Kobolds in the Hot Springs
Log Info
- Title: Kobolds in the Hot Springs
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Barclaiigh, Shilde, Merek, Pasithea
- Place: W02: The Wilderness
- Time: Tuesday, May 10, 2022, 10:40 PM, Wednesday, May 11, 2022, 6:20 PM
- Summary: After a borderline-disastrous first social outing together, Barclaiigh has conveniently remembered a more druidicly-inclined task that he and Shilde can perform together. Roping in Merek to serve as a rather over-qualified interpreter, the trio all set out to find the kobolds squatting at the secluded hotsprings. They find Pasithea on-site already and diplomatic talks begin. There's beer. Dirk shows up with food and the real party begins. The chromatic kobolds need their new acquaintances to remind Alexandrian adventurers of the looming Witch Queen threat!
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The path from the village eventually narrows somewhat, with the trees on either side becoming more populous. Moss hangs from large stones that sit surrounded by beds of leaves that has accumulated over the years.
A few trails wander in varied directions though eventually even these woods will thicken. One particular trail carries with it the scent of natural brimstone...this trail wanders north and westward, where the trees grow thick once more. To the east, it's rumored that the druids have built a sacred site.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Barclaiigh 4'5" 202 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A thick tree-trunk of a dwarf. Wavy auburn hair, loose traveling clothes Shilde 4'4" 160 Lb Khazad-Aul Female Tall for a dwarf, long blonde hair in a thick braid, big blue eyes. Dirk 4'11" 295 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A rugged old dwarf, dressed for the outdoors. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. Pasithea 3'2" 38 Lb Halfling Female Tall female lucht, willowy, Hair dark as night. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The Wilderness Hot Springs
Deep in the wilderness of greater Alexandros, somewhere around Wilderness Pointe is a well kept secret. So well kept, it's known largely only to a specific set of kobolds. The refugees and insurrectionists of Uskvuthatdjupr, also known as traitors to the Witch Queen.
No relation to Witch Queen of the Sorceress Wars with Alexandria. Some'bold didn't get the memo.
The secret is a set of connected Hot Springs, which are warm all winter long an hotter every other season. It's been one of the convincing arguments to recruits: We have biscuits, and a hot tub. Kobolds are notoriously basic in needs. The Hot Springs are currently soaking the rebellion's leadership, a triumberate of red, green, and blue kobolds.
"Lissten Blubs, thiss one all for waiting. All this wants iss eat, ssoak, and gets my needss." The red-scale hisses in rough draconic. Those that don't understand the language hear only violent hissing; those who do, know that it has some contextual meanings. <draconic>
"Rekki! Can't just wait for adventurerss to solve. We gotta." A blue scale retorts, though the hissing is more of a deflating sort in that one's case. <draconic>
"Thiss one, hass angle." A green scale answers both, leaning against a rock in the springs and sipping from a large mug. <draconic>
"... 'n so auntie just takes a gander over her shoulder like she's makin' sure th'one behin'r ain't gon' pull nothin' and full on punches the yrchman in the stones," the auburn-bearded wildman pantomimes the job with his own meaty fingers, leading back through the wilderness after collecting a few helping hands. After the previous evening's date-tente, Barclaiigh has kept the conversation from the city on topics like the brewing business and travels with his great-aunt, Deirdre. After a few beats of initial awkwardness he'd fallen right into his drawled ramblings to devour the time between gates and secluded spot.
The story goes that he found a set of hotsprings in the wilderness during the colder part of the winter and set to using them only to discover they fell into the territory of a band of kobolds. Kobolds that weren't interested in sharing their happy place with a tree trunk of a Khazad-aul. The druid (and bear sidekick) had managed to escape without escalating hostilities but he's been hopeful to open talks and make nice.
"'n affer that we ain't had no kinda problems with that group. Pretty sure I saw the hol'upper at a roadway waterin' hole a year'r so later'n he was still cross-eyed." He grins his wide, guileless grin, and pauses to have a look around.
"... reckon we're almost there," he adds after a few moments of chuckling.
Merek walks along with Barc as well as Shilde, taking his time to relax while he pulls the hood up on his white-black attire. The man doesn't look to be smoking at the moment, because he's hired to translate. "They are talking about relaxing, taking time off, while others want to get on to adventure, and one has an angle on what to do." He keeps back enough that he isn't overheard while he will translate.
Shilde is along, and Rocky is as well.. though the latter spends more time ranging far, sniffing bushes, chasing bugs. She doesn't contribute to the conversation in anything close to an equal amount, but does seem satisfied to mostly listen, interjecting the occasional question to keep Barclaiigh rolling. Which isn't required often. She definitely seems more at ease once the other druid has shed his discomfort.
When they get close enough to see the kobolds, she frowns.. clearly not familiar enough with the language to understand. Which is one of the reasons Barclaiigh invited the human along. "Adventure, eh?" "An angle." The blue-scale hisses skeptically.
