We Don't Go To Gobi Anymore

[Darth_Malevo]

Ye Olde Sucky Beginning

A victorious campaign! The Black Knight, formerly known as the White Knight, who was then formerly known as Edward Jamestown, had been slain! The evil, generic army defeated in a heroic display of heroics! The princess saved from the tower, and quickly chucked back to her father- King Eric the Fourth- before any questions could be asked about why it took so long for the princess to get back home.

And, as was befitting, a grand feast in the highly-civilized capital city. Songs sung, musical numbers performed, and plenty of wenches in taverns to party with. Overall, it was a highly enjoyable affair, especially with the promise of a giant paycheck to make the rest of your lives lived out in comfort. A nice plot of land, a fancy castle to live in. Maybe some scantily-clad extraplanar beings to party with on the weekends and whenever the mood struck you...

Well, that had been the promise, at least. After the booze had stopped flowing, the women stopped partying, and the peasants had to deal with their hangovers business returned to usual. It was time to get your big reward and retire to a well-respected position with plenty of spending money to spend on fast horses and even faster women. But, this is a story, and we certainly can't have a happy ending in the beginning, now can we?

Especially considering what's in store for this story.

As it was, the dealings were all quite fast. A quick meeting with the dynasty's accountant, some fast-spewed words and legal terms, three or four inches of paperwork to burn through...and it was done. Your very own fief, granted by royal decree, and a generous sum of wealth partitioned to you so you could live the rest of your life out partying with your fellow "Heroes of the Land" until you died of alcohol overdose. Or some other addiction overdose.

But as you left for your fief, located at the edges of he empire, a few thoughts occurred to you. Like how they locked, and barred, the giant metal gates at your back. And how everybody seemed to let out a relieved sigh after you signed those papers. Dismissing it, you continued on, trekking into this new world of ruling people and looking good whilst doing it.

And then the cobblestone roads gave way to paved ones. Terracotta roofs became thatch, brick walls around large houses becoming wood ones around unimpressive homes. It would be suitable, really. Not many fancy parties, but at least you'd have plenty to eat.

The five-carriage caravan, led by mighty armored destriers and guarded by men in shining steel plate, stopped to change. No longer were these five armored transports being carried by magnificent mounts. Now common labor mules pulled them, making annoying sounds as the local militia- dressed in leathers and armed with clubs- took over escort duty. A king's ransom in precious gems and gold bars, guarded by thick metal plates. The only thing keeping them out of the hands of yellow-teethed commoners with glorified cudgels.

It only got worse.

The paved roads turned to mud, the smell of bog and mire offending your senses. Culture was abandoned entirely: The houses here were made of whatever could be gathered together, mud slathered over them to keep them together. Straw and ever-present muck made rooftops, windows little more than slits cut into a wall. The farms here were barely even worthy of the name: The bare essentials were grown here, and nothing else. Fields of sickly looking grain, men and women working in them with a bare minimum of motivation. People loafed around in their britches, jugs of alcohol brandished about like signs of status. Places of culture had existed here once before: The remains of a library were visible, blackened by a terrible fire the inscription of "Grand College" was all that really remained of the stonework once evident.

Then, it finally became visible. A crude inscription, carved into a tree by somebody with a bit too much idle time.

Wellcum II Gobi

And apparently a bit illiterate.

The tiny "fief" was little more than an assortment of mud huts, gathered haphazardly in a rough inverted J-shape ending with a single stone lookout tower. A lookout tower that was missing its entire south side, a giant gaping hole in the brickwork revealing the abandoned interior. A nice touch.

The palace you were promised isn't much either, visible in the distant hills as a pair of staggered walls (Best described as staggered because, quite literally, it looked like the person who wrecked them had decided to make the two of them in a zig-zaggish formation of debris and collapsed lookout towers). The castle itself didn't actually look that bad, though...somewhat cliche, but not too bad.

The carriage-caravan stopped along the muddy streets, three men blocking the approaching vehicles as the militiamen hopped off and began to walk away from the vehicles. The three men consisted of what could be best described as "two muscle and a fairy". Now, before you hop off your roker, it's not that kind of...

Well, actually, it kind of was. Dressed in a torn suit and tie with a tophat missing most of its brim, a minuscule man-likely only up to chin height on a Dwarf- sat between two large men. One of whom was only large in his belly and the sledgehammer he carried. The other was large on account of his fairly-toned form, as well as how large the gap between his upper and lower teeth were.

"G-greetings, l-lords..." The tiny man, some sort of wingless pixie, stuttered, "I a-am Lethanial...thi-this is Gobi. I-It is my pl-pleasure t-t-to welcome you to your f-f-fief!" He yelped, twitching slightly. "I-I am the k-kingdom s-s-s-scribe, and th-th-these are the k-k-kingdom's militia!" He said, indicating the two men, who both gave curt bows of mandated respect.

[Goldfly]

Terim scrunches up her nose as they approach the big, and when they near the men blocking the street, she says It is a ..pleasure to meet you, Lethanial.I am quite glad to see the fief that my companions and myself have aquired.Hopefully, we can make it slightly more welcoming?



Diplomacy Check
[roll0]

[Demons_eye]

"Well son of a bitch" Kamin says looking at there new property. "Any one know any thing about home repair?"

[Darth_Malevo]

"A-a pleasure to m-m-meet you!" The tiny man said, his slender fingers jittering as he drew out a sliver of papyrus coiled around a stylus. Scribing upon the paper, he looked over them all, nodding as he made some unseen scribbling whilst talking. It all looked like quite a complex process to do, but somehow the man's furiously twitching hands were writing upon the paper in a successful, if unreadable, manner. His entire body seemed poised to recoil at the merest rebuke, Kamin's curse causing him to jerk sharply.

The entirety of the kingdom's militia simply stood there, dumbly looking around as Overweight scratched his rotund belly, his helmet tied onto his head in a somewhat comical fashion. Buckteeth, on the other hand, stared at his feet with the utmost interest and severity. The law system here must have been fun with these two to enforce it.

"W-w-w-we're a very rustic people, m'lords. I-i-our home is quite peaceful! Everybody knows everybody...q-quite welcoming. W-we manage to g-ge-guh-get by! It's all in the ledgers, sirs, n-no mistake!" He stuttered, Kamin's inquiry met with a meek smile. "I-if you want, lordship, I could c-call for carpenters...a-and laborers...b-but I doubt they'll c-c-come. Our village c-c-carpenter lost his right hand...mule accident, I'm inf-formed. The other villages aren't on sp-speaking terms...sirs..."

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Ending his grim silence, his favorite silence, Dwyn walks circles around the three, glancing at the castle, and nearby village with well controlled anger. Suddenly he stopped, right in front of the three servants, glaring and smiling at the same time. "Well now, we cant have that now, can we?" he said. "And why is it that they arent on speaking terms?" looking at the rotund man, "And why are you so fat?", then looking at Bucky the bucked tooth man, "And why dont you grab my bags and make yourself useful?!"

He then sighs softly, and looking at the pixie-man says "I apoligize if I seem curt, but I was expecting a place of livable conditions. How much would it even cost to repair all of this? You can do math, cant you?"


Diplomacy: [roll0]
And intimidate, if you prefer: [roll1]

[Goldfly]

Shaking her head, Terim shakes her head, whispering ""Dwyn, Dwyn, Dwyn."With a sigh, she looks up and says "He has a good point.Why aren't the villagers speaking?"

[industrious]

Looking at the half-ruined castle, Kabak shrugs. "It's no problem," he booms, "In old country, we have castles twice as bad. Carpenter, carpenter, no need for carpenter. We can fix."

[whoiam]

So far, Liselle had done little more than glance out of the caravan at the surroundings... She hadn't ever really lived anywhere so rustic, but still, the obvious poverty around her struck certain memories...

"I think I can answer all your questions, Dwyn. Whoever our predecessor was, they weren't very good at the job." This was pretty obviously the case. This place hadn't been sacked recently - or else there'd be signs of recent rebuilding, of the people's houses at least - so whoever had been in charge before hadn't been looking after the place. "Makes things harder for us, but think of it this way: It's about time they got someone decent to look after the place, no?"

Sighing to herself, Liselle finally stepped down from the carriage. I hate the countryside. "But Kabak's right. We're the ones who get the castle when it's fixed, so we're the ones who should see to fixing it. And I vote the best way to get started is to go have a look."

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

After listening intently, Dwyn said "Ah, but its not just the castle, we get the people and the surrounding lands as well. If they expect life to get any better, they are going to have to work for it too, and hard." He then smiled again, and said "But I'm not worried, I'm sure we can whip them into shape - physically AND mentally."

After looking at his companion's facial expression, he quickly states "I didnt mean literally WHIP them into shape!.....Er, unless?" He then looks at them again. "Nevermind then." he says, "But squishy here definitely needs the excersise" . He then looks at the round man with a hint of compassion, then nodding his head adds "Isnt that right, Captian of the Guard Squishy?"

For squishy's (and the others, if it even matters) reaction:
[roll0]

[Darth_Malevo]

Lethanial let out a tiny whimper at being appraised so harshly, his furious scribbling onto the piece of parchment increasing into an all-out frenzied assault. He made a few panicked sounds as he wrote, the two-man standing army looking about ready to keel over at being spoken to. Obviously they hadn't expected lords so talkative, though they could certainly obey commands.

Rotund One spoke proudly, patting his belly, "Mah name is Cael, m'lord, an' it was country eat'n, m'lord! Missus Deegan cooks a mighty fine cokcerel, if'n I say myself!" He pointed to Buckteeth, who had stared at the bags dumbly. "This here's Smitty Deegan, o' the Deegans. Mighty fine family, if'n I say myself m'lord. Smitty!" He hollered, "Take this 'ere gentlemen's bags! He's our new lawn-arch, an' as the neeew Captain of the Guard, I'm yer superioran officer!!" He declared, patting the boy on his slightly stooped back.

