The Aasimar give the elf a curious glance and speaks in a low voice. "I do not remember any of us stating that we had lost our memories, then again, all things considered, I may have just forgotten."
Game: Flotsam
Gnawnit's ears prick up at the Aasimar's whisperings, and he looks deeply forward to the celestial-blood, grinning a wide grin filled with several blood-flecked, mismatched teeth... all the while still braiding his twin's double-length hair and not looking at his work, which continues it's consumate precision of endless years of practice.
"I was thinking about it as well," answers the elf to the aasimar silently, his stare centered on Gnawnit.
"I wonder how much these little creatures really know. Maybe they saw, how we've got here in the first place."
The Aasimar nods silently, watching the tiny man right back and raising an eyebrow at him for good measure.
ooc: i want to get the group to come up with a decent 3rd question, 1 that is not just made up by me, but all... so we can get some more perspective on what our options may be atm... hehe, Dire Lemon, plz size 9, this is unreadable without fiddling with size..lol.
OOC: How about, where can we find people like us?
OOC: We have 4 more question, don't forget. I would include asking them if they saw how we get there. Hm, better probably not asking IF, but directly HOW - we don't need a simple yes/no answer :roll:
The Aasimar ponders whether anyone else is actually going to ask a question or if he should just go ahead and ask one himself.
ooc: Dire lemon edited his response, so i deleted this bit as well
"right, 4 more questions we shall ask, but we will convey what we will be asking to you after our deliberations are finished....."
then after having said that, he takes his holy symbol and tries to cast a c.l.w. spell... desperately searching his mind and focusing on anything that pops up divine...hoping his god has, if he actually was a cleric, not abandoned him....
(no concentration needed as i presume that the damage turn was several long seconds ago)
.
"right, 4 more questions we shall ask, but we will convey what we will be asking to you after our deliberations are finished....."
then after having said that, he takes his holy symbol and tries to cast a c.l.w. spell... desperately searching his mind and focusing on anything that pops up divine...hoping his god has, if he actually was a cleric, not abandoned him....
(no concentration needed as i presume that the damage turn was several long seconds ago)
Grasping the symbol, you feel a rush of power flow through you, like a thirsty man licking at water trickling through a crack in a dam that used to be a flowing river... You know this is merely a snippet of available power, but your lost memories or some outside force keeps them from returning to you. The warmth fills your tail, and muscle knits together, replacing the tears caused by the patient faye that look down upon you...
The Aasimar waits for the trog to return to the group and in a low voice suggests. "We should ask them where we can find the nearest place where people like us live. We should be very specific about our wording though. These two seem unreliable."
"Agreed...you... may... ask them..." all the while rippling muscles and shivering in a light ecstasy of the power and healing flowing through him...
The Aasimar tilts his head curiously at the trog like a puppy, then look past him at the two Fey. "We would like to know how to get to the nearest place in which live people like us." He glances around at his companions.
The elf rolls his eyes when watching how the troglo enjoys his ability to heal as a small child getting his first toy.
When the aasimar ask his question, the elven warrior nods in consent. "Good question."
"That's three of six, the fourth is mine. Tell me, you man-eaters, how do you know we are amnesiacs? If you have seen how we have got here, we want to know."
Fleshtick's eyes wander to and fro between the motley organization of humanoids that span before him. "None like that one..." he gestures to the Trog. "We are far from his people, or others like him. But most of the servants look more or less like the human - although some have more fiend in them, yes..."
"Some taurics, satyrs and centaurs, yes, but most are human, or nearly so... Perhaps some of the fair folk," he gestures to the elf, "but not many - the servants of Iapatos mainly are of elder human lands - and his petitioners are as such."
When the aasimar ask his question, the elven warrior nods in consent. "Good question."
"That's three of six, the fourth is mine. Tell me, you man-eaters, how do you know we are amnesiacs? If you have seen how we have got here, we want to know."
