|
Post by DM-Delfon on Mar 29, 2013 22:31:21 GMT -5
The lead Goblin scoffs, "We mighty, you puny! Why we need you help?" You can see the Goblins closest to him laugh, but something catches your eye in the distance. A lot of Goblins are peeking out of their caves, clearly following the passage of something on the ground as it approaches. Just as the lead Goblin inhales deeply to continue shouting, one of his minions glances back, and whispers something to the leader. He swallows whatever he was about to shout your way, and instead turns his back on you, "Go back to cave woman! This be Warrior stuff." He pounds a fist against his chest as he says Warrior.
A grizzled old crone voice speaks softly, but with considerable strength, "If you're Warrior enough to stop me then be about it, otherwise make yourself useful and make me a step." The lead Goblin stares down at whomever spoke for several seconds before climbing down the wall and out of sight. Moments later, an elderly female Goblin climbs over the wall with some difficulty. She drags another Goblin behind her by the hand. "You the healer?" She asks, but without letting you answer her she shoves the Goblin off the short wall. The Goblin lands with a thud, and struggles back to his feet, "Get to it." Is all the old Goblin says.
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Mar 30, 2013 16:16:26 GMT -5
The goblin's comparison of size confuses Mortimer momentarily - clearly the goblins are smaller than he is - but he quickly realizes that they are talking about power, not size. The thought does cross his mind that he might actually be more powerful, figuring he's able to heal any damage they dealt to him, but he wisely keeps that to himself. That might seem a challenge, and Mortimer has little desire to find out for sure how well his healing could keep up.
When the old goblin steps up, he maintains his silence, until she pushes the other goblin down. "No need to make him worse before I can help.", he snaps, moving in to take a look at the injured goblin. "Stay calm, I'm just going to take a look, see what I can do.", he says, glancing up at the spear-wielders nervously. If the injury or sickness is something easily healed, he doesn't hesitate to use magic to do so, giving praise to the light as he casts.
(In game terms, Heal check of 11 + Mortimer's Heal mod to diagnose - think the result should be around 17. Diplomacy check of 5+mod to calm the goblin if needed, I think that's 10 total, and using magic if it can be resolved with a DC 15 spell. Total spellcraft check is something like 29.)
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Apr 4, 2013 11:04:23 GMT -5
The old Goblin sneers, "I've coddled and protected that boy to get him this far, if that little push finished him off then so be it." She snorts, then spits out something green and flemy, "You heal him or you face the wall. Work quickly." Although she never raises her voice or changes her tone, you feel threatened when she mentions facing the wall. Several Goblins shy away, and one of the wall guards swallows hard.
When you turn your attention to the wounded Goblin, your stomach threatens to rebel. His body shows the story of his life, hundreds of scars litter his flesh. Based on how they have healed, you suspect that he hasn't received medical attention for anything. The age of some of the scars show that he has been badly beaten for most, if not all his life. His list of current injuries are as follows: A laceration above his left eye, his jaw is dislocated, three broken ribs, and scrapes on his hands, knees and one elbow from his recent fall from the wall. He also has some lasting debilitating from previous trauma, including: his right ankle healed improperly, so his foot is turned inward. His right eye points toward his nose, and doesn't react to light changes, and he is missing his left thumb.
You believe you can fix his current injuries (20hp) easily enough, but to fix his foot you will need to re-break the bone and set it correctly. Your regeneration spell could regrow the thumb. He was born with the eye, so that is the natural state of his body. You could force the body to heal to a more functional state with a DC 25 spell. You suspect that the eye is what lead him to a lifetime of terrible bullying.
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Apr 11, 2013 0:34:50 GMT -5
The utter contempt in the crone's voice darkens Mortimer's features momentarily, until he turns his attention to his patient's wounds. Frustration causes his brow to crease with each new revelation, and finds himself muttering beneath his breath. Finally, once he has the shape of the situation, he speaks aloud. "I'm about to do something flashy, you need not worry. I'm not doing anything dangerous.", he says, taking a deep breath and beginning to intone a prayer. As he does, rings of light begin to form around him, bright enough to be seen clearly despite the day's light.