Smitty, for his part, grabbed the bags dumbly, dropping the same one twice before finally hefting them with a decent level of motor control. Back in the cities, the temples usually took care of boys like him with a hefty rock and lots of easily-disposed paper to cover their expensive robes. Out here, people just set the ones like Smitty into the useless jobs. Like serving as a monarch's bodyguard.

Lethanial let out a squeak as he finally came up with an answer, shaking like somebody had centered an earthquake on his very being. Rumbling in place, he spoke hurriedly. "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m'lords!" He stammered, his longest stutter yet, "Assuming the average wage of an imported human laborer was six gold pieces a month, totaling out to two silver pieces per day at the current exchange rate, it would likely take a team of one hundred human laborers working eight-hour shifts over a period of two buildings per day..."

His shaking increased, his eyes focusing on the paper as his stutter vanished, replaced with a sort of monotone declaration of figures and numbers, "One thousand to rebuild the households in this tiny village alone!" He shrieked, "Not counting materials, transport costs, medical expenses, and the hiring of royal inspectors to ensure that each household meets up to the Standards and Practices of a Household! We're looking at..."

He seemed about ready to do one of two things: Split into two people, or cause the earth beneath him to split a sunder from his violent twitching. "Five thousand gold! That's only if we want a crude household setup scheme, ensuring that people can find the floors minimally comfortable, and the rats provided sufficient space to roost! Which is, of course, assuming a one-rat-one-household population setup..." He rattled off unnecessarily, as if rodents were also a major factor of life. Which, it could really be said, they were out here.

His mathematically spurred streak of linguistic skill stopped with his vibrations, the man's voice becoming twitchy as his body settled down. "As f-for the current lack of v-v-v-voc-contact with the others, there is a long-s-s-standing feud between the Deegan matriarch and o-o-our neighboring villages. I was not p-p-present for the feud, and c-c-cannot elate. P-p-please forgive this lapse..."

Cael smiled at Liselle, "An I'd be glad to give you, m'lady, a tour of this here pree-muhsays. All official'n'such, to make you better know the land you'll be ladyin' over."

[whoiam]

Poor thing looks as though he's about to have a heart attack... Liselle smiled quickly at Cael, but her first actual response was to Lethaniel. Leaning down a little to address him (short as she was, there wasn't far to go), Liselle said "Please, calm yourself. We're the ones who need to find the money for our ambitious plans, not you. Trust me, I'm good at finding money." A bright smile and a cheeky little grin - Liselle could be a charming thing when she felt like it. "All you need to do for us is listen to our people - we need to know what needs to be done. Then doing it is our problem, okay?"

So we've got physical problems all over the place, and it'd need lots of gold to remedy, even more if we count the castle and want it done quickly. Slightly larger scale than picking pockets to pay for re-thatching a roof, but a similar principle. I wonder who our richest neighbouring lordship is?

"I think, while I leave you big, strong men to move our things into the castle, Terrim and I may want to make a detour. Us two ladies should probably go visit mama Deegan. Try a little girl-talk. I trust you'll be alright without us, Mister Diplomacy?" Followed by a fluttering of her eyelashes that, by now, Dwyn would know was *entirely* faked on her part.

Then finally, to Cael: "I think that tour may have to wait a little longer, Captain. Don't worry, though. It's not as though I... we will be going anywhere..."

[Demons_eye]

"What does your numbers say about me? I must be worth 12 men! I could build this whole city in a YEAR! I could..." Kamin stops relishing even he disbelieves his own boast. "But really what if we all helped? We have some magical ability and like I said I must be worth a few men"

[Goldfly]

"Liselle is correct. Mama Deegan may know something about the feud."
Turning to Kamin, she adds "I could help the villagers with the yield of their crops, at the least, and most likely more."

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Barely giving a passing glance at Liselle, Dwyn nods at Lethanial's figures, and thinks for a moment. "Well, now, there are many problems to be fixed, eh?" he muttered. "Now Smitty, Unless your all related (which might be the case), there can be more than five Deegans living here, can there? We can't let petty dispute linger between villages when you guys have so many problems right here. Things need to be resolves, and feuds ended. We'll probably need to visit these villages ourselves to make sure any wrongs to the Deegan matiarch is righted, or apologize if'n the Deegans are to blame.... The Deegans dont rule, we do, and if these other villages still continue to fued with our village, its us they provoke now." he said flatly.

"As far as Royal Inspecters go, why have they not fixed the living conditions here long ago? Did this village fail to meet the standards for so long that they dont bother checking anymore? I doubt the King really even cares about profitless borderlands, for that matter." he thought aloud. He then looked at Lethanial, and said "Speaking of being on the kings borders, what do you know of the lands outside of his domain? Are they allies we can recruit for help? Enemies we can conquer for gold and supplies-even able bodies? What of monsters?"
Following this chain of thought, Dwyn started imagining what it would be like to destroy a goblin or kobold warlord, and then convince their people he was god and that they needed to rebuild his earthly kingdom in return for minimum wages...

[industrious]

Kabak reaches over and claps the newly crowned Captain of the Guards shoulder. "Now, Guard Ceptain. You have great big responsibility to keep order and justice. You will be needing to get in better shape; looking like me, not so good for Guard Ceptain. We have warrior-fighters here, and they help get you fit. Or, we try my way, it guaranteed great success. We make deal with demon, and he cut fat out for soul. Cleric Terry then reattach soul, we slay demon, and all is good. Work for me, once."

Looking out at the throng of people, Kabak laughs. "People who we are now governing, I have good news. We are going to be making your lives much better soon. Also, where is nearest bar, I am feeling like drink is to be needed."

[Darth_Malevo]

Lethanial and Cale both paused as they were addressed, Lethanial's knees quivering slightly as a number of thoughts rushed through his mind and were promptly ordered in a very clerk-like fashion. Cale simply scratched his belly at the thought of being forced into some sort of military regimen, before shrugging (favoring the shoulder Kabak hadn't smacked) as if he had just been offered an interesting substance to use. "Err, sure thing, m'lord..." Cale grumbled, looking over the large man with a slightly cocked eyebrow at the mention of demons. Reaching behind his double-sized behind, he produced a small jug with a broken grip and neck for the large man. The neck, naturally, had a crude cork to keep the liquor inside. Though, with something as foul-smelling as the bottle, even Kabak would feel a minor inclination to think twice before blindly chugging a whole jug of the stuff.

At Liselle's pleasantry, Lethanial gave a few gawking motions with his jaw, looking like a fish out of water at either her charming smile or the way she simply told him that the village was their problem. It was hard to tell, really, with his stuttering and looking about. Finally, he "Y-y-y-yes'm." He managed eventually, before answering to both Kamin and Terim, "M-m-magic? Here?" He asked with a squeak, "I s-s-suppose that could h-help things a bit. Yes, make the day a bit shorter, things a bit brighter." He stuttered, dabbing at his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. "Oh dearie...that throws things so off balance...recalculations, recalculations." He mumbled to himself, managing a few scribbles before letting out a fresh yelp at Dwyn's (and Kabak's) proclamations.

To Kabak, the people around the village gave a standard handful of claps before returning to the business of slumming around. Dwyn's, however, drew a few concerned coughs and a few children running back home. A door or two slammed shut, brand-new horseshoes nailed to the front doors of the households. A modern luxury they could afford, it seems.

Smitty opened his mouth at this point, "Maww's cottage ain't far from here." He said, carrying the luggage loyally, "Und I think she's cookin' dinner for me and the rest o' the boys. Oh boy, she can't wait to hear that we got royalty in the kingdom again!" He said, his buck teeth jutting out proudly at the mention of royalty. "Und I get ta carriage their luggage! This is gunna be a humdinger for the table!"

With that, the man offered his arms to the two women, "Madamees, would you care fehr an escurt?" He asked like a little gentleman, before shooting a worried look to Dwyn's proclamation.

Lethanial looked extremely discomforted, even more than what he had seemed thus far, at the mention of the royal inspectors. "Well, s-s-s-sir, it's not th-that the inspectors aren't interested. See, there w-w-as an inspector here a few years a-ago. A n-nice boy, but a bit too out s-spoken. He said that th-the village couldn't r-run a distillery. And then he...he s-set fire to the cider distillery. He d-d-dangled for quite a w-while from what I was t-told..." The man stuttered, looking even smaller than before in Dwyn's presence. "Now they won't v-visit anymore. And w-we don't bother to leave the village anymore...not after the Elves moved in to the north. Th-they're a n-nasty kind. W-we don't get lumber from th-there anymore. S'all swamp w-wood now." He stammered out, wringing his wrists at the mention of the Elves. "E-even the goblins and orcs out here k-keep their distance. Only th-the Lurker is out there. And the Wise Man."

Realizing what he just said, he started to nervously nibble on his fingernails, slightly wetting the papyrus in his hand. "Th-the Lurker just sucks out y-your soul, Missus Deegan warned us! With just a kiss! And the Wise Man...they say he makes the trees do his b-bidding. But neither k-kill us, thanks to m-missus..." He whimpered worriedly.

[Goldfly]

Terim mutters to herself "This 'Wise Man' Sound like a Druid..."

While walking toward Smitty, she turns her head to look at Lethanial, and says "I'm hoping we get a chance to parlay with these elves.We may make them slightly more friendly towards our new home."

When she reaches Smitty she smiles at him sweetly and then says "Lets go!"

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Dwyn doesnt even notice the peasant's reactions to his words as a rush of thoughts pummel his mind while he took all of Lethaniel's information in. (My word, trouble attracts these people like a curse....or maybe Im the cursed one for having this dumped on me...)

"Er, not that it really matters to me, but are you suggesting that the last inspecter was hung? I cant blame them, frankly, he tried to take away their spirits. Anyway, thats the past. If this village can become more profitable making their little "swamp brew" then we'll handle the legal stuff" he stated. He then started to lightly rub the ends of his slightly pointing ears, and said "Furthermore, no elves are going to put a single hand on our people without our permission, and I can personally see to that! This is our land, so we cut what we want, er....we do own parts of the actual forests, right? And what of stone? Though I doubt that it would be any easier to obtain..."

