CTP's Red Hand of Doom

[Firebeard]

Aurellion hefts his spear and waits. Sometimes it is better to wait than to charge blindly ahead. When there is a dragon playing hide and seek in a fog bank, it seems to be one of those times.


Move forward to within 20 feet of the edge of the fog cloud.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis quickly rushes to Lem's side, lays a hand on him as he recites a prayer, and the pain of the bard's wounds lessens somewhat. Then the priest advances toward the towers once more, whilst looking for a good location from where he can snipe out the sentries...or the dragon, should he emerge from the fog cloud. He soon finds a small boulder jutting out of the barren ground, drops prone in front of it while propping his crossbow on top, and prepares to take aim...

OOC:Laerallis moves over to Lem (swift action), burns a charge from his Healing Belt (standard action), moves closer to the towers while still remaining at least 20 feet westerly of the road (move action), and drops prone in order to give himself some AC bonus from the archers (free action).

Belt of Healing roll: [roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Cat and Mouse...

Aurellion and Durrin reach the edge of the fog, unsure how to proceed. Durrin seems rearing to plunge in and fight his hated foe, but seeing Aurellion er on the side of caution, he waits, preparing his breath for any sign of the dragon to emerge out of the cloud of mist. Lem, Laerallis, and Quin move closer as well, healing themselves through various means. A few arrows streak past Quingendon, but they fall too wide. Again, the mist prevents the hobgoblins on the opposite side of the mist from retaliating... however, just as Laerallis drops prone in the dirt, both he and Quin can see a lone hobgoblin archer, one on either side of the bridge, moving away from the towers in a wide arc; they'll have an angle on the stragglers of the party in a few seconds, though the distance will surely cost them accuracy...

Meanwhile, inside the mist, Django attempts to lure the monster out of the safety of the fog with the sound of wings flapping... However, the lethal silhouette of the green dragon moves unerringly next to him. He can see the dragon's yellow eyes glowing with malicious mirth.
"A clever trick... you should have joined the circus, morsel."
With that, its jaws lash out, delivering a nasty blow to Django's left leg. Warm blood spatters the ground beneath his feet, and he can hear the dragon's sneering hiss as the cloying, chemical smell invades his nostrils once more.
"You will die alone, fool."

(Django takes 12 damage. Durrin heals 1 hp.)

Map: Round 7

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR7.png
Again, nobody but Django knows where the dragon is exactly.

[McNerp]

A fanged smile breaks the scaly planes of Durrin's face. This moment is what he has been training for his entire adult life. His oath, witnessed by Bahamut himself, was to wreak vengeance upon the rapacious spawn of the Five-Fold Dragon Queen, those thieves of life, limb, and property. Now, finally, the green dragon was grounded and quite likely within range of his breath. Without a second's hesitation, he breaks into a run. He calls in a strident voice: "Beast! Spawn of Evil! I serve the Platinum Dragon, and you shall know fear in your last moments! Fear, for I bring you vengeance in payment for whatever lives you may have ended!" He stops at the edge of the fog cloud, building energy in the back of his throat, ready to release should the green dragon come into his sight.

Move: 30 ft forward
Free: Taunting :smallcool:
Standard: Ready action to breathe a cone of slow breath

Ninja'd, but it doesn't really matter. Adding next round to end of post.

Hearing the sounds of battle, Durrin leaps into the mist. He flicks his eyes all around, looking for the enemy, ready to breathe a slowing blast of draconic power should he spy the green.

Move: Into the mist!
If I can't see the dragon right away, I'll ready again to breathe.

[Calenestel]

No dragon to target Quin quickly settles for a lesser foe. Picking one of the two hobgoblins trying to flank the group, the one going to the east, he draws and looses an arrow, at least warning the creature off.

Not sure how far away the hobbo is, so I'll just post an ordinary attack and leave it up to the DM to subtract the right number should it be beyond 110 feet.


[roll0] That should be a hit. :smallamused:
[roll1] Oups. Wrong die. I'll roll damage OOC. :smallsigh:

[mucat]

[Taking into account CTP's OOC correction that Django was hit only once last round as is not actually staggered]


Django reels back, winded by the blow and struggling to stay on his feet. any planned counter-quip about circuses lost to his mind. "Everybody dies alone," he manages instead, vaguely surprised that he's still capable of speech. He has no time to look to see how bad the wound is, but he suspects that the new mithral shirt from Vrath's Keep is the only reason the creature didn't tear his guts out.

The dragon's acidic reek burns into the wound and sears Django's lungs as he gasps for breath, and instinctively he staggers toward clearer air. His hand finds the solid stone of the eastern tower, and he lets its wall guide him south and out of the mist.

Leaning on the solid stone as his balance returns, Django turns back and searches the mist for the dragon's shape. Where the beast last stood, just inside the fog, he thinks he can discern a sinuous neck turning toward him, and the slow menacing spread of wings.

As good a target as he's likely to find, he decides, fingers moving through a well-practiced series of gestures. He throws an outstretched arm toward the spot as if in accusation, and the fog flashes with golden light as the familiar storm of glowing motes erupt around the dragon's position.


Move Action: Django moves east out of the mist (not provoking Attacks of Opportunity since, for the moment, he's still invisible.) He stops at the southwest corner of the eastern tower.

Standard Action: Cast Glitterdust on the dragon's last known position. I imagine he would have to get lucky with saves and spell resistance to actually blind the thing, but he's hoping to at least light it up so it can't hide as well in the mist.

The blindness effect has Will Save DC 17, or DC 18 if Cloaked Casting applies. (The extra +1 to DC happens if the dragon would normally be denied a dex bonus against Django's attacks, a question I have no idea about due to all the crazy invisibility/concealment/Blindsense issues...)

In any case, casting Glitterdust finally ends his invisibilty.

[Firebeard]

If it will not some out, then I shall have to go in after it. Aurellion thought to himself, striding forward purposely. He angles back towards the road to the bridge, knowing that if the greenskins on the other side of the bridge decide to mount an assault, they would be forced to come down the bridge road. He moved warily, ever alert for signs of the dragon in the mists.


Move to the road, between the towers, but out of the mist. Just below the test on the map, where it says Green Dragon.

If the dragon is visible and reachable during the first move, then move to attack.

Otherwise, use a double move to get between the towers.


Reaching the road between the two towers, Aurellion called out "Dragon! Thy doom is come! I am Aurellion, of the Three Spears, and I have come to end your predations. Never again will the folk need fear the worm of the gorge. It is truly a mystery how they could fear such a pathetic creature, but peasants are easily frightened. Come now and let us make an end of this farce." Aurellion deliberately mispronounced wyrm in an attempt to draw the dragon from its concealment and onto his spear.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Audacity's End

Quingendon and Laerallis keep up the pressure on the distant hobgoblin archers. They both hit their marks, but the hobgoblins are not felled; instead, as soon as they are hit, they drop prone on the ground, and fiddle with something on their belts.

Durrin and Aurellion, hearing the hissing of the dragon within the mist, move forward, zeroing in on the sounds of battle. Aurellion can see the dragon, and he is also at the very edge of the mist: he can see a trio of hobgoblins, including the sergeant, moving ever closer, swords and shields at the ready. Durrin unleashes a cloud of silvery gas that envelopes the green dragon. It snorts in anger as its movements seem slowed.

The archers in the towers fire, missing Quingendon again by a wide margin. However, a lucky soldier on the other side of the gorge, having just spotted Aurellion's outline in the mist, makes a miraculous shot, bypassing mist and magical concealment and hitting the elf's left shin.

Django stumbles out of the mist, before tossing a barrage of golden particles back into the fog. Durrin and Aurellion can see the dragon outlined in golden motes. Just at that moment, Django becomes visible once more. Lem, Laerallis, and Quingendon can see him, battered and bloody, leaning by one of the watchtowers. He turns to his friends, a jaunty smile on his face. Then, out of the fog, a spray of sickening, acid-green gas envelopes the Seldani. Durrin and Aurellion are also subject to the toxic barrage, but what they don't see is Django falling to the ground, his skin a sizzling, bubbling mockery of its once-handsome self. They don't see Django's lungs turn to a bloody liquid. They don't see their friend die.

(Durrin and Django take 23 acid damage, Aurellion takes 11 acid damage, and a lucky arrow deals Aurellion 7 damage.)

Map: Round 8

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR8.png

[McNerp]

Durrin's shriek of pain turns briefly into a raging howl before the sound is replaced by a deadly lance of flame. This must end. Now. He takes a step back, hoping to escape the dragon's counterattack.

Stnd: Breathe line of fire at the dragon
Damage: 4d6
Free: 5ft step.

[Calenestel]

Oh, this isn't going well. Django down, and instead of Aurellion and Durrin taking care of the ground troops and the rest concentrating on the dragon the spearwielder and the dragonman are now blocking him from getting any good shots while leaving the approaching hobgoblins unmolested. Well... Might as well change duties completely then. I don't think I can get a good shot at the blasted lizard from this angle anyways.
His face grim, even more so than usual the elf walks forward while nocking a new arrow, when he gets a better shot, with the eastern tower not blocking his view as much, he lifts the bow, draws and looses, following the greenfletched arrow in it's flight with his grey gaze.


Move action: 30 feet forward, north-northwest to the square right above the P in "Purple: Laerallis" and just below and to the left of "Green: Quingendon")

Standard action: Shoot at the sergeant. (Range penalty already deducted)
[roll0]
[roll1]
Fingers crossed! :smalleek:
Edit: For once a good damage roll. But of course only a nine on the attack roll. :smallmad: I hope it's enough. But it probably won't be. At least I won't get any penalties for the great range. Since I've already thought of that.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion shrugged off the arrow wounds and the acid stinging his skin. falling into the berserker frenzy he knew so well, he ignored the effects of his wounds - through he knew they were serious - and launched a series of blows at the dragon.

Whirling and dancing, the spear flicking in and out like a snake's tongue, he drove the point at vulnerable points on the dragon. The joint where the wing attached to the body, the hollow of its throat just below the jawline, the eyes. Again and again the spear flicked out and scored hits on the wounded beast.

5' step to striking position, Whirling frenzy for 6 rounds, starting now.
+4 bonus to Strength and a +2 dodge bonus to Armor Class and on Reflex saves

attack: [roll0] (+2 frenzy str, -2 frenzy penalty, +4 song)
damage: [roll1]
concealment: [roll2] looking for > 20

attack: [roll3] (+2 frenzy str, -2 frenzy penalty, +4 song)
damage: [roll4]
concealment: [roll5] looking for > 20

[Toxic Avenger]

After shooting at the distant hobgoblin on the other side of the gorge, Laerallis spotted Django emerging from the fog, and he did not look good at all. Not bothering to reload his crossbow, Laerallis got up and ran northeast toward the southeast tower, and toward Django. But long before he could get there, the sickening green cloud enveloped the Seldani. Laerallis tried to reach out with a potentially life-saving prayer befire Django's life force left him, but he was still too far away, and only just so...

OOC:Revised character action as discussed in the OOC thread: Laerallis shoots the hobbo (standard), gets up (move), and beats cheeks to the northeast for 40 feet (swift).

--------------

Laerallis barely has a moment to curse his own decision to drop to the ground earlier - if he had not done so, he might have been able to reach Django in time - as he sees Aurellion step out of the fog, looking quite battered himself. The priest alters his course slightly toward the north, and he reaches his free hand into his backpack while he makes his way there, willing the mystical bag to deliver the powerful healing staff into his waiting hand.

Laerallis stops running when the elf is within reach, making sure to keep the spearmaster between himself and the dragon, for many good reasons. He takes a quick look at the dragon, and then he makes a snap decision...

Laerallis calls out the word of power that he learned from Durrin, and then touches the staff to Aurellion, healing all of his battle wounds.

OOC:Assuming Aurellion took a 5 foot step to the east, Laerallis moves just to the east of him (swift), takes out the Staff of Life (move), and...

Depending on if the dragon is still alive or not...

He spends a charge to cast Heal on Aurellion if the dragon is still alive (standard). If the dragon is dead (highly unlikely), Laerallis drops his crossbow (free) so he can heal Aurellion with a charge from his Healing Belt (standard).

Just in case, here's the roll: [roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Second Wind

Quingendon lets loose an arrow, but it unfortunately hits a crenelation on the side of the bridge, having just missed the hobgoblin sergeant by a fraction of an inch. Lem is more lucky, however: he manages to land a grazing hit with his crossbow on the archer in the southeastern tower.

Durrin takes a step further back into the mist, unleashing a lance of fire. Aurellion can see the dragon is singed, but it uses its wings as a shield to avoid the worst of the flames. Flying into a controlled, adrenaline-fueled battle frenzy, he unleashes a barrage of spear thrusts at the hated creature. However, one otherwise powerful stroke is turned into a glancing miss by some unseen, invisible barrier, which causes his subsequent attacks to falter and hit nothing but mist. With a beat of its powerful wings, the dragon rockets out of the mist, back towards its favorite north western tower. Aurellion takes an opportunistic swing with his spear, tearing a large bloody rip in the green dragon's right wing. Its flight becomes somewhat lopsided, but it still manages to make a graceless landing on the roof of the tower. It slithers around the other side of the conical roof, out of sight.

Brandishing his bastard sword, the hobgoblin sergeant charges Aurellion. The hobgoblin parries the haft of the elf's spear aside as he charges, but the bastard sword glances off Aurellion's mithril breastplate harmlessly. The other hobgoblin soldiers follow their sergeant, but duck into the mist to avoid the elf's deadly spear, but Aurellion's vigilance awards him a single strike against each soldier. They remain on their feet, though heavily injured. One of them stumbles across the heavily wounded Durrin, and a murderous gleam shines in his eye.

Laerallis charges across the battlefield, dodging incoming arrows (one of which hits one of the illusory Lems, causing it to disappear), until he is astride Aurellion. He produces the potent Staff of Life, and touches it to the small of the elf's back. The spiralling horn on the end of the staff, which Laerallis suddenly realizes must be a unicorn's, glows with a soft white light as all of Aurellion's many wounds disappear. Arrows lodged in flesh or armor fall to the ground, blood stains evaporate, and muscle and tendon knit back together wherever they are sundered. The acidic burns turn to soothing relief, and in the blink of an eye, Aurellion looks good as new.

(Aurellion is at full health, and by my calculations, Durrin is at 17 hp. Laerallis ought to have one more turn of travel devotion left.)

Map: Round 9

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR9.png

[Calenestel]

Even as he moves Quin sees the dragon rocket out of the mist and wobble through the air up to it's tower. But when he stops to shot at it it's already too late. The dragon has taken cover behind the tower. Cursing wildly, going through any profanity or curse even remotely fitting the scenario in both elvish and common he insteads continues on to another point where he can get a shot of. As he gets a clean, if rather risky, shot of in between Aurellion and Durrin he again stops, raises his bow and lets fly a steeltipped arrow. Again seeking the commanding hobgoblin's blood.


Move action: Move thirty feet to two squares above and two squares to the right of Lem.
Standard action: Shooting at the sarge.
[roll0] (I wish I had Precise shot)
[roll1]
At least it's prolly a hit. :smallannoyed:

[Firebeard]

Aurellion was dismayed to see his strikes deflected from the dragon, but the parting tear left by his spear when the beast retreated brought bubbling laughter up his throat. he continued to laugh, spin, and weave as the hobgoblins arrived. They had obviously never faced one of his training before and foolishly ran right into his weaving spear.

The leader had more skill and presence of mind, however. Aurellion remembered his duty "kill the leader and hold the melee off the ranged support" and whirled into motion again. Stepping backwards, he bent almost to the ground to launch a strike up at the leader from below, then sprang high and reversed the thrust.


5' step to striking position south of Laerallis, Whirling frenzy for 5 more rounds, starting now. Not sure if concealment is necessary, so I'll roll it anyways.
+4 bonus to Strength and a +2 dodge bonus to Armor Class and on Reflex saves

attack: [roll0] PA2 (+2 frenzy str, -2 frenzy penalty, +4 song, -2 PA)
damage: [roll1]
concealment: [roll]1d100)[49] looking for > 20

attack: [roll2] PA2 (+2 frenzy str, -2 frenzy penalty, +4 song, -2 PA)
damage: [roll3]
concealment: [roll]1d100)[69] looking for > 20

[McNerp]

Not eager to suffer any more lacerations, Durrin steps back once more and unleashes a searing cone of dancing fire. As the torrent fades from the dragonborn's maw, the mystical fire wraps around the hobgoblins caught in the blast. Thick, ropy strands of golden, burning energy burden their arms and legs.

5ft step back and to the right. Use entangling exhalation on hobbos. Ref 20 half.

Damage: [roll0]
Entangle duration: [roll1]

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis returns the Staff of Life to his backpack and runs over to Durrin's side. He speaks a word of mystical power as he touches the dragonborn, and divine power flows from his belt, through his body, and out to Durrin through the priest's hand.

Laerallis stores the Staff of Life (move), moves to the square southwest of Durrin (swift), and burns one charge from his Healing Belt (standard).

Healing Belt (using 2nd charge of the day): [roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Flames in the Mist

One well-placed arrow, and several devastating spear-thrusts, and suddenly the hobgoblin sergeant's voice, which had been barking out orders and encouragement for most of the battle, is permanently silenced. Durrin unleashes a gout of golden flames, and the two wounded footsoldiers in the mist are felled as well; the bottleneck of the bridge is now uncontested on this side, save for the remaining archers in the tower. Laerallis restores some of Durrin's formidable resilience, and with the magic of his wand also coursing through his veins, he is well on his way to a full recovery.

Lem continues to sing, and things are looking somewhat more hopeful, but another volley of arrows streaks toward you. Quin and Laerallis each catch an arrow; Laerallis feels the sting of a glancing hit on his right arm, while Quingendon recoils from a nasty blow right in his left thigh. The archer in the south western tower shouts something over his shoulder at the other side of the bridge.
"Ozyrrandion! The sergeant is down! I repeat: the sergeant is down!"
The high-pitched, hissing voice of the green dragon answers, echoing from the other side of the gorge.
"Your orders stand! Kill the archers! Hold the bridge!"
There is still no sign of the dragon, but the stink of his acidic breath lingers in the air...

(Laerallis takes 5 damage, Quin takes 10 damage. Durrin should be at 31/51 hp.
Also, I believe Laerallis' travel devotion has been expended.)

Map: Round 10

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR10.png

[Calenestel]

"Kill the archers? Corellon blind you!" Growling the pain away the marshdwelling elf takes careful aim at the hollering hobgoblin in the western tower and looses a narrowpointed arrow at him before moving forward again. "Aurellion! Clear the way to the dragon! I'll take the archers on this side!" And the rest could just fill in where they felt that they felt needed the most.


Should the fog extend all the way to the top of the tower: Shoot at the hobbo in the eastern tower instead. Not that it matters.

Standard Action: Shoot at the loudmouthed hobbo.
[roll0]
[roll1]
Edit: Crap.

Move action: Move forward towards the left side tower, 30'.

Free action: Speaking.

[McNerp]

Durrin nods to Laerallis, a tacit thanks for the much-needed healing. He ducks behind the eastern tower to avoid any retaliatory arrows, ready to follow Aurellion into the thick of battle. "Go when you're ready, Spear-Dancer. I'll be right behind you."

Move: Behind the tower
Stnd: Ready to move if Aurellion does.

[Firebeard]

"Stand ready to repel any attack from the bridge. Use the fog and towers as cover." With that, Aurellion dashed for the eastern tower and began moving up the stairs as quickly as his nimble elven feet could carry him.


Aurellion takes a double move (or run, which would serve best in this situation?) up the stairs, aiming to remove the archer from the battle.

[Toxic Avenger]

As he heals some of Durrin's wounds, Laerallis senses that Lirr's travel blessing is about to fade. Seeing that the need is still dire, he mentally beseeches his goddess to renew that blessing, knowing that this request may cost him...and he prays that he won't have to deal with the walking dead this day as well.

Feeling the Lorekeeper's blessing return, Laerallis reloads his crossbow, and then runs due west. He emerges from the west side of Django's cloud, and immediately looks about his new surroundings. After spotting the most strategic available target, he fires.

OOC:Laerallis reloads his crossbow (move), reactivates Travel Devotion (by burning two uses of Turn Undead) to move west 40 feet (swift), and shoots at the dragon if he can see it (standard), otherwise he'll fire at the hobgoblin in the southwest tower.

Attack roll: [roll0] (This is assuming he can shoot at the dragon. If it's the hobbo, add 2.)
Damage roll: [roll1] (Once again, add 2 if the hobbo is his target.)

[CockroachTeaParty]

Ascension

Aurellion and Durrin decide to take the fight to the pesky archers in the southern towers. They each take a tower, running up the rickety wooden stairs as fast as their legs can take them. Laerallis and Lem manage to get a lucky crossbow bolt through the crenelations of the western tower, hitting the 'loud mouthed' hobgoblin for heavy damage. He is a tough bastard, however, and he remains standing; Quin's arrow hits solid stone, and might have been enough to silence him permanently.

The injured hobgoblin fiddles with something up above, before shouting once more to the north.
"They're climbing the towers! We need back up! Ozyrrandion! OZYRRANDION!!"
There is real terror in his voice: he's seen what Aurellion has done to the other soldiers below.

Both of the soldiers in the southern towers move out of sight of everyone on the ground. Aurellion, jogging precariously up the staircase, the sheer drop of the gorge beside him, sees the northern towers' archers fire upon him, but his heightened reflexes allow him to easily dodge the projectiles. A lone archer on the far eastern side of the gorge lets loose a lone arrow, that luckily manages to hit Lem; or rather, an illusion of Lem, which winks out of existence.

There is still no sign of the dragon, though golden motes can be seen glowing from the other side of the northwestern tower's conical roof.

(Durrin is at 32 hp; I had Durrin go up the other tower, since it seems kind of pointless for two of you to tackle the same tower with only 1 dude in it.)

Map: Round 11

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR11.png

[McNerp]

Durrin takes the steps two at a time, intending to toast the bothersome archer. When he reaches the tip top of the terribly tall tower, he once again unleashes the fury of dragonfire. And again, the hobgoblin's feet, legs, arms, and hands are hampered by the lingering coils of energy.

In case Durrin can't reach the top of the tower in a single move, then he'll breathe next turn.

Damage: [roll0]
Entangle: [roll1]

[Calenestel]

With no dragon in sight and the archers in the southern towers soon taken care of Quin suddenly finds himself unsure of his next course of action. The archer on the other side of the gorge was a minor inconvenience but easily found and corrected. The dragon, on the other hand, was much more a danger to them all and there was no saying what it was up to, but not in easy reach. After a moments pause the ranger shrugs, settling on a compromise, and starts running forward, up on the bridge, nocking an arrow as he goes.

I don't think the rules will let me attack if I go more than 30' (putting the tower between my char and the hobbo archer). But if the DM let's me run 60' (and I don't see why one couldn't since one can run 120' if one runs a whole round) and then attack, maybe with a -2 penalty to the attack roll or something then the tower won't block me any more and Quin will shoot at the archer before continuing on towards the other side (or waiting for Aurellion, depending on the development).
If our glorious DM decides to not allow it then Quin will still stop on the middle of the bridge and shoot at the next turn.

Should one be called for this round:
[roll0]
[roll1]
Edit: Mediocre as allways. :smallamused:

[Firebeard]

Aurellion charges up the rest of the stairs, intending to send the lookout and sniper to the ground below.



Finish climbing? How far to go?

If I can, attack: [roll0] PA2 (+2 frenzy str, -2 frenzy penalty, +4 song, -2 PA)
damage: [roll1]

Frenzied for 3 more rounds, counting this one

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis reloads again, and then moves in a northwesterly direction, stopping a few steps short of the south edge of the gorge. He looks for a new target, whether it may be the cowering dragon, the archer which had dropped prone across the gorge, or those in the towers across the bridge.

OOC:Laerallis moves 40' in a northwesterly direction (swift), reloads (move), and fires (standard).

Attack roll: [roll0] (I'm assuming that he is firing on a hobbo this time. Subtract 2 if it is the dragon.)
Damage roll: [roll1] (Ditto.)

[CockroachTeaParty]

Ozyrrandion's Grudge

Aurellion and Durring finish their ascent of the southern guard towers. Aurellion finds the entrance to the top of his tower blocked by the solitary hobgoblin solider, his bow replaced by a heavy steel shield and longsword. The elf must make his attack from the awkward position below the hobgoblin on the stairs, and his spear hits the side of the tower, rather than his target. The hobgoblin advances, letting out a savage battle cry, attempting to shove Aurellion off the stairs and into the gorge below. Miraculously, Aurellion manages to keep his feet even as the shield slams into him. Not trusting the tricky terrain of the rickety stairs to allow him a better attack with his spear, the elf turns the tables and attempts to bull rush the enemy off the stairs. Aurellion is much stronger than the hobgoblin, and given his battle-frenzy, he easily shoves the hobgoblin into thin air. The hobgoblin's scream echoes off the sides of the gorge before he crashes on the jagged rocks below with a sickening crunch. Sweat beginning to bead on his brow, Aurellion begins to descend the stairs to rejoin his companions.

Meanwhile, Durrin lets loose a gout of entangling flames. The hobgoblin in his tower, melee weapons at the ready, grimaces through the pain and lands a nasty slash on the dragonborn's right arm. The healing magic of his wand is still in effect, and the bleeding is staunched even as the cut opens. The flames continue to impede and burn the hobgoblin, but he manages to keep his feet, having apparently healed his previous arrow and crossbow bolt wounds somehow.

Lem, Laerallis, and Quingendon trade archery fire with the hobgoblins on the opposite side of the gorge. Quin manages to lodge an arrow in the northeastern tower's sniper, as well as a lone archer on the ground near the opposite end of the bridge. Both of his targets duck out of sight after being hit, but the archer in the tower pops back up and fires once more; if it were not for Laerallis' protection, the elf would have received another arrow wound, but instead it is deflected harmlessly.
Laerallis hits the archer in the northwestern tower, who ducks out of sight. He steadies his aim, and waits... the instant the archer pops back into sight, he fires his crossbow once more, hitting the hobgoblin right in the neck. He collapses out of sight; whether the shot was fatal or not, he's out of the fight, that much is for certain.

Suddenly, much to Laerallis' alarm, he sees the lethal shape of the green dragon swoop down from the northwestern tower's roof. (Interestingly, nobody else sees this happen.) The cloying odor of chlorine envelopes Laerallis as the dragon lands right next to him, lashing out with its sharp jaws and taking a chunk out of his right shin. The moment this happens, Durrin catches a glimpse of green scales on the ground below, as if the dragon appeared out of thin air. Ozyrrandion hisses quietly to Laerallis, blood staining its maw.
"Prepare to join your illusionist friend, human."
Laerallis notices that many of the dragon's wounds have disappeared, including the rip in the membrane of its wing.

(I NPC'd everyone for a round, to make up for lost time; also, nothing of great interest happened until the green dragon showed up again. It was invisible, but Laerallis saw it due to his warlock powers. Currently, the only people who can see the green dragon are Laerallis and Durrin, as there is a tower and mist in between everyone else's line of sight.
Durrin is at 26/51 hp, and Laerallis is at 27/35 hp.
If I'm not mistaken, this is the last round of Aurellion's frenzy.)

Map: Round 13

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR13.png

[Calenestel]

"Oh, Hells!" Hearing of Lae's predicament the ranger hurries back out onto the bridge, taking aim, drawing and loosing an arrow at the dragon as soon as he gets an angle to work with. They had already lost Django, he'd be damned if he just waited around while they lost yet another friend to the monster.


[roll0] (-4 for fireing into a melee already subtracted).
[roll1]

CRAP!!! :smallfurious:

[McNerp]

The dragon has returned. Without a second thought, Durrin moves to fling himself off the tower, his wings unfurled and glinting in the sun. "You will burn, green!" Durrin shouts. Already wounded, he takes a moment to dance away from the hobgoblin's thirsty blade and to glide to the ground rather than diving at the beast. At least I should provide some distraction. he muses.

Withdraw off the tower towards the dragon. Durrin will stay away from the edge of the gorge and try to get to the ground.

[Toxic Avenger]

"THE DRAGON'S RETURNING! HE'S COMING MY WAY!" Laerallis yells out at the top of his lungs, just seconds before the dragon lands next to him and tears into his leg. Luckily, he didn't bite the leg clean off, or he wouldn't be able to do what he does next...he calls on the power of his magic anklet to whisk him out of the dragon's reach, then raises the crossbow sights at the evil beast and fires.

After shooting, he runs toward the southeast, staying out of the fog cloud, and taunts the dragon in its own tongue. "I may be joining him soon, but I'll make you pay for every bite!" To emphasize his point, he offers his middle finger in the traditional rude gesture. "How about an appetizer?"
Laerallis uses his Anklets of Translocation to teleport 10 feet away (1 square down, and then one square diagonally southeast) as a swift action, shoots at the mothafugga (standard), and then moves 40 more feet toward the southeast (4 squares diagonally to the southeast, then 2 more squares due south) as a move action (he should end up 1 square north and 12 squares west of Lem, if I'm figuring it right).


Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


EDIT: For the love of...ONE fraggin' point away from a possible crit! :smallfurious:

[CockroachTeaParty]

Victory?

Everyone immediately scrambles into action with the news that the green dragon has returned. Laerallis manages to activate a magical security measure of his own, puts some distance between himself and the dragon, and fires a quarrel into the monster's throat. Ozyrrandion coughs up a great gout of hot red blood, then croaks out an order to the hobgoblins.
"The bridge is lost! Fight to the last! Tiamat shall reward you for your sacrifice!"
And with that, the dragon turns tail and flies like a bullet to the north, keeping low to the ground, and within seconds it is out of range, a shrinking blur of green growing ever smaller in the morning light.

Though you are tired, sore, and battle-weary, you fight on. The hobgoblin soldiers obey their last orders, and refuse to surrender, fighting as fiercely as they can manage. However, one by one they are picked off, primarily by Quingendon and Laerallis' ranged attacks. Before long, Skull Gorge Bridge is yours.

You take a few moments to collect yourselves and gather the spoils of battle. You have a small pile of quality arms and armor from the hobgoblins, as well as many potions, which Durrin identifies to be of a healing nature. The hobgoblin sergeant was also wearing an enchanted breastplate.

With the extra insight granted Laerallis by his patron, he examines the bridge and notes an architectural flaw near the base of the main causeway on the southern side of the gorge. This weak spot could potentially be abused to destroy the bridge, should you wish to do so... the question of how to damage it is an issue, however.

It is still late morning; barely two minutes passed between the beginning of the fight and its finish. Django's corpse lies smoking softly in the dry, pebbly ground...

