In which Miero dies, Skaegedde runs away, Donovan comes back, Frantiska performs a major miracle, and the party finally gets out of the kobold warrens...
Yamtwit watches the Tyrran exorcism with many a fascinated "Ooh!" and "What?!" and "No, not that way!" and "You forgot the rice!" and "It's better with butter!" When Winona starts to swing her massive flail to smash the altar, Yamtwit, who is of course leaning in very close to watch, is forced to dive face-first to get out of the way, covering his head with both arms, and luckily avoiding most of the impending bone shrapnel. When the roaring and the shaking stop, he finally stands, brushing himself off, and walks over to the two priestesses. "Next time," he says, "use butter! It tends to appease the evil spirits' hunger better than water and keeps them from doing that creeping howling rage thing when they leave..."
Frantiska crawls over to look at the shattered opal. Seeing Hrud's awkward stance she mutters, "Jangan khawatir Hrud, Anda jelas tidak memukul cukup keras telah rusak sendiri," before turning back to her examinations. "The tie between a dragon and its wealth goes far beyond mere human greed or dwarven avarice," she says, turning to Lyra. "If their wealth is stolen, most ancient dragons will haunt their former lairs until they manage to accumulate enough treasure to depart and rest in peace. More so for the heart gems. You guess may be correct, if the kobolds found the heart gem, they could certainly have used it to bind the dragon's ghost to prevent it from returning to its lair or passing on. Of course, breaking that binding does not mean that the ghost is gone. If its lair, wherever that may be, was looted, then it will likely plague the region for some time. Of course, even if it is loosed now, dragon ghosts never stir from their lairs. They are less belligerent than their living kin, but more obsessive, thinking of nothing but their treasure."
She lifts a bit of the glowing dust and lets it run through her gloved fingers. «I'm afraid I will miss our lecherous friend. I don't know why this is glowing or what enchantments it may contain. His insight into the arcane would be quite valuable now.» She brushes the remaining dust off her gloves, careful to keep it all contained in the hollow where the gem once rested.
Winona takes her glasses off and wipes them with the inside hem of her robe to clear the dust. "I will take your suggestion under advisement Mr. Yamtwit..." she says formally, though her face clearly reflects the laughter she is suppressing. She puts her glasses back on and looks around at the others, well this is perplexing, she thinks, who is in charge now? Donovan had clearly set himself up as the leader of this ragtag group. Someone needs to make a decision. She looks pointedly at everyone in the room, classifying them quickly: idiot barbarian, fiendish hussy, halflings, dwarf. Well, clearly it must be Lady Frantiska, Lady Lyra, or myself...
"Lyra," she finally says, "we've killed at least fourty kobolds here, including their priest, lost one of our own, bypassed their traps, defaced their shrine, emptied their living quarters. Justice for the villagers seems to have been served. What is our next course of action?" Her face showing an weird kind of probing resolve, as if clearly expecting the young lady to have an answer. "Are we done here? Should we gather Mr. Donovan's body and be away? Or should we search for other possible places where they might be keeping the tribute sent by the villagers?"
Lyra briefly looks a bit taken aback that the older priestess would defer to her judgement. "If we can recover any supplies taken from the village, they will be better prepared for this coming winter. We should search for likely storage areas, then recover Mr. Donovan and withdraw back to the village. I haven't really seen any sign of the supplies they would need to support this kind of population, let alone what they would have claimed from others."
Lyra looks at the dwarf and halfling. "If you were conscious when you were brought in, do you have any ideas regarding where your belongings may have been taken? If we find that, they may be storing the tributes nearby."
Skaegedde stands watching Winona ceremony with barely contained disgust and doesn't so much as blink as the cloud of bone dust sprays over her. "Ao bevare mig fra disse mennesker og deres overtroisk tyr lort!" she says quietly. When the goblin begins speaking of the benefits of butter over holy water she lets out a deep audible groan and slaps her forehead with one hand. "Er jeg omringet af børn?! At de ville tro løgne det skabte i stedet for sandheden om Skaberen?!" She shoulders, not to roughly, her way over to the crumbled gem and begins scooping the glowing gem-dust into a pocket, shaking her head all the while.
When Lyra asks about her belongings, she shrugs. "Most of my things were in the witchdoctor's room, and those I recovered. I was conscious when they brought me in, and honestly surprised that they took me captive rather than killing me on the road. I figured they were going to sacrifice me to one of their phony, wanna-be gods, and this place certainly makes that seem likely. We came in through the rear-entrance...not a lot of side passages off that one, until just before the big stomach room, where we headed up. From there it was pretty confusing, I have no idea where they had taken my stuff, since I was deprived of my gear before being led in. From their talking though, I got the impression that all the good stuff was being shipped off to some bigger kobold king on the other side of the swamp."
