Mir and the Ellymintals
Setting and summary: Our intrepid group is out in the forests near Alexandria dealing with a jerkface mage. Also, Mir can talk to water elementals and she's not crazy!
Outside the city of Alexandria, there are babbling brooks, rivers and even the odd body of water or two. The forests are lush, trees and other verdant plant life battling one another for nutrients, sun and poisoning rivals. The ground is becoming littered with multicolored leaves, and the various mulms of the forest. Birds sing out warnings, guarding young that learn to fly by missing the ground and prepare them for the coming fall.
Soft breezes whisper of pollen, of life and scents of predator and prey. If one does not know the natural processes, it is beyond tranquil.
But there are whispers of trouble that reach the ears of adventurers and even city dwellers. Some of the rivers have been ebbing and flowing oddly. Some of the spirits whisper, upset about their neighbors and some abuses. And Miruan herself has been utterly distracted, dreaming of water (Sandy said that means she has to pee, but Mir always- nevermind). Nevertheless, abuse of magic and spirits is deeply frowned upon by the order.
And so she, and the others who may find their path here (as fate often does, dangling muffins of destiny) will find... trails. Little feet interspersed with one larger, distinctly human set of foot prints. How odd. The small prints will resemble that of kobolds to those with the nose (or eyes).
Abuse of magic and Miruan both have Rakim heading out. Being out in the wilderness he is dressed down a little. Less shiny jewelery to reflect light, and less lace to catch on things. Also his boots have more sensible heels. The fancy hat remains of course, as do his watchful gaze, that might in another time and place be called cop's eyes. Noting the tracks he squats down to examine them more closely, a soft hmm escaping him "Not quite human, but humanoid...Lucht? goblin? No...kobold perhaps" he mutters as he bends a touch closer to examine them.
Durrankar has the nose to say the least. After a brief sniff, Durrankar lets out a minor rumble in his throat. "Rrrrr....Kobolds....." he says tamping his staff on the ground. "Smells like kobold." He pushes himself back to his feet with his staff and looks to Rakim.
Some people might be surprised to see Aldean on an errand like this, but he's here all right, low boots seemingly not meant for the trail nonetheless holding up well enough. His mobile features wear the signs of lack of sleep, but he moves with an easy and relaxed grace anyhow, occasionally gingerly flexing one black-gloved hand as he walks towards the middle of the group. "If it be kobolds, look fer traps, mate," he tells the others. "Clever little buggers, those."
When her Elunan friend is on the trail, Silmeria is always happy to provide support; doubly so, if the bard's back needs watching. Adjusting her spectacles, she frowns at the pronouncement, easing open the bindings on sword and gun, just to be safe. "And ambushes besides," the Vardaman says, eyes moving up and down the treeline.
So far, things seem quiet. The majesty of the forest undisturbed, ancient sentinels of some bygone era. Birds continue their rap battles in the trees, and even a lizard scuttles by Aldean, bobbing its head furiously to inspect him. Yeahthat'snotalizard. And off it scampers into the mulm.
The human tracks continue alongside the kobold tracks, and Durrankar's nose proves true. Those are indeed kobold tracks. Anyone in tune with the spirits might feel a faint approval as they head along that way.
But it's hard to say, really. Those with sharp eyes may notice a simple, silver thread across the path a few feet ahead. The thread goes up into the tree... What in the world? A box with a spiked inside that reads 'NO PARTY CRASHERS' in badly spelled Tradespeak. Yes, at least one e and s are backward with a buttprint of paint upon the sign. What in the world? Miruan is quiet, distracted by something and looking distant. She goes in front to absorb things anyway. She stays out of Rakim's way as they look at tracks. "And they go this way...?" For her part, the monk is mostly making sure she doesn't need to get hit in the face so others don't.
Rakim nods with a faint smile to Durrankar "My thanks good sir. My sense of smell I fear is not perhaps the most keen of my senses" he says whilst standing up and straightening. He nods to Aldean and Silmeria "Thoroughly unpleasant little things" he drawls whilst pulling his fancy mechanical repeating crossbow from somewhere inside his coat and cranking a bolt down. Spying the thread he holds up a gloved hand in a clear 'stop' gesture and follows the thread upwards "Charming. Anyone skilled with dismantling traps?"
