| Logs |
2001 June 24
| Paradon |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Paradon Logs |
New Beginings
[Afternoon, 90.001] -The day of Remembering
Hofnoran's Home
A well constructed yet humble home with it's warm furnishings and small yet snug fireplace houses an overabundance of small trinkets and strange odds and ends stuffed in every corner. A suitable place to live and for the most part typical for the villagers of Windspear. The house shows signs of wear from the weather and a small leak near the front doorway due to a recent storm. The scent of freshly baked bread fills the afternoon air.
A slender human with loose fitting clothes that gather just below his waist sits crouching, sorting through a pile of books that he has taken off of his shelves. Mumbling something to himself and with a tinge of worry in his voice he calls out, "Rechan... Come in here. I've got something to share with you."
Rechan comes from a door leading into the pantry, broom in hand. The kobold, scales of rusty brown, streaked with green, cover him below a simple tunic, breeches, and hard-worn boots set for a small-statured figure, or even a child. His dark yellow eyes peer at the aging man from around the door. "Yes, master?"
The man stands and gestures for the kobold to sit in the large chair that is nearly twice his size. "Have a seat. We need to talk about something again... Troil, the baker from just across the well you know of him and his dislike for you I'm sure..."
Rechan, with a sigh, trudges into the room, tossing the broom like a spear into the corner, the bristles bouncing off the wall harmlessly. "Yes, well aware of him and his ilk." The lizardling climbs into the chair, and drops atop it, his feet simply hanging off, almost like a child's, or gnomes'. "Is he upset that I was across the street, smelling the scents of bread, again?"
The man, Hofnoran continues, "Of course. He is upset every time he spots you. He has questioned me this afternoon as to your reason for being here yet again. He is bringing worry to me little one. The forbidden training I'm giving you isn't the problem I'm afraid. It's you, you and your kind. I've been hearing whispers from others that he has been stirring up ideas in people's heads. Ideas that I keep you hear to learn your secrets, the magical powers of your kind, as if I could learn such things. If they only knew.
Rechan nods his head, snorting. "One cannot teach inborn magic! It is of the body, the soul, the magic spawned from the individual! Though, the arcane... what you practice, what you teach..." He opens his tiny, clawed hands. "Troil is an idiot; he sees something he doesn't like, and fears it. And that fear creates delusions." A pause. "Is his ideas making sway with others?"
Hofnoran smiles, "You have come a long way and are truly beginning to understand the way the humans work. I'm proud of our arrangement and your improvement, but yes, I'm afraid Troil's words seek the hearts of others and taint them with his fear and stupidity. Perhaps it is time to tell the others of the village that the second part of our ruse has started. That you have gone back to your nest having learned the civilized ways and hope to teach to them." He pauses and sighs before continuing, "You will of course always be welcome here but it may be best that you set out on your own shortly. Perhaps within the month? I don't want you to feel as though I have gone back on my word or that I am kicking you out. I am still willing to train you when your skills advance but for the protection I think it is best that you prepare to leave the village for a while."
Rechan waves a hand dismissively. "I'm not suspecting you of backtracking your promise. I've no intention of ending up with my fallen kin from the raid, a rotting corpse deposited with the rest of Windspear's offal." He inclines his head. "Actually, my boots have gone to itching, master; I was hoping my skills would become advanced enough for me to venture out of the village, or nest, where-ever I am, and to see things for Myself." A toothy grin. "Why not a little expedition, hey? And, sooner then later would help... When is the earliest we can part ways, for now, Master?"
Hofnoran smile, "Well that depends little one. Have you catalogued all the books in the back room, and how about the dusting. Have you finished sweeping the kitchen? That and I do have one final task for you."
With a nod of his head, the kobold gestures to the broom. "The sweeping is all done; the cobwebs are gone; books are as they always are: catalogued as you requested." His head tips. "Yes?"
Hofnoran stands to his full height of 6' tall, towering over the little lizardling sitting in the oversized chair that makes him look even smaller. "Remember when I told you of the forgotten trinkets I found? I told you that they had all been burnt out and useless, most likely because of the great forgetting itself... Well that was true, except for one item."
Rechan's tail flicks, at that. "Oh? A bauble that works?" Eyes light up with curiosity. "What does it do, if I might inquire, master?" He seems to ignore the towering wizard; being 3'3, the lizardling is used to being small.
Hofnoran says, "Well I'm not sure actually, but it is functioning." He takes from a book a small parchment and hands it to Rechan. "Wielded magic is of course forbidden and even though magic stored in items is not expressly so, I thought it best at the time to hide the item. That's a map I made when I hid it. You will find it under s small boulder marked in black with the symbol of a hand on it. Under the boulder you will find, wrapped in a soft cloth a metal orb. As I said, I'm not sure what it does as my powers to identify it only told me that it is used to locate something and that perhaps it was actually made by one of the gods that the old stories tell of and that most people think are myths. I never had the courage to venture out into the wilds myself and so I'll never use the thing. I give it to you Rechan." He turns away obviously sad that he has to let his long time pupil, mock slave who has been more of a friend that any he had ever known just simply walk away from him... He begins stacking the books again, "Take what you will and go. There is fresh bread on the table."
