Upon the Dragon’s Lash
Grugg and his militia
When the first initial “shock” had left Grugg, he realized that his former commander had not become a boulder, but rather had been hit by one. Following the light from the sorcerer to the “tall man” on the mountainside, his blood boiled and he rushed to greet the enemy, with his club. The quick reflexes of the sorcerer honed in another unerring surge of magical energy at the ogre before the titan clashed with the orcs. The giant was an intimidating sight, even to the seasoned orc veterans who were not much smaller than it, however Grugg was not afraid. He knew little of death, except that he could make it well. With his club raised high above his head he leapt overtop the two other orcs and slammed his tree trunk sized weapon into the side of the ogre’s head.

It was sickening thud, and the sound of bones cracking ensued. The ogre’s left eye went red with blood, he staggered, and blood began to drain from his ears. He collapsed into the soft muddy surface of the mountain step, his breath laboured for but seconds before it ceased to work. The two other orcs backed away from Grugg, his posterior all the more intimidating. They did not understand magic, so they were unaware of what exactly the sorcerer had accomplished with his arrows of light, however, it was mind numbingly clear what the strength of Grugg was with his club in hand.

The period of grace did not last long though, as the sharp whistle of a javelin came crying through the air, the spear piercing right into one of the orcish fighters. He dropped his axe and clutched at the javelin that was now embedded in his chest. He was not dead, but as he collapsed to his knees grunting, it was easy to see that he would be of little use in any upcoming battles. Grugg could see the second ogre standing upon a rock that overlooked the party. He was only about ten strides away, and the barbarian could likely reach him if he rushed.

The sorcerer began casting his magic anew, pointing a finger in the direction of the new threat. Cold air seemed to emanate from his body, and was felt by Grugg, even though he was several feet away. Suddenly a line of rippling ice went streaming towards the ogre on top the higher cliff, marking the ogre’s shoulder with frost burn, red welt searing into his flesh.

The remaining orc watched Grugg, preparing to follow his lead. Although Grugg was not necessarily the brightest of orcs, he was now a bonified Giant Slayer. There had been stories about the ogres in the mountains, and none of them ever related their death’s coming with the ease of a raised club. There was something malicious about this particular barbarian’s soul. Superstition was highly tendered amongst the orcs of the plateaus. A part of life for those that understood the concept.

Grugg… well… he had a pet rock.

(Damnit… you killed my first ogre! Here, have another one!)

Cyrus listened to the mighty Golden Dragon Shaman, in wonder of the natural beauty and majesty that ran in his skoarn blood. Merely a portion of the vibrance of that of any of the True Dragons, he guessed, held rapt by the notion of what a real one would have looked like.

He had regarded everyone of the Skoarn in this manner when he first came to Slith Sagonissra, held in wonder. He was chased away on at least one occasion for staring at an irritable red skoarn. He eventually discovered, through prolonged exposure, that not all of these demi-draconic men were quite deserving of such praise. Oftentimes he felt at home enough among the squabbling, bickering creatures that could at times grow more hysterical over lesser details than an igloo full of Berodimen elders.

In spite of this soon discovered perspective, there still existed a number of the Skoarn who did justice to their noble cousins. One of these such was the specimen before him, immediately next to Cyrus' first elf. He seemed to the eyes to be a pupil of the great Eskalios, marking him of one of righteous stength and courage.

The elder dragon shaman seemed to read the man’s mind, “This,” he said, in a masterful draconic voice, “is my adopted son, Draygo’Solarr.”

“Greetings, friend of the old world, today, we shall bring to light a coming darkness.” The elf's words were strange, but sure enough their meaning would be revealed. I wonder if all Elves like to speak in fluid riddles. Or perhaps it is because of his adopted parentage? Cyrus thought privately, or at least he hoped it was privately after the apt job Eskalios did.

"It is a pleasure to meet one such as yourself," the Berodiman replied, gripping his wooden staff in both hands and bowing his head to his hosts. Eskalios nodded his head, "Yes... I have a dangerous assignment for you this morning." He looked up, causing Cyrus to do the same, peering up at the thick blackness above. This tower was free of the thick ash that felt to Cyrus as he walked through the city like a blanket of warm snow, save for the lack of the glistening sheen reflected in the sunlight. Not that there was much sunlight to be compared to.

