Heroes come in all shapes and sizes (IC)

Nas

If it had been possible, the Baron would have burst into flames just by the look Nas gave him. For his part, the baron was either very brave, nieve or just plain stupid; considering the last two creatures who had thought to utter any form of dominion over Nas were currently digesting in his stomach.

The dragon's head turned to match the approach of the baron, then turned slightly letting the human see his own reflection in the dragon's eye.

"Do you think me one of your two-legged minions human?" he rumbled, a whisper for one of his stature, although certainly many of those who stood near could hear. "I will not be enslaved to you or to any creature."

He again offered a tug to his trapped wing, recieving the same, painful result.

"But I acknowledge that you do have the upper hand in this negotiation. I offer you this; I swear to assist you and your minions; that I will do so to the best of my ability and without treachery and I shall leave your town alone as per our previous agreements."

"In return, you shall assist me by offering me the same support and assistance offered to your other minions without bias or delay, starting with my current situation."

Nas's head slid back a foot or two. "I will help you, you will help me. Is this acceptable human?"
 
Baron was a bit shaken up … when Nas mentioned “per our previous agreements” he really did not want that little piece of information heard by everyone. Nas had been clever to mention it … the Baron did not want the dragon talking too much more ... so he decided this was the best deal he could hope to achieve. He quickly followed the Dragon’s statement with one of his own.

“So let it be sworn!” The Baron said with a loud voice. He glanced around at all the people now assembled around the Dragon.

“Please Sir Minotaur … Sir Deathsknight … Archers … everyone … please help remove the rocks and debris from our newest friend and sworn ally…Nas, the most glorious and discrete of Dragons!!

Zarik returned his battle axe to his back and grunted to the Baron “It’s just Zarik … no Sir, I do not rate the title of “Sir”, Zarik or Zarik the Minotaur, My lordship” He stated firmly, correcting the Baron.

“I shall get the dragon free” He said to everyone. Then he approached Nas.

“Dragon … there is a saying among my people … He who lives with the herd, learns to trust the herd.” He paused making sure the dragon understood the meaning of his statement. Then he continued “I see an easy way to get you free … I will need to climb onto your shoulder to get into the correct position … and when I’m there do not move. Lastly …this is going to hurt a bit.”

The Minotaur climbed over the rocks and up on to what was Nas’ massive shoulder.

“Be still now” He warned the Dragon and everyone else nearby … Zarik pulled his mighty battle axe from his back again … with his muscles bulging he took aim. It looked like he was planning to cut Nas’ wing off!!! Some of the people watching gasped …

Isola could not remain quiet … she had to say something “Zarik … No … there must be another way!!”

“THERE IS NO OTHER WAY!!” He roared and slammed the axe into the stone that had the wing trapped. The axe SPLIT the stone in two like it was made of butter, the blade of the axe sinking in up to the head of the shaft. Zarik plucked his weapon out of the stone with a grunt … and the part of the stone he had cut fell away, freeing the dragon’s wing. Had anyone got close enough to measure it … the blade of the axe had missed the dragon’s wing by less than a 1 mm.

Zarik grabbed the dragon’ wing to help guide it and yelled down to Nas “Move your wing forward slowly and it will come free.”
 
Maut al Feres

He watched on in stony silence as the deal was complete and the minotaur removed a huge chunk from the stone pinning the dragon.

"Fools."

You never trusted a dragon unless you had him bound by his name, he turned and stalked off, let their human failures fall on them, he will take his stench of death and death magic where it is most needed, his search.

He stopped in the middle of the field where hundreds of bodies lay, either transfixed by arrows, burned to death, or cut open. Standing there he could feel the power of Death all around, lifting his hands up, palms facing upwards he stood, waiting. It came to him, not visible, but a magic wielder would feel it, it was not the souls of the slain, more the power released during their demise. It was the very same power that fueled his magic, it seeped into his raised palms, flowing into his body. First they came one by one, then in pairs, seeming to find an escape from this world, finally it became a rush, from all the dead throughout the city and around the walls energy flowed into him, feeding him more energy than he had when he arrived here.

If one examined the corpses it would have been fascinating, it appeared to rapidly decompose and sink into the ground, it was not magic in itself, more like a result of magic. It served as one thing only, that when Maut should return to this area and it would be needed, he could summon all of the slain as undead warriors, bound to his will.

When he was done, the horse he had ridden came walking though the gate, heading towards him, he waited. As the horse stopped in front of him, he swung into the saddle and looked up towards the sky, danger lurked and there was fury directed towards him. Which was strange. All his enemies had died years ago, there was none alive to hate him. He listened to the wind as it brushed against his armor, kissing the grass, cool but not cold. He waited, there had to be more to this feeling than just a feeling, as an undead, feelings wasn't one of his strong suits.
 
Bronwyn and Breed

Bronwyn relaxed in her readiness stance a bit. It was clear there was not going to be a fight here. The baron seemed to be on amiable terms with the dragon, and once the oath was made, and the minotaur stepped up to help free the beast, it seemed as if the time for arrows had passed and the time to help move rocks had come. She unstrung her bow and slipped it over her back, moving forward to help with the rescue effort.

It was hot work, and she soon slipped her hood back. With the improved peripheral vision she gained, she saw the approach of the Elven troop. Secretly she hoped they would be focused enough on the dragon and perhaps the deathknight or the minotaur that they would not notice her. It wasn't that elven attention was bad, necessarily. Just that they seemed to look at her as if she was some sort of mistake, as if her birth should have been avoided. Or as if her very existence was in extremely poor taste, like she was an affront to their refined sensibilities.

The more she thought on it, the more it soured her mood. Maybe she should not have come to the festival. How could she have expected there to be an archery contest and not have elves show up? The humans wouldn't be much better. Most either leered at her, attracted to her elvish features as though they wanted to fuck her, or they, too, acted like her parents should have known better. But if they wanted to screw her based on her elvish features, then wouldn't that just result in more like her?

She bent to her task of helping with the rubble, working out her feelings through the sweat of honest labor. The sooner the task was done; the sooner she could find a cozy pub and lose herself in a pint or two.

