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2013-06-11T07:23:10Z

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[[Category:Player]]

==A==
* [[Abrahil]]
* [[Aenyn]]
* [[Agril]]
* [[Albain de Corveaux]]
* [[Alteri]]
* [[Amara]]
* [[Amira|Amir'a al'Jarim]]
* [[Arafel Gemlord]]
* [[Ashlynn]]
* [[Azog]]

==B==
* [[Bashkim|Bashkim Sylaj]]
* [[Boshter]]
* [[Brolin]]

==C==
* [[Cinnamon]]
* [[Cesran]]
* [[Colrick Voss]]
* [[Constantin]]
* [[Craft]]

==D==
* [[Darshan]]
* [[Donk]]
* [[Drok'thar]]

==E==
* [[Edmee|Edmee Sulwen]]
* [[Eliathitae]]
* [[Emir|Emir Zalaahd]]

==F==
* [[Faiza]]
* [[Fiona]]
* [[Folkmar]]

==G==
[[Garrin]]
* [[Garthos]]

==H==
* [[Harric]]

==I==
* [[Ionus]]

==J==
* [[Jareth]]
* [[Jessa]]
* [[Jibbom]]
* [[Jinks]]

==K==
* [[Kade Harlow]]
* [[Kaedin]]
* [[Kaiella]]
* [[Kaliara|Kaliara Sein]]
* [[Karelin Andarin]]
* [[Kerbasi]]
* [[Koszhey Urvald Malinovyi]]
* [[Kyra Smith]]
* [[Kuumvu]]
* [[Kilian]]

==L==
* [[Lash]]
* [[Leisel]]
* [[Lithuin]]

==M==
* [[Mab]]
* [[Maerkkus]]
* [[Marley]]
* [[Matthias Haelker]]
* [[Mikilos]]
* [[Munch]]
* [[Myrana Jn'Rajh]]

==N==
* [[Nadara]]

==O==
* [[Oates|Jack Oates]]
* [[Ormarr]]

==P==
* [[Phanuel]]

==Q==
*[[Quint]]

==R==
* [[Remethaer]]
* [[Roka]]
* [[Roland]]
* [[Rogun]]

==S==
* [[Lady Sandiel]]
* [[Hailee Serene Tigriil]]
* [[Lady Sienna Meribeth McBane]]
* [[Sophia Lightbringer]]
* [[Selia]]
* [[Sharna]]
* [[Shyntae]]
* [[Spike]]
* [[Sebropert]]

==T==
* [[Tak]]
* [[Thaim]]
* [[Thistle]]
* [[Thyrson]]

==U==
* [[Uisge]]
* [[Ulharilti Wiivai]]

==V==
* [[Vennan|Vennan Hartose]]
* [[Vidarr|Vidarr Halvdran]]

==W==

==X==
* [[Xander]]

==Y==
* [[Younger, Bruce The|Bruce the Younger]]
* [[Yerathiel]]

==Z==
[[Zaxx]]

PrP: A Boy's First Hunt

2012-03-23T17:34:25Z

Mab: Created page with "<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"> == Log Info == *'''Title''': A Boy's First Hunt *'''Emitter''': Mab *'''Characters''': Munch Level 3, Azog Lev..."

<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;">
== Log Info ==
*'''Title''': A Boy's First Hunt
*'''Emitter''': [[Mab]]
*'''Characters''': [[Munch]] Level 3, [[Azog]] Level 5, [[Yaakrr]] Level 2,
*'''NPCs''': Ardith Lucrecio
*'''Place''': Deep Forests
*'''Time''': March 23, 2012
*'''Summary''': A young noble boy is escorted into the forest in order to hunt the ferocious creatures therein! The intrepid adventurers in this instance being the harsh Oruch warrior Azog, the cleric of the hunt Yaakrr, and... the hungriest War Golem to ever enter these lands, Munch. Important lessons are learned, but whether the lad has learned anything will be something that only time can tell.
*'''APL''': 3
*'''Encounter 1''': 1 Owlbear, '''CR 4'''
*'''Encounter 2''': 1 Dire Boar, '''CR 4'''
</div>

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "I'm also going to open 'in media res' if you guys don't mind. If you'd like to buy things, let me know now!"
<OOC> Azog says, "That's cool and I'm good on stuff."
<OOC> Azog approves of James Bond opening.
<OOC> Yaakrr needs to upgrade armor one of these days, but I'm still figuring it out so, I'm good.
GAME: Yaakrr refreshes spells.
<OOC> Munch also needs armor, but not for a few rounds of profit yet. ;)</pre>

The road is hard and the road is long and as adventurers, it can sometimes feel like the road itself is home. The roads to Alexandria are large things, vital for the trade and lifeblood of the city. Go a few days out, though, and it can soon turn nasty. But there are some who take the strange and often dangerous wildlife that lurks so close to civilization as a personal challenge.

For that reason, three brave souls have been contracted to help the young nobleman Ardith Lucrecio on his first hunting trip. The noble young lad is perhaps sixteen years old, and is leading the way despite any and all objections to the contrary as well-traveled road descends into wild and tangled forest.

"Do try and keep up, chaps!" He declares cheerfully, gesturing wildly with his very shiny sword as he does so. "I think I see some tracks up ahead! Gosh, this is fun, isn't it?"

Munch isn't really much of a woodsman, but does well enough along the road less traveled, his tireless stride keeping up well. Absently checking the large axe held between his stubby wings, the golem peers towards the indicated tracks, and shrugs. "What 'xactly is it you're looking for, anyway?"

<pre><OOC> Azog says, "Are we afoot or mounted?"
<OOC> Munch personally sees horse as a food group, but not sure if the others are mounted.
<OOC> Mab says, "I'll leave that up to you - the noble will be on horseback, which I forgot to mention as I am a dope."</pre>

Azog finds it good that a young man is seeking out challenges and making an attempt to prove himself, and while he normally prefers to lead the way into danger, he's more than willing to let this fellow show his mettle and will ride along second. He does keep an eye on the tracks, and will note to himself where the actual tracks go, but since we've been hired to follow the young man, and since he's proving his skill at tracking, Azog's not going to mention if we waste some time in the wrong direction. Azog's horse says Neigh, but otherwise makes no comment.

Yaakrr has his bow out and is looking around the woods with a watchful eye and an arrow nocked. The cleric seems oddly comfortable in the woods, if not exceedingly skilled but then he is a cleric to the Great Hunter. "The hunt can be a wonderful event, quite invigorating if dangerous at times. What is the game you hope to catch," he asks of their young leader idly.

"You know, I'm not really sure." Ardith admits, as he inexpertly wheels his horse towards the area he thinks he sees tracks in. "There's all sorts of game in these parts, my father says. Boar, deer, even big dashed bears and things. Though I'm not sure I could much handle a bear on my own. I guess that's what you chaps are for, eh?!" He grins a cheeky grin, winking back at the group. He's certainly got spirit in him, and he doesn't seem to mind that he's 'leading' a group of a war golem, oruch, and eaglefolk at all. City life and all that.

"Hm. That looks like a pretty interesting sign though, what?" He says, pointing off into the forest. Some small distance away, there is a tree. Or the remains of one. It looks like it has been torn apart somehow!

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "You can give me Survival or Knowledge/Nature if you want to inspect the tree!"
GAME: Azog rolls survival: (11)+10: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Oh, derp, I'm wrong. Not nature, Arcana. But survival stands."
<OOC> Yaakrr still has neither.
GAME: Munch rolls knowledge/arcana: (15)+7: 22
You paged Azog with 'You've seen this sort of thing before; that tree has been torn down by a really powerful animal of some sort, trying to get after its meal. You'd estimate, given the relative height, it is probably about eight feet tall.'
GAME: Yaakrr rolls Survival: (13)+3: 16
You paged Munch with 'You've seen something like this before. In fact... looking closer, those claw marks and the ripping/tearing into the bark above it... why, that's /owlbear/ damage that is!'
You paged Yaakrr with 'You're pretty sure that tree didn't fall over naturally.'</pre>

Yaakrr trots along behind the mounted lordling, doing his best to keep up with the horse. Thankfully the forest slows them down enough he doesn't have too much trouble. Shading his eyes the eagllefolk peers at the distant tree and hrms softly. "Looks like a tree that has seen better days... and I don't think lightning did that..."

Azog may be amused at the young man's lack of purpose, but he doesn't let on. Perhaps he even approves of just going out and looking for trouble? Maybe a little. There's a hint of a smile behind the normally impassive expression. "It's certainly a sign of -something-." He looks towards the tree and considers, riding closer to have a better look. "Probably our quarry," he tells the young man. "A beast of great strength, to prove your worth." Azog approves. He'll look and see which way the perpetrator went.

Munch ahs, and shrugs lightly, not particularly concerned at having no specific game in mind for this hunt. He peers again towards where is indicated, staying a bit back from the horses, his form tending to make them nervous. Buzzing softly, the golem blinks with a soft click, and pauses. "...not lighting. Owlbear, I think. Vicious, but tastey."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay... don't worry about a survival check, Azog, you can't fail but track the Owlbear. (Not known for their cunning and well-concealed ambushes, these beasts)"

The Owlbear has left a trail of carnage and devastation throughout this part of the forest. Tracking it is easy, and from the look in the young nobleman's eye, exactly what he wants to do! "Tasty, you say?" He says, diplomatically not wondering *aloud* whether war golem and people food is the same. "Well, lets get off after it, then! Something this big has to be worth taking back, eh?"

"Owlbear," Yaakrr says thoughtfully. "Definitely a worthy prey for a hunt. Not something that Needs to be killed like abominations but still a fierce creature." The cleric seems to be just spouting some dogma from his faith as he covers any nervousness. That or he just likes spreading his faith whenever he can. Once they start actually following the path of destruction he will become more silent however, not wanting to become an owlbear snack.

Azog nods at the suggestion of owlbear, he thinks that's a good possibility as well. He'll ready his shield and nod to the young man. Not about tasty, which he's definittely unsure of, given things he's seen Munch eat, but definitely a worthy prize. He'll get on after it, then, riding along the trail, but letting the lad lead, in order to prove himself.

Munch shrugs, and trails after, keeping an eye towards the groups back trail as a bit of mild caution, and a chance to grab a bit of bark from the broken tree to nibble upon. Munch's dietary choices differ graetly from those of a human... and most any other creature.
It isn't long until the great creature comes into view. Massive at about eight feat tall, the monstrous beast turns one mad eye towards the approaching party.

Both great feathered arms are raised, and that viciously hooked beak opens in a terrifying HOOT of AGGRESSION!

"KAWHOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAARGH!"

The young noble, to his credit, does not immediately try to flee. Although he does look a little more pale...

<pre>===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------
25 Hooty
----------------------------------------
15 Ardith
----------------------------------------
5 Munch
----------------------------------------
3 Azog
----------------------------------------
3 Yaakrr
----------------------------------------
========================================
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+6: (4)+6: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+6: (4)+6: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6+4: (4)+4: 8</pre>

The owlbear charges through the brush, ripping up small bushes as it goes! Ardith does his best to steel himself... but he's not the only untested member of the party here. His horse, too, doesn't really know what to make of this. It is a hunting animal, not a warhorse! And a slavering owlbear crashes into it with terrifying force.

Ardith swears in a MOST ungentlemanly fashion, and bucks atop his steed as he tries to keep control. Unsurprisingly, he fails, and the horse, panicking, attempts to flee.

Which gives the owlbear all the opening it needs for a second vicious swipe, downing the unfortunate beast and sending Ardith sprawling form the saddle heavily. "Damn and blast!"
<pre><OOC> Mab says, "(And it is your turn)"
<OOC> Munch makes no promises of the steeds eventual fate, but for now moves towards the owlbear, preferabally between it an Ardith.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can get in there."
<OOC> Munch says, "Okay. For this round, that's all."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Azog!"
<OOC> Azog says, "Do owlbears have reach?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Five feet of it."
<OOC> Yaakrr hehs.
<OOC> Mab says, "However, it has used its AoO this round mashing up a retreating horse."
<OOC> Azog says, "OK, I'll ride on up to 10' away, dismount as a move action to adjacent to the owlbear, and attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "That works, go for it."
<OOC> Azog says, "Ah, can I ride behind to flank it?"</pre>

Munch moves foreward, bodily placing himself in the path of the big beast. "Okay big guy, enough with the prey animals. Get up kid! I'm not gonna distract this thing forever."

<pre><OOC> Azog says, "And Azog's horse is an actual warhorse."
<OOC> Mab says, "I'm going to say that'll need a DC 10 ride check to negotiate the close tree-strewn quarters, but certainly."
GAME: Azog rolls ride: (17)+-4: 13
<OOC> Mab says, "Nicely done!"
<OOC> Azog rolls attack at +2 for flanking if Munch threatens, and +1 for the fighter bonus thing which doesn't factor into the canned attack calculation?
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup, swing away!"
GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+13: (7)+13: 20
<OOC> Mab says, "A palpable hit!"
GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+8: (4)+8: 12
<OOC> Mab says, "Yaakrr! Cast away noble birdman!"
GAME: Yaakrr casts Bless.</pre>

Azog doesn't so much as flinch at the cry of the owlbear. He's been expecting it, of course, and knew how fresh the tracks were. He nods as the lad stands his ground when the owlbear charges, but when he fails to control his horse, his expression changes to a frown. He'll ride on up, through the trees and debris, and dismount behind the owlbear, his warhorse looking calm enough as Azog clambers down without too much complication. It's the lad's fight, but Azog's not going to turn down a scrap with such a ferocious creature, and maybe if it's facing Azog, the lad'll regain some spirit. He swings his blade, which glows faintly with corpselight, and draws blood, stinging the creature with his blow.

<pre>GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (15)+8: 23
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22</pre>

Yaakrr moves a little closer so that he can affect his companions and the noble lad. Raising a hand to his pendant he murmurs a soft prayer and as a glow emanates to fill his allies with courage he calls out to Ardith, "Be steadfast and face your fears. Show this beast your mettle!"

<pre>GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+1: (7)+1: 8</pre>

The owlbear roars its fury and lunges to face Azog. Sweeping around with mighty claws and rending beak, the creature smashes into him with all the force it can muster. It is to no avail. Sturdy warrior as he is, Azog's shield stands firm in the assault and...

Clambering up to his feet, emboldened by the encouragement of his allies, the young would-be hunter strikes out with his sword. Though it may not be as impressive a wound as that scored by the oruch, for a young man with no real skill in proven combat, it strike home deep and true, drawing a second bellow of fury from the bloodied creature!

"That'll teach you, you blackguard! Knock ME from my horse, will you!"

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "Munch!"
<OOC> Munch says, "Aid Another to Ardith... which I'm not wholey clear on what or how that works...."
<OOC> Mab looks it up.
<OOC> Mab says, "You can choose to either give him +2 on his next attack or +2 AC if the owlbear decides to rip his head off."
<OOC> Munch nods, reads as well. Bonus to his attack.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay! Azog!"
GAME: Munch rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17
<OOC> Munch has to hit an AC 10, to do so, yes?
<OOC> Mab nods, "You're good." :)
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "Is the horse still alive?"
<OOC> Azog says, "I'll smack it. It's the boy's fight, but my understanding is that its not dishonorable for him as long as he's in the fray with everyone?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Just about, Yaak."
GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+13: (13)+13: 26
<OOC> Mab says, "And yeah, he's proving himself pretty well by not fleeing with tears in his eyes. :P"
GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+8: (5)+8: 13</pre>

Munch steps back and forth, trying to keep the owlbear's attention and let the kid get a good lick in. "Good shot. Give him another, and watch for those claws. One wrong step, get yourself a nasty scar."

Azog weathers the owlbear's blows, shield deflecting the worst of it, pushing back to keep it from getting its claws latched into him. He does allow a smile as the lad strikes back against the creature, and he'll counterattack, too, thrusting his blade in under the owlbear's guard and scoring another wound before it twists away from him, and forces him to take a step back.

<pre><OOC> Yaakrr shall shoot an arrow into the fray. No Point Blank so I have the -4
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Yaakrr rolls bow+1-4: aliased to Weapon1+1-4: (6)+3+1+-4: 6
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "Whiff."
<OOC> Mab nods. "Sorry!"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (15)+8: 23
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (20)+8: 28
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (3)+8: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, threatens a crit on you Azog, but no confirm."
<OOC> Azog says, "Whew."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+16: (4)+16: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6+4: (1)+4: 5
GAME: Mab damaged Azog for 5 points. 35 remaining.</pre>

Yaakrr draws an arrow back and after a second lets it fly into the melee. Sadly the egalrin's eyes are not keen at this time and the arrow flies by without finding its mark.

The Owlbear's rage is just growing as it finds itself surrounded. It lays into Azog all over again, and this time, one of those vicious claws does manage to smash through around the Oruch's guard, trying to drag him in close towards its open maw. Thankfully, the creature can't maintain the grip, so whilst the claws dig in, the situation is not as dire as it might have been.

Ardith gets a second telling shot in on the flank, with Munch's help, stabbing in deep and eliciting another howl of rage. There's no words this time, apparently he's starting to feel some of the seriousness of this situation. He's helping kill another living thing... and it, given a minute mistake, would surely kill him too!

<pre><OOC> Munch says, "aid again, seems to be working thus far. ;)"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Munch rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+13: (11)+13: 24
GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+8: (2)+8: 10</pre>

Munch glances towards Azog, mildly concerned when blood is drawn, and nearly slips up himself. But the golem steps in for a moment, tapping the owlbear lightly to distract as Ardith sets up for another go.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, that downs the owlbear, it is unconscious."

Azog bears up under the owlbear's furious assault, roughed up a little as it catches its claws at the joint between his shoulder and bicep, but even as a splatter of yrch blood runs down the steel plates, Azog growls defiance and pulls free before it can grab onto him, now no longer playing. He draws back with his sword and thrusts forward, driving the point deep into its chest, then stepping back as it falls, bleeding.

Yaakrr lowers his bow and refrains from trying another shot at the beast. He approaches the rest of the party and looks at everyone. After a moment's thought he reaches a hand to his pendant and sends out a wave to heal those present making sure not to have the owlbeast rise again. "How are you faring Ardith? You did great against such a fearsome beast.

GAME: Yaakrr rolls 1d6: (3): 3

The young nobleman looks at his horse, a little shaken as the thing is obviously in serious pain from the wounds it has taken - though as fresh energy surges into it, it looks a little better. It stops bleeding, at least. He presses his lips together as he finally looks at his blood-slick sword, eyeing the owlbear.

"So... do we finish it off?" He asks, directing his question to Yaakrr; the priest of the Great Hunter would surely know what to do next.

GAME: Mab damaged Azog for -3 points. 38 remaining.

Munch clicks softly, but holds his opinion, glancing towards Yaakrr as well.

Azog nods at Yaakrr in thanks for the healing, and nods in agreement about the lad, saying to him, "You did well. And you see the value in training a mount for battle now." Azog's own horse is calmly cropping grass where he left it, not ten feet from the bleeding corpse of the owlbear. He snorts at the question about killing the unconcious and dying owlbear, replying, "To leave it in pain serves no purpose. Give it a last mercy and slay it."

"The creature is down but not yet dead," comments Yaakrr glancing at the downed beast. "I believe it would be best to put it out of its misery. As this is your hunt you should have the honor of the final cut." He nods at the boy and gestures to the head of the owlbear. "It is also a good way to mark your victory."

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "Perception checks please!"
GAME: Azog rolls perception: (4)+0: 4
GAME: Yaakrr rolls perception: (20)+5: 25
GAME: Munch rolls perception: (9)+4: 13
<OOC> Yaakrr <-- Eagle eyes
You paged Yaakrr with 'You can hear something - probably a good hundred feet off to the left. The sound of a crashing animal, not as big as the owlbear, but probably attracted by the sound of the fight. Which implies it is not a peaceful critter!'
The boy raises his sword high. This is, after all, what he came out here to do. Now that he's faced with the reality of it, though, it isn't quite as elegant as he had somehow imagined it would be. </pre>

He brings it down once, and doesn't quite get all the way through. Which leads to some more grisly hacking motions to get its head off. When he's done, he stands up with a half-grin. "Messy business. But, thank you. And yes. I'll, certainly make sure I come with a more... suitable steed in future. I couldn't have done this without you, friends."

Yaakrr jerks his gaze to the left and holds up a hand. "Beware. There is something else approaching," he says softly. "It doesn't sound friendly."

Munch nods in agreement to the others, focus upon the young man. "If hunting to keep prey alive, shouldn't be carrying deadly weapons." He blinks at Yaakrr's words, and peers. "A mate, perhaps? Didn't think was late enough in the season for that."

Yaakrr raises his bow and points it in the direction of the noise he heard. The cleric moves back a little so he isn't such a nice easy target.

Azog looks over in the direction Yaakrr notes, and brings his shield up, peering over and stepping in that direction, to stay clear of the blood and mess underfoot.

The thing which crashes through the underbrush is far less insane than the owlbear... but no less scary for that, either.

The sight of it actually makes Ardith yelp with fear, which is embarrassing, and the owlbear's head bounces off the floor.

Azog is the one practically eye-to-tusk with it though. A hugely muscled boar, some nine feet long, with viciously sharp, curving tusks and leathery, thick hide. Apparently having been attracted by the sounds of battle, the 'wild boar' that Ardith's father told him all about...

Well, given its frothing tusks and deadly charge, it doesn't look like much of an exaggeration!

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

And the creature barrels headlong directly into Azog's shield, rebounding off with a bone-shaking *crump*. It does not stay down for long, though. Shaking its head to clear whatever had stunned it.

<pre><OOC> Yaakrr says, "No Ardith this time?"
<OOC> Azog says, "Normal attack"
<OOC> Mab says, "Nope, he's too stunned."
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "Gotcha"
GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+2: (16)+2: 18
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+8: (8)+8: 16</pre>

Azog smirks at the irony of our quarry finding us, rather than the reverse, and after we fought the owlbear. As the huge boar charges, he leans into the shield and takes the hit with a small grunt, and brings his bloody sword around to stab the angry beast, drawing blood.

<pre>GAME: Yaakrr rolls bow+1-4: aliased to Weapon1+1-4: (20)+3+1+-4: 20
<OOC> Mab says, "Roll again for potential crit!"
GAME: Yaakrr rolls bow+1-4: aliased to Weapon1+1-4: (11)+3+1+-4: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Alas, no crit, but you still hit!"
GAME: Yaakrr rolls 1d8: (1): 1
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "pthbt!"
<OOC> Munch says, "Is there room to move to flank with Azog? ( moves barbarian +10 if matters)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can just about manage it."</pre>

Yaakrr moves over to their young ward/leader in case he has need to protect the boy. He keeps an arrow trained on the new menace and once he stops near Ardith, the cleric lets fly and watches the arrow speed towards the boar where it manages to scratch the beast with fearsome flimsy.

<pre><OOC> Munch then shall Rage, move, and smack.
GAME: Munch rolls 1d20+5+2+2: (18)+5+2+2: 27
GAME: Munch rolls 1d12+4+2: (2)+4+2: 8
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22</pre>

"Bacon! It's bacon! I love these things!!" With a noise like a gleeful buzzsaw (not a noise you're likely to hear elsewhere) Munch rushes around to the side of the large boar, the rubbery organs just below his skin pulseing with excitement. Swinging his large axe, the golem slices a fair furrow of pork.

The boar's frenzied state doesn't seem to be getting any less intense as it froths and rages, trying to bring Azog down underneath its hooves with its vicious tusks. All it manages to get for its trouble is a vicious slice along its side.

Ardith seems pretty overwhelmed. "How many of these blasted things are there in this deathtrap?!" He blurts, perhaps not showing the same deference to the forest as one *should* in such a situation.

<pre>GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+14: (8)+14: 22
GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+8: (1)+8: 9</pre>

Azog doesn't mind leaping into the fray first, but when the young man fails to join the fight against the very creature he'd intended to fight, Azog growls, "Boy! You've won a fight and taken no hurt. Will you now pick up your sword and fight again, or cower in fear for no good reason, to live your life in shame?" Azog lets out a great Yrch shout and strikes a perhaps dramatic stance, hauling off for a mighty blow against the boar that gores his shield to no effect. He strikes a slash down its side, perhaps meant to enrage it more than hurt it, though it's a fierce enough wound even so. Maybe he wants the lad to get a chance to get his act together and join the fight before the beast is slain.

<pre>GAME: Yaakrr rolls bow+1-4: aliased to Weapon1+1-4: (14)+3+1+-4: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
<OOC> Mab says, "Munch!"
<OOC> Munch says, "Smack it again! ;)"
<OOC> Mab says, "Roll on, Macduff."
GAME: Munch rolls 1d20+5+2+2: (15)+5+2+2: 24
GAME: Munch rolls 1d12+4+3: (4)+4+3: 11</pre>

"That is the danger of the woods," says Yaakrr as he lets another arrow fly. Perhaps he shouldn't have distracted himself with talking since the arrow goes wide. "A fight can draw another one down on you. Be brave though and ride the victory of your last fight into defeating this monstrous boar. Come on lad!"

<pre>GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (16)+8: 24
GAME: Mab rolls 2d6+9: (6)+9: 15
GAME: Mab damaged Munch for 15 points. 19 remaining.</pre>

Munch bahs good-naturedly. "He got the last one, can leave this to us. Or join, it's all good." Seems the golem is having fun, for now.
The boar is actually starting to slow down as the oruch and war golem tear into it with renewed enthusiasm. After Munch's second swing takes a large gouge out of its side, it turns and rounds on the hungriest war golem to ever stalk the land. Its tusks rip into the enthusiastic machine, but it is starting to wobble visibly.

Ardith, meanwhile, does not look like he wants to join the fight very much. He manages to get up to his feet, which is a good start, but he clears his throat. "It looks like they've got the situation well in hand. I wouldn't want to, steal their glory." He lies, unconvincingly.

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "Azog!"
<OOC> Azog says, "I can't use intimidate to bully him into fighting as a single-round action, I don't think?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Probably not, no. :P"
<OOC> Azog says, "Bah. Azog's really upset that the kid is wussing out."
[RPTwo] Munch says, "Think in theory could try to brow-beat him into it. 'You will attack or shall cuff your ear!' ...but unlikely effective."
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "Could I diplomacy him into it?"
[RPTwo] Azog says, "The way the mechanics work, I could do that, but it takes a minute."
<OOC> Mab says, "Not as a single round action no, each round is 6 seconds. :P"
<OOC> Azog says, "You know what? I'll start that full round action."
<OOC> Azog says, "Full minute action"
<OOC> Mab says, "Ten rounds? Okay."
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "Is the sword Ardith's only weapon? That is, any ranged?"
<OOC> Azog says, "Well, if Munch gets hit again, I'll break off."
<OOC> Mab says, "He's got a shortbow."
<OOC> Yaakrr says, "I'd like to head over and heal Munch. Can I do that with out going thru a threatened square?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Yaakrr waits to make sure Azog is done.</pre>

Azog actually turns from the fight for a moment, though he keeps his guard up, as the boy wimps out of the fight, and he rounds on the boy with a ferocious bellow of rage. "You! You came here to find honor. To prove your worth? To be a man? And you've had success. So why, now, do you choose the path of weakness? Do you think your task is done? That you've earned your reward?" He looks over, but Munch is berserking on the thing, so it's probably cool to keep going. "A warrior's work is never done while there are foes to fight. You do not pick and choose when you are hunting and your allies are threatened. Be a man now, or your whole life is worthless."

<pre><OOC> Yaakrr shall go heal Munch, spontaneously casting to do so, and try and talk Ardith into attacking on the way.
GAME: Yaakrr casts Magic Weapon.
GAME: Yaakrr rolls 1d8+2: (1)+2: 3</pre>

"At least take up your bow and add a few feathers to the beast for me," Yaakrr says before leaving the stunned kid to go help the war golem. Stepping up behind the berserker he channels healing energy through another spell to add a little back to the warring golem.

<pre>GAME: Munch rolls 1d20+5+2+2: (12)+5+2+2: 21
GAME: Munch rolls 1d12+4+3: (2)+4+3: 9</pre>

Munch hisses as the boar's tusks rip into him. And sputters a bit as well, but that's more from the punctured organs then any vocalized sound. The golem is distinctly less gleeful about this fight. "...okay, that hurt." Spareing a brief nod to thanks to Yaakrr, the barbarian sets his feet and swings again, axe slicing another gouge in the boar's side.

<pre>GAME: You roll initiative for Ardith: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+8: (10)+8: 18
GAME: Mab rolls 2d6+9: (6)+9: 15
GAME: Mab damaged Munch for 15 points. 7 remaining.
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6</pre>

The raging boar tears into Munch in return. It may be about to die, but it has every intention of taking the raging machine down with it.

The harsh words of his companions seem to have spurred Ardith on to some sort of action... but he's all but untrained with his bow, and though he lets loose an arrow, he may as well not have bothered. A little grunt of frustration in his voice. "I'm not *afraid*." He says, irritably. "I just thought you could handle an oversized pig, damn you!"

<pre><OOC> Azog says, "Ohohoh. He's so .... well, fight the pig, first."
GAME: Azog rolls 1d20+14: (9)+14: 23
GAME: Azog rolls 1d10+8: (2)+8: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "And dead, instantly. :P"</pre>

Azog, hearing the boar going roughly on Munch, stops yelling at the boy and turns on the boar. His own ire growing stronger even as he brings his faintly glowing blade around in a flat arc to strike at the critter, and he shouts, "If you claim not to be afraid, then you're a vile companion to leave your foes to fight without you. Fool! Useless, if you will not stand and fight. You don't need to win every fight, but you need to -fight- ever fight." Philosophy pouring out as he strikes, the mighty orc delivers a deathblow powered as much by sheer orneryness as the strength of his arm.

Munch coughs, and spits in mild annoyance to the side, the gobbual sizzeling where it hits the grass. Eyeing the fallen boar, the golem sighs softly and leans upon his axe, small plumes of noxious fumes leaking from his torso; part from his wounds, part as side effect from his efforts in battle. "Not quite how I'd have liked that to go. But I'm standing and the bacon isn't, good enough." Glancing to Azog a moment, he nods, and turns to Adrith. "Chooseing to sit out a fight is one thing, but when companions are in solid danger, can't just sit passively. I underestimated the bacon myself, so no foul by my view. You stepped up when things turned sour."
Yaakrr nods at Azog's words as he puts forth one last bit of healing into Munch as the boar goes down. "I must agree with him. If you don't take part in the hunt, then you are not part of the hunt. I may not have landed many blows, but I take part and do what I can to help and that is what counts the most. At the end of the day you do everything you can to help your companions come out victorious."

GAME: Yaakrr casts Sanctuary.

GAME: Yaakrr rolls 1d8+2: (5)+2: 7

To his credit, Ardith does not actually cry. However, the words hit him almost as hard as the oruch's blade slaughters the pig. Okay, maybe not quite that hard. But he is definitely upset, and it shows. His lips press together tight, and he does his best to cling to some semblance of dignity, making sure that his words are carefully controlled so as not to quiver.

"Well. I think that's enough hunting for one day. Lets, just go back to the city. I'll pay you for your services and you can be back about your business."

It seems the words of the other two don't do much to lift his spirits. Sullen, he doesn't even bother to pick up the 'trophy' of the day. He just starts back towards the road; what's done is done, it all seems a little bitter now.

GAME: Mab damaged Munch for -7 points. 14 remaining.

Yaakrr shall walk with the kid and do what he can to lift his spirits, talking about it was a good first hunt, how one must learn to overcome the shock of battling monstrous beasts, how some adventures can be a bit harsh. Mostly he alternates between praise and criticism and trying to help the lad realize how to learn from this experience.

Azog nods at what Munch and Yaakrr say. "Your horse has more honor than you," he tells the boy, "it was too wounded to take part in the fight. You, no excuse." At least the boy doesn't try to take his trophy; Azog would have stopped him from that in any event. He'll clean off his sword on the boar's fur and sheath it, putting his shield across his back and mounting up. He grumbles quietly as the boy goes all emo, but he says no more, for his part.

Munch takes a few minutes to seal off his various internal organs and put everything back in place again, quietly thanking Yaakrr for the healing magics. That bit aside, the golem takes time to slaughter and pack up some of the slain. To kill something, and NOT eat it, just doesn't sit right with his viewpoint. Some feathers for the kid to remember by, some meat for the orphans, they seem to like this stuff, and a few bones and organs for himself. Locals will eat the rest eventually.

Recent Logs

2012-03-23T17:23:12Z

Mab:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site.

If you're interested in a summary of recent history, see [[Recent History]].

==How to Post a Log==
Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.''' Be sure to put all pages into '''<nowiki>[[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>'''. Thank you.

{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|[[How to Format a Log Quickly|How to Automagically Clean a Log]], [[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Player_Run_Plots#Sending_in_a_Finished_PrP|Submitting PrPs]]
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|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

==Our Logs==

* [[Ancestors Pyre|Dramatic Scene: Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Social: Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl|Social: Boy Meets Girl]]
* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PRP: Ashenvale Part 2]]
* [[PrP: The Competition|PRP: The Competition]]

* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PRP: Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep]]
* [[PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I]]
* [[PrP: Rats!]]
* [[UglyBats|PRP: Huggin' Ugly Bats]]
* [[GrandParade|DPrP: Machinists Grand Parade]]

* [[PrPALittleBatty|PRP: A Little Batty]]
* [[Dragon in the Garden|Social: Dragon in the Garden]]
* [[Bacon Liberation Team|PrP: Bacon Liberation Team]]
* [[Daggers in the Dark|PrP: Daggers in the Dark]]
* [[PrP: Wolves in the Winter]]

* [[Adventurous Rivalry|PrP: Adventurous Rivalry]]
* [[PrP: That's not Timmy!]]
* [[PrP: Black Ring Rising]]
* [[PrP: Chicken Chasers!]]
* [[PrP: Timmy's Uncle]]

* [[PrP: Teena's Bad Day]]
* [[PrP: Fistful of Chitlins]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 1|PRP: Hell's Medicine Part 1]]
* [[Gnap!|PRP: Gnap!]]
* [[PrP: Watt's Mine is Mine]]

* [[PrP: 3375 Cubic Feet of Terror]]
* [[Why Did It Have To Be Rats?|PRP: Why Did It Have To Be Rats?]]
* [[The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador|Social: The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador]]
* [[Necromancer's Folly|PrP: Necromancer's Folly]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 1|PrP: Tears in Dust Part 1]]

* [[A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement|PrP: A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 2|PRP: Tears in Dust Part 2]]
* [[PrP: Earthshaper Part I]]
* [[PrP: Adventure, Inc. - Part 1]]
* [[PrP: Godbusters]]

* [[Heroic by Proxy|PRP: Heroic by Proxy]]
* [[DPRP: Run, Thief, Run!|DPrP: Run, Thief, Run!]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 2|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 2]]
* [[Tooth and Sky|PRP: Tooth and Sky]]
* [[PrP: Codices, Indices, and Odysseys]]

* [[The Hauntening|PRP: The Hauntening]]
* [[PrP: Codex Bifolium]]
* [[Tournament Paramount: Magic Competition Round 1]]
* [[Tidehollow's Challenge|Tournament Paramount: Tidehollow's Challenge]]
* [[Caller in Darkness|PRP: Caller in Darkness]]

* [[Dramatic Scene: Guild of Explorer's Meeting: Dwarven Citadel Expedition]]
* [[Shadowfall is coming|Social: Shadowfall is Coming]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 3|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 3]]
* [[PrP: Beneath the Church]]
* [[PrP: Old Wounds]]

* [[PrP: In The Thick of Things]]
* [[The Young Herbalist|Social: The Young Herbalist]]
* [[Wyvern Hugger|Social: Wyvern Hugger]]
* [[Twins | Social: Twins]]
* [[Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are|Social: Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are]]

* [[PrP: Just Lion Around]]
* [[Kill Ted|Scene: Kill Ted]]
* [[PrP-Tutorial: You Dirty Rat!]]
* [[Agril, Axe Murderer|Social: Agril, Axe Murderer]]
* [[Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?]]

