The 110th year of the second Ravensblood dynasty
Hiddlebatch has been spending the past few days following its normal routine: go into town, find a public area, try to convert anyone listening to H’s heretical sect of Khurgorbaeyag, frighten the citizenry, and eventually get ushered away by the guards. At this point in time, Hiddlebatch’s flock consists of about a dozen goblins, most of whom don’t even show up at the chapel, instead staying at home and being horrified by the carven idols H has given them. Only one of her flock is Tainted himself -- Zonnd, who is possessed of an unsettling set of translucent mandibles, and can eat nothing but the still-beating hearts of birds. They don’t show up in the story much thus far.
On 19 Obad-Hai, Illuvatum arrives at the chapel to take possession of the glaive. He wastes no time with pleasantries. “Have you… acquired the glaive?”
Quimarel replies, “We’ve acquired something.” She hands him the golden polearm-haft. “This is what we got.”
Hiddlebatch tells him, however, that they could not find the command word -- so it might well be useless to them unless they have some way of working that out.
Illuvatum waves his hand. “We have resources; we can figure it out.”
Quimarel makes an abrupt segue: “What do you know about fairies?”
“We try not to associate with them, because they’re annoying as all Hells.”
“We happened to find one of them in the vault… do you know what we might do with it?”
“Fricassee? They’re just vermin that can talk.”
The party start muttering amongst themselves, trying to decide whether there’s anything else they can ask him about Silvermoss, but he cuts them off. “I don’t want to talk to you folks about fairies. You got the glaive. That’s great. The gratitude of Lord Jithanver the Blood-Drinker shall rain down upon you, assuming we can get this thing working.”
Tamarie seems confused. “How does gratitude ‘rain’?”
“In a metaphorical fashion.”
There’s a pause, then Illuvatum continues. “I will bring this to Lord Bashant, we will discuss, and perhaps we will contact you again in the near future with another task.”
Disgruntled muttering from the PCs follows. “This is what we are now,” grumbles Quimarel.
Illuvatum seems ready to depart. “You may now go about your regularly scheduled… whatever you people do. Just leave our possessions alone this time.”
Hiddlebatch takes exception. “And you don’t kidnap any of our friends.”
“We are within our rights to kidnap anyone who is in the way of our work.”
“Uh-huh. And, just so we know, what exactly is your work, and what stuff should we not mess with?”
“I’m not going to get into an argument with you people about this.”
“You’re already arguing! It’s too late!” Hiddlebatch is highly skilled in diplomatic discourse.
Illuvatum’s temper is cracking slightly. “Look, your freaky little lizard-thing is the one who came up to us while we were going about our duly-appointed --”
“She has a name!” Quimarel objects.
[Pause, while Quimarel’s player shuffles through her notes.]“-- and it is Krich the Xenophilic!” Quimarel continues.
[Giggling from around the table.]
GM: You had to look up her name, didn’t you?
Quimarel OOC: Krich of the Golden Crotch.“Your freaky little lizard-thing got in the way while we were conducting our business. We were merely protecting our interests, and then you folks broke in and fed one of my colleagues to spiders. All in all, you’re lucky our relationship is as amiable as it is.”
A cacaphony of objections arises from the PCs.
Makpov decides that his skills are needed to defuse the situation, and starts giving Illuvatum a shoulder massage. “There’s no reason you need to be so tense about this whole thing.”
GM: You need to roll Diplomacy,Illuvatum finds himself oddly charmed by the malodorous savage and his slavering jaws -- Makpov’s Tainted ability to be perceived as supernaturally attractive comes through yet again.
Makpov: [seductive growling]
GM: … or possibly Intimidate, depending on what you’re going for there.
Makpov OOC: Diplomacy. 21.
“Perhaps you are right, strange pointy-nosed creature.” Illuvatum rolls a 2 on his check to resist Makpov’s advances, and completely backs off on the whole berating-the-party thing.
Quimarel OOC: Good work. Have a rawhide chew.“Perhaps we will come to some more pleasant… social… situation. I must get back to business. Perhaps I will visit you again soon.”
Makpov attempts to bat his eyes. “ALL of us?”
“Yes. Yes. I will… see you again soon.” Illuvatum then leaves quickly, possibly to try and deal with the psychological fallout of his unexpected attraction to gnoll men.
[The players take some time to discuss the fact that they’ve basically been assuming that everyone is bisexual until proven otherwise.]
GM: Well, we’ve established that there’s less of a social stigma about that sort of thing here than in the real world… remember, in the last campaign, General Mathilde was involved with another woman, and the only issue was that Ilsa might get in trouble dating her commanding officer.
Hiddlebatch OOC: Well, it would suck if it WAS an issue in D&D… “persecute the gays” would be the weirdest quest ever.
[Hiddlebatch’s player then launches into a story about an unpleasant encounter she had with a very persistent evangelist -- moderately ironic considering what her character does.]
The party discuss amongst themselves what their next step should be. There’s probably something to be gained by getting involved with this weird cult-like organization, but on the other hand, they don’t want to screw up the town where they, you know, live. (Though Hiddlebatch argues that it will be easier to evangelize if the town falls apart and “everyone realizes their lives are empty and meaningless.”) Quimarel is more interested in financial gain and political power. Makpov plans to “dick around”, and Tamarie just wants to play with her alchemical tools.
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