When I first laid out the adventure, I had some named encounters here and there associated with the Castle and Corfard and gave them all a rating of 1-5 in relation on how they feel about being here. The Butcher is an outlier in regards to Corfard's retinue and being as the game defaults to "male" and "he/his", I make sure to include female in and around my games.
However, I never expected the dungeon to shift in this direction, dice say otherwise - so we just went for it.
Follows:
ONE HUNDRED FORTY THREE
(I/C)
Wyn sighed, “I feel like we been tryin to take out de bad zombies fer bout a week... let’s go afta dem.” He looked around the hall at the state of his companions, noting Lyra, Kovid, and Abraxas’ wounds and amended, “On second tought... most of us look like the dark side ov a catfish... mayhaps we wait fer de zombies. Time to talk to de Butcher den, oui?”
“It’s what... noon?” Lyra asked, “I think I’d rather take a nap.”
Brendon sneered, “Really? Less than an hour ago I was wrong to suggest we rest and now 50 something minutes it’s an idea?”
“I think the suggestion for rest is only before we get to the next grande encounter,” Abraxas replied.
The Scout shrugged, sword out and taking point as the party made their way up the stairs, “I dunno. I’m getting the feeling you’ll just dismiss anything I suggest.”
Wyn tapped Brendon on the shoulder while climbing the steps, “Monsieur, only one person suggested to rest. Lady Lyra. An’ we ignored it…same as when you suggested it earlier as well.”
“Ignoring Lyra is easy,” Lannis noted.
“Hey!” the Cleric exclaimed, nudging him as they walked.
“Huh? What was that? See! It’s not a problem.”
“Jerk,” she grumbled. “Honestly... of the two, I guess I’d prefer the Butcher. At least whatever it is might be reasonable. You lot don’t look like you’re up for another big fight. But do we think we’re going to get anything useful out of him? We also have the direction of the Beekeeper. Not that a Beekeeper sounds any better than a Butcher.”
As they entered the open door at the top of the steps they could see the goblins had made a bit of a mess of the room. The fountain had been cracked in places, and Grilljax’ throne was dumped over and the bottom had been dismantled in places. Also, the ‘goblin’ note that Brendon had written on the wall in chalk had been smeared and made illegible.
Looking around cautiously, Lannis said, "I suppose so, I don't feel like we're properly armed to handle those Guardians. Maybe we can use our knowledge of the kobold food stash being destroyed to our advantage. Knowledge is power and all that. We should be very careful though, I'm low on spells."
The elf smirked, “I’d hate for you to get put out. Dat ees fine Monsieur Offop. Wyn cen do de knockin’. I will say sometin’ like: ‘Monsieur Butcher? We were wonderin iffin you like ta trade wit us?’ “ He sighed. “Best we got, really. En Wyn be de most expendable of dis crew, so eet makes sense eet be me. Allons-y.”
Smiling, Lannis gave Wyn the thumbs up. "I agree with everything you just said.”
“Just tryin’ to make yer life easy, Magic User.”
Kovid coughed as they crossed the room to the Statue Room, Brendon giving the portal a once over and listening. “We’re all pretty hurt and we want to go see someone called the Butcher? Sounds about right. Let’s go.”
Abraxas had been quiet during most of the back and forth, but the Fighter’s wounds had been bothering him as evidenced by the hitch in his side and the way he kept pressing his shield arm against it. "Este es que I was talking about. Loose ends. Now there is someone out there with more green slime. If we had just burned it earlier, before going outside, we wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
“Like we knew there was going to be goblins wandering about,” Lannis replied.
Abraxas shook his head. “Que hecho esta hecho - what's done is done. I say we hunt down that Goblin soon. Let's check to see if there's anything with the statues. See if they mess'ed with the Ballista. Then, like Señor Wyndemup says, we go talk to El Carnicero. We see if he wants to trade. If he wants to fight, I say we vamonos right back to our... como dices... hidey-hole, and get some rest.” He waved his hands absently about, “Or maybe we deal with the "Zombies Malo" then go to rest."