Yamtwit gives another half-hearted shove on the capstan, then turns to the exit. "If they're shipping off the loot, then it seems like we're done here..."
"Or," Frantiska interjects, "if there is another, larger and allied settlement to the west, then it is possible that they may seek retaliation for our invasion today."
Miero shakes his head, "Skae's got the right of it. I was conscious and armed when I came in, then got jumped by a bunch of them and clubbed like a baby seal. When I woke up I was tied to a wall and no longer armed. This kobos in this place are just vassals to some king called Greshlyyr, mooks. They have a chief, but he was just as much a mook. I figure the backstabbing, dog-faced, little mother-fucker probably fled as soon as you killed the first kobo guard." He smiles, "but I do know where his room was, and I doubt he could have carried all of the loot himself..."
As Frantiska and Miero talk about larger kobold tribes and retaliation, Ryesha's eyes go wide and she lets out a worried squeak. Winona, atypically, notices the look on her subordinate's face and speaks up, "Don't worry Bunny, we're in no position to go hunting more kobolds, especially not if we're talking about a whole kingdom rather than just one tribe. Miss Lyra is right, we should wrap up whatever business there might be here, then get back to the village, and get that Amara girl to her grandmother before her family is worried sick...and see if the authorities in Melvaunt are able to send militia to help defend the villagers if the kobolds come back..."
Standing around somewhat uncertainly, Hrud looks at the destroyed opal and has a rare thought. "Aku pengin kanggo ndeleng yen awak saka siji lawas wis mbledhos." he says, before wondering back to check on the shaman's body.
Hrud makes the long, arduous crawl back to the witch doctor's room to find it just as it was, except that the old kobold's body is no where to be seen.
Confused (which is to say, about the same as any other time), Hrud looks around the room for clues as to what happened to the body.
Judging from the scuff marks on the floor and the ensuing footprints, Hrud's tracking skills tell him that the old kobold just stood up and walked out of the room. Outside the room he turned left, towards the other lung with the trapped door going down into the weasel-caverns below.
Hrud comes out of the chamber and turns down the passage from which he came, "Ing siji lawas wis musna!" Then, concerned about undead dog-faces wondering around, follows the trail.
Yamtwit stepping out into the hallway, suddenly hears Hrud shouting and slaps his forehead with his palm. "Guys...our barbarian friend would like it to be known that the old kobold's body is gone..."
"Sounds like the time for speculation and planning is over," Frantiska says, crawling out the passage and down the slope.
Lyra lets out an exasperated sigh. "Gone, and if those candles have burned down, in possession of their benefits."
Miero grins evilly, "Oi! Save one for me, eh?", and goes running down the corridor towards Hrud's voice.
Winona sighs, "Lyra, do you have sufficient power to save us from crawling all that way again?"
Skaegedde hefts the club she acquired and goes running after Miero. As she runs, she thinks a silent prayer to herself, Velsignet Ao, skal du ikke lade dørstoppere komme væk, før jeg kan bash et par hoved, secure in the knowledge that her god (unlike all of the other false gods) does not need to hear words spoken to know the desires of his faithful. As her steadily pumping feet bring her back to the witch-doctor's chambers, all of her muscles tense and she looks around intently for something to hit.
Miero and Skaegedde reach the intersection by the witchdoctor's room to see Hrud, silhouetted by the light of his hammer, crawling laboriously through the narrow tunnel away from them, his face low to the ground. The old kobold's trail leads past the bodies of two other dead kobolds, then ends at the ladder leading up into the spinal column, a few bloody kobold footprints on the lowest rungs indicating that he went up.
Miero looks a the barbarian, unperturbed by the loincloth, "Yo, pacangan-jaran, sampeyan ora bakal pas, bakal sampeyan? Arep kula kanggo pindhah disegerne-metu, sethitik asu-ngadhepi, telek-kepala?" Without waiting for an answer, he draws his knives and starts climbing the ladder.
As Miero reaches the top of the ladder, he finds the spinal passage empty. Even his heat-sensitive vision reveals no signs of recent passage.
Yamtwit catches up with Miero and the dwarf-lady, blinking at the sudden light from the barbarian's hammer. "Hang cara durung Dèkné arep lunga?"