"Yeah. This was three moon month. So, tell adventurerss thiss means once in generation rainbow scales will hatch that unite all the tribess. Witch Queen is forcing all kobolds to lay, so she can find and raise it. Adventurerss have to save hatchling so it can fight the darkness." The green scale elaborates at length, then takes another sip of the drink.
"Fornication Pit YEAH!" The red-scale cheers, spouting a gout of smoke. Not fire breath, the red kobold has a huge pipe with some rather pungeon pipe-weed. "That'll work.."
"Gilla, Rekki," the blue one sounds like a leaky airship, going down fast, "That's stupidesst ever! At leasst something like... axe stuck in ancient dryad... whoever pulls out iss Queen. Adventurers know kobolds matriarchal. Besides..."
Some vigorous splashing is involved as the bluescale stands in the springs and moves, "Fizzlebog say, we the heroes. No need make fake ones. They helping us." <draconic>
Along with the three solidly coloured kobolds, there is a smattering of ones with a garter-snake pattern. Most of the visible ones are in the hot springs. A few are standing guard.
Off to one side, not easily seen at first, is a halfling woman in the crook of a tree's root. She's there with staff close at hand. But otherwise defenseless to the elements or the kobolds should they choose to do anything to her. Yet they aren't too concerned with her as they chatter to one another.
"Biggest auroch needs tippin' here is makin' sure they know we ain't out t'stir up a rumble," Barclaiigh explains to Merek. "This is a nice spot. Ain't no ancestral lands'r nothin'; should be simple enough t'share."
The druid takes a moment to adjust his enchanted darkwood breastplate, straighten his cloak, and smooth out his pendant-and-tusk fetish. His great tangled of wavy auburn hair has been tangled up (relatively) neat in a single, fat plait. His beard is still a great, bushy mess.
"Grove'll make sure no harm comes t'them so long as they don't do no pot-stirrin'a their own." He scratches the runes decorating the back of his hand and clears his throat loudly. "Howdy, y'all!" he calls ahead before stepping through the trees and into view.
"There are some words I am not using for accuracy, because they are really not polite," Merek seems to consider, "What's Fornication Pit." Then he nods a little bit to Barclaiigh, and to Shilde, "Well. It looks like they're trying to make up stories for Adventurers. Things that they want Adventurers to do, from the context it seems like they want to make up this thing about saving a Rainbow Dragon, and something about. There's no legendary axe in a stone," he will admit to people, then he adds, "Seems they want people to help them and want to make heroes to work that along and all."
Then it looks like that greeting comes from the dwarf. The man walks along, while he lifts up a hand and speaks with draconic. "We all greet you."
Shilde considers calling Rocky to her side.. then shakes her head, deciding to leave him to it as she follows Barclaiigh, step for step. She certainly doesn't seem as easy with the idea of socializing with kobolds, not having had the experiences Barclaiigh has.. but trusts the bearded one's judgement. On this one. She does have to snort at Merek's explanation, though. "Rainbow Dragon? Ye know how daft that sounds?" she asks him.
The halfing woman wakes up enough to yawn and then scooch up higher into the root so her back is against the tree itself. Eyes open partily, still havy with sleep as she looks around. Another yawn as he head dips, "Every..one is so..loud. Talking alot.." She says, words broken by periods of sleep and then waking. Her eyes close again and she's out for another nap.
"They'll believe Blubss. Soon has half-man wakes up, we tell her, she tells them." The green-scale lounges back, waving the drink in Pasithea's direction. <draconic>
The party's loud introduction interrupts their conversation. There's rustling in the bushes, and the visible garter kobolds are suddenly holding spears or slings.
Over by the hot-springs, a different sound is heard. There are characteristic ranged weapon noises, the squeak of a compound bow, the catch-clack of a crossbow being armed, and one of more recent years: an increasing pitch, power-whine of an artifice device that does burst output charging up.
Three of them.
"Show yourselves or you end up in the pitss!" The red-scale belows.
""Rekki, they're right there." Blubs, the blue-scale, sounds more congeneal. <draconic>
"Hey howdy y'all back." The green-scale shouts in passable tradespeak, "Who are? What want?"
GAME: Merek rolls diplomacy: (18)+31: 49
Merek looks to all of the weapons if he can see any, taking a look that way. Either way, he nods a bit to the kobold, "First thing is first. We greet you" Then he nods to the two while he listens to notice woman at the tree, "Anyway. Do you speak enough tradespeak that we can both translate for our friends as they speak to the others?" Perhaps offering to speak to his friends on what the other kobold say while they speak on what the two that are with him say.
There are three thunderbelchers. Well, two, and a very large dragonspitter. All have similar stylings, glowing spheres, tubes, rings and some inlaid piping. The weapons have powered up in a manner that matches the scale-colours: red, green and blue, corresponding to which one is holding the weapon.
"Seems like we're pickin' up jus'about right where we done left off," Barclaiigh sighs, reaching up a set of sausage fingers to scratch at his beard. He disengages the hand to wave at the Lucht before noticing she's closed her eyes and then turns to look at Shilde.