It's the sign that arrests Aldean's attention, and despite his unusual quietude for this trip, he lets out a baritone chuckle as he spots the sign. "Naw, mate. I ain't." He pauses, though, and whistles a quick little scale that takes on a curious double-echo sound. A quick gesture, and he cocks his head at the wire and box. "Too damned obvious."
Durrankar nods to Rakim before following the tracks. Once Rakim holds up his hand, he sniffs again and tilts his head, before looking to Rakim. "Send the meatiest person forward?" He says with a chuckle. "I am not a trap disarmer, I fear. I may have claws, but they are not like swords."
"Naw," Aldean says, blinking owlishly after a moment of peering around, an easy grin coming to his lips. "Ain't magic an' a damned clumsy job. Think ye we can jes' avoid it?"
Silmeria draws her sword, moving close and easing the hooked blade under the wire. Pausing to glance over her shoulder, she arches an eyebrow at Aldean, smiling. "Nothing unusual, then?" Lifting her shoulder in an easy shrug, she carefully slips the wire free of the trigger. "Best not to leave it, in case we have to come back in a hurry."
Durrankar hrfs at Silmeria. "Best not leave it. I'd probably trip it with my tail." He then starts to trot his way forward. "Knowing kobolds, they left something that startled them." he then begins to sniff the air more.
"It looks so," Miruan nods to the others. "Still, I can take point if we need someone to catch things," She promises. She has to smile a little at her company. But she looks distracted again, furrowing her eyebrows.
"... is that a wine bottle up ahead?" The tracks continue. No animal life comes to bother them, although a shrew scampers through (not the Shakespearian variety) and keeps going, heedless.
This gets odder and odder. The kobolds are not on point for their trap game. Some of the tracks even seem to point out a sway, even with one buttprint joining it. The air is a little tense, as if someone were holding their breath or worried. Perhaps a local spirit is uneasy or horrified.
As the meters continue on, there's a tangible feeling of magic. Not super redonku-stackable lich strong. But it's hardly token magic. And the air seems mistier somehow.
And yes, eventually there is a bottle of fine Kobold wine stuck in a bush. With a shoe.
"Aye," Aldean agrees, eyeing the sign one more time with a thoughtful air before shaking his head and turning to join the others.
The amusement written across the mobile features turns to bemused puzzlement as he examines the detritus left along the road. "They was drunk," he opines.
Rakim makes sure not to touch any of the odd things left behind, his motions rather more tense than his usual languid trace "Best let those of us with keener senses lead the way Sister Miruan" he suggests. A frown crosses his face as he feels the hairs on the back of his neck arise. Reaching up he touches his holy symbol and mutters a prayer.
Not having hair on the back of your neck does kinda hamper that feeling for a sith-makar. However, another sniff in the air makes Durrankar snort lightly. "magic hangs in the air. something is...or was, going on."
"Rakim, Aldean," Silmeria asks, brow furrowing, "I know for certain Master Durrankar speaks true... would either of you have any idea what could be causing it?"
There were, after all, a pair of human footprints alongside the uh, kobolds.
Rakim holds up one hand as his eyes narrow faintly in concentration. After about thirty seconds or so, if that, he reaches up idly stroke his goatee "Someone is summoning, something..." he pauses and tilts his head "It doesn't quite feel like anything infernal..."
Outside the city of Alexandria, there are babbling brooks, rivers and even the odd body of water or two. The forests are lush, trees and other verdant plant life battling one another for nutrients, sun and poisoning rivals. The ground is becoming littered with multicolored leaves, and the various mulms of the forest. Birds sing out warnings, guarding young that learn to fly by missing the ground and prepare them for the coming fall.
Soft breezes whisper of pollen, of life and scents of predator and prey. If one does not know the natural processes, it is beyond tranquil.