Frantiska nods at Winona's comment and taps Lyra on the shoulder to get her attention. "The Good Sister is right. I hate to rely to often on your gifts Lyrathwen, but if the candles have gone out, the old kobold may be a significant threat. It would be better if we could get there in something of a hurry..."
Looking down the narrow corridor, Lyra nods. "I should still have enough power to get us out quickly if necessary." Lyra concentrates, the air next to her suddenly the same view as the doorway exiting the witchdoctor's room.
Miero drops back down looking rather upset, "Taek! Ana ora tandha saka asu-pasuryan. Iya ora mbukak arah. Mungkin dheke dipigunakaké Piandel kanggo ndhelikake dalan cilik kang." He looks sideways into the room over the lungs, surveying the many exploded kobold corpses. "Telek Suci, kowé sing paling apik!"
"Thanks Lyra," Winona straps her weapons out of the way and crawls out into the hall. She looks back at the door to the witchdoctor's room, "I can't see in there to confirm if the candles are still burning. You'll need to come through and shut your door..."
Skaegedde walks up beside Hrud, looks around the base of the ladder, and shrugs. "Looks like he went uuu..." she says, then sees Miero skuttling down. "Not up there?" She shrugs again and heads to the right, not caring about the kobold body parts splattered across the walls. "Guess he went down then..." She grabs one of the ropes supporting the boulder-cum-trap-door and swings down, looking for other possible signs of the old kobold's passage.
Hrud follows the others, using the light from his hammer to try and pick up the trail, not sure what the plan is, but interested in seeing what happens at any rate.
Skaegedde swings down into a small room, with strange spongy, honeycombed walls. Arrows litter the floor and fresh blood and kobold viscera have pooled beneath the opening she dropped through. A pile of weasel furs and woolen blankets makes a massive bed off to one side, and a trio of lizard-man skulls hang on the walls as crude trophies. To her right a small, metal door stands open, revealing stairs leading down. Wet footprints, mostly the larger boots of her new companions, lead from the door to the opposite wall, where a curtain has been pushed aside to reveal another small room with sleeping furs and more arrows scattered around a burned-out cookfire.
Miero slides down the rope, glaces around briefly, then points to the stairs. "Apa sing cara, jaran-wong?", he asks, looking up at Hrud.
Ryesha slides down beside him, but addresses the dwarf, "The stairs go down to the weasel pits...and a back door. The other way is the main passage to the stomach or out the mouth if you turn right..."
"So either way it would be easy for him to get away if he came this way," Miero finishes. "Sounds like we need to check out both exits." He starts walking down the stairs, "I'll take the back..."
"No wait!" Ryesha calls, just as the trapped staircase turns into a slide and Miero goes careening down it.
Miero slides to the stairs to land with an uncomfortable bump in the shallow pool of oil that has collected there. A small, burned, wooden door is just in front of him, opening into a small chamber, half-filled with water, with side passages running in every direction. He can hear the slapping of small, wet feet scurrying up the passage immediately across from the door.
One of the few benefits, Lyra thinks, of being inside a dragon, is that the walls tend to curve. Retaining her concentration until everyone is through the door, she leans back to peer into the back side of the portal to see if the candles are still burning, and that the turtles seem to be ok. Poor turtles.
Once everyone is through, she follows and lets the portal shut behind her.
Lyra looks through and sees that the turtles appear to be alive and well, though their shells are covered with thick coatings of melted wax. One turtle is casually munching on a bit of wax that has run down it's shell and hardened onto the top of its head. The candles have all gone out.
"Miero!" Skaegedde exclaims, as her halfling cell-mate disappears down the slide. She walks over to the top of the stairs and calls down, "Are you alright?!" When it becomes clear that he is not severely damaged, she looks at the halfling girl and says "Coming?" before carefully setting one foot on the slippery ramp, then the other. She keeps weight on her back foot and her hands on either wall to try to control her decent.
Seeing the dwarf and halflings going down the trapped staircase, Yamtwit stops and yells back the way they came, "Looks like he went downstairs! Lyra, you still got a bomb ready?"
Skaegedde skids to a stop at the bottom, still standing, and just faintly hears Yamtwit shouting above. "Bombs?" she mutters. She offers a hand to help Miero to his feet, then pulls out her morningstar. "Which way?"
Miero takes the dwarf's hand and climbs to his feet. "I heard something running up that way," he points to the up-sloping passage opposite the small door. He pulls out the pair of stilettos and runs, determined to stab at least one kobold to death before leaving this place.