"Could be like them fish; rainbow trout; ain't the whole rainbow. Just a few colors'n shiny. Iff'n they got brown ones with stripes could be all sorts," he offers with a shrug.
Turning back to the kobolds he answers "Barclaiigh Stoutbrew. Of the Redridge Stoutbrews'n the Ygg-diggy-drizzle Union. Now don't y'all shoot; I done brought a gift." He turns and shows his rump, pulling aside his furs and cloak to reveal a pony keg strapped to the underside of his backpack.
"Ain't wantin' t'come empty handed'r nothin'."
Shilde grumbles. She doesn't understand, once again, most of what was said. She does understand the sound of weapons being readied, however. "They better damn sell settle down're I'm leavin' this place with a new pair'o boots," Shilde warns, her voice pitched low for the other two. Obviously, mistaken or not, still of the mindset 'they're only kobolds.'
The lucht woman gets to her feet with eyes still closed and staff now in hand. She shuffles slowly by kobolds, almost bumping into one which makes her pause and say "Excuss..me.." before moving onand towards the speakers. "So much..talking. Thought this.. was a ..quiet place." Her eyes open and she fights back a yawn. "Why all the..yelling?"
"Yeah! That's won this one." The red-scale hisses upon seeing the pony keg, not waiting for the translation. The red thunderblecher is used to pat a nearby section of water, "Come park that here." <draconic>
"Yesss. Exactly!" The green-scale says, "This one Gilla-goon, that's Blubbers, that's Rekki. Of the Desolation."
The blue-scale is the one holding the dragonspitter. It, all three of the weapons, are regular humanoid size and seem immense in the kobold's grip while paradoxically, clearly built for them. "Oh gives rresst, Gilla. Tell truth. Where's Loci? She knows adventurers we work with." <draconic>
"HEY LOCI! ANSWER!" Gilla bellows, adding to the yelling without answering why.
Merek looks to the two with him, and nods to the lucht while he takes the time to relax. "They are speaking about Loci and apparently they know the adventurers they work with," he offers quietly along to the two, while he takes a moment to look to the keg. He nods to the kobold with the crimson scale and notes that it is okay for the transaction to take place, motioning to Barc. The man takes the time to request in draconic, "Is Loci your Matriarch?"
"HA! No she is our..." The red one laughs, and is interrupted.
"REKKI! No!" By the blue. "She good scout. Local leader." <draconic>
"'n them elves tell jokes about Khazadi diplomacy," Barclaiigh grins wide at Shilde, sliding out of his pack and walking towards the pools. "Howdy, miss," he greets the sleepy Pasithea on the way. Then he's grunting and setting his pack flat, crouching, and working the straps loose on the keg.
"... don't know much about what y'all fancy when it comes to brew," the druid asides to the kobolds, finally getting the keg loose. "So this fella here is onn'a our traditional stouts. Thick'n smooth." He looks around as he stands, working his fingers under the quarter-barrel and lifting with his legs. The nearly-90lb barrel weighs more than any of the kobolds present and its roughly 62 pints are more than enough to get the whole little tribe good and buzzed.
"Alright," he growls, setting it down on a flat rock and standing back up. "Giggle-oon, Bubbles, and Wrecking, y'all got mugs? I got a few but y'all'll have to get with th'sharin' if it's down t'my supply." He looks at the guns. "... 'n y'all can put those away," he grins again.
Shilde scowls at Barclaiigh, then offers a bigger one to Merek.. as if this were the human's fault.. but she doesn't hesitate to approach the group with them. She even gives Barclaiigh a hand with the pack and barrel, though she steps away before the little draconids can congregate about it.
Pasithea nods to Barc..or is that just her falling asleep again. It's hard to tell. "You're...throwing a party..in the woods?" She sighs, "There goes.. a good napping.. spot." She wobbles on ehr feet,staff providing a needful tripod-like effect to keep her steady.
"This one sees you checking out my guns." Wrecking says, with a lot more sizzle to the hissing and less overt anger. In a series of swift actions, levers are flipped, buttons pushed, a knob turned and the glowing parts of the red thunderbelcher converge into the large storage sphere on the stock. <draconic>.
"Here boss." A garter Kobold in scalemail that appears originally tailored for a goblin appears out of the brush.
"Know them?" Giggle-oon waves at the dwarves, and Merek. <draconic>
"This one knows... her. I think." Loci points at Pasithea.
Meanwhile, the blue-scale has produced mugs. They seem of two sorts, a kind made from sewn hide with small handles, and the other cheap metal travel ones, associated with coaches.
Loci glances at how Pasithea props herself up, then looks at the other three. "She is our best messenger?" <draconic>
Merek looks between the kobold and back to the party, "It seems like they think Pasithea is the messenger. Wait, is she? Anyway, you all wanted to talk business with them, what would you like for me to discuss?" With that he will nod to the two although the words of Shilde make him gently look that way. He frowns a little, then it's back to the kobold. "Merek. he offers.