* [[PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1]]
* [[PrP: A Tangled Web]]
* [[Botanical Gardens|PRP: Botanical Gardens]]
* [[PM Plot: Ezra's Golden Parachute]]
* [[PrP: There and Back Again]]

* [[PrP: Boiling Point]]
* [[Social: Cabin in the Woods]]
* [[PrP: Team Heart Face the Hydra]]
* [[PrP: Fey-tasia]]
* [[Two and a Half Men]]

* [[Mouse Hunt|PrP: Mouse Hunt]]
* [[PM Plot: Just Another Bug Hunt]]
* [[Social: Small Halfling, Big Tale]]
* [[PrP: Maggits]]
* [[No Sympathy|PrP: No Sympathy]]

* [[PrP: Mr. Grumpy Elf's Forest]]
* [[Overdue|PRP: Overdue]]
* [[Lost in the Lake and Saved by a Bustle|Social: Lost in the Lake and Saved by a Bustle]]
* [[Charitable Intentions]]
* [[Treehuggers and Hippies]]

* [[Social: Bad Man]]
* [[Cambions_and_Quasits|PrP: Cambions and Quasits]]
* [[PrP: Bodyguards]]
* [[PrP: Warehouse Cleanup]]
* [[Social: For Peace!]]

* [[DPrP: Keg Run!]]
* [[Social: Fishing]]
* [[Hungry Hungry Goblins]]
* [[PrP: A Boy's First Hunt]]

Hungry Hungry Goblins

2012-03-23T08:33:01Z

Mab:

Summary: ''Camp Heldenhammer, outpost of excavation at the ancient and recently rediscovered Helden Hall ruins, has been overrun by goblins! Brave and stalwart souls are called together to take the battle to these foul and evil creatures. A motley assortment of a wandering Qleriq, faithful archer, filthy druid and deadly ranger are almost as good.''

<OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!

The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar."
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright."
<OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess.
And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man.
Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?"
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)"
<OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."

GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16

GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15

<OOC> Ormarr :(
<OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D:
<OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please.
<OOC> Mab says, "Sure."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic."
"I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front.
From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :)
Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

<pre>GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab</pre>

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along.
In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise?
Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up.
Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19

<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11

<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."</pre>

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<pre><OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"</pre>

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

<pre>GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.</pre>

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<pre><OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"</pre>

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.</pre>

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

<pre>GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.</pre>

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<pre><OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"</pre>

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<pre><OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."</pre>

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.</pre>

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

<pre>GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12</pre>

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<pre><OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.</pre>

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

<pre>GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"</pre>

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

<pre>GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!</pre>

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

<pre>GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.</pre>

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<pre><OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"</pre>

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

<pre>GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11</pre>

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve.
And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!

Hungry Hungry Goblins

2012-03-23T08:28:51Z

Mab:

Summary: ''Camp Heldenhammer, outpost of excavation at the ancient and recently rediscovered Helden Hall ruins, has been overrun by goblins! Brave and stalwart souls are called together to take the battle to these foul and evil creatures. A motley assortment of a wandering Qleriq, faithful archer, filthy druid and deadly ranger are almost as good.''

<OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!

The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar."
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright."
<OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess.
And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man.
Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?"
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)"
<OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."

GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16

GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15

<OOC> Ormarr :(
<OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D:
<OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please.
<OOC> Mab says, "Sure."

GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic."
"I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front.
From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :)
Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along.
In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise?
Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up.
Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19
<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve.
And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!

Hungry Hungry Goblins

2012-03-23T08:26:23Z

Mab:

Summary: ''Camp Heldenhammer, outpost of excavation at the ancient and recently rediscovered Helden Hall ruins, has been overrun by goblins! Brave and stalwart souls are called together to take the battle to these foul and evil creatures. A motley assortment of a wandering Qleriq, faithful archer, filthy druid and deadly ranger are almost as good.''

<OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!

The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar."
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright."
<OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess.
And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man.
Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?"
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)"
<OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."
GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16
GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15
<OOC> Ormarr :(
<OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D:
<OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please.
<OOC> Mab says, "Sure."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic."
"I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front.
From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :)
Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along.
In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise?
Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up.
Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19
<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve.
And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!

Hungry Hungry Goblins

2012-03-23T08:25:47Z

Mab:

Summary: [i]Camp Heldenhammer, outpost of excavation at the ancient and recently rediscovered Helden Hall ruins, has been overrun by goblins! Brave and stalwart souls are called together to take the battle to these foul and evil creatures. A motley assortment of a wandering Qleriq, faithful archer, filthy druid and deadly ranger are almost as good.[/i]

<OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!

The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar."
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright."
<OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess.
And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man.
Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?"
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)"
<OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."
GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16
GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15
<OOC> Ormarr :(
<OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D:
<OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please.
<OOC> Mab says, "Sure."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic."
"I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front.
From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :)
Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along.
In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise?
Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up.
Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19
<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve.
And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!

Hungry Hungry Goblins

2012-03-23T08:20:56Z

Mab:

<OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!
The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar."
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright."
<OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess.
And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man.
Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?"
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)"
<OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."
GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16
GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15
<OOC> Ormarr :(
<OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D:
<OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please.
<OOC> Mab says, "Sure."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic."
"I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front.
From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :)
Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along.
In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise?
Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up.
Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19
<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve.
And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!</pre>

Hungry Hungry Goblins

2012-03-23T08:20:10Z

Mab: Created page with "<pre><OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to r..."

<pre><OOC> Mab says, "For the benefit of people I haven't run for before, I try to keep things moving. I like to maintain a pose order, with people giving others a chance to respond before they pose a second time. If you take more than 10 minutes to pose, though, the person behind you can skip ahead. In combat this becomes a bit more wibbly, but hopefully won't be necessary anyway."

Brave souls needed to retake camp Heldenhammer!

The poster pinned up at the Explorer's Guild had been simple enough. Camp Heldenhammer, based outside the ruins of Helden Hall, an old Khazad settlement two day's ride from Alexandria, has been overrun by vicious goblins which had swarmed up from the ruins. For those of stout body and solid heart, a generous reward has been offered for those willing to retake the camp!
The Explorer's Guild official is waiting to give the map and usual Good Luck Handshake to the stalwart adventurers, just at the gate to Alexandria. He's a tall, thin, bespectacled young man who looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half. Presumably, his role is administrative and he will not be accompanying the party.

Just as bespectacled, a small Xian female in lacquered armor arrives at the gate, a copy of the poster in hand. The butt of her flexible, tufted spear tp-tpping on the flagstones, she draws up to the Guild official, big eyes peering through her thick glasses to ascertain if this is the individual she is looking for. "E-Excuse me, the Guardian Lady's blessings. Is th-this the correct place to report?" She holds up the poster's copy to the man.

Magnus leans the butt of his greataxe on the ground, puts hands on the head. Watching the tasseled spear-tip bob idly, he rasps: "It certainly looks like it -- unless you expect this brave soul to take back Camp Heldenhammer singlehandedly."

"Evenin'." Ormarr saunters not far behind. When he sees the tasseled spear, his bushy brows draw down. "Or, good mornin', one of the two." He wears an old, ratty bearskin, and aside from his fists, not much else. They're scarred, like the rest of him, and his legs are two bandy stumps that speak of a youth on horseback.

Frowning to herself (as per usual), Ashlynn stands beside the official already, still and awaiting the arrival of the others. What looks like the poster is tucked loosely in her belt. Nods are offered to each other adventurer as they arrive - one having already been provided for Magnus. She's habitually quiet, thoughtful, looking out onto the horizon.

Bobbing a greeting to the familiar ranger person, Qat pushes the glasses up the bridge of her nose, taking Magnus literally while she seriously studies the scrawny young man. "A-Are you blessed by a god, sir?" Evidently, she believes having a god in your corner is more than enough to make up for any scrawny that nature has seen fit to give you. Starting at the sound of Ormarr's voice, Qat turns to regard him, face beaming with hope, "Sir Greenscars, h-have you decided to accept Serriel into y-your heart?" Uncertainly, she eyes the quiet Ashlynn, perhaps wondering if they'll be open to some evangelizing.

Malcolm, for that is the bespectacled young man's name, laughs wheezily to Magnus. "Would that I could, kind Sir, but alas, I have this terrible, breathing condition, and can scarcely lift a sword, I am afraid I'll have to leave it to you fine people." He smiles enthusiastically, if a little weakly, and then brandishes the map.

"It shouldn't be too tough for people of your skills. Goblins, hardly the smartest bunch. If you can just clear the camp area for us, we can get that reestablished and resume excavation. No need to press on further than the entrance."

Magnus's eyes slit. "Goblins -- and they're not related to folk in Goblintown here?" He scratches his beard casually. "We've all got our skills."

He reaches out to claim the map.

The oruch jerks backwards at the question. "What? I...ah. Heh. Well, heh. Don't hear that often, do y'?" he says, mostly to himself. And then looks to Frail McFrailBeans, and nods once. "Possibly not. ...what'd they look like, these gobbers?"

Noting the priestess' look out the corner of her eye, Ashlynn seems to straighten even more (how is that even physically possible?) and performs a salute for the Serrielite. "Hunter's blessing." she says, breaking the silence. "If you require aid with pathfinding, I may be able to lend assistance." she asides to Magnus, matter-of-factly. She does not look like she doubts his abilities, however - his complexion speaks for itself.

Malcolm laughs, coughs, splutters, and then shakes his head as he tries to regain his composure. "They aren't civilized, no. Not from the reports we had from the survivors, anyway. They came out from underneath the ruins, so they've presumably been down there..." He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Who can say how long. Some splinter of the Burgrin Clans no doubt."

Qat squints up at Malcolm. "I-I've met smart goblins, and n-not so smart ones. If they are being n-naughty in Serriel's sight, perhaps these are the less clever ones." She makes no move to look at the map, trusting in the ranger to deal with the pathfinding details. Turning her squint on Ashlynn, it seems to grow more good humored and she pats the stiff soldier. "I-I've inkment if your back h-hurts." she assures Ashlynn, noting the stiff posture on the woman. Ormarr's bypassing of her question has her looking only that much more determined, though she keeps her peace for now.

Magnus nods towards Ashlynn, spreading out the map in his hands. "Well, come and take a look. More of us the better." He nods slowly. "Alright. Just so long as we're not going to start something."

"Rough bunch, then," the oruch comments. "Sorry to hear they overran things." He drops his hands to his pockets (they sort of vanish in the old bearskin). To boot, he smells like an old bear, too. Someone who's settled in the woods for ages and has not washed. Ever. "Doubtless lackin' some civilized qualities," he says, straight-faced. Oh, yes. Qat's going to have her hands full with this one. :(

The stoic mask on Ashlynn's face melts, overtaken by confusion at Qat's words.

"What?"

There's a bit of a pause, whilst the little wheels in her mind turn, digesting the words - and it hits her.

"... Ah. No. I am... fine." the archer-woman says finally, the puzzled expression persisting a few moments more. She glances down at herself, self-consciously. Yup, straight as a pole - not that she can notice that without a mirror. Looking up, her head cants sideways - and after a moment, she inquires: "... Inkment?"

It's a Xian thing. She wouldn't understand.

"We should assess the situation once we arrive, just in case." Ashlynn agrees with the reservations of the others far as the mission at hand goes, moving over to Magnus to have a look at the map.

Malcolm nods his head. "Of course, of course." He says, agreeing with Ashlynn, "Whatever you think is best. Now, lets do the handshakes, and you can be on your way." He starts with the Oruch, with an expression of admirable stoicism in the face of encroaching dirt. But everyone will be given the handshake, before he ambles off, his hard work done. At least, as far as he is concerned.

Magnus nods once, curtly. "Agreed. We'll assess" Then, he gets ready to shake Malcolm's hand, doesn't make a big show of it but carefully doesn't crush his hand. Then he gets back to his study of the map.

Prompted by Magnus, Qat comes closer, peering around the taller folk to get a look. It is but so much squiggles and lines to her uneducated eye. Surreptitiously, she tries not to breathe too deeply with Ormarr near, mumbling something about getting perfumed inkment for the orc sometime. Soon. "If w-we may avoid hurting them too m-much, that would be good. Justice n-need not mean death." Unfamiliar with this eastern form of 'shaking on it', the Jade Islander's hand is a limp fish in Malcolm's.

<OOC> Mab says, "The map, for the record, is literally just an X marked two days travel away; no details on the ruins or similar."
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Alright."
<OOC> Mab says, "It also makes it easy to work out though!"

"Doesn't always mean, that, no," the oruch returns. He glances at the map, and then up at the sky. "S'gettin' late. We start walkin', we should make good time."

To Ashlynn, the handshake is a quick thing, and she looks decidedly unused to the kind of thing. Still, it is done, and she turns to the party. "Let us be off." she speaks simply, and does look ready to get moving. "I cannot promise my arrows will not slay, but I will not fire upon anything that is not tainted with darkness, should it not strike first." she assures the miniscule priestess.
And lo, the party set off onto the road... to adventure!

Two days journey doesn't sound like much, but really, it is plenty of time when your traveling companions are not, perhaps, the same people you'd necessarily choose to hand around with by choice. By evening of the second day, the party are faced with a choice; they can set up camp and ready themselves... or press on.

If the map is accurate, they should be approximately two more hours from the ruins and Camp Heldenhammer. The night is closing in fast, though...

Shouldering her small pack, Qat nods and prepares to set out after the rest. "W-We serve our calling in the ways we best can," she says serenely to Ashlynn. During the trip, the priestess has sent various prayers of thanks to her goddess that noses are /great/ at adjusting to all kinds of scents, even that of an unwashed Ormarr. She did try, though, in her timid way, to get the orc to maybe take a sponge bath. Likely to no success whatsoever. Dabbing at her brow, she catches her breath, eyeing the fading light and the rest of the party. The decision to move on, she leaves to those more experienced than her.

Magnus looks from face to face. He lifts his chin to Ormarr, "You can see in the dark. I don't think the rest of us can, though. So -- go in tomorrow morning. Seems like a no-fire kind of night, though. Last thing we want to do is get raided tonight."

Ormarr rubs at the back of his neck as the prayers batter at his ears. And he nods to Magnus. "Thinkin' that," he agrees. And tilts somewhat from his lean-to. And faarrrrrts. "Bless th' /gods/ that felt good. Whew! I'd been holdin' that in for /ages/!"

One's view of Ashlynn on this sort of journey depends quite a lot on whether they enjoy long conversations - that is to say, engaging her in one is difficult, at best. She makes herself useful, at least, aiding with tracking and hunting as they move to provide meals, as well as keeping fair watch when called upon.

Now, standing only a couple hours of trek away from the site they've been sent to, she nods to Magnus after a moment of weighting options. Seems she's in agreement of waiting. And she sidesteps away from Ormarr. She tries to be discreet about that sidestep, but she plain isn't very good at it.

The morning breaks without much ado. Dawn's early light filters down onto the party's camp, heralding the start of the day, and if the blood red color of it is any indication, it is not a good omen.

Helden Hall had once been a marvel of Khazad engineering. That, though, is long since passed.

The architecture which had surrounded the entrance into the ground has collapsed in on itself, battered by countless years of hard weather and the ravages of time. Surrounded by rocky outcroppings, and far from the main road, it is not difficult to creep up on the once great hall.

Now, the great stone door into the underground fortress lays open, and all around that are the remnants of Camp Heldenhammer. Burned to a cinder, bodies lay where they fell, and even now the small shapes of savage-looking goblins can be seen picking over the bodies. They've scavenged all the useful gear, food and equipment... now the monstrous little things are simply having fun with the bodies. Playing, gnawing, and giggling with one another as the whim takes them.

Each is painted with some strange mixture of dark red or purple dye, with light scraps of metal and leather about their frames, and crude weapons - swords and bows. There are nine in total, each remarkably tall for a Goblin, though still far shorter than a man.
Discreet? Qat staggers away from Ormarr, pale, Xian face going even paler. Leaning on her spear, she fans frantically to send the stench away, away! She batters Ormarr's ears with further prayers for strength. "It is a test, a test..." she keeps telling herself. Not the burlist, the qleriq still makes herself useful, providing all with clean, fresh water during the journey.

Now that they are approaching the site, the priestess has ceased her prayers. It is the time for action, and, what seems like, the need for some justice to be meted out. Small hand tightening on the haft of her tufted spear, she studies the scene in the distance, her expression grim. "Ideas?" she asks tightly.

Magnus squats down, looking towards Ashlynn. He plays with the fletching on an arrow as he talks, thinking on the fly. "Well. How many archers -- if you can keep them down." A glance towards Ormarr. "You and I stop the corpse-bothering up close." He nods to Qat. "And you preserve us with Serriel's grace?" He chews on his lip, surveying. "If there was a place to group 'em all together, it'd be better."

Ormarr tilts his head as he watches the yapping, hopping gobbers. "...they'd been down there a long time, huh? Well, I don't see a problem with causin 'em a bit of trouble by roughin up the ground under'em a bit. ...though I wonder there ain't some idol they're followin. Ain't uncommon with groups like that." As he finishes flappin' his yap, a heavy bird lands on his arm. Its talons clench about the leather.

"Defilers." hisses Ashlynn as the party observes the feral goblins from afar, treating the corpses of the fallen as if they were toys. Her eyes narrow dangerously, her grip on her bow - which is drawn and held in hand, at the ready - tightening unconsciously. "It is... difficult to believe these are any sort of kin to the gobbers in cities." she mutters. "I will make the attempt to pick off any who try outrange your axe and fists." she promises to Magnus and Ormarr, in accordance with Magnus' outlined plan.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Do they have ranged weapons? Or do the marks look familiar/significant?"
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Last question...does the fire damage look natural? (Survival or k/nature?)"
<OOC> Mab says, "They all have shortbows. You can give me a knowledge/religion check to try and identify the symbols, though it is tough from this range (approx. 200 feet)"
<OOC> Mab says, "You can also give me either or on that question."
GAME: Qat rolls Knowledge/Religion: (11)+5: 16
GAME: Ormarr rolls survival: (3)+12: 15
<OOC> Ormarr :(
<OOC> Ormarr ain't got no religion. D:
<OOC> Ashlynn will try the Religion, too, please.
<OOC> Mab says, "Sure."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Knowledge/Religion: (8)+2: 10

Adjusting her thick glasses, Qat frowns at the creatures. "Whomever they s-serve, Serriel is displeased." she says with a heavy heart. "We w-will do what we must." she nods in accordance with Magnus' plan, then gets all sorts of distracted by Ormarr's pretty birdie. Tearing her eyes away from the downy soft feathers, she clears her throat. "Let us draw them over th-that they have to squeeze through those... those o-outcroppings?" she points to the spot in question.

<OOC> Mab says, "Neither of you are really sure on the religion at this range, I'm afraid. Qat is fairly sure they have *some* meaning though."

You paged Ormarr with 'The fire is not natural.'

Ormarr follows the point, and grins. "Damn fine idea," he says, and starts quietly, to move that way. "You ought to know," he adds, low-voiced, "Those burns don't look like they came from nature." To Magnus, "Try m'best."

Magnus grunts. "Fantastic. Hopefully they don't set us on fire with magic."
"I am not familiar with their markings." Ashlynn says after a moment of peering, with a shake of the head. A nod at Ormarr at the information offered. "We should be wary of magi, then." Besides that, she has little to offer. There's a nod at the plan, and she seems ready to go.

Ormarr pages: This is the plan as I understand it: We're 1. Sneaking towards the spot Qat pointed to, and 2. Making a ruckus with Stone Call, with SC cast to guide them towards the spot. Magnus and Ormarr towards the front.
From afar, Ormarr confirmed that onchan. I'm trying not to spam everyone. :)
Long distance to Ormarr: Mab nods!

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, give me stealth checks to reach your point of ambush."

GAME: Qat rolls Stealth: (5)+-5: 0
GAME: Ormarr rolls stealth: (19)+0: 19
GAME: Ashlynn rolls Stealth: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Magnus rolls stealth: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (19)+-1: 18 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (15)+-1: 14 to Mab
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (2)+-1: 1 to Mab

The underbrush folds up behind the oruch. Wherever he goes, he leaves no trail, and the hawk has taken to the air. She watches from a little ways away as he does his best to silently make his way along.
In an equally low voice, Qat nods and replies to Ormarr, "Their markings denote s-something of meaning, but..." she sighs and adjusts her glasses, seeming impatient with herself, "I cannot q-quite recall the meaning o-of them." So, with all in agreement to her Brilliant Plan, the priestess begins tip-toeing after the rest. Unfortunately, she does not happen to be good with this whole 'stealth' deal. A bramble catches on her silk pants and sends her face first into the loam. "Awk!"

Magnus stalks forwards, hunched down and gripping his axe low to the ground -- so it doesn't catch the light. He's getting a pretty good skulk on when a certain tiny priestess goes fl-- how does someone so small make so much noise?
Someone as tall as Ashlynn cannot possibly be much good at hiding and sneaking but she makes a hearty enough attempt, managing to avoid a good deal of the branches and pebbles on the way through what's mostly dumb luck. Her armor rattles, certainly, but it may just elude the goblins' floppy ears at the distance. The metal is fairly discolored from use, too, making the chain links not glitter -too- much in the rising sun's light. She cringes when Qat hits the ground, shuffling quickly to help the woman up.
Maybe they didn't hear that! No? Okay.

"JUBJUB!"

"Marklar?"

"JUBJUB!! JUB!"

For those who can understand excitable goblin-talk:

"Breakfast!"

"Where?"

"BREAKFAST NOW!"

The word spreads around the camp pretty quickly, and one hopping goblin is pointing right at the downed Qleriq. So much for the element of surprise! Now, the goblins are charging towards the party with reckless abandon. They, after all, can pretty much just see one very unfortunate, tasty-looking human. Delicious!

<OOC> Mab says, "The goblins are currently approximately 80 feet away, closing fast."
<OOC> Mab says, "The leading ones anyway; it varies, obviously."
<OOC> Mab says, "Groups of 3."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Ashlynn you're up first."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "If I wanted to move to shield Qat (stand in front of her), would I need to use a Move action to achieve the position?"
<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Righto. I'll do that, then, and I'll do a single shot with Deadly Aim at one of the leading Gobs, if that's alright!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Certainly, roll away."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1-1: (13)+2+4+1+-1: 19
<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+2+2: (7)+2+2: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "And one downed gobbo, pose it up."

Gritting her teeth, Ashlynn abandons her relatively hidden position in favor of shielding the priestess. Skidding to a halt between where Qat lies and the charging mass of goblins, the scarred woman lifts the longbow. An arrow is nocked, sighted down and released deftly and with little hesitation. At the end of its journey, it embeds itself in the neck of one of the unfortunate goblins in the first line, sending him (or her? Who can tell?) spiraling into the dust with a yelp.

Magnus rises up out of the ground, a big looming figure carrying a big axe. He pushes out in front of the others, axe held at the ready.

<OOC> Ormarr says, "Stone Call, and move with Magnus, slightly away from the others, will use soft cover opportunity if he finds it. If no soft cover, he'd like to drop as a free if they pull out arrows."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, you can either catch the two remaining lead goblins or one of the two groups of three which are slightly further behind."
<OOC> Mab says, "There is no soft cover here, either; scrubby terrain at best."
<OOC> Ormarr kk. And he'll go for the laggy three. If either group has a guy in a shaman's headdress and rattle, that's priority.
<OOC> Mab says, "Not visible, no."
GAME: Ormarr casts Stone Call.
GAME: Ormarr rolls 2d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Mab says, "Surprised there's no save of any kind given, but roll damage!"

"Earth!" the oruch throws his hand forward, and the earth beneath the gobber's feet begins to shatter. Bits of earth and rubble fly, pelting the gobbers' feet. Ormarr takes a deep breath as this is done, and heads heavily after Magnus. "You're one hell of a lot swifter'n I am. I don't see a shaman...yet."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (18)+2: 20
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Mab rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for 7 points. 14 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 5 points. 22 remaining.

If anything, the sight of their fellow being downed only seems to drive the two leading goblins into more of a frenzy. Beaten and battered shortswords drawn, they pick up speed at a frightening pace. Their bloodshot eyes yellow and filled with hate. Goblins in the city are usually at least relatively eloquent; these brutish monsters are not that. Filthy, emaciated, and with a horrifying warcry on their lips, they have one thing on their mind; revenge.

The other goblins seem to have decided that range is the more sensible option. The group pelted with rocks brace and stop immediately, drawing and firing bows. The others, seeing their fellows, decide that this is a sensible course of action. Whilst the range works against them significantly, the pelting arrows manage to find some purchase; though Qat, being on the floor and not much of a threat, seems to have been written off entirely!

Peering up from where she had fallen, her glasses almost off her nose entirely, Qat squints at the blurry form creating a shield between herself and the fast-approaching enemies. Getting her spectacles back up in time to see Magnus and Ashlynn drawing the malevolent attention of the remaining ferals, the qleriq lets slip a curse in a Xian dialect. Keeping a firm hold of her spear in one hand, she makes a holy symbol in the air, muttering a swift prayer at the same time. The same hand closing into a fist, she slams it down into the earth, sending out an invisible wave of Serriel's favor to blanket her allies including herself.

GAME: Qat casts Bless.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Will a 5' step get me (momentarily) out of range of the two currently giving me smelly hugs (to avoid archery AoOness), while still giving some degree of protection to Qat? Assuming they're in melee already at all, that is?"
<OOC> Mab says, "They're still 20 feet away at this point."
<OOC> Mab says, "They'll be in melee with you at their initiative."
<OOC> Mab says, "And with Magnus."
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Oh, awesome. I'll pepper the ranged with arrows, then. Full attack, Rapid, no DA this time. Second attack on second target if first attack kills its mark."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (1)+2+4+1+1+-2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Two misses"

It's difficult to keep one's eyes on two things. Even as she draws more arrows, Ashlynn's gaze keep flicking between the crazed, charging goblins with their rusty little swords and the ones armed with bows. This might be what causes her first arrow to sail over the bow-wielding goblins' heads and embed in the turf behind them. The second arrow is even more depressing - it doesn't even leave the bow, shattering on the string into a hundred tiny splinters. The woman's arm lifts instinctively to protect her eyes from the misshap, and she growls in frustration.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Magnus, you can wait for them to come to you or you can go to them."
<OOC> Magnus will move up to the two front-runners and cleave with Power Attack!
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll it"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
<OOC> Mab says, "Did you factor in your Bless?"
<OOC> Magnus says, "Yuppers. It cancelled the Power Attack."
<OOC> Mab says, "Miss, I'm afraid."
Magnus rushes forwards amidst the arrows, wincing at the impact. He swings high, making them duck!
<OOC> Ormarr says, "Move: Stand. Standard: Cast Entangle on the far-aways (Ref 15). Free: Ask the hawk to 'seek' other 'two-leggers' in the immediate area, cry out if so."
<OOC> Mab says, "Are you entangling the three in the difficult terrain, or the other three?"
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
GAME: Ormarr casts Entangle.

"That oughta do it. Frightful! See if they're alone!" he barks the last words in the gutteral speech of his people as he gestures to the sky...and the hawk silently takes to wing. She leaves the earth, wings clawing the air to gain height. And this done, he hauls himself to his feet, "Alright. ...I only got a few decades left, you gits, and I'm gonna enjoy'em!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (15)+2: 17
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (8)+2: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers trying to slip out of the entangle."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (12)+2: 14
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (5)+2: 7
<OOC> Mab says, "Those were gobbers failing to shoot anyone."
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (3): 3
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for 3 points. 19 remaining.

There is no cry from the eagle above; presumably this is a good sign!

Less good is the success that two of the goblins have in starting to crawl their way out of the entangling effect. Retreating back towards the camp, they seem to have decided that living to fight another day is a good idea.

The three lightly injured goblins continue to try and shower the party with arrows, but to no effect, three more arrows quiver in the ground.

The two goblins engaged with Magnus give back to the fight as eagerly as they had leapt to it. The first misses completely, but the second manages to stab into the Ranger's side, drawing blood with a loud whoop of triumph.

GAME: Qat casts Magic Weapon.

Admiring the efforts of her teammates, even the fragrant Mister Ormarr, future-worshipper of Serriel(she's sure), Qat decides to try and aid the archerwoman in her work. Whipping out a calligraphy brush from her pocket, she tickles Ashlynn's ankle with a Xian script that, if one can read, states 'SHE SHALL KICK BUTT!!' on no uncertain terms. Lips moving silently, the inkment glows and sinks into the archer's skin, fading away as if never there.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I (magically, thank you Qat!) enshootenate the entangled gobbos, since I'm pretty sure Magnus and Ormarr can deal with the closer ones. Same as last round - Rapid, no DA, switch target if kill scored."
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (4)+2+4+1+1+-2: 10
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (11)+2+4+1+1+-2: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (7)+3: 10
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

Twitching slightly and glancing behind herself uncertainly at the tickling of the brush, Ashlynn quirks a puzzled brow at the priestess. But, truly, what does she know of priestly matters, especially those of a goddess so young in the world? Nodding a quick thank you to the trio of fellow adventurers, she turns back to the task at hand, sending a pair of arrows into the distance. One vanishes into the animate vegetation without finding a mark - the other catches one of the entangled goblins, thudding into his chest and sending him falling into the swaying plantlife.

<OOC> Magnus will try another cleave, and 5' step to avoid getting flanked.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "and the cleave"
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
<OOC> Mab says, "Also a hit."
<OOC> Magnus says, "Damage incoming."
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (10)+10: 20
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (6)+10: 16
<OOC> Mab says, "Two dead goblins."

Stepping back from the stab, he brings the axe around again in a diagonal cut, catching one goblin in the face, splitting off its jaw and attached viscera, before catching the other in the chest, crushing it. The swing of the axe is remarkably final.

<OOC> Mab says, "You've essentially got left middle right, with middle having the lead before being wiped out."
<OOC> Ormarr okay's! Move towards the still-up group, then, not the entangled one.
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. They're still 80 feet away so with a double move you can get within 20 feet of them."
<OOC> Ormarr sure's.

Ormarr looks to Magnus, and nods towards the still-up group before starting out that way. "Cowards! Slackards, all!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (1)+2: 3
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+2: (17)+2: 19
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (9)+4: 13
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (11)+4: 15
GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12

The goblins in the entangling terrain are, well, pretty entangled. Their attempts to pull themselves free just aren't having much success; though with a full six seconds grasping and pulling, they are able to start moving... whether or not they'll be able to make any progress seems doubtful.

The three goblins still fighting on look like they were ready to shoot the madman with the axe slaughtering their kin. When Ormarr comes charging at them, though, they let loose at him instead... and in their panic hit nothing but grass, likely enraging the druid even further.

<OOC> Qat says, "I stand and selective channel!"
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"
GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (2): 2
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -2 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -2 points. 16 remaining.

"Serriel, is stern, but just..." Qat murmurs, rising to her feet and assessing the battlefield. "These lost ones, need the g-guidance of their kin. But first." Gracefully scribing some Xian script into the air, she stabs into the center of them with the tip of her brush that has someone stiffened to a razor point. "Qu!" Her word of power sends a small measure of healing into her allies.

GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (14)+2+4+1+1+-2: 20
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (8)+2+4+1+1+-2: 14
<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (3)+3: 6
<OOC> Mab says, "Two down"

Working with militaristic precision, Ashlynn pulls another pair of arrows from the quiver at her hip. Nocking one, then the other, she sends them flying in rapid succession into the remaining pair of what had been the furthest group - one arrow for each. Whatever Qat did to her, it worked, as both of them are struck and collapse, face-first, into the patch of plants moving by druidic magic. "I am fairly certain they live still, though they may not do so for long." the woman asides to Qat, turning her sight to the final three.

Magnus hustles after Ormarr, weighed down by his harness. Still, he lumbers towards them, axe held high.

GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"
GAME: Ormarr rolls 1d3+4: (3)+4: 7
<OOC> Ormarr woo!

"By Adom's blood!" the oruch growls, and slams a fist into the gobber's neck. Down the creature goes, with the force of the oruch's weight behind it. Not as big as most of his fellows, admittedly...but still bigger than a gobber.

With most of their fellows dead, and an angry Oruch on them, the last two have a near-suicidal, frenzyish look in their eyes. Dropping their bows, they each draw their swords, preparing to die in glorious combat against a mad smelly Oruch and an axe-wielding ranger!

GAME: Qat rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Mab damaged Ashlynn for -6 points. 21 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Ormarr for -6 points. 31 remaining.
GAME: Mab damaged Magnus for -6 points. 27 remaining.

Gasping at Ormarr's bloodthirstyness, Qat scrambles forth, heedlessly abandoning Ashlynn's sheltering bulk, first to spread Serriel's healing love to her allies, but secondly to be heard. "Try to a-arrest them! They should answer f-for their deeds, alive!" Sketching another holy script, she slashes the words into three equal portions with her brush, sending them out towards Ormarr, Magnus and Ashlynn. A warmth sinks into each when the holy word reaches its intended target, closing wounds just like that.

<OOC> Ashlynn says, "I 5' step (for no real reason except to say I did so) and try killsteal (or uh, KO-steal, since I'm still hoping I don't crit) the final goblins with a Rapid/no DA thinger (if I succeed, sorry melee guys!). :("
<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, I assume you have precise shot :P"
<OOC> Ashlynn says, "Indeed."
<OOC> Mab says, "Nail them suckers"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (7)+2+4+1+1+-2: 13
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1-2: (19)+2+4+1+1+-2: 25
<OOC> Mab says, "One hit"
GAME: Ashlynn rolls 1d8+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Mab says, "Down"

The string of Ashlynn's bow sings its song. One more arrow finds itself in goblinflesh, sending the creature to the ground, bleeding. That... came frighteningly close to striking the creature in the heart. The warrior gives Qat a very sheepish look at that. "I... shall attempt to stop the bleeding of as many as I can." she promises. Bringing feral goblins to court seems like an odd idea, even to her, but the priestess has spoken.

GAME: Magnus rolls 1d20+10: (9)+10: 19
GAME: Magnus rolls 1d12+10: (1)+10: 11

Magnus goes hurtling into the last goblin, axe swinging down hard. However, it deflects on the goblin's last-ditch parry, and he hits it with a twisting head. Of course, it still cracks its skull but there /is/ a braincase left to preserve.
And so, the day is saved!

With the goblins thoroughly dispatched, though few of them outright killed, the party can scour the camp and ensure that it is safe for the Explorer's Guild to return. Mostly this involves the arduous task of shutting the door to the 'Hall' again, before more goblins come out. They'll have to be more careful in future!

Litered about the camp is evidence of the goblin's savagery; worshipers of an obscure sect of Carcaroth, any sympathy they may have garnered is likely soiled a little more by the fact that they literally worship carnage, devastation and gluttony for its own sake. Then again, perhaps they will receive a fair trial for their horrendous crimes against civilization.

Whatever the case, the heroes work is done!</pre>

Recent Logs

2012-03-23T08:12:46Z

Mab:

Character Pages

2012-03-22T10:21:05Z

Mab: /* M */

Emblem of Ea is home to a number of colorful and interesting characters. Below, you can read a little more about them.

