Campfire before the Storm
Log Info
- Title: Campfire before the Storm
- Emitter: Delilah
- Characters: Delilah, Donna, Ashes, Elyanna
- Place: On the road, near the Illithids
- Time: Monday, May 03, 2021, 8:46 PM
- Summary: Partway to Magus Ectra N'garra's Manse, the party has stopped for an evening and is discussiong their plans with Lerethil, the erstwhile trader that is acting as their guide in this endeavour and surely would never sell them out. She relates how difficult Illithid are to deal with and questions the party's experience. Little, killing Illithids; lots, killing other things. They are adventurers after all, even the healer has a kill count. They discuss strategies, what they expect to find, and what needs to be destroyed if they do. There is some arguments regarding lichdom enabling arguments, but Lerethil finally agrees that if Ashes doesn't like it, she won't try to take it. The party eats their meal, the nature of food and the food chain unavoidable. Delilah's magic has returned, and while ranged attacks would be best it seems there will be some close in engagement where they will have to be wary of mind-tricks. Finally Ashes suggests bringing an Illithid back for her hillbilly bugbear cousins to chow down on and offer their culinary opinion on the jumped up calamari.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Donna 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A black-haired human girl in black robes. Delilah 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A golden haired human girl in white robes. Ashes 5'11" 177 Lb Hobgoblin Female A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face Elyanna 5'11" 153 Lb Half-Orc Female A grim, Arvek-blooded woman in raven feathers. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lerethil Half-elf Female A trader with questionable connections. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Delilah 5'4" 106 Lb Human Female A golden haired human girl in white robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Some things in life are not easy. In fact, some things in life are just hard. Asking the girl you like out to the spring dance might classify as hard for some, as might running a long distance race, or wrestling a tiger shark with your bare hands.
Something else that might classify as hard would be the act of sneaking into the manse of a deceased Illithid magus who held aspirations of lichdom.
"Right." On the side of the road, where after a few days travel the forest has thinned out to a grassy plain studded with trees and upright stones, a half-elf trader sits next to a cooking pot that's bubbling away, while her hired hands are busy setting up camp and moving the pair of wagons into defensible positions, just in case of... well, just in case. "So. Mahuikaa tells me you lot are trying to sneak into some Illithid's digs."
This is nothing new, as the trader, Lerethil, has only brought it up four times a day in the last four days. "And I happen to know where you might be able to access it, but here's the thing; it's not like it's the middle of nowhere. There's Illithids about. Y'know, living ones, hungry for brains and all that. So... You all do understand we're about to be sneaking past a bunch'a squid-faces, right?"
Elyanna has been more stable after divesting herself of the squiggly whip, though her other baggage has kept the hobkin mostly keeping her thoughts to herself unless specificly asked. She maintains a watch while the others do their business, just in case.
"Yes." she asides, though she doesn't elaborate on the notion that those evasions are likely to be the 'fun' part.
"Yes." Ashlee says, also for the fourth time in four days. "Moluscs with more intelligence than sense."
Her opinion of Illithids hasn't improved, although there's no real reason why it would have. She doesn't want to meet another, she has nothing to trade.
"You don't know any golems, do you?" Or someone with golem accessories. Or perhaps tin, as thin as foil, that could be me twisted into a hat. "Or have advice?"
"Like they said," Donna grunts, nudging at the fire with a stick. "An' yeah, we know it ain't gonna be easy or simple. But the fact is... we gotta. If we didn't hafta, we wouldn't."
The brawler has been making an effort to see that everyone's included, even if actual speech isn't her forte; she'll ask one person to help her gather wood, volunteer to hand out food, ask another for help with the tents, and in general just be a ubiquitous presence among the group.
And here, on the road, there's a very different feel from her than before; when waiting for her sister's execution, it was helpless flailing. Here, it's more of a languid readiness, a conservation of as much energy as possible before the terrifying thirty seconds that will end up using it all.
