Even those with Herculean patience would find waiting in a goblin town to be extremely trying. First off, the smell is enough to turn all but the strongest stomachs. Secondly, the noise is pretty obnoxious too, screaming and banging is par for the course ... and that's just from inside the shaman's hut. So, waiting two hours may have been waiting two years by the time the front door open again.
Tristan stands as the door opens, devoutly hoping the shaman hasn't run into any problems that will cause a further delay.
A cloud of noxious smoke rolls out, followed by the waddling, naked shaman. He waves the smoke away with knobby hands and cackles, "Gotcher weapons all done. Two flamethrowers and halfa' dozen bombs, ready to blow your enemies to tiny bits!" He pauses to rub his chin, then adds, "Mercifully, of course. Has to be merciful to meet knight standards."
"'Quick' and 'merciful' have much in common, under certain circumstances," Sir Tristan notes dryly.
Minstrel Sam nods wisely. "So, less with the covering our enemies in burning fire, more with the exploding them into smithereens efficiently."
Hannah nods gratefully to the shaman. "What do we owe you for your work?" she asks, glancing also at Sam as she does so. He still has their purse, after all.
The old faerie gives Hannah a 'what?' look.
The goblin points to Tristan, remarking, "The lad's got the gist of it. While it's more fun to hear people scream for a bit, these are more likely to just kill outright. Just light the fuse, count to four and a half, then toss it atcher foes. Then you relax and enjoy the flesh confetti."
"But remember, four and a half. Five is right out," The goblin shaman asserts. "As for cost, hmmm. Do you have any bee's knees?"
Hannah runs one hand through her short hair and looks confused. "I didn't know bees had any knees..." she mutters.
"Would you mind counting to four and a half?" asks the minstrel suspiciously. "Just to make sure we know which four and a half you mean. As for bee's knees, can't say as they gave us any of that at the currency changer."
"I do," Tristan answers. He rifles through his pouch.
"One, two, three, four, four and a half," the shaman grunts as he gives Sam a bit of the evil eye. "Yer not the brightest fellow, are ya? Bit of a brain pickle."
Minstrel Sam grins. "I blame the accident with the trebuchet and the mountain giant back when. Ah, Tom."
At Tristan's claim of having bee's knees, though, the shaman's attention shifts to the knight? You do? Why, you're aproper adventurer, then. Always carry around random body parts. Never know when they might be important. Why, just last week a traveler didn't have any eyes. Cheap bugger; I really wanted to make Eye Scream that night for supper, too."
"If he'd had a pair of eyes, he'd have shown some four-sight," Sam intones.
The fey knight finds a tiny velvet pouch in the bottom of his bag. He pours out a handful of tiny objects -- some stones, some gems, some harder to identify -- and picks out some very small black dot-looking things. He offers them to the shaman. "Are these what you're looking for?"
Hannah spins on the minstrel again. "I told you, don't you start!" she growls in a mock-threatening tone. Then she turns back to Tristan to see if he really will produce any bees knees from his pouch.
Sam whistles. "That's well prepared, Sir."
The goblin once again looks at Sam. With a sigh, comments to Hannah, "You travel with that? What witch did you piss off? Oy."
Hannah grins at the shaman. "All of them, I'm afraid."
Tristan smiles at Hannah's response.
"Oo," goes the shaman as he siddles up to Tristan and peers in the knights hands (standing on his toes as he does so). "To bee or not to bee ... let me see ... yep, that would be them!" the goblin agrees and swipes them before Tristan can put them away. "And I feel like I'm forgetting something ..." he murmurs. "Oh, right! The glamour lenses."
"Ah yes, I'd forgotten that we'd asked for something like that, as well," Hannah murmurs.
"One moment and I'll get you them. They'll make anything you look glamourless, heheheh," cackles the goblin as he waddles back into his shack.
The knight returns the rest of the contents of the velvet bag into it, then stows it away in the belt pouch again. He looks interested to see how the glamour lenses work. "Am I the only one who's curious to see what effect they would have on your good mount, Lady Hannah?" he murmurs to the others.
The bard nods wisely to Sir Tristan, "I think so."
