No, you're literate with Trade (from your native continent) and Deep Speech (your mother tongue)
The dictionary does exactly what it was meant to- hopefully help you learn Common, which you're at 8/12 for, and Lodge, which you haven't started, both written and spoken.
The dictionary does exactly what it was meant to- hopefully help you learn Common, which you're at 8/12 for, and Lodge, which you haven't started, both written and spoken.
How far south do the Hobgoblin Lodges go? Is it likely that Kolo was expecting us to go more south than that or are we likely to be in their territory for a while?
How far south do the Hobgoblin Lodges go? Is it likely that Kolo was expecting us to go more south than that or are we likely to be in their territory for a while?
The Sovistels are one of the most southern lodges in existence; they're right on the edge of the permafrost north, which favours the Hoklin, and the normal weather everywhere else.
It's only a week to Nociva, the north most League capital.
Basically, the way the votes have scattered, there's two votes for only the dictionary, one vote for the dictionary and the she-dog, two votes for Deadman's Books & Dogs (which clocks in at 65/70 rings) and one vote for both of Silver's plans (which are Silver's, and also about.. 30-50 rings).
That is chaos, which I assume wasn't the intention, but it is.
Now, in your defence and absolution, I should have organised the market vote better, and also triple checked it before making that embarrassing Trade/ Common mistake.
So I will reiterate that part in more detail, and hope that there's a clear majority by tomorrow.
———————————
This part is a plan vote!
For context, a decent spear or axe would be up to five silver rings; a one handed sabre, 15, a long axe or glaive, 20 to 25. A compass can cost up to 10, a rowboat anywhere from 25 to 70.
You have a total of 70 silver rings, not counting extra you gain by selling things.
The things in the winning plan, Geln will do; what isn't, he will not.
[] A charm that can allegedly absorb hostile magic. It does look very pretty. ~10 Silver Rings.
>>> It's a pendant worn on a necklace. As jewellery, you'd guess a foreigner might value it for 5 silver rings.
[] A small but enthusiastic dog. Apparently, the runt of the litter, too stunted to hunt well. ~10 Silver Rings.
>>> Too small to bring down game without being crushed, but otherwise a serviceable dog for flushing out prey. Trained as a hunting hound.
[] A sled dog, almost half your size. The rest of her pack is dead, and by tradition, it's considered bad luck to pair her with another team. ~15 Silver Rings.
>>> Middle aged, trained as a guard dog, and to pull sleds in dangerous scenarios.
[] A map of the northern continent. Probably. ~15 Silver Rings.
>>> Not detailed enough to show individual towns, but does point out where Lodge and Tulane territory roughly meet, the borders of the Confederate and the locations of the League capitals.
[] A 'casual' dictionary of Deep Speech, Common and Lodge-Cant. ~30 (!!!) Silver Rings! Really?
>>> Deep Speech is the native Islefolk tongue. Common is the Thalassic tongue, which has spread really far. Lodge-Cant is the Hoklin's native tongue. Trade, which is not in the book, is from Darkwater, about a continent away.
[] A healing potion, or so they claim. You're not sure such a thing should be publicly sold, but no one seems surprised.. ~20 Silver Rings.
>>> A small glass bottle of seemingly viscous liquid. You're not sure what it is.
[] A simple mask. Even wearing it, you don't fit in very well. Combined with your helmet, it does obscure most of your face, even with the visor up. ~3 Silver Rings.
>>> Made in Hoklin fashion.
[] You decide to try and find an enthusiastic buyer for… [what do you sell?].
—————————
Dunno if that clarifies worries like "is this snake oil" however thats kinda the point of being in a foreign society. So I'm not sure how much this is going to change.
[X] Plan Bare Necessities -[X] A map of the northern continent. Probably. ~15 Silver Rings.
-[X] A healing potion, or so they claim. You're not sure such a thing should be publicly sold, but no one seems surprised.. ~20 Silver Rings.
My basic logic stands, but if people prefer to go without the book, I'm also fine with that, thus my vote is:
[X] Plan We Like Books And Dogs
-[X] A sled dog, almost half your size. The rest of her pack is dead, and by tradition, it's considered bad luck to pair her with another team. ~15 Silver Rings.
-[X] A charm that can allegedly absorb hostile magic. It does look very pretty. ~10 Silver Rings.
-[X] A 'casual' dictionary of Deep Speech, Trade and Lodge-Cant. ~30 (!!!) Silver Rings! Really?
-[X] A small but enthusiastic dog. Apparently, the runt of the litter, too stunted to hunt well. ~10 Silver Rings.