As the ribbons of light weave about him, Mortimer begins to shape them individually, taking hold of each one and coaxing it into the place it needs to be. It takes only a few seconds for him to have everything in place, and when he's satisfied, he plunges his hand into a knot of light, and pushes it forward until it touches his patient. The moment those bands of light connect with the goblin's chest, the weave snaps from around Mortimer and wraps itself about the goblin, settling into his skin. Those near enough to watch - assuming they didn't interfere, as they had plenty of opportunity - can see his patient's wounds begin stitching themselves closed slowly, a fresh nub growing where his thumb had been. Raising his eyes to the goblins still atop the wall, he gestures toward the proud warrior, calling, "I'll need help to fix his leg. Come down here and hold him still for me."
((Using the earlier DC 15 spell as a one-round-cast Heal seed, to grant Regeneration 1 for one minute. Mortimer wasn't casting defensively or anything like that, however, and that casting time means if any of the goblins attacked him, they would catch him mid-cast. If that happens, you can roll Concentration for me, mod is +6.))
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Apr 11, 2013 21:18:55 GMT -5
As you begin to cast your spell the long spear wielding lead Goblin begins to lower his weapon, but as he takes a deep breath to shout out a warning or series of commands the crone reaches back an grabs him by the nose. The Goblin starts to struggle, until the tendons in the crones arm bludge momentarily and his struggles turn to a whimper. At your request for assistance, the crone slaps the spear from the Goblins hand and pitches him off the wall like she did for the lame Goblin. The sprawled Goblin look like he is going to protest, but swallows it at a glare from the crone.
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Apr 27, 2013 0:54:04 GMT -5
Rather than shouting uselessly again, Mortimer grimaces, barely avoiding giving a grimace to the goblin crone; There'll be time enough for words after he'd seen to the injured goblin's wounds. There is still a part of him, however, that would have found the situation funny if he weren't so focused on what he's doing. While his regeneration spell continues its work, Mortimer adds two bursts of healing to cover the remaining wounds. Once the surface scrapes, scratches, and bruises are healed, he takes a deep breath, and sits himself directly in front of his patient. Waiting until the injured goblin is looking him in the eye, Mortimer says, "Alright, I'm going to fix your leg now, but it's already healed wrong. I need to re-break the bone in order to fix it, but I think I can make it so you won't feel the re-break, and you'll be good as new when I'm done. After that, I'm going to see if I can do anything about your eye. Do you understand?"
Once he gets some kind of response, Mortimer then turns to the warrior. "Your job will be to hold him still, and make sure he can't see his leg being broken. Even if I can make it so he won't feel pain, he'll still want to squirm away from it. I'm already working with no tools, I don't need this to be any harder than it already is." Digging through his pack, Mortimer comes up with the bag from his pillow, and his shortish length of rope - hardly medical tools, but the best he's got on hand. "Tie the bag around his head for a blindfold, and let him bite down on the rope - he shouldn't be able to damage it.", he instructs, only adding his shovel to his collection of "tools" once the injured goblin can't see. This time as he casts, he closes his eyes, feeling blindly for the places he needs to tie the magic to. This casting takes longer - a full minute goes by this time as brightly colored light whips around his body, until finally the web pulls itself into a tight ball in Mortimer's hand, and then with a touch passes the magic to the injured goblin's leg.