Hannah smiles again, this time at the knight. "I think that would certainly be...enlightening, Sir Tristan. And by the way - wherever did you find bees knees?"
Tristan blinks at Hannah. "Doesn't everyone keep some handy?" he answers disingenuously.
"Rowr!" howls a cat ... and it flies out of the shaman's door and by the gathered group. "Bloody nuisance," mutters the shaman as he waddles back out. In his hands is a red velvet bag. He offers it to Hannah.
Hannah quirks an eyebrow at him. "Errrr...no?"
Sam blinks at the cat's abrupt passage.
Hannah gingerly takes the velvet bag from the goblin. Then she opens it and gently shakes the contents into her open palm.
The knight watches the cat depart as well, bemused. "One moment, if you will excuse me." He walks after the fleeing animal.
As the cat Tristan pursues darts up a nearby tree, Hannah finds some rather intricate monocles sitting in her hand. One for each of them, in fact. The lenses all have a slightly red tint and the wire rims all seem to have delicate rune work engraved on them. "Some o' me best work,"the shaman declares as he thrusts out his shrunken chest.
Hannah picks one out of the small pile in her hand and examines it more closely. "They certainly look amazing," she says in an awed tone. "Mind if I put them to a test?"
Sam admires the handiwork. "Going to bust a myth, Hannah?"
"I would prefer if you put them over yer eye. Well, unless putting them to a test is some sort of lewd suggestion, then by all means!" the Shaman says and waggles his overly bushy brows at her.
Tristan stands at a respectful distance, not wishing to hound the skittish animal. He mews at it softly: cats are the animal of House April and he doesn't like seeing one in trouble. If it's not interested in help, however, he leaves it be.
Hannah sighs and shakes her head at the minstrel but she grins just the same. "Something like that, yes." Then she gives the shaman a hard stare - and suddenly her form changes before their eyes. The girl grows tall and wraith-like, draped in a black cloak with red eyes peering out from underneath the cloak's hood. After a moment, the new figure holds the monocle up to one of its glowing eyes and peers down at its own arm.
The cat gives Tristan a rather odd look, then hops down from the tree. It curls and circles Tristan's legs in a figure eight as it purrs away.
Through the monocle, Hannah's arm looks quite normal, save for a very hazy outline around her arm showing the presence of a glamour, but not much else.
Sam admires Hannah's handiwork. "But, the next time you do that effort, you should add a little aging to the cloak," he suggests helpfully. "A touch of grave dirt, perhaps."
Tristan crouches down, offering his hand to the cat for sniffing.
And sniff the cat does. "Meow?" it says.
"You look like you've had a rough time of it," Tristan says to the cat. He tries to pet the animal, if it doesn't back away. "I've not seen a feline in these parts so far."
Hannah returns to her normal self again and replaces all of the monocles in the bag with a satisfied smile. "I agree; you've done some very fine crafting. My thanks to you." Then she looks at Sam. "I shall have to remember that in future. You never know when a wraith-form might come in handy." She looks thoughtful for a minute, then adds, "Just as it did in the past, really."
The cat glares towards the shaman as if to confirm Tristan's statement. Though it seems wary, the feline allows a few pets.
Sam peeks outside to check on Sir Tristan. "Was that cat your pet?" he inquires curiously of the shaman.
"Anytime. A paying customer is always welcome," the shaman claims, then slaps Hannah right on her butt. "So's a cute girl; don't get many' o' those. With a few warts and some muck, you'd be downright beautiful."
"There's a place for you in House April, if you want it," Tristan tells the cat quietly. "Our house is open to all of your kind." Then the sound of the slap gets his attention, and he rises swiftly, spinning about to see what just happened.
"That nasty thing? No, he keeps stealing my ingredients. It's bloody hard to get certain dried critters, you know," the shaman grumbles.
Sam raises an eyebrow, then gives Hannah a 'what are you going to do about that?' look.
Hannah yeeps! and manages to look shocked, horrified, and embarrassed all at once. "I appreciate the fact that you think I'm cute," she growls at the goblin, not at all kidding this time, "but you must learn to keep your hands to yourself!"
The feline mewls behind Tristan, noses the back of his leg, then darts off, disappearing into the landscape.