(Combat is over. I NPC'd everyone for the last several rounds as you mopped up the mooks. Durrin is at 29 hp, Laerallis 27, Quin 21, Aurellion 36, Lem 22. Quin used up 5 more arrows, Laerallis 4 more bolts. Full list of recovered items in the OOC)

[McNerp]

"I doubt the tools I have at my disposal will be at all effective in destroying this bridge." Experimentally, he breathes fire on the weak point. When anything noticeable fails to happen, he looks around and shrugs at his comrades. "In that case, I'll do what I can to patch everyone up. Who needs healing?" He brandishes his wand of druidic magic.

[Toxic Avenger]

"I think everyone could use some...thanks, Durrin." Laerallis replies as he takes a notebook and writing tools from his backpack. Just in case he forgets crucial elements of the architectural flaw once the divine insight fades away, the priest writes the details down on paper, and draws a picture of the flaw in question as well. With that done, he says, "If we won't have more company any time soon, I'll see to Django." He produces the Staff of Life as he approaches the Seldani's smoldering corpse, and begins a ten minute long ritual of prayers and supplications that culminates with him touching Django's body with the staff.

OOC:Burning five charges from the Staff of Life to cast Raise Dead on Django. One left...

[Calenestel]

"Yes. Some healing would be appreciated." With a weary sigh the ranger sits down crosslegged with his back to one of the guardtowers. With the battle done the weariness came -even if it wasn't as bad as for Aurellion of course- and this time there wasn't any real sense of victory to sweeten the exhaustion. They had won the battle, sure, but Django had fallen gruesomely and the dragon had escaped! ESCAPED! He should have shot it down in it's flight! The success felt bitter to the dragonhating elf. And it was even the second time it had happened in less than a day. A second sigh escapes him as he watches Lae kneel beside Django's corpse. At least it might not be a complete loss, if Lae could bring the seldani back.

I agree with Quin, really (well, he's much more bitter about it than I am, but still... :smallwink:). We should all have gotten at LEAST a parting shot each at the dragon. A volley could've brought him down if he had only 30 hp left. :smallamused:

[CockroachTeaParty]

The unicorn horn on the staff glows brighter than ever before as it is waved near Django's corpse. Slowly, the burns on his skin fade away, the singed hair grows back to its original length and luster, and the rosy color of normal blood flow returns to his face. Before long, the Seldani's chest rises and falls, his pulse returns, and the powerful magic of the staff returns him to life.

Django

You don't remember where you were... you were at peace, content... you felt like you were watching something. Then, at first from very far away, you heard the call: a familiar voice, asking you to come back. They still needed you... your friends. In what felt like an instant, and simultaneously a hundred years, you are whisked away to the spot where you fell. A familiar sensation courses through you: pain. You had left it behind, but now it makes itself known again with awful familiarity. All is pain, and then you can feel the dusty ground beneath you, the hot morning air in your lungs, the feel of the sun on your face, the voices of your companions. You are alive again, and yet, you feel decidedly weakened by this harrowing journey. Your body aches; your mind feels confounded, as if a fog has been drawn over it. Yet you know that you had a purpose here, that people were depending on you... and then, with the stunning power of revelation, you remember your last days on this earth.

[mucat]

As life returns to Django's body, he furrows his brow and blinks several times in confusion, as if trying to remember something important. Suddenly his eyes snap open wide and he raises his head, scanning the sky, then the towers and the bridge. Of the dragon there is no sign, and the air between the nearest towers is clear of mist; clearly more than a little time has passed. His gaze snaps to the others standing nearby, humans and elves. Seeing everyone alive and well, he relaxes slightly and shuts his eyes again, sorting through his memories to try to reason out what happened.

"Damn," he says at last, opening his eyes again. "That plan was supposed to work way better."

This time he takes in more details as he looks around. All around the bridge and towers, hobgoblins lie in pools of blood. "Did we win? Where is that dragon?" He spots the staff still gripped in Laerallis's hand, realizes its significance. "And thank you."

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis grins. "Don't thank me, thank our lucky stars we found this..." He says as he holds the staff aloft for a moment before stowing it into his backpack. He then reaches a hand out to help Django back up. "It seems this victory is ours, but far from total. The dragon got away, of course..." The priest raises an eyebrow. "...as we had a very hard time shooting at him through the mist, and with his keen draconic senses I'll bet he was able to pinpoint you in there anyway. Something to remember for next time, because I'm sure we'll see him again." Laerallis pats the illusionist on the back, and the heads toward the bridge.

Now standing at the south end of the bridge, he looks over the edge. "The Lorekeeper has revealed to me a flaw in the bridge's construction, now we need to find a way to take advantage of it." He points at the flaw in question, and then adds, "Without mining tools, I'd say our best second option is a catapult. I doubt we have time to build one, so I'm thinking we should search for the organic variety."


EDIT:

Laerallis pauses suddenly and tilts his head slightly for a moment. "Oh right, we have a prisoner." he adds. "Maybe we can get something useful out of him. Are you up for some more mind reading, Django?"

[Calenestel]

Without haste the elven ranger sidles over to the now revived Django, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a "Good to have you back." Mainly he justs follows along, waiting to see if he's needed with either the prisoner or the bridge.

Not Quin's fields of expertise. And I'm tired. (I slept four and a half hours tonight because of this (http://www.youtube.com/user/RayWilliamJohnson) guy. Oups.) But I wanted to post something

[Firebeard]

"Hmm, if we are all in accord that the bridge needs to come down, let me see if I can damage that piling with some hard effort. Hard effort and a blade that I do not care too much about damaging." So saying, Aurellion picked up the hobgoblin sergeant's bastard sword and a length of rope. Tying the rope around his waist, he indicated that some of the others should hold the other end, just in case he slipped.

Carefully, he made his way down to the cracked section, lined up a blow, and swung the blade with all his might.


With the auto to-hit an inanimate object, full PA5 swinging the bastard sword 2-handed.

[roll0] damage, not counting any song bonuses, if present

If obviously working, keep hammering away at the weak spot until something exciting happens.


The attack sent shards of stone flying and possibly widened the crack a little more. It also put a rather large chip in the bastard sword's blade. "Ah well" said Aurellion, lining up the shot again.

[CockroachTeaParty]

With a loud wack each time he brings the blade down, Aurellion channels all his strength behind each blow. Chips of stone go flying, and the blade becomes dented and scratched. However, the elf's prodigious strength is starting to have an effect on the weakened section of the bridge. The cracks grow longer and deeper, and before long, an ominous groaning sound can be heard issuing from beneath your feet. Wisely, Aurellion moves back to solid ground, and everyone puts some distance between themselves and the bridge. With a tremendous cacophony of deafening sound, the bridge begins to collapse in on itself, starting with the southern section. In a chain-reaction, different parts of the bridge begin to collapse, one after the other, dropping tons of stone down into the gorge. Even the guard towers begin to lean, crack, and warp haphazardly. In a few minutes, the destruction of Skull Gorge Bridge is complete. If indeed there is a horde of hobgoblins on their way, they will not have an easy time crossing the gorge.

The only thing of interest left is the bound and unconscious hobgoblin prisoner...

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis watches with amazement while Aurellion slowly chips away at the bridge with only a sword. Sure, it is a finely crafted sword, but it is not nearly as efficient a tool for the job as say...a pickaxe, for example. When he feels the earth groan beneath his feet, he hurries to help the others pull the elf back up from the gorge.

Looking over the battered - and nearly broken - blade, Laerallis says, "Wow, I never figured a sword in the right hands would do the trick, and it looks like it may yet be repairable. I'll see about preparing a spell to that end in the morning."

Turning to the Seldani, the priest gestures toward the unconscious prisoner as he asks, "What say you, Django? Are we ready to squeeze him for answers, or what?"

[AtS]

Lem peers over the edge of the gorge, teetering unsteadily close to the edge. He whistles, and then turns to Aurellion. "Aurrie. You just chopped down a bridge," he says in awe.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion crinkled his nose in slight distaste for the familiarization of his name, but grinned anyways. "Well, it was in my way, you see. How is Django?"

[mucat]

"Humbled," answers the Seldani. Since his revival, he has been uncharacteristically quiet and thoughtful. "I need to work on telling the sort of stupid moves that work out great because Fate cannot believe you actually tried them, from the sort that damned near get everyone killed."

Django leans over the edge of the gorge to examine the rubble now choking the river far below. Already deeper pools have formed, spilling water over the tops of the stony obstructions. "And on top of that, I have to figure out how to tell this story, without being laughed out of town when I reach the part where a man chops down a Dwarven-made bridge with a sword."

He reaches out to examine the notched and battered sword itself. "This belongs in a museum," he muses. "Or in a Prosecutor's Exhibit, if they don't buy our reasons why the bridge had to go."

[Firebeard]

"I have never been one to concern myself with a sword, but I may just have to keep this one," Aurellion said with a smile. "It makes an elf hungry to fell a bridge. I wonder what there is to eat around here."

[McNerp]

Durrin is speechless. He stares at the newly vacated gorge. He remembers to close his mouth. He walks up to Aurellion, and gives him an appreciative clout across the shoulder and a nod before walking away.

[Calenestel]

Looking over the edge of the gorge Quin is just as dumbfounded as his companions. Great gods! If the bridge fell that easily... We should have made the dragon fall on it. Shaking his head with a bemused smile the ranger then looks to his friends. "Just one thought... How are we going to get over to the other side now?"
There is a strange sparkle in his eyes as he considers that. It's the kind of challenge that suits him. Much more than how to destroy a bridge or question a prisoner.

Or have I missed the part where we made sure that WE can get to the other side? :smalltongue:

[Firebeard]

Aurellion looked into the gorge for a moment, chagrined at not thinking about that. "I imagine we can find a way across. It would be easier for a small group to cross, either here or elsewhere, than it would be to get an army with wagons, supplies, and hangers on over."

[Calenestel]

The ranger looks ahead, staring into the distance on the other side of the gorge and shrugs. "No worry, really... Laurellion. All we need to do is throw a grapplinghook over and secure a couple of ropes. That and avoid slipping when we climb across." The usually grim elf actually smiles at that, showing some kind of sense of humour. Or maybe it's just the prospect of climbing over the gorge.

[mucat]

"Do we want to cross the gorge," asks Django, "or is this all hypothetical? Maybe I missed something while I was dead -- damn, does that sound strange -- but I'd figured our next move was back to Drellin's Ferry, to help Soranna rally the Valefolk. And break the news that someone smashed their bridge. Couldn't have been us; we haven't even got pickaxes!"

"Wouldn't mind finding out more about that Giantish artwork in the forest, too," he adds. "And we've got that prisoner to question, too. I think I can manage one more..." He sends an exploratory tendril of magic through his mind, but frowns as he gets nothing but a headache in return. "Check that; I cannot work another mind-reading spell today," he says, brow furrowed. "Maybe when you called me back I was playing cards with the devil for my soul, and I tried to read his mind."

[CockroachTeaParty]

With what magic he has remaining in his weakened state, Django manages to beguile the captive hobgoblin into revealing a bit more information, though it is largely nothing you do not already know or suspect as a group.

According to the hobgoblin soldier, the 'Red Hand Horde' is mustering at Cinder Hill, a location only a short distance away from Skull Gorge. They plan on marching in about four days, and will reach the gorge on the day after their first march. The hobgoblin can't be certain, but he believes the destruction of the bridge will delay them one or two days. If the prisoner's estimations are correct, Drellin's Ferry only has about a week before the full might of this hobgoblin army comes crashing down upon it.

(What you do with the prisoner is up to you. Django spent a Charm Person spell. Hooray.)

Back into the Woods

As you make your way back down the Dawn Way, you come to the crossroads with the curious, giant-made effigy. It's about high noon; assuming you take a detour of a few hours, you're still likely to reach Drellin's Ferry by evening, so you decide to risk it and see if there's anything of interest down this side path.

About two hours along this road, just when you are starting to consider retracing your steps and going back to town, you spot a plume of smoke in the distance. Cautiously, you approach on foot, keeping to the trees. In a small clearing is an enormous campfire, sized for a creature that is taller than any of you while sitting cross-legged on the ground. He looks like an enormous, yellow-skinned, green-haired, old elf; standing up, he'd probably top sixteen feet. Angry red blotches cover his skin in places, which he absentmindedly scratches as he mutters to himself and turns a gigantic spit, upon which roasts an enormous boar. This must be a forest giant, though this particular specimen appears somewhat aged. A massive club, little more than an uprooted tree trunk, sits at his side, as well as an assortment of super-sized tools; a whittle, a bowl, a quiver of ballista bolt-sized arrows, and a bow longer than Aurellion's horse.

[Calenestel]

After what he had been told about the old war between humans and forest giants the elven rangers not sure who should speak for the group. Neither he Aurellion struck him as "people persons", but you really never knew how the giant might react to a human or three. This one seemed old, probably not as big a threat as the dragon. But he could be a possible ally and not one to antagonize. Doubtfully he looked to his friends, keeping his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Well. Here we have one anyway. Who should speak with him?"

I'd say send in a face. But what do you say, guys?

[Toxic Avenger]

Before the party continues on foot to investigate the source of the smoke, Laerallis packs the gigantic bone gauntlet into his backpack, leaving some things with his horse if necessary to make room.

Replying to Quingendon's question, he whispers back, "He looks old enough to remember Emery Vrath, alright. If one of us humans goes over to meet him, I think it would be best if he had one or two elves with him."

After a moment, he adds, "I brought the big gauntlet along...it might help negotiations if we make it a peace offering."

[Calenestel]

"As long as he didn't like the person it belonged to," the ranger murmurs pessimisticaly. Calmly he unstrings his bow and puts the hobgoblin arrow he had held ready in his quiver. Best not to seem too threatening. Should he need to fight he could string it again quick enough. And Aurellion would certainly give him that time.

[mucat]

"How does this sound?" Django whispers after a moment's thought. "Let me say hello first, disguised as an elf." His tone remains perfectly dry as he explains, "Because as we've seen, illusions are invincible."

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"]"I won't bring the gauntlet with me, in case he jumps directly to the wrong conclusion, but I'll try to interest him in accepting a gift we found. Then Aurellion or Quin can bring it out. If he likes the gift, we sound him out on whether he'd be willing to meet some human friends -- no relation to that despicable bastard Vrath -- who helped recover it."

"From there," he shrugs, "we play it by ear. If he likes music and stories, then he'll like Lem, human or no. If he cares about the forest, we talk about how the Red Hand would tear it to kindling. If he hates all of us with a passion, we run like hell. Durrin, you're our wildcard. If he's never heard of dragonborn, you could tell him any story you want." He grins, and adds, "Not to say you're inclined to make things up. But if you were."

"All plans subject to change without notice once we actually meet him," he concludes. "Sound workable?"

[Calenestel]

Giving Django a thin-lipped smile the ranger nods, showing that he likes the suggestion. That should probably work rather well. "No plan survives first contatct with the enemy. But it's something. Let's do it." Again he strings the bow, though. If he was to keep to the shadows he wouldn't need to look un-threatening. Almost as an afterthought he then pulls up the cowl of his fine cloak, suddenly seeming to almost blend into the surroundings.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis chuckles softly. "Since the plan is to make him not our enemy, I can hardly disagree with you, Quingendon." The priest hangs his crossbow back on his belt, not wanting to look as threatening in case he is spotted. "The plan sounds workable to me, Django...though he might get upset when he finds out you're really not an elf. Then again, he might not...but we'll just have to cross or chop down that bridge when we get there, no?"

Once all is said and done, Laerallis stays back to allow those who are much more suited to this task to work their magic.

[mucat]

"He doesn't need to find out," Django says. "At some point, one of his elven friends will have to leave on other business. A new human might show up shortly after that."

A brief word and gesture, and his form shimmers briefly, then is replaced by a tall, dark-haired elf dressed in forest green and brown. The bow slung over his back and the rapier at his belt seem right for this form, so he leaves them in place, though his hands are nowhere near his weapons as he steps to the edge of the firelit circle.

"Hail the camp!" he calls. His voice is not magically disguised, but he does his best through mundane means to match Quin's Tiri Kitor accent. "I am a friend, and my friends bear a gift for you. May I approach your fire?"

[CockroachTeaParty]

The old giant turns his bushy-bearded face to Django. With a grunt he stands, though this takes him some effort, and he picks up his massive club. He mutters to himself, and while you get the feeling he thinks you can't hear him, there's no mistaking the words from his massively magnified giant's voice.
"Hrm... what are these little ones doing here? Trying to sneak up on ol' Warcklegnaw, hm? They won't get the drop on him, nope. What's it sayin' now? Tricksy little folk with tricksy words..."
The giant stands warily, but you get the impression he's more curious, and perhaps even afraid, than he is angry.

[mucat]

Django smiles and takes a step or two forward, hands empty and visible at his sides. "No tricks," he lies. Well, it's not really a lie; his disguise isn't a malicious trick.

The giant's club is hard to ignore; today has been a sobering reminder that laughing in the face of danger doesn't actually make it less dangerous. But he hopes he is keeping any trace of fear out of his voice as he continues. "I do not mean any harm, and I will leave if you ask me to. My friends and I found a glove, though, far too large for any of us. It would make us glad if you would accept it as a gift, mighty Warcklegnaw."


Diplomacy check: [roll0]
Circumstance bonus for offering a gift?

[CockroachTeaParty]

Old Warcklegnaw's bushy green brow furrows at the mention of gloves and gifts. He scratches his neck, which is covered in an angry red rash, as he ponders the situation. Finally, he speaks, this time not to himself, which means his normal speaking voice booms like thunder.
"A gift? Fer ol'Warcklegnaw? What could the little folk offer to Warcklegnaw? Does he not have a boar to eat? Ha! The little folk couldn't catch such a boar!"
He motions to the enormous razorback roasting on the spit, easily the size of a small circus tent. The smell wafting off the crackling, sizzling meat is quite potent, but appetizing, not unlike plus-sized bacon.
"Har! Bring forth this gift! Warcklegnaw will see if it is fit for a Twistusk!"
He places his club on the ground, and leans on it with an elbow. He absentmindedly scratches another patch of red on his right arm.

[Toxic Avenger]

Oh, right. The gift...

Laerallis removes the giant gauntlet from his backpack, and with both hands he heaves it over to Aurellion. "Going good so far...don't screw it up." He whispers with a wry smile.

[Firebeard]

Greatspear in one hand, Aurellion reached out and grasped the gauntlet in the other. The thing was massive and heavy, but the elf's wiry strength was sufficient to the task.

Walking forward, he reached the edge of the clearing and very slowly, very obviously planted the butt of the greatspear in the soft earthy loam, standing the spear straight in the air. Moving again, he walked towards the giant, and stopped about 10 feet away. He held the gauntlet in both hands, far away from his body in an obvious gesture of gifting.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Warcklegnaw raises his bushy eyebrows as the bone gauntlet is presented to him. He reaches down with a hand the size of a large chair and picks up the gauntlet, scrutinizing it carefully. After a moment, he speaks, somewhat more softly (that is, somewhat less deafeningly).
"...Where did the little folk find this?"

[Firebeard]

"We...liberated it from an advance force of goblinkin that were holed up at Vraath Keep. The group there was an advance scouting force for an enormous army of goblinkin. That army is headed this way. If left to their own devices, they will burn, pillage, and destroy all life in this region. What isn't destroyed will be enslaved."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Aurellion seems to have dumped too much information at once for the giant to process. He blinks a few times, a somewhat vacant look on his face, before his brow furrows.
"Vraath Keep? Ol'Warcklegnaw remembers Vraath Keep. A storm, there was, and Warcklegnaw fought alongside his brothers and sisters! The little folk fought hard! Warcklegnaw's brother Pinebeard fell!"
Although his voice is fierce, enormous tears begin to drip from his crinkled eyes, each the size of a ripe orange.
"We beat those little folk, but it was too late! Too many had died! We left the forest, we went into the hills... forest giants isn't supposed to live in hills! Warcklegnaw came back to his home, to live out his last years among the trees... the trees... He caught a boar! See? But Warcklegnaw is old now... little folk sneak up on him, and give him Pinebeard's gauntlet, and speak their little words, and Warcklegnaw has trouble hearing them... he's here to die alone, with the trees..."
With a loud thud, the giant sinks back to the ground, staring off into the middle distance, the massive tears beading up in his gnarled green beard.

[Calenestel]

Having kept back, Quin had had ample time to study the giant. Actually, the behemoth seemed a bit senile and he was starting to doubt whether the forest giant would be of any use to them. But they had to at least try and see. Now he, as the third elf steps forward, compassion clear on his face, genuine compassion actually. "Warcklegnaw. What does the forests mean to your kind? I know what it means to the Tiri Kitor. But to your kind? Is it only a place like any other? Or something more?" No subservient "great Warcklegnaw"s from him, the young elf is a bit too proud for that and he doubted it actually helped with the gentle-seeming old giant, but when he speaks there's real respect for a creature of the forest.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Warcklegnaw seems to snap out of his reverie. He wipes the tears from his eyes as he grumbles to himself.
"More words from the little folk. They are asking Warcklegnaw questions. What are they asking? Why? Is this the gift-price?"
The giant snorts, and scratches another angry patch of red skin. He begins to turn the spit again, and pokes the fire with a tree branch.
"The forest is my home."
It is apparent that Warcklegnaw is sick. Laerallis, and Quingendon as well, recognize the signs of Red Ache, an affliction that irritates the skin and causes great fatigue.

[mucat]

"There is no price," answers Django. "It is a gift. If you like, we can go,"

After a moment's respectful silence, he adds, "If you do want to talk, there are things we can tell you." He pauses after each sentence, giving the old giant time to digest the words. "Your home is in danger. Other little folk are coming, orcs and hobgoblins. Much worse than the humans who fought you before."

[McNerp]

Durrin strained to hear what the giant was saying from his hiding place in the woods. Not knowing how the thing would react to so distinctive a display (in his mind) of his allegiances in the great cosmic struggle between good and evil, the dragonborn had opted not to approach with Django and the elves.

Though he feels pity for this being's plight, he remains out of sight until he is sure he won't ruin the possibility of recruitment.

[CockroachTeaParty]

At Django's words, the giant snorts again. He pulls out a knife the size of a longsword, and while you all cringe for a moment at the blade is drawn, he begins to cut pieces of juicy meat from the sizzling boar carcass.
"Oh ho! The mighty little folk would have words with ol'Warcklegnaw! Har! Ha har! Well... Come sit around his campfire, and taste the meal of a true hunter! Warcklegnaw reckons you're too small to catch such a fine boar. Har! Today's your lucky day, gift-bringers. Have a gift from Warcklegnaw in return."
He begins putting large slabs of meat on smooth, flat rocks, which must function as makeshift plates for the giant. The meat steams slightly, and smells appetizing to those who partake in such fare. The giant motions for you to sit.
"Now, you have guest right! You are Warcklegnaw's guests now. Eat his food. He will listen to what the little folk have to say. What is this about goblinses? Ol'Warcklegnaw ain't afraid of no goblinses. They go 'squish' like all other little folk do."

[Toxic Avenger]

Though the giant has begun to warm up to the elves, Laerallis continues to stay back out of sight for the time being. After all, there has been no mention of any 'human friends' just yet...

[mucat]

"They do," agreed Django. "It makes me glad to know that Warcklegnaw is here to make them go 'squish'." He stares out into the trees for a moment, then admits, "But still I worry for the forest. The orcs and goblins are many, like the ants from twenty ant hills. You are in one place with your club, we are in other places with our bows...but the goblins will be in more places than we can defend, with saws and axes, hungry for wood to make seige engines."

He accepts a plate of roast boar. "Thank you," he tells the giant with a respectful nod. "Our arrows could never bring down a boar like this." He chews on a bit of the charred meat before saying"Humans are fighting to stop the Horde as well. Not Vrath," he adds with a derisive snort. "Vrath is long dead, and missed by no one. But others. They are small, but their numbers may match the orcs."

He lets the idea sink in for a time while they all eat. When the giant has had time to sort through his thoughts, and ask any questions he might want to, Django offers, "I know where to find some of these humans, if you want to fight the goblins together."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The giant seems pleased that his hunting prowess has been acknowledged. He listens intently to Django's words, though it might be because he has trouble hearing him over actual interest. Finally, after chewing on some boar meat for a while, Warcklegnaw responds.
"Are the little folk asking for ol'Warcklegnaw's help with fighting goblinses? They think the goblinses could hurt the forest? Heh! Hmm. Warcklegnaw is old. The time for fighting wars is past for him. But the little folk are asking for help from the forest giants. Help! Hrm... Help... Asking Warcklegnaw for help. Warcklegnaw is not long for this world. He wants to hunt in the forest and live out his last days in peace. But Warcklegnaw's granddaughters... Maybe they will listen. Maybe they will come and fight the goblinses?"
With a grunt, the giant stands once more, and looks to the foothills of the mountains looming in the misty west.
"It is a long way. Warcklegnaw should go and find his granddaughters. He will tell them about the little folk asking for help. They are young, and still have the battle-thirst. But we can't win wars for the little folk. We'll fight for the forest, but if they leave the forest, we won't follow. And even Warcklegnaw's granddaughters can't stop a big army of goblinses. Warcklegnaw will go speak to his granddaughters. He will do this for the gift, and the asking for help."


I'll have more stuff soon, but everyone at this point will return to Drellin's Ferry and rest. Upon resting, you get your XP rewards:
Everyone gets 2625 XP.

Django was dropped to 8000 XP, but gets a boosted 2708 XP, bringing him to 10,708 XP and keeping him at 5th level. Everyone else levels up to 6th level, so feel free to begin updating your sheets now.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion keeps his tongue as the others talk with the giant. His strength was not in words, and he knew it. Perhaps the time would come when he would need to speak up, but in the meantime, he kept quiet.

Once they had finished with Warklegnaw, Aurellion waited until they were past his camp a ways before saying "I think it is finally time to return to Drellin's Ferry with the news of the goblinkin horde and our...deeds here. I know our actions are ripe for song", he said, glancing at Lem and Django, "but I would ask that you let me speak to Captain Soranna and the Mayor first, before you go spreading the tale around town. They need to know what we found, what we did, and the alliances we have made in their name. I will take full responsibility for my actions at the bridge, though should the people look favorably upon it, I will of course share the glory with you, my companions."

The elf looked uncharacteristically grim, as if the decisions made in the heat of battle were beginning to weigh heavily upon his soul.

[Calenestel]

Putting a comforting hand on the other elf's shoulder Quingendon looks equally grim but more in line with his usual character. "We did what had to be done and are in the right. What they believe to be right doesn't matter, only that knowledge that we've don right. I for one will stand by you should the villagers prove ungrateful."

[mucat]

Rejoining Lem and Durrin after leaving the Warcklegnaw's camp, Django lets his illusory elven guise shimmer and vanish. "Sorry we didn't get the chance to invite you for dinner too," he tells them. "The old fellow seemed nervous whenever we gave him too much to think about at once. He didn't smash us for suggesting giants could work with humans, but actually seeing a human and a dragonborn at his fire might have been more than he could handle."

When the conversation turns to the prospect of explaining their actions to Soranna, Django nods agreement with Quin. "We're not going to let you face the music alone, Aurelion. The only reason all five of us weren't hacking at those supports is that we'd have to be crazy to think a man with a sword could cut down a bridge."

"But you're right about not singing the story in taverns just yet," he adds. "'Rejoice! We'll all be dead in six days rather than four!' isn't the ideal way to shore up morale."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The ride back to Drellin's Ferry is long and uneventful. You pass the abandoned ruins of Vraath Keep, the rotting corpse of the dead hydra, and finally can see the town in the distance in the fading daylight. By the time you cross the ferry onto the eastern shore of the Elsir river, the sun has nearly set. You head to the old toll house, headquarters of the town watch, and it doesn't take you long to hunt down Captain Soranna. Her face is inscrutable as always, though you get the feeling she is relieved to see you.
"You're back. Jorr gave us a report of your journey to Vraath Keep. It doesn't sound good... minotaurs? Manticores? Where are the goblinoids finding such monsters? Speaker Wiston and the other town council members believe that since you've cleared out the keep, the threat is all but gone. I'm sure you've got your own stories for him; he's waiting at the Old Bridge Inn. Follow me."

The Old Bridge Inn is just as lively as you remember it. The halfling staff are serving drinks to chattering townsfolk. Speaker Wiston is sitting at a table with Kellin Shadowbanks and an older human woman. She is tall, with broad shoulders, and blonde-gray hair. They are sharing a bottle of wine and playing a card game when Speaker Wiston notices you enter.
"Ah! The heroes of Drellin's Ferry have returned! Jorr told us you showed those villains what-for at Vraath Keep! How exciting! I hope master Lem has cooked up a fresh song of your triumph?"
The old man beams with pride. Several of the townsfolk look towards you with interest, and there's even the occasional cheer.
"Come, come, sit! Kellin, I'll purchase whatever drinks these fine men want! They've earned it! Now tell us, what happened after you left the Keep? Jorr said you were headed to Skull Gorge? Those goblins are no doubt packing for the mountains again, where they belong!"

[Calenestel]

The elven ranger was looking as grim as always when they returned to Drellin's Ferry and as they headed over to the inn. He spoke little after leaving the wilderness, feeling out of place in the human settlement.

When they reached the inn and was greeted with such unbridled optimism by the Speaker, a man who should be the wisest of the lot of them, Quingendon hesitates, actually taken aback by the hopefullness. Bewildered he glances to his friends. Do the fool human really think that with what we learned from the prisoner as well as at the Keep it will be that easy? Roundears...
He's on the verge of saying as much, lashing out towards the foolishness of the human leader. But he thinks better of it. It would only lead to hurt feelings and panic if he spoke up now. Instead he waits for one of the humans in their group to speak for them all to begin with, looking more grim than usual.

[mucat]

En route to the Old Bridge Inn, Django smiles warmly at a number of Seldani hawking their wares or plying their trades as craftsfolk. Greeting one dark-eyed young woman, he passes her a note, and whispers, "Take this to the elders?"


The note reads:

Orcs and dragons arriving, six days or sooner. Three guesses how locals will take news? If they arrest me, leave by the northern road; don't stop until you are well clear of the Vale. Do not wait for me; i will have more options if I know the People are safe.
I have illusions, which are invincible.
- dj


At the Old Bridge Inn, Django thanks his hosts graciously and takes a seat. He takes a long draw from his drink and savors the moment For now, we are the conquering heroes, and everything is simple. A minute from now?

He considers the quartet of locals facing them. Captain Sosanna is sensible. Like sensible people everywhere, she is ignored. And sadly, she does not seem to know how to maneuver around this handicap. She lets others decide whether to listen to her, and shrugs helplessly when they do not. Kelin Shadowbanks is shrewd, but accustomed more to pleasing his neighbors than to speaking uncomfortable truth to power. Speaker Winston is a blind man, and it is for his sake that the others pretend they cannot see.

The other woman is a wildcard; he has no strong sense of how she thinks or what influence she wields. And Django is a gambler, so it is to her that he shapes his words. Watching the eyes of all four, but especially the blonde woman, he speaks slowly and inexorably, letting each sentence hang over the table for a heartbeat before beginning the next.

