Dark Days in Sion - Act 3: Scene 3

[97mg]

Aleta: Cards on the table

Aletia visibly tensed as Bill’s harsh retort washed over her. The young elven heart within her chest rapidly pumped, her hands felt clammy, she took a deep breath, but there was no escaping this. She was on the spot, pinned like wounded prey.

She saw so much subtext in Bill’s harsh judgement and assessment, the swift opinions of a stranger who’d reached these conclusions how? Through earlier discussion with his colleagues of course. It was clear, despite Burrai’s diplomatic, mature and sensitively trod introduction, that young Aletia was being painted as the cause… the failure… the scapegoat. True or not as the accusations may have been, it was plain to see that Jabbar’s death was considered her doing, by Bill at least. The result of her youth, naivety, overconfidence and irrationality. Deep down she knew it was true, and that hurt even more.

This was an agony unfamiliar. The amassing guilt of recent events tore at her. Such a dark slippery slope she’d traveled since the murder of her beloved and the days beyond. Dark curtains were beginning to form around her thoughts, negativity bleeding into every open space of her mind. A moon smothered and surrounded by black emptiness. Was this, right now, what it really meant to be moonborn?

Direct conflict, either with sword in hand or tongue lashing rebuke, was never a good place to be. She was emotionally preparing herself to depart at this point. It was with excellent timing that Burrai had then worked yet again, to diffuse the heavy tension lingering in the room. Burrai had caught the air just in time.

Aletia gave him her full attention. These weren’t the words of an emotional over-reaction. He certainly didn’t come across as nasty, covert or judgemental.

~Now here is a man who knows things, and clearly how to make the best of what and who he has.~

The story was a most interesting one, so foreign in context for the young woman. She had no great deeds to speak of. No great battles to recount. No pivotal moments when her actions had saved the lives of others in some glorious cause. Was she… did she feel… selfish at hearing this? There was certainly reassurance in someone of this caliber being willing to share, not only history, but also a future.

The words she’d prepared in defense, in retort to Bill were largely tempered now. They could come later.

“Burrai, you are clearly an honorable man. I believe our strengths and choices in battle, our abilities that might lay a path to a mutual goal, our shared networking and knowledge, can do far more harm to our enemies than each of us individually. Yes, I am sworn to the Burlocks. They may have placed trust and shared secrets with me. But I am new to this city and its citizens and ways. I will admit openly that I have… much to learn, and hopefully as much to give. If, after this evening's events your hearts are still open to it, then yes, I do trust in fulfilling our motives through mutual effort.”

She took a deep breath. This next bit was going to be difficult.

Looking back to Bill she said, “there are indeed words left behind my teeth. Is not your leader seeking a way to ensure the purpose and usefulness in all of us? He made it clear that blame was not the reason for this meeting. You speak of obedience, Bill, yet all the while appear to wish to undo the work he here set out to achieve.”

“Where your conclusions are drawn from I can only guess, as you rebuke me, having not even witnessed my supposed apprental failures first-hand. Clearly, the reasoning for my attempted abduction is of little interest to you. Nor the offer made from those abductees, with an invitation to join their ranks. Oh, what value would information from the inside have been in our plight? It was a risk I may have considered, and no great loss to you. But no, a charge was laid, identifying names were called in the streets, and Jabbar laid down his life not to save me, but to save the anonymity and persecution of his true friends.”

“I am deeply sad, and dare I say scarred, for your loss and my role in its cause, Billanverthorne. I will however, not swear to those who seek to undermine each other and reach rash judgement with neglect for assembling the full truths at hand. If this is something we can agree on, if you expect that one day... you can forgive me... once our grieving is done and the taste of justice and revenge is wet on our lips, then I will shake your hand now, as pre-payment for my allegiance and your acceptance of my humble sorrow and apologies at this eve’s horrible end.”

She probably should have just departed with her tail between her legs, exited the city and sought a solitary life. But a wheel was in motion. She would not disrespect the man who had pushed it on its first rotations down life's dark road. Vallio. As much as she hated it, all he had taught her boiled down to this, right now...