The fey knight advances on the shaman, glowering at him. "Indeed," he growls, dangerously.
The shaman looks between the two fey. "You youngin's always get yer knickers in a knot. S'why I gave up wearing em. You should try it, it's liberating," the goblin notes, looking for all the world not worried. "Now you all have fun stormin' the countryside. I'mma gonna take a nap."
Minstrel Sam raises his hands. "Now now," he says. "This is a goblin town, it's a compliment by goblin standards." He waggles his eyebrows. "Iffen ya want my advice, Hannah, you could swat him back and go, 'And you'd be cute if you gained a few feet and got rid of those warts of your own!'"
"But then I'd be lying," the girl says to Sam, quite seriously and still with a touch of embarrassment.
"Ah well, a little lying sometimes helps grease the works," Minstrel Sam confides. "Like, you don't really believe a merchant when they tell you they've got seventeen starving kids at home, but you play along."
Tristan looks about ready to swat the shaman on the butt with the flat of his blade. One hand is on the hilt of his sword, but he doesn't draw it. Tense, he continues to glower at the retreating shaman until the goblin closes the door behind him.
Sam adds, "And when the Princess wants your opinion of whether a dress makes her look fat... Tell her yes, if it's the Goblin Princess."
Wham! goes the door, leaving the group standing outside with their odd new weapons. Two look like deranged versions of bagpipes (the flame throwers), and the box of small bombs looks like a crate full of gooey black balls with fuses. The monocles, well, Hannah still holds those.
Teeth gritted, Tristan crouches to retrieve the weapons and the box. He handles them gently, setting the flamethrowers over one shoulder by their straps and taking care not to jar the equipment.
"So, now we have a box of bombs, a couple of bags that're supposed to throw fire, and a way to see through demon snow cats' tricks," Sam pronounces. "What's our next move, Hannah?"
"Bet I could play a pretty rousing chorus of 'Great Balls of Fire' with these," adds the minstrel thoughtfully.
Hannah seems to shake herself out of a bad daydream and looks around herself for a few moments before carefully putting the glamour lenses away in a pouch on her own belt. "We return to the palace to collect our Knightsteeds and our belongings. Unless - and this is entirely uncertain - you think we can find any edible provisions here for the journey ahead?"
"I'm thinking ... no," Tristan says. He relaxes a little.
"Only if we kill it ourself," Sam opines.
"Then I guess that means we hunt on the road," Hannah says.
"Possibly not even then," Tristan adds.
Hannah, Tristan and Sam head for the stables where they've left their mounts.
There is an air of fear in the stables, as goblins cower in the corners. One nurses a bruised arm and mutters to itself. The Knightsteeds stand in their stalls, unmolested by the stablehands now. Even the mules are keeping their distance.
"Ah. Looks like we left them here too long," Tristan says quietly to Hannah and Sam, as they arrive.
"Hey! Hey!" barks a familiar voice, as a terrier-faced goblin pokes around from behind Souhait. "You made it! Have you seen the goods on this horse? I mean, really looked at them?" she asks.
Hannah walks through the doors of the stable and up to the Princess. "Somebody tried to nick your tiara and you had to bust a few heads?" she murmurs to the horse, sounding somewhat amused.
"What goods?" asks Sam helpfully.
"They mishandled my brush," Peaches pouts.
Rosy replies by holding out her arm and making a fist. "The ones like this!" she yaps. "I mean, even the mules were intimidated!"
"Oh, those goods," Sam says wisely. "Yes, that sounds about right."
"I'm sorry to hear that," the girl replies. "Is it broken? I could try fixing it for you, although supplies to repair such are extremely limited in this place."
"..." Tristan approaches his horse. "Our apologies for the trouble." It's not obvious whether he's talking to the knightsteeds, the stablehands, or both.
"I gotcher some supplies," the dog-girl notes, patting the steeds' bulging saddlebags. "Murky made a real fuss, but you'll pay him back I'm sure! He's off waiting for the snow coats and stuff to be ready."
"Just gettum outa here!" one of the goblins barks, "Or we'll never be able t' breed the mules anymore for feeling inadequate."