Rechan slides from his chair, folding up the map. "Master," He replies, "I appreciate the trust you've shown, in giving me this map, let alone taking me into your home. You are quite accepting, to allow an apprentice, let alone a kobold!, know your secrets. For that I am thankful... that, and for simply showing a bond, as well, mm? Most humans see mine kin as vermin. We don't really do much to prove that opinion wrong, sad to say."
"Keep your words kobold!" comes briskly from Hofnoran's mouth before he realizes, "I'm sorry... Just go Rechan, you are a pupil no more. Just remember to use your wit before your spells as I have always taught you. I'm sure you'll be..." He sniffs, "...fine..."
Rechan offers a grin. "Have I ever proven this differently, master? Come now, you'll hear word of me. If not from mine own lips or quill, but of a bard's song, singing praises of a kobold arch wizard!" He turns, disappearing into his own quarters, to gather supplies, and belongings.
Hofnoran slumps into the chair and calls back to Rechan, "Do you know what today is Rechan?"
Calling back, "The day after yesterday, most assured!"
A grin manages to take over the face of Hofnoran, "That, and the Day of Remembering. It was 90 years ago today that my people, and I would assume yours, awoke remembering nothing. It is this day that we take time to remember everything that is important to us even though we might forget about them in our daily lives."
Rechan, several moments later, appears wearing cloak and pack. "Truly? I must question your memory, master; it does often slip, when humans grow as old and wizen as you. I hope you wrote those memories down, eh?" He replies with a grin.
Hofnoran leans over growling playfully with the little runt, "I would remember the taste of the bread Troil would make of you if I handed you over to him!"
Rechan snickers. "And I would not be surprised if that batch tasted like dirt, as usual!" He inclines his head. "Should I take the well entry out of town, master? Or simply walk out and down the street?"
A loud *KNOCK KNOCK* rattles on the front door and the voice of the mistress Lanni from one house over fills the air, "Hofnoran I've got another task for Rechan is he about?"
Rechan seems to perk up. "I have the feeling I'll be pulling weeds again."
The voice from outdoors, "Oh no Rechan, not this time. I've got a whole bunch of rubbish to be taken out to the corpse pile."
Hofnoran smiles, "Thank you Lanni, but as I said before he's not your slave he's mine!"
Rechan snickers. Oh how the woman seems delighted in recanting the disposal of the raiders. "Joy! I've been bumped up from gardener to trash collector."
Lanni's voice trails off into the distance, "Thanks again Hofnoran the first pail is by your door and the rest is around back!"
Rechan rolls his eyes. "I will be leaving with offal on my boots. Wonderful." He swings the door open. "Oh well."
Hofnoran shakes his head and smiles at Rechan, "Well you will be free of her kind hearted and soft spoken tyranny at least."
Rechan shrugs. "I am tempted to eat her cat; he and I aren't good at goodbyes." He slips outside, closing the door behind.
Hofnoran stands, approaches the door, bidding farewell to Rechan but only murmuring to himself, "I'll remember you Rechan, memory or no memory, when the cobwebs settle I'll be calling for you again!"
Rechan mumbles, "A spell of calling always reaches further." He takes up the bucket of rubbish, and disappears around the house.
The large bucket, nearly half the size of Rechan, filled with rotting vegetables and weeds and smelling of rotten eggs sloshes about a bit ready to be carried off to the corpse piles in the hills. The warm afternoon sun empowers the smell under the little lizardfolk's nose and creates a nice path between the villagers who move away from Rechan as he walks down the street.
Rechan's nostrils wrinkle slightly. However, the kobold has smelled worse, much worse; the privies in the kobold nests are pretty much simple pits that drop lower into tunnels far below. Not to mention the disposal of all the nest's meals. This would often draw a predator or two, which would need to be dispatched, before it became a threat to the nest. He sighs, trying to move the bucket into a comfortable carrying position, as he glances around, noting the dirty looks he gathers from the passerbys.
Children run across the street playing, while villagers go about their business with the only thought of Hofnoran's slave being that he had better keep away from them with that bucket. Rechan continues on his way, trudging on, toward the trash piles that the village uses for their refuse. He sighs, knowing he has several more buckets to dump.
Wandering through the streets and out the main gate of the village he heads around the wooden wall that protects Windspear against intruders and the high speed winds that is it's namesake. The fortified village sits at the base of the Mountains of Chaos where the winds can whip through with a force stronger than that of a wielded weapon, but not today. Today the winds are calm. Rechan tromps through the underbrush heading off on a shortcut to the disposal area the townspeople call the corpse pit.
Rechan hops down from one rock 'step' to the next, moving down the slope of a steep incline, careful not to slip. Being slight and agile has its uses. Though, its difficult, what with trying not to spill the slop in the bucket. By the smell of the air, he's getting close to the 'pit'.