{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Character Pages Help
{{T02}}
|I'd Like Help On...
|Go Here
|-
|Logging in so I can edit the wiki
| [[Help:Editing|Wiki Help]]
|-
| Making a character page
| [[How to Make a Character Page]]
|-
| Finding a template I could use
| [[Character Page Template]]
|-
| Letting people know about my page
| @set me=URL:<font color="#ccc">Your URL Goes Here</font>
|}

{{CompactTOC}}

[[Category:Player]]

==A==
* [[Abrahil]]
* [[Agril]]
* [[Alteri]]
* [[Amira|Amir'a al'Jarim]]

==B==
* [[Bashkim|Bashkim Sylaj]]
* [[Boshter]]

==C==
* [[Colrick Voss]]
* [[Craft]]

==D==
* [[Darshan]]

==E==
* [[Edmee|Edmee Sulwen]]

==F==
* [[Faiza]]

==G==
==H==
* [[Harric]]
==I==
* [[Ionus]]

==J==
* [[Jinks]]

==K==
* [[Kaliara|Kaliara Sein]]
* [[Kama'o]]
* [[Karelin Andarin]]
* [[Karl Mattock]]
* [[Kerbasi]]
* [[Koszhey Urvald Malinovyi]]
* [[Kylie D'malthyae]]
* [[Kyra Smith]]

==L==
* [[Leisel]]
* [[Lithuin]]

==M==
* [[Mab]]
* [[Maerkkus]]
* [[Matthias Haelker]]
* [[Melon]]
* [[Mikilos]]
* [[Munch]]
* [[Myrana Jn'Rajh]]

==N==
* [[Nim]]
* [[Nin-galad]]

==O==
* [[Ormarr]]

==P==
* [[Phanuel]]

==Q==
*[[Quint]]

==R==
* [[Roland]]

==S==
* [[Lady Sandiel]]
* [[Hailee Serene Tigriil]]
* [[Lady Sienna Meribeth McBane]]
* [[Sophia Lightbringer]]
* [[Selia]]
* [[Shyntae]]

==T==
* [[Thaim]]
* [[Thistle]]
* [[Thyrson]]

==U==
==V==
==W==
==X==
* [[Xander]]

==Y==
* [[Younger, Bruce The|Bruce the Younger]]
* [[Yerathiel]]

==Z==

PrP: Team Heart Face the Hydra

2011-10-23T08:28:21Z

Mab:

'''PCs'''

Drakha– Sith-Makar Sorceror– Lvl 5

Alteri– Human Fighter – Lvl 4

Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue– Lvl 3

Bagrat– Human Barbarian– Lvl 2

'''Encounters'''

CR 6 – 2,400 budget (2,400 spent)

1 x 7 Headed Hydra

'''Summary'''

Adventurers are called to assist Jolly Heart in taking his caravan through a recently-warped part of The Vast. The group soon find themselves face to face with the dreaded Hydra, and must fight for their very lives! Dun dun duuuun.

'''Log'''

The Jolly Heart merchant caravan has posted advertisements seeking brave adventurers to guard their wares on a trip into The Vast. Those who feel fit to answer the call are expected to meet at the city gates at noon this day. As a result, despite the advancing season, it is relatively warm. The weather is boding well, and the caravan is difficult to miss - painted as it is with a large stylized heart on the side.

Jolly Heart isn't just the name of the caravan company, it is also the name of the Halfling running the caravan. A cheery fellow, he's sat atop a set of crates as his human helpers load them into the back. Idly waiting to see who, if any, will turn up to help him keep his journey a safe one.

Drakha has had some experience with caravan guarding duties before too, and frankly, after all the various extremely weird assignments he has dealt with in the last few weeks it sounds like a paid vacation in comparison, so he has answered the call, walking to the gates wrapped to his usual cloak, with the spear in hand, held much like a walking stick. While he isn't wearing any armor, unless you count his natural thick scales, he still looks quite big and menacing enough for a guard job.

Clad in her usual martial garb and cloak, but with an addition of a finely crafted guisarme looming over the shoulder not bearing her sword's weight, Alteri takes stock a moment. Nodding to herself, she wends her way past busy movers and shouting teamsters. She is on foot, but is leading her ever-faithful blue roan after her. Scanning the area, she spies the Halfing atop the crates and, ducking around one particularly bulky crate being hefted by two huffing men, she heads over to where he is. "Master Heart, I presume?" she calls up politely to the cheery fellow.

Sharna approaches the caravan with a big, wide smile on her lips and her gloved palms rubbing against one another expectantly. Cloaked and hooded - both to somewhat conseal the color of her skin and to keep away the occasional chill breeze of fall, she approaches. Eyes linger on the workers for a moment before the woman lifts her gaze to the halfling.

"Ahoy there." she greets, all cheer and politeness. "Word is, you're looking for folks to keep you safe. I'm one of those folks." she offers, a flick of a wrist causing the rolled up recruitment poster to appear in her hand seemingly out of nowhere. The half-elf unfurls it, the smile flaring. The upwards tilt of her gaze all too readily reveals her dark skin and light hair. "And so is she, I think." she adds, indicating Alteri, despite the woman being there before her. The smile is passed to the Eldanar, briefly.

Bagrat mkes his way up to the caravan on the back of his own horse, taking a casual pace. He's not really dressed for the weather, but then, the weather doesn't seem to bother him much. The huge Veyshanti peers over theassembled group as he passes, vicious curved khopesh hanging from his belt, and shortbow slung over his back. He doesn't offer any greeting, except for a nod towards the caravan leader.

Jolly looks at the assembled group, and claps his hands together. "Absolutely, yes!" He declares, standing up and hopping off the crate so his assistants can pack that away, too. "Terribly unfortunate bit of luck, if rumors are true. My usual trail to Hoppine Village has been cut off by a storm of wild magic. Swallowed a good six miles of the thing in some blasted swamp. Gods only knows what is in there, but I've got supplies to shift, and I'm sure the lot of you will have no trouble with it, eh?" He beams at the half-elf. If he's put off at all by her, he does a very good job of hiding it.

Drakha is not terribly chatty it would seem, he mostly listens for the others speaking. "Swamp, eh?" he inquires, thinking about it some then shrugs, figuring it can't be worse than the blasted sewers. He does take a look over the others assembled too, giving a nod to Alteri who is the only one he recognizes of them.

Not the smiley sort, Alteri merely nods to the familiar faces gathered around. Sharna, however, gets a beady-eyed stare. "We're not sharing horses," she states firmly. From her silence with regards to the rest of what Sharna says, about their being folks here to keep the caravans safe, she signals her agreement with the half-elf's words. A blink meets Bagrat's arrival, but it appears neither of them are the most social of sorts; not something that worries her.

Drakha's nod draws her attention and he gets a direct look, "Master Drakha," a slight chill is in her voice, "The last I saw you, you were using prestigitation upon yourself, ignoring Mistress Mako who was screaming in pain from that same alchemical concoction that was ailing you, ailing all of us. This bothers me greatly, that one would ignore a colleague so selfishly. I hope it was merely pain that caused your... lapse."

"Wild magic? Sounds exciting." Sharna opines. Magic... really isn't her forte. At all. "Well, we can get you there safe and sound, I reckon, whatever it is. That's the kind of thing we do." There's a companionable clap on Alteri's shoulder, there, and a second flare of the smile for the halfling caravan master. The Eldanar's words earn themselves a giggle, and then the woman turns, moving to have a proper look the caravan itself. Ducking and weaving around the workers inobtrusively, she glances inside the wagons, taps on the crates gently. Learning the layout, so to speak

Bagrat snorts at Alteri, "You talk like a slave, woman." hesays to her then. "Does he own you? Does this 'Mako'? Then why call them master, mistress?" he grunts then, the first words out of his mouth. He spots Sharna, and glares at her long and hard. Even down in Veyshan, shadow elves are not well liked- though well respected, as the best poisoners and slavers outside the golden coast.

Even Jolly's smile falters a little bit as the party argues amongst itself. His eyes dart back and forth between them, and he clears his throat. "I trust this is all just playful banter, that most of you know one another." He says, "We certainly won't need any additional danger when we're in The Vast, you'll all need to work as a team, you know!"

Drakha lifts an eyeridge slightly at the words from Alteri towards him. "I do not recall her asking help in the matter, besides... it didn't really help any with the effects of that stuff." he offers in reply to the Eldanar, before glancing over towards the angry scarred man, though not getting in to the argument as it doesn't really concern him anyway, instead looking to the halfling. "I am sure it will all settle down once we get going." he assures to their employer.

Alteri casts a dismissive glance at Bagrat. She was not addressing him and her look says as much. Not responding otherwise to the snorting man, for she is not here to give a lesson on titles and names, she stolidly absorbs Sharna's clap on the shoulder. At the halfling's faltering smile, the Highborn dips her head, "Of course, Master Heart. We are but merely clarifying some things." To Drakha, she gives a smile that is mostly teeth, "Certainly. Screaming in pain isn't asking for help at all. One hopes you are able to speak and ask for healing if ever you are to lose consciousness, too. In that, I wish you all the luck, neighbour."

A twitch of a pointed ear beneath the hood and Sharna turns on Bagrat almost immediatelly upon him speaking. It seems the legendary hearing of the elves isn't as mythical as one might have thought - and the elf blood is strong with this one. Hands rest lightly on the pommels of her sheathed swords - not threatening, but perhaps inching towards it. "Watch your mouth, dusk-skin." she says to the Veyshanti, matter-of-factly. Her voice may be quiet, but it carries a sharp edge despite. "Show some respect for those you work with. Your life may depend on them. Even you should understand that."

A quick turn and the half-elf faces the halfling once more, providing a pleasant smile and nod readily. "I believe we are ready to proceed as soon as you are, caravan master." she offers, pleasantly.

Bagrat smirks at the half elf, but says no more. He moves up towards the front of the caravan on his horse. He does turn back to the others, "I will ride a ways ahead of the group. I find most city-folk ille equipped for long stretches in the wilds." he states then. The sandy courser he rides seems to bear his weight easily, considering his size- it probably helps that he is lightly armored and armed.

The caravan master does not look entirely convinced. However, with the group insisting that they are ready to leave, he can really do nothing but assent. Nodding his head slowly, he moves to hop up onto his caravan, and take the reins of the two horses waiting there. It isn't very large, but the packages inside jingle pleasingly as he spurs the horses into action.

Drakha doesn't have a horse himself, so he just gets into one of the wagons the caravan consists of and rides along that way, he isn't really much of a horseman anyway.

Mounting up, Alteri assigns herself to the lousiest place in any train, the rearguard position. A loud whinney of protest is heard as she directs Stupid to the back, even her horse knows what a crap spot this is. Unhappy with the prospect of eating travel dirt for the foreseeable further, the mare stamps and tosses her head, lashing the Highborn's wrists with its mane. A firm hand sees the animal brought back under control and with a nudge, Stupid sidesteps to where Sharna is. Alteri speaks quietly a moment with the colleague she is most familiar with, "I feel it best if you were in the caravan with Master Heart, a hostage situation would be the worst to deal with." she seems to be speaking from experience here.

Sharna hops onto the leading wagon of the caravan herself, having no mount of her own - swinging easily into the back of it to sit beside - or on top of - the hopefully tied-down and secured crates. Apparently, for once, she is consenting to not stealing Alteri's horse. How kind of her! "I would not wish to intrude upon our employer uninvited." she tells Alteri, loudly enough for the caravan master to hear, simply settling down for the journey ahead - though she is happy to move further to the front and chat with the halfling, should he indicate he wishes to. After all, with the rest of the group not being talkative sorts, the poor fellow might find himself yearning company, even if it is that of a mul'niessa-blooded half-elf.

Bagrat waits until everyone is underway, and then he sets out at a steady pace. He guides the mount with his knees for a moment while he takes his bow from his back and strings it, keeping it at the ready as they set off.

After a few days of travel, the road becomes pretty much as the caravan owner had described; marshy and unpleasant. He has been amiable enough company, sharing good quality rations (though no alcohol, you are working), and telling tall tales about the scrapes he has been through. The chances of one halfling having seen half the things he describes is rather slim.

As the marsh swallows the threadbare trail, however, the atmosphere becomes more serious. The sky is the color of an ugly bruise, and an ever-present mist surrounds the group. The horses are unnerved, but do continue to press in, the water barely up their ankles, though the ground is spongy and gives unpleasantly...

Drakha is not terribly chatty, though not completely silent either, through the trip. He offers some words here and there, mostly of things related to Am'shere which is where he has lived most of his life after all, not speaking much of the recent adventures he has been in as most of them weren't really what one would call glorious. As they get to the swampy part he gets more alert and serious though, starting to keep more careful watch of the surroundings, and also preparing himself for any possible dangers with a few protective spells.

GAME: Drakha casts Magic Missile. (Proxy for Mage Armor)

GAME: Drakha casts False Life.

GAME: Drakha rolls 1d10+5: (5)+5: 10

<OOC> Drakha says, "Both last for 5 hours"

<OOC> Drakha says, "The mage armor doesn't stack with my bracers of armor so it only increases my ac by further 3, and false life gives me 10 temporary hit points worth of ablative armor. :)"

Shortly into the journey, Alteri had found a kerchief to tie about her nose and mouth, cutting down on some of the dust. This serves to give her a rather bandit-like appearance herself. At regular intervals, she reaches forth to give her mount a comforting pat. "Remember," she mutters in a voice muffled by the kerchief, "This will pay for your winter's grain, Greedy." Resigned, Stupid plods along at the wagon's pace, hooves squelching in the marshy terrain.

Not the social butterfly sort, the Eldanar has said no more to the sith'makar and simply keeps a professional distance from the two males in the party. She does partake of the halfer's amiable hospitality, however, bringing forth some of her own spiced venison jerky to share at meals. The prickly warrior seems to only get along somewhat easily with the half-elf, likely the result of their many scraps and adventures together prior to now.

"... Twenty gnoll raiders? Amazing." Sharna answers the jolly halfling's latest incredible tale, smiling pleasantly all the while. She's not buying it, no, but she looks amused by it regardless and is decent at keeping her expression fairly unreadable.

Still, the new surroundings put the half-elf on edge, turning her expression more solemn. She checks the straps of the sheet of spiked metal upon one wrist. Further, the latch that holds the crossbow upon her belt is undone casually, the weapon lightly rested in her lap where she sits, one hand around it - ready for quick use, should need arise. Azure eyes narrow, squinting into the mist. She falls silent - perhaps not wishing speech to interfere with her hearing.

Bagrat climbs down off his horse as they move onto the spongy ground, and he moves back to the caravan for a moment, to set his horse walking along with the main group. Then he heads up front again, eyes peeled and bow at the ready.

<OOC> Bagrat says, "shall I roll anything to scout out the safest path?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll survival, but I am going to be out of it for a few so people may wish to pose around me"

GAME: Bagrat rolls survival: (13)+5: 18

Drakha holds his spear in hand while scanning the surroundings with his gaze. "Keep alert, if anything is going to happen, then this is the most likely place for it." he warns the others. Staying in the wagon for the moment as well nothing has happened yet.

GAME: Alteri rolls Survival: (19)+6: 25

Situated as she is to the rear, Alteri tunes her human senses to reach as far they will do. Her pale gaze flits hawkishly from shape to shape, watching for anything their passage may have disturbed. Every so often, she casts a look back, noting their tracks and the few, brave animals that peer forth once the wagon has passed. "Time to give you a break," she murmurs to Stupid. The surroundings seem to be getting to her as well. Sliding off Stupid's back, she loops the animal's reins loosely about its pommel and continues on foot. Acting contrary to her name, the mare clops after her mistress, much like a dog at heel.

"Well. Twenty gnolls or not, I think it's best you take cover if anything out of the ordinary should happen." Sharna asides quietly to the halfling. Leaning back in the seat, her eyes inconspicuously scan the surroundings. Weird, unnatural swamp in the middle of a stretch of land where the planes themselves spill into the world - what could possibly happen?! She can think of several things, and she doesn't like the thought of any of them.

You paged (Bagrat, Alteri) with 'You both notice right away; there's none of the usual noises of the swamp. There's no bugs, no fish, no croaking frogs. But you do find the remains of a swamp tree that has been crushed by something huge...'

Bagrat peers around s he heads along, and frowns a bit. "Something big came through here." he tells the group then, placing a hand on the damaged tree. "The waterlogged soil makes it hard to find any tracks. Be alert." he adds.

Up ahead, there is a terrifying, cacophonous ROAR, which shakes the water. It sounds like seven animals crying out in fury at once.

The Halfling nods, to Sharna, "I think I'll head in the back, whilst you fine people, go and see what in the name of the Gods that thing was." He says, deciding that valor can be left to those he's paying for it. He didn't survive gnoll raiders by sticking his neck out.

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge/Nature and Knowledge/Arcana can be rolled to figure out where that sounds familiar."

GAME: Drakha rolls knowledge/arcana: (15)+9: 24

You paged Drakha with 'You'd recognize that anywhere. The fell cry of a HYDRA! Ferocious beast, heads grow back if you slice them off. Fire and acid can be used to seal the stumps, and that's the quickest way to kill it, probably.'

Drakha blinks a few times as he listens to that, shaking his head some and muttering something in draconic that doesn't sound terribly flattering. Then he jumps down from the wagon. "Well, there is something out there allright... prepare for a tough fight. That is a hydra... multi-headed beast, easiest way to kill one is to cut off its heads... but you must burn the stumps with fire or acid or they grow back... I can take care of that last part though." he explains to the others, some of those live in the jungles of Am'shere also, which is how he recognized that roar so well.

Alteri gives a small grunt as she notes something. Bagrat's assessment bolstering her own confidence at what she thought she saw, she quickens her steps to catch up to the wagon. Passing the heart decal painted on the wagon's canvass, her dark head pokes around the front to speak to Jolly Heart and her colleagues.

Then a bone-chilling roar breaks the too silent quiet of the journey and her mouth snaps closed. Without preamble, she draws her bastard sword with an ominous susurration, lips thinning into a grim line. "Try not to breathe loudly, Master Heart." Oh, such comforting words from the Highborn. It's a good thing Alteri's day job is slicing things open and not say, bolstering the spirits of those in the sickbeds. Nodding curtly to Drakha, the Eldanar mutters a soft prayer to the Holy Order and begins making her way to the front of their little travelling party. "Heard that?" she asks Bagrat, meaning to ask if he heard the makar's warning.

Sharna's teeth grit, grind at the roar. Sensitive elven ears do have their disadvantages. "Stay low and scream if anything comes this way." she instructs the halfling - even if he does sound sensible enough to do so on his own. A forlorn look is given to her polished leather boots before she hops off the wagon, landing in the muck below with an unsavory little squelching noise.

The little half-elf listens to Drakha's recounting, but looks uncertain. "Not sure I can do that - but if it has heads, it probably has brains... and if it has brains, it likely has other organs. Things with organs... I can deal with." A small, wicked smile there, and then she goes to move with the others... albeit allowing them to go first.

Bagrat snarls at the sound, and stows his bow again. He draws his viciously curved khopesh, "Beheading is a specialty." he growls, and then trudges towards the sound.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Drakha is up first. Lots of mist and fog etc."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Can I see the thing yet?"

<OOC> Drakha says, "Assuming not, will cast shield and move 30 feet closer."

<OOC> Mab says, "Not yet, and this isn't going to be possible to maintain strict feet by feet
definitions. Are you breaking the current order (Alteri + Bagrat, then you and Sharna)?"

<OOC> Drakha says, "Well I don't mind letting the others go first if they want, just like keeping up with them"

<OOC> Mab says, "Pretend there's four slots - in front, with, directly behind, far behind. I think that's the best way to go about this."

<OOC> Drakha says, "I will go in the 'with' slot. :)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Drakha casts Shield.

Drakha pages: That bumps my AC up to 26 total

Drakha starts trudging through the swampy terrain keeping up pace with Alteri and Bagrat, but not really having any interest to charge ahead of them, his eyes still not able to spot the hydra, he anticipates the impending combat by further enhancing his own defenses, lifting his free hand up in a blocking motion while speaking up a few words in draconic, causing a transcluent energy shield to come to existence around him, soon fading from view. Then he grips his spear again and holds it at the ready.

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (7)+4: 11

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (8)+4: 12

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (10)+4: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (2)+4: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Mab damaged Drakha for 1 points. 43 remaining.

GAME: Mab damaged Alteri for 26 points. 10 remaining.

GAME: Mab damaged Bagrat for 13 points. 10 remaining.

The mist erupts in a fury of gnashing jaws and slobbering teeth. The Hydra is not a quiet predator by any means, and the noise of its crashing approach is heard, but it is on the party so suddenly they barely have time to realize it. The noise is horrendous, and the seven heads rip into the trio of adventurers in the front line without anything other than animal hunger; obviously, having eaten everything else in the fetid swamp, the creature is ravenous for another meal.

Thankfully, Drakha's magical protections save him from the worst of it, but even he is bitten hard upon the shoulder by one of the monstrous heads, the barrier of force giving way under the determination of its furious assault.

<OOC> Sharna says, "I assume there is little to the side of it or behind it to make a stealthy approach to its back?"

<OOC> Mab says, "It is a marsh, so it is fairly gross going. On the other hand, it doesn't seem to be paying attention to you, or to have noticed you at all. There's these three delicious things in front of it, you see."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I will do so. No time to attack while at it, or is there time to jab a sword drawn during the movement in its tail?"

<OOC> Mab says, "I'll allow it."

<OOC> Sharna says, "A flanksy swordjab for you (attacking the body, no other option):"

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2: (7)+2+5+1+2: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (5)+2+(5): 12

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, pose it up."

Sharna's eyes widen as the enormous shadow of the hydra suddenly looms over her. She swallows, hard - but at least her hiding is impeccable, and the creature doesn't seem to have noticed her. Yet. Abandoning her crossbow for her twin blades, she sneaks forward. Every step has her boots sink deep into the marshy terrain. That's going to be hard to clean.

Hopping over the flailing tail, the lithe woman locates a vulnerable spot just under it as it thrashes about. The blade slides there, cutting deep - opening a gash that quickly fills with swampwater with the creature's movements. One of the head turns in her direction, letting out a savage hiss. NOW it noticed her.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Do hydras have legs? Or rather, does this one? XD"

<OOC> Drakha says, "I think hydras are like snakes with multiple heads"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, no real legs. The heads are really your primary concern. >_>"

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I'll move up, rage, and power attack a head."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Just for the pose, not for mechanics. :P"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll Bagrat."

<OOC> Mab says, "So you are aware, a head attack is a sunder attempt."

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I'm wielding the khopesh two handed."

GAME: Bagrat rolls weapon1+2-1: (15)+7+2+-1: 23
<OOC> Mab says, "That hits."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d8+3+6: (1)+3+6: 10

<OOC> Mab says, "You take off a head!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (1): 1

One of the creature's heads bites deep into bagrat's shoulder, spilling blood copiously into the boggy water. The muscles in his arms and neck flex, and the veins on his temple and thoat well as he flies into a berserk rage. He grips the weapon with both hands, and swings the curved blade up, slicing through the creature's neck. He shrugs its still-biting head off, and drops into a combative stance."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Is there a head I can get flanksies on?"

<OOC> Mab says, "They don't work like that."

<OOC> Mab says, "You are flanking the thing with Sharna, but it isn't a specific head by head accounting."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Ah I see. Are two heads close enough that I can Cleave?"

<OOC> Mab says, "It is one creature for statistical purposes."

<OOC> Bagrat says, "Oh I forgot flank bonus in my attack before anyhow."

<OOC> Mab says, "You can attack the creature, or you can sunder a head. You can't cleave into sunder attempts."

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'll step up and attempt to PA one of the heads!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Yeah hitting it with burning hands, which I believe hits both the body and the severed head"

GAME: Drakha rolls 1d20+13: (17)+13: 30

GAME: Drakha casts Burning Hands.

GAME: Drakha rolls 5d4+5: (12)+5: 17

<OOC> Drakha says, "ref save dc 15 for half"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7

The swift appearance of the hydra, and the subsequent huge chomps its heads take out of Bagrat and Alteri, almost has the Eldanar dropping to one knee. Her attempt to return the favour to the closest head goes wild as hands slip on a grip made slick with blood steaming down one arm. Spitting out a curse, the Highborn resets herself, head lowered as she tries to keep all the myriad jaws in view.

Drakha blinks in surprise at the speed which the massive beast lunges at them, quite quite happy that he decided to enhance his defenses earlier so that he survives the initial onslaught almost unscathed, though his companions are not so lucky. "Quickly, cut it down!" he yells at the others, watching the two warriors swords cutting to the hydra with varying success, and then he taps into his draconic heritage to manifest one of the most famous abilities of his forebears, taking in a deep breath and then exhaling it in a one of fire that engulfs the monster, burning it badly, and most importantly, searing the neck stump shut to prevent it from regrowing

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (12)+10: 22

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (1)+4: 5

GAME: Mab damaged Bagrat for 3 points. 7 remaining.

Needless to say, the majority of the creature's attacks are focused on the being spraying it with fire. The wound across its belly begins to close up, horribly, and five of the monstrous, serpentine heads work in concert to try and get through Drakha's defenses. But there is also the raging man wielding the large sword, which has managed to cleave through one of its necks. It can't reach Sharna, the other threat, but Bagrat's thigh takes another nasty chomp. Whether he notices is another question entirely.

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2-2: (14)+2+5+1+2+-2: 22

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2-2: (17)+2+5+1+2+-2: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (4)+2+(4): 10

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (2)+1+(2): 5

<OOC> Bagrat says, "PA the body."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d20+weapon1+2+2-1: (13)+7+2+2+-1: 23

<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d8+3+6: (8)+3+6: 17

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I forgot to include rage strength in my damage roll."

<OOC> Mab says, "So that's 20?"

<OOC> Bagrat says, "So that shoulda been a 20 all together."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. It is still there.

Ducking beneath the angry, hissing head of the creature, Sharna spins her blades in her hands. The girl leaps onto the creature's thick tail, using its own thrashing to gain elevation. The swords are jabbed into its hide, there, in unison... and then she swings off the tail, using the momentum and her weight, however insignificant, to pull the weapons downwards. They rend into the thing's flesh, causing it to give a cacophonous shriek.

Bagrat barely flnches as the vicious fangs sink deep into his leg. He wrenches himself free, pouring more blood into the water, and then he stomps on the creature's head, pinning it to the ground. He then proceeds to bring the blade in an upwards sweep to the creature's thrashing body, tearing through muscle and sinew and causing the creature's own blod to help turn the bogwater red

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26

<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d10+15: (10)+15: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, it isn't dead, it is at -12 HP. I suspect Drakha can polish it off."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Yeah I will do one more burning hands"

GAME: Drakha casts Burning Hands.

GAME: Drakha rolls 5d4+5: (14)+5: 19

<OOC> Drakha says, "That should do it"

The searing work Drakha's cone of fire creates is a work of art Alteri has to admire later. For now, the many, threatening heads continue to menace the group and the Highborn frowns, making a few quick decisions in her mind. Noting how the hydra writhes and screams at the attacks to its body, she makes a choice to forget the flailing heads and add her efforts to that of her colleagues upon the serpentine body as well. Setting her teeth, she dodges the closest head that almost whacks her off her feet, and with her mutely glowing blade held high over one shoulder, brings the full strength of her body down in a mighty diagonal slash. The hit is true, and Melyndra bites deep into the scaled body.

Drakha sees the hydra collapsing under the focused attacks of the rest of the group, he will see it it that it wont get back up, taking in a deep breath and then engulfing the still writhing body in another gout of fire, turning it to blackened smoking heap that doesn't move anymore. "That should do it... how is everyone?" he inquires, looking between the others.

"Hey, HEY!" Sharna complains, leaning away from the gout of fire that engulfs the fallen hydra. "Watch the eyebrows!" The now crispy creature is given a forlorn look and a hand waves in front of her - vain attempts to disperse the resulting black smoke. "I was thinking of skinning it. I'm going to need new boots after this." she says, sadly - and in emphasis, lifts one of the old boots from the ground, her foot still in it. It is covered almost completely in the swamp's muck. A blob of runny mud sloughs off it lazily. That... definitely isn't good for the leather, no.

The mighty creature roars it's fury as the adventurers focus on it's guts. Innards are spilled in copious amounts, and it gnashes back where it can, though in the death throes, it is pitifully easy to avoid such desperate spasms. The pain is just too great to focus through, and the burning flame is the final end of the monster, roasting it and finishing what the steel started.

When the caravan is moving again, it isn't long until it emerges from the swamp. And, after that, it is just a few short hours before the trail reappears, and the village comes into view. A small settlement that ekes out a tenuous existence, and is soon being sold all manner of strange and exotic goods from far and mysterious Alexandria.

PrP: Team Heart Face the Hydra

2011-10-23T08:26:26Z

Mab:

PCs

Drakha– Sith-Makar Sorceror– Lvl 5

Alteri– Human Fighter – Lvl 4

Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue– Lvl 3

Bagrat– Human Barbarian– Lvl 2

Encounters

CR 6 – 2,400 budget (2,400 spent)

1 x 7 Headed Hydra

The Jolly Heart merchant caravan has posted advertisements seeking brave adventurers to guard their wares on a trip into The Vast. Those who feel fit to answer the call are expected to meet at the city gates at noon this day. As a result, despite the advancing season, it is relatively warm. The weather is boding well, and the caravan is difficult to miss - painted as it is with a large stylized heart on the side.

Jolly Heart isn't just the name of the caravan company, it is also the name of the Halfling running the caravan. A cheery fellow, he's sat atop a set of crates as his human helpers load them into the back. Idly waiting to see who, if any, will turn up to help him keep his journey a safe one.

Drakha has had some experience with caravan guarding duties before too, and frankly, after all the various extremely weird assignments he has dealt with in the last few weeks it sounds like a paid vacation in comparison, so he has answered the call, walking to the gates wrapped to his usual cloak, with the spear in hand, held much like a walking stick. While he isn't wearing any armor, unless you count his natural thick scales, he still looks quite big and menacing enough for a guard job.

Clad in her usual martial garb and cloak, but with an addition of a finely crafted guisarme looming over the shoulder not bearing her sword's weight, Alteri takes stock a moment. Nodding to herself, she wends her way past busy movers and shouting teamsters. She is on foot, but is leading her ever-faithful blue roan after her. Scanning the area, she spies the Halfing atop the crates and, ducking around one particularly bulky crate being hefted by two huffing men, she heads over to where he is. "Master Heart, I presume?" she calls up politely to the cheery fellow.

Sharna approaches the caravan with a big, wide smile on her lips and her gloved palms rubbing against one another expectantly. Cloaked and hooded - both to somewhat conseal the color of her skin and to keep away the occasional chill breeze of fall, she approaches. Eyes linger on the workers for a moment before the woman lifts her gaze to the halfling.

"Ahoy there." she greets, all cheer and politeness. "Word is, you're looking for folks to keep you safe. I'm one of those folks." she offers, a flick of a wrist causing the rolled up recruitment poster to appear in her hand seemingly out of nowhere. The half-elf unfurls it, the smile flaring. The upwards tilt of her gaze all too readily reveals her dark skin and light hair. "And so is she, I think." she adds, indicating Alteri, despite the woman being there before her. The smile is passed to the Eldanar, briefly.

Bagrat mkes his way up to the caravan on the back of his own horse, taking a casual pace. He's not really dressed for the weather, but then, the weather doesn't seem to bother him much. The huge Veyshanti peers over theassembled group as he passes, vicious curved khopesh hanging from his belt, and shortbow slung over his back. He doesn't offer any greeting, except for a nod towards the caravan leader.

Jolly looks at the assembled group, and claps his hands together. "Absolutely, yes!" He declares, standing up and hopping off the crate so his assistants can pack that away, too. "Terribly unfortunate bit of luck, if rumors are true. My usual trail to Hoppine Village has been cut off by a storm of wild magic. Swallowed a good six miles of the thing in some blasted swamp. Gods only knows what is in there, but I've got supplies to shift, and I'm sure the lot of you will have no trouble with it, eh?" He beams at the half-elf. If he's put off at all by her, he does a very good job of hiding it.

Drakha is not terribly chatty it would seem, he mostly listens for the others speaking. "Swamp, eh?" he inquires, thinking about it some then shrugs, figuring it can't be worse than the blasted sewers. He does take a look over the others assembled too, giving a nod to Alteri who is the only one he recognizes of them.

Not the smiley sort, Alteri merely nods to the familiar faces gathered around. Sharna, however, gets a beady-eyed stare. "We're not sharing horses," she states firmly. From her silence with regards to the rest of what Sharna says, about their being folks here to keep the caravans safe, she signals her agreement with the half-elf's words. A blink meets Bagrat's arrival, but it appears neither of them are the most social of sorts; not something that worries her.

Drakha's nod draws her attention and he gets a direct look, "Master Drakha," a slight chill is in her voice, "The last I saw you, you were using prestigitation upon yourself, ignoring Mistress Mako who was screaming in pain from that same alchemical concoction that was ailing you, ailing all of us. This bothers me greatly, that one would ignore a colleague so selfishly. I hope it was merely pain that caused your... lapse."

"Wild magic? Sounds exciting." Sharna opines. Magic... really isn't her forte. At all. "Well, we can get you there safe and sound, I reckon, whatever it is. That's the kind of thing we do." There's a companionable clap on Alteri's shoulder, there, and a second flare of the smile for the halfling caravan master. The Eldanar's words earn themselves a giggle, and then the woman turns, moving to have a proper look the caravan itself. Ducking and weaving around the workers inobtrusively, she glances inside the wagons, taps on the crates gently. Learning the layout, so to speak

Bagrat snorts at Alteri, "You talk like a slave, woman." hesays to her then. "Does he own you? Does this 'Mako'? Then why call them master, mistress?" he grunts then, the first words out of his mouth. He spots Sharna, and glares at her long and hard. Even down in Veyshan, shadow elves are not well liked- though well respected, as the best poisoners and slavers outside the golden coast.

Even Jolly's smile falters a little bit as the party argues amongst itself. His eyes dart back and forth between them, and he clears his throat. "I trust this is all just playful banter, that most of you know one another." He says, "We certainly won't need any additional danger when we're in The Vast, you'll all need to work as a team, you know!"

Drakha lifts an eyeridge slightly at the words from Alteri towards him. "I do not recall her asking help in the matter, besides... it didn't really help any with the effects of that stuff." he offers in reply to the Eldanar, before glancing over towards the angry scarred man, though not getting in to the argument as it doesn't really concern him anyway, instead looking to the halfling. "I am sure it will all settle down once we get going." he assures to their employer.

Alteri casts a dismissive glance at Bagrat. She was not addressing him and her look says as much. Not responding otherwise to the snorting man, for she is not here to give a lesson on titles and names, she stolidly absorbs Sharna's clap on the shoulder. At the halfling's faltering smile, the Highborn dips her head, "Of course, Master Heart. We are but merely clarifying some things." To Drakha, she gives a smile that is mostly teeth, "Certainly. Screaming in pain isn't asking for help at all. One hopes you are able to speak and ask for healing if ever you are to lose consciousness, too. In that, I wish you all the luck, neighbour."

A twitch of a pointed ear beneath the hood and Sharna turns on Bagrat almost immediatelly upon him speaking. It seems the legendary hearing of the elves isn't as mythical as one might have thought - and the elf blood is strong with this one. Hands rest lightly on the pommels of her sheathed swords - not threatening, but perhaps inching towards it. "Watch your mouth, dusk-skin." she says to the Veyshanti, matter-of-factly. Her voice may be quiet, but it carries a sharp edge despite. "Show some respect for those you work with. Your life may depend on them. Even you should understand that."

A quick turn and the half-elf faces the halfling once more, providing a pleasant smile and nod readily. "I believe we are ready to proceed as soon as you are, caravan master." she offers, pleasantly.

Bagrat smirks at the half elf, but says no more. He moves up towards the front of the caravan on his horse. He does turn back to the others, "I will ride a ways ahead of the group. I find most city-folk ille equipped for long stretches in the wilds." he states then. The sandy courser he rides seems to bear his weight easily, considering his size- it probably helps that he is lightly armored and armed.

The caravan master does not look entirely convinced. However, with the group insisting that they are ready to leave, he can really do nothing but assent. Nodding his head slowly, he moves to hop up onto his caravan, and take the reins of the two horses waiting there. It isn't very large, but the packages inside jingle pleasingly as he spurs the horses into action.

Drakha doesn't have a horse himself, so he just gets into one of the wagons the caravan consists of and rides along that way, he isn't really much of a horseman anyway.

Mounting up, Alteri assigns herself to the lousiest place in any train, the rearguard position. A loud whinney of protest is heard as she directs Stupid to the back, even her horse knows what a crap spot this is. Unhappy with the prospect of eating travel dirt for the foreseeable further, the mare stamps and tosses her head, lashing the Highborn's wrists with its mane. A firm hand sees the animal brought back under control and with a nudge, Stupid sidesteps to where Sharna is. Alteri speaks quietly a moment with the colleague she is most familiar with, "I feel it best if you were in the caravan with Master Heart, a hostage situation would be the worst to deal with." she seems to be speaking from experience here.