"Nothing boiling it in water for an hour won't fix," Peaches emotes, and glances at Souhait and his new admirer.
Minstrel Sam, not being a designated Knightsteed rider, lets those people handle their horses.
Rosy winks at Sam, and says, "I don't have the heart to tell 'em mules can't breed, you know?"
Tristan tries and fails not to smile at the goblin's response. "We shall." He opens Souhait's stall and motions him out, planning to saddle and bridle him outside.
Sam whispers to Rosy, "Have you been sellin' 'em mule fertility drugs?"
"No way! They'd use 'em all up themselves then," Rosy replies. "Mules don't mind all the effort though anyway."
Princess Peaches trots eagerly alongside Hannah.
Hannah takes the brush and looks it over. It does look pretty dirty to her eyes, she has to admit. Perhaps the goblins were trying to 'pretty' her up with some mud, she thinks. "I'll clean this for you as soon as I can," she promises, then leads the Princess out of the stables, too, following Tristan's example.
Minstrel Sam whistles a bit of 'Scarborough Fair' as he follows the two riders out.
Tristan gives Sam an odd look at the whistling. "M'lady Hannah, might I have one of those monocles, please?"
Rosy trots behind them with her pack over her shoulder. "So, did you want to camp in the woods tonight?" she asks. "Oooo, shinies!" she exclaims at the sight of the monocles, tail wagging.
The goblins hurry after the knightsteeds and quickly close the stable doors the moment the horses are out ... just in case they might decide to come back.
"Oh, right!" the girl says quickly, taking two out of the pouch and handing one to the knight.
"Thank you." Tristan puts the device to his eye and scans the scene around them, including the horses.
The town itself shows no obvious signs of glamour active. Everything really is ugly.
Minstrel Sam pockets the monocle. "As a bard, I'm more inclined to see the world with glamour than without," he says to Hannah with a smile. "Permit me a few illusions?"
"It looks like we're going to do that, yes," Hannah agrees with Rosy, then holds her own monocle up to her eye.
Rosy strikes a passably elegant pose when the gaze sweeps over her. This must be were the 'Glamor Gal' part of her name comes from.
Peaches gives Tristan an alarmed look. Through the lens she's a little duller than usual, and her mane really needs a good wash. She's also got some grass stuck in her teeth.
Tristan smiles at Rosy's posing, then wraps the monocle in a handkerchief and stows it carefully.
"I guess we all need a good wash at some point soon," Hannah murmurs to the knight, then puts her own monocle away again in the velvet bag.
"If you don't like hot mud, there's a place in the woods you can wash up that hardly has any leeches at all!" Rosy yaps.
Ahead is Murky sitting on a barrel. Next to it rests a pile off patchwork coats. When he spots the approaching group he points at them, "Ey! There you are! I thought ya were paying me to be a toady an here you up and stick me with the bill for these coats while you were off playin' with the shaman. It'll be thirty Geezeballs t' cover payment for em, plus me commission, of course."
Tristan gives Hannah a wry look. "'Hardly has any leeches' may be the best we're going to do for a bath, I fear."
Minstrel Sam snorts. "Thirty? I could buy the Palace for that! How much did you really pay?" he challenges, checking his purse for the requisite amount of... Sticky currency.
"You are cheaper than my ma," Murky barks back at Sam, "She tried to scam me too! Can you imagine, you own mother scamming 'er kids? Why ... I miss the old bag; a proper goblin she was!" He wipes a tear from his eye, then replies, "Twenty-five fer giving me such a lovely memory."
Sam laughs. "She brought you up pretty darn well, but I notice you didn't deny marking the price up a liiittle bit. How about we call it even at twenty?" The old bard haggles over the deal some more, then offers over the payment plus the commission.
Tristan arranges saddle and their newly acquired gear on Souhait's broad back while Sam dickers with the toady. He's careful to pack enough padding around the bombs to ensure they won't bump each other as he loads them into the saddlebags.
"Woo! Someone finally paid me," Murky croons when he grabs onto the offered money. The goblin does a quick jig. Unfortunately it causes his pants to fall down. "Geezeball fer the thrill o'seein' a naked goblin?" he asks Sam hopefully.