++++++++++++++

Breed relaxed a little when the one who smelled of death moved further away on the battlefield. She still wasn't comfortable around the big reptilian one, but at least that was a scent she understood. How something could be dead and still move around as if alive was something she didn't understand and it unnerved her. Few among the Andaman races utilized magic, though each tribe or village usually had a shaman. Occasionally they had trade with various nature priests called Druids from time to time, and once in a while, even bartered with a hedge witch or witchdoctor for medicines and potions.

But those practitioners used the natural magics of the world, and even though she didn't understand them or how they did the things they did, at least they were alive. When you killed something, it ought to stay dead, she thought. Perhaps the hunter who killed that one did not properly thank it's spirit for it's sacrifice to feed the people. Then again, it didn't appear to have been fed from.

She shook herself bodily, working the stiffness out of her muscles and fur. Tiny spatters of blood from the generous donations of the goblins sprayed from her fur. She was a mess, and wanted to groom herself soon. But the mate of her friend was still here, and that meant that her friend was here too, near the big reptilian one and the dead one. They could be dangerous, and so she would stay here too, until the human woman with the shiny dress was safe.
 
Nas

"And so we are agreed." Nas said, although with less enthusiasm than the Baron seemed to have. In any case, the little two-legs started to move the rocks away from his pinned wing, so Nas could not complain.

“Dragon … there is a saying among my people … He who lives with the herd, learns to trust the herd.”

Nas did not reply, but thought about what the human had said. What an odd saying; why would he, a dragon who might be inclined to eat the herd want to live with it? He supposed that it would allow him to keep a closer eye on them, warding away other would-be preditors.

In any case, the minotaur seemed to have a wild thought, which might be dangerous to all around him. Nas's eyes watched intently as the minotaur raised his axe, then split the stone. The obstruction came free and with a light tug, Nas's wing also came free, but it was not lost on the dragon just how close the blade had come. The thought of being a wingless cripple was abhorent to him and had the axe slipped, Nas would have personally escorted the minotaur to the lowest region of Hell a second later.

"Bravely struck, Minotaur." he said, with no hint of the intensity of the situation in his voice. "Well played."

The long and leathery wing was revealed at last, but it was an unfortunate sight. The wing bone was clearly broken in three places, leaving the dark, red-brown membrane to lay jumbled along the ground an Nas's feet. A pang of anxiety flickered along the dragon's features as he saw the damaged limb. Even with proper splinting and care, the wing would take weeks to mend.

Dust kicked up around him as Nas let out a long, deep sigh.

"Damn..."
 
The Baron was glad the dragon had agreed to the terms of the negotiation. But now that the panic of the situation was over … what did it all mean? What had he agreed to?

The dragon would serve the baron … but the baron needed to provide the same support offered to say … the baron’s knights and his other minions. That meant a unit of land … lodging … food … FOOD … a dragon could eat a huge amount!!! This deal could cost him a fortune!! The clever dragon had tricked him. He needed to think of a way out of this agreement and fast.

It was at this moment the baroness came over to the baron. “Ralph … the people are tired and hungry … I’m sure much of the food from the festival can be rescued. What about a victory celebration for the heroes?” She suggested.

“Elizabeth that is an excellent idea” he said, this would buy him some time figure out what to do with the dragon. He kissed baroness. “You are correct to think of the people of the town … and I know a certain Minotaur that is hungry as well.”

The baron yelled to the town’s folk watching from the walls.

“Good folk of Bulkenhold … a victory celebration is in order … all those that were not involved in the fighting … please reheat or reprepare the feast … the heroes of the battle shall return to the town square and CELEBRATE the great victory.

The baron turned to the dragon and saw the badly damaged wing bone. “Nas … I shall call for our town healers … but I do not believe they can repair those breaks. They can however provide a splint … to hold the bones still as they heal. Is that acceptable? … and you are most welcome to the victory celebration feast … would you prefer troll or goblin … and how would you like us to prepare it?” The baron asked hoping dragon would not reject the offer and ask for some of the very expensive geese or ducks plates.
 
Zarik and the Archer

While the baron and the dragon were talking, Zarik helped lift the heavy stones off the dragon. He saw the hooded archer trying to pick up particularly heavy stone. The archer had her hood down, and Zarik noticed the person was a female, and an elf … or more correctly a half-elf.

“Here … let me help you with that half elf cow” Zarik said as he grabbed the back of the heavy stone and they cleared it off the dragon. Zarik could tell he had said something wrong as she seemed irritated with his comment. He grabbed her shoulder, making her look onto his big bull face. “I’m sorry I did not intend to upset you. I’m clumsy with you titles.” He paused and restarted “I wanted to praise you. Your skill with a bow is astounding … you saved my life …and the town by killing that troll back at the west gate. Two shots directly into both his eyes at that distance is remarkable … when you brought the archers here … you spread them out … a wise tactic when facing a fire breathing dragon. You are both smart and skilled. My name is Zarik … Well Met” he said as he stuck his hand out to shake hers.

The Arrival of the Elven Archers.

The small company of 50 elves, all clad in their green cloaks had Captain Irtheel at the head of the formation. He saw the humans removing the rocks from the still living dragon!!

FOOLS” the captain whispered under his breath. He called the formation to a halt and walked ahead to the baron and dragon. “Baron … I’m Captain Irtheel of the Idoor elves.”

Baron turned to face the elf captain “Glad to meet you … and goblin ran pretty hard when they heard your horns. I’ll bet they thought the whole elven army lurked in the forest!!” The baron said in excitement and joy.

“Thank You Baron, for your kind words. However, if I may ask … why is the dragon still alive??” He asked in shock and a bit of a condescending manner. “Baron … I must strongly warn you that this creature is EVIL and should be killed as soon as possible.” Captain Irtheel said self-righteously and slipped his bow off his back as if he’d kill the creature right now.

The Baron ignored the condescending tone, and answered the elf truthfully. “Stay your hand good elf” The baron said as he stepped between the dragon and the elf captain. Placing he hands against the bow and gentling trying to put the bow back on the elf’s shoulder.

