Minsys stops and says, "Wait what?" both aloud and mentally and looks to the perimeter. "You best help resolve this or Imma going to be punching a baby in the face. I don't want to punch no babies, dragon or otherwise but if they nip at me bam." He finishes by punching his fist.
Tabesha'l notices a large chute in the ceiling spaced evenly between the elegant columns. The hollow shaft is only about 3-4 feet in length. Directly below it, in the center of the room, is a slight depression around which the dragon wyrmlings are now gathering. Their beautiful scales shimmer in the darkness, even in the absence of a light source. Green tendrils of hair that look as soft as cornsilk extend from their chins and chests and a slight puff decorates the ends of their tails, much like a lion's.
Like most dragon species, with whites being the notable exception, the wrymlings are possessed of intelligence and vocal ability. As they gather below the chute, they notice the party, but do not appear hostile, and begin to converse among one another:
IF YOU SPEAK DRACONIC:
WRYMLING #1 - "The myconid colony looks as though it is expanding...and perhaps...mutating, hmm?"
WYMRLING #2 - "Ah, don't be daft Mevrlyxithia...those are humanoids. You know, like Auntie A. You can tell because they have little round heads and no wings, the poor dears..."
WYRMLING #3 - "Do you think they like feycake? I never eat all of mine...perhaps they will accept some in trade for a story, or a song, or, ooh! A poem! Yes, I shall barter my feycake for a poem!"
WYRMLING #4 - "Look there kin, that one has dragon's blood in his veins, though he's not moonstone for sure. His head vane looks suspiciously like that of a white...do you see? Have the white come back to torment us further?"
The fifth wyrmling seems to call out to Vaxis directly (still in draconic):
WYRMLING #5 - "You there, dragonkin...what is your bloodline? Also, do you eat feycake? Asking for a friend."
Minsys steps in front of the others. His hands are up and open in front of him. He hopes this is a sign of non aggression but he keeps his knees bent and a slight crouch in case he needs to react quickly.
As they chitter chatter at the group, Minsys understands not a word and does t even recognize the adolescents' speech. In common, then orc, then sylvan he says, "We mean you no harm, we are not your food."
"Oh..." he stops and stand up straighter. He turns to the others. In common he says, "They say they do t want to eat us."
Back to the dragon he says in Sylvan, "Good, no one will eat anyone. Had enough dragon trouble recently. First white and then green, had hoped that we wouldn't have to scrap with some youglings."
Tink is very interested in the dragonlings and is even more surprised to find out that Minsys is able to converse with them. As she watches him interact with the dragonlings she thinks out loud, "This is just fascinating! I have never seen dragons up close before. They look absolutely wonderful. I can see now why Professor Dingus Rumblebottom Antellus Kornelius Ementhal was always so interested in the draconic form. He always did try to talk about them every chance he would get in class. What do you think W.H.I.S.K.E.R.? Should we remodel you in a similar form? We could try to give you wings and everything."
W.H.I.S.K.E.R. does not seem to like the idea much and arches her back and hisses back at Tink in response prompting a sigh from the gnomish elf, "Oh well. It was worth a suggestion. Do let me know if you change your mind."
Tink then glances over to the Minsys and calls out, "Minsys, perhaps we should enquire as to the where abouts of their parents?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Active Characters Tink - Elf ArtificerNicholas Meloncreek - Human Fighter Thurkear - Lizardfolk WarlockBjorn "Whitewalker" Akannathi - Goliath Ranger
"Well, would you look at that..." says one dragon to another as she eyes Minsys in wonderment, "that oafish-looking one speaks the Fey tongue! (To Minsys:) You there! Oaf! I must say, I did not expect to hear the delicate song-speech of the Feywild pour forth from such an indelicate-looking vocal cavity. How did you come to master the Sylvan vernacular? Were you kidnapped by hags as a youth? Or perhaps kept a dryad as a lover? Whatever the circumstance, I'm certain it is a delightful tale indeed! I must hear it, the burden of not knowing it is unthinkable."
Though this dragon seems singularly intrigued by Minsys' language abilities, the others perked up and watched him cautiously and quietly at his mention of the white dragon.