But there are whispers of trouble that reach the ears of adventurers and even city dwellers. Some of the rivers have been ebbing and flowing oddly. Some of the spirits whisper, upset about their neighbors and some abuses. And Miruan herself has been utterly distracted, dreaming of water (Sandy said that means she has to pee, but Mir always- nevermind). Nevertheless, abuse of magic and spirits is deeply frowned upon by the order.
And so she, and the others who may find their path here (as fate often does, dangling muffins of destiny) will find... trails. Little feet interspersed with one larger, distinctly human set of foot prints. How odd. The small prints will resemble that of kobolds to those with the nose (or eyes). The group has been following the trail and found a crude, easily disarmed trap with a terrible silly sign: A box with a spiked inside that reads 'NO PARTY CRASHERS' in badly spelled Tradespeak. Yes, at least one e and s are backward with a buttprint of paint upon the sign.
They have disarmed it and are now detecting magic.
"Not everything summoned be of the Hells or the Abyss," Aldean answers, removing the complex-looking composite bow from his back and nocking an arrow. He keeps his voice down to a baritone murmur. "Can summon all manner of things, an' most of 'em ain't like it or ye. Ware."
"I ask that we all clear the doorway when we reach them." Durrankar says bluntly....."and shield your eyes when I call my staff's name." He says still leading the way."
"No troubles there," Silmeria answers, reaching out to rest a hand in Miruan's shoulder. "You're all right, then? Only you've been... rather distracted, since we left town."
Miruan blinks, at the hand on her shoulder. "Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry. I keep thinking about rivers. No idea why. Daromu thinks maybe I was a fish in a past life, but Sandy said it just meant I had to pee," She admits. "Sorry. I - am gonna focus," Really. Focus. Like a cobra laser.
Nevertheless, Rakim is correct. As they draw closer, there's a sense of pulling. Of magic. Of local spirits upset.
Of birds still in the trees having rap battles to stay away from their nest or they gonna peck you. A bushytailed squirrel clambers up a tree. The wine bottle in the bush beside the trail is completely empty, the tracks seeming more and more irregular - until they come to a small - a very small lake, more like a lake that wishes it were a lake but it's totally bitty. And it should not be here. Not for those that know the local area. Water has been dammed up (that's like with beavers, not damnation), and there are small, shivering waterforms visible and unhappy in it. A small fire elemental is collared and warming up something. But the scene only grows more and more dire...
The elementals look panicked, angry and unhappy. They are wee bitty elementals, though. And there's a kobold peeing in the spring, while another is waving beer bottles. One guy, the human mage, is leaning back on a lawn chair while kobolds in bling and bikinis fan him. It's a PARTY and he has found his magic is conjuration and binding. Mercifully, most of the kobolds are drunk, swimming, playing games and one is on a tire swing but can't figure out how to get out. He's just that drunk.
"I'M SUPER KOBO--" SMACK! Right into a tree. He's the hero the kobolds need.
And before one asks, there's a huge trunk of women's underwear, panties and gold everywhere. Seems they were looting.
Rakim's long lashes flutter as he blinks at the scene before him "Not quite what one was expecting..." he drawls softly then as his keen gaze falls on the trunk both his eyebrows arise sharply "...quite the party"
Super Kobold does have a cape, too. With a backwards K.
Silmeria draws up short, staring goggle-eyed at the scene sprawled out before the party. Soundlessly, her jaw works for a moment, and finally the inquisitor turns to the bard. "...Am *I* drunk?" she squeaks. "You see this too, I hope?"
Aldean simply stops ... and /stares/, shaking his head. "Mama Rosie could take a pointer or two from this lot," he murmurs sotto voce, his arrested look indicating that he does, indeed, see this. He says nothing further, though, his eyes set on the fire elemental so unhappily chained.
Durrankar peeks around the corner and.....snorts at the kobolds...as well as the party in general. He would full on laugh...if it wasn't for the elementals bound up in collars and dammed up.