"I wish we could tell you the crisis is past. You judged us worth trusting to clear Vrath' keep, so for the sake of everyone in the Vale, listen to us now. We have a week at most before orcs and hobgoblins reach this town. Not a raiding party: an army. They call it the Red Hand Horde. They intend to take the entire Vale, and they have the numbers for it. Minotaurs and manticores are the least of our troubles. Dragons have allied with them. And Drellin's Ferry is their first objective."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Even though noise continues to buzz around the rest of the inn, the silence that falls over the table around which you sit is absolute. Kellin looks uncomfortable, and coughs into his fist. The blond woman stares at you all, nonplussed, and crosses her arms. Speaker Wiston, however, goes white as a sheet, before spluttering, "What?"
Captain Soranna puts a hand on the Speaker's shoulder.
"Speaker, this isn't anything new. Remember what Jorr said?"
Speaker Wiston stammers, his eyes pleading as he glances from face to face.
"But... but... we all know Jorr's a bit... well, the man lives by himself in the woods with his dogs... I thought he was exaggerating, trying to make everything seem more heroic... But, the leader, the bugbear, he fled, right? I mean, if you are all back, that must mean Skull Gorge Bridge is clear, right? What else could a bunch of hobgoblins be doing?"
Kellin remains silent, but the blond woman finally speaks, her voice low and calm.
"You say there's an army. Do you have any proof of this claim? Tell us exactly what transpired after you left Vraath Keep. I'll assume Jorr's testimony is accurate."

[Firebeard]

Standing somewhat stiffly, Aurellion relates the tale of what transpired at the bridge. He speaks in a terse clipped manner, reminiscent to Captain Soranna of a soldier asked to report.

"We followed the scout leader from Vraath Keep to the Skull Gorge Bridge. There, we found a substantial force of hobgoblins and hellhounds holding the bridge from both sides of the gorge. They were in entrenched positions and obviously tasked with ensuring that the bridge remained open for the coming horde."

"With them was a dragon, a young green it seems. The dragon made an assault on the bridge itself extremely dangerous, but we felt that our duty to the people of this region required us to at least try the defenses. Unfortunately, the dragon was as formidable as you might assume. Django was killed, and we barely managed to deter it with concentrated bowfire. Fortunately for Django, Laerellis was able to bring him back."

"The dragon flew off in the direction where we had been led to believe the Horde was camped, leaving the hobgoblins to hold the bridge. The dragon actually said something about holding the bridge 'at all cost' and 'Tiamat will reward your sacrifice'."

"That was evidence enough for us to determine that the Horde was indeed real, it was following the will of Tiamat, or at least allied with her evil brood, and that the bridge was important to their plans. I took it upon myself to ...wreck those plans." This last he said with a grim smile as he placed the twisted, dented, and completely ruined bastard sword on the table before him.

"Perhaps once you have sent for reinforcements, and the armies of good have turned back this Horde, the dwarves will see fit to rebuild the bridge over the gorge."

"We captured one of the soldiers guarding the bridge, and though he did not wish to talk, we ...persuaded him. He says the Horde is massing at Cinder Hill, that it is thousands strong, and that it will roll over this town within the week. the destruction of the bridge might have bought you a few days to send for help and evacuate the town."

That said, Aurellion stands still and awaits the response. Focused on the events at the bridge and the coming Horde, Aurellion completely fails to mention the giant Warklegnaw.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Speaker Wiston flaps his jaw open and closed like a fish out of water for a few seconds.
"...What!? A dragon? Tiamat? Pelor save us... But the bridge... the bridge is destroyed? Was that completely necessary? Evacuate... but, but, this place is our home. Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to do? They'll be here in a week?"
Kellin Shadowbanks steeples his fingers under his chin, his brow furrowed.
"These goblins... they're after treasure, right? Maybe we can talk to them? Give them what they want, and then if they come back, we'll have better prepared our defenses?"
The blond woman and Captain Soranna remain silent, grim expressions on their faces. Speaker Wiston shakes his head.
"I... we need time to think this over. I'll call for a meeting of the town council. We need to figure out a plan..." He gestures to the party. "You are all invited to come. Clearly, you know more about what exactly we're up against, and your input will be valued. P-please... rest for now. You've earned it. Kellin, can you provide lodgings for these brave souls? I... I need to go home..."

Kellin obliges, showing you to rooms. Speaker Wiston responds to any further questions with shrugs and vacant stares and mumblings. He totters out of the inn with the blond woman and Captain Soranna.

Day 4

You all rest, waking up feeling refreshed. Everyone feels like their experiences in the Witchwood have ingrained themselves deep within their souls, making everyone feel better in some way. Aurellion's combat prowess has increased, improving his intuition and reaction time. Laerallis feels both the connection to his patron and the eldritch energy in his blood have improved, while Quingendon's focus, combat skill, and cold hatred of his chosen foes have solidified in his mind. Even Django feels better, the strange malaise cast over him by his resurrection having passed. Life seems that much more precious to him now, and he is determined to make a difference with what time remains to him.

Kellin treats you all to a fine breakfast of biscuits, oatmeal, assorted fruit, and bacon. He tries to keep a cheery demeanor, but he seems shaken by your report last night. "Any plans for today? The Seldani seem to be packing up shop... so soon? I was hoping to buy one of those pretty necklaces... Well, if you recovered any treasure during your adventures, now's as good a time as any to spend it, right?"

As you exit the inn, you see the Seldani caravan is already well on its way to being ready to leave. The Seldani people are used to travel, and are accustomed to leaving an area in haste. A large, slow army is one of the many things that has trouble adversely effecting a nomadic lifestyle.

(What do you wish to do? Whom do you wish to seek out?)

[Firebeard]

To the others Aurellion said "I think we should make every effort to evacuate these people before the Horde shows up. this place is not defensible and they will be overrun in a matter of minutes. I am going to talk to Captain Soranna before tracking down Speaker Wiston. If they haven't already sent for reinforcements from the surrounding areas, then that is a top priority. After that...I don't know. I suggest we make use of what funds we have and procure any supplies we might need. If the town evacuates, I want to be ready to move quickly."

Aurellion left to track down captain Soranna. It didn't take long to find her. "Captain, I would speak with you about this coming horde. You were quiet last night, and rightfully so. I know it is your task to defend these people, but you know as well as I that Drellin's Ferry is not suited to defend against any coordinated attack. I do not say that to disparage you and your guards, but you have no fortifications, no heavy artillery. The river is your best defense, and a large enough horde can bypass that in a matter of hours. You must convince the Speaker to send word to the larger towns int he area and to evacuate these people!"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Aurellion finds Captain Soranna drilling her men at archery. She listens to what the elf has to say with a solemn expression on her face.
"It's not my place to decide what to do. I'm the one that will have to execute the decision of the town council. However, I agree; fighting would be suicide. Speaker Wiston was hoping for a few more days to think things over, but I'll press on him the urgency. You must forgive Speaker Wiston... he's an old man, a peaceful man. He doesn't understand things like war, or the violence other creatures are capable of. He's uncertain what to do, but whatever you and your allies suggest will make an impact on him.
The other members of the council favor different courses of action. Kellin Shadowbanks thinks we can reason with the hobgoblins, or at least figure out what it is they want. The ones we've fought, and no doubt the ones you encountered in the Witchwood, made no attempts to parley, so I doubt diplomacy is going to cut it. Delora Zann, the older woman you met last night, she favors evacuation. She used to be an adventurer herself back in the day, and she has no illusions about what awaits us should we stay here. The last member of the town council, Iormel... Well, he doesn't believe your story. He's a wealthy land owner, and no doubt can't fathom parting with his dear estate. He says, that if what you say is true, that we should stand our ground and fight. Never mind it will be my men putting their lives on the line for his well-groomed handful of acres... If possible, I'll get Speaker Wiston to gather the council tomorrow morning at the Old Bridge Inn. Hopefully we can figure out a plan then."
***

The day passes relatively uneventfully. You do a little shopping, bargaining with the spellcasters and shopkeepers of the town with the items you've recovered. Just as the sun is setting, and you are thinking about hunting down some dinner and making more plans, you hear a commotion from the opposite side of the river. You squint westward, and begin to see the orange light of flames. An alarm bell begins to ring, and people begin to run up and down the streets. A passing guardswoman shouts, "Goblins! On the western shore! To arms! All guardsmen to the ferry! Awake, awake! Goblins!"

[Firebeard]

Aurellion, who was rarely out of armor in public, snatched up his greatspear, ripped off the peace bond, and ran out into the street. Looking to the west, he caught sight of the orange glow and recognized a forest dweller's worst fears...fire! "Fire on the western bank!" he shouted back into the inn. "Looks like we have company. I'm heading to the ferry to see Captain Soranna. the guards are gathering there and perhaps we can help. If you're coming, grab your gear and hurry!" With that, he took off at any easy jog for the ferry, spear held easily, but firmly in his right hand.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis is busy working on a painting of the Skull Gorge Bridge in its former glory when he begins to hear the shouts of alarm. He runs to the door of the inn to investigate, where he sees Aurellion stop to shout the warning.

Already having everything with him except the budding masterpiece and his paintbrushes - which he left on the table where he was working - the priest wills his crossbow into his hands, loads it, and follows after the elf warrior. "I'm ready!"

[mucat]

Outside Antony Rona's wagon, Django wearily sets his glass of brandy down on the overturned crate that is serving as a makeshift table. All day he has spent locked in discussion with the caravan's elders, poring over maps, plotting and arguing over the safest route from the Vale. It might have been best for them to left this morning, but rumors and reports of which roads are safe and which are deadly continue to drift in with each hour, and a day's delay is better than walking into the enemy's hands.

The conflicting rumors seem to be shaping themselves into a consensus, though, and the way seems clear: leave before dawn, take the Dawn' Way -- which Antony had thought best from the beginning, as he will not stop reminding them -- and push the horses hard till the Vale was a memory. Three days' journey to Brindol, if no axles break and no horses fall lame; perhaps a week to clear the Vale altogether.

And I can't put off my decision any longer, he thinks. Stick with the caravan and guard them safely out of the Vale, or stay and fight? The choice ought to be easy. He bears the Valefolk no animosity, but they are not his people, and too many of their leaders seem determined to make themselves easy prey. The Seldani are survivors, and he intends damn well to keep it that way.

The small band of guerillas, though -- Durrin, Lem, and the elves -- would be harder to abandon. He likes them, of course, though that is not enough to override the ties of blood and a lifetime of shared travels. But more to the point, they are sensible, competent, and almost frighteningly lucky. Perhaps the best thing he can do to assure the Seldani's escape is to fight a rear guard action with his new friends, delaying the Horde for as long as their luck holds out. By all logic, five people cannot slow an army...but just as undeniably, they already have.

The sudden alarm bells and urgent call of the guardswoman cut his thoughts off sharply. He stands, shades his eyes and peers across the river, checking reflexively first for his spell component pouch, then for his weapon. He is already in motion before he remembers something important. Spinning back toward the wooden "table," he grabs his brandy, finishes it in one gulp, and gives a sardonic salute to Antony before sprinting for the ferry, watching for his comrades in arms among the churning crowd.

[Calenestel]

Just walking through the village, trying to force himself to grow used to human settlements, Quin is still neither unarmoured nor unarmed. He would have prefered to visit such places as these in peacetime, but he knew it wasn't and he knew that an advanced scouting party was likely to reach Drellin's Ferry any day and he dressed accordingly. Still he was surprised that the attack came so soon. The ranger stopped dead in his tracks as the alarum was shouted, gauged the direction and sprinted off, telling his trusted ophidian friend to follow as best as he could. On his way he saw Aurellion moving to the same parts of the village and put an extra effort in catching up to the second elf. He ran in silence, hardly making a sound as he went.

[McNerp]

After an exceedingly pleasant day spent either wandering around town to observe the small community or launching himself into the air with the leathery wings on his back. He spends most of his time in the air gliding since his wings, though now strong enough to lift him bodily, still can't sustain lengthy flight.

At the sound of the alarm bell, Durrin heads towards it with all possible haste, ready to lend whatever skills he can to the villagers.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The sounds of chaos increase as you near the ferry. There you see Captain Soranna, desperately trying to muster her men and organize a bucket brigade. She spots the party coming, and seems to take heart.
"To the ferries! To the ferries! What? No, we're not paying the toll this time! Dammit, this is an emergency! Take it up with the Speaker!"
Soranna ushers you onto one of the wooden ferries. As soon as you are all aboard, the mules on opposite sides of the river begin to turn their harness crank, and the ropes attached to the vessels grow taught. The ferries set off, crossing the notoriously swift Elsir River towards the glow of the fires on the opposite bank. Captain Soranna squints into the distance before addressing you as a group.
"Thank Heironeous you're here. You can handle yourselves; I'll take the guardsmen and take the southern rode, you take the northerly one. We'll push the goblins back and meet up at the start of the Dawn Way into the Witchwood. Don't worry about the fires: I'll have the bucket brigade on it as soon as its safe for civilians. This can't be the main army: it's got to be a scouting group, or maybe raiders. Fight hard, fight well!"
The ferries land on the shore. Soranna rallies her men, as they ready their spears and swords (many of which you sold to them, having taken them from dead hobgoblins).
"To arms! We're taking the southern road! Push them back!"
A ragged guardsman runs up, his face streaked with blood and sweat. He doesn't seem to notice that a black-feathered arrow is protruding from his left shoulder pauldron.
"Captain! Pelor bless it... Worgs! Worg riders! Mounted archers! They're setting fire to whatever they can! There's infantry behind them, it can't be more than a platoon. They'll be on us 'fore you can spit!"
Captain Soranna nods to you grimly before setting off with her men. The air smells of smoke, and the screams of human beings mix together with the howls and snarls of creatures more foul than wolves...

(Anybody casting any spells? We'll have a proper combat update next! Prepare yourselves!)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

As they cross the river the ranger uses the short time of inactivity to string his black longbow, he has some guesses about what kind of advance attack force this might be, smaller goblinoids on canine mounts probably. There had been worgs in Vrath Keep, after all. And as soon as they land on the other side of the river he has his suspicion confirmed. With a grim and almost satisified smile he draws an arrow and knockis it, nodding to his friends before silently taking the point position.

A spot check, maybe?
[roll0]

Did Snakey get on board the ferry in time? With only a 20' speed he might not unless we waited there for someone. But he has a Swim speed so it's no problem. Just want to know.

[McNerp]

Durrin draws his dagger, which makes a small "pop" as an ember dances to life on its razor tip. He crouches down nearly to a squat before leaping into the air, borne upward into the air on frantically beating wings. "I will harry our foes from the air. If you can, try to draw the attention of any archers. I'd rather not end up a pincushion." he says as he begins to ascend.

1/5 rounds of continuous flight.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Goblin Raid

Durrin takes to the air on his magnificent wings as the party moves up from the ferry landing. You're barely 100 feet away from the river when you see them: a group of three goblins, mounted on savage worgs, accompanied by a slavering, black-furred hell hound with eyes that glow eldritch red. Before any of you have a chance to react, the hell hound surges forward, smoke trailing from its nostrils... towards Aurellion, foolishly. The elf's well-honed combat awareness allows him to level his spear in the nick of time, almost as if his combat reflexes have a mind of their own. He slashes a fine gash along the beast's flank, but in its rage it continues to push on, winding up mere inches from Aurellion, red foam at its hellish lips...

In all the commotion, you realize Lem is not here; he must have missed the ferry. Also, Quingendon's snake companion was unable to keep up with the rush to the crossing, and must be somewhere on the opposite bank...

(Initiative in the OOC)

Map: Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/GoblinRaidR1.png

[mucat]

The goblins are slower to press the attack than their fire-breathing companion, and Django intends to make this delay cost them. His syllables and gestures are familiar to everyone by now, but no less effective,: a storm of Glitterdust erupts around the worgs, encompassing all three beasts and their riders.

Sorry if the constant Glitterdust spam gets boring, but with the goblins and worgs bunched up like that, it's hard to imagine doing anything else. :smallsmile:

(Django will get some different combat spells, as soon as he manages to not die for long enough to reach level 6 and stay there!)

Standard action: Glitterdust (Will save, DC 17), centered on Worg #2

Move action: If he needs to move before the spell to get line of effect on the worgs, he will, going as far along the north edge of the road as necessary (I'm not sure if the green areas on the side of the road are trees that block line of effect.)

If he doesn't need to move to cast the spell, then he will move 10 feet north after the spell is cast, drawing his bow as part of the action.

[McNerp]

Reveling in his new position well out of the reach of grasping jaws and burning breath, Durrin dives at the all-too-familiar beast below him. He has long since learned that cold, rather than heat, is the best tool for disabling these beasts. He drops low enough to expel a frigid breath before completing his parabolic arc.

Use Flyby Attack to breathe a cone of cold on der beastie (DC20) and swoop back up.

Damage: [roll0]

CTP, if at some point I make a mistake on the flying rules (which I probably will) just say so and I'll edit Durrin's actions.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Quickly singling out the one goblin not flailing blindly as an aftermath of Django's spell the elven ranger smiles wickedly and raises his bow. Calmly he draws and looses, aiming for a kill.

No magic boost to my attack? Oh, noes! :smallamused:
(With the Glitterdust spell this game is kind of in the bag anyway :smalltongue:)

How does my two attacks per round work when I have to draw a new arrow? I think the rules allow it, but I usually don't as a DM. :smallamused:

Here's a first shot anyway. The second might be posted OOC.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Firebeard]

Aurellion leads the group to the North, while Soranna takes the guards south. As they move, he sees the goblins in the distance wheel to face them. He almost missed the hellhound with them until it charges at the group, flared nostrils trailing smoke.

The spear dancer whirled his greatspear around, pivoted on his back foot, and drove the broad leaf-shaped blade into the evil creature as it charged him. The beast took the spear high on one shoulder and drove forward, but Aurellion held it at bay.


2 combat options here:

If the hound is still alive when Aurellion's turn comes up...

attack1: [roll0] PA 2
damage: [roll1]

attack2:[roll2] PA 2
damage: [roll3]



If not, double move towards the goblins, trying to center myself on their approach.


@GM: Do you treat Dodge as a permanent +1 to AC vs. visible creatures? Or as stated in the book (designated?)

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis' eldritch vision allows him to quickly see that Django's magic has done its job well. The disciple of the Lorekeeper moves north a few paces, out of the way of his companions, and then he fires at one of the worgs.

OOC:Opting not to activate his Travel Devotion power just yet, Laerallis moves north 20' and then fires a bolt at Worg #1.

Attack roll: [roll0]

Damage roll:[roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

A Wave Repelled...

Laerallis lands a crossbow bolt right in the useless eye of one of the worgs, and the beast howls in agony. Quingendon misses the only goblin archer to avoid blindness, the cunning foe deflecting the first arrow with his buckler while the second flies too far to the right. With practiced ease, Aurellion plants his spear deep within the hell hound's neck, all but decapitating the creature with a single blow. The worgs, blind and confused, sniff the smokey air in confusion. One of the goblins cries out in his own language, "Retreat!", and his companions are all too happy to oblige. The worgs, even though blind, are still able to make a clumsy, yet hasty, retreat back up the road, no doubt being guided by their keen ears and noses. The goblin whom Quingendon missed fires a single arrow as they retreat, which arcs high before piercing through the thin membrane of Durrin's left wing.

The enemies retreat into the distance; even in their impeded state, the worgs are too fast for all but Laerallis, and even then only if the mystic called upon the aid of his deity. Durrin has to land, not just from the pain of his wound, but also because his wings are still not robust enough to carry him aloft for prolonged flights. In the distance, it seems Captain Soranna and her men are faring well; this must be a relatively small raiding group. You consolidate, and move north to a crossroads.

Suddenly, emerging out of the smoke-choked air to the west, a unit of hobgoblin infantry surges forwards, their longswords, heavy shields, and chainmail hauberks at the ready. You all ready yourselves for combat!

Laerallis

More unnerving than the five hobgoblins rushing towards you with murder in their eyes is the single unarmored hobgoblin floating in the air some 30 feet above them. He is clad in rust-red robes, holds a spear in his left hand, and wears a gaudy cloak of mustard yellow. His skin is unusual: tinted blue, with an almost metallic sheen that glitters in the light of the distant fires of the burning buildings. He is no doubt a spellcaster: multiple images of him weave and shift around him, making it impossible to determine where he actually is. The fact that none of your companions seem to be reacting to his presence implies that he is also cloaked in invisibility.


(New Initiative in the OOC thread. Durrin took 4 damage from a lucky shot. 5 rounds have passed.)

Wave 2: Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/GoblinRaidW2R1.png

[mucat]

"When your only tool is a hammer..." mutters Django, about to unleashes yet another tempest of golden motes in the midst of the hobgoblin foot soldiers. The spell is almost on his lips when Laerallis calls out a warning about the invisible caster, and Django hastily recalculates. Thirty feet right, thirty feet up...there, maybe?

Instead of among the infantry, the storm breaks in midair, in what Django hopes does not turn out to be empty space.


EDIT: Modified to target caster instead of soldiers, after the OOC discussion of when Lae's warning goes off.


Glitterdust again: DC 17 will save, catches all the hobgoblin footsoldiers on the road the caster alone, provided Django followed Lae's directions well enough.

EDIT: Again, above instructions changes to reflect OOC discussion.

Either way, he will then ready his move action to follow Aurellion, staying behind the warrior when he moves. (Is that allowed as a readied action?). (He could move 60 with Expeditious Retreat, but doesn't want to end up out ahead of the warriors.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Hearing Lae's warning Quin takes a quick look skywards, but of course he sees nothing. Shrugging he turns towards the hobgoblins, drawing a new arrow. "Could someone make him visible before he does something we'll regret!"
Not being able to do anything about the caster the ranger instead nocks, draws and looses two arrows in quick succession, his movements precise and fluid.

Shooting at Hobbo4 to begin with. Will move on to #5 later, maybe.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[roll2]
[roll3]

Edit: If Django does reveal the flying spellcaster, then... you know. :smalltongue:

[Firebeard]

Aurellion shakes the hellhound's blood from his spear as the worgs and their riders run off. Too bad, that could have been a great fight. His spirits raise somewhat as he sees the troop of hobgoblin soldiers marching in step down the street. Fury arose in him. Fury that these foul beasts would attack a helpless village of innocents. Fury that this Horde was apparently going to steamroll over this beautiful land and its people.

He gave himself to the anger and the battle joy, opting to dance the Spear Dance. The familiar burbling laughter sprang from him and he leaped forward. Leaping and spinning, he wove a blur of wood and steel around himself as he charged the hobgoblins. So precise was his footwork and skillful his hands, that his dance was almost mesmerizing.

"For Corellan Larethian and the elves of Alan!"



Pounce - full attacks after charge
Whirling Frenzy +4 Str, +2 AC, +1 attack, -2 to hit
charge to within 10', +2 to hit, -2 to AC

attack@hobgoblin5: [roll0], PA4
damage: [roll1]

attack@hobgoblin2: [roll2], PA4
damage: [roll3]

attack@hobgoblin2: [roll4], PA4 [or whichever is still standing after the first round of attacks]
damage: [roll5]

[McNerp]

Ignoring the pain in his wing, Durrin leaps skyward once more. I don't have time for this to hurt now. He ascends towards the dust-covered enigma in the sky, wings pumping furiously.

[Toxic Avenger]

With a mere thought, Laerallis calls upon a small portion of the power that Lirr has vested in him. As he does so, an invisible celestial aura - centered on himself - comes into being, protecting all those within a few steps of him.

Then he points an outstretched hand in the direction of the flying blue-skinned hobgoblin, and with another thought, he sends a violet-hued ball of energy speeding straight toward it.


OOC:As a swift action, Laerallis activates Gift of the Divine Patron - Protective Aura, which is a short-lived (4 round duration) Magic Circle vs. Evil.

Then he fires an Eldritch Blast at the caster (or more likely, one of his images).

Attack: [roll0] (I don't know what the miss chance is...)

Damage: [roll1] (That is, if the damage bonus from Knowledge Devotion applies to EB.)

[CockroachTeaParty]

Another Foe Foiled

Another cloud of golden motes explodes in mid air, coating something strange in glittering particles. It looks like a tangle of people, clustered around each other and weaving in and out as if they were liquid. This must be the hobgoblin mage Laerallis mentioned, and immediately two arrows and a spear of magical energy streak towards the target. Some of the sparkles disappear from sight, and Laerallis can see three of the duplicate images of the blinded caster disappear, but apparently the actual target was spared.
Aurellion charges towards the knot of hobgoblin soldiers, and in the blink of an eye, decapitates two of them with a single sweep of his deadly spear. Before they even comprehend what has just happened, two of the surviving soldiers move forward to attack the elf, but they are both immediately skewered upon the haft of Aurellion's spear. The remaining soldier turns tail and flees as fast as his armor-encumbered legs can carry him.
The blinded mage lets out an incomprehensible bellow of rage, before flying back the way he came in a clumsy, zig-zag pattern. Even in his impeded state, he is still flying faster than Durrin, who is struggling to gain altitude...

You give chase. Aurellion brings down the fleeing foot soldier with pathetic ease, while Django, Laerallis, and Quingendon's arrows deplete the fleeing blinded mage's images one by one. Eventually, Quin's arrows and Laerallis eldritch blasts begin to strike true, and with a well-timed Whelm spell from Django, the mage falls to the ground, unconcious, but alive, even after the fall.

The shouts of terror turn to shouts of triumph as the nearby guardsman seem to be repelling the last of the raid. The bucket brigade begins to make its way from the river, under the careful guidance of a hoarse-sounding Captain Soranna. It seems the danger has passed, but Drellin's Ferry cannot enjoy its respite for long...

From the unconscious hobgoblin mage, you recover several magical items, which Durrin identifies after a few moments. His shoulders ache with unfamiliar pain from the strain on his wings, but his confidence in the air is growing.


Victory! Loot in the OOC. Everyone gains 1410 XP, while Django gets a boosted 1650 XP.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

After a quick look for the arrows that didn't hit the mage the ranger then retrieves the ones that did, callously yanking them out of the still form of the enemy. While Durrin inspects the spoils of war the ranger quickly examines his arrows, straightening the fletchings of those that can be saved and cutting of the arrow heads of those too damaged. Then he looks to his companions with a slight, satisified smile on his lips. "To the victors the spoils, eh? What have we got?"

Any arrows salvageable?

[mucat]

"Take this one back to town and interrogate him there?" suggests Django, prodding the unconscious mage with his boot. "On top of all the obvious questions -- troop movements, dispositions, battle plans -- I want his help finding the safest route to move civilians out of the fight. I hope after this mess, we can talk sense into the Council...but whatever they decide, the caravan is pulling out tomorrow, with as many of the locals as want to join them."


Django will pull out all the stops for this prisoner -- Charm Person (DC 18, including Spell Focus and Cloaked Casting), Disguise Self as a fellow hobgoblin, and and Detect Thoughts if the Charm fails. Along with whatever additional tricks Lem or anyone else wants to pull.

He will try to learn more about the Horde's movements, leadership, and plans, as well as the best ways for evacuees to avoid Horde scouts or raiding parties -- whether that means everyone in Drellin's Ferry or just the Seldani caravan.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion shook and trembled in fatigue as the frenzy left him. It was a very physical battle, controlling the battle frenzy that was both the Spear Dancer's greatest boon and greatest curse. His newfound companions seemed to take it in stride, which was very unusual in his experience. Normally, the berserker frenzy frightened people, but these were unaffected. A good group of companions.

Aurellion shook the gore from his spear and cleaned it thoroughly before heading back to the the others with the gear he pulled from the dead hobgoblins. It looked like they might need all the weapons and armor they could find to outfit the villagers. Even in the hands of a farmer, every sword would count - whether they foolishly tried to defend the town after this, or simply to guard against raids as they evacuated towards Brindol.

Hearing Quin so calmly talking about the loot, he smiled "I could always use a boost to my armor when its available."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Eventually the fires are brought under control; fortunately, the western half of Drellin's Ferry is more sparsely populated, predominantly a few fields and small storage buildings. As you take the ferry back to the eastern bank, Captain Soranna informs you that the loss of life was mercifully small; a few guardsmen were killed, two farmers, and several livestock. She wonders why they would commit such an attack; she guesses they were meant to inspire fear.
Soranna gladly offers a private cell for interrogating the prisoner. Laerallis brings the hobgoblin to, and leaves him alone with Django, who works his beguiling magics. It takes him a few tries, as the blue-skinned hobgoblin's will is fierce, but eventually he begins to think Django is his trusted friend. Up close, you can see that his skin actually has a layer of very fine blue-tinted scales, and his eyes are slightly cat-like or reptilian with narrow pupils.
Django learns that the attack was launched from what was left of Wyrmlord Koth's vanguard in the Witchwood, the units who were not stationed at Vraath Keep when you struck. It's something of a relief to know they weren't from the main army, which is presumably still on the other side of Skull Gorge. The hobgoblin claims their mission was to terrify the locals, as well as try and draw out the supposed group of powerful adventurers reported to be operating in the area. He says the Wyrmlords have marked these troublesome foes for gruesome deaths.
Django presses him for more of the army's plans, and learns something troubling: the hobgoblins have established roadblocks, one on the Old North Road, and one on the Rhest Trail north of Brindol. They seem to be cutting off any hope of reinforcements from the lands to the north. Django breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that he was about to advise his people to walk right into a trap.
Apparently, the army's plan is to sweep to the east and south, making the only safe direction back the way you came, towards Brindol and Dennovar.

You rest for the night at the Old Bridge Inn. Kellin Shadowbanks informs you over dinner that the town council will be meeting in a private room the following morning, and that you are all expected to come.

Day 5: Desperate Counsel

The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife. You are all seated around a large circular wooden table in a private dining room of the Old Bridge Inn. Kellin Shadowbanks fiddles around, providing untouched refreshments. Captain Soranna leans against a wall by the door. Speaker Wiston, Delora Zann, and one Iormel, a cantankerous-looking human man with a waxed mustache and bald head, sit across from you. Iormel begins the deliberation with a short, curt sentence.
"They're bluffing."
Speaker Wiston clears his throat nervously. "Pardon?"
"They're bluffing. These goblins are all liars. There's no giant army. They're trying to scare us out of our homes, so they'll have their pick of what's left behind. Nonsense. We drove them off last night. We've probably seen the worst of it. There's no sense in running off to Brindol with our tails between out legs. We'll be the laughing stock of the whole Vale when no giant army of doom shows up."
Delora Zann gives Iormel a cold look.
"We have the heroes' testimony. They fought a dragon, Iormel. And a manticore. And a minotaur. Those aren't just worgs running around with the goblins, either. Those are hell hounds, creatures not of this world. They say Tiamat favors them. What the Chromatic Dragon places her ten eyes upon will not last long under her greedy stare. We need to flee. I've seen towns put to the sword before. Nothing but death and slavery awaits us if we stay."
Kellin peeks his head over the table.
"Can't we just talk to them? Put up a flag of truce and ask for a parley? If it's treasure they're after, why not give it to them? Small price to pay for our lives, and in the meantime we can get reinforcements."
Delora makes a grunting sound.
"Talking is beneath the servants of Tiamat. We're naught but roaches to be stamped beneath their feet. You'd be sending the messengers to their deaths, Kellin."
Speaker Wiston looks from council member to council member, indecision and worry plastered on his wrinkled face. Finally, he looks to you pleadingly.
"Well, what do you think? At the very least, we could send the young and elderly to Brindol..."

