Rage of the Mongoose

A cozy fire burns in the Sleeping Dragon Inn. A strange little green man sits on the crimson benches staring lazily into the flickering flames, a bottle of Liquid Courage in his hand. The usual ragtag band of misfits and miscreants is seated around the room listening intently to one of Nethos’ drunken but lively tales of times loooong past. Of course no one is paying much attention to the shirtless little goblinkin. But as Nethos tale winds to a close (or more accurately as Nethos winds to a stop), the little half-blood mutters something under his breath just loud enough to be misheard. Another halfling, it might have been Zarek Nightkind, snickers at the obviously drunken outburst. When no one bothers to ask the kilted goblin-man what it was he said, he turns and stands on the cushion of the bench and bellows, “I said…Bah, that’s some tale, but I’ve one twice as frightful and slick with the blood of the fallen!”

The room is silent for a moment, as the fellow stands poised expectantly. Finally, someone at the back of the room says sarcastically, “Well alright then, lets hear your ‘harrowing tale’.”

The green skinned fellow shakes his head and sighs, and a few nearby hear him mutter under his breath, “Bloody tall-folk…no respect.” Then he goes on, a defiant flame begins to burn in his eyes, “ Some of yas here may not know me yet, or care, but I am Ragrigrin, known as the Mongoose by my kind, and you will all know me before I am through! You will remember my
tale after this night and you dark folk here…yeah I sees you over there…you will know that it is I that haunts your step!”

The room seems genuinely unimpressed.

“Bah! Enough with the melodrama, you folks just want a tale to drink to don’t ye? Well fine, here be one to raise an ale to.”

“I was out wanderin’ about in that blazin’ waste they call an Empire, when I was attacked by a couple of drow and their serpent slime in broad daylight. Now I know what yer thinkin’, ‘A couple drow…pfft’, but wait for it. Anyways, so I knows them worms don’t be likin’ the sunshine, and ain’t much else but sunshine in that blasted desert. So I starts to thinkin’ these rats must be up to somethin’. So I starts headin to the port to see what I could hear. Sure enough the cry had spread like wildfire that the drow of Sorgath were attacking the farms of Mard and his neighbors. Thankfully I has me one of them funny hats, what makes yah pop from place to place. Damn thing makes me dizzy, but a useful thing for sure. Where was I? Oh yeah, So’s I popped into the Vale and made for the farmlands as fast as my wolf trained feet could carry me.” With that the little goblin-man turns a backflip off the bench and runs around the room to demonstrate his lightning speed.


He finally leaps up onto the bar, earning him an indignant glare from Talissa, and continues, “So when I got there a few other brave folk had answered the call: Zarek Nightkind” Ragrigrin
points to the shadowy figure in the corner, “a young adventurer by the name of Sila Harrower,” he indicates the azure skinned hell-spawn at the next table with the wise acre smirk on her face, “a winged wizard from foreign lands what calls himself Laoviah and a drow maid by the name of….Vierzyne …umra…well…hell, who can pronounce them drow names . Course, I hadn’t seen that she was drow at that point. Good thing too, else I mighta gone straight for her throat.”

“Mard survived by barricading himself in his room long enough for help to arrive, but all he could say about his attackers was that they was drow and they come from the Prairie. We were
off then, I rushed like a hound out of hell and when I got to the Henge of Torgat I stopped to pray for strength.” This last bit he says in a hushed and reserved tone, even ceasing his endless hopping from foot to foot. “Well while I was at it, one of them drow Snake-tongued worms attacked me at my prayers…can you believe that? The gall!…Well that was an invitation to a thorough thrashin, so with the favor of Torgat with me I set to the business. My fellows joined me shortly, and we surrounded the entrance to their wicked sin-pit. Soon theys
was pourin’ out of that hole like ants from a nest what just had a bottle of Ambergold poured down it. It was glorious! A few of the younger adventurers fell on the field that morning, but we had ‘em raised and ready before you know. Anyways, that’s about the time when I noticed the dark stain of the drow on my companion when I heard her muttering a prayer to the Worm-lord himself, Sorgath. Well, imagine my surprise! I says to her then, ‘You best be watchin’ yer step, I’ll take what help I can get, but it don’t mean I’m ah trustin’ ya’. She got the message and tried to tell me she was different than ‘er kin.” The Mongoose pauses seeming to have lost his place in the excitement over remembering his first drow ally.