Sharna hops onto the leading wagon of the caravan herself, having no mount of her own - swinging easily into the back of it to sit beside - or on top of - the hopefully tied-down and secured crates. Apparently, for once, she is consenting to not stealing Alteri's horse. How kind of her! "I would not wish to intrude upon our employer uninvited." she tells Alteri, loudly enough for the caravan master to hear, simply settling down for the journey ahead - though she is happy to move further to the front and chat with the halfling, should he indicate he wishes to. After all, with the rest of the group not being talkative sorts, the poor fellow might find himself yearning company, even if it is that of a mul'niessa-blooded half-elf.

Bagrat waits until everyone is underway, and then he sets out at a steady pace. He guides the mount with his knees for a moment while he takes his bow from his back and strings it, keeping it at the ready as they set off.

After a few days of travel, the road becomes pretty much as the caravan owner had described; marshy and unpleasant. He has been amiable enough company, sharing good quality rations (though no alcohol, you are working), and telling tall tales about the scrapes he has been through. The chances of one halfling having seen half the things he describes is rather slim.

As the marsh swallows the threadbare trail, however, the atmosphere becomes more serious. The sky is the color of an ugly bruise, and an ever-present mist surrounds the group. The horses are unnerved, but do continue to press in, the water barely up their ankles, though the ground is spongy and gives unpleasantly...

Drakha is not terribly chatty, though not completely silent either, through the trip. He offers some words here and there, mostly of things related to Am'shere which is where he has lived most of his life after all, not speaking much of the recent adventures he has been in as most of them weren't really what one would call glorious. As they get to the swampy part he gets more alert and serious though, starting to keep more careful watch of the surroundings, and also preparing himself for any possible dangers with a few protective spells.

GAME: Drakha casts Magic Missile. (Proxy for Mage Armor)

GAME: Drakha casts False Life.

GAME: Drakha rolls 1d10+5: (5)+5: 10

<OOC> Drakha says, "Both last for 5 hours"

<OOC> Drakha says, "The mage armor doesn't stack with my bracers of armor so it only increases my ac by further 3, and false life gives me 10 temporary hit points worth of ablative armor. :)"

Shortly into the journey, Alteri had found a kerchief to tie about her nose and mouth, cutting down on some of the dust. This serves to give her a rather bandit-like appearance herself. At regular intervals, she reaches forth to give her mount a comforting pat. "Remember," she mutters in a voice muffled by the kerchief, "This will pay for your winter's grain, Greedy." Resigned, Stupid plods along at the wagon's pace, hooves squelching in the marshy terrain.

Not the social butterfly sort, the Eldanar has said no more to the sith'makar and simply keeps a professional distance from the two males in the party. She does partake of the halfer's amiable hospitality, however, bringing forth some of her own spiced venison jerky to share at meals. The prickly warrior seems to only get along somewhat easily with the half-elf, likely the result of their many scraps and adventures together prior to now.

"... Twenty gnoll raiders? Amazing." Sharna answers the jolly halfling's latest incredible tale, smiling pleasantly all the while. She's not buying it, no, but she looks amused by it regardless and is decent at keeping her expression fairly unreadable.

Still, the new surroundings put the half-elf on edge, turning her expression more solemn. She checks the straps of the sheet of spiked metal upon one wrist. Further, the latch that holds the crossbow upon her belt is undone casually, the weapon lightly rested in her lap where she sits, one hand around it - ready for quick use, should need arise. Azure eyes narrow, squinting into the mist. She falls silent - perhaps not wishing speech to interfere with her hearing.

Bagrat climbs down off his horse as they move onto the spongy ground, and he moves back to the caravan for a moment, to set his horse walking along with the main group. Then he heads up front again, eyes peeled and bow at the ready.

<OOC> Bagrat says, "shall I roll anything to scout out the safest path?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll survival, but I am going to be out of it for a few so people may wish to pose around me"

GAME: Bagrat rolls survival: (13)+5: 18

Drakha holds his spear in hand while scanning the surroundings with his gaze. "Keep alert, if anything is going to happen, then this is the most likely place for it." he warns the others. Staying in the wagon for the moment as well nothing has happened yet.

GAME: Alteri rolls Survival: (19)+6: 25

Situated as she is to the rear, Alteri tunes her human senses to reach as far they will do. Her pale gaze flits hawkishly from shape to shape, watching for anything their passage may have disturbed. Every so often, she casts a look back, noting their tracks and the few, brave animals that peer forth once the wagon has passed. "Time to give you a break," she murmurs to Stupid. The surroundings seem to be getting to her as well. Sliding off Stupid's back, she loops the animal's reins loosely about its pommel and continues on foot. Acting contrary to her name, the mare clops after her mistress, much like a dog at heel.

"Well. Twenty gnolls or not, I think it's best you take cover if anything out of the ordinary should happen." Sharna asides quietly to the halfling. Leaning back in the seat, her eyes inconspicuously scan the surroundings. Weird, unnatural swamp in the middle of a stretch of land where the planes themselves spill into the world - what could possibly happen?! She can think of several things, and she doesn't like the thought of any of them.

You paged (Bagrat, Alteri) with 'You both notice right away; there's none of the usual noises of the swamp. There's no bugs, no fish, no croaking frogs. But you do find the remains of a swamp tree that has been crushed by something huge...'

Bagrat peers around s he heads along, and frowns a bit. "Something big came through here." he tells the group then, placing a hand on the damaged tree. "The waterlogged soil makes it hard to find any tracks. Be alert." he adds.

Up ahead, there is a terrifying, cacophonous ROAR, which shakes the water. It sounds like seven animals crying out in fury at once.

The Halfling nods, to Sharna, "I think I'll head in the back, whilst you fine people, go and see what in the name of the Gods that thing was." He says, deciding that valor can be left to those he's paying for it. He didn't survive gnoll raiders by sticking his neck out.

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge/Nature and Knowledge/Arcana can be rolled to figure out where that sounds familiar."

GAME: Drakha rolls knowledge/arcana: (15)+9: 24

You paged Drakha with 'You'd recognize that anywhere. The fell cry of a HYDRA! Ferocious beast, heads grow back if you slice them off. Fire and acid can be used to seal the stumps, and that's the quickest way to kill it, probably.'

Drakha blinks a few times as he listens to that, shaking his head some and muttering something in draconic that doesn't sound terribly flattering. Then he jumps down from the wagon. "Well, there is something out there allright... prepare for a tough fight. That is a hydra... multi-headed beast, easiest way to kill one is to cut off its heads... but you must burn the stumps with fire or acid or they grow back... I can take care of that last part though." he explains to the others, some of those live in the jungles of Am'shere also, which is how he recognized that roar so well.

Alteri gives a small grunt as she notes something. Bagrat's assessment bolstering her own confidence at what she thought she saw, she quickens her steps to catch up to the wagon. Passing the heart decal painted on the wagon's canvass, her dark head pokes around the front to speak to Jolly Heart and her colleagues.

Then a bone-chilling roar breaks the too silent quiet of the journey and her mouth snaps closed. Without preamble, she draws her bastard sword with an ominous susurration, lips thinning into a grim line. "Try not to breathe loudly, Master Heart." Oh, such comforting words from the Highborn. It's a good thing Alteri's day job is slicing things open and not say, bolstering the spirits of those in the sickbeds. Nodding curtly to Drakha, the Eldanar mutters a soft prayer to the Holy Order and begins making her way to the front of their little travelling party. "Heard that?" she asks Bagrat, meaning to ask if he heard the makar's warning.

Sharna's teeth grit, grind at the roar. Sensitive elven ears do have their disadvantages. "Stay low and scream if anything comes this way." she instructs the halfling - even if he does sound sensible enough to do so on his own. A forlorn look is given to her polished leather boots before she hops off the wagon, landing in the muck below with an unsavory little squelching noise.

The little half-elf listens to Drakha's recounting, but looks uncertain. "Not sure I can do that - but if it has heads, it probably has brains... and if it has brains, it likely has other organs. Things with organs... I can deal with." A small, wicked smile there, and then she goes to move with the others... albeit allowing them to go first.

Bagrat snarls at the sound, and stows his bow again. He draws his viciously curved khopesh, "Beheading is a specialty." he growls, and then trudges towards the sound.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Drakha is up first. Lots of mist and fog etc."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Can I see the thing yet?"

<OOC> Drakha says, "Assuming not, will cast shield and move 30 feet closer."

<OOC> Mab says, "Not yet, and this isn't going to be possible to maintain strict feet by feet
definitions. Are you breaking the current order (Alteri + Bagrat, then you and Sharna)?"

<OOC> Drakha says, "Well I don't mind letting the others go first if they want, just like keeping up with them"

<OOC> Mab says, "Pretend there's four slots - in front, with, directly behind, far behind. I think that's the best way to go about this."

<OOC> Drakha says, "I will go in the 'with' slot. :)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Drakha casts Shield.

Drakha pages: That bumps my AC up to 26 total

Drakha starts trudging through the swampy terrain keeping up pace with Alteri and Bagrat, but not really having any interest to charge ahead of them, his eyes still not able to spot the hydra, he anticipates the impending combat by further enhancing his own defenses, lifting his free hand up in a blocking motion while speaking up a few words in draconic, causing a transcluent energy shield to come to existence around him, soon fading from view. Then he grips his spear again and holds it at the ready.

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (7)+4: 11

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (8)+4: 12

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (10)+4: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (2)+4: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Mab damaged Drakha for 1 points. 43 remaining.

GAME: Mab damaged Alteri for 26 points. 10 remaining.

GAME: Mab damaged Bagrat for 13 points. 10 remaining.

The mist erupts in a fury of gnashing jaws and slobbering teeth. The Hydra is not a quiet predator by any means, and the noise of its crashing approach is heard, but it is on the party so suddenly they barely have time to realize it. The noise is horrendous, and the seven heads rip into the trio of adventurers in the front line without anything other than animal hunger; obviously, having eaten everything else in the fetid swamp, the creature is ravenous for another meal.

Thankfully, Drakha's magical protections save him from the worst of it, but even he is bitten hard upon the shoulder by one of the monstrous heads, the barrier of force giving way under the determination of its furious assault.

<OOC> Sharna says, "I assume there is little to the side of it or behind it to make a stealthy approach to its back?"

<OOC> Mab says, "It is a marsh, so it is fairly gross going. On the other hand, it doesn't seem to be paying attention to you, or to have noticed you at all. There's these three delicious things in front of it, you see."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I will do so. No time to attack while at it, or is there time to jab a sword drawn during the movement in its tail?"

<OOC> Mab says, "I'll allow it."

<OOC> Sharna says, "A flanksy swordjab for you (attacking the body, no other option):"

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2: (7)+2+5+1+2: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (5)+2+(5): 12

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, pose it up."

Sharna's eyes widen as the enormous shadow of the hydra suddenly looms over her. She swallows, hard - but at least her hiding is impeccable, and the creature doesn't seem to have noticed her. Yet. Abandoning her crossbow for her twin blades, she sneaks forward. Every step has her boots sink deep into the marshy terrain. That's going to be hard to clean.

Hopping over the flailing tail, the lithe woman locates a vulnerable spot just under it as it thrashes about. The blade slides there, cutting deep - opening a gash that quickly fills with swampwater with the creature's movements. One of the head turns in her direction, letting out a savage hiss. NOW it noticed her.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Do hydras have legs? Or rather, does this one? XD"

<OOC> Drakha says, "I think hydras are like snakes with multiple heads"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, no real legs. The heads are really your primary concern. >_>"

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I'll move up, rage, and power attack a head."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Just for the pose, not for mechanics. :P"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll Bagrat."

<OOC> Mab says, "So you are aware, a head attack is a sunder attempt."

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I'm wielding the khopesh two handed."

GAME: Bagrat rolls weapon1+2-1: (15)+7+2+-1: 23
<OOC> Mab says, "That hits."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d8+3+6: (1)+3+6: 10

<OOC> Mab says, "You take off a head!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (1): 1

One of the creature's heads bites deep into bagrat's shoulder, spilling blood copiously into the boggy water. The muscles in his arms and neck flex, and the veins on his temple and thoat well as he flies into a berserk rage. He grips the weapon with both hands, and swings the curved blade up, slicing through the creature's neck. He shrugs its still-biting head off, and drops into a combative stance."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Is there a head I can get flanksies on?"

<OOC> Mab says, "They don't work like that."

<OOC> Mab says, "You are flanking the thing with Sharna, but it isn't a specific head by head accounting."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Ah I see. Are two heads close enough that I can Cleave?"

<OOC> Mab says, "It is one creature for statistical purposes."

<OOC> Bagrat says, "Oh I forgot flank bonus in my attack before anyhow."

<OOC> Mab says, "You can attack the creature, or you can sunder a head. You can't cleave into sunder attempts."

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'll step up and attempt to PA one of the heads!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Yeah hitting it with burning hands, which I believe hits both the body and the severed head"

GAME: Drakha rolls 1d20+13: (17)+13: 30

GAME: Drakha casts Burning Hands.

GAME: Drakha rolls 5d4+5: (12)+5: 17

<OOC> Drakha says, "ref save dc 15 for half"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7

The swift appearance of the hydra, and the subsequent huge chomps its heads take out of Bagrat and Alteri, almost has the Eldanar dropping to one knee. Her attempt to return the favour to the closest head goes wild as hands slip on a grip made slick with blood steaming down one arm. Spitting out a curse, the Highborn resets herself, head lowered as she tries to keep all the myriad jaws in view.

Drakha blinks in surprise at the speed which the massive beast lunges at them, quite quite happy that he decided to enhance his defenses earlier so that he survives the initial onslaught almost unscathed, though his companions are not so lucky. "Quickly, cut it down!" he yells at the others, watching the two warriors swords cutting to the hydra with varying success, and then he taps into his draconic heritage to manifest one of the most famous abilities of his forebears, taking in a deep breath and then exhaling it in a one of fire that engulfs the monster, burning it badly, and most importantly, searing the neck stump shut to prevent it from regrowing

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (12)+10: 22

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (1)+4: 5

GAME: Mab damaged Bagrat for 3 points. 7 remaining.

Needless to say, the majority of the creature's attacks are focused on the being spraying it with fire. The wound across its belly begins to close up, horribly, and five of the monstrous, serpentine heads work in concert to try and get through Drakha's defenses. But there is also the raging man wielding the large sword, which has managed to cleave through one of its necks. It can't reach Sharna, the other threat, but Bagrat's thigh takes another nasty chomp. Whether he notices is another question entirely.

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2-2: (14)+2+5+1+2+-2: 22

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2-2: (17)+2+5+1+2+-2: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (4)+2+(4): 10

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (2)+1+(2): 5

<OOC> Bagrat says, "PA the body."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d20+weapon1+2+2-1: (13)+7+2+2+-1: 23

<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d8+3+6: (8)+3+6: 17

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I forgot to include rage strength in my damage roll."

<OOC> Mab says, "So that's 20?"

<OOC> Bagrat says, "So that shoulda been a 20 all together."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. It is still there.

Ducking beneath the angry, hissing head of the creature, Sharna spins her blades in her hands. The girl leaps onto the creature's thick tail, using its own thrashing to gain elevation. The swords are jabbed into its hide, there, in unison... and then she swings off the tail, using the momentum and her weight, however insignificant, to pull the weapons downwards. They rend into the thing's flesh, causing it to give a cacophonous shriek.

Bagrat barely flnches as the vicious fangs sink deep into his leg. He wrenches himself free, pouring more blood into the water, and then he stomps on the creature's head, pinning it to the ground. He then proceeds to bring the blade in an upwards sweep to the creature's thrashing body, tearing through muscle and sinew and causing the creature's own blod to help turn the bogwater red

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26

<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d10+15: (10)+15: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, it isn't dead, it is at -12 HP. I suspect Drakha can polish it off."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Yeah I will do one more burning hands"

GAME: Drakha casts Burning Hands.

GAME: Drakha rolls 5d4+5: (14)+5: 19

<OOC> Drakha says, "That should do it"

The searing work Drakha's cone of fire creates is a work of art Alteri has to admire later. For now, the many, threatening heads continue to menace the group and the Highborn frowns, making a few quick decisions in her mind. Noting how the hydra writhes and screams at the attacks to its body, she makes a choice to forget the flailing heads and add her efforts to that of her colleagues upon the serpentine body as well. Setting her teeth, she dodges the closest head that almost whacks her off her feet, and with her mutely glowing blade held high over one shoulder, brings the full strength of her body down in a mighty diagonal slash. The hit is true, and Melyndra bites deep into the scaled body.

Drakha sees the hydra collapsing under the focused attacks of the rest of the group, he will see it it that it wont get back up, taking in a deep breath and then engulfing the still writhing body in another gout of fire, turning it to blackened smoking heap that doesn't move anymore. "That should do it... how is everyone?" he inquires, looking between the others.

"Hey, HEY!" Sharna complains, leaning away from the gout of fire that engulfs the fallen hydra. "Watch the eyebrows!" The now crispy creature is given a forlorn look and a hand waves in front of her - vain attempts to disperse the resulting black smoke. "I was thinking of skinning it. I'm going to need new boots after this." she says, sadly - and in emphasis, lifts one of the old boots from the ground, her foot still in it. It is covered almost completely in the swamp's muck. A blob of runny mud sloughs off it lazily. That... definitely isn't good for the leather, no.

The mighty creature roars it's fury as the adventurers focus on it's guts. Innards are spilled in copious amounts, and it gnashes back where it can, though in the death throes, it is pitifully easy to avoid such desperate spasms. The pain is just too great to focus through, and the burning flame is the final end of the monster, roasting it and finishing what the steel started.

When the caravan is moving again, it isn't long until it emerges from the swamp. And, after that, it is just a few short hours before the trail reappears, and the village comes into view. A small settlement that ekes out a tenuous existence, and is soon being sold all manner of strange and exotic goods from far and mysterious Alexandria.

PrP: Team Heart Face the Hydra

2011-10-23T08:26:01Z

Mab: Created page with "PCs Drakha– Sith-Makar Sorceror– Lvl 5 Alteri– Human Fighter – Lvl 4 Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue– Lvl 3 Bagrat– Human Barbarian– Lvl 2 Encounters CR 6 – 2,400 budg..."

PCs
Drakha– Sith-Makar Sorceror– Lvl 5
Alteri– Human Fighter – Lvl 4
Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue– Lvl 3
Bagrat– Human Barbarian– Lvl 2
Encounters
CR 6 – 2,400 budget (2,400 spent)
1 x 7 Headed Hydra

The Jolly Heart merchant caravan has posted advertisements seeking brave adventurers to guard their wares on a trip into The Vast. Those who feel fit to answer the call are expected to meet at the city gates at noon this day. As a result, despite the advancing season, it is relatively warm. The weather is boding well, and the caravan is difficult to miss - painted as it is with a large stylized heart on the side.

Jolly Heart isn't just the name of the caravan company, it is also the name of the Halfling running the caravan. A cheery fellow, he's sat atop a set of crates as his human helpers load them into the back. Idly waiting to see who, if any, will turn up to help him keep his journey a safe one.

Drakha has had some experience with caravan guarding duties before too, and frankly, after all the various extremely weird assignments he has dealt with in the last few weeks it sounds like a paid vacation in comparison, so he has answered the call, walking to the gates wrapped to his usual cloak, with the spear in hand, held much like a walking stick. While he isn't wearing any armor, unless you count his natural thick scales, he still looks quite big and menacing enough for a guard job.

Clad in her usual martial garb and cloak, but with an addition of a finely crafted guisarme looming over the shoulder not bearing her sword's weight, Alteri takes stock a moment. Nodding to herself, she wends her way past busy movers and shouting teamsters. She is on foot, but is leading her ever-faithful blue roan after her. Scanning the area, she spies the Halfing atop the crates and, ducking around one particularly bulky crate being hefted by two huffing men, she heads over to where he is. "Master Heart, I presume?" she calls up politely to the cheery fellow.

Sharna approaches the caravan with a big, wide smile on her lips and her gloved palms rubbing against one another expectantly. Cloaked and hooded - both to somewhat conseal the color of her skin and to keep away the occasional chill breeze of fall, she approaches. Eyes linger on the workers for a moment before the woman lifts her gaze to the halfling.

"Ahoy there." she greets, all cheer and politeness. "Word is, you're looking for folks to keep you safe. I'm one of those folks." she offers, a flick of a wrist causing the rolled up recruitment poster to appear in her hand seemingly out of nowhere. The half-elf unfurls it, the smile flaring. The upwards tilt of her gaze all too readily reveals her dark skin and light hair. "And so is she, I think." she adds, indicating Alteri, despite the woman being there before her. The smile is passed to the Eldanar, briefly.

Bagrat mkes his way up to the caravan on the back of his own horse, taking a casual pace. He's not really dressed for the weather, but then, the weather doesn't seem to bother him much. The huge Veyshanti peers over theassembled group as he passes, vicious curved khopesh hanging from his belt, and shortbow slung over his back. He doesn't offer any greeting, except for a nod towards the caravan leader.

Jolly looks at the assembled group, and claps his hands together. "Absolutely, yes!" He declares, standing up and hopping off the crate so his assistants can pack that away, too. "Terribly unfortunate bit of luck, if rumors are true. My usual trail to Hoppine Village has been cut off by a storm of wild magic. Swallowed a good six miles of the thing in some blasted swamp. Gods only knows what is in there, but I've got supplies to shift, and I'm sure the lot of you will have no trouble with it, eh?" He beams at the half-elf. If he's put off at all by her, he does a very good job of hiding it.

Drakha is not terribly chatty it would seem, he mostly listens for the others speaking. "Swamp, eh?" he inquires, thinking about it some then shrugs, figuring it can't be worse than the blasted sewers. He does take a look over the others assembled too, giving a nod to Alteri who is the only one he recognizes of them.

Not the smiley sort, Alteri merely nods to the familiar faces gathered around. Sharna, however, gets a beady-eyed stare. "We're not sharing horses," she states firmly. From her silence with regards to the rest of what Sharna says, about their being folks here to keep the caravans safe, she signals her agreement with the half-elf's words. A blink meets Bagrat's arrival, but it appears neither of them are the most social of sorts; not something that worries her.

Drakha's nod draws her attention and he gets a direct look, "Master Drakha," a slight chill is in her voice, "The last I saw you, you were using prestigitation upon yourself, ignoring Mistress Mako who was screaming in pain from that same alchemical concoction that was ailing you, ailing all of us. This bothers me greatly, that one would ignore a colleague so selfishly. I hope it was merely pain that caused your... lapse."

"Wild magic? Sounds exciting." Sharna opines. Magic... really isn't her forte. At all. "Well, we can get you there safe and sound, I reckon, whatever it is. That's the kind of thing we do." There's a companionable clap on Alteri's shoulder, there, and a second flare of the smile for the halfling caravan master. The Eldanar's words earn themselves a giggle, and then the woman turns, moving to have a proper look the caravan itself. Ducking and weaving around the workers inobtrusively, she glances inside the wagons, taps on the crates gently. Learning the layout, so to speak

Bagrat snorts at Alteri, "You talk like a slave, woman." hesays to her then. "Does he own you? Does this 'Mako'? Then why call them master, mistress?" he grunts then, the first words out of his mouth. He spots Sharna, and glares at her long and hard. Even down in Veyshan, shadow elves are not well liked- though well respected, as the best poisoners and slavers outside the golden coast.

Even Jolly's smile falters a little bit as the party argues amongst itself. His eyes dart back and forth between them, and he clears his throat. "I trust this is all just playful banter, that most of you know one another." He says, "We certainly won't need any additional danger when we're in The Vast, you'll all need to work as a team, you know!"

Drakha lifts an eyeridge slightly at the words from Alteri towards him. "I do not recall her asking help in the matter, besides... it didn't really help any with the effects of that stuff." he offers in reply to the Eldanar, before glancing over towards the angry scarred man, though not getting in to the argument as it doesn't really concern him anyway, instead looking to the halfling. "I am sure it will all settle down once we get going." he assures to their employer.

Alteri casts a dismissive glance at Bagrat. She was not addressing him and her look says as much. Not responding otherwise to the snorting man, for she is not here to give a lesson on titles and names, she stolidly absorbs Sharna's clap on the shoulder. At the halfling's faltering smile, the Highborn dips her head, "Of course, Master Heart. We are but merely clarifying some things." To Drakha, she gives a smile that is mostly teeth, "Certainly. Screaming in pain isn't asking for help at all. One hopes you are able to speak and ask for healing if ever you are to lose consciousness, too. In that, I wish you all the luck, neighbour."

A twitch of a pointed ear beneath the hood and Sharna turns on Bagrat almost immediatelly upon him speaking. It seems the legendary hearing of the elves isn't as mythical as one might have thought - and the elf blood is strong with this one. Hands rest lightly on the pommels of her sheathed swords - not threatening, but perhaps inching towards it. "Watch your mouth, dusk-skin." she says to the Veyshanti, matter-of-factly. Her voice may be quiet, but it carries a sharp edge despite. "Show some respect for those you work with. Your life may depend on them. Even you should understand that."

A quick turn and the half-elf faces the halfling once more, providing a pleasant smile and nod readily. "I believe we are ready to proceed as soon as you are, caravan master." she offers, pleasantly.

Bagrat smirks at the half elf, but says no more. He moves up towards the front of the caravan on his horse. He does turn back to the others, "I will ride a ways ahead of the group. I find most city-folk ille equipped for long stretches in the wilds." he states then. The sandy courser he rides seems to bear his weight easily, considering his size- it probably helps that he is lightly armored and armed.

The caravan master does not look entirely convinced. However, with the group insisting that they are ready to leave, he can really do nothing but assent. Nodding his head slowly, he moves to hop up onto his caravan, and take the reins of the two horses waiting there. It isn't very large, but the packages inside jingle pleasingly as he spurs the horses into action.

Drakha doesn't have a horse himself, so he just gets into one of the wagons the caravan consists of and rides along that way, he isn't really much of a horseman anyway.

Mounting up, Alteri assigns herself to the lousiest place in any train, the rearguard position. A loud whinney of protest is heard as she directs Stupid to the back, even her horse knows what a crap spot this is. Unhappy with the prospect of eating travel dirt for the foreseeable further, the mare stamps and tosses her head, lashing the Highborn's wrists with its mane. A firm hand sees the animal brought back under control and with a nudge, Stupid sidesteps to where Sharna is. Alteri speaks quietly a moment with the colleague she is most familiar with, "I feel it best if you were in the caravan with Master Heart, a hostage situation would be the worst to deal with." she seems to be speaking from experience here.

Sharna hops onto the leading wagon of the caravan herself, having no mount of her own - swinging easily into the back of it to sit beside - or on top of - the hopefully tied-down and secured crates. Apparently, for once, she is consenting to not stealing Alteri's horse. How kind of her! "I would not wish to intrude upon our employer uninvited." she tells Alteri, loudly enough for the caravan master to hear, simply settling down for the journey ahead - though she is happy to move further to the front and chat with the halfling, should he indicate he wishes to. After all, with the rest of the group not being talkative sorts, the poor fellow might find himself yearning company, even if it is that of a mul'niessa-blooded half-elf.

Bagrat waits until everyone is underway, and then he sets out at a steady pace. He guides the mount with his knees for a moment while he takes his bow from his back and strings it, keeping it at the ready as they set off.

After a few days of travel, the road becomes pretty much as the caravan owner had described; marshy and unpleasant. He has been amiable enough company, sharing good quality rations (though no alcohol, you are working), and telling tall tales about the scrapes he has been through. The chances of one halfling having seen half the things he describes is rather slim.

As the marsh swallows the threadbare trail, however, the atmosphere becomes more serious. The sky is the color of an ugly bruise, and an ever-present mist surrounds the group. The horses are unnerved, but do continue to press in, the water barely up their ankles, though the ground is spongy and gives unpleasantly...

Drakha is not terribly chatty, though not completely silent either, through the trip. He offers some words here and there, mostly of things related to Am'shere which is where he has lived most of his life after all, not speaking much of the recent adventures he has been in as most of them weren't really what one would call glorious. As they get to the swampy part he gets more alert and serious though, starting to keep more careful watch of the surroundings, and also preparing himself for any possible dangers with a few protective spells.

GAME: Drakha casts Magic Missile. (Proxy for Mage Armor)

GAME: Drakha casts False Life.

GAME: Drakha rolls 1d10+5: (5)+5: 10

<OOC> Drakha says, "Both last for 5 hours"

<OOC> Drakha says, "The mage armor doesn't stack with my bracers of armor so it only increases my ac by further 3, and false life gives me 10 temporary hit points worth of ablative armor. :)"

Shortly into the journey, Alteri had found a kerchief to tie about her nose and mouth, cutting down on some of the dust. This serves to give her a rather bandit-like appearance herself. At regular intervals, she reaches forth to give her mount a comforting pat. "Remember," she mutters in a voice muffled by the kerchief, "This will pay for your winter's grain, Greedy." Resigned, Stupid plods along at the wagon's pace, hooves squelching in the marshy terrain.

Not the social butterfly sort, the Eldanar has said no more to the sith'makar and simply keeps a professional distance from the two males in the party. She does partake of the halfer's amiable hospitality, however, bringing forth some of her own spiced venison jerky to share at meals. The prickly warrior seems to only get along somewhat easily with the half-elf, likely the result of their many scraps and adventures together prior to now.

"... Twenty gnoll raiders? Amazing." Sharna answers the jolly halfling's latest incredible tale, smiling pleasantly all the while. She's not buying it, no, but she looks amused by it regardless and is decent at keeping her expression fairly unreadable.

Still, the new surroundings put the half-elf on edge, turning her expression more solemn. She checks the straps of the sheet of spiked metal upon one wrist. Further, the latch that holds the crossbow upon her belt is undone casually, the weapon lightly rested in her lap where she sits, one hand around it - ready for quick use, should need arise. Azure eyes narrow, squinting into the mist. She falls silent - perhaps not wishing speech to interfere with her hearing.

Bagrat climbs down off his horse as they move onto the spongy ground, and he moves back to the caravan for a moment, to set his horse walking along with the main group. Then he heads up front again, eyes peeled and bow at the ready.

<OOC> Bagrat says, "shall I roll anything to scout out the safest path?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll survival, but I am going to be out of it for a few so people may wish to pose around me"

GAME: Bagrat rolls survival: (13)+5: 18

Drakha holds his spear in hand while scanning the surroundings with his gaze. "Keep alert, if anything is going to happen, then this is the most likely place for it." he warns the others. Staying in the wagon for the moment as well nothing has happened yet.

GAME: Alteri rolls Survival: (19)+6: 25

Situated as she is to the rear, Alteri tunes her human senses to reach as far they will do. Her pale gaze flits hawkishly from shape to shape, watching for anything their passage may have disturbed. Every so often, she casts a look back, noting their tracks and the few, brave animals that peer forth once the wagon has passed. "Time to give you a break," she murmurs to Stupid. The surroundings seem to be getting to her as well. Sliding off Stupid's back, she loops the animal's reins loosely about its pommel and continues on foot. Acting contrary to her name, the mare clops after her mistress, much like a dog at heel.

"Well. Twenty gnolls or not, I think it's best you take cover if anything out of the ordinary should happen." Sharna asides quietly to the halfling. Leaning back in the seat, her eyes inconspicuously scan the surroundings. Weird, unnatural swamp in the middle of a stretch of land where the planes themselves spill into the world - what could possibly happen?! She can think of several things, and she doesn't like the thought of any of them.

You paged (Bagrat, Alteri) with 'You both notice right away; there's none of the usual noises of the swamp. There's no bugs, no fish, no croaking frogs. But you do find the remains of a swamp tree that has been crushed by something huge...'

Bagrat peers around s he heads along, and frowns a bit. "Something big came through here." he tells the group then, placing a hand on the damaged tree. "The waterlogged soil makes it hard to find any tracks. Be alert." he adds.

Up ahead, there is a terrifying, cacophonous ROAR, which shakes the water. It sounds like seven animals crying out in fury at once.

The Halfling nods, to Sharna, "I think I'll head in the back, whilst you fine people, go and see what in the name of the Gods that thing was." He says, deciding that valor can be left to those he's paying for it. He didn't survive gnoll raiders by sticking his neck out.

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge/Nature and Knowledge/Arcana can be rolled to figure out where that sounds familiar."

GAME: Drakha rolls knowledge/arcana: (15)+9: 24

You paged Drakha with 'You'd recognize that anywhere. The fell cry of a HYDRA! Ferocious beast, heads grow back if you slice them off. Fire and acid can be used to seal the stumps, and that's the quickest way to kill it, probably.'

Drakha blinks a few times as he listens to that, shaking his head some and muttering something in draconic that doesn't sound terribly flattering. Then he jumps down from the wagon. "Well, there is something out there allright... prepare for a tough fight. That is a hydra... multi-headed beast, easiest way to kill one is to cut off its heads... but you must burn the stumps with fire or acid or they grow back... I can take care of that last part though." he explains to the others, some of those live in the jungles of Am'shere also, which is how he recognized that roar so well.

Alteri gives a small grunt as she notes something. Bagrat's assessment bolstering her own confidence at what she thought she saw, she quickens her steps to catch up to the wagon. Passing the heart decal painted on the wagon's canvass, her dark head pokes around the front to speak to Jolly Heart and her colleagues.

Then a bone-chilling roar breaks the too silent quiet of the journey and her mouth snaps closed. Without preamble, she draws her bastard sword with an ominous susurration, lips thinning into a grim line. "Try not to breathe loudly, Master Heart." Oh, such comforting words from the Highborn. It's a good thing Alteri's day job is slicing things open and not say, bolstering the spirits of those in the sickbeds. Nodding curtly to Drakha, the Eldanar mutters a soft prayer to the Holy Order and begins making her way to the front of their little travelling party. "Heard that?" she asks Bagrat, meaning to ask if he heard the makar's warning.

Sharna's teeth grit, grind at the roar. Sensitive elven ears do have their disadvantages. "Stay low and scream if anything comes this way." she instructs the halfling - even if he does sound sensible enough to do so on his own. A forlorn look is given to her polished leather boots before she hops off the wagon, landing in the muck below with an unsavory little squelching noise.

The little half-elf listens to Drakha's recounting, but looks uncertain. "Not sure I can do that - but if it has heads, it probably has brains... and if it has brains, it likely has other organs. Things with organs... I can deal with." A small, wicked smile there, and then she goes to move with the others... albeit allowing them to go first.

Bagrat snarls at the sound, and stows his bow again. He draws his viciously curved khopesh, "Beheading is a specialty." he growls, and then trudges towards the sound.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, Drakha is up first. Lots of mist and fog etc."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Can I see the thing yet?"

<OOC> Drakha says, "Assuming not, will cast shield and move 30 feet closer."

<OOC> Mab says, "Not yet, and this isn't going to be possible to maintain strict feet by feet
definitions. Are you breaking the current order (Alteri + Bagrat, then you and Sharna)?"

<OOC> Drakha says, "Well I don't mind letting the others go first if they want, just like keeping up with them"

<OOC> Mab says, "Pretend there's four slots - in front, with, directly behind, far behind. I think that's the best way to go about this."

<OOC> Drakha says, "I will go in the 'with' slot. :)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Drakha casts Shield.

Drakha pages: That bumps my AC up to 26 total

Drakha starts trudging through the swampy terrain keeping up pace with Alteri and Bagrat, but not really having any interest to charge ahead of them, his eyes still not able to spot the hydra, he anticipates the impending combat by further enhancing his own defenses, lifting his free hand up in a blocking motion while speaking up a few words in draconic, causing a transcluent energy shield to come to existence around him, soon fading from view. Then he grips his spear again and holds it at the ready.

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (7)+4: 11

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (8)+4: 12

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (10)+4: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (2)+4: 6
GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Mab damaged Drakha for 1 points. 43 remaining.

