The Principality of Valorium. [IC]

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Caleun Tranil

Rendered speechless by the... alien... feel of the centipedes, Caleun could only stare speechless at what happened around him, as removed from his usual world as if Sune herself had popped up at his side to deliver a heart-shaped letter. For a second, he even almost forgot to stay in character, but then a life of practice came to his rescue, and rallied himself back to the present world.

"OK, that was as weird as I have seen in the last 80 years of my life. Weirder, even. I must admit I cannot even begin to understand what has happened here, and I will have to think of it a long while. I am glad Soren is here, for I feel much safer facing the darkness with a Chosen one on our side. But while he discovers what just happened to the faerie realm - a realm I wasn't even sure it existed not ten minutes ago - I must remain practical. I say we escort these youngsters back with us. I certainly have no wish to stay here a moment more than we need to."

[Tyriq]

Jyo-lan

"I'd like to know a bit more about what's going on before we take anyone back to Re-marr. Even if these children are innocent, will townspeople be willing to receive them? The people may not be as protective of the children as we are."

He turns to Bethany. "You spoke of a 'Mother's pestilence....' What did you mean by that? What is going with your people in the north?"

[Glyphic]

Bethany, as well as her tribe, stand spell-shocked as events Unfold. A tree becoming man, A man vomiting fire from his gullet, and Elves screaming. A slow, high amplitude wave seems to reverberate through Bethany as she shakes, her steps laden with fear as she backpedals to the rim of the fire.

She stands, traveling over each of you with a lengthy, critical gaze. Her clan offers no mockery, but you can still hear serpentine whispers floating form their forked tongues.

She speaks, while etching the ground with an uneasy claw, "[Rodion's voice] am.. Unsure what it is that has died. But I know I've felt the fear of death grip my heart. Death, or perverted forms of it.. may walk among us." Her tone flexes, her own sorrow overlapping Rodion's voice, and taking it over, hisses, "My Mother and her brood would know more. They lie wasting, their flesh inflicted with vile rot. Puss.. flows through them like blood in their veins and hearts. They pale.. and they die with bulbous growths that crack their bones. "

Her head hangs, her eyelids shut. Her body is still, save claws that clutch her amulet.

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion shakes his head. "That sounds like no mortal ailment I have ever seen, though I am no healer. Could it be linked to this dead.. being?"

[Miraqariftsky]

Soren Solaren

Resting his chin on his knuckles, Soren's frowns and says, "I agree that it is no mortal malady indeed... and in all my years, in all my travels, many plagues have I seen yet none have I encountered as deadly and as wasting as this. I fain that we could go thither and help them yet I fear neither my paltry herb-lore nor what little divine healing is granted to me shall suffice to quell this most loathsome blight"

Bowing his head in thought and stroking his goatee, he muses worriedly, , "Whether the serpent's suffering is directly linked to the wasting away of the elders of the Crescent Moon Clan, it remains to be seen for certain..."

[Glyphic]

Bethany flicks her tail, her body raised and uneasy on her claws. She grips her amulet tightly, the animal sinew that it hangs from stressed taught. Her left claw eventually falls to her side, but the right stays clenched, "While.. they are our Elders, and they have.. our deepest respects and wishes; we have cast our selves from our tribe. Our.. former tribe is the Clan of the Broken Claw. We are barely more than two clutches of eggs; you see us all before you. We.. cast ourselves from their ways only nights ago."

She steps closer, out of earshot of her clan as her hisses become soft whispers, "They.. do not think it wise to tell you, but as.. tonight has unfolded, I see no.. reason to withhold what could save my Mother."

"Once a year, the Troglodyte clans of the Mudd Flats come together, for procreation.. There is reverence to Mythras in addition, but it is.. a fertile time. There came one more clan than usual; one of unfamiliar heritage; The Clan of the Sacred Pool. They.. were accepted. They are now named the Clan of Plague Bringers, for they carried the cursed rot with them. I have not.. the results of any attempt to bring justice upon them, for they were unafflicted."

"To the north.. you'll find more of our Mother's brood, inhabiting the Plateau's by the sea. The Clan of the Broken claw. Some.. adults, and mostly our unscathed youth and the infertile.."

[Glyphic]

It's no ordeal to assemble camp, and wake your bones for a journey into the night. A silver moon still hides behind a coastal bank of fog on this slumberless night. There is no wind, and only the faintest salty smells reach your nose from the oceans.

