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[Dwarmin]

"Ah, no rope-but, let's pull one up, eh?"

Action: Pull up the rope ladder we just climbed and take it with us. Unwind a chunk of rope with my knife to bind the bold.

[GiglameshDespair]

Ava had hauled the ladder up and carefully placed the sword down. The nshe growled and drove her hammer into the ground, cracking the stone cobbles of the ground.

"<Cowards! Scum! Weakling kobolds! I'll kill them!>" She made a wordless sound of frustration and stalked away a short distance, getting control of her bloodlust. She shook her head and placed a cure light wounds on herself.

After a short while she wandered back and presented the sword to Osirio, looking down at the kobold. The fingers of her hammer hand flexed.

"Vhy do ve need a captive? If ve kill zhem all, it is no matter. Zhis is just a follower. Vorthless. I vill heal you, Osirio. Hold still."

[Dwarmin]

"Well, we should be asking him some things, since Ithys went to the trouble of running him down-a dead enemy is telling nothing, after all. A live one may yet have something interesting to say. I would not throw away a potential advantage until I exhaust it.

At least, I am wanting some clues about the gas they used on us...surely, letting him breathe a little while longer is worth the small chance of that."

Osirio took the proffered sword in one hand and held still, waiting for the healing sting.

"...Ah, thank you, Ava. This was a fine blade, once...I am sorry to say I have nothing to offer in return, unless you are still hungry." he said, shrugging.

Osirio frowned, not unpleased with the gift, but the Lizardman had not taken much care of it. He would have to have it repaired, and made beautiful again.

Action: Also, examine my new sword in detail...

[GiglameshDespair]

Ava nodded, and with a firm tug, pulled the bolt from Osirio with a splurch. Frost-fog billowed from her hand, and she placed it against the wound. That reminded her - she'd have to repair her armour somehow. Maybe she could pay someone to do it. She'd done it herself before, but she wouldn't call herself an armoursmith.

Also cure light wounds on Osirio.

"If anyvone else is injured, the priest can heal zhem."

[flame99]

Ava had hauled the ladder up and carefully placed the sword down. The nshe growled and drove her hammer into the ground, cracking the stone cobbles of the ground.

"<Cowards! Scum! Weakling kobolds! I'll kill them!>" She made a wordless sound of frustration and stalked away a short distance, getting control of her bloodlust. She shook her head and placed a cure light wounds on herself.

After a short while she wandered back and presented the sword to Osirio, looking down at the kobold. The fingers of her hammer hand flexed.

"Vhy do ve need a captive? If ve kill zhem all, it is no matter. Zhis is just a follower. Vorthless. I vill heal you, Osirio. Hold still."

The 'bold is tied, and Ava is healed [8 DAMAGE HEALED].

"Well, we should be asking him some things, since Ithys went to the trouble of running him down-a dead enemy is telling nothing, after all. A live one may yet have something interesting to say. I would not throw away a potential advantage until I exhaust it.

At least, I am wanting some clues about the gas they used on us...surely, letting him breathe a little while longer is worth the small chance of that."

Osirio took the proffered sword in one hand and held still, waiting for the healing sting.

"...Ah, thank you, Ava. This was a fine blade, once...I am sorry to say I have nothing to offer in return, unless you are still hungry." he said, shrugging.

Osirio frowned, not unpleased with the gift, but the Lizardman had not taken much care of it. He would have to have it repaired, and made beautiful again.

Action: Also, examine my new sword in detail...

It's largely claimed by rust and grime, but it would still seem to be repairable. The crossguard is made of silver, or at least painted to look like it. In the center of it, there's a ruby; chipped, but somehow still gleaming in defiance of the rest of the sword once some of the dirt is brushed off. The hilt is made of wood, with the lower end being claimed by rot. The blade itself is largely made of simple steel, but near the cross guard is an engraving. It's hard to read, but eventually, you make out the words on one side; it says in Common, "Aretrian Lords will Fall". There's an inscription on the other side, but it's either been rendered unreadable by damage, or it's in a language you don't understand.
Restoration should be possible, but expensive.

Ava nodded, and with a firm tug, pulled the bolt from Osirio with a splurch. Frost-fog billowed from her hand, and she placed it against the wound. That reminded her - she'd have to repair her armour somehow. Maybe she could pay someone to do it. She'd done it herself before, but she wouldn't call herself an armoursmith.

Also cure light wounds on Osirio.

"If anyvone else is injured, the priest can heal zhem."

And finally, you heal Osirio with a small jolt of chilling pain. [5 DAMAGE HEALED]

[Dwarmin]

"*Aretrian lords will fall*...oh dear, that's unlikely to be popular in any political climate..." Osirio mutters.

When he notes the gem, however, he smiles and laughs.

"Ah-hah! My Dark Lady gives me regard. Rubies are the most valued to the Jasidin-surely this a sign of the Goddess's favor..." he preens.