Despite the nature of the scene, there was a beauty to it as well. The rumble of Eskalios' vocals tore Cyrus' blue eyes from the pitch heavens back to the golden Skoarn. In the south are the tar lakes of Sudiglan. Recently there have been disturbing creatures coming from that abyss. What I require of you is this, accompany my son to the tar pits, and collect a sample of the lakes there. I must have it studied, to detect what impurities may be causing these horrid abominations.”

"I would be pleased to accept this mission to repay in part my debt to the Skoan nobles." He said, bowing once again. Truely he would rather be continuing his education in his personal brand of art, but a credit was due to the peaceable nature of his mother, countering the part-silver part-fire blood of his father's line. Besides, he had reached a temporary impasse in his development, so perhaps some field work would do him some good. After all, until this point members of the Brynth family line grew their talents through test against one of the harshest regions of all of Drakenhorde.

Goblin encampment
Iodum Road, on the edge of the Paegos forest
Febre, Minutes after Midnight
Two pairs of chartreuse eyes peer across the Ioudum road into the goblin encampment, where a bonfire is ablaze, and two living elves lie on the brink of destiny. The two fae are at odds with each other, right from the beginning of their coexistence. Though surely the young Riina does not want to see any lives lost unwillingly, she knows of no scale in which to measure the worth of one over the other. She had trained herself against the goblinoids in her youth, so that she might defend herself, or her home against their aggression, but here and now was neither circumstance. She would have to bleed them dry if they were discovered, lest they return with a larger force, or worse yet, simply burn the forest down around them.

Acantha was different in this view. The elven children of Sucurion, were also the first children of the great mother. Goblins were plentiful, and the elves so few. Elves sought a communion with nature that no other race beheld, whereas goblins seemed far keener on death, destruction, dominance, and hatred. They were interlopers in these lands, with no purpose besides hunting down what ought not be sought.

In his mind, there lie the memory of his visions in the fog of sleep, on the darkness that approached. He knew little of the skoarn, other than their dragon heredity, and had nothing but assumptions, however, he knew of black scaled murderers that would bring war to the lands, and scorch the earth with their poisonous intent. If ever they needed the elves en masse, it was now. Though he was not intentionally aggravating his female counterpart, his urgency felt more commanding, because the necessity of his actions felt drawn from the world without, and not from his heart within. He was being pushed by the spirit of all to proceed. Still, he waited, counted, and waited ever more, bow in hand.

The druidic fae counted the heads of his foe, and saw twelve. Twelve deadly souls that were connected to him through life, and separated through ideals. Riina’s hand brushed his arm gently to get his attention. She was pointing to the south, where another group of five goblins had formed ranks. Acantha nodded, thinking that they were heading off to investigate the torchlight that had been on the road just minutes before.


********

Tianna struggled gingerly with her bondage, gently fiddling with the knots, slowly loosening them. They had been tied better than she would have imagined, though she felt as though some progress was being made. Through mere slits in her eyes she watched the goblins passing by, pretending that she was still unconscious. She knew that there were at least four of them around, though she assumed that there were others that she could not see. Two were across from her, joking with one another by the sound of their laughter. The bonfire would provide little cover from them if she attempted to flee. She noted that they had short bows slung over their shoulders, and hand axes that they placed beside them on a log that they used as a bench. Two of the others that she had seen were patrolling. Their group was well organized. No slacking off, they had a strong martial air about them, even though they were little more than a raiding party. Before she had gone down, she had seen six of them die, which meant that they weren’t infallible, just well trained. It was likely that they were young recruits, they looked young, then again, it was hard to tell… they were goblins after all. What did a young goblin look like?

As she fumbled in between periods of stillness when she sensed a patrol coming from behind, or saw one from the front, she managed to loosen the ropes around her hands enough that she could wriggle free at any moment, but she imagined it would still take a good ten seconds to free her legs, perhaps more, or less depending on how adept the knot tier had been. It was dangerous to attempt, but the danger of staying was absolute. Surely death or slavery would ensue, and maybe she could live like that, but she doubted that the young boy could.

The female touched his arm to get his attention, he was glad she did. Five of the goblins had began to form ranks, this was no rabble of a raiding party like he had fought before, these were organised and this made his plan useless, to be honest it wasn't a plan, more of a strategy that had worked before and as of that he decided that the only way to free the elves and get away with there lives was to take the aggrieve side of the battle.

