As the others took varying degrees of cover in front of the burned-out farmstead, Aerin carried on through to the rear. Around them was devastation: burned buildings, bloodstains, and broken black-fletched arrows. A dead man lay on the ground, cut almost in half, a broken sword still clutched in his hand.

The farm seemed to have been ransacked of its valuables and all the animals and food stores carried off, with some beasts butchered on the spot for a celebratory feast. What the orcs couldn't take or eat, they'd just killed or fouled.

Coming to the back of the farmstead, Aerin heard the tearing of flesh, the crack of bones, the hungry chewing, and she smelled burnt meat. Then, rounding a corner, she saw them. The "dragons" were forty feet long, from whip-like tails to serpentine trunks to sinuous necks to crocodile-like heads. They had blue-scaled hides, with armoured plates that gleamed in the sun leading to backward-sweeping horns on their heads. They had no wings, as Angel had said, and their bodies were crouched low to the ground, hiding their legs, giving them a snake-like appearance.

The pair were industriously devouring dead cattle they'd found and charred, but when they scented the half-dragon on the breeze, they stopped abruptly and swung their heads her way, glaring at her with cat-like eyes and dripping fangs.

'Dragon-blood!' hissed one accusingly. They shifted their bulks, rising up on their hidden legs: one, two, three, four, five, six pairs. Behirs! They hated dragons.

As they rode towards the creatures Aerin finally caught a first glimpse of the creatures and realized they weren't just large, they were friggin huge! For the first time in ages something like worry entered the Rashemi's mind, but she did her best not to let it show. The closer they got, the more worried she became and started protecting herself, calling upon the draconic heritage she carried. Eventually she realized that this was going to be too dangerous for Albion, she feared he might become a collateral casualty. Sliding off his back she gently patted the powerful warhorse and told him to stay behind, she would have to rely on her own feet, augmented by more magic. "Tseran, you should not go any further. Take cover and stay out of their reach at all times!" she warned the magus, fearing for his life.

The creatures became even more fear inspiring when not on the back of a horse and Aerin gulped audibly as she walked closer. Just when she wondered how she should address the creatures one had already made her out and 'greeted' her. "Shoot!" she exclaimed and quickly drained the vial she had kept in her hand.

"Uh... um... Greetings! - As representative of the Procampan authorities I command you to retreat back into the mountains from where you came." she answered in the most commanding voice she could muster. "Now. - Or suffer the consequences!"

ooc: Intimidate 20.
12:26, Today: Aerin of Damar rolled 20 using 1d20+13.  Rashemi Diplomacy aka Intimidate.

Preparing on her way:
 - Shield (+5 AC, 10 mins)
 - Expeditious Retreat (Move +30ft, 5 mins)
 - Drink potion Resist Electricity (3 mins)

The two behirs reared menacing above the lone warrior who confronted them, glaring down at her. Sparks crackled in their jaws, and their tails whipped and snapped behind them. But the sheer audacity of her threat gave them pause for thought. Were there more such warriors lying in wait? Did she speak a dragon? 'We cannot go back into the mountains.' the first behir rumbled angrily. 'We go south to new territory.'

As the behirs reared up, Aerin had to use every shred of willpower not to tremble before them. Instead she slowly pulled a wand from her belt in a non-threatening manner, showing she wasn't about to attack. "No. I will not allow that, but..." she started with all the remaining courage she had. "But I can see nothing wrong with you feeding upon what has been left over. -

You say you cannot return to where you come from, tell me why and I promise I will try to remedy that situation for you. I am a protector of Procampur, if there is a threat to you, it is likely a threat to innocent people as well and needs to be dealt with." Aerin, said, explaining why she would help two creatures that were probably going to eat her anyway.

Reluctant to reply, the two behirs turned their great heads to face each other, hissing a conversation between them. They didn't seem to have realised their whispering was still loud enough for her to hear and understand. 'Let's just eat her anyway, before she calls for more of them.' the second behir snarled.

'No! That is why we must not eat her.' the first one snapped back. 'You must stay safe.' The other bowed its head in acceptance, and the first one turned back to Aerin.

