The Party Pretty Much Talks to a Cat the Whole Time and Raven Realizes That He May Be In Over His Head
07 Newkolt 349 AC
"The darkness is where the best kept secrets are usually hidden. Is there a basement or underground catacombs in the temple? Or a place where darkness rules and the light does not shine?" Grotto asks Lorraine, "if so, we should begin our hunt there!"
Grotto then presses Agnes, "You must awaken your kin from their hibernation. These red dragons we encountered will surely want to scramble the eggs. Evil always looks to destroy goodness. Knowing an evil enemy, we should assume the eggs have been demolished. If this is the case why stay neutral? If you believe the eggs to be intact, then a rescue is in order. Even more of a reason to break neutrality! War is upon the land you love. The person you care most for is defending it with his life."
Arthur grips Agnes' hand, "You're right. We should begin in the undercity if there is one." His eyes meets hers "Just say the word and we will do what must be done." Arthur looks to Grotto and nods.
Kysek looks at Lord Hamish. “You want a song? Singing your greatness? For information on my missing friends?” He turns to Bubo, “Fly now; fast and direct! Bring Cedron here in haste!” Again turning to the fey cat, “You’ll have your song. Sooner than you think; and better than you’ll expect. Your information had best be worth the effort! And there best be no tricks my friend. I’m certain; your ‘Sugar Plum’ wouldn’t be happy with that.”
"Th' song hud best be guid. A'm a perfaissional 'n' expect tae be recognized 'n' treated as sic. Nae a' body kin dae whit ah dae. If thay cuid, then thay wid 'n' ah wid be oot o' a jab. The lenth o' th' sugar plum goes, amurnay worried. This hail thing wis meant tae be trapped made especially fur him. Yer mukkers ur juist worms oan a hook," the cat yawns and settles in, legs tucked beneath its body until it resembles a black and white loaf of bread.
At the appearance of the cat on their table Shadow stands up and gives a courtly bow “Well met, Lord Hamish.” He listens patiently as Kysek explains that Cedron would be our little song bird if you will and dispatches his fine feathered friend to seek him out.
Ra’ziir listens to the Fey Cat utilizing his All-Speak ability in an effort to make sure he and the others understand exactly what we’re getting involved in with this loquacious feline. While the black-robed Elfemental is sure that Hamish is using the Common Tongue, his accent makes the creature almost impossible to understand.
Shadow then speaks again “My Lord, I am honored that you requested to speak with me. I am curious as to why me?”
"Fur yer wee mukker wis sure ye wid hulp him," the cat replies.
“I’m sure we would. What can be done now? And how do you know about it?”
"Whit kin be dane be dane is that ah pat ye oan th' trail that wull leid ye tae thaim 'n' as tae howfur ah ken, 'twas me wha teuk thaim tae begin wi'. Dinnae git me wrong, ah pure ainlie wanted th' bonny she-elf bit whin th' sugar plum tried tae save yer chatty wee fellow, ah hud tae git thaim a' sin thare wis na wey o' knowing whilk wid mak' fur th' best lure." Lord Hamish flexes his claws, digging small furrows in the wooden table. "'n' then, despite a' o' th' mae effort ah hud tae pat in, mah gaffer wouldn't mak' guid oan thair end o' th' bargain. Sae, 'ere a'm."
“Yeah, I’m not sure I follow you all the way to the pot of gold but you know something about Cassidy and where they took him?” Shadow seems bewildered at the accent of the cat lord. Shadow looks to the others at the table “Anyone else dealt with the Feywild enough to know what our Lord Hamish just said?” He turns back to Hamish, “May we offer you some refreshments?”
"Spot oan, or at least, ah kin tell ye whaur tae stairt keekin as thay wid hae moved him tae a mair secure steid by noo. 'n' a cup o' cream wid be delightful," Hamish purrs, a low rumble that can be felt through the planks that make up the table.
“Aye, well, let’s get that cup of cream for ya.” Shadow gets up and goes to find what the feline wants.
"Ta kindly. Yer a richt proper gentleman."
“We aim to please. So you wish for a song to tell the tales of your majesty? Our friend is a bard of the multiverse. A traveler of many a time and more places than you have lives. He will do you proud."
"Cassidy was a good soul and wanted to a help to these Elves that distrust him…not without cause because their fingers are sticky. I hear that is the way of the Kender. How did you come to be watching the wee fella?” Shadow slowly begins to try and get the pace and accent down that the Cat Lord has and clumsily tries to make small talk with a cat. He knows there is way more here but dragging it out is a game of dare I say, cat and mouse?
"Ah awready explained this. Wur ye nae listening? Ah wis hired tae tak' th' elf-lass. Bit yer laddie gaed tae save yer wee jimmy instead o' her sae he became a target o' opportunity. Th' yin wha contracted wi' me haes a mad hate fur Sugar Plum."