GAME: Mab damaged Alteri for 26 points. 10 remaining.

GAME: Mab damaged Bagrat for 13 points. 10 remaining.

The mist erupts in a fury of gnashing jaws and slobbering teeth. The Hydra is not a quiet predator by any means, and the noise of its crashing approach is heard, but it is on the party so suddenly they barely have time to realize it. The noise is horrendous, and the seven heads rip into the trio of adventurers in the front line without anything other than animal hunger; obviously, having eaten everything else in the fetid swamp, the creature is ravenous for another meal.

Thankfully, Drakha's magical protections save him from the worst of it, but even he is bitten hard upon the shoulder by one of the monstrous heads, the barrier of force giving way under the determination of its furious assault.

<OOC> Sharna says, "I assume there is little to the side of it or behind it to make a stealthy approach to its back?"

<OOC> Mab says, "It is a marsh, so it is fairly gross going. On the other hand, it doesn't seem to be paying attention to you, or to have noticed you at all. There's these three delicious things in front of it, you see."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I will do so. No time to attack while at it, or is there time to jab a sword drawn during the movement in its tail?"

<OOC> Mab says, "I'll allow it."

<OOC> Sharna says, "A flanksy swordjab for you (attacking the body, no other option):"

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2: (7)+2+5+1+2: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (5)+2+(5): 12

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, pose it up."

Sharna's eyes widen as the enormous shadow of the hydra suddenly looms over her. She swallows, hard - but at least her hiding is impeccable, and the creature doesn't seem to have noticed her. Yet. Abandoning her crossbow for her twin blades, she sneaks forward. Every step has her boots sink deep into the marshy terrain. That's going to be hard to clean.

Hopping over the flailing tail, the lithe woman locates a vulnerable spot just under it as it thrashes about. The blade slides there, cutting deep - opening a gash that quickly fills with swampwater with the creature's movements. One of the head turns in her direction, letting out a savage hiss. NOW it noticed her.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Do hydras have legs? Or rather, does this one? XD"

<OOC> Drakha says, "I think hydras are like snakes with multiple heads"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, no real legs. The heads are really your primary concern. >_>"

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I'll move up, rage, and power attack a head."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Just for the pose, not for mechanics. :P"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, roll Bagrat."

<OOC> Mab says, "So you are aware, a head attack is a sunder attempt."

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I'm wielding the khopesh two handed."

GAME: Bagrat rolls weapon1+2-1: (15)+7+2+-1: 23
<OOC> Mab says, "That hits."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d8+3+6: (1)+3+6: 10

<OOC> Mab says, "You take off a head!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d4: (1): 1

One of the creature's heads bites deep into bagrat's shoulder, spilling blood copiously into the boggy water. The muscles in his arms and neck flex, and the veins on his temple and thoat well as he flies into a berserk rage. He grips the weapon with both hands, and swings the curved blade up, slicing through the creature's neck. He shrugs its still-biting head off, and drops into a combative stance."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Is there a head I can get flanksies on?"

<OOC> Mab says, "They don't work like that."

<OOC> Mab says, "You are flanking the thing with Sharna, but it isn't a specific head by head accounting."

<OOC> Alteri says, "Ah I see. Are two heads close enough that I can Cleave?"

<OOC> Mab says, "It is one creature for statistical purposes."

<OOC> Bagrat says, "Oh I forgot flank bonus in my attack before anyhow."

<OOC> Mab says, "You can attack the creature, or you can sunder a head. You can't cleave into sunder attempts."

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'll step up and attempt to PA one of the heads!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Yeah hitting it with burning hands, which I believe hits both the body and the severed head"

GAME: Drakha rolls 1d20+13: (17)+13: 30

GAME: Drakha casts Burning Hands.

GAME: Drakha rolls 5d4+5: (12)+5: 17

<OOC> Drakha says, "ref save dc 15 for half"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7

The swift appearance of the hydra, and the subsequent huge chomps its heads take out of Bagrat and Alteri, almost has the Eldanar dropping to one knee. Her attempt to return the favour to the closest head goes wild as hands slip on a grip made slick with blood steaming down one arm. Spitting out a curse, the Highborn resets herself, head lowered as she tries to keep all the myriad jaws in view.

Drakha blinks in surprise at the speed which the massive beast lunges at them, quite quite happy that he decided to enhance his defenses earlier so that he survives the initial onslaught almost unscathed, though his companions are not so lucky. "Quickly, cut it down!" he yells at the others, watching the two warriors swords cutting to the hydra with varying success, and then he taps into his draconic heritage to manifest one of the most famous abilities of his forebears, taking in a deep breath and then exhaling it in a one of fire that engulfs the monster, burning it badly, and most importantly, searing the neck stump shut to prevent it from regrowing

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (12)+10: 22

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Mab rolls 1d10+4: (1)+4: 5

GAME: Mab damaged Bagrat for 3 points. 7 remaining.

Needless to say, the majority of the creature's attacks are focused on the being spraying it with fire. The wound across its belly begins to close up, horribly, and five of the monstrous, serpentine heads work in concert to try and get through Drakha's defenses. But there is also the raging man wielding the large sword, which has managed to cleave through one of its necks. It can't reach Sharna, the other threat, but Bagrat's thigh takes another nasty chomp. Whether he notices is another question entirely.

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2-2: (14)+2+5+1+2+-2: 22

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+2+5+1+2-2: (17)+2+5+1+2+-2: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "Two hits."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+2+2d6: (4)+2+(4): 10

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+2d6: (2)+1+(2): 5

<OOC> Bagrat says, "PA the body."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d20+weapon1+2+2-1: (13)+7+2+2+-1: 23

<OOC> Mab says, "That's a hit."

GAME: Bagrat rolls 1d8+3+6: (8)+3+6: 17

<OOC> Bagrat says, "I forgot to include rage strength in my damage roll."

<OOC> Mab says, "So that's 20?"

<OOC> Bagrat says, "So that shoulda been a 20 all together."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay. It is still there.

Ducking beneath the angry, hissing head of the creature, Sharna spins her blades in her hands. The girl leaps onto the creature's thick tail, using its own thrashing to gain elevation. The swords are jabbed into its hide, there, in unison... and then she swings off the tail, using the momentum and her weight, however insignificant, to pull the weapons downwards. They rend into the thing's flesh, causing it to give a cacophonous shriek.

Bagrat barely flnches as the vicious fangs sink deep into his leg. He wrenches himself free, pouring more blood into the water, and then he stomps on the creature's head, pinning it to the ground. He then proceeds to bring the blade in an upwards sweep to the creature's thrashing body, tearing through muscle and sinew and causing the creature's own blod to help turn the bogwater red

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26

<OOC> Mab says, "Hit"

GAME: Alteri rolls 1d10+15: (10)+15: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, it isn't dead, it is at -12 HP. I suspect Drakha can polish it off."

<OOC> Drakha says, "Yeah I will do one more burning hands"

GAME: Drakha casts Burning Hands.

GAME: Drakha rolls 5d4+5: (14)+5: 19

<OOC> Drakha says, "That should do it"

The searing work Drakha's cone of fire creates is a work of art Alteri has to admire later. For now, the many, threatening heads continue to menace the group and the Highborn frowns, making a few quick decisions in her mind. Noting how the hydra writhes and screams at the attacks to its body, she makes a choice to forget the flailing heads and add her efforts to that of her colleagues upon the serpentine body as well. Setting her teeth, she dodges the closest head that almost whacks her off her feet, and with her mutely glowing blade held high over one shoulder, brings the full strength of her body down in a mighty diagonal slash. The hit is true, and Melyndra bites deep into the scaled body.

Drakha sees the hydra collapsing under the focused attacks of the rest of the group, he will see it it that it wont get back up, taking in a deep breath and then engulfing the still writhing body in another gout of fire, turning it to blackened smoking heap that doesn't move anymore. "That should do it... how is everyone?" he inquires, looking between the others.

"Hey, HEY!" Sharna complains, leaning away from the gout of fire that engulfs the fallen hydra. "Watch the eyebrows!" The now crispy creature is given a forlorn look and a hand waves in front of her - vain attempts to disperse the resulting black smoke. "I was thinking of skinning it. I'm going to need new boots after this." she says, sadly - and in emphasis, lifts one of the old boots from the ground, her foot still in it. It is covered almost completely in the swamp's muck. A blob of runny mud sloughs off it lazily. That... definitely isn't good for the leather, no.

The mighty creature roars it's fury as the adventurers focus on it's guts. Innards are spilled in copious amounts, and it gnashes back where it can, though in the death throes, it is pitifully easy to avoid such desperate spasms. The pain is just too great to focus through, and the burning flame is the final end of the monster, roasting it and finishing what the steel started.

When the caravan is moving again, it isn't long until it emerges from the swamp. And, after that, it is just a few short hours before the trail reappears, and the village comes into view. A small settlement that ekes out a tenuous existence, and is soon being sold all manner of strange and exotic goods from far and mysterious Alexandria.

Recent Logs

2011-10-23T08:23:03Z

Mab: /* Our Logs */

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site.

If you're interested in a summary of recent history, see [[Recent History]].

===How to Post Logs===
Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic (respectively, SPrPs, DCPrPs, and DPrPs). Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.''' Be sure to put all pages into '''<nowiki>[[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>'''. Thank you.

{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|[[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Player_Run_Plots#Submitting_PrPs|Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

===Our Logs===

* [[Ancestors Pyre|Dramatic Scene: Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Social: Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl|Social: Boy Meets Girl]]
* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PRP: Ashenvale Part 2]]
* [[PrP: The Competition|PRP: The Competition]]

* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PRP: Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep]]
* [[PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I]]
* [[PrP: Rats!]]
* [[UglyBats|PRP: Huggin' Ugly Bats]]
* [[GrandParade|DPrP: Machinists Grand Parade]]

* [[PrPALittleBatty|PRP: A Little Batty]]
* [[Dragon in the Garden|Social: Dragon in the Garden]]
* [[Bacon Liberation Team|PrP: Bacon Liberation Team]]
* [[Daggers in the Dark|PrP: Daggers in the Dark]]
* [[PrP: Wolves in the Winter]]

* [[Adventurous Rivalry|PrP: Adventurous Rivalry]]
* [[PrP: That's not Timmy!]]
* [[PrP: Black Ring Rising]]
* [[PrP: Chicken Chasers!]]
* [[PrP: Timmy's Uncle]]

* [[PrP: Teena's Bad Day]]
* [[PrP: Fistful of Chitlins]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 1|PRP: Hell's Medicine Part 1]]
* [[Gnap!|PRP: Gnap!]]
* [[PrP: Watt's Mine is Mine]]

* [[PrP: 3375 Cubic Feet of Terror]]
* [[Why Did It Have To Be Rats?|PRP: Why Did It Have To Be Rats?]]
* [[The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador|Social: The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador]]
* [[Necromancer's Folly|PrP: Necromancer's Folly]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 1|PrP: Tears in Dust Part 1]]

* [[A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement|PrP: A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 2|PRP: Tears in Dust Part 2]]
* [[PrP: Earthshaper Part I]]
* [[PrP: Adventure, Inc. - Part 1]]
* [[PrP: Godbusters]]

* [[Heroic by Proxy|PRP: Heroic by Proxy]]
* [[DPRP: Run, Thief, Run!|DPrP: Run, Thief, Run!]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 2|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 2]]
* [[Tooth and Sky|PRP: Tooth and Sky]]
* [[PrP: Codices, Indices, and Odysseys]]

* [[The Hauntening|PRP: The Hauntening]]
* [[PrP: Codex Bifolium]]
* [[Tournament Paramount: Magic Competition Round 1]]
* [[Tidehollow's Challenge|Tournament Paramount: Tidehollow's Challenge]]
* [[Caller in Darkness|PRP: Caller in Darkness]]

* [[Dramatic Scene: Guild of Explorer's Meeting: Dwarven Citadel Expedition]]
* [[Shadowfall is coming|Social: Shadowfall is Coming]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 3|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 3]]
* [[PrP: Beneath the Church]]
* [[PrP: Old Wounds]]

* [[PrP: In The Thick of Things]]
* [[The Young Herbalist|Social: The Young Herbalist]]
* [[Wyvern Hugger|Social: Wyvern Hugger]]
* [[Twins | Social: Twins]]
* [[Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are|Social: Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are]]

* [[PrP: Just Lion Around]]
* [[Kill Ted|Scene: Kill Ted]]
* [[PrP-Tutorial: You Dirty Rat!]]
* [[Agril, Axe Murderer|Social: Agril, Axe Murderer]]
* [[Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?]]

* [[PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1]]
* [[PrP: A Tangled Web]]
* [[Botanical Gardens|PRP: Botanical Gardens]]
* [[PM Plot: Ezra's Golden Parachute]]

* [[PrP: There and Back Again]]
* [[PrP: Boiling Point]]
* [[Social: Cabin in the Woods]]
* [[PrP: Team Heart Face the Hydra]]

PrP: A Tangled Web

2011-10-02T07:37:45Z

Mab: Created page with "PCs Quint – Human Paladin – Lvl 3 Azog – Orc Fighter – Lvl 3 Darella – Human Sorcerer – Lvl 2 Alteri – Human Fighter – Lvl 4 Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue – Lv..."

PCs

Quint – Human Paladin – Lvl 3

Azog – Orc Fighter – Lvl 3

Darella – Human Sorcerer – Lvl 2

Alteri – Human Fighter – Lvl 4

Sharna – Half-Elf Rogue – Lvl 3

Encounters

CR 6 (Bypassed) – 2,400 budget (2,400 spent)

6 x Thugs (Level 3 human warrior)

CR 4 (Bypassed) – 1,200 budget (1,200 spent)

1 x Aranea (1,200 xp)

A nobleman receives a strange ransom demand. Unable to raise the ridiculously huge sum of money asked for the return of his only son, he instead turns to the aid of adventurers. It soon becomes obvious, however, that all is not as it seems, and something weird and uncanny seems to be underway. In truth, the boy had returned from his hunting trip empty handed, and, hearing rumors of half-spider monsters, had tracked them down and killed many of them with fire, until the father returned and subdued the assailant in horror. Unused to the common tongue and half-mad with grief, he had sought some kind of justice from the boy’s father. The heroes unpicked this mystery, strand by sticky strand, and ultimately resolved the situation without another drop of blood being spilt.

Word is that there's a job going in the noble district; one Lucius Dalaborn has sent out a call for brave and noble adventurers to assist him in some deed. Rumors abound, but they are often contradictory as to what the purpose of this is.

The Dalaborn family home is a very nice one, though, and if said brave and noble adventurers have expressed an interest across the seedy taverns, guild halls or campfires around which they had heard this rumor, they will know to arrive for midday this day, and present themselves with the password 'Fenny'.

The doorman is a somewhat snooty man, who will usher the first four people through into the hall of the great estate, and then lock and bolt the door behind them.

Azog hangs out at the Explorers' Guild, so that would be where he heard the word. He rides up to the gate, looking fairly respectable... or as respectable as a seven foot orc in full plate armor can look. Hitching his horse and offering a nod to the doorman, he says, simply, "Fenny," and waits to see what happens.

<OOC> Mab says, "Also, feel free to give me a diplomacy check if you want to have gathered and tried to sort rumors pre-meet."

GAME: Darella rolls diplomacy: (5)+8: 13

GAME: Sharna rolls Diplomacy: (18)+7: 25

You paged Darella with 'You don't hear much about this meeting particularly, but in the past the Dalaborn family have paid adventurers to help hunt wild animals. Lucius Dalaborn is the head of the family.'

Being both brave and noble, it is little wonder that Alteri is here. Yea right. It's a job, and jobs need doing. Securing the ties of her cloak, the Eldanar warrior shows up at the door in good time. Her boots have been spit-polished, and she appears every inch the competent mercenary. Appearences count when it comes to dealing with employers. A nod to Azog, as she sees him already there. She tethers her mare next to his mount, "Play nice, Stupid." Patting the bowed neck, she steps up after the orc. "Fenny."

GAME: Alteri rolls diplomacy: (4)+3: 7

Arriving on foot in a somewhat hurried manner, Darella looks over towards the doorman and says, "I'm here about the job for adventurers that you had offered... Oh right, it would be strange to not introduce myself-Though that can wait until we meet later, if we do at all. Oh! Right, you'll be wanting the password then. Fenny." before she proceeds past the doorman whom she may have confused with the amount of talking she had done and walks in.

You paged Sharna with 'Word is that Lucius Dalaborn, the current head of the Dalaborn family, was badly hurt in a hunting expedition recently. And that his son has gone missing after traveling towards Charn, but people have been trying to keep that quiet. It is *well* known to you that Lucius himself can't have any more children, a rather embarrassing situation for him ... and he's been trying to make his only son 'worthy' to take over for some years now. The boy is sixteen, brash, foolish, and desperate to prove himself in combat.'

You paged Alteri with 'Nothing on that roll I'm afraid.'

Sharna arrives on foot, beaming good-naturedly (or at least doing a good impression of good-natured) at the butler as she offers the password and saunters inside the manor. "I see you got my note." she says to Alteri, her hands hooking relaxedly in her belt as she casts an eye over the mottley gathering of adventurers. Brave and noble, perhaps not so much - but certainly interested in the pay, and seemingly convinced it'll be good pay.

If Quint is troubled at all by the snootiness of the man-servant it isn't obvious as he stands there stiff-backed and frowning mildly in the foyer. His surcoat is clean and strapped fastidiously into place over his polished breastplate armor. Not much for smalltalk, he awaits the arrivals of the more fiscally-minded individuals with one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

The doorman sniffs, and raises an eyebrow at Darella. "... Indubitably." He states, as he closes up the door. "If you fine ladies and gentlemen would follow me, the Master will see you in his study."

It isn't a very long walk; maybe three minutes of portraits, mostly of aging gentlemen with the same, characteristic pointed nose and dark, piercing eyes.

The study itself is rather different; decorated largely with the heads of various animals; exotic creatures from far away. There are five chairs arranged in front of a writing desk, and behind that sits Lucius. His torso is heavily bandaged, but his eyes are dark and keen, and his nose just as pointed as his predecessors.

"Ah, good, good to see you, yes, hello. Please. Make yourselves comfortable. I'd get up, but, I'm afraid I'm not to move too much. Doctor's orders and all that. May I offer you gentlemen some port? Maybe some water for the ladies?" Indeed, port /and/ water have been thoughtfully provided on the desk, amongst papers depicting various creatures; giant spiders and raging badgers.

Azog offers a polite nod to Alteri and the others as they arrive, following the doorman inside and eying the other adventurers curiously but saying nothing. He shifts his shoulders and settles into a more comfortable stance, the heavy armor creaking slightly. He follows the doorman inside and, glancing at the portraits and things, makes his way with the others to the study. He takes a seat when it's offered, clanking into the chair and looking over the fellow. He shakes his head at the offer of port. "I've tasted the water down where the ships come in, don't like it." He doesn't care how manly these people think it is.

Alteri eyes the beaming Sharna askance. "I did, thanks. You're in a good mood," she remarks in mild observation. "Found someone else to thank?" Casting about, she studies the inside of the manor, she conspicuously avoids meeting the elf-blooded's eyes, instead nodding greeting to Darella and Quint. The latter, she studies a mite longer, before seeming to relax a hair.

Following the sniffy snoot, the Highborn studies the portraits with interest, finally settling her hawkish gaze on the bandaged Master of the manor. She inclines her head at his offer, "My thanks, but nay, 'tis not my habit to imbibe whilst on duty." Funny how she calls it duty and not 'on the job'. While she does her best, there really is no hiding the noble upbringing that permeates her manner.

"Oh... I ought to be calmer than I am now." Darella says as she remembers the manners which had been impressed upon her in years past before taking a breath and saying, "As generous as your offer is, I'm quite alright for now. If I don't seem to hasty, would you mind telling us the reason for which you have called us? It seems to me that the sooner we get on with this business, the better."

"A most impressive collection, m'lord." Sharna compliments the... artistically preserved heads of things long since dead on display. Gloved fingers idly pass through the mane of some wild hunting cat, its maw arranged so it seems like it is roaring from its plaque. Sashaying over to one of the chairs, the lithe half-elf folds into it, legs crossing at the knee with a tiny creak of the armor on her.

"Must've been quite a ferocious beast to have injured you so, considering." she notes of the heavy bandages. She's wearing a tiny smile, one of those casually pleasant, business-like expressions. A small wave of hand in the negative indicates that no, she's quite fine, far as drinks go.
There certainly are signs of noble upbringing permeating the manor. Quint declines the offer of refreshments with a subtle headshake and a gloved hand lifting easily, palm out. The leather skirts of his armor flap subtly as he maneuvers towards one of the chairs, taking his time and managing to avoid bumping into the furniture and bodies scattered about the room. He stands behind one of the vacant seats and turns to listen...
Lucius smiles at Azog, but he doesn't correct the orc. Instead, he nods respectfully to Alteri. Surprised, somewhat, that nobody is taking him up on his drink... but he shrugs. Popping open the decanter, he pours himself a long measure, and takes a long, slow sip before he responds to Darella.

"You're quite right. Ah, for the days of my youth, when I would go running off..." He sighs softly. "Thank you." He says, at last, to Sharna. "It was a damned large bear. Actually gutted me right through. Dashed inconvenient. Cost an awful lot to get myself put back together again."
His lips draw into a long, thin line, and his brow furrows. "Which, brings me to my problem. My son has chosen this moment to get himself kidnapped and held for ransom. They're asking a ridiculous sum. I..." There's a definite, weariness in his eyes. "I can't afford to pay." He admits, doing his very best to keep a stoic demeanor. "I can, pay you some for your efforts... less, I daresay, than you deserve... but if you could bring my son back to me, I'd be in your debt."

Azog is smiled at. Clearly, he's making a good impression, as it's been gently suggested he try to do, and learned the humans' ways sufficiently to get along in their society. He actually perks up at the fellow talking about getting gutted by a bear, maybe he's ... well, like an elder - too bent and mangled by life to go toe to toe with a young warrior, but deserving of respect for old accomplishments? He rouses from his attempt to fit this all into his own worldview as the man talks about his kidnapped son, then nods gravely. "I will help rescue your son, Elder."

Stiffening at the man's revelation, Alteri seems to a little more, blue eyes sparking at the outrage. "His age? Has he been hurt?" these, she asks sharply, having shed any semblance of courtly manners for the sake time. There is little, she appears to think. The tension in her lines speak of a marked need to hit something, preferably an honourless kidnapper.

Quint rests a hand on the chairback, looking away from the wounded host to watch Alteri as the ticking clock is introduced. He has little to add at this juncture -- no questions spring immediately to mind -- and so contents himself to continue listening.

"I am sure your Lordship values the life of his child enough to compensate us as best as is possible, given the circumstances - if we succeed." Sharna says, a tiny rise and fall of her shoulders following the casually-spoken words. "As you can see, we are all eager to help. No doubt you have some information as to the identity of these kidnappers and their whereabouts?" she inquires of the nobleman. "And maybe a likeness of the boy?" As if the nose won't give the youth away already, should there be family resemblance!

Darella appears somewhat surprised as she says, "Kidnapped? I can't say that I have much experience with these things... None the less I will do what I can. If I may, do you believe that there could be other reasons for this than simply money? I understand that such a thing is the most common reason, but a greater understanding of the situation could lend itself to a more peaceful solution, especially if other things have been tried first."

Lucius produces from the inside of his vest a tattered and torn piece of paper. The writing on it has been etched inexpertly; likely by someone to whom writing is not an everyday task. In the common tongue, it says:

"We have your boy. Dancing propriety is willingly broken. No hair on head misplaced. Small cuts and bruise as wiggle and thrash. Four weeks contact Glade Point. Sum of 100,000,000 shining gold misplaced from coffers to mine hands. All is well. Otherwise blood to sate dancing missteps."

"I don't know what to make of it." The Lord says simply, rubbing at his temple. "The boy is sixteen years old. I don't have a good portrait, the last one was done four years ago, and that is all I know. It was delivered to my butler by a man in a hooded robe, and that was the end of it. Glade Point is some three day's ride from here, they must have ambushed him just on the last stretch home."

Azog's air of helpfullness fades a little at hearing the boy's age. "He didn't die fighting them off?" he wonders. But still, this is a service to a distinguished warrior, and if the son was overwhelmed and taken without being able to fight back, Azog will help, for the old man's sake. "We can go there with a heavy trunk, as might contain the asked for ransom, to allay suspicion," he suggests. "And then kill them all."

A faint line furrows Alteri's brow. "Dancing... propriety?" She glances to the others gathered, wondering if any can make head or tail of this. "When was this note delivered?" Arms crossing, she tucks her chin to breastbone, musing, "One might assume he can walk, but a spare mount wouldn't be out of place. If your man could show us the portrait? Even an old one is better than nothing." Her chin lifts, "I left word with the Guild that we may require extra mounts." Reluctantly, she has to add, "You may add it to a Guild tab if..." If the man's finances are too tight, presently, though she does not finish her sentence. Delicate sensibilities must be assuaged, though whether it is hers or Lucius', is a question left unanswered.

Turning towards Azog, Darella shakes her head as she says, "I would sooner resort to trickery of some kind rather than risk an open conflict. A martial strike such as that would have to be swift indeed, or I would fear for the hostage's safety. As soon as we engaged in direct combat with his captors, I would assume an alarm would give them good reason to kill him outright if for no other reason than to deny us additional success beyond a victory of force."

"Ambitious." Sharna drawls upon seeing the number scrawled so haphazardly on the note - but her tone suggests she thinks it foolish and ridiculous, rather than merely optimistic. Her gently slanted eyes narrow slightly and ivory brows furrow as she works to make out the words, to decipher the meaning of the message, before passing it along. "Well, what can I say? It's a start. We'll look into it." she promises, quirking that tiny, business-like smile once more.

"Not the most practiced -- or intelligent -- of ransomers." Quint agrees with Sharna, the quiet intensity of his voice something of a surprise after the extended 'vow of silence' act. "We should proceed with caution lest they are driven to panic and take dire action." A shallow nod and then he falls quiet again.

The Lord nods gratefully to each in turn. "I appreciate that you'll do what you can. I don't know what madness this, one one-hundredth of that price would be a, difficult proposition, but I can only hope that if they believe he is worth so much, whoever they are, they will not have dared to hurt him in any way."

He gestures, and the doorman - who has been waiting, apparently, at the back of the party, like a statue, clears his throat. "The Master has prepared some horses, a chest, and supplies, assuming that you would wish to make use of them. If you'd follow me, I'll show you the portrait, and you can be on your way."

The portrait is upstairs - and it shows a young boy and his father, he clearly has his father's nose. The horse and cart bearing six days food for six people and a very large, ornate chest are of a high quality and good standard, at least; clearly the noble isn't completely out of money. He simply doesn't have several king's ransoms on hand.

<OOC> Mab says, "Oh, I forgot - he'll say he received the letter two weeks ago."

Azog shakes his head to Darella, "We'll make them bring the boy out before we open the chest, and when he's there with us, we'll make sure the kidnappers are /too busy dying/ to hurt the boy. We'll bring an extra sword, so he has a chance to fight back as well and gain honor." Following the butler back to review the picture of the boy, he makes a note of the nose and nods at the contents of the cart as well. "I think we're set," he declares.

The scar lining her neck, Alteri strokes with the back of one callused finger. A gesture of rapid thought. She nods cautiously at Azog's suggestion, then at Darella. "Ensuring they are unable to do this to another, would be good... The one best at putting up a harmless-looking front could present the chest to them." at this, her eyes rest on Sharna, crinkling a little at the corners.

Lush carpets mute her bootsteps as she paces after the butler, still thinking up a, for her, mental storm, "Perhaps it would be large enough for one of us to hide within. A layer of coin could fool them initially while the rest of us free the..." Her steps pause, and she turns to the butler, "I beg your pardon. What is his son's name? Was he on his way back from a ball?" The Eldanar gnaws still, at the cryptic scribbles mentioning 'dancing'.
"Well, I do think that such an approach would be a more sensible plan than just charging in." Darella says, "It would be to their disadvantage to let us see their hostage before they receive the ostensible ransom, so sending someone inside wherever he is being held would give us a higher chance of success even if we do plan to simply attack from both fronts at that point. I also see no reason why we wouldn't be able to sneak one of our own in, as given the sheer quantity of gold that they are asking for they most likely have no concept of the size, or even number of containers that would be involved at that point."

"Well, I do think that such an approach would be a more sensible plan than just charging in." Darella says, "It would be to their disadvantage to let us see their hostage before they receive the ostensible ransom, so sending someone inside wherever he is being held would give us a higher chance of success even if we do plan to simply attack from both fronts at that point. I also see no reason why we wouldn't be able to sneak one of our own in, as given the sheer quantity of gold that they are asking for they most likely have no concept of the size, or even number of containers that would be involved at that point."

"Thank you for your time, your Lordship. We'll see you in a week." Sharna says, sounding as cocky - or perhaps as experienced? As ever. One can only hope it is experience. Unfolding her legs, the half-elven girl hops easily to her feet, moving to follow the butler about and inspect what's been prepared for the party. She commits the boy's likeness of four years past to memory, as even that should make him fairly easy to recognize... and gives Alteri a narrow-eyed glance at the look she's given. "If anything, I'll be too busy sneaking to the back to free him." she says. "Besides, I don't think I could pass for a typical serving girl of this household." is added, with a feral little grin. Her gray skin, after all, is not a particularly common nor welcome sight in the region.

As the party moves outside to be given the horse, cart and supplies, Sharna hangs back, directing a beaming little smile at Alteri. "To answer your earlier question - no, I haven't." she says to the other woman, giving a little 'tsk tsk' noise following. "Maybe I'll give you a reason to thank me in turn on this little outing. We'll see." she adds to the Eldanar sellsword before moving to inspect the arrangements. The part-elven woman gives a little nod, then - it seems they'll do fine, by her standards.

"I must retrieve Brannigan and make arrangements at the temple if we are to be absent from the city for such a length of time." Quint speaks again once outside, standing back and to one side while the supplies provided are inspected by others. "Select a place and time to reconvene and I will be there.

"He was on the way back from a hunting expedition." The manservant explains. "Trying to kill some big monster out towards Charn." His brow furrows, and he exhales slowly. "His name?"

"His name, is Darius."

The journey to the meeting point is an easy one. It is relatively well traveled until the last day, which is spent riding hard through a small, hard-worn trail in claustrophobic trees. The trunks are pressed close together, the leaves working hard to block out the sun. Small animals run and scamper in the undergrowth, but up ahead is where you would presume the meeting place to be; largely because there is a campfire blazing up ahead, adding a choking smog to the oppressive natural atmosphere...

((I am now going to suggest you guys sort out OOCly what way you are going to approach the situation; you have ample time to reach a common plan before arriving at the meeting place, and we can change pose order to suite who is going in first and in what manner.))

[RPOne] Azog notes he has Survival and Handle Animal, if you want me to lead horses/drive a wagon (assuming such a large chest isn't otherwise portable/luggable?)

[RPOne] Darella has joined this channel.

[RPOne] Azog notes he has Survival and Handle Animal, if you want me to lead horses/drive a wagon (assuming such a large chest isn't otherwise portable/luggable?) (Re for Darella)

[RPOne] Mab says, "Honestly, I'm happy to handwave rolls such as that unless/until they become actually dangerous or important - fleeing the scene, for instance."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I have both as well, though I figure having Darella looking pale and innocent as the exchange person might help lull them into thinking the Lord is behaving."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Being a sneakytype, I can try scouting, or just lying in wait for you guys to distract the guards/make a commotion, by the way."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "No offense, Azog, you is intimidating and lolhueg."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Yea, I was thinking Sharna might sneak in ahead and get the lay of the land."

[RPOne] Darella says, "Well, if Sharna's sneaky then I vote we send her in the false ransom."

[RPOne] Azog says, "Cool. Not asking to roll, just saying he has the skills if we need them. Hah, yeah. Maybe put a huge cloak on him, though, and he's just a beefy wagondriver for hire."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Good luck getting her to do that. She'd rather just sneak 'manually'."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Nah, as Sharna mentioned, she looks shadow elfy, which is suspicious in and of itself for many. XD"

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Hiding in a big chest likely to be opened and riffled in, not such a good idea in my book."

[RPOne] Darella says, "Yeah, I suppose they might... Alright, Sharna sneaks in but what do the rest of us do?"

[RPOne] Darella says, "I look innocent and helpless while delivering a false ransom..."

[RPOne] Mab says, "If Sharna is going in to get the lay of the land, I'll do that very quickly with her, and then you can decide how to proceed."

[RPOne] Mab says, "Scouting and going in at the same time would seem illogical."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Yeah, if I'm scouting, we'll need to do that so I can give them the info (or get killed trying). :P"

[RPOne] Alteri nods and will wait to see what Sharna reports back.

You paged Sharna with 'Give me a stealth check.'

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (8)+11: 19 to Mab

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'd suggest multiple chests with false bottoms but that's getting pretty over-complicated. XD"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (14)+-1: 13

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (20)+-1: 19

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (16)+-1: 15

Sharna pages: I won't be going too close, mind you. Just having a peek from WAY far.

You paged Sharna with 'There are a total of six men in the camp. Three of them are playing cards by the campfire, three others are positioned at three corners of the camp to form a triangle, and seem to be playing a game which consists of whistling to one another. The three at the corners have longbows ready. All of them are wearing chainmail, the 'guards' have short swords and heavy shields to swap to from their bows, two of the men in the camp have battleaxes and heavy shield, the remaining man has a longsword. None of them seem to have noticed you.'
You paged Sharna with 'There is no sign of the boy.'

Sharna pages: All human?

You paged Sharna with 'Yup, and rugged-looking. But given the state of their equipment, probably hired thugs rather than bandits; doesn't have the dirty, worn look you get from living in the woods for most of your life.'

Sharna pages: I shall return to my companions and tell them the news!

After a while, Sharna emerges from the undergrowth, idly picking branches and leaves from her clothing. "Far as I could see, half a dozen of them. Humans. Gruff, rugged types - thugs, probably, rather than bandits. All armed - three guards at the camp corners with bows as perimeter defense, further three inside with axes and blades. Couldn't see any sign of the kid." she relays. Irritably flicking a large-ish, green insect from her shoulder, she looks decidedly put out. "I hate forests." is muttered.

Pacing by the wagon, Alteri glances over to where the foliage spits out a Sharna. Listening to the report, she grunts, "Did any of the thugs resemble Darius?" Perhaps she recalls her own misspent youth and the times she made her own family gain white hairs over her antics. For all they know, the youth himself is behind the 'kidnapping'.

You paged Sharna with 'In answer; no, they are all professionals who are easily mid-twenties or older. No way any of them is 16.'
"Not in the slightest. Even from the distance, they looked older and more experienced than a human boy of sixteen would." Sharna says, shaking her head slightly. Finally rid of the bits of forest that had been clinging lovingly to her, she corrects how her hood and cloth mask lay, arms crossing at her chest. "So, what's the plan?" she asks, then.

[RPOne] Azog says, "So, walk in with chest, demand to see the boy, and refuse to show the money til they cart him out. I throw down a Dazzling Display to get their attention, One of you sneaky types sneak attacks the ones holding the boy, grabs him, and we kill them all?"

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'm good with Azog's plan."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "The melee'ers could bristle and look intimidating, distracting them from looking for a sneaky Sharna?"

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Sharna will be so displeased about having to go back into the forest. :("

[RPOne] Azog says, "Sounds good. Hah."

[RPOne] Sharna says, "I'll have to move a lot closer this time, though, so hopefully I won't roll like crap on the stealth!"

"It is entirely possible the boy is not in the camp." Quint observes, sitting high atop Brannigan and holding his recently-repaired polearm so it stabs up and into the sky. "They may intend to verify the ransom before giving us a rendezvous location. If this is the case -- and our ruse becomes obvious -- we will need to make sure none escape and at least one is left alive for interrogation."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, so Azog drives the cart with Darella next to him, Alteri on one side, Quint on horseback on the other, Sharna sneaking in from the side."