'There is no more prey in the mountains. Not enough for me, my mate... and our unlaid young.' With a thunderous drumming of feet, the behirs scuttled around, so the first behir stood protectively in front of the second, with her swollen belly.

"This is the time for diplomacy. - What do I know about diplomacy?" the dragonkin thought but for those cases they had the perfect candidate. Maelarra. Lady Maelarra as it was.

"Alright, I understand your point and I am not going to send you back. I have no wish to slay you or your unborn either." she said sympathetically. "What would you say to an offer where you and your mate, as well as your offspring, are fed and your mate and child are kept safe for the time being? - In turn you would offer your temporary allegiance to the Thultyrl of Procampur, protecting the land in his name until your home in these mountains can be inhabited again?" Aerin suggested, adding "That means you do not kill anyone unless provoked or commanded to."

Then she picked a wire from her glove, made it straight while speaking a few words and looking up at Angel's shadow in the sky. [Private to Angel: Message spell: "Angel, the behirs will parley, get Maelarra and the others here."]

She turned half-way back and waved, hoping the others would understand that it was safe to go meet the Rashemi and the behirs.

ooc: Cast Message

[Private to Aerin of Damar: Message spell: "As you wish, my lady." Angel replied, familiar with the effects of the spell Aerin used and its capacity for returned communication.]

Keeping her wings solidly white (after all Aerin wasn't in trouble... yet) Angel dipped and swung around in a tight turn, heading back toward where the others waited. On her way, she dipped down toward where Tseran waited, partway between Aerin and the others.

As she passed by him, Angel called out in the language she and Tseran shared,[Private to Tseran Tal'chiar: [Language unknown: "Liliss manandwas il a ha romarttraersher."]  hoping that if the behirs overheard they wouldn't be able to understand what was said.

When she reached the others, Angel landed and addressed those who waited with Lady Maelarra. "Aerin has identied the creatures as behirs. She says they are willing to parley and asks that you all come peacefully."

 Tseran, who prior to this point had taken cover and kept himself ready to spring a counter-ambush should the foe have proven instantly hostile rises out of his position and moves forwards when addressed, moving easily and smoothly to come around the corner and...

 "Oh good grief, not again."

 ...this is perhaps not the expected response when spying a pair of enormous and deadly creatures clad from tip to toe in unyielding armour and equipped with the power of a living storm but with the rearmost of the two so visibly egg-heavy he can only flash back to his encounter with an overly touchy-feely Naga whose fear for her own clutch drove her to reach out to the elf-mage (amongst others) for aid only after coming close to squeezing the life out of him, a prospect he's unlikely to survive if one of these two gets it into their heads to do the same. And therefore, instead of fear he's expressing in its place an Angel-stoked air of towering irritation, albeit one devoid of aggression.

 He half-turns and calls back "It's a mated pair of Behir, and I for one am not picking a fight with a gravid female. Hopefully, they can give us word of what's up ahead." before stalking up alongside Aerin and eyeing the duo sourly before offering a polite, if slightly stiff bow for all the world as though he's a farmer greeting the new neighbours, "Tseran Tal'chiar, Diviner of the Lady's College of Silverymoon. Congratulations on your impending clutch."

Slove rises from his hiding place and moves forward.
His bow in hand but down by his side.  No arrow in his hand.
He moves forward and places himself to the left of the main group.
He does not say anything but his action are clearly protective of the group but not aggressive.

Back at the road, Maelarra clapped her hands together. 'Behirs! Splendid! I've always wanted to see one. They are dangerous and proud, but reportedly not wicked, though they shall have nothing to do with dragons.' The party moved forward through the ruined farmstead, with Maelarra following Tseran to the scene. Arrazin, for now, stayed watching the rear and the trail, sensibly paranoid of ambush, alongside Maelarra's maid Tamae, who just waited.

*

As the others showed up, the behirs shuffled back on many legs, wary of an attack, though the female preened at Tseran's congratulations.

'Well met, mighty behirs. I am Lady Maelarra Hlartrym of Procampur.' Mae greeted with a bow. She looked between Aerin and the behirs, asking 'Where were you at in the parley?'