"They already been to the shaman," Rosy points out.
Hannah tries very hard not to laugh. "True enough," she agrees.
"Gimme two geezeballs back to ease the pain," Minstrel Sam argues. "And two for each of my friends too."
"I'd've paid more than a Greezeball not to have seen it," Tristan quips.
"Can't blame me fer tryin'!" Murky claims. He clutches his loot to his chest, says, "No way!" then darts off into the crowd. "Suckers!" he croons as he parts.
Sam shrugs to Hannah, expecting her to look disappointed. "The good thing about that was that got rid of most of the currency we traded in. Not something I really wanted to keep around." He hands her the bag. "You might as well spend the rest before we leave town, m'lass."
"And I suppose 'suckers' is a compliment among goblins?" Tristan glances at Sam.
"You could buy trail-mix," Rosy suggests. "Keeps animals away from your camp!"
"No, it means I overpaid him," Sam says with a grimace.
"Will it keep us away from our camp, too?" Tristan asks Rosy.
The doglin things on that, and says, "Buy some clothespins too, for your noses."
Hannah takes the bag back with a smile. "Let's put it this way, you kept a hold of more of our money than I would have." She then turns and prepares the Princess for the road again, even stowing away the filthy brush for cleaning later.
Peaches wuffles Hannah's hair, since the woman smells like she's been near soap recently.
Sam grins. "With money like this, I'm not sure why I bothered."
"It may come in handy. You never know. Perhaps we should stop by the shaman's and buy soap from him." Tristan investigates one of the ratskin coats, shaking it out and checking the length. And looking for fleas.
The coats are amazingly free of fleas. The size seems reasonably correct; in fact they might be a bit too big. But then fey always look huge to a goblin! There are several layers of patchwork rat-pelts, with the outer one heavily oiled to repel water. They aren't pretty, but they are functional.
Tristan puts one on, looking quite pleased with the construction and content with the fit. "They did well, especially since they didn't have the opportunity to measure us."
Sam tries one on as well. "Hmmm. It'll probably fit better if I put on a few overshirts and pants," he muses. "Be warmer too."
"Nobody will mistake you for a fancy-pants in that coat," Rosy says approvingly.
Sam whispers to Rosy, "He likes being a fancy-pants. I'm trying to shake Hannah of being a fancy-dress too, it's not good for Explorers." He waggles his eyebrows.
Tristan glances to Hannah and looks quickly away again. "Good," he answers Rosy, firmly.
Hannah finishes saddling and bridling her Knightsteed and takes the last cloak from the pile and examines it before packing that away, too. She doesn't seem to have heard the knight, being lost in her own preparations. "I suppose we're ready, then?" she asks the assembled group.
Tristan removes the coat and folds it to stow. He then bows to Hannah. "Indeed, m'lady." He offers to give her a hand up to Peaches -- out of politeness, since he knows full well she doesn't need it.
Hopping in place, Rosy asks, "Ready to go now? Go walkies? I mean.. uh.. head for the woods?"
Hannah looks shyly at the knight before re-asserting herself and taking his offer of help. Once she's settled astride Peaches, she smiles kindly down at Rosy and says, "By all means. Walkies ahead!"
As as quickly as it appeared, the Goblin city of Greedle fades behind them. Alas, if only the smell would fade as fast as its buildings. Still, two hours our and the group seems to have shaken most of the rancid scent from their clothing. As silly as she sometimes acts, Rosy turns out to be a rather remarkable guide. She helps the group locate the hidden trails that follow the river. Using the river in conjunction with their map, the group makes progress in following the path of the wayward Feezle. As more hours pass, the desolate landscape becomes greener and trees become more plentiful. Ahead the cry of woodland birds can be heard ... and the soft scent of forest undergrowth travels along the wind.
Hannah appears thoughtful as she studies the landscape they're passing. "This...isn't quite as bad as I thought it would be," she comments. Then she grins. "Well, for now, anyway! I'm sure that opinion will change once we arrive at the mountains."
Tristan has done enough riding to enjoy even long journeys in the saddle, and he relaxes as the odor fades and the desolation loses its grip on the land. "Rosy, what happened to the land here, do you know? Why is this area more fertile than around the goblin city?"