Coming upon his destination he stands in a small clearing where his little known shortcut meets back up with the usual path to the pit. Looking down the path the sight of dead animal parts and rotting food fill the landscape of this open trench. Small animals scurry away at the site of Rechan but three large scavenger birds, one abnormally large for their kind, sit atop the mass of rotting flesh feasting. They look up briefly at the intruder but quickly dismiss any threat and go back to tearing the flesh from the bones.
Rechan gives an eye to one of the scavengers, considering. No, they generally don't make a good meal. He draws closer to the trench, before hurling the gunk from the bucket, as far as he can. The kobold sighs, turning the gunky, empty pail upside down and sits down, taking a break before heading back to town.
One of the three birds, one of the smaller ones, rushes over to Rechan to investigate the new additions to their feeding area. Quickly at first the bird approaches then slowly it eyes Rechan's small humanoid figure which is still a good size larger than the bird. Picking at the bits of slop thrown onto the pile and finding nothing of apparent interest the bird fluffs up it's feathers and with an aggressive flap of it's wings lets out a loud *Squak!* at Rechan as if to drive him away. The other birds lift their heads from their meals and watch carefully.
Rechan snorts. "What, I bring you no food, thus I must shoo? Shoo yourself!" He calls back, letting out a squawk himself, spitting in the bird's direction. He crosses his arms in defiance, flicking his tail.
The other two remaining birds rush over to the first, the larger one charges at the other approaching bird, pecking at it and driving it off. The oddly large bird begins squawking and leaps into the air spreading its wings wide revealing its abnormalities. Four wings instead of two spring forth to bring the larger bird into a short flight while trailing behind it is a scaly tail flicking back and forth with each flap of it's clumsy wings. It lands squarely on the bird interacting with Rechan as it's sharp claws tear into the back of the wound be kin. In an explosion of light brown feathers the larger bird thrusts it's beak time and time again, each preceded by a piercing shriek until, in only a moment the smaller bird lies bloody and motionless under the fierce talons of the larger beast. That done the bird turns towards Rechan, lowers it's head as if to sneak up on him or ready to pounce and begins approaching slowly.
Rechan reaches around, taking up the crossbow that lays strapped to his pack. Pulling the thing free with ease, having had it tied to not be time consuming in drawing, takes up a bolt tied to a string simply beside it. The kobold begins to load the crossbow, slowly, all the while keeping his eyes on the bird.
The bird, nearly as large as Rechan himself creeps forth slowly, eyeing Rechan. It's head bobs slowly up and down while it also sways side to side a bit with each step. It moves ever closer and begins to give a low growl-like sound.
Rechan eyes the bird, dropping his hand to the dagger at his boot, while the crossbow is propped on his knee. Leveling the crossbow, Rechan stares at the bird. "Will I be having a nice scale belt from your tail?"
Red gore drips from the beak of this unnatural beast. As it approaches it's growl raises it's pitch into that of a screech and it leaps into the air and brings it's blood drenched talons forward towards the waiting kobold.
Teeth grit, as the bird rises. He whips the crossbow up, and, without a moment's hesitation, pulls the trigger, his fingers tight on the dagger in the other.
The bolt sails towards the creature and strikes it in one of it's four wings causing a burst of feathers to fly forth. The bird wobbles, it's already clumsy flight thrown off balance but it manages to lunge at Rechan with it's talon as it falls to the ground in pain.
The bloody talon scrapes along Rechan's scales leaving behind a slight trickle of blood before the bird falls, a jumble pile of feathers and scales to the ground trying to regain it's footing.
Rechan winches, as he draws up, hopping off the bucket to his feet. He starts to backtrack, fingers moving in quick succession, before throwing his clawed fingers forward, glaring angrily as the bolt of cold jumps from his fingers toward the horrid combination of feather and scale.
The ray pierces the cloud of feathers causing the already airborne ones to be chilled and fall to the ground under the weight of the frost that covers them. The bird appears to be unharmed and climbs back to it's feet and stares at Rechan, ready to attack but waiting.
Rechan eyes the thing, continuing the backtrack. His dagger is poised, ready to hurl. A mental inventory is taken of spells at hand. Nothing that would be truly effective against the bird. He glares at the bird, and, bringing his hand back, flicks his wrist into position, hurling the dagger.
The bird takes it's opportunity to attack as Rechan as he raises the dagger to throw the bird darts towards Rechan, ducking it head under the dagger and looking to run straight into him!
The kobold hisses, and tries to move away, but as the thing gets close enough, and at a loss for what to do, simple reaction takes over. An angry, hissing cry comes from the mini-lizard, as a simple attack comes hurtling into the path of the bird: Rechan's fist.
The scaled fist of the lizardfolk guided by pure instinct and perhaps a bit of fear, lands directly on top of the bird's head as it plows into him Rechan is hit square in the chest by the weight of the large bird and goes sailing back a good distance. Landing on his feet he slides backwards bracing himself as he comes to rest into the underbrush on the outskirts of the clearing.