Turning to the female he said in bitter, hushed, sylvan
"They're well organised, that's probably a scouting party after your light, either that or they've found us." Calming his tone to the norm he continued
The only way us and the elves are going to escape alive is if we wait untill that group has gone, then we can quickly strike, free the elves and run. They wont burn down a forest in search of two killoren's and a pair of elves. She the female one, she has already freed her hands.
Hoping amongst hope that she would listen and thinking on how to snare the search party when they had left the camp.

Drydoc, The Eye of the Dragon
Marketplace
Febre, Mid day
Tanglefoot did a shoulder spring up onto his feet and immediately regretted it as his head spun wildly for a second. Reaching up he gently touched the spot where the rock had bashed him in the head and looked at the faint bit of blood on his hands. He turned his gaze quickly to the retreating Kobold thief who dared to take his hard earned booty.

“Oh.. no… you… don’t!” he snarled as he quickly gave chase.

Although his legs were not long they were fast and his small size allowed him to dodge nimbly between the throng of people in the marketplace. He hoped his agility at slipping quickly through the masses would give him a little edge on his larger quarry.

‘How dare someone take what was his,’ he thought as he ran trying to keep the Kobolds back in sight. He had worked hard to get that little ‘trinket’ and once accepting a job like this he couldn’t show up empty handed and tell them that their family heirloom had been stolen by someone else. The Brons were sure to think that he had concocted the story in an attempt to steal the statuette himself and sell it for a major profit. They were sure to put a death mark on his head, something he liked to avoid whenever possible.

Tanglefoot wasn’t trying to catch the thief, oh no, he only wanted to keep the kobold in sight and maintain a distance that he could follow him. If he had the chance he would stay with him till he thought maybe he was safe and slowed down, then the Halfling could hide and try and follow him discretely and maybe catch the thief unaware out of sight of the general public. Afterall, he couldn’t very well confront him on the street; it might attract the attention of the city watch and then he would have to explain how he came into possession of so valuable an item himself. No he wanted to follow this thief and deal with him the way all such things were done between their kinds, privately and deadly.

(OOC: Short post I know.. but it is kind of conditional on whether or not he can keep the fleeing thief in sight.)

Riina sniffs, and slowly, hesitantly, she replies in Sylvan, "Do you not know the anger of the hawk that has missed the agile rabbit? Do you not know the fury of the tiger that has been wounded by its would-be prey? Have you not felt your own irritation or anger when the perfect hunt fails? So are those goblins the predators, and those elves their caught prey. One does not take the meat from the lion's mouth lest they face the wrath of it, and their entire pride. Those goblins have felt victory and success, at what cost, we cannot know, and they will not suffer to let that be spoiled. They will pursue, like any predator would, and like the enraged bear, they will not care about bringing destruction in their wake."

Riina now stares at the goblin's bonfire, its flickering light reflecting in her eyes, "However, unlike the creatures of the wild, they can use fire. A torch dropped in haste or even by accident, or even one caught in the foliage; that is all it would take. Fire spreads on a whim, often aided by wind and dry earth. A fire so started easily grows beyond our control..." Riina's voice fades, as an afterthought, she adds, "I think you're overestimating your capabilities, and underestimating your opponents. They will not want to return to where they came from empty handed, and in the case you are successful, if they take considerable loss in numbers, enough to deem you a threat, and they return to inform the rest of them, they will want to take action to remove that threat."

The female has a good point, he had been dazzled by the prospect of rescuing elves and blinded but his own desire for the hunt. He replied in soft slyvan
"Your right, I've been blinded by the hunt, you have obviously not experienced such a thing. I have been trailing them for most of the day and now it turns out that my efforts were waisted, how do you suggest that we rescue the elves, or do we condemn them to death or slavery." Acantha took a look at the goblins, they were finishing there formation and in a hurried voice he says
"Lets retreat, well from the path and the camp." His increasing worry was obvious, as he had said, the had 'hunted' this band of goblins for most of the day but now he felt like he was being hunted, it was not a pleasant experience.

He then falls back untill he can no longer see the light of the campfire, picks a handful of berries (7) berries he knows are safe to eat (OOC:-Survival skill, taking 10 result of 20) from a nearby bush, sits down and speaks some words and makes some strange hand gestures over the berries (OOC:-Goodberry spell) before eating one and putting the rest in a pocket in his lose cotton jacket.