[mucat]

"They can't bluff magic," Django tells Iormel. "I've seen their thoughts. They believe in their Tiamat. They believe in their Horde. These are not soldiers to be duped by their officers; the ones we captured are officers. They believe an army is coming because one is. If you don't trust my spells, send a mage of your own; the prisoners are still in their cells."

Up until now, his tone has been businesslike, with no hint of deference but no hostility either. Now it takes on a sharper edge. Privately, he has no real hope of winning Iormel over; his real aim is to bolster the rest of the Council to defy the wealthy old bastard. "If your property is worth dying for, sir, then die for it. I will even lend you a sword. But the lives of everyone in Drellin's Ferry are not yours to throw away."

Turning to Kellin. Django's tone relents a bit. The innkeeper is making foolish decisions through fear, where Iormel makes them through greed. "And with all due respect, Master Kellin, they are not simply after treasure. They are after everything. For the glory of that mad goddess of theirs, they will trample the entire Vale into dust if we let them."

He pauses, looking around the table at each Council member in turn. "And if we meet them piecemeal, one village at a time instead of with an army of our own, then that is exactly what we will be doing: letting them have the Vale."

Who is this 'we'? wonders a small voice in Django's head. Rhetorical license, he answers it, and waits for the Council to respond, or for Lem and the others to bolster his arguments with their own.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Iormel scoffs at Django. "Easy for a Seldani to say. You've never owned a piece of land in your life. Damn it, it's not just my property we're talking about here! We've worked hard to make Drellin's Ferry the place it is... If a god is backing this 'horde,' then where our our gods, eh? Why hasn't Heironeous sent us a champion to smite these bastards? Where is Pelor's mercy? St. Cuthbert's justice? No, the gods help those that help themselves, and we'd be doing this Tiamat a big favor by just letting this army walk right into the Vale! We're the first line of defense! Are we all such cowards?"
Iormel turns a rich shade of beet red as he fumes. Delora seems to remain calm as she responds.
"Thank you, Django. Iormel, the first line of defense is not Drellin's Ferry: it's the walls of Brindol. That's what they're there for, for emergencies such as this. Brindol has a standing army, a powerful resident wizard, and the Cathedral of the Sun. If you seek Pelor's protection, it can be found in Brindol. We need to evacuate, and soon."
Speaker Wiston wrinkles his brow.
"What are you suggesting, Django, by 'meeting them piecemeal?' Do you actually plan on fighting them? We could use people of your skill to serve as a rearguard, and help screen refugees from the advance units of the army."
Captain Soranna finally speaks up.
"Speaker Wiston? Does this mean you've made your decision?"
"Yes, Soranna. It's clear to me now. Every moment I waste undecided will cost lives, and that's why I was elected Speaker: to speak for the people. The people may be reluctant to leave their homes, but nobody wants to die at the hands of cruel zealots and monsters."
Kellin Shadowbanks sighs.
"I'll miss this inn... But we halflings are used to life on the road. Stay when the opportunities are good, leave when you've warn out your welcome, so the saying goes. Not that we've worn it out, but these hobgoblins seem to be forcing our hand."
Iormel opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, like a fish. Finally, his color changes to more of a grayish-mauve, and a disgusted look settles on his face.
"Fine. We flee. Some 'Heroes of Drellin's Ferry' you lot turned out to be. The Abyss take you."
He stands up and leaves in a huff. Speaker Wiston steeples his fingers, looking pensive. For the first time in a while, he actually looks like an authority figure.
"Thank you. I knew, deep inside, that our days were numbered here, as soon as the first raids began. I just needed to get over my initial shock. And Delora, thank you, too. It's good somebody on this counsel has a solid head on their shoulders. Well, we'll need to spread the word. We should be ready to leave by tomorrow morning. Soranna, order the guard to burn and salt the fields once we've gathered rations. The hobgoblins won't be filling their bellies on our hard work, not on my watch. There's much to do; Django, I'd appreciate it if you'd have your people help us. They know more about life on the road than most of the villagers here do. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated until we reach Brindol. I figure we'll have to tell the towns between here and Brindol to evacuate too. Hopefully they'll listen to reason."

The meeting is soon afterward dismissed. It is a lovely summer's day. The sun reflects off the rushing waters of the Elsir, that so picturesquely divides the peaceful community. Children run and play with wooden swords and sticks, merchants hawk their wares, and old friends meet at familiar places to joke and relax. It is troubling to think that even now, the word is spreading: this lovely place must be abandoned in haste, for a force of unknowable evil is lurking beyond the trees in the distance. Already, the Red Hand is doing its damage, disrupting the lives of innocents. It is almost too much to bear, to think of the town silent and empty, or worse yet, burned to cinders and trampled under the boots of thousands of soldiers. Yet this is the reality you face. You all have a sinking feeling that your trials in the Elsir Vale are just beginning. Even if Brindol has an army, the people of the Vale will need heroes of your skill and power if they are to survive the coming onslaught.

There is work to be done.

End Chapter I

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

As Iormel scoffs at Django, the elven ranger has had enough. He has stood by the side, not caring to try and convince people when there were others more suitable for the task. But Django and he had bled together and he wouldn't let some fattened, human landkeeper insult his friends. Keeping his voice low and warning he fastens his gaze on the human. "You are a fool then, Iormel. He has no reason to lie to you. None at all, but you do not believe him. He has only worked to help you all and you insult him? Know this: I have gone on the same trek, I have seen the same sights, fought the same enemies. And I say you are doomed if you stay. If you humans do not gather your forces you can only flee or die. And at this moment you cannot do other than flee or die anyway. This I will also tell my people. We are no wandering people and are bound to our lands. But if the Horde turns toward them I will tell them to flee. Do you doubt, me? Roundear?" As he finishes his tirade he notices that the conversation has continued on without him or Iormel, reaching the decision to leave and he nods, welcoming the other humans show of wisdom. Iormel's final insult he meets with a glance, a snort and a smirk. Nothing more.

As his friends and he leaves the meeting the ranger looks to his friends, more hesitating now. "I know the humans asked us to help them in their evacuation. But I need to warn my people too. I have already sent what I know with a messenger bird. But I cannot be sure the message will reach them. And I know they will be as hard pressed to leave our homeland as the humans. I suspect a visit might be needed. So what say you?" With a slight sigh, as if exhausted by two such lengthy speaches in such a short time, the elf looks to his friends. Waiting.

[McNerp]

"Quingendon, know that I mean no offense when I say that we can do more good here, guarding these people, than we could if we divided our strength to warn the elves. Your people are resourceful, and the swampy terrain of your homeland will, as it has for so long, provide them refuge. If the goblinoids manage to muster a force any greater than the one they just sent at us, we'll be hard-pressed to keep all the civilians safe without you. Please, let us stay and fight together. We can keep trying to send messages of warning to your people until we hear a response. I'm certain the Ferry's spellcasters will be more than happy to repay what you have already done for them in that way." Turning from the elven ranger, Durrin regards the rest of the group of adventurers. "As I said, we should stay with the new, much augmented caravan. I shudder to think of the loss of life if they're accosted by those bloodthirsty goblins and demons."

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis sat in the background - quietly, but watchfully - during the meeting while Django worked his magic. The priest did not have anything useful to add that had not been said already, and he breathed a sigh of relief when it finally appeared that clear heads would win the day.

After the meeting, Laerallis asks Speaker Wiston about the possibility of preserving the village's written lore, and if necessary, informs him that as a follower of Lirr the Lorekeeper, that is his most sacred duty.

------------

As the heroes discuss their plans, Laerallis chimes in with his thoughts. "I agree, Durrin. It wouldn't feel right to not ensure that they get to Brindol safely, especially after convincing them to leave their homes."

After a brief pause, he adds, "I doubt we would need to tarry for long in Brindol, and we could then make for Quingendon's homeland with due haste."

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Sighing softly the ranger nods. "You're right, of course. We've started it. Well, took part in it anyway. We might as well finish it." Looking around at the human settlers he knows that it must be done, but he's itching to return home. It's almost a physical need. "I will go with the refugees as well. But when they're safe I'll go north, I hope you'll come with me."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Chapter II: The Ruins of Rhest

Day 11

The going is slow. You spend almost an entire week on the road, making sure the rear of the increasingly large caravan of refugees remains safe. One by one, you reach each town between Drellin's Ferry and Brindol, idyllic and humble little communities of farmers, and one by one the people there decide to accompany the caravan to safety. Although the caravan is orderly and there are few accidents or other negative incidents, there is undeniably a sense of panic in the air as the days drag on.

And yet... No sign of the enemy. Not once does a pack of worg riders harass the rear, or a dragon swoop down to wreak devastation. Iormel can often be heard complaining, convinced that there is no army, that they are wasting precious time before harvest season. The days are hot and dusty; perhaps the biggest threat to the sick, young, and elderly is heatstroke. Without the whole caravan to worry about, you probably could have reached Brindol in two or three less days.

Finally, the walls of Brindol can be seen in the distance, instantly spreading a sense of relief through the refugees. Thick, crenelated, and tall, no army of any size could ignore such defenses: a single man atop that wall could be a match for ten times as many enemy soldiers on the ground. You hope that will be enough if and when the Red Hand shows up at Brindol's doorstep.

Speaker Wiston and Captain Soranna thank you once more for your help. Wiston has to meet with Lord Jarmath, the leader of Brindol, to try and organize a place for the refugees to stay, as well as inform him of what has been going on in the west. Of course, as you made your way east, you ran into the occasional Lion of Brindol, the knights errant of the city and elite defenders of Elsir Vale. No doubt riders are being sent out now to the various scattered settlements, calling militias to arms and spreading the warning of the approaching threat. Even if Iormel isn't taking things seriously, you are relieved to see soldiers posted throughout the city; it would seem Elsir Vale is preparing for the inevitable assault.

One of the Lions of Brindol you met on the road, a raven-haired young woman named Teyani Sura, confirmed the captured hobgoblin mage's intelligence; apparently, there is a roadblock north on the Rhest Trail. She was not sure the Lions of Brindol would be able to deal with it, with all the other duties increasingly heaped upon them as rumors of war continue to spread. You get the sensation as you enter Brindol that it would be difficult to try and request military aid as you head north towards the Tiri Kitor; in any case, your small team would be faster, and time is of the essence.

Brindol is a large city, adjacent to the swift-flowing Elsir River and surrounded by rich farmland. The shops and markets here are busy and bustling, and you'll be able to find any supplies you might otherwise have wanted in the smaller settlements through which you passed.

(You will be able to find any item up to 15,000 gp in value at Brindol, and sell any loot with reckless abandon.)

Heading North: Day 14

You set out from Brindol, traveling much more swiftly without any refugees to worry about. The days are hot and dry, so you must make sure you don't push your horses too far (or yourselves for that matter), but Durrin's endless font of draconic magic protects you from the worst of the weather.

By evening of your third day of travel, the Blackfens are close. The Witchwood is behind you, and the terrain is growing flatter, wetter, and smellier. These are familiar sights and sounds to Quingendon, who scouts ahead of the main group. His keen elven eyes spot something disconcerting in the middle of the road: a crude wooden palisade, with ten foot tall walls and a squat twenty foot tall watchtower. He rides back towards his companions, with news of the roadblock. He only saw a pair of hobgoblins keeping watch on the tower, but there are no doubt more soldiers within the palisade itself. It wouldn't be too difficult to simply sneak past the blockade, but it doesn't bode well for the rest of the Vale if the enemy controls the Rhest Trail...

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

After finishing his description of the fortifications the elf adds: "I would say that we try and take it out. We will need to hit it hard and quick, but I am not for leaving the enemy of its own devices." The ranger is not so much grim this time as he is furious with the small fort, and it shows. His voice is low but tense, his eyes burning with a desire to torch the wooden pallisades. This is his homeland, more or less, and he sees the blockade as a direct affront to his people.

[Firebeard]

"I agree, this affront cannot be permitted. Refugees could be fleeing this way, and an outpost such as this would be able to terrorize the lands for a dozen or more miles in any direction. The question is: how do we gain entry?" Aurellion reached back and pulled out the battered sword. "I could use this again, I suppose, but I doubt it would be the fast entry we truly need."

[McNerp]

"We may not have to gain entrance. We could burn it to the ground. With the hobgoblins inside it." The dragonborn's eyes flash with steely resolve as he envisions lighting up the wicked hobgoblins' fortification. "Or I could fly over the wall and open the gate somehow."

:smallwink: Should've checked the OoC before posting.

[Firebeard]

"How much fire can you put out? This fort can not have been here long, and those logs will likely still be green. It will take a large amount of fire to set it truly ablaze. As for going over, I imagine I can jump up and climb over fairly easily, assuming that none of the sentries are waiting with pikes readied."

[Toxic Avenger]

"As long as we can be reasonably certain they have no prisoners in there, I'm all for burning it down. Alternatively, Django could attempt to make them think that it's burning to the ground, though it will be more believable if we have real flames as well as illusory."

[mucat]

"I can give them a fine show when it comes to sight and sound," says Django. "I don't think I can manage the sensation of heat. Though I'm sure I had some ideas on how to do that..." He rubs his temples as though trying to remember. "No. It's like this since the dragon fight. I may have left...bits of myself on the other side. Maybe in time I'll figure it out again...but for now, as Lae says, we'd need some real flame to make the fake kind convincing."

"Durrin, an overhead view might give us some ideas. Feel like going invisible and taking a look? Don't push your luck, though; I can't mask the sound of your wings. Or your scent, if they've got worgs or manticores in there. Or dragons."

[CockroachTeaParty]

You decide to risk an aerial scouting mission. Django puts Durrin under a cloak of invisibility, and the dragonborn moves up the road until he is near the barricade. He takes to the sky, trying to stay as quiet as possible, and makes several circles of the roadblock, trying to get a better idea of what awaits within.

The outlying sections adjacent to the main tower consist of packed dirt, with raised sections next to the walls to give defenders a view over the sharpened log wall. Snoozing in the evening shade can be seen two massive ogres, drooling stupidly as they snore. A barrel of throwing spears rests near each of them.
On top of the main tower can be seen two bored-looking hobgoblin sentries, clutching longbows and wearing suits of chainmail. Two barrels of arrows rest near the parapets of the tower, and two shafts in the floor contain ladders that must lead down to the first level. The wooden doors to the interior of the tower are shut, and appear strong. On the whole, the barricade is rather crude, but efficiently built; arrow slits are cut into the walls of the first floor. It would be easy to defend from a ground assault...
The enemies do not notice Durrin, and he returns shortly before the invisibility spell expires, to make his report.

Map of the Area

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RoadBlockScouting.png

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

After listening to Durrin's report the ranger shrugs slightly and strings his bow. No matter how they did this he wouldn't let the small fortification stand. "I see two options. Torch the place and let the bastards come out or cook inside. Or storm the place." The ranger glances towards the dragonborn paladin before continuing. "Now, getting those logs to burn might be difficult. Durrin, you might have some luck though, and I have two bottles of Alchemist's Fire, that should help. Does any of the rest of you have some? Or magical aid? Beside illusions, that is. He gives Django a quick, friendly smile and then moves on to the other idea.
"Now, if we storm the place first, though, then I'd say that if I and someone else keeps the bastards pinned down then Durrin and Aurellion should get either gate opened, letting more of us in before really turning their attention on actually killing things. We should work hard not to get separated."

Quin is getting wordy. :smalltongue:

Also. Who got the healing belts? I'd suggest Aurellion for one. The flying pincussion Durrin for the other? :smallamused:

[CockroachTeaParty]

Breaking the Roadblock

You decide to attempt a frontal assault on the small fort; the guards do not seem particularly alert, and Durrin and Aurellion should be able to open one of the main gates. You approach cautiously, sticking to the low shrubs on the side of the road. You manage to get surprisingly close before the sentries on top of the tower spot you. You can see them scrambling around before a horn sounds the alarm.
AaaaWOOOOOOOoooo!

(I won't post a map just yet; you are all about 120 ft. south of the barricade. Aurellion and Durrin are on the west side of the road, and Quin, Laerallis, and Django are on the east side of the road. The enemies are still where they were last seen on the map above, as far as you know. Initiative in the OOC)

[Firebeard]

"There's the horn. Straight in?" he asks Durrin, then sprints for the main gate, holding his greatspear in his hands as he ran. The wooden doors of the fort were likely to be a lot less damaging to the blade than the stone of the bridge would have been, and at times like these he did not want to leave his precious spear out of his grasp.

Reaching the doors, he breathed heavily and then slammed his spear twice into the area where the locking bar must surely be.


1st round: run to door.

2nd round; full attack (2 hits) on the door with the greatspear. It automatically hits right? Full PA 6 then

1st; [roll0] damage
2nd; [roll1] damage

[mucat]

Django sprints forward, outdistancing even Laerallis on the wings of the Expeditious Retreat spell. He slows a bit as the outpost looms ahead and gestures with one hand. One hand begins the gesture, at any rate; three complete it, as the Seldani splits into a trio of identical images. He picks up speed once more, shouting taunts at the archers to draw their fire and scanning the walls for someone to blind.


Round 1:
Move Action: 60 feet forward (due to Exp. Retreat)
Standard Action: Cast mirror image: [roll0] images in addition to the real one.

Round 1:
Move Action: 60 feet forward (due to Exp. Retreat)
Standard Action: Cast mirror image: [roll1] images in addition to the real one.
EDIT: copy/paste mistake!


Round 2:
Move Action: 60 feet forward (ot a little less; stop about 15 feet from wall to have a decent angle on those inside.)
Free Action: Shout, wave, try to draw fire.
Standard Action: If he can spot two or more enemies close enough together to hit both with a Glitterdust, that's what he'll do. If not, but even one is within range of a Color Spray, he'll do that instead. Preference for ogres over hobgoblins as targets.

Both Glitterdust and Color Spray are DC 17 Will Saves. (Glitterdust is a level higher, but Color Spray is from one of his Spell Focus schools.)


Round 3:
Move Action: Go wherever he needs to, up to 60 feet, to line up targets.

Standard Action: Drink healing potion if needed. Otherwise, Glitterdust or Color Spray, targeted as above.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

The ranger doesn't break into a full out sprint, rather he moves forward at a brisk trot, scanning the wall for enemies. Already there's an arrow nocked and ready and at his newly acquired belt a flask of Alchemist's Fire sloshes menacingly.
Meanwhile Laurëlócë slithers through the grass, well aside from the rest to avoid the kind of troubles that had befallen him previously, but still going for the wall to look for a way to climb the tower. A two-leg of the kind Master hated might actually be on his level, if Master hurt it first preferably.

Not much fluff to write since I the coming turns are a little... fluid yet. Things might change depending on what happens.

Round 1: Move forward 30 feet, then fire on any visible enemy (preferably ogre, but hobbo if that's not possible (also choosing target to the right if there's two equal enemies to choose from but prefering those with least cover (making sure they stay pinned)):

[roll0] (Plus Blessed aim?)
[roll1] (+2 if hobgoblin, plus for blessed aim?)

[roll2]
[roll3] (both modified as above)

Snakey will keep well to the right flank and "go" with all possible haste towards the wall.

Round 2: Same pattern as before. Should an enemy drop he'll move on to the next one.

[roll4]
[roll5]

[roll6]
[roll7]

If he reaches the pallisade Snakey will climb the wall if he can (I'm not sure how, since he lack hands and feet, but he DO have a climb speed and a racial bonus to climb :smalltongue:). If unable to scale the wall (pun intended) then he'll slither round the wall to look for holes to exploit.

Round 3: Quingendon keeps moving on, thirty feet forward (and heading for the now, hopefully, open gate). Any enemy unwise enough to show himself will be shot at. Survivors will be shot at again. :smallbiggrin:

[roll8]
[roll9]

[roll10]
[roll11]

Snakey will continue as before. If he reaches a hobgoblin he'll prolly strike, especially from an unseen angle (he should totaly take a few levels in Rogue for the Sneak Snake Attack :smalltongue:). If so:

[roll12]
[roll13] (plus poison that I can't remember anything about right now).

Things might change. Drastically. We'll see what happens.

I like puns! :elan:

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Battle Begins

You sally forth, moving at top speed, all save for Quingendon, who holds back and lets his arrows fly. The elf manages to hit both of the sentries on top of the squat tower, which apparently causes them to lose morale. They drop their bows and flee from sight; however, one of them manages to fire off a single arrow, which grazes Laerallis' right shin.
Durring takes to the sky, while Aurellion sprints to the wooden front gate. He slams his spear into the crack between the doors, hearing and feeling the planks give way to his formidable strength. However, he doesn't quite breach the gate in one go... a few more strikes are all he needs...
Django conjures up an illusory defense as Laerallis lets loose baleful bolts of magical energy. However, he strikes nothing but the logs providing his targets with cover. Quingendon's snake companion slithers forward as fast as its streamlined body can take it. However, just as it is about to crawl over the wall of the eastern section of the blockade, a hulking ogre can be seen clutching a spear in its brutish hand. It strikes at the snake with horrid power, and the snake collapses on the ground just beside the gate, bleeding from a great gash in its body.
Finding himself adjacent to the walls of the fort, Laerallis tosses a grapnel over the wall, feeling the hooks dig securely into the wood and providing a taught rope to help climb over. However, the defending ogre sees this, and lumbers over, thrusting his spear over the wall and plunging the tip deep into Laerallis' shoulder with punishing force.
Durrin has almost reached the roof of the fort when he spots a group of six hobgoblins clamber out of the southeastern ladder shaft. Four of them are clad in chainmail, while two of them wear fine breastplates. Bows in hand, they nock and aim at the dragonborn. One of the sergeants bellows the command.
"Bring down the flier! Ready! Aim! FIRE!"
The volley streaks towards Durrin, who is all but defenseless in the sky. Django's protective spell helps deflect a few of the projectiles, but most find their mark. Durrin's scales help soften the worst of the blows, but he still takes significant damage. He manages to stay in the air, though his shoulder muscles burn with the effort...
Quin sees the ogre brutalize his faithful serpent companion, and attempts to repay the favor, but his arrows hit only the wood of the fortress. The westernmost ogre throws a spear at Durrin, but the attack is clumsy and falls well short, landing in the middle of the road. Django is close enough to unleash a potent cone of glitterdust at the eastern ogre, but miraculously the brute seems unfazed by the dazzling display.

(Durrin is at 44/59 HP, Laerallis is at 16/41 HP)

Map: Bottom of Round 3

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RoadBlockR3-1.png
Quingendon is still over 100 ft. away to the south.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion grits his teeth as he feels the planks begin to give way. He angles slightly away from the door to better bring his greatspear to play and slams another set of attacks at the weakened spot. The wood splintered as he powered his way through the door.



I am of course assuming from your comments that another set of attacks kills the door.

1st; [roll0] damage
2nd; [roll1] damage


As soon as he is sure the door is coming down he shouts "To me! To me!"

[McNerp]

Knowing he won't be able to sustain his flight much longer, Durrin speeds toward the tower. He chuckles to himself at his enemies' foolishly clumped formation, but the sound is drowned out by the labored, almost clumsy flapping of his wings. When he gauges his position to be the most advantageous, he lets flow a cylindrical blast of flame at the hobgoblins, leaving behind his signature glowing web of magical energy to impede the inevitable counterattack.

Durrin moves forward to hit A, 4, & 5 with a 30-ft line of fire (DC 21).

Damage: [roll0]
Entangle: [roll1] rounds.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

He can almost hear Laurëlocë's distress, not only feel it, over their shared emotional bond. But there's nothing he can do. He's too far back to help, and too far back to ask his friends to do anything either. Gritting his teeth against the grief he settles for revenge.

If enemies are visible:
The hobgoblins are up in the tower, right? As before Quin will shoot at the worst enemies first. Ogres, then hobbos obviously in charge, then grunts. He'd prefer to hit the ogre that hurt Snakey.

[roll0] (plus various bonuses if applicable)
[roll1] (ditto)

[roll2]
[roll3]

(IF only one enemy is visible and drops after the first shot then Quin moves forward 30 feet)

If no enemies are stupid enough to expose themselves:
Full run towards the breached gate snake.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Righteous Fire

With one last surge of effort, Aurellion's spear cleaves the wooden beam holding the gate in place in twain. The gates slam open, revealing the interior of the fort. Much to the elf's surprise, the gates on the opposite side of the small, cluttered room have just been thrown open by a pair of panicked hobgoblin soldiers. They give one last frightened glance at Aurellion before sprinting down the road to the north, as fast as they can manage.

Durrin swoops closer to the fort, and lets loose a gout of terrible fire. All of the goblinoids on the roof are engulfed in the flames, catching fire and spreading panic. The two sergeants manage to maintain their composure, but the regular soldiers' morale shatters. Just at that moment, Django blankets them in a coating of Glitterdust, spreading further confusion. Amazingly, by Durrin's vantage point in the sky, only one of the soldiers appears to be blinded, but the flames combined with the glittering motes makes for a chaotic scene on the roof top.

Down below, Aurellion sees a trio of flaming, glittering hobgoblins half-climb, half-fall down the ladder nearest him. One of the goblins misses a rung, falls twenty feet, and lands on his head with a sickening *crack!* One of the soldiers steps on the head of one of his fellows below him, causing him to fall prone at the foot of the ladder. Only one soldier manages the climb, and he is on fire, covered in glittering dust, and utterly panicked.

Up above, the only goblins remaining on the roof that Durrin can see are the two stalwart sergeants, screaming at their cowardly subordinates, and the blinded soldier, who simply rolls around on the smoking wooden floor wailing in pain and confusion. "Cowards! Stand your ground and FIGHT!"
The sergeants manage to somehow fire off a pair of arrows at Durrin, but they miss by a wide margin. The ogres below either have better discipline, or are too stupid to realize when they've been routed. They continue to lob spears, but they fall short of anything remotely resembling a target.
In retaliation, Laerallis and Quingendon fire upon the eastern ogre, both managing to find their mark. The hulking brute seems to ignore the pain, and grabs another spear from the nearby barrel.

The roof of the tower begins to smoke ominously, as the screams and shouts of the defenders combine into a mad cacophony.

Map: Bottom of Round 4

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RoadBlockR4.png

[McNerp]

Durrin breathes fire once again, this time aiming at the hobgolbin sergeants. This breath, however, is no magical, entangling fire. This is the full force of Durrin's wrath unleashed on these arrogant warmongers. As he breathes, he banks hard to the left, executing a 90 degree turn as he attempts to evade arrows and get in position to attack the other ogre. Ugh. No more fancy flying for a while, Durrin thinks as his wings and back strain against the acceleration.

Breathe on (hopefully) both hobbo sarges.
Damage:

Edit: Entangled hobbos take [roll]1d6 damage. Not that it matters.
Edit2: See OoC.

[mucat]

Django watches another rash of golden dust settle ineffectually out of the air, without doing much to impede the enemy. Perseverance may be the key then; he wheels toward the eastern ogre, the words of another spell crawling like lines of fire across his brain...then relents and lets them fade back into dormancy.

The gates are breached, the fort and half the defenders in flame; victory seems a foregone conclusion. Quin's snake, though, has once again drawn one attack too many. Django steps forward to interpose himself between the snake and the ogre's spear, gambling on the still-shifting images to take any blow aimed his way. He flicks the stopper from a small crystal vial, tilts the snake's head back, and pours the fluid down its throat, racking his brain to remember whether reptiles have a gag reflex.

Django will move to stand by the snake, blocking it as best he can from the ogre's spear. (He still has 2 mirror images up, I believe.) He'll draw a CMW potion as part of the move, and feed it to the snake as his standard action.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

The ranger keeps most of his attention on the ogres, the lumbering brutes has been the true threat from the beginning and that hadn't changed with the emerging of the hidden troop of hobgoblins, especially since only their commanders were still standing.
But he still notices Django kneeling over Laurëlocë, with a thankful sigh of relief for the seldani's actions the ranger then continues to punish the monster towering over them.

Same as before: If the ogres (or the sergeants) give Quin a clear target he'll attack full out. If not, then he'll advance. Should he have no available targets after his first shot he'll advance thirty feet.
After a full attack he'll advance five feet, though.
As always bonuses depends on the target.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[roll2]
[roll3]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Victory!

Another lance of fire sears the stalwart sergeants, and finally their resolve breaks. They make to flee, but they don't get very far before the lingering flames consume them. The rest of the hobgoblin soldiers likewise fall to the lingering inferno, their attempts at escape futile.

Laerallis and Quingendon continue to make ranged attacks against the ogres, and the easternmost ogre finally gives up, leaping over the northern fence and following the other two retreating hobgoblins with impressive, ogre-sized strides. The westernmost ogre receives a blast of sticky fire from Durrin just before he lands, and the fire, combined with one more arrow and a well-placed eldritch blast to the face, brings the brute down.

The roadblock is now well and truly aflame. The roof will be the first to go, but it will still take several minutes for the entire thing to collapse. It would seem the roadblock is no more...

You take a few minutes to consolidate, heal, and examine your spoils. Aside from basic hard rations, water, and building supplies, little of interest is to be found in the crude wooden fortress. The dead ogre has nothing but smelly, dirty, over-sized, crude equipment, but the hobgoblins are typically well-equipped: a number of masterwork swords, fine bows, hundreds of arrows, and a small boon of healing potions are yours to claim, as well as a pair of magical breastplates previously worn by the sergeants.

Quin is not too concerned about the fleeing hobgoblins and ogre: they have nowhere to run but the road, and nowhere to hide but the swamp. They are not mounted, and you should be able to track them should you choose to do so, which might be wise, as they may be fleeing to their superiors somewhere else.

Finally, thanks to Django's quick thinking, Quingendon's snake companion is restored to full health, and slithers once more to its master's side.

(Following the battle, Laerallis is at 30 hp, and Durrin is at 44 hp.)

Leaving the roadblock in flames, Quingendon leads the way as you remount and keep heading north by northwest. The tracks of the fleeing hobgoblins and ogre are easy enough to follow through the soft dirt of the road. Sunset draws nearer, and the enemies' trail turns into the marsh. Figuring you'll have to start slogging through the swamp eventually anyway to reach Starsong Hill, the main encampment of the Tiri Kitor, you figure this is as good a place as any to begin your journey westward.

Right about the time you begin thinking of breaking for a quick dinner, and slowed by the muddy, sometimes water-choked ground, you spot the two hobgoblins and the ogre wading through filthy brown water and reeds. They see you too, but they have no hope of outrunning you on horseback. You approach cautiously, but all three of them throw up their hands in surrender.