Still my preferred plan, we're going Dilettante and Curiosity, I think, and thus leaving the book behind seems a missed opportunity to indulge our love for learning. However:
[X] Plan But We Like Dogs More
-[X] A sled dog, almost half your size. The rest of her pack is dead, and by tradition, it's considered bad luck to pair her with another team. ~15 Silver Rings.
-[X] A charm that can allegedly absorb hostile magic. It does look very pretty. ~10 Silver Rings. -[X] A small but enthusiastic dog. Apparently, the runt of the litter, too stunted to hunt well. ~10 Silver Rings.
This also seems acceptable for people who really don't want the book. Yes, it's 35 rings, but I think we should take the dogs and gambling 5 rings on the charm being real and thus providing an ongoing boost seems totally a chance worth taking to me (unlike the healing potion, which is a vastly bigger gamble on a consumable).
[X] Curiosity
[X] Help escort Darius' convoy to distant Tulane, west and slightly south
[X] Plan Bare Necessities -[X] A map of the northern continent. Probably. ~15 Silver Rings.
-[X] A healing potion, or so they claim. You're not sure such a thing should be publicly sold, but no one seems surprised.. ~20 Silver Rings.
I feel like losing a doggy to death via sharp price of metal would further traumatize Geln
I mean, by this logic we should never make friends either, because we'll be traumatized if they die. It's just no way to live and not a fun direction to take the character either.
Plus, even if you don't like getting the dogs, the healing potion is really risky investment that seems like a bad gamble, and the map is extremely premature (we probably want one eventually, but we super don't need one yet). Neither seem like good investments on the face of them.
I mean, by this logic we should never make friends either, because we'll be traumatized if they die. It's just no way to live and not a fun direction to take the character either.
Plus, even if you don't like getting the dogs, the healing potion is really risky investment that seems like a bad gamble, and the map is extremely premature (we probably want one eventually, but we super don't need one yet). Neither seem like good investments on the face of them.
You still haven't answered my hypothetical about what the max number of dogs you'd buy would be.
It's weird for you to argue what's needed when you're reasoning is based on feeling sorry for the dogs.
You still haven't answered my hypothetical about what the max number of dogs you'd buy would be.
It's weird for you to argue what's needed when you're reasoning is based on feeling sorry for the dogs.
Sorry, I missed that. It really depends, the main reason I'm sorry for these two is them likely not finding an owner without us (for different reasons), so there's definitely a number of dogs where I just stop believing that to be true of all of them, so probably not too many more. And the big dog is pretty unambiguously good for a variety of reasons even utility-wise, the little one is less obviously useful but probably still good if we need to track by scent. Neither is useless by any means.
And I don't think it's weird to talk about what's needed even if we're getting stuff for emotional reasons? Like, what pressing emotional need do the map and healing potion fill? Thinking emotional reasons to buy something are valid doesn't mean I don't think there shouldn't be a reason.
-[X] A sled dog, almost half your size. The rest of her pack is dead, and by tradition, it's considered bad luck to pair her with another team. ~15 Silver Rings.
[X] A sled dog, almost half your size. The rest of her pack is dead, and by tradition, it's considered bad luck to pair her with another team. ~15 Silver Rings.
Whats normal around these parts, were the amulet and potion genuine or snake oil?
Bit of a salt bait question, but its important to ground this before the next time we're at a market.
I promise not to be mad either way.
DC 4
+2 (Charismatic)
+1 (Learned)
DC 7
4, 8, 10, 2
'What you want can't happen.'
The Hoklin scrivener frowns up at you from his seat, keeping a wary grip on the dictionary. From what he claims- and the single page you've seen- it's a worthy effort. Nearly a thousand words in three languages, with definitions and pronunciation guides!
His price was still too high, given that he's offering only a copy, but you could respect the man's stolid dedication, the patient craftsmanship, the nights and days he must have spent interviewing dozens, hunting down a rare caste of people for something only an even rarer caste would use.
'…Why do you say that?' He's clearly not terribly pleased, but you wouldn't be either if someone told you that the highest peaks were only a mirage.
'Deep Speech can't be learnt by others. You can understand, write and read- but unless you start as a child, you cannot speak it.'
'That's…'
'cannot be will be tongues ideas ever shifting similarity denial of ideas.'
'None of that means anything. You're speaking too distinctly; a word cannot be on its own.'
'…what did you say?'