"Just out t'make friends with th'new neighbors's all," Barclaiigh explains for the sleepy Lucht. He swings past his pack and collects a smaller bag before returning to the keg. He produces a simple kit and makes quick work of tapping the keg, pocketing the cork bung before he inserts the tapping rod and attaches the spigot. He's certainly done this before. As soon as the guns are collapsed and/or inert and put away he's ready to serve.
"So y'all ain't got no right t'chase folk off from these parts," the dwarf explains, putting things a bit bluntly. "The Union knows these ain't 'ncestral lands'r nuthin'. So we was just hopin' y'all'd be a lot less..." he pauses in filling one mug to wave it at the scattered weapons. "Y'know.
"Grove's happy t'help make sure y'all're just as welcome here as other folk. Share'n share alike, yeah?"
The lucht prys open an eye and looks at the group of adventurers with Barc being the last. She sighs and then snores..only to wake up and peer at the kobolds. "Just get..drunk and sleep it.. off. Let others do.. the same..here. Cause..sharing is..easier then fighting..over something..right? And..more parties..means...means more drink." The words seem to have exhuasted her and she sleeps resting on her staff.
Shilde glances at Pasithea, then shrugs at the halfling as if to say, 'It wasn't my idea.' She does help herself to one of Barclaiigh's mugs, however, making swift work of filling it and stepping aside. "Just as welcome," she says, echoing the ginger dwarf, though she doesn't particularly sound like she means it.
"Comes from water, feeds Lake Uskvutha." Gilla says, her weapon set to safe but still sitting there, glowing ominously as many life artifice devices do. She explains their position. "Here stop Alex's builders come put temple-house over it, charge toll, say their right."
"Rekki, have drink, Gilla, have drink." The blue-scale is working the keg, filling mugs and passing them out. "Loci."
"She will do." Gilla gets around to answering Loci, then makes a poor toast, "Neighbours until next excuse not to be!"
"Then it looks like that is settled, if you want to talk about anything else, I will come by to translate," Merek will offer along to each of the three on the party and all of the kobold. With that he will nod with a shift of that hood of his while he makes his way to take a the time to smoke.
"Reckon that's a good place to start," Barclaiigh grins, raising his own mug in toast as he leans on the keg and supervises the dispensing of drink. He takes a long draw from the mug and sighs heavily through his nose after sucking the head from his caterpillar mustache.
The Khazad-aul keeps sight of Shilde to make sure she's not especially put out but makes a point not to stare overlong. So it's a lot of shifty-eyed glances in between drinks.
"City's got too many problems right now... doubt anyone has their minds on expandin'." He finally responds to Gilla, "Though I ain't exactly knowin' what those big cityfolk get t'thinkin' all th'time."
Wednesday, May 11, 2022, 6:20PM
Shilde has found herself a bit of a stump to sit on, planting down upon her rump to enjoy the mug of stout.. but she only nurses it. Obviously not entirely comfortable with the idea of.. relaxing in this company, no matter how well Barclaiigh and this halfling seem to be getting along with the little lizards. "Y'know," she opines at one point. "If ye decide to try'n fight, that'll only make the city folk want the place e'en more. As.. er... mighty as y'are, the city's mightier still. Y'wont stop 'em if they get it in their 'eads t'build on this place. Ye'll just get bounties put on yer 'eads. Better t'try an' make a deal. Shared use an' all that."
"Had bounties on us before. Had giants, Guards from Alex say 'be nice, we be nice', then attack when they run up. Had many many folks, get real polite, when Matilda about to speak." Giggle-oon, or Gillagoon, the green one says, reclining back against a rock and patting the nearby Thunderbelcher.
"Gilla, the dwarf trying to help. We need the adventurers." The blue-scale hisses. <draconic>
"Maybe y'did," Shilde concedes, though she shrugs as if it doesn't matter. "How long y'think ye'll hold out if they decide t'keep pushing? Like Barclaiigh says... they gots bigger things t'worry 'bout now. When that's over, they decide they want this.. they'll roll on in. Send stronger'n stronger people t'fight, if fightin's what y'give 'em. Better t'deal. Offer an' alternative. Work t'gether. Some city types like th'look of partnerin' with th' lesser folk, so long's they get what they want."
Merek nods a bit to Shilde, "I think we should do what we can to make peace about it all," he will admit. "Anyway, what way did they come to be here?" he asks, curiously.
"Big ol' wilderness gots plenty of room for all kinds'a folk," Barclaiigh grins, working through his second mug. "Can't rightly say all'n sundry gon' be so but the Grove'n Mictlan'r good neighbors."
The druid has found a smooth grey boulder bordering one of the pools and leans against it. He's enjoying the steam and proximal warmth. "Don't think the big twigs're out t'have one'a them... whatsis... uh, peace-summits but y'all keep t'sharin' this bit'a honey'n we can make sure nobody gets stung don't need to."