Lyra lets out a frustrated sigh. "If we think he is heading for the exit down there, I can get us there faster. That will also let us make sure nothing untoward has happened to the horses while we have been in here."
Miero and Skaegedde run into the opposing passage, struggling to maintain their balance against a stream of water running past their feet, just in time to see two small figures, silhouetted by sunlight, disappearing out of the open end of the passage to the outside.
Two? Skaegedde slows slightly, re-thinking their tactics. If there are two, there could be more. If there are more, they could be waiting outside. And we haven't done anything to disguise our intentions. "Alle ser Ao bevare mig," she mutters, then hefts her weapon. "Let's kick their asses..." she says aloud to her halfling companion.
She charges up the passage, slipping on the wet floor halfway up, sprawling face-first.
Two kobolds, two knives. Miero cocks his arms back and tosses a stiletto at each kobold's back.
Lyra concentrates, opening a portal out onto the hillside near the concealed exit. "If they haven't made it out, we should be able to cut off their retreat. If they have, we might be able to pick up the trail."
Winona breathes a sigh of relief on seeing open sky through the dimensional portal. "Thank you!" she says to Lyra, then crawls through the portal and stands up to look around, pulling out her flail. Ryesha steps through after her, looking for kobolds or other threats.
Frantiska peers through the door before proceeding, then crawls after Ryesha. Looking down at the kobolds, she takes a knee, pulls her bow out, and knocks an arrow.
Not really trusting the oil-slicked trap-staircase, Yamtwit doubles back just in time to see Lyra open the door. He squints as he peers through but does not look like he's in any hurry to go through, "...bright out there..." he mutters.
"You'll want to head through before you have to take the long way around, Mr. Yamtwit." Not waiting for a response, Lyra heads through the portal, stretching and taking a deep breath after the close confines of the kobold tunnels.
At Lyra's urging, Yamtwit squints his eyes and leaps through the portal.
Winona and Ryesha step through onto the hillside directly above the concealed exit. The stone has been rolled aside and two kobolds can be seen running out, their small feet splashing in the water that has pooled just outside the door, making just enough noise to cover the faint, telltale hum of the dimension door and the creaking of Winona's armor as she stands up. Other running, shouting, and splashing noises can be heard coming from the passage behind them, though you cannot see what from this angle.
Looking down at the two kobolds, Frantiska can see that one is clearly the old witchdoctor whom she had seen dead on the floor just over an hour ago, just as pierced, tattooed, and withered as ever. The second kobold looks much younger, unarmed, and wearing what is clearly Donovan's brightly coloured vest, with the bard's spectacles perched on its dog-like snout.
Despite the younger kobold's looting of Donovan's possessions, Frantiska draws a bead on the older kobold, who is a known threat, and lets fly, chanting the words to a fire arrow spell as she does so.
The elderly kobold takes a knife in the back, then, turning to face his attacker, a flaming arrow in the shoulder. With a howl of rage, it extends his right hand towards Miero and screams, "Seni küçük solucan! Neden senin Zhent ustaları bu söyleme?!" With a sickening cracking sound, and a torrent of blood, the halfling's chest bursts open and his heart flies into the kobold's waiting hand. He then points his left hand at Lyra as she exits the dimension door, unleashing a gout of emerald green flames, which are turned aside by the armor of force surrounding her.
Meiro's second knife passes over the shoulder of the spectacle-wearing kobold, who looks up in completely surprise. His eyes follow the line of green flame and widen when they see Lyra. «Lyra?! I thought you had died?!» he squeaks, the elvish words seeming strange coming from his dog-like lips.
Lyra flinches back from the green flames, and pales at the gore below. «I'm fine, for now at least. Is that you, Mr. Donovan? I'm fairly certain you DID die, when the scaffolding collapsed. You appear to have been reincarnated. You should ... probably go check on the horses. Quickly.»
The kobold clears his throat squeakily, «YES! Thank goodness you recognized me. I thought I was going to get shot!» He spreads his arms wide and shrugs, «Not sure I can check on the horses at the moment, it would be very disappointing for you guys to kill my friend here, after he brought me back from death and all. We both may run along through, there is a very angry-looking halfling man and dwarven lady in yonder cave?» He points towards the passage from which Miero's heart just came flying. «Did Hrud make it? I see everyone but him?»
«Oh, well, we appear to have dealt with the halfling, but that dwarf lady looks pissed!»