"You have not seen us eat men, but lizard... Perhaps your elven eyes are not as sharp as they once were, eh, pike-head?" Gnawnit chuckles...
"But, yes... yes... We saw your fall. Fleeing the orb, methinks, judging by your finery... You're lucky you fell into the styx. If your floater would've crashed anywhere else, it'd mire your pretty faces... Although we'd have more meat to pick off your carcasses instead of having to barter for it, eh?" He laughs again, this time his twin joining in the idea of all that succulent meat... Both the faye's mouths drip red-tinged drool between mismatched teeth...
The Aasimar watches the dribbling teeth passively. "Now we have three more questions."
"I am not pretty, but i am wary..... of your motives..." to the group, to discuss: (what is this Orb they describe?, we were fleeing what?....)"
"Two," the fae persists. "We have answerd four of your 'questions'."
The Aasimar shakes his head firmly."You need to count again. The lizard asked you to, then the elf. No one else asked a question, and no one else's potential questions were answered. I did tell you I wished to know how to get to where others like us live, but all you said was that others like us may be servants, and you did not even say of whom."
Gnawnit continues braiding, saying nothing - merely raising one side of its brow - as Fleshtick's grin fades to a look of pure scorn, his face a scowl, marred by the drool which starts a slower run down his jaw. "Very well, celestial-blood. You've made your play. But know this: All servants here are servants of the Lords of the Mount, and no others, lest they be emissaries..."
"...and from your garb and lack of manners, methinks you're not emissaries, but rather - intruders." With his final word, Fleshtick's grin begins to sprout anew...
Gnawnit continues braiding, saying nothing - merely raising one side of its brow - as Fleshtick's grin fades to a look of pure scorn, his face a scowl, marred by the drool which starts a slower run down his jaw. "Very well, celestial-blood. You've made your play. But know this: All servants here are servants of the Lords of the Mount, and no others, lest they be emissaries..."
"...and from your garb and lack of manners, methinks you're not emissaries, but rather - intruders." With his final word, Fleshtick's grin begins to sprout anew...
"Hisss mannerss are equal to yoursss, you were given one bite, and two took it, now we want what we paid for, better yet, what I payed for..." With that the Troglodyte bears his teeth but does not change his bodily stance from that of neutral..
The dangerous, wild look returns to the eyes of the elven warrior.
Will you fulfill your promise, little ones? I warn you, we won't be put into the dead-book easily, so don't even think about trying something.
The Aasimar sees that things are becoming confrontational and decides to speak up in hopes of calming them down. "We can resolve this simply. All I want is for you to answer my question. How can we get to where others like us live?"
Gnawnit reigns his twin in through his massive locks with a sharp tug. "Brother, they are clueless and out of touch, would you have them become petitioners here and plague us with their idiocy for all time? I doubt the Lord would wish it - and would punish you severely for your transgressions..."
With mention of the fae's master, Fleshtick is silent, but the rasping of his clenched teeth grinding against themselves causes some shards of the needles to break off and fall off of the branches.
Gnawnit grins. "Perhaps I should talk slower so that you can understand us proper, disoriented ones. My brother here is impatient and sometimes becomes impulsive. And up until now we did not know what you did not know. When Fleshtick spoke of our Lord being the cusp of our knowledge, that is, in fact, all we know. You are in the realm of Mount Orthrys - prison of the Titans, specifically, of Lord Iapetos. We speak not of any place beyond these because there is no escape from this place. We are all imprisoned. This is Carceri, mortals... and we are doomed to remain here - for even our Lord Iapetos has not found a way to escape in the millenia he has been imprisoned here by the cursed Olympians." with that, both he and Fleshtick spit at the ground in a sign of extreme distaste at the word.
The Aasimar sighs as his question continues to go unanswered, and looks for somewhere he can sit down without injuring himself on sharp rocks.