"Well, this isn't quite what I had in mind but I suppose an aggressive approach is going to be necessary here." Darella says, "After all, I'm hardly the leader of this group. I suppose I'll do my best to help in combat, however I can." she says.

"I'll stay back till you start screaming or they bring out the kid." Sharna says, giving her clean clothing a forlorn look before ducking back into the thick forest, keeping distance so as to not risk notice before it is time to move in in earnest.

Azog nods slowly at what Quint says. "That's right, no kid, no deal, we'll be firm on that." He takes his greatsword from his back and places it in the back of the wagon, where he can reach over and grab it, then settles himself to ride, or drive, as required. He grunts softly to Darella, "They've demanded huge amounts of cash. To pay them for committing crimes just encourages them to do it more."

As the cart rumbles closer to the camp, it isn't long before they are spotted. There's a sudden hurrying of motion and movement, archers fall back, and melee come forward. Two men with battleaxes and heavy shields next to a man who looks, more at ease, with longsword and shield on his back. They are all wearing chainmail, though there are no identifying markers of any kind.

"Hail, travelers." The apparent leader in the center calls. "What brings you this way, eh? You have the look of a /fine/ company of rogues about you."

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (20)+11: 31

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, pose order, to avoid confusion, is now: Azog, Darella, Alteri, Quint, Sharna (if necessary), Me. Feel free to say you don't want to pose if you don't have anything to add."

Azog looks up as the men swarm around them and reins in the horses, setting the leads where he can grab them back quickly if needed. Not that so few people can really /swarm/, but they're getting as ready as they can. His first scan doesn't spot the boy, but when they rush forward, he shrugs his shield around into place, though he doesn't draw his blade, not yet. He'll leave the talking to others.
Getting off the cart, Darella steps down and says, "We are here concerning the ransom of a boy, Darius Dalaborn. I believe you requested quite a large sum of money, but none the less we are here to acquiesce, as you may be able to see."

GAME: Darella rolls bluff: (10)+8: 18

The clean-cut, stalwart and shiningly earnest form of Quint in full battle regalia might seem at odds with the image of a mercenary tough. Thankfully, Brannigan glowers and snorts with the best of the ill-tempered, midnight black nightmare steeds and the templar's surcoat is a simple white trimmed in the blue and silver of the Dreaming Goddess -- lacking any obvious iconography. Gray eyes stare with unblinking intensity from behind the barbute's eyeslit and the hand not holding his three-pronged stave is in his lap holding loose to the mount's reins.

The muscled draft horse' front hoof kicks at the grass and dirt in irritation, snort as it digs up short, shallow furrows. A short, muttered phrase, and the beast calms for the moment. Quint remains otherwise silent, allowing for others to maintain the deception.
Footsteps like those of a cat on the prowl in spite of the crunching leaves of autumn underfoot, Sharna creeps through the forest. She crouches down, then, slowly, placing a hand with splayed fingers upon the forest floor for balance... and waits. A grasshopper lands on the top of her hood and she stoically ignores its presence until it moves along - remaining still as a statue in the chosen spot and watching the proceedings from afar. The foliage nearly completely obscures her, her clothing and skin melding into the shadows of the trees and bushes.
Footsteps like those of a cat on the prowl in spite of the crunching leaves of autumn underfoot, Sharna creeps through the forest. She crouches down, then, slowly, placing a hand with splayed fingers upon the forest floor for balance... and waits. A grasshopper lands on the top of her hood and she stoically ignores its presence until it moves along - remaining still as a statue in the chosen spot and watching the proceedings from afar. The foliage nearly completely obscures her, her clothing and skin melding into the shadows of the trees and bushes.

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23 to Mab

The thug who speaks for the thugs nods his head. "Alright." He says, all business suddenly. "Well. I was told a group might show up. I'm meant to check that you've brought, quote, a lot of, endquote, gold before I do anything else." He nods in the direction of the chest, "You won't mind if I check, will you?"

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (16)+11: 27 to Mab

<OOC> Darella says, "We have enough gold to stand up to inspection, right?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Of one million gold pieces? No. Of 'lots', that depends."

<OOC> Azog says, "I was just wondering the same thing. I think I'm going to shake the box to let him hear the jingle."

<OOC> Sharna says, "A hundred million. :("

<OOC> Alteri says, "Is there enough that Azog can throw open the lid for them to see but not touch?"

[RPOne] Sharna says, "A BILLION ZILLION GOLD! NO WAIT! PLATINUM!"

<OOC> Mab says, "There is a chest. It has some gold coins in it. The thug wants to open the chest and look inside, if you guys want to try and
stop him, that's something to be RP'd."

Azog growls at the man who demands to see the gold, and though it's not really his part, the attitude annoys him. "You can see the gold when we see the boy, and not a moment sooner," he snarls in accented Tradespeak, though he does lean back to lift one side of the crate and let it thump back down, with a muffled jingle of the coins that /are/ inside.

<OOC> Darella says, "Oh, I know that we don't have 100 million but neither do they. They've asked for so much they might as well have asked for a number that's just imaginary and used to represent, "A lot"."

<OOC> Azog says, "Not really bluffing, but if it mattes, I can try Aid Another on someone else's bluff?"

<OOC> Azog says, "Matters, even."

<OOC> Mab says, "I'll allow it."

Sharna pages: Did a roll, by the way, as requested. *points above* Not sure if you saw it/if it matters at all.

You paged Sharna with 'I saw it. It wasn't quite high enough.'

Sharna pages: Alrighty!

GAME: Azog rolls bluff: (11)+0: 11

<OOC> Azog says, "Sorry about the delay, I'd forgotten how. :/ Well, someone gets a +2 to convince them we're legit?"

<OOC> Mab nods.

<OOC> Darella says, "So yeah, that makes my bluff check a 20 then since you were ICly helping me out."

<OOC> Mab says, "You'll need another check to convince him not to do his job."

<OOC> Darella says, "I will?"

<OOC> Mab says, "... Yes."

GAME: Darella rolls bluff: (2)+8: 10

<OOC> Darella says, "Crap."

<OOC> Darella says, "At least it wasn't an automatic failure."

<OOC> Mab says, "There's no automatic failure with skills."

<OOC> Darella says, "Oh, right. Saving throws only."

[RPOne] Azog says, "First check was to convince them we were the messengers, this was to convince them not to peek in the box. Hopefully we get positive mods for a good setup and so forth. Or, we can kill them all now. ;)"

<OOC> Mab says, "You'll need to pose too, just FYI, and... if you had to go around 5ish, we may as well stop before we actually get to the dice rolling."

<OOC> Darella says, "Don't the enemies roll a sense motive based on their stats or are you just using a generic stat-less character?"

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm rolling."

<OOC> Darella says, "Oh, ok."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20-1: (12)+-1: 11 to Mab

"These are sensitive matters, and we both know it." Darella says, "We only perform the exchange once both parties have brought out that which we are exchanging. You can tell that we have our gold here already. Besides, what good would a ruse do? Any sort of attempt to circumvent a normal exchange and we both know that it will end badly for Darius."

Pale eyes glinting coldly down at the thug, Alteri shifts her gaze to stare impassively at the rest of the thugs, quietly noting positions and equipment. Azog's growled response, and Darella's more wordy one, she backs up by a silent, unseen signal to her mare, who snorts and rears. Flashing hooves slash at the air near the thug before thudding back into the drying brush. None shall pass, is the message. "Apologies, she's off her feed." the warrior intones without any apology in her voice, idly patting her mount's neck. With the hand encased in a spiked gauntlet.
Quint's hand opens and closes around the polearm, his grip going tighter and causing the wooden haft to groan quietly. His eyes narrow just a touch and his nostrils flare. He still doesn't speak -- he doesn't even open his mouth to sigh. He just waits and watches for now.

Sharna remains still and quiet, a ghost in the night. She sees no reason to move just yet, after all: the ruse, at least, seems to be working from where she's standing. For the moment, anyway. Her muscles tense, she soundlessly detaches her crossbow from where it lurks on her belt - carefully, slowly releasing the safety latch so that it can be fired, if the need should arise.

The thug pauses for a moment, and then shrugs his shoulders. "It isn't my job to care." He says, frankly. "We're just here to make sure you brought the gold. Don't know where this Darius is, so I can't get him for you." He shrugs his shoulders again, and spits on the ground. "Come into the camp, and I'll send up a signal to say you brought what you should have. No need to get stressed now, is there? All just business."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Okay, show of hands, we let them send the flare or do nothing (choice A) we let them send the flare and jump them (choice B)."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "*and do nothing."

[RPOne] Quint is fine with 'wait'n see'

[RPOne] Sharna says, "Let them send the flare but don't attack, for my OOC vote. Because my worry is we don't know where their employers
ARE."

[RPOne] Azog picks A

[RPOne] Sharna says, "If they're near, they could show up midfight or hear the combat, and then they might slit the kid's throat or do a standoff."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Okay, I'm taking Choice A as well. Azog, mind posing that we follow 'em?"

[RPOne] Darella says, "Let them send the flare/do nothing. It's better we know the full extent of the situation, plus that dancing thing could mean
something we're completely unaware of like a relationship to Lucius."

Azog takes up the reins again, and barks an Yrch command to the horses, snapping them into motion again and guiding the wagon after the ... whoever they are.

You paged Sharna with 'Another perception check please.'

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (20)+11: 31 to Mab

Sharna pages: I... see the universe functioning. It is... beautiful. *stares all googly-eyed* :(

Darella jumps up onto the wagon as it starts to move forwards, staying wit Azog and looking about as she attempts to take stock of the situation, looking for distinctive marks on clothes, examining weapons and such as best she can without looking like she's doing more than looking at the scenery.

GAME: Darella rolls perception: (7)+1: 8

The party are brought into the camp, and the leader of the thugs moves over to the campfire. The application of some strange powder from his pouch turns the smoke billowing from the fire a bright and bilious blue.

"Should only be ten minutes or so." The leader says, before adding, "You all seem really on edge. Me and the boys have got no quarrel with you so long as you play straight with us. We ain't getting paid to hurt anybody, today."

<OOC> Mab says, "They have weapons! It is hard to tell their quality, there is no identifying or unifying mark."

You paged Sharna with 'As the smoke goes up, you sense movement above you. Something impacts the ground about fifty feet from where you are. Peeking out from the undergrowth, you see a large (person sized) black spider materialize from apparent nothingness. Utterly silently, the flesh of the thing melds and runs like water, and soon, it has taken the form of a man in flowing robes, dark skinned, thick haired. The metamorphosis takes a few seconds, but he doesn't seem to be in a hurry. He's looking in the direction of the camp, however.'

Eyes narrowing a hair, Alteri nudges Stupid to follow, fanning out a little from the group. "We have no quarrel with you, either," she states quietly to the leader. Not dismounting, she uses her higher vantage point to scan the campsite and its denizens.

Azog shrugs at the accusation of being on edge. He doesn't offer a reply, glancing off in whatever direction these men are watching. Presumably they know where their erstwhile allies are coming from.

Sharna twitches and nearly abandons her post so as to -run away screaming-. She quells the instinct, though. Not that any of her companions can see... which is a bad thing, in this case, as it means they also aren't looking her way at all and communication is next to impossible. She has no choice but to stay perfectly still, gritting her teeth in frustration

"An odd number of battle-trained and well-armed men being paid to act as go-betweens and messengers." Quint observes quietly -- but loud enough to be overheard -- from atop his steed. The ranseur still points towards the heavens inoffesnviely as he looks down at the signal. "What sort of man is your employer?" He adds, speaking at the kneeling mercenary's back.

GAME: Quint rolls Diplomacy: (16)+11: 27

The thug scratches behind the back of his head, and shrugs his shoulders. "He's an odd one." He admits, "Didn't speak to him much. Just gave us our money and told us the job." He smirks, "No offense, buddy, but you don't get to stay in this job long if you ask too many questions. Seemed a bit... not all there, if you ask me." He gives a short laugh, "But his money was good, and--"

From the side of the camp, on neither of the trails, a tall, dark-skinned man in heavy black robes steps from the brush. This seems to get a start from the thug, who looks surprised he came from /there/. The man's head is completely bald, and his eyes shine with... tears? He's actually shaking, looking, completely, as though he has lost his composure. "--Fuck me that was quick."

[RPOne] Azog says, "And now we know (OOCly) that it's the son, out to see if dad really cares. :/ But. Does Azog see through the disguise? Or should I just slam him?"

[RPOne] Azog says, "Well, not -know-, but it seems so."

[RPOne] Mab says, "You are free to have any preconceptions you want."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Um, was dad darkskinned too?"

[RPOne] Mab says, "If you want to see through the 'disguise' roll Perception. And no he was not."

[RPOne] Alteri says, "Aight."

GAME: Darella rolls perception: (11)+1: 12

GAME: Azog rolls perception: (7)+0: 7

[RPOne] Mab says, "Definitely doesn't look like a disguise on those rolls."

Azog growls as he sees the single individual show up, without the boy. He either misses the tears, or misinterprets them. These humans,
confusing people! But enough! He tosses the reins of the wagon down and rises to his feet. "We're here for the boy," he says to the robed man, placing one hand on the hilt of his bastard sword. "Show him now!"

Sharna pages: Wait, spiderboy is having a nervous breakdown?

You paged Sharna with 'He looked composed until he actually saw the camp, but now he looks /very unhappy/ yes.'

Darella quickly stands up, placing her hand on Azog in a restraining gesture as she says, "We don't quite understand. We had been lead to believe that you were going to bring out Darius. It appears as though there was something that we weren't told regarding this deal... Or are we mistaken?" before she starts making a few motions and whispers a few words in some sort of odd language in an attempt to see if any magic is being used and afterwards says, "I am not attempting to attack, simply trying to see if the source of confusion is more... Arcane in nature."
Alteri squints at the dark-skinned fellow who appears, noting that the thug leader seems more than a little surprised at the swift arrival. Ever cynical, she tries to make out if the fellow might be the son in disguise. The tears are an odd thing to see, either way.

At Azog's reaction, she exchanges looks with the rest in the party. On one hand, there is a need for caution, on the other, she would -love- to start bashing heads in until someone gives in. Settling for looking really ticked off at the lack of Darius, she sets her jaw and tightens her hand on Stupid's reins, waiting to see if Darella notes anything arcane in her efforts.

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (20)+5: 25

You paged Alteri with 'It is not a disguise.'

Alteri does, however, give a mute shake of her head, meaning to say that is not the boy in disguise.

Alteri pages: Okay. :)

<OOC> Alteri says, "Sorry, just posing the result of the roll. :)"

Quint draws in a slow, deep breath at the sight of the man stumbling from the woods, lifting the ranseur from its rest and letting the tip droop down to a more horizontal orientation. The tears he interprets as madness and that coupled with the robes makes him suspect some variety of cultist. He'll be well ready should this come to blows.

Quint draws in a slow, deep breath at the sight of the man stumbling from the woods, lifting the ranseur from its rest and letting the tip droop down to a more horizontal orientation. The tears he interprets as madness and that coupled with the robes makes him suspect some variety of cultist. He'll be well ready should this come to blows.

Sharna's eyes narrow. The crossbow is quietly, slowly, stowed, the latch reapplied to prevent accidental firing - replaced with a pair of blackjacks as she scoots just a bit closer, more tense than ever. Fingers tighten and release on the weapons in barely subdued nervousness... but she waits, her teeth grinding just a tad.

The Newcomer narrows his eyes at Azog, and snarls himself, lips curling back in a nasty grimace. The noise he makes is utterly animal, a snarling his before he erupts; "What is this trickery?!" He bellows, "What disrespect? You weave a web to snatch my sight, and think me too fool to count the ticker-tick of blood memory?! I SAW THE DANCE. My pattern is torn, the larvae burn and slash and kill and YOU come to DECEIVE ME?! One thousand by one thousand by is not one drop of blood for coin for wound!"

His voice is cracked and furious, each word spoken with the utmost care, pronounced in a strange and alien accent, as though the act of speaking with lips and tongue is unfamiliar to him. The thugs look utterly confused. Since Azog has gone for his sword, though, their weapons are grasped as firmly; the leader is moving to try and position himself between the orc and his boss, though. "Oi, oi, oi, look, everyone, lets not do anything rash, shall we? Come on now, we're all, /sensible/ people..." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself of that fact. His boss certainly doesn't seem to be in possession of all his faculties, to say the least.

<OOC> Azog says, "I'm going to try to inditmidate him into revealing where the son is, not that it'll work."

<OOC> Mab says, "Feel free."

<OOC> Alteri says, "I could try to AA the Intimidate."

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup!"

GAME: Alteri rolls Intimidate: (5)+5: 10

<OOC> Alteri says, ">_>"

GAME: Azog rolls intimidate: (7)+13: 20

Sharna pages: Something occurs to me. Those pictures daddy dear had on his desk... were they of similar spiders as this one?

Sharna pages: He had pictures of giant spiders, my brain is nagging me?

You paged Sharna with 'They were similar, but they were different, too - they were hairier whereas this thing is smooth and chitenous, it was
*probably* a coincidence.

Azog steps off the wagon and towards the man in robes, getting closer and closer to the one guard as if he intended to walk through the man, bellowing, "Rash? We came here to bring a boy back to his father! A proud warrior injured and unable to complete the task himself. But all we are presented is a madman. Bring the boy immediately!" He snarls, drawing his sword and swinging it so hard that the swish of air is audible in the pause after his shouting. He does stop short of walking over the guard, but is clearly looming for effect.

<OOC> Darella says, "Wow. I just had a crazy, crazy idea that could either be awesome or horrible."

<OOC> Darella says, "Try to understand the crazy guy and speak his language which either has references to something that he doesn't quite understand, or is just mad rambling."

Darella steps down alongside Azog and says, "He may be mad, he may not be. Speak of a bow and arrows to those who know of swords only and what are you but mad?" she then closes her eyes, before appearing to relax and saying, "We don't know of larvae burning, or torn patterns. Whatever has torn you so, whatever cuts through the world, blood for coin doesn't have to be the only way to bring force to your side. Ask, and you may find allies against that which you are so desperate to stop."

Coolly, Alteri watches the Newcomer ranting at the 7ft tall Yrch. Addressing the thug leader, she lets the Orc do his Orcish thing to ask the man, "This, is the one who hired you?" Dry as a Veyshanti desert the dark-skinned fellow might have hailed from, her voice is.
She works to loosen her sword in its scabbard, making a show of finely honed muscles that she appears more than willing to employ at this point. "I suggest finding work at the Explorer's Guild next time, neighbour. They tend to ensure the employers aren't raving lunatics." The Eldanar is taking it that this person is crazy and negotiating is bust. She'll give Darella room, but that room is swiftly shrinking into inexistence.

Sharna pages: You know, I just had a crazy idea. If he's been there and watching all along... I look up into the trees. Is there webbing? Cocoon? Anything of the sort?

You paged Sharna with 'There are some strands of web, but not what you would expect to be the big one here, if that is where your mind is going.'

GAME: Darella rolls diplomacy: (19)+8: 27

"This far from the walls, it is possible they do not call Alexandria their home and thus do not have access to the same Guild." Quint tells Alteri, still stiff-backed in his saddle as he watches the madness spill out of the bald fellow. He tips his head in a shallow nod at the mercenary captain, offering mildly "Your employer is clearly not of sound mind. I would recommend stepping aside. If a peaceful resolution is possible it will be found."

<OOC> Mab says, "You can roll diplomacy, but you're going to have a penalty with a member of the party waving a sword around and being intimidating."

GAME: Quint rolls Diplomacy: (20)+11: 31

The Newcomer hisses again at Azog, low in the back of its throat. "You would pluck justice from the sticky web and seal with fire and sword." He says, somewhere between fear and anger. He's starting to back off from Azog, though. His eyes focus on Darella, and there's a disconcerting moment where they seem to focus /again/.

"Too late. Too late for prevention. The patterns which have been woven are of blood. Too much blood." His voice is starting to crack with sorrow rather than anger. He visibly sags. To Darella he continues, no less energetically but with less heat in the tone; "You think my heart bleeds less than old warrior's when children plucked from web of home and skewered on sharp steel? To squeal and beg and cry? You want yours and I want mine but mine are gone and where is justice for the dead?"

As the dark-skinned man rants and raves, the leader of the thugs, sweating profusely, draws his sword, and tries to square up to the much bigger orc. Until Quint's speech is heard. He hesitates, and starts to step aside. He still looks very unsure of himself. "I took his coin." He says, with genuine uncertainty in his voice. This sure isn't making much sense to him, either. "Can't let you lot just, barge in and hurt the poor sod, can I? Even if he's off his rocker..." He trails off. The rest of his group don't look too sure either. Are they still going to get paid for this? What, exactly, have they gotten wrapped up in?

Azog lets the man back down, and the guard as well, or back away at least, and he ceases his advance as the man's ravings seem, for a moment, to make more sense. His face twitches, though, at what he's putting together. It doesn't really make sense to him, even when the pieces start fitting, because orc druids, while they care for nature, understand that hunters have to hunt. Though, in his tribe at least, they didn't hunt exclusively for sport. "He killed your animals?" Azog asks brusquely. "Human children? Or bears and deer?" He's not actively at least, which may make the guards less nervous.

<OOC> Darella says, "What do I detect, if anything from the area around me due to detect magic?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a knowledge/arcana check."

GAME: Darella rolls knowledge/arcana: (18)+7: 25

<OOC> Mab says, "He's under the effect of a minor transmutation aura."

<OOC> Darella says, "Ok, so we're either looking at a polymorph or some sort of physical enhancement, though It's obvious that it's a polymorph effect OOCly since you said that guy was Darius."

<OOC> Mab says, "... I did not ever say he was Darius."

<OOC> Darella says, "Conversely, I understand that it's honest insanity and not an enchantment."

<OOC> Darella says, "Would I know what sort of spells could produce a transmutation aura or would I just know, "Transmutation"?"

<OOC> Mab says, "You've pretty much covered the basics. Polymorph, enhancement."

<OOC> Quint says, "Schools from the school of Transmutation?"

<OOC> Quint says, "*Spells from"

<OOC> Darella says, "Right, so I would probably sooner think that it's an enhancement spell rather than polymorph 'cause polymorph would be
just plain out of place."

<OOC> Mab says, "Atually."

<OOC> Mab says, "On a 25, and given the broken speech patterns."

<OOC> Mab says, "It is possible that he is not a human naturally. That would explain a great deal."

"There is a question I'd like to ask." Darella says as she faces the man who had hired the thugs, "What do you really look like? I can tell that you're different from your usual self in some way, and I'm starting to wonder if it has anything to do with your appearance. Now, if you don't want to reveal that then it's not something I'll press but... There is no sign of Darius, I can tell something is different and I would sooner assume that it is either you, or you are someone that we would recognize quite easily without magic."

Alteri nods slightly to Quint, "Granted." She is still not impressed with the thugs' choice of employers. The jumble of words rattles confusingly in the fighter's head. She cannot make head or tail of what he is saying, and words were never her strong suit. "Who?" she asks the dark-skinned man. "Who is, or was, yours?" Maybe getting that solved will give a point of reference to the rest of his words. She tenses when the thug leader draws his sword. "Easy now, no rashness, yes?" Her hands are kept away from her blade, supporting Azog's backing down. Between Darella's circular questioning and Alteri's more direct one, hopefully the dark-skinned fellow is able to answer one of them.

"If we wanted to hurt anyone, we would have done so already." the shadows of the forest whisper. Sharna detaches herself from her the shadows, stepping from the trees and into the flickering light of the campfire with slow, measured strides. Her hands are where they can be seen and all weapons are sheathed... for now.

"The boy? He's a young fool. Hotblooded and not thinking enough. He is, however... irreplaceable, as flawed as he may be." Sharna says, addressing the dark-skinned man, trying to remain cool and composed in her voice and posture. "You're holding all the strings, spider-mage. You can stop the bloodshed, or you can force everyone into more of it. More violence. More death. You don't really want that, do you?"
Spiders. Why did it have to be spiders?!

"Animal." The dark-skinned man repeats. "Human." He says, again. Some of that anger has returned. But Darella's words seem to make sense to him. He speaks very slowly, very deliberately. "He." And the back of the man's robes opens up, blossoming like a flower with a thick and bulbous back end, encased in chitin. "Killed." And his arms meld and melt, another three pairs growing out from his torso. "My." And his mouth splits, his features warping in a truly horrible, unnatural fashion. "Family." Clacks from between mandibles which seem much more used to speech, distorted as the common tongue is by the ill-suited body.

The spider is easily the size of a man, having inverted itself into being, glossy red inhuman eyes observe the gathered humanoids. It is tense. Suddenly, it rounds on Sharna, horribly aware that it is surrounded. The creature's voice is mournful. "The web is woven! How do you propose to unspin the spun and make whole the torn pattern? All the richness of Ea will not bring it back."

The leader of the thugs looks utterly horrified for a moment, and then raises his sword, suddenly, in the direction of the spider, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS IS /THAT?!/." He shouts, and his panic seems to spread like a wave amongst his men...

<OOC> Mab says, "You can give me a knowledge/arcana to know what it is, incidentally."

GAME: Darella rolls knowledge/arcana: (15)+7: 22

You paged Darella with 'It is an Aranea. Generally peaceful, live in colonies of 2-6 in high trees where they study magic. Can naturally shift between giant spider, half-spider, and human form.'

Azog actually takes a step back when the man changes into a spider. A huge spider. He rounds on the mercenaries, demanding, "This is who you serve?" Azog's already had issues with ants and almost died, and he's not favorably inclined at all towards spiders in disguise. Though he's never met, nor even heard of ones that are smart enough to hold a conversation before, however rambling. "You can't unweave a web," he admits dourly. "But you can weave a new one. But not if the boy comes to harm. If the boy comes to harm, it all ends. We may even be able to help you, to find a safe place for you to raise a new family. But you must choose to weave a new web that leaves ... er, two-legs in peace as well. What will it be?"

"No! No. Don't do anything." Darella says, backing away from the thugs towards the spider creature while waving her arms in a defensive manner before she says, "It's alright... We don't need to spill more blood where it has unnecessarily been spilt already." she then slowly turns to the giant, spider-like creature and says, "It's alright... I know what you are, and I think we understand what happened. I know the Dalborn family has many hunters, and they don't always understand what they hunt do they? You took Darius in revenge for the slaughter of your family, didn't you?"

A sharp word and very strong hand is all that prevents Alteri from being thrown off her mare. The whites of the animal's eyes are obvious as it tries to rear, snorting and reacting to the revealing of a predator. A large one. In contrast, the Highborn appears cool, though her jaw tightens. "Gods send this one doesn't phase..." she mutters. Then she barks to the thugs' leader, "Calm yourself and your men!" Negotiating with spiders is beyond her ken, and she knows it. Instead, she works to get between at least one archer and the spider-person-thing. Hopefully, one of the more diplomatic members of the party can find the words to see this through without bloodshed. By one of the others, she means everyone but herself, of course.

Quint continues to watch passively, turning Brannigan at an angle -- ready to brace the polearm against a charge from the monstrous creature should the need arise.

"If you do this, no matter what happens, there can only be more death." Sharna says, though she does swallow rather hard at the second sight of the enormous spider. She's... not a big fan of spiders. It's taking all her willpower to give a pretense of being nonchalant. "You have to stop. Hell, you're both fathers - the..." Ivory brows furrow as she brings to mind the words they'd been refering to Lucius with all along. "... old warrior might understand the magnitude of your sorrow - but only if the boy's returned safe."

The leader of the thugs is momentarily taken aback by Azog's words, and he looks ready to give the order to kill it... but when Darella /and/ Alteri move to get in the way, he hesitates. Once again, he feels completely out of his depth. He's not really following what is going on. But, his loyalty to money outweighs his natural inclination to kill things that look different to him. A wise and honorable mercenary. "Hold! It still paid us well, didn't it?" He shouts. There's nervous muttering.

The spider bobs its body in what might be an accepting manner to Darella. It picks its way back across the ground so it can view the gathered humanoids in one place, every movement alien and unnerving. When it speaks, it does so slowly, and carefully. "No hair on head harmed; has been crooned and coddled like child of mine." It babbles, in this form, its voice is almost melodic. Lilting and musical. "Not enough to move away. To ransom is tradition; to bargain worth against worth for crimes. If I give and he goes and he pays nothing for his macabre dance of steel and death then what worth have they? They must weigh on his heart as heavy as mine or else he'll harm others in turn when called."

Azog squints at the spider as it shifts. Spider traditions? Alexandria has more strangeness than a month of drunken binges. "If Ransom is your desire," he says, moving to the back of the cart, towards the chest, "then mayhap you shall have what you wish." Particularly if he doesn't entirely understand the concept of varying degrees of wealth. "The boy's father has assembled a ransom he feels worthy of his son," Azog says, though perhaps he'd have assembled more if he really intended to pay it. Azog lifts the lid briefly enough for a flash of gold, then slams the lid back down. "You may take it, but we must see the boy safe and unharmed first."

"I have a better idea. Ransom won't prevent a slaughter like this from happening again, the best thing in this case would be to actually get these two to talk about what happened." Darella says, "Perhaps Darius may not be able to make any sort of promises on his family's behalf, but his father may be able to. You have the ability to take human form, for however long. Perhaps you may be able to come back with us for a short time and negotiate a more appropriate settlement that could ensure peace for the Dalaborn family as well as what family you yourself might find later... Though I believe that Darius would have to come back as well."

Senses on edge, Alteri works to keep an eye on all the thugs, in case one decides listening to their leader just isn't worth helping A GIANT TALKING SPIDER. At the spider's assurances to the boy's safety, she exhales a slow breath, taking the melodic babbling at face value. Turning to glance sharply at one of the more nervous bowmen, she nudges her protesting mare, who wants only to get -away- from here, to impose their bulk between the creature and that wavering arrow. Glancing to Darella and what she says, the Eldanar grunts, muttering to herself, "This could get complicated." but she straightens in her saddle, "I will personally ensure your safety if you choose to meet with the boy's father." she calls to the spider-being.

"This scenario will serve as an object lesson." Quint counters, shaking his head briefly. "If the creature is satisfied by delivery of the ransom there is little sense in complicating matters further, taking it from its home, and smuggling it into the city." He lifts the tip of the ranseur and rests the weapon against the saddle again as the situation defuses. "The boy's father was terrified at the loss of his son. He will be overjoyed and relived at his return. If the boy requires further instruction in consequence that can be meted out through proper authorities." Perhaps the monstrous thing is the one wronged here but the bearded human has no interest in bringing it into the walls of his home. He has no way to tell what might happen in that case.

"The old warrior is badly injured. He can't come to you, else he would have, and we can't really speak on his behalf." Sharna endeavors to explain to the eight-legged creature. "This is what we got." A gloved thumb flicks to indicate the chest. "You can have it for the boy. Or you can come along, bring the boy, and speak to the old warrior yourself if you prefer." Who may or may not kill you and mount your eight-eyed head on the wall, she thinks to herself, but does not say it aloud.

The creature seems to consider the options before it for a few moments. It bobs and sways on the spot, and then it shoots a sticky strand of web up into the trees above, and begins to wheel itself up there. "I will return with him." It promises. "I can be human. I can walk on two legs and speak not a word. Until I will speak with the father of the boy who burns and cuts and has so much hate when stroked and prodded and chided for the sins that lay thick and syrupy on his tongue and he will accept that..."

It wings off into the trees, apparently still talking to itself as it does so. The thugs look uncomfortable for a few moments, and then the leader clears his throat. "Well. Either way, looks like our job is done. You've got the trade down. So. We'll be going." And they begin to pack up their camp. A job where they didn't have to use their weapons seems like a good job to them.

After about fifteen minutes, where presumably the spider is scuttling back to its primary web, it comes swinging back with the boy tucked under one arm; firmly gummed up in sticky strands. He lays him down with exaggerated care, and in a few sick moments, has regained human form. At which point he looks back to Quint.

"You can deny me if you will. My men are gone my bargain gone my hand extended with no weapon or barb. But one thousand by one thousand was a start to soothe what has been lost. I would give up all that for brief and peaceful words to make the broken weave meaningful."

Azog waits impatiently. He's actually a bit miffed that the mercenaries are going, he was looking forward to a good scrap with them. But since the spider is returning, he'll stow his shield on his back and get the wagon turned back around, probably much to the horses' relief. He waves farewell as the mercs get going post-haste, and waits, eventually relieved to see the spider return with the boy. He'll get out of the wagon to pick him up bodily and place him reasonably gently in the back of the wagon without actually cutting him loose, though he does look the boy over for injuries. "Shhhhh," he mumbles under his breath. "Stay calm, we're taking you back to the city. We'll get these off as soon as the spider is safely dealt with."

Darella smiles at the creature's acceptance of the situation and says, "Very well, I suppose we'll go back to Alexandria much in the same way that we came... Thank you for agreeing to this, whatever your name is, I think that everyone will be much happier than they would be otherwise once you and Lucius reach an agreement."

The departure of the thugs is a welcome thing. No telling where loyalties lie, when one discovers one's employer is not quite what they seemed. The few sick moments when the spider returns to human form sets Alteri to a few hard swallows. Thankfully, Stupid has calmed down at least. Turning to the paladin, the slightly pale Eldanar murmurs, "If speech will see this through with both sides soothed..." She eyes the once-more man, and the boy safely delivered unto them. "He, at least, is true to his word thus far. If he reneges, it will be my blood spilt first."

Like Azog, she makes no move to free the boy. Honestly, if he had behaved, things would not have come to this point. He is safe, is he comfortable? Who cares. Keeping pace with the dark-skinned 'man', she is both guard and prison warden to the creature for the foreseeable future.

Sharna would look pale if only her skin allowed it in earnest. She hops into the back of the wagon herself, adroitly, keeping a wary eye on the man-spider - but like the others, not moving to undo the bonds on the boy, lest he do anything rash. "Come on, then, spider-mage." she calls, gesturing for him to climb aboard. It's going to be a weird journey, that's for sure.

<OOC> Mab says, "In conclusion - Lucius will be horrified by what his stupid son has done when the situation is explained to him. Communication is, obviously, difficult between all the parties concerned. Eventually, though, a compromise is found. Lucius forces Darius to swear to never fight unless his life or the lives of others are in danger... which of course, means no more hunting, no more questing to prove himself, and much more time locked up studying.

The Spider, which doesn't give a name at any point, will leave the city when its work is done. If anyone asks, it will explain, in a roundabout way, that there is another group far to the north that it knows of, and it will go there for a time."

Recent Logs

2011-10-02T07:21:58Z

Mab:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site.

If you're interested in a summary of recent history, see [[Recent History]].

===How to Post Logs===
Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic (respectively, SPrPs, DCPrPs, and DPrPs). Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.''' Be sure to put all pages into '''<nowiki>[[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>'''. Thank you.

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* [[PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1]]
* [[PrP: A Tangled Web]]
[[Category:Admin]]

PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1

2011-09-24T06:57:01Z

Mab:

GM: Mab

PCs:
Quint - Human Paladin - Lvl 3%r
Hrothgar - Giantborn Druid - Lvl 3
Jugga - Giantborn Barbarian - Lvl 3
Sharna - Half-Elf Rogue - Lvl 2
Alteri - Human Fighter - Lvl 3

Encounters:

CR 4 - 1,200 budget (1205 spent)

4 x Zombies
3 x Skeletons

CR 5 - 1,600 budget (1,600 spent)
Mummy

No purchases.

Summary: Builders constructing a new home disturbed the ruins of a long-forgotten ancient one, and in so doing awoke the ancient homeowner from his slumber. But the ages had passed, and his mind had eroded... he knew he had tried to save his family after death, but it seems the sacrifices weren't made - so he set about sacrificing the fools who had awoken him. %r%rThe Heroic PCs turned up and put an end to all that with cunning, smarts, and lots of steel.

There's an emergency! But... when is there ever not an emergency?

The Explorer’s Guild has put out a call on behalf of the Stonemason's. There's been some awful disaster on the edge of town; whilst constructing a new house, the builders had uncovered an old crypt.

