A bulky figure walking a bulky horse, both draped in tan shrouds that fail to hide the heavy armoring they wear, stand about a hundred paces from the rear of the group. The figure holds no weapon. As the Half-Elf approaches he sees the tinted red skin and distinctive features of a Hobgoblin. He speaks in common.
"My name is Dageron, and we are not adversaries at this time. My words were not meant to offend, but I offer you my counsel. Return to them only one weapon, a blade. Make them remove the saddle and barding from the Worg, but allow them to retain it and the water. Keep what you take and give it to the defenders of this land. Leather, wood, metal, all such things weaken their enemy and strengthen their defense. Also, those that survive the return trip, except the Worg, will need to be re-outfitted at the expense of their master. Do that enough times, and his kennels will be empty and his armories bare. This is my counsel. If you heed it or not, I make a request. Let me examine their armor and weapons, and ask them three questions only. Is this acceptable?"
Jek looks over the new figure, trying to tell if he is sincere. Insight 19
This Dageron appears to be truthful and unthreatening, at least not to the Order. Jek will look over to the others and shrug, then gestures to the pile of equipment by Chuba. "Take a look. I would like to know what your questions are first."
Jek will then keep an eye on the Orcs and Goblins, to make sure they don't do anything tricky.
Dageron utters a verbal command in Hobgoblin to his warhorse and it stands in place. He approaches the equipment, kneels and begins to sort through it. He produces a book and slender piece of charcoal to mark it with, and begins to tally notes. Once done, he approaches the one who gave him permission.
"My three questions: First, what is your unit? Second, who was your commander? Third, how was the battle lost? Are those acceptable for me to ask your prisoners?"
Jek (FYI, he looks like a Jawa) will tilt his head at the comments, then respond. "Hey, wait a second. They are not our prisoners! We just saved there lives from there own lack of preparedness(turning towards the Orcs/Goblin) no offense. I don't know if I want you talking to them if you are so hostile!"
After saying that, Jek will shake his head and turn to the Orcs (hoping that his spell is still holding onto the little one) and say "Sorry about that, I didn't know this person would be so rude. But, I realized we never got your names. Who are you? What is your unit and who was your commander? And talking about that, you all seem strong. How did you lose that battle with the Khan?"
Dageron raises an eyebrow towards the smaller creature, then takes a step back, standing upright to his full height and clasping his hands together in front of him. He waits patiently.
"I am Barok." The big Orc says. He reaches a hand out, setting it on the chest of his companion. "This is Graklak. That is Drard."
He points to the Goblin, which waves almost enthusiastically now that it thinks they're not about to get killed.
"We were Third Reconnaissance, under the command of Toraz the Unquenchable. One of the Halfling khalasars..."
Barok paused and thought about this word, his brow furrowing, then continued.
"When they found us, they rode us down. We were little more than a dozen, and there were nearly fifty of them, perhaps more. We were overwhelmed on the sands. There battle was terrible, and once losses had accumulated on both sides, the khalasar broke off and rode away, undoubtedly to reconsolidate and strike what was left...which, we were it. We fled."
Barok rose then, sand cascading from his legs where it had stuck as he kneeled.
"Barok. You fought. You lost. Why return to the one who sent you so woefully unprepared as to incur into the lands of the Shem-folk with such little numbers and for no tactical advantage? Have you more to gain from his employ? Would you consider an alternative?" Dageron remains still as he speaks, careful not to offend the small one again.
Chuba hops down from Thathors and wields her warhammer, positioning herself between the weapons pile and the travelers. "No one touch weapon pile until we on our way, or blood will shed."
Jek will turn, giving a quick wink to Dageron. To Chuba, he will say "Hold on there, no need for that. I believe there equipment is payment for the water we gave them. It is only fair, we gave them some of our precious water. It's not like we can conjure water out of thin air. If they wish to go back to the ones who sent them to die, they can go. We can even fill there water skins for them."
Barok and Graklak stand near the pile of armor giving Chuba a hateful side eye as they approach.
"What alternative?" Barok said, pausing, his attention landing on the Goliath but his words meant for everyone, including the Hobgoblin. "Would you take a wolf from the woods and ask it to guard your chickens? No. We live by our code, and we honor Gruumsh and Crom, and we sell our strength to Lord Vader, he who has greater strength. That..."
He starts, and points to the weapons and armor on the ground.
"...is ours, and our means of living, and our way. We never offered you danger. We'll have what is ours now, or you'll have blood plenty."