Forgoing all sense of safety of self, Durrankar literally stomps across the 'party'....and if he's able to reach the mage without anything or one standing in his way, will grab the mage around the neck....not his robes....his NECK, and lift him bodily off of his chair. "Release the elementals.....NOW!"
For you see, not all magical abuse involves SOUL RENDING, world destroying, the dead or what have you. Sometimes it simply involves needless enslavement, thoughtless or petty uses of powers, or even thoughtlessness towards beings whose existences most could only begin to understand. Some of the kobolds with panties on their head stop playing their card game and look to the adventurers. They look to one another.
"WE FOLD. WAS FUN!" Then they hiss, scamper and flee. Super Kobold is dangling in a tire swing and mumbling incoherently. He'll save them aaaall. He's got a cape.
Some abuse seems well - not really evil so much as dickish. But one might argue that such thoughtlessness escalates itself, or that allowing such behavior without a wrist slap unwise.
And truly, he's enthralled kobold and enslaved elementals needlessly. The elementals are often willing enough once one earns respect. But instead, the mage brute forced small elementals. And there are runes around his lawn chair in chalk and paint that those savvy about magic and/or planar fu will catch. Also, BIG HONKIN' RUNES (oh my god, Becky, look at his runes. THEY'RE HUGE).
Most of the kobolds are too drunk or enthralled to do much. "HURRY YOU LOUTS!" He shouts. One kobold feebly throws a shoe at Rakim. Feebly.
"Why!? I am doing nothing illegal!"
Miruan seems dazed, staring at one of the water elementals and ambles over. "...? Familiar how?" Peer. "Wait." Is she just-
Likely, given the situation, the collars could be broken just as easily as runes moved. Or both! Options!
"Alright I will circ..." begins Rakim in a very soft voice, then the Sith charges in. He looks heavenwards a moment and mutters a prayer. Eyes are down just in time to see..something thrown at him. In a rather acrobatic, and unecessary, type motion he rolls and comes up with his crossbow pointed at the...shoe thrower "Eluna grant me patience" he mutters.
Durrankar seems beyond words at the moment, and hefting a wizard that probably hasn't worked a day in his life off the ground is probably no trouble for Durrankar. And yes, he's holding up the mage by the jaw......and is holding JUST tight enough for him to hear the sith-makar's growl....and perhaps others that may want to speak with him.
"Excuse me?" Silmeria says, adjusting her spectacles. She has that Look in her eye, the one that says nothing more or less than 'Big Sister is Very, Very Disappointed In You.' Absently reaching out to slow Super Kobold's tire swing, she steps up to Durrankar's side. "You have a problem. Three, really. The first problem is this very large, very angry druid next to me. Believe me, he's trouble enough in his own right. Then you've the rest of us, who are quite happy to support him in any trouble he'd like to cause, given how you've been treating the elementals you seem to've conjured. But your biggest problem? You've treated these elementals horribly. I do expect that if I were to take the collar off that fire being, there? It'd hurt you worse than even my friend here could begin to manage. I believe you might want to do something very nice for all the servants you've forced to your side, sir."
it's THEN that Durrankar snarls at the mage....and even a bit of smoke comes out of his mouth....and his hand tightens around the mage's neck, with his claws digging in. that would probably make him realize just HOW much of a threat Durrankar is.
While the others stalk in, Aldean simply chuckles, and surveys the situation, the fleeing kobolds, the collared elementals ... and that chalk line. While the others are grilling the mage, he walks over to a nearby tree and leans casually against it, folding his arms across his chest, with one hand carefully laying atop the other bicep. A nasty sort of amusement wreathes the not-nice grin he wears and the mobile features, but for now, he seems content to watch. "Ye know, ye ain't got to force him to let 'em go, if I ain't miss me guess," he points out. "See that line o' chalk an' paint? Wonder what'll happen do ye break it."
The kobolds mostly seem dazed, drunk and out of it. The one who chucked a shoe at Rakim is ambling at him slowly... faceplanting, caterpillaring towards him. Oh yeah, he's coming at Rakim, bro. Better watch out, Elunabro. He's gonna get cha. (... eventually).