Out on the road, where Donna has been exhibiting a state of readiness, Delilah has been unusually quiet; not to the point of being taciturn, but clearly lost in a lot of deep thought. Donna, at least, still has all her gear; Delilah has a dress, manacles that she can't get off, and a gun on loan from one of Lerethil's guards, which she's currently giving a clean as she sits beside her sister.
"I'd rather not have had you all go to the trouble of saving me from the axe, just so I can get my brain eaten by a face-squid," she murmurs. "But, I mean... if Ectra was angling for lichdom, I imagine her manse wasn't straight in the middle of squid-land, right? It has to have been off the beaten track just a little bit, right?"
"Right," answers Lerethil. "And I did business with Ectra a couple of times when she was alive. ...Turns out that if you need to pass near Illithid territory, giving one of them a reason to not want your brain eaten is a great way to probably stay alive. Which, I no longer have, so we have to be careful." She pauses, and tapes her lips. "Also, I just know where I used to meet her -- or some poor sod she'd mind-stapled into drooling subservience -- and I'm fairly certain her actual manse is nearby."
The trader taps her lips with the handle of her ladle, before she returns to stiring the cook pot (and if the smell is any indication, this woman can cook). "I don't know any golems," she states. "But as of four days ago, I know you four, so that'll have to do."
The situation isn't one Elyanna envisioned when this all started, but, she had to see it through and, so, here she is. The red woman's thoughts, coaxed foward some with the topic at hand, coalesce into verbage, "She made significant noises about her reputation amongst the illithids. There is a strong chance her manse has been scoured of anything the wigglers consider valuable, while leaving what we need behind. That would be the ideal." She looks over her shoulder to the trader, "When did you see this servant, last, and what were they like?"
"She boasted: the door, the side passage, every room, her undead minions and her kind will kill, burn, strange, melt or eat us." Ashlee says in monotone. She follows it up with an errant thought, "Undead are an option, but not for us."
She gazes at the trader, "lets have our last meal, and think about things a bit and try to come up with something."
"Do you have any wine?"
"So you used to trade with her," Donna says, looking up at the trader, and arching an eyebrow. "So what reason do her folks have to not chow on us?"
"Of course she did," the trader replies, bemusedly. "Ectra was always a boastful little bitch. I admit that I was surprised when she got offed, but only in that someone succeeded, not that someone tried." She pauses, and shakes her head. "The servant was usually whoever was next on the menu, really, or... y'know, half eaten, I guess you'd say? Different person each time, there isn'y likely to be a servant waiting for us this time unless it's a skeleton."
There's a pause, as she focuses on the stew she's cooking up for a moment. "That's ready," she pronounces, "Grab your whatever you eat out of and have a bite." She waggles her ladle in the air before plopping it down in the stew for people to use. "There's wine in the back of the cart with the red canvas overtop," she adds. "And, what reason do her folks have to not chow on us? Well, currently... how good are you four at killing Illithids?"
Delilah is busy setting out a couple of tin bowls with spoons, one each for her and her sister -- from Donna's pack, of course, since hers is in an evidence locker. She pauses, almost dropping them at Lerethil's last statement, and spfffts loudly. "Uhhh, right. How good are we at killing Illithids, exactly?"
Elyanna frowns some and twists to regard Ashes over her other shoulder on her remarks. Her eyes lower, some, weighing the amount of unburnt play she yet has with her social circle. It probably isn't much, but still, she has to weigh it against morale going into this endeavor, "Death is only possible, Mourner. Go in expecting to die, and you'll find a way to make it happen." <goblin-talk>
The Keeper looks to the sisters, then the merchant as though trying to decide where to weigh in. "We have met one that was already dead." she notes on the repeated query, "We have killed, before." They're adventurers after all.
Ashlee nods and stands. She heads to the back of the red canvas cart and looks around. Eventually she finds something she would like to taste and brings it out. She sets it down near Elyanna.
