Akkron would have smiled at all the memories if he still had lips. But his skeletal face remains as expressionless as always.
"I have had relatively little excitement for the past few years... excepting the time that a Drow war party attempted to invade the Shaded Isles, though I made sure that they paid in blood for that mistake. In fact... I found an apprentice amongst them after the battle. Not one of the dark elves, of course... though I do realize that not all of them are responsible for the crimes of their leaders. No, they brought a number of slaves with them during their invasion, one of whom was a young half-orc by the name of Bridgette. She's mostly acted as my liaison to the outside world since then, and I hear she is starting to make quite a name for herself as a hero and champion of the oppressed... if perhaps a bit more, shall we say 'liberated' than I would consider wise. But I can't blame her too much; after growing up as a slave to the Drow I can understand her desire to experience everything that freedom has to offer. I considered bringing her along on this adventure as well, but... I didn't feel she was quite ready for whatever is happening in this realm."
The lich takes another puff from his pipe, the smoke filling his rib cage and mingling with the otherworldly mists that fill and surround his skeletal form. He then releases puff of smoke which forms itself into a manticore briefly before fading into the stale air of the tavern.
"My apologies for the smoke... I know that you don't like it much, but it's one of the few pleasures I can still partake in."
After a moment's consideration, he sighs.
"You know, if you do ever feel the need to shed a few years, I happen to know a spell that is capable of turning back the clock, so to speak, though it wouldn't be a permanent solution to the problem of the differing live cycles of elves and humans. Unfortunately, there are few permanent remedies to the effects of time. And those few that do exist always come with a steep cost... as I know all too well from experience."
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Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
A gelatinous tear slides from the Oblex’s head-area.
“That is one of the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, and that’s coming from someone who’s been here for a while,” a voice comments from beneath the table. A green hand tosses a handful of weeds and sprouts into the bartender’s jar. “This one’s on me. You need it.”
Standing 3ft off the ground is an elderly frogfolk outfitted in the telltale equipment of a merchant.
To her old mentor, Khessa replies: "You did very well," caressing the bone on which, in a person, the cheek would be found "both stopping the drow and giving a slave freedom, life and purpose. I'm sure Bridgette will make you proud! You are always the same kind soul, master Akkron".
The blonde arcane warrior can't help but laugh as she recognized Tookrashk, the redeemed manticore, in smoke form; then, about the 'clock' matter: "Oh, mine was more a note to myself for the future than a present concern, master Akkron; I'm still 38... so I have plenty of time ahead of me to find a solution. Besides, if we're going to save the multiverse from some terrible global catastrophe, maybe there will be some god who will be grateful, right? If one eventually offered to show me gratitude, I could always ask they for the privilege of aging as slowly as an elf. Well, I could probably even ask they to stop aging altogether - but hey, after maybe a millennium, I'd have the inverse problem... Who wants to live forever, when the beloved must die? No, I'll be glad with elf-like aging".
The tall adventuress also speaks to the elderly frogfolk: "You also seem to be very kind; you did a nice gesture towards my master. I guess a Haste potion could be useful... Do you have it? And which edibles would you like in exchange? And, if I may know, out of curiosity (I don't want to steal your job)... where do you get the potions? Did you learn how to make them yourself?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The lich puts a mummified hand over the human one pressed against his skull. The accolades from his former apprentice are nearly enough to make his very soul melt.
"You are too kind to a dusty old corpse," he says with a small sigh.
Khessa's musings about mortality tug another string in his soul when she mentions the pain of living for eternity without loved ones to share that life with. It is lucky that he no longer wears his emotions on his face as the living do... otherwise he might well weep for the mortality he threw away for vengeance against the Dark Elves. Not that his wrath wasn't justified... but an old saying plays through his mind: "If vengeance you seek, then remember first to dig two graves." But... at least he made sure that his little girl was allowed to rest in peace instead of face an eternity serving Lolth. He did what had to be done for her sake.
He turns to the frog person who just paid the tab.
"Thank you kindly, madam. Your generosity will not be forgotten... but tell us, what is your name? And if we need to contact you for potions or anything else, then how should we go about doing so?"