Rechan oofs! as he rolls into the briars and bushes of the clearing. He drops his hand to the second dagger, yanking it free. He kneels, and ponders what to do, before an idea springs to mind. Fingers move into the complexities of a spell, arcane syllables spouting from his lips. Illusionary magic ripples over his form. Growing taller, to the point of 4'3, leathery wings seeming to appear from his back, wicked spikes rising from the rusty scales. The kobold, now appearing as something much more dangerous, jumps from the bushes. He 'ruffles' his wings, and releases a screeching, hissing cry, as best to he can, waving clawed hands about his head, as he watches the bird, hand ready with the dagger, incase his rouse doesn't work.
Bleeding from one of it's four wings and still a bit dazed by the blow to the head it received from the now fearsome 'dinner', the bird begins to back off slowly. It opens it's wings but keeping them low to the ground as if ready to pounce or to turn in flight.
Rechan screes, again, bouncing and down, waving the claws and snapping the air with his teeth. His paws slip into a pouch, dragging some components to hand, as, while he's 'acting', a simple spout of spell is loosed. Behind him in the bushes, a similar cry is released, though it sounds slightly further off, the kobold hoping it sounds as if more of his 'kind' are in the brush.
The badly wounded bird continues to back off slowly before leaping into the air and taking a clumsy flight over the corpse pit, trailing a trickle of blood. As it flies off it lets out one final loud *Squak* before it vanishes behind some trees.
Rechan slumps, letting loose a sigh. He sheathes the dagger, and fetches the other one, retying his crossbow. "Phew..."
The faint sound of laughter in the distance comes closer as a pair of young boys approach down the trail, apparently with their own buckets of refuse to be rid of.
Rechan smirks, not dismissing his illusion, but simply lets the wings settle down. He drops a hand to the scrape that thing gave him, wiping at the torn scale.
The boys come around the corner and notice the thorny winged creature and are startled! The smaller of the two, drops his bucket and runs yelling "EVIL CREATURES ATTACKING! EVIL CREATURES!" while the older, decked out in his torn and dirty clothes glances around to see if there are any other dangers before tossing his bucket of rotting mush at the fierce looking creature before him. The wave of goo flies wide and splashes on a tree behind Rechan as the boy drops his bucket and begins to run back up the trail.
Rechan dismisses the spell, returning to normal. "Hey Kirson! I thought your aim had improved!" The kobold cries after the boy. "I guess hauling horsedown has soiled your arm!"
The boy, Kirson stops in his tracks. He turns around and starts coming back down the path, "I THOUGHT that was you, you little pest! I guess Troil was right, you DO have magic. Oh that stupid old friend of yours is going to get it now." he smiles before darting quickly back up the path towards the village.
The kobold snorts. "And I Thought you weren't getting into Troil's ale-cabinet! You've just been drinking again. You think the bread maker will believe a manure-hauler?" The little lizardmage must at least distract the youth Somehow; his ego is the best place to distract, Rechan perceives.
Kirson stops up the trail a good ways and through the underbrush his nearly twelve year old form can be seen pondering what the little wretch of a pest just said. Walking back and apparently scanning the ground for something he speaks out, "You're right. He might not believe me but I think he would. Maybe if I beat you up and bring you to him he'll believe me even more." He picks up a small stick and bats it in his hand causing the caked on dirt to fall to the path.
Rechan draws a dagger, once more, and holds it on the inside of his hand, the blade-flat pressed on the inside of his arm. Crossing his arms, "Truly, Kirson? Think about it, wisely, though I know that's a stretch, for you." The kobold's tone becomes distasteful. "If I have magic about me, then do you think it's Wise to even try swinging that puny excuse for a weapon? You could easily end up a smear on the ground." Lips pulling into a wicked smile. "And, if my 'friend' has any about him, do you think that you'll leave the woods, eh? What makes you think he doesn't already know? A simple word from me could alert the man, and, a blow against me is a sign on your death warrant, Boy." A shrug. "Of course, you could be guessing wrong and I could have none about me." The ridge of scales above his eye lifts. "Do you want to chance it?"
The boy seems taken back. He's obviously not the brightest of the village youngsters. He hasn't had decent schooling since his parents were killed when the kobolds first started raiding the village. Ever since then he has worked for a place to sleep and scraps of food to eat from the stable master who would just as well want to be rid of the boy than to have to bother with his troublemaking. "You don't HAVE any friend" he speaks out unsure of himself as he glances around. "Troil will believe me, he already KNOWS you and your magic are evil. He will believe me." He chucks the stick at Rechan and goes running up the trail once again, this time with a more quickened pace. The stick spins to a stop at Rechan's feet after hitting the ground a good distance before it's target.