Knowing he has only a minute at best, he checks that the warrior is still holding his patient tightly, grips his shovel, and with a deep breath... misses his aim completely, due to his own shaky hands. Biting back muttered curses, Mortimer casts his anesthetic spell once again, and this time when he brings his shovel down on the poorly healed break, hears the solid, gut-wrenching crack! that tells him he was successful. Trusting the warrior goblin to hold the patient still, he immediately begins to cast healing spells in rapid succession, aiming to heal the leg properly before the anesthetic wears off. Once that's completed, he begins to cast for another minute, and this time, the net of energy is touched to where the goblin's eye lies beneath the bandage, spreading into the muscles and nerves there. That spell was fired off even more blindly than the anesthetic one, but as the glow of it fades, Mortimer feels a heavy sense of contentment; whatever the result, he's satisfied that he's done the best he reasonably could. Returning his shovel to his pack, he says, "You can take the blindfold off of him, but be slow about it. He may need a couple minutes to adjust.", in between mouthfuls from his water skin. The magic may not be tiring to him, but now that he's finished working, the emotion of it all is hitting him hard. A few minutes of his own to sit and breathe wouldn't go amiss.
((Two DC 13 healing spells as standard actions, 5 HP each, spellcraft totals 23 and 21.
Anesthesia : I, and therefore Mortimer, am uncomfortable with a 25% mishap rate, hence the one minute cast time. As a nice side benefit of that, however, he passes the DC 25 roll for a 1-minute anesthetic on a 1. Rebreaking the bone : Rolled a 2, +5 for Heal, -2 for improvised tools. Guessing 5 doesn't do ****. Second roll is 19+5-2, however, for a total of 22; If the warrior-goblin can Aid Other in this way, fantastic, but I'm hoping 22 does the trick. Healing the broken bone : Rapid-fire DC 15 heals, alternating Standard and Move actions. First eight are totals : 27, 18, 13, 13, 17, 19, 12, 23; that heals 7, 2, 0, 0, 7, 2, 0, 2 points of damage respectively, or 18 total in the four rounds following the break. Healing the eye : DC 25 is accomplished with another one minute cast, passing even on a 1.))
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jul 6, 2013 8:18:34 GMT -5
The crone smirks at your reaction to her roughness, but otherwise stands there impassively watching you work. Your patient's flesh is stitches itself back together with your bursts of healing, and you can already see the lump of thumb flesh getting larger. Satisfied with the way the superficial wounds are looking, you crouch down beside the mending Goblin. Once you have the mending Goblin's attention, he attempts to respond to your instructions. However his jaw clicks audibly, and his eyes snap shut from the pain. As the pain fades, his good eye locks to yours and he instead nods a decisive yes. You catch remarkable determination and something else in his eye as he stares back at you.
The guard Goblin tries to blindfold the wounded Goblin, but the wounded Goblin pulls back. He refuses the blindfold, but takes the rope himself. He looks at you, and takes several deep breaths before before nodding and biting down on the rope. The guard Goblin shrugs at you before he bends down and holds the wounded Goblin's tightly. The wounded Goblin's good eye locks to yours, and he takes long slow breaths. If you seem to be hesitating he nods at his foot, while continuing to lock gazes with you.
When you miss with your first strike, the Guard laughs, and the wounded Goblin slams his fist into the ground. He then holds his fist up in front of his face, and the rope drops out of his mouth. He wiggles his regrown thumb and smiles as best he can with his partially recovered jaw. Picking up the rope, he sticks it back in his mouth and points at his damaged foot. The Goblin grimaces as the next strike finally hits home, but then looks confused when no pain follows. Stretching out his foot after your magic has taken effect, the Goblin smiles broadly. He then checks his jaw with his freshly repaired hand and his smile grows.
When you begin to cast again your patients smile fades, and is replaced with confusion. As you cast you see him check each of his previously wounded locations. Lastly he touches his lame eye, and his eyes widen. He starts to speak in Goblin, <"Are you going to repair my eye as well?"> As your spell takes effect, the no longer wounded Goblin takes off his bandage, and blinks repeatedly. After a minute or so he focuses on you with both eyes, and smiles, "You help. You good. Now me help." he says in terrible common. The Goblin stands to his full height, towering over the other Goblin. <"Let him pass, or I will give you all the wounds you've given me over the years!"> The guard staggers back as if struck, and his eyes show true fear. The Crone smiles, "You've done well healer. What would you like as your reward?"