Rakim could probably just punt the kobold back into the bushes and end it. The fire elemental seems curious about the man and his fancy hat, but is in distressing proximity to the beheated water elementals. Neither is happy about this.
Meanwhile, the mage is debating his chances of getting a spell off. He scoffs. "I can just dismiss them. Who are you? The boss-- DON'T TOUCH THOSE!" He panics. "The kobolds, too!" What an asshat. While it is a silly, hilarious party, the underlying pride, control and hubris reveal a cruel, darker tone. The scarred face behind a clown's smiling make up, littered with hatred and belittlement. Their lives, wants and freedom mean nothing to him. They are for him to use. To the victor goes the power. "Why!? I'll just let them go and LET ME GO."
Well. At least the mage is *somewhat* cooperative. But he's got a stick up his butt that has a stick up its butt. And that stick is pride.
TWANG! Rakim's crossbow sings and sends out a bolt that -just- misses nailing the drunken kobold's foot to the ground "Next I aim a little higher" he says, eyes and voice rather cold and threatening. He turns his Inquisitor's Gaze<tm> on the mage "As an Inquisitor of Eluna I take missuse of magic somewhat, shall we say, personaly. And just who is this 'boss'?"
Silmeria's smile turns up at the corners, head tilting as she looks from Rakim to Durrankar, and back again. "I do think that unless you cooperate," she says, her sweet voice carrying the faintest hint of an edge to it, "you're not long for this world, sir. D'you happen to have any family that you know of? Someone you might happen to care about? Only I'm sure you'd want someone who knows you, to be brought the news of what happened, amid drunken kobolds and enslaved bits of water and fire." Shifting to one side to give Rakim a clearer shot, she draws her pistol with her free hand, cocking it loudly. "Would anyone care whether you live or die, sir?"
"Thought mayhaps," Aldean counters from his lean against the tree when the mage panics. "Give ye credit fer creativity, the least. Kobolds wit' women's underthings on their heads. Might find a use fer yer sign, too." His grin oozes nasty amusement. "Ye lot ain't gotta kill 'im at all, ye know. Break that circle an' the elementals'll do the rest. Jes' don't let that one burn down the forest, aye?"
"I was asking who the hell you people were, the bosses of mages? I am practicing legitimate magic!" But again, the finer points are missed on him. Evil does not necessarily simply involve the dead, dark darkness, or what have you. The mage seems more upset he's been caught. "My associates are none of your business," Though with the Inquisitor's Gaze<tm> (No one ever seems to expect an inquisition), he whines. "Fine, fine, I'll drop the summonings. THEN I can go home?" He seems less miffed about the elementals and more his party was crashed.
"And I am sure they would? I'm me!" If people could be talking butts, he would be. "You would be tried for murdering an innocent mage." Whine. "Just let me gohome..." He looks to Aldean, staring.
At the mention of burning, the fire elemental kind of lifts its arms happily. BURNING!
The water elemental is now exchanging pokes with Miruan. "IT'S TALKING." PANIC IN THE MONKDISCO! And ironically, the water elemental exclaims in Aquaan, << IT'S TALKING! >>
As for the kobold who was bothering Rakim? Between the bolt and the stare, his enthrallment ain't gonna hold against that. He was no part of being inquisited.
"I am largely as close as you will find to such a boss yes. Or at least an enforcer" Rakim says, the drawl back in his voice but the elegant langour does not reach his cold eyes "Before we let him go we may like to know just what he meant by "The boss"" he enquires as his crossbow swings around to rest on the poor hapless mage.
"I am largely as close as you will find to such a boss yes. Or at least an enforcer" Rakim says, the drawl back in his voice but the elegant langour does not reach his cold eyes. The crossbow moves from the hapless Kobold to the almost as hapless mage "Also. Good? Bad? I am the gentleman with the crossbow"
"Rakim here," Silmeria says sweetly, "is one of Eluna's Inquisitors. Which means it is his job to determine what is a legitimate use of magic, in the eyes of his Lady. Durrankar, a wise and dedicated druid... whose job it is to see that the natural order remains unharmed. Aldean... well, his job will be to decide whether you're even worth the effort of being a cautionary tale, in the years to come. Now then," she says, putting the toe of her boot next to the chalk lines, "do you free the elementals from their enslavement, and see what your banditry has earned for you? Or do I make preparations to see you to the halls of the Grey Lady here and now?"