The hobgoblins have apparently abandoned their chainmail armor; they only have their shields and swords left, which they hastily throw to the ground (where they promptly begin to sink with a wet sucking sound). The ogre tosses the log he was using as a club aside, and imitates his goblin companions. He smells terrible, which is quite a feat, considering the rich bouquet of rotting vegetation that assails your nostrils in the fens.

"We surrender! We surrender!" shouts one of the hobgoblins. Last you saw them, they had suffered arrow wounds, but they are no longer present. Presumably, they consumed their healing potions earlier. The ogre still has a few broken arrow shafts protruding from his thick, hairy hide, splashed with patches of dried blood. All three mud-caked specimens are sweating profusely, and stand in barely-contained terror.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

After gathering up the groups horses and a rather irritated snake -but whether the ophidian was mad at him or himself he couldn't say but he vowed to himself not to put the snake in so much danger in the future- the ranger joined the others. While his friends quickly searched the burning battlefield Quin picked up and studied the tracks, especially the ogre being rather easy to follow. After that he returned to the party. "Well. The tracks are easy enough to follow. I would suggest we hunt the rest down and kill them. Let us not let the enemy know that this particular roadblock has been... levelled, shall we?" The light in the elf's eyes clearly show that he has another reason for the hunt as well, the slaying of goblinoids. But he says nothing about that.

---

As they then catch up to the enemies the elf then also look rather dismayed that the monsters would so easily surrender. And he eyes them with obvious distrust. After dismounting he strings his bow, draws an arrow and nocks it. He doesn't draw yet, but he stands ready should there be a trick up the hobgoblins' sleeves. "Not what I expected, friends. What should be done with them?"
The elf's voice is now very, very bland. Mainly because he can't really figure out his own feelings on the matter. He didn't think there was any other sort of good goblin than a dead one and he didn't doubt the least what fate would befall him should he be the prisoner. But coldblooded killing had never been something he was comfortable with and these were... at least seemingly at their mercy. "Kill them and have done with it or take them to my people? They might like the chance of questioning an enemy or two."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The terrified hobgoblins keep their arms in the air. The ogre speaks, his Common crude.
"We... am... sur render?"
One of the hobgoblins looks at Quingendon, recognition dawning on his face.
"You're one of the Tiri Kitor? We ain't done nothing to no elves! We were supposed to block that road! We were gonna be relieved in a day or two! We didn't even see any action! We were just followin' orders! Please! Kharn'll kill us for desertin' now! We'll tell you anything you want to know! Just let us live!"
The other hobgoblin sinks to his knees, brandishing his fist at the sky.
"I renounce Tiamat! We ain't dragons! Take our weapons! Mercy, please!"
The ogre looks confused, but imitates the hobgoblins, shaking a fist at the sky and dropping to one knee.
"Dragons! Tiamat! Please! Uh... Elfs!"

[mucat]

"Behold the savage might of the Red Hand Horde and despair," intones Django.

"Just blocking the road, eh?" he asks one of the hobgoblins, his tone now conversational. "You've never met my people, but we like open roads. It's practically our religion." His hand is on his sword hilt as he continues, "Do you know what we do to people who man roadbloacks?"

Get them drunk and sneak past, usually. Or take another road. No need to burden this fellow with that knowledge, though.

Django turns to the other four. "I vote we let the hobgoblins ride along with us and tell us more about this Kharn. Ogre would slow us down, but he can visit Tiamat instead," he suggests, trusting the brute to miss his meaning entirely.


OOC:If the others are in agreement, we'll kill the ogre, make sure the hobgoblins haven't got holdout weapons hidden, then bind their hands and let them ride on the two least-burdened horses.

Keep them far enough apart -- one at the front of the party, one at the back -- that they can't plot or collude on their answers. Django will cast Charm Person on one or both, using Detect Thoughts only if the Charm doesn't seem enough to get us honest and complete answers.

May as well deliver them alive to the elves, in case they have questions too.

EDIT: looks like Aurellion might disagree with killing the ogre, so we don't act until we've got a consensus. (Especially since he's the only one who could do it quickly!)

[Firebeard]

Aurellion hated to admit it, but there was no way he could justify killing unarmed creatures who were trying to surrender. No matter his feeling for goblinkin, there was no ambiguity here for him. The Way of the Spears taught responsibility for one's actions, not wanton killing for the sake of it. Still, perhaps they could get more information out of the hobgoblins before they bound them and carried them to the nearest authorities for justice.

Turning to Quingendon he said "The only good goblnkin is a dead goblinkin. And the only thing better than a dead goblinkin is a goblinkin that tell's you where to find his brethren and what they are up to."

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

A grim smile twists the corners of the bow wielding elf when his spearfighter kin speaks up. Grim because of how closely Aurellion's words echo his thoughts. Especially the first part. But still a smile, since hearing someone else call for mercy in a way that was logical and not only shortsightedly generous helped him resolve the moral conflict. Still he doesn't take the arrow from his black bow, but he nods whilst keeping an eye on the prisoners. "Agreed. But what about the big one? He will not be easy to bring to my people. Will he be a danger if we let him go?" Somehow he doubted it. He had been afraid the survivors would run to report of the attack. But the way the creatures had grovelled before them made him suspect that they would never dare returning to their Horde. And if the ogre did? Well, he would barely be bright enouh to report of the attack, anything else? Doutbful. Besides, the secret would be uncovered in a day or two anyways.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The hobgoblins are quick to start spilling the beans.
"We know where the rest of the army is! They're to the southwest! They should be crossin' the River Elsir by now! They're heading for Brindol! We were sent here to prevent reinforcements and stuff from reaching the humans to the south! We ain't marching on no elves!"
The other hobgoblin nods in agreement.
"We were sent to guard the road for... uh... disciplinary reasons. Poor performance in the drills, low morale... we were gonna miss out on the war! Uh, not that we want to fight in no wars now! Not anymore!"
The ogre nods eagerly, clearly not understanding all the words. The first hobgoblin turns to Django.
"You wanna know more about General Kharn? Er, sorry, Wyrmlord Kharn? Uh... he's a big scary brute! Eight feet tall! Practically an ogre himself! Blessed by Tiamat, he is! He's got magical powers, and a big sword what could cut a horse clean in two! He's in command of the main army, and he answers directly to the Son of the Dragon, Azarr Kul himself! Uh... you know Azarr Kul's a half-dragon? His father's a blue dragon! I heard it from one'o them Doomhand Priests! Ain't natural for a hobgoblin, I say."
The other hobgoblin nods in agreement.
"I think another one of the Wyrmlords is nearby. Saarvith, I think. The little one. Just a goblin, but they promoted him, don't know why. Heard he's a scary little bugger. Don't know what he's doing up here in the Blackfens, but I think that's another reason we were s'posed to hold the road."
The ogre has to put in his two coppers.
"Uh... road! Horse! Elfs? Render?"

As far as you can tell, they are being honest as they can be. As you remount, Django decides to attempt to charm one of the prisoners, just to make sure. The hobgoblin soon believes the Seldani to be a trusted friend, but Django doesn't get much more information out of him. It seems these buffoons were sent to this backwater post largely due to their own incompetence. The hobgoblin complains about the crappy food, constant toil, and brutality of his superiors, but it becomes increasingly apparent that they do not know very much at all.

The prisoners slow you down even more, and the sun is but a red-orange sliver in the sky when you approach a small hillock rising above the swamp, dominated by two scraggily trees. In the fading light, you spot something amiss; something white, and abnormally large, and strangely delicate. As you get closer, you realize it is the partially eaten corpse of a gigantic owl, easily the size of a horse. Its pure white feathers are scattered about, spattered in mud and blood. A strange, sickeningly familiar smell begins to fill your nostrils, not unlike chlorine…

Then, suddenly, bursting out of the slimy dark water, a strange, terrifying creature leaps over your party. It vaguely resembles a green dragon, except it is much larger than the one you fought before. Also, it lacks a pair of frontal legs; instead, its wings make up its front appendages, yet the wings are seemingly not designed for flying. They are barbed, ragged, and razor-sharp, seemingly designed for cutting or slashing. Long, sinuous, and muscular, it lets out a high-pitched, eerie, wavering cry before unleashing a cloud of noxious, acidic gas. The breath envelopes Quingendon, Aurellion, and Durrin, as well as their mounts. Aurellion and his trusty steed manage to swerve and avoid the worst of the acidic maelstrom, but Durrin and Quingendon's horses are not so lucky. They scream terribly before collapsing into the mud, sending Durrin sprawling.

Chaos explodes around you: terrified horses, a bellowing ogre, two shouting hobgoblins, and the green-scaled monster landing in the swamp nearby. It hisses steam and looks at you with murderous eyes, its blood-stained maw filled with needle-sharp teeth. A few large white feathers are stuck to its gore-streaked chin.

Quingendon

You know that the Tiri Kitor are allied with a group of giant owls native to the Blackfens. The dead owl on the hill was most certainly an ally of your people... perhaps even a friend. This monster is certainly not native; you've never seen one before.

(Aurellion, Durrin, Quin's snake, and Aurellion's mount take 11 acid damage. Quin, his horse, and Durrin's mount take 22 acid damage. Durrin takes 1 falling damage and is prone. Initiative in the OOC thread.)

Map: Round 1
http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/AmbushR1-2.png

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

As they ride Quin sees the body ahead, recognizing it instantly. A giant, and quite dead, owl. That sight puts him on the alert immediately, well before noticing the stench of a dragon's acid breath. He's just about to tell his friends to be wary when the monster strikes.
The acid burns him badly but still the elf manages to avoid the fate of Durrin, nimbly regaining his feet. With a look on the thing he realizes that he will have to leave the melee to the more capable Aurellion, again. Instead he backs of, scooping up Laurëlocë as he goes. He stop thirty feet away from the monster, not sure that he has cleared the area it can burn, but needing the magic of his new belt. Softly he says: "Hope." And a slight tingle courses through him as the belt releases a small bit of it's magic.

Right: Here's two ways this can work out. Either I get to scoop Snakey up as I walk (not running or anything) to the square five up and four from the right, then I burn a charge of my Healing belt.

If needed a dex check: [roll0] (might work)

or

I just take a five foot step, pick up Snakey then burn the charge. (And hopes the dragon-thing need to recharge between breaths like a proper dragon)

Anywas: [roll1] (bah :smallannoyed:)

[Firebeard]

Aurellion's clothing and armor stung from the acidic breath of the creature as he prepared himself for battle. Leaping from his horse, he took up his greatspear and charged the beast. The burbling laughter pouring from him is a familiar and eerily comforting one for his companions. Spinning and leaping, he bounced from one semi-solid spot in the fen to the next, somehow managing to keep his boots from getting stuck in the mud.

Nearing the creature, he fainted a jab high, then went low with the spear, and then high again. Whirling, he brought the blade around once more.



Ride check to dismount. [roll0]

If there is no movement penalty for the ground,


then charge the dragon-thing with whirling frenzy (+1 attack, +4 str, +2AC, +2Ref, -2 to all attack rolls) and pounce. Close to greatspear reach and unleash the fury!

attack: [roll1] PA4 (+2 charge, +2 str, -2 frenzy, -4 PA)
damage: [roll2]

attack: [roll3] PA4 (+2 charge, +2 str, -2 frenzy, -4 PA)
damage: [roll4]

attack: [roll5] PA4 (+2 charge, +2 str, -2 frenzy, -4 PA)
damage: [roll6]


else

Hold for the thing to close within range and charge it using the rolls above.

[McNerp]

Durrin gets to his feet, flailing frantically as he does so to flick off what acid remains on his person. He doesn't wait longer than it takes to reach a semi-crouch before taking to the air, hoping to avoid another vicious (and viscous) attack. He swoops toward his sworn enemy and sends an entangling line of fire at its legs.

Posted 2 rounds of actions, since the first is just movement and I don't foresee any other viable action for Durrin to take in the second round.

Damage (DC 21): [roll0]
Entangled for [roll1] rounds.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis summons his crossbow to his hands and quickly lets loose a bolt toward the beast. "Tiamat's spawn! We have to take it down quickly!" He spurs his horse on to the north and northwest a bit, closer to the downed horses, and then he whispers a quick prayer to his goddess. An aura of protection then comes into being around him.

OOC:Laerallis arms his crossbow (free action), fires a bolt (standard), and moves north and northwest a bit, trying to get just to the east of where snakey is on the map. Also, he activates Gift of the Divine Patron - Protective Aura as a swift action (Magic Circle vs. Evil for 4 rounds).

Attack: [roll0]

Damage: [roll1]

[mucat]

Fully convinced by now that a horse is the worst place to be when things get crazy, Django hurls himself off the left side of his mount. He scrambles for footing in the muddy ground, nearly falls, but keeps his feet and begins slogging his way closer to the reptilian horror. His magic is close to drained, but he still has a trick or two, if he can push through this muck and get close enough to use them...

As he reaches the confused ogre, Django gives the hulk a slap on the leg to get his attention. "Tiamat is angry! She sent that thing to kill you!" he shouts, pointing toward the vaguely dragonish creature. "You have to kill it first, or it will eat you! We'll help!"


Move action to dismount (failed the ride check to do it as a Free Action), then move west into the swamp as far as possible given the terrain. The goal is to close with the dragon-thing, but also to fan out from the others so we aren't clustered for a breath attack.

Free Action to talk to the ogre, trying to get it to attack with us. Bluff check if needed:

[roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Spawn of Tiamat

You all scramble to get into position, but the muddy, soggy terrain slows you all down. Quin manages to revive his loyal companion, and the snake makes a swift retreat, swimming through the shallow water with accustomed ease. The rest of the horses retreat as well, alongside the hobgoblins and the ogre. Django's words are lost upon the brute; he flees as fast as his legs can take him, utterly panicked.

Durrin takes to the skies, while Laerallis' crossbow bolt goes wide, flying off into the distance. Just as Aurellion flies into his battle frenzy, the greenspawn razorfiend makes a mighty leap. The elf's spear cuts a fine gash across its abdomen, and he just dodges a vicious slashing attack by a bladed wing; if it were not for his heightened reflexes during his rage, it might have took his head clean off. Then, just as quickly, the monster leaps back, putting several feet of mucky bog between itself and its prey.

A strange, shimmering aura surrounds Laerallis, almost-visible in the twilight. Laerallis can feel his god's protection... but will it be enough?

Map: Round 2

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/AmbushR2-1.png

[Toxic Avenger]

"See to this Tiamat's spawn! I'll see to the horses!" Laerallis calls out in Elvish as he dismounts - his foot getting stuck in the stirrup momentarily - and he steps forward to the nearest of the downed equines.

OOC:Laerallis gets off his high horse (move action) and heals the nearest dying one with Touch of Healing for six HP of healing (standard action) after taking a five foot step toward it.

What else he might do depends on the results of this roll... Blarg.

Ride check for quick dismount: [roll0]

[Calenestel]

I meant to heal snakey next turn. Oh well... :smallbiggrin:

Quingendon

With Laurëlocë safely out of harms way the ranger can look to the core of the problem, this... Spawn of Tiamat. Readying his bow as he goes he quickly moves a bit away from the others, it's difficult to move in the bog and he stops after about fifteen feet, draws an arrow and in a smooth notion nocks, draws and looses the projectil towards the monster, not wanting to stay out of the fighting any longer.

Move action: Fifteen feet north (it's difficult terrain after all).

Standard action: Fire on the Spawn.
[roll0]
[roll1] (+4 an additional four if it counts as a dragon when it comes to favoured enemies).

[Firebeard]

Aurellion gritted his teeth and once again waited for the beast to come within range. The swampy land hindered his movements too much to actually charge the beast where it was. All he could do was wait for the others to hit it at range and drive it close enough for him to attack.


I assume all 3 of the previous blows hit? I am going to lather, rinse, repeat this round. Holding to charge it as soon as it is in range, full attacks.

attack: [roll0] PA4 (+2 charge, +2 str, -2 frenzy, -4 PA)
damage: [roll1]

attack: [roll2] PA4 (+2 charge, +2 str, -2 frenzy, -4 PA)
damage: [roll3]

attack: [roll4] PA4 (+2 charge, +2 str, -2 frenzy, -4 PA)
damage: [roll5]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Victory!

Quingendon moves towards the hillock, letting loose an excellently-aimed arrow, which strikes the foul dragonspawn straight in the right eye. The beast shrieks in pain and fury. Then Durrin, swooping overhead, lets loose a gout of entangling flames that stick to the monster and impede its movements.
Slowed down, it is unable to perform quite the same feats of acrobatics. It makes another half-hearted springing attack at Aurellion, who answers with a punishing blow of his own, narrowly dodging the deadly spines of the razorfiend. As it leaps back through the mud, the fire eating away at it seems to consume the last of its strength, and it collapses in the murk.

Laerallis is able to revive the downed horses; aside from being half-covered in filth and somewhat skittish, the poor animals are little worse for the wear. Your prisoners are still running for their lives... you can catch up with them soon enough, once you re-mount, or perhaps Durrin can round them up on the wing... The matter can afford to wait a bit longer, considering they have nowhere to run but the gathering swampy darkness.

Instead, you examine the owl corpse. You discover what appears to be the nest of the greenspawn, lined with a surprising bounty of valuable treasure. The owl corpse is half-eaten, partially dissolved by acid. It bears an anklet, carved from jade, with an inscription in Elven that reads, 'Liokio,' apparently a name.

From the razorfiend's nest, you discover a small pile of gold coins, and Durrin is able to use his powers to identify the magical properties of the various items hoarded within. You discover a silver ring that provides a deflecting shield, a pearl that can recall prepared magic spells, a pair of gloves that enhance the dexterity of their wearer, and a fine rapier sword with a golden hilt, enhanced with magic runes to increase its deadliness.

Quingendon

You knew this owl. Liokio was a friend... Not two summers ago, you remember riding upon her back, soaring through the skies above the Blackfens, on another hunting trip with your good friends Lanikar and Killiar.
Egg-sister to Vilthdain, youngest daughter of the Wide-Eyes nest... she will be missed...


(Exact list of treasure in the OOC)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Quin is first up the slope to the monster's nest. Not caring one whit about the treasure he instead kneels by the giant owl, instantly going for the small jade anklet. Only a glance at it seems enough for him, and he clenches the piece of jewelry in his hand, both hands balling up into fists, blanching. Obviously moved he doesn't stir as the other approaches. Laurëlocë, now returning from where ever he had hid after his fourth revival curls up next to his master, hissing in warning to the others, guarding the ranger.

[Firebeard]

The foul beast dead, Aurellion glanced at the muck on his boots. The blasted swampy terrain had kept him from killing the thing before it could attack. At least they were fortunate that it had focused it's attacks on him, rather than Laerellis or Durrin. that could have been a disaster.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Quingendon rushing up to the downed owl, then saw his friend's look of despair. It didn't take a genius to know what had happened. The spear dancer strode over to his friend, stopping just shy of the snake's threatened zone, and spoke. "I am sorry, my friend. Did you know this owl?"

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

"I did." The voice of the ranger is flat, tight and very much under control. Too much under control. Either he is seething with hatred or numb with sorrow.
Clenching the jade anklet he finally looks away from the fallen owl. His eyes is not the dark grey thunderheads of fury and hope for revenge that he had shown earlier but a clearer, actually lighter, grey of grief. No tears rim his eyes, but the pain in them is clear.
She would not have liked him to fall into anger and vengeance. She had been a gentle soul who disliked violence, well... aside from hunting. And he had already helped slay her killer. There was nothing left but grief. "Her name was Liokio. She... was a friend. A true friend."

[Firebeard]

Apparently echoing the thoughts clearly evident on Quingendon's face, Aurellion said "A true friend. Well, then you acted as a true friend must in avenging her death at the claws of this..beast. And perhaps made the area she called home a safer place to tread. I think there is comfort in that."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Suddenly, you catch a flash of white out of the corner of your eye. You look up, and see five more enormous owls land silently near the base of the hillock. Five elves dismount, graceful and lean, their green eyes staring at you coldly in the fading twilight. They nock arrows to their bows, and approach cautiously. Suddenly, one of them pulls down the green cowl of his cloak, revealing a stern, sleek face. A pair of symmetrical tattoos run up and down his forehead and cheeks; his hair is pulled back, black, and his eyes glisten like chips of jade. He speaks breathlessly in Elven.
"By all the Gods... Quingendon? Is that you?"
At the mention of Quin's name, the other elves lower their bows. Two of the giant owls take to the skies and begin to circle high above, utterly silent. The remaining owls observe you all with massive, piercing, golden eyes. They look like horse-sized barn owls, with almost pure white plumage, detailed with the occasional patch of black or brown.
One of the elves spots the body of the razorfiend, and turns to the hoodless elf who addressed Quin, again in the Elvish tongue.
"Killiar. A harrowblade. The outsiders must have brought it down."
Killiar nods, then returns to look at Quingendon. He does not smile.
"Not all is well in the Blackfens, brother. You return to us during dark times."

Quingendon

This is Killiar Arrowswift, a good friend of yours. He is the lead hunter of the Tiri Kitor, skilled with a bow; he's even taught you a few tricks, though you wager you might match his skill now. He is a serious, driven sort, who always obeys his orders. Even so, he chafes under the chains of duty, and is thus rarely at home, preferring to spend as much time on owlback hunting or scouting.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

The arrival of five outriders snaps the ranger out of his mournful thoughts. At first his smile is only a twitching of the corners of his mouth, but as the elves raise their bows against them it becomes a real, if tight lipped, smile. Calmly, confidently, he steps forward, arms extended, maybe as a greeting, maybe only to openly hold his hands far from any weapons and he looks straight to their leader. As the tattooed leader greet him the smile widens and he hurries towards his friend. Grasping his friend's right arm in a sort of handshake he speaks up in elven: "Killiar, it's good to see you again, you Old Wolf. I bring news as well as friends."
There his smile falters and disappears. For the news aren't good. And it would seem that the Tiri Kitor have their own troubles. When Killiar speaks of dark times he nods solemnly, the older elf's words mirroring his own thoughts. "I can see as much, brother. And it's as bad Outside. But we can talk more about that later. First we need to take care of poor Liokio, then we'll talk about the troubles both Outside and our own. But let me first introduce you the 'Outsiders'. They're good men, all of them and I vouch for them..." Quickly he introduces his friends, Aurellion first and Durrin last but not least. After which he quickly introduces Killiar to his friends, reverting to Common: "Friends, this is Killiar, a leader amongst those who guard my people. He has taught me much."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Killiar eyes the others impassively, his face a mask.
"Yes. There's much to discuss. But not here. You're sure this is Liokio?"
He examines the jade anklet. His eyes close, and you can see his jaw clench.
"There was no sign... of Lanikar, was there? He was riding her last we knew... Orliander! Gut the harrowblade!"
One of the elves draws a dirk and begins to cut open the belly of the razorfiend. After a few minutes, the elf jogs up to you, his arm covered in gore. He holds a small, bloody ring in his hand, with a black arrow device.
"Lanikar's ring... Sehanine Moonbow guides him beyond the stars now. Hail the avenged dead!"
The elves bow their heads in respectful silence for a moment, as do the owls. One of them gives a mournful hoot. After a moment, Killiar speaks up again, the streaks of a few tears glistening on his cheeks.
"I will leave Orliander here to guard your horses. We'll send more rangers to help guide them to Starsong Hill safely, but we can't afford to delay your arrival. Everyone, mount up! Quingendon, you may ride Orliander's owl. The rest of you will ride with us. To Starsong Hill, in all haste!"
The elves help each of you to mount one of the giant owls. Secured behind one of the Tiri Kitor scouts, you take one last look at the ground before you are bore aloft on silent wings. Quin has ridden on owlback before, and to him it is a familiar and pleasant sensation. To everyone else, it is somewhat terrifying at first. But the powerful, steady beat of the creatures' silent wings never falters, and before long you are enjoying the view of the Blackfens from hundreds of feet in the air. The wind is too loud to converse, but the elves occasionally point out landmarks of interest: an abandoned old wizard's tower, a massive willow tree, an enormous spider's nest, and a cluster of steaming natural springs.
You fly for what must be a few hours; the sun has set, and the stars twinkle in the cloudless sky above your head, so close you could almost touch them. Then, another sight catches your eye as you approach what must be Starsong Hill.

It is a modest hill, to be sure. It barely rises above the surrounding bog. But it is covered in trees, and the trees are covered in lights. The community sparkles like a miniature night sky of its own, and many of the lights are not flames: as the owls fly closer, you see that many of the Tiri Kitor apparently make use of lanterns filled with fireflies for illumination. The elves' homes are little more than wood and hide tents, but they appear sturdy-looking, comfy, and even beautiful, with an architectural style that almost makes them blend in with the natural surroundings. There are a few larger buildings, and all of them are built into particularly massive trees, seamlessly flowing with the spread of root, trunk, and branch, as if they are a part of the trees themselves (which indeed they are).
You have little time to take in these wonders before you land on a large balcony protruding from one of the larger trees. The house built into this tree is grand, and lit by fireflies of all colors and sizes. The owls let you all dismount before taking off without a sound, leaving you alone with Killiar.
"The Speaker will see you now. Follow me."
The hunter leads you into the tree house, to a room lit by the soft glow of green fireflies. He offers you to sit on silk pillows surrounding a low wooden table. Sitting at the head of this table in a wicker chair is a female elf. She is very thin, with wise, green eyes and silver hair. She almost seems ethereal, like a ghost; you get the feeling that a stiff breeze might blow her into a cloud of mist, like a fading dream. However, there is an undeniable aura of age and power about her. She smiles as you enter, but it is a distant, almost alien smile. Her voice is soft, and seems to echo unnaturally as she addresses you in Common.
"Welcome, strangers, to Starsong Hill. Welcome back, Quingendon, child of the Tiri Kitor. You are all our guests here. Please, sit, and drink of our wine. There is much to discuss."
Killiar places Lanikar's ring on the table.
"Lanikar and Liokio have fallen to a harrowblade, Speaker. Quingendon and his friends avenged their deaths."
The ancient elf's smile disappears, replaced by a look of utmost sorrow.
"Trellara will be devastated. I mourn for our loss."

Quingendon

Lanikar Nightshadow was perhaps one of your closest friends. You grew up together in the Blackfens, always rivals. He was the better bow, but you were the better sword. He had a voice like liquid gold, a laugh that thawed the coldest heart, and a capacity for humor and practical jokes few in the tribe could match. He had a younger sister, Trellara. A brilliantly talented bard, she has risen quickly within the tribe, and is now the High Singer of the Tiri Kitor. She will not take news of her brother's death well, as she loved him deeply.

You know the Speaker, of course. She is Sellyria Starsinger, leader of the Tiri Kitor. She is incredibly old, well into her sixth century. Wise, kind, and cautious, she has led the Tiri Kitor for two hundred years. She remembers times long forgotten, even when the old human kingdom of Rhestilor controlled most of Elsir Vale. She has your utmost respect.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

At the mention of Lanikar's name there is a slight shudder, coursing through the ranger's body, and while his face had been a blank kind of grimness after finding Liokio now it's as wooden as a masque. He simply nods, hearing the news and stays silent throughout the preparations of the flight to Starsong Hill, only showing that he has heard with a nod or a shake of his head when needed. Lanikar dead. It was almost hard to believe. He had never had any siblings and Lanikar and his sister had filled that void. Especially Lanikar. Always competing against each other but seldom letting the rivalry spoil their fun they had been more or less inseperable in their youth. Gone now. As he climbs the owl that would carry him, a male named Laupo, a single tear gathers in each eye and he scrubs them away furiously before settling into place. The owl picks up on his emotions, as they always seem to do and he has to calm himself down just as he has to calm the suddenly somewhat skittish owl. As they take to the air a thin, almost serene, smile comes to the elf, but there's noone there to see it.
Still, as they land in Tiri Kitor he seems invigorated by the flight, still clearly grieving, but still lingering somewhat in the peace that he had felt on owl-back.

Home at last Quin takes in the familiar sights, the small buildings, small and large, built into the trees of this large piece of solid land. This was why he had went Outside, finding the group of people he now called friends. He had left to make sure the few pieces of land where elves could live were safe, or what must be done to keep them safe.
He is called back from his reverie by Killiar and he nods reverently at the announcement. His voice is a little rough from constrained feelings as he speaks: "You are shown great honour, friends. The Speaker is very old, and wise even beyond her years. She will be the one to talk to but I have never heard of her recieving guests from Outside."
As Killiar leads them in, Quin brings up the rear. If he seems a bit more serene now he is still grieving, and obviously fretting over something.
He bows deeply, both hands clenched and held together against his chest. Still, he doesn't take a seat, but motions for his friends to do so, remaining standing by the tree trunk wall.

When Killiar tells the Speaker of Lanikar's and Liokio's deaths the grey eyed ranger leans forward, clearing his voice softly. "Speaker, these are friends I made Outside..." Again he introduces each of his friends, in the same order as earlier but with a bit more haste this time. "...they can explain what have befallen the Vale as well as I can. Might I withdraw? I would very much like to seek out Trellara myself." He doesn't move though, waiting patiently for the Speaker's permission.

[Firebeard]

If Aurellion lived to be 700 years old, he would never forget the exhilaration of that day's ride on owlback. Soaring through the air, wind whipping at his hair and clothing, it seemed as if the Dance was made complete. He knew now why the Tiri Kitor elves preferred to hunt and scout this way. It was truly amazing.

Though no one made to take his weapons from him as the group entered the Speaker's chamber, Aurellion pointedly made a show of setting aside his greatspear to lean on the wall just inside the entrance. For a Spear Dancer to hold his spear in hand in the presence of the Elders at anything other than a full council of war was a taboo not even his time among the other races could break.

When introduced to the Speaker, Aurellion swept into a deep formal bow, placing his right hand over his heart, with thumb and forefinger touching in the traditional symbol of peaceful greeting of the Alan elves. He said "My greetings to you, Speaker of the Tiri Kior. I am Aurellion Hotar of the elves of Alan. Please allow me to extend my Spear and my Dance to you and your tribe in this time of troubles."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Sellyria nods at Quingendon. "Of course you may leave, Quingendon. You need not ask my permission. I know not where Trellara might be at this hour, though I might guess she lingers near the Hall of Records as we speak. Go now, but I do hope you will stay for Lanikar's funeral."
Killiar frowns as Quin leaves, seemingly disapproving; if they were to talk of war, no doubt the Hunter thought news of Lanikar's death to his sister could wait. He could be like that sometimes, but perhaps this was Killiar's way of grieving; revenge first, mourning later.

Sellyria smiles gently at Aurellion. "It is good to meet you, Aurellion of the Alan. Centuries ago, the Tiri Kitor held more regular contact with other elves. Perhaps one day that tradition may be rekindled?"
The Speaker reaches for a tray of simple, yet beautifully crafted, wooden goblets, and fills each of them with wine from a skin. She passes them to each of you: the wine is a dark red, with a sweet aroma.
"My apologies for bringing you here in such haste. I know you wish to rest after your difficult travels, but I would speak with you first, while the memories are fresh. We have had little word from outside the Blackfens... rumors, mostly, and a message from a little bird. We wonder if these rumors of war are true, and if they are somehow related to our current problem with the harrowblades."