But the behirs seemed shocked, even offended by Aerin's offer and at last growled 'We will not serve your dragon!' They evidently had no idea who the Thultyrl of Procampur was, worrying instead that they represented some dragon lord, based on Aerin's appearance. They weren't very bright either.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:52, Wed 03 July 2019.

The dragonkin shook her head with a bemused smile "Thou shalt not serve me or any other dragon, as I serve no dragon either." she said, attempting to calm them. "I would not insult you like that!" Aerin added in truly diplomatic fashion. "The Thultyrl is human, just like her, and rules Procampur." she said, suddenly realizing that the behirs didn't consider her human, but she herself couldn't consider herself dragon either, what was she now? - That was a question to be addressed at a more leasure time, not now.

Turning to Lady Maelarra she addressed the noblewoman "Mylady, I was just offering these noble creatures food and a safe haven for nesting until the mountain offers enough nourishment for them to return, in exchange for the father's service to the Thultyrl. - What do you think, the first behir to join the guard? Wouldn't that look nice on your resume?" she explained her train of thought. Leaning closer she added "They have done nothing wrong, but without guidance they will eventually get into unnecessary conflict with other citizens. I think with my suggestion we can avoid that." she whispered, then straightened herself again.

'Indeed. Either they'll devour too many cattle, horses, or sheep and raise the ire of Calaunt or the merchants, or some would-be adventurer will get it into his head to slay a dragon.' Maelarra agreed furtively. 'But it is beyond our capacity to escort a pair of behirs south when we are headed north.'

Meanwhile, the behirs conferred, or rather argued, between themselves. 'We cannot serve humans either!' 'I'll demand they give us territory to guard, and no more.' 'They'll trick us, take our hatchlings for their own.' 'I will not let that happen.'

'I will not ask for your service.' Maelarra interjected, trying to raise her voice over their snapping and growling, and eventually getting their attention. 'My city is too far away, I fear. Instead, I'll make a suggestion. Due south of here, across the plains and beyond a paved road, there is a small forest. As far I know, it is unclaimed and will provide boars and other food for you and your young. Just avoid the town of Hlintar to the west and do not take its horses and swine, and you should have no trouble with its merchants. Protect the forest and it will protect you.'

Slove just stands and listens.  He knew if he said anything then thing would just get worse.

 "Mmmm, not to mention you should probably stay well clear of Calaunt... They're having a muster at the moment, lots of soldiers with precious little to do, they might take it in their minds to go a-wandering. I don't suppose that either of the two of you are at all familiar with maps?" Tseran interjects in his inimitable fashion, fishing out his best current rendering of the area derived from the various maps they've encountered so far and carefully unfolding it as he makes a modest effort to work out where they are and where the regions that are being described lie.

'And Thindilar, in the east.' Maelarra added to Tseran's warning. 'All the towns and villages are mustering today, in fact. But it's only practice for defence of their own young. They don't seek battle.' Well, Calaunt might well be on the warpath, but saying that wouldn't help. Maelarra Tseran's warning – it would keep the behirs away from all the settlements.

As Tseran produced and unfolded his map, he was suddenly confronted with two, very large, very crocodilian heads; two very large sets of jaws filled with very sharp fangs; two maws that could bite him in two or swallow him hole or blast him to cinders with lightning breath; and two glowing cat-like eyes. That were trying to read a map. 'Where are we?' 'It's upside down.' 'What are all these lines?' 'The mountains are too small.'




OOC: The "You are here" goes roughly halfway between Calaunt and Thindilar on Blaern's Trail.

Noticing the behirs poking their heads curiously to look at the map, Aerin jumped aside, not to be squished under their heavy bodies. "Whatever makes them happy and doesn't involve a massacre on either side." she said with a shrug, not intending to get into the way of a peaceful solution.

