"What are you talking about?" the prisoner whispers to Bencor. "Don't you know why we're here?"

N'Rell leaned over and whispered to Bencor.

Bencor coughs, this deception wasn't going down too smooth. He clears his throat, listening to N'rell "Course I do. I've been.. under cover with this group. They won't regard what I say as true. I take my orders directly from Frulam Mondath."

I might have to rely on my deception roll, DM. Not sure I can concoct anything better.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Mon 18 Feb 2019.

The prisoner leans in closer to Bencor and whispers, "And what does Frulam command you to do, brother?"

Isolde continued to stand, arms crossed, glaring moodily from a short distance at all the whispering.

"He commanded me to break the spirit of these defenders, now speak, brother."

"He!?" The prisoner recoils away from Bencor, a flash of realization on his face. "You'll pay for your deception!" He spits at Bencor then presses his back against the wall, bracing himself for the backlash.

Bencor's enchantment having lost its effectiveness, N'Rell stepped forward as the prisoner recoiled. "He may not be who he claims..." He reached a hand up and began to undo the rags wrapped about his head to expose his face and neck. He seemed mostly Human except for hints of Elven features mixed in. What stood out, though, was a layer of what appeared to be white scales cascading out from where his hair ended, running down the sides and back of his neck and disappearing down his back and shoulders beneath his ragged clothing. "...but I very much am." He approached the man until the prisoner could feel his chilled breath with each word. "You know as well as I do how the cult handles failure and, as you can see, you are in a position of failure." He took only a small step back so the prisoner could fully take view of his situation. "So we could either send you back out there where you know exactly how they will treat you or you can stay here and cooperate with those who have yet to make up their minds on the matter..." His grey eyes narrowed as he continued. "And so I ask you. Who leads this attack and where can we find them?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:00, Wed 20 Feb 2019.

Bencor wipes his face and grumbles darkly in disgust, something or other about the pulling out of fingernails.

The man glares back at N'Rell silently.

Without taking her eyes off the stubborn cultist, Isolde leaned toward Inanah and whispered.

N'Rell relaxes his posture a bit and gives an almost amused smile. "Either you do not know or will not tell me. Either way..." The Dragon-blooded Half-Elf lifted a hand with open palm aimed at the prisoner's head as he grabbed the crystal at his neck with the other hand. "...you are no longer necessary."

If anyone else has something they want to say to the prisoner, now would be the time. Otherwise N'Rell will just go ahead and end him so we can move on.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Thu 21 Feb 2019.

"Don't!" Governor Nighthill interjects, placing his hand on N'Rell's shoulder. "That's not necessary... Escobert, show them to the tunnel. I'll work on getting him to talk."

Glad that the failed interrogation is over, Hasan turns to follow Escobert.

Inanah nodded to Isolde in agreement. It looked that they were loyal to their cause. Observing what was happening between the others and the prisoner she answered, [Language unknown: "Ssen tefiit be toyin ri heutna th tin rutme. Wackat ee lo Whunnohe ng ichni omeman-thuticher."]

She stood up from where she had been leaning on the wall and was ready to follow Escobert.

When the group gathers for their next mission, Kathra emerges from wherever she's been tending to the wounded. "Wot, back a'reddy? Ah s'pected t'would take an harn, t'least."

"We were thwarted by pronouns" says Bencor. He doesn't elaborate but gives N'rell an eyeroll.

Isolde followed Escobert and picked up her pace to move at his side. "You are Master of the Keep, yes? I am Isolde Glibhammer, of the Glibhammer clan. Shield-maiden of the Mithril Hall. What is the situation here? How many are sheltered, and how many remain without the walls?" Her tone was gruff and insistent, not intended to offend but clearly expecting answers. If the icon embossed upon her shield was not enough of an identifier, Isolde flashed him her signet ring.

"Hammer'n'tongs, Ah huvnae eaten since afair th' dragon strike. Coods Ah gie a wee bite while we gab abit whaur we're headed?" Kathra's stomach growls in agreement.

As Isolde dealt with the dwarvish lord of the keep, Kathra focused on the logistics question, much like she did in her father's caravan.

"Innanahn.....Innanananaran....Da lass wit the bow said she needed arrows, anyain else need supplies? " Kathra seemed to have no trouble saying Inanah's name, she just seemed to have trouble when she tried to stop saying it. Turning her gaze full force on the random guard she had dragooned into being their supply officer, she adds, "An' coods ye spaur us a drap ay healin' brew while yoo're at it?"

When he blinks in confusion at her thick accent, she enunciates slowly. "Arrows. Healing Potions. Lunch. What they ask fer." She gestures to the party with the last sentence.

Once the guard goes off with their list of supplies, she turns to the party. She shrinks briefly at the sight of just how many foreigners she was talking to, but she pushed herself to get past it. There was no time for such things. "Right, introductions proper afore we heed outa, then. Ah'm Kathra. That'un's Isolde of the Glibhammers. Yer Bencor, issun's N'Rell, and issun's Innnnn.....gonna name herself again. If yer please. An' t'rest ofya?"

After a pause, she adds, "Radge wark aheid ay us. Dae onie ay ye want tae leave a message in case ye dorn't come back? Want a blessin' fur luck?"

