Tree Lords II

[JadedDM]

"Should you encounter more ghouls--or any other dark creatures, I would suggest you either fight or flee," Lareth says matter-of-factly. "Fare thee well," he adds, before tugging on the rope that is ensnaring the Baaz. "Come along, you," he says, and the two head off to the north.

===========

Locky casts Cure Light Wounds on Babushka, restoring (1d8): 4 HP.
Locky casts Cure Moderate Wounds on Imani, restoring (1d10+1): 7 HP.
Locky casts Cure Moderate Wounds on Jeremy, restoring (1d10+1): 11 HP.
Locky casts Cure Light Wounds on Jerrard, restoring (1d8): 7 HP.

[Jerrard]

"Well that told us." Jerrard mumbles from his position in the company. "I guess we go west, Babuskha and Jeremy in front."

"Is there anything about the Ghouls you met I should know?" He asks Imani.

[HorizonsDream]

"Well, I'm not sure we are going to run into any more of them," Imani says. "But apparently they can paralyze you if they cut you," she explains.

[NoTrammeling]

A low whistle sounds from the shrubbery just in front of the party. The bushes rustle and scratch as something struggles through them, something that swears and spits curses in the dwarfish tongue. It's only a brief moment before a stocky cloaked figure emerges from the vegetation. He, if one can ever be certain of a dwarf's gender at first glance, has a large square face dominated by a widely-bridged nose sprouting two long black mustachios falling over worn leather armor to tuck neatly behind his heavy belt. A short sword hangs at his side and a small arsenal of daggers are strapped to various places on his person.

A set of roguishly twinkling copper eyes regard the party from just under the brim of a dirt-brown hood. He strikes a nonchalant pose, but the rope-wounds on his wrists and the disrepair of his clothing tell another tale. When he speaks his voice is heavy with the accents of Thorbardin.

"Ho, what a strange band, I suddenly don't feel quite so out of place in this blasted tree-home. Well met fellow travelers! This may seem a strange question but know you where we be? I seem to have lost all sense of bearings without the embrace of a goodly stone passage. Ah! And lost my courtesies as well, you have the dubious pleasure of speaking to Fikod Uthmifoddom." He tugs at the top of his hood, nodding to the group.

[Breila]

"Well met, Fikod. Yes, we are all strangers to these lands. I am called Babushka, and me and Jeremy here ar the pathfinders for our little group. Where did you plan to go?" The gnome returns the courtesy with a nod, looking the dwarf over. At least this was someone she didn't have to crane her neck to look into his eyes.

[Jenara]

"Many have claimed to be lost, to catch an unwary traveller." The tall bearded man says, standing beside a horse, the wind blows his cloak open to reveal a plain white robe, and a sword hilt which he holds tightly. "Yet one cannot hope to stand against many..."

-------

"Oh ignore him, he is just being a grumpy sausage, see he didnt get to fight these Ghouls we met, it was interesting, but a little hard." A small figure says, stepping forward and offering her hand with a wide grin. "Locky Lightfoot, I guess I'm a Reverend Daughter of Paladine, but that's another story, see there was this Giant Mushroom Man-" She rambles her topknot bouncing as she adjusts the bright shiny chain mail she wears.

-------

"Locky." Jerrard interrupts with a stern gaze. "Jerrard Foss of the White Robes, This is Malika, and Thuskar."

[agamotto]

"I know we should be wary of strangers, but should we not at least give him the benefit of the doubt first? He may prove to be a staunch ally in a time of need." Jeremy says, and to Fikod he says," Greetings earth brother. I hope all has fared as well as can be expected given the situation?"

[HorizonsDream]

"Well, that was a bit dramatic," Imani says to Jerrard before she looks upon the dwarf. "I am Imani. It is a pleasure," she says with a bow of her head.

[JadedDM]

Thuskar doesn't say anything, but does raise an eyebrow at Jerrard's open accusation and threatening gesture toward the dwarf.