“Got it me Lord. So how much is the Sugar Plum hater paying you?” Shadows asks while thinking that Raven has some explaining to do.
"Ah wis promised th' services o' yin o' her pages fur yin thousand days plus yin. Whin it cam time fur her tae mak' guid, she tellt me that she wid pay in her ain time. Mind noo, a'm a perfaissional. Ah dae th' jab 'n' then ah git paid. That's howfur it wirks. Fowk stairt stepping ootside o' they lines 'n' th' entire social structure breaks doon."
“Well, let’s see about your song and what else we can do to sweeten the pot."
MEANWHILE, NOT TOO FAR OUTSIDE OF THE CITY WALL...
Cedron makes his way to the Tree Of Progress. As he walks, he surveys the damage. “It could have been worse. Much worse.” He thinks to himself.
When Cedron reaches the Tree. He stands before it quietly in meditation and prayer.
Cedron’s connection to Malazzarr remains quiet although he does sense something stirring, as if he has drawn the attention of some powerful being on par with his deity. Every so often, a spark will dance along a seam in the bark, leaving a trail along one of the wooden ridges before fading away. While no words are exchanged, he gets the impression of "Patience, soon."
Then an owl lands on his shoulder. In a voice disturbingly similar to Kysek’s, it speaks. "We need you to come back to sing a song to cat telling that cat how fantastic it is."
AND ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF KURINOST...
Raven adjusts his stolen helmet and armor as best he can, not an easy feat when it was made to fit someone nearly six inches taller. Still, he makes it past the human guards at the city's southern gate and heads toward the waterfront.
Keeping to side streets and avoiding large groups, he picks his way through the fallen city. He makes his way down an alley, peering through windows and trying back doors until he finds one that is both unlocked and unoccupied. He picks his way through the storeroom until he reaches the sales counter. Numerous flags and pennants hang from the walls, from the rafters, and on racks positioned to catch the morning light.
He crouches low, removing his stolen helmet, and creeps forward to a large window looking out onto the wharf itself. It doesn't take him very long to pick out the prison ship. He settles in to watch the comings and goings of the crew, trying to get a feel for the ship's routine.
As he watches, he plans, discards those plans, and plans some more. Should he try to get the minotaurs drunk? Is that possible? How much elven wine would it take? Where would he even find the wine, let alone get it onto the ship? Should he wait until dark and sneak aboard to start killing enemies in their sleep? There is no way he could get the ship underway on his own and even if some of the prisoners had sailing skill, the dragon would most likely notice an entire ship leaving the harbor. Should he try to sneak into the tower the dragon was resting on top of? Could he kill the dragon quickly enough to avoid raising an alarm? Would that start a chain of reprisal killings against the other elves still in the city? Frustrated by his lack of answers, he grumbles and curses, his mind turning toward the Faerie folk and their latest intrusion into his life. "I don't even know a $%@^ cat," he mutters to himself.
"The darkness is where the best kept secrets are usually hidden. Is there a basement or underground catacombs in the temple? Or a place where darkness rules and the light does not shine?" Grotto asks Lorraine, "if so, we should begin our hunt there!"
Grotto then presses Agnes, "You must awaken your kin from their hibernation. These red dragons we encountered will surely want to scramble the eggs. Evil always looks to destroy goodness. Knowing an evil enemy, we should assume the eggs have been demolished. If this is the case why stay neutral? If you believe the eggs to be intact, then a rescue is in order. Even more of a reason to break neutrality! War is upon the land you love. The person you care most for is defending it with his life."
Arthur grips Agnes' hand, "You're right. We should begin in the undercity if there is one." His eyes meets hers "Just say the word and we will do what must be done." Arthur looks to Grotto and nods.
Kysek looks at Lord Hamish. “You want a song? Singing your greatness? For information on my missing friends?” He turns to Bubo, “Fly now; fast and direct! Bring Cedron here in haste!” Again turning to the fey cat, “You’ll have your song. Sooner than you think; and better than you’ll expect. Your information had best be worth the effort! And there best be no tricks my friend. I’m certain; your ‘Sugar Plum’ wouldn’t be happy with that.”
"Th' song hud best be guid. A'm a perfaissional 'n' expect tae be recognized 'n' treated as sic. Nae a' body kin dae whit ah dae. If thay cuid, then thay wid 'n' ah wid be oot o' a jab. The lenth o' th' sugar plum goes, amurnay worried. This hail thing wis meant tae be trapped made especially fur him. Yer mukkers ur juist worms oan a hook," the cat yawns and settles in, legs tucked beneath its body until it resembles a black and white loaf of bread.
Ra’ziir listens to the Fey Cat utilizing his All-Speak ability in an effort to make sure he and the others understand exactly what we’re getting involved in with this loquacious feline. While the black-robed Elfemental is sure that Hamish is using the Common Tongue, his accent makes the creature almost impossible to understand.
Shadow then speaks again “My Lord, I am honored that you requested to speak with me. I am curious as to why me?”
