You run and run, past workers and guards, humans, orcs, kobolds and dragonborn. Once out into the city you leap over the low walls and down toward the main gate. It's not until the bottom when, in haste, you bump into a fair haired young man. A still slightly sallow-faced Leonar, the blacksmith's son.
"H-hey! Woah there! Etny? You alright?" He catches his balance and holds you by the arm, concerned. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"Na," she replies in Andrayan, her voice stricken with sorrow. "Gra-nala ha urumda farcie," she says bitterly, and shaking her head, realizes the young man can't understand her words.
Etny swipes at her eyes, and looks the young man in the eyes, "Eyeh, no, I am not hurt, just...useless is all."
"So...," she tries again to hold back the tears, "very...," stifling a sob, "useless!"
"Uh..." The young man hesitates, glancing around. People are starting to stare and it's making him uncomfortable. "H-hey, come on Et." With a strength that surprises you he hefts you up by the elbow and steers you to the blacksmith shop. "Let's get inside."
He pushes the door open, his ears burning from the attention and murmurs from outside. "Pa! Got some company!"
This shop is far bigger than the one in Dragonshore, with old architecture that is very similar to that in the main keep. It is definitely a dragonborn style, with etchings around the brickwork and a stylized cloud design along the ceiling. Patches of new plaster and mortar have been spackled in where cracks had formed, and a plethora of new tools, weapons, nails and screws are piled in crates and boxes against two of the four walls. Heat from a forge blasts in from the back room, adjacent to another door leading up a narrow stair. A voice bellows in from the back.
"You can tell that Ironheaded nincompoop that I can only put out gear for what ore the gnomes bring in! If he asks one more time--!!"
Ferrar Axemage walks out, a hot iron poker in one hand and a bar of iron in the other. His grumpy expression fades almost immediately at seeing his old customer and friend. "Oh! Why if it ain't miss Etny!"
He sets the ingot on a metal table followed by the poker. The big fellow wipes his hands on his heavy leather apron, smearing grease and soot. "Pleasure to see ya again dear! Leo, be a good lad and take her poleaxe and sharpen it."
The boy hunches his shoulders awkwardly and does as he is bidden. Despite his demeanor, he has learned a great deal from his father. Focused on a task he is comfortable with he immediately relaxes, the grinding wheel humming smoothly against the light metal.
"Been a while since I've seen ya! I've been hearin' great things about that lodge of yours, I've been meaning to come visit once I get this backlogged order pushed out." He plops down on a chair near you, pushing over a tray of stale biscuits to share.
Etny sinks into the chair near the stale biscuits, her head down, hair falling into her face. She tries so hard to stifle the sobs, but she can't. She feels like a little maiden girl, bawling at everything, and fulfilling nothing. "It is good to see you too, Ferrar-oman. Yes, the lodge. It is...it is well. I can't think well right now, my friend. I just..."
Her throat tightens, as well as her chest, threatening more sobs and tears. * Shiza, what am I? A heartbroken youth?! * She takes a few calming deep breaths, and finally looks up at Ferrar. A stray tear rolls unbidden down her cheek, having squeezed out of her eye. She swipes at it impatiently, and flips her auburn hair out of her face. Her eyes are slightly red and puffy from the crying she's been doing.
"Ferrar, I tried to fix my Andrayan bow."
Her eyes are pleading and sorrowful.
"I failed."
Ferrar's brow furrows and he purses his lips. He then lets out a small laugh. "Well gee miss, why you tryin' ta fix it when you got me in town? I've worked my way around half a million bows in my life!"
He pats you on the arm, not meaning to be rough at all. "What all happened to it? No need to be shy, weapons always need maintenance once in a while. Even good ol' Axemage brand." He chuckles again, trying to lighten the mood.
Etny digs her fists into her eyes, and sniffles loudly, chuckling weakly at Axemage's words. "Well, you see, it is not a normal bow. It has...it has magical qualities to it that require much toil. Oxious and myself have made the attempt, but we failed...*I* failed...to put it together. It requires magical components. Do you work with magical weapons, by chance?"
Ferrar snorts. "Bless that fellow, but Oxious is only familiar with that frilly sort of magic. How do 'ya think I got the surname Axemage?" He winks at you as he grabs a biscuit. "I work with magical weapons and enchantments often! Honestly he spoke with me about somethin' or other, but I wasn't aware it was your bow. Thought it was just some trinket of his."
He scratches his beard, contemplating the situation. "Does he still have the bow?"
"Yes, he does. I...," she looks away shamefully, "...I sort of took off from his tower when I attempted to mend it and failed. It is still in his possession, and I do not know if he has done anything further with it."
She lets out a deep sigh, striving to calm her roiling emotions. "It is my family's heirloom, and in the curve arms it has a core of Sheolium--Elektar in my tongue. It is wrapped in the hide of white kobold, sealed with Andrayan blood, and bored into the center of the Andrayan Ironwood, forming the curve arms."
She scratches the back of her neck and looks back at Axemage. "Have you worked with Elektar--Sheolium before? Do you...do you have any Sheolium here?"
"Sheolium..." He leans back in his chair, munching on his biscuit. "Sheolium... No, I don't think I have anything that rare on hand. I'm sorry Etny."
"But," Ferrar pauses and you can see the gears spinning in his mind. "Since we've been here I've had to source some rarer materials from inland. Hard to find suppliers when you first move, but this guy has a lot. Gregory Cindershaper, near the coast by Narder Stronghold. Owns a place called Cinders and Shrapnel. He reached out to me first, hearin' about us starting up here and all."
Etny's spirits rise some, her eyes brightening. "You think this Gregory Cindershaper might have something like Elektar, or even Elektar itself?" Etny tentatively takes a dry biscuit, and nibbles on it. "If mayhap I could get something from him, possibly even Elektar, I could bring you my bow, and you could repair it?"