(If the female killoren follows him he offers her one saying "Eat, it's good, i'll fill you up.")

Ashlands, Slith Sagonissra
Spiregate, Palace of the Gold Dragon Spirelords
Febre, Dawn


Draygo’Solarr listened intently for any telltale signs of eavesdroppers beyond the wall as he waited for the one named Cyrus the Berodiman to be escorted before his adopted father Eskalios of the Golden Dragon shaman clan.

Introductions were brief and to the point when matters of the security of the order of the Golden Dragon shaman clan hung in the balance.

“This is my adopted son, Draygo’Solarr.”

The adopted Dragon Shaman had been well briefed regarding the Berodiman who was to accompany him to the Ashlands. Draygo’Solarr stepped forward, ears keen for anything amiss beyond the walls as he responded, “Greetings, friend from the old world, today, we shall bring to light a coming darkness.”

Draygo’Solarr kept one ear to the courteous and respectful response from Cyrus, followed by the ensuing conversation between his adopted father and the Berodiman. His other was ever alert as a gifted natural radar to detect anything amiss beyond the walls.

When Eskalios and Cyrus looked skyward beyond the crystal portal overhead, the adopted Dragon Shaman felt his heart yearn for the sweet song of the forest lands from whence he had been rescued by his adopted father in the distant past.

As Eskalios described the tar lakes of Sudiglan and the disturbing creatures reportedly emerging from the abyss in the Ashlands [as a mocking backdrop to their dangerous assignment to collect samples from the lake of tar for Eskalios and other nameless confidants to unlock the mysteries hidden therein], the call of the woodlands stirred deep within Draygo’Solarr as if the soothing whispering winds of his Sucurion Elven heritage were encouraging the young Golden Dragon Shaman that his true destiny lay well beyond the desolation of their assigned destination, which threatened the very existence of the life he had grown to know and embrace as his very own.

“I would be pleased to accept this mission to repay in part my debt to the Skoarn nobles,” Cyrus replied with a bow as he accepted the assignment without doubt or question.

Eskalios motioned to his adopted son to draw near as he cupped his hand and whispered some instructions to Draygo’Solarr, who in turn nodded and approached Cyrus while holding the index finger of his right hand to his lips as a sign of cautious silence.

“Welcome friend Cyrus,” declared the young Golden Dragon Shaman as he raised his voice with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm, while extending his arms wide to embrace Cyrus in a bond of equal acceptance as he approached his new comrade with deliberate, swift and graceful steps. “This is but a menial task that no true Skoarn need sully himself with when there be ones such as ourselves of a lesser station who are much more suited for such dirty work.”

As Draygo’Solarr gripped Cyrus with a firm embrace, the young Dragon Shaman whispered ever so quietly in Cyrus' right ear, “You and I are the only ones Eskalios can trust ... beware my friend ... even the walls have ears!”

Riina felt the other one calm down, then disappear after a couple words. She felt his resolve, then his understanding, then his fear, but shared none of them. There were still a couple of things that had to be done at some point. Riina knew that she still had to try to determine the goblin group's intentions regarding the forest. So far, no sign had been shown, so either they were hiding it well, or they weren't interested in the forest itself. It was likely the latter, but Riina did not like to take chances.

Her adept eyes did another quick glance over the camp, seeing if there was any sort of hint that would show anything. They were trained to be good predators, but that didn't mean they didn't have other things to do as well. She specifically looks for things she's seen among woodcutters: those serrated saw blades, or keen logging axes.

She knew she couldn't afford staying in one spot for long; a predator that has caught the scent (or seen the torchlight in this case) of a different prey would be sure to be searching. Catiously, she moves around the camp, keeping a safe distance, and ensuring she wouldn't be seen or heard.

(OOC: Riina wouldn't know if the goblins had set up any traps or not, so she immediately would assume so, and so takes care in relocating)

After retreating to what he thought of as a safe distance and having something to eat Acantha felt a lot better, a slight wind ran through the trees at the present time and he started thinking of what would be the best plan. The goblins would obviously take watches and they would probably move off in the morning, during this time he had let his wolf companion go hunting, Cheli didn't care for berries, and shortly after he came back with a rabbit (Survival check 12, Witness Hammer) in his mouth.

