Outside, Kabah merely nods and vanishes back into the ring as requested.


The cinnamon haired warrior nodded at Folke, and spoke again in that very odd language



Looking to Marissa, she speaks in common, though roughly, "Do not apologize, I mistook you for a sister, you wear dragon scales and have a dragon killing sword, both tell me I'm not here by mistake.  The abomination of Gar-ylllia-sus is truly dead, and the time to find and kill its dread offspring is at hand, as I suspected.  I guess you are here for the same purpose"

Rose gives Rath a smile and nods, "We heard some ruckus outside, and then that woman went out, but there is always some ruckus in Stormhaven these days,  I'll get you a cold beer, you are bleeding again..." she shakes her head seeing his wounds.  "Off saving the world again huh?  That deserves some stew too, we have a great one today".
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:39, Mon 26 Mar 2018.

When Rose returns a few minutes later with beers, food, and other sundries for all who have ordered them, she moves over to Rath and leans in close.

Marissa deflects the question, asks instead, "You are a tracker?"

"No need to be humble,  I am jealous, I admit it freely, naturally, I've eliminated two dozen wyrms
But all common, juveniles, you killed a one of a kind, special and rare, but if I kill
The baby,  I end its kind forever,  for that I will be remembered "
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:38, Mon 26 Mar 2018.

"Mm, yes, I can see the allure," Marissa replied. She looks at Folke, then Saliq with an amused smile.

"I expect our adventure to be interesting, gentlemen."

Saliq said nothing but frowned at the dragonkiller.

Rath was distracted from the conversation at large. He leaned close to Rose, clasped her hand, and muttered something to her.


Rath took an enormous drink of his ale, then stood up again. "Be right back. Nature calls." Rath departed for whatever qualified as the restroom around here.

PM

A silent "O" formed on Folke's lips when the warrior revealed her ruse in the strange tongue, and then he had the decency to look a little sheepish for the next minute or so.  As the conversation continued with Marissa he grew curious, and interjected when there was a lull.

"You must forgive the limits of my knowledge, but I can't recall the full tenets of your order.  Are you to kill any and all dragons you can, or is there leniency granted for the so-called 'good' dragons?  Those with the metallic colouring, I mean."

Saracutti stares sharply at the bard for a moment, then laughs, "How poetically I have
been repaid for my little jest, you have talent Skaald, I almost think to truly hire you to tell of my great quest. As every Sigurdsdottir knows from the time we can learn, there are NO good dragons, when none draw breathe again forever more, only then will we rest."

Marissa hides her distaste behind her ale. White froth adorns her lips, which she wipes away on the back of her wrist. When she's done grooming, she says, "It is apparent that Master Folke is aware of you. I, however, am not. I would learn of you before coming to any premature conclusions. Who are you, and where do you hail from?"

Saracutti looks away a moment, "I have a room and need to sleep, my dreams are leading me to my prey.  Marissa, if you wish to know more of my people, our ways, I find you vexing and strong and fine, something exotic beyond my own sisters, that is rare, if you wish to join me, I'm in room four upstairs".

Rath rejoined the others, picking up his tankard and drinking even as he sat down and peered at the others. He had clearly missed something. He eyed this Saracutti with a narrow gaze. It sounded like she might be leaving. The others would fill him in, Rath was sure, once the dragon-slayer was out of ear-shot.

Inas merely hovers, listening impassively.

Marissa watches as the woman departs up the stairs toward her room. Her frown is pensive and somewhat troubled, then her shoulders square and she looks at Folke with a keen eye.

"Tell me what you know of Saracutti's folk, Master Bard," she said plainly, her voice couched low, her face intent. "She presents a potential problem - I would blunt that if I could."

"I don' like her," Inas offers.

Folke raised an eyebrow at Saracutti's offer to Marissa, but managed to supress a smile until the dragonslayer had left for her room.  Then. despite Marissa's businesslike approach, the skald couldn't help but grin.  "I hope my answers don't unduly influence your decision."

Settling down, Folke nodded and marshalled his thoughts.  "All right, where to begin.  My people call them Sigurdsdottir, which has a mythical origin that isn't important here.  They are an order of women wyrmslayers.  They hunt dragons with the express desire to rid the world of them, and they are very good at it.  As you heard, they do not discriminate between breeds either.  A dragon is a dragon, and therefore must be slain."

The skald leaned back and toyed with his mug of ale.  "You have to understand that in the North, there is a long and painful relationship with dragonkind.  Our histories, our myths, our sagas often feature dragons, and none in a heroic role.  They are always the villain, always."  He looked chagrinned, almost.  "My friends and I were on that island where you rescued me for that specific purpose.  To hunt down and kill the dragon.  It wasn't for the same reasons as the Sigurdsdottir, but in the end our desires for the dragon were the same.  Death."

He looked from Marissa to the others, his gaze taking in Rath, Inas and Saliq before returning to the Sea Dragon and summing things up succinctly.  "If she hunts the hatchling as do we, she will have only one end in mind."

"I'm open to suggestions for dealing with her that have nothing to do with feeding your fantasies, Master Bard," Marissa said a bit crossly. "If we don't take steps now, she'll likely dog our steps during the coming journey and she seems savvy enough to follow us in secret if we're careless. I'd rather incapacitate her now, than wait until we're vulnerable in the wilds."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:21, Wed 28 Mar 2018.

Rath grimaced, unhappy and angry, and pulled out a tattered, dirty white cloth from his pouch. He glanced around, warily, watching for prying eyes or approaching tavern staff. With a lowered voice, he growled, "Warlock dropped this off for me." He unfolded the cloth, showing a map of sorts, displaying a C-shaped set of cliffs and several waterfalls. There wasn't much to indicate where this place might have been located, at least not to Rath. "Here. The egg is here. Wherever here is."

Inas looks at the map, in case he recognizes the area it depicts.

Saliq has been silent, lost in thought. "Folke do you know if these Sigurdsdottir have any magic... defense against magic?"

He glances at Marissa, hesitates, then says: "It seems she has taken an interest in you Marissa."

"You think?" Marissa replied, her raised eyebrow indicative of her current state of mind. "Hmph, if that's the best we can collectively do..."

She trails off, then looks at Rath.

"Do you have anything to add to the conversation?"

PM's

Ignoring (or oblivious to) the topic under discussion, Inas says:

"I know where that is.  Been there a lot.  It's in the Northern Hinterlands."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Wed 28 Mar 2018.