“Oh yeah, so’s we rallied up there at the entrance and descended into the pit. Well we gave em hell then. In fact we took the long way round the temple so’s we can maximize the carnage we delivered to them slitherin’ worms and their serpent pets. Even that drow lady, Vierzyne-whats-it, fought like a thing possessed, carving through her blood-kin like a butcher’s blade. For my part, I was a leapin’ and a slashin’ and even smashin’ down their dark crafted doors. Old Cobra Fang tasted many drow that day.” At this point he draws a bright ivory sword, keen beyond belief and dripping a sticky green substance from the tip. Were it not for the beveled edge, it would look more like the curved fang of a viper than a true sword.

As he regales the audience with the details of the harrowing battle in the halls of the drow temple, he begins to wave the blade about like he is actually there. Talissa grabs him by the leg as he bounces atop her bar, “You best be putting that blade back in its sheathe you hyperactive little leprechaun, before you break something…or someone. And get off my damned bar while you’re at it!”

Thoroughly chastised but only slightly deflated, the goblinkin hops down off the bar top and leaps instead on to the cloak cabinet. “Yer no fun love, no fun at all!”

Talissa rolls her eyes and says, “And you’re a drunken buffoon, now get on with your story before these people start throwin’ things at you!”

Ragrigrin looks back at his snickering audience as if just remembering that they exist and begins again, “Well there we were, awash in a sea of serpent’s blood with a hundred ebon-skinned corpses bobbin’ in our wake. But our victory was to be short-lived. The whole thing was naught but a distraction. As we entered the main temple we heard a cry from Chuck-E in Campton that the buggers were burning the village.”

To himself he mutters, “Damn that rat-man has a set of lungs.”

The emerald halfling shakes his wild burst of hair, “Hearing the word, a story I know from my youth I am sad to say, I gave the Temple Priest the old bum’s rush. I was unwilling to leave
without slaughtering that pawn of the Worm-lord. I had him in his grave before he could mutter his last prayer. With a quick swish of my blade I slung his poison blood onto the foul altar and spit a curse at it. I hadn’t time to give it a proper desecration, but I knew the God of the belly-crawlers caught my meaning. Then we were off to Campton, me like a shot, and my companions fast on my heels.”

The excited tale-spinner stills then, and his voice lowers. “When I arrived, the scene was one I knew all too well, having lived through just this sort of thing when I was a boy. My only hope as I looked over the death them drow had brought, was that the Sorgathan bastard what killed me uncle was there again this time, so’s I could drive Cobra Fang through his black heart. An unnatural calm filled me then, and as I waded through them vermin, I took note of each like a portrait, hoping that the next berk I cleaved in two would bear a scar down his cheek and I could take his other ear as my trophy. But it weren’t to be that day. When they was all down I noticed me companions there again, as soaked in snake blood as me and one, Zarek I think, reminded me of the danger to me own hometown. We rushed to the Commune, but all was safe. When we returned to Campton to count the dead, Chuck-E was there to mourn the fallen. In his grief he challenged my drow companion, Vierzyne-whats-it, but we assured him she was alright. Aside from bein’ drow ya understand. Sila had some unkind things to say ‘bout the dead…which she and I will have to discuss.” He casts a meaningful glare at the azure-skinned woman swishing her mismatched tail and sipping a tall mug. “But that weren’t the time for infighting. We headed back here and settled in fer a much-needed brew…or 10…but peace were still far afield for us that night.”