Next, she rumages through her satchel. She removes a bowl, which is plain, grey, and clearly from the Vardama Temple kitchens. So is her spoon, knife and fork. She won't need the knife and fork, so those go back in. She moves towards the pot, looks at Elyanna. "Do you have a bowl?"
She doesn't respond to the advice, though she clearly heard.
Looking at the trader she adds, "I've talked a few vampires to death. I'm a healer. I've only killed by accident." Or through great effort.
"Basically that," Donna says, nodding at Elyanna and Ashes. "Illithids ain't exactly been regulars on our dance-card, but, none of us is just fallen off the turnip wagon. So assume we'll listen to smart advice that ain't 'don't,' an' tell us what we need t'know?"
The brawler collects her bowl, and starts to ladle herself up some dinner. On her way back, she claps Elyanna on the shoulder, offering the Keeper a half-smile, encouraging. Maybe Donna can't do much, but she can do this much; support the team.
"I assume they bleed," Delilah murmurs, handing a filled bowl and spoon to her sister. "Or burn. Or... Well," she nods towards Ashes, "Everything Ectra said her traps would do to us, I assume we can do to them." She shrugs her shoulders lightly. "We're not new, and as of last night, I have my magic back. I'm still feeling... disconnected, but I think I'll be ready to go by the time it's needed."
Lerethil waits for everyone else to be served, before ladling out a generous amount for herself -- into a bowl with a bit of gold trim around the top and a matching spoon, naturally. "Well," she muses. "I've never fought an Illithid. Or actually seen one fought, either. But; they do like their minions -- preferably undead, they don't get disobedient and you don't have to pay them -- and they like mind tricks. Don't expect one to just... stand up and fight you while you kill it. Make sure you've got a good grip on reality because if you don't, you aren't going to realize you've got a problem until your brain is literally being tentacled out of a hole in the front of your skull, and that's just not good for anyone."
The trader looks like she's about to start eating, but pauses before her spoon hits the stew. "Oh, yes; almost forgot. I'm not doing this for free, naturally; I understand that you'll want what you need for evidence so one of you," she glances sideways at Delilah, "Can keep her head attached to her shoulders, but in return for getting you there, I want first pick of any... souvenirs."
Elyanna watches the Mourner as she realizes the grey woman is approaching her, a tiny quirk of an eyebrow, but she nods to her question with a soft, "Yes."
She is a little surprised by the sudden clap on her shoulder and the look she reflxively fixes on the brawler is, to certain eyes, rather comical. She composes herself quickly enough as it were, though she bows her head slightly in reply before she turns to approach her pack to dig out her old iron mess kit, one that's clearly seen some time in the field. The hobkin approaches, unwinding the fastenings to seperate the halves to reveal a compact wooden mug tucked inside the small covered pot itself clamshelled between the folding skillet and a reasomably flat bowl. A small set of utensils emerge from one of her belt pouches.
She sets all but the bowl aside at her spot for now, and steps over to ladel up some stew, holding it in her gauntleted hand for reasons of heat, then drifts back over to sit down near the Mourner, as that seems her intention.
She glances to the sisters again, "We may need to go over our spell options to coordinate."
Then, the merchant decides to bring commerce into things, as to be expected. She has few direct reasons to refuse, though she has fewer doubts they'll have every oppurtunity to regret the lack, later. Still, she listens to the others first.
"Gonna hafta throw in a caveat," Donna says, settling herself down next to her sister. "Wiggler was lookin' to make a lich outta herself; that aint somethin' that oughts survive her. If you can say y'all right with us destroyin' anything we find as looks like a clue, we'll let ya pick over what's left."
As Elyanna brings up the idea of coordination, the brawler nods. "Most o' what I got's either defensive, or punch-borne. D's got the better part of the actual magic, I'm just the one you call wen you need to slap a caster so hard they forget how to spell."