Barok continued forward, toward their armament. Graklak went with him. Drard paused, having the decency to look afraid.
Dageron removes the shroud from his head, and once more addresses Barok.
"Chicken herders did not wipe out your proud brethren, and I am not of the soft races, offering you a turn at the plow."
He pulls the shroud off his armor, revealing painted white streaks across the plate that mark his station.
"I am Adjudicator. War Priest of Bargrivyek. I offer you a chance at a war worth fighting. Vader is the chicken herder, and those that follow him, the chickens to be plucked."
A gravel in his voice growls out that last comment, clear contempt in it.
Chuba readies her warhammer to physically stop these travelers from retrieving their equipment. She looks to Brevon and Atoh for confirmation that these are bad people that should be stopped.
Brevon looks crestfallen. He stares out over the empty desert, through the rippling haze that hangs like a curtain over the horizon. He turns toward Barok. "The Lady of Light has brought us to meet. She has foretold this moment, though I was not willing to listen. It is fated that we should meet this way, upon the scorched sands kissed by the burning sun. We are ourselves like these grains of sand, hot to the touch. We are… full of fire. And it is in the nature of fire to spread and to destroy.
We cannot judge you for doing that which is in your nature to do. However, your equipment was not promised to be returned to you. Dageron has said it well. It is a fair trade for our water. You breach the peace pact that we have made.” His voice rising, Brevon adopts a fierce look. He slams his mace against his shield.
“You must know that, just as you are driven by your nature, so are we. You believe that Vader has greater strength. In the name of the Lady of Light, I swear to you that if you take another step, you will come to know a greater power.”
"We laid down our arms so that you would feel safe when you gave us water." Barok said. "We didn't give them to you. If you would leave us to die in the desert without a means to defend ourselves when we are already being hunted, then I'd rather die here, now."
Graklak smacked his jaws, popping his great tusks together. Barok took a deep breath, looked menacingly about at the band, then proceeded forward before stooping to retrieve his gear.
Jek realizes things are going south. Oh no, he was hoping to avoid a fight. What should he do??? Ahhh, distraction, yes, that's it.
Barok reaches for his gear, Jek will yell out "STOP!" and with a raised out hand and extra flourish he doesn't really need to do, he will create a Silent Image (DC 16 investigation) of there equipment bursting into flames. "You would steal from us after we gave you water and shade? Now no one will have it. Leave with your lives."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Dageron's eyes focus on Barok's. Without moving from his spot he calmly but loudly calls out a single word in Hobgoblin. The warhorse takes off at a sprint to his position, stopping next to him. As soon as it does, he pulls a scutum from the saddle, steps forward, and places a hand on the hilt of his longsword.
"Barok! You and I live by the same creed. You want a war you can win? You want glory before your Gods? Then heed my call and join under my banner, and I will give you a war that will bring pride to your blood and those that bore you into this world!"
Dageron casts Guidance on himself.
Persuasion Check using Battle Master (Commanding Presence) dice and Guidance = 15
Barok jerks back from the pop of flames as Jek 'ignites' his equipment. At first he's frustrated, but then, holding out one hand, he realizes that there is no heat, no smell, no crackling as if an actual fire had been lit. He starts to verbally rebuke Jek, but then his attention settles on the Hobgoblin.
"Will you fools just let us leave?" He asks to no one in particular, the words practically a mumble. He listens to Dageron, then steps forward, standing in the midsts of the flames. Graklak was astounded by Barok's move, but then, realizing what he's seeing, howls into the sky, growing frustrated.
"We clearly do not live by the same creed." Barok says, staring at Dageron on his warhorse. "The horde lives on, and therefore, I live on. Winning is not all. Sometimes, relinquishing your life is enough for the cause. What more do you have to offer me than that?"
He reaches into the flames and pulls out his greataxe. He holds it up high enough that all can see it.
"Go on then." He doesn't wait. He reaches back into the flames to pick up something else.
Dageron lets a smile of pride creep across his lips, but holds back the anguish he feels. He knows his message will not be heard now.
"A better cause, Barok. The one you currently serve must fail... to free all our brethren." And with that he looks to the others. "We are not enemies, but neither are we allies. He is angered by my words, but not more than by your deeds. My blade is available to you in this matter. I have cause to prevent these from returning home with their equipment in hand... thought I prefer they leave alive."
