Tiller's Tale
25 of Arodus 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)
In the end you turn a wide arc around the shambling mound, no sense looking for more trouble with magic spent and fresh-healed wounds still twinging. As the arc of the sun mercifully descends below the horizon your find a small clearing, a gnarled and twisted giant of the woods that had fallen to age or mischance, leaving behind just enough room for a cold camp for your furtive company.
Thankfully Iolda's charges all have decent cloaks, though patched and travel worn, huddling together for warmth or maybe just to keep away from strangers, scaled and not. It's only the sorceress herself who approaches you, throwing a curious look to the babe as she does so: "They're not usually so good with the cold, children that age."
"He's an odd one alright, Desna's blessings on him," Mina offers, as Cob adds: "Sleeps good, eats good, lot of food, no fingers."
"You know..." she shakes her head, reconsidering her words, and pulls out a water-skin, though you do not think there's water sloshing around in there from the sharp scent. "A drink to warm our bones and commemorate irrigating the crops."
Gorok shakes his head. "Watch duty."
His loss, you decide to take a sip and find it tastes of wood-smoke, fruits, nuts, and spices to do not know the names of, as far apart from shroon wine as this green world is from the tunnels below.
Akorian Fortitude: 1d20+3 = 22 (Success)
"Irrigating?" Mina asks, a touch confused.
"That's what we Tillers of the Bellflowers call killing a slaver, it's watering the soil you see," the round faced stub nosed woman explains genially. "Don't know if he has slaves in his own name, but given the One he served—" she makes a odd three pointed symbol in the air— "it comes out to the same thing, doesn't it?"
Mina Knowledge (Religion): 1d20+11 = 29 (Success)
"Do you... irrigate often?" Mina hesitates. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I never heard of something like this. The news we got out of the Damned Empire was about mighty hellknights and foul devils everywhere watching the towns and roads, the fields and woods."
"Where're you from lass? Up north round Lake Encarthan? You sound like it." After Mina's nod she continues. "Well that's what they want you to think, a man with his head bowed in fear can't see the cracks. Many a knight and duke or count will claim that they are strong through the power of Hell and its strumpet. Oh excuse me, Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune..."
"I don't know what most of those words mean," you interject, to which Iolda laughs, though the crinkles at the corner of her eyes show it's not at you.
"Means she's greedy for infamy and prestige as a pig is for slop. You know people come out basically good and then the ones' that turn wicked get that goodness peeled back, like an onion. Sometimes by others, sometimes they do it to themselves. But even the real rotten shits usually have some care for their own flesh and blood. Abrogail, she killed her own family and she doesn't care who knows it... as long as you don't say it. That's what this land is, a conspiracy of liars and cheats and the ones on top would like nothing better than to have it go right down to the ground, the slave on the work gang to sell his brother over another drink of stale water. That's what all us Tillers right up the Farmer himself are fighting for, to keep that off our door. Not many folk have it in them to get blood on their hands. Bloody for it and that's alright, but as for me..." she trails off with a meaningful look to Mina.
"She worships Calistria, the Savored Sting." For some reason Mina is blushing as she mumbles the word out.
"Oh lass, you're not long out of the temple door are you?" the sorceress slaps her knees good naturally before walking back to the others.
After a long moment of silence Mina spews out, so fast you almost can't make out the words, "Calistria's the patron of bedmates-for-hire and the scorned."
"That first thing sounds oddly specific," you offer. "Are there a lot of people who do that in the Burnlands?"
That had apparently been the wrong thing to say since she stutters a goodbye and goes off to 'help Gorok keep watch'.
On the next morning you find your way back into the cave and as you start to descend down the musty, moss-wrapped tunnels down into Nar Voth and of course some of that moss starts talking, the shroon man wants to know how your 'diplomatic mission' went.
How do you keep up the
lie?
[] You slew a great and wicked foe
Try to distract the Leshy with talk of battle
[] You met up with your allies in the Bellflower network
Maybe Iolda can help with this. She called herself a Tiller right, surely she has some skill with talking plants
[] Write in
OOC: Rolls were pretty easy this time around, but it would have been funny if Akorian somehow failed DC 5 on the drink.