After thinking some more see thinks aloud "This lurker seems strange, unnatural, really." He then smiles as if in ammusement at a personal joke, but then says "This Wise Man, however, sounds quite interesting to me, perhaps he could be of use to us. If those rumors of his power are true, then he must know a lot about the local area, and might even be able to make this area in particular more fitting for farm work......hmmm, yes, interesting indeed." Looking at his comrades, he then asks "What are all of your thoughts on these matters? They surely need adressing eventually"

He stands there, silent for a while, as the others talk, but eventually looks at Lethanial, and says "Lethanial, I would like to have a talk with you later, in private. Dont worry, I just have some questions that you might be able to answer for me." Speaking up a little more now, he says "I for one, would like to start geting my things settled in for now."

[Scotty88]

Being the most quite because he had been in pure disbelief the entire time Kyos finally breaks his silence and says. "WTF"

[Demons_eye]

"I think we should go look into the wise man and see if he can help us with the lurker." Kamin says waiting to hear the others. After they finishes he agrees with Dwyn "I don't have much but would like a rest."

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

As Terim leaves with Smitty, the simpleton taking the bags over one shoulder and the woman's arm in the crook of his own, the young man led her toward the woods to the east, the whole trip taking several minutes as the bog and mire she had seen thus far gave way to a reasonable-looking forest. Deer eating green leaves, birds chirping, bears swatting at bee hives in comical fashions before getting their just desserts...

A bit too reasonable-looking.

As a matter of fact, the skies around here didn't look that bad either. Birds actually flew over the two of them, the odd hummingbird fluttered by, and- in the distance- the inevitable sound of "Hihohiho" could actually be heard. No doubt it was just the wind in the trees or some creatures mimicking dwarfen mining sons to lure prey, but it still didn't help the fact that her kingdom was equivalent to a cow's dung pie, and this place actually had...

A...yellow brick road? No, it was red brick, but apparently it had faded to a yellowish tinge after so long a time. Smitty, however, just followed the path happily, a large cottage visible at the end of the winding pathway. Situated atop a hill, the one-story household actually looked quite nice. Gutters, a well-made terracotta rooftop. There was even paint on the home! It had been painted white, and the actual-glass windows were open. An old woman was visible on the porch before the front door, apparently resting on a recliner in the open sun.

"Dis 'ere's maww's house. I'm don't think she got comp'ny, but Granny Hope ain't one to be announcin' herself." Smitty said, luggage still in hand.
____________________

The Caravan

Lethanial nodded to the first two questions, "The forests around our fief's b-b-borders were cited to us with the signing of t-t-the Ironguard Compact by D-d-Dwarf Lord Stonefist. It's an a-a-a-ancient document, b-b-but my studies were q-quite thorough. Quite thorough, sire!" He affirmed, as if reinforcing the fact that nobody could quite fulfill his current station with quite the same skill. Twitching slightly, he stared off into space with a closed mouth. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as if he was drilling a mental hole through the entire assembly of carriages. Metal plates were nothing to a powerful mind, as some of the spellcasters present understood. A familiar quaking began with the accountant as he entered another of his recollective phases.

"As for stone, m'lord, all current reserves are quarried from the mine-village of Korrok. Which, as of the last census thirty-four years ago, had a population of little under two hundred, with a sizable population of dwarves. As of the last census, the projected limestone and hematite supplies were predicted as being more than sufficient to last for the next century. Unfortunately, there have been repeated reports of Duergar within the mines, as well as other subterranean incidentals impeding excavation efforts. As of the last legal records, funding has been increased thricefold to the miners, who have increased their efficiency in accordance."

The man stopped his word-for-word report to return to his stuttering, "I-I-I can be made available to serve, m'lord. B-but I would r-recommend against contacting the W-Wise Man. H-He doesn't t-take visitors, a-and Farmer Loy d-d-didn't h-have a very happy e-ending when he tried to make the Wise Man get his crops to grow ten feet tall. N-not a very happy ending at all...had to use a mop!" He wailed quietly, rubbing his wrists as he looked towards the castle.

"B-but you wish to be rested, m'lord? I-I can m-make provisions..." Lethanial muttered, thinking to himself. "Th-the castle still has...myself. Though I-I have been told I m-make a very good side of pork!" The accountant stammered, looking hopeful. "B-but the rooms are...substandard, lord. The l-last staff weren't paid, and the t-treasury was emptied in the f-flight of our previous l-lord. Payment w-was taken in c-castle property...lord." He pointed to the castle, "But p-please, if y-you wish to handle any last matters in the v-village, I'd s-suggest h-handling them now, lords and l-ladies. You m-may become...overwhelmed...with your new th-throne."

[whoiam]

"Common, Kyos, please." Taking the time to reprimand her comrade meant that Liselle was a little behind Terim and Smitty, but not so far as to make trailing them difficult - *especially* once they went onto the picturesque brick road.

Deep within Liselle, something was suggesting that this wasn't right. The whole scene was failing to resonate with the parts of her mind that were innately... well, elven.

Slightly less deep within Liselle, there were misgivings about the division of labour that had made this section of the land so well-cared-for, and left the rest of the inhabitants in, essentially, hovels. Inside every thief, there was the belief that no person deserved to be rich on the backs of the poor. The correct way to become rich was off the money of the already rich...

But such thoughts were just making her fingers itch. And stealing from 'your' subjects tended to set a bad precedent, so... instead of thinking more about potential larceny, she instead moved up to a jog to catch up with Terim shortly before the cottage.

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Looking at Lethanial, Dwyn said "Indeed. I suppose some pork would be nice, but for now, lets just get our things inside - especially our treasure. Lethanial-the treasury, does it still have a sufficient lock? Or will that need replacing to? If so, that will be another top priority, cant have our things stolen before we can even decide what to pend it on!"

He then made a little clap with hias hands and said "Well, time to tour the castle!" He looked at his companions and said "Anyone want to come along with me? Er, Lethanial, you lead that way."

[industrious]

Kabak takes a swig of the proffered jug. After his eyes stop watering, he draws himself up, and hands the jug back. "Dwyn, I will be coming with you. Help to get treasure secure, and to tour castle that is ours. Also, we will soon have buyer for this drink; if I can get message to old country, they will be happy to buy. My brother's cousin in-law is keeper of most large inn, he should buy, I think."

[Goldfly]

As Terim and Smitty walk through he forest, she takes in the sights, and her mind wanders back to the days of her druidic training, with her father.

When the cottage comes into view, she unhooks her arm from hat of the large man, turns to him, and asks pointedly "Is that your mama on the porch?"

[Scotty88]

"sorry for the outburst but i couldn't believe what they gave us for our blood sweat and tears......well ya'll blood sweat and tears. yeah i might as well go look at this heap they call a castle"

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

Smitty smiled as Liselle caught up, waiting along the brick road as a handful of deer pranced about in the woodlands, utterly oblivious to the possibility of being blown to bits if either of the two monarchs here felt inclined to do so. Life only a quarter-hour away from their domain was just so peaceful. What gave?

The simpleton just gave a small, "Shucks!" as he looked up, before shaking his head. Continuing on, obliviously, he seemed somewhat mesmerized by the cottage up ahead. "Well, I'll be gosh derned!" He said, before blushing slightly at his own profanity. "It's Granny Hope, an' she's off a-watchin' the woodlands 'n'such." He suggested, "Don't pay her no mind, she ain't bit anybody in ah fortnight or so."

With that, he moved towards the cottage porch, knocking on the wooden door three times as the woman on the recliner became visible: She was, quite clearly, both as skinny and as pale as a corpse. Her wrinkled face was relaxed in a peaceful posture, her hands clasped together like a body in a casket. She even had the nice black robe to fit the occasion.

On the contrary, the woman that answered the door was full of life. The wooden door swung open on seemingly silent hinges, the woman having answered the door a tad too rapidly for even Terim's liking. Liselle had caught up with them well enough, reaching the duet as the door finished its arc along the fixtures.

"Why, hello, dearie!" An overly large woman asked, her demeanor instantly obliterating the words "fat" and a few others from their vocabulary. Though she appeared to be quite aged, the woman had kept her complexion and the figure of an elephant with no small help of perhaps three or four daily wagons of sugar. Though surely a glandular problem, the woman barely seemed thin enough to fit through the door, let alone any reasonable sort of entryway or hallway. "Brought some of the ladies from in town, I see?" She asked, her words flowing out before the image of her could fully come into view. It was a strange experience for the two of them, but stranger things yet had happened.

"My, such darlings you two are!" She complemented, as her weight became less of an issue and the rest of her became apparent. She wore what could only be described as the recliner corpse's attire, if every robe that woman had worn were stitched together into a single respectable lady's dress. Though certainly not quite in-fashion, black didn't do the woman too much good or bad. With wide crimson cheeks she smiled at the two girls, a distant hissing and whistling sound audible from within the home. "Did you two girls become a-taken to my dear Smitty? He's such a little angel! A tad dim, but certainly has the face of his father!"

The two women found themselves look up and above her bright eyes, which were full of the sort of energy only husky people could possess when they weren't doing any actual physical activity. Their eyes were drawn more to the hat upon her head, the wide brim of it casting plenty of shade upon the living landmark below. It was also quite pointy, black...

And a witch's hat, with that special little crook at the tip.
_______________________________
The Castle

"Th-the Vault is still s-sealed, lords. And it's o-one of the f-f-few things that my pr-previous master spent well on. D-Dwarfen locks, I've been told, are q-quite hard to pick." Lethanial stuttered slightly, leading the front carriage onwards over the grass and towards the very beginnings of the walls. Cale, as was only proper, formed the one-man honor guard for the royals returning to their castle. Honestly, they needed some new blood around. A single overweight man promoted to Captain hardly served a good role model for any potential recruits.