[sblock=Aletia Stats]

[TABLE="width: 800, align: left"] [TR] [TD]

[/TD] [TD]ALETIA - Shining in the darkness

Sheet: http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=725599
Level 6 Sorceress Init 3, HP Max: 32 Current: 23, Speed 30ft
AC 14, Touch 13, Flat-footed 11, Fort 4, Ref 5, Will 5, Base Attack Bonus 3
Longbow +6 to hit / D8 damage (+1 point blank +1 with magic arrows)
Longsword +3 to hit / D8 damage

Familiar Crez (Tiny silver viper) Init 3, HP Max: 16 Current: 16, Speed 15ft
AC 20, Fort 2, Ref 2, Will 4, Base Attack Bonus 2
Poisonous Bite +2 to hit / D1 damage (+poison)
Abilities: Deliver touch spells, Alertness, Improved evasion, Spare spells, Empathic link, Speak with master[/TD] [/TR] [/TABLE] [/sblock]

 

[thisthingcantbedeleted]

Ersun is faced with either retort or giddynes at Bill's outburst, and what eventually bulges out of him is just a smile, and does not comment on it. He is sure someone is bound to find that offensive, but at this moment he will not care. Such giddy little things can be light in darkness, and heck it is dark now, and it helped him break his own gathering sourness.

He listens quietly to the story, ands nods in acknowledment to how the dwarf sees his part. On the other hand, maybe the dwarf Is way too diplomatic and calm, carefully sailing between the two opinions, not an entirerly dwarfish trait, and he finds that amusing. Nevertheless, he finds maybe a firmer hand would have solved their arguing better, this just might turn into a wedge in the group later on.

"You asked the why of my decision..." he comments and shrugs. He does not think he was just making excuses, but anyway, if it isn't your shirt then do not put it on, so he lets the conversation flow on.

"The girl is right." he concurs to Aletia's speech. "This" he gestures at their group. "is what we have now and have to work with, like it or not."

"So, bless our group, and our jolly mood. Next agenda would be what happens once the sun is up. My dear dwarf..." he turns the attention to Burrai.

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

Bill Is Ready To Move On

"...if you expect that one day... you can forgive me... once our grieving is done and the taste of justice and revenge is wet on our lips, then I will shake your hand now, as pre-payment for my allegiance and your acceptance of my humble sorrow and apologies at this eve’s horrible end."

Bill nods, and extends his hand. "Forgiveness it shall be," he says, "your apology is accepted."

"...The girl is right." he concurs to Aletia's speech. "This" he gestures at their group. "is what we have now and have to work with, like it or not." [...] "So, bless our group, and our jolly mood."

"So be it." Bill says, flatly.

 

[Aust Thale]

Aust Awakens & Learns of Jabbar's Demise

Avar turned away from the open cellar door with a dismayed expression. He was listening in on the raised voices that now offered little comfort. He steps back towards where Jabbar's body lay peacefully on the table, a smile still present on his face. ~I doubt you would still be smiling if you could hear them now...~ He thinks, wondering if anyone could hold this group together as well as the fallen smuggler.
Elloral looks up from her prayers and sighs. "What are they talking about?"
Avar: "They're arguing..." He grunts with angst evident in the nervous way he fingers the edge of his axe.
Elloral: "It's to be expected. We're mostly strangers to each other after all, suddenly thrust together into a dangerous alliance. It will take time to trust each other and learn how to fight together."
Avar: "I should have been by his side!" He growls with a clench of his jaw.
Elloral: Shakes her head. "Don't do that! Don't blame yourself."
Avar: Frowns and reaches over to pull something out of a concealed pocked in Jabbar's clothing.
Elloral: Gasps. "What's that?"
Avar: "The keys for the smuggling business. They belong to Aust now. Besides, It's time he's heard the bad news." He states with obvious discontent.
Elloral: "Valkauna is especially sensitive to my prayers tonight and sympathetic to our plight. I believe she will grant me the strength to cure Aust after all." She states hopefully. "We need each other now more than ever."
Avar: "Bless the gods for saving our necks!" He states with gratitude, moving up the stairs slowly and purposely, his heavy footsteps softened by tall moccasins strapped around his leggings. Some moments later, Avars heavy hand knocks against Aust's door. When the ailing elf opens it, the normally stern grey eyes of the sundered dwarf are watery and grief-stricken. Jabbars keys offered in his open palm provide all the explanation necessary.
[Aust: What do you do?]