Etny's wheels turn, as she grasps onto anything that'd bring her some form of hope. She MUST mend her family's bow, and preserve the memory of not only them, but her entire tribe. "I will make for this Cinders and Shrapnel by Narder Stronghold in the next day or so. Ferrar Axemage-oman, thank you!"
Ferrar smiles wide. "You're mighty welcome! I hope he has what you're looking for."
Leo walks over at that moment, handing you your newly sharpened weapon. It gleams brightly with polish. His dad grunts as he stands. "I'll check with the old mage and see what I can do to help in the meantime. Bring me what you can, and we'll get it all patched up like new. Don't you worry miss."
After taking your leave from the Axemage's, you feel a renewed hope in your heart. The All-Mother is watching over you and your heritage, even if you are the last of your people. Keeping it alive, and letting your name spread so the Andryan are never forgotten, is more than noble in her eyes.
***
The two of you continue your way up to the tower. Dorokor makes you a little later than anticipated with a few stops along the way, but you eventually arrive at the flat of Oxious' office.
The tiefling looks up, mulling over a broken bow on his table. "Yes?" Oxious inquires. He raises an eyebrow as he looks you both over.
"Hmm. You got something there Atriox. Just about..." He gestures to some blood on your neck where Kora bit you earlier. Rolling his eyes he goes back to his work.
Atriox grunts and rubs it away with a smirk
“Ya ya old man. Now we got a serious serious issue.”
Atriox walks over to the table and throws the flag on top.
“They’re here. The people who destroyed this place all those years ago. I didn’t expect them so soon.”
He jerks back in surprise, staring at the black cloth in front of him. His snarkiness is immediately replaced with concern. "Really? You're certain of this?"
Atriox holds his hands up in an uncertain way
“Vance was hesitant to bring it up but the Dragonborn port is being attacked here and there. Bodies found mutilated and with snakes pouring out of them. I don’t like this at all.”
Atriox finds a map and points where at the port
“It could be just three people but it could also be the scouts of a larger group. We have no information and I intend to find out more”
A dark look comes over Oxious' face. "Snakes?"
His smacks his lips, his mouth dry. He begins to pace. "Snakes? Like the kind we saw in Dragonshore? And that enemy is tied to this one? The same one who destroyed Skyhold before?"
He stops in front of the map again, contemplating distance and strategy between your home and the coast. "What is your plan? And what can I do to help?"
Atriox nods grimly
“I’ve naturally done some digging over the years. There’s a cult. I don’t know much but they’re dangerous. I was never certain it was them and I couldn’t ever find any hard leads but after everything in dragonshore and the monster that waited here for me to return....well let’s say I’m beginning to suspect more and more....”
Atriox looks to Oxious. “Send word to our few allies here to be on the lookout and to be careful for any strange people or snakes. Then over see that everything is fine here”
Atriox then looks to Kora
“You.....Bloodreigna will secure the home front. At this point we shouldn’t assemble the army. I don’t want a full blown panic but I do want every guard post triple fortified. Nobody goes anywhere alone. Period. I want the walls manned as well. After that I’m going to see if Etny will go out with her people and scout everything outwards from here to the pits were making. They’re miles out and I don’t want anything getting in through those tunnels. Kora I trust you to guard this place with everything you got. Keep our kids safe.”
***
It's not long before you return to your lodge, the smell of herbs strong in your nose. "Hello again!" Elmeir greets you from the main room, an array of materials lain on the table in front of him. There's also a pair of rabbits hooked on the corner of a chair.
"I set a few traps on my way out, and caught these two on my way back in. These woods are indeed plentiful. You even have a grove of everroot here! I didn't expect to find it at such an altitude. It's a fantastic material..." He pulls his hood back and tries to smooth back his messy hair.
"I have a simple stew cooking in the fireplace, I hope that's alright. Did you get what you needed from the city, miss?"
Etny brightens at the sight of the healer. "Ah! Elmeir, hello! I see you've been busy with trapping, and gathering. And yes, something simple and nice will be perfect. Harra, thank you, Elmeir."
She moves to the table he has his things and materials strewn upon, and looks them over. "I am no skilled healer, just medicine, really, with some magic. Color me impressed, though! I like what you have here."
She moves around to the other side of the table and takes a seat. She rests her forehead in her hands. "Business in the city...did not go as I'd planned. I at least got my poleaxe sharpened, but as for my native bow, it is nigh irreparable."
Elmeir looks contemplative, pouring you both a cup of tea. "Here now, no need to worry miss. I assume this weapon is one that saw you through many of the battles I've heard tale of?" He smiles gently, patting you on the back.
"But you made it special. You wielded it. You gave it power on the battlefield. Just like you will continue to do with any weapon or foe you face. And I've come here because I intended to see that and serve you. Not just your bow."
"However..." He trails off, sitting beside you. "If I can help repair it in any way, even if just to make it a proper heirloom now, I will do my best to serve."
At that moment there is a loud POP that makes Elmeir jump. On the table is a little puff of pink smoke, with a new scroll sealed with a wax goat. "What the...?"
Etny jolts at the scroll appearing in the middle of the table. "Aaah, it seems our tiefling friend Oxious has sent a message to us." As she unfurls the note, she gives the healer a sidelong glance. "A lot have offered to mend the bow today, in one way or another. It is very special, that bow. It was passed down to me by my father when I was eight years old. It is...very magical indeed."
Looking away, she fully unfurls the note, and reads it.
Elmeir leans back in his chair as you read, contemplatively sipping his drink. The note is much longer than the first.
"Miss Etny, Master of the Hunt,
This letter is twofold. Firstly, I want to sincerely apologize for any distress caused to you by coming to my office. I did not mean any harm in showing you what I'd found, or any lack of tact on my part. That was uncooth of me, my lady, to allow what happened to transpire. I hope knowing what we know now, we can safely move forward with a solution.
