The Spectator doesn't know who Gareth Dayne is? Or maybe he just knows him by his title?
- Gareth Dayne, also called the Lightbringer. What other "good king" would you be talking about? In any case, spectators are bound to fulfill their service for one hundred and one years, and then they are free to do as they please. Unless that which they guard is destroyed before that time, in which case, they vanish. Tell me, when exactly does your service end, and what do you plan to do afterwards? What prevents you from leaving this bridge and rampaging through the Valley, killing everyone you meet?
Saoirse looks at Hemlock after she asks this. She'll only agree with him tossing the potion if the guardian gives a satisfactory answer.
<'Lightbringer' eh? Sounds like a precocious upstart. No, I don't really know anything about that guy. Although it does ring a bell... yeah, people were freaking out about him being dead for a little while after I was summoned here, but things calmed down, and it's been a mostly peaceful watch since then, with all the locals being allowed to walk by, which is nice. I'm bound to guard this bridge for another 3 years. Then... I guess I'd like to tour this valley for a start, see some more of the place I've been stationed so long. It's a shame though, I've liked this job. Open air, pleasant locals to chat with as they pass by, and it's very rare that I have to kill anyone - something I don't particularly like doing. It's sad enough your sort barely gets to live a century. To cut it even shorter almosr brings a tear to my eye. You know what else makes me cry? Bleeding to godsdamn death while people stand around refusing to help me!>
"Precocius upstart, huh?",Saoirse can't help but smirk at the choice of words. And though she can't be entirely certain about the rest of what the spectator has said, at the very least she wants to get more answers from the aberration. They need to know about that "good king". So she takes her hand away from Hemlock's an says:
- We need him alive.
She steps away once again, stows the rapier and draws a breath as she looks down to the ground. She doesn't feel particularly good after extending this creature's pain because of her mistrust.
Hemlock immediately steps forward and unstoppers the potion, feeding it to the Spectator.
"There you go, better late than never. As it happens, I am young for my kind, but I hope to live for many hundreds of years. I will trust that you will not hinder that goal of mine", he says telepathically to the creature with a hint of humour.
"Now, this has been a rather tense introduction. I am Hemlock, do you have a name?", he asks the Spectator.
Lam watches the conversation, surprised by Sha’s intensity as well. He does not try to stop Hemlock from healing the spectator, but he does put one hand on his greataxe when Hemlock feeds the potion to them. He watches carefully, prepared to spring into action if things go south.
<Gods willing, you will,> the spectator responds privately to Hemlock. The tone is a little condescending, like encouraging a child in their dream to become an astronaut who's also the president. It drinks the potion, and immediately stops oozing its black blood from various small wounds. The torn bases of its four eye stalks scab up and stop bleeding as well, though it will take much more and plenty of time for them to grow back. Its round body rolls slightly forward, and lifts a few inches off of the ground. Its huge mouth, lined with bladelike teeth, grimaces in effort as it does. Then it smiles in a way that is probably meant to be friendly and comforting, but also draws uncomfortable attention to its predatory maw.
<All right then,> the creature addresses you all, <You've said the password, so you're allowed to cross the bridge. And you've helped me out, so I'll do my best with your many questions. I'll forgive the offense from your fuzzy cleric, and your tall Goblin clutching his axe - but don't compare me to a darn beholder again. My name is Gōpal. I was summoned by a wizard called Tim, in service of his kind young master, who wore a crown and spoke with authority. I'm not supposed to tell you more about that guy, but I assumed he was a king, and he seemed good enough. Definitely the best job I've been summoned for - just protecting this bridge, letting locals and people who know the password cross, otherwise stopping folks. Which means I've gotten to talk to people and rarely had to actually stop anyone, and been in a pretty place. So, yeah, I wish the guys who gave me the job well. Of course they've both probably died of being old by now... sad to say... remind me what else you asked?>
As Gōpal mentions Tim and the young king he was in service to, Saoirseshares a quick glance with her companions. A wizard called Tim. Wasn't that precisely the one Fitzwhistlebarely escaped from after his expedition to the Grave Fort twenty years ago? And didn't the artificer say that he was a lich? She wonders what Gōpal would think should they mention that. And who is the one with the crown? The spectator hadn't recognized the name "Gareth Dayne", nor "Lightbringer", but who else would have worn the crown but him? In any case, that didn't make sense! Wasn't Dayne killed a hundred years ago? Something doesn't add up, but the blood hunter doesn't feel ready to ask this just yet. What if they do and the Gōpal gets violent? Tim was his summoner, after all.