Details on what *exactly* happened next are somewhat sketchy, as the unfortunate soul who ran screaming for the nearest guardsman was not in a very clear state of mind. The general gist of it was though; something bad, and probably, something dead.

Which is what brings the adventurers to the building site. Everyone except the foreman has left, which leaves him standing in the middle of a half-constructed building of thick granite blocks... standing over a very old, very heavy oak trapdoor. The lock that had fastened it shut has rusted away with age.

The foreman looks to be in his fifties; human, balding, stressed. Harumph.

<OOC> Quint says, "Noble-y part of town? With the granite blocks and all?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, relatively; merchant district most likely, rather than actual nobility."

Hrothgar rubs his nose and peers with a scowl at the trapdoor in the ground. He remembers the last time he went down into a place like that. It didn't end well. "Hrmph." the giantkin rumbles, adjusting the weight of his massive hammer over his shoulder. "Dun like the smell of that." And neither does the little bear cub that's hiding behind the large man's leg, peering cautiously out from behind him. "Probably some wizard's crypt." he rumbles. "Nothin' good ever grows from burying wizards."

Absently adjusting a strap on her breastplate, Alteri takes in the building site with a long cast of her gaze. She nods a greeting to the foreman; they know each other, due to the fighter having had cause to moonlight at the building site now and then to supplement her income. Jerking her chin towards the trapdoor, she grunts, "That what your guys found?"

Jugga rushes to answer the emergency, slowing from a jog to a walk when she gets to the construction site. She looks this way and that as she explores a bit before discovering the foreman. Studying the trapdoor she grunts, "Well...looks like a door."
"This is, what? The fourth? Fifth? Time that we're heading into certain doom together. If I didn't know better, I would think you're stalking me."

Sharna idly teases Alteri - business as usual - as the mottley group approaches the building site. She's munching on an apple, an ocassional gentle crunch as the fruit is bitten into adding to the more general noise of the city. The noise is constant, really - although lessened, here, by sheer lack of people. She lets Alteri talk, at least for a moment, what with her seeming to know the fellow in charge. Or, shall we say, the only fellow who has deigned to stay behind.

It's a short trip to the courtyards and open-air grounds that Eluna's faithful worship from and live in -- which is likely why Quint arrives on foot rather than astride his ornery warmount. The white surcoat, the leather skirt, and all the rest are quite thoroughly scrubbed and smell strongly of votive candles and incense as he stands there listening. His usual odd intensity is troubled today and while he endeavors to pay attention his gaze keeps dancing to one side -- as if someone is calling to him or shouting nearby. Instead of having his gloved palm loosely balanced on the pommel of his sheathes sword, his fingers knot around it in what is likely a white-knuckled grip. He stands a ways back, leaving plenty of space for all of the others to gather 'round and hear what has to be said.

The foreman looks at the gathered party and stamps. "About time!" He huffs, because it is his job to be agitated about delays.

"Yes, this is what the idiots found." He continues, waving at the trapdoor. "I don't know what is down there, and I don't much care neither. Nothing has come up yet, but unless the damn fools are playing a tasteless prank, it is only a matter of time. If you don't come back up by tomorrow, I'll just brick the whole damn thing up and call it there."

And with a wrenching grunt, he hauls the lid back. The entrance down is wide; big enough you could probably fit three people in side by side, and there are stairs descending into the depths. No light, so it is hard to see too far down there, but the stench of rot and the ancient workmanship is unmistakable.

Jugga steps up to the trapdoor and peers down the stairs into the darkness. "Well. I hope someone thought to bring along some light. I brought smashing things, healing things, and cutting things. No lighting up dark holes in the grounds things. Really should add a few torches or candles or sunrods to my standard pack out. I got booze though if anyone is thirsty." She takes a few steps down into the darkness, but lowlight only goes so far

Hrothgar doesn't let himself be rushed. He peers from the foorman to the opening, leaning over the edge to glance into the darkness beyond. "Hrm." he remarks again, fastening a gaze on the foreman. "You have torches?" he asks simply. "They'll be needed... just a few I think." He glances sidelong at Jugga then, offering the other giantborn a nod. "We'll make do." he rumbles.

"Always has to be a door," Alteri mutters, nodding greets to the rest the Guild has sent. Except Sharna. Sharna gets a flat-eyed look, "I see
you've got your hairpoof tamed." is all the Eldanar will say. Movement at the back catches her eye then, and she glances to note Quint's arrival. "Bright Lady's blessings," she greets, cautiously. Mouth open to say more, she is interrupted by the agitated foreman, and so it is snapped closed once more, as she peers past the taller ones in their party to see what-all.

"Don't know what's down there, hmm?" She settles her light-coloured gaze on the foreman, "Bricks... may not be enough, if those of us gathered here can't clear whatever it is out." and the corners of her eyes crinkle a bit. With that oh-so-reassuring statement, she loosens the drawstring on the small sack tied to her belt. From it, she draws forth an everburning torch, and slips it into a belt-loop fashioned just for it.

Sharna puts her hood into place, flipping the crossbow into her hand in a quick, smooth motion. The safety latch is removed, the bolt within checked. She peers into the gloom below, smiling at the burlier partymembers. In this case, that's everyone. "After you." she says, to nobody in particular. When light must be used and she cannot sneak terribly well as a result, she prefers to have a bit of muscle and steel in front.

"If we face the restless dead... then I am comfortable in the first rank." The armored human pauses, lips pressing into a thin line mid-thought. He might even sound a little irritated when he finishes his thought but its all pushed behind his normal impassive frown the next moment as he steps towards the crypt entrance. Nodding shallowly at Alteri, he pats at three brass, torchlike rods hanging from his own belt. Sunrods. "I am prepared as well should we require additional lighting."

He slides the scimitar from its scabbard and pauses one last time on the threshold before starting his cautious descent. The crescent-shaped shield strapped to his arm leads the way

Hrothgar glances over the gathered group, taking note of each in turn. Then he nods and steps up to join Quint, descending in the darkness. On the way down, he speaks a few rough words in some strange tongue, a faint shimmer of magic settling over his form as he, and the little bear, make their way through the opening

A blink is all Alteri gives to see Quint volunteering for the front spot. Chewing toughtfully on her bottom lip a moment, her pommel shifts in a slight shrugs and she slips in after, keeping her position at a median to ensure enough light is cast forwards and backwards. Sword in one hand, javelin in the other, she steps lightly, feeling the press of the ancient surroundings upon her consciousness. This has the happy coincidence of keeping her ankles away from that little bear's nippy teeth.

Jugga squints into the darkness, "Hulloooo!" She listens to the echoes then looks back at everyone else, "Looks like Alteri gets to be in front. Anyone else..." She nods to Quit, "I guess you've got some light too. Too bad we don't have anyone that could make a weapon glow. Hate depending on things that we've got to drop if fighting breaks out."

The foreman shakes his head to Hrothgar, and then looks to Alteri. "Hrmph. We'll see. Whatever's down there hasn't come up in godsknows how long. But I'm sure a bunch of professionals like you lot..."

And by this time, the party is descending into the depths, spluttering torches providing enough dreary light to make out the impression of a very, very old passageway; about half a mile down into the earth until the stone steps start to shallow out and the impression of a doorway is seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "Perception checks!"

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (4)+1: 5

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Hrothgar casts Longstrider.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (15)+1: 16

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, everyone can make out a kind of, groaning, shambling noise ahead. Sharna and Hrothgar will be getting more."

You paged (Sharna, Hrothgar) with 'You two can make out... a bit more than just 'there is something there'. You reckon there's about a half dozen entities moving about the room, and judging by how far away they are, that makes it a very big room; probably two hundred feet or more.'

Hrothgar hmrphs faintly as he pauses by the door ahead. "Big room beyond this portal" he rumbles as a warning. "A number of creatures... hard to tell exactly how many." he reaches to absently scratch at his beard. "But from the sound, I think we can rule out natural vermin."

Quirking a slight smile, the Highborn pats the sturdy fastening on the belt-loop that will hold the torch firmly in place, "Unless someone steals my belt, we should be all right," she assures Jugga. Further in, Alteri's footsteps freeze as the sounds of groaning and shambling impede upon her senses. She squints at the portal, nodding at Hrothgar's assessment. To Quint, she asks, "Is there aught your Lady can tell you, of what lies beyond this?"

Sharna squints into the darkness, eyes narrowing. "Maybe six or so that I can see. Could be wrong. He's got it right... seems like a real big room." she whispers as an addition to Hrothgar's recounting, slender digits tapping gently on the crossbow. It is at this point that she tries to find way to remain unnoticed - moving along the hall's edges, so as to keep out of sight of the room's occupants and stepping as lightly as she can upon the stone of the passage.

Sharna squints into the darkness, eyes narrowing. "Maybe six or so that I can see. Could be wrong. He's got it right... seems like a real big room." she whispers as an addition to Hrothgar's recounting, slender digits tapping gently on the crossbow. It is at this point that she tries to find way to remain unnoticed - moving along the hall's edges, so as to keep out of sight of the room's occupants and stepping as lightly as she can upon the stone of the passage.

<OOC> Alteri says, "To clarify, it's a hallway ahead, no door between hall and us?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup; doorframe, no door."

Jugga looks around the rest of the crew, "Hmm...no one here happens to be a master of big balls of fire. Any casks of things that blow up or catch on fire when you pitch them into a big room full of monsters?" Quirking her lips to one side and pondering the crew again she shrugs, "So...we're going to charge in and smash things?"

Quint doesn't answer Alteri for some time, the polished metal of his barbute tilting just slightly. "Little," he finally speaks with a turn to look back over his shoulder, his halting speech quiet. "I must see the foe with my eyes before I can know the truth of it." A pause and then a nod to Jugga, "We have been called to do good works for the Grey Harpist. Goddess' blessing." And then he'll continue to advance cautiously, giving a subtle shake of his head.

<OOC> Sharna says, "If there's any possibility of stealthin', I would like to do so - crawl along the wall so I can't be seen from inside the room, maybe, since I figure with the party's light skulking in shadows is hard-ish. If not, c'est la vie!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Not scouting, mind, just keeping out of sight. :("

<OOC> Mab says, "You can."

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (18)+10: 28

Hrothgar lifts the hammer off of his shoulder, cracking his neck. "Roight. Let's see what lies ahead, shall we?" he rumbles as he follows Quint's advance. As he moves forwards, he mutter the words to another spell. Faded runes of some long-forgotten script dance faintly over his frame for a second, before sinking into his broad frame.

<OOC> Mab says, "I think that so far, Quint and Hrothgar are going in, likely side by side?"

"Hngh... I'd like to see what we're up against 'ere charging, myself." Six of anything will give even the young Highborn pause, and so Alteri simple nods and keeps up with the paladin's cautious advancements. At one point in the advance, she lifts her faintly glowing blade to her lips, murmuring a soft prayer to the Dread Lady. "As you have blessed this, let her bring rest to those late to your halls..."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, so Bear|Hrothgar|Quint and then behind them Alteri|Jugga and sneaking in from the side is Sharna."

<OOC> Mab says, "If that is all correct I shall pose again."

The room is big; very big. A burial chamber some two hundred feet long by fifty wide. There are a total of nine caskets in the hall, grouped in
the center. All of them have had their lids removed, and a pair of lanterns - slowly dying as they run out of oil - illuminate these disturbed burying places, and a pair of bodies which are ominously still.

At the far end of the hall there is a second door, and through that a sickly pale purple glow.

Of more immediate concern, however, are the badly-illuminated shapes which shuffle through the darkness at the edge of the room. Now that the light bearers have entered, they are starting to move irregularly towards them, at a shambling pace. Low, guttural groans are heard - an unearthly moan all too familiar to those who have dealt with the living dead before.

Now that they are closer, Alteri notes an interesting little thing. Those shambling forms seem to have a specific direction that they are moving towards. A direction that happens to be Directly Towards Her. To further confirm thing, she takes a broad step to the side Sharna is NOT sneakily sneaking along, just to see if that changes the direction of their shambles any.

Hrothgar grumbles as shambling shapes become visible on the edge of his low-light vision. He glances briefly over his shoulder as the light behind him begins to dance off to one side, furrowing his bushy brow as he seems to get an idea. Reaching into a pouch, he produces a copper coin between his fingers, speaking a single word to make it glow like the torch Alteri is holding. With a gesture of his hand, he flips the coin off into the darkness. Vaguely in the opposite direction Sharna disappeared to.

Mildly startled by the sheer scope of the place, Quint's guard dips a fraction of an inch and his gaze leaves the slow-moving forms for a moment. An unintelligable, whispered prayer crawls furtively from between his lips and his eyes narrow. The shadowplay of Alteri's torch, the distant glow... it makes the abnormally large hall seem almost surreal. Pauldron scrapes quietly against breastplate when he rolls his shoulder, setting his jaw behind the barbute and making sure to keep himself between the expirementing woman and the risen. "They may be fresh from their torpor -- slow and stiff -- but do not take their awkward movements for granted. Many undead abominations are exceptionally quick..." He warns them all quietly even as he tries to pick out any particularly distinguishing features of attributes of the animate corpses, taking a step or two closer.

<OOC> Quint says, "Can we see well enough for a Know/Religion roll to identify them, Mabster?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception check first - that could probably go for all of you - and then most likely yes."

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Alteri rolls Perception: (4)+1: 5

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'm consistent. *cries softly while trying to comfort herself*"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I'll creep after the others."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Trying to keep out of sight, though."

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (7)+10: 17

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (1)+1: 2

Sharna stalks forward, following the others - keeping to the shadows and cover, if any, now that she's been given some room to maneuver. The
crossbow is held at the ready, but she does not do anything to betray her presence. Yet.

Jugga rolls the thick shaft of her earthbreaker in her hands as she eyes the shambling creatures revealed first by Alteri's torch, then Hrothgar's coin. She releases hold of her club with her left hand and pulls her fighting mask down over her face. Once the mask is settled into position she rolls her neck to loosen it up, faint pops coming from the joints.

The undead do seem to be congregating towards the light at least; that much is for certain. There's a total of seven of them, three of them seem to be moving (if you rolled a 16+) somewhat faster than the other four, but not by a huge amount. It will still take a few moments for the first shape to reach the light; about sixty feet away from the gathered group...

Quint's warning is appreciated, and Alteri nods, keeping her movements smooth and unassuming. No telling what else draws the attention of these beings. Eyes narrowing, she studies their reactions, lips pursed in thought. "Well, it appears light does gain their attention."

Jaw tensing, she spots a wall sconce at a, perhaps, halfway point between the party and the moving figures. She gives a firm nod towards it, "I plan to plant my torch th..." her words die as Quint brings up his suggestion. "A much better plan," she compliments. Unlatching the torch, she slips it back into her carrysack and pulls the drawstring tightly closed that no light leaks out.

Hrothgar hrmphs faintly and glances to where the corpses are gathering. "Hrmph. I don't know what unholy power lets them see at all" he rumbles. "A fine idea to circle them... but best be ready should they not fall for such." With that, he makes to move in a wide circle around the glowing coin.

Sharna waits, tense. Simply... waits. What else is there to do, truly? She's not jumping the proverbial gun - or is that crossbow? - at the very least. Crouched low, inside the room with the group, she just waits for their cue to proceed.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, if you guys wait, quietly, whilst they gravitate towards the light, and then sneak around the /far/ side, they will be gathered in that spot. Which will allow you to investigate the door at the far end of the hall no problem."

The undead are not known for their cognitive reasoning skills. Gathered around the light, the group are able to slip past them, and make it around to the far side of the room.

The door is, in a word, grand. Ancient symbols have been moulded into the bronze of it, and it is clearly very old. The sickly purple light spills from the cracks around it, but the door is shut fast, and there is no sound from within...

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge religion, history or local if you have it."

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (12)+7: 19

Jugga watches the slow moving creatures from beyond the grave drag themselves across the burial chamber towards the coin. Once it seems the
plan is working she nods to the others, waiting for those in the lead to start moving so that she and Alteri can follow.

You paged Quint with 'Hard to be certain, but those symbols bear some resemblance to modern day Thul iconography; actually, now you think of it, almost certainly is - the whirls in the bronzework make up a stylized depiction of The Commandment.'
The knowledge that these are, quite likely, restless dead, keeps Alteri's footsteps light as she can make them. Tippy-toeing around the figures, she never takes her eyes off where they are gathered. Hey, you never know if one might suddenly grow a brain and come after them.

You paged Quint with 'Probably, therefore, a prayer room.'

A purple glow is rarely a good sign. Hrothgar hrmphs and absently reaches to scratch the bear behind the ear. "Mighty pretty door" he rumbles in a muffled tone. "Ah say we break it open an' see what's on the other side. Nothin' natural sheds light like /that/"

"The Seller of Souls." Quint offers bluntly, disgust creeping into his tone. "Thul, lord of Undeath," he clarifies for those that might not be familiar with the regional name fo the black god. "We do indeed need to get through this portal and disable whatever defiling craft is at play beyond. Once the immediate threat is vanquished the Mourners will want to investigate the site thoroughly..."

Sharna can't help but keep glancing over her shoulder. There's a whole pile of disgusting, foul-smelling undead over there, milling around that coin, and that's enough to set anyone on edge. "Alright. Let me have a look at this thing. Feel free to give a hand - just look for anything suspicious." the part-elven woman whispers, setting about carefully inspecting the door for booby-traps and other such unpleasant manner of thing.

"Grandfather Winter" Hrothgar rumbles in return to Quint's explanation, shaking his head with a disgusted scowl. "No honest death await beyond these doors... step careful." He closes both hands around the giant hammer he carries, looking all but ready to smash the door open himself. He does step back to let Sharna do her work, though.

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception, Sharna."

<OOC> Sharna says, "I was thinking take 20, but can I do that in a room full of disgusting albeit distracted zombies?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Probably not the smartest move. ;p"

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception+1: (1)+10+1: 12

Jugga looks at the door and the glow, then turns her attention to the creatures behind them as Sharna works at the door. "You know...Won't we have to destroy those anyway? Can't have undead under whatever building they are putting up...but I guess they might all go to sleep if we finish off whatever is making the purple glow."

You paged Sharna with 'Doesn't seem to be trapped; in fact, it looks like the door was opened recently - the latch is a sphere in the whorl of bronze, and it has been rotated, so all you need to do is push it in.'

"Looks clear. Let me see if there's a lock." Sharna says. Mind you, she spent the entire inspection looking over her shoulder to see if the undead have moved. She glances down the door, finding the opening mechanism. "Looks like it's been opened not too long ago. I think this is it..." And yes, confidently reaching out for the opening mechanism! Hooray!

The enquiring expression Alteri had directed to Quint, bleeds away at his disgusted declaration. All that is left behind is a coldly implacable mask, and she slowly slips her javelin back into its low-slung quiver. "Indeed." The ring of her contralto sounds hollow, personality seceding to purpose. With deliberate care, her throwing hand slip to join its brethren in a twohanded grip that tightens, creaking the leather wraps around her blade's hilt. Trying her best not to loom while Sharna works, she too, looks the door over, hawkish gaze seeking almost, to sear right through the barrier into whatever awaits behind.

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm going to ask for two things now which you are all going to hate me for."

<OOC> Mab says, "The first, is initiative; this is likely not too unexpected."

<OOC> Mab says, "The second is a will save."

GAME: Hrothgar rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Mab says, "I remember being annoyed by where the actual helpfiles were last time; it is not +prhelp"

GAME: Sharna rolls initiative: Roll: 6 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 11

GAME: Hrothgar rolls will: (18)+5: 23

GAME: Alteri rolls initiative: Roll: 17 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 19

GAME: Alteri rolls Will: (4)+2: 6

GAME: Sharna rolls Will: (16)+0: 16

Quint pages: If this is fear: You're Welcome.

Quint pages: mt!

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'd say +1 for Fear effects but like that'd help."

GAME: Jugga rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Sharna says, "Quint has an aura for that."

GAME: Jugga rolls will: (20)+3: 23

Hrothgar pages: Bear needs to save as well?

You paged Hrothgar with 'And do init.'

Hrothgar pages: It has a better init score than me, isn't it easier to just let it act on my turn?

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20: (14): 14

You paged Hrothgar with 'Sure'

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "bear is iron will!"

The door slides apart; the contraption it is made of making near-invisible lines slide to one side in a way evocative of the way the night sky would move stars above around a single point. It is almost beautiful, in a strange kind of way.

What is not beautiful is on the other side; a wretched creature swathed in old linen cloth is stooped over an altar on which a heart has been set; glowing a bright, unhealthy purple as it is suffused with unholy power.

The mummy turns, and bellows in incoherent rage, every scrap of the being purely evil, radiating fear like the sun radiates warmth. Everyone feels it... and poor Alteri is frozen in terror.

<OOC> Mab says, "4 rounds of paralysis I'm afraid Alteri."

<OOC> Mab says, "Well, the mummy got a fourteen... so... it is going to hit the person in front of it, which would be Sharna."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (6)+14: 20

<OOC> Sharna says, "That is most certainly a hit."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15

<OOC> Alteri lolwuts, is not interested in that pettanko. :(

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls Fortitude: (9)+2: 11

<OOC> Sharna fails.

<OOC> Sharna says, "What was the onset?"

<OOC> Mab says, "1 minute."

Bellowing with a furious wail, the mummy brings both arms forwards, and bodily slams into the thief who would dare to disturb this most sacred ritual. There's a billowing cloud of dust left from the impact, which likely causes Sharna to cough and choke, not to mention the pain of the impact... the unnatural strength could shatter stone! But thankfully it hasn't yet broken her in half.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Delay until after Quint and hope he'll allow me flanksies."

<OOC> Mab says, "Quint, you are up."

<OOC> Mab says, "Feel free to roll knowledge/religion to go"

<OOC> Mab says, "'OHMY MUMMY'"

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Oh my, it is a mummy."

<OOC> Quint says, "swift to declare my Smite target, 5' in to melee, full attack (PA, TWF)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

You paged Quint with 'It is vulnerable to fire!'

You paged Quint with '(As something you might want to relay specifically)'

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss and a miss."

<OOC> Mab says, "Or, more likely, you are hitting it, and the power of the thing is beating back your blows."

<OOC> Sharna says, "If I take a 5' step diagonally, does it put me in flank with Quintz0rz?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yes."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I would like to stop delaying and take my action, please!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I will drop the crossbow, 5' into flank, pull shortswords, stab it once due to using move to draw weapons."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2: (5)+1+5+1+2: 14

<OOC> Sharna poses a miss!

Quint's prayer spills out of his lips, rich and full and overtaking itself when echoed by a decidedly cold, feminine voice. Silver and blue energies begin to play about his armored figure when he steps forward to engage the shambling, wrapped monstrosity with a leading stab from the scimitar and a hook-arc slam with the crescent-shaped shield. Form reinforced by profane magics most foul, the mummy bats aside the sword with a gnarled claw of a hand and simply lifts a forearm to absord the impact from the shield. Divine energies writhe and coalesce around Quint as he bears down on the undead thing. "The ritual oils make it vulnerable to fire," he voice echoes, two speaking in tandem as he channels the divine through his very soul.

Sharna's eyes widen. Dear gods what-- And then the undead is upon her, and she shudders, barely even remaining on her feet after the assault. She huffs for a moment, sweat beading on her brow - and seeing Quint slide into attack position springs into action herself. The crossbow is discarded in favor of her twin blades, one of which is brought around in an attempt to bury it in the monster's side. It is deflected harmlessly, much like the paladin's own strikes.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1: (8)+7: 15

Hrothgar grunts as the undead monstrosity screeches at the group and launches its' attack, stepping up with the rest, swining his hammer with a vicious backhand sweep. The blow of the earthbreaker glances harmlessly off whatever foul magic animates the monster, though.

<OOC> Jugga says, "Step into the gap left for me by Hrothgar, Rage, Power Attack with MW Earthbreaker."

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "A tie is a hit IIRC."

<OOC> Quint says, "Yessir"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll damage!"

GAME: Jugga rolls 2d6+11: (2)+11: 13

<OOC> Mab says, "It notices!"

Jugga starts to huff and puff as the door is opened and the waves of magic wash over herself and her companions. Her body tightens and her muscles bulge as the pressure of her fury builds up within her. With some bestial growls she grinds her hands on the shaft of her maul as her faster companions lead the attack and for a moment it looks like her fury will be denied a target on which to vent it, but Hrothgar clears a path for her and she jumps forward eagerly as soon as she's got a spot to swing from. She swing heavily but misses the creature in her haste, but with a strain of tendons and joints she sends her maul in reverse, scraping the iron shod tip along her foe, not the cleanest connection but it makes the woman behind the mask happy, and she starts to laugh merrily almost immediately.

<OOC> Mab says, "What's your raging AC Jugga?"

<OOC> Jugga says, "AC? What/s that? looking"

<OOC> Jugga says, "13"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (5)+14: 19

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab damaged Jugga for 11 points. 25 remaining.

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save please!"

GAME: Jugga rolls fort: (15)+6: 21

<OOC> Jugga says, "Oh...figured my damage incorrectly Mab. Should be 1 higher."

The mummy rounds on Quint at first; completely ignoring his companions whose blows do not even break its momentum. Apparently, being a paladin in the presence of such a powerful undead monster has gotten its attention. "You... can't... interfere...!" It starts to rasp, horribly, in a voice slowly heating with rage... and then Jugga's massive maul strikes it across the front, and the tip cuts through some linens.

With a horrendous bellow the creature throws itself back at the giantkin, and easily connects with the laughing woman, though whether the force of the blow is enough to knock the wind out of her remains to be seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "OK"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29

<OOC> Quint says, "threat"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15

<OOC> Quint says, "no confirm"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay - first successful attack, so +2 damage/level"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+3+1: (3)+1+3+3+1: 11

<OOC> Quint says, "ignores DR :D"

Muscles locked, Alteri's eyes dart back and forth, the whites showing bleakly in her eyes as she tries but fails to fight free of the numbing fear that
has gripped her in its claws. The tendons of her neck strain and beads of sweat trickle down her temple as she watches her comrades battle the evil she cannot, for the life of her, pull free to join.

<OOC> Alteri puts in a pose while waiting for 4 rounds to end. ^_^;

<OOC> Mab says, "Definitely noticed that one."

Intending to sieze the opportunity presented by the feral woman's distract, Quint cuts down and across with the dull-black blade of the scimitar only to have his wrist caught by the mummy's own iron grip. Grimacing, the whispers of prayer still girding him in faith's own armor, he brings to bear his shield-arm. A heavy metal thump and the crack of ancient bone couples with a silver flash as the defensive-item-turned-weapon. "The Harp players for you... creature," he challenges, his voice oddly serene

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (19)+1+5+1+2+-2: 26

<OOC> Sharna says, "Two threats."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (2)+1+5+1+2+-2: 9

<OOC> Sharna says, "One crit. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls 2d6+4+1d6: (7)+4+(6): 17

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+1d6: (6)+1+(6): 13

<OOC> Mab says, "Wow, nicely done. Okay, you score across its back, ripping open ragged wounds and sending out a tumble of old petals and dried up husks of flowers. You are now situated almost directly behind it, which will allow Hrothgar to move to where you were, and therefore the bear to move to where he was."

<OOC> Mab says, "Do the mummy-slaying conga."

<OOC> Mab says, "After which, Hrothgar is up."

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "If I move, I flank with Quint?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."

<OOC> Hrothgar nods and will do this, then. Both of us! Then attack, power attack style

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1+2-1: (2)+7+2+-1: 10

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "blah"

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

Hrothgar swings his hammer in another wide arc, growling as the weapon bounces harmlessly off the mummy's thick hide. The nameless bear has given up tugging on Alteri's shoelaces and instead move into the open space around the dead creature, roaring as it tear at the monster with tooth and claw. To little effect, however.

Sharna ducks beneath flailing fists and trailing bits of bandage. She's breathing quite heavily - something's wrong with her, she can tell, but she can't put a finger on it. Scared out of her wits, she focuses herself on something more productive... like tearing this thing apart.
The blades dance as she darts in, ducking low, a couple of jabbing feints to distract before making the actual strikes. The profane defenses of the thing falter under the assault - the slender sword cuts deep, spilling aged flora as the woman twists the weapon with a vengeance. The other blade joins, tearing the bandages on its side and leaving its painful mark there.

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+3+6+1-1: (8)+3+6+1+-1: 17

Jugga thumps the mummy, and gets thumped back pretty hard. The blow cracks her mask, knocking it across her face, blood flowing from a smashed nose. Shaking her head to clear her vision she sheds the remnants of the mask while she lashes out with broad strokes of her maul. Some semblance of control allows her to keep from smacking any of her neighbors in the brawl, but her strikes don't find any solid connections as the mummy it hit from all sides, which has her angrier than ever. "Damn you. I'll crack your motherless skull open you pig ****ing **** **cker!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (1)+14: 15

The creature is surrounded on all sides, and the beings which had, at first, seemed like naught but buzzing insects are starting to cut into it; this is unnerving. Blindly, it thrashes out in all directions - wild swings might have been aimed at Quint, or Jugga, or even the bear but it is difficult to say. Thankfully, they don't seem focused enough to really land home. This is not an emotionless, mindless creature, and it is starting to panic.
"BARGAIN... Must... complete... HRAAAAARGH!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27

<OOC> Quint says, "threat!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25

<OOC> Quint says, "crit"

<OOC> Quint says, "HOORaaaaaaay"

<OOC> Quint says, "OH"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28

<OOC> Mab hahs

GAME: Quint rolls 2d6+4+6+6+4: (7)+4+6+6+4: 27

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+1: (4)+1+3+1: 9

<OOC> Quint says, "both ignore DR :D"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup, that destroys it."

Klefnaft finally strikes true with a backhanded slash that cuts deep into the mummy's flank even as the shield mirrors the action to slam in at head level. The scissoring attacks utterly destroy the foul undead thing, crushing the head to spin away a tangle of pulped, ancient bone and yellowed, rotting bandages even as the assaulted torso drops down into two dusty, bulb-filled pieces. The encircling energies playing around the paladin immediately begin to pull apart, sucked away to some distant plane now that the borrowed power is no longer needed. "We are victorious," he comments in his own voice between heavy, deep breaths.

"Not yet" Hrothgar rumbles to Quint as the paladin finishes the mummy, gesturing with his earthbreaker as he strides towards the altar, indicating the pulsating heart glowing with that ominous purple glare. He raises his hammer with both hands, ready to smash the vile thing to pieces. "Lord of Frozen Death, this is not your place!" he growls as he swing the hammer.

Jugga spits out a stream of invective at the fallen mummy then winds herself down from her rage, crunching her maul into the floor. She coughs and hacks up blood, spitting to clear her mouth and throat of the blood from her broken nose. She looks over at the glowing heart, "You going to take..." she starts, but Hrothgar looks to have it covered. Given that, she reaches up and snaps her broken nose back to the middle of her face where it belongs.

Sharna had been preparing another strike, but as the mummy crumbles beneath Quint's onslaught, her arms lower. Her weapons are sheathed, the crossbow reclaimed. Shaky on her feet from that bone-shattering blow she'd received, the half-elven woman holds a hand to her chest. "I think one of my ribs might be broken." she says quietly, wincing and twitching at the feel of her own touch. More like FOUR ribs or so.
Quint sheaths his weapons, looking between each standing combatant, eyes narrowed. "How do you feel?" He asks in his odd, halting manner, eyes dancing between Jugga and Sharna. "Such creatures can bring to bear vile curses with their very touch. Extremely painful and ultimately life-threatening should they take root..."

Jugga grumbles between her panting and sweating, "Mmmph. I feel fine. Better if I'd got the death blow on that thing." She grabs at her nose and tugs and pulls on it with lots of grimacing and hissing, "Is my nose straight?"

Crushing the heart kills the purple glow, and with it, the soft sound of dead flesh hitting stone and bones clattering to the floor echoes through the hall.

With the mummy defeated and the sacrifice averted, the heroes can return to the surface; there to rush Sharna for medical attention... and, with the immediate crisis no longer a concern, to allow cleanup to occur.

It transpires that this was once a noble burial place, consecrated to Thul in days long past. Somehow, the ancient rituals hadn't taken, until the builders had disturbed the casket of the dead nobleman's wife. In so doing, they awoke his sons and daughters, and himself...

The taint of evil will take some time to erode, but at least all concerned can take solace in the fact that the tormented souls have met their final rest.
[[Category:Logs]]

PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1

2011-09-24T06:56:25Z

Mab: Created page with "PCs: Quint - Human Paladin - Lvl 3%r Hrothgar - Giantborn Druid - Lvl 3 Jugga - Giantborn Barbarian - Lvl 3 Sharna - Half-Elf Rogue - Lvl 2 Alteri - Human Fighter - Lvl 3 Encoun..."

PCs:
Quint - Human Paladin - Lvl 3%r
Hrothgar - Giantborn Druid - Lvl 3
Jugga - Giantborn Barbarian - Lvl 3
Sharna - Half-Elf Rogue - Lvl 2
Alteri - Human Fighter - Lvl 3

Encounters:

CR 4 - 1,200 budget (1205 spent)

4 x Zombies
3 x Skeletons

CR 5 - 1,600 budget (1,600 spent)
Mummy

No purchases.

Summary: Builders constructing a new home disturbed the ruins of a long-forgotten ancient one, and in so doing awoke the ancient homeowner from his slumber. But the ages had passed, and his mind had eroded... he knew he had tried to save his family after death, but it seems the sacrifices weren't made - so he set about sacrificing the fools who had awoken him. %r%rThe Heroic PCs turned up and put an end to all that with cunning, smarts, and lots of steel.

There's an emergency! But... when is there ever not an emergency?

The Explorer’s Guild has put out a call on behalf of the Stonemason's. There's been some awful disaster on the edge of town; whilst constructing a new house, the builders had uncovered an old crypt.

Details on what *exactly* happened next are somewhat sketchy, as the unfortunate soul who ran screaming for the nearest guardsman was not in a very clear state of mind. The general gist of it was though; something bad, and probably, something dead.

Which is what brings the adventurers to the building site. Everyone except the foreman has left, which leaves him standing in the middle of a half-constructed building of thick granite blocks... standing over a very old, very heavy oak trapdoor. The lock that had fastened it shut has rusted away with age.

The foreman looks to be in his fifties; human, balding, stressed. Harumph.

<OOC> Quint says, "Noble-y part of town? With the granite blocks and all?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yeah, relatively; merchant district most likely, rather than actual nobility."

Hrothgar rubs his nose and peers with a scowl at the trapdoor in the ground. He remembers the last time he went down into a place like that. It didn't end well. "Hrmph." the giantkin rumbles, adjusting the weight of his massive hammer over his shoulder. "Dun like the smell of that." And neither does the little bear cub that's hiding behind the large man's leg, peering cautiously out from behind him. "Probably some wizard's crypt." he rumbles. "Nothin' good ever grows from burying wizards."

Absently adjusting a strap on her breastplate, Alteri takes in the building site with a long cast of her gaze. She nods a greeting to the foreman; they know each other, due to the fighter having had cause to moonlight at the building site now and then to supplement her income. Jerking her chin towards the trapdoor, she grunts, "That what your guys found?"

Jugga rushes to answer the emergency, slowing from a jog to a walk when she gets to the construction site. She looks this way and that as she explores a bit before discovering the foreman. Studying the trapdoor she grunts, "Well...looks like a door."
"This is, what? The fourth? Fifth? Time that we're heading into certain doom together. If I didn't know better, I would think you're stalking me."

Sharna idly teases Alteri - business as usual - as the mottley group approaches the building site. She's munching on an apple, an ocassional gentle crunch as the fruit is bitten into adding to the more general noise of the city. The noise is constant, really - although lessened, here, by sheer lack of people. She lets Alteri talk, at least for a moment, what with her seeming to know the fellow in charge. Or, shall we say, the only fellow who has deigned to stay behind.