The Stoutbrew's stout brew is helping. While not exactly calming tempers, the kobolds are interested in drinking the offering before starting a fight. All the garter kobolds that were swimming around in the hot springs have crawled out and lined up and taken one of the mugs.
The red-scales temper is not quenched, and she goes off again once the translation is made. "Lesser Races!" She snorts, sloshing her drink, "We are still here! Adventurers kill nests, kill us. There always bigger fish! You talk like you never steal kobold mine!" <draconic>
The accusation is thrown. Kobolds have a territorial instinct that rivals actual dragons, and a belief that everything underground belongs to them. If they suddenly tunnel into a mine while following an ore seam, a mine that's been worked for generations, they consider it theirs. It can make for some difficult negotiations.
"Rekki! Rekki!" The blue-scale is pushing the red-scale back into the water, "It Uskvuthadjupr's Hot Springs. We visiting." <draconic>
"This one defending it for them!" The red-scale growls, pushing the blue.
"Rekki, calm! Have drink!" Gilla orders loudly, already refilling hers. <draconic>
Meanwhile, the kobold identified as Loci has removed all her scale mail and set down her weapon to get a drink, and then slides into the water.
"We come from the east. Teach other kobolds proper civilization. How be better." Gilla explains.
Pasithea startles awake at all the yelling and grumbles through a yawn. Somehow staying propped up on her staff. "You're all loud... in the dreamlands too." She says through her nods. "Passion is ...good. Anger. ...anger is not. Maybe.. you all need.. tea.. and not.. brew." She tries hard to keep her eyes open and looking around at the adventurers and kobolds alike.
Shilde's glowers at the continuously aggressive and hostile seeming redscale.. without knowing the language, that much is at least translatable. Then she shrugs, taking another draw from her mug. "Just sayin' what it is," she comments. "Not rightly sure I care one way or th'other.. but Barclaiigh here does, an' seems t'be on team lizzie.. so if I were you lot, I'd listen to 'im. An' maybe try the tea, like the little lucht says."
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Heavy booted feet can be heard crunching through the undergrowth. A moment later, Dirk's burly figure can be seen rounding the corner. He's got his rifle held in one hand, and a brace of rabbits tied together and slung over his shoulder. He slows when he sees people, eyes getting wide. "Och, hello everyone!" he booms cheerfully. "I wasn't expectin' tae see folk here. Usually these springs are pretty deserted!"
"Ain't no teams," Barclaiigh frowns, looking nervously between Shilde and the agitated, red-scaled kobold. "Y'all just--" he tosses back his mug and drains it dry. He frowns at the kobolds. "Y'all're knee-high to a gnome'n ornery'r'n Karl iff'n he ain't gettin' his minin' done."
The auburn-haired Khazad isn't a diplomat, doesn't speak the language, and is getting more than a little frustrated saying the same thing when the solution all seems so simple; why can't we all just get along? He tosses his mug down next to the pack and drags his fingers through his bushy beard.
"Alright... no idea if this'll build any bridgers... but--" he lifts a fat ol' sausage finger covered in runic tattoos and waves between the little lizardfolk. "Gon' work up some shaman magics. Ain't no harm comin' t'no one. Jus' lookin' t'find show y'all we got a bit'a mojo goin' for us."
The wildman rolls his shoulders, squints his tiny eyes shut, and concentrates on his recent trip to the jungles of Am'shere. He folds his calloused hands in front of his mouth and leans forward, collapsing in on himself in a color-shifting blur. The browns, reds, and greens of his attire become a spotted green and tan. Tigs and leaves cough across the ground away from him as the Word reorganizes the nature of things (get it?) and a little, tiny theropod dinosaur with a thin, delicate neck and long, snakelike tail stands in his place. The Complaiigh gives out a little chirp and skitters across the ground.
- Ploop* goes the pool as he jumps in and he goes swimming around before sidling up not far from Rekki.
"We ain't gotta be so differ'nt," promises the tiny drawl.
"All thiss one wantss is to ssmoke, drink, and spend another hour in the pit." Rekki says, lounging back against a convenient rock and taking a long draw on the pipe. The red-scale is getting the leaves that way, but they might not be tea. <draconic>
""Rekki, just, yes that. Calm down." The blue scale continues to hover nearby, seemingly on the same page as the dwarves and the lucht. <draconic>
The other kobolds keep looking at the red-scale as well, with impenetrable expressions.
Although, the little lizards are capable of demonstrating some emotions, like shock. The garter guards and soakers immediately turn heads to watch Barclaiigh's transformation into a compsognathus, mouths agape.
"Close your mouths. You have seen magic before." Gilla hisses, taking another sip.
The previous tension returns as Dirk arrives, and then abates as the green-scale hisses in passable trade, "Howdy y'all."
Rekki stares at the emergent head.