You can see it now, in his eyes- the beginnings of admitting defeat. It's almost enough to hold your tongue, but he deserves better than to chase a ghost. If he's to continue, he should know the nature of what he makes- even if it'll never affect you personally, it strikes you as wrong to leave it unchanged.
'What you said- every part was right, but the whole meant nothing. How they combine gives them meaning.'
'Then.. how do you say it?'
'You will never be able to through mundane means.', you admit, exaggeratedly slow.
He attempts to mimic you again- but it's no less nonsensical than before, just in a different fashion. His mimicry never manages to match your own, no matter how he shapes his tongue.
'I'm sure that your work will do a lot of good, but it can't teach others to speak like you want.', you interject before he tries a fourth time. 'But I'd like it.'
As a mix of slow anger and despair starts to overtake him, you quickly pay him and leave before he refuses to sell at all.
[X] Adopt the sled dog.
DC 4
-1 (Stranger in a Strange Land)
+2 (Charismatic)
+1 (Responsible Owner)
DC 6
5, 10, 6, 8
'You have an excellent taste, corpse-smith, to come to us. Our teams are some of the most reliable in Sovistel! Even Hassan's men buy from us; if they satisfy his warriors, then I'm sure they will live up to your every expectation.'
'They use sleds to move supplies?'
'No! Well- yes, but they also ride them into battle! Just like your lands are flooded, ours are always covered with snow, even in summer. Just look outside! It's dangerous, but our hounds have no fear of fire or arrows. Do you like them?'
You stop looking outside in alarm to instead admire the four small packs, one of them not quite yet fully grown. His apprentices coax them back and forth with vigorous gestures and the occasional treat, and despite being strung together by reins when sledding, somehow avoid entangling each other. Their Haven counterparts could likely overpower them without trouble, but these ones are clearly much smarter.
'You should be very proud', you tell him honestly, 'but can I have just one?'
He blinks in evident surprise- who did he think you were buying them for?- but recovers admirably.
'Well- not normally… but come with me.'
You follow the master some ways until you come to the back of the building. Tied to a post and out of the way, for reasons you don't quite fathom, is middle aged sled dog, currently sleeping beneath a thin layer of snow.
'Kora is the last of her pack, and her former owners gave her back to us. If she joins another team, she would carry with her the jealous spectres of her kin, so we've been making arrangements with a furrier. She's been….'
You nod along, not really understanding most of his admission, when Kora awakes at the sound of his voice. She rolls over onto her feet, splattering snow all across the nearby wall, before barking enthusiastically at her beastmaster. Guileless sky blue eyes show no sign of understanding that you're discussing her fate….
'How much?', you interrupt him before he talks your ear off.
'…twenty of your rings?'
'Will you teach me how to command her?'
'Of course!'
'Protection?'
'….You mean armour? For.. dogs?'
You shrug and give him fifteen rings, a sum he seems frankly shocked by.
'Just go with the commands.'
———————————
'Darius?'
'Geln! Thought it over?'
'Yes. And yes.'
'Wonderful!'
The much smaller man shakes your hand with the merriment he seems to take to everything in life, even when ankle deep in snow. You've found him later in the afternoon, reorganising what you can only assume to be his convoy- a half dozen horse drawn caravans, covered with cloth but clearly laden. A small cluster of staff swarm about beast and commodity alike, preparing beast and cart alike for yet another journey. Unlike the horse you encountered weeks before, these ones seem of a different breed- broader shoulders, longer legs, far less swift to act.
'We're leaving tomorrow morning, as soon as it's sunrise, right here. Think you can manage that?'
'Of course. How are you feeding them.?'
'What do you mean?'
'Your horses.'
'You haven't seen those before? They only eat plants', he assures.
'There don't seem to be many plants around here, unless they can dig.'
'Ah.. don't worry about that; we're travelling in summer, and the route we're going, the frost will lose us in a week. We're mostly feeding them oats, anyways; they won't have much time to graze.'
'I see… so you know the local markets?'
'I'd hope so! Why do you-'
One of his staff calls out to him, a quick request in staccato Lodge Cant, and he excuses himself swiftly to go deal with yet another interruption.
You suppose just being able to ask would have been far too easy.
—————————-
You spend most of the rest of the afternoon exploring with your newfound pet, forgetting your disappointment as you follow her back and forth through Sovistegrad. Several times, you're almost tempted to spend further, some curiosity or other catching your eye, but you refrain. It's not as if you're made of rings!
You do eventually come across their local temple. It's… strange, especially in that it's over a dozen buildings- but none of them large at all. Hobgoblins flow amongst the cluster, smelling vaguely of incense, while figures you assume to be priest chatter rapidly amongst themselves. You count what must be several different emblems- several deities?- but some buildings are clearly more frequented by others.