Seeing Miero's chest spontaneously burst open and his heart go flying through the air, Skæggede, still lying face-down on the ground, decides that she wants nothing more to do with this old kobold. She looks down the tunnel to see if any of their new friends had followed to back them up. Seeing none, she turns and runs back down the passage. Ao forgive me, but if they are going to leave us to face something like that... She splashes into the central intersection and looks around frantically. They said something about a front door through the mouth, and a ladder leading down here. She picks a passage and random and runs, eventually reaching the bottom of one of the three pits, then high-tales it out through the front door. They'll be alright, won't they?
As she runs out through the mouth and then stops to catch her breath, Skæggede looks down at her waist curses under her breath, realizing that her sashling must have come undone when she slipped back in the cave. "Rend! Nå, ingen vej tilbage til det nu!" she growls, then takes off running again.
Hrud steps through Lyra's magic opening through space & time just in time to see the old kobold, very much alive, raining death and destruction back into the warren. This decrepit old dog-face is more of a danger than he realized - truly a worthy foe. Hefting the twin broadswords, he leaps upon the unsuspecting shaman with a roar.
In a flash, Hrud lands on the old kobold, one knee taking the small figure under the chin and bearing him to the ground. There is the sound of cracking bone as Hrud's full weight, easily five times that of the decrepit kobold, comes down on his chest. The blades follow, one on either side of the neck, scissors-like, the magical green-metal blades biting through dried flesh and brittle bones, cleanly severing the old witchdoctor's head. Next to Hrud, the withered claw of the old kobold limply clutches Miero's still-beating heart.
Lyra carefully climbs down the hillside. «Mr. Donovan, your ... er ... friend ... just ripped someone's heart out. You don't find that concerning?»
The kobold stares slack-jawed at Hrud and the corpse for a long moment, then gestures lamely, «My other friends have cut people to ribbons on more than one occasion. Ripping out an assailant's heart does not seem that different.» He shrugs again, and clutches at his pantaloons, which are large enough to serve as a tent and quickly sliding down, despite being gathered weirdly with a series of belts. «Life is...weirder and more violent than even I would have thought. I guess I have become used to it a bit over the last weeks.» He picks up the older kobold's head, balancing it on one hand and turning it so he can look into the dead eyes.
«Alas, poor Mide Açar! I knew him, Lyra: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. It seems he hath borne me on his back a thousand times. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft...well just the once really. And now how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Where be your gibes now Mide? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the weasels to a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite chop-fallen? Prithee, Lyra, tell me one thing. Dost thou think General Valjevo looked o' this fashion i' the earth? And smelt so? Pah! To what base uses we may return, Lyra! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Valjevo till he find it stopping a bung-hole?»
He tosses the head aside. Then says, in high, yapping common, "Let's get the fuck out of here before I die again..."
Seeing yet another kobold, Hrud draws back to strike ...
Lyra rushes between Hrud and the pantaloon-clad kobold. "That is Donovan!" she gestures at the kobold. "Mr. Yamtwit, how do you say 'Donovan was transformed by magic' in Eraka?"
Winona watches the death of the old kobold and the strange actions of the younger one with deep interest. It almost looks as if Lyra and the kobold-in-Don's-clothing are having a conversation, and not in the kobold tongue. When the kobold breaks into the common speech, and starts talking about dying again, she is even more confused. Can the kobolds spontaneously reanimate? Is that how the witchdoctor was dead and yet escaped this way? Maybe something when we destroyed their altar? She ponders the possibilities, content to let Hrud dispose of the dirty little creature, when Lyra suddenly shouts that the kobold is Donovan. Reincarnation?! Brilliant? I shall have to ask Mr. Donovan about his experiences... Only then does the fact that he's about to be chopped to pieces register.
"Bunny!" She starts sliding down the embankment, only to see that Ryesha is already there.
"Oh, Mr. Donovan! Your beautiful pantaloons! They don't fit...they're ripped...they clash with your fur..." Ryesha looks completely distraught. "You have to let me fix them for you..."
"Da fuq?" Hrud's brow furrowing more deeply than usual. He pulls the blades back from where they were hovering a scant few inches from the young woman.
Yamtwit jumps down the hill, yelling for Hrud, "Teman Hruď! Lyra crita yen asu-pasuryan Donovan ngagem celonone kang, iku bener Donovan piyambak. Roh suci kepepet ing awak asu-pasuryan." He runs over and looks at the kobold closely. "You look good this way," he says to Donovan.