The earth beneath your feet feels different..more than once through your trek in the night, you feel the crunch of mouse-sized insects under your feet. The darkness and state of these insects adds some difficulty to classifying these alien, or new creatures. They appear as inky-black scarabs, with brittle exoskeletons and squishy purple insides. Many seem to run directly under your feet, as you tread the earth.. The troglodytes do not eat them.

Bethany travels close to your group, helping spot out the occasional stone, or patch of tricky path. The rest of Clan of the Crescent Moon travels to your left side, moving in harmony with the dark that surrounds you. Their movements are slow and labored, and after the first hour, you notice a few tails dragging in the earth. One of the smallest Troglodytes, moves around with uncanny ease.. seeming unaffected by hunger or woes of the body.

After some time of marching, the Troglodytes edge closer to your group, a few members taking tentative steps, walking to your sides. Someone has taught them fractions of Dwarven, common, and elven, making the process of understanding them a headache. Their forked tongue are heavily accented by Giant, making even the most harmonious words clack like shutters in a windstorm.

---
(Child, Juvenile, young adult)

Male Trog, Young adult, to Rodion.

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This troglodyte retains the most muscle mass of the group, but you can tell his body is digesting it away, slowly. He still bears a gnarled cudgel. His grey eyes aim at your face as he approaches. Two taps of his cudgel follow, done by a single claw. Garbled words follow in a torrent of languages, "Sword, you; Is good. I may try?"

Female Trog, Young Adult, to Caleun

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This third female bares little resemblance to Bethany or her sister. Her eyes are lucid and amber colored. She has a series of scrapes trailing down her sides from shorter claws. She leans close, showing her teeth before spewing in hushed tones, "You are peculiar. You smell unlike others. Have you walked far; seen giant-folk?"

Soren, Jyo-lan

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Bethany takes a few moments to observe the rest of her clan that steps in, before rapping on each of your shoulders. No words flow from her, but she drifts to the center of the group. She seems distracted by all the conversations going on, often glancing to each paring. As you make your way south, she begins.. "I.. sense spirits have sway and you are held high in their favors. I feel my clan cannot hold to their own ways if we are to join your Re-marr; wish I- we wish so. Ritual is held at the Moon's Apex. I would like to lead your ritual, if you give your own blessings and your spirits permit the.. defections."

Oddly fast female child, to Trevor

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PM'd

Undetermined Child, to Tanstafaal

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This child lacks pigment in it's scales, and they've bleached white in a few places. The child's breath is ragged, but it manages to keep up with you (at 30ft movement), staying only a few steps behind. It tries hard to step in your foot prints, only managing the sloppily mush them. Otherwise, it is silent, but meets any curious glance with off-white eyes.

Kojiro

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Will have an encounter if he replies to my Email. Till then, stasis

Also: You all hear an odd.. cackling from somewhere. Some times you'll hear it coming from the north, before it will switch location..

[MorkaisChosen]

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Sense Motive: (1d20+10)[19]

Assuming I don't sense any duplicity:

Rodion smiles slightly at the Troglodyte's request. Wordlesly, he hands the sword over- the troglodyte seems not to have any ulterior motive- and watches how he uses it, giving a few gruff tips on technique- and casting his mind back to the time when he was so little different...

[Duke of URL]

Trevor

Surprisingly, perhaps, Trevor doesn't seem to mind the young troglodyte clutching at his arm. He smiles and pats her very gently on the shoulder as they walk.

[Miraqariftsky]

Soren Solaren

"Lead... my... our rituals?" Soren asks respectfully for confirmation. "Or were you asking us to ask for the spirits' blessing for your people?"

Fires guides us through the darkness
Cold and blight so burn away
Thy will be done
Pu'ur, milord
Amen

He walks onwards with eyes glazed yet blazing with a golden light within. Slowly, his lips curl upwards in a smile, the sparse goatee twitching in the wind as he does so. He bows to Bethany and replies in the same pidgin dialect of Common, Dwarven and Elven, "Be that as it may, I do believe the answer is a blazing 'yes'. I am honoured that this is your request and I thank you"

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Female Trog, Young Adult, to Caleun

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This third female bares little resemblance to Bethany or her sister. Her eyes are lucid and amber colored. She has a series of scrapes trailing down her sides from shorter claws. She leans close, showing her teeth before spewing in hushed tones, "You are peculiar. You smell unlike others. Have you walked far; seen giant-folk?"