~ Avar? Why are you giving me Avar's keys? He needs them for...Wha? Where's Jabbar? No. No. ~
Aust doesn't say a word. He accepts the key, opening the door wide. His eyes go from elven large to closed as he suddenly hugs the dwarf, knowing full well that neither Avar nor Aust would ever engage in such an act were the loss not so great, so profound. Aust leaves the door ajar, turning toward his bed. Instinctively, he reaches for the bottle of wine on the table serving as his desk, but he realizes that it was empty before his head hit his pillow. Living here and doing what they have done for as long as they have done it, a certain amount of emotional preparation should have been had; this sort of thing could happen anytime. After all, it was just hours ago that Aust nearly died, poisoned by a half-drow named Chuth and then again if he had not properly deceived the authorities. And then there's the matter of the alchemical fire in the dumped barrels, and the likely attacks to come later. Aust sits down on his bed, head in his hands, the keys' metal cold against his forehead, skipping the disbelief phase of grief and moving to anger and negotiation. " What happened Avar? The Vul? These newcomers? Noro and his goons? "

OOC: I'll presume that Avar motions for Aust to come downstairs, and that he tells him what occurred; feel free to let me know if that does not occur, and I will edit the post accordingly .

Avar motions Aust to come downstairs, relaying the high points of what transpired. Frustrated with what and the way things happened, Aust is angry by the time he enters the basement. He stops at the sight of Jabbar's body, freezing mid-sentence into a long string of elven curses about newcomers and the Vul and Noro and where certain objects should be placed in their bodies. His eyes tear up. The odor of still fresh death penetrates his nostrils. He looks upon Jabbar's face and remembers their first meeting, their last conversation, and a noteworthy moment or two. In that moment, Aust stops being angry and simply mourns the loss of his friend. Profoundly sadness takes over his countenance.

After a few minutes, he speaks, primarily to Avar, but in earshot of the others. " Avar, leave no details out. I need to know. I must tell his family. We must create a narrative and settle on some explanation that doesn't get us killed as well. " Aust enters the living area, and despite being familiar with death, gasps as he see's Jabbar's body on the table. He slowly, silently moves toward it, reaching out to Jabbar's forearm. Aust is grieving the loss of his friend, but also the loss of stability, insomuch as they had any. Jabbar had provided an opportunity for Aust to have a future. Jabbar was a father-figure to him, or at least the brother that Aust had wished he had.

Aust takes a deep breath. His emotions are as disheveled as he is. He clears his thoughts and addresses Avar, "And the rhat? What's that about?” Aust attempts to take all of it in, only half-listening to Avar. He appreciated Avar being aware of it and not becoming frustrated with Aust. Looking again at Jabbar's body, "I want to mourn you, my friend. But right now, time might not permit it. If you indeed look down on me and my doings, do not judge me too harshly. I am thrust into your shoes, and I am not you. I will do my best. You have my word."

Aust moves to the cellar, speaking to Avar as he moves into it. “I have much to do and little time to do it. I was to go to the cleric. That must happen quickly. Can’t very well be dead or furry with all this going on. I must at bare minimum look and feel like an elf. First things first, WHAT?!? You kept the Vul?!? Yes, Avar had shared that with him quietly as Aust had held Jabbar's arm. The small crowd gathered in the cellar was tense, and it was clear they had exchanged words. Aust was simultaneously resentful of their presence and mindful of Jabbar's intentions with them. "Well? What now? Surely you royal fools have a plan, no? I didn't think so."