Akkron also glances at the weeds and sprouts that the frog woman just put in the bartender's jar briefly, trying to figure out what exactly the currency of this place is (Nature check: 18)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
Akkron also glances at the weeds and sprouts that the frog woman just put in the bartender's jar briefly, trying to figure out what exactly the currency of this place is (Nature check: 25)
Quoting so that DnD beyond doesn't mess up my roll.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
The lich puts a mummified hand over the human one pressed against his skull. The accolades from his former apprentice are nearly enough to make his very soul melt.
"You are too kind to a dusty old corpse," he says with a small sigh.
...
"Master Akkron," Khessa's voice softens further at the lich's spontaneous gesture "it always amazes me how someone with such vast intelligence and profound knowledge (unparalleled, for me) in the most arcane and mysterious subjects can sometimes make certain errors of consideration. Your corpse does not define you (or my brother Anator would simply be a bat, wouldn't he?);" the blue eyes of the woman look intensely into the empty sockets of the interlocutor "your feelings, your choices, your acts... your soul - that's what defines you. And, believe me, I've seldom found kinder souls than yours! Sometimes it almost feels like you feel less human than you are - but you are, you are more human than many 'living corpses' I've come across! You just have to realize it and remember it! You've probably been alone too long; as soon as we settle this matter," she smiles hopefully "we'll make some changes, you'll see" and she winks.
When the tall woman enters, Dabbert sees her, watches her a second, then raises the tankard that had been sat in front of him and starts to drink. He briefly wonders if it's going to kill him, but decides, looking around the room, that there are probably things worse than death. He tilts his head to the side as she runs up to Akkron and becomes basically the opposite of Akkron in every way. Bubbly. Female. Alive. Huh. Who saw that coming?
He eyeballs Lorlin for a second, eyeballs this new woman, who identifies herself as Khessa, and then waves politely.
"I uh...hi?" Dabbert says, trying to be polite as she catches up with her former master. Then he reaches out and shakes her hand. "Dabbert Hahft. Uhm. Soldier."
He waits a moment, nods. Yep. Nailed it. He holds up one finger when Akkron introduces him as 'sir'.
"I uh...no. That sounds too important to be me. Wait wait wait...turn time back... I'm not sure I trust such a boast from a literal bag of bones."
He motions to the little slime guy and requests a refill of the awful drink. When he sees it offer a free one up to Akkron, he blinks, then motions to it.
"Hey, you think that's sad? The love of my life was killed by an escaped circus Flumph. Where's my free one? Oh...wait..."
..."I uh...hi?" Dabbert says, trying to be polite as she catches up with her former master. Then he reaches out and shakes her hand. "Dabbert Hahft. Uhm. Soldier." ...
"Pleasure to meet you, Dabbert!" Khessa smugly feels how strong this 'soldier's grip is - no less than hers it seems... she furtively glances at his belt ('I guess as for this kind of item,' she thinks 'we have the same tastes...') "Good grip, by the way! I'm glad to have you by my side instead of against me!"
..."I uh...no. That sounds too important to be me. Wait wait wait...turn time back... I'm not sure I trust such a boast from a literal bag of bones." ...
The blonde arcane warrior can't help but smile when the other seems almost embarrassed by the term 'sir': "Are you also uncomfortable when they try to give you improbable noble titles?" she smiles "I understand you, you know? I've always considered myself a cabbage farmer first and foremost... When, as I got a little more skilled with weapons and magic and started solving some big trouble, someone he started calling me 'lady', the first few times I'd turn around to see if they were talking behind my back! Formalities are so silly..."
... When he sees it offer a free one up to Akkron, he blinks, then motions to it.
"Hey, you think that's sad? The love of my life was killed by an escaped circus Flumph. Where's my free one? Oh...wait..."
...
The face of the tall adventurer immediately becomes sad and worried at the bad news; she puts a hand on Dabbert's shoulder: "I'm so sorry! I know what it's like to lose someone dear... For so many years I feared I lost my whole family!" then she seems to have a glimmer of hope "How long ago was this? My husband, Jasper... He is in very good terms with the Moon Maiden, we coan say. Maybe he could do something..."
"I wasn't aware that Flumphs were bloodthirsty killers," Akkron says absent-mindedly as he ponders the best method to consume the drink that he was just handed... maybe he could just drip it slowly through his mouth into his ribcage and cast Prestidigitation periodically to clean up the inevitable mess...? Or perhaps if he heats the liquid to a boil then the steam could just sort of meld with the Shadowfell mists that surround his bones the same way that the smoke from his pipe does...?