Inanah stared at Kathra with a mix of amusement and the look of someone that is doing hard work at trying to keep up with their speech. Her disfiguring her name spoke of someone not that familiar with elven names, but that wasn't uncommon in dwarves that didn't live in the more mixed cities.

She grinned at the confused guard, "Some arrows would be good, I wouldn't say no to a full new quiver. And a skin full of wine would be nice, killing kobolds is thirsty business." As an afterthought she said, "Little food would be good, I expect we will be out for a while."

Then she turned her eyes on Kathra, smiling at her request to say her name again, "It is I-na-nah, Kathra of the unnamed clan. If your tongue doesn't want to twist around it, you can also say Hana, even if that name I left behind to childhood hundred years ago. Where do you hail from, mysterious traveller, your speech is thick enough to walk on or maybe I could break it up and eat it, I have not decided yet."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Fri 22 Feb 2019.

This was a moment that Kathra had been dreading for some weeks now. It was bad enough that she had spent her last coin on a room the night before, now here was someone asking about who she was and where she was from. Moradin's breath! I hope she doesn't know my Pa! No, that was silly. She was weeks away from anywhere her damn caravan had ever traveled. She was free. She was out from under that cursed shadow. This elf was just assuming that she came from a clan of note, that she was proud of her heritage.

As if her clan had ever done anything to be proud of.

[Language unknown: "Pahas sere evnd ameherain om Wasuresan, Ni antom ulstee rut anfor ousna wasnde'sheenc sa o fithu meadland."] She said in an Elvish as marred by her dwarven accent as her common. "Aam frae Clan Silvernode, ay th' Sunsit Moontains, ur roondabit thaur, if ye main ken. Nae 'at yoo're likely tae hae heard ay it." She forced herself to enunciate clearly. "I have not spoken Common in a while, it takes me a bit to remember how, is all. I'll get better in a few days."

As an afterthought, she stumbles through a very poorly concealed fib, blushing hotly with each lie she tells. Mah clan trades wi' Eastin', thaur was, uh, thaur was an accident, yeah, oan, like, th' road, yeah yeah, an' Ah was headed back thaur." By the end of it, her accent is probably twice as thick.

She mumbles to herself, [Language unknown: "Vorof na tinsanbutugh ainnteeen Trlabe dininthat onng, outtinort? Ca si arehervir ilha acliwe N and conareich ive evon of, onehisthi."]

Those familiar with geography might realize that she's implying that she hasn't spoken Common in all the time it would take to get here from the Sunset Mountains, even assuming a straight path -- which there couldn't be, since Greenest is in no way between Easting and the Sunset Mountains.

Formal introductions go out. Bencor adds his own congenial greetings to all; he had been fairly insular on the caravan. When he gets around to N'rell he gives a wry grin like he was shaking hands with a rival on the rise "We let our fish get away. Maybe next time."

Bencor was starting to get the hang on Kathra's thick dialect. Then she spoke of leaving a message in case the worst occurs. Bencor will ask Nighthill if its possible to leave a short written missive to be held and delivered to a certain well-known merchant if he's killed.

Kathra went on to speak of her clan and poorly fabricate some tall story. This only caused the druid to smirk with his fat and hairy caterpillar of an eyebrow to rise in imperious amusement.

14:33, Today: Bencor Dekarrac rolled 22 using 1d20+5.  Insight vs Kathra. You guilty of something?

"..sounds like your clan needed a 'blessing fur luck'. Oh well." he mimics her accent crudely.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:45, Sat 23 Feb 2019.

22:35, Today: Kathra Silvernode rolled 21 using 1d20+1 ((20)).


"May'hap, but they didn't think to ask fer one. " Her face hardens into something cold and unreadable, but Bencorr could tell that although she felt guilty about what she said, Kathra had an air about her that was too gentle for criminality.

And then she puts on a glow like a cherry ray of sunshine. "Now, let's go save some lives!"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:49, Sat 23 Feb 2019.

Now it was Inanah's turn to look suprised when someone spoke in elven to her, she shrugged when Kathra said that she hadn't heard the name properly. [Language unknown: "Mi evema Fipoer Elcaholobe, Us Aiinel Omroeimick."]

Then as the dwarven woman went on to explain her path Inanah noticed the blush and stammering, but thought that perhaps she was shy or just didn't prefer to speak about her past. Something Inanah could understand all too well.

So she patted the shoulder of Kathra offering silent support and avoided asking questions, for now. Perhaps later there would be time to talk and share stories, if they survived the day.





OOC
11:51, Today: Inanah Nightbreeze rolled 13 using 1d20+4.  Insight Kathra.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:38, Sat 23 Feb 2019.

"Aye," Escobert grunts. "Follow me." He leads the party to a cellar below the keep, grabbing a quiver full of arrows along the way and handing it to Inanah. When they reach the cellar, he sighs in frustration. "The door's on the other side of that," he says, pointing to a pile of barrels and crates. "The tunnel leads to the stream. It should give ya a stealthy way in and out of the keep. Let me know when it's clear and we'll work on gettin' the remainin' villagers inside." He then turns around and heads back upstairs, leaving the party alone in the cellar.