Pasithea wakes once more and reaches around to a pouch. Her fingers fumble within and pull out a bag the size of the lucht's hand. She offers this to the bluescale, hand sagging as sleep tries to take hold of her again. "Tea. Calming ..for sleeping too. May... be good for ..some." She turns her head and lifts a eye-lid as Dirk arrives. A tired wave is given. "You brought..supper...good."
Dirk blinks a bit at Pasithea, then looks over his shoulder. "Well!" he says. "Dinnae mind sharin' the meat. But I'll be wantin' the furs fer meself." He sets his thunderbelcher aside and sets down the rabbits. "You lot like rabbit?" he asks the kobolds, his tone cheerful and conversational as he pulls his skinning knife. He sets to work processing the carcasses, working with easy, workmanlike skill. "Got plenty here tae go 'round, I'll warrant." The others are given friendly nods as well. Shilde and Bar he knows, Pasithea's a fellow shortstack, and he's just a friendly dwarf, so Merek gets a nod too!
The tiny dinosaur weighs little and slides in slow circles on the surface of the water like a chubby snake. Its arms and legs below obscured by the girth of its torso above. "... so I get y'all gotta be clever'n keep folks lookin' t'take advantage away," he ventures, blinking tiny, reptilian eyes. "Reckon there's somethin' we could do t'maybe convince y'all we're not playin' some con game here?"
Barclaiigh mumbles something about how huge everything looks from this perspective and then sighs, lowering his thin neck down to the water. This whole show might've been an excuse to slip into the springs before the talks were concluded. Little bubbles form like a beard around his tiny snout as he sighs contentedly, tail swishing slowly behind.
The hot springs are not so deserted currently. It has a large collection of kobolds, a human, a halfling and two dwarves, now three. There's also a bear and wolf, hanging around in the trees in a manner they don't typically.
Some of the kobolds are on guard, and have actual armour, even if it is somewhat piecemeal and mis-matched. Most are in the springs, and have a garter snake pattern on their scales.
Three that don't, a monochrome in red, green, and blue. They are acting like they own the place and have a firearm apeice.
The blue-scale takes the pouch from Pasithea, nodding slowly. "Kthannnhks."
"Yesss." The green-scale answers Dirk, "Rabbit and chicken and hawg and horse and cow." There's a glance, Rocky-wards, "And dog. And cat."
"That's Egg-Snatching neat!" Rekki finally says, after a long stare at Complaiigh's antics, immediately splashing into the water after him. <draconic>
There are a mix of male and female garter kobolds. The blue is male, the red and green are female.
Pasithea rocks dangerously far to one side and wakes up enough to move in the direction of her lean over towards the pools edge and plops down on it's edge. her fetlocked feet dip down into the heated water and she sighs. "So ...nice." She yawns again. "Just think.. kobolds could trade ...meat and such to.. those that come here. Help...help watch over it... and become known." She suddenly snores with her eyes still open..creepy.
The Complaiigh bends into a circle one way and then the other before turning a spiral on the water's surface. He's getting comfortable! When the water is disturbed by Rekki's arrival his little eyes pop open and short limbs splay out to find equilibrium. He dives and circles one of the vents towards the bottom of the spring, vibing. Finally, he rides amongst the bubbling current and resurfaces.
"... this is real nice," he opines. "... could get used to this." His back arches low, under the water, and most of him sinks along with it. The topmost of his tail and the holes on his snout about the only part of the transmogrified compsognathus remaining above the surface.
"Not while Witch Queen run Uskvuthadjupr," Gilla hises, "she hear kobolds trading, kobolds at the hot springs, will attack. Alex get the fight they want."
The green-scale sits forward, attempting to address Pasithea before she drifts off again, "You have to tell friends, dark elf mage still prisoner, Witch Queen getting worse."
Loci, the garter kobold who gave her name, glides across the pool like a crocodile with a lazy swish of her tail. Much like that beast, she lurks at the edge where Pasithea's fetlocks are soaking, in case she falls in. In her case, it will be to save her from drowning in her sleep, and not snatch an easy meal.
Rekki splashes in the water after Complaiigh, "Oh you can dive too? I can dive." The red-scale goes under, exploring the same area that the transformed druid did, then surfaces. "Oh. Drifting now? I can drift." Rekki flops and floats beside Barclaiigh, similarly submerged and still in competition. <draconic>
Pasi straightens up, still not blinking. "Dark elf? Need.. their name. And why is ..the queen getting.. worse?" Finally she blinks rapidly and focuses in on Loci. "I would want..to make sure I am.. relaying the right..message."
Dirk is busily butchering the rabbits, stripping off their fur and cutting the meat into joints. He lays them out on a bit of clean cloth, digging into his hip satchel for a few items. A small jar of salt and pepper that he uses to season the haunches, and his matchbox to get a fire going. "There we are, these'll cook up nicely!" he says happily, turning to briskly wash his hands off in one of the pools. What? It's just water. And blood. Mostly water.