“He has agreed to help the town ... I have his sworn oath to this.” The baron said.

The elf captain placed his bow back on his shoulder reluctantly. “I understand, but again I warn you … you cannot compel a scorpion not to string. It is against its nature.”

The elf captain looked at the people assemble in the area, and more disgust appeared on his face as he saw the half elf and somewhat surprisingly the elven warrior. He even rubbed his head saying under his breath “It’s going to be one of those days that will test my will power!”

Isola

Isola gathered up her courage and walked over to the Baroness and the leopard woman. She had seen the cat like creature in a cage before the goblin attack and had assumed it was dangerous.

She curtsied and said “Baroness … I’m glad to meet you. I noticed your escort appears injured … I can help to heal the wound if she or you so desire.”

“Oh yes … I think she would like that … she got it from defending me from the goblins. She does not speak our language … The Minotaur seems to know how to communicate with her. It requires a knowledge of sign language.”

Isola looked and saw the minotaur was busy. She would need to do this without his help. She grabbed the green gem hanging around her neck. She stuck her other hand out, palm down saying in gentle voice “Nice kitty … nice kitty” as she moved slowly closer to the creature.

“I’m going to cast a healing spell on you … it will help make the wound close up and make it heal faster. But I need to touch you to make the spell work …” Isola explained as her hand got closer and closer to Breed.
 
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Bronwyn found herself working next to an elf, and of all things, the minotaur. She kept glancing at the elf warrior, a little surprised that he would deign to soil his hands with ordinary labor such as moving rocks. But that he was pitching in - and keeping any rude comments to himself - made him seem alright by her for the moment. Time would tell what sort he would fall in with: the regular people or the snobs.

But to her surprise, the rude comment came from another quarter: the minotaur. Or rather, as she found out, it had seemed rude to her. A cow indeed? And was he going to make an issue of her mixed parentage as well? She fixed him with a look, defensive out of habit, waiting to see what insult he would make. And stood ready to respond appropriately if necessary. She was not the hot headed sort, and usually tried to avoid trouble. But there was no back-up in her just because she faced a daunting opponent. She held no fear of anyone, man or beast. The worst any could do would be to kill her after all, and then all her troubles would be over. Such was her simple philosophy.

Turning towards him, the angle of the sun caught her upturned face, lighting up her turquoise colored eyes like gemstones. He clasped her shoulder, turning her to address her directly and explained that he didn't mean any offense. He just didn't know what else to call her. Relieved that he hadn't meant to quarrel, she reached up to clasp his shoulder as well, returning what to her was a gesture of goodwill.

With a smile and a soft spoken voice she answered, "Well met indeed, friend Zarik. Call me Bronwyn, my given name. I have no real title. I'm just a wandering hunter, come to test my skill at the fair's archery contest. 'Twas not the sort of contest I had imagined, as it turned out. But it tested my mettle after all, eh?"

"And how about you though? I saw you swinging that great ax of yours like a scythe reaping a goblin crop. They fell all around you like wheat to the harvest blade. I'd say you kept them from over running us with sheer numbers alone."

She paused when she heard the baron's pronouncement that they would have a celebratory feast to mark the victory, then added, "Now that's the best thing I've heard all day. Perhaps we'll sit and share company while we enjoy a pint or two, Zarik. All of this digging is thirsty work." She clapped his shoulder a couple times, though she had to reach up to do so, and then turned back to the task, working at his side until the job was done.

Dusting off her breeches afterwards, she caught the look directed at her by the elven commander, and she blushed, dropping her gaze and turning away. Despite the heat and the honest sweat from the hard work, she raised the cowl of her hood, hiding her shame as she turned towards the village. Time to find that pub.

+++++++++++++++++++++

Breed sensed the fighting was over. The Ma'an was talking, many words, though she didn't listen much. It was warm in the sun, and the goblin blood, along with her own from the wound in her side, was beginning to dry, matting and stiffening her fur. She didn't like the feeling so she began to lick and clean herself. Her senses remained alert to all that went on around her, but the appearance she gave was of unconcerned disinterest.

She perked up when another human female approached. This one, too, wore a shiny dress. It was quite pretty but it had seen some wear from the battle. Breed lifted her head to gaze at the newcomer, her pink tongue still extended as if she forgot to pull it back into her mouth. Her amber green eyes were narrowed to almost slits from the bright light of day. She was not used to being out of her cage and free; it had been a long time since the sun shined down on her.

She would have presented a comical sight almost: sitting as she was, one leg raised where she'd been licking her fur clean, and now her tongue sticking out and her slitted eyes shining in the sun. But she was still covered in quite a lot of blood. And anyone who had seen her killing goblins would not mistake her for any harmless pussy cat.

The newcomer spoke to her friend, and Breed decided she liked the soothing sound of her voice. When the woman stepped forward and put out her hand, Breed recognized it as the same sign for friendship that the baron had taught her. She stood slowly and took the hand, giving it a few shakes like he had taught her, then clasping the woman on her shoulder, showing her the Andaman sign for friendship.

But it seemed that was not what the woman wanted. She almost seemed surprised to be treated that way at first. Breed sensed the hint of apprehension in her scent. But she didn't flinch away, and after the signs, she came closer, still reaching out for her fur. The leopard woman held still, cautious but not feeling threatened as the young woman gently touched her side where the shiny cloth bound her wound. The touch was light, and careful not to cause pain. Breed understood what the woman meant to do at last, and she reached down to help unfasten the bandage. Her fingers retracted her claws by now, and her hands brushed those of the woman as they worked together to remove the cloth. Then this new friend held a sparkling green stone against the cut along her ribs and Breed felt the soothing tingle of the healing energies. Ah! This woman must be a shaman of her people. Someone to be respected and revered.

She was still while the healing took place, and then solemnly took the young woman's hand, raising it and bowing to touch her forehead to the back of the shamaness' hand, a gesture of gratitude and respect. It was of the Old Way, a memory of how her people behaved long before she was turned into a mere animal. It felt good to remember and begin to come back to what she was.
 