"Fur yer wee mukker wis sure ye wid hulp him," the cat replies.
“I’m sure we would. What can be done now? And how do you know about it?”
"Whit kin be dane be dane is that ah pat ye oan th' trail that wull leid ye tae thaim 'n' as tae howfur ah ken, 'twas me wha teuk thaim tae begin wi'. Dinnae git me wrong, ah pure ainlie wanted th' bonny she-elf bit whin th' sugar plum tried tae save yer chatty wee fellow, ah hud tae git thaim a' sin thare wis na wey o' knowing whilk wid mak' fur th' best lure." Lord Hamish flexes his claws, digging small furrows in the wooden table. "'n' then, despite a' o' th' mae effort ah hud tae pat in, mah gaffer wouldn't mak' guid oan thair end o' th' bargain. Sae, 'ere a'm."
“Yeah, I’m not sure I follow you all the way to the pot of gold but you know something about Cassidy and where they took him?” Shadow seems bewildered at the accent of the cat lord. Shadow looks to the others at the table “Anyone else dealt with the Feywild enough to know what our Lord Hamish just said?” He turns back to Hamish, “May we offer you some refreshments?”
"Spot oan, or at least, ah kin tell ye whaur tae stairt keekin as thay wid hae moved him tae a mair secure steid by noo. 'n' a cup o' cream wid be delightful," Hamish purrs, a low rumble that can be felt through the planks that make up the table.
“Aye, well, let’s get that cup of cream for ya.” Shadow gets up and goes to find what the feline wants.
"Ta kindly. Yer a richt proper gentleman."
“We aim to please. So you wish for a song to tell the tales of your majesty? Our friend is a bard of the multiverse. A traveler of many a time and more places than you have lives. He will do you proud."
"Cassidy was a good soul and wanted to a help to these Elves that distrust him…not without cause because their fingers are sticky. I hear that is the way of the Kender. How did you come to be watching the wee fella?” Shadow slowly begins to try and get the pace and accent down that the Cat Lord has and clumsily tries to make small talk with a cat. He knows there is way more here but dragging it out is a game of dare I say, cat and mouse?
"Ah awready explained this. Wur ye nae listening? Ah wis hired tae tak' th' elf-lass. Bit yer laddie gaed tae save yer wee jimmy instead o' her sae he became a target o' opportunity. Th' yin wha contracted wi' me haes a mad hate fur Sugar Plum."
“Got it me Lord. So how much is the Sugar Plum hater paying you?” Shadows asks while thinking that Raven has some explaining to do.
"Ah wis promised th' services o' yin o' her pages fur yin thousand days plus yin. Whin it cam time fur her tae mak' guid, she tellt me that she wid pay in her ain time. Mind noo, a'm a perfaissional. Ah dae th' jab 'n' then ah git paid. That's howfur it wirks. Fowk stairt stepping ootside o' they lines 'n' th' entire social structure breaks doon."
“Well, let’s see about your song and what else we can do to sweeten the pot."
MEANWHILE, NOT TOO FAR OUTSIDE OF THE CITY WALL...
When Cedron reaches the Tree. He stands before it quietly in meditation and prayer.
Cedron’s connection to Malazzarr remains quiet although he does sense something stirring, as if he has drawn the attention of some powerful being on par with his deity. Every so often, a spark will dance along a seam in the bark, leaving a trail along one of the wooden ridges before fading away. While no words are exchanged, he gets the impression of "Patience, soon."
Then an owl lands on his shoulder. In a voice disturbingly similar to Kysek’s, it speaks. "We need you to come back to sing a song to cat telling that cat how fantastic it is."
AND ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF KURINOST...
Raven adjusts his stolen helmet and armor as best he can, not an easy feat when it was made to fit someone nearly six inches taller. Still, he makes it past the human guards at the city's southern gate and heads toward the waterfront.
He crouches low, removing his stolen helmet, and creeps forward to a large window looking out onto the wharf itself. It doesn't take him very long to pick out the prison ship. He settles in to watch the comings and goings of the crew, trying to get a feel for the ship's routine.
As he watches, he plans, discards those plans, and plans some more. Should he try to get the minotaurs drunk? Is that possible? How much elven wine would it take? Where would he even find the wine, let alone get it onto the ship? Should he wait until dark and sneak aboard to start killing enemies in their sleep? There is no way he could get the ship underway on his own and even if some of the prisoners had sailing skill, the dragon would most likely notice an entire ship leaving the harbor. Should he try to sneak into the tower the dragon was resting on top of? Could he kill the dragon quickly enough to avoid raising an alarm? Would that start a chain of reprisal killings against the other elves still in the city? Frustrated by his lack of answers, he grumbles and curses, his mind turning toward the Faerie folk and their latest intrusion into his life. "I don't even know a $%@^ cat," he mutters to himself.
Comments
Post a Comment