Rechan sighs, as the boy leaves. "Damnit." Re-sheathing his dagger, the kobold moves over to a small tree, and yanks off two branches, rather full of leaves. Grabbing some briar, he ties it to the branches half way through, looping it, like the 'finger' bones of a bat-wing. Taking up twigs, he snaps them, and starts fitting them into his clothing, propping them against his person and cloak, to get them to stick out, like spikes. Then, situating the 'wings' on the edges of his pack, Rechan takes up his bucket, and starts up the pass, walking carefully, so not to let his add-ons fall apart.
By the time Rechan approaches the main gate of Windspear a few townsfolk had gathered there, getting organized for something. Stepping closer, weapons can bee seen in their hands.
Rechan waves his hand to a few in the crowd he notices. "Hey!" Calls the little lizard. A pause, as he peers at the weapons. "Is somethin' coming? Lings over the mountains?"
The crowed turned towards the little lizardkin weapons in hand. The smaller boy can be seen cowering behind the small crowd. Troil walks out and shouts, "Get out of here, this isn't your home anymore and you aren't welcome here. We let you stay here for the sake of Hofnoran and even he has cast you out. Begone and never come back or we'll all strike you down"
The kobold walks closer, looking confused. "What's jumped into your dough this time, Troil?" He calls, brushing aside some of the twigs in his clothing, even pulling a branch out of his pack. "Did the boy get startled by this foliage?" He straightens up, showing the 'wing'. "Some bird from the Forest of Freaks was down by the corpse pit. I had to scare the thing off, and, the boy walked up on me, and scampered before I could say hello." Dropping the bucket, "Where is Mistress Lanni?"
"You aren't welcome here. We will give you leave now but take it now or we'll strike you down now."
Rechan gives the baker an eye. "For what? All I'm asking for is Mistress Lanni; she has more buckets for me to dump. Now, are you going to let me bring this one back to her," He taps the bucket with a foot, "And get the others, or would You rather haul them down to the pit? Now, come on, Troil; what evils can I do by grabbing buckets of rotten vegetable?" He glances toward the older, grizzled man in the back, recognizing the cobbler. "What do you have to say about this whole mess, eh, Shamis? I always thought you appreciated me shining the boots in your shop; you raise a sword to me now?"
Hofnoran walks out from the back of the crowd, his aged body pushing it's way through the small crowd of 5. "Troil put down your blade. Rechan is doing one final thing for Mistress Lanni before he departs for his kind to teach him our ways of living."
Troil turns to him in anger, "What, so they can better prepare themselves for combat. So they can learn to advance and plot against us, stealing our food and raiding our towns?!"
In a calm smooth voice Hofnoran replies, "No, so they can learn valuable skills and become allies against the beasts of the world that threaten us all. So they can trade and barter with us as we help each other prosper."
Troil showing more anger than before, "Even on the day of remembering you choose to forget! They wield the magic that through us all into the chaos we are STILL fighting to overcome. Give them ANY room to grow and prosper and they'll be our doom!"
The rest of the crowd mumbles but all reserve comments while the two argue yet again on this issue only more intense than ever before. Hofnoran sighs and approaches Rechan, "Little one, go home. It's just best that way. Tend to the itch in your boots and don't return here."
"That's right, NEVER return here or it will be the death of you, you and all of your kind!" spits Troil from behind Hofnoran.
Rechan clears his throat. "I am shocked," He calls, and not looking at Troil. "I had at least thought all of you...well, most of you had nothing against me. Yes, my 'kind' did raid your village, and this I am sorry for, but I'd no hand in it. Your village turned the sniveling things aside! And, to teach them how to act, I was taken in by Hofnoran. And, thus, I thought I was tolerated. You," He gestures to a younger man, "I aided slightly in the digging of your ditch, didn't I? Despite the fact that my eyes stung the entire day. You," he gestures to a more rugged fellow, "I showed a better trap to snatch rabbits, and isn't that hat a rabbit caught from a trap in my style? Shamis, I spent many an hour in your shop. Now, tell me, has this man all turned you over to bigotry over a misunderstanding? Have I shown any evil toward Windspear? No. Nor do I intend; In fact, on my day of Leaving, I dumped the trash of Mistress Lanni. Now, tell me, how I am to teach my uncivilized kind the better way of living if the last lesson they teach is to turn and attack an unthreatening civilian?"
The crowd speaks softly among themselves for a short time as it is joined by others from the village, unarmed but looking to see what is going on. Troil will here none of it, "Shut your little trap. The only thing your kind will bring to us is more suffering with your evil and magic." "ENOUGH!" calls a deep loud voice.
The crowd clears as the captain Handis of the town militia, "Troil, since when have you been authorized to head up any sort of an armed confrontation?" The crowd seems to disperse a bit, lingering looks fall on Rechan as the villagers walk away and get back to their daily duties, now all but ignoring Troil.
"I-I was defending the town from the threat my boy told us about." Troil answers back, somewhat humbled.
"It's true" Kirson speaks up, "We saw it... him using magic out by the corpse pit. Then he said he had friends with him and he threatened me."
Handis turns to Rechan, "Is and of this true?"