Caleun Tranil

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"He," laughs Caleun, briefly. His knowledge of all three of dwarven, elven and common helped him understand her better, and does his best to copy where mixed dialog, "There is more to me than meets the eye, that is right. You are perceptive. Most beings look like they must, I look like I should, for the time. If we walk together long, you may understand this further. I want peace, not war, and I felt this was the best way to be listened to. You may call me Caleun, if you wish, and I wonder how I could call you?"

"As to my travels, this is the furthest I have been from my brith place, but I have traveled many miles in my own birth place, going to many places almost no-one had been to before, and seeing much. I have never seen giant-folk, but I know elves and dwarves and many types of men. If you know where to look, you can see much without walking far"

While he talks, assuming the talking goes well, Caleun unleashes his charm, not trying to woo her all the way, but at least stablish a tentative friendship (take 10 on performance(flirt)). If the trog is interested, Caleun will tell interesting/fun stories of what goes on at his "birth place", both to Caleun himself and to others

[Beschoren]

Tasntafaal

Cute thinks the elf as the youngling tries to match his steps. he intentionaly takes some 3 or 4 irregular steps just to see how the lizzard would respond. besides that he keeps his scouting role, doble-cheking to make sure the young one close to him is not in danger and dosen't hamper the elf job

[Glyphic]

Bethany keeps pace with Soren and Jyo-lan, managing the best smile a reptilian can. She lifts her talon to the sliver of moon visible through the foggy night sky, "Our clan came to be, as Tarnist's eyes close; he is preparing meditations.. though, with times as these, he may be preparing to die.. Perhaps he will notice not our departure." She looks toward the ground, her voice fading. "But that thought is grim. We.. see our god in the moon. I recall your humans once calling him a cyclops, giant with mastery of the sky's storms, and the power of the earth's rock. The moon remains his eye to look upon the earth from his imprisonment. Waking, drawing open to stare down on our world. Closing, until his eye is but a slice of vigilant sky before he takes rest."

He eyes fall from the sky, landing on Jyo-lan, and then Soren, "I.. feel it best if our clan learned the ways of your Pu'ur, and your Misting Rains. Many will not forget Tarnist, but may place undue blame on him for the plague. They will not remember his mercies, his blessings. He will be a figure for their dying Mother, they dead tribes. Thusly, their lives will lack harmony. I would like to hold ritual before we reach your Re-marr..but the hungers of body must be tended before then."

Her head turns as she speaks, noting the other Troglodyte's tongues failing. Excusing herself from Soren and Jyolan, she weaves between the group, helping with translations where she can.


Male Trog, Young adult, to Rodion.

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The troglodyte holds the sword in clumsy fashion, before letting the blade and hilt lie flat in his claws. Unintentionally, he slows pace, feeling out the heaviest portion of the sword. The briefest pause of fascination holds his feet, as he draws a claw over the blade, finding the edges sharper than the tooth of any beast. His pace quickens, returning to the group.

Bethany leads small discussion of forging metals, the tools and other wonders that are born of heat and muscle; plows, buckles, pins and pots. Abruptly the Male sends his voice over hers, drowning her out and earning a cold stare from Bethany.

"You make sword.. Sing?"

Female child, to Trevor
The female child stays at Trevor's side but her acrobatic nature flaunts itself. She moves with a grace beyond her years, never stumbling, while working a twist into her steps. She holds close to him, a word never heard passing from her maw. Bethany fails to procure any conversation from her as well.

Undetermined Child, to Tanstafaal.
Bethany Yanks this child by the scruff of the neck, dropping her at Tanstafaal's side. The Child's whining is stopped short with sharp reprimand. With a dull voice, the Child then asks Tanstafaal, "Why your ears long?"

Female Trog, Young Adult, to Caleun
This is the last of the group Bethany visits. Both females talk in giant, Bethanys sister's voice brimming with heated words. She stalks off to the rest of the Crescent Moon Clan, with the crunch of a beetle under her footsteps.

Bethany exhales, her eyes closed and claws flexing. After shooting a razor-sharp glance toward the non-social group, she hisses to Caleun with softened tones, "Forgiveness for my sister. She thinks.." Bethany's tongue flicks at the air, searching for the word. She taps Caleun's shoulder, borrowing his voice to pronounce..

"ShapeShifter."

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Bethany keeps pace with Soren and Jyo-lan, managing the best smile a reptilian can. She lifts her talon to the sliver of moon visible through the foggy night sky, "Our clan came to be, as Tarnist's eyes close; he is preparing meditations.. though, with times as these, he may be preparing to die.. Perhaps he will notice not our departure." She looks toward the ground, her voice fading. "But that thought is grim. We.. see our god in the moon. I recall your humans once calling him a cyclops, giant with mastery of the sky's storms, and the power of the earth's rock. The moon remains his eye to look upon the earth from his imprisonment. Waking, drawing open to stare down on our world. Closing, until his eye is but a slice of vigilant sky before he takes rest."

