Norwick's envoys and the goblins of the West Rawlins
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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))
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Mark cautiously moves into Spitter's eyesight. Spitter looks to Mark and rolls his eyes muttering something then looks back to Rag seemingly annoyed.
<g>what say can no be true, dunno what this stone stuff is. That no goblin, that jus metal hitter. :: spits:: Grahk and Axes would no run, nowhere to go from here. Grahk say this last stand, we break them here.
Spitter cranes his neck to see who is sitting on him and shakes his head then looks at Rag again.
<g>Cheif's Daughter have ugly friends. Cheif's Daughter get dwarf off Spitter and Spitter no kill dwarf today, maybe tomorrow. Probably take week get dwarf smell off. Maybe stand in rain for couple days. Spitter need find Grahk, him no jus leave. Spitter give oath no harm friends till Chief or daughter say to.</g></g>
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she shifts her weight making ready to stand if Ranghild nods to her. She grunts and looks at the gob debating farting on him before she does.
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Still crouching, Ragnhild meets the goblin's stare squarely, replying in her somewhat limited vocabulary, horribly broken goblin:
<gob>Save Spitter from stone, for one! I come find Grahk, find way smack enemy back. Grahk make map for find place, but now that here, there only sign from battle long past. All gone or dead but you, turned stone in water, and one other.
She turns slightly, waving Mark forwards and into Spitter's view.
<gob>We three all who remain, unless Grahk and Axes escape or be prisoner. What happen Spitter, you remember? Oh.. and I ask Belin stop sit on, if you calm. All friend here.
With that, she fishes up an ale from her dwindling supply, calmly setting it on the ground next to the pinned goblin. In common, she adds for the others benefit:
"I tell him vhy we are here, ask vhat happen and say that if he juss remain calm, we let him go. I think after all he have been through, he probabli need good, stout ale, huh? I know I vould be beyond cranki in his shoes, stuck in plain vater for years."</gob></gob>
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_As the stone egg is absorbed into the statue the color returns to the goblin and he immediately begins to snarl and thrash around. After a few moments he notices Rag and seems to stop thrashing though he is obviously still tense. He stares at her for a few seconds then spits on the ground.
<g>what you doin here?</g>_
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Ragnhild crouches infront of Spitter, muscles tense as if getting ready to pounce if necessary. She stares intently at the goblin as Dwin breaks the egg across the back of its head, as if willing the process to work.
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Grumbles and sits on the goblin pinning his back down
<d>fark me. daughter of a house of the ironspur reduced to sitting on gobbers.
she grunts <d>bet there is nay any gold in this either. I wonder if those dead gobbers had any ale…</d></d>
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Good idea, lass.
*Dwin lays the stone-gob face down on the ground. He puts a foot on the axe and motions for Belin to sit on the stone-gob's back.
He then motions for Mark and tells him to get close and tell Spitter to "calm the fark down" as soon as he's free of the rock.
He also motions to Tindra to hold his other arm.*
Rag, lass… You be ready to and speak yer gob-tongue to him if necessary. This gobber's last sight was probably a minotaur so he's either gonna be fightin or wettin imself in a few seconds... Most likely both.
with that, Dwin takes one of the eggs from his pack and smashes it on the back of the gob's head.
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Deciding to speak up, Tindra shifts into her werecat form. She stretches for a quick moment as her body settles into it's other shape.
"How about we lay him down face firrst?" she rumbles.
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OK… when we break this egg over his head, he'll come back to us... but he's holdin that axe ready to hit.
We got a couple options here... we give the egg to the Mark-gob here and let him do it. I recommend ya hit him from behind and run, lad.
Or, we throw it at him from a distance and hope we dont miss...
Or we bust it on him and jump on his arse before he can touch us.
Now, I aint afraid of this gob or any other, but the third option could end up in someone, most likely the gob, gettin hurt.
Thoughts?
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_After some work and some carefully maneuvering the adventurers get Spitter out of the water. Spitter makes a fine statue of a goblin in a battle stance. Somewhat larger then a normal goblin warrior he seems to have been frozen in a battle cry with his battle axe held out in front of him. The details of his mail armor and clothing can still be made out beneath a thin layer of algae that has grown on him.
Mark seems to back off and watch wordlessly as the adventurers drag the statue up._
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Ragnhild stands at the back of said line, putting her powerful back and legs to work on the attempt at hauling the stone goblin up from the depths.
//cheers for Dwin's impressive 4444th post
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Belin grunts heaving to the line working to pull "squirter" out of the water
((wow dwin post number 4444))
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Dwin nods, understanding the idea.
Aye, makes about as much sense as anything else here…
Dwin takes off his armor and takes a fine, silken looking rope from his pack. He motions for Rag and Belin to hold his legs as he lines prone and dunks his head underwater for a few seconds, wrapping the rope around the "statue's" shoulders and chest and tying it very securely.
Ok, folks, let's pull our new friend up and see if we can get some more crazy answers!
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Ragnhild stares into the water for a moment, a warm, strong hand resting reassuringly on Mark's skinny shoulder. She seems to consider, tilting her head in thought before turning back to the party.
"Dwin? If we kan get our fish to dri land, maybe using magic egg on him vill worrk to make him gobbalin again, and not statue? Vorth tri, no?"