"Qiolveylraed," Loci answers, her head just above the steaming water, "Friend of Endril, Nanjusha and Ace. Still captured. Hasn't been seen."
"Is harder and harder to scout," Gilla adds, "Always raining at the deep."
Pasi turns her head over towards Dirk and offers a sleepy smile. "Thank..you." A very slow turn back to Loci in which she wobbles briefly. "Queen is ..your queen? Kobold? or.. is something...else?" She's asleep even as the last word come out of her mouth. Her head dipping forward and almost on her chest.
Loci nods, "Kobold. Different Kobold. Black-scales. Witch Queen served Uskvutha." Her head tilts much like a dog as she stares at the Lucht. That tea will be effective, she decides. "Punishing kobolds who fail her. Everyone scared."
She adds one more weird thing, "There are two princesses in the sandcastle."
Eyes open beneath the water, Complaiigh blinks and rolls, curling his thin, reptilian neck so his head rises like a swan's (only on a much smaller scale). "Sorry, miss, but I don't ken no dragonjaw," he apologies after giving a quick, trilling chirp. "But it's nice seein' y'all relax some." He lefts a little, three-fingered claw and gives the closest approximation of a thumbs-up gesture that he can.
Then, the talk of prisoners, queens, and princesses grabs his attention. "Is that what has y'all hot'n bothered? I know a few folk in th'city. Ain't no problem t'spread th'word'n maybe mount some kinn'a rescue. Can't leave no one to some witch's brewin' evils. No sirs. No ma'ams."
"He likes your scales." The blue-scale translates. Not that Blubs knows what was said either. <draconic>
"Okay. Well, tell adventurers, need help. Need plan. Lots of attack places." Gilla elaborates, pouring another drink. "This is good."
There is a chorus of hissed agreement, the little lizards are enjoying the brew.
Pasi's head lifts an inch or two but her eyes remain closed. "Princesses. Two... in castle. Like a fairy tale. Tell me.. this tale, please."
"There not much tale," Loci says, swaying hers back and forth in the water, hidden by the steam. "There was dragon and a princess. Now, dragon and two princesses."
"... dragons?" The tiny eyes continue to blink as Barclaiigh tries to process all this information. "Er-- what's an... Uk-scuba?"
He paddles in place, turning to look between Blubs and Rekki. He doesn't get it. Maybe they didn't get the thumbs-up? It felt awkward short a few digits, certainly. So he leans forward and swims closer to the redscale, trying to offer a friendly smile with an unfamiliar snout and patting her shoulder.
Pasithea 's eyes crack open again. "I do not...understand. Is.. the dragon.. your queen? One of the.. princesses? There are things.. that you know ..and take for granted that..we..do..not." So many words! The lucht tires out and again her chin is on her chest.
The garter kobolds have undivided attention... on the meal being prepared. The attempts to explain things to the sleepy halfling, and now the cute dinosaur are largely ignored.
They may have been trying to get Pasithea to pay attention to the message for some time. Repetition it seems, is not only key, but necessary.
"Uskvutha, is the black dragon that own around here. Gone now. Lake Uskvutha, Uskvuthajdupr, hers too." Gilla explalins, "Uskvuthajdupr, Uskvutha's Deep. Big town, sunk in lake. Humans call Sunk Hope."
"Witch Queen run the Deep." Loci adds, "other kobold tribes chased there, join up. Rekki, Gillagoon, Blubbers, come say 'here how be good kobolds' and start fight for control. Everyone get exiled."
"Dragon..." Loci continues, "Dragon is green dragon, is not really green dragon. Is... a fey dragon kin. Build and lives in sand castle on the lake. Helps the Witch Queen... also... fights the witch queen. With small armies."
Something about this seems upsetting to her, but it's not clear beyond the obvious what it might be. Unless, the obvious covers it, and it's simply knowing the people involved being used as fodder.
The lucht woman nods repeatedly as Loci tells her the story. A few things have her face crumpling into confusion but shes doesn't speak until the upset tones are picked up. An eye opens and looks to Loci. She leans in and gently pats the kobold. "Will carry message...others.. too." She yawns. "Will fix..somehow.. some..wa..y." And she's gone again. This time she seems to have gone deeper into slumber as her back curls inward and the light snores continue past a few seconds.
Dirk keeps on cooking up fresh rabbit for the munchings and crunchings.
Shilde, despite her intentions not to, finds her mug empty. She sloshes the little bit in the bottom around, watching it, trying to piece together what she's heard from the kobolds.. what she's understood, with what Merek's been able to catch and translate. "Might want t'be careful with the message," she warns. "Might be the city folk'll just think all the kobolds need t'be swept clear. Gonna need some sign t'show 'em which ones are 'okay'."
Fighting against the urge to just close his eyes and float, Complaiigh swims to the edge of the springs and splashes up onto a flat rock with a little squeak of effort. "If y'all want t'make the trip..." he looks between Gilla and Loci, the two more-adept Tradespeaking kobolds. "I ain't averse t'introducin' y'all t'the big twigs at th'Grove."