He eyes fall from the sky, landing on Jyo-lan, and then Soren, "I.. feel it best if our clan learned the ways of your Pu'ur, and your Misting Rains. Many will not forget Tarnist, but may place undue blame on him for the plague. They will not remember his mercies, his blessings. He will be a figure for their dying Mother, they dead tribes. Thusly, their lives will lack harmony. I would like to hold ritual before we reach your Re-marr..but the hungers of body must be tended before then."

Her head turns as she speaks, noting the other Troglodyte's tongues failing. Excusing herself from Soren and Jyolan, she weaves between the group, helping with translations where she can.


Male Trog, Young adult, to Rodion.
[spoiler]The troglodyte holds the sword in clumsy fashion, before letting the blade and hilt lie flat in his claws. Unintentionally, he slows pace, feeling out the heaviest portion of the sword. The briefest pause of fascination holds his feet, as he draws a claw over the blade, finding the edges sharper than the tooth of any beast. His pace quickens, returning to the group.

Bethany leads small discussion of forging metals, the tools and other wonders that are born of heat and muscle; plows, buckles, pins and pots. Abruptly the Male sends his voice over hers, drowning her out and earning a cold stare from Bethany.
[COLOR="Sienna"]Female Trog, Young Adult, to Caleun
This is the last of the group Bethany visits. Both females talk in giant, Bethanys sister's voice brimming with heated words. She stalks off to the rest of the Crescent Moon Clan, with the crunch of a beetle under her footsteps.

Bethany exhales, her eyes closed and claws flexing. After shooting a razor-sharp glance toward the non-social group, she hisses to Caleun with softened tones, "Forgiveness for my sister. She thinks.." Bethany's tongue flicks at the air, searching for the word. She taps Caleun's shoulder, borrowing his voice to pronounce..

"ShapeShifter."

Caleun Tranil

"Shapeshifter?" Asks Caleun, clearly confused with both the idea and the concept itself, "Me? Not at all. I can disguise, both with my ability and a bit of help from a few objects, but I do not shift or change. We call this 'illusion'", Caleun attempts to explain, and repeats the word in elven and dwarven, in case that helps. He looks around, trying to find a better way to explain, and then an idea pops into his head.

"I will give you an example, Bethany, if you are willing to feel, and maybe your sister will then try the example for herself. Behold my staff," Caleun raises his gnarled staff, which he has been using to walk all along, "Notice how it starts narrow and as it goes up it grows thicker and twisty. Now, don't trust your eyes, but your touch, and feel the staff" Caleun holds it between his hands, offering to Bethany

[Assuming she does touch it, she will go right through the illusion, and feel the real staff under it, which is a straight cane. It also probably breaks the illusion for Bethany until Caleun can restore it]:
"See?" Caleun's real voice is joined by his real face suddenly reappear under the heavy makeup face lines, and his clothes returning to normal, the illusion broken, "This is no shape change or shift, just a harmless image of what I would like to be." With a brief moment of concentration, Caleun returns his illusion of the old man into being, before continuing, "I do apologise I did not present my real face to you, but my safety, the chances of reaching peace and the safety of those around me has always been greatly improved when I wear my disguises and illusions. This face," Caleun explains while gesturing at his changed face, "is not me, but it represents who I would like to be - a wise man that can find a way for humans and troglodytes to live together in peace, and wellbeing"

"I fear now that I have offended your sister, or maybe scared her. I wish to make ammends, and for that purpose I am willing to let her test my illusions further than even you have. I could show her how to look older, or even human, in the same way I have looked older, and she can see for herself this is no shape shift, and that, underneath, nothing changes. The last thing I desire is angry words or thoughts spoiling our chance of friendship between our people, or even between me, Caleun, and your sister"

OOC: do I need to do diplomacy rolls?

[Beschoren]

With a dull voice, the Child then asks Tanstafaal, "Why your ears long?"

"A fish bit me", the scout says, leting out a smile. Then he shows his other ear and turns to the kid - "twice"

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listen check to see if I overhear anything meanfull (common, dwarven, elven or something in between) (1d20+10)[27]

[MorkaisChosen]

Rodion smiles at the young Troglodyte's request and replies, "I am not sure I understand," he says, "but the dance of blades is a... a passion of mine. I could show you something of it, if you wish."