Secondly, on an even more serious note, you left a strange koboldian leather with me. It is indeed the same material we need to start repairs, but it appears to have a psionic magic imprinted on it. It is not something I am wholy familiar with, however I was able to roughly decypher it due to my history. I'm certain you did not write it--no offense meant, my dear--and I am wary to mention what or who did. It seems a form of poetry, or perhaps a riddle:
"Sheep and kettles share a lot
As does earth reveal its thought
Great mazes are the folds of mind
Yet linked are all in space and time"
If any of this means something to you, please let me know immediately; for your safety first and foremost.
With sincere kindness,
Oxious the Fanciful "
As you reach the bottom, you notice an ink bleeding through an additional message, in real time, as if being written hurriedly by his hand.
"Post Scripted:
I hope I am timely in adding to this missive, before you are through with reading it once. A dire situation has arisen. The prince may seek you out regarding the details. We are asking you to bring any scouts you've worked with, along with those kobolds who are digging out through the forest, to scout everything from the mountain to the pit camps. Every square mile. All I can send in this message is a reminder of a previous encounter, something I've heard tale of in Dragonshore:
Remember the dire elk.
If you have received this post script, please send a response via a prick of blood here.
Thank you for your understanding,
Oxious"
Etny sighs, and presses the note flat to the table. She draws out a utility knife from her boot and pricks her finger, letting a few drops of blood drip onto the spot Oxious indicated. "It seems," she says to Elmeir, "that our tiefling friend and the Prince are in need of my services. Also, there was a strange item of note I gave to the tiefling--a hide--that had a strange riddle written on it. It reads,
'Sheep and kettles share a lot
As does earth reveal its thought
Great mazes are the folds of mind
Yet linked are all in space and time'
Have you ever heard anything like that, and is there anything you can make of it? It is alright if not, for I am drawing a blank." She smiles sheepishly at him.
"Also, something dire has come up. I need to you to tend to things here generally, as best you can. I may need use of your healing materials quite soon. I am sorry I have not investigated the land round about yet for a suitable plot." She sighs again. "Please, be safe, and be careful. Arm yourself well, healer. I have rapid business to tend to." She stands up and rests a hand on his shoulder. She gives him another smile. "All-Mother be with you, Elmeir, as well as whomever you pray to and worship."
Elmeir ponders over the poetic words. "I'll think on it while you're out, miss. No need to worry." He stands, nodding serenely at you in respect. "Take good care, and may All-Mother, and all other gods of goodness, light your footsteps."
***
Atriox sighs and runs a hand over his eyes.
“I will personally be going to check out the area around the port since that’s where the attacks have been”
Oxious nods affirmatively. He seems nervous and hyper focused. "I'll prepare the messages right away. I'll also check back with my associates in Dragonshore... see if anything nefarious has arisen since our departure."
Dorokor straightens up. "Yes, Prince Atriox. As you wish. I'll make sure it is done to your specifications, and insure there is no diversion from it." You can tell she's concerned, and also perhaps a little melencholy over your leaving so quickly.
"Is there anything I can supply you for your journey?" The tiefling glances over at a pile of materials, some that are his own and others that look as if they were taken out of the temple down below for study.
Atriox shrugs
“Anything you as my magical hand feel I need ? I’m still not the best when it comes to preparing for situations magically.”
"Hm..." He scours over the materials, contemplating what would be best to help you. As he is preoccupied, Dorokor takes you by the elbow and leads you near a shadowy, comfortable corner.
"Atriox," She murmurs quietly, out of earshot of the tiefling. "I have something for you." She looks grumpy, but you can tell she's probably just embarrassed. Shoving her hand into a pocket, she pulls out a balled-up fist. Grabbing your wrist, she places her hand in yours.
When she pulls her fingers away, you see a fine, corded necklace braided with extreme care. it is dyed black and at the end of it is a sharp fang.
"One of my fangs." She sniffs, shrugging the meaning of it off. "Not nothing magical, or some crap like he has, but..."
Atriox chuckles at her and her avoidance at admitting feelings. He takes her chin under a flawed finger and looks at her in the eyes
“It is magic. It has love behind it and that’s the best magic there is. Thank you Kora.”
He kisses her passionately for a long moment before stepping back with a smile
“Though I suppose I could add magic to it. Worse case scenario I can gouge someone’s eyes out as a dying act with”
He says it playfully in a way he can only be with her
She cracks a smile at that. Kora honestly seems more relaxed than she used to be, especially around you. "Wow you are sappy..." She chuckles, not seeming to mind that at all. "And I don't mind the gouging, but no dying! I forbid it."
Oxious bustles back over, a small satchel of tanned leather in hand. Dorokor clears her throat and steps back a little, trying to act more nonchalant.
The old goat seems to not notice a thing as he hands the bag to you. "Here. Inside are three flare wands, a large vial of antidote that works for most poisons and venoms... should be good for two uses, if necessary. Dahlia had left something for you too, some kind of book I think. I haven't seen her today, but I stuck it in there for you all the same."
Atriox nods in appreciation before slipping Koras fang around his neck.
“Everybody be safe and show no mercy unless it’s to get a survivor to torture. I know if I find some of those snake loving filth I’ll drain them dry. I need to go get changed. I’ll be back as soon as I can”
Atriox nods to oxious and squeezes Koras hand before heading to his makeshift room to change
Once there he throws off his current close in favor for some of his new ones. Atriox has always been a fan of simple colors white and black. With gold thrown in of course. Atriox ops for black this occasion. Black to fit his mood. He gets into some of his tight leather pants, a grey shirt, some dyed black leather armor over his shirt, and a midnight black silk hooded robe to go around it all. The robe has gold lining in some small spots for flare but no to much.
