. For whats its worth, I will do what I can, as best I can. I will not let myself become despondent. I will learn.

OOC: In the Council Room.

Careful to keep his expression neutral, Marcus wonders at the group's willingness to be diverted from the original task.

Ahh. Caves full of fiends. What a pleasure this will be.

 

[Inez Hull]

Ehldannis speaks to Durvial in Dwarven and will then translate any answer into Latin for his companions. "How far is the swim underwater? If a strong swimmer were to travel through the tunnel first, could they secure a rope to assist the others?"

Then turning to Oskar, "Speaking of Roman archeologists, we had a strange encounter on our way travelling here. A Manticore bearing this medallion", Ehldannis fishes around in his pack, "attacked us, claiming that we 'were not true archeologists but rather thieves'. Do you not aught of this beast?"