"Fertile? Well.. better quality fertilizer I guess!" Rosy says, leading the way. "Lotsa corpses!"
Hannah turns her head sharply at this. "Corpses?" she queries.
"Well, I think the Ol' Bandit Queen, like, slaughtered an army here or something, way back in the old legendary times," the doglin opines, rubbing at an ear. "Lots of stuff like that from legendary times, you know!"
"At least she didn't sow the fields with salt." Tristan's expression is sober and thoughtful as he looks around them.
"And we're riding off to meet her. How lovely," the girl mutters. "Let's just hope those are her deeds of a time long gone."
Sam, for his part, seems to have fallen asleep behind Tristan during the long ride. Periodically, the old fey lets out a snort as he returns to wakefulness. That only lasts for about a minute or so before he's fast asleep again, muttering to himself.
"Eh, I don't know myself," Rosy says, and pauses to sniff the trail. "I mean, couldn't have been a very good army, right? Maybe goblins or trolls or barrowights or bog-womblers or sumthin."
"M'lady, did you say that she'd reformed somewhat, the last time you and the Lord Explorer saw her?" Tristan asks.
Hannah casts an eye back at the old minstrel. "At least someone is getting a good rest around here," she remarks lightly to the knight.
Hannah nods to Tristan. "The Light of the blessed Grail returned her youth to her and set her back on the right path - I assume. I hope I'm not wrong about that now."
Rosy is busy so fails to notice than about thirty feed ahead and off to the side of the trail lies the remains of a deer. The only real evidence is a single hoof sticking from the weeds and the small swarm of flies that have begun to gather. The two awake fey, however, notice it immediately.
Hannah exchanges a look with the knight and urges the Princess forward, so she may look at the poor, dead creature.
Princess Peachblossom snorts through her nose at the smell, and approaches the carcass reluctantly.
Souhait pauses at a slight motion from Tristan, and then moves alongside Peaches as Hannah alters course. "It's just paranoia that's making me think of that troll-rabbit, isn't it?" Tristan says.
"Hey!" Rosy barks, running ahead, "Don't leave the path! You never know what might be bait!"
"Then we're sharing the same paranoia," Hannah tells him.
Or is it? Up close, it's obvious the body has been mostly devoured. Here and there there are traces of pink fur stuck to the drying blood.
Tristan takes out the monocle to have another look around.
"I knew that wasn't the last we were going to see of that troll-rabbit," Hannah says darkly. "We seem to be getting close again."
"Troll rabbit?" Rosy asks, hoping closer to the corpse to poke it with a stick - and check to see if any of it is salvageable for dinner.
The land looks much the same through the monocle, alas. No signs of illusion masking some great pink terror waiting to devour them. Of course the high grass and thickening trees do make for good cover.
Sam begins to snore. Loudly.
"It's the Lady Hannah's nemesis. Or curse, perhaps," Tristan tells Rosy, and explains the rest of the story.
"Long story, but the short of it is that a friend and I turned a troll into a pink bunny, some time ago," the girl explains. "It seems to be haunting our footsteps now. Unfortunately."
"You aren't gonna turn ME into a bunny are you?" Rosy suddenly asks, with a hint of fear. "I hate cabbage!"
Hannah actually laughs at this. "Have no fear, Rosy. The potion I used back then is long gone."
"And she wouldn't turn you into a bunny even if it weren't. She would not have turned the troll into one if it hadn't been trying to kill her at the time," Tristan adds.
Hannah nods in agreement. "Truly."
"Well, I guess this isn't a trap," Rosy admits. "Usually stuff like this is sitting on a patch of goopsand."
"Goopsand?" Hannah has to ask.
Sam's snoring resembles a bandsaw being used to cut down a very large tree. One that's, say, twenty feet across.
Tristan looks leery about it nonetheless. "Either this creature's been following us, or this is an unlikely and improbable coincidence. Let us not tarry here." He jogs Sam's shoulder. "Also, you need to sleep more quietly."
"Yeah, it's like.. uh.. quicksand, only.." the doglin waves her hands a lot in explanation, "Well, it sorta crawls up you as it pulls you down, and it's sticky like tar, and smells like boiled frog guts and cinnamon. It makes rude noises too.."