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Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
"Thankee." Dabbert says as Khessa shakes his hand. "Yeah uh...I'm just a soldier. It's not a noble calling."
The warrior offers a shrug, unsure of what else to say in the situation. He keeps smiling, remains amiable, but is clearly out of his element when it comes to social situations. He continues to smile as she talks about Jasper, and the Moon Maiden, and holds up one hand to wave off.
"I uh...apologies, to both of you." He says, still smiling though perhaps a little more melancholy than before. "That was a poorly timed joke, all in bad taste."
He ponders for a moment.
"Damn. I really wish I'd only answered Akkron by saying 'rabies'."
“I had rabies once,” croaks the frog merchant. “It’s not worth it, no matter attractive the raccoon is.”
As your conversation continues you notice Jeff nudging cups off the counter as the music becomes somber. Chairs shuffle to face forward as Sîr expands their valise and arranges the body in its makeshift coffin. The Oblex shuffles up onto a barstool and piles up to its full hight. With the room’s attention the bartender deceivers a soliloquy of gelatinous grumbles. Though thoroughly unintelligible, eyes around the tavern water as the eulogy concludes, with glasses raised in a toast.
On it’s way back down to the floorboards, the bartender sprinkles a few seeds onto the body. Gradually the other patrons line up to pay their respects with various foraged plant matter as well.
"I uh...apologies, to both of you." He says, still smiling though perhaps a little more melancholy than before. "That was a poorly timed joke, all in bad taste."
...
"I have nothing against jokes in general..." Khessa tries to smile "But yes, those about the loss of loved ones don't make me laugh too much. Consider that I had even lost my brother Anator," she points to the bat, who seems to look at Dabbert with interest "murdered by drow slavers, before he returned to me in this form… not to mention the fact that I had a hard time freeing myself first - and the rest of my family later - from said slavers and from the drow of the Underdark. Better to joke about something else".
As the unusual funeral starts, the blonde arcane warrior follows the event with interest and curiosity.
"Master Akkron..." the tall adventurer tries to inquire discreetly "who is the deceased? Did you and the others know him?"
During the speech, she frees herself some space and calmly begins a discrete magical ritual based on low psalmodies and slow, measured gestures, sometimes performed while holding a rod adorned with runes in her hand. She does her best not to disturb anyone in the process (she casts Comprehend Languages as Ritual, so to understand what's being said).
The blue-eyed woman also tries to understand in particular what those seeds and plant matter are - since here these vegetables seem to have vast importance (first she saw them used as money, now she sees them used during a funeral rite...)
(OOC: @DM: Did the elderly frogfolk reply to Khessa? Had she a potion of haste to sell?)
“I’m pretty sure I got a one or at least the stuff for one. Hang on just a second.”
The frog woman brings up the tail of the line. With one hop she tosses in a few weeds and with another, taps the corpse with her wand, casting Decay. A sharp, herbal smell cuts through the musty tavern as the coffin erupts in a mass of wild vegetation as the body rapidly decomposes the various seeds finding purchase all over body until it is a skeleton wreathed in a thistles and vines.
Akkron, from the moment Baron Evermore gave you some of these seeds you know they were at least edible and the bar seems to use them for currency, and now you see why. These seeds contain a ton of potential energy, both when incorporated with magic and probably when eaten as well.
Lorlin, as has been her style, has been quietly watching the exchanges, her expression unreadable.
Appearing as a beautiful young lady with auburn hair, fair skin and brown eyes, she is wearing shining half plate - (of mithril) and has a staff and shield . The shield is emblazoned with the holy symbol of boccob, (an eye) which appears to be actively looking about the room. she smiles slightly and speaks softly… “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, in these challenging circumstances. I am Lorlin. Cleric of Boccob..”
... “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, in these challenging circumstances. I am Lorlin. Cleric of Boccob..”
Khessa remains perplexed for a moment...
'Boccob?' she thinks 'Never heard of this deity... Although, objectively, I'm not a great expert of religion... probably Jasper could tell me right away who he/she/it is. Anyway, having holy power on our side is reassuring'.
And so she replies, smiling warmly: "I'm glad you're with us too, Lorlin!"