He will think much on this later, nothing that it was Ava who retrieved the blade for him, though he killed the one who wielded it to lay claim to it. Perhaps some sort of divine metaphor...

[GiglameshDespair]

"Ve should search the rat-dragon." She crouched and searched the kobold, making sure to take anything sharp it could try to free itself with. That done, she stood up.

Quietly, her stomach growled.

Ava's hunger won out. Rage always took it out of her. She gave the kobold a casual kick to the ribs to stop it getting any ideas.

Osirio. Give me food."

[Dwarmin]

"Well, if you insist..." Osirio replied, smugly.

He reached in his hip satchel and tossed her a small bag containing pretty much the only thing the Kobolds couldn't stomach-Extremely Spicy Basilisk Meat strips, hot enough to require a fortitude save. Basilisk tastes a bit like turkey, and is one of Osirio's favored foods from his homeland.

[GiglameshDespair]

Ava caught the package with one hand, the han pulling down the scarf to reveal her mouth. She unwrapped the meat, and sniffed at it cautiously. It smelled strange. Like burning, somehow. Was it poison? Cautiously, she took a surprisingly dainty bite of the dried meats.

It tasted... like fire.

Ava hissed in surprise as the sudden burning erupted in her mouth, her normal glacial composure melting away in an instant. She coughed out the half chewed meat, and glared at Osirio. Was this a betrayal? Or did desert-dwellers enjoy eating alchemist's fire with their meats?
"Vhat is zhis poizon?"
She quickly swigged from her water flask, but it didn't seem to do much.

[Dwarmin]

Osirio shakes his head, taking a piece of meat from the bag on her hand, and gnawing on it. He doesn't seem to be overly bothered.

"Ah? It's called seasoning. That's my mothers recipe, that you disparage so-such spices tend to grow in dry lands, and what little meat we have is specially prepared to provide the best taste, the absolute best. Poison...pah! I couldn't even get the Salamandra Peppers like I wanted. It would have been much better then. Pff, Northerners...

Also, ah, water is only going to make it worse, if you have a problem with that."

Osirio knew a swig of water could just spread the spice around, rather than negating it, making it much worse. A common mistake-he supposed he could recommend the "cure", a swig of cold milk, but...he didn't think they had any.

[GiglameshDespair]

Ava thrust the bag back into Osirio's hands. As the water was useless, she pulled her scarf back up, hiding her expression again.

The Laugh of the Avalanche had been burnt before - a dragonfire adept had breathed a plume of fire over her. One arm had been burnt raw and bloody. It was a similar sensation now filling her mouth, only moved around by the water, and spreading a trail of fire down her throat. She suppressed a dry cough. Now she was getting used to the pain, she began to ignore it. The pain of burning flared, rather than the throb of cold and the stab of frost. It was a different pain than she was used to.

"Keep... keep your seasoning. I might as vell be chewing on my knife blade. Fire is no taste. Ve could feed zhem to our enemies to murder zhem." Internally, she made a note: this was the sort of thing Osirio liked? It didn't make sense. Unless he enjoyed pain, maybe? She'd seen some like that, though Osirio did not seem like a berserker. Still, something to keep in mind.

[Nerjin]

"Is it really that hot? Well... No matter. We should probably get off the streets before someone comes asking questions or tries to kill our captive. Captain, do you know anywhere we could have some privacy with our... friend?"

[lawastooshort]

((If you'll let me after my absence...))

"Can't we be taking him back to the watch, like - our employers? Find a little cell or something? Otherwise I might know a place... We could just stuff 'im in a sack and go for a drink. Laugh of the Avalanche, I have some blander food if you be wanting it, but me portions are terribly big, like you."

Knowledge Local check at +4 to see if I know somewhere quiet already! And then Knowledge Local and Bardic Knowledge if it'll help  to see if I've heard of the best inn round here for honest crime fighting types like we. Suggest we go there for non-fiery food.

[Dwarmin]

"I digress-fire is the best taste. I'd prefer the burn, myself, when it comes to these things-who eats just to eat? Who loves, just to love? Boring. Send me to the long sleep. Every meal should be a battle. Every lover should carry a dagger. A life ought to be flavorful, I think-sweet or sour or hot, Osirio cares not." Osirio replies poetically, and perhaps a bit melodramatically.

"Is it really that hot? Well... No matter. We should probably get off the streets before someone comes asking questions or tries to kill our captive. Captain, do you know anywhere we could have some privacy with our... friend?"

"Abandoned warehouses just pop up around every corner...though a back alley would suffice..."

Osirio continues to nosh his basilisk, enjoying the brisk nostril cleansing flames. He offers some to Culpa, hoping the priest will appreciate his cultured fare.

Action: To a quiet torturing place, we go-surely Avi knows?

[lawastooshort]

"Plenty of quiet places, I reckon. I've got a spare sack, though. Y'know, in case like."