The amount of traffic coming and going strikes you as odd… too little for a festival, slightly too much for a quiet day. Without knowing their language, though, you have no real way of knowing, and Kora drags you away soon after.
(That night, you dream more vividly than you ever did before, and when you awake you can almost hear the echoes of your wall, voices you've never really met yet seem so familiar.. but what did they say?)
—————————-
The next sunrise, you leave.
Darius is clealry having a far more hectic time of it than you, and it's not as if you would have had an opportunity to talk to him regardless. You join the rest of the guards- a humans, mostly hobgoblins, and in all you form only five, all men.
You're starting to suspect that, like many foreigners, the Hoklin do not let their women wage war. Hopefully it's not a lunacy that's infected the rest of their society- only some of the Islefolk are miracle workers!
With only five people in a convoy of over a score, your work is certainly cut out for you. Nearly all day, you're constantly working, with barely time to even talk to your coworkers. Even when you stop to eat, and the guard schedule relaxes, you find yourself scarfing your food as soon as you can hold it, instinctively anxious at how few of you seem prepared to fight… at all, really.
The snowy wilds seem largely empty of threats, but threats that are easily seen aren't the ones that prosper. You remain ever vigilant at every bend and every nook, warily eying ever glen and snow bank. Half a day in, you realise your counterparts aren't putting in nearly the effort you're putting into it. A day in, in the little time you have before the watch begins and you take what sleep you can- watches that, absurdly, seem to consist of one warrior and two daytalers, instead of a full guard- is spent in solitude, too many things marking you out as different for others to approach.
Making Friends
DC 4
-1 (Stranger in a Strange Land)
-1 (Terrifying)
-2 (Bad Omens)
-1 (Understaffed)
+2 (Charismatic)
+1 (Veteran)
DC 2
2, 4, 8, 8
Learning the Language
DC 4
+2 (Dilettante)
+1 (Dictionary)
-1 (Cut Short)
-2 (Understaffed)
DC 4
5, 6, 8, 9
No progress
On the second day, nothing happens- neither good nor bad. No one sees fit to disturb you in your business, both official and not, and you're left to fletch or read or feed Kora alone. The cold shoulder is… strange, but perhaps to be expected, even from comrades who seem frankly incompetent… which may have to do with one other.
You never dwell upon it overmuch- your time is occupied relentlessly, be it by work or chore or the only other trustworthy warrior to be found. Kora faithfully nips your heels and responds to every call, and takes to exploration with a vigour that belies her age, delighted to once again be on the move. She eagerly carves through snow drifts and digs up vermin burrows, before returning to you with canine swiftness.
Tyr is a wonderful dog, but watching her adapt so swiftly to being taken away from all she's ever known… you realise that he is somewhat, stupid.
Part way through the third day, Darius talks to you.
'Is everything alright?'
'Somehow, yes. No one and nothing has gone missing.'
'You haven't seen anything?
'No. I count, whenever we start or stop.'
'…That's very diligent of you. Are all corpse-smiths so meticulous?'
'I suppose. You shouldn't leave your task half finished.'
He opens his mouth, then closes it, and you can practically hear his mind turn about.
'I meant to ask why you're doing this', he elaborates at last. 'The men are starting to wonder; it's a bit like you know something they do not. They're starting to question… everything is well?'
'I think they should spend less time wondering, and more time guarding.'
'…That's wonderful to hear.', he suddenly reverses, shaking your hand, leaving you still quite confused. Has he never had competent hirelings in his life? How is he still in business, then?
'If all is so far well, then I'm sure we're in good hands. I'm glad you're adjusting well enough to life here; work has been much busier than I expected.'
'It's no problem; I'm just a hired blade here. Your business is your own.'
'Of course! But still.. do you have anything you'd like to address, while we have the moment?'
'....actually, can you tell me about where we're going? I don't know much of Tulane.'
'Of course! Tulane is much warmer than here, that's for certain; like the Hoklin, Tulane is much more a peoples than singular states. There are dozens of clans, and each of them with differing opinions and bloodlines, but they're united in their lifestyle and mutual support for independence. There is a division, though- the sky Tulani are nomads staying constantly ahead of their own overgrazing, and whose clans rarely last more than a generation, while the earth Tulani live much more stable claims upon the richest land. It'll be easier to explain once we arrive, however.'
'They're quite peaceful, then?'