Atriox looks into a mirror and straps on his back sheath and sword over the robe and then his shoulder bag over that. As he stares into his reflection he feels his anger from that night all those years bubble up and turn his eyes red. After a moment Atriox raises the big hood up over his head and swiftly exits heading to the lower courtyard.
***
As you head back out into the sunshine, you make your way over to the back of the lodge where a clear area spreads out into a sea of grass. You see your axebeak, Gaare, sifting the bugs from the flowers. She sees you and squawks happily, trotting over and nuzzling you with her beak.
You make your way along the well-walked paths of the forest beyond the lodge. Both created by you and the game trails of deer and elk, you're more acutely aware of exactly where the kobolds have been digging. Small signs indicate the way above ground, but only to a trained eye as yourself. Bone made sure to discuss the code with you so no enemies of the kingdom could read them.
It's about a half hour in when you feel a prickling sensation on your neck. Your hairs stand on end, like a chill wind has blown through... though there is none. (Perception check please)
(18 Perception)
A howling fills the air and you spot a rush of white through the trees. A pack of winter wolves, their magical frost glistening on their haunches, flashes by. Larger and more stately than gray wolves, they are indeed a sight to behold, beautiful and majestic and deadly.
One near the back of the pack pauses among the brambles. His cold blue eyes looks right at you. It's an intelligent look, one of mutual respect from one hunter to another.
Etny whispers a grateful prayer to the All-Mother for the presence of these amazing creatures. She is stunned beyond belief that such majestic animals have even stopped to consider her. She sings her praises to the All-Mother, and continues on her way, following the secret coded messages left by the diggers.
(19 perception to scan for threats nearby.)
She reaches behind and undoes the shoulder clasp holding her poleaxe at her back, and brings it around, ready for anything. She dearly misses her bow, and knows that she is more vulnerable in close range combat. She realizes she should have at least picked up a loaner bow, that way she would be able to utilize her skills as a huntress. She slinks forward, calling upon the Andrayan magics within to give her passage without leaving any traces. The All-Mother guides her steps, it seems, avoiding loose rocks, snapping twigs, and noisy roots. She continues forward, silent as death.
(I cast Pass Without a Trace on myself. 22 stealth.
You move silently, your footfalls not even rustling the loamy leaf litter of the ground. You can hear the wolves passing on, howling again as they chase after unseen prey. A prickling continues up your neck, but only from the stillness of the trees. You cannot sense anything nearby that sees you, almost invisible as you are.
It takes another hour or so of the slow, quiet going but you break out into a small grove to the points of several kobold spears. When they see it is you they chatter happily.
"Huntress! Yes, digging going well. Some tunnels done, others to go! What is news?" They glance at your poleaxe and back at you, wondering if something is amiss.
In prefect draconic, Etny replies to her kobold compatriots. "It is a matter to which Atriox and company are currently responding to. They have made haste to the harbor city to the southeast to investigate. I have been called upon by Oxious to scout from the mountains to the pit camps."
Etny pauses, mulling over her next words carefully. "There has apparently been a disturbance in these lands, one we thought we out ran and left behind us in Dragonshore. It has followed us here. We must make hate and begin scouting out the surrounding areas."
The kobolds chitter among one another as the news travels down the newly dug tunnels. "Yes," they reply in staccato responses, the excitement for a large-scale scouting hunt in the air. "Yes, we scout! Whole mountain... whole forest. What we look for? What we hunt?"
They bounce about, already gathering weapons and supplies, and drawing white paint made of clay and crushed bone across their faces. It's a little unnerving, but you remember them doing this with Tyranus of the Frost.
"Do you all remember the strange snake-like creatures we found in the caves below Skyhold? We are hunting those, and we are also hunting anyone associated with them--dark robes, strange symbols, and black powers beyond reckoning. We must purge them from your home, and make safe this city!"
Etny holds her poleaxe aloft, and shouts a chant in draconic, "Vhiramrith Vyklade kothari! Origato astahi Valignat!"
("Down with the Snake-demons! Let them burn!")
They yip in excitement at your battle cry and the promise of a terrifying hunt. One of them smiles evily, bowing low to you. "We do our best. Thorough! Nothing will escape us, huntress!"
With quick commands the kobolds take off through the tunnels and the trees. You see them split into several groups, each led by a more experienced kobold fighter or tracker. One group remains with you, six trackers in total. "You wish us follow back? We scout to the mountain?"
You can hear their ragged little breaths as they huddle around your ankles, eager for an answer.
Etny looks down at the little drake-like creatures. In another time, and possibly in another life, she would have slain them on sight, no quarter, no mercy. Nowadays, though...she is loathe to even think the thought! She nods down at them, and gestures for them to follow. "Come," she says in draconic, "I must get a bow, and then we find the Prince!"
She makes off with a leap and a stiff jog through the woods, following her path back to her lodge, and onward to Skyhold. She means to meet up with the Prince, and report to him her doings. She also means to apologize to Oxious for her...uncanny behavior earlier. She will have to make it up to him, somehow...
You make your way back through the forest. The kobolds spread out and comb the trees, the brush, and the entire area for threats or strange activity. There's a strange tingling on the back of your neck most of the way. It feels as if every hair is standing on end, but the kobolds don't seem phased.
Suddenly one scrambles from the undergrowth, tripping over some roots. "Huntress! Found something! Yes, yes this way! Not far from here!" It's eyes look wild with excitement at having found something before the others. A sense of pride tucked behind the toothy grin.
Etny breaks course and comes to where the kobold indicated. She pats him lightly on his shoulder, leaning down to do so, and approaches the undergrowth. Her poleaxe at the ready, she takes steady, slow steps toward the area.
(NAT 20! 26 total Perception!)
You come into a grove of trees, thick with vegetation. Near one tree you spot trampled-down grass and sage, and the body of a winter wolf. It looks just like the one who met your gaze on the way out--the same fur on the snout and the frosted tail tip. Except...