[Tyriq]

Jyo-lan

"Bethany... I'm not sure that you could be both devoted to Pu'ur and a member of the Order of the Gentle Rain, because of the commitments involved. If we make it to Sussurance, though, we should introduce your clan to the Order... They are mostly healers and are very accepting and kind to people, even those like me who look a little different." Jyo-lan's skin, normally a pale gold in the sunlight, has taken on a fish-like sheen in the damp night.

"We would be honored, I think, to have you lead an evening ritual, once we are sure that we are safe. What do you think, Soren?"

[Glyphic]

Rodion and the male troglodyte continue to discuss swordsmanship, a bond budding with few words. With ritual cautions, the Troglodyte soon returns the great sword to it's sheath. Introductions fall into place; The Troglodyte calls himself "Shall-vlock."


A creased, quirky-eyed expression forms on the face of the child talking to Tanstafaal. This stays in this contorted state, as her off-white eyes stare at the Elf's head. She rubs her maw, thawing the look from her appearance. She waits until Bethany is out of earshot, and celebrates with a wheezy dance. "She walks us far, too fast. Too hard.." She lifts up a clawed-foot, mashing an over-sized beetle. A sickening squish follows, as purple bug guts coat the damp ground. As time passes, the energy drains quickly from her. She's sluggish, more so than the other troglodytes.

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Her movement speed drops to 15ft, quite suddenly.

(Before Bethany talks with Caleun)
"I.. may have miss spoken. I am hoping one of you would lead. It.. will be a granite change form our normal ritual. I must assist; I am this tribe's Mother. Tonight brings many cruel changes to this earth, but we must..seek the Mercy of Your Re-marr, your ways."

Her uncertain eyes turn to Jyo-lan, "I.. know not of your Sussurance. The distance we put under foot and claw strains us; is it much farther than your Re-marr?"

(she excuses herself)



Bethany, Caleun.
Bethany reaches out, securing the sword-cane firmly, in attempt to bring it into her own possession. Her eyes hint luminous as she watches Caleun cycle illusions. Her tongue slips from her maw, the sharp tips laying flat. Reclusive words follow her voice laced with chill, "I know your masks, magic and from the earth. You are not a Longbeard; we all have much wisdom to glean from the seasons. Your form is misleading, and it stills in them, a fear.. but also a Holy Ardor. Wolf-weres, the Golden Arachnids, adaptors and facestealers are all born from Mythras' Irresponsible Magics. You see a disguise, they see an enemy to be bled dry and let wither from all earth."

Her eye lay on her sister, occluded by a few other troglodytes and the shades of night, "Without action, the wounds will fester. I.. worry if you try to make corrections, for blood may spill, but I also urge you help appease my sister, Leen."

[Grey_Wolf_c]

Caleun Tranil

Noticing out of the corner of his eye the sudden slowdown of one of the smaller trogs, Caleun gives Tanstafaal a shout, "Tanstafaal! Why don't you bring the child over, and put him in the cart? He will have an easier tip that way"

Bethany, Caleun.
Bethany reaches out, securing the sword-cane firmly, in attempt to bring it into her own possession. Her eyes hint luminous as she watches Caleun cycle illusions. Her tongue slips from her maw, the sharp tips laying flat. Reclusive words follow her voice laced with chill, "I know your masks, magic and from the earth. You are not a Longbeard; we all have much wisdom to glean from the seasons. Your form is misleading, and it stills in them, a fear.. but also a Holy Ardor. Wolf-weres, the Golden Arachnids, adaptors and facestealers are all born from Mythras' Irresponsible Magics. You see a disguise, they see an enemy to be bled dry and let wither from all earth."

Her eye lay on her sister, occluded by a few other troglodytes and the shades of night, "Without action, the wounds will fester. I.. worry if you try to make corrections, for blood may spill, but I also urge you help appease my sister, Leen."

"Very well, Bethany, I will do what I can", says Caleun. He then takes back this staff, and walks confidentaly towards the group of troglodytes, atempting to see Leen amongst the crowd. Once he spots her, he makes her way to her, quickly and effortlestly skipping around the crowd, his "old age" step giving way to long strides.