Meanwhile

Quingendon descends from Sellyria's treehouse, down a spiral staircase. Though it is dark, he traces the path to the Hall of Records from muscle memory, wandering through the humid night. Familiar sounds reach his ears: the hushed conversation of families within their tents, the occasional pluck of a musical instrument's string, or the distant hooting of a giant owl. Then, he hears a woman's voice, singing a song of the stars and the sea. Leaning over a balcony jutting from the largest building in Starsong Hill, the Hall of Ancestors, a young female elf can be seen. You recognize her voice, though it has matured somewhat, and is now more haunting and experienced than carefree and joyous. The Hall of Records comprises an entire branch of the enormous tree that makes up the Hall of Ancestors; it will be a long climb to reach Trellara.

[mucat]

From the moment the owlriders land, Django remains largely quiet. He follows the lead of Quin and Aurellion, offering greetings and condolences, answering questions when asked, but leaves them space for their sorrow without the added burden of explaining things to a stranger.

The flight is unforgettable. From the moment the snowy wings bear them aloft, Django knows he will be repeating this story for a lifetime, and wonders how he can possibly embellish it. Unless he claims they dueled a dragon in flight, there is simply no way to improve on the reality. The elven pilot has to warn him twice not to lean too far as he stares at the sunset, the tantalizing ruins below, the stars emerging above.

The wonders continue to accumulate: the sparkling hill, the simple yet perfect buildings, the grace of the women and men moving among the trees, making simple tasks seem like art. As before, Django follows the lead of the elves in his own party, speaking only when silence would be impolite. But despite her age and dignity, Speaker Sellyria radiates a sense of welcome that makes it impossible to feel out of place.

After Quin excuses himself to seek the fallen hunter's...widow? Sister? Daughter?...Django steps forward to stand alongside Aurellion, perhaps half a pace behind. "Your welcome does us an honor I will not forget, Speaker of the Tiri Kitor. I offer you the regard of the Seldani travelers, and ever wish you peace and good fortune, but as you suspect, we bring warnings of war."

Alongside the others, he launches into the tale of the last two weeks' forboding discoveries, sipping excellent wine as he speaks and memorizing every detail of the night for future stories.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

"Thank you, Speaker." She might not think so, but for Quin there was a certain need for formality when there was Outsiders present, even if they were friends. Otherwise he would just have declared his intent to leave, say his good byes and go. Now, he bows deeply before the Speaker, and makes a quicker bow towards Killiar. After that the ranger steps forward and picks up Lanikar's ring.
He knows that the Hunter would like him to stay, but Aurellion, Durrin and the others can explain the situation perfectly well without him, and Trellara deserved to hear it from someone close.

Well outside the room he breathes deeply of the airs of home, both to really take in the feeling of homecoming and to steel himself for what was to come. After that he starts do descend the stairs from the Keeper's home. At the bottom of the spiral staircase he hears Trellara's voice and leans out over the rail to try and spot her. That voice filled him with conflicting emotions. He was gladder to be home simply from hearing her sing, but the sad business at heart became all the more concrete too. Curiosly he notices that she sounds so much more... grown up now. It hadn't been that long since he left Starsong Hill. Had it? It makes him wonder how she looked now, and what had happened her since last time they met. He had always had a soft spot in his heart for the girl, woman now. Her brother had been his brother, but he had always been torn between siblinglike camaraderie and something... more, though he doubted she would know about it. He hadn't even told Lanikar about it. He would probably not have taken it well. Now, of course, he would never have the chance to. Never the less, he longed to see her for many different reasons.

Shaking his head he doubled his pace, despite the climb being harder now. He was actually becoming a little reckless, jumping like a squirrel more than climbing at times. But he knew every twig and stick by heart here, and knew he wouldn't fall.
As he finally draws near he calls out, softly. His face was grim now, the thin smile looking rather misplaced. But his tone of voice was soft and warm, if quavering somewhat: "Trel! It's me, Erion!"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Speaker Sellyria listens intently to Django's tale, as does Killiar.
"Your tale sheds some light on mysteries close to our home... This Red Hand army seems allied with Tiamat, and these fell beasts that plague the Blackfens, these harrowblades, seem connected to the Chromatic Dragon. A dark omen indeed. We Tiri Kitor have always had to defend our lands from the barbaric tribes of lizardfolk that live near the ruins of the old human capital of Rhest, but recently they have been growing more belligerent, more violent. Many of them serve a black dragon that lives within the swamp, but we were content to leave the beast alone so long as it kept away from our tribe. However, the fact that these hobgoblins seem to have allied themselves with evil dragons might mean that they have extended an alliance to Regiarix, the black dragon of which I spoke. I do not know what this could mean to our people, but it cannot bode well. There must be a connection between the Red Hand, Regiarix, and these spawn of Tiamat... However, we shun the ruins of Rhest, and do not know what transpires there."
Killiar speaks up, fire in his eyes.
"Speaker, let me send my hunters to the ruins! We will silence this threat to our home once and for all!"
Sellyria smiles calmly.
"You have a brave heart, Killiar, but alas, I dare not allow such a foolhardy attack. We must keep our bows close to home, lest the beasts within Rhest grow more numerous."
Killiar scowls, but remains silent and folds his arms.
"You have journeyed far, honored guests. I will think on the news you have brought us, and consult with my peers on what must be done. For the time being, you may rest here. I would ask that you join us tomorrow for Lanikar's funeral. Once we have mourned, we may then think of the future with clearer minds."

Meanwhile

By the flickering light of red and yellow firefly lanterns, Quingendon can make out Trellara. Slim, blond-haired, and beautiful, she stops her song and turns around, surprise writ on her face. She is a bit taller than you last remembered, her first century finally under her belt; she is considered a woman grown now. She is wearing a simple tunic of brown and green, with silver highlights (the women of the Tiri Kitor never wear dresses, given the swampy terrain). She smiles widely, and runs to Quin, hugging him tightly.
"Erion! What are you doing here? I had not heard you were coming home so soon!"
As she looks Quin in the eyes, her smile fades.
"...What's wrong?"

(Why don't you roll me two Diplomacy checks, mucat? You will all have the opportunity to rest; I'll have your XP award in the OOC thread soon.)
__________________

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

It felt good to see her, it really did. It had been long, he realized now. She had grown tall and strong. And even more beautiful. When she hugs him he warmly returns the embrace and it's almost enough to make him forget what they had found only hours before. He cannot afford himself that luxury, though, and when she notices the pain in his eyes he tenderly moves her away from him somewhat, still holding her right shoulder with his left hand. "Trel..." he says before faltering, unable to speak.
Instead he holds forth his right hand and opens it to reveal the ring of her brother. He cannot make himself say it. The words are just... stuck in his throat and can't make it's way past the angry lump that suddenly sprang into existense. But the ring should be enough. Lanikar wouldn't part from it for the world. They both knew it. He keeps his eyes on her the whole time and finally tears well up in his grey eyes, threatening to spill and he does nothing to stop it. He doesn't care anymore, for now he is home with his own People. Tomorrow many more, men as well as women, will cry openly. There is comfort in that, if not much.

[CockroachTeaParty]

It takes only a moment for the significance of the ring's presence in Quin's hand to dawn upon poor Trellara. Together, they both weep at the passing of a loved one.

For all your triumphs in battle, the reach of the Red Hand seems long indeed. Already it is wreaking devastation, if indeed these spawn of Tiamat are somehow connected with the hoard, which seems likely. Never has Starsong Hill felt so vulnerable to Quingendon.

The guests are eventually shown to private tents of their own. Usually used for storage, they are cleared out and furnished with simple, but comfortable, amenities. Quin of course has his own bungalow, which he finds almost exactly the way he left it, save for a good coating of dust on everything.

Day 15

The red sun rises, and you awake to the strange sounds of an elven funeral beginning. As you peek outside of your guest tents, you see through the morning mist a procession of elves, all clad in black. Many of them weep openly, while others sing haunting songs in the flowing Elvish tongue. The sight is humbling, yet strangely beautiful. Elven births are so rare, and their kind so few, that each death rattles an elf community to the core. You do not doubt that every single elf in Starsong Hill knew Lanikar, and they have come out to pay their last respects.

In the tradition of the Tiri Kitor, no food is eaten until sundown, so you make do with water (or whatever food you might have of your own, though it might behoove you to eat it out of sight of the Tiri Kitor). One by one, the elves approach the roots of the great Tree of Ancestors, where the shrine to Corellon Larethian is located, to pay their respects. Some sings songs, recite poetry, or dance. Others tell stories of Lanikar and his accomplishments in life. The giant owls make a circle of the town out of respect, but they have their own dead to mourn; their funeral ceremony does not begin until sundown, however.

Perhaps the most stirring performance is by Lanikar's sister, Trellara, whose song of mourning is so awash with sorrow that it is almost like a knife to the heart.

As noon approaches, the ceremony has been going on for several hours. Most of the elves treat you graciously, but you get the feeling that you are being watched, as if they are curious how you might behave during the funeral...

(Feel free to finish up any part of the previous night's discussions. I'll even move the funeral up a few posts if you want to.)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Evening, Day 14

They spent a long time together on that small balcony, consoling each other, weeping and talking and weeping again. When the moon had already climbed high in the sky Quin then escorted his beloved friend's sister to her home and then doubled back to his own small bungalow. He noticed that while it was dusty and looked somewhat abandoned, it was still undamaged and the dust wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared it to be, his father and mother must have been making small trips over to Starsong Hill from their own, smaller village, just to keep the place moderately tidy. Smiling ruefully about it he removes his armour, stores away both arms and mail in their places and lits a fire in the tiny hearth. Laurëlocë would return on his own accord and would appreciate a warm spot to sleep in, a few golden scales glinted in the light from the fire showing just the place next to the hearth that the ophidian prefered.
After that he hangs his old, trusty sword on a peg over the hearth, keeping the sword as a memento, washes himself quickly in cold spring water someone had been nice enough to leave outside the door in a wooden bucket, and retires to bed. He is deep in trance in a matter of moments, the last day's events having completely drained him.

I had half a mind writing more about the meeting between Trellara and Quin. But it would just have taken even more focus from the plot, not given much to show for it and... well, I actually like how it turned out. THis actually show a little more about what kind of daily life Quin might have led before leaving the Tiri Kitor. I hope you enjoy it.

Morning, Day 15

Bleary eyed the ranger stirs with the rest of the community, the sounds of the day's first preparations of the families of Starsong Hill waking the alert elf. Quietly and efficiently he moves about, dressing himself in what little clothes he had in black, tidying up the small bedroom and drinking a little water for breakfast before heading out into the town for the funeral. He had chosen this spot for a home some twenty years ago because it was close to a cousin on his father's side and the fact that said cousin's wife was a rather accomplished cook, but today he would not invite himself over for breakfast.
As he leaves his small home, and his animal companion still sleeping the dreamless sleep of a snake, he stops dead on the tiny verandah, the beauty of his home town even more acute today, if strangely hushed.

His trance had rejuvenated him, but it had been far from restful at times. Dreams of Lanikar and Trellara had superseded each other. Dreams about their childhood adventures, about his death and what just might have been between himself and Trel under different circumstances. All in all it had seemed almost prophetic, telling him that he might have made a mistake about hiding his potential feelings away from the siblings. Now, with the sounds of children nagging their parents about breakfast, that will not be served, of men and women going about their own preparations for the funeral, and many other domestic sounds and smells pressing in he stops and ponders that question, leaning against the railing, almost literally chewing on the issue. Silently he admits his fault and makes a vow to himself to rectify it. But he also realizes that it would have to wait. Trel would probably stay in morning a little while. She wasn't exactly required to, but he knew her well enough to realize it, and even if she wouldn't... Well, he was certainly going away soon again, following his Outside friends on their quest to stop the Horde. It wouldn't have been fair to expose her to the loss of her brother and a potential lover in so short a time. Better that he waited. Besides, he didn't know for sure that she hadn't a husband, lover or the interest in someone, even if she probably would have told him about any serious relationship in their long talks the night before. All in all it was best to wait.
The matter settled he leaves the bungalow to find the bard in question never the less. They were friends in any case and he would not let her do this alone.

The whole funeral Quingendon keeps close to the bard, Trellara. Unlike the rest of the group he is completely at home, both literally and figuratively, and simply a part of the honouring of the fallen elf. He speaks, just before Trellara's song, telling a brotherly story of one time in their youth when the three of them: Quin, Lanikar and Trellara had been several days out in the swamp, heading for one of the few patches of clear water that might be called a tarn, a trip for fishing and hunting. Not an uncommon thing for young elves to do. Of course the two siblings had decided to play a prank on him and had nearly drowned him in the pool. Lanikar had been the one who saved him. It's a story of now melancholic humour and while he smiles when telling it, his smile is sad if genuine. Like all the elves he wears all black, a black linen shirt seemingly of human make, and black leather trousers of more elven design. If it's part of the funeral or simply from being home again is hard to tell, but he also keeps his hair hanging loose, free of it's usual braid, nearly obscuring the long scar. After him comes Trellara which he hurries to comfort when she is done singing, himself crying.

[mucat]

Django

Django awakens to the sound of singing, mournful and soul-searingly beautiful, as though it were song itself that was passing from the world. He lies with his eyes closed, listening. Django is no musician, and will never be able to even vaguely reproduce what he is hearing, but that is all the more reason to remember it himself. When the singers have grown quiet, he rolls to his feet and dresses silently. One peek outside is enough to show that even his simplest traveling clothes will look garish and jarring among the black-clad elves. Before leaving the tent he weaves an illusion, changing his brightly colored garb to a simple tunic and trousers in flat black.

Outside, the graceful, black-clad figures vanishing and reappearing as early morning mists roll through from the swamp lend the scene a dreamlike air. Django moves among them quietly, taking his cues from the behavior of the elves and trying not to intrude on their thoughts and memories.

Quin's story makes it impossible not to smile, and Trellara's song makes it impossible not to cry. Both of them leave him feeling as if the fallen hunter were a friend, if a friend he had never actually met. When the flow of mourners tp the tree begins to thin, the Seldani approaches the gnarled roots and bows his head. Without a word or a gesture, he weaves an illusion in the air around him. From a stranger, an elaborate show would seem more an affront than an honor, so the display is a simple one: a cluster of soft silvery motes, like stars or firefies, drift around the base of the tree as if on unseen wind currents.

As each light winks into existence, Django thinks on the stories he has heard today of Lanikar, thinks of others he has known who died too young. Darik, Coranna, Raina's son Misko. Raina herself, not two years later. A Seldani band may grow, shrink, or change at rates that would leave an elf bewildered, caravans splitting off from one another, merging, and diverging again with their members rearranged...but like the elves, their numbers are few and their bonds close. He never knew the one the black-clad people here grieve for, but he thinks he understands something of their grief.

The illusory motes drift upward, circling the tree as if drifting on the updraft of an unseen fire. When they have all vanished from sight among the canopy of leaves and branches, he holds their unseen existence a moment longer, then lets them go, raises his head, and steps quietly away from the tree.

Just in case spell slots matter:

Django will be burning first-level spell slots (and second-level when those run out) at a rate of one per hour to keep a Disguise Self active; the only thing it alters is his clothes.

At the tree, he casts a Silent, Still Silent Image (no, that's not redundant :smallsmile:), using a third-level slot.

[CockroachTeaParty]

By about sunset, the hunter Killiar left with your horses in the bog returns with your mounts safe and sound. He tells you that the hobgoblins and ogre got away, but if necessary they can track them by owlback; he does not seem too concerned.

The ceremony goes on, until eventually night falls upon Starsong Hill once more. The tribe's head priest of Corellon Larethian, one Illian Snowmantle, leads the Tiri Kitor in one last somber prayer before announcing the evening festivities begun. With the setting of the sun, the day's ban on food is lifted, and the elves prepare a copious banquet in Lanikar's honor. Casks of subtle, delicious elven wines are served with a variety of unique dishes: salads of various edible swamp plants, fruits harvested from the elves' small orchard (pomegranates, plums, apricots, and oranges primarily), cured meats (including venison, snake, and fish), and delicate elven pastries. The mood switches to one of joyous celebration, as the elves begin to share the best memories they have of Lanikar and celebrate his passing on to his final reward among the Court of Stars.

Trellara remains somewhat subdued, however. She speaks very little, and a distant, almost fiery focus can be seen in her eyes as she stares off into space. At the same time, the giant owls begin their funeral rites; in the distance, the haunting sound of the owls' hoots can be heard just beneath the music and laughter, adding a somewhat chilling undercurrent to the evening.

At different points throughout the evening, Killiar approaches each of you, asking that you come to the Speaker's house the following morning, to discuss the issue of the war brewing in the south. He does not seem pleased with the goings on of the funeral; perhaps he thinks it a waste of precious time (in some ways, it is, but then most elves have a different view of time than most).

Day 16

The morning breaks hot and humid; a haze of fog obscures most of Starsong Hill. Dew cascades from every branch, leaf, and blade of grass as you make your way to the Speaker's house. However, before you reach the stairwell at the base of the tree to make your ascent, you find Killiar and Sellyria waiting for you at a pool near the trunk. Sellyria is resting on an old stump, her arm propped up on the back of an enormous, heavily scarred crocodile. The beast grumbles throatily as you approach, but it makes no motion to leave the ancient elf's side.
"Good morning, honored guests. I hope you had a restful and reflective break yesterday. I have thought upon the news you brought me, and I am afraid I must be frank: I cannot send aid to the rest of the vale while the threat in the ruins of Rhest remains. I will need my hunters here, to protect our home. However, you seem to be warriors of great skill, and it is within your power to investigate the ruins, and perhaps banish the darkness that lurks there from the Blackfens. You may return to rest at Starsong Hill as often as needed, and our humble supplies and services are at your disposal. Unfortunately, there is little else I can offer you at this time."
Suddenly, another elf walks out of the mist near the pool's edge. It is Trellara, though she no longer wears black. Instead, she is clad in a fine chainmail shirt, and a sword and bow are strapped to her back. A look of grim determination is etched upon her fair face.
"I'm going with them. My brother shall be avenged."
Sellyria nods solemnly. Killiar opens his mouth, as if to object, but says nothing and folds his arms.
"Corellon guide your blade, daughter of the Tiri Kitor, and may Sehanine hear your voice, and weep for your loss."
Killiar takes a few steps toward you.
"Should you choose to go to Rhest, I would not take your horses; they would only slow you down. We can provide you with boats, however, which should make the journey safer and faster. Though the way to Rhest is treacherous, Quingendon knows the path. By boat, I'd estimate the journey would take you eight hours. Prepare yourselves for the unknown..."

To the Ruins!

Knowing that you've already lost enough time, due to the funeral, you decide to head out for the ruins right away. You pack up your things and are shown to the boats: low, flat-bottomed, yet elegantly designed, the six of you (and Quin's snake) all fit into one. Aurellion and Quingendon take up the oars, and before long you are gliding through the wet murk of the Blackfens once more.
You only stop once in the afternoon to eat some of the rations the Tiri Kitor packed for you (consisting of jerky, nuts, dried fruit, and flat bread). By around dinner time you find yourselves near the threshold of a large lake, from which the ruins of various buildings can be seen protruding from the water. This must be the ruins of Rhest. Quin knows that you've entered lizardfolk territory now, so you decide to hide your rowboat under some reeds and proceed to scout a bit on foot near the shore.
In the distance, near the center of the lake, you can make out two particularly large buildings protruding from the water: an old bell tower, and what might have once been the town hall. The lake is several hundred feet across, and all seems eerily still...

[mucat]

Meeting with Sellyria:
Django greets the Speaker with a polite bow, and nods respectfully to Killan and to the battle-scarred crocodile. He is wearing no illusions of somber clothes today, though his armor and a comparatively drab traveling cloak cover up the more garish colors.

"Then the ruins it is," he agrees after hearing the situation. "And it will be an honor to travel with you, Lady Trellara. I wish it had been under different circumstances."

From a pocket in his cloak he draws several folded sheets of parchment, and offers them to Sellyria. "This is everything we know about the Red Hand Horde's leadership, plans, and troop distribution. I wrote it last night, so that you might study it as you see fit. Should we succeed at Rhest, I sincerely hope you will choose to ally with the rest of the Vale against the Horde. We will be far stronger together than fighting piecemeal."


Overlooking the ruins:
"Damn." Django surveys the ruined buildings from the tall reeds at the edge of the lake. "If I'd known we were coming here, I'd have bought out every water-breathing potion in Bristol."

Turning to Quin and Trellara, he asks, "What do you know about the layout of this place? Do you think some invisible aerial scouting would help?" He listens especially closeness to Trellara's answer. Her courage and talent he does not doubt, and he is certain that she is dangerously proficient with the weapons she carries. What he is unsure of is her temperament: so soon after her brother's death, will she keep her cool in a crisis, or leap recklessly at the opportunity for revenge?

[CockroachTeaParty]

On the trip to the ruins, Trellana remains relatively quiet. She defers to Quingendon's mastery of the area; she has traveled less than Quin, having spent most of her days at Starsong Hill.

At the ruins, she crouches low in the reeds, her expression one of intense concentration as she listens and watches with her keen elven senses.
"We're outnumbered, right? If we have the ability to scout the area from the air without being seen, well... what are we waiting for?"

[Firebeard]

Aurellion was secretly hoping for another ride by owlback, but the journey upriver was certainly nice in its own way. The elf came from a land of dense, tall trees and green glades, but this swampy march had its own beauty.

The work of rowing was difficult at first, but once Quingendon had explained how it was done, Aurellion took to it like he did to learning the spear...with determination and zeal (skill would come later). The hours of rowing were a good strenuous workout,and the elf wondered if there was a way to fit that motion into his daily workout.

Looking over the ruins, he began to plot out approaches and egress routes, the mind of a warrior taking over from the weary body. He listened to Django's suggestion and Trellana's tart reply and grinned. "An aerial reconnaissance would do nicely, Django. Be sure to look for any obvious choke points and escape routes should there be any trouble."

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Evening, day 15
As night falls and fast is broken Quin makes sure to gently bully Trellara to come along to his cousin's home, rather close to his own bungalow. He had actually chosen that particular place to live just because how close it was to Arthalion's home, for the man was generally considered one of the best cooks in Starsong Hill and his wife, Narlómë, was an even better baker. The arrangement usually was that he brought small gifts and rousing tales and helped out with the dishes in exchange for fooe. If there was anywhere the griefstruck bard would manage to get a bite down it would be there. It's a bit less lively at Arthalion's place that night, but the love in the small family is genuine as they fusses over their mourning guests. It's late when he again escorts Trel home before doubling back for trance, grateful that he would not need as much rest as a human would.

Morning, day 16
Next day's meeting begins along the lines the ranger had expected. He had heard from Killiar about the meeting he had left to take care of Trel and had guessed that the Speaker would ask the Outsiders to take care of the threat in Rhest. It was logical, now that they were there.
Only he, as a fellow Tiri Kitor, was someone people knew, and while the others would be mourned, probably Aurellion more than the others, it wouldn't be as great a loss to the elves as if a war party of their own would fall. He didn't really like it, but he knew why the Elders had reached their decision. He says as much: that he understood and that they certainly would do it. SIlently he suggested Durrin especially would do it even if there were no elven settlement to help.
He did not expect Trellara to suddenly walk up to them and announce her participation. Just a glance at her makes him smother any objections he might hold. She was as grimly determined as he felt himself, and had a fey look to her that made him worry for her, but also made him realize that she would not let him talk her out of it. Taking the few steps over to her he takes her hand and murmurs a low "Your brother would be proud, Trel. And we will be glad to have you along," trying hard not to show that it actually worries him.

[roll0] (Please note that he isn't trying to lie. Just conceal his worries. :smallwink:)

On the way to Rhest
On the way he had instructed Aurellion in the way of paddling the canoe-like boats of his people, finding a certain satisfaction in seeing the other elf quickly catching on. The spear dancer had fit in rather well among the Tiri Kitor, especially on owl back, and he liked being part of introducing his own people to Aurellion. Of course he had taken the aft position for himself, steering their way to Rhest, but he felt confident that his friend could manage that too on the way back should he need to.

When they reach Rhest the ranger camouflages the boat with practiced ease, moving about the reeds to make sure that the works holds up from all angles. When all is to his satisfaction Quin pulls up the cowl of his cloak, immediately blending in with the surrounding vegetation, and takes the point position as they make their way to the old human city.

At Rhest
Looking out over the lake covering the capital Quin shares Django's sentiment. What wouldn't he give for a few spells of waterbreathing just now? Oh, well. Potions like that was a rarity to his people, otherwise they would probably had rid themselves of the dragon ages ago. Now they just had to make do with the resources they had.
"A look from above would help, I'd say. I'd guess Regiarix lives in one of the larger buildings but we need to know if we have any access to his lair, and where he will come out if we disturb him."

He gives Trel just a quick glance, but a worried one. She was all too impatient. Dangerously so. "Right. Durrin, get up there and scout the place. But be careful, don't do anything, just spy the ruins out, and take your time. We don't want to do any mistakes if we're up against a dragon."

[McNerp]

Durrin nods to Quingendon and turns to Django. "If you'd oblige, friend, some invisibility would do wonders at keeping me alive up there. Your spell lasts around 5 minutes, correct? In that case, I'll head back in enough time that I won't be visible in the air."

The dragonborn waits in the boat, wings twitching impatiently. When the boat draws close enough that he thinks he can get close enough to see something of use, he asks Django to cast the spell on him. As he fades from sight, the boat lurches and its occupants hear the flapping of leathery wings.

[mucat]

Django

As the boat glides to a stop, Django chants the syllables of the Invisibilty spell and touches Durrin's shoulder. The magic feels stronger today that at any time since he returned from death; perhaps he had not left anything irreplacable on the other side of the veil.

"The spell might last a little longer than last time," he advises the space where the invisible Dragonborn stands. "Not a whole lot, though, so don't push your luck out there."


Invisibility should have a duration of 6 minutes now...

Django will also have cast Mage Armor on Durrin before nearing the ruins...and on Quin's snake, too. (Should have started doing that a long time ago!) Trellana is wearing armor already, right?

Spells remaining: 6/8 level 1, 5/6 level 2, 4/4 level 3

[CockroachTeaParty]

You find yourselves at the southernmost end of the lake. Durring receives the benefit of Django's magic, and takes to the skies. He beats his wings as hard as he can, gaining as much altitude in as short a time as possible, before letting his back and shoulders rest during a period of extended gliding. He tries his best to count the seconds, knowing that his invisibility will not last forever.
At his highest, he reaches an altitude of around 125 feet in the air before gliding. The view from these lofty heights changes the layout of the area considerably. The lake is oval shaped, and unfortunately, he took off from one of the long ends of the oval. He guesses the lake might be about 4000 feet wide, and maybe 8000 feet long. The notable landmarks at the center of the lake are deceptively far; though he makes a decent pace of around 500 feet per minute of flying and gliding, he realizes quickly that if he reaches the center, circles a few times, then attempts to fly back, the invisibility spell will have expired. He'd stand a better chance of seeing the center of the lake if he took off from the shorter ends of the oval, along the eastern or western shores.
Durrin gets well over 1000 feet out above the water before deciding that he's used up about half his allotted time. He turns back, and lands amongst his companions with scarce seconds of invisibility to spare.

To make matters worse, shortly after Durrin returns, the overcast sky turns a threatening shade of dark gray, and it begins to rain. While this means it is quite unlikely anybody will see or hear your party now, it quickly means the center of the lake is obscured in the building shower...

Further Scouting

You hatch a plan to bring your rowboat closer to the structures at the center of the lake, under cover of Django's improved illusion powers. The rain ought to provide cover for most of the trip, so you all hop aboard the boat and begin the long, wet trip across the lake.
The going is rather slow; the rhythmic splash of the oars, combined with the patter of the rain, might be enough to lull one to sleep, if it were not for the wetness, and the tension in the air as you approach the likely hub of enemy activity. The occasional decrepit building juts out of the water as you go, lending an eerie sense of lost history and haunted menace to the ruins. Trellara at first seems excited.
"Are all Seldani as talented at magic as you, Django? To hide us all, and the boat as well... our foes won't know what hit them!"
She turns down the offer of the magic rapier, claiming she is better off singing or using her magic. She pats a wand at her belt confidently. However, as the minutes drag on, she falls silent; the enemy is drawing nearer.
Eventually, the dark shapes of the bell tower and large halls loom out of the mist. Django casts his most powerful spell yet, cloaking the boat and its occupants under a veil of invisibility. However, everyone within the spell's radius can still see each other fine. You draw closer to the bell tower; it is quite difficult to discern anything of interest within, although a crude wharf has been lashed around the circumference of the tower at the water level, to which a few skiffs are lashed, betraying the fact that it is indeed inhabited. A window seems to have been converted into a door, leading into the interior of the tower and what is now the 'ground level.' As planned, Django cloaks Durrin in invisibility once more, and he takes to the skies as the rest of the party rows toward the larger hall.
Durrin makes a few circles of the tower, and he can make out three hobgoblin sentries posted at the top of the tower. They each are armed with bows, and they scan the rainy gloom silently, next to a great iron bell. The roof over their heads leaks a bit, but they are otherwise dry and on alert. Presumably a stairwell leads to the interior levels of the tower.
Both Durrin and the party see many things of interest as they approach the large hall. Crumbling statues of lions protrude from the ruined walls, and water drips off them as if they were weeping. Again, a wooden dock has been constructed around the structure, as well as a pair of stair cases that lead to the roof of the hall. A small wooden bridge leads to a smaller outlying structure, which has a spiked wooden fence around the roof. A wooden door has been chained to a breach in the wall, which must lead to the inside of the smaller building.
Durrin spots several ogres occupying the ruins of the large hall. Two of them stand guard on the dock near the stairwells, looking bored, wet, and miserable. Four more ogres lull about in the ruined roof of the hall, which seems to have collapsed or been torn off; the walls of the interior remain, providing the ogres with a modicum of cover. Several wooden barrels, filled with javelins, dot the structure, apparently ammunition for the brutish guards. Two stone stairwells lead deeper into the interior of the hall, accessible via the roof, but Durrin cannot see within the darkness below. Lastly, both the hall and the smaller outlying structure have large holes in the roof/floor, leading straight down into the murky water of the lake below.
The party in the boat spot the two ogres standing guard on the dock, and they pull up on the opposite side, which fortunately hides them from the bell tower as well. Scant few minutes remain on Django's spell as Durrin makes his way to the agreed upon meeting point...

Map of the Hall

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallScouting.png

[mucat]

Crossing the Lake:
As the boat skims across the rain-shrouded lake, Django smiles at Trellara's complement. "Some Seldani dabble in magic," he answers. "I'm far from the best of them. Others have different talents. We like it when everyone in the caravan has a surprise or two in reserve."