​

Aust continues, specifically to Aletia, Ersun, Burrai, Elloral, and Bill without looking at them, continuing to contemplate Jabbar’s body while walking around the Vul on the table. Aust speaks calmly, seething underneath at his friend’s death as well as those responsible for it, in whole or in part. "Aletia is it? I’m unused to restraint; that’s Jabbar’s temperament. It appears that all of you had business with Jabbar. It also appears that none of you are particularly disposed to restraint. It is not my strong suit either, but let me make this clear for you: right or wrong, this place belongs to the Vul; they loathe disruption, and they fear magic, killing on sight those who engage in either. Makes conversation a trifle difficult. Jabbar agreed to assist you, and I will do my best to do the same, as our paths seem to be intertwined. That said, I’ll say this slowly, so you understand; do not start a battle or use magic in the open again, unless you are prepared to die quickly and alone. If you didn't know better before, you do now.”

To Elloral, “You are a healer no? Can you heal me?” And a question pops into his mind, “Wait, can you heal Jabbar? I heard a story once that an Elven healer could raise the dead if only a little time had passed. Are you that powerful?"

"We shall keep Jabbar's death a secret at the moment. If his body can be protected in this state, and it's within any of your abilities, please make it so. I'll have to share his death publicly it at some point soon, but at the moment, I will do what I think Jabbar would do. Jabbar's family...they are not to be trifled with. And when they discover of his death, it needs to be from me, and it needs to be in a way that they will react against those coming for all of us. The guildmasters fancy themselves powerful, with powerful allies. However, it is my intent to make both the Vul and Jabbar's family their mortal enemies. And these corpses will serve that purpose. When the shop opens in the morning, I want no evidence that this has happened. Move his body down in this cellar and clean up all of it. At some point, the Vulfear will notice this Vul's absence. We should make haste."


​

"As to the rodents, what happened to Rhen, and what can this rhat tell us? I might well say he should be sent back to his brethren with a message that they are Vul-bait."

 

[narayan]

In the cellar of Jabbar's Trade Shop

Aust moves to the cellar, speaking to Avar as he moves into it.

Avar and Elloral follow Aust down into the Cellar. Elloral shares a look with Burrai as if to say, 'Get ready for this...' while Avar crosses his arms.

"I have much to do and little time to do it. I was to go to the cleric. That must happen quickly. Can’t very well be dead or furry with all this going on. I must at bare minimum look and feel like an elf. First things first, WHAT?!? You kept the Vul?!?" Yes, Avar had shared that with him quietly as Aust had held Jabbar's arm. The small crowd gathered in the cellar was tense, and it was clear they had exchanged words. Aust was simultaneously resentful of their presence and mindful of Jabbar's intentions with them."Well? What now? Surely you royal fools have a plan, no? I didn't think so."

Aust continues, specifically to Aletia, Ersun, Burrai, Elloral, and Bill without looking at them, continuing to contemplate Jabbar’s body while walking around the Vul on the table. Aust speaks calmly, seething underneath at his friend’s death as well as those responsible for it, in whole or in part.

"Aletia is it? I’m unused to restraint; that’s Jabbar’s temperament. It appears that all of you had business with Jabbar. It also appears that none of you are particularly disposed to restraint. It is not my strong suit either, but let me make this clear for you: right or wrong, this place belongs to the Vul; they loathe disruption, and they fear magic, killing on sight those who engage in either. Makes conversation a trifle difficult. Jabbar agreed to assist you, and I will do my best to do the same, as our paths seem to be intertwined. That said, I’ll say this slowly, so you understand; do not start a battle or use magic in the open again, unless you are prepared to die quickly and alone. If you didn't know better before, you do now."

To Elloral, “You are a healer no? Can you heal me?” And a question pops into his mind “Wait, can you heal Jabbar? I heard a story once that an Elven healer could raise the dead if only a little time had passed. Are you that powerful?"

Elloral: Looks down to the earthen floor, her face paling at the question. "Raising the dead goes against the edicts of Valkauna. Even if it wasn't, such a thing is only spoken of largely in myth involving powerful relics and ancient spells beyond my knowledge. As for you however, yes I can cure you."