"Leen," he tells her once he is by her side, "please give me a chance to explain. Bethany has spoken to me about what made you angry, and I believe I did not explain properly. Please give me the chance - your sister would like me to make correction, before this harms you or us"

[Assuming she accepts, Caleun continues]

"Bethany has told me that you hate and fear those creatures that can change their shape, such as wolf-weres, golden spiders and facestealers. But I am not any of those. I do not change my shape, just hide it. I have seen that your people have markings and decorations in your face and scales, like half-moons and feather. They change you, to tell others who you are. I do the same, changing how I look to tell others who I am. And I do it by putting colours to my face, and using a little magic, just like your sister Bethany did when talking to us with my friend's voice. We wanted the same thing: to be able to speak to those that are different from us without blood"

"Also, you must understand that even if I can look different that doesn't make me your enemy. Some humans say that troglodytes are evil and will attack them, but not all humans are like that. I do not want to kill you or your people. I am sure that some troglodytes say humans are evil and will attack us, but you have not. Don't think I am like the gold spiders, or like the man-wolves just because I can do something similar to what they do. Not every person of a group must think like the whole group. And I promise, and give you my word, that so long as you do not harm others, I will defend you from those that would give you harm"

"You may not trust my words, since you do not know me, so would you allow me to show you how I change, and teach you how to change yourself? That way, you can see for yourself that I do not change shape, only how I look. I want to be friends with you, Leen, so please let me do this"

[Again, assuming she goes forward with this - otherwise, Caleun will listen to her reasons and (in a new post) attempt to molify her]

Caleun's old face relaxes as he slowly releases the illusion, trying not to scare Leen or the other troglodytes around. His grey hair suddenly gives way to black, like cheap dye running from cloth after rain. His face becomes slightly less lined, and his clothing become far more current. His staff, gnarly, wavers and shows the straight polished wood below it. Finally, a little pin in his hat grows until it becomes his hat. Once he feels the illusion gone, he takes a cloth from his kit and cleans his face and hands, removing the make-up he had used to give the final polish to the disguise. Straightening his pose, Caleun is back to looking like a 20-something human.

"Leen, this is what I really look like. Not a spider, not a wolf, not anything but a man." Removing his hat, he says, "This hat has the magic that made the illusion you saw. It is not dangerous, but it is very precious to me, so understand that I am only lending it so we can be friends. All you need is to place it on your head, and imagine how you would like to look."

Caleun gives a few more instructions, similar to the ones he received himself when he first adquired the hat, about clear pictures in one's mind, closing the eyes and visualising, about keeping it simple and easy, and finally how to project the image outwards through the hat until it surrounds her. He suggests using someone well known to her, like Bethany, or maybe some other troglodyte from the group. Once she manages to project the image (likely not particularly accurate), Caleun gives her a few moments to realise that she has not really changed, before politely getting his hat back, which he puts back on his head (without invoking its powers).

[Glyphic]

Leen eyes Caleun as he approaches, disdain seeping from her amber eyes. She releases a predatory hiss as he begins to speak. By her sides, her claws stroke the air like the motion of sword on whetstone. "Speak, fraudulent man, if you will it." He head turns aside, as she orders the timid and weary males to her flank. Her eyes gleam as she turns them back to stare down Caleun.

"Bethany has told me that you hate and fear those creatures that can change their shape.."

"That way, you can see for yourself that I do not change shape, only how I look. I want to be friends with you, Leen, so please let me do this"

Leen's eyes finally blink, clear membranous eyelids making an audible "schlick" as her eyes remoisturize. "Proof lies in the blood. Show your ways.." Her maw twists, her eyes hinting at asmusement. Behind her, her tail swats the calf of a sleepy looking male.

"Leen, this is what I really look like.., so understand that I am only lending it so we can be friends.."

Here, grasping the hat, Leen swivels her eyes. Her inspection lasts less than a minute, as the group travels.. she casts no spell, and there is no change in the air about her. He claws crumple, but not damage the deceptive hat. Her words rush from her mouth, syllables stressed and hard, "The tests and trials are on your terms. You show only that which you will; conceding lost fanes." Her claws wave to the main group, and at Caleun's own flesh, "Truth lies in the blood. Make no attempt to transpollute it. Match that of your tribe; Tarnist will be watching."


Off in the distance, Bethany watches, but whispers crowd her ears as she irrigates the conversations..

[Grey_Wolf_c]

"Speak, fraudulent man, if you will it."

Caleun Tranil

Caleun's face turns deadly serious, the easy-going person left behind and the professional infiltrator taking its place. Several of the nearby weak troglodytes take a step back. "You call me fraudulent? You, who approached our encampment in the darkness, and turned off all lights to try and not be seen? How is that any less fraudulent than changing my face to look what I wanted to look like? So be it. Now you see my real face, that of the thief-catcher. It shall be on your head."