'Peaceful enough. As long as we pay the passing-tithes and keep out of the way, I doubt we'll be troubled by them- not unless a clan is truly desperate. Even in those wild places, a reputation for cruelty and pillaging makes few friends.'
'It just seems strange, that there's only five guards. That's very few, for over two dozen people.'
'Well, five men is all we need. My hands are armed and aware, and in summer, these roads should be safe.'
You're tempted to reiterate that four of his men don't seem very able, but you won't waste his time repeating yourself, especially when you have your own, personal questions.
'The Hoklin seem to have an excess of sorcery; is it normal for them to vendor potions and enchantments?'
'Well! They do indeed; they're marvellous alchemists and mages, the greatest I know of disregarding mystic Acheron. A great many reagents grow only here, in the endless cold, and the things they create using them are similarly exclusive; a great deal of what I'm shifting right now are cured ingredients that can't be grown in the Leagues. We've tried, too- but they just don't seem to take in our climates, for neither love nor money. Potions and blessings, certainly.. but a charm? How much, and for what?'
'She claimed it could ward against sorcery, for about ten silver rings.'
He frowns, does some mental maths, and frowns further. 'For enchantments.. no, that is too cheap. You didn't buy it, did you? No? Good.. I don't know how she made it, but she was probably overstating its powers- or, worse, there was some hidden hook to it. Such defences should cost at least more than my sword!'
'Since you've visited the market- I assume that's also when you brought your hound?'
'Kora's a beautiful dog, yes.'
'Well purchased, then! I did mean to ask- how did you buy only one sled dog?'
'The rest of her team is dead.'
'..and you just brought her?'
'I did. It seemed a waste; she still has a life ahead of her.'
'…well, just between you and me- I think it will make both our lives easier if you don't mention further. They're very superstitious here, especially when it comes to death.'
'..of course.'
'Well, if you have any further questions, don't hesitate to find me in a free moment! I'm glad we met; I'll talk to the others not to worry about you.'
'Thank you, and I'm glad as well.'
Darius is true to his word- no one bothers you for the rest of the day. Admittedly, they weren't bothering you before, but perhaps he hadn't realised it. The other four stay at a wary distance from you, if now slightly more subtle about it, and the hours pass by largely unchanged.
…you will admit, you were hoping that their paymaster's approval would have cleared up some great shroud, some hidden flaw you didn't know that made you subtly pariah. Then again.. you suppose the withering glare you gave to a hand that started asking too many questions about Kora didn't help.
The sun sets, the third night comes, and although the march is brisk enough, you remain in limbo.
It's on the fourth day that you become certain something is wrong.
It's nothing large, nothing definite. It's small things, coincidences that occur too often to be dismissed- it's the strange quiet in the wilds, the hollows too empty, even of vermin. It's the sudden dearth of false calls, it's Kora becoming more and more adventurous even as the things you thought she liked to rummage through grow only scarcer. It's the strangeness that seems to suddenly end when your shift begins, yet recommence when it ends…
Perhaps it's paranoia, and maybe the wilds here really are safe- the guards a complacent last defence.
That night, you convince Darius to have an extra pair of eyes on watch, to lay traps in the snow. It's not a move that made you popular- less sleep, more work never goes well, and doubly so for this ill disciplined troop.
That night, you're proven correct.
—————————
Like Mist
DC 1
+2 (Adept Guard)
+1 (Extra Eyes)
+1 (Guard Dog)
DC 5
1, 3, 6, 10
Saving Throw
DC 1
+2 (Adept Guard)
+1 (Extra Eyes)
+1 (Guard Dog)
DC 5
1, 7, 9, 5
It was a coincidence.
It was nothing but stupid luck, that had you double back when you did. There was no real reason for it, the choice to turn left or right at the junction, to circle clockwise or anticlockwise on the who knows how many-eth time you circled camp. There were enough eyes to technically cover every approach, but not near enough to cover them in turn; a different choice, and no one would have known.
A different choice, and Kora wouldn't have stiffened; a different choice, and you wouldn't have heard her whine not in confusion, but fear. A bit to the right, and you might not have been swift enough; a bit less aware, and you might not have noticed.
A bit too slow, and when you came around to see a corpse and a shadow, you might have been too late.
They are slim and shorter than you, perhaps as large as a Hoklin; their frame wiry and bent at odd angle, almost human but not quite. You see no eyes, no mouth- how much of that is the dark, how much whatever they're wearing?
They turn to you with an almost human face, one devoid of features in the dark, bloody wire in their grip. They see your axe, they judge the distance- and they flee, swift as a cat into the woods, even as those on watch wake the camp, preparing a fruitless hunt.