"Of course it's true" spits Kirson before Rechan can get a word out.
Rechan walks toward Handis, taking up one of the twigs he brushed aside. Ignoring the boy, Rechan plucks the other wing from his pack, and drops the two at Handis's feet. "If magic is sticking foliage to your cloths to scare some horridly twisted bird from the Forest of Freaks, to keep it from bothering any others who came down to the corpse pit, as the young ones tend to do, is magic, then yes, it's true." He replies, shooting a silent glare at Kirson, before turning back to the captain. "Ask Troil's son what he say; something like me, with wings and spikes." His feet stirs the twigs and branches. "His father has planted the idea that I am 'evil' and a monster, that I come into his room at night and steal his breath." A roll of eyes, as he gestures to Kirson. "And, tell me, after his de-pantsing of a younger boy in the square, before denying the fact, do you really believe him?"
Rechan, turning on his heel to glare at Kirson openly, "And, Handis," He speaks, "Our dear crier here has forgotten to mention the fact that he was toating a stout stick, threatening to drag my beaten body to Troil's door."
Handis eyes Kirson, then turns to look at the younger Ramal who cowers behind his mother's leg like one half his age. "You speak like a sage, Hofnoran has taught you well. You do looked packed to move on, what is it you want from here now?"
Rechan shakes his head sadly. "I came back to clear this mess up; the boy was frightened, and Kirson was certainly up to nothing wholesome, I feared for Hofnoran. That," he gestures to the bucket behind him, "I was coming back to fetch more of Mistress Lanni's rubbish, despite I should be on my way. However, I think that Kirson would be most eager to take Mistress Lanni's refuse to the Corpse Pit for me, so that I might be on my way."
"Hofnoran will come to no harm." Handis says, "Be on your way and have safe travels home, and yes, I'm sure Kirson would be HAPPY to take Mistresses Rubbish to the corpse pit. Isn't that right Kirson?" Handis turns around to send a warm smile to Kirson only to find him missing, having ducked back into the village behind the wall. "Run off again... Of course." He shakes his head.
Hofnoran says "I'll be fine little one, I've still got my wits about me no matter how bad you think my memory." He gives a warm, sad smile and bids Rechan farewell.
Rechan mmhms. He nods. "Thank you, Handis. I would hope that I may return, whenever I need to, and not be welcomed by the baker baring steel, hm?" He winks, before nodding to Hofnoran. "I thank you, master, for teaching me what you have. I've learned it all well." His hand, the one opposite to Handis, twitches in a suggestive little flick, saying to the old man he's thankful for it 'all'. "However, the sun will be starting to sink soon, and I must be heading into the mountains before the wolves wake. Be well, Handis, and keep an eye on Troil; I think he means to take your position out from beneath your feet. And, I will see you soon, old man, before you forget me." With that, the little lizardkin turns, and starts into the woods once more, headed toward the Spinterfletch nest.
Leaving his former mentor of the magical arts and the village of Windspear behind, Rechan heads back into the wilds following his feet and his memory back to the kobold nest. It takes Rechan's short legs the better part of the day before he reaches the cave-home of the kobolds. The trees sway in the strong wind that has kicked up and their now long talon like shadows grasp at the very mountain itself. The sun can no longer be seen over the treetops but the sky will remain bright for a short while, just long enough for Rechan to wind his way up the small path that leads to Spinterfletch. Moving swiftly, carefully, Rechan stomps his foot twice, after reaching a tree with a branch torn from it, near the bottom, to inform a sentry he's alone. Drawing down the path, he doesn't look up, for otherwise, it would alert a kobold scout further along the rocky ridge that something was amiss. Not long after, Rechan finds the split crack, a wide fissure opening, large enough to squeeze two kobolds through. He steps in, carefully, and insures he doesn't trip the 'choke-wire' strung up four feet from the ground, within the entrance. Two familiar faces greet Rechan as he enters. Iktol and Barur, two of the younger of the nest just now growing to maturity have taken their duties as guards at the entrance. Their eyes light up at the sight of Rechan.
"Rechan, yer bak" says Iktol warmly. "Barur go tell de oders de spy-humun is bak!"
Rechan smiles at the pair. "Indeed!" He calls, his eyes seeing in the dark easily as any race used to living in caves. "Rechan has returned! He hath much to tell!" He slides into the entrance, and makes his way up the tunnel, avoiding the trap-triggers, on his way.
Barur runs back further into the darkness of the cave after giving a toothy grin.
"Do ya hav anyting fer me Rechan? A humun ting?" asks Iktol eagerly.
Rechan pauses, for a moment. He unshoulders his pack. "Indeed I do, Iktol," Replies the lizardling. Digging in, he finds his rations, and extracts a piece of dried bread, lifting it up. "For you."