Ragrigrin pauses, either for effect or for some unpleasant thought, and a wolf-like snarl forms on his lips, after a moment he continues, “Out of nowhere, like a black nightmare in yer sleep, a drow witch appeared. I knew she was trouble soon as I seen her, not at all like Vierzyne-whats-it. She even had the nerve to challenge one o them there spectral beings ye be seein round here, call em masters of dungeons or some such. I was thoroughly drunk at that point,” he chuckles, “and I was in no mood for a drow witch come a spoilin the fun. But she set to callin’ me names, ‘dog in a skirt’ and worse," several in the Inn snicker at that image. "Then she threatened to kill ole Chuck-E. She obviously had foreknowledge of the night’s events. Well now, I know the rules bout brawlin’ in the Inn,” he nods with a wry smile at Talissa, “But I weren't about to let this one go. Out came Cobra Fang and up went me whirly stones, but the coward witch was off. Run to do in poor Chuck, just for spite I reckon. Well I can run faster than any drow witch and I beat her to Campton and told Chuck-E to hide himself but good. Then I waits for her in the road. First thing, the blasted dark witch threw up some walls o energy tryin’ to trap me while she went to work on ole Chuck. But I has me one o them flyin’ books and I was up and out of that prison before you could shout ‘halflings can’t fly’.

“Well I chased her about even knocked her to the ground a few times, but each time the bloody witch would catch me with one of them green hands and I’d be left spittin’ and cursin’.
Thankfully old Chuck-E got more ‘an a tail from a rat, and he was hid like a champ. To his credit, Laoviah battled beside me. But this was no ordinary drow witch and his magics were like them cantrips before her spells. Must of chased her about that town for an hour or more. She finally found poor Chuck I’m afraid, though we had him returned from the Great Hall before long. She fought us to a standstill, and then, so’s no more would suffer, I offered her up a deal: I would relent if she would give me the name of my greatest enemy, the drow with the missing ear from me childhood.”

The little goblinkin pauses then and casts a meaningful and slightly pleading glance at Zarek and Sila, as if asking them not to reveal some secret they alone were in on. Then before they
might have the chance to do so he goes on, “That witch, Aurora I learned was her name, well she knew him shor’ enough and she laughed in glee to hear me relent. And that be the most important part o me tale here tonight folks…that name…the name of the one man in the whole blasted world I would sell my very soul to see dead by my hand. But anyway this Aurora,” he spits her name like a curse, “she tells me it be ‘La’vortriel’. Don’t know if I can be trustin’ that split-tongued witch, but even so I will offer a hearty bounty to any what has word of that name.”

In a dejected voice he says, “I’d do just about anything, but alas, I expect this hunt might go on for a long time yet.”

Seeming to suddenly fill with energy again he jumps off the wardrobe, “Oh yeah, and anyone what can tell me where to find that Aurora witch, I’ll be offerin’ up a handsome pot o’ coin for
that news too!”

Ragrigrin pauses then to think and says, "Well? What say you? Any takers? How about me tale? A fine yarn and 100% true or I’ll be an orcish whelp.”

The crowd, though they seem genuinely entertained, offer up a meager applause just to take the wind out of the once again bouncing green halfling. And like a ship in the calms, the wind goes right out of his sails. He stops bouncing and says, “Well to hell with the lot of ye, it’s a fine tale. Like it or no, me offer still stands…50,000 gold coins for useful news of Aurora, and a price of yer namin’ for a good lead on that La’vortriel!”

The half-blood goes back to the bar to get another drink and the Inn goes back to normal until………….

Very , and , and as well!

Neat!

And a shadowy spectral figure slinks back in to the shadows, thinking "so that's how it started, I'll keep an eye on this one and lend a hand to finish it for him."....



Great write up of a nights events... wish I was there for it all....

OOC: very nicely written!

Somehow.... methinks Aurora could produce this La’vortriel if she wished to. I think encouraging her to do so would run a much higher cost than a heap of gold, however.... MUCH higher.

One could certainly try to bargain with her.... but it certainly wouldnt be recommended. Trust and good faith would likely not govern such an arrangement.

As for leads on the high-murderess herself.... she can be found if one is determined and powerful enough.... but if she does not wish to be found, that can carry rather extreme consequences....

best recommendation is to leave her to be dealt with by those who would be considered her peers.... and to La’vortriel... you may wish to consider a higher bounty.... *snicker*