As the unusual funeral starts, the blonde arcane warrior follows the event with interest and curiosity.
"Master Akkron..." the tall adventurer tries to inquire discreetly "who is the deceased? Did you and the others know him?"
"The deceased was a Warlock by the name of Lynn," the lich says quietly. "A talented warrior and caster, from what I hear... but he picked a fight with an entire order of absolutely insane monks... I don't know much more about him than that."
A thought suddenly occurs to Akkron... why didn't these people ask if anyone could return the Warlock to life? Lorlin, being a powerful cleric favored by the gods, almost certainly could perform such a feat. And, while it isn't his specialty by any means, the lich himself could have used a Wish to revive the man from the dead (by replicating the Resurrection spell), either from his Ring of Three Wishes or by taking a few hours to prepare the spell himself. Most unusual... Akkron makes a mental note and decides to bring up the possibility to Sir later.
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Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
"The deceased was a Warlock by the name of Lynn," the lich says quietly. "A talented warrior and caster, from what I hear... but he picked a fight with an entire order of absolutely insane monks... I don't know much more about him than that."
...
"Strange indeed..." reflects aloud Khessa "a 'talented warrior and caster' usually has enough sense of self-preservation at least to survive long enough to become such... Who knows why he will have chosen all of a sudden to pick such a hopeless fight? Did something cloud his judgment? Or was he forced to? Or did he seek death on purpose?"
"Perhaps you could ask him, Master Akkron!" exclaims the blonde arcane warrior, excitation shining in her blue eyes "I remember, from our lessons, that you mentioned that spell that allows you to communicate with the dead(*)... I, you know, dividing myself between the arcane and martial studies, always had to carefully select which spells to specialize in... and that one was a spell I had no interest in. But you know that spell, I guess, don't you? You know more spells than Elminster, after all..."
(*) Just please let's use it better than the dudes from Honor Among Thieves...
"Yes, I am quite familiar with the spell," Akkron says thoughtfully. "Though I have rarely had reason to use it, and I don't currently have it prepared... we should probably wait until after the ceremony before we start trying to commune with the deceased, though."
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Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
"Yes, I am quite familiar with the spell," Akkron says thoughtfully. "Though I have rarely had reason to use it, and I don't currently have it prepared... we should probably wait until after the ceremony before we start trying to commune with the deceased, though."
"Yes, I agree about that" Khessa focuses attention again on the ceremony. "Among other things... have you ever witnessed a funeral ceremony of this type? To cause the body of the deceased to putrefy rapidly and become food for plants... It is kind of... druidic perhaps? I've never seen anything like it yet. Maybe vegetals here contains so much potential energy because they absorb that of the dead? And then, if seeds hold such a power, who knows how much powerful cabbages will be here? So many questions..."
Akkron would have smiled at all the memories if he still had lips. But his skeletal face remains as expressionless as always.
"I have had relatively little excitement for the past few years... excepting the time that a Drow war party attempted to invade the Shaded Isles, though I made sure that they paid in blood for that mistake. In fact... I found an apprentice amongst them after the battle. Not one of the dark elves, of course... though I do realize that not all of them are responsible for the crimes of their leaders. No, they brought a number of slaves with them during their invasion, one of whom was a young half-orc by the name of Bridgette. She's mostly acted as my liaison to the outside world since then, and I hear she is starting to make quite a name for herself as a hero and champion of the oppressed... if perhaps a bit more, shall we say 'liberated' than I would consider wise. But I can't blame her too much; after growing up as a slave to the Drow I can understand her desire to experience everything that freedom has to offer. I considered bringing her along on this adventure as well, but... I didn't feel she was quite ready for whatever is happening in this realm."
The lich takes another puff from his pipe, the smoke filling his rib cage and mingling with the otherworldly mists that fill and surround his skeletal form. He then releases puff of smoke which forms itself into a manticore briefly before fading into the stale air of the tavern.
"My apologies for the smoke... I know that you don't like it much, but it's one of the few pleasures I can still partake in."
After a moment's consideration, he sighs.
"You know, if you do ever feel the need to shed a few years, I happen to know a spell that is capable of turning back the clock, so to speak, though it wouldn't be a permanent solution to the problem of the differing live cycles of elves and humans. Unfortunately, there are few permanent remedies to the effects of time. And those few that do exist always come with a steep cost... as I know all too well from experience."