 The Behir are by some degree the largest creatures Tseran has spent any significant time in proximity to, but after being squeezed near to death by a Naga, sharing a really rather delightful dinner with a Drow and spending some weeks with nothing to talk to but crocodiles, he's reached the point where he lifts a hand and lightly pushes the male's head to one side - or at least pushes on it as he states "Don't breath on it, you'll set it to flying. Is he usually pushy like this?" in a testy tone of voice, the second question being quite patently directed with some degree of domesticity at the female before snagging a couple of rocks and weighting the parchment down, "I know, the mountains are rendered for effect, not accuracy... And the lines are various forms of road or path, major ones at least. Solid lines are main roads in use, broken lines are trails or lesser roads. Lines either side of a road crossing a river denote bridges, and these are the names of settlements or mountains rendered in the common speech, which you may or may not read... There, where the river is crossed without a bridge is the Viperstongue Ford and we are... Approximately here." - his finger lightly indicates the location of the group - "Give or take a few miles. I'm afraid that the map doesn't indicate major predators or concentrations of prey however."

 It actually appears that the fussy, fastidious mage has a stronger need to tutor than he has a sense of self-preservation... Which probably explains a lot.

'I am not!' insisted the male. 'Yes, he is.' insisted the female, who was equally as pushy. 'I don't know why I ever mated with you.' Thankfully, behir courtships only lasted long enough to kick the young out of the nest.

As Tseran explained cartography, the two massive behir heads pored over the tiny map, occasionally jostling or knocking each other out of the way. Once they'd worked it out, or thought they had, they raised their necks like cranes again and scanned the horizon. They probably had a better view from their height. 'And which way is "S"?'

Slove move backwards and away.  Watching with hidden smile on his face.
Keeping his thoughts to himself.

"Oh don't say that!" Angel's voice protested from above, as she finally landed among the assembly. "You surely don't mean it! I mean look at her," she added, wings folding against her back as she gestured to the female. "Don't you just love her curves and the way the sunlight glistens off her scales?! And those teeth. Wow! I mean I'm not into reptiles like Tseran here is," she continued dryly, indicating the wizard. "But I'm telling you I think she's quite the catch."

Now Angel was a master at manipulation and she obviously loved playing games with just about anyone or anything else, but barring her off-hand remark about Tseran's herpetophilia there was something in her voice that hinted that there was more to her words than just teasing fun. Did she perhaps have a soft spot toward lovers and hated to see their quarrels? Maybe her own parents had voiced similar things to each other? It was a small but maybe significant clue into the inner workings of a she-elf who rarely exposed the truth about herself.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:31, Sat 06 July 2019.

The dragonkin smirked at Angel's quip but didn't comment, she was content to let the others handle the diplomatic part of the encounter, now that her part had been completed. It felt good to see everyone was confident in their area of expertise.

 "The 's' signifies 'South'. East and West are the directions of the sunrise and set respectively, as you no doubt are aware." Tseran answers, both serving to explain matters and carefully sop saurian pride before Angel's 'helpful' interjection causes him to sigh heavily and observe, to the male this time "If it is any consolation, I am not entirely certain that the capriciousness and strangeness of females is in any way altered by the presence or absence of scales, fangs or additional legs. It is for the rest of us to simply tolerate them as best we are able. You, I fear have by far the better bargain there than I.", indicating Angel and the female Behir respectively, rather to the detriment of the former.

The female preened at Angel's compliments, arching her long neck back, lowering her spines, and making doe eyes at the male. She really was quite elegant. Reminded of their nights of passion, the male bowed his head in apology. 'I do know why.' he murmured.



'But they are still wonderful, aren't they?'' the male confided in Tseran.

With the directions and key made clear, the behirs looked from map, to horizon, to map, to horizon, and seemed to have fixed the details in their minds, or at least they thought they did. 'Thank you. We will go south to this blob—'

'Forest.'

'Forest, and avoid the human towns.' He used his snout to knock off the rocks and then try to roll it up, evidently intending to claim it.

Noticing the behir's attempt to take the map, Aerin looked up at Tseran "Do you think you could create a copy? - One that these two can actually make use of?" she asked, hinting at the 'disability' of the creatures, having no arms.

 "Mmmm, you would know better than I." Tseran replies in response to the male Behir, while making use of the considerable training he's had in controlling his thoughts and imaginings - coupled with his own powerfully directed studies - to discretely edit out the memory of a coquettish Behir from his short-term recollection - while slapping lightly at the males snout once more "You won't be able to carry this map easily... Give me a short while and I'll copy one onto something hard for you. How good are your eyes at discerning small details?"