Looking in the Statue Room after getting the all clear from Brendon, the group entered and noticed that the two statues had been knocked over and had been pummeled repeatedly until parts of them had been broken off and defaced. As for the Ballista, the goblins had gone through the trouble to turn it towards the long hall back end first for towing the war machine but nothing else (it was still uncocked.)
We made our way to the long hall after looking and listening (again, all clear) and made our way down the hall to the left hand turn. We traveled with care past the Scriptorium, the turned to the west and went past the dressmaker’s room, and then along the long halls and eventually turned to the north. As the group walked there was the sound of a harp playing, faint and melodic, but heard. We stopped outside the “Butcher’s” Door and the group all looked at Wyn.
“Oh. Really? Ugh.” He shook his head, asked for the bag of meat from Abraxas, and raised one hand to knock.
The sound of the harp playing stopped. We heard some movement in the room and the sound of a door opening, then heavy footsteps getting closer to the door. Lannis had his bolt rod, Lyra her sling, the rest of the party was sheathed but also ready in case something went wrong.
The door opened. And standing there was an almost 8’ tall hulking hairy huge and very large chested female bugbear. She was wearing a set of very tight leather armor that was barely able to contain her, and she wore an apron over that that had old blood stains and smears on it. Her talons were painted red in shiny polish, and they matched the talons on her toes. Her hair and fur was combed and neat and she had a number of delicate (for her) golden hoops in both of her ears.
Held comfortably in her right hand was a 7’ tall silvered steel scythe that had a faint glow about it and some symbology to Morrigaan, the Elven Goddess of Harvesting, on its 3’ long bladed end as well as the shaft of the weapon. She looked down at the group, taking them all in with a single glance and Abraxas (Fighter, no roll) had the uncomfortable realization that she was very capable and most likely a better fighter than any two members of the group.
(Reaction roll: Red/Black 6 + 5 = 11: Friendly! (very much what I was NOT expecting – shifting gears here!) ).
“Ah!” she said, her voice ridiculously deep and yet still feminine sounding. “ ‘Allo! ‘Allo!” she looked at the group deeply. “I speak the Common tongue for you, is that ok? You are here for meats? To chop? Come in, come in, you are letting all the flies out. HAHAHAHAH!!!” she backed up and held her hand out, motioning the group to enter. “One, two, three, four, five, six. Come, come.”
As the group entered they had the chance to look around the sizable chamber. There was a chill in the room from somewhere and the floor was covered in a thick layer of sand. Odd bits of blood stained it in places but there were two gnomes on the other end of the room, one of them with a sand rake, the other was in front of a partially closed door on the east wall where white wisps of cold condensation could be seen. Both gnomes were clad in leathers and had grayish coloring to their skins. They were thin, and each of them had a pair of well made steel axes at their side. There was another door on the north wall that was closed. In the corner of the north wall was a large rack that had a variety of cleavers, knives, and other cutting implements all in well used but good shape. There was finally a cutting block about 3’ wide, 3’ deep and 3’ tall that had numerous cuts and blood stains on it.
“Go on,” Lannis nudged Wyn. “Tell her how you are here to trade and are the most expendable member of the party.”
“Lannis,” Wyn hissed back. “Shut zee fuck up.”
“That is Standard,” she pointed at the gnomes, the one with the rake doffing its gnome hat and bowing, “and that is Typical,” the other gnome by the door repeated the gesture. “They work for me. I’m the Butcher.” She casually spun the scythe around to her other hand. “And from the looks of it, I am not what you were expecting. HAHAHAHAH!!! That’s ok.”
(Who she will feel most interested in talking to: White 2: Lyra) Her eyes lit up on seeing Lyra. “Ah! Another female! That’s good! Hello little girl!” she waved at the Cleric in an exaggerated manner. “So, what do you want?”
Time now is: Day 4, 12:18 PM
(OOC)
Alright! I leave it to you guys. If it looks like the group is going to talk to the Butcher, I will compose some questions that she might ask some of the party members (most likely Lyra will be one of them) and will communicate it with you guys tomorrow.
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