Malika slips off the horse and approaches Fikod. "Okay, if nobody else is going to ask, I will. What's a dwarf doing in the middle of an elf forest? Isn't that kind of...odd?" she asks. "What's the story there?"

[Jerrard]

"Perhaps I may have come across slightly blunt." Releasing his blade Jerrard offers his hand, "Indeed my Dear, a Dwarf in this forest is somewhat of an oddity, hence my reaction. Please tell us your story."

[NoTrammeling]

Fikod returns the gaze of those who offer a friendly greeting, acknowledging them with a slight quavering of must mustaches which must be the beginnings of a smile. It takes him a moment to fully grasp what each person is saying to him, whether this be from the fatigue of trials past or little practice at common it is difficult to say.

He swallows and takes a breath before addressing Babushka. "Hrmph! I had a plan to arrive at the doorstep to the Silvanesti. That was in the past, right now I'm reckoning other matters to be of greater import." His eyes sweep past her to the only one of the group to offer him a challenge, Jerrard. "Aye, could be trap. Could be I'm the distraction for the rest of me group sneaking up behind." Fikod follows this with a gravelly chuckle. "There'd be times whe-"

He chokes off the last of his words as the kender comes bounding up to him, fright and suspicion lighting his reeling gaze. "Errr." He seems obviously torn as Locky offers him a hand, but, slowly, he grasps her forearm and covers the embrace with his other hand just to be sure. "Speaking of dubious pleasures."

He backs away as politely as possible when the greeting is finished, next addressing Jeremy. "I've me life, me coinpurse." Here he pauses to make sure he is still, in fact, in possession of his coin after letting a kender come so close. "And me blades. Little to complain of beside a cursed hour trudging through these ever-tangling tree-spawn." He nudges a small shrub with a booted toe.

As Malika and Jerrard approach he swells himself up and brushes aside some leaves stuck onto his cloak, finally judging the moment ripe for his tale. He clasps Jerrard's forearm with long clever fingers, his grip firm but not crushing. "Indeed, indeed, I expected you might find it curious. Forgive me if I'm not more forthcoming, I too know better than to trust at first glance." He sends Jerrard a wink. "I've come the under-way from Thorbardin. A perilous journey, and one unknownst to me. I hired on some guides for the journey but it seems the Daergar are worthy of their repute. They betrayed me and no doubt would have slain me had not a party of elven rangers come upon them profaning the ruins that were our camp."

He clears his throat, giving the party time to absorb the meaning of what he's said before continuing. "'Twas true as steel that this be me one chance. I cut me binds, grabbed me pack, and here I be." His dart between the members of the party, gauging their reactions.

[Breila]

Babushka frowns a little. "What or who are Daergar? I've never heard of them" she tells Fikod.

[NoTrammeling]

"What are the Daergar?" Fikod sputters incredulously. "Why, they're kin to me in a grey and twisted manner. Outcasts and ne'er-do-wells, with rude cunning in place of true dwarfish industriousness. Talk is, they'd as soon slit yer throat as give ye a greeting. And the talk is right, for once." He rubs gently at his rope-chafed wrists. "No sooner had we come up from the underway into the ruins then they trussed me like a sow and began to plunder."

[HorizonsDream]

"Why exactly were you traveling with a group of dark dwarves?" Imani asks. "You couldn't have found a more trustful group of people to travel with?"

[NoTrammeling]

Color blooms on Fikod's cheeks, darkening his cinnamon skin. He clears his throat in an abashed manner before answering Imani. "Well, 'twas me own impatience, aye and arrogance too. Never did I expect to be betrayed when they had me coin already, and an extra set of watchful eyes such as these does not go amiss in the space below. And I reckoned, what trouble could they wish a lovable scamp such as meself? Their race's reputation is just rumors, and I am no poor judge of character to have lived this long." The humor flee his countenance as he speaks, replaced by a cold serious reflection. "I still cannot figure as to why they did it..." His focus drifts away, turned to some inner conundrum.