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Nas

Nas felt a wave of depression creeping over him as the baron pronounced his fate due to the damaged wing. It would be weeks fefore he would feel the freedom and exhileration of flight again.
"Very well," he sighed. "bring forth your healers. The sooner they begin, the sooner the mending will be."

The Baron mentioned food and feasting. That at least sounded good, but as the human inquired about supper, Nas felt the cold, unatural feeling of death magics. He raised his head to observe the death knight's pillaging of the dead and the resulting putrification of the remains.

"I think not." Nas said. "Bring me a cow or horse. Any large animal will do but if you cannot find it in your heart to bring it live, then let be a fresh kill at least."

Nas watched, laying still save for the occasional heaving of a great sigh. His mood turned even more melencholy as the elves ran up, fashionably late as usual for their species. But with the head elf's babbling, Nas's mood soured sliding from gloom to disgust and ire.

The dragon's eyes narrowed and held a dangerous glint as he glared at the elf captian. "What do you know of my nature, point-ear?" he growled. "What do you know of evil that you might dare label me so?"
 
Captain of Elven Archers

Captain Irtheel turned and stared directly at Nas. His eyes were filled with contempt and hated. Nas could see no fear in them.

“Don’t try to trick me, WORM” He stated “I have seen the evil dragons have performed. Immoral, selfishness, praying on the weak … dragons are vile creature!”

The Baron grew angry at these comments, his face turning red. “CAPTAIN, This dragon is my guest and is now a friend of this town. I will not allow such statements made against my ally … if you wish to continue this debate, please do so outside the confines of my town. I would suggest you instead stop this ... and enjoy the feast ”

The elf captain bowed to the baron and the dragon “Baron, I speak out of place … my apologies to you and the dragon. I will refrain from such comments. I shall take my company to the square for the feast” he said retreating away from the dragon.

Nas was freed of the remains of the stone wall as the town healers arrived. They started to work on Nas’ injured wing, as the baron ordered two steers be brought to the town square for Nas to consume. The Baron’s worst fears of the dragon’s daily costs had been realized. Two steers a day … the town will be poor in a month!!

Zarik

Zarik liked the half-elf archer. She had guts! She asked him to join her for a few pints at the celebration feast. A drunken minotaur can be a lot to handle!!

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole field of corn!" He laughed "I would love to drink some ale with friend Bronwym” Zarik agreed. Then he noticed the look directed at her by the elven commander and her response of raising her hood, turning away, walking towards the town. He followed after her.

“Wait” He said “I must help translate for the leopard woman. Please come with me, I will introduce you to her. We shall all eat together”

He thought for a second, before saying “Minotaur’s are blunt in their speech, so please forgive my bluntness. I am half bull half man, the leopard woman is half leopard and half human, you are half elf and half human. We are all half–breeds. There is no shame in that. We take what is best from each species and combine them together. Those that doubt our power will learn of their mistake … usually after there are arrow shafts protruding out of their eyes!!” Zarik smiled at Bronwym “Please remove your hood and show everyone your proud and beautiful face. Come with me ... and I shall introduce you to another friend”
 
Nas

Nas watched the elvish group form up and march back towards the gate into the town. The dragon's eyes staring daggers at their captain the whole while.

"Oh yes," he grumbled, sarcasm dripping off every word. "Go enjoy the feast. After all, you sounded your horns bravely and heroically marched across a field. All the little humans should be a-twitter in gratitude for your help..."

In the meantime, he let the humans tend his wing. Food was brought out, but Nas did not feel like eating right then. He was quite certain that for all the Baron's fancy words, the feast was not intended for him. Besides, he would be the very definition of chaos, walking down the narrow, human roads in the town. Even assuming he didn't step on anyone or have mass panic ensue as he strolled along, the dragon would probably would have knocked down more buildings that the whole goblin army would have.

He set his massive head back down and heaved another sigh, thinking of hot summer days and this isolated hill top. Instead another chill tingled in his blood; the death knight was playing with the corpses again no doubt. Aside from that, the dragon watched the few who were still lagging around him. There was the human female with the emerald, the minotaur who was speaking with an archer-female, the Baron and his female along with a cat-female.

A curious collection of two-legs to be sure.
 
Bronwyn

(This is a partial post for Bronwyn only. I'll have to get to Breed in another post, but real life is wearing me thin this week.)

Bronwyn paused in her withdrawal to seek escape in a frothy pint. Zarik had beseeched her to accompany him to meet the exotic looking leopard-woman. Bronwyn turned back, mostly because his was the first friendly words spoken to her since she’d come to this town, and she was in the mood for some company. Traveling alone was fine normally, but the look the Elven Captain had given her reminded her that she was alone in the world, even when she might prefer otherwise. Her life of solitude wasn’t by her choice alone.

A Minotaur as a drinking companion wasn’t what she had imagined awaited her in this town, to be sure. But his next words struck a chord in her heart. Slowly she reached up and pushed the hood back off her head, revealing her smile and bright eyes, and just the hint of a blush that lingered from the effect his words had on her.

“Zarik, yes, I will accompany you. And thank you for reminding me that friendship may come in a shape we might never expect." She clapped him on his broad back as she fell in by his side, heading over to where the baroness and a human woman were tending to the leopard woman’s wound. As they passed the dragon, she overheard his low grumble, “Oh yes, Go enjoy the feast. After all, you sounded your horns bravely and heroically marched across a field. All the little humans should be a-twitter in gratitude for your help..."

She snorted a laugh, turning to give the huge creature a grin and a wink, nodding her agreement with his sentiment. Even a dragon couldn’t be all bad if he thought like that.
 
Breed

Breed watched the approach of the bull-man and one other. As they drew nearer, she saw that the new one was a female elf, like the friend she'd once known in His home. But this one wore no fancy shiny dress, only the simple clothes of a hunter. Still the sight of her, and the dresses worn by the baroness and Isola reminded the leopard woman of the continued danger that could be lurking about.