"We shall keep Jabbar's death a secret at the moment. If his body can be protected in this state, and it's within any of your abilities, please make it so. I'll have to share his death publicly it at some point soon, but at the moment, I will do what I think Jabbar would do. Jabbar's family...they are not to be trifled with. And when they discover of his death, it needs to be from me, and it needs to be in a way that they will react against those coming for all of us. The guildmasters fancy themselves powerful, with powerful allies. However, it is my intent to make both the Vul and Jabbar's family their mortal enemies. And these corpses will serve that purpose. When the shop opens in the morning, I want no evidence that this has happened. Move his body down in this cellar and clean up all of it. At some point, the Vulfear will notice this Vul's absence. We should make haste."

"As to the rodents, what happened to Rhen, and what can this rhat tell us? I might well say he should be sent back to his brethren with a message that they are Vul-bait."

Avar: Scowls towards the bound and gagged rhat prisoner. "It may be blinded, but it isn't deaf. What this little beast has overheard already should never be repeated to Noro or anyone else. I can interrogate it as much as we want, but even rhats are smart enough to know when their goose is cooked. If we can't allow it to leave, a quick death may be the only thing we can offer in exchange for its information."

Avar looks between Aust and Burrai. "Who decides?"

[Everyone: What do you do?]

 

[narayan]

Vandrok within the Hills of Kumbakarna

Vandrok breathed easier with each step further into the hills. All around him on rocky slopes, ghostly faces of the hill tribe peered at him from crude stone dwellings as the path meandered through one of their villages. Before each doorway, stern warriors stood sentinel, ever vigilant, as were their well-trained beasts.

Vandrok moved on without pause knowing he had nothing to fear from them. 'Children of Kumbakarna' were free to pass through their villages so long as they kept a respectful distance from the wives and offspring of the tribesman. In many ways Vandrok considered the warriors of the hill tribe to be brothers. After all they worshipped the same god and often fought the same enemies.

On occasion Vandrok was invited to their wild dances and feasts which was a rare honor. Only their temple, private elder council meetings, and some religious/cultural gatherings were off limits to the uninvited. And yet, even now after years of sharing the same ground he was no closer to truly understanding them. The hill tribe did not teach their language to outsiders and rarely spoke of their customs, history, and the many strange secrets of their origins.

Malachias, the warrior shaman who taught him about Baezu, explained very early in his teachings that Vandrok would never have the same relationship with Baezu, or the tribe, as he did. They would never offer him a wife or his own stone hut to stand guard over. His offerings and his bravery would be rewarded by the tribe, and Baezu himself, in other ways.

Three of the warriors waited by the path for Vandrok to approach. They knew well before he came near to expect him. News traveled fast through the hill tribe. Even at this late hour their shamans, scouts and trained beasts let nothing come near their villages undetected. Vandrok recognized one of the warriors as Kedaras, a young, rather foolish good-humored sort who often broke the warriors code to remain silent and expressionless towards outsiders.

Kedaras: "Bless Baezu you on fine hunt!" He says in broken common.

Vandrok: "Did you see a stranger pass by shortly? A man, a Caishian."

Kedaras: Stares back, confused "I saw no cow... or man upon this path. Maybe goat?"

Vandrok: Sighs. "Nevermind. Blessed is Baezu! This great cat will make a fine pelt to hang in the temple!"

Kedaras: Frowns "Baezu take this offering, but the temple has no need of hats."

Vandrok snorted and lowered the carcass of the heavy dire puma at their feet. Likely it would take all three of them to carry it, but so be it. He was in no mood to detour away from the shelter of his own caves. Vandrok continued on, hefting one wild boar beneath each of his arms. His headache may have lessened but his thoughts were still clouded and uncertain.

What was it the Caishian said? ~Seek out the great pit of Bet'Shava!~ Vandrok huffed. He could think of a thousand other ideas less foolhardy than that. Still he would take his advice and seek out the newcommers who came by the path of blood. Whoever this Wrenwil was, he was curious to hear what he had to say about the coming doom.
_____________________________________________________

As Vandrok approached the back entrance to Kumbakarna's caves he was greeted by the ever-ugly, grossly fat and ever-angry Bugbear, Hrugaga. The Bugbear (who often liked to title himself 'elf-slayer') had a large purple birth-mark around his right eye socket and cheek that looked very similar to the bruise left by a black-eye. Early on in life Hrugaga's tribal shaman attempted to burn off the mark with a torch on more than one occasion, worsening his appearance further with pale, veiny burn scars and a blackened, pussy ear.