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A bulky figure walking a bulky horse, both draped in tan shrouds that fail to hide the heavy armoring they wear, stand about a hundred paces from the rear of the group. The figure holds no weapon. As the Half-Elf approaches he sees the tinted red skin and distinctive features of a Hobgoblin. He speaks in common.
"My name is Dageron, and we are not adversaries at this time. My words were not meant to offend, but I offer you my counsel. Return to them only one weapon, a blade. Make them remove the saddle and barding from the Worg, but allow them to retain it and the water. Keep what you take and give it to the defenders of this land. Leather, wood, metal, all such things weaken their enemy and strengthen their defense. Also, those that survive the return trip, except the Worg, will need to be re-outfitted at the expense of their master. Do that enough times, and his kennels will be empty and his armories bare. This is my counsel. If you heed it or not, I make a request. Let me examine their armor and weapons, and ask them three questions only. Is this acceptable?"
Jek looks over the new figure, trying to tell if he is sincere. Insight 19
This Dageron appears to be truthful and unthreatening, at least not to the Order. Jek will look over to the others and shrug, then gestures to the pile of equipment by Chuba. "Take a look. I would like to know what your questions are first."
Jek will then keep an eye on the Orcs and Goblins, to make sure they don't do anything tricky.
"Wisdom from the sands," Brevon says cheerily, adopting a relaxed stance.
Dageron utters a verbal command in Hobgoblin to his warhorse and it stands in place. He approaches the equipment, kneels and begins to sort through it. He produces a book and slender piece of charcoal to mark it with, and begins to tally notes. Once done, he approaches the one who gave him permission.
"My three questions: First, what is your unit? Second, who was your commander? Third, how was the battle lost? Are those acceptable for me to ask your prisoners?"
Jek (FYI, he looks like a Jawa) will tilt his head at the comments, then respond. "Hey, wait a second. They are not our prisoners! We just saved there lives from there own lack of preparedness (turning towards the Orcs/Goblin) no offense. I don't know if I want you talking to them if you are so hostile!"
After saying that, Jek will shake his head and turn to the Orcs (hoping that his spell is still holding onto the little one) and say "Sorry about that, I didn't know this person would be so rude. But, I realized we never got your names. Who are you? What is your unit and who was your commander? And talking about that, you all seem strong. How did you lose that battle with the Khan?"
Dageron raises an eyebrow towards the smaller creature, then takes a step back, standing upright to his full height and clasping his hands together in front of him. He waits patiently.
"I am Barok." The big Orc says. He reaches a hand out, setting it on the chest of his companion. "This is Graklak. That is Drard."
He points to the Goblin, which waves almost enthusiastically now that it thinks they're not about to get killed.
"We were Third Reconnaissance, under the command of Toraz the Unquenchable. One of the Halfling khalasars..."
Barok paused and thought about this word, his brow furrowing, then continued.
"When they found us, they rode us down. We were little more than a dozen, and there were nearly fifty of them, perhaps more. We were overwhelmed on the sands. There battle was terrible, and once losses had accumulated on both sides, the khalasar broke off and rode away, undoubtedly to reconsolidate and strike what was left...which, we were it. We fled."
Barok rose then, sand cascading from his legs where it had stuck as he kneeled.
"If we are not prisoners, then, we are leaving."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
"Barok. You fought. You lost. Why return to the one who sent you so woefully unprepared as to incur into the lands of the Shem-folk with such little numbers and for no tactical advantage? Have you more to gain from his employ? Would you consider an alternative?" Dageron remains still as he speaks, careful not to offend the small one again.
Chuba hops down from Thathors and wields her warhammer, positioning herself between the weapons pile and the travelers. "No one touch weapon pile until we on our way, or blood will shed."
Jek will turn, giving a quick wink to Dageron. To Chuba, he will say "Hold on there, no need for that. I believe there equipment is payment for the water we gave them. It is only fair, we gave them some of our precious water. It's not like we can conjure water out of thin air. If they wish to go back to the ones who sent them to die, they can go. We can even fill there water skins for them."
Barok and Graklak stand near the pile of armor giving Chuba a hateful side eye as they approach.
"What alternative?" Barok said, pausing, his attention landing on the Goliath but his words meant for everyone, including the Hobgoblin. "Would you take a wolf from the woods and ask it to guard your chickens? No. We live by our code, and we honor Gruumsh and Crom, and we sell our strength to Lord Vader, he who has greater strength. That..."
He starts, and points to the weapons and armor on the ground.
"...is ours, and our means of living, and our way. We never offered you danger. We'll have what is ours now, or you'll have blood plenty."