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A gelatinous tear slides from the Oblex’s head-area.
“That is one of the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, and that’s coming from someone who’s been here for a while,” a voice comments from beneath the table. A green hand tosses a handful of weeds and sprouts into the bartender’s jar. “This one’s on me. You need it.”
Standing 3ft off the ground is an elderly frogfolk outfitted in the telltale equipment of a merchant.
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/638314947203783757/
“You need anything - a potion, component, psychedelic mushroom - you let me know. Long as you have edibles to exchange,” she croaks.
These words are smaller than the other ones.
To her old mentor, Khessa replies: "You did very well," caressing the bone on which, in a person, the cheek would be found "both stopping the drow and giving a slave freedom, life and purpose. I'm sure Bridgette will make you proud! You are always the same kind soul, master Akkron".
The blonde arcane warrior can't help but laugh as she recognized Tookrashk, the redeemed manticore, in smoke form; then, about the 'clock' matter: "Oh, mine was more a note to myself for the future than a present concern, master Akkron; I'm still 38... so I have plenty of time ahead of me to find a solution. Besides, if we're going to save the multiverse from some terrible global catastrophe, maybe there will be some god who will be grateful, right? If one eventually offered to show me gratitude, I could always ask they for the privilege of aging as slowly as an elf. Well, I could probably even ask they to stop aging altogether - but hey, after maybe a millennium, I'd have the inverse problem... Who wants to live forever, when the beloved must die? No, I'll be glad with elf-like aging".
The tall adventuress also speaks to the elderly frogfolk: "You also seem to be very kind; you did a nice gesture towards my master. I guess a Haste potion could be useful... Do you have it? And which edibles would you like in exchange? And, if I may know, out of curiosity (I don't want to steal your job)... where do you get the potions? Did you learn how to make them yourself?"
The lich puts a mummified hand over the human one pressed against his skull. The accolades from his former apprentice are nearly enough to make his very soul melt.
"You are too kind to a dusty old corpse," he says with a small sigh.
Khessa's musings about mortality tug another string in his soul when she mentions the pain of living for eternity without loved ones to share that life with. It is lucky that he no longer wears his emotions on his face as the living do... otherwise he might well weep for the mortality he threw away for vengeance against the Dark Elves. Not that his wrath wasn't justified... but an old saying plays through his mind: "If vengeance you seek, then remember first to dig two graves." But... at least he made sure that his little girl was allowed to rest in peace instead of face an eternity serving Lolth. He did what had to be done for her sake.
He turns to the frog person who just paid the tab.
"Thank you kindly, madam. Your generosity will not be forgotten... but tell us, what is your name? And if we need to contact you for potions or anything else, then how should we go about doing so?"
Akkron also glances at the weeds and sprouts that the frog woman just put in the bartender's jar briefly, trying to figure out what exactly the currency of this place is (Nature check: 18)
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Quoting so that DnD beyond doesn't mess up my roll.
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"Master Akkron," Khessa's voice softens further at the lich's spontaneous gesture "it always amazes me how someone with such vast intelligence and profound knowledge (unparalleled, for me) in the most arcane and mysterious subjects can sometimes make certain errors of consideration. Your corpse does not define you (or my brother Anator would simply be a bat, wouldn't he?);" the blue eyes of the woman look intensely into the empty sockets of the interlocutor "your feelings, your choices, your acts... your soul - that's what defines you. And, believe me, I've seldom found kinder souls than yours! Sometimes it almost feels like you feel less human than you are - but you are, you are more human than many 'living corpses' I've come across! You just have to realize it and remember it! You've probably been alone too long; as soon as we settle this matter," she smiles hopefully "we'll make some changes, you'll see" and she winks.
When the tall woman enters, Dabbert sees her, watches her a second, then raises the tankard that had been sat in front of him and starts to drink. He briefly wonders if it's going to kill him, but decides, looking around the room, that there are probably things worse than death. He tilts his head to the side as she runs up to Akkron and becomes basically the opposite of Akkron in every way. Bubbly. Female. Alive. Huh. Who saw that coming?
He eyeballs Lorlin for a second, eyeballs this new woman, who identifies herself as Khessa, and then waves politely.