Above it's wide, dead eyes, its skull looks cracked open. The cavity here is almost bloodless, despite the strangely colored blood-stains on the tree and ground around the kill. It is most definitely the death blow on the creature, hollowed out from the inside. The fur surrounding it is dried and crusted with cerebral fluid. The body still radiates a micron of heat, the stiffness of decay and the insects not yet set in.
The kobold who came to fetch you hovers, curious. He pokes at the beast with a stick, the massive animal easily twice the size of a normal wolf. "This what you explain, yes? Strange things? Leaves such good meat..."
The other kobolds hover around, hungrily eyeing the carcass and the precious, once magically glistening fur.
Etny, being party to many opened carcasses in her time, and having hunted many a wild game, gutting, quartering, and dressing them out, has to exact a herculean effort to keep from vomiting in front of the kobolds. Swallowing hard, and further examining the head would in the beast, she realizes with a sharp intake of breath just what--or who--made this.
"Zabrenossk," she hisses in a whisper, and gestures to the kobolds. In draconic, she urges them onward. "Cannot eat this one. It has been hunted by something truly masterful and dangerous--more deadly than the wolf itself. We must flee here, for the hunter of this wolf is likely close by."
(NAT 20 AGAIN! Total 23 Persuasion.)
They glance at one another in wonder. Against their normal nature they comply almost effortlessly. "Yes, understood! We mark this area for other scouts, keep them safe. We continue toward the mountain then, huntress?"
You can feel eyes watching you--moreso than the pale, globular eyes of the kobolds--something deeper in the forest.
"Yes, toward Skyhold and the mountain beyond. I need a bow," she says, and continues her jog through the woods with her kobold entourage all around her. She retraces her steps through the woods, and makes her way through, careful to keep her footing and look the part of the Huntress of Skyhold in her step.
The way back is steady and mostly uneventful. The kobolds bring you a few dead birds, the remains of a half-eaten rabbit--torn apart by some falcon or another--and three snakes. All of which had been speared through the spine when retrieved, but they seemed no different than ordinary snakes.
"Hmmmm," she looks over the snakes and other creatures, thinking out loud. "These are no more than average pythons," she mutters to herself. Gesturing for the kobolds to continue following, she makes her way out of the forest, to the clearing where the ShalaFang resides. It's hulking structure imposing in the low light of dusk. "Guard the way, and keep a lookout," she instructs the kobolds, "I shall not be long. I only stop here to retrieve a bow, and my arrows."
With that, she enters the lodge, making a bee line toward her room. She calls out to Elmeir, telling him to be on alert and bless the place in the name of his God, also that she wants him to continue to look after it as she has to leave to Skyhold.
With that, she enters her room, and finds her accoutrements resting on a nearby table. Hefting the new bow up in her hands, it is lightweight and does not carry nearly the same gravitas as her Andrayan bow. Nevertheless, she takes it up, and gathers all of her newly crafted arrows, slipping them all into her hip quiver. She rushes out of the bedroom, and back outside, to the awaiting kobolds...
Elmeir smiles, passing you a container of his soup, still warm. "Blessed be your steps, miss."
The kobolds look up as you come back outside, having started up a game of what you can only guess is, "toss-the-dead-animal-without-dropping-it." They seem rather enthusiastic about it until they see you, one of the birds landing with a splat. Another has a snake around his neck like an ornament or trophy.
(LOL)
She gratefully takes the soup, drinking it as she rushes out the door, and before exiting, answers with a muffled but sincere "And All-Mother guide you, Elmeir!"
Etny shakes her head at the kobolds' behavior, chalking it up to boredom and distractedness, and gestures for them to follow her anew. "To Skyhold, and the Prince," she says matter-of-factly.
They nod, following after you in a neat formation. You can hear snickering as they continue to whip the snakes around, snapping them at one another and ripping off bits of meat to eat.
As you scale the city below and make your way to the gates of the castle, there's a small commotion behind you. You turn and see two kobolds trying to rip one of the pythons from the third, the one who was wearing it like a trophy around his neck. His spitting and clawing at them, and the others back away from the strange fight.
"Shizaaaaa," Etny complains, "OLEAH! OY! HIE," Etny barks as strong as she can, her voice ringing through the air. Racing up, she reaches in and grabs the two kobolds trying to tear the dead thing from around the third kobold's neck. (19 Athletics to pull the two away.) In draconic, she utters a curse, and tossing the other two aside, she reaches down and rips the dead snake from the third kobold's neck, her violet eyes blazing. "You will CEASE this madness! NOW!! There is no TIME for games and grudges! DESIST!!"
"You are DRAGON-KIND! ACT it!!"
The group scrambles back yipping in alarm at your outburst, thoroughly impressed with what they'd consider a roar of command. Even the other two make no qualms to get in your way again, claws scraping against the flagstones.
But as you rip the snake away from the third, it feels muscular in your hand--like iron--and pulls the wretched kobold with it; yanking him off his feet and up into the air. His frantic spitting turns into a wheezing cry for air. A little whistling noise escapes him but nothing after. The dead snake--or so you thought--wraps its tail around your arm like a bracer... squeezing as tight as a vice as it grapples both of you.
(Freakin Sertrous!)
"Shizaaaa...," Etny grasps helplessly at the dead thing now wrapping its coils around her forearm, and doing her best to ignore the vice-like grip, seizes the coils around the kobold's neck, and with a mighty effort, strives to lessen the death grip of the snake.
"SHIZAAAAA!"
She grasps the snake's coils around the kobold, and utters a horrific litany of Andrayan words. Her hand turns suddenly cold, and using her magic the best she can, tries to quell and slow the squeezing of the coils by freezing the python in place.
(I cast Chill Touch -- 2d8 necrotic damage to the python, and it can't regain hitpoints until the end of my next turn.)