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Jul 17, 2013 12:02:06 GMT -5
Mortimer is taken slightly aback at the idea of letting the goblin watch the entire process, but relents after a moment's consideration; if this is how they treat their wounded, then their society must be based on strength. Relenting, he is doubly mortified when he misses with the shovel, though that's replaced by satisfaction at the wounded goblin's confusion when the second attempt causes him no pain.
Broken common or not, the goblin's praise brings a smile to Mortimer's lips, one that is hardly lessened by the way he interacts with the guard. The crone's words draw his attention, however, and give him pause. Would it be too much to ask for peace? Probably so, if their society is this violent. One man's healing might be impressive, but that would be a lot to ask. Finally, he answers, "Passage for all travelers from the Light Shrine. You'll be able to recognize us, we all carry one of these.", lifting his silver holy symbol as he speaks. Oddly, it seems to catch more light than he would expect, glimmering gently as if the sparkling bands of magic were still lingering within it.
((Diplomacy check to attempt to convince them : Natural 20, plus whatever. I can't check his sheet, but I know Mortimer has 13 Charisma and Sacred Vow, so that's at least 23, plus however many ranks he has.))
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Oct 18, 2014 8:34:34 GMT -5
Your patient moves to join the crone, and addresses the gathered Goblins, loudly speaking in Goblin, <"No longer am I Gretch the Lame. I now take back my proper titles. King Gretch, Lord of the Passes, Master of the Tunnels. Any who wish to oppose me, now is your chance."> More and more Goblins fill the pass, and most of them seem to be watching and waiting for something to happen. You notice the Goblin Guard has picked up his long spear, and is steeling himself for action. Gretch has noticed as well, <"You couldn't even take control of the tribe from my Mother, what makes you think you can best me? You're a pathetic bully, only attacking the wounded, the lame and the sick. Take your chance now, or face the Wall.">
You realize what is about to happen, but Gretch is one step ahead of you. Gretch gestures toward you, clenching his fist, and two of the soldier Goblins grab your arms. The crone looks you in the eye, and says, "Stay out of this healer, this has been coming for a long time." Gretch grabs something from the crones belt, and jumps down to stand in front of the Guard, the shine of steel glinting from his hand. The Goblins quickly move back, creating a semi-circle with the open side facing the drop off. The Guard stands near that edge holding his long spear, and Gretch holds his dagger facing him about 15ft away. Gretch slowly moves forward, crouched and ready to spring. The Guard leaps forward, stabbing his spear at Gretch, but Gretch spins to the side so the spear misses and slashes the Guards arm. The Guard drops his spear, and pulls out a dagger of his own. The two circle stabbing, slashing and dodging for what seems like ages, each scoring small cuts on the other. The Guard Goblin is starting to react slower and slower, and Gretch starts to score more and more wounds on the Guard. Before long Gretch slams his fist into the Guards nose, and the Guard drops to one knee, his dagger falls to the ground out of reach. Gretch stands in front of him, <"I've bested you. Make your choice.">
The Guard, looks from Gretches dagger, to the edge of the cliff, and back several times...