As Zarik and Bronwyn approached, Breed began looking about, searching for Him. The battle was over, the goblins were defeated. But He was the greatest threat she knew. And she needed to find Him, kill Him, so He could never put her in a cage again.

Her friend was safe, and the kind woman who had healed her wound as well. Her friend's mate could protect her. But they might all be in danger if He came back. He had kept other women with the pretty dresses, and had made them do things....Things he had tried to make her do too. He had hurt her, and so she had hurt Him too. And that's when He had His men beat her senseless. When she woke up, she was in a cage. The only time they let her out after that was to fight, and slash, and kill. She had learned well.

Her thoughts brought back her agitation. Her thick tail lashed back and forth as she began to pace, searching for him on the battlefield. As the bull-man came near, she began signing to him, rapidly and with great agitation. <Find bad Man. Slash His face! Kill Him! Never go in cage again!> The punctuation of her sharp and abrupt hand movements gave emphasis to her words. The low rumble sounding in her throat carried the menace of her thoughts. <Him enemy forever! Bad, bad.>
 
Zarik, Breed and Bronwyn

Zarik looked around and did not see the slaver.

He signed back to leopard woman <Bull-man, not see bad Man >

He signed more <Bull-man sorry he not free leopard woman, she free now … and bull-man not let bad man capture her>

Then he paused <My name Zarik … > then putting his big hand on the half-elf’s shoulder he signed <New friend named Bronwyn, good fighter with arrows>
<What is your name? Join us for food?>

The Baron and Isola

The baron and baroness rejoined lsola as she completed the healing spell. As the Minotaur signed with the leopard women, the nobles and Isola headed towards the main square to enjoy what food had been saved and re-prepared. The baron was thinking about the dragon … he needed to get rid of the massive eating machine … but how?

They arrived at the square and baron insisted on inviting Isola to a large wooden table, the only one left with open seats that was reserved for the baron. When the others rejoined them, they would be siting with the baron. Isola wondered what the town’s folks would think about their leader with a concubine, minotaur, leopard woman, and half elf. That reminder her, where had the elf company commander chosen to sit? She looked around and there he was at a table almost adjacent to the one she was at. She hoped there would be no trouble between the elf and half-elf. And what about deathsknight? Would he also join them? She was pretty sure the dead knight did not eat. Or better said …. did not eat food. But maybe he would join them for the conversation?

She reflected on what a strange day it had been. She had come here to win the beauty contest and peak the interest of a wealthy man. That had gone horribly wrong. She brushed back her long silky burgundy colored hair and looked down at her emerald encrusted long green evening gown. “UGH” is all she thought with a pained look on her face.

The baron saw her expression asked “Isola … what troubles you?”

Isola looked up; still upset “Oh … this day did not turn out like I thought. The beauty contest was not finished, and I will never know if I would have won …and my dress is ruined … I had hoped to find a man … during the contest … but now … I’m not sure what the gods have in store for me.”

The baron felt for the young woman. He looked at her beauty. The way her breasts filled the top of her dress, her deep sexy cleavage, her smooth perfect skin, her long toned legs, her full lips and her long silky burgundy colored hair.

“Oh, don’t be so sure” The baron smiled, “You have won my vote for the most beautiful. And I must say you are not only beautiful in appearance, but in mind and spirit as well. Few maidens would confront a fire breathing dragon without fainting. But you stood your ground bravely. Any man would be a fool not to be interested in you.”

She was taken aback by his comments. She would have won the beauty contest? Unbelievable! And the baron’s kind words … was he signaling her? Was he interested in her? He was the wealthiest man in the town. Isola grabbed onto this thought. Maybe today had not gone horribly wrong. She turned on her charm, a big smile breaking across her face.

“Why my lord … such kind words. I thank you for them. I want to thank you as well. I watched … as you saved this town … your deeds were heroic!! And your sword was so big and mighty. Thrusting and stabbing!! Heroic deeds can be so sexy … don’t you think?” Isola said as a sexy twinkle lite up her eyes.

The baron did not know what to say. He had not intended to flirt with this younger woman … but he also did not want to ruin her day anymore. He smile back to her

“Oh …yes … well … I guess when you phrase it like that, heroic deeds can be sexy”

The baroness frowned next to the baron. This concubine slut was flirting with her husband. She needed to get rid of her … before the baron did something stupid. But how?
 
Nas

Nas watched the archer-woman pass, but he did note that she -was- female and also demonstrated both elvish and human features; a half-breed. He did not know her, nor did he particuarilly care to, but half breeds; those he knew. The archer woman also seemed to share his disapproval for the elvish captain's appearance. Nas could appreciate that as well.

As it was, the dragon acknowledged her approval by slowly blinking his great, golden eyes as she passed. high praise in Nas's mind. After all, there were other, and much more final, ways to gain a dragon's attention...

...Like growling a challenge.

The little human healers were at work, splattering their sticky, smelly weed-poltices over his damaged wing, sewing the torn membrane back together like a pair of their stupid, woolen socks. Some of their man-folks were pounding nails into boards to fit splints onto the breaks in the wing bone.

None of this improved Nas's mood. Yes, the gunk soothed the pain and the work would be endured if it would speed his return to the skies, but the hammering reminded him of the dwarves that pounded within his skull after being struck with a rock. Struck by a rock!! A dim-witted troll had actually brought him down with a thrown rock! Not only that, but had left him to be confronted by an abomination who had the gall to claim that he,.. it,.. whatever it was, had actually rescued him! Now he was forced to bear the humiliation of being tended by humans like he was some sort of docile pet! It was a good thing that Nas had no contact with dragonkind. He would be mocked, challenged and targeted for the rest of his life!
Nas's mood darkened further at the thought. Despite his claims earlier, Nas was fairly certain that he had encountered this abomination before...and had not approved of the outcome. There was likely to be a reckoning over that if Nas's suspicions were correct.

Worse still, he was relying on these frail, foolish little two-legs to actually assist him. Nas knew that eventually, the foppish elves would sway enough people, or just be brash enough himself, to come challenge him. Seeking fame and glory at the expense of his hide and riches at the prospect of looting his horde. Nas had seen that scenario play out before too...