You feel the muscles of the undead python stiffen, the wound at it's neck filling over with frost. Its eyes are glossy and pure white, fangs extending as the magic permeates the body.
The kobold's struggling begins to weaken, his claws barely scraping at the scales. Seeing what's happened, the others all rush forward again to bite, claw and stab at the monster, trying to free their brother.
With an immense effort he slips free, his neck bruised and barely breathing. They dance around him, trying to help as he chokes and gulps in small bursts of air. And the snake turns its full focus on you.
It's eyes meet yours. Scales cracking away from the necrotic energy running in tendrils up its skin. It flicks its black tongue at you. Tasting the air. Tasting the fear around it.
(Make an INT saving throw)
(Total 20 Int Saving Throw.)
There's an invasive push into your mind from the snake, but you push it back instantly. It's entirely different than Zabrenossk's poking around. It is cold, vitriol and slithering like death.
Hissing, it suddenly lets go. Your arm feels bruised where it held you, and you hear it thunk to the ground. It rushes toward the entrance of Skyhold, making for the gate.
"NAAAAAAAA! YOU DARE!!!"
Etny throws her poleaxe with all of her might at the python-snake-demon, seeking to hold it in place. (18 Atk against the snake, and 11 damage if it hits.)
A mighty CLANG resonates through the courtyard as the axe strikes the ground, practically severing the creature in half and pinning its body to the stone. It looks twisted and wretched, with no truly understandable reason as to why it is still alive. Black ichor spills from its mouth like rancid blood. It is unable to escape.
***
Twenty minutes later he arrives and assembles 10 Kobolds to come with him and Vance along with the Dragonborn guards. With the last of the preparations in place Atriox approach’s Vance
Vance looks up with a smile, armor and weapon polished bright and ready to go. It contrasts yours greatly. Even after his first battle at Skyhold, it was obvious he still carried a streak of naivety about war, assassins, and other dark things of the world.
"Did everything you asked," he smiles wide. "A scout was sent to our helmsmen to have him launch the boat."
Vance strokes back the comb of short, red frills on his head. "Also spoke with the kobolds out front. Spunky srappers. Worked it out so some will ride armed with my guard. Others preferred their own lizard mounts of some kind.. Something about trees."
You see the other twelve dragonborn guards saddling up on horses carefully tended by the stablehand. They are trimmed, brushed and fresh for a ride, but none stand out more than the muscular, ebony silk stallion who stands at least five hands taller than the largest there.
"He's all ready for you, sire," the younger stableboy's freckled face smiles up at you. A gold-trimmed, dark leather saddle and embroidered blanket are already strapped to its back, matching reins attached to the saddlehorn. The horse whinnies deep as he sees you, shaking his perfectly brushed mane.
Atriox snorts at vances description of the Kobolds
“I have certainly found that despite there size, my little friends are worth far more than people would guess of them. They’re strong, loyal, smart, and they repopulate fast. A self sustaining army. And they are our kin.”
Atriox dones riding gloves and pats his beautiful horse Destrè before mounting up the big beautiful animal. He looks at the young man seriously
“Are you ready brother ? We must be vigilant as we ride. I don’t wish to tell your father....or your brother and sister that you died. Besides I want to keep you around. Your a fine young dragon Vance.
Atriox pulls up next to him and claps him on the shoulder
Vance puffs up his chest a little, proud to get such praise. He's likely used to hearing Kybirus getting it more from his father and the soldiers.
"Ready as ever! Nothing can kill this spirit, brother!"
Destrè paws at the ground with a snort, ready to go. You've found he is always quite eager and can easily sense your emotions. Your fervent desire to get on the road bleeds over to him. As you head outside, several kobolds climb up the haunches of the other horses, sitting behind the dragonborn. They are all loaded up with ranged weapons and gear, likely supplied by Vele from a growing cache of equipment.
Those not riding with the horses are sitting atop felldrakes, only about four in total. They're lead by Bone, who sports a ivory helmet crafted from a Skaven skull. The felldrakes remind you of the one Tak had long ago, but are much leaner, agile, and have nimble-clawed feet. Their pale blue-green splotched bodies shiver with excitement, feral jaws snapping left and right. They certainly match their riders well.
Atriox snorts in humor at seeing them ride and continues on feeling a dread happiness come upon him. The hunt was on now. He and Vance led them on towards the port.
You travel in the straightest path possible to the port while still avoiding being too close to the Cawle River. Taking side roads where you can, you steadily close the gap.
Vance talks on and on during the journey about the port, from the name Kybirus gave it--Drake's Fang--to the political structure, the building progress, the roads and services being established. It's hard to tell what he's embellishing, but his enthusiasm is contagious. Talk of such grand things, and with so great a force as you have, raise the other dragonborn's spirits. Despite the danger that's been lurking outside of their newly founded city, they are confident they will not be targeted. Almost laughing at the idea in quiet snickers, like an inside joke.
The kobolds remain alert regardless, obviously bored with the yammering and haughtiness of their larger brethren. Those riding the felldrakes flit through the trees above like shadows of birds, the slender, whip-like tails of the speckled beasts slithering easily through the foliage. Once in a while, Bone emerges from up above. His mount skitters down the nearest tree to give you a report. Much is quiet, save for a few travelers up and down the river and on the more notable roads.
Late into the evening when the last ribbons of sunlight fade, you pull up your horses to rest. A scampering emerges from the tree again, and Bone practically leaps from the felldrake to find you.
"Atriox! Vance!" The small, lithe kobold whispers urgently. "There is a disturbance on the river. Birds fleeing, drakes are spooked."
Atriox pulls his black beauty to a quick halt with one hard pull on the reins. As he looks to the Kobold who’s talking him he try’s not to get to excited. This might not be his quarry after all. Looking to the one who spoke
“Keep your mounts under control. Let’s check it out together but everyone be as silent as you can.”
Atriox moves his horse forward slowly trying to be as quiet as possible.