Considering all this, the genasi decides to ask about other things the aberration has said.
I'm not supposed to tell you more about that guy, but I assumed he was a king, and he seemed good enough.
- Sorry, but... why not? Anything preventing you from it? Did you swear fealty to that crowned man or something? It is strange, though, the only king I've ever heard about, the one called the True King, was Gareth Dayne. But, as you said, he was murdered a hundred years ago. I've never heard of other king after him. And mind you, my order, the Blood of the True King would have known about it... - she says, but then an "...I guess" filled with uncertainty escapes her lips. After all, how could she be sure about anything they had told her all those years at the Order? Apart from the fighter she had become during her time there, that is. Though she couldn't be sure about many things, she ccould definitely put her trust in that. She would always be grateful for that.
The blood hunter falls silent for a few moments after she ponders all this, but then keeps going.
- We know an HMC caravan came through here. I assume they didn't know the password and forced their way across the bridge. Do you happen to know who was in command the caravan? Do the names Captain JonahorViconiaring any bell?
-Why were you tasked to guard this particular bridge? Was it because it leads to the Grave Fort, perhaps?
Hemlock simply nods as Saoirse processes the information and repeats her questions.
"I am just wondering, was Tim's kind young master a Halfling by any chance? With fair skin and light brown hair?", he asks Gōpal in between the blood hunters questions. He also recognised the name Tim as someone Fitz had mentioned, but is reluctant to bring that up just now as well. With Liches, necromancers and undead armies, he really wasn't certain he wanted to head to the Grave Fort at all. But it did seem to be the most likely destination for answers.
<Wow, you do have a lot of questions! The guy with the crown asked me... huh. That's wierd. He asked me not to talk about him. I've never tried, but now I can feel that I literally can't talk about him. I was just politely not doing it up till now. Of course, I'm not talking - I'm communicating via telepathy. But it's like I can feel that this is a loophole - like I'm really close to something really bad. Like an impending doom. Freaky! He also asked me not to worry about who he was - and I'm just realizing that I've literally never worried about it. Barely gave is a second thought! I just thought 'crown, must be some sort of a king,' and that was that. That uncuriousity is most unlike me. Oh well, I'm sure it's not a big deal. I definitely don't think he was this Gareth Dayne person though... The kid didn't seem to be much used to being a king. He didn't have that 'oh look at me I'm better than everyone la-di-dah' vibe. Yeah, just a youngish halfling with fair skin and brown hair. Woah... that impending doom feeling is intense. I'm clearly not supposed to be communicating any of this to you! I probably couldn't do it at all if I was trying to talk to you. What a strange thing...> Gopal seems distracted for a few moments, mulling over the odd internal experience it is having, and yet it settles on not being concerned about the oddness. (That physical description doesn't match the portraits or statues of the True King that you've seen at some point or another.) <As for why this bridge, well, as far as I know there are only two bridges across the river, and the only way for grounders like you all to get into the valley is south of the river. They were establishing a base on the north side somewhere, and presumably wanted it to be hard for anyone to get near them. They even talked to the river spirit itself, and I don't think it would allow anyone to cross the river anywhere other than these bridges. Much more effective barrier than walls.>
<Right, sorry, you asked a few more things. Yeah, the cheaters who killed Bagheera and nearly killed me forced their way through here yesterday afternoon; folks with a stone hammer on their flag. There was a great big guy who first tried to get me to step aside. Very self-important, thinks himself the epitome of honour. He tried to negotiate, then he challenged me to a duel, then Bagheera snuck up and sliced his leg! He could barely walk as he retreated. The others called him captain. Then there was some sort of a fight over on their side of the river, and then no action for a while. A couple hours later though, big wagon full of barrels of smokepowder rolled towards me, and blew up before I had the chance to do anything about it. Then some workers came out, laid this ugly patch on the worst of the bridge, and soon after that a bunch of wagons crossed the bridge here, while I lay bleeding and unable to move. I didn't see the big guy again, and there was an intense woman telling the others what to do. Didn't hear any names though, I was a little preoccupied with my dead companion and my life flashing before my eyes. I must have passed out at some point, because I don't remember much more until you all woke me up.>
Saoirse nods as Gopal keeps speaking. Many of those details match what they've heard so far: Tim, the halfing, the effects caused by the Crown of Divine Right... Regarding the base on the north side of the river, could that be Green Castle, the place where High Elves used to live until the True King died and they decided to abandon the Valley? It was clear they would need to investigate that place sooner or later. But since they had decided to take the southern road, that would have to wait for another time.
