Norwick's envoys and the goblins of the West Rawlins
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Ragnhild simply grins widely at Belin, a touch of pride in her voice as she remarks:
"Bloody Tooth tribe be not like most tribes in morr vays than one."
Once introductions are completed, she turns a more serious face to the goblin:
"Now, you have much telling to do of vhat happen here, Marrk. Some things I kan guess at, but others leave us all puzzled. Vhy the vhite clay, the clank and clonk of armor, for scare ennemi off? Vhat about gobbalins here, they all dead? And.. vhat of Grahk himself, he live or die? Vhere is he?"
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Tindra watches the exchange of words between Ragnhild and Mark a bit supsiciously, but relaxes when it becomes apparent that the woman does indeed recognize the goblin. With a quick glance at Belin, Tindra ponders the thought of shifting back to her half-elven form. An ale does seem like a good idea right now.
The feline shakes her head and sits with a quiet huff. Best to avoid drinking too much right now; she doesn't function with a constant flow of alcohol in her blood like most dwarves seem to. Tindra focuses much of her attention back on Ragnhild and the goblin, but keeps glancing around to make sure nobody or no thing is trying to sneak up.
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Oy fark un battle singun gobber? That nay natural Ragger.
Belin slips her axe into a loop on her hip. Opening a different pouch she pulls out one of her dwindling number of ales, pulling the cork from the bottle with her teeth she tosses it back keeping her shield out.
Da father have mercy on meh wit all da strangeness.
her dark eyes regard the goblin suspiciously
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Ragnhild stares back at the goblin, eyes turning wide at the sudden burst of affection. She stiffens for an instant, before recognition sets in and a wide, joyful grin spreads all across her face and the hug is returned, surprisingly gently, as if she remembers to be careful with this particular, not so robust goblin. Her eyes are bright with emotion as she smiles down at the goblin, ruffling it's matted hair affectionately.
"Marrk! You live!! I thought vould never see or hear sweet voice of yours again. I look for so long vith no trace, but am here now to help, no vorri. These peepel be frends mine, vill help also."
Ragnhild rests a warm, reassuring hand on the goblin's scrawny shoulder, offering the leftover ale from her bottle while she introduces each of the party members to Mark, who apparantly is the Bloody Tooth tribe's very own.. bard.
//hopes her memory isn't faulty again!
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It becomes quite apparent when Rag takes a close look at the goblin that it isn't Grahk. The goblin seems much smaller and shorter and wears ill fitting armor as if made for another. As she cleans the clay the goblin stirs and awakens quickly opening it's eyes open to stare right at Rag. Before anyone can react the goblin throws it's arms about Rag and starts kissing her on the cheeks with great enthusiasm leaving behind white clay. After a few it lets go and bears a wide smile
It you! You come save Mark!
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Dwin raises his axe a bit higher in the air, should it need to come down on something in the next few seconds.
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Calming down somewhat and smoothing back a few tangled curls from her face, Ragnhild approaches the goblin figure, kneeling beside Tindra to take a good look at it. She touches a fingertip to its cheek, lightly, as if testing it for solidity or signs of life. Provided the goblin doesn't move, she then wets a rag with some ale, wiping carefully at its face, whispering with barely contained hope in her voice:
"Father?"
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Belin grunts
da fark is wrong here. she looks around the cavern dis nay beh right ragger.
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:: The clay is thick and covers the goblin bodies completely and it takes time for Belin to determine if the goblin that was previously unmoving is dead. Poking a hole in the clay releases the smell of death.
Tindra inspecting the 'ghost' catches the faint smell of goblin and the stench of urine. As Tindra inspects the goblin, it lets out a loud snore.::
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The sudden collapse of the goblin startles Tindra a bit. She perks her head up and cocks it to the side, staring at the goblin curiously. Carefully, she slinks over to the goblin and sniffs at it.
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dark eyes look to ragn
aye
she taps at the clay on the nearest goblin testing its solidity. she checks for signs of life if it is just a thin layer smeared over top of goblin hide.
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Ragnhild flinches and takes an involuntary step back as the goblin figure keels over, exclaiming out loud:
"Witcheri!!"
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The white goblin form glances at the moving party and…falls over with a loud clank onto the ground.
:: bela notes the goblin corpses all seems covered in some sort of white clay from head to toe::
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Belin takes a step back from Ragnhild and looks over the goblin corpses.
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Tindra nods to Ragnhild, acknowledging her request. The feline slinks back a bit and turns her attention to her surroundings while keeping an eye on the white goblin. She tries to see what lies beyond the goblin. If the goblin doesn't appear to take notice of Tindra, she moves stealthily to block any possible exit routes should the goblin decide to run.
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Dwin nods knowingly.
O course, lass. Tis your honor here. But if we see any signs of witchery at work that would prove to be treacherous, or you ask for us, we'll be at your side in a heart-beat.
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A glint of anger sparks in Ragnhild's eyes at the ghost's words. She remains unmoving, feet so stubbornly set into the ground that it seems it would take a giant to budge her even an inch.
"Grahk's daughter is not dead, she is NOT liar and she is not going avay. Grahk kan tri to make daughter move, but he vill onli lose another wrestel match to her then."
Under her breath, she murmurs to the others:
"They all truli dead, or is this some sort trickeri or nasti magicks at worrk? Either vay, I vill fajt him if need to. I ask you let me do so alone, for if I kan not prove vorthy, we have no business be here at all."
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Tindra stays back a bit when Ragnhild steps forward to speak to the white goblin. She tries her best to stay in the shadows, crouching low and ready to pounce forward should Ragnhild order an attack. Her eyes, ears, and nose are fixed on the white goblin.
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(( clarification: he didn't come out of the ground, he was just crouched over and stood up))
_The figure gestures to the bodies.
'You lie, clan all dead, Grahk dead. You go, go away, or Grahk kill you.'
:: makes shooing motions::
'You go now'_
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Belin who was heard to be agreeing about the ale stops abruptly at Ragnhild does. She moves to Ragnhilds other side flanking her. She leaves Tindra to figure out where a cat belongs.
Yer sure dat un ghost. Remember dat wus un gobber statue back there. mebbe they are trying tuh trick long shanks?