Vandrok could only assume the constant taunts and ridicule of his former tribe led to his penchant for over-eating and eventual banishment. Hrugaga was certainly maligned in his thinking being altogether quick to anger, unusually cruel and terribly violent (even by Vandrok's own standards). Yet despite his many faults, Hrugaga was tolerable enough to be around so long as his looks weren't the topic of comment and there was food to be had. Hrugaga was fortunate that Kumbakarna was so forgiving and tolerant towards his children because Vandrok himself was not so much.

Vandrok remembered several prominent warriors within the legions of Skull Mountain that hailed from Hrugaga's tribe. No doubt Hrugaga himself never had the chance to serve, (only the bravest, fittest and strongest were chosen from each tribe) but Vandrok understood that to be a blessing, even if Hrugaga himself did not.

At times Hrugaga appeared to envy Vandrok's service within the legions of Skull Mountain, pestering him for tales of glory and slaughter. He enjoyed speaking of his own conquests (barely half of which could be considered plausable) against humans, dwarves and elves most of all. He even hinted more than once that he'd attempted to cook and eat an elf, a thought that made Vandrok queasy in his guts. Whatever wrong could be done between one race to another never warranted that sort of barbarism.

Hrugaga: -Speaking Goblin- "Vandrok! Dar magaan o huur daagaan?" He asks quickly, stepping forward from the back entrance to the caves wielding a great axe.

Vandrok: -Speaking Goblin- "Duun rhuur."

Hrugaga: "Draal'delen! A shuuch araan a khrelaan hakhaan or rhaluuc kec akuur khruul!" The bugbear states hungrily licking his lips.

Vandrok: "Dar ar kaan akech daan shuush magaan a shakaan duun huukhaagec shuush daan tekaan!" Vandrok states rather impatiently. Part of him wanted to question the gluten about the mysterious Caishian who must have slipped past his guard, but then opted against it, shouldering his way past him instead.
__________________________________________________

Vandrok wasted no time delivering the swine to the kitchens, warning the cooks that Hrugaga would be close at his heels with a ravenous appetite for fresh bacon. The cooks groaned and laughed knowingly, offering Vandrok a pitcher of ale to quench his thirst. Vandrok took a moment to rest by one of the great cook fires, seating his bulk upon a barrel gulping down the foamy brew with satisfaction.

Just then a hissing voice whispered from behind his neck, almost forcing him to spit ale in surprise until he realized it was only Rhast, the smallest and most foul of Kumbakarna's other children.

Rhast: -Whispers- "Vaaandrokkk! Where have you been?!"

Vandrok: "On a hunt you vile vermin!" He curses, wiping away the foam from his lips with one hand as the other swings blindling over his shoulder hoping to knock the offending creature off his perch.

Rhast: "You don't know about the visssitors?!" Rhast asks with insatiable curiosity, effortlessly dodging the blow so easily it would seem he ignored it, leaping down to floor level slinking past Vandrok's legs into the light of the cook fire.

Few creatures ever revolted Vandrok so much as Rhast, who looked for lack of a better definition, as some sort of hideous cross breed between a rhat and a kobold! Resembling something like a partially shaved cat covered in short red/brown hair, Rhast's grey/pinkish hide was leathery and thin revealing a prominently bony skeleton beneath that could move around on all fours as easily as not. His vaguely reptilian skull was a bit large for the rest of his body, as was his thin rat-like tail.

Rhasts large eyes were a sickly yellowed tone of milky white with striking orange, yellow and red irises that glowed eerily in the shadows. His ears were thin, pink and veiny sitting well back behind bony eye sockets. Along his snout, forehead and belly were leathery scales. His hands and feet were extremely dexterous with very long fingers and toes ending in small sharp claws.

Vandrok: "You mean the Caishian dragon shaman named Svexyn and the one he calls Wrenwil who came by the path of blood?"