This gave Acantha an idea, if he could somehow create a distraction then the female elf could free herself and untie the other elf, but what would be a good enough distraction. He decided that his distraction could be him trying to barter there freedom with fresh meat, as of such he then went out hunting and foraging with his wolf and managed to find food enough for 9 people in under an hour (Survival check 28, Witness Hammer). He then returned to his 'ambush' spot and placed down the food before trying to locate the female by walking round the clearing and checking on the elves.

As Eskalios beckoned the adopted elf, Cyrus chose avert his gaze, so as to not appear to be prying. In reality, the make of the tower, like all buildings in the city, amplified sound, so he could almost hear, if not make out the words. When it seemed that the private exchange ended, Cyrus looked back, just intime to see Draygo'Solarr three paces away and approaching quickly. Whatever he was about to say was cut off at the elf's gesture for silence.

“Welcome friend Cyrus,” declared the young Golden Dragon Shaman as he raised his voice with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm, while extending his arms wide to embrace Cyrus in a bond of equal acceptance as he approached his new comrade with deliberate, swift and graceful steps. “This is but a menial task that no true Skoarn need sully himself with when there be ones such as ourselves of a lesser station who are much more suited for such dirty work.”

Cyrus soon found himself locked in a firm embrace, which stunned him for a moment. He guessed this gesture was perhaps more common in these areas than they were in the Dragon's Horn. Draygo'Solarr's voice secretivly swept into Cyrus' ear, “You and I are the only ones Eskalios can trust ... beware my friend ... even the walls have ears!” Berodimen were rather short among other men, which by measure next to an elf was yet more belittling. He squeezed back, belying strength uncommon for one of his stature, and status as an arcanist.

If the return gesture didn't clarify his understanding, Cyrus whispered under his breath, confident that the elf could hear him easily, "Thank-you." He then raised his voice slightly compared to his last aloud statement. "A menial task indeed? Well I knew when I agreed that my services would be used as such."

He looked back to Eskalios as he released Drago'Solarr from his grip. He said nothing yet, considering it best to react to an act rather than try to create his own in a city where a slipped tongue soon meant a missing one.

Grugg did love to smash. And to eat. But now was smash time. Grugg had not loved Rismarg, but Rismarg being dead was an excellent excuse to smash. Grugg really never needed an excuse. Grugg would just smash anyway. This time though, people would not be mad when Grugg smashed. Grugg never thought about that anyway, so it was virtually a moot point.

Grugg ran up the hill, easily surpassing the speed of the other orcs. The dragon-piss pinky sent a pair of lights over his head into the ogre, something that surprised Grugg (although really, everything surprised Grugg, he wasn't too bright). Obviously lights were meant to point Grugg toward smash target. Grugg could see smash target. Grugg could see him good. Light-shooter must not be brained Grugg thought. Maybe he should wait for the ogre to smash the human so he could eat him. Or maybe he should smash ogre then human. Grugg wasn't sure.

Grugg built up more speed and jumped (Grugg loved to jump) straight toward the orge, club held behind his head. Giving a mighty roar of something that sounded remarkably like the common word "OCEANIC!" (although it was impossible for Grugg to have known that word) with his loincloth flowing behind him (much to the concern of the others no doubt) he brought his club to bear on the tall man's head. It went smash.

No sooner did the ogre go smash did one of the orcs go Schitck and fall, a spear lodged in his stomach. Grugg immediately saw his new chance to smash. The useless light thrower took a moment to make things cold, which Grugg did not love. He would have to smash him. The other orc stood beside him, looking at him much in the same way as Grugg looked at his pet rock, like a living god. Grugg loved that. Grugg would not smash him yet.

Grugg turned to the new ogre, his blood still burning and rage still mounting. He pointed at it, his club held aloft in his other hand.

No one quite understood what he had said before he rushed off to smash, but sounded damn close to "CONCRETE!".


(OOC: Smash some more I guess).

Tianna wrists are rubbed raw but pauses just after loosening the ropes on her hands. Her wrists had been so tightly bound they tingled as the blood rushed back to flow freely into her hands and fingers. It tangles so hard it hurt so she flex her finger a few times trying to speed their return to normal. With the .ever so slowly she curls bends her knees so that she can get to the ropes n her ankles.

