Norwick's envoys and the goblins of the West Rawlins
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Ragnhild just grins at Belin, blue eyes bright as she comments:
"Vhat we need now is good fajt.. luckili there be plenti Kal'Vargen to turn axes edge red, so how about we go find some? Goblin and dwarven axe all sing same song of death, you vill see!
Tindra, task for you be to tri find trace of warparti leaving cave, but we know vhas long ago, so no big hope. Still, best tri every vay we kan, huh? I vill ask Spitter some more things, then we leave. If no trace, vell.. we know vho ennemi be. So we kan juss ask them, vith speer, axe and magicks."
She turns back to Spitter, looking just as eager to start paying the blood debt as the goblin warrior himself. Shooting an encouraging glance to Mark, Ragnhild seems to invite the skinny goblin to help answer her questions too.
<g>"Before go, need know if there more than one way out of cave, for cat scout to find trail. Sqee tell us that tribe that is no tribe, or Kal'Vargen, do this. They now tri take all of Rawlins, with minotaur and demon on their side. I vish make sure we hunt right enemy, so I ask you both if this true."</g>
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Tindra watches Spitter with a keen eye as he tosses the piece of dried meat to her. She sniffs the meat with consideration. The prideful part of her wanted to turn down the offering; why should she stoop so low as to eat scraps from a greenskin? She gave one more glance at Spitter, then bent down and snapped the meat up. It was better that she not play the role of a bad kitty right now, she thought. Let the goblin feel he's earned some trust, and perhaps he'll be more likely to help Ragnhild.
Besides, she really needed that snack. Shapeshifting always makes her hungry.
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eyes spitter with a certain amount of disdain
Well Ragger, I dunnay like da look in hims eye. Dat un keeps given meh da look dat says, "meh wunt tuh stick my axe in yer head." Weh dids set out tuh help yuh find yer 'dopted da. I say let fishie pauses looking at the green spitter nay froggie, froggie better fer hims. let frogger there lead da way. Hims likeliest tuh know where they all falls back tuh if you ken my meaning.
mutters <d>wish that fart had been stinker. farkin goblin just let him try me kin and … seems to bite her tongue as she turns to look back down the cave mouth</d>
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Spitter seems to be keeping an eye on the big cat and fishes out some dried meat out of his pouch tossing it in front of the cat.
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Ragnhild grins at Dwin, silently pondering a diplomatic translation as she takes a deep gulp from the ale. After a long and thunderous belch, she speaks up:
"Spitter is eager for blood debt be payed, feel we have no time to lose. He vish we go find Grahk now, for his axe have been still too long. Juss tell vho to kill, and he do it. He seem to have doubts about strength of dwarven axe, for he ask you not to slow him down once battel khum our way. He no vish to have to save dwarf skin every time get in fajt, to translate correctli."
She grins even wider at that, adding:
"I think he soon see things diffrent, once axes start swinging, but for that to happen, we need find our ennemis, need find Grahk's trail. Trail is old and cold, but maybe kan still find some sign. I vhas thinking maybe Grahk and Axes too be turned to stone, and taken elsevhere. Or they give persuit and fall in ambush elsevhere, no know, but we do know my tribe no longer here, but for Spitter and Marrk, and the ones long dead. If nothing else, we have Kal'Vargen to kill, and manni of them.
Vhat say you rest, vhat next step to take?"
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((no worries its just that this thread is coming up on a year old in two more months… I'm looking forward to the end of the story arc and figuring out if it ties in at all to the story of the taint in the rawlins))
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//shrieks at the bumpage Alright, alright! Me and my brain are both in vacation mode, but returning home tomorrow evening, in likelyhood.. so hold your proverbial horses
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((I am waiting for PCs
))
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((BUMP))
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((FYI I am out of town for a week))
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Wha'd he say?
All this "icka icka" an him lookin at me is makin me nervous. What's he sayin?
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Spitter takes little time getting back to his feet and takes a long look at everyone present as if sizing them up. He stops for a second at Mark and shakes his head for a few seconds and sighs. Mark seeing the gaze looks down at his feet as if crestfallen. Chunks of white clay have fallen off giving the goblin the look of a well worn toy doll.
Spitter: <g>::gestures towards Mark:: Must been gone long time if him warrior. :: drinks from the ale:: Need get moving, think dwarf beginning to rot. ::looks to Rag:: So where is Grahk? Where we go get him? ::looks at his axe in his off hand longingly:: got blood debt to pay, them die today. ::spits on the ground::
Reacting to Spitter's words Mark begins to absently pick at his clay covering seemingly nervous.
Mark <g>Spitter it no….
Spitter glowers at Mark stopping him cold in mid sentence. Mark quickly looks away licking his lips as if at a loss for words.
Spitter <g>There blood to spill,no time for noise. :: looks back to Rag:: Jus tell who kill. :: takes another swig from the ale and hands it back to Rag:: and tell … :: looks at the dwarves for a second:: them, no slow Spitter down. No want have to be saving dwarf skin every time get in fight.
Spitter then places his axe in a harness on his back. He then goes to open a leather pouch at his belt. As he reaches his hand in he suddenly jerks his hand out stares at the pouch. Moment later a small fish jumps from the pouch and lands on the ground for a few flops before falling back into the water.
Spiitter <g>::mutters::</g></g></g></g>
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((I will get to it soon, RL has been hectic))
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((Bump Salsa))
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bump, this commercial break has been too long!
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Ragnhild can't help but grin wide, eyes tearing ever so slightly at the dwarven fumes unleashed by Belin. Possibly the orcish scents emanating from her old sister-in-arms Horbag has hardened the warrioress to even the most pungent of odours. She nods to Dwin, gesturing for him and Tindra to let the goblin go.
"Ja, I know him, he give worrd not to harm you unless me or Grahk sai so. He also sai that this fajt be last stand, novhere to go from here, and besides, Grahk and Axes vould not run. This is tru, but vhere are they? Spitter is right, Grahk vould not juss leave, so we need keep looking."
Having conveniantly left out the more colourful parts of Spitter's comments, Ragnhild returns her attention to the goblin warrior, still crouched to remain more at eye-level.
<gob>Stone stuff be minotaur magicks, turn flesh to cold rock. You be as statue, until Dwin make normal with magick egg. You still wet from water where sit for years, look! Green stuff even grow on armor.
I know Grahk no run, but he no here, Spitter. Maybe win and give chase, run into ambush? But father no fool, too smart for such.. unless.. stone magicks get them too and they carried off?
She frowns in thought, taking a first gulp from the fresh bottle of ale, before passing it to Spitter with a solemn look.
<gob>We find him, and bring death to those who do this.
Clasping the goblin's shoulder firmly, Ragnhild rises, stretching out her long legs at last.</gob></gob>
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Tindra wrinkles her nose at Belin's passing of the wind, and wonders to herself if she shouldn't have shapeshifted out of her feline form, if only to preserve her sense of smell.
Like Dwin, she still holds her grip, awaiting Ragnhild's command.
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Dwin turns his head quickly as the belin-stench rises
Rag-lass, whats this spitter sayin'? You know him?
Dwin still stands over him with his plate-boot firmly pinning the goblin's axe-hand to the ground
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Belin decides she doesn't like the noises coming from the goblin and lets one rip just as she starts to hop off its back. She smiles nonchalantly
Oy excuse meh. weh been on da trail tuh long.
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((LOL! I love this thread))