Iktol bounces with excitement and grabs the bread with both hands, letting his sentry spear clatter to the round. "Wut be it Rechan? Smells guud." He sinks his pointed teeth into the bread causing crumbs to fall all around him. "Mmmm guud Rechan guud" Still with a mouth full of bread, "We can't wait till ya cun tell us what guud to take frum humuns. Konsig say dat once ya come back we go fer guud raid and I git ta go! I'll get lots of humun stuffs I know it..." Nodding to himself he thrusts his face back down into the bread, taking another bite that overfills his tiny maw.
Rechan looks a little displeased with this revelation. "Konsig is at the nest, then?" He hides the dark frown forming, and nods to the young kobold. "Keep watch! You'll hear the tales well enough!" With that, he takes his pack, and starts further into the caves. Another raid? No, he can't allow that. Not after he gave his word; he could never be allowed to come back, he'd be killed on site, if there was anything left at all.
The din of the nest grows louder as Rechan makes his way into the caves. Only a few short strides does he get before Barur runs around the corner smashing into his chest sending them both to the ground. "*OOF*" struggling to get back up after having crashed into the human-spy, "R-rechan! Surry, Konsig wanna see ya right now he does. I gotta git bak on guarding or me'll be dragged out fed to da goats he said"
Rechan grunts, and sits up. He nods, and pats the little one on the tail. "Git. Go to your post, and hurry now." The kobold sighs, and reaches into his pack, first, extracting the map his master gave him, getting a glance at where the item is supposed to be, first.
The leathery piece of parchment has a rough drawing of the location of Windspear and the mountains of chaos. It shows a path leading from Windspear towards the mountainside north of the village and depicts a HUGE boulder with the print of a black hand on it. Rechan nods to himself, and folds the paper up, placing it in a pocket, before heading toward the main chamber, where Konsig usually finds himself.
Twisting and turning through the more or less natural passageways that change size and shape with each step and navigating through the intersections well known to Rechan he eventually comes to the main chamber of the nest. Many kobolds sit feasting on their latest creature that would loose its life to the nest, this time a large bear. Looking around Rechan doesn't see the ruler of the kobold nests in this region and figures he must be in one of the smaller chambers, and if Konsig isn't feasting, and isn't being pampered in the main chamber, something was up. The other kobolds look up from their meal of bloody, undercooked bear meat and wave to Rechan before going back to feasting. There will be time for storytelling after their bellies are full. Rechan gazes at the feasting, blood caking snapping maws, talons tearing into almost raw flesh and bone. He is almost disgusted, having been around humans too long to see the un-mannered, sloppy habits of his kin. But, what of it? Rechan wonders what Konsig could be up to; could he be with one of the various females of the nest? Those with the most attractive array of spines and stripes along their tails? If so, the young wizard doesn't want to disturb. But... A sigh passes his lips. Nodding to his fellows, Rechan heads toward Konsig's personal room. He pushes aside the curtain of animal hide that covers the doorway to Konsig's room to find Konsig himself standing on the other side of a small wooden table looking over what looks to be battle plans they have set up using sticks to represent walls and rocks for the kobolds. Konsig is startling large for a kobold. He stands nearly half again as tall as Rechan and his armor like scales are thick and run with a lot more green than that of the rest of the nest.
Konsig looks up from his plans with his pure black eyes and speaks in a deep voice, "You are back. Good. I've already started the plans for the raid. What can you tell us about the human place. When do the traders come in and what is worth keeping?"
Rechan sighs, as he enters. "Sadly, my liege, it does not look fortunate, for us." He draws closer to the table. "The humans are well armed; many men have come from the west, but have simply joined the militia. The town is doing better, but simply in crops and goats; no riches to speak of. As well, they have learned from our past raid, and started fortifying the walls much better, even putting walkways along the edges. Many of the younger ones have been taught with bow, thus even the children raise arms against us, if we attack."
Konsig stares Rechan down, looking him over carefully.
Standing 3'3, this creature appears to be similar to a reptilian humanoid. Scales of rusty orange run over it, streaks of green flitting through scales. Horns of yellow, matching his eyes, situate just above his head. A tail flicks simply behind him, half his own length. Currently, he's dressed in a simple tunic and breeches made for a small race, if not a child, as well as a cloak and pack upon his back. Several items, a crossbow, several bolts, and such are tied about it. Topping off the ensemble is a pair of worn leather boots.
"This can not be!" growls Konsig, "It has been far too long that we have let them sit so you could spy on them. Tell us what their weaknesses are! We will invade within the week. We can't let them build up their forces here, in our land.
Rechan considers this. "Well, my lord, the traders will come within a weeks time, and do so every two months. If we attack soon, then word will get out from the trade routes, and reinforcements shall arrive. There is a tunnel that goes from a spring, up to the well in the center of town." He offers a smile, albeit acting. "Sire, I have a...better plan, if you would permit me speak it?"
Konsig growls out, "Then speak it" The two advisors that always travel with him, hearing the urgency in Konsig's voice briskly come out from a side chamber and sit on either side of the table, waiting to hear what Rechan has to say. Konsig himself is at the far side of the table, his arms straight down on the table, supporting his weight as he leans forward towards Rechan.