"A-as for the c-castle itself, m-m'lords, it's n-not in too bad of a s-shape. I've d-done what I c-could, and Corporal S-Smitty was most helpful." The accountant replied, though that could do little to soothe whatever fears they had. The idea of a stuttering, jittery accountant and a backwoods hillbilly lawman working on a stone-and-mortar castle in this sort of landscape was about as reassuring as the fact that a fall from two hundred feet wouldn't last that long compared to the rest of your life flashing before your eyes.

And, unfortunately, it didn't end up that much reassurance: The castle walls were downright pitiful. The outer one, constructed from reinforced slabs of limestone and other such stone, had apparently suffered more than its fair share of beatings. In fact, it looked like the locals had taken to hauling off chunks of the wall's foundations for whatever it was that hillbillies did with public property that had been abandoned. Likely converted it into furniture, the men would guess.

The walls had been built in a circular fashion around the castle, the time of this place having been prosperous evident in its construction. A murky ditch of shallow water served as the remains of the moat around the outer wall, no doubt having been fed by the local swamps or some similar means. Yet the water had evaporated over time, and now all that was left were the dead and dying plant life that had once fed from this mighty source of water. The drawbridge over the former moat wasn't much more impressive, either.

Having been rusted in place, the two chains over the wooden drawbridge hung limp. Anybody was free to enter and exit this castle, and even with the drawbridge up it wouldn't be too much of a hassle. The wood was entirely unreinforced, the portcullis meant to block entrance for intruders having been stolen entirely. No doubt the metal in those bars had been made into pitchforks and other tools for the farmers, their former purpose of defense no longer needed.

The gatehouse above the outer wall had collapsed, some sort of explosion ruining it entirely. Loose bricks had become covered with moss in the unkempt outer courtyard, the statue garden and hedge maze having become a jumbled abomination of rotting plants fed from the decorative pond. The statues, now headless, simply stood like obelisks over the mass of thorns and tangling roots. It would take an army of gardeners armed with adamantium hedge trimmers to sort that mess out. Or just a match and some chocolate and marshmallows.

The decoration, however, was not entirely useless. The "bathhouse" strategically located along the upward slope to the inner walls actually looked quite sturdy. As well as that, the decorative mosaics running along the roof of it were made out of quite sturdy-looking (if rusted) iron. A few men with sharp eyes and bows could cause quite a problem from the roof of that area. The other buildings, mainly gardener's shacks and dilapidated greenhouses, looked sturdy in a more unique way. Which is to say that physically they were a wreck, but strategically they would likely pose as obstacles with their rough-hewn walls and the metal-and-glass cross-sections.

As well as this, there was also the fact that much of the courtyard between the inner and outer walls was- in fact- open ground. This was likely meant for the advantage of the men on the considerably-sturdier-looking inner wall. Anybody caught between the two would likely be in a situation that was unfavorable at best, and an assured death at worst.

The carriages covered the distance quite well, the mules suited to pulling heavy loads uphill. As the wealth-laden vehicles entered the inner walls, the signs of dilapidation became a tad less apparent. Or more apparent, depending on your point of view. Whilst the walls here had numerous wide-necked guard towers along their length, each one suitable to fit upwards of a dozen men from the view on approach. The main gatehouse itself had a large central tower jutting out of it for several yards, like a sort of mini-spire to the castle's own main construction. The gates here were likely very impressive in their glory days: No doubt painted in bright colors for visitors.

Now, however, they were wrecks. The ancient wood had rotted and been eaten through, gaping holes the size of their carriages forced into each door at random intervals. Once towering, all that was imposing about the gates had been lost. Instead, the carriages just moved on through, the mules following the lead wagon like they had been trained to do, Lethanial staying quiet as he let the scenes speak for themselves. An odd occurrence, if any.

The interior courtyard was a tad nicer than the exterior one, the grass here actually kept to a reasonable level. The statues had been left mostly intact, though their features were too faded to make anything worthwhile out. That, or they had just been crafted to subpar quality. Unfortunately, nothing could have been done for the main castle itself: The towers meant to help keep it fortified and serve as habitation for the servants having collapsed long ago. Some had simply imploded in on themselves, the rooftops gutting the interior of the stone edifices.

Others, like one of the ones to the north, had fallen like trees. Having broken against the toughened stone of the wall, the castle tower had cast rubble for countless yards in every direction. Bricks and stone blocks had crushed a plethora of things throughout the interior courtyard, only a small number of the smaller ones having been pushed or dragged into a crude pile along the inside of the gatehouse.

Overall, however, the castle was in fair enough shape. The windows didn't appear utterly decimated, and as they led the carriages through the double doors, Lethanial firmly barred the main door into the castle with a large length of wood. No doubt a minor security measure, but it- at least- showed that the wingless pixie-thing wasn't entirely powerless. That, or that the wood around here was particularly lightweight.

With the five carriages parked the remains of a main hall, the dilapidated feel of the building could be better. For one, the "red carpet" they had expected was entirely missing, leaving them to trod over the cold stone floor. The paintings along the hall had either been slashed or rotted into ruin, the torches burning along the hallways left screwed into their holsters as a security measure. The crystal chandeliers, meant to provide sophistication, had just shattered in their fixtures and left glass shards to be swept aside into the odd nook or cranny within the uninviting stone walls. Cobwebs crisscrossed the high ceiling, and Lethanial only paused to detach a torch before pausing here.

"Unfortunately, m-m-m'lords, the v-vault is on the th-third floor. The t-treasure will be s-safe here, though! I can p-promise you all that!" He assured, looking ready to cringe as though his assurance was just an invitation to a thorough roughing up.

[industrious]

"Relax, Lethaniel. It no problem. Now, I am having question as to structure. Can the castle and walls stand without wood that is currently rotting? I can help with wood deconstruction. Anything flammable can be burnt out with minimum of damage. Perhaps we use tower stones to fix more immediate worries, yes?"

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Looking about in his well practiced grim silence, Dwyn finally looked at Lethanial, and said "Fine, fine! So long as it is taken to the vault tomorrow. We cant be too safe now, can we? And I think one of us needs to supervise it's transportation. I don't think it wise to just trust people not to pocket as much gold as they can while working." He thought a moment more, than said "Now about our rooms....do we have an decent sized dungeon? I think I would like to make that my personal living quarters. Privacy you see. Once thats settled, I could do for a bite to eat."

[whoiam]

Now I know what Dwyn's house would look like if he ever settled down in the countryside. It's vaguely depressing that the only thief in town isn't actually the most selfish person. For that matter, I think I'm struggling to break into the top three. Oh, well, I can but try harder in the future...

Well, might as well get on with this.


"Hello there, Ms Deegan." Liselle slipping around her colleague to address the witch directly. "My name's Liselle, and I'm a thief, a burglar, a cheat, a scoundral... and thanks to an Emperor made of equal parts grateful and devious bastard, Terim and I are two of your new lords. There's a bunch more of us, but due to their particular male idiom, they're all inspecting the castle or getting drunk, and probably both at once. Which leaves us ladies to do the important work... but there's nothing new there. Anyway, we were told that you are the go-to lady if someone wants to know the state of things around here - inter-village relations, recent local history, that sort of thing - and if we're going to make a decent showing as local lords, it's the sort of information we'll need to know. Or, to be more accurate, it's the sort of information Terim will need to know, since she's the responsible one. I'm just the street urchin who signed up with a bunch of 'heroes' instead of a bunch of tomb robbers by mistake. Still, while people still think I'm a hero, I may as well act like one. Some chances only come once a lifetime, right?"

And breathe...

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

The woman gave a cheery smile at Liselle as she charged through her story, expressing herself before any side could remark. "Oh, my!" The rotund witch exclaimed at the end, smiling widely before giving a high-pitched giggle. "What stories you tell! I suppose my Smitty always did deserve an interesting lady, after all! Though it's Misses Deegan, dear! I'm certainly not a, erm, courty-sand like in those barbaric places!" She corrected with another giggle, "Now, please, come dears! The tea is ready, and I was just about to add a bit of rum to it!"

Somehow managing to pivot in place, she began to stroll further into the cottage which- on reflection- was much larger than one might have expected from outward appearances. The halls had plenty of room for her to walk around, with cabinets and little surfaces set up all along the central hall of the house. And along each surface rested pictures, paintings, and names. Some were little more than the size of a man's hand, made from crude woodcuts. Others were a haphazard range of sizes, running from simple portraits one might expect of a noble to- as was with one picture- a full-body painting set in the clearing before the Deegan household. The man pictured there looked a tad outsized and outweighed by the woman beside him. Just as gray as "Momma" Deegan, the man held a pitchfork and wore a hat similar to that of what could only be assumed to be his wife.

The painting, naturally, had a prominent position, right before the kitchen Misses Deegan just stepped into. The smell of, indeed, alcohol was quite strong from the kitchen area. There were also the smells of fresh tea leaves, spices, herbs, and all that other foreign pish-posh. No doubt the woman outside would be fine where she was: Time hardly mattered to corpses, after all.
_________________________________
The Castle

Lethanial wilted under the attention, "The w-walls will be f-fine without the wood, yes." He replied, "But i-it might require s-strain on your part to m-move the blocks salvaged! M-myself and Smitty only managed to do so with the aid of some ho-horses. Th-though, w-with you upon the throne, the castle may b-be a tad more open. R-royalty h-has caused odd th-things in the p-past, i-if rumor is to be b-believed. Not that I have f-found anything in my s-studies, lordships! If I h-had, I'd certainly be making m-more than a note!"

He paused for a moment before meekly tapping Dwyn's shoulder, his hand retracting violently as he placed the stylus and papyrus back into his coat. "I-if you wish, l-lord, I could oversee moving the f-funding." He replied, "S-seeing as I have the p-primary key, as well as the secondaries, and the t-tertiaries..." He mumbled, "I-it's only for your ease, m'lords."