Frantiska puts her bow back on her shoulder, shakes her head slowly, and sits down on the hillside, just happy to be in the open air. «Your soliloquy was a bit overdone...so you must be Master Donovan.» Holy Selune save me, she thinks, why am I happy to see this lecherous old shyster again?! She steadies her mouth to keep it a firm line, but cannot suppress the smile in her eyes.
Lyra gathers her skirt in one hand and steps over to the old kobold, wincing at the still-beating heart. "Sisters, what are the proper ... ah ... rites for such circumstances?"
Winona looks at the kobold corpse and the halfling's still-beating heart and shrugs, "Burial customs are not an area I've studied much, particularly where primitive kobold dead-dragon-spirit worshipers are involved. If I were to guess, I'd say the proper way within the context of his faith would be to add him to the stack of corpses in that shrine back in the heart...or, you know, burning it so that the body can't come back as some sort of blood-sucking monstrosity is always good too."
Ryesha heads into the cave and walks down the passage to where Miero's body is. She kneels down, rolling him onto his back and checks to see if the fact that his heart is still beating might mean that he is alive. Seeing the dwarf's sash lying in the water, she picks it up and drapes it over her shoulder, in hopes of returning it.
"So..." Donovan looks sheepishly at the others as he tugs up his slouching, over-sized pantaloons, "did anyone grab my gear? It wasn't with my body..."
Lyra hands Donovan his belt pouch first, which will hopefully help with the pants issue. Then she shrugs his backpack off of her shoulder, and hands it to him, as well as his crossbows. "We tried to keep safe what we could, but unfortunately it wasn't feasible to bring your body with us while clearing out the warrens."
Donovan cinches the belt around his waist, then takes the proffered backpack. Donovan, who was relatively weak even before becoming a kobold, collapses under the weight of the pack full of spellbooks and crossbows as he tries to shrug into the straps, falling flat on his back. "Help..." he squeaks.
Yamtwit rushes to the kobold's aid and begins trying to pry him off the ground using his club as a lever. "I think you need to downsize and simplify your life a bit, Mr. Donovan. To match the downsizing of your frame..."
Frantiska, meanwhile, walks over to the deceased and decapitated witchdoctor. "Fire you say?" She rummages through her pack and pours a couple pints of lamp oil over the body, then pours out a vial of quicklime on the kobold's chest, then refills it with water from the pool. She carefully pours the water over the quicklime and then steps back as the quicklime reacts with the water, rapidly generating sufficient heat to set the oil-soaked body ablaze. "How's that?" she asks, pulling out her pouch of tobacco and rolling a cigarette for herself. "Let's get out of here..." she says, lighting in cigarette with the flames from the body, then turning to walk back towards the horses.
Lyra looks down the tunnel, in no small part to get further away from the smell of burning fur. "I don't see the dwarven woman. Do you think she'll be able to make it back to the village on her own?"
Donovan heaves himself to his feet with Yamtwit's help. "Thanks," he says, then to Lyra, "What dwarven lady?"
"There were two prisoners that we came across after you ... " Lyra clears her throat, her eyes starting to tear up. "There was a dwarven woman and a halfling that were being held. I didn't catch what her name was, she mostly spoke in Dwarven to Hrud." She gestures in the direction of Miero's corpse.
Donovan sighs, "You know, I really should prepare comprehend languages more often..."
Winona smiles at Frantiska's corpse-disposal tactics. "Dwarves," she muses out loud, "seem to need an awful lot of rescuing and to do an awful lot of slipping off unannounced. I had always heard that dwarves were supposed to be possessed of an excess of loyalty and a strong sense of obligation."
"Yes," says Donovan. "Based on our admittedly small sample size of two, it would seem that dwarven stereotypes are quite backwards. Or maybe we've only met backwards dwarves."
As Lyra approaches the tunnel, Ryesha appears, dragging Miero's heartless corpse. "I would have run too if I was standing beside this when it happened..." she mutters quietly.
Frantiska circumnavigates the dragon-cum-hill, keeping a wary eye out for kobolds or traps. Seeing none, she heads over to the horses, breathing a sigh of relief to see that they have not been eaten, and mounts up.
Yamtwit circles back to the dragon's mouth and calls out, warily, "Ale nan pare nouyo, sou kèk. Rast!"
The warg comes padding out and growls a reply, "Aleli kitem 'se konsa, chen-fè fasa yonpat'akm'wèsepatefèli, desa lontanpapa kouri tinena."
Yamtwit mounts up and rides over to Lyra, "Rast says that a dwarf came running out the mouth not long ago. Headed that way," he points.
Lyra nods and prepares to mount up. "Did we want to try and use the remaining runes to collapse the hill? However, I'm not sure kobolds would actually be discouraged by a bit of extra digging."