When Gopal mentions the HMC group she replies:
- Yes, that big guy definitely sounds like Jonah Hammerstone. And while I cannot be sure who that woman is, from what we've heard so far, she could perfectly be Viconia - she says, sharing a glance with her friends - Sounds like Jonah decided to retreat, she didn't take it well and decided to act violently against Jonah's wishes. We'll have to deal with her soon, I'm certain.
After this, Saoirse still has a few more questions for the spectator.
- I am curious for the password. "Jeremy was here". Why that password? Who is Jeremy?
She then looks at the rest, wondering if they want to ask anything else, and what should they do:
- We should probably follow the HMC trail, right? Pretty sure they are headed towards the same place as us...
Hemlock sighs at news of Captain Jonah, he didn't like the thought of something bad happening to him.
"Did the halfling have a name?", is the first question on his mind.
When Saoirse looks to them all, he shrugs, "Probably should, yes. I would really like to check on the Captain, but that would take too long. And I think Viconia, and it does sound like her, will be getting up to all sorts of trouble".
- By the way. I'm deeply sorry to ask this, Gōpal, but the truth is Bagheera's antennae would really help us on our journey. Would you allow us to make use of them? I know you only have our word, but I can assure you ... we would treat them honorably.
<The halfling seemed to think whe password was funny, but I just took it at face value... which is odd. I usually love puzzles. And he asked me not to worry about who he was, so I've got no idea on the name, but I'm quite certain it's not very important.
I can certainly appreciate this Viconia's ruthlessness, but if you do see her, do me a favor and avenge Bagheera, would you?>
"Unless the Halfling's name really is Jeremy, which I highly doubt", Hemlock says with a disappointed sigh that there is no more information.
Contemplating the request from Gōpal, he smiles. "If you agree to us using Bagheera's antennae to aid us, you may find that even in death she is a part of Viconia's comeuppance".
"Also, do you have much interaction with the river spirit?".
<Well, stories come from somewhere. The locals say something like that, right? All stories are real, right? Just be careful with your divinity though - Gods are made of stories, and not just from the people you want telling them. Besides, if you hadn't known the passphrase, and I had been at full strength, me and Bagheera would have killed you all horribly.
The river never stops to chat with us... or at least if it does, my Primordial is too poor to tell it apart from regular river noises. But if I had to guess why it's upset right now, I'd guess that it doesn't like that people crossed the bridge without permission, even though it wasn't directly tasked to help.us guard the bridge. Like how o could feel unease around the loophole that was telling you all about the boss man.
As to taking Bagheera's pelt, I'm afraid I don't quite trust you to do that right, and I don't want you mutilating her for nothing. But I will preserve her body, and if you return with proof that you know what you're doing, I'll let you take what you need. Or... If you are willing to promise to guard the bridge for a day, I can return to my home plane and heal up faster, and when I come back you will be welcome to her.>
"There are countless stories, and all of them are true" , Saoirserepeats the saying she's come to appreciate dearly after their short time in Village Tree. Then, when the spectator says he and Bagheera would have killed them if they hadn't know the password she says. "Well, you may have. But I assure you we would have put up a hard fight. I'm glad it hasn't come to that, anyway. Did you ... kill many? I hope that happened only if they decided to attack instead of turning back peacefully...."
Regarding the antlers, the blood hunter furrowed her brow, looking uncertain:
"A day? I fear what that HMC will do if given that much time... I'm not sure what kind of proof you'll ask of that, but even if those antennae would help us, I'm not sure we can wait that long."
"I too am glad that we know the password, it would have been unfortunate otherwise", Hemlock agrees.
He looks down at the river, "Those that crossed the river did so with violence. It seems many forces here value the locals though. The river spirit made a deal with them if I remember correctly, and the one who summoned you also thought kindly towards them. Enough to allow them passage across the river anyway. I wonder, can they be all bad then?".
When talk turns to Bagheera, he can't help but agree with Saoirse. "I think you are right, Saoirse. A day is too much time to lose right now".
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
<Who in Avernus is Gareth Dayne? Look, heal me so we can talk like civilized people while I'm not about to die of my injuries.>
As far as Hemlock can tell, the monster is being honest still.