That said, he slicked back his hair with a single hand, a futile gesture. "As for the dungeons, your majesty, they are...e-extensive. Lord Conrad was a tad i-interested in our kingdom's security, and as such had a-asked me to k-keep the...I believe the term he was was 'the rabble' in line. Quite a r-religious man, too, I was t-told. Often s-said things like 'let he Gods sort them out' a-and such."

The tiny man realized that he was rambling, suddenly giving an instinctive flinch before continuing on. "B-but the jailers do not listen to me!" He wailed, "They only listen to the master of the castle, and with that p-position divided, I d-do not know if-f they will react!" He whined, "It's n-not listed in the f-files! Or even the t-texts! All t-twenty eight!"

He let out a small sigh as he walked along the main hall, scurrying hurriedly to try and keep ahead of any who followed him. Stopping before one of the several ascending and descending stairwells, he pointed down the curving path. No light crept up from below, the tiny man holding his torch out for Dwyn. "I-I am not allowed d-down in the dungeons, m'lord. Previous r-royal decree is enforced by the j-jailers. Intrusion is a h-hanging offense!"

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Dwyn's nose wrinkled as he stared at the liitle man, and said "Fine, you may supervise the transportation of our gold from the main lobby to the treasury tomorrow, but if any turns out missing, and I will check later that day, you will be to blame."

Ignoring any flinching that was to follow his statement, Dwyn then listened to Lethanial talk about the dungeons. He finally broke out of his grim mood and said "Perfect! The more extensive, the better! Im sure I will fine a suitable living quarters somewhere within it." With a most devilish smile he said, looking at the entrance to the stairs leading down into the dungeons, he said "Now, one more thing to remember my dear Lethanial, I am a fair, man, but if this happens to be some sort of trick or trap, and if I should die from it, my spirit will huant you until your very soul is ripped to shreds from pure fear....food for thought. Oh, and have dinner ready when I get back" He then gave him a little pat on the head, and decended down the stairs to have a look and see his true kingdom. Shadow, secrets, and covenants...

As he walks down, he cries "I'll be back after a while...hopefully, haha!"

[Scotty88]

"hey dwyn wait up i think i'll go with you." he gains a good jog before he turns his head and shout back "oh yeah all that dwyn said i will do the same. though i am a warforged my soul was put in this armor. just a side note for you."

[industrious]

Blitzkranz frowns at the pairs conduct. "I apologize, comrade Lethanial, for their behavior. You are free for night; I will watch treasure. You are skilled, genius at maths, but maybe not so good at guarding, yes?"

[Darth_Malevo]

The Dungeon

Lethanial cowered before the intimidating man and the even more intimidating man-thing. A Warforged, so exotic, was no small thing to be trifled with. As a matter of fact, he did not even seem willing to leave his spot, as if in terror of the idea that his new lords might know how to haunt his dreams into a state even worse than what they likely were. His hat became slightly jittery as he trembled, the mathematical scribe watching with fear as the two lords- given Lethanial's torch to augment their sight down below- descended the curving staircases. Unlike the rest of the castle, these stairs appeared to be well kept, cobwebs surprisingly absent on the way down.

With the light from the torch, it took several minutes to safely climb down what must have been a considerable distance, the spiral staircase seemingly unending. No torches lit the way beyond the main hall, pure darkness left to prevail. Obviously these jailers must keep torches on their bodies, or rely on other...more interesting means of seeing. The answer would come soon enough, however, for the stairs ended abruptly.

There was no magnificent door, no gold or jewels. There was simply a solid steel archway, the metal still polished after all of this time. As they passed through it, a series of bright flashes momentarily disoriented them, novas of light seeming to erupt before them. The experience those flashes caused was different for each of the two: Dwyn felt a mild prickling sensation, like what had happened the first- and last- time he wore copper in a thunderstorm.

Kyos, on the other hand, felt a mild sensation of discomfort as the flashes ceased after a full minute. A sensation of lightheaded vertigo made him feel as though he was slightly transparent, the world a tad surreal before normalcy resumed. It was not entirely uncomfortable, but it was still a quite notable and a fresh experience in their lives. With the last of the flashes dissipating, they found themselves confronted with the same area they had seen before the light show. Three solid stone corridors, tightly packed with mortar and rock, spread out from the central archway. Along the path of these three corridors, the torchlight did not spread very far. No magical darkness was evident, but it certainly added to the unsettling sensation of being within this dungeon.

However, there were three doors, one visible along each corridor from this position. To the right, there was a large metal door. Made from what appeared to be mithril from afar, the arcane metal glowed in the shadowy torchlight. The door also had a visible edging of a fluffy substance along its crease, shifting slightly as a damp breeze flowed through the dungeon. A frigid damp breeze.

The corridor it came from, to the left, had a door that looked like a mix between a gate and the entrance to a clinic. The floor around it had been scrubbed and powdered with a white substance, the door itself visibly sealed with a gracious amount of wax. Somebody had wanted to make the room airtight and, from the amount of hardened wax along the seam between the two door halves, they had done just that.

The third, and final, door was obstructed by something concerning: Though what appeared to be a cell of some sort could be partially seen, the two creatures loping down the central corridor were the most concerning. Coming from directly opposite of them, a pair of large, clay creatures were advancing directly towards them. A pair of the eight-foot creatures moved shoulder-to-shoulder, each one looking almost as if made by an unskilled artist. Their faces had no definite features, their bodies naked and blocky in every detail besides the cloth-and-chain skirts around their equivalent of a waist. Besides the faint rattling of the chain links, a large iron mace at in the hand of each one.

The clay golems continued to advance, unthinking as they moved directly for Kyos and Dwyn.
__________________
The Castle

As the two men disappeared below the staircases, Lethanial looked to Kabak, shooting him a tiny smile at his kindness before shaking his head vigorously. "N-no, s-sir. I c-cannot leave my p-post. I-I..."

He bolted to the man hurrying as he leaned forward and whispered hurriedly into the large man's ear, his twitchy nature giving him an almost supernatural swiftness on his feet. Obviously he was the sort of person who had learned how to scurry from the masters. His words were swift, almost slurred, his face twitching furiously before he beat a firm rapport on the floor, rushing down the dilapidated main hallway as fast as his roughly shoed feet would let him. Again, his twitchiness flowed into his legs, lending him a spring to his tiny steps.

Private messages sent for personalized information.

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

His eyes were uncommonly wide as they crossed the archway, yet he quickly regained his composer. Looking at the left and right doorways, he thought of how unusual, they were, but all thoughts of that were swept aside as he looked forward and saw the approaching golems.

"Halt! We are the new, and rightful masters of Gobi. What are you doing down here?" he commanded.

[Scotty88]

as the extremely hot feeling passes through Kyos he begins stomping in place while holding his forehead. "hot hot hot" . as the flash ends and his forehead begins to cool off he starts to think back to how he was made but then he hears Dwyn shouting and looks up to see two golems. He quickly grabs the hilt of his sword but not drawing it then says "yeah what he said" then he looks at Dwyn and says i sure hope they're the talking type

[Goldfly]

Terim looks around the kitchen, before standing awkwardly near the wall.
"Misses Deegan, I was wondering why are the villages getting along so poorly?I figured hat you may know something about, because I heard you have lived here quite a while."
Diplomacy check: [roll0]

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

Misses Deegan smiled at the fast-talking woman, stopping in the kitchen. A large open-top stove had been set up on the far wall, large enough to hold a massive assortment of foods. It seemed like everything from tea kettles to slabs of pork were set up on the range, a large fire burning underneath. For a witch, her house certainly didn't seem that magical. Why, even the central table, large enough to seat only four people, didn't have any arcane influences. No talking teapots, or walking candlesticks. Just a single pewter holster, plates, and some basic silver utensils.

The portly woman opened a cabinet to the right of the two guests, producing a squat little bottle. "Sagitarian Crash, a fine liquor!" She said, though the word 'liquor' sounded more like 'kick-hoooour' from her lips. Pouring a bit of tea into the cups, adding the leaves from a small pot before letting it all settle. "May I interest you in some, dears?" She asked, pouring a gracious amount into her own cup.

Smitty simply sat down of his own accord, folding his hands patiently on the table as he waited for the next command. No doubt he had been raised well in order to still follow the axiom of 'seen and not heard'. That, or Misses Deegan had a meaner switch-hand than her large size would let on. Either way, the boy simply sat and waited to be addressed, even as his mother spoke.

"You know, dears, it's most rude to pry. Now, I understand that young Smitty here is quite an open boy, bless his little heart, but it is still a tad rude to barge in with only an hour's warning! Why, if you had come in a little while longer, I'd have been too busy cookin' and cleanin' for dinner!" She admonished, wagging her finger at her new masters. "But still, seein' as Smitty finds you a well enough sort, I suppose there shan't be any harm in telling you of those barbaric little dwarves and those abominable, though quite rough and handsome, outlaws! Quite a terrible mess, really."

She took a sip of the Crash, her memory collecting as she did so, "Ah, yes. It was quite a good year, really, besides the Elves and the troll camp. The harvest was enough to feed everybody, nobody's house had collapsed- yet- and everybody had been quite respectable that'n year." She paused for a moment, savoring the memory, before setting the glass down with an audible thud. "And then the dwarves came in." She said sweetly, "Wonderful lot, really, when they aren't drunk. As it happened, Granny told me, the entire clan managed to hit a patch of well-fermented moss or whatever it is they use in their liquors." Again the word came up, "So, as'n such, they were mighty disoriented. Quite far they went, too, a'fore they started to realize that they weren't minin' where they were supposed to be. Now, I should be mentioning, a woman's house is her domain. So when the stubby little monsters started digging up, well, I ain't'n known my house was atop a fancy rock vein."