The little dinosaur hops off the rock and darts with prodigious speed over to his pack, hopping atop of it, then down from the pack past the fire and Dirk, and finally over to Shilde. "Ain't seen miss Sabina in a dog's age but I know where miss Cryosanthia is; reckon she can suggest some folk." He blinks and hops, turning as he blinks at the snoring Lucht. "No idea who she'll know, though," he nods at Pasithea. Then he hops and turns again. "Miss Irsh-- uh..." Claws on his tiny feet dig into the ground, he turns his head and tucks it low, scratching with a foreclaw. "Miss Irshya knows folk, too. Sure as spit she can suggest a few trustworthy types."
"They're all okay. All okay kobolds, will stop follow Witch Queen we get rid of her, chase off the Green dragon. Friends, her family." Gilla answers Shilde.
"I don't think all of them are okay." Loci contradicts, looking around. Comforted by Pasithea's effort, then discouraged when she falls asleep again.
"Grove. Huh." Gilla seems to think about that. "Druid Grove."
"Yeah! They have the best pipeweed!" Rekki rouses from the water with a splash. <draconic>
"Druid grove? Yes!" Blubs also seems on board with that idea. <draconic>
"They all want to come." Loci looks at the adventurers, "They shouldn't all."
"Yes. Yes. Figure that out." Gilla talks over Loci, facing the compsagnothus, "yes. Tell all them. Those names."
Some strategizing for even that, might be in order.
Shilde shakes her head slowly. "Know ye'd like t'think so.. but if'n you're wantin' folks t'accept y'ain't lesser peoples.. then y'gotta accept that in any groups of people, there's always a chance some of 'em follow the tyrant 'cause they want to, not 'cause they have to. An' it's hard for city folk t'tell the difference b'tween your kind."
One tiny, reptilian head bobs in agreement with the suggestions of the kobolds. "Reckon we can make this quick, then..!" He jumps away from Shilde and dashes, dashes, into a space free of drinking kobolds idling for their share of cooked hare. With one last circuit to consider the space around him, Barclaiigh explodes into a much larger reptilian form.
The scythe-like beak of the Barclture sweeps left and right, a crown of auburn down bristles and rolls as he shakes his head in an attempt to reorient himself. The massive avian is more than twice the height of a man with talons bigger than the compsognathus' shape he'd occupied previously. His breast puffs up and he whips out his wings, getting a feel for the new shape as he flares his longest flight feathers and flaps, banishing the lazy steam rising off the springs.
"Y'like a ride, miss Shilde? Rocky can keep up from b'low." He leans forward, hopping once and then doing his awkward waddle to come closer to the water pools. "I'll carry two of y'all with me t'meet the big twigs," he tells the kobolds. "They get along with y'all well enough they'll invite more of y'all back 'round again. It's a friendly lot."
Shilde squints a little bit as Barclaiigh does his latest form-shift. "Ye've gotten damn good at that," she allows, hopping off of her stump.. then taking a moment to stow the borrowed mug in her own pack. "Just make sure y'don't drop me.. or if I do, I don't survive it, aye?" She whistles sharply... it takes a few moments for Rocky to show up. A word in dwarf and the dog, after lapping at her face once, runs off. Then she makes her way over to the... functional looking avian form Barclaiigh has addopted, and carefully climbs aboard... apparently able to swallow her unease with the kobolds enough to share the flight.
The kobolds react with shock, even the chromatic ones 'used to magic'. The tiny dinosaur's transformation into a much larger avian form, while theoretically an evolutionary possibility is difficult to witness. There's splashing as several dive into the water, some spears are lifted.
"Guys! Calm!" Blubs hisses loudly.
"This one goes." Gillagoon says.
"No, Rekki, Gilla, This one goes." The bluescale insists, "Rekki will be pissed if you just go. She'll argue if she goes." <draconic>
"Yeah Gilla, trying to take over?" The redscale hisses at the green-scale, "Let Blubs go. He likes talkning."
"He can't speak trade," Gilla counters, in trade, to make the point.
Rekki guesses, and points at the Barclaiigh-Bird, "Can do that, can use talking spells." <draconic>
"This one goes." Loci says, in a moment of standoff.
"Of course," the three chromatic kobolds chorus. In that they have some agreement. Loci, as local guide, should meet the druids.
They're only a short flight away... as the giant-dwarf-bird flies.
OOC
Inspirational Art - Rainbow Kobold
https://www.deviantart.com/basilloon/art/Diann-753817037
As the weapons power up
<OOC> Merek says, "BOSS FIGHT?"
<OOC> Merek prepares fireball
<OOC> Merek aims at color codes
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "lol"
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "diplomacy"
<OOC> Merek Christopher Walkens, "I'm something of a diplomat myself."
<OOC> Shilde says, "No, this is the ending. The colour corresponds to which ending you want."
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "That was Willem Dafoe y'goon."
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "XD"