You move through the trees, closer and closer to the banks of the river. Even your own horse seems uneasy... alert... ears quietly twitching this way and that. You know something is amiss, but as to what...
"BOOM!"
A bright light blooms through the darkness of the trees ahead, out on the water. Vance's horse startles and almost bucks him off completely, and the kobold's felldrakes begin to scatter despite their barking orders.
"What the hell-- What was that Atriox?!" The red dragonborn prince looks at you, eyes wide and cautious, a hand on his sword.
Atriox struggles to get his mount under control and looks to Vance with apprehension
“ I know not brother but I don’t like it whatever it is”
Atriox looks back at the men and quietly orders one kobold and one Dragonborn to check out the commotion
“Do not engage, if you must run than run. I just need you to be my eyes and ears, now go.”
***
Etny stands there, breathing hard, and trembling. She strives to take deep breaths to calm her nerves, and turns to the kobolds. She speaks in draconic to them. "I apologize completely, my little ones. I did not see your struggling friend at first. I should not have gotten so angry at you. You did not deserve it. It has been...a stressful time for all of us. But come," she presses onward, urging the kobolds to follow, "let us make our way into Skyhold and to the Prince."
She rushes over and draws out her poleaxe, and secures it to her back latch. Un-shouldering her temporary bow she carries it with her, and with a gesture, urges the kobolds onward.
The kobolds, now recovered, follow after you. They skirt around the edge of the twice-dead snake, jumping as its body hisses and sizzles away into nothingness.
You make your way up through the mountain castle, higher and higher. But when you arrive near the upper levels, you start to hear that Atriox has stepped away for the time being--having ridden out with Vance and some of the other dragonborn.
Etny decides then that she will go to Oxious, apologize to him for her earlier behavior, and report to him of the snake incident just outside the castle walls. Also, she wishes to take Elmeir with her to Cinders and Shrapnel to Gregory Cindershaper, and see if he indeed has her desperately needed meteorite.
Turning down some stairs, she leads the kobolds back down through the castle. "Well, little ones, I fear I must leave you here to do the bidding of all else who command you. I will notify Vele, Tak, or the Chieftess of your arrival. I must go to Oxious now. I bid you farewell, and remember: you are the children of dragons! Fear no nightly serpent!"
They all nod in agreement, understanding their work is done here. Your words of encouragement are heartening to them, and they seem to muster a new fire in their eyes. Eager to go scout more of the mountain (and hopefully refrain from picking up any other snakes), they bow and scamper away.
Heading back to the tower you visited early that morning, you trudge up the same stairs with a lot on your mind. It has been a very busy 24 hours after all, and reminds you of the old days.
Oxious practically bumps into you as he's leaving the tower, his clothing scruffy and his hair tossed. He stuffs a notebook into his jacket pocket. There's a look of irritation and frustration on his face, with peels of child laughter behind him.
"Etny!" His expression tries to soften but he's a little too disheveled to focus too well. "Hello again. Pardon me, I'm heading down below for some... fresh air. Visitors..."
You can discern Ismene the nymph giggling along with the sound of children, and assume Dorokor had brought them up sometime this evening.
Etny steps back, seeing his expression, and reassures him with a wave. "Care if I join you for some 'fresh air,' Oxious? I've had my fair share of rambunctious drakes and dark serpents for one night, speaking of which," she pauses, letting that last part sink in, "I had an interesting encounter with such a serpent at our very gates."
"Oh! I did get your letter, and," she quiets, slightly embarassed, "I am sorry about this morning..."
As you both walk down the steps, he listens intently to your retelling of the undead snake attack in the courtyard. His confident, more mature demeanor returns as he mulls over the details, asking you to repeat some parts several times. You assume he is attempting to piece together the magic needed to pull off such a stunt.
As you arrive at the mid-level again, he opens one of the shuttered windows facing out over the dark forest below. Fresh air blows in, bringing with it the sweet smells of a spring evening.
"You are alright, Etny. Thank you for the information. I am glad you and the others are safe. This is... troubling, but not so much so that we cannot defend ourselves against it. I will go out this evening to walk the parameter. Renew the protective spells and alarms..." His eyes glance up at you and his expression softens.
"And please, don't be sorry for this morning. I was callous in how I handled our encounter with your heirloom. I'm sure we will need it in working condition again, sooner than later."
She looks out the window, and stares across the star-studded sky with its bare trickles of light cascading down to sparsely illuminate the treeline below. Etny breathes in the spring air, letting it fill her lungs with its earthy sweetness. She is quiet for a while, and finally turns to him.
"I think I know where I can find the meteorite, Oxious. I spoke with Axemage this morning, and he said there might be something at a place called Cinders and Shrapnel near Narder Stronghold."
The tiefling raises an eyebrow. He pulls out a pipe, lighting it with his fingers, and takes a long puff off of the end. "Narder, huh?"
You can see the gears in his mind working. "You can't go alone though. It is too dangerous for anyone to be out by themselves, with groups being attacked by the coast. I wonder if there is anywhere closer..." He runs one hand through his hair, trying to straighten it. "But you sound determined."
"I am. If Axemage is as good as his word--and I feel that he is--I will go near to Narder Stronghold." Her eyes blaze with her determination, a fire unquenchable, and she turns away again. "I WILL mend this bow, no matter what."
She softly hums fragments of a melody that her mother used to sing as a lullaby to her when she was little, and looks out once more across the forest. "I won't be going alone, Oxious-karrang. I will be taking someone with me."
"Hm? Who shall you be taking?" He looks inquisitive, not at all minding the slightly absent tact in his question. You assume it is out of concern for your well-being.
Etny smiles a little, thinking back to the lodge. "I will be taking Elmeir Palepelt, a recent newcomer to the ShalaFang, and to Skyhold. He is a healer, and pledged his service to me as a hireling of sorts. We will go to Narder together. Oh! And Gaare! I'll be taking Gaare too."