The tracks In the snow… you come back for them, when it's clear that they've evaded you entirely. How can someone disappear so quickly into the dark, without trace nor sign of their presence? There are too many answers to that question, from mortal skill to cruel enchantment, and what you find yields nothing. The footprints are not human- they remind you of that of a stalking beast, their imprint lighter pound for pound than someone of that size should be with merely human tread. Whoever was here was not quite human; their feet and heels, at least, must have be warped, until, if you found them in the wilds, you could be convinced that they belonged to a wild animal, one of many who rely on light tread and swift attacks to fell their prey….
..but beasts didn't slash throats with wire. When you tell the others about this, for the first time in days, not one of them doubts you- even silently. The next day, when you assume your guard, you are joined by four others, as it should have been. Shock drives them to be near as watchful, near as diligent.. but it cannot raise the dead.
Someone is hunting you, but why?
————————————
On the fifth day, nothing is found. Someone claims to have seen eyes, watching in the dark.. but there is nothing to it. You didn't think there would be, anyways- not from what you recall from their face, concealed by shadow and mask alike.
On the sixth day, the surprise comes instead beneath the rising sun.
At the sight of another cart coming up from behind and slightly to the sides, the caravan comes to a stop- nerves too frayed by tragedy and tension to take any risks. When they come close to enough to be truly seen, a minute waits ends rather anticlimactically when it's only a single vehicle. If these really are marauders, then they'd be incredibly outnumbered; already, the hands start readying the escort to move again, even as the newcomers roll to a stop besides you.
In truth, you'd describe their platform more like a chariot than a cart. You can see then similarities, but where Darius' caravans are made for bulk transport, their vehicle is made for travelling. There's five in all- two Hoklin, one the beastmaster by the reins she grips tight and warily, and two others who strikes you as far stranger.
While Darius speaks to them too quickly and exotically for you to parse properly, you take the luxury to examine your impromptu guests. One you recognise easily enough- at first, you were surprised they were moving with a child, but as she jostles for a better view you recognise the familiar frame of a halfling. She carries with her a staff-sling for self defence, but otherwise seems dressed the most typically- and wealthily- of the group. Perhaps she's employed them?
The other two- both woman- you can't place nearly so easily. One is slim and short, with skin so pale and thin it seems almost translucent- as if you only had to shine a bright light upon her to trace every vein and artery. Wide eyes and otherwise thin features remind you somehow of a butterfly, as she moves with a delicate grace and eerie beauty. As a form alone, none of her features seem to fit quite right- but together, as a breathing person?
She is beautiful, you admit, bundled under rough cloaks. Fragile and only mostly human- but in her frame is the beauty of something frail yet unique, a moment of natural artistry captured in mortal frame. Yet… what is she?
Still- it's her companion that makes you worry far more.
She wears relatively little, a sleeveless gambeson and trousers under a ragged coat and hood, somehow unaware of the cold. Her skin is certainly far more solid, its texture somehow reminding you of smooth metal. The shape of her jaw, the movement of her limbs- they strike you as abnormal despite the fact that she hasn't moved that much. By the sabre at her side and crossbow in easy reach, you presume she must be their guardian…
When she turns, you see her eyes, and everything makes sense.
You subtlety move around and to the sides slightly, to see more of her frame, and the clues only add. Her eyes are black voids, shot through without even a hint of pupil or iris, as if entirely replaced by obsidian, while below her hips, her legs are flexed forwards like that of a hound.
You don't move quickly, but she alone notices you- turning to face you, stretching and standing on her toes- weight shifted forwards far more like Kora's than your own. She watches you, and for just a breath- just a blink- you would swear her lips twitched upwards.
As soon as you see it, it's gone. She watches you passively, warily, as if sensing your intent… is she scared? Wary? Waiting? Her eyes tell nothing at all…
Does she know?
Do you know?
—————————
I enjoy these narrative updates far more than mechanics heavy paperwork updates. Even if they're much longer.
To clarify- she has what we'd call digitigrade legs, like a dog's or cat's. In comparison, we have plantigrade legs, which trade agility for stability (hence why we can balance on two).
There are certain rolls that I hide from you. Like a perception check, you knowing their results would be spoilers.
There's a part in the update that I suppose is good enough, but I don't like it much. I had a better version, but I lost the original to an editing mistake…
[] Pull Darius aside and tell him.
[] Accuse her of murder. She must be the one! How many mutants like her could there possibly be?