Winona and Donovan both manage to blurt out "Yes!" at the same time to Lyra's question. Donovan then rapidly interjects, "The kobolds may not be bothered by having to re-dig their warrens, but the time and effort involved, not to mention the symbolic loss of their home should serve as a significant deterrent to them launching further attacks on the villages..."
Winona nods sagely, "Even if we only manage to weaken or destabilize the existing construction, the repairs should keep them busy for several weeks beyond the time it takes them to move back in."
Ryesha, meanwhile, is busy digging a halfling-sized hole in the soggy earth of the swamp. Seeing her little acolyte laboring away, Winona steps over and picks up Miero's body, loading it onto her horse. "Let's take him back to the village and bury him somewhere where we will have ready access to spades and where he is less likely to just float back the the surface and be eaten in a few days..."
Hrud asks Yamtwit about the oversized weasels still inside.
Yamtwit's eyes go wide, "Oh ya! Sing kulit banget ana regane." He and Rast dash into the dragon's mouth, slinding along the narrow ledge around the first pit, and head for second. "Kita bakal ngasilake kanthi cepet..." He reaches the opening of the pit and stops. «Shit Rast. They're bigger than us, how're we going to get them out of there?»
The wolf lets out a low growl, «Ask the horse-lover.»
Yamtwit runs back to the opening of the cave. "Hrud, sampeyan bisa bantuan kula nindakake mau?"
Frantiska listens to the goblin and rolls her eyes. "It appears that the goblin wants to go back and get the giant weasel hides," she says quietly to the others by the horses. "From the looks of things, I doubt he can be dissuaded. Should we help, just to speed him along?"
Lyra nods. "Some of the runes should probably be placed inside the tunnels underneath, as well."
Donovan's small dog-like head nods vigorously, "Yeah, those pelts are worth a fortune. As for the runes, I think we should put all of the runes in the intersection below. It seems fairly centered in the structure, and the numerous side passages and standing water should make it the weakest part of the hill. If we set off all the runes right there, I think it should cause the hill to collapse in on that point..."
Ryesha turns and looks at him quizzically. "How do you know so much about blowing things up?"
Donovan shrugs, "Logical guess really..."
"Nggunakake jaran kanggo narik mau metu." Hrud shrugs leading his pony over to the entrance. The barbarian starts rummaging for rope and possibly some sturdy branches or saplings to use in crafting a travois.
With Hrud's hastily constructed travois and a little extra rope to lift the bodies, you quickly haul the four man-sized weasels out of the pit. As you drag the last of them back to the horses, you find Teldicia, who has been following slowly, slumped against a tree, apparently unconcerned about the mud covering her to the waist, clutching her head in her hands and sobbing quietly. Her forearms, shoulders, and the front of her dress appear to be spattered with fresh blood, not unlike the rest of you given the recent decaptitations, exploding chests, and other violence. As you get closer she lets out a piercing scream and rubs at her eyes with her hands, leaving gory handprints across her face, as you can now see that all of the blood covering her is clearly her own, coming from her eyes, nose, and ears.
Donovan, trying to stay out of the way of his larger friends as they collect the weasels, noticed Teldicia's condition with considerable distress. «Lyra...Frantiska...I think we're in trouble...» he squeaks, his high-pitched voice still alien to his own ears. He walks towards the green-haired girl and gently lays a small hand on a corner of her shoulder that is not too covered in blood. "Teldicia," he whispers, "are you okay?"
Winona, carrying the other end of the stretcher opposite Hrud, stops dead in her tracks. Trying to indicate with pointed nods and wide eyes that Hrud, who is walking backwards at this point, should do likewise.
Ryesha, walking just behind her, begins backing away. "Is her head going to explode?!" the halfing girl chirps.
Seeing Teldecia, Hrud's eyes go wide, "Frantiska! Menehi dheweke lambé!"
"The scroll of Impregnable Mind might alleviate the problem, but only for a time. If we had a few hours, I might be able to get her to Melvaunt and find a healer." Lyra exhales sharply in frustration and shakes her head.
Frantiska does not understand Hrud's words, but his intent is clear enough. Tears run down her face as she looks at Teldicia. "It won't work..." she whispers. She looks back and forth between the barbarian and the girl and her other companions, trying to fight back the urge to really cry, but unable to stop the tears. Selune, she think impotently, what can I do? I have already exhausted those gifts you've given me. Too many people have died already. There must be some way to save this girl. Please? Show me how... Unable to think of anything else, she stumbles forward and kneels beside Teldicia and grips her bloodied hands tightly, praying.