He accepts back the rapier she was examining and sheathes it at his belt. "For example, if I tried to use this, you'd be amazed that such an inept swordsman can even exist. So if you change your mind and want to put the blade to better use, say the word."

Actually, the weapon would have suited Lem perfectly; it was a shame the bard had stayed behind in Bristol. But Django could understand the man's insistence on being near his sister when the attack came...and until then, Lem would be putting his charm to good use trying to talk sense into the blustering, frightened officials and noblemen.


Moored at the Ogre Building:
Soft wingbeats, barely audible over the sizzling patter of rainfall on the lake, herald Durrin's return from his scouting run. Django gives a low hiss to help the dragonborn locate the boat, and then the group put their heads together to whisper reports and plans.

"I vote we take the tower first," whispers Django. "Enter that window at water level, use a Silence spell on Aurellion, and charge the top level. The spell should keep them from getting off a shout or an alarm bell, and I doubt the ogres will see us through the rain."

"If we're going to do it," he adds, "we need to move now. Not much time left before we're visible."

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

As he steers their way to the large hall the ranger keeps an eye on their surroundings, but still manages to study Trel from time to time. The bard's fascination with Django's magics makes him smile. Partly because he had felt about the same when first they met, but had been too proud to admit to such a childish fascination. But mostly because he honestly felt that she was fitting in with the rest of them. When they arrive Quin calmly moors the canoe to the side of the building and bends forward to have a little "converation" with Laurëlocë. By gestures and a low hiss he gives instructions that the snake should stay, hidden, under the crude dock, and by the empathich bond he gives the ophidian a sense of what he wants it to do: stay low and warn them should the ogres, or something else, move. That's all. The return feeling is that the brutes are much too big to be prey and that the golden serpent would stay well away from them. When the snake has slipped into the murky water and Quin returns his attention to the group Durrin has already departed and the wait for him to return has begun.

When the dragonborn returns, what felt like a very long while later, and gives his report the ranger listens closely to him and to Djangos suggestion before voicing his own thoughts. As usual. "I like it. Should Aurellion carry the Silence spell with him any fighting that would happen in the tower itself, and I guess we can assume there are some goblinkin in the lower parts of the tower as well, will be done without the guards hearing it. Only problem is if there's so many that a hobgoblin or two manages to retreat up to the lookout. Then they'd be able to ring the bell before we reach them. Could we reach the top of the tower quicker in some way, and clear out the tower from top to bottom?" They wouldn't expect that, now would they? he finishes silently, with a wicked sense of humour.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Stealth Ambush

Django's invisibility sphere expires while you are stopped behind the hall. With a fresh new plan hatched, the Seldani casts it once more and you row hard to the bell tower. As you row, Trellara draws her wand.
"If we're to be fighting in silence, my spells and songs will be all but useless. However, my wand will still work, so I'll use that, and try to cause some havoc."
Barely a minute remains of the illusion as you bring your boat to the makeshift dock constructed around the half-sunken bell tower. Quickly, Django casts another spell upon Aurellion, and suddenly all sound is eliminated from the world; the bizarre sensation of seeing silent rain, unable to hear the lapping of waves or the creaking of wood... all you can hear is the pumping of your own heart.
Aurellion leads the way through the window/door, to find the enemy just how he wants them: flat-footed, and utterly bewildered.
The floor of the bell tower has been converted into a barracks of sorts; bunks line the walls, and a table has been erected in the center of the room, above which an oil lantern burns. The stairwell leading down is half-boarded up, and you can see the glisten of water beneath. There is another stairwell leading to the top of the tower at the back of the room.
Four hobgoblins are here: two are sitting at the table, and you have interrupted them apparently playing some game. Another hobgoblin is sitting on a bunk, and these three are armored in banded mail, with bows, quivers of arrows, and shields strapped to their backs. They scramble for their swords as you silently storm the room. The fourth hobgoblin is clad in lighter studded leather armor of high quality, and a pair of blades are sheathed at his belt. He shouts something wordlessly into the silent air, and scowls in anger and confusion.

(You guys have a surprise round: a single standard or move action is yours to squander. You can also have whatever weapons out you wish, and if there were any spells you wanted to cast before battle was joined, you are free to do so. Also, Trellara, Django, and Laerallis are all still within the radius of the invisibility sphere at the moment, for what that's worth. Django has 6 1st level, 3 2nd level, and 2 3rd level spells remaining, by my count.)

Map: Surprise Round

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestTowerSR.png

[Firebeard]

Aurellion leaped through the opening and instinctively ducked as the goblin before his stood. Too close to attack with his greatspear, he instead launched a swift blow at the hobgoblin beyond, gauging his strike to be hidden by the first creature's body and catching the other by complete surprise.


Attack hobgoblin2: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Aurellion's spear lashes out, catching the surprised hobgoblin beneath his left pauldron and drawing blood. However, these soldiers appear to be of tougher stuff than the buffoons you fought at the road blockade, and the hobgoblin is still in fighting shape. Silently, they reach for their weapons, but you still clearly have the drop on them.

(Initiative order posted in the OOC)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

The ranger had his bow stowed away and his swords drawn. Inside the tower there would be no room to work a bow properly and thus he'd join the melee for the first time in a long while. It actually felt good to hold the hilts of swords again and actually expect to use them against goblinkin. The strangely cool hilt of Helcalango did feel a bit weird, but he'd grow used to it soon, no doubt.
As Aurellion crashes into the first room, apparently sleeping quarters for the hobgoblins, Quin nimbly passes his spearwielding friend and, veering around the first hobgoblin, he dashes for the base of the stairs, taking up a guard there, ready to strike any enemy down if they should try and warn the sentries at the top of the tower.

If I remember correctly a surprise round gives only a standard or move action, so Quin goes with movement. No AoO's since they're surprised, flatfooted and still "unarmed".
Quin will end his movement on the square above and to the left of hobbo #2.

Should I remember incorrectly and do get an attack, here it is (against #2):

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[mucat]

Django

From his vantagepoint near the boat, Django can't see what is happening inside the tower, and of course he can hear nothing. But from the way Aurellion brandished his weapon as he leapt through the opening, it appears there are enemies within; storming the tower top will have to wait. Which leaves the danger that the sentries will catch wind of the combat below, and sound the alarm bell. Should be easy enough to prevent that, though...

Rather than joining the crowd trying to move through the window, Django moves north along the makeshift dock, moving in unnatural silence as he makes for the corner furthest from Aurellion. The moment he first hears the sound of his boots against the rickety wood, he halts and looks upward, guaging the angle for another spell.


OOC:Django's will move to the northeast corner of the dock, out of the radius of Aurellion's Silence spell. His plan for next round is to cast another Silence, this time centered on the alarm bell itself (or on the tower roof if the bell isn't visible from his angle.)

This is all assuming that the tower is tall enough that Aurellion isn't already silencing the bell by his presence on the lower level. If the 20-foot radius from Aurellion is enough to silence the bell and sentries, then Django won't see the need for a second spell; instead, he'll delay his move until everyone between himself and the window has moved, and then he'll move into the tower as space allows.

[CockroachTeaParty]

No Chance

The subsequent combat is short, brutal, bloody, and utterly silent, making it one of the most surreal battles any of you have ever lived through.

Django casts the entire upper section of the bell tower in his silent spell, and even though the suddenly alert guards pound their fists on the massive iron bell, not a sound escapes from the area. The soldiers in the level below reach for their weapons, but most of them are immediately caught in Durrin's entangling flames, making them easy prey for Aurellion and Quin. The hobgoblin in leather armor manages to draw one of his short swords, leaps high in the air, and slashes a vicious blow across Quin's face. Meanwhile, before Laerallis can get to the safety of the interior of the tower, the archers above land two arrows into his torso.
Trellara uses her wand, which causes the hobgoblins to behave oddly for a fraction of a second, either fleeing, babbling silently, or attacking whatever is near them with wreckless abandon. The bard's expression is one of hungry vengeance mixed with curiosity, or even amusement, as the effects of her wand cause chaos.
The guards in the upper tower drop their bows and draw their swords as you move up to the second floor, putting up a brave fight even as they are inevitably cut down by Quin's dual blades and Aurellion's deadly spear. Before long, all resistance has been crushed. You drop the silence spells to better communicate and consolidate as you search the tower for clues or valuables.

The hobgoblins themselves are typically well equipped. You recover a bounty of healing potions, and the leather-clad hobgoblin's short swords are both magical. Also, in a chest underneath one of the bunks, you discover a small amount of gold, and three potions labeled 'emergency' in the Goblin tongue, which Durrin is able to identify as potions that bestow the power of flight.

As far as you can tell, your infiltration of the ruins of Rhest has gone off without a hitch; the other Red Hand operatives are none the wiser to your presence here, and you've just taken out their main alarm system...

(Full loot list in the OOC)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Sitting down at the foot of the stairs inside the towers, by the one hobgoblin in the lot that actually managed to put up a bit of a fight the ranger gingerly touches his face, blinking away the blood. That one hurt, even after some help from Lae. Still, there is a rather content smile on the elf's face. The wound was a small price to pay for this kind of victory, and over hobgoblins, no less! "I guess we're going up against the ogres next? How many healing potions do we have now? That one actually managed to do something usefull." With a strange blend of animosity and respect Quin prods the leatherclad warrior with the toe of his right boot. He had already make sure that one was good and dead, this was more a way of indicating who he talked about.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion sagged against he wall next to Quin and wiped the blood from his spear with a bit of cloth ripped from the tunic of one of the dead hobgoblins. The fight was messy, and it was difficult to wield the greatspear in a confined area, but he had managed. The steps his old teacher, Haedin, had taught him for fighting indoors had certainly paid off.

He toook one of the healing potions from the pile and tossed it down, knowing that if they were intent on taking on the ogres, he would likely need every bit of health he could muster. "Yes, the ogres next, but first, let's disable that bell so no one can use it while we are gone."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The bell is large and made of cast iron; it must easily weigh a few tons. The clapper has been removed from inside it, so the hobgoblins must have needed to bang on the bell with their fists or weapons to make any noise.

It would be a difficult process indeed to remove it, assuming you all worked together, and even then there would be a decent chance of dropping it or accidentally banging it against a hard surface and making noise, which would defeat the whole purpose of your attack on the tower. The rotting wooden supports could be destroyed, but again, that would cause the bell to come crashing down. The silence spell cast on the area will only last a few more minutes, and it's hard to estimate how long it would take to try and further dismantle the bell.

To the Hall!

You begin to paddle back to the ogre-infested half-sunken town hall structure. Django casts the boat once more under a veil of invisibility, and you row up to the northern end of the structure unseen. You begin to step off the boat, prepared to unleash a surprise attack on the witless ogre sentries.

Map: Surprise Round

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallSR.png

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Almost close enough to the ogre to just poke it in the gut with a finger the ranger raises his left hand, holding his enchanted shortsword but both the index finger and the middlefinger extended, after signalling a brief countdown by gripping the hilt of his blade again Quin then let's out a yell of vengeance and leaps at the closest ogre, confident that Aurellion will be following up his attack with one of his own.

Not much to say: Charge and start slashing!

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

And I think I get an off hand attack as well:
[roll3]
[roll4]

Otherwise I get an extra +2 to my main attack.

[Firebeard]

Knowing that this fight was contingent on dropping the ogres before their boat was destroyed and before the alarm was raised, Aurellion let himself fall into the battle dance once again. The familiar laughter burbled up from his throat, bringing an odd sort of comfort to his friends.

Standing with feet wide and balanced, he lashed out twice at the ogre in front of him with the greatspear. The broad, leaf-shaped blade flashing out of the rain to take the giant in the side.



Whirling Frenzy - 6 rounds (including this) [+1 attack, -2 to hit, +4 str, +2 dodge to AC and Reflex

attack@Ogre: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

attack@Ogre: [roll2], PA2
damage: [roll3]

5' step up off t he boat and onto the dock if I can after the attack.

[McNerp]

Durrin blasts fire, trying to catch as many of the ogres as possible in the entangling webs of liquid flame. As he does so, he leaps and gives a powerful downstroke of his wings, pumping them hard to gain altitude.

Damage: [roll0]
Entangle: [roll1]

[mucat]

Just before we reach the building:
As the boat glides invisibly toward the ogre's guardpost, Django draws a few shavings of a black root from his component pouch and begins speaking words of magic. The incantation is a complex one, but he keeps his voice as low as possible, trusting in the rain to cover the sound. The root shavings vanish in a small flash of blue flame, and the sharp scent of licorice fills the air, invigorating everyone on the boat and speeding their movements.

Surprise Round:
Again, Django speaks and gestures. Nothing immediate seems to happen, but then as if by coincidence, a javelin streaks through the air from another direction entirely, narrowly missing two of the ogres before being lost to sight in the rainy sky. Anyone who traces the projectile back to its source sees the flash of silvery scales as a trio of merfolk breach the surface, perhaps twenty feet off the southeast corner of the building.

The male brandishes another javelin in a defensive posture, while the two females behind him weave glowing strands of magic. One of the mermaids seems to be gathering luminous, sea-green filaments of energy into a roiling orb, while the other coaxes a small whirling vortex of water to lift gradually from the rain-splashed surface.

Django casts Haste just before the party reaches the building.

On the surprise round, he casts Silent Image, creating the squadron of merfolk off the southest corner of the buildings and the badly-aimed but hopefully attention-grabbing javelin. Both the illusory mages are slowly adding power to their spells, one weaving a dangerous-looking orb of energy and one conjuring a water-elemental-like-thingie which gradually increases in size.

The intent, of course, is to split the ogres' attention, or best-case, to get one or more of them to dive into the water in an attempt to take out the spellcasters. If the ogres do throw javelins, the results will be favorable enough to encourage them to keep doing so, without actually ending the threat. One of the mages might be wounded and her spell ruined, though she will grit her teeth and start another spell. Magic shielding may appear to partly divert the weapons and keep the merfolk in the fight. A concerted attack by several ogres might even "kill" one or more of the attackers, though the survivors will continue to press the attack, joined if necessary by reinforcements from below the surface.

If an ogre actually dives into the water, the merfolk will scatter and stay just out of his reach, but close enough to keep him trying to catch them.

Django now has 5 1st level, 2 2nd level, and 0 3rd level spells.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Attack Begins

Suddenly, your ambush explodes into life, complete with illusory merfolk reinforcements. Laerallis beseeches a higher power for protection as Trellara begins to sing a haunting Elven ballad of revenge and loss. She is not as talented as Lem, truth be told, but her voice still helps instill you with bravery and resolve.
In a few short moments, Quin's frosted blade and Aurellion's spear have reduced the closest ogre to a bloody, dying heap. The ogres bellow in surprise and anger, reaching for clubs and javelins. However, thanks to Django's magic, they almost seem to be moving in slow motion compared to the rest of you, as your movements are sped up twofold.
Only one ogre remains on the dock surrounding the half-sunken building; the rest of the ogres can be heard moving around in the ruins above.

(The map is unchanged, save that Ogre #1 is dead. We will now enter normal initiative order. Trellara is providing everyone with a +1 morale bonus to attack rolls, weapon damage rolls, and saves against fear. Initiative posted in the OOC)

[Firebeard]

Laughing, Aurellion continued the battle by leaping forward at the remaining ogre on the dock. His leap takes him to striking distance, where his enhanced speed and agility allow him to strike four times at the ogre before he can even bring his weapon up. The monster was caught flat-footed against the onslaught, taking blow after bow from the devastating weapon.


Haste - +1 AC, +1 Reflex saves, +1 to hit, and +1 attack
Whirling Frenzy - 5 rounds (including this) [+1 attack, -2 to hit, +4 str, +2 dodge to AC and Reflex

attack@Ogre: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

attack@Ogre: [roll2], PA2
damage: [roll3]

attack@Ogre: [roll4], PA2
damage: [roll5]

attack@Ogre: [roll6], PA2
damage: [roll7]

[CockroachTeaParty]

The slippery, close-quarters nature of the battlefield denies Aurellion the space he needs to unleash the full fury of his spear dance. Nevertheless, he lands a punishing blow deep in the ogre's ribs. The ogre makes a fierce counter attack with his club, which the elf only manages to dodge by virtue of his heightened battle-awareness and magically increased speed.
Two more ogres appear at the top of the makeshift stairwells. One of them begins the clumsy descent down to the wooden dock, while the other lobs a javelin at Quingendon. The rain, combined with Laerallis' nearby protective presence, causes the projectile to strike nothing but the sodden logs of the walkway...

Map: Round 1, just after the Ogres' turn
http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR1i.png

[mucat]

Django sidesteps so as not to impede anyone else's sight or motion, and draws his blade just in case he might think of a use for it. He shouts a rather incoherent battlecry, reasoning that the more noisy the battle becomes, the less obvious the merfolk's silence will be.

His main focus, though, is on maintaining the illusion. The merman brandishes his spear and glares at the ogres defiantly, while behind him the two mages work their magic. Under the expert guidance of one of them, the whirling vortex of water darkens like a threatening stormcloud, and two darker spots like sunken eyes begin to form on its surface. The other mermaid closes her hand around the brightly glowing green orb she has woven. It flares even brighter, scattering reflected light across the lake's rain-pocked surface. A brilliant sea-green bolt of energy arcs from her hands to Aurelion's spear tip, and remains there, dancing between the weapon and the still-glowing orb.


Django is aiming to give the impression that (1) The water elemental will be kinda mean when it's fully formed, and (2) The green lightning is part of what makes Aurellion such a badass. Any time Aurellion strikes an ogre with his spear, Django will have the energy flare brightly, and if an ogre falls, the green sparks will crawl across it for several seconds before fading. Of course, the goal is to get the ogres to waste time trying to cut the energy off at its source.

[Toxic Avenger]

Right after Durrin takes to the air, Laerallis scrambles off the boat and onto the dock. As he surveys the surroundings, he removes a scroll from his backpack. He holds onto the parchment for now, so it can be ready for immediate use should the need arise.

OOC:2nd round of 4 for the Protective Aura, I think...

Laerallis moves two squares to the left, and then he takes one of his scrolls of Mass Resist Energy out from his Haversack (two move actions).

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Closing to melee with those brutes would be unwise now that they were aware of their presence. The ranger prefered to fight like the Tiri Kitor had always fought, unseen and at a distance. There's not much choice right now, though. He would have loved to make two large pincussions ot uf the brutes, or at least throw a jug of alchemist's fire at them first. But they were too close, and he already had his hands full, litterally as well as figuratively. Silent as usual he advances on the nearest ogre, hoping that the great bulk of the enemy will shield him from the javelin thrower.
And hoping the rest have some aces up their sleeves.

I toyed with the idea of throwing an alchemist's fire first, hopefully forcing one to hit the water. But I decided against it. Since Quin is dual wielding weapons I'm just not sure how to do that. :smallwink:

Move action: Move ten feet forward, up the stairs.
Standard action: Attack!
[roll0] Gah! Well, at least it's not a fumble. :smallyuk:
[roll1]
[roll2]

[roll3] Better. :smallsigh:
[roll4]

[Firebeard]

Aurellion grimaces at the ogre before him, still standing in spite of the deep wounds the greatspear has left in its body. During one of his whirls, he spies the other ogres preparing to descend the stairs and knows that he must finish his current target off quickly before the other ogres can engage with his support team.

Launching another massive strike at the original target, he then slides backwards and adjusts his grip on the greatspear, sending a couple of measured strikes at the legs and groin of the behemoth heading down the stairs.



Attack original target until it is down (how ever many attacks that takes), then 5' adjust and hit the one coming down the stairs.

Haste - +1 AC, +1 Reflex saves, +1 to hit, and +1 attack
Whirling Frenzy - 4 rounds (including this) [+1 attack, -2 to hit, +4 str, +2 dodge to AC and Reflex

attack@Ogre: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

attack@Ogre: [roll2], PA2
damage: [roll3]

attack@Ogre: [roll4], PA2
damage: [roll5]

attack@Ogre: [roll6], PA2
damage: [roll7]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Escalation

Durrin takes to the skies, trying to swoop in behind the ogres and take them in the flank. As he rises, he swoops low over the ruined roof, only to see two ogres, and another hulking brute, exit the stairwells leading to the interior. The new combatant is even taller than the ogres, pushing eleven or twelve feet in height. It is an ugly, brutish humanoid giant, with tattered hide armor and grayish skin. It wields two clubs, little more than uprooted tree trunks, and most distinctive of all, it has two heads with jutting, porcine teeth: an ettin.
Quingendon moves up the slippery wooden stairwell, but his ogre target takes an opportunistic swing with his massive club, striking the elf hard in the ribs. The blow is so jarring that Quin hits nothing but air with his sword. Trellara lets out a shout, and moves up behind her friend, placing her hand upon his back and whispering a sweet, haunting note that knits back together some of Quin's fractured bones. Although she has stopped singing, the memory of her brief song still resides in your minds, and you continue to fight on with courage.
Aurellion, his spear enhanced by Django's illusory display, makes short work of his two brutish targets. The second ogre tumbles down the stairwell in a bloody heap, crashing on the dock and causing ripples to surge out from beneath on the lake below.
The ogre nearest Quin tries to swat at the elf once more, but Quingendon ducks just in the nick of time, and the club crashes against the stone of the ruins, sending bits of masonry flying.
Durrin finds himself perilously within reach of the grouping of hulking brutes on the roof as his wings pump and his mind races...

(Quin took 15 damage, then healed 9, so he's at 29/35 hp)

Map: Round 2, just after the Ogres' turns

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR2i.png

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Flashing Trellara a warm, thankful grin the ranger then turns his attention to the next ogre. He knew he wasn't their strongest fighter in a melee. Noone could doubt that was anyone but Aurellion, and he knew that he would be hard pressed alone against one of these brutes. If he was lucky. But he also knew that it wasn't about him. It was the sum of their actions that would win the day. They fought not as individuals but as a team. His job was to keep this ogre occupied while Aurellion moved in for the kill, then they would either repeat or he would find a spot to start working his bow. It felt good to be in such a group, such a band of friends. As he turns on the ogre in front of him he's not feeling particularly angry or hateful, but content. Strange thing. Still, his smile turns wicked as he starts a blurring attack routine, weaving his two blades with practiced precision. Speaking the goblin tongue, hoping the brute would know it he promises: "You're dead."
He did not relish the death of the enemy so much as the ease the Haste spell made him use the blades. Combined with Trel's encouraging song it was as if he only used one weapon.

Full Attack against the ogre:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[roll3]
[roll4]

[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]

[roll8]
[roll9]

Of course, he then reminds himself, he wasn't particularly used to the blades weaving so easily through the air either.

[mucat]

Django winces as Quin's ribs crunch and snap under the ogre's blow. Trellara moves immediately to heal the wound, but this fight isn't going as effortlessly as the last. And sadly, none of the lumbering giants seem inclined to dive after his squadron of aquatic mages, or even to waste time throwing things at them. Damn shame, that; he'd had a great shimmering-arcane-shield effect planned out.

"Tough crowd tonight," he mutters. The three merfolk leap skyward, two turning backflips and one twirling rapidly in the air, her seaweed-colored hair throwing off water droplets in every direction. Then all three vanish beneath the surface with silent splashes.

As the merfolk vanish without a trace, Django is already in motion, releasing the deck with sword drawn. Quin's stairway is blocked by the fight taking place there, so Django runs past it to the other set of stairs. The Haste spell is a great help to speed, though not necessarily to footing; he grabs the stair railing with a gloved hand to help reverse direction on the slippery planks, then scrambles up the stairs to the building's roof.

Ha! Just as he'd hoped, the cramped space up here leaves the enemy nowhere to stand but right next to one another. And he hasn't cast Glitterdust all day...

Django releases the Silent Image spell, then takes a Move action (60 feet) to move to the southeast stairs and climb them. Depending on how sharply he can take the corner, it looks like that will tak him at least part way up the stairs, hopefully high enough to get line of effect on the ettin and ogres.

If so, he'll cast Glitterdust (Will Save DC 17), catching as many targets as possible. Looks like he should be able to get the ettin and at least two ogres, maybe even all three.

[Firebeard]

Still caught in the throes of his battle frenzy, Aurellion spins and whirls for the unblocked stairway. His steps quickened by magic, still the elf swirls and dodges with grace and apparent ease as he flows up the steps to attack. Moving quickly, he shoulders past Django to strike.

Reaching the ogre above him, he launches a few deadly strikes at it, hoping to bring it down before it can cause any further damage to Quin. It is only then, in the midst of his attacks that he spies the ettin on the roof. His jaw clenches amidst the laughter as he recognizes the greater threat. He would have to make the ettin the top priority one the stairs were clear.



Move up the stairs to attacking distance.

Haste - +1 AC, +1 Reflex saves, +1 to hit, and +1 attack
Whirling Frenzy - 3 rounds (including this) [+1 attack, -2 to hit, +4 str, +2 dodge to AC and Reflex

attack@Ogre: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

attack@Ogre: [roll2], PA2
damage: [roll3]

attack@Ogre: [roll4], PA2
damage: [roll5]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Lurking Menace

Durrin lands on the roof, immediately dousing the area in sticky, hot flames. The ogres and the ettin are already slow and ponderous creatures, and the fire does little injury to them, but they are nevertheless impeded.
Django and Aurellion move into position, heading up the stairs. Quingendon manages to hold his ground against his ogre foe, but he does little but exchange glancing blows and parried thrusts. He manages to leave a gash on the brute's left leg, which strangely does not bleed, as the wound is immediately frozen.
The giants retaliate with their fearsome strength. The ogre closest to Durrin slams his club against the dragonborn's head, knocking him senseless. Stars float before his eyes, but he is tough enough to remain standing, even though the blow would have flat-out killed a lesser man. The ettin lumbers forward, confused, angry, and thirsting for violence. One of its heads squints at Django, and sends a massive log of wood streaking towards the Seldani. Even with Laerallis' protective aura nearby, the brute manages to slam a blow against Django's left arm; he manages to fight through the pain.
Aurellion lands a telling blow against the ogre Quin has been fighting, but the brutes are simply larger, and hardier, foes than the hobgoblins.
Just as Laerallis moves into position, scroll in hand, he sees a fell shape leap up from some unseen opening in the roof of the smaller building south of the main hall. It scrambles up the spiked log fence surrounding the place, perching on top of taloned feet. Its bladed wings glisten dangerously in the pouring rain, and its yellow eyes leer at you hungrily: another greenspawn razorfiend, thirsty for blood. Seeing this foe, and knowing that a black dragon might be nearby, Laerallis casts the magic written upon the parchment, granting most of his allies (save Durrin) protection against acid's corrosive bite.

(Everyone but Durrin has 10 acid resistance. Durrin suffered a critical hit, leaving him at 20/59 hp, and Django took 11 damage, leaving him at 20/31 hp.)

Map: Round 3, just after the Ogres' turns
http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR3i.png

[mucat]

Django

The blow from the ogre's club nearly knocks Django from the rickety stairway back down to the dock. He manages to keep his footing, and twists to keep his right side toward the giants, raising a blade to fend them off while he tries to shake some life back into his injured left arm.

The ogres and ettins are grouped perfectly for a Glitterdust, but to his frustration there is no opening to cast the spell. Two of the brutes stand near enough to smash him down should he lower his blade and concentrate on his magic. He looks left, then right, but there is no place of respite to cast from.

Growling in frustration, Django retreats back down the steps a short way. The wall looming to his left shields him from the ettin's club, but it also leaves him no angle to aim the spell at it. Instead, he whirls and points at the reptilian monstrosity to the south, sending the storm of glowing motes toward its head instead of the ogres'.


Damn, nowhere to cast, and Django hasn't got the Concentration skill to cast defensively with any reliability.

So he'll take a five-foot step down the stairs. The way I read the map, the altitude difference should then protect him from the ettin, though it also leaves him no line of effect to aim the Glitterdust. So he'll aim the spell at the green reptilian thing instead. (Will save, DC 17).

If he still does have a line of effect on the ettin, he'll center the spell there instead, also catching as many ogres as possible.

In either case, he'll use his Move action to flatten himself across the wall to the west, so that people can pass him on the stairs. (He can't use it to actually move anywhere, since he took a 5' step.)

[CockroachTeaParty]

Cat and Mouse

Realizing the deadly threat of the emergent spawn of Tiamat, Django sends a trusty cloud of shining glitterdust at the green-scaled fiend. However, at the last moment it shields its eyes with its razor-sharp wings, and aside from a covering of revealing dust it does not seem to be impeded. Before Laerallis can bring his magic to bear, the creature swoops down from the roof of the outlying building, deftly landing next to Django. It slashes with one of its wings, cutting the Seldani open from groin to shoulder, before nimbly leaping into the murky water of the lake. Laerallis knees down and channels some of his positive energy, bringing Django back to consciousness, but in a severely weakened state. Aside from a few motes of light glittering beneath the waves, it is almost impossible to tell where exactly the razorfiend is located underwater...
Meanwhile, the battle against the giants on the roof takes a turn for the better. Quin and Aurellion fight as a team, enhanced by Django's speed-enchancing magic and the memory of Trellara's song. Quin cuts the closest ogre down with a slash of his deadly frost sword, and even manages to land his short sword into the ribs of the ettin. Then, Aurellion's terrible spear lances through the two-headed giant's thick hide, sending it crashing to the flagstone floor like a massive, hideous, smelly felled tree. A burst of sticking flame from Durrin lights the remaining two ogres on fire. They look at each other in panic before leaping into the hole in the roof. You can hear the splash of water as the brutes hit the surface of the lake, somewhere in the interior of the half-sunken structure.
Oddly, you find yourselves with no visible foes for a few brief moments. The rain continues to fall, washing away the blood and sweat, but it's only a matter of time before the razorfiend surfaces again, and who knows what awaits inside the ruined hall?

(Django is at 0 hp, staggered and prone. If he delays until after Laerallis, though, he might be able to act normally once healed. I won't post a map just now, since there are no enemies to be seen. Laerallis and Django are on the dock near the southern stairs, and everyone else is on the roof. I believe this is Aurellion's final round of battle frenzy.)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

When the razorfiend emerges the ranger almost decides to break away from the melee, letting Aurellion take care of them while he saw to the monster. He had little doubt in the other elf's capabilities. But he did, however, understand the tactical error. The spearwielding Tel'quessir would probably be badly beaten if he had to kill all the ogres and an ettin himself, and he himself, while maybe able to kill the semidragon would probably not fare any better. No, one foe at a time. With grim satisfaction he sees to the gory task and when the brutes are all dead or fleeing he turns to the next threat. Of course, the monster hadn't been content with waiting it's turn, and poor Django had taken a horrible beating, by the looks of it. But thanks To Lae he would live, and now they could all concentrate on the soon to be emerging razorfiend.