[] Kill one of their horses, then accuse them of murder. It won't do to let them flee, not when Stein's kin deserved answers.
[]…no, similarity isn't proof. How could they have come up from behind you, if she was amongst you only two days ago? Stay quiet.. but sleep in your armour tonight. [] Attack her on the spot.
Vote open for at least two days.
Questions welcome.
[X]…no, similarity isn't proof. How could they have come up from behind you, if she was amongst you only two days ago? Stay quiet.. but sleep in your armour tonight.
I think it's someone related to her.
'Darius,' you interject. He's surprised, but his negotiations would have to wait- this was a matter of life and death. Thankfully, your urgency overrides his confusion, and he politely excuses himself to talk to you some ways away from their chariot and the other guards alike.
'The black eyed women is probably our hunter.', you cut to the point. 'The tracks aren't human, but she doesn't have human feet.'
'The tiefling, you mean? I've never looked at people's tracks like that before.'
He considers, and in the pause you glance over his head. All three of the non-hobgoblin travellers are looking in your direction, whispering amongst themselves. The 'tiefling', whatever exactly she may be, catches your gaze and offers you a splitting grin, maintaining eye contact as she reaches low and to the side….
Darius has 2/4 Health remaining, and some kind of amorphous elemental trying to choke him.
Hoklin Sellsword dismounts warily, armed with a man catcher.
Hoklin Driver prepares to leave quickly.
??? panics with a crossbow.
'DOWN!'
You have a split second, watching the rising glint of a loaded bolt, and it's enough for you to throw Darius to the ground. Whether he was the target, you can't tell- either way, the bolt slams into you instead.
It slams you to one knee, the impact from a dozen paces puncturing a thin slice into your arm. Half a dozen voices start screaming all around you, and you see Darius- half rising- be thrown onto his back with a sickening crack, something amorphous and silver flowing up his arm and around his neck, choking a wail of pain. The human guard is by his side swiftly, while the rest scatter every way in panic- showing little resistance to your foes.
'We only want the corpse smith!', the tiefling calls, never once taking her eyes off yours. 'Are you going to come sharp or-'
You don't let her finish.
Mercenary Loyalties
DC 6
-2 (Intimidate)
DC 4
1, 2, 9, 5
Two of them leap into the fight; the other two prove rather feckless.
You charge the Tiefling Brave!
+Veteran Heavy Impact, Medium Armour, War Is, Powerful, Bardiche, Take Him Alive!
-Elite Heavy Blades, Light Armour, Longsword, Strong, Agile, Deft, Outnumber (3)
DC 0/5
10, 3, 2, 2
You deal 3 and take 4 damage, but Reach- and lack of enemy cohesion- enables you to strike first and precisely.
Armour 2, Pierce 6 (!)
7, 4, 3
5 Damage, Blade is down, Familiar dispelled.
DC is adjusted up signficantly; instead of poking you with a man catcher, the sellsword decides to disengage while you're occupied.
(As you didn't defeat all three, it's not a Cleave, sadly.)
Two Mercenary Guards stand back, uncertain.
One tries to help Darius, but can only try to pry it off.
The last hurls a spear at the Halfling.
DC 6
+2 (Adept Spears)
-2 (Cover)
-1 (Agile)
-2 (Small Target)
DC 3
7, 4, 2, 9
Miss
d3=3
??? finds herself in the way.
DC 6
+2 (Adept Spears)
-2 (Indirect Target)
DC 6
10, 9, 10, 3
Miss
Your right arm burns sharply, but you can still feel through it, and that is enough. Launching yourself from a kneeling start, you clear the distance in between you and them in barely enough time to level your blade, edge primed to skewer your first attacker. She cuts herself short and makes a split second choice- she casts her net, and seals her fate.
The weighted net awkwardly slides across your head and back, but does extremely little to actually slow you down. She crumples around the tip of your axe as it tears clean through her waist and side, a desperate parry only scattering her blade instead of actually defending. You pay neither her silent fall nor the copious blood any mind, checking her down and aside, and your second opponent promptly chooses discretion over valour.
Foul language and his weapon are both hurled into your face, and you shatter it in disgust once you realise he's escaped you, just in time as well. Your victory had clearly convinced them they had lost, and the sellsword leaps aboard a chariot that's already gaining speed. The halfling makes a gesture with her stave, doing… something, out of sight, as nearly everyone else converges on the vehicle- even the fickle guards having suddenly found their courage.