Minsys took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He was beginning to feel annoyed he was about tell them off but as he looked upon the dragons realization began to set in. These were nothing but children, they were smart but likely never met outsiders so he figured he could cut them some slack. "I did not learn from some fey creature and one's not in my blood, as far as I know. My peoples lived off the land. We traveled the woods, the mountains, the plains, drank of the streams and hunted the beasts of the land. Though we hunt, we give thanks to the spirits of the animals for feeding us. We do this in ritual and prayer both in Sylvan. I was one who went through the training. I learned the speech and other magics to speak with beasts but my purpose was to protect the tribe. I did so with the strength of a bear until a white dragon attacked. It killed them and I want it dead."
"How very coincidental," continues the talkative wyrmling, "a white dragon killed our mother...Mother Moonstone, as we all called her. She found a discarded white wyrmling many years ago and raised it as her own, hoping she could teach it our ways and prevent it from giving in to its evil, animalistic nature. Viathirix was his name and after he passed into adulthood, he left the confines of our home, only to return years later having become the very thing Mother's training had been designed to prevent. He rampaged through our den and killed Mother Moonstone. Had it not been for the brave actions of an elven witch, all of us (she motions to her four siblings)...still egg-bound at the time, and our older sister would have been slain as well. It would seem that we share a common enemy then...be ye welcome in our home, friend of the Feywild."
Meanwhile, Arvi, still in bat form, clung to a perch high above the party, cackling maniacally to himself in a tiny, high-pitched screech that few other than Tabesha'l could hear.
Minsys pauses while the little one speaks, and speaks well. At least, more flowery than himself. He then smirks. "Enemy of my enemy is a good ally. If we ever do kill it, we will let you know."
Just then, the sound of something coming down the chute grabbed everyone's attention away from Minsys' conversation with the moonstone wyrmling. A moment later, a large amount of what appeared to be multi-colored cake, complete with multi-colored frosting exited the chute and landed in the depression in the center of the room. "Ah, dinner is served!" says one of the dragons as they all dove in.
The party stood there slack-jawed as they watched a team of dragons devouring a pile of feycake, wondering if they had somehow entered a collective dream-state or if what they were seeing was actually happening.
"It is considered rude in some cultures to watch as one eats," says the myconid telepathically to the others (that could hear him). "Shall we move on then?'
Minsys watched in awe as food dropped from the chute. It was bright and colorful and for some reason just looking at it made his teeth hurt. He watched briefly as they dug into the food and then turned as the myconid spoke to his mind. "Right... let's keep moving," he responded back. "Goods meeting you all, enjoy," he called out as he began to leave. He then gave a light whistle to his friends and a wave of the arm to keep them moving forward.
As the myconid approached the doors at the far end of the feeding room, they creaked open slowly on their own. He led them through the archway into a grand hall, that looked as though it used to be a proper dining hall (for humanoids). A long, royal dining table extended nearly 60 feet into the center of the room, which was supported by marvelously carved alabaster columns at least 30 feet high. Piled on the table were hundreds, if not thousands of...worthless-looking trinkets, mostly covered in a think layer of dust. Broken toys, half-finished sheet music, scraps of costumes and unrecognizable bits of machinery were heaped on top of one another and spilled off the table an onto the floor.
At the far end of the hall, resting upon a dais, was a large and beautiful adult moonstone dragon. It eyed them knowingly and beckoned them further in when they met its gaze from the other end of the room.
As the group makes to leave the room with the smaller dragons, Tabesha'l steps forward and adresses Minsys: " What is this that they sayeth, Ô Friend From The Barbaric Wastes ? Didst they not mention an elven witch ? Why, that would be mine own grandmother herself, Aerydesia !" she exclaims, her cheeks flushed with excitement, before she switches to Draconic and bows deeply towards the wyrmlings:
" I am Tabesha'l Pananthyr and 'tis a true pleasure and a honor to be able to converse with thee, as thy kind is a true wonder to behold ! I do declare if 'tis stories and tales and poems that thou wisheth for, I and mine companions shall do our utmost to compensate thee richly !"