"Zz.. huh, what?" The old faerie looks nonchalant. "Ah, I was just resting me eyes. Did I miss something?"
"Only that the troll-rabbit seems to be on our track again," Hannah tells the minstrel.
Hannah also tries to imagine the combined smells of frog guts and cinnamon - and fails miserably.
"Maybe it's looking for the same thing you are?" Rosy suggests, and leads back to the trail.
"On our track?" The minstrel eyes the deer. "Aren't we more likely on its track?"
Tristan hesitates to ask what noises sound rude to a goblin. "Rosy, I understand you've a good sense of smell. Can you scent this deer's killer? It'd be the same creature that left the pink fur behind."
"At this point, I'm not entirely sure," the girl replies.
Sam suggests, "We could give it a wide berth an' leave well enough alone. Or we could go after it an' try and get rid of it, before it does the same to us."
Hannah looks at Rosy thoughtfully. "Well, let's see if Rosy can tell if it's nearby. If so, we could try another frontal assault. If not, we leave well enough alone for now. Don't want to waste time on the critter if it's already miles away."
"That way!" Rosy says, pointing to the woods after sniffing around a bit.
"Want me to flush it out? It's really messy and I can smell the blood," Rosy offers.
Hannah nods when the doglin calls. "If you feel up to it. Being a troll that's been turned into a bunny, it's rather...unhappy at the moment. Just be careful!"
Sam offers, "Want me to get ready to do a torch song?"
"Well.. do you want to catch it, kill it, or chase it away?" Rosy asks.
Tristan looks concerned for Rosy. "The thing is a menace and has tried to kill us once already. I think destroying it is our best course at this point, unfortunately."
"Well, you want to set up an ambush spot then, right?" the guide asks. "Is it smart? Smart as a tree-toad?"
Hannah's face grows grim. "Flush it out towards us if you can, Rosy. If we have to kill it when it sees us, then that's what we must do. It is smart, yes. Managed to call down a herd of antelope on us, to try and trample us to death."
Tristan strings his bow and readies an arrow for it. He surveys the terrain, looking for a good vantage spot.
"Oh.. that smart.." Rosy says, her tail drooping a bit at the prospect. "I'll go see if I can find it. Something smart could always lay a false trail or cover its tracks." And then the doglin is making a path towards the trees, very cautiously.
The land here is more rolling and tree-covered. A good vantage point might be up in the branches of a stout tree.
The old bard unslings his lute - not only is it a musical instrument, but it's built solidly enough to be used as a bludgeon!
"I may as well stay more out in the open, to really lure the creature this way," Hannah comments. "It is angriest with me, after all."
Tristan doesn't want to contradict Hannah, and he doesn't want to leave her as bait, either. He stays mounted on Souhait and nearby, waiting patiently.
Hannah glances Tristan's way and just for a moment, he could swear that a grateful smile was curved on her lips.
Peaches shuffles her hooves and watches the woods. Maybe her mistress wants to be bait.. but that doesn't mean the Knightsteed won't carry her away if it looks dicey.
Minutes tick by after Rosy disappears into the woods ahead. Occasionally they group can hear a twig snap or the sounds of birds fleeing treetops. More time passes and everything grows quiet. Not even a chirp of a bird can be heard now. It's at this moment a blood-curdling shriek echoes through the landscape. Guttural, strong, and ever so familiar. All chaos breaks loose in the woods ahead. Birds take to the skies, limbs and branches break as animals in hiding bolt!
"Oh snap," mutters Sam.
The terrier-girl bursts out of the trees at a dead run, panting and wide-eyed!
Souhait moves forward at a smooth, even canter, to get into position between Rosy and whatever's pursuing her.
Hannah pulls her rapier from her scabbard and looks into the wood, steeling herself. She breathes a quick sigh of relief when Rosy makes it out all right, then searches about once more for the troll-rabbit.
Branches snap and split as a furious ball of pink explodes from the forest, hot on Rosy's heels! The face of the lapine is contorted in rage and bloodlust. Once thing is now certain: In the next few minutes, blood will be spilled.