DM: Heavy is the Head
The Spectator doesn't know who Gareth Dayne is? Or maybe he just knows him by his title?
- Gareth Dayne, also called the Lightbringer. What other "good king" would you be talking about? In any case, spectators are bound to fulfill their service for one hundred and one years, and then they are free to do as they please. Unless that which they guard is destroyed before that time, in which case, they vanish. Tell me, when exactly does your service end, and what do you plan to do afterwards? What prevents you from leaving this bridge and rampaging through the Valley, killing everyone you meet?
Saoirse looks at Hemlock after she asks this. She'll only agree with him tossing the potion if the guardian gives a satisfactory answer.
(OOC: Got a critical failure in Insight...)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
<'Lightbringer' eh? Sounds like a precocious upstart. No, I don't really know anything about that guy. Although it does ring a bell... yeah, people were freaking out about him being dead for a little while after I was summoned here, but things calmed down, and it's been a mostly peaceful watch since then, with all the locals being allowed to walk by, which is nice. I'm bound to guard this bridge for another 3 years. Then... I guess I'd like to tour this valley for a start, see some more of the place I've been stationed so long. It's a shame though, I've liked this job. Open air, pleasant locals to chat with as they pass by, and it's very rare that I have to kill anyone - something I don't particularly like doing. It's sad enough your sort barely gets to live a century. To cut it even shorter almosr brings a tear to my eye. You know what else makes me cry? Bleeding to godsdamn death while people stand around refusing to help me!>
DM: Heavy is the Head
"Precocius upstart, huh?", Saoirse can't help but smirk at the choice of words. And though she can't be entirely certain about the rest of what the spectator has said, at the very least she wants to get more answers from the aberration. They need to know about that "good king". So she takes her hand away from Hemlock's an says:
- We need him alive.
She steps away once again, stows the rapier and draws a breath as she looks down to the ground. She doesn't feel particularly good after extending this creature's pain because of her mistrust.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Hemlock immediately steps forward and unstoppers the potion, feeding it to the Spectator.
"There you go, better late than never. As it happens, I am young for my kind, but I hope to live for many hundreds of years. I will trust that you will not hinder that goal of mine", he says telepathically to the creature with a hint of humour.
"Now, this has been a rather tense introduction. I am Hemlock, do you have a name?", he asks the Spectator.
Lam watches the conversation, surprised by Sha’s intensity as well. He does not try to stop Hemlock from healing the spectator, but he does put one hand on his greataxe when Hemlock feeds the potion to them. He watches carefully, prepared to spring into action if things go south.
<Gods willing, you will,> the spectator responds privately to Hemlock. The tone is a little condescending, like encouraging a child in their dream to become an astronaut who's also the president. It drinks the potion, and immediately stops oozing its black blood from various small wounds. The torn bases of its four eye stalks scab up and stop bleeding as well, though it will take much more and plenty of time for them to grow back. Its round body rolls slightly forward, and lifts a few inches off of the ground. Its huge mouth, lined with bladelike teeth, grimaces in effort as it does. Then it smiles in a way that is probably meant to be friendly and comforting, but also draws uncomfortable attention to its predatory maw.
<All right then,> the creature addresses you all, <You've said the password, so you're allowed to cross the bridge. And you've helped me out, so I'll do my best with your many questions. I'll forgive the offense from your fuzzy cleric, and your tall Goblin clutching his axe - but don't compare me to a darn beholder again. My name is Gōpal. I was summoned by a wizard called Tim, in service of his kind young master, who wore a crown and spoke with authority. I'm not supposed to tell you more about that guy, but I assumed he was a king, and he seemed good enough. Definitely the best job I've been summoned for - just protecting this bridge, letting locals and people who know the password cross, otherwise stopping folks. Which means I've gotten to talk to people and rarely had to actually stop anyone, and been in a pretty place. So, yeah, I wish the guys who gave me the job well. Of course they've both probably died of being old by now... sad to say... remind me what else you asked?>
DM: Heavy is the Head
As Gōpal mentions Tim and the young king he was in service to, Saoirse shares a quick glance with her companions. A wizard called Tim. Wasn't that precisely the one Fitzwhistle barely escaped from after his expedition to the Grave Fort twenty years ago? And didn't the artificer say that he was a lich? She wonders what Gōpal would think should they mention that. And who is the one with the crown? The spectator hadn't recognized the name "Gareth Dayne", nor "Lightbringer", but who else would have worn the crown but him? In any case, that didn't make sense! Wasn't Dayne killed a hundred years ago? Something doesn't add up, but the blood hunter doesn't feel ready to ask this just yet. What if they do and the Gōpal gets violent? Tim was his summoner, after all.