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Nov 9, 2014 23:25:32 GMT -5
The aggressive display is enough to make Mortimer cringe, this being the most violent display he can remember seeing. True, he'd experienced deep loss recently, the destruction of Urutah was worlds more devastating than this, but he hadn't been forced to watch anything like this before. Each of Gretch's wounds have immediately become more personal, more raw to him, and it takes all he can muster to not wretch right there. "There has to be a better way!", he pleads, his words directed to the old crone. "Violence can only lead to more violence, someone has to break that cycle! Send him to exile, or anything else, but killing him.." Mortimer finally falls quiet when he realizes that his words fall upon deaf ears; they had clearly operated this way for years, his protests wouldn't change anything now. Letting that realization set him, he turns and lowers his head, his gaze directed anywhere but toward the melee before him as he gives a jerk of his arms. "I get that interfering won't save him. Let me go, I won't get involved, but I have never watched a man be executed and won't change that now." ((I'm assuming that my rockin' Diplomacy check of 9 - rolled a 2 - is not enough to convince a tribe of violent goblins to change their ways. If you need some kind of roll to get free of the goblins holding his arms, I've rolled an 11, you can add whatever you feel appropriate to that to see if he can at least have that dignity. www.thetangledweb.net/forums/profiler/view_char.php?cid=38040))
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Nov 25, 2014 21:31:11 GMT -5
None of the Goblins seem to hear your words. All of their attention is locked the the battle as it takes place. The Crone has a snide smile upon her lips, while the rest of the Goblins have a fevered look about them. The guards holding you slacken their grip as their attention is drawn to the battle, and they don't even notice when you pull your arms free and look away. Your attention is drawn back when you hear King Gretch call out, "Healer." Looking to the Goblin King you see him holding the Guard Goblin by the scruff of the neck, well past the edge of the cliff. "You say there is a better way? You suggest that I exile him instead of making him face the Wall." He pauses in thought still holding the now terrified Goblin over the edge of the cliff, "Fine. For the gift you have bestowed upon me, I agree to your terms. Let it be known that those that carry your symbol may pass through my Kingdom in exchange for a single gold piece, and that you may walk my lands freely. Your people will be considered my personal guests during their stay." He repeats the new law in Goblin, as well as listing the punishment for harming one of his guests - facing the wall.
"As for this worthless excuse for a Goblin, he is banished from my Kingdom from this day forward unless he stands in your presence." He heaves the Goblin through the air to land heavily at your feet, "He is your problem now Healer, see if you can teach him your better way." Gretch smiles, "Now if you will excuse me, I have a lot of changes to make." The Goblin King walks away, and the other Goblins scatter back to whatever they were doing before. All except the Crone, "Healer, a word." She gestures to her side, oddly pleasant based on your previous encounters. <"Leave me."> She barks at the Goblins that tend to her, and they scatter out of hearing distance, but remain close enough to offer assistance should it be required. "My son has taken up titles that have not been claimed in more than ten generations, and for that I have you to thank or blame depending on his actions over the foreseeable future."
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Dec 10, 2014 0:03:21 GMT -5
"I can only hope that the actions he takes are good ones, that he can see there are ways without violence. Perhaps we'll be able to show him that better way." Mortimer replies, nodding to indicate the goblin now under his care. So many possible repercussions from his actions here, he truly has no idea what may lie ahead. "Taking up titles? What do you mean? And what could that mean for this region? I don't know anything about Goblin politics, except that they are a lot more deadly than I thought."
In truth, Mortimer is well beyond overwhelmed - so much to deal with, and now he is the caretaker for a very ambitious goblin as well? The previous leader of this tribe, no less? Light be willing, he would do his best, but he was not expecting that at all. For a moment, his thoughts wander back to the Lightbreaker, and his talk about bringing light to the darkest places. Judging by what he'd seen today, that would be a very long term project, to break through to this goblin and show him a better way. But if he could succeed here, then perhaps he could show the tribe that there was no need for displays like they'd just had, that peace would let them prosper in a way violence never could. If it weren't for the situation he found himself in, he might even allow himself a smile at the thought.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Dec 11, 2014 9:39:29 GMT -5
The Crone scoffs, then looks at the Goblin cowering at your feet, then speaking in Goblin she says, "Our people are not like your people. There is no room for the weak, or cowardly. In our society the strong rule." The Crone dismisses the Goblin with her eyes, and shifts her steel gaze to you, "It has been a long time since we had a Goblin King. Any Goblin can declare themselves King, but the lure of power paints a target upon your back. Other Goblins will challenge to take the throne. As for the region, it means civil war. The tribes will ally with their champions and tear themselves apart unless our King can bring them under his banner." The Crone leans back, and sighs.