Durrankar hasn't let go yet. "Drop...the....wards."
The mage narrows his eyes. "You erase the runes, which will break the collars. WHICH IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME AT THIS MOMENT," His snarls. The mage is an asshole, but he doesn't have a deathwish. He's just glowering while Miruan and the water elemental keep poking one another. Mir with a single finger, the water elemental with a tendril. They really DO talk!
"Master Aldean?" Silmeria says, glancing over her shoulder. "D'you still happen to have that potion handy? Only I rather want to make sure our happily hot-headed friend there restrains himself."
Durrankar lifts the man to his face. 'Any sudden moves.......and I can arc a lightning bolt into here....just for you." he then THROWS the mage down, near the fire elemental.
"I do rather suspect it would prove rather, problematic, to try to run away from a crossbow bolt" Rakim offers to the make, but he is keeping a half eye on Miruan and the Water Ele poking at each other "Sister?" he ventures softly.
At the request, Aldean looks startled, then nods. "Aye, a moment." It takes the bard a moment or two of careful fishing through his belt pouch, but find the vial in question he does, and finally push himself away from the tree to walk over and hand the Vardaman the vial in question. "Smart thinkin', lass. Think ye can talk it down?" Or do you want me to do it? is the unasked question. He casts a quick glance at Miruan and the water elemental, but nothing there seems to attract too much attention.
Miruan and the water elemental are indeed, talking to one another. Or at the minimum, Miruan can listen. "He seems friendly. He says hi and thanks." Pause. "... no one else understands?" A baffled look. She blinks owlishly. "I am okay!" She beams at Rakim. "ARe you guys? I'll help wherever I can. But the water elementals mostly want to punch him in his, and I quote, 'smug, stupid face' then go home." The fire elemental lifts his arms again.
BURN!
But they can give the mage the potion, either convincingly or forcefully. He's just going to cry and be grumpy.
Miruan and the water elemental are indeed, talking to one another. Or at the minimum, Miruan can listen. "He seems friendly. He says hi and thanks." Pause. "... no one else understands?" A baffled look. She blinks owlishly. "I am okay!" She beams at Rakim. "ARe you guys? I'll help wherever I can. But the water elementals mostly want to punch him in his, and I quote, 'smug, stupid face' then go home." The fire elemental lifts his arms again.
BURN!
But they can definitely talk at the elementals once the thing is downed. Really, the fire elemental seems cheery at the prospect of freedom. ~*O burn*~ Although one gets the impression that like the water elementals, the mage is high on his target list.
Silmeria takes hold of the potion, brow furrowing for a moment at the bard. One eyebrow rises, slowly, in that 'we'll talk later' sort of look. "If you'd rather, I'd be happy to," she says, popping the seal on the vial and tipping it down her throat. Once done, she crouches a safe distance from the fire elemental, clearing her throat and addressing it directly. "Master Elemental," she says sweetly, "I know you're quite angry at this mageling, here... but perhaps once your business with him is done, you could go back home in peace? Only, there's a good deal here that doesn't deserve to burn, and the druids would likely be quite cross."
"I fear amongst the many languages that I do speak, neither Ignan nor Aquan are amongst..." Rakim trails off as Silmeria take the potions and begins negotiation. He focuses his gaze on Miruan "You do?" he questions curiously, head tilting to one side slightly.
~BUrning, oh burning~ The fire elemental is excited, awaiting freedom. Meanwhile, Miruan and the water elemental are kind of boggling at one another. "They can go in peace. They think he deserves a sound pummeling."
And the fire elemental bobbles, embers shaking. << Okayokay, >> It's a bit small to really be intelligent. But it seems okay with that! Once they were done with him... Probably not death, just the pummeling of a lifetime. A lesson.