She turns towards Connak. When she points at the archer, there's a tiny spark of amusement in her eyes as she declares grandly: " It just so happens that we art in the company of Thuniviel The Willing, one of the most well-versed storyteller of the known kingdoms, here presently: this faithful and kind companion of mine hath the smooth and golden tongue of the elven Taleweavers of yore ! His captivating tales of daring and romance be legion, his honeyed words be the fame of all known taverns in these-here parts ! Truly, this I do declare !"
She takes a deep breath as she concludes:" But before we regal thee with such niceties, praytell me what thou knoweth of said-elven witch ? I truly must know, as she is the Mother of mine own Mother... very much as thy Moonstone Matriarch would be, I assume ?"
** And just for the hell of it, she rolls Deception so that the kid dragons wait with baited breath for Connak's next amazing tale... 15 **
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV) " Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII) " Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr) " This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
The moonstone dragons set upon the pile of feycake like a pack of wild dogs, but in between mouthfuls, the chatty one among them rose her head briefly to exclaim in draconic: "Oh yes, we love stories! Even better if you can sing it as you tell it! Pardon us now, but do please return shortly and share with us the gift of your marvelous tale!"
Speaking neither Sylvan, nor having partook in the myconid's rapport spores, Connak hung back warily, not quite sure what the conversation entailed, but neither caring much in any case. Tink also could not understand the Sylvan and Draconic conversation, but seemed a little more interested in the dragon sighting than Connak.
Vaxis was strangely quiet...though he did not speak Sylvan, his Draconic was perhaps better than anyone else's, save for the dragons themselves. The lone dragonkin among the party had little to say to his distant cousins, especially on the subject of the rampaging white dragon named Viathirix...
Minsys, undaunted, just strides forward towards the dragon. While it was a stunning creature, he knew too well how dangerous it could be. He figured worse case scenario he could survive at least one strike from it and thst should give the others time to react.
As Minsys approaches, he sees a semi-conscious humanoid lying prone in front of the dragon. The adult wyrm is gently nudging the limp body with her nose and offering some words of encouragement: "There, there poor dear...you've been through a lot, haven't you? Let's get some feycake in you, hmm? That always made you feel better..."
Without looking up, the dragon then addresses Minsys in Common: "Have you come about the Shadowfellian windchimes or the halfling tricycle?" Though it cuts an imposing figure, the dragon does not seem to be posturing in a threatening manner. Her eyes stay focused on the robed figure on the floor, which appears to be an elderly elven female.
"Uh... no idea what yer talking about. We're here with Tab," he says and hooks a finger at Tab. "Tab's grandma had the house topside. I'm just here for Uh protection." He looks side long at Tab and nods his head as if giving indication to lay down a lengthy speech.
"Protection? Hmm," ponders the dragon thoughtfully as a glowing book floats over to her. Pages rifle back and forth until she points the tip of her tail at an entry: "Protection, protection, ah yes, there it is....Nubs! Fetch the cockswain's safety whistle and the post-lobotomy helmet...pile 7C, third layer from the top, index 54 and 117. And be sure you put everything else back as you found it."
Minsys watched as a goblin - noticeably with no fingers or toes - crawled out from underneath a musty blanket and scurried off towards the back of the room. Sound of piles of junk being rummaged through could be heard and tiny knick knacks flew through the air as the goblin flailed around through the dragon's hoard in search of the item requested by its master.
The dragon then looked up at Minsys: "You wouldn't happen to have a healing potion on you, hmm? I'll throw in the halfling tricycle for free if you'd be so kind as to help revive my colleague here. Uh, the elven woman I mean...not the fingerless goblin, just so we're clear."
Minsys stops and says, "Wait what?" both aloud and mentally and looks to the perimeter. "You best help resolve this or Imma going to be punching a baby in the face. I don't want to punch no babies, dragon or otherwise but if they nip at me bam." He finishes by punching his fist.
Would animal handling work here?
Tabesha'l notices a large chute in the ceiling spaced evenly between the elegant columns. The hollow shaft is only about 3-4 feet in length. Directly below it, in the center of the room, is a slight depression around which the dragon wyrmlings are now gathering. Their beautiful scales shimmer in the darkness, even in the absence of a light source. Green tendrils of hair that look as soft as cornsilk extend from their chins and chests and a slight puff decorates the ends of their tails, much like a lion's.