Rechan unshoulders his pack, and sets it on the ground. From his pocket, he removes the map, unfolding. "While I was there, I learned from my 'master' of an artifact, an item blessed with magic. He was vague in its power, but said that it was too destructive, for him to own it and be tempted by it. It would take me little a day to reach it, and return with it. We could use this in our raid, yes, sire?" He inquires. "Also, I have heard word that highwaymen," Letting a claw trace up farther north along a road on the map, "Have been circulating in this area. I know that you find humans as useful as offal, sire, but, would it not be wise to...ally with these bandits? They could slip into he city and, when we attack, blend in and take down the defenders, while we work from the outside in. And, of course, we could simply dispose of them in their sleep, so we needn't share the spoils."
Konsig drops his head for a moment thinking. "What does the artifact do?"
Rechan opens his palm upward. "I am not certain, sire. However, if we are to attack in a week's time, a simple day for me to retrieve it would not spoil your plans. If it is no use to us, then not much time is wasted. IF it is useful, all the better, no?"
"Yes. Do you expect troubles to get the artifact? Something of that power should be guarded by human traps and swords. Most of the warriors are still in Gardenel in the south. I'll send for them this moon. They will be here in four nights time." Konsig ponders "If it is of power, we must have it."
Rechan says, "My master informed me he hid it, so its power would not fall into human hands. I don't believe others know of it. A skirmish or so is expected in traveling, and perhaps it is guarded, but not likely. Sending a warrior with me, or another spell battler should do the trick. What is your say in the bandits?"
The advisors look at Konsig and shake their heads at once, He glances at them and says "We will talk to them. Bring them to the bottom of the mountain in the ready place and we will meet them there and see if they will be good for us. Take Iktol and Barur with you to get the powers. How have your magics formed? Let me see some before you go to prove that you are worthy of getting the power.
Rechan arches a brow. "Sire, not to disagree with you, but, I am aware that... a few of our nest may not be so...true and loyal. I am very faithful to Spinterfletch, and, I believe that one of the unloyal should be sent with me, so that I may enforce a strong will to follow our cause, upon them. Unless, of course, I'm wrong."
Konsig, a bit taken back by the disrespectful underling who continues to question him, "Prove that you are powerful enough to lead by magics and you can choose who you wish."
Rechan nods, and backs up. He slowly moves his hands, uttering the incantations, and points towards the short sword that hangs on the wall behind the leader. A finger crooks, as the weapon rises from its standpoint, floating over the table, to rest before the kobold. He pauses, fingers drifting into the spell pouch, and begins to utter another spell, waving his hand. Though no sound is given, the blade begins to disintegrate, while the handle seems to be melting. The three observers are captivated and watch the sword intently, waiting to see what comes next.
Rechan snaps his fingers, and with a little bit of smoke, the blade is gone, dust and droplets settling to the ground. Raising a hand, the wizard begins uttering more words, as dust rises, swirling quicker, quicker. The steel begins to form, and liquid hilt raises like backwards rain, condensing into a blob, before reforming the blade. It jerks, before flipping, and planting itself firmly between two 'walls' on the table, point first.
Konsig glares at Rechan, taking hold of the shorts word and placing it back on the wall. "You have some magics but can you do that against a human?"
One of the advisors leans over and whispers to Konsig. the look on Konsig's face sharpens.
Rechan nods his head simply. "Of course, sire. I have much more destructive spells, however, I ran into some trouble with a creature from the Forest of Freaks." He lifts his arm, bearing the torn scale and claw mark. "Unfortunately, I didn't have spells at my fingers, left for you, my liege. I did make due with what I could, however, sire. I hope you are pleased?"
"Fine, take Iktol and Barur and get the power. Prove yourself to me then."
Rechan nods simply. "Yes, sire."
A loud scream echoes through the caverns as the smell of charred flesh drifts on the breeze. Rechan blinks, and turns. Quickly, the kobold takes up his crossbow and a handful of bolts, loading as he scrambles toward the door. Konsig and the advisors turn back to their plans and begin talking amongst themselves.
Looking out into the main chamber a kobold badly scorched lay in the center of the room. It is rather apparent by the chunk of flesh skill clenched in the fallen kobolds claws that he had mind to steal some food from another of the kobolds, apparently from one who wields magics. The rest of the kobolds continue eating their meal and playing their games, going about their business as if nothing had happened.
Rechan arches a brow, and rolls his shoulders into a shrug, returning to his pack, and taking it. Retrieving the map, Rechan makes his way to his own chambers, currently needing rest.
The ever-active kobold nest continues to wake Rechan throughout the night. Normally active at night Iktol and Barur had both interrupted Rechan's sleep throughout, asking questions about his human living and their plans to get this power. Rechan, finally able to fall asleep for more than an hour wakes mid morning to find both Iktol and Barur packed and ready in his chamber. Ready that is except for the fact that they have fallen asleep.
Rechan, rubbing his eyes, sighs, and goes to collect his book of spells, and cracks it open, to study.