Considering all this, the genasi decides to ask about other things the aberration has said.
- Sorry, but... why not? Anything preventing you from it? Did you swear fealty to that crowned man or something? It is strange, though, the only king I've ever heard about, the one called the True King, was Gareth Dayne. But, as you said, he was murdered a hundred years ago. I've never heard of other king after him. And mind you, my order, the Blood of the True King would have known about it... - she says, but then an "...I guess" filled with uncertainty escapes her lips. After all, how could she be sure about anything they had told her all those years at the Order? Apart from the fighter she had become during her time there, that is. Though she couldn't be sure about many things, she ccould definitely put her trust in that. She would always be grateful for that.
The blood hunter falls silent for a few moments after she ponders all this, but then keeps going.
- Well... - she begins, and then repeats her questions.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Hemlock simply nods as Saoirse processes the information and repeats her questions.
"I am just wondering, was Tim's kind young master a Halfling by any chance? With fair skin and light brown hair?", he asks Gōpal in between the blood hunters questions. He also recognised the name Tim as someone Fitz had mentioned, but is reluctant to bring that up just now as well. With Liches, necromancers and undead armies, he really wasn't certain he wanted to head to the Grave Fort at all. But it did seem to be the most likely destination for answers.
<Wow, you do have a lot of questions! The guy with the crown asked me... huh. That's wierd. He asked me not to talk about him. I've never tried, but now I can feel that I literally can't talk about him. I was just politely not doing it up till now. Of course, I'm not talking - I'm communicating via telepathy. But it's like I can feel that this is a loophole - like I'm really close to something really bad. Like an impending doom. Freaky! He also asked me not to worry about who he was - and I'm just realizing that I've literally never worried about it. Barely gave is a second thought! I just thought 'crown, must be some sort of a king,' and that was that. That uncuriousity is most unlike me. Oh well, I'm sure it's not a big deal. I definitely don't think he was this Gareth Dayne person though... The kid didn't seem to be much used to being a king. He didn't have that 'oh look at me I'm better than everyone la-di-dah' vibe. Yeah, just a youngish halfling with fair skin and brown hair. Woah... that impending doom feeling is intense. I'm clearly not supposed to be communicating any of this to you! I probably couldn't do it at all if I was trying to talk to you. What a strange thing...> Gopal seems distracted for a few moments, mulling over the odd internal experience it is having, and yet it settles on not being concerned about the oddness. (That physical description doesn't match the portraits or statues of the True King that you've seen at some point or another.) <As for why this bridge, well, as far as I know there are only two bridges across the river, and the only way for grounders like you all to get into the valley is south of the river. They were establishing a base on the north side somewhere, and presumably wanted it to be hard for anyone to get near them. They even talked to the river spirit itself, and I don't think it would allow anyone to cross the river anywhere other than these bridges. Much more effective barrier than walls.>
<Right, sorry, you asked a few more things. Yeah, the cheaters who killed Bagheera and nearly killed me forced their way through here yesterday afternoon; folks with a stone hammer on their flag. There was a great big guy who first tried to get me to step aside. Very self-important, thinks himself the epitome of honour. He tried to negotiate, then he challenged me to a duel, then Bagheera snuck up and sliced his leg! He could barely walk as he retreated. The others called him captain. Then there was some sort of a fight over on their side of the river, and then no action for a while. A couple hours later though, big wagon full of barrels of smokepowder rolled towards me, and blew up before I had the chance to do anything about it. Then some workers came out, laid this ugly patch on the worst of the bridge, and soon after that a bunch of wagons crossed the bridge here, while I lay bleeding and unable to move. I didn't see the big guy again, and there was an intense woman telling the others what to do. Didn't hear any names though, I was a little preoccupied with my dead companion and my life flashing before my eyes. I must have passed out at some point, because I don't remember much more until you all woke me up.>
DM: Heavy is the Head
Saoirse nods as Gopal keeps speaking. Many of those details match what they've heard so far: Tim, the halfing, the effects caused by the Crown of Divine Right... Regarding the base on the north side of the river, could that be Green Castle, the place where High Elves used to live until the True King died and they decided to abandon the Valley? It was clear they would need to investigate that place sooner or later. But since they had decided to take the southern road, that would have to wait for another time.