Like most dragon species, with whites being the notable exception, the wrymlings are possessed of intelligence and vocal ability. As they gather below the chute, they notice the party, but do not appear hostile, and begin to converse among one another:
IF YOU SPEAK DRACONIC:
WRYMLING #1 - "The myconid colony looks as though it is expanding...and perhaps...mutating, hmm?"
WYMRLING #2 - "Ah, don't be daft Mevrlyxithia...those are humanoids. You know, like Auntie A. You can tell because they have little round heads and no wings, the poor dears..."
WYRMLING #3 - "Do you think they like feycake? I never eat all of mine...perhaps they will accept some in trade for a story, or a song, or, ooh! A poem! Yes, I shall barter my feycake for a poem!"
WYRMLING #4 - "Look there kin, that one has dragon's blood in his veins, though he's not moonstone for sure. His head vane looks suspiciously like that of a white...do you see? Have the white come back to torment us further?"
The fifth wyrmling seems to call out to Vaxis directly (still in draconic):
WYRMLING #5 - "You there, dragonkin...what is your bloodline? Also, do you eat feycake? Asking for a friend."
Minsys steps in front of the others. His hands are up and open in front of him. He hopes this is a sign of non aggression but he keeps his knees bent and a slight crouch in case he needs to react quickly.
As they chitter chatter at the group, Minsys understands not a word and does t even recognize the adolescents' speech. In common, then orc, then sylvan he says, "We mean you no harm, we are not your food."
“We would extend to you the same courtesy,” says one of the wyrmlings in perfectly articulated Sylvan.
"Oh..." he stops and stand up straighter. He turns to the others. In common he says, "They say they do t want to eat us."
Back to the dragon he says in Sylvan, "Good, no one will eat anyone. Had enough dragon trouble recently. First white and then green, had hoped that we wouldn't have to scrap with some youglings."
Tink is very interested in the dragonlings and is even more surprised to find out that Minsys is able to converse with them. As she watches him interact with the dragonlings she thinks out loud, "This is just fascinating! I have never seen dragons up close before. They look absolutely wonderful. I can see now why Professor Dingus Rumblebottom Antellus Kornelius Ementhal was always so interested in the draconic form. He always did try to talk about them every chance he would get in class. What do you think W.H.I.S.K.E.R.? Should we remodel you in a similar form? We could try to give you wings and everything."
W.H.I.S.K.E.R. does not seem to like the idea much and arches her back and hisses back at Tink in response prompting a sigh from the gnomish elf, "Oh well. It was worth a suggestion. Do let me know if you change your mind."
Tink then glances over to the Minsys and calls out, "Minsys, perhaps we should enquire as to the where abouts of their parents?"
Active Characters
Tink - Elf Artificer Nicholas Meloncreek - Human Fighter
Thurkear - Lizardfolk Warlock Bjorn "Whitewalker" Akannathi - Goliath Ranger
"Well, would you look at that..." says one dragon to another as she eyes Minsys in wonderment, "that oafish-looking one speaks the Fey tongue! (To Minsys:) You there! Oaf! I must say, I did not expect to hear the delicate song-speech of the Feywild pour forth from such an indelicate-looking vocal cavity. How did you come to master the Sylvan vernacular? Were you kidnapped by hags as a youth? Or perhaps kept a dryad as a lover? Whatever the circumstance, I'm certain it is a delightful tale indeed! I must hear it, the burden of not knowing it is unthinkable."
Though this dragon seems singularly intrigued by Minsys' language abilities, the others perked up and watched him cautiously and quietly at his mention of the white dragon.
Minsys took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. He was beginning to feel annoyed he was about tell them off but as he looked upon the dragons realization began to set in. These were nothing but children, they were smart but likely never met outsiders so he figured he could cut them some slack. "I did not learn from some fey creature and one's not in my blood, as far as I know. My peoples lived off the land. We traveled the woods, the mountains, the plains, drank of the streams and hunted the beasts of the land. Though we hunt, we give thanks to the spirits of the animals for feeding us. We do this in ritual and prayer both in Sylvan. I was one who went through the training. I learned the speech and other magics to speak with beasts but my purpose was to protect the tribe. I did so with the strength of a bear until a white dragon attacked. It killed them and I want it dead."