Oxious perks up a bit. "Another healer, you say? Well that would do us well... need more in this kingdom. Not only kobold shamans with their hoodoo, and the few orcs... Poor Dahlia has been overwhelmed, but I am proud of what she has been able to handle and teach."
He puffs at the pipe a little longer. "Alright. That seems fair indeed. I will continue to send you communication every so often, to make sure you are well... I hope we can find the meteorite you need."
Some strange, lulling music plays from far out in the courtyards below, carried in by the night wind. The corner of the tiefling's mouth twitches. "It is feeling more like a home here. I pray we can keep it safe."
Etny listens to the music as well, letting its haunting melodies wash over her. She listens for a little bit longer, and tries to discern where this sound is coming from. (12 Perception.)
"Home..."
That word alone has spelled a great burden of guilt and loneliness within a chasm so vast within her heart, that a black mood threatens to seize her. Shaking her head, she looks at Oxious, the blackness of her mind overtaking her. She ignores it.
For now.
"Safe is fleeting, Oxious-karrang, and liberty is an easily quenchable flame. I will do what I can to keep this place safe. You're right," she hides the blackness in her mind behind a deeply empty smile, "it IS feeling like a home here."
The song sounds familiar, a tune you've heard before. It reminds you of the a melody you heard on the ship ride from Dragonshore, something the four-horned tiefling used to play.
Oxious gives a curt nod, a little comforting sarcasm in his voice. "Yes. A home of vagabonds and wanderers alike. Perhaps that in and of itself will help keep that flame lit here longer than most."
Etny turns softened eyes onto Oxious, and nods back to him. "Oxious-karrang, I shall return with meteorite, and we will fix the last bow of the Andraya. That is a promise, my friend. Your keen mind will be able to delve deeper into the raw magicks that is Andraya. All-Mother be with you, Oxious. I must go now, unfortunately, and ready my effects. This," she says with a little of her own comforting sarcasm regarding the bow she now possesses, "is as much a vagabond's bow as those pieces in your study." She smiles, but deep within, it feels empty. With that, Etny rests a hand on his shoulder, nods again, and turning down the stairs, she departs.
You steadily make your way from the castle, noticing the increased security. Guards patrol in teams. Several stand near the gate, having seen what happened with the snake. They talk in dark, quiet whispers together. Your eyes catch faint movement out in the trees lit by the pale moon. You assume it is the kobold patrols, continuing their assault on the secret and dubious spies that might be lingering.
You continue to hear the music the entire time you walk. In the upper city you finally spot Bareus, alone, mournfully playing his oud at the edge of a fountain. The water is still, and the beautiful statue in the center is broken, but there is something somber and heart-wrenching about the melody. He seems utterly lost in the music.
Smoke curls up into the night air from the ShalaFang's stone chimney. Elmeir Palepelt sits outside the lodge upon your return. Having doffed the rest of his armor, he looks much more comfortable in a very simple tunic and pants, with a small woven bracelet upon one arm. He is fully concentrated on whiddling away at some wood... As you observe, It seems he is attempting to make some arrows, a little basket of bird feathers and flint at his side.
The man looks up, and he smiles brightly. "Welcome back, miss. I hope your trek was a productive one?"
"I think so," Etny replies. "I have a lot on my mind, but I think tonight we shall get ready." She turns and approaches, watching his whittling work. "You're doing some good work there, Elmeir. Say," she says, seating herself next to him, "how would you like to come with me to Narder Stronghold, just east of the mainland?"
He glances up, surprised. "Oh? I've always avoided the place, personally. Full of dubious pirates and uncomfortable establishments, but..." Elmeir pauses. "If you need to go there, I would be more than happy to accompany you."
He stands, brushing wood shavings off of his lap. "I can send word to those of my order, as well as those from the nearer villages... should you need tenders for your lodge in our absence. Nature does tend to reclaim things quickly, when left to its own devices."
Etny smiles, this time, a little less empty feeling. She feels so at ease in this man's presence. His demeanor and genuine attitude toward life and nature gives her a little reprieve from her black mood. He is a kind man. Etny also stands up, and makes her way with him into the lodge. "That would be wonderful, Elmeir! I've been meaning to hire caretakers and staff for this place for some time, but I have not had the time or the gold. It will be very helpful to have those from your own order and others to help out. Oh," she says, blushing slightly, "thank you for the soup earlier. I was in such a hurry, but it was delicious. Harra, thank you."
"Yes, of course my lady. You are most welcome." Elmeir chuckles warmly. "Old family recipe. I'm glad it was to your taste."
The two of you stand for a moment in a peaceful silence in the shadow of the lodge. Despite the strange dangers of monsters, vermin and reptiles, the long journey ahead, the unknown of the future, the twisting, knife-like heartache of the past... things feel safe in this moment. It is a feeling to be cherished, one that you hope will forever always resonate with the ShalaFang.
Elmeir breaks the quiet first. "Get some rest. I'll work on my missives, and handle the affairs over funding if you'd like? Praises shall soon sing of the ShalaFang all across the country!" With another gentle laugh he kindly bows at the waist. "I will be up at morning's first light to accompany you into that din of thieves known as Nader."
Etny smiles at Elmeir, and bows back to him. "I think that sounds amazing, sir Elmeir of the ShalaFang!" She rests a hand on his shoulder, her eyes softening. "I think as long as we do our little part, we shall see much growth here," she says, the black mood beginning to lift from her heart.
Releasing her hand from his shoulder, she makes her way to her room, and shuts the door. * Careful, Etny Elvenbridge, * she thinks to herself. * Do not forget the last time you gave your heart away... *
Regardless, she removes her gear and boots, and with a slight smile on her face, and the tingling redness growing in her cheeks, she falls quickly asleep, content and now at ease.
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