She let out a fearsome glare at the tea leaf in her cup, "So's, they decided to start their digging an' such under my house. I damn near dropped myself when a hole opened in my bathroom! Thankfully it was bath time for Snuggles, and that little saint- bless his heart- jumped right into the beard of the first stool-high cretin!" She said, looking proud, "That little ferret certainly showed those dwarves who was boss! And he is such a good boy! Makes me proud of adoptin' him, I is, watching those dwarves go stumblin' and tumblin'. Now, naturally, they weren't too happy at'n losing a 'Valuable vein o' rock.'"

She raised her cup to gesture at the two women, "And I ain't one to be backin' down. This was my pappy's hut, and my pappy's pappy's hut, an' so on! Family heirloom, it is! Now, I ain't one to be givin' my house up, so's when I refused to leave my home, the dwarves hired some handsome little lads to try and burn me out."

She became awkwardly quiet at this point, preferring to sip her tea and rum besides continuing on. But after a moment, she did so, "And, to be cuttin' a long story short, the problem sorted itself out with a minimum' o' personal grief. Unfortunately, there's a wee bit of bad blood betwixt my kin an' the others. Pers'nally, I blame the upbringin' these days. People just don't understand that ya gotta step it up if you want t' end somethin' nice and quick. Not match blow for blow!" She stated in disgust, shaking her head before smiling at Liselle, "Now, I didn't catch what you said you did, dearies? And please, none of the tall tales: After all, proper ladies shan't tell fibs!"
_____________________
The Dungeon

The two clay golems paused the moment the word 'Halt' left Dwyn's lips. Though they did ot respond, one of them held up the chains of its skirt. A manacle was visible at the end of it, the untalkative creature clearly indicating its station. Obviously the dungeons did have a lot of money invested in them, for golems certainly did not come cheap despite the appearances of these two.

The constructs remained entirely motionless, pausing midstep in a sort of flash-freeze gesture. Only the faint rattle of the manacle-chains in the breeze indicated any kind of activity down here, the torch gently sputtering as the distant sound of ceramics on stone could be heard. These two golems were not alone, though the exact numbers of the creations were hard to tell. For that matter, how large was this dungeon? It seemed to go on for eternity, though that could very well be some form of magic, or just simple architecture designed to impose fear on those who could see within the darkness.

Regardless, the golems stood there, waiting for any other commands or inquiries. Their ability too talk was questionable, but they could certainly obey well enough.

[whoiam]

"Big Miss Bluntness here is a priestess. I'm an elf. One of the graspy thievey kinds. I'm in such exalted company because... well, they needed someone who could spot trip-wires at night, and I can. Cut'em as well, without setting the trap off." That last sentence said with a significant note of pride to it. "Still, you cannot blame the elves for what I'm like - I grew up in a town full of humans."

Liselle was having a little interior argument with herself as to how snippy she should be in the remainder of the conversation - something about such a lovely domestic scene irritated her. Possibly this was due to her own lack of a proper childhood meaning she wasn't used to being around people acting 'motherly'.

"Now that I've probably convinced you of my credentials as an authentic street urchin, shall we get down to business? The bad blood between the villages we're now nominally in charge of - and between the humans and the other species in the area - is only going to make our job harder. The really irritating thing about this is that if you'd just sat down to negotiate with the dwarves, you'd probably have gotten some proper dwarven stonework foundations to keep your house and garden from falling in to their tunnels... and ten percent of the mining profits."

Another pause. Followed by a sigh.

"Not yet a century old and I'm talking about mining disputes. Somehow this isn't how I imagined my adolescence would go..." Followed, finally... by laughter. Bitter laughter to be sure, but at least there was some. And it gave Liselle a nice convenient pause in which to slip into one of the free chairs.

[industrious]

Shivering slightly in the open hallway, Kabak decides that the draping cobwebs and ruined paintings aren't exactly the greatest in decor. However, they do happen to be great on fire, so he takes down the old moldy canvases and frames, and piles them in a corner away from anything else flammable. As for the cobwebs, he points at them, uttering a Word, and scatters the webs, one by one. He then snaps his fingers at the pile of paintings, and with the scent of sulpher in the air, creates a crackling fire to warm himself by. Rumaging in his pockets for his pipe, he remembers, unfortunately, that he had left it at the king's castle when he had run out of tobacco. Oh well, he thought. They probably have pipes here, too. Hopefully, even a calabash. And eventually, he would drop his accent, one he trusted them. A big, lumbering foreigner who spoke funnily was seldom taken seriously.

Using baleful utterance on the cobwebs and brimestone blast on the piled up paintings

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

Misses Deegan let out a giggle, nodding her approval, "Oh, my!" She said with keen interest, "A priestess, you say? Well, whilst I might not be particularly faithful to any pantheon, I find it just delightful for another lady like myself sticking it to those poofers in the clergy! Quite nice of you, dearie, to be making sure working women, of which I do not believe in, stand a chance!" She said, "Though I'd much rather we all just stuck to the simpler things like cooking and cleaning:No need for a pretty face to get all dirtied up, I say." She stated, exercising her right to free speech and freedom to drink at the same time.

"Besides," She continued, "I ain't expectin' you to be all that dirtied up now that you're royals and whatnot. I just suppose," She began to refill her cup as Liselle got acquainted with the well-padded chair, "that if'n you'd be willing to go around fixin' my house up and makin' this dwarf problem go away, we could reach an agreement of somesort." The witch gave a small, mischievous smile, the offer plain and clear. "Seein' as you seek to know the land, and me an' Granny are quite well acquainted with that whole soil compositions and such."

Her offer made, the woman resumed her usual pleasant smile, holding out the teapot and filling Liselle and Terim a cup, setting down a pot of sugar cubes. "Ahh, yes, Dylan brought that back from his escapades in foreign parts." She remarked, the sugar bowl looking like an elephant of some kind. Except for the fact that it was sitting on its rump, with an extra set of paws. "Quite the ant-ek-wity I'm told."
______________
The Castle

As Kabak laid out the foundations for a cozy flame, the paintings came down quick enough. Piling them into the center of the room, he was just about ready to ignite the lot of antiques for warmth when a distant smell wafted up to his nose. Apparently somebody was smoking tobacco, a thin trail of vapor crawling down the steps as the pitter-patter of feet echoed from up the stairway exuding the smoke. The odor, for its part, was quite powerful: Rich and flavorful, easily distinguished as quality product even from this distance. Fine taste must have been present here a long time ago, for such a heady product to be so frivolously used in a hellhole like this.

There was also a distant talking, several voices coming from up the stairwell as Kabak conjured the energies to ignite the paintings, the voices muffled and indistinct but certainly not imaginary. From the spacing of the steps, they seemed to be taking their time up the stairs as well. Had Lethanial lied about the castle being almost abandoned? The man did seem jittery enough for a liar...or a conman.

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Seeing how easily the golems followed commands, Dwyn's rigid posture slackened, and an unusually wide and devilish grin cracked across his face and he swiftly stode up to the goloems to inspect them more closely. "Can you speak? Can you show us whats behind that wax sealed door? If not, lead us back the way you came, I want to see whats over there. I want to know everything there is to know down here..."

[Scotty88]

After seeing the golems stopping in place Kyos let his sword go and notices Dywn's grin " You must got some type of ideal with that type of a smile on your face.. Then Kyos walks up to the wax-like door to take a better look at it.

[industrious]

Kabak inhales the rich scent of the burning tobacco. Taking a quick glance around the hall, he teleports himself closer to whoever is smoking. An image of him doggedly guarding the treasure is left behind. "Hello," he bellows. "Pleased to be meeting whoever is smoking, yes?"

[Darth_Malevo]

The Dungeon

The golems shook their heads in unison to the first question. After all, what good was it for Jailers that could speak? The simplicity of their construction had no doubt been enhanced with the complexity of their purpose. Jailers that would do what they were told, when they were told, without question. Though they were still, for the most part, a mystery. Did they listen to Dwyn? Or any human here? What were their limitations? Their capabilities?

Kyos's approach to the door marked a few things. For one, the door was made of stone like everything else down here. However, the 'wax' holding it shut was not any wax he had ever seen before. It had a powdery texture to it, even though it seemed to dribble along the crease like a slime. Touching it, the material had the texture of...well, slime. However, when one of the clay golems opened the door, the substance seemed to retract abruptly. Sticking to the two halves of the doors, the lye-like material stopped all motion as the room inside was revealed.

The first thing that struck Lyos was the fact that, unlike the rest of the dungeon, it was actually illuminated. An omnipresent light filled the room, ensuring that everything inside was not only lit, but also lit to a degree so as to be just bright enough for fine visibility and detail. The next thing to come to light, pun intended, was the metal surfaces everywhere inside. The floors, walls, and ceiling all appeared to be made out of some sort of porcelain-colored metal surface. One with enough thickness so as to prevent a loud ringing sound with every step.

The golems stepped inside lockstep, their clay feet not making a sound as one of them pointed to the sharply polished bronze plaque hanging to the immediate left of the doorway. It was inscribed with a blurred, illegible name. Underneath the name was the title "Apothecary" in fancy cursive writing. No doubt made with love, caring, and a large bank account, the entire room appeared to be every healer's dream. Or torturer, depending on the doctor. Sharp objects of varying sizes, forms, and functions were all present on hooks along the opposite wall. Ranging from tiny scalpels small enough for a halfling to use to something that looked like a long-sleeved leather jacket. Excepting, of course, the fact that spikes lined the interior of the jacket.

Besides this, there were also a number of exotic-looking devices. From something that looked like a gold cylinder with a rounded cap of pure diamond to what appeared to be a cauldron filled with a thin white paste. All of them, however, looked particularly dangerous to be toyed with.

The entirety of the wall to the left was filled with an assortment of cabinets, each one bearing jars, pots, tins, and other items. One had wooden doors, which were sealed shut with the same lye-ish ooze. The rest, however, were regular glass cabinets. No doubt most of the materials were rotten, but it would be quite the effort to try and categorize and locate everything contained within. Even a dedicated apothecary would likely need a ledger to keep stock.