And then he heard it.

A sound tapped its way through Nas's dark thoughts and irritation. It was a growl. Low, agitated, angry and threatening. Nas's head rose up on his serpantine neck and turned towards the sound. Most of the people had moved away to stupify themselves with food and alchahol but the cat-female was pacing about, growling meanicingly and waving frantically like...well, Nas didn't know like what, but he knew a predatory growl when he heard one, regardless of species.

Nas's mood was already dark enough and this little cat, waving and prancing about, only seemed to further grate on his nerves. He watched for a moment, studying through narrowing eyes and when the cat woman growled again. The dragon's deep, warning growl rumbled right back at her.
 
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A deep rumbling growl drew his attention, he looked back at the small gathering, it seemed that the feline woman was agitated and that her growling have soured the dragon's mood further. In a way he could understand the dragon's response, he felt the same, saved by a minotaur, he himself had experienced the shame of it and the gal would be harder to swallow for the dragon indeed. He saw that the cat woman and the minotaur signing at each other, though he could understand only a few words, he moved the horse and they moved back over the partially burned field, as he approached them he turned his attention first to the cause of the dragon's ire.

"Zarik what is the cause of the leopard woman's diress? Her growling is upsetting the dragon."
 
Minotaurs are known for their fearless bravery, sometimes to their own determent. There are almost no tales in the lore of these lands, where the words “and the minotaurs ran away in terror” are used. However, there is one dramatic exception. The 2nd eon, minotaur battle against Garmel, a monstrous green dragon. A minotaur battalion was deployed into the dragon’s home swamp, to rid the place of the menace. The force managed to entrapped the dragon in it’s’ stronghold lair. The battalion commander named Promorris, nicked named “the beast” for his massive size, engaged the dragon with the elite fighting force in the early morning hours. He ordered the entire battalion (over 1000 minotaurs) to charge into the lair and kill the creature. It was a massacre. The creature’s breath killed hundreds. The dragon’s skin had grown so thick and strong, minotaur battle axes simply bounced off. The commander himself was killed in the battle, when the dragon bit down on his head, crushed it, and broke off his bull horns, and then swallowed him whole. The minotaurs broke and ran from the creature in terror.

This story continues to be told to young minotaurs to ensure their arrogance does not overcome their common sense. Two famous saying come from this important event in minotaur history. 1) “Don’t break your horns” meaning don’t let your arrogance get the better of you. 2) “I’ve met my Garmel” meaning I have met my terror.

The leopard woman’s growl was that of a kitten’s compared to the dragon’s deep lion roar like growl. Zarik heard the dragon’s growl and stopped signing and stood straighter, muscles tightening. The story of the minotaur battle against the green dragon in the swamp had made an impression on him. Dragons were the top of the food chain and everyone should make an extra effort not to upset them.

“I’ve met my Garmel” The minotaur grunted as he got ready to face the dragon, fearing the worst.

But the growl had also caused the return of the dead knight. The knight’s cold and haunting voice asked “Zarik what is the cause of the leopard woman's duress? Her growling is upsetting the dragon."

Zarik turned to look at the solitary figure on the black horse. De Grange family crest painted on the shield, the knight dressed in his battle armor. Zarik was not too bothered by the dead knight’s presence as other seemed to be. But the horse was another matter. It was clearly something arisen from the grave. The eyes of the creature were milky white in color showing that it was dead.

“The leopard woman searches for the human that captured and had held her.” Zarik explained in a loud and clear voice. “I have met the man … a slaver … and he has no honor.” Zarik looked down at the smaller but lethal leopard woman. He thought about what would happen should the two fight. A big grin appeared on his face. “She will be joining us for the feast and I only feel pity for the slaver should he show up to reclaim her” Zarik nodded hoping the dragon and the knight were satisfied with the answer.
 
"The slaver? Ah yes."

He looked towards the town,

"His helper died killing a goblin, the slaver is hiding inside of the barracks where he feels safe. There are no guards, perhaps you wish to take her there and let the dragon rest in peace.

If one connected with the dead soon enough after their death, one could recall their last thoughts and the last thing they saw. Of course you had to have the power to draw their body's essense into yourself and through the absorption of the death energy he got these essences as well. He turned towards the dragon, a very specific scar drew his attention and he nudged the horse closer,

"Where did you receive that wound to your chest dragon?"
 
Nas

Nas considered the minotaur's words, letting them roll around in his head for long moments. They were odd creatures, these two-legged mamals. Nas had lived for hundreds of years, but by a dragon's standards, he was still a young adult. Then there was the circumstances in his upbringing which had let to his seclusion, even among others of his kin. Then there were all these different races and cultures. All with their own laws, customs, traditions, blah, blah, blah. Add it all together and Nas was not nearly as worldly as some of his kind might be.

Compounding the problem, Nas himself had little interest in the customs of what he considered his playthings. At best, they were 'investments', at worse, 'foodstuffs'. So finally, Nas's curiosity finally prompted him to speak.

"What is a 'slaver'?" he asked, his golden eyes coming back around to look over the cat-female as though she might be more than she appeared.

Although his question was posed, the knight moved forward, but did not answer his question, which Nas again thought was bothersome. He, it, instead motioned towards Nas.

Nas's head again swiveled towards the knight and his horse-thing. the air was begining to chill and Nas decided that he did not like the abomination being so close to him. Not out of fear, Nas did not fear the death knight or his horse, but it's presence felt unnatural. Like an itch under one scale you couldn't scratch or having grease coating your tongue. Meh!

"Where did you receive that wound to your chest dragon?"

"In battle." Nas replied curtly. "Why it is of concern to you?"
 
Bronwyn and Breed/Prrip

With Zarik's presence, the act of communicating helped to exorcise some of the anxiety that Breed was feeling about the possible return of the slaver. It was a little frustrating for her that she could not as readily make herself understood as the others around her, and that frustration was adding to her agitation when it came to letting people know about something as important as the bad Ma'an. As she signed out her concerns to the minotaur, some of the agitation she felt subsided.