"How very coincidental," continues the talkative wyrmling, "a white dragon killed our mother...Mother Moonstone, as we all called her. She found a discarded white wyrmling many years ago and raised it as her own, hoping she could teach it our ways and prevent it from giving in to its evil, animalistic nature. Viathirix was his name and after he passed into adulthood, he left the confines of our home, only to return years later having become the very thing Mother's training had been designed to prevent. He rampaged through our den and killed Mother Moonstone. Had it not been for the brave actions of an elven witch, all of us (she motions to her four siblings)...still egg-bound at the time, and our older sister would have been slain as well. It would seem that we share a common enemy then...be ye welcome in our home, friend of the Feywild."
Meanwhile, Arvi, still in bat form, clung to a perch high above the party, cackling maniacally to himself in a tiny, high-pitched screech that few other than Tabesha'l could hear.
Minsys pauses while the little one speaks, and speaks well. At least, more flowery than himself. He then smirks. "Enemy of my enemy is a good ally. If we ever do kill it, we will let you know."
Just then, the sound of something coming down the chute grabbed everyone's attention away from Minsys' conversation with the moonstone wyrmling. A moment later, a large amount of what appeared to be multi-colored cake, complete with multi-colored frosting exited the chute and landed in the depression in the center of the room. "Ah, dinner is served!" says one of the dragons as they all dove in.
The party stood there slack-jawed as they watched a team of dragons devouring a pile of feycake, wondering if they had somehow entered a collective dream-state or if what they were seeing was actually happening.
"It is considered rude in some cultures to watch as one eats," says the myconid telepathically to the others (that could hear him). "Shall we move on then?'
Minsys watched in awe as food dropped from the chute. It was bright and colorful and for some reason just looking at it made his teeth hurt. He watched briefly as they dug into the food and then turned as the myconid spoke to his mind. "Right... let's keep moving," he responded back. "Goods meeting you all, enjoy," he called out as he began to leave. He then gave a light whistle to his friends and a wave of the arm to keep them moving forward.
As the myconid approached the doors at the far end of the feeding room, they creaked open slowly on their own. He led them through the archway into a grand hall, that looked as though it used to be a proper dining hall (for humanoids). A long, royal dining table extended nearly 60 feet into the center of the room, which was supported by marvelously carved alabaster columns at least 30 feet high. Piled on the table were hundreds, if not thousands of...worthless-looking trinkets, mostly covered in a think layer of dust. Broken toys, half-finished sheet music, scraps of costumes and unrecognizable bits of machinery were heaped on top of one another and spilled off the table an onto the floor.
At the far end of the hall, resting upon a dais, was a large and beautiful adult moonstone dragon. It eyed them knowingly and beckoned them further in when they met its gaze from the other end of the room.
As the group makes to leave the room with the smaller dragons, Tabesha'l steps forward and adresses Minsys: " What is this that they sayeth, Ô Friend From The Barbaric Wastes ? Didst they not mention an elven witch ? Why, that would be mine own grandmother herself, Aerydesia !" she exclaims, her cheeks flushed with excitement, before she switches to Draconic and bows deeply towards the wyrmlings:
" I am Tabesha'l Pananthyr and 'tis a true pleasure and a honor to be able to converse with thee, as thy kind is a true wonder to behold ! I do declare if 'tis stories and tales and poems that thou wisheth for, I and mine companions shall do our utmost to compensate thee richly !"
She turns towards Connak. When she points at the archer, there's a tiny spark of amusement in her eyes as she declares grandly: " It just so happens that we art in the company of Thuniviel The Willing, one of the most well-versed storyteller of the known kingdoms, here presently: this faithful and kind companion of mine hath the smooth and golden tongue of the elven Taleweavers of yore ! His captivating tales of daring and romance be legion, his honeyed words be the fame of all known taverns in these-here parts ! Truly, this I do declare !"