Barok continued forward, toward their armament. Graklak went with him. Drard paused, having the decency to look afraid.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Dageron removes the shroud from his head, and once more addresses Barok.
"Chicken herders did not wipe out your proud brethren, and I am not of the soft races, offering you a turn at the plow."
He pulls the shroud off his armor, revealing painted white streaks across the plate that mark his station.
"I am Adjudicator. War Priest of Bargrivyek. I offer you a chance at a war worth fighting. Vader is the chicken herder, and those that follow him, the chickens to be plucked."
A gravel in his voice growls out that last comment, clear contempt in it.
Chuba readies her warhammer to physically stop these travelers from retrieving their equipment. She looks to Brevon and Atoh for confirmation that these are bad people that should be stopped.
Brevon looks crestfallen. He stares out over the empty desert, through the rippling haze that hangs like a curtain over the horizon. He turns toward Barok. "The Lady of Light has brought us to meet. She has foretold this moment, though I was not willing to listen. It is fated that we should meet this way, upon the scorched sands kissed by the burning sun. We are ourselves like these grains of sand, hot to the touch. We are… full of fire. And it is in the nature of fire to spread and to destroy.
We cannot judge you for doing that which is in your nature to do. However, your equipment was not promised to be returned to you. Dageron has said it well. It is a fair trade for our water. You breach the peace pact that we have made.” His voice rising, Brevon adopts a fierce look. He slams his mace against his shield.
“You must know that, just as you are driven by your nature, so are we. You believe that Vader has greater strength. In the name of the Lady of Light, I swear to you that if you take another step, you will come to know a greater power.”
By this time Orin has returned from stowing away the jug. Seeing the tension rising and hearing the last few details he stands ready with Dirk.
D&D since 1984
"We laid down our arms so that you would feel safe when you gave us water." Barok said. "We didn't give them to you. If you would leave us to die in the desert without a means to defend ourselves when we are already being hunted, then I'd rather die here, now."
Graklak smacked his jaws, popping his great tusks together. Barok took a deep breath, looked menacingly about at the band, then proceeded forward before stooping to retrieve his gear.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Jek realizes things are going south. Oh no, he was hoping to avoid a fight. What should he do??? Ahhh, distraction, yes, that's it.
Barok reaches for his gear, Jek will yell out "STOP!" and with a raised out hand and extra flourish he doesn't really need to do, he will create a Silent Image (DC 16 investigation) of there equipment bursting into flames. "You would steal from us after we gave you water and shade? Now no one will have it. Leave with your lives."
Deception 11
Dageron's eyes focus on Barok's. Without moving from his spot he calmly but loudly calls out a single word in Hobgoblin. The warhorse takes off at a sprint to his position, stopping next to him. As soon as it does, he pulls a scutum from the saddle, steps forward, and places a hand on the hilt of his longsword.
"Barok! You and I live by the same creed. You want a war you can win? You want glory before your Gods? Then heed my call and join under my banner, and I will give you a war that will bring pride to your blood and those that bore you into this world!"
Dageron casts Guidance on himself.
Persuasion Check using Battle Master (Commanding Presence) dice and Guidance = 15
Barok jerks back from the pop of flames as Jek 'ignites' his equipment. At first he's frustrated, but then, holding out one hand, he realizes that there is no heat, no smell, no crackling as if an actual fire had been lit. He starts to verbally rebuke Jek, but then his attention settles on the Hobgoblin.
"Will you fools just let us leave?" He asks to no one in particular, the words practically a mumble. He listens to Dageron, then steps forward, standing in the midsts of the flames. Graklak was astounded by Barok's move, but then, realizing what he's seeing, howls into the sky, growing frustrated.
"We clearly do not live by the same creed." Barok says, staring at Dageron on his warhorse. "The horde lives on, and therefore, I live on. Winning is not all. Sometimes, relinquishing your life is enough for the cause. What more do you have to offer me than that?"
He reaches into the flames and pulls out his greataxe. He holds it up high enough that all can see it.
"Go on then." He doesn't wait. He reaches back into the flames to pick up something else.
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Dageron lets a smile of pride creep across his lips, but holds back the anguish he feels. He knows his message will not be heard now.
"A better cause, Barok. The one you currently serve must fail... to free all our brethren." And with that he looks to the others. "We are not enemies, but neither are we allies. He is angered by my words, but not more than by your deeds. My blade is available to you in this matter. I have cause to prevent these from returning home with their equipment in hand... thought I prefer they leave alive."