However, the most prominent thing was the seven stone slabs to the right. Each one had been carefully wrought to provide an absolute lack of comfort, their plain stone surfaces completely uncomfortable. A skeleton laid in the central gurney-slab, illuminated brightly by a hooded lantern still burning. No doubt a magical item, the hooded lantern was mounted on some sort of fixture, the fire within it still burning.

The golems remained motionless as they waited for further commands, their masters free to investigate further.
______________________
The Castle

Kabak rematerialized with a heavy thud, finding himself- instead of upon the stairs as he had intended- parallel to a particularly fine red carpet. After crashing upon his face, and the necessary cursing done, the Warlock found himself faced with a magically charged room. Whereas the rest of the castle was a dead zone, this area in particular had an air of sorcery about it. A powerful enchantment had brought him here after his abrupt teleportation, and even now the smell of tobacco reached his nostrils.

The frayed carpet he laid upon was actually quite comfortable: It barely gave any hint that there was a stone floor beneath it, and there were actually some remnants of gold thread along the edges of it. Regardless, he could hardly lay there for the rest of his life. As he raised his head, the other smells began to invade his nostrils: Fine wine, heady incense, delicatessens, and other luxuries rushed out from the door before him. He had no idea where in the castle he was right now, but from the number of tapestries and paintings of regal faces, he was likely somewhere near the nerve center of this strange place.

A pair of doors, carved from pure ivory, were only about forty feet away. Each one had strange, heroic scenes carved upon it. Iconography of great lords and ladies from history were evident upon it, royal crests of every make and origin upon their seemingly flawless surface. No doubt whoever had made those doors had wanted to liken themselves to ancient conquerors and philosopher-kings, an unbelievable display of vanity or self-confidence. Which, Kabak could not tell.

But the smells were all coming from behind that set of double doors, the polished silver handles catching his eye. Lethanial was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of his companions. He was alone, brought here for unknown reasons.

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Hrm....interesting, yet it might be booby trapped...He looked at Kyos and said "Feel free to look around", and then looked at the golems and said "What about that other door? Can you open it to?"

[industrious]

Kabak looks around the room, searching for anything particularly extraordinary.

"Well, now," he mutters, addressing himself without accent. "I'm an idiot. Fell right into that one, I suppose. But, nowhere to go but through, in any case."

After searching the room, he heads towards the double doors.
Maybe I might still be able to still get some tobacco out of this

Search check [roll0]

[whoiam]

But I like being dirty...

"It is what we would refer to as a way-out trinket. It's not so easy to pawn unless you're in a largeish town, but it's valuable enough to be worth swiping if you haven't managed to load yourself down with anything better." Slight pause, followed with an awkward cough. "I did say I was a thief, Misses Deegan. Was a thief. Now, I'm a noble Adventurer - which means I do exactly the same things, except the owners are normally dead when I take their stuff. Usually thanks to Trigger-Happy the Mage, Trigger-Happy the Second, Fist-Happy and Never-Happy, but you can't have everything." Another pause.

I'm digressing again...

"Apologies, you probably aren't that interested in inter-adventuring-party politics. So, back to the dwarves: Yes, we'll go talk to them. We could really do with some decent stone-masons, so Terim or one of the happies would need to stop by and visit them anyway." Raising a hand to her right ear, she eases the tip out from it's normal 'hidden by her hair' position. "I probably am the best choice for a trade negotiation... with anyone but a Dwarf or a Drow. So I should probably drop by our local elf population... Anything more you can tell us about them? It never hurts to go prepared..."

[Scotty88]

"hrmm this is a very interesting room here i think i shall explore this one. Dwyn if you don't mind can i take one of these golems down this way." Then he turns and points to one of the golems and says. "Lead me down this room."

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

Misses Deegan let out a sigh, filling her teacup up with half tea and half Crash. "Being a thief is something to never be proud of dear." She said, her hat tipping slightly as she sipped from the teacup. "But I suppose, if you must, you can try to talk with those unruly Elves. They hardly seem the sort to listen to reason: Always glamoring people, huntin' 'em down. It's very unsportsmanlike, duping people into your own neck of the woods, then gutting 'em like fish. Even the werewolves 'round these parts are nice enough to give a head start, especially the huskier folks."

Moving back on track, Misses Deegan set her teacup down, her chair creaking as she leaned forward to share some information, "Now, dear, I'd suggest against visitin' the Elves for anything less than a family reunion. Dear Malid makes sure they ain't a pest to the locals, an' that was tough in itself. I can't'n be sure of what'll happen if you try and speak with those pointy-eared savages. No offense intended, mind, but stringing up Loy by his ears certainly doesn't make those Elves kind souls. So if'n you're looking for advice, heed this honey: Those Elves ain't nothin' but trouble."
_____________________
The Dungeon

One of the golems departed, the other remaining to watch over Kyos. The leaving golem, slowly plodding along, walked towards the other door. Once within twenty feet of it, the golem outstretched an arm in a cautionary gesture, clearly indicating a 'stop here' motion with its head. Regardless of whether or not the curious monarch obeyed, the golem moved towards the door. Even from twenty feet away, the details were quite easy to make out in the torchlight: A thick layer of cotton had been swathed along the creases in the doorway, the sound of high-pitched yelling erupting from within, not seeming to cease.

The speechless golem rested a hand upon the well-carved obsidian doorknob, waiting for the order to open it. Obviously there must have been something dangerous within, to caution its lord so.
___________________
The Clinic
Kyos's command was followed to the letter, the golem pacing up and down the room, moving well ahead of the Warforged commander to help show that there were indeed no traps. Row after row of tins and pots were revealed to the man-thing, the medical supplies worthy of a temple of healing stored within this room. As well as the tools of both a surgeon and a master torturer, from the looks of some devices. Even now, the room appeared fit to be used for either a life-saving surgery or a devastatingly macabre experiment of medicine.

As the two machines approached the stone gurneys, the skeleton in the center began to stir with movement, the skull of it turning slightly to look at Kyos, though not saying anything. If anything, the expression on it- if skeletons could have expression- would be one of mild surprise.
___________________
The Castle

The search through the anteroom yields a minor boon: The torches here are easily removed, nobody having bothered to screw them in. However, beyond the torch, there is nothing of apparent value in here: The paintings seem to be too large and too well secured to remove, the door themselves are on metal hinges, and all around him the clean air- though priceless- is worthless. Somebody had paid close attention to keeping this area spotless, though the frayed rug only indicated that whoever had done so had done so on a limited budget. Lethanial, no doubt.

As Kabak pushed through the door, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Vinegar, sweetened sugar, and countless other smells mixed throughout the room. Ozone was the most prominent, the odor of burnt air intense, though an attempt to mask it had been made by the still-burning incense braziers along the red carpet leading to the foot of the throne. The throne itself was carved from a block of fine oak, polished and laminated to provide a fitting seat for a royal, the velvet cushions inhabited by a sole being.

A suit of baroque, gold-plated full plate armor is displayed on a wooden dummy which is currently sitting upon the throne. The gleaming armor and has spiked shoulder plates, and the breastplate is speckled with diamonds, rubies, and pale blue sapphires to resemble an exploding sunburst. The armor is topped with a crown of deep red and light blue feathers, braided lengths of blond human hair, and spiraling golden horns. The armor’s gauntlets are obviously made of pure platinum, as are the armor’s shin guards and razor sharp spurs. The gauntlets are etched with scenes from a courtly love affair. The fingers are of gold, carved with interlaced animal and warrior motifs, and have obsidian fingernails.

However, as Kabak approached the throne, seemingly drawn to it, he noticed that the dummy was not quite a dummy: It was a perfect wooden sculpture, right down to the regal expression, of some previous lord. He seemed to be gazing off into the distance, even as Kabak noticed a pair of leather-wrapped bundles at either side of his throne, covered in what appeared to be the cured hide of camels. The oily leather seemed quite heavy around the packages, the objects well concealed.

Yet still the scene was not right: The further Kabak moved into the throne room, the more and more the rest of the area seemed...wrong. He could not clearly define the edges of the room, as though it were a poorly crafted illusion steadily fading to black, each step towards the throne one more step into this lack of visibility.

Something was wrong here, but Kabak could not quite tell what.

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Dwyn slightly raised a brow as he heard the screaming, but after stepping back a good bit (to make sure that the golem had ample room to stop any would be attackers) he made a spinning motion with his fingers, and said "Open".

[industrious]

Kabak frowns at the feeling. "At least," he muses, "Other people have been here recently, or near enough. All this beauty and rich, fine, expensive work inside a ruined castle in a fiefdom poorer than the one I grew up in. What sort of lord was the previous owner?"

Feeling somewhat inadequate in his worn, unpolished leather armor, Kabak reached within himself for the power he had traded his soul away for. A sliver of his very essence, sealed away to manifest as needed, in exchange for a promise of eternal servitude to the Nine Hells. But that bargain had been broken, almost in the minute after it had been made. And the power remained, after the devil who gave it to him died. Around the warlock's waist appeared a cyan belt, made of faintly glowing blue threads, interlocking in a complex pattern. The warlock smiled at its appearance.


Then the man closed his eyes, and heard the blood flowing through his veins. Imagining a spark traveling throughout his body, he brought it towards his eyes, opening them as he did so. The magic came, as it always did, and his eyes now glowing faintly, Kabak Kisleyvich looked around his opulent surroundings.

Activated Shape Soulmeld: Strongheart Vest. Using detect magic

[Darth_Malevo]

The Dungeon

The golem opened the door, and Dwyn's first sensation was one of pain. His ears shrieked at him, the sound rushing out of the door more than what he had ever experienced before. If a sorcerer's sonic attack was painful, then this was sheer, unadulterated hell. This was not simply a wail that scraped at the eardrums, it was an arcane banshee's cry that reverberated and scathed the very soul. The inside of the room, barely visible from tightly-screwed eyes, appeared to be a sort of torture chamber of some kind. There was no doorknob from the inside, every surface of the room covered in a moving montage of screaming faces.