"The tests and trials are on your terms. You show only that which you will; conceding lost fanes." Her claws wave to the main group, and at Caleun's own flesh, "Truth lies in the blood. Make no attempt to transpollute it. Match that of your tribe; Tarnist will be watching."

[OOC: errr... I think I'm going to go for a take 10 on sense motive (10+4=14 Sense motive) to see if Caleun "gets" some additional information about what she meant (if I cannot take 10, feel free to roll). Is she suggesting Caleun challenges her to a fight, with him setting the rules of the combat, to demonstrate he is willing to be friendly? That's about as much as I, Grey Wolf, understand, but I'm unsure about the "lost fanes", and where imitating the rest of the group comes in ("Match that of your tribe")]

[Grey_Wolf_c]

[OOC: errr... I think I'm going to go for a take 10 on sense motive (10+4=14 Sense motive) to see if Caleun "gets" some additional information about what she meant (if I cannot take 10, feel free to roll). Is she suggesting Caleun challenges her to a fight, with him setting the rules of the combat, to demonstrate he is willing to be friendly? That's about as much as I, Grey Wolf, understand, but I'm unsure about the "lost fanes", and where imitating the rest of the group comes in ("Match that of your tribe")]

[OOC: Anyone that particularly cares can find the DM's answer to this here]

"The tests and trials are on your terms. You show only that which you will; conceding lost fanes." Her claws wave to the main group, and at Caleun's own flesh, "Truth lies in the blood. Make no attempt to transpollute it. Match that of your tribe; Tarnist will be watching."

Caleun Tranil

"Very well, I will show that my blood matches that of my companions. You shall follow me now", answers Caleun before marching forwards making sure Neel is following him.

Caleun approaches Soren and politely speaks, "Sir Solaren, I believe I am in need of assistance. It seems that my disguise was a little too good, and the most suspicious of the group actually believe me to be a shapeshifter of some kind. They are willing to take my word that I'm human, though, if my blood matches that of someone else in the group. I was wondering if you would mind participating in such folly? This troglodyte here, sister to Bethany," says Caleun while gesturing vaguely at Neel, "will bear witness to it. I am not entirely certain of how much blood they need, but a fair amount may be advisable, at least on my side. I don't suppose you could close it afterwards, by the way? Or know if any of our companions are versed in the healing arts? I know this is quite a bit to ask, but talking to people that can barely understand me is proving quite the challenge. And of course, if you do have a problem, don't hesitate to tell me. I am sure some other of the group will help me."

[OOC: Nexus, if you do accept, feel free to act it out including Caleun's reactions (just to keep this moving). If I don't like your interpretation, I'll just post a ret-con ]

[Edit note: I originally though that "Tarnist" (who will be witness to the blood thing) was some of the males around Neel - maybe a shaman intraining that was the troglodyte equivalente of a notary. This is a mistake of me as a player - Caleun would've not made that mistake 1) because he's heard of the God, and his memory is not as bad as mine and 2) from context clues from Neel, like tone of voice and body language. Hopefully this is OK]

[Beschoren]

Tanstafaal

"are you ok kid?" the elf asks, but before any reply (he was not in the mood of babysitting) he goes to Bethany and quickly tells her of the sudden energy drop "... then maybe you could check on him? I have no idea how this plague thing works, so I guess it's worth you taking a look on the boy. Or don't, its your offspring, not mine."

Scouting ahead at full speed and high alert, he now ignores the child and the others.

Though for them, but life goes on

[Glyphic]

Bethany's face contorts as Tanstafaal delievers his report. Her scales crinkle as she looks in the youth's direction, her left claw flexed before she tests their blades and tips. She turns her drained, onyx eyes to Soren and Jyo-lan, imparting one word, the formal Dwarven word for apology. She stalks off to the Youth; she passes Leen on her way, and the two share no words. The slightest grin appears on Leen's face.

Bethany kneels by the bleached-white child, stopping entirely. Bethany's words trickle like placid waters of a gentle stream, solely for the ears of this child. Her left claw strokes the youth's head, before rolling to it's maw. Bethany's shortest talon hooks on the underside of the youth's maw, as the two embrace. Bethany soon rises, without further word, keeping her talon where it lies. The youth's milky eyes are the last thing to disappear, as the two slink into the surrounding darkness.


Leen earns a frown from the two troglodytes still interspersed in your group, as she eyes Caleun, her amber eyes tinted with malice, "Bleed for me, Human. "

[Miraqariftsky]

((Sorry, sorry, sorry! I profusely apologize for being late! Studies, DMing, technical troubles, et cetera!))