"I uh...hi?" Dabbert says, trying to be polite as she catches up with her former master. Then he reaches out and shakes her hand. "Dabbert Hahft. Uhm. Soldier."
He waits a moment, nods. Yep. Nailed it. He holds up one finger when Akkron introduces him as 'sir'.
"I uh...no. That sounds too important to be me. Wait wait wait...turn time back... I'm not sure I trust such a boast from a literal bag of bones."
He motions to the little slime guy and requests a refill of the awful drink. When he sees it offer a free one up to Akkron, he blinks, then motions to it.
"Hey, you think that's sad? The love of my life was killed by an escaped circus Flumph. Where's my free one? Oh...wait..."
He looks at the little frog lady and frowns.
"Nevermind. Shoulda uh...been paying better attention."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
"Pleasure to meet you, Dabbert!" Khessa smugly feels how strong this 'soldier's grip is - no less than hers it seems... she furtively glances at his belt ('I guess as for this kind of item,' she thinks 'we have the same tastes...') "Good grip, by the way! I'm glad to have you by my side instead of against me!"
The blonde arcane warrior can't help but smile when the other seems almost embarrassed by the term 'sir': "Are you also uncomfortable when they try to give you improbable noble titles?" she smiles "I understand you, you know? I've always considered myself a cabbage farmer first and foremost... When, as I got a little more skilled with weapons and magic and started solving some big trouble, someone he started calling me 'lady', the first few times I'd turn around to see if they were talking behind my back! Formalities are so silly..."
The face of the tall adventurer immediately becomes sad and worried at the bad news; she puts a hand on Dabbert's shoulder: "I'm so sorry! I know what it's like to lose someone dear... For so many years I feared I lost my whole family!" then she seems to have a glimmer of hope "How long ago was this? My husband, Jasper... He is in very good terms with the Moon Maiden, we coan say. Maybe he could do something..."
"I wasn't aware that Flumphs were bloodthirsty killers," Akkron says absent-mindedly as he ponders the best method to consume the drink that he was just handed... maybe he could just drip it slowly through his mouth into his ribcage and cast Prestidigitation periodically to clean up the inevitable mess...? Or perhaps if he heats the liquid to a boil then the steam could just sort of meld with the Shadowfell mists that surround his bones the same way that the smoke from his pipe does...?
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"Thankee." Dabbert says as Khessa shakes his hand. "Yeah uh...I'm just a soldier. It's not a noble calling."
The warrior offers a shrug, unsure of what else to say in the situation. He keeps smiling, remains amiable, but is clearly out of his element when it comes to social situations. He continues to smile as she talks about Jasper, and the Moon Maiden, and holds up one hand to wave off.
"I uh...apologies, to both of you." He says, still smiling though perhaps a little more melancholy than before. "That was a poorly timed joke, all in bad taste."
He ponders for a moment.
"Damn. I really wish I'd only answered Akkron by saying 'rabies'."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
“I had rabies once,” croaks the frog merchant. “It’s not worth it, no matter attractive the raccoon is.”
As your conversation continues you notice Jeff nudging cups off the counter as the music becomes somber. Chairs shuffle to face forward as Sîr expands their valise and arranges the body in its makeshift coffin. The Oblex shuffles up onto a barstool and piles up to its full hight. With the room’s attention the bartender deceivers a soliloquy of gelatinous grumbles. Though thoroughly unintelligible, eyes around the tavern water as the eulogy concludes, with glasses raised in a toast.
On it’s way back down to the floorboards, the bartender sprinkles a few seeds onto the body. Gradually the other patrons line up to pay their respects with various foraged plant matter as well.
These words are smaller than the other ones.
"I have nothing against jokes in general..." Khessa tries to smile "But yes, those about the loss of loved ones don't make me laugh too much. Consider that I had even lost my brother Anator," she points to the bat, who seems to look at Dabbert with interest "murdered by drow slavers, before he returned to me in this form… not to mention the fact that I had a hard time freeing myself first - and the rest of my family later - from said slavers and from the drow of the Underdark. Better to joke about something else".
As the unusual funeral starts, the blonde arcane warrior follows the event with interest and curiosity.
"Master Akkron..." the tall adventurer tries to inquire discreetly "who is the deceased? Did you and the others know him?"