Zarik assured her that he didn't see the slaver anywhere around, and she began to calm. he promised to help her fight him if he returned, and introduced her to a new friend who could help too. This new friend reminded her of the pointed eared pretty woman who had been a slave of the bad Ma'an at the same time that she had been. In fact, it had been the elf woman who had taught her how to 'speak' with her hands signs. Breed wondered if this elf looking woman knew the hand language as well. She decided she'd have to try to talk to her later, but first she would answer Zarik's question. Of all of them, he was the most like her, even though not of her type. But would he understand her language if she spoke to him? Would any of them understand her attempts to speak the language they used?

She determined to try, but just then the dead warrior came riding up on his dead horse. The scent of carrion filled her nostrils and she curled her lips up in a grimace, sneezing to try to get the scent out. Her ears laid back in his presence, and her fur stood on end along a ridge down her back and along the top of her tail. She moved back a few steps, uneasy to be so near to this one.

He spoke to Zarik, not to her, as if she was but an animal and surely couldn't understand his words. But in truth, she understood when people spoke to her just fine. It was only because she couldn't articulate their speech as well that she used the hand language.

She had noted the challenge of the dragon, but her fight was not with him, and unlike a normal animal, she had a sense of purpose that she was intent upon. She'd had enough of fighting for no good reason in the pits. Now she was free of that bad Ma'an, and she would decide when she would fight, and for what reason. She cared nothing for this large reptilian animal. She was not interested in his territory, nor in anything to do with his mating, nor any other reason worth fighting over. She simply noted his presence with the due amount of caution that she would any large predator, but otherwise didn't concern herself about him.

But when the dead one suggested that the bad Ma'an was hiding somewhere, she perked up, listening intently. She did not want to speak to this dead one, but when he turned his mount away and left her with Zarik and Bronwyn, she spoke eagerly, accompanying her words with hand signs to make sure she was clearly understood. "Wherrrre Ma'an? Wherrrre barrrracksss?" <Where is bad man? Where is....> She had no sign for barracks, so she used the sign for hiding place instead, adding, "Prrip kill ba'ad ma'an."

++++++++++++++++++

Bronwyn watched as the minotaur and leopard woman communicated in the sign language common to various primitive villagers and barbarians. In her travels as a hunter, she'd picked up a little of the language, but had trouble reading the sings of the leopard woman because she signed so fast and choppy in her agitated state. She could understand Zarik's signs a little better. He went slower, and was more calm. She smiled at the cat-woman when she was introduced.

Just then the dragon roared, and they all turned to look to see what the matter was. Bronwyn noticed the way the scaly beast was looking in their direction, specifically at the leopard woman, and she hoped there would not be trouble. Through Zarik's signs and his answer to the deathknight, she realized that all of this trouble was over a scummy slaver. She was about to pledge her bow to helping make sure he would not bother the leopard woman when she was surprised to hear what seemed like an attempt at speech coming from her.

Bronwyn glanced at Zarik with a smile and turned back to the andaman woman. "Did you say you're name was Prrrip?" she asked, using what signs she knew to clarify her question. She noted that the leopard woman didn't even look at her signs when she listened and nodded. Bronwyn was very observant as a tracker, and used to picking up on subtle clues. She realized that Prrip didn't need to read signs to understand, only to use them to make herself understood. Yet despite the altered sounding speech, the half elf had understood what the leopard woman was trying to say.

"Prrip, I'm sure Zarik and I will be glad to go with you to search this barracks. If we find this bad man you speak of, we will make sure he cannot harm you anymore. We will take him to that man, over there." she said, pointing out the baron. "He will punish the bad man if he tries to hurt you."

+++++++++++++++

Prrip liked this new elf woman from the first moment she spoke to her. This one didn't treat her like a mere beast. She treated her like a person, just like Zarik did. But she wasn't too happy about the notion of just capturing the bad Ma'an. She would have preferred to kill him and be done with it. But maybe.....

She looked around the town until she spotted the wagon that held her former cage. she pointed it out to the two of them, even though it was scorched by the magical flame that had freed her, and some of the bars were broken. <Put bad Man in there. Put chains on him.>
 
Zarik had been looking forward to eating something. He had had little to eat since breaking his fast this morning. A few hours of riddle battles, followed by a few hours of fighting goblins, followed by lifting rocks off a dragon can make a minotaur pretty hungry! But a big smiled appeared on his face as he looked at Bronwyn and Prrip. He totally understood the leopard woman’s feelings.

“Yes … I think we should search the barracks right away. I shall take you there.” He said and signed that same message to Prrip. Then looking to Bronwyn “she’ll need a weapon … do you have an extra? Or shall I find a goblin one?” Zarik asked.

It was at this point that Zarik heard the Dragon’s question “What is a 'slaver'?"

Zarik had always thought talking to dragons was just foolhardy. One mistake … one improper title … one misspoken word … one perceived insult … and the dragon would eat you! It did not escape Zarik notice that he … of all the people assembled here looked most like the cattle that were being brought to satisfy Nas’ hunger! So he thought it was just best … not to talk to dragons … at all. Now the damn thing was asking him questions. How do you answer a dragon’s question without making him look foolish for not knowing answer? How do you even address a dragon?

“Dragon … my apologies … I used a poor word. A “slaver” is a person who owns another person … as if they are property. It is not a practice in the minotaur kingdom. But I believe it is more common among orcs, goblins, and some humans and gnomes.” Zarik explained.

“If I may ask a question of you?” Zarik asked and Nas seemed to indicate he could continue “What is the correct way to address a dragon? Sir Dragon? Dragon of the name Nas? Great Worm? Nas? Or something like … Oh mighty and terrible dragon?”

Zarik felt pretty stupid for asking the question, but he had never met a dragon before.
 
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Nas answered the minotaur’s question and the small party headed towards the barracks (ooc: to be filled in when Manta gets back). They took the short cut through the broken curtain wall. Sticking out of the ground was a goblin short sword, he grabbed it and handed it to Prrip. As they continued to the barracks, they passed the feasting tables and Zarik grabbed a turkey leg. He greedily ate it as they approached the barracks. The barracks were a series of stoutly built structures. The walls were made of large, rough stones that had been mortared to together. The main entrance was a portcullis type gate, decorative as well as practical. Adorned with gargoyles and other creatures carved in the stone. There was ivy growing on the walls adding an estate like feel to the structures.