Rhast: Gasps gleefully. "How did you know that?!"

Vandrok: "I don't need eyes and ears as hideous as yours to know things."

Rhast: "Did you know that the one-eyed half dwarf smuggler was touched by a shaman of Kalia?! Or that he smashed in the skull of Kumbakarna's pet demon with a hammer?!" Rhast asks grinning revealing small but very sharp fangs.

Just then the cook notices Rhast and sends a heavy iron skillet flying in his direction. "GET OUT VERMIN!" He shouts. Rhast dodges the skillet (which sparks off the stone floor with a loud CLAANG!) slipping towards the door on all fours.

Vandrok smirks and downs the rest of the pitcher. ~Half dwarf smuggler? What do the shamans of Kalia need to know from him?~ Bothersome as Rhast was, few creatures had a better knack for getting their nose into everything's business as Rhast did. With his help there was likely very little indeed the visitors could keep to themselves. Vandrok intended to learn as much as he could. Perhaps the shamans of Kalia were also investigating this coming doom?

[Vandrok: What do you do?]

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

Vandrok Questions Rhast, Part One

Vandrok follows Rhast outside, so as to avoid angering the cook even further. He looks at the foul, little thing, and asks, "Which of the shamans touched him? Was it a young initiate, or was it one of the elders?"

OOC: Vandrok is attempting to ascertain whether the touching of the Half-Dwarf was a foolish act of curiosity (by a young initiate) or if it was a calculated, purposeful act (by an elder, who had a good reason for touching Ordechai.)

Vandrok eyes the little beast, and draws near to him, "If you will tell me the truth, worm, I will kill a pig just for you. But don't tell Hrugaga, or he'll be jealous. It will be our little secret."

 

[97mg]

Aletia: Dodging Arrows

Bill nods, and extends his hand. "Forgiveness it shall be," he says, "your apology is accepted."

The young elf lightly took Bill's hand in hers and nodded. They had an understanding. Not a solid trust or friendship by any means, but they would find a way to ensure Jabbar's death was not in vain, nor Vallio's or a whole host of other victims.

She knew deep down that these were good people, and if they'd ease back on the blame and find a way forwards, then it made sense to work as one. Grief took time, Aletia was well aware of that.

No sooner had the air cleared somewhat, when other remnants of Jabbar's assorted personnel arrived. Aletia tensed again, expecting more hard words, pointing fingers and discipline. Yep. This time it was Aust. She kept her eyes down and let the words roll over her, before finally looking to him with an honestly sorrowful expression.

But she remained quiet this time, feeling it wasn't her place to interrupt the decision making to be done. The fate of the captive. The healing power of Elloral. The latter appeared to come as good news... which was a refreshing change.

In the back of her mind Aletia imagined Kayote awakening drunk and toxic of mood, reading her message, screaming and slamming his fist, and then drinking even deeper from the cup of sorrow. Eventually they would have to decide who might accompany her, if any, and she'd be patient now until such a call was made.

Crez poked his tiny serpentine head out from her pack then, and slithered up to rest upon Aletia's shoulder, licking at the air and the taste of rhat.

~Meal?~ It asked her with a small hiss.

She stroked her familiar's head with a fingertip.

"They are deciding, Crez."

 

[Tellerian Hawke]

Who Decides? Bill Does.

"...Raising the dead goes against the edicts of Valkauna. Even if it wasn't, such a thing is only spoken of largely in myth involving powerful relics and ancient spells beyond my knowledge..."

"...It may be blinded, but it isn't deaf. What this little beast has overheard already should never be repeated to Noro or anyone else. I can interrogate it as much as we want, but even rhats are smart enough to know when their goose is cooked. If we can't allow it to leave, a quick death may be the only thing we can offer in exchange for its information...Who decides?"

Bill frowns at these words, not with disapproval for the speakers, but rather, with scorn and hatred for the Rhat, who was an accessory to Jabbar's death. Bill's hatred of the creature is evident in his narrowed eyes, and seething contempt.