When Gopal mentions the HMC group she replies:
- Yes, that big guy definitely sounds like Jonah Hammerstone. And while I cannot be sure who that woman is, from what we've heard so far, she could perfectly be Viconia - she says, sharing a glance with her friends - Sounds like Jonah decided to retreat, she didn't take it well and decided to act violently against Jonah's wishes. We'll have to deal with her soon, I'm certain.
After this, Saoirse still has a few more questions for the spectator.
- I am curious for the password. "Jeremy was here". Why that password? Who is Jeremy?
She then looks at the rest, wondering if they want to ask anything else, and what should they do:
- We should probably follow the HMC trail, right? Pretty sure they are headed towards the same place as us...
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Hemlock sighs at news of Captain Jonah, he didn't like the thought of something bad happening to him.
"Did the halfling have a name?", is the first question on his mind.
When Saoirse looks to them all, he shrugs, "Probably should, yes. I would really like to check on the Captain, but that would take too long. And I think Viconia, and it does sound like her, will be getting up to all sorts of trouble".
- By the way. I'm deeply sorry to ask this, Gōpal, but the truth is Bagheera's antennae would really help us on our journey. Would you allow us to make use of them? I know you only have our word, but I can assure you ... we would treat them honorably.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
<The halfling seemed to think whe password was funny, but I just took it at face value... which is odd. I usually love puzzles. And he asked me not to worry about who he was, so I've got no idea on the name, but I'm quite certain it's not very important.
I can certainly appreciate this Viconia's ruthlessness, but if you do see her, do me a favor and avenge Bagheera, would you?>
DM: Heavy is the Head
"Unless the Halfling's name really is Jeremy, which I highly doubt", Hemlock says with a disappointed sigh that there is no more information.
Contemplating the request from Gōpal, he smiles. "If you agree to us using Bagheera's antennae to aid us, you may find that even in death she is a part of Viconia's comeuppance".
"Also, do you have much interaction with the river spirit?".
Roll persuasion
DM: Heavy is the Head
“Göpal I was wrong about you. You’ve been true to your word. I’m sorry. I certainly thought the worst… you are not like the stories I’ve heard.”
Sha looks very contrite.
<Well, stories come from somewhere. The locals say something like that, right? All stories are real, right? Just be careful with your divinity though - Gods are made of stories, and not just from the people you want telling them. Besides, if you hadn't known the passphrase, and I had been at full strength, me and Bagheera would have killed you all horribly.
The river never stops to chat with us... or at least if it does, my Primordial is too poor to tell it apart from regular river noises. But if I had to guess why it's upset right now, I'd guess that it doesn't like that people crossed the bridge without permission, even though it wasn't directly tasked to help.us guard the bridge. Like how o could feel unease around the loophole that was telling you all about the boss man.
As to taking Bagheera's pelt, I'm afraid I don't quite trust you to do that right, and I don't want you mutilating her for nothing. But I will preserve her body, and if you return with proof that you know what you're doing, I'll let you take what you need. Or... If you are willing to promise to guard the bridge for a day, I can return to my home plane and heal up faster, and when I come back you will be welcome to her.>
DM: Heavy is the Head
"There are countless stories, and all of them are true" , Saoirse repeats the saying she's come to appreciate dearly after their short time in Village Tree. Then, when the spectator says he and Bagheera would have killed them if they hadn't know the password she says. "Well, you may have. But I assure you we would have put up a hard fight. I'm glad it hasn't come to that, anyway. Did you ... kill many? I hope that happened only if they decided to attack instead of turning back peacefully...."
Regarding the antlers, the blood hunter furrowed her brow, looking uncertain:
"A day? I fear what that HMC will do if given that much time... I'm not sure what kind of proof you'll ask of that, but even if those antennae would help us, I'm not sure we can wait that long."
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
"I too am glad that we know the password, it would have been unfortunate otherwise", Hemlock agrees.
He looks down at the river, "Those that crossed the river did so with violence. It seems many forces here value the locals though. The river spirit made a deal with them if I remember correctly, and the one who summoned you also thought kindly towards them. Enough to allow them passage across the river anyway. I wonder, can they be all bad then?".
When talk turns to Bagheera, he can't help but agree with Saoirse. "I think you are right, Saoirse. A day is too much time to lose right now".