Zarik was leading the group and reached the main entrance gate first. He stopped to study the structures. “There appears to be three doors into the barrack complex, this main one … that one on the far side, and the small door over there” he said pointing to the various doors, include the small one midway along the complex in a connecting building. He tossed away the cleaned off turkey bone and licked his lips. “If each of us goes through a door … and secures it. He should be trapped. I’ll take the far door … which doors do you two want?” Zarik asked looking at Bronwyn, and Prrip as he pulled his great battle axe off his back preparing for a possible conflict.
 
Bronwyn watched with a little envy as Zarik heartily enjoyed the turkey leg. She was hungry too, and the presence of the temptation made her belly rumble in a very unladylike way. But it did make her grin to see the minotaur so obviously enjoying the morsel.

Prrip had eaten the small piglet shortly before the battle had begun, and her concern was more on finding her hated enemy and putting this unpleasant part of her life behind her once and for all. She would have led the way had she known where the barracks was. When they arrived before a large stone and mortar building, her sensitive nose was already testing the air for his scent. The breeze shifted slightly, and she caught the tell tale odor of the slaver. It was not a fresh scent, but fairly recent. She was too intent on her scent tracking to answer Zarik's question, instead going to the small door. Her fingers tightened on the handle of the goblin sword, so much that her claw tips sunk into the leather wrapping on the grip.

Bronwyn noticed the fixed intensity of the leopard woman as she headed directly towards the small door midway down the structure. The half-elf glanced at Zarik and shrugged. "I guess she made her choice. I think she smells him, so if he came this way, she might find him first." She leaned in closer, shouldering her bow and unsheathing her curved falchion instead. "Zarik, my friend. I think she wants her personal revenge on this man. I know I said we would capture him and turn him over to the baron, but if he's here, I say we let her deal with him. I have no taste for slavers, and from the way she reacted, I'd say she deserves a few minutes alone with him. We can turn over whatever is left to the baron and just say we caught up with her a little too late to protect him. What say you?"
 
Background note on Law Enforcement and Sanctuary in the Kingdom of Palamar. A town baron was ultimately the judge and jury for crimes within a town. However, most barons are too busy for the more minor disputes ... so day to day enforcement of law and order in a town was done by the captain of the guard. The captain handled most disputes, conducted a simple investigation and administered punishment. Serious crimes, such as murder, would be taken to the baron. If a crime happened and the captain needed help to chase a criminal, or was not there to witness it … all town citizens were required to enforce the law or risk being fined. Enforcement meant to capture the criminal. If the criminal resisted, he was clearly guilty and deadly force could be used. If a fugitive managed to reach a temple or church, they could claim the right of sanctuary. This meant they were safe for up to 1 month, but could not leave the holy place.

Zarik
Zarik was not sure of the laws regarding slavery in the town of Bulkenhold. But for the Minotaur Kingdom it was simply not permitted. He had not seen any slaves during his travels in the Palamar kingdom, so he assumed it was also not permitted. Minotaurs are driven by honor. It is part of their “herd” ethics. It is how they held their empire together. Zarik personally HATED slavers … it was the strong picking on the weak. Add to this Prrip was an Andaman … a cross breed between animal and human. Just like Minotaurs. He also had not forgotten the slaver calling her his PET. So Zarik wanted to rip this human to piece with his bare hands. However, he needed to act carefully. Zarik had been sent to Bulkenhold almost like a minotaur ambassador. So he would not knowing break the town’s laws.

The big minotaur turned to face his new half-elf friend, a smile breaking across his face.

“Bronwyn, my friend … I do not know the laws of this town as well as you … but I’m certain that justice demands we capture this slaver. Bring him to the captain of the guard for justice. However, if he resists … he might get hurt.” Zarik stated as he studied the very sharp edge of his great battle axe. “If Prrip finds him first … and he threatens to recapture Prrip before we gain entrance into the barracks … I think she is entitled to defend herself. Should that defense reduce him to a bloody pile of grounded up human … I shall not shed a tear." He said and winked at her.

“Just make sure he does not get out … and find sanctuary. I shall go to the far door. Good hunting!” he added and trotted off to the far door. On the way he saw Prrip go inside the structure. Zarik reach the far door and pulled it open entering the barracks. He shut the door behind him. He could have asked people inside the barracks to guard the door … but instead (and in typical minotaur fashion!) he grabbed the long thin metal rod used to light candles. He placed that into the handle and as his muscles flexed he bent the rod into a knot. Satisfied the door would not be opened. He turned, leaving the entrance way, and entered the first floor barracks area. There were three structure connected together. Each person could claer their structures/rooms and everyone could meet on the top floor. For this floor, candles provide the small amount of light as there were no windows on the first floor of the structure for defensive reasons.

There were only a few people in this first room recovering from the battle. All of them were very surprised to see a monstrous minotaur with his battle axe out, storm into the room.

“There is a criminal in this structure. A slaver … do not let him get out by order of the Baron.” Zarik snapped, as he continued to the middle of the structure. He did not hear any sounds of battle and assumed Prrip and Bronwyn were clearing their parts of the first floor. They both had a head start on him … So he turned and went up the stairs to the second floor. He found another series of dimly-lit rooms; again only with a few people in each. He did note the narrow outer wall arrow slits windows. “Just big enough for a longbow, Great for defense!" He thought. That also meant there was no way the slaver could get out of them. Not finding the slaver … he headed up to the third and final floor of the barracks.
 
He chuckled, mirthlessly of course,

"So indeed you are the dragon Nas. Your battle scar is of concern to me as I am the one who gave it to you."

He watched as the little group left on their errand to either capture or kill the slaver. He was sure that he would be certain which one would happen as a death so close would be easy to pick up.

"You must have been a much younger dragon since it was about a hundred years ago since I had that battle."
 
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