She takes a deep breath as she concludes: " But before we regal thee with such niceties, praytell me what thou knoweth of said-elven witch ? I truly must know, as she is the Mother of mine own Mother... very much as thy Moonstone Matriarch would be, I assume ?"
** And just for the hell of it, she rolls Deception so that the kid dragons wait with baited breath for Connak's next amazing tale... 15 **
' Rogues Will Be Rogues ' (Circle of Fives Admission Rules, § 6 par. IV)
" Put It Down. Now. Or Be Sorry. " (D. Khar-Errendis' Reported Tips For Curing Soul Ailments And Assorted Bad Behaviours, v. LIV p.XIII)
" Tween thisThy and yonThou, shall I prove to Thee that these art what thou dost see ? " (Grimoire of The Great Pananthyr)
" This One has said enough. Now, we fight. This way please ?" (8th Grade Bronze Disciple Raulnar Drohjo, Way of the Open Palm)
MOONSTONE DRAGON WYRMLING
Wisdom (Insight): 15 vs. Tabesha'l's Charisma (Deception): 15
The moonstone dragons set upon the pile of feycake like a pack of wild dogs, but in between mouthfuls, the chatty one among them rose her head briefly to exclaim in draconic: "Oh yes, we love stories! Even better if you can sing it as you tell it! Pardon us now, but do please return shortly and share with us the gift of your marvelous tale!"
Speaking neither Sylvan, nor having partook in the myconid's rapport spores, Connak hung back warily, not quite sure what the conversation entailed, but neither caring much in any case. Tink also could not understand the Sylvan and Draconic conversation, but seemed a little more interested in the dragon sighting than Connak.
Vaxis was strangely quiet...though he did not speak Sylvan, his Draconic was perhaps better than anyone else's, save for the dragons themselves. The lone dragonkin among the party had little to say to his distant cousins, especially on the subject of the rampaging white dragon named Viathirix...
Minsys, undaunted, just strides forward towards the dragon. While it was a stunning creature, he knew too well how dangerous it could be. He figured worse case scenario he could survive at least one strike from it and thst should give the others time to react.
As Minsys approaches, he sees a semi-conscious humanoid lying prone in front of the dragon. The adult wyrm is gently nudging the limp body with her nose and offering some words of encouragement: "There, there poor dear...you've been through a lot, haven't you? Let's get some feycake in you, hmm? That always made you feel better..."
Without looking up, the dragon then addresses Minsys in Common: "Have you come about the Shadowfellian windchimes or the halfling tricycle?" Though it cuts an imposing figure, the dragon does not seem to be posturing in a threatening manner. Her eyes stay focused on the robed figure on the floor, which appears to be an elderly elven female.
"Uh... no idea what yer talking about. We're here with Tab," he says and hooks a finger at Tab. "Tab's grandma had the house topside. I'm just here for Uh protection." He looks side long at Tab and nods his head as if giving indication to lay down a lengthy speech.
"Protection? Hmm," ponders the dragon thoughtfully as a glowing book floats over to her. Pages rifle back and forth until she points the tip of her tail at an entry: "Protection, protection, ah yes, there it is....Nubs! Fetch the cockswain's safety whistle and the post-lobotomy helmet...pile 7C, third layer from the top, index 54 and 117. And be sure you put everything else back as you found it."
Minsys watched as a goblin - noticeably with no fingers or toes - crawled out from underneath a musty blanket and scurried off towards the back of the room. Sound of piles of junk being rummaged through could be heard and tiny knick knacks flew through the air as the goblin flailed around through the dragon's hoard in search of the item requested by its master.
The dragon then looked up at Minsys: "You wouldn't happen to have a healing potion on you, hmm? I'll throw in the halfling tricycle for free if you'd be so kind as to help revive my colleague here. Uh, the elven woman I mean...not the fingerless goblin, just so we're clear."
Noticing the fingerless goblin, Tink can't help but grimace, "My goodness! What have they done to that poor creature!"
Active Characters
Tink - Elf Artificer Nicholas Meloncreek - Human Fighter
Thurkear - Lizardfolk Warlock Bjorn "Whitewalker" Akannathi - Goliath Ranger