Should the dragon-wannabe wait a round or two:

Deciding to aid the cleric, though, Quin hurries over to the fallen seldani, kneels and says one word: "Anar!" as he touches his friends chest, a brilliant flash of golden light travelling from the belt, through his arms and into Django.


Burning all charges of the Healing Belt:
[roll0]

Should the bastard return to soon:

Quin wanted to help his seldani friend, he really did. But the monster, again emerging from the depths of the lake, forced him to fight instead. All the ranger could do was to hope that Laerallis could help their injured companion while he and the others kept the razorfiend at bay. Without hesitating he drops his blades to the ground, draws his great longbow and takes careful aim at the monstrosity.


Move Action: Retrieve bow.
Standard Action: Fire!
[roll1]
[roll2]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Tiamat vs. Liir

Durrin, hearing the shouts and hearing the roars of the razorfiend, rushes to down the stairs to his companion's side, and not a moment too soon, as the green-scaled monster leaps from the water onto the small bridge connecting the two flooded buildings. At that precise moment, Durrin unleashes a gout of entangling flames. The creature avoids the worst of the fire, and retaliates with its own acidic, corrosive breath weapon. The cloud envelopes Django, Durrin, and Laerallis. The two humans close their eyes and grit their teeth, expecting the familiar burning pain... only to find themselves completely unscathed. Durrin, however, is lacking the protection of Laerallis' spell, and even though he manages to cover most of his body with his wings, he still feels the burn...

(Durrin took 7 acid damage, leaving him at 13/59 hp. Laerallis protective aura is about to expire.)

Map: Round 4, just after the Razorfiend's turn

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR4i.png

[Firebeard]

Seeing the razorfiend, Aurellion feels a deep sense of dread. He is too entangled with disabling the ogres and ettin to deal with it, however, and regretfully ignores the beast in favor of the more pressing a opponents. Once they have fallen to his spear (or run like the cowards they are), however, he turned his attention to the beast.

Moving quickly down the stairs, he jumped the last few steps and engaged the beast from where his companions had just vacated. Spear flashing, he sought to puncture the tender wings, or lands a strike in the joints to keep the thing from flying off again.


Move down the stairs, hopefully to where Laerallis or Django have just moved.


Haste - +1 AC, +1 Reflex saves, +1 to hit, and +1 attack
Whirling Frenzy - last round [+1 attack, -2 to hit, +4 str, +2 dodge to AC and Reflex

attack@fiend: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

attack@fiend: [roll2], PA2
damage: [roll3]

attack@fiend: [roll4], PA2
damage: [roll5]

attack@fiend: [roll6], PA2
damage: [roll7]


If I can charge, use all of the attacks. If not, just the first 2 (1 normal, +1 from frenzy)

At least this way he shouldn't be able to attack anyone else without at least an AoO from Aurellion's spear. (spring attack only works against the opponent attacked). hopefully everyone will get clear and can heal up a bit.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis brings Django back to consciousness with a touch of his hand, and with a great sense of urgency in his voice he says, "Up, Django! Quick! Tiamat's spawn will be back!" Just then, a shallow ripple in the water is shortly followed by the razorfiend's lightning-quick return.

"Go! Move!"

But it is too late; the beast is much to fast, and it's caustic breath is already upon them. Thanks to Lirr's good graces, Django still lives, but Laerallis knows very well that he needs more divine intervention. The priest lays his hand on the Seldani once more as he praises the Lorekeeper, and more of his wounds are knitted shut. Then Lirr's disciple readies his spear as he thanks his Goddess for her protection, and beseeches her to renew it once more.

OOC:Laerallis burns all 3 charges of his Healing Belt for Django (standard action), readies his masterwork spear (move action), and renews Protective Aura (swift action).

Healing goodness for Django: [roll0]

[mucat]

Django: before the Razorfiend acts

For a moment, all is darkness, then Laerallis's channeled positive energy helps lift Django back to consciousness. His clothes are soaked in blood; an inch deeper, and the monstrous reptile's wing would have gutted him like a fish. All internal organs seem to be more or less where they belong, though, so he levers himself painfully to his feet. He backpedals a step or two from the water while trying to sort out his spells, which run through his head now in a chaotic jumble.

So if I'm understanding the initiative order correctly, Django can either take a move action before the Razorfiend closes, or wait until after Lae acts, but end up prone and inside the razorfiend's reach.

He'l go with the undelayed move; being on his feet gives him more options for next round, and he'll still get a chance for a full set of actions before the razorfiend in Round 5. If a staggered character can take a 5-foot step with the move action, then he'll stand an step back from the water; otherwise he'll just stand.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Taking a Stand

The razorfiend is perilously close to the beleagued human duo of Django and Laerallis. Laerallis' magic belt heals up the worst of the Seldani's wounds, but just as the razorfiend turns its hate-filled eyes upon them once more, a well-placed arrow from Quin pierces it in the right leg. Durrin breathes another gout of fire, and Aurellion arrives on the scene as well, his spear at the ready. The nimble monster narrowly dodges the elf's attacks, and with his last surge of effort Aurellion's battle frenzy ends, the toll on his body making itself known with aching muscles and labored breathing.
The rain continues to fall on the glittering, burning scales of the razorfiend; you can see its powerful muscles tensing for another attack...

(Aurellion is now fatigued, and this will be the final round of Haste benefits and Trellara's lingering Inspire Courage. Django is at 15 hp, and it is his turn just before the razrofiend goes...)

Map: Round 5, just after Durrin's turn

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR5i.png

[Firebeard]

In an attempt to draw the beast's focus to him, Aurellion yelled and brandished his spear above his head.

[mucat]

In the face of the towering beast, Django takes a step backwards, whether from fear or for tactical placement. Checking his retreat, he extends a splayed hand toward the reptile, buffeting its hopefully inadequate brain with waves of mental force.

Django will take a 5-foot step away from the razorfiend, then cast Whelm (DC 18 Will save, or take [roll0] nonlethal damage.)

He'll then use his remaining move action to draw, but not drink, a Cure Moderate Wounds potion.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Django quickly steps out of the way, feeling much better after his close brush with death. His mind-numbing magic seems to push through the razorfiend's mental defenses, and the creature hisses in pain.
It then turns its gaze upon Aurellion, lashing out with one of its razor-sharp wings. It lands a nasty blow, the first real wound the elf has suffered in quite some time. The slash is deep, cutting into the vulnerable joint in his shoulder and neck armor. Red blood gushes forth as the fiend then nimbly leaps back into the water, avoiding Aurellion's meager counter attack and disappearing into the murk with a splash.

(A critical hit deals 40 damage to Aurellion, leaving him at 22/62 hp! I haven't posted a map yet, since you are all roughly in the same position and the razorfiend is submerged once more, some 15 ft. away from the dock to the east.)

[Firebeard]

Aurellion feels the frenzy leaving his body and despairs for a moment. He could really have used the combat help the rage brought upon him to fight this creature. His mind otherwise occupied, he missed the razorfiend's slashing attack. Not able to dodge fast enough, he took the blow hard and staggered. He had a moment to feel grateful that the thing had landed that blow on him, and not one of the others, before his knees grew weak and the injury combined with the fatigue that the berzerker rage always brought to stagger him.

He reached down to the new belt he picked up in Brindol and murmured the activation words to heal himself of some of his injuries. Then, he set his spear and prepared for the thing to rise within his spear reach once more.

Healing belt, all 3 charges [roll0]

seriously???????

[mucat]

Django gulps down a potion, then draws another and tosses it to Aurellion. Peering over the edge of the dock, his eyes strain to track the motion of the vast reptilian body moving beneath the surface...


Cure Moderate Wounds potion: [roll0]

He will draw another potion and pass it to Aurellion.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

So if I'm understanding things correctly the monster escapes into the water before Quin can fire another question? If that's wrong, then I'll redo my post later.

Quin is still reaching for a new arrow when the razorfiend disappears beneath the waves of the lake, leaving Aurellion bleeding heavily but still on his feet. The ranger looks worriedly at the speardancer, not sure that their great warrior could stand another hit like that. And the monster had already disappeared beneath the waves, safe from his own retaliations. Grimly he then draws two new arrows, nocking one. It would fall to him to occupy the fiend as the others healed Aurellion up.

Ready a full attack against the razorfiend. Should I roll the attacks in advance? If so, here they are:

[roll0]
[roll1]

[roll2]
[roll3]
All rolls are without any bonuses from songs or spells since I think they'll end before the Razorfiend returns. :smallannoyed:
I think the second roll snapped the bowstring. :smallamused:
I'm going to assume that Quin has spares, btw. I didn't think of it. It's not in the equipment lists. But I really would have bought a couple if I had thought about it and I can't see Quin NOT thinking about it. If CTP wants I'll deduct some silver for it. :smallwink:

[McNerp]

Durrin fights down the pain of his wounds and focuses on the task at hand: surviving this battle. To that end, he readies himself to breathe on the razorfiend, should it come within his range again. From deep in his chest, he feels the subtle shifts in temperature and pressure in his lungs as the magic of dragons that suffuses his body adjusts to his will.

Durrin will ready to breathe a 30-ft line of fire since nothing is in range at the moment.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis reaches a hand to Aurellion as he offers another prayer to the Lorekeeper, then steps out of the way, his spear still readied.

OOC:He casts CLW on Aurellion for 12 HP (roll is in OOC thread), then steps out of harm's way...hopefully.

[CockroachTeaParty]

A Black Day

As the razorfiend slips away once more, you take the time to do what healing you can. Laerallis and Aurellion are able to staunch the worst of the bleeding left behind by the critical strike the monster landed, but Aurellion is unable to shake the ache in his muscles from his own exertion. Trellara lays a hand upon Durrin, whispering another soothing Elven syllable that helps recover some of his health.
Quingendon, however, never lets his eyes off the spot where the Spawn of Tiamat entered the water, his bow drawn taught... When suddenly, he hears the beating of leathery wings behind him. He turns around just in time to see a black shape swoop out of the hole in the ruined building's roof, making a wide turn. As it passes through the rain, he can make out the form of multiple black dragons, clustered together in a tight knot, weaving in and out of each other in a confusing manner. Riding on the dragon's back, leering down at him with hatred in his eyes, is a goblin holding a shortbow. With practiced precision, the goblin fires three red-fletched arrows in quick succession. The goblin is a crack shot, even while mounted and firing in the rain: Quin is hit twice, and the arrows are placed with deadly accuracy. To make matters worse, while the arrows are small, they feel as if they are hitting with the force of a mule's kick, and the arrows flash with a baleful red energy for the briefest moment. Quin is barely left standing, reeling from the deadly attack. The dragon bears its rider out over the lake. The voice of the goblin can be heard shrieking over the rain:
"Hahaha! Feel the wrath of the Kulkor Zhul!"

(Updated initiative order in the OOC. Durrin is healed to 22/59, and Aurellion is healed to 41/62 hp. Quin is reduced to 5/35 hp after the arrow barrage.)

Map: Just after the Dragon's Turn
http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR6i.png

[mucat]

Django reels as the rush of air from the soaring dragon nearly sweeps him off the dock. Along with its illusory companions and the deadly little sniper that rides it, the beast wheels out over the lake. The protective field from Laerallis's spell is still palpable, a tingling film on his skin, but he doubts it will be proof against dragon's breath...and the cluster of already badly wounded people by the stairs will offer the dragon all the opportunity it needs to end the fight in a devastating gout of acid.

"Spread out!" he shouts, and takes off at a sprint toward the north end of the dock, where the boat still bobs invisibly. He leaps over two dead ogres, and his wounds flare with pain both times as his boots hit the dock again. Just before reaching the still-invisible canoe, he stops and wheels toward the dragon, arm outstretched and shouting a spell. The familiar brilliant tempest of golden motes swirls around the dragon, its rider, and their many illusory doubles. Django channels all the energy he has left into the spell, hoping to sear the eyes of the flying pair before they can look away.

Move Action: move 30 feet north, ending up near the northern stairway and the parked canoe.

Standard Action: cast Glitterdust (Will Save DC 17) on the dragon and rider.

I believe this leaves him with 4 first-level spells, 0 second, 0 third.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Django sends his last cloud of magical glittering dust at the dragon and its rider, coating them both, and the illusions as well, in the sparkling motes. It's difficult to tell whether they have been blinded, but judging by the scream of frustration from the goblin, and the distressed hiss of the dragon, they have both just lost the ability to see.
However, there is little time to celebrate this before the greenspawn razorfiend explodes once more out of the water. Durrin and Quingendon both manage to attack the creature as it emerges, but the arrow and the flames do little to deter it as it lands next to Aurellion once more, batting aside his spear. Again, the monster's viciously keen razor-tipped wings lash out with blinding speed, nearly severing the elf's right arm at the shoulder with a deep, penetrating slash. Then, just as quickly, the beast leaps once more into the water; Aurellion is too injured to do anything about it, but Durrin manages to take an opportunistic swipe with his dagger, leaving a small cut on the greenscaled fiend's tail.

(No significant changes to the map at the moment; Django has moved north. Aurellion took another critical hit for 37 damage, leaving him at 4/62 hp! I'll need actions from Laerallis, Quin, and Aurellion next.)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

The arrows of the goblinoid mounted on the black dragon makes the ranger stagger. By the Dark Moon, that hurt. Grimacing against the pain he steadies himself and looks about the battlefield.
What he sees makes Quin swear under his breath, looking from the area where the razorfiend disappeared to the blackdragon and back. This was bad. Really, really bad. They were badly outmatched now and both him and Aurellion were badly injured.
Hesitating between rushing to the speardancers aid, using the Belt of Healing they had bought in Brindol, or using the magic on himself and take down the razorfiend hard the ranger finally decides on the latter. There were other people, with better gear and abilities, that could help Aurellion in ways he couldn't but if they were to stand a chance against the dragon they needed to take the lesser dragon out quickly. Gritting his teeth he mutters one word: "Anar", and looks around for some cover against the magical arrows of the dragonrider.

[roll0]
Quin will then speed off as quick as he's able to Aurrie. I'll let the DM decide how close that is. He won't be able to use the Healing belt anyway.

Quin will actually activate the Healing Belt (roll in OOC).
If there's a spot where he's in cover from the dragonrider while still able to fire on the Razorfiend he'll move there as his move action. Otherwise he'll stay where he is.
If it's allowed he'll fire an arrow on the fiend as it returns. I guess it's just as well if CTP rolls it though.

[Toxic Avenger]

If there ever was an ideal time to use the last of the Staff of Life's magic, it would most definitely be right now. Laerallis almost brought it out moments ago, but the second hideous blow inflicted on the speardancer dispelled the priest's remaining indecision. Lirr's disciple takes the staff from his pack, and touches it to Aurellion's shoulder just as he speaks the command word for the last time. The elf's wounds heal completely just as the magic in the staff goes inert.

OOC:Laerallis readies the Staff of Life (move) and uses it it cast Heal on Aurellion (standard). I think he'll stay where he is for now.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Brief Respite

The power of the potent staff restores Aurellion to perfect health; he is no longer winded, and his flesh has knitted back together seamlessly. Quingendon then activates his healing belt, and Trellara rushes next to him and channels some of her own healing magic to her trusted friend as well. The bite from the arrow wounds is now but a throbbing, unpleasant memory.
As Durrin and Aurellion prepare themselves for the razorfiend's inevitable return, the black dragon lets out a shrieking roar of rage before plummeting into the water below, taking its rider with it. The pair disappears beneath the murky water; it would seem Django has bought you precious time.

(I'm going to assume Durrin and Aurellion ready actions to attack the razorfiend when next it surfaces; if Django would like to post another action, he's welcome to. Otherwise, I'll post the razorfiend's actions, update the map, and continue this debacle. Quin is healed to 29/35 hp, and Aurellion is of course at full health, and no longer fatigued.)

A Favorable Exchange

Aurellion levels his spear, refreshed, and calm as still water. His muscles tense, and soon enough, the murky water parts in the wake of the rampaging razorfiend once more. It's bloody wings, fanged maw, and lashing tail all streak toward Aurellion, but the elf merely thrusts his spear straight and true. The tip of the weapon pierces clean through the monster's lower jaw, bursting from the back of its skull. The harrowblade slumps to the wet dock lifeless, its muscles twitching a few times before it slides back into the water, leaving a trail of slick ichor.
No sign of the black dragon or its rider, at least for the moment...

(There are currently no enemies to be seen. I'd like to know what your characters do; we can leave initiative order for the moment, but I'm still going to be keeping track of the passage of time stringently at the moment.)

[Firebeard]

"Quick, into the buildings. Let's not give the dragon and its rider the initiative." So saying, Aurellion led the others into the ruins of the shattered building. His spear was held ready to engage the ogres that had fled from the rooftop a moment before.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

After giving Trellara a quick, congratulatory hug Quin heads into the building, taking up a watch over the area where the dragon disappeared. The bard had done well in the battle. And he was glad that she had stayed unharmed. And he was also grateful for her healing. The nasty arrows were only a painful memory thanks to the belt he carried and her magics. Well, mostly only a memory, while he waits the ranger takes up one of his lesser healing potions and swallows its contents, then he nocks an arrow and scans the water, letting the others plan.

Quin will drink a potion of Cure Light Wounds and then ready a full attack (if that is possible, I can't remember right now). He'll shoot at the rider first.

[roll0]

[mucat]

Django allows himself a brief grin as the frustrated dragon vanishes into the lake. The blindness would not last long, but with luck, it would be enough to turn what had looked like certain defeat into...uncertain defeat. The best kind of defeat, really.

Before that line of thought can get any more incoherent, Django turns and races up the rain-slick northern stairway, marshaling what faint tendrils of magic remain to him for the fight against the razorspawn. He clears the stairs and emerges onto the rooftop just in time to see the slashing horror collapse in a writhing mass, pithed by Aurellion's spear. So that's good too.

A half-forgotten potion vial remains in his left hand, and with every immediate threat gone, he takes a moment to gulp it down, then scans the crowd by the southern stairway. All five of his friends are alive, and thanks to Laerallis, relatively healthy. "Get under cover," he shouts in agreement with Aurellion. "If they want a fight, make them come to us!"


Move action to climb the stairs and survey the siotuation from the roof, another Move action to drink the Cure Moderate Wounds potion he drew earlier but never drank.

Cure Moderate Wounds: [roll0]

EDIT: I think this leaves him at 26/31 HP, with 4 first-level spells remaining.

[McNerp]

Durrin draws his wand of healing magic, knowing full well it is feeble at short term healing. Holding the tip to Aurellion's gaping wounds, he intones what he thinks are the syllables needed to activate it.

UMD wand of lesser vigor on Aurellion: [roll0]. Durrin will attempt to activate the wand as many times as he can, targeting the most injured first. I'll post a couple more rolls, hopefully he'll have time to use em.
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis nods in agreement as he heads toward the tower opening, but he stops next to Durrin before going inside. He produces a scroll from his backpack as he says, "You were out of range before, Durrin. We need to get you some acid protection." He opens and reads the scroll, bringing divine protective magic to bear upon the dragonborn.

OOC:1st round of recovery: Laerallis moves next to Durrin as he brings out his Scroll of Resist Energy (move), and he casts Resist Energy (Acid) on Durrin (standard).

Knowing there may not be much time for the party to recover, Laerallis mentally reviews his best options. After a brief moment of consideration, he attempts to conjure an image in his mind of the shortbow that he saw in the goblin's hands. When he think he has it, he speaks a prayer to Lirr, in an attempt to get a bearing on the shortbow's position.

OOC:2nd round of recovery: It's probably a long shot, but Laerallis will cast Locate Object (standard action), and try to locate the goblin's shortbow. If he doesn't think he had a good enough look, he will use the spell to try and locate the nearest small-sized shortbow. Hopefully no one else nearby has one.

His next actions depend largely on the seeming success or failure of the Locate Object spell.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Finding yourselves in a brief break from the battle, you take some time to do more healing and consolidate your position on the ruins. You've fought hard to control the roof of this ruined structure; it's hard to believe that only a minute or so has passed since you first ambushed the giants. The rain continues to fall, and there is no sign of the dragon...
Trellara smiles at Quingendon, her breathing labored from the exertion and excitement. "I'm afraid I'm out of magic for now. I've still got my wand, though, and my voice."

Aurellion is the first to reach the top of the stairwell leading deeper into the building. As he begins his descent, peering into the gloom, he sees something that takes him completely by surprise: a male elf, clad in the traditional leather and hide garb of the Tiri Kitor. He has black hair, but his green eyes have a dead, glassy look to them. His movements are awkward, almost mechanical, as if he is sleepwalking, or not in full control of his body. He clutches a scroll in his hand, and at the sight of Aurellion, the elf unfurls it and speaks a few nonsensical words before gesturing strangely. Aurellion feels baleful tendrils of hostile magic try to worm their way into his mind, but he grits his teeth and manages to fight off the spell. Then, without a second glance, the strange elf moves around the corner out of sight, to be replaced by an ogre. The ogre seems less injured then when last you saw him; he must have had access to healing magic after his retreat. Luckily, the close quarters are awkward for the large creature to fight in, and his club gets stuck halfway up the stairs, allowing Aurellion to easily dodge the blow. The second ogre is currently out of sight, but no doubt nearby and ready to fight once more...

(New initiative order in the OOC)

Map: Top of Round 9

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR9.png

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

Trellara's smile makes it impossible for him not to smile back, and the usually stern ranger's face softens slightly by it. Deciding to take his chances he quickly reaches for her face with his right hand, his fingertips only touching her cheek softly for a second. "You've done well so far, Trel. And if you're out of spells just keep back and hold their spirits up. We've all learned well the benefits of having a bard amongst us." He hoped that she'd get to meet the last of their party. But if that was to happen they needed to survive the day and that meant taking up strong positions against the dragon. With one last smile to the bard Quin hurries after Aurellion.

When he catches up with the speardancer Aurellion is already engaging the ogre and the ranger comes to a dead stop. Naturally. A black dragon isn't near enough, is it? They have to encounter these lesser enemies all the time too just to make it interesting. With an angry grimace Quin moves to a position to fire, draws an arrow, nocks it and draws and looses in one fluid moment. He really wants to put this threat down quick and hard so that they can concentrate on the wyrm.

And that's all I have time to write right now. IRL issues to work out this evening. I'll post a battle post later (it's not exactly my turn anyway). If I get hold up Quin will either shoot arrows at the ogre or (if that's not possible, but he has Precise Shot at least) move into melee. I think I'll have time to post tomorrow anyway. :smallwink:

Move action: move to a position to fire (right behind Aurellion, mayhaps?) and fire. Preferably he'll place himself within 30' but not in a direct path for the ogre.
Standard action: Shoot one arrow (will roll OOC).

If that doesn't work Quin will instead move into melee (and I'll edit the post accordingly), since Aurrie fights with reach they can work in tandem to take the ogre down but Quin is more of a ranged attacker. :smallwink:

[Firebeard]

"Be aware! There is an elven spellcaster down here." There was no time to speculate on the elf's odd complexion and behavior. Aurellion dodged the blow that the ogre leveled at him, and sent a couple back in return. Apparently, he had led the others into a warren of enemies. If they were to have any chance of surviving this, he could not afford to make mistakes.


greatspear@ogre: [roll0], PA2
damage: [roll1]

greatspear@ogre: [roll2], PA2
damage: [roll3]

[mucat]

"On our side, or theirs?" shouts back Django.

He circles to the top of the second stairwell, north of Aurellion's, but does not immediately descend. With his magic almost spent, he would simply be in the way of more competent fighters. Instead, he takes up a position where he can both see down the stairs and keep watch on the lake surface where the dragon vanished.

Django will move to a spot just off the top of the second staircase, and try to see what's happening below. If he sees anything important, he'll relay it to the others.

Specifically, if he realizes that the elven spellcaster appears to be magically compelled, then he'll ask Trellara to use the Dispel Magic scroll she's carrying (or to toss him the scroll if she's out of position to use it herself.)

Unless he sees something below that calls for immediate action on his part, he'll use his second move action to draw a Cure Light Wounds potion.

[Toxic Avenger]

Feeling the protective warmth of his Goddess' Goodness fade once again, Laerallis asks Lirr to renew it once more. He hears Aurellion's warning of a possible new enemy, but before he reacts to the speardancer's words, he continues with his previous plan of action: He attempts to conjure an image of the goblin's shortbow in his mind. When he think he has it, he speaks a prayer to the Lorekeeper, in a desperate attempt to get a bearing on the shortbow's position...and hopefully with it, the location of the dragon and its rider.

Finally, he reacts to the new development - he runs around to stand near enough to Quin and Aurellion to offer them protection, while still staying clear of the stairs.

OOC:After using another turn attempt to renew the Protective Aura (swift action) for four more rounds, Laerallis will go on with his risky plan to cast Locate Object (standard action) in order to locate the goblin's shortbow. If he doesn't think he had a good enough look, he will use the spell to try and locate the nearest small-sized shortbow. Hopefully no one else nearby has one.

Then he will move to the square just northeast of where Aurellion is on the latest map (I don't think he has moved since then).

[Firebeard]

"Theirs, most definitely. He threw some kind of mental attack spell at me."

[CockroachTeaParty]

At the Threshold of the Sunken Hall

The newly-healed ogre is no match for Aurellion at full strength; with practiced ease, the spear-dancer's weapon of choice reduces the brute to a bleeding pile of smelly flesh and hide at the base of the rain-slick stairs.
Everyone else moves into position, ready to attack any new targets... which do not present themselves. They must be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs...

Before Laerallis makes his way to the roof, he beseeches Liir for aid. In a spark of divine inspiration, he senses the direction of the nearest small-sized shortbow within range of his spell: to the east, north just slightly, and downwards a ways, suggesting the dragon and its rider are still beneath the water, and within some 600 feet of his current position.

Map: Top of Round 10

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR10.png
The blue square is where Quin left his swords.

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

After the ogre has been dispatched and there is again a brief respite a thought occurs to the ranger. The swords! In the heat of battle he had dropped them to quickly work his bow. But with all that had happened he had forgotten to retrieve them! Cursing himself quietly for his own stupidity Quin hurries back up, taking two steps in each stride. Keeping an eye out he goes to get his blades.

[Toxic Avenger]

After praying for a temporary burst of speed from the Lorekeeper, Laerallis hurries to Aurellion. "Mental attack? You'll need this, then." The priest lays a hand on the speardancer's back as he prays to Lirr, asking her to keep Aurellion protected from the Evil enslaving magic that lurks nearby. After laying the ward on the elf, Laerallis moves to where his own aura will offer the most protection, and then he attempts to get another reading on the shortbow's location.

OOC:Laerallis activates Travel Devotion and moves next to Aurellion, wherever he has gone (swift action), casts Protection from Evil on him (standard action), and then moves to wherever he can give maximum coverage with his Protective Aura (move action). Also, he continues to monitor the location of the nearest small-sized shortbow (4 minute duration).

[Firebeard]

Aurellion points to his eyes, then down into the hole where the spellcaster had disappeared. He motions for all them to prepare to go downward, waiting for the ranger to join him before he descends.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Ready for the Plunge

Django, in a moment of thoughtfulness, sees Quin's twin swords laying on the ground, and picks them up before delivering them to the elven ranger.
It would seem magical trickery is afoot, so Laerallis wisely decides to invest extra protection in Aurellion. Trellara takes out a scroll capable of dissipating magical effects, before beginning to sing another stirring Elvish battle ballad. Her voice fills you all with confidence and purpose.

Everyone is in position, weapons at the ready; no sign of activity from the enemies within. Laerallis senses that the goblin's weapon of choice is still in the same general direction, within range of the spell; they must still be underwater. It's probably safe to assume that they won't be back to attack you until Django's magic has worn off, but it's useful to have a little extra information regardless.

(No big changes to the map; everyone is at the top of the stairs, ready to rock and or roll for the upcoming new round)

[Calenestel]

Quingendon

With a thankful, and slightly abashed, smile to Django the ranger sheathes his swords. The seldani didn't seem to think much of it. Noone did, except for him. Telling himself that he was being silly he shrugs off the self inlflicted humiliation and returns to the front. There was more important things to worry about. Much more important things. Like enemis inside and a hostile dragon outside. Nocking a new arrow he joins up with Aurellion, waiting for him to move out.

[Toxic Avenger]

"Let's do it, then. It won't be long until they return." Laerallis says as he gestures toward the submerged dragon and its goblin rider. After offering more praise to the Lorekeeper and asking for a mere taste of Her vast knowledge, Lirr's Disciple follows the others down the stairs, deciding to go down the north stairway after Durrin and Django.

OOC:Laerallis finally throws down Lore of the Gods (standard action) before heading down the north stairway after the others (move action). If he needs more than 30 feet of movement to find an advantageous position on the lower floor, he'll use his swift action in order to do so.

[mucat]

"Let's get under cover and make that dragon work for his dinner." His spirit bolstered by Trellara's song, Django runs down the north stairway, his blade drawn and a last-ditch spell or two ready in his mind.


Move action: Descend the stairs and move into the room below.

If he finds no immediate threat , he'll take a second Move action to drink the potion of Cure Light Wounds he drew a couple rounds back: [roll0] healing.
EDIT: This will put him at full health.

If there is something dangerous there, then he won't drink the potion; I'll give his action after seeing what it is...

[CockroachTeaParty]

Inside the Ruins

You all proceed down the stairs. Aurellion leads the way, and as soon as he is at the base of the stairs an ogre's club swings straight at his head. At the last second, an invisible barrier deflects the blow; saved by the grace of Liir, indeed. Aurellion moves to retaliate, but the close quarters cause the long shaft of his spear to clack against a stone wall, foiling his thrust. Quin moves up behind Aurellion, ducking into an open doorway, but the ogre swings another powerful opportunistic blow, crushing Quin in the ribs; the elf remains standing, and manages to lodge an arrow into the brute's shoulder in retaliation.
Durrin is next down, and he fills the dim-lit landing with brilliant flames. The ogre has apparently been healed considerably, however, and the giant remains standing, though clearly in bad shape.
Trellara moves down the stairs, singing her inspiring song. She notices a shape lurking behind the ogre, in the room with the caved-in roof: the strange elf, now cloaked in a strange illusory blurring effect that makes it difficult to determine his exact location. The bard has barely a moment to point this out before the ogre's club slams into her, ending her song and filling the room with the sound of pounding rain and silence. Trellara crumples to the floor, motionless. Suddenly, a piercing shriek fills the ruined walls of the sunken hall as an eagle flies around a corner and rakes at Durrin with sharp claws. The dragonborn's scales absorb the worst of the attack, and combined with the healing spell slowly knitting his flesh together, the wound goes all but ignored.
Laerallis and Django are the last to descend the stairs, finding a scene of chaos and confusion. The strange, blurry elf looks at Django with dead, cold, strangely disturbing eyes, and he feels tendrils of hostile thought enter his mind... but Django's will is as slippery as an eel, and breaks free of the baleful influence with ease.
Laerallis can still sense the direction of a small shortbow, still roughly in the same place. The dragon must still be underwater... however, as the knowledge of Liