ONE HUNDRED NINETY SIX
(I/C)
“Shit,” Lannis cursed, leaning towards Abraxas, “Just be careful what you say, treat him like a mushroom, I already don't like this."
Pulling her shirt out from the collar of her chainmail, Lyra looped it over her mouth and nose and shook her head in frustration, “Well shit. So much for waiting till tomorrow boys.”
As Abraxas stepped to the front, Wyn whispered, “Do what ye need Salazar... just remember why we are actually here. Like in dis castle. Odderwise, I tink you got the proper idea bout what needs ta be said."
“Si, Senor,” the Fighter nodded. “I’m on this.”
“Great,” the elf smiled and then muttered barely audible to himself, “Merde...I hope de gods be on our side... Ishtari protect us..."
Kovid had his towel over his nose and raised his lantern up to offer more light but got a shake of the head from Abraxas and Brendon whispered, “Lil man, the light might set them off and we’re in no position to deal with them, we’ll get a look at that area later.”
“Sorry,” the dwarf replied, lowering the lantern, “Just trying to see who we’re talking to. No harm no foul.”
“Not yet, Senor Kovarc,” Abraxas said, finally in front of the group. He held his hands up, showing they were bare, Scythe slung across his back for now. Addressing the dark cavern and its occupants, Abraxas intoned, "Hola Señor. Mi llamo... my name is Abraxas Salazar. These are mis amigos,” he pointed to the group behind him. :I believe you are who we've come to talk to. How may we call you?"
For a moment it was quiet inside and then a rasping repetitive sound like scraping paper over rough wood followed, faster than slower than faster again. It took us a moment to realize it was laughter. “You are ssso very polite for a ssset of well armed and armored intrudersss.” (Reaction Roll: 4+2 = 6, Neutral/Aggressive) “I’m the Jailer. And thatsss good enough for now.”
The Fighter nodded, smile plastered wide on his face, "We were hoping to speak with you. It is a great honor to make your acquaintance."
“I’m sssure,” came the reply, followed by another low menacing animalistic grumble. “Ssssssshhh. They’re jussst talking.” The smell that had been foul already seemed to be growing more ripe the longer the group stood here talking. Most of the group began taking shallow breaths and holding their faces against their arms, cloaks, or even the towels if they were accessible. “You look tough. Thinking to match yourssself against me?”
“No, no, Senor.” Abraxas continued to keep his hands empty and movements slow and easy. “We have no desire for any violence to you or your wondrous charges. Simply looking to establish una discourse.”
“I’m sssure. Get to the point, Mammal.”
“We have had successful discussions with El Carcinera - The Butcher, Hoeass, Standart and Typically. All of whom are now on their ways back to Jector. I tell you this Señor to assure you, we are reasonable persons and would like to have reasonable discussions with you as well.”
“Sssure you did. I can sssee her Ssscythe on your back. Don’t think ssshe was just going to give it up.” There was the sound of a chain rattling and something metallic hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
“No, no, Senor Yailer. It was a gift the Butcher bestowed upon me herself. The Scythe of Morrigaan.” He made to pull it out to show but the growl in the room grew deeper and menacing and he left his hands up.
(<Jailer Int check, Black 6) “I can tell when sssomeone is bullssshitting me, Mammal. For now…I’ll take you at your word.” There was some shuffling in the room. “Ssso, they left?”
“Si. They did.” Abraxas smiled, making himself seem non-threatening (Cha >12, no roll). “I myself will be going to Jector after this adventure to meet up with those I mentioned, as mis amigos. I'm hoping you and I can be amigos after this talk, Señor Yailer.”
The reek was growing worse the longer the party stayed, cloying and noxious, it felt like tendrils digging into the party’s nose, eyes, throat, and even ears (Save vs Poison: >Pink 17, <White 5, <Orange 2, >Blue 20, <Red 7, <Yellow 6). Only Lannis and Abraxas were able to stomach the vomitous stink as the rest of the party was suffering from dry heaves, uncontrollable gagging, and sudden gut pains. Wyn had a constant stream of tears running down his face, Lyra was wiping her nose inside her undershirt. Brendon was holding onto the wall head spinning and dizzy. Kovid kept covering his mouth, the taste of bile on the back of his tongue and the need to spit was an almost constant presence. (everyone who failed has a -2 on all rolls and checks for the next 10 minutes)
“Ha. I don’t need friendsss, Mammal. Been there, done that.” There was a heavy sigh, “But I have a job and pissssing down your back isssn’t in my…or my chargesss…bessst interessstsss.”
“Señor, we are but meager adventurers, hired to retrieve the Crown of Ipsen, and return home. That is all we want. We do not want any unnecessary bloodshed or violence, if we can avoid it.”
The Jailer gave that odd raspy laugh again. “Thossse who sssay they don’t want bloodssshed, often bring it.” There was a snapping sound. “Tell you what, Mammal. You and yoursss so get a good nightsss rest. The Pigsss will be back real sssoon after the ssspanking you gave them. I’m not predisssposssed to helping them…or you for that matter.”
“Gracias, Senor.”
“I’m going to mull over you and what your being here meansss. Come back tomorrow and we’ll talk then. But I’d find whatever hole you’ve been ssstaying in and sssoon before the Pigsss come through here. Maybe we can help each other out.” He paused briefly. “Maybe not. Only Tiamat knowsss. Look for me here after the morning breaks. Now go.”
Time now is Day 5, 3:45 PM
(OOC)
The Jailer has nothing more to say at this time, pressing it will most likely produce a negative reaction. Also, somewhere to the south and far away, the group can FAINTLY hear the echoing sound of some door closing – meaning you have 3 minutes at walking speed to vacate the area or something/someones are coming. What to do? Where to go?
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