All of them were in various states of pain or misery, their moving lips expressing one long, unyielding shriek. The clay golem simply stood there as its master suffered, the high-pitched room of torture leaving the world around him ringing. When the golem closed the door again, Dwyn found himself practically deaf, his ears still ringing as muffled sound began to return to the world.
______________________
The Castle

As Kabak wove his enchantment, he felt the shadows in the room lengthen, the power forming his belt slowly beginning to dissipate into the air. Something in here was drawing immense amounts of power, and as he opened his eyes, he was momentarily blinded by the supernova of light emitting from the throne. However, in the fountain of multiple energies projecting from the throne, he also got a momentary peek at the two leather-wrapped bundles: They were thin, rectangular objects of raw magic. Though not much detail could be made out, powerful magic was concealed beneath all of that camel leather.

When his vision returned to a semblance of normal, he noticed that the wooden dummy wearing the armor had vanished from the throne. Instead, the segments of armor, seemingly built for Kabak, waited for him in midair. He felt no compulsion to sit beyond his own curiosity, a deadly sense if there ever was one. The entire suit had split open along its various straps and links, inviting the warlock to sit within it and- in turn- upon the throne.

[industrious]

Kabak is immediately on the defensive. Eyes darting along the corridors, Kabak wonders what could possibly disrupt a shaped soulmeld. "Hello?" He cries out. "I was brought here for a reason. There is some purpose behind this, and I demand explication. I am Kabak Kisleyvich, born a serf, raised as an assistant innkeeper, a warlock and an adventurer. Now, I, along with others, am the ruler of Castle Gobi. Twice, I have sold my soul and cheated the devils from their due each time. Speak, if you can."

Kabak pauses, and remembers what Lethanial had told him in private. "Lethanial? Are you around here?"

Knowledge(arcana) check [roll0]
Spellcraft check [roll1]

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Sometimes events can cuase people to become excited or enraged, and they are said to look as though they have fire in their eyes. What was in Dwyn's eyes right now was not unlike the ghosts of spent char from a long dead fire. "Follow" he said to the waiting golem. He walked back into the room in which he left the warforged named Kyos and the other golem, and looked at the skeleton, realizing it had moved. "Well look atthat..." then, looking at the skeleton he said "Friend of Foe?" He then motioned for his golem to approach the table on which it layed.

[Scotty88]

hrm this is simply amazing how this room is not that bad looking. actually kinda glad now if my fleshy friends get hurt they can lay up here." Then he remembers that he is the only one in the room that actually can talk and the golem wasnt going to say anything back. Then he notices the slight movements to the left of him. once a again he grabs the hilt of his sword and says. "if you moved once you can move again." Then he turns to the golem and asks. is there anything that was left alive in this room

[Darth_Malevo]

The Dungeon

As Dwyn entered the room, and Kabak asked his question, the skeleton responded. With a drawn-out sigh the skull spoke, the stone table beneath it vibrating slightly as a faint white light filled the empty eye sockets. Its head made no further movements, but the energy that gave it the ability to speak was animation enough.

"Friend." The skull replies in a distant manner, the echo resounding throughout the chamber. The tablet gave another hum, the hooded lantern shining upon the platform glowing slightly brighter. Evidently there was some matter of keen interest going on here, and whatever it was, it had made the skeleton here become living once more. "Only living entity is...the ooze." It said, the faint light of its eyes focusing on the inert slime upon the doorway, still unmoving after its separation.
____________________
The Castle

As Kabak asked his question, his strange, terrible sense of understanding began to grow. He knew, in at least a basic sense, that this room was a center of great arcane energy. Though whilst he couldn't understand the reasoning for making a throne room so magically charged, he could discern the elements of what exotic processes were going on here. In particular, he could figure out that- at the very core of the matters- him entering the throne would set off a powerful enchantment radiating a plethora of arcane schools. Evocation, transmutation, and enchantment were the topmost three of the arcane signatures present.

However, from what he could comprehend, there was no threat to the throne room. It seemed more like a focal point for a spell than the pressure plate of some trap. Yet the two leather bundles...they set things off. From what he knew, the exact placement of those objects had ritual importance: The left and right hand of a ruler. But what did they do?

"A new leader?" Said an ethereal voice, seeming to echo off of the shadows throughout the ever-shrinking throne chamber. "It has been a while since I have seen a bottom upon a throne, and I would hardly claim it unwelcome to see such a seat filled once more. Such good has been done from that throne, this city made glorious each time!"

"Yet I would!" Another ethereal voice hissed, echoing off of the shadows, "It would pose nothing but trouble! Death, fire, and chaos fills life here! A new regent would only complicate matters, let alone several! Though their reign would be accepted, Ivenfur, it is unwise for new blood to fill this throne."

An argument, quite obviously. It didn't take Kabak much to figure out what was creating it, either: The two leather bundles were radiating energy, the thick leather cloth- almost as heavy as the camel it came from- rustling slightly as each one spoke.

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Raising his head, ad looking at the skeleton from the tip of his nose, he said "Give your name, if you have one, and tell me what you are, or where, and what animates you?" He thinks a moment, and decides to also ask, "What is this ooze? And what is the source and use of that screaming chamer? Something is wrong about this place, and I want answers!"

[Goldfly]

Terim silently fills her cup with tea. She takes a small sip from the cup, before turning to the woman and saying "This is wonderful, Misses Deegan".Placing her cup back upon the table, she says "I could tell us more about the elves?My family dealt with elves fairly often back at home and, well, they always seemed quite polite, kind, even, to us."

[whoiam]

"No offense taken, Misses Deegan. This pointy-eared savage has been called far worse before."

A quick glance across at Terim... Of course the elves were nice to Aasimar. You did not ingratiate yourself with the Upper Planes by being rude to their descendants. "Maybe I'll borrow never-happy for a jaunt over to see my distant kin. Glamouring a warforged shouldn't be all that easy. You, I'd suggest, will have better luck talking with the dwarves? For some reason, seeing an elf tends to put their teeth on edge."

Back to misses Deegan once again. "May I ask who Malid is?"

[Darth_Malevo]

Deegan Cottage

The large witch smiled at the complement from Terim, her rotund cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. "Well, it was just a few powdered mushrooms and creeper vines, really, but thank you dearie!" She said, before continuing on with her responses, Smitty just sitting there quietly all the while, idly keeping his hands on the table and politely folded.

"But I wouldn't bother with the Elves, hun, really. They're a most dreadful sort, and it hardly seems fittin' for a nice girl with a sprig of Elfish in her blood to be dealing with the sort that make...ick...necklaces of tongues an' such. A for'n practice, if you ask me, and I ain't no consorter with'n the foreign folks. But if you want to be hearin' history, I'd reckon I could share a tale or two, seein' how sportin' you are about sippin' tea with me."

Filling up the cups to the brim, she smiled, letting out a dramatic sigh as she recalled the past. "Well, I'd reckon about a silver that those Elves you had back home aint'n the sort we get up here. Those are the domestic ones: The kind Dwarves just get a lil' miffy about due to the ones we got. Ours ain't like the ones your pappy dealt with, dearie: Worst of the worst, I'd say, the ones that the domestic ones get a tad flushed over. Elves in your parts probably got all that city livin' to spiff themselves up. Out here? Ain't nothin' but pure nature, and somethin' about that makes Elves get a wee wonky in the head. I'm assumin' it started out fine and dandy, them protectin' the lil' woodland critters in the woods and lettin' the nice folk chop down the trees that can't protect themselves. But then everything started getting a tad crazy, and one day we up and found peat-cutter Loy nailed by his ears to a tree. Nasty event, that, but we just marked it up to some murderin' monster looking to spook us a tad. Nothing we ain't'n handled before.

But then it all got quite sour, when they tried to attack our village. A full-on assault, you royal types would call it. Hootin' and hollerin', arrows flyin', and a ha'score dead before Malid- dear, misguided Malid- fought 'em off with the aid of Kaspar. Kaspar was a good sort, methinks. Shame that those blasted Elves up an' carried him off, leavin' only three toes and half an ear fer us. Malid, who I'd respect ye not botherin' with or askin' about, needed a bit o' conversationing before he went back to his old job, and making sure the Elves got a firm swat on their pointy little noses if they got some guts again."
____________________
The Dungeon

The skull bored into Dwyn's eyes, its own shining a bit brighter as the tablet it was laid upon hummed brightly. Odd sparks of energy flashed across the frame of the skeleton as it spoke, the air starting to burn as smoke rose from the remains.

"My name was Lord Humbart, and the castle calls me from its mortar. I am part of it and it is part of me."

There is a drawn-out series of crackles as the ribcage of the skeleton become obscured with smoke, the bone seeming to dissolve as each spark burns off a bit of the bone and marrow beneath. "The ooze is a Lye Ooze, used and created by Apothecary-Cleric Garroway, who served under my reign. He invented it to keep foul humors from entering this room, or exiting them. They kill that which lives, and it was their creation that Garroway took to our combined graves."

Another series of crackles, more of the ribcage bones vanishing into thick orange and white smoke. "The Chamber of Silence is a torture device before my reign. It is made with the bottled cry of a siren, and that very magic ensures all within it go deaf, all train of thought lost. A potent torture tool."

[Gaijin Guy Jim]

Looking at Lord Humbart, Dwyn says "Then I suppose destroying this ooze would be a good idea if we dont want to end up like you? This will be a top priority if so. Also, these golems, is there anything special we should know about them? I dont like surprises."

[whoiam]

A sprig of...?

Liselle was back on her feet quite quickly after that little spiel. "I've been run out of town less insultingly than that, Misses Deegan. Apologies for ruining the mood in here, Terim. I will be outside when the two of you finish." Leaving behind her (untouched) tea, Liselle would simply turn and pace off towards the exit. She was feeling an extraordinarily strong need to be somewhere else.

The worst kind of speciesist is the one who thinks they're being kind when they do it...