"Hmmz, well, there mussst be a first for everything, so I will want to go back wherever I came from...", the Trog smiles less with his teeth and more sincerely...and looks at the party with a hint of "lets move" in his eyes..
ooc: and, I am Back
"Petitioners? I am not going to petition anyone for anything, fey", the elf makes a gesture of refusal.
"A prison it may be for you and for your master. You said, that Olympians imprisoned your Lord here. We have no quarrel with them, so there's no need to forbid us to leave this place. We will find our way back... No matter where this "back" is."
Catching the glance of the troglo and getting the message, he continues:
"I find this conversation a bit boring. We will let you here with your olive tree. Do not forget, not all of our questions were asked, nor answered. You owe us, in case we will ever meet again. Do not forget!"
After these final words, he gives a nod to the others and walks away.
(OOC: hopefully followed by the party )
The Aasimar shrugs and goes after the elf.
the Trog simultaneously moves with the Elf, as to not lead, but also not follow... "Lets go to this place of the Demonlord?..."
The elf smiles silently while watching how the troglodyte stubbornly refuses to show any sign of submission by even following someone.
"Maybe... But I would prefer to explore a bit, before we pay a visit to some Lord of this place. After all, we were not invited."
He lowers his voice, so the fey cannot hear him. "Anyone knows who these "Olympians" are?"
"I do think we ssshould not sssnoop around unnoticed whilssst our 'hossst' doesss not know we are in his garden..."
ooc: any relevant know check to 'remember' anything about 'Olympians'/ Titans..
"Perhaps we should return the way we came. Those trees along the other path seemed less ominous." The Aasimar shrugs
The fae release the Trog's tail, clearly unashamed of their reneg on the Trog's agreement. Already there is a minor numbing on the lower extremities of your tail, where the bald fae, Gnawnit, had his bite - it feels as though you had lain on it wrong as you slept...
BS- -2 to dex checks and other balance-oriented activities for 5 rounds... Probably will be up by the time you finish with your questions, anyways...
"Oooh, apologies, apologies, lizard-kin." Fleshtick says as he swallows the last scrap of the Trog's tail flesh picked with it's long claws from it's mismatched teeth. "We haven't had proper meat in a long time, we haven't... and me miss the furvor of the hunt. Nothing to eats round here that doesn't grow or could squash us flat as soon look at us." WIth that, he and his twin flit up once again to the olive tree, out of arm's reach - and begin the parlay.
"Ask your questions, cutters, the deal was three for our fill, and since two have filled, six questions we shall answer." As Fleshtick sits, Gnawnit flits behind, taking care to undo the bindings on his twin's hair, and braids them in a complex circular pattern - using both his hands and feet to entwine the hair as his wings keep him aloft.
"The plane - the PLANE we know little about." Fleshtick muses. "We know these lands. We know they are the prison of the Lord Iapetos, he of the West, the Piercer, deposed by his hated brother and condemned to this realm - his realm - until the end of time, or until he is freed..." With that, the fae smiles a dark grin. "As such, we, his servants, have been doing all that we may to find a way for him to leave his cage and escape to achieve his former glory... So far, we have been unsuccessful. We are his bards, his muses, and hold sway over his wall of the West," he gestures with a grandiose sway of his arm over his right shoulder as Gnawnit ducks "where he has laid all of his challengers."
"Outside of his realm, we know little. We know many of Lord Iapetos' kin have their realms near here, upon the Mount, but we have had little contact with them. That is for the touts an d messengers for our lord, not us... We merely serve him."
"Our Lord may welcome you, if you are not a percieved threat... Which I doubt you could be, so grandiose is he," Fleshtick muses, fiddling with his reeds as Gnawnit chuckles. "We could grant you an audience, but you would need to present him with a gift first. Our Lord is a powerful and influential one, and can't be bothered with minor trivials such as wandering amnesiacs who stumbled out of the Styx..."
"Very well, I will let you think all you can. There is much to ponder, isn't there?" he titters in his high pitched laugh.