She taps the side of her head. "Yeah, I think. It's making words. Like talking. We are both shocked." Headtap. "Or I've gone absolutely mad."
For the first time, a genuine grin crosses Aldean's mobile features as he watches the blonde tackle negotiations with the fire elemental. While she's doing that ... he reaches out with the toe of one lightning-graced black shoe and digs a furrow in the chalk line, all teh way through both circles and one of the runes holding them together, than uses the toe to scratch out a particular rune entirely. That done, he shakes the dirt away and leans back against a nearby tree to watch the fun.
With things settled, Silmeria rises to her feet, giving Aldean a kiss on the cheek as she hands back the now empty vial. "Master Rakim, simply let me know when it's time for them to stop."
The fire elemental sets the mage's pants on fire and the water elementals smack him around a bit, then vanish to their planes. They seem grateful, leaving behind a mage with his pants on fire, bruised in pride and body. They are happy, home to frolic on their own planes. Miruan just seems baffled. "It said it sensed something familiar. Weird." Handsonhips. "Can't really ask my parents." Sigh.
A look over. "You guys okay? I can help haul our ... uh, person of interest back."
A faint smile touches Rakim's lips as the elementals stop of their own accord. This fades a little to a look of curiosity as his gaze rests on Miruan "There were no records or anything sister?" he asks quietly.
Although Aldean's mostly watching the elementals have at the mage, he does smile as Silmeria kisses him on the cheek, taking the vial and placing it in a belt pouch. "I say we leave 'im. Send word to the druids ta watch fer this rat," he suggests, flexing the gloved hand carefully as he straightens; he seems to be preparing to go. "See if he learned sommat. He be right, ye'll not charge him in Alexandria."
"Shame," Silmeria murmurs, lips pursing. Miruan and Rakim's conversation catches her interest, however, and she looks to Durrankar, head tilted. "Master Durrankar? Does anything Miruan is talking about make sense to you, if I may ask?"
"I am sure there are. I was born in Alexandria," Miruan remarks. "We'll have to see." She looks around. "We can talk about it back in the city. For now," She looks around. And a nod at Aldean. "That's very wise. And yeah, it's a shame. But it isn't illegal. Just awful. STill, I'd rather not be around when the kobolds come to." And/or sober up or get over their hangovers. "But it TALKED!" Miruan's are wide as saucers.
Nevertheless, the group can depart peacefully. And Aldean will have a cool new sign.
And the druids will keep their eyes out for the mage and his shenanigans, too.
"Perhaps we can look at some vivsection to provide an answer" Rakim deadpans as he glances over to Miruan with a mock-innocent look that rather ill-suits his face.
before Rakim can take the mage away, Durrankar WHACKS the guy on the head with his staff, and a distinct voice yells out 'OW! DAMMIT DURRANKAR, I AM NOT A CLUE BAT!" Durrankar looks to the staff and chuckles. "No, but someone needed to knock some sense into the mage. Better it be you and leave an impression on him.
Sure enough, there is the distinct mark on his forehead of a dragon.......
"Laws o' Alexandria ain't hold in the wild," Aldean remarks with a shrug, turning to follow the others as
And the mage is duly cluebat'd. He has a distinct mark. Owch. One suspects that being marked and having the eyes of the druids upon him are a good start. "That's true," Miruan muses. "We'll just have to let the druids keep an eye out. This is their jurisdiction in its way, and er, that looked painful." Miruan winces at the staff whack.
Her eyes widen at Rakim. "A gobber once said I'm 70 percent water!" Flail. She's going with the joke. Nevertheless, the journey home is peaceful. Sign and all.
"Laws o' Alexandria ain't hold in the wild," Aldean agrees, turning to follow the others ... and pausing as Durrankar whacks the man over the head. He pauses, and turns away to ignore it, leaving the man to his own devices. Miruan and Rakim get a look, a curious one, but they seem deep in conversation, so he contents himself with picking up the sign on the way back.