«Selune! Lady of Silver! Queen of the Night Sky!
You who watch faithfully over all maidens.
The forces of darkness spread and one of your own lies afflicted.
Your servant has squandered your gifts and failed in her charge.
I have killed in anger, consorted with lechers, and failed to uphold the light.
Still, hear me, not for my sake, but another's.
Elah! Star of the North! You who always point true!
You have preserved my life time and again.
You have lead me here for a purpose.
Let that purpose not be to witness yet another death.
Bright Nydra! Purity Incarnate! Unblemished one!
If it pleases you, remove the taint from this girl.
Purge her of her afflictions. Free her spirit.
Let not the filth of this world despoil her mind.
Lyra's eyes shiny with unshed tears, whispers to the goblin. "Mr. Yamtwit, do you have any more of the Soma Juice? It's supposed to suspend the ravages of disease, is it not? That might be worth trying."
As Frantiska prays the sky grows steadily darker. Your eyes are drawn upwards to where the sun is slowly darkening. Behind you, Frantiska's whispered elvish prayer continues, droning over Teldicia's continued pained sobbing. Within minutes all you can see is the black disk of the moon, the sun's corona visible as a wreath of flames around it, bathing the world in blood-red light. You stare at the strange event for some time, shielding your eyes but unable to look away. Finally the moon begins to move again, revealing a sliver, and then more, of the sun. Only then do you realize that all sounds have stopped. You look back to see Teldicia, bright-eyed and alert, sitting up with her arms tight around Frantiska's neck.
Yamtwit tears his eyes away from the eclipse and looks at Lyra, "Yeah, I've got a bottle of juice left..." His sentence cuts off in slack-jawed surprise when he spots Teldicia. "Still want it?" he asks hesitantly.
Frantiska, for her part, continues to cry silently for some time, letting the strange faux-elf woman hug her without complains, quite overwhelmed that her prayers had been answered so fully, immediately, and miraculously. Compared to the strains put on her faith by the events of the past few days, such an elaborate sign of her goddesses favor is a little more than she can bear.
Donovan, still standing beside Teldicia is torn between relief at seeing her healed and certain impure thoughts related to the overly prolonged hug between her and Frantiska. The sight of their cleavage pressed together not at all marred by the fact that they were both covered from head-to-toe in blood and mud. Fran's methods of healing really are the best thing ever, he thinks. He stands that way for some time, trying to figure out if there is some way he could console Frantiska without getting punched.
Finally he tears himself away from the spectacle and wanders over to the horse he rode in on. He stares up at the now very, very large creature, wondering how he is supposed to mount it, and also why it smells so delicious...
Yamtwit finishes helping Hrud and Winona tie the remaining weasel carcasses onto Bobbers' back, then climbs up on Rast. "Come on," he calls to the others, turning the wolf and donkey back towards the village, "we need to get these somewhere where we can process the hides before they get too stiff..."
Frantiska finally looks up, wipes the tears from her face, and help Teldicia stand. "Yes," she says simply. She walks over to Thistledown and begins checking the horse's harness when she notices Donovan staring at his horse plaintively. Sighing, she walks over and casually lifts the kobold up onto the beast's back, stoically ignoring his attempts to look down her shirt as she does so. "Teldicia, perhaps you should ride with Mr. Leitch. I doubt he can control his horse in his current state..."
Donovan struggles to find comfortable purchase on the saddle that is much too big for him. As Teldicia mounts up behind him and reaches for the reins, he finally just leans back, propping his feet up on the saddle's pommel and resting his head back against Teldicia's pillowy bosoms, perfectly happy despite the layer of blood and muck covering her front. He tucks his tail to one side and sighs contentedly, pointedly meeting Frantiska's disapproving gaze. "Thanks!" he chirps as they start riding back towards the village. Now if only this horse didn't smell so damned delicious, he thinks.
Winona climbs onto her own horse and pulls Ryesha up behind her. "Okay Lyra, let's blow this joint and go home!"
With the weasels removed, Lyra finishes placing the remaining glyphed boards in the kobold tunnels and returns to her companions down the hill. She mounts up, and then detonates the remaining glyphs.
As the party rides away, there is a muffled bang from deep in the hill, followed by a deep rumbling noise. Within moments the ground begins to shake, as the heavily honeycombed hills implodes, and the massive, petrified dragon settles into the new sinkhole that opens up beneath it.