Ashlee fills her bowl and sits down with it, resting it in her lap, her arms on her knees. Her familliar and friends come out to eat, Chippen from one sleeve, Carbuncle from the other. Minnie comes out the bottom of her shirt and dip their heads into the bowl. She stares, watching them, almost in a meditative pose.
"Sure." Whether she's agreeing to Lerethil getting first dibs, that paying attention is important, that brains can be sucked out of a hole in the skull, Delilah keeping her head attached or coordinating spells would be wise, isn't clear. "Melee doesn't seem like a good idea. Shooting them in the head from long range would be ideal."
The should have brought a goblin, not a hobgoblin.
"Donna slaps 'em, I zap 'em," Delilah confirms. "I like fire." She eats a mouthful of stew, "I like fire a lot. But I have other tricks too. I recently learned invisibility, I and trap things in web or make 'em slip so bad they'll never get back up, and I in fact *can* do magic missile with four missiles. So there's that too."
Lerethil clucks her tongue, and sighs softly. "Alright, but as long as it's an *obvious* clue, yes? And not simply pointing at something valuable and saying, well, it's a skull that happens to be made of gold and it vaguely references death -- a lot of things the illithids deal with do *that* -- so it must be suspect." She steeples her fingers, "And I am not a fighter by any stretch, but I can still help." She lifts an amulet up out from her cleavage, "This absorbs spells; it's saved my life twice. So I'm not entirely defenseless."
If things could speak...
There is a light crossbow in Ashlee's satchel that was designed to be a sniper's weapon, and only through a mistaken enchantment was rendered a little inappropriate for that task. An acid bolt, streaking through the darkness is far less obvious than a flaming one, which acts more like a tracer back to the source. Still, its soul, if a weapon can be said to have one, yearns to be used for such purpose. To inflict deadly strikes, piercing the brain and melting it, from so far away the weilder is both invisible and soundless.
If only the Mourner knew what she carried and how it wished to be used.
"Web works very nicely." The ashen Arvec adds, "It's a pretty close spell. Do you have far ones, really far ones?"
"Look," Donna says, setting her bowl aside for a moment and fixing the trader with a hard stare. "There's shit out there as is *better off* turned into chunks of coal. I ain't sayin' it's likely, but the way that bitch talked I would not be surprised if her lil rumpus room's got *souls* set in the lamps. An' with all this shit flyin' around 'bout chunks of a dead god turnin' up, I *ain't* about to take chances. There's prolly gonna be loot aplenty, but I'm askin' you to trust our judgment, an' if we wanna burn or smash somethin', it ain't cos we wanna keep a lil more gold out your pockets. Fair?"
Elyanna hrm's softly and stirs the lumps in her stew as the others bring up their spells. "I can make someone flee in fear, briefly, hurt a target with a scream and paralyze another with laughter for a short time. I can briefly daze someone, and create phantom sounds." Her staggering mystical arts unveiled, she shrugs under her cloak, and, "Otherwise, I can bolster us in battle with song, counter another's and potentially distract a weak mind if there is no combat about."
Then, she takes a bite.
Lerethil sighs softly. "Very well," she agrees. "I will agree to abide by your reasonable judgement, that anything pertaining to lichdom should be destroyed. I am simply looking to expand my business, I have no interest in making a sale that results in the creation of the next great abomination that feeds on souls."
"Wise choice," Delilah acknowledges, with her mouth full. So ladylike. She swallows, and points her spoon towards Ashes, "But, she oughta be the one having a direct hand in workin' out what's got the necromantic wiggle about it." She shrugs, "Otherwise, I mean... I think we gotta just play it by ear? I mean, hell, you lot did a fantastic job of saving me from being executed, I think there's a proven ability to think on our feet."
Ashlee nods. Her critters have vanished, without eating an obvious amount of her food. She starts in on it now, carefully lifting a spoonful, slowly chewing then swallowing. "I'll have to touch the objects and trust the Feiu of the Tears to let me know."