Bill muses inwardly, ~We can scold Aletia and Ersun until we're blue in the face, but the fact is, this little cretin and his cronies are the instigators of it all; they are the ones who acted in defiance of Vul authority, by attempting to kidnap Aletia in the streets. They are the ones whose dogged determination to win caused the fight to escalate. They are the ones whom I shall make pay for Jabbar's death. Starting with this one.~

Bill says, "You may not be able to raise the dead, but I know damned well you can speak with them. So let's try that, shall we?"

Without another word, Bill draws his Greatsword from the quickdraw rig on his back, and attempts to cut the Rhat's head clean off!

OOC: HELPLESS DEFENDER: Coup De Grace: Automatic hit, automatic crit. 12 pts. of damage. Rhat needs to make a Fort save, DC 22, or die. If the Rhat survives the first blow, Bill will strike again. Second blow is 13 pts. of damage. Fort save DC 23.

OOC: Speak With Dead: "...A damaged corpse may be able to give partial answers or partially correct answers, but it must at least have a mouth in order to speak at all." That means that a severed head can "speak," correct? (Wanting DM verification.)

Bill's brutal resolve is unnerving to witness; it is readily apparent that Jabbar's death hangs upon him like a massive weight. He is clearly distraught, and looking for a way to vent, a way to ease the immense pain that he is most certainly feeling.

 

[narayan]

Vandrok, Rhast

Rhast cranes his neck up at Vandrok a bit sheepishly, slowly rising to stand with more dignity away from the angry cooks. He quickly straightens out his ill-fitting garments including brown leggings cut over the knee, a tattered grey tunic and a dull orange vest. The vest is tailored for someone thicker around the chest (Probably a halfling or perhaps even a dwarf) and hangs rather loosely. Around his waist is a belt with several pouches and a sharp dirk.

Rhast knows you can demand any information you want, but thanks to Kumbakarna's cardinal rule that family do not harm each other there are limits to how forcefully you can insist. The cooks are another matter though, Rhast has suffered many lumps learning that lesson.

Rhast: Grins. "Another near miss!" He says proudly, slipping out two large hard-boiled eggs from a vest pocket (Rhast is a notorious pilferer) and stuffs them into his over sized cheeks. "...buf worf if!" He says chewing happily, but quickly, sensing your impatience.

"It was an elder shaman who touched the half-dwarf. The one called Vahr..." He says with a heavy swallow.

Vahr is one of the three elder shamans serving the goddess Kalia, each of whom dwells in a separate village. (In total there are 6 villages) Though each village has a chief chosen among the warriors to lead them, the villagers expect the chiefs to heed the wisdom of the shamans, especially the elders who are also married to the high priestess, Shelahr (commonly known as 'The Bone Woman'). Shelahr's guidance is trusted absolutely by everyone in the tribe. Thus very few are brave enough to risk her wrath offending or disrespecting her husbands.

Shelahr also has nineteen daughters, born of at least a dozen different husbands. Her daughters live and serve her in the temple and in many ways outrank their own fathers in spiritual matters. Shelahr herself is ancient, much older than her current husbands. (By the number and age of some of her daughters she has clearly outlived many husbands!)

It is known one of her daughters will replace her as the high priestess someday. Exactly which daughter is a matter of some debate and friction between the villages. Rhast believes most of the tales about The Bone Woman, but his rationality is dubious at best.

Your knowledge of Rhast is rather limited due to the fact he's never keen to talk about himself. His hobby for gossip and snooping about others however is inexhaustible. In the beginning a good portion of what you've learned about Kumbakarna, these hills, and the rest of his family came from Rhast. He was extremely curious about you when you first arrived, always following you around asking questions, (or answering them).

If you asked Rhast to go and speak to Vahr he would no doubt try, but would likely not get the chance before he was speared by one of the young warriors charged to guard him. Rhast has never enjoyed much respect from the hill tribe. His penchant for pilfering has got him banned from every village in the hills! (In truth they would have done worse if Kumbakarna himself had not insisted they spare him.)

You on the other hand have much more respect within the tribe. You worship Baezu, the patron deity of their warriors and hunters, and fight alongside them whenever battle calls.

[Vandrok: What do you do?]