The other mutant, rendered even paler in fear, still has the presence to cast one handed, crossbow in the other. Beside you, Kora suddenly seizes as if paralysed, a hobgoblin tripping on her bulk- before she goes berserk.
You rush up and strike, but the chariot's momentum is already too much, picking up speed faster than you could hope to run. The back loses a chunk, but that clearly doesn't stop it, and you have neither the time nor ability to damage it further. The chariot drives out of reach and off road, sweeping clean past the stunned servants, and you have much more urgent things to do than read the faces of its passengers.
One of the guards tries to skewer Kora, now either howling savagely, or awkwardly twitching atop the guard she's pinned to the floor. For his trouble, you slug him off his feet, before hauling Kora away from anyone she could hurt, or would hurt her.
The rest back off, and thankfully, whatever curse afflicted Kora seems to fade with distance. She stumbles after you meekly as you look over the fallen- not all that much, yet still too many.
d4-1 (Untrained Aid)= 3 self destruct Damage.
Saving Throws
DC 4
+2 (Aid)
-2 (Wound Penalty)
DC 4
10, 5, 9
Tiefling Blade?
DC 4
-2 (Bleed Out)
+1 (Veteran)
+2 (Sacrificial Familiar)
DC 5
3, 6, 5, 7
Saving a Life
DC 4
+1 (War Is)
DC 5
8, 4, 4, 9
Unconscious, extremely fragile.. but alive.
The tiefling is somehow alive, if barely. You volunteer another to help you stem her bleeding; she's unconscious from egregious blood loss, but only mostly dead. Darius, though…
Whatever it was had dissolved into shrapnel; his neck and lower face have been rendered far more viscera than flesh.
You look away.
Without your leader, authority should fall to the his second in command, a younger woman named Iris Atr. Your coworkers cluster awkwardly close, but not too close, to you- now uncertain of what comes next, of who you are.
DC 2
+2 (Charismatic)
+1 (Veteran)
-1 (Stranger in a Strange Land)
DC 4
7, 7, 3, 3
She arrives to find you carefully searching your prisoner's belongings. It's bare bones… a small case of crossbow bolts, a pair of potions you don't dare drink, a slip of paper written upon in a language you neither recognise nor understand, a smattering of irrelevant jewellery.. nothing that tells you why they were so intent on seizing you.
To her credit, she maintains composure upon seeing the remains of her relative, shakily ordering mercenaries set his corpse alight. You wonder if that's how League funerals normally go.. either way, she listens patiently as you recount what occurred, moment by moment.
When you finish, you can guess what she'll say before she say it.. you just wish she didn't look at you with such wariness.
'I'm sorry', she guardedly deflects, 'but.. if armed parties are looking for you, then we have to.. to..'
'Let me go.'
'…yes.'
To your surprise, she hands over a handful of League coinage- your full dues for a week, skirmish included. When you acquiesce, the tension visibly drains from her.
'Given where they just left, I'd advise heading to Nociva- they might be expecting you to retreat to the other corpse-smiths, since they already tracked you out here. Good luck.'
'What will you do with the tiefling?'
'I don't know.'.
Reading her tone, you can guess precisely what she'll do- she'll just wait for you to leave, first.
———————-
As the victim, Stein's family deserves most of the spoils, but as the victor you can justify keeping a prize. You keep the unknown writings, and…
[] Her sword
[] The two potions
Regarding her fate, you decide to….
[] Try to take her with you.
[] Try to convince the convoy to be merciful, but ultimately leave her in their hands. (You dislike this option…)
Where to go now?
[] Sovistegrad, only perhaps four days away by beaten trail, on foot, alone.
[] Nociva, the north most League capital. Likely a dozen days through varyingly wild lands, assuming you're alone.
Do you wish to buy anything from the caravan? They're carrying some useful alchemical goods- poisons, potions, medicine, incense and candle oil- as well as more exotic stones, hides and skins. You're not sure what the price will be, but you assume they'll mark it up out here in the middle if nowhere.
[] Yes. Try to buy… [write in]
[] No
—————————
It turns out that other people like to ruin plans.
The rolls were very dramatic.
Your arm wound will heal in a few days; less than a week at most. Islefolk heal quickly.
Questions welcome.
You've at least two days to vote.
[X] The two potions [X] Try to take her with you. [X] Sovistegrad, only perhaps four days away by beaten trail, on foot, alone.
I don't think we need a sword, and don't feel sanguine about leaving the prisoner...even leaving morality aside, I want to interrogate her to figure out what's going on. That said, traveling with a prisoner likely increases travel times, and we don't want to be out here alone any longer than we must.