She's familiar with vampire paraphrenalia. There is probably some overlap with necromancers. It's likely similar to a lot of her acoutrements, grey, with a skull and bones theme, just not as upbeat and cute.
"Agreed," Donna says, nodding to Delilah. "An' Elyanna... soundin' to me as we'll be lookin' at you for the better part o' distractions while we're tryin' not to be noticed. I ain't bad at sneakin', but, I ain't the best." Taking her bowl back up, she takes another bite, mulling over the options they'll have access to on the job.
"We also had help, there." Elyanna notes distantly, glancing to Delilah, then back to Ashes as her critters decide their tummies are full and abscond.
Donna anchors her attention, then, and she looks to the brawler, "I have very.... slight talent at stealth, so, being a spectacle will likely be my best utility."
"I can make people invisible," Delilah suggests. "I mean... that's got to count for *some* sneaking value, right? If they can't see you then dunno you're there. Unless you're like a cow in a bell shop."
Lerethil leans back, taking the time to enjoy her stew -- and it is a very good stew, afterall, so that's probably deserved. She sighs audibly, "Well, either way, make sure you get some good rest tonight," she drawls, "Don't worry, my crew will keep watch. You'll want to be well rested 'cause we should get there tomorrow. And them lot," she nods to her employees, "Will be guarding my caravan. ...And before you say anything, that's what I pay them for. I didn't hire any of them to play sneaky buggers in an Illithid's manse, and despite my offer of danger pay, they've all... opted out of this one."
"Can't say as I blame em," Donna says, glancing at the employees in question and shrugging. "I ain't exactly happy to be pokin' my head where it might get drained like a custard pastry, but, we ain't gotta choice. We either do this or ask Ma if we can put up a cottage on t'other side of the clearin' from her, an' I ain't set on retirement just yet."
Ashlee refrains from commenting further, she's already expressed her thoughts on who or what would be best for this trip and doesn't begrudge those with an option. She stirs her stew, watching the lumps move around. The thought occurs, she should say thanks for this. "Thanks."
That taken care of, she takes another spoonful. She'll get to the bottom eventually. Being eaten might interfere with her plans to be useful in the afterlife. It depends if the soul and consciousness gets sucked up with the brains. Alternatively, being eaten alive by one of the Brain Slug's brain slugs and turning into one of them wouldn't be enjoyable either. And, also probably soul crushing.
Despite Ectra's protestations, Ashlee has spent some time contemplating the lives of lower life forms. It hasn't stopped her eating them, but then, any sort of conversation with one might make her hesitate. She lifts another spoonful of stew, vegetables and meat, the source of which she never questionned. Her bugbear cousins aren't squeamish when it comes to meat that talks. Come to think of it, they can be rather vocal about their taste for humans and preferences regarding young, fat, male, female, old and the white and dark meat.
Yet, somehow, never as sanctimonious as Magus Ectra N'garra, and perhaps all Illithids, about how much better they consider themselves than their food.
"Egotistical snails." Ashlee says, without additional context. Perhaps the Master Chefs at the TarRaCe can work out some recipe involving mushroom caps, butter and Illithid brains. "We should bring a head back if we get the chance."
See who eats who.
"It was not my expectation." Elyanna remarks to the merchant, "You are already helping us as it is. Thank you." before it's back to shop talk. Her eyes find Delilah, "It cannot hurt." she says simply, then looks to Donna, "I can... try to prevail upon my father in Blar if... lodging remains a concern... Or my mother."
A shrug, "It would not be Alexandria." as a bonus... or a warning is up for debate.
She looks to Ashes, then, brow arching and not privy to her former(?) friend's stance on longpig and calamari, wonders, "What the hell for?" <goblin-talk>
"Maight be gud eatin'." The ashen Arvec says, with surprising depth and tone to her words and a high-slopes bugbear accent that's so convincing a few of her teeth seem to vanish. She shrugs, and takes another spoonful. <goblin-talk>