It's a short trip to the courtyards and open-air grounds that Eluna's faithful worship from and live in -- which is likely why Quint arrives on foot rather than astride his ornery warmount. The white surcoat, the leather skirt, and all the rest are quite thoroughly scrubbed and smell strongly of votive candles and incense as he stands there listening. His usual odd intensity is troubled today and while he endeavors to pay attention his gaze keeps dancing to one side -- as if someone is calling to him or shouting nearby. Instead of having his gloved palm loosely balanced on the pommel of his sheathes sword, his fingers knot around it in what is likely a white-knuckled grip. He stands a ways back, leaving plenty of space for all of the others to gather 'round and hear what has to be said.

The foreman looks at the gathered party and stamps. "About time!" He huffs, because it is his job to be agitated about delays.

"Yes, this is what the idiots found." He continues, waving at the trapdoor. "I don't know what is down there, and I don't much care neither. Nothing has come up yet, but unless the damn fools are playing a tasteless prank, it is only a matter of time. If you don't come back up by tomorrow, I'll just brick the whole damn thing up and call it there."

And with a wrenching grunt, he hauls the lid back. The entrance down is wide; big enough you could probably fit three people in side by side, and there are stairs descending into the depths. No light, so it is hard to see too far down there, but the stench of rot and the ancient workmanship is unmistakable.

Jugga steps up to the trapdoor and peers down the stairs into the darkness. "Well. I hope someone thought to bring along some light. I brought smashing things, healing things, and cutting things. No lighting up dark holes in the grounds things. Really should add a few torches or candles or sunrods to my standard pack out. I got booze though if anyone is thirsty." She takes a few steps down into the darkness, but lowlight only goes so far

Hrothgar doesn't let himself be rushed. He peers from the foorman to the opening, leaning over the edge to glance into the darkness beyond. "Hrm." he remarks again, fastening a gaze on the foreman. "You have torches?" he asks simply. "They'll be needed... just a few I think." He glances sidelong at Jugga then, offering the other giantborn a nod. "We'll make do." he rumbles.

"Always has to be a door," Alteri mutters, nodding greets to the rest the Guild has sent. Except Sharna. Sharna gets a flat-eyed look, "I see
you've got your hairpoof tamed." is all the Eldanar will say. Movement at the back catches her eye then, and she glances to note Quint's arrival. "Bright Lady's blessings," she greets, cautiously. Mouth open to say more, she is interrupted by the agitated foreman, and so it is snapped closed once more, as she peers past the taller ones in their party to see what-all.

"Don't know what's down there, hmm?" She settles her light-coloured gaze on the foreman, "Bricks... may not be enough, if those of us gathered here can't clear whatever it is out." and the corners of her eyes crinkle a bit. With that oh-so-reassuring statement, she loosens the drawstring on the small sack tied to her belt. From it, she draws forth an everburning torch, and slips it into a belt-loop fashioned just for it.

Sharna puts her hood into place, flipping the crossbow into her hand in a quick, smooth motion. The safety latch is removed, the bolt within checked. She peers into the gloom below, smiling at the burlier partymembers. In this case, that's everyone. "After you." she says, to nobody in particular. When light must be used and she cannot sneak terribly well as a result, she prefers to have a bit of muscle and steel in front.

"If we face the restless dead... then I am comfortable in the first rank." The armored human pauses, lips pressing into a thin line mid-thought. He might even sound a little irritated when he finishes his thought but its all pushed behind his normal impassive frown the next moment as he steps towards the crypt entrance. Nodding shallowly at Alteri, he pats at three brass, torchlike rods hanging from his own belt. Sunrods. "I am prepared as well should we require additional lighting."

He slides the scimitar from its scabbard and pauses one last time on the threshold before starting his cautious descent. The crescent-shaped shield strapped to his arm leads the way

Hrothgar glances over the gathered group, taking note of each in turn. Then he nods and steps up to join Quint, descending in the darkness. On the way down, he speaks a few rough words in some strange tongue, a faint shimmer of magic settling over his form as he, and the little bear, make their way through the opening

A blink is all Alteri gives to see Quint volunteering for the front spot. Chewing toughtfully on her bottom lip a moment, her pommel shifts in a slight shrugs and she slips in after, keeping her position at a median to ensure enough light is cast forwards and backwards. Sword in one hand, javelin in the other, she steps lightly, feeling the press of the ancient surroundings upon her consciousness. This has the happy coincidence of keeping her ankles away from that little bear's nippy teeth.

Jugga squints into the darkness, "Hulloooo!" She listens to the echoes then looks back at everyone else, "Looks like Alteri gets to be in front. Anyone else..." She nods to Quit, "I guess you've got some light too. Too bad we don't have anyone that could make a weapon glow. Hate depending on things that we've got to drop if fighting breaks out."

The foreman shakes his head to Hrothgar, and then looks to Alteri. "Hrmph. We'll see. Whatever's down there hasn't come up in godsknows how long. But I'm sure a bunch of professionals like you lot..."

And by this time, the party is descending into the depths, spluttering torches providing enough dreary light to make out the impression of a very, very old passageway; about half a mile down into the earth until the stone steps start to shallow out and the impression of a doorway is seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "Perception checks!"

GAME: Alteri rolls perception: (4)+1: 5

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (11)+10: 21

GAME: Hrothgar casts Longstrider.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (19)+10: 29

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (15)+1: 16

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, everyone can make out a kind of, groaning, shambling noise ahead. Sharna and Hrothgar will be getting more."

You paged (Sharna, Hrothgar) with 'You two can make out... a bit more than just 'there is something there'. You reckon there's about a half dozen entities moving about the room, and judging by how far away they are, that makes it a very big room; probably two hundred feet or more.'

Hrothgar hmrphs faintly as he pauses by the door ahead. "Big room beyond this portal" he rumbles as a warning. "A number of creatures... hard to tell exactly how many." he reaches to absently scratch at his beard. "But from the sound, I think we can rule out natural vermin."

Quirking a slight smile, the Highborn pats the sturdy fastening on the belt-loop that will hold the torch firmly in place, "Unless someone steals my belt, we should be all right," she assures Jugga. Further in, Alteri's footsteps freeze as the sounds of groaning and shambling impede upon her senses. She squints at the portal, nodding at Hrothgar's assessment. To Quint, she asks, "Is there aught your Lady can tell you, of what lies beyond this?"

Sharna squints into the darkness, eyes narrowing. "Maybe six or so that I can see. Could be wrong. He's got it right... seems like a real big room." she whispers as an addition to Hrothgar's recounting, slender digits tapping gently on the crossbow. It is at this point that she tries to find way to remain unnoticed - moving along the hall's edges, so as to keep out of sight of the room's occupants and stepping as lightly as she can upon the stone of the passage.

Sharna squints into the darkness, eyes narrowing. "Maybe six or so that I can see. Could be wrong. He's got it right... seems like a real big room." she whispers as an addition to Hrothgar's recounting, slender digits tapping gently on the crossbow. It is at this point that she tries to find way to remain unnoticed - moving along the hall's edges, so as to keep out of sight of the room's occupants and stepping as lightly as she can upon the stone of the passage.

<OOC> Alteri says, "To clarify, it's a hallway ahead, no door between hall and us?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup; doorframe, no door."

Jugga looks around the rest of the crew, "Hmm...no one here happens to be a master of big balls of fire. Any casks of things that blow up or catch on fire when you pitch them into a big room full of monsters?" Quirking her lips to one side and pondering the crew again she shrugs, "So...we're going to charge in and smash things?"

Quint doesn't answer Alteri for some time, the polished metal of his barbute tilting just slightly. "Little," he finally speaks with a turn to look back over his shoulder, his halting speech quiet. "I must see the foe with my eyes before I can know the truth of it." A pause and then a nod to Jugga, "We have been called to do good works for the Grey Harpist. Goddess' blessing." And then he'll continue to advance cautiously, giving a subtle shake of his head.

<OOC> Sharna says, "If there's any possibility of stealthin', I would like to do so - crawl along the wall so I can't be seen from inside the room, maybe, since I figure with the party's light skulking in shadows is hard-ish. If not, c'est la vie!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "Not scouting, mind, just keeping out of sight. :("

<OOC> Mab says, "You can."

GAME: Sharna rolls Stealth: (18)+10: 28

Hrothgar lifts the hammer off of his shoulder, cracking his neck. "Roight. Let's see what lies ahead, shall we?" he rumbles as he follows Quint's advance. As he moves forwards, he mutter the words to another spell. Faded runes of some long-forgotten script dance faintly over his frame for a second, before sinking into his broad frame.

<OOC> Mab says, "I think that so far, Quint and Hrothgar are going in, likely side by side?"

"Hngh... I'd like to see what we're up against 'ere charging, myself." Six of anything will give even the young Highborn pause, and so Alteri simple nods and keeps up with the paladin's cautious advancements. At one point in the advance, she lifts her faintly glowing blade to her lips, murmuring a soft prayer to the Dread Lady. "As you have blessed this, let her bring rest to those late to your halls..."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, so Bear|Hrothgar|Quint and then behind them Alteri|Jugga and sneaking in from the side is Sharna."

<OOC> Mab says, "If that is all correct I shall pose again."

The room is big; very big. A burial chamber some two hundred feet long by fifty wide. There are a total of nine caskets in the hall, grouped in
the center. All of them have had their lids removed, and a pair of lanterns - slowly dying as they run out of oil - illuminate these disturbed burying places, and a pair of bodies which are ominously still.

At the far end of the hall there is a second door, and through that a sickly pale purple glow.

Of more immediate concern, however, are the badly-illuminated shapes which shuffle through the darkness at the edge of the room. Now that the light bearers have entered, they are starting to move irregularly towards them, at a shambling pace. Low, guttural groans are heard - an unearthly moan all too familiar to those who have dealt with the living dead before.

Now that they are closer, Alteri notes an interesting little thing. Those shambling forms seem to have a specific direction that they are moving towards. A direction that happens to be Directly Towards Her. To further confirm thing, she takes a broad step to the side Sharna is NOT sneakily sneaking along, just to see if that changes the direction of their shambles any.

Hrothgar grumbles as shambling shapes become visible on the edge of his low-light vision. He glances briefly over his shoulder as the light behind him begins to dance off to one side, furrowing his bushy brow as he seems to get an idea. Reaching into a pouch, he produces a copper coin between his fingers, speaking a single word to make it glow like the torch Alteri is holding. With a gesture of his hand, he flips the coin off into the darkness. Vaguely in the opposite direction Sharna disappeared to.

Mildly startled by the sheer scope of the place, Quint's guard dips a fraction of an inch and his gaze leaves the slow-moving forms for a moment. An unintelligable, whispered prayer crawls furtively from between his lips and his eyes narrow. The shadowplay of Alteri's torch, the distant glow... it makes the abnormally large hall seem almost surreal. Pauldron scrapes quietly against breastplate when he rolls his shoulder, setting his jaw behind the barbute and making sure to keep himself between the expirementing woman and the risen. "They may be fresh from their torpor -- slow and stiff -- but do not take their awkward movements for granted. Many undead abominations are exceptionally quick..." He warns them all quietly even as he tries to pick out any particularly distinguishing features of attributes of the animate corpses, taking a step or two closer.

<OOC> Quint says, "Can we see well enough for a Know/Religion roll to identify them, Mabster?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception check first - that could probably go for all of you - and then most likely yes."

GAME: Jugga rolls perception: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Hrothgar rolls perception: (15)+10: 25

GAME: Alteri rolls Perception: (4)+1: 5

[RPOne] Alteri says, "I'm consistent. *cries softly while trying to comfort herself*"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I'll creep after the others."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Trying to keep out of sight, though."

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception: (7)+10: 17

GAME: Quint rolls Perception: (1)+1: 2

Sharna stalks forward, following the others - keeping to the shadows and cover, if any, now that she's been given some room to maneuver. The
crossbow is held at the ready, but she does not do anything to betray her presence. Yet.

Jugga rolls the thick shaft of her earthbreaker in her hands as she eyes the shambling creatures revealed first by Alteri's torch, then Hrothgar's coin. She releases hold of her club with her left hand and pulls her fighting mask down over her face. Once the mask is settled into position she rolls her neck to loosen it up, faint pops coming from the joints.

The undead do seem to be congregating towards the light at least; that much is for certain. There's a total of seven of them, three of them seem to be moving (if you rolled a 16+) somewhat faster than the other four, but not by a huge amount. It will still take a few moments for the first shape to reach the light; about sixty feet away from the gathered group...

Quint's warning is appreciated, and Alteri nods, keeping her movements smooth and unassuming. No telling what else draws the attention of these beings. Eyes narrowing, she studies their reactions, lips pursed in thought. "Well, it appears light does gain their attention."

Jaw tensing, she spots a wall sconce at a, perhaps, halfway point between the party and the moving figures. She gives a firm nod towards it, "I plan to plant my torch th..." her words die as Quint brings up his suggestion. "A much better plan," she compliments. Unlatching the torch, she slips it back into her carrysack and pulls the drawstring tightly closed that no light leaks out.

Hrothgar hrmphs faintly and glances to where the corpses are gathering. "Hrmph. I don't know what unholy power lets them see at all" he rumbles. "A fine idea to circle them... but best be ready should they not fall for such." With that, he makes to move in a wide circle around the glowing coin.

Sharna waits, tense. Simply... waits. What else is there to do, truly? She's not jumping the proverbial gun - or is that crossbow? - at the very least. Crouched low, inside the room with the group, she just waits for their cue to proceed.

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay, if you guys wait, quietly, whilst they gravitate towards the light, and then sneak around the /far/ side, they will be gathered in that spot. Which will allow you to investigate the door at the far end of the hall no problem."

The undead are not known for their cognitive reasoning skills. Gathered around the light, the group are able to slip past them, and make it around to the far side of the room.

The door is, in a word, grand. Ancient symbols have been moulded into the bronze of it, and it is clearly very old. The sickly purple light spills from the cracks around it, but the door is shut fast, and there is no sound from within...

<OOC> Mab says, "Knowledge religion, history or local if you have it."

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (12)+7: 19

Jugga watches the slow moving creatures from beyond the grave drag themselves across the burial chamber towards the coin. Once it seems the
plan is working she nods to the others, waiting for those in the lead to start moving so that she and Alteri can follow.

You paged Quint with 'Hard to be certain, but those symbols bear some resemblance to modern day Thul iconography; actually, now you think of it, almost certainly is - the whirls in the bronzework make up a stylized depiction of The Commandment.'
The knowledge that these are, quite likely, restless dead, keeps Alteri's footsteps light as she can make them. Tippy-toeing around the figures, she never takes her eyes off where they are gathered. Hey, you never know if one might suddenly grow a brain and come after them.

You paged Quint with 'Probably, therefore, a prayer room.'

A purple glow is rarely a good sign. Hrothgar hrmphs and absently reaches to scratch the bear behind the ear. "Mighty pretty door" he rumbles in a muffled tone. "Ah say we break it open an' see what's on the other side. Nothin' natural sheds light like /that/"

"The Seller of Souls." Quint offers bluntly, disgust creeping into his tone. "Thul, lord of Undeath," he clarifies for those that might not be familiar with the regional name fo the black god. "We do indeed need to get through this portal and disable whatever defiling craft is at play beyond. Once the immediate threat is vanquished the Mourners will want to investigate the site thoroughly..."

Sharna can't help but keep glancing over her shoulder. There's a whole pile of disgusting, foul-smelling undead over there, milling around that coin, and that's enough to set anyone on edge. "Alright. Let me have a look at this thing. Feel free to give a hand - just look for anything suspicious." the part-elven woman whispers, setting about carefully inspecting the door for booby-traps and other such unpleasant manner of thing.

"Grandfather Winter" Hrothgar rumbles in return to Quint's explanation, shaking his head with a disgusted scowl. "No honest death await beyond these doors... step careful." He closes both hands around the giant hammer he carries, looking all but ready to smash the door open himself. He does step back to let Sharna do her work, though.

<OOC> Mab says, "Give me a perception, Sharna."

<OOC> Sharna says, "I was thinking take 20, but can I do that in a room full of disgusting albeit distracted zombies?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Probably not the smartest move. ;p"

GAME: Sharna rolls Perception+1: (1)+10+1: 12

Jugga looks at the door and the glow, then turns her attention to the creatures behind them as Sharna works at the door. "You know...Won't we have to destroy those anyway? Can't have undead under whatever building they are putting up...but I guess they might all go to sleep if we finish off whatever is making the purple glow."

You paged Sharna with 'Doesn't seem to be trapped; in fact, it looks like the door was opened recently - the latch is a sphere in the whorl of bronze, and it has been rotated, so all you need to do is push it in.'

"Looks clear. Let me see if there's a lock." Sharna says. Mind you, she spent the entire inspection looking over her shoulder to see if the undead have moved. She glances down the door, finding the opening mechanism. "Looks like it's been opened not too long ago. I think this is it..." And yes, confidently reaching out for the opening mechanism! Hooray!

The enquiring expression Alteri had directed to Quint, bleeds away at his disgusted declaration. All that is left behind is a coldly implacable mask, and she slowly slips her javelin back into its low-slung quiver. "Indeed." The ring of her contralto sounds hollow, personality seceding to purpose. With deliberate care, her throwing hand slip to join its brethren in a twohanded grip that tightens, creaking the leather wraps around her blade's hilt. Trying her best not to loom while Sharna works, she too, looks the door over, hawkish gaze seeking almost, to sear right through the barrier into whatever awaits behind.

<OOC> Mab says, "I'm going to ask for two things now which you are all going to hate me for."

<OOC> Mab says, "The first, is initiative; this is likely not too unexpected."

<OOC> Mab says, "The second is a will save."

GAME: Hrothgar rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Mab says, "I remember being annoyed by where the actual helpfiles were last time; it is not +prhelp"

GAME: Sharna rolls initiative: Roll: 6 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 11

GAME: Hrothgar rolls will: (18)+5: 23

GAME: Alteri rolls initiative: Roll: 17 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 19

GAME: Alteri rolls Will: (4)+2: 6

GAME: Sharna rolls Will: (16)+0: 16

Quint pages: If this is fear: You're Welcome.

Quint pages: mt!

<OOC> Alteri says, "I'd say +1 for Fear effects but like that'd help."

GAME: Jugga rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 4

<OOC> Sharna says, "Quint has an aura for that."

GAME: Jugga rolls will: (20)+3: 23

Hrothgar pages: Bear needs to save as well?

You paged Hrothgar with 'And do init.'

Hrothgar pages: It has a better init score than me, isn't it easier to just let it act on my turn?

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20: (14): 14

You paged Hrothgar with 'Sure'

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+2: (19)+2: 21

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "bear is iron will!"

The door slides apart; the contraption it is made of making near-invisible lines slide to one side in a way evocative of the way the night sky would move stars above around a single point. It is almost beautiful, in a strange kind of way.

What is not beautiful is on the other side; a wretched creature swathed in old linen cloth is stooped over an altar on which a heart has been set; glowing a bright, unhealthy purple as it is suffused with unholy power.

The mummy turns, and bellows in incoherent rage, every scrap of the being purely evil, radiating fear like the sun radiates warmth. Everyone feels it... and poor Alteri is frozen in terror.

<OOC> Mab says, "4 rounds of paralysis I'm afraid Alteri."

<OOC> Mab says, "Well, the mummy got a fourteen... so... it is going to hit the person in front of it, which would be Sharna."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (6)+14: 20

<OOC> Sharna says, "That is most certainly a hit."

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (5)+10: 15

<OOC> Alteri lolwuts, is not interested in that pettanko. :(

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls Fortitude: (9)+2: 11

<OOC> Sharna fails.

<OOC> Sharna says, "What was the onset?"

<OOC> Mab says, "1 minute."

Bellowing with a furious wail, the mummy brings both arms forwards, and bodily slams into the thief who would dare to disturb this most sacred ritual. There's a billowing cloud of dust left from the impact, which likely causes Sharna to cough and choke, not to mention the pain of the impact... the unnatural strength could shatter stone! But thankfully it hasn't yet broken her in half.

<OOC> Sharna says, "Delay until after Quint and hope he'll allow me flanksies."

<OOC> Mab says, "Quint, you are up."

<OOC> Mab says, "Feel free to roll knowledge/religion to go"

<OOC> Mab says, "'OHMY MUMMY'"

GAME: Quint rolls Knowledge/Religion: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Oh my, it is a mummy."

<OOC> Quint says, "swift to declare my Smite target, 5' in to melee, full attack (PA, TWF)"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

You paged Quint with 'It is vulnerable to fire!'

You paged Quint with '(As something you might want to relay specifically)'

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17

<OOC> Mab says, "Miss and a miss."

<OOC> Mab says, "Or, more likely, you are hitting it, and the power of the thing is beating back your blows."

<OOC> Sharna says, "If I take a 5' step diagonally, does it put me in flank with Quintz0rz?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yes."

<OOC> Sharna says, "Then I would like to stop delaying and take my action, please!"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay!"

<OOC> Sharna says, "I will drop the crossbow, 5' into flank, pull shortswords, stab it once due to using move to draw weapons."

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2: (5)+1+5+1+2: 14

<OOC> Sharna poses a miss!

Quint's prayer spills out of his lips, rich and full and overtaking itself when echoed by a decidedly cold, feminine voice. Silver and blue energies begin to play about his armored figure when he steps forward to engage the shambling, wrapped monstrosity with a leading stab from the scimitar and a hook-arc slam with the crescent-shaped shield. Form reinforced by profane magics most foul, the mummy bats aside the sword with a gnarled claw of a hand and simply lifts a forearm to absord the impact from the shield. Divine energies writhe and coalesce around Quint as he bears down on the undead thing. "The ritual oils make it vulnerable to fire," he voice echoes, two speaking in tandem as he channels the divine through his very soul.

Sharna's eyes widen. Dear gods what-- And then the undead is upon her, and she shudders, barely even remaining on her feet after the assault. She huffs for a moment, sweat beading on her brow - and seeing Quint slide into attack position springs into action herself. The crossbow is discarded in favor of her twin blades, one of which is brought around in an attempt to bury it in the monster's side. It is deflected harmlessly, much like the paladin's own strikes.

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1: (8)+7: 15

Hrothgar grunts as the undead monstrosity screeches at the group and launches its' attack, stepping up with the rest, swining his hammer with a vicious backhand sweep. The blow of the earthbreaker glances harmlessly off whatever foul magic animates the monster, though.

<OOC> Jugga says, "Step into the gap left for me by Hrothgar, Rage, Power Attack with MW Earthbreaker."

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20

<OOC> Mab says, "A tie is a hit IIRC."

<OOC> Quint says, "Yessir"

<OOC> Mab says, "Roll damage!"

GAME: Jugga rolls 2d6+11: (2)+11: 13

<OOC> Mab says, "It notices!"

Jugga starts to huff and puff as the door is opened and the waves of magic wash over herself and her companions. Her body tightens and her muscles bulge as the pressure of her fury builds up within her. With some bestial growls she grinds her hands on the shaft of her maul as her faster companions lead the attack and for a moment it looks like her fury will be denied a target on which to vent it, but Hrothgar clears a path for her and she jumps forward eagerly as soon as she's got a spot to swing from. She swing heavily but misses the creature in her haste, but with a strain of tendons and joints she sends her maul in reverse, scraping the iron shod tip along her foe, not the cleanest connection but it makes the woman behind the mask happy, and she starts to laugh merrily almost immediately.

<OOC> Mab says, "What's your raging AC Jugga?"

<OOC> Jugga says, "AC? What/s that? looking"

<OOC> Jugga says, "13"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (5)+14: 19

GAME: Mab rolls 1d8+10: (1)+10: 11

GAME: Mab damaged Jugga for 11 points. 25 remaining.

<OOC> Mab says, "And a fort save please!"

GAME: Jugga rolls fort: (15)+6: 21

<OOC> Jugga says, "Oh...figured my damage incorrectly Mab. Should be 1 higher."

The mummy rounds on Quint at first; completely ignoring his companions whose blows do not even break its momentum. Apparently, being a paladin in the presence of such a powerful undead monster has gotten its attention. "You... can't... interfere...!" It starts to rasp, horribly, in a voice slowly heating with rage... and then Jugga's massive maul strikes it across the front, and the tip cuts through some linens.

With a horrendous bellow the creature throws itself back at the giantkin, and easily connects with the laughing woman, though whether the force of the blow is enough to knock the wind out of her remains to be seen.

<OOC> Mab says, "OK"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (20)+9: 29

<OOC> Quint says, "threat"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15

<OOC> Quint says, "no confirm"

<OOC> Mab says, "Okay - first successful attack, so +2 damage/level"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+3+1: (3)+1+3+3+1: 11

<OOC> Quint says, "ignores DR :D"

Muscles locked, Alteri's eyes dart back and forth, the whites showing bleakly in her eyes as she tries but fails to fight free of the numbing fear that
has gripped her in its claws. The tendons of her neck strain and beads of sweat trickle down her temple as she watches her comrades battle the evil she cannot, for the life of her, pull free to join.

<OOC> Alteri puts in a pose while waiting for 4 rounds to end. ^_^;

<OOC> Mab says, "Definitely noticed that one."

Intending to sieze the opportunity presented by the feral woman's distract, Quint cuts down and across with the dull-black blade of the scimitar only to have his wrist caught by the mummy's own iron grip. Grimacing, the whispers of prayer still girding him in faith's own armor, he brings to bear his shield-arm. A heavy metal thump and the crack of ancient bone couples with a silver flash as the defensive-item-turned-weapon. "The Harp players for you... creature," he challenges, his voice oddly serene

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (19)+1+5+1+2+-2: 26

<OOC> Sharna says, "Two threats."

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (20)+1+5+1+2+-2: 27

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d20+1+5+1+2-2: (2)+1+5+1+2+-2: 9

<OOC> Sharna says, "One crit. :("

GAME: Sharna rolls 2d6+4+1d6: (7)+4+(6): 17

GAME: Sharna rolls 1d6+1+1d6: (6)+1+(6): 13

<OOC> Mab says, "Wow, nicely done. Okay, you score across its back, ripping open ragged wounds and sending out a tumble of old petals and dried up husks of flowers. You are now situated almost directly behind it, which will allow Hrothgar to move to where you were, and therefore the bear to move to where he was."

<OOC> Mab says, "Do the mummy-slaying conga."

<OOC> Mab says, "After which, Hrothgar is up."

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "If I move, I flank with Quint?"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup."

<OOC> Hrothgar nods and will do this, then. Both of us! Then attack, power attack style

GAME: Hrothgar rolls weapon1+2-1: (2)+7+2+-1: 10

<OOC> Hrothgar says, "blah"

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17

GAME: Hrothgar rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7

Hrothgar swings his hammer in another wide arc, growling as the weapon bounces harmlessly off the mummy's thick hide. The nameless bear has given up tugging on Alteri's shoelaces and instead move into the open space around the dead creature, roaring as it tear at the monster with tooth and claw. To little effect, however.

Sharna ducks beneath flailing fists and trailing bits of bandage. She's breathing quite heavily - something's wrong with her, she can tell, but she can't put a finger on it. Scared out of her wits, she focuses herself on something more productive... like tearing this thing apart.
The blades dance as she darts in, ducking low, a couple of jabbing feints to distract before making the actual strikes. The profane defenses of the thing falter under the assault - the slender sword cuts deep, spilling aged flora as the woman twists the weapon with a vengeance. The other blade joins, tearing the bandages on its side and leaving its painful mark there.

GAME: Jugga rolls 1d20+3+6+1-1: (8)+3+6+1+-1: 17

Jugga thumps the mummy, and gets thumped back pretty hard. The blow cracks her mask, knocking it across her face, blood flowing from a smashed nose. Shaking her head to clear her vision she sheds the remnants of the mask while she lashes out with broad strokes of her maul. Some semblance of control allows her to keep from smacking any of her neighbors in the brawl, but her strikes don't find any solid connections as the mummy it hit from all sides, which has her angrier than ever. "Damn you. I'll crack your motherless skull open you pig ****ing **** **cker!"

GAME: Mab rolls 1d20+14: (1)+14: 15

The creature is surrounded on all sides, and the beings which had, at first, seemed like naught but buzzing insects are starting to cut into it; this is unnerving. Blindly, it thrashes out in all directions - wild swings might have been aimed at Quint, or Jugga, or even the bear but it is difficult to say. Thankfully, they don't seem focused enough to really land home. This is not an emotionless, mindless creature, and it is starting to panic.
"BARGAIN... Must... complete... HRAAAAARGH!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27

<OOC> Quint says, "threat!"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (16)+9: 25

<OOC> Quint says, "crit"

<OOC> Quint says, "HOORaaaaaaay"

<OOC> Quint says, "OH"

GAME: Quint rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28

<OOC> Mab hahs

GAME: Quint rolls 2d6+4+6+6+4: (7)+4+6+6+4: 27

GAME: Quint rolls 1d4+1+3+1: (4)+1+3+1: 9

<OOC> Quint says, "both ignore DR :D"

<OOC> Mab says, "Yup, that destroys it."

Klefnaft finally strikes true with a backhanded slash that cuts deep into the mummy's flank even as the shield mirrors the action to slam in at head level. The scissoring attacks utterly destroy the foul undead thing, crushing the head to spin away a tangle of pulped, ancient bone and yellowed, rotting bandages even as the assaulted torso drops down into two dusty, bulb-filled pieces. The encircling energies playing around the paladin immediately begin to pull apart, sucked away to some distant plane now that the borrowed power is no longer needed. "We are victorious," he comments in his own voice between heavy, deep breaths.

"Not yet" Hrothgar rumbles to Quint as the paladin finishes the mummy, gesturing with his earthbreaker as he strides towards the altar, indicating the pulsating heart glowing with that ominous purple glare. He raises his hammer with both hands, ready to smash the vile thing to pieces. "Lord of Frozen Death, this is not your place!" he growls as he swing the hammer.

Jugga spits out a stream of invective at the fallen mummy then winds herself down from her rage, crunching her maul into the floor. She coughs and hacks up blood, spitting to clear her mouth and throat of the blood from her broken nose. She looks over at the glowing heart, "You going to take..." she starts, but Hrothgar looks to have it covered. Given that, she reaches up and snaps her broken nose back to the middle of her face where it belongs.

Sharna had been preparing another strike, but as the mummy crumbles beneath Quint's onslaught, her arms lower. Her weapons are sheathed, the crossbow reclaimed. Shaky on her feet from that bone-shattering blow she'd received, the half-elven woman holds a hand to her chest. "I think one of my ribs might be broken." she says quietly, wincing and twitching at the feel of her own touch. More like FOUR ribs or so.
Quint sheaths his weapons, looking between each standing combatant, eyes narrowed. "How do you feel?" He asks in his odd, halting manner, eyes dancing between Jugga and Sharna. "Such creatures can bring to bear vile curses with their very touch. Extremely painful and ultimately life-threatening should they take root..."

Jugga grumbles between her panting and sweating, "Mmmph. I feel fine. Better if I'd got the death blow on that thing." She grabs at her nose and tugs and pulls on it with lots of grimacing and hissing, "Is my nose straight?"

Crushing the heart kills the purple glow, and with it, the soft sound of dead flesh hitting stone and bones clattering to the floor echoes through the hall.

With the mummy defeated and the sacrifice averted, the heroes can return to the surface; there to rush Sharna for medical attention... and, with the immediate crisis no longer a concern, to allow cleanup to occur.

It transpires that this was once a noble burial place, consecrated to Thul in days long past. Somehow, the ancient rituals hadn't taken, until the builders had disturbed the casket of the dead nobleman's wife. In so doing, they awoke his sons and daughters, and himself...

The taint of evil will take some time to erode, but at least all concerned can take solace in the fact that the tormented souls have met their final rest.

Recent Logs

2011-09-24T06:43:14Z

Mab:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site.

If you're interested in a summary of recent history, see [[Recent History]].

===How to Post Logs===
Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic (respectively, SPrPs, DCPrPs, and DPrPs). Most recent logs are at the '''bottom.''' Be sure to put all pages into '''<nowiki>[[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>'''. Thank you.

{{TableMain}}
{{T01}}
| colspan="2" | Log Help
{{T02}}
|I Need Help With...
|Look Here
|-
|Posting a log
|[[How to Post a Log]]
|-
|Wiki formatting
|[[Help:Editing#Formatting|Wiki Help]]
|-
|Finding a PrP template
|[[PrP Template]]
|-
|Finding what goes in a PrP log
|[[Submitting PrPs]]
|-
|Finding logs from the old website
|[http://emblemofea.pbworks.com/w/page/12036798/Game-Logs The Old Site]
|}

===Our Logs===
* [[Botanical Gardens|PRP: Botanical Gardens]]

* [[Ancestors Pyre|Dramatic Scene: Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Social: Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl|Social: Boy Meets Girl]]
* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PRP: Ashenvale Part 2]]
* [[PrP: The Competition|PRP: The Competition]]

* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PRP: Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep]]
* [[PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I]]
* [[PrP: Rats!]]
* [[UglyBats|PRP: Huggin' Ugly Bats]]
* [[GrandParade|DPrP: Machinists Grand Parade]]

* [[PrPALittleBatty|PRP: A Little Batty]]
* [[Dragon in the Garden|Social: Dragon in the Garden]]
* [[Bacon Liberation Team|PrP: Bacon Liberation Team]]
* [[Daggers in the Dark|PrP: Daggers in the Dark]]
* [[PrP: Wolves in the Winter]]

* [[Adventurous Rivalry|PrP: Adventurous Rivalry]]
* [[PrP: That's not Timmy!]]
* [[PrP: Black Ring Rising]]
* [[PrP: Chicken Chasers!]]
* [[PrP: Timmy's Uncle]]

* [[PrP: Teena's Bad Day]]
* [[PrP: Fistful of Chitlins]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 1|PRP: Hell's Medicine Part 1]]
* [[Gnap!|PRP: Gnap!]]
* [[PrP: Watt's Mine is Mine]]

* [[PrP: 3375 Cubic Feet of Terror]]
* [[Why Did It Have To Be Rats?|PRP: Why Did It Have To Be Rats?]]
* [[The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador|Social: The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador]]
* [[Necromancer's Folly|PrP: Necromancer's Folly]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 1|PrP: Tears in Dust Part 1]]

* [[A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement|PrP: A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement]]
* [[Tears in Dust Part 2|PRP: Tears in Dust Part 2]]
* [[PrP: Earthshaper Part I]]
* [[PrP: Adventure, Inc. - Part 1]]
* [[PrP: Godbusters]]

* [[Heroic by Proxy|PRP: Heroic by Proxy]]
* [[DPRP: Run, Thief, Run!|DPrP: Run, Thief, Run!]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 2|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 2]]
* [[Tooth and Sky|PRP: Tooth and Sky]]
* [[PrP: Codices, Indices, and Odysseys]]

* [[The Hauntening|PRP: The Hauntening]]
* [[PrP: Codex Bifolium]]
* [[Tournament Paramount: Magic Competition Round 1]]
* [[Tidehollow's Challenge|Tournament Paramount: Tidehollow's Challenge]]
* [[Caller in Darkness|PRP: Caller in Darkness]]

* [[Dramatic Scene: Guild of Explorer's Meeting: Dwarven Citadel Expedition]]
* [[Shadowfall is coming|Social: Shadowfall is Coming]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 3|PrP: Hell's Medicine Part 3]]
* [[PrP: Beneath the Church]]
* [[PrP: Old Wounds]]

* [[PrP: In The Thick of Things]]
* [[The Young Herbalist|Social: The Young Herbalist]]
* [[Wyvern Hugger|Social: Wyvern Hugger]]
* [[Twins | Social: Twins]]
* [[Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are|Social: Silver Wings: Why the Egalrin are the Way They Are]]

* [[PrP: Just Lion Around]]
* [[Kill Ted|Scene: Kill Ted]]
* [[PrP-Tutorial: You Dirty Rat!]]
* [[Agril, Axe Murderer|Social: Agril, Axe Murderer]]
* [[Dramatic Scene: Is It Lynch Time Yet?]]

* [[PrP: Escape to the Noble House of Mummies Part 1]]

[[Category:Admin]]