It seems to take forever to make the incidentally small moves to position her ankles near her hands so she can work on the knots. Having her hands free so that she could use her fingers and wrists makes the next part easier except that she is hampered by the fact that she has to do it behind her back with minimum motion. But strong, deft finger continued to work tirelessly to accomplish her task she has set herself. It just takes an agonizingly long time. She is neither completely free nor complete bound. Patience and perseverance she has learned and now must apply and resist the urge to hurry.

Tianna fights fan impulse to hurry the process. Step by step she frees her legs keeping her ears attuned to what the goblins are doing and if any come closer. She only risks a couple of stolen peeks through slitted eyes glance of the goblins. If the boy was going to have any chance to get out of here with her, she had to get them both free. She only bemoans the fact that she had not yet gained an animal companion yet. She could use a nice rat or squirrel to chew on the ropes or a sharp toothed ferret. Or better yet a wolf would be great to fight with her when she rose to get free or even a great bear that she could call to attack the goblins. But she had nothing that would come to her call. Tianna put aside the wished she had. If wishes were fishes, no one would starve.

Once she is free completely she leaves the rope partially around her feet to make it look like she is still ties. But she could kick out of the loosened ropes in a flash. Next she concentrating on getting as close as she could to her unconscious companion her freed arms behind her bask over to the boys ropes she starts to undo those on his hands first. It is easier. Again it is a slow tedious time to move herself into position to accomplish this next step. Tianna flexed her fingers to fight cramping that threatened to hamper her efforts to free the boy.

"Sucurion, Protector of Elves hear my plea." she mentally prays. "Let me free this boy and help us both to escape these foul goblins this night." Even as she prays she keeps working on the rope bindings holding the boy. Occasional giving him small shakes to see if she could return him to consciousness. Every step she tkaes is done surrepticiously and with great watchfulness.

Riina nearly hisses as the night breeze wafts the scent of gunpowder to her nostrils. It is a despicable scent, and one she had only smelt once before. It is dry, and raspy, not unlike the burnt ashes left behind by a fire. Oh yes, Riina would not forget that one day where she smelt both the powder and seen the destruction that had definitely followed.

It was a warm day, despite the clouds in the sky, as Riina carefully wandered through a plain, keeping below the height of the grass, staying hidden. There was a column of smoke in the sky that arose from a distant place, and Riina went to verify its cause. It was the burning remnants of an outpost, with only two walls still intact. Clearly, some sort of battle had taken place, and there were still bodies lying around, goblin and human mostly. The small fort was evidently being defended by the human forces, while the goblins attacked. A select few of the goblin bodies lying there were carrying tiny barrels of a black powder, some of which was spilt from most of the barrels. Its unmistakeable scent was engrained within Riina's mind since that day, but she was not sure that such an apparently simple thing could cause that much damage. She had taken a very small sample, and placed it nearby. With the flint and steel she had, she caused a spark, and the powder instantly reacted, swiftly burning in an instant with a notable 'pop' sound. Riina shook her head. A substance that can only bring about death and destruction has no place on this world. She thought solemnly.

Riina's eyes narrow. That powder could only bring about destruction and pain. Quickly, she looks around for the source of the smell, and finds it: one of the barrels propped beside one of the tents. Beside that barrel are a couple blood-red sticks, with a line of string coming out of it. Riina instinctively guesses that they too would hold the same properties as that black powder or maybe even that powder itself, with an added timer that would let it be lit for several moments before it exploded. They are weapons, dangerous ones, yet, Riina wondered, could they be used against the user? Riina shakes her head quickly; no, that would have to be a last minute resort, since she would not be able to estimate the amount of damage it would cause.

It didn't take long to find her, keeping out of site of the camp he had edged round untill he found her. She was standing looking at something, her gaze drew his to where it was centered, on some barrels and a few red sticks, he had never come across something like this before and was intrigued. A spring of questions formed inside of him, what were they? Where did they come from? What was there purpose? Why did the goblins have them? Could they harm the forest? But most importantly, how did the goblins intend to use it?

He asked her
"What is it? his tone was inquisitive but he was worried by the look on her face, the substance was evidently not good.

After waiting for a response he explained his idea to her
"I'll try to draw their attention, I'll try to trade for the elves release, when I'm doing that you help loosen the ropes binding the elves so if they don't agree to trade we can all run. I don't think you should take that thing" he indicates the strange substance
"as if you do then they'll be even more angry."