During the speech, she frees herself some space and calmly begins a discrete magical ritual based on low psalmodies and slow, measured gestures, sometimes performed while holding a rod adorned with runes in her hand. She does her best not to disturb anyone in the process (she casts Comprehend Languages as Ritual, so to understand what's being said).
The blue-eyed woman also tries to understand in particular what those seeds and plant matter are - since here these vegetables seem to have vast importance (first she saw them used as money, now she sees them used during a funeral rite...)
(OOC: @DM: Did the elderly frogfolk reply to Khessa? Had she a potion of haste to sell?)
“I’m pretty sure I got a one or at least the stuff for one. Hang on just a second.”
The frog woman brings up the tail of the line. With one hop she tosses in a few weeds and with another, taps the corpse with her wand, casting Decay. A sharp, herbal smell cuts through the musty tavern as the coffin erupts in a mass of wild vegetation as the body rapidly decomposes the various seeds finding purchase all over body until it is a skeleton wreathed in a thistles and vines.
Akkron, from the moment Baron Evermore gave you some of these seeds you know they were at least edible and the bar seems to use them for currency, and now you see why. These seeds contain a ton of potential energy, both when incorporated with magic and probably when eaten as well.
These words are smaller than the other ones.
Between what the baron gave you and what you picked up from the monsters that dropped them, you have as group 23.
Above table, these can function as:
1. Meals. (1 seed per meal).
2. Currency.
3. Stand-in Potion Ingredients.
4. Plant-based spell components.
These words are smaller than the other ones.
Lorlin, as has been her style, has been quietly watching the exchanges, her expression unreadable.
Appearing as a beautiful young lady with auburn hair, fair skin and brown eyes, she is wearing shining half plate - (of mithril) and has a staff and shield . The shield is emblazoned with the holy symbol of boccob, (an eye) which appears to be actively looking about the room. she smiles slightly and speaks softly…
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, in these challenging circumstances. I am Lorlin. Cleric of Boccob..”
Khessa remains perplexed for a moment...
'Boccob?' she thinks 'Never heard of this deity... Although, objectively, I'm not a great expert of religion... probably Jasper could tell me right away who he/she/it is. Anyway, having holy power on our side is reassuring'.
And so she replies, smiling warmly: "I'm glad you're with us too, Lorlin!"
"The deceased was a Warlock by the name of Lynn," the lich says quietly. "A talented warrior and caster, from what I hear... but he picked a fight with an entire order of absolutely insane monks... I don't know much more about him than that."
A thought suddenly occurs to Akkron... why didn't these people ask if anyone could return the Warlock to life? Lorlin, being a powerful cleric favored by the gods, almost certainly could perform such a feat. And, while it isn't his specialty by any means, the lich himself could have used a Wish to revive the man from the dead (by replicating the Resurrection spell), either from his Ring of Three Wishes or by taking a few hours to prepare the spell himself. Most unusual... Akkron makes a mental note and decides to bring up the possibility to Sir later.
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"Strange indeed..." reflects aloud Khessa "a 'talented warrior and caster' usually has enough sense of self-preservation at least to survive long enough to become such... Who knows why he will have chosen all of a sudden to pick such a hopeless fight? Did something cloud his judgment? Or was he forced to? Or did he seek death on purpose?"
"Perhaps you could ask him, Master Akkron!" exclaims the blonde arcane warrior, excitation shining in her blue eyes "I remember, from our lessons, that you mentioned that spell that allows you to communicate with the dead (*)... I, you know, dividing myself between the arcane and martial studies, always had to carefully select which spells to specialize in... and that one was a spell I had no interest in. But you know that spell, I guess, don't you? You know more spells than Elminster, after all..."
(*) Just please let's use it better than the dudes from Honor Among Thieves...
"Yes, I am quite familiar with the spell," Akkron says thoughtfully. "Though I have rarely had reason to use it, and I don't currently have it prepared... we should probably wait until after the ceremony before we start trying to commune with the deceased, though."
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"Yes, I agree about that" Khessa focuses attention again on the ceremony. "Among other things... have you ever witnessed a funeral ceremony of this type? To cause the body of the deceased to putrefy rapidly and become food for plants... It is kind of... druidic perhaps? I've never seen anything like it yet. Maybe vegetals here contains so much potential energy because they absorb that of the dead? And then, if seeds hold such a power, who knows how much powerful cabbages will be here? So many questions..."