Moderated Quest: Diplomacy with Hodekin

[Yvonne]

Yvonne hadn’t reeled in the response she’d been fishing for. She’d managed to convey her messages with a booming volume and a gentle manner, but perchance Gru’Hal wasn’t to be found on the building roof where she had first presumed him to be. Her shimmering silver eyes narrowed inquisitively - her craning neck and head thrown back to direct her voice upward began descending down and returning to a normal, comfortable position. Her objective remained the same but she was going to need to overcome the obstacles in her way, like anyone else on this side of the wall would. Her gaze leveled out upon the five elite kobold warriors barring the way before her.

Gru’Hal be ignoring me. That hurts a wee bit. I thought we had something, something special. Mayhap tha power be going ta his head and he be too big for tha likes of little me nowadays. Mayhap he figured out I be tha one who drugged him, on that fateful night we first met. Now he be holding a grudge and won’t talk with me, though I doubt his underlings be so clever as ta piece it all together and explain their theory ta him. It must be tha guns. I wouldn’t be sticking me snout out in front of them either. These city guardsmen and women look nervous and trigger-happy ta me.

The drow-dwarf hybrid brought her right leg over the top of Mead’s neck and saddle, bringing her legs together and hopping the long way down his left side. Always dismount a horse from the left side, Abel’s voice advised her from the memory in her mind. She landed and absorbed the ground’s impact with a squat, pushing off the ground with her hand and arising to a standing position. Yvonne, now looking up at these five elite kobolds guarding the wall, lifted her chin to appear more imperious. They looked glorious overhead, like gargoyles perched menacingly on the eaves at a foreboding cathedral.

“Which one of ye be interested in a promotion?” Yvonne asked, her silver eyes taking each of the beautiful reptiles in one at a time, flicking between each of them, searching for the most eager among them.

“You have no authority over uss, puny one,” the kobold elite standing in the middle of the other four stated conclusively, snorting, identifying himself as an officer of some sort.

“Yer a smart lad, very true. I wouldn’t dream of bossing about tha fearsome kobold race. Quite tha opposite dear,” the black-skinned dwarf lied.

“What do you intend to do, soft-skin?” the kobold officer questioned suspiciously, glancing to his right at another kobold, seeking some kind of reassurance.

“Why, turn meself in of course! It be too dangerous ta oppose yer mighty armies out here, and I be offering ye the opportunity ta capture a war criminal, for tha glory of Gru’Hal! He will surely look favourably upon ye if ye bring me ta him in chains. Yer certain ta rise through tha ranks!” Yvonne encouraged, feigning how scared she was being stuck out here where there could possibly be a kobold patrol soon, fidgeting and looking about.

“I don’t know, little one…” the officer hesitated.

“Oh, that be alright. One of yer fellows beside ye would like a promotion. Mayhap he’ll supercede ye of yer own position!” Yvonne explained, moving on and looking to the others. A few of them were indeed looking around for rope or chains.

“Sstop! To your posts, guards! Our duty is to protect the wall!” the officer commanded, dragging the other two back to their positions. A pity the remaining two kobold elite had the same idea, one of them taking up the chains and the other brandishing the rope. The officer kept half of his men in line but the last two were out of his reach at the edges of the wall. They each leaped down to ground below, with even more grace than Yvonne had exhibited from her horse, each of them scuffling with each other over who was going to bind the little soft-skin and gift her to Gru’Hal.

“Ye can both seize me together,” Yvonne suggested, trying to keep the smile from her features.

The kobold with chains and the kobold with rope looked at each other for a moment, both nodding in agreement. They were rather rough as they bound the surrendering crossbreed, knocking her down to tie her feet and hands, securing her so she could scarcely even wriggle about. There would be no escape unless the kobolds willed it. One of them hauled her up over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her inside the building.

Yvonne gave Philomel a secretive thumbs up as she was taken captive. Philomel looked to the foot-soldiers beside her, shocked. She’d been taken by surprise and momentarily didn’t know what her next course of action was.

As two of the five elites hauled her inside, two new kobolds stepped outside - one a muddy brown-black and the other a hue of blue - exchanged confused glances with the kobold officer on duty and with each other. They had quickly realized the little black-skinned woman, the one who knew Gru’Hal, had been tied up and was about to be brought before their General as a hostage. Gru’Hal didn’t like the concept of hostages. Oh bother, the emerald commander would be cranky about that. What’s more, the useless guards had bound her up with her crossbow still on her person!

“Wait! You foolss!” the brown-black scaled creature shouted back at the duo and their captive, but in the disarray and disorder they were well on their way up the building’s levels. He palmed a clawed, rubbery hand over his shadowing face. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening.

“Gru’Hal will not be pleassed,” the shimmering blue Harr’Gar expressed, sneering at the officer elite. The elite held his snout high and lofty, paying Harr’Gar no mind, ever dutiful in manning the wall.

“We need to ssalvage this situation. Let us bring the others in, without weapons! You imbeciles can handle that much, can’t you? General Gru’Hal will speak to those who have something to ssay! You will leave all bang-sticks on the ground and sstep away. That or no audience will be forthcoming with our Overlord of Gru’Halcyon!” the brown-black kobold asserted irritably.

A few minutes later Yvonne was unceremoniously dumped at the feet of the largest kobold in the building, the scaled reptilian feet of the General in complete control of this contingent and empire. He turned his crocodilian head to the side and eyeballed the miniscule hybrid as best he could, squinting dangerously, noticing the crossbow still attached to her back beneath the bindings.

“What is the meaning of thiss?” Gru’Hal questioned, probing his two elite subordinates for answers.

“We captured a war criminal General! We brought her to you, for your glory,” the most eager kobold elite explained.

“Fools, you have been duped. This is Yvonne, sservant of sweet-drinks,” Gru’Hal chastised, sneering at his minions. “Take this crossbow from her and then get back to the wall, idiotss!”

The kobolds unchained and untied the drow-dwarf mage, one unstrapping the crossbow while the other removed her quiver of bolts. They made themselves scarce, very swiftly after that, leaving Gru’Hal to shake his head in disappointment. He continued to eye the little tribute before him, hissing a sigh and rubbing his scaly forehead in frustration. Before long the others among the entourage would be brought up to the building roof as well, the Overlord’s domain, his palace.

“It be lovely ta see yer smiling face again, Gru’Hal dear. I wish this be a pleasant social call, however we have much ta discuss. Ye have done so well in yer efforts ta carve out a piece of Ettermire for yerself. It be deserving of praise, tha way ye honourably claimed this factory. Be that a throne for ye ta sit in and admire yer kingdom? Ooh, and that be yer battle banner! It be charming! Ye have done well for yerself haven't ye?” Yvonne began diplomatically, eyeing the skulls with wide-eyed wonder.

“However I fear tha element of surprise be on yer side no longer, Gru’Hal honey. Ye must feel it too, feel it in yer bones. This be one factory of many. Ettermire be a vast city, a metropolis-- that be a big word I know, it means really, really big city, that be all,” Yvonne explained for him, caring genuinely for his education, continuing, “--full of dark elves which haven’t been fighting ye. No, not so much. Ye must be beginning ta see it now. These soft-skins don’t fight with honour like yer kobold brethren do! I worry about ye Gru’Hal. I worry about all tha kobolds,” the hybrid paused a moment, letting him process some of the concepts she was laying down for him.