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Dec 27, 2014 18:31:18 GMT -5
The weight of the Crone's gaze makes Mortimer want to shrink, despite her smaller stature. However, knowing what he's learned so far, he makes an effort to steel himself - no matter how terrible the reality she's painting is, he's aware at least that looking like an easy mark is probably a bad idea, truce or no.
"I hope that you find peace quickly, and that the Light guides your way. I'd be happy to come back and talk to you about the Light at any time, to help you find a better way than endless fighting. Right now, I'm afraid I need to be on my way - how will I know where your people's lands end, and when others begin? Are they all as clearly marked as yours were?" Consciously, Mortimer tries to keep his voice from wavering, but there is some note of concern. Could he really trust this tribe? Would the others be willing to see reason? Would he even need to pass through many? Only one way to find out, he thinks, and glances at the cowering goblin. With a heartfelt prayer that the goblins find peace, he reaches down and floods the cowering goblin with healing, flushing him of any wounds he'd taken in the fight with Gretch. "And you - " he says, reaching down to offer a hand, " - what is your name? If you're going to be travelling with me, I'd like to know what to call you."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Dec 27, 2014 19:48:27 GMT -5
The Crone ignores your conversation regarding the Light, but does provide you a host of information. Apparently each tribe has borders clearly marked with totems, when the totems change you've entered a new tribes territory. This tribe has already sent messengers to the neighboring tribes to proclaim the new King, each tribe will in turn send messengers to the next tribe. Within a day or two all the tribes will know about King Gretch. Those that choose to support him will add a second totem alongside the first, a staff painted white. Any that do not support King Gretch, must proclaim their own King. All tribal feuds are ended until the next full moon, when the succession begins. Each tribe will attempt to sway or destroy any other tribe that doesn't follow the same King until there is only one King left. Usually this process is over before the end of the full moon that began the process, but a few times the process has taken months, and one time it took four years. Regardless the cost of a succession in lives is mind numbing to you.
You are given a Silver token that proclaims you a guest of King Gretch, and any who support him will allow you safe passage within their lands.
The Goblin shrinks back from your offered hand, and pulls himself up to his feet. Even fully healed, and standing he looks defeated. You notice that any of the Goblins that pass by that happen to look near him, seem to look past him, or through him. To them he no longer exists. Only the Crone looks at the fallen Goblin, and then it seems more like a challenge, how dare you be standing where I happen to be looking? You see the Goblin shrink back from those glances, moving so as not to be within her line of sight. When you ask his name he says something so quietly that you can't hear him, and you realize that he doesn't want to be heard by any of the Goblins here. Once you're out of ear shot of the others he explains, "I no longer have any name, but outcast. You may call me what you wish Master." He nods his head in a quick bow, and wrings his hands together.
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Dec 30, 2014 0:12:58 GMT -5
Though the thought of a war like that turns Mortimer's stomach, he accepts the Silver token, making a mental note to return it on his way safely out. It resides in a pocket, not wanting to be reminded of what amounts to politics here, but he remains conscious of the weight all the same. As he walks with his new companion, he keeps his eyes open for the totems, remembering the macabre display before, and remembering to watch for the white staff. "How much of this blood will belong on my hands?", he wonders to himself, as they walk beyond earshot.
When the fallen goblin remains quiet even when addressed directly, Mortimer doesn't fight that impulse, instead simply asking him to follow. Once they're far enough away that the goblin is willing to speak, and refers to Mortimer as 'Master', he stops in his tracks and shakes his head. "I am no man's master, just a servant of the Light. If you want, I can teach you to follow the Light as well, I think that you'll find life better without the threat of violence over your head. If you insist on not giving me your name, though, then I'll call you Dermott; a name meaning freedom, for a man newly free. What do you think?"