Soren Solaren

The paladin turns from the march and gazes upon the fracas behind him. Slapping his forehead, he gazes up into the sky in exasperation and then heaves a weary sigh.

He walks back towards them then bows from the waist towards Leen. Shaking his head at Caleun, he hisses, "I advised ye against too much deception, did I not?"

Turning to the doubtful troglodyte, he says to her, "Vol dath suyer". After that one Dwarven sentence, he lashes his own palm with the blade of his dagger, swiftly drawn, struck, cleaned and re-sheathed.

The blood flows from the cut, dark scarlet dripping down and staining the grass below. Soren speaks and tells the rogue, "Go, comrade. Prove the purity of your blood"

Spoiler

Show

Translation: "The blood is pure"

[Grey_Wolf_c]

((Sorry, sorry, sorry! I profusely apologize for being late! Studies, DMing, technical troubles, et cetera!))

Soren Solaren

The paladin turns from the march and gazes upon the fracas behind him. Slapping his forehead, he gazes up into the sky in exasperation and then heaves a weary sigh.

He walks back towards them then bows from the waist towards Leen. Shaking his head at Caleun, he hisses, "I advised ye against too much deception, did I not?"

Turning to the doubtful troglodyte, he says to her, "Vol dath suyer". After that one Dwarven sentence, he lashes his own palm with the blade of his dagger, swiftly drawn, struck, cleaned and re-sheathed.

The blood flows from the cut, dark scarlet dripping down and staining the grass below. Soren speaks and tells the rogue, "Go, comrade. Prove the purity of your blood"

Spoiler

Show

Translation: "The blood is pure"

"Unfortunately, you might as well advice the night to be sunnier. I would not be here talking to you had I not taking the path I did," Caleun hisses back, before taking his cinquedea out and cutting his hand in as close way as Soren had. Blood quickly acumulatingin his cupped palm, Caleun displays the crimson liquid for the world to see, "Here, maybe this will quiet your suspicions"

[Beschoren]

Tanstafaal

With no warning or excusses, the elf comes back to his hand-bloodied companions and reminds "Do cover the droped blood with some dirt aye? We are leaving enough tracks already". He is pretty cold in his words, as if he didn't care on how silly is that way of making new scaled friends, since it didn't make his job harder.

Crazy reptalian people. Crazy humans. Crazy mission. When do I get back to my wine?

[Glyphic]

Leen reaches forward with a smooth movement, her talons safely tucked into her short palm. Her other claw comes quick, reopening a sealed scar on her forearm. Her lifeblood trickles from the cresent-shaped wound, her blood colored like a rotten pomegranate. "You.. Applease, Humans" Leen's voice crackles, her gaze lingering on Sorens and Caleun's fresh wounds. "Blood tells us many things.. our pride and our deceptions, all flows; and all is known."

The few troglodytes within earshot edge away from Leen with disdainful curses toward her. She only seems to smile, and wipe away her freshly drawn blood, sampling a scare amount with a flick of her tongue.


Its some time before Bethany returns, her footsteps alone. Her shoulders hang, her movements stiffened. She makes no announcement as she trudges to the center of formation, close to Soren. Her scales and claws are newly scrubbed, wearing thin toward her wrists. A chittering laugh eurrpts from the young Troglodyte that walked with Trevor, "Mercy's work is done!" Her sardonic laughter continues for minutes.


The darkness of night wanes as two hours pass. Phil the mule swaggers back and fourth, braying cantankerously. The warmth of morning light soon shreds the fog above, golden light of sunrise brimming at Fort Silvanos and the rest Valorium to the east. Fewer beetles dash under your feet as day breaks, and the spiraling farmland of Ree-marr comes underfoot instead.

The time is very early morning.

[Duke of URL]

Trevor

Ah, good, we finally return. The conversation with the young troglodyte was enlightening and frustrating at the same time. What did she really know? And am I wise for trusting her? Still the prospect of being one step closer to completing the mission and being released from service puts a slight spring in his step, despite the lack of sleep.

[Glyphic]

A spade thumps against the ground, let lose by the teen-aged who bore it only seconds ago. His friends, 5 in all stand locked as they catch sight of your group. A particularly pimple-faced boy lets loose the shaky shout, "T-t-Troglodytes!" Two more wooden spades fall to the ground, as three boys break into a sprint, shouting hoarsely as they flee toward the center of town. Two remain, but drift until their backs are against a barn wall, their hands wrapped around their farming implements.