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jan 5, 2015 10:08:11 GMT -5
"Dermott is a good name Master." He immediately flinches when he calls you master, but when you don't hit him for his slip he nervously asks, "What I call you?" He nods, then mentions, "Me no need to follow the light, me can see in the dark." After you explain the difference between light and Light, you both walk in silence for a while. Later you come across a choice, and two sets of totems. One totem is paired with the white staff, while the other is not. Your map says that the path you should walk is straight ahead, but that territory doesn't have the white staff. While you look at your map, Dermott points to the white staffed path, "We go that way?" He says it like a statement, but his uncertainty makes it come out as a question. "Der be another way to go to der." He says pointing to your goal on the map.
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Jan 18, 2015 22:28:14 GMT -5
The goblin's - Dermott's - reaction to his own slip-up surprises Mortimer, and he smiles reassuringly. His description of the difference between light and Light is long-winded, and includes a few repetitions, but comes easily and earnestly, such that anyone can see his passion in his cause. Once he realizes that Dermott has either tuned him out or lost interest in the conversation, however, Mortimer is comfortable to let silence fall, consulting his map to ensure they reach the correct location.
Once the pair arrives at the split in the path, Mortimer spends some time considering his options. Dermott's interjection shakes him out of that, however, and Mortimer finds himself momentarily hopeful. Bending down to lay the map flat on the ground, he asks, "Can you show me? The sooner we can get there, the better, but I think safety is more important. Pretty sure I got lucky with how things went in your camp, if I don't have to risk being threatened again, I'd prefer that."
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Jan 20, 2015 10:03:21 GMT -5
You manage to give a brief overview of the Light before you see Dermott's eyes glaze over. He pretends to be attentive because he thinks that what you want, but you can tell that he has tuned out.
Dermott points to where you are on the map, then points to the white staffed territory. Tracing a finger along the far edge of that area he says, "Dis place have old bridge dat lead down to where yous want to go."
|
|
|
Post by DM Quietus on Sept 17, 2015 23:14:50 GMT -5
Mortimer nods, as Dermott shows him the route through the staffed territory. "Old briges are better risks than angry goblins.", he muses aloud. Dermott seemed to take a lot of pride in his strength, but Mortimer had no interest in testing that. Flashes of that brutality still flashed fresh in his mind, and he was actively avoiding thinking about it. Standing, stretching, and rolling the map back up, he gestures toward the safer path. "Please, lead the way."
In truth, Mortimer still doesn't know what to think about Dermott. The use of 'Master' still sits wrong with him, and he can't tell if the goblin is legitimately submissive to him - which would be its own problem - or if he needs to watch his back. Not that he is holding Dermott anywhere, of course, or that he has anything worth attempting to take, but a possibly irrational fear has planted itself as those brutal images have flashed through his memory. As they travel, Mortimer attempts to sort out what is driving Dermott right now, and perhaps most importantly, whether he will be able to trust the goblin while he sleeps. Regardless of what he sees, however, he knows one thing. If he can help show Dermott a better way of life, then perhaps he can do so for all the goblin tribes, and end these senseless wars that the old crone told him about.
|
|
|
Post by DM-Delfon on Oct 3, 2015 7:21:04 GMT -5
Dermott nods enthusiastically, agreeing with you immediately. In fact, he started nodding as soon as you began to speak, preemptively agreeing with you. When you kindly suggest leading the way, he darts off as if you bellowed an order, a barely heard, "Yes, Master." Thrown over his shoulder as he scrambles to follow your perceived order.
Once you set out it doesn't take long before you encounter another roadblock. This one manned by a dozen armoured creatures, their chain and plate shiny in the sun. They challenge you immediately, and Dermott hides behind you. After a few tense minutes of communication, you show your silver token and are allowed to pass. Two of the armoured creatures follow along behind you, but otherwise ignore you. Based on the commands given at the barricade, you suspect that the commander sent creatures that couldn't communicate with you just in case. Apparently the white staff doesn't represent strict loyalty, and that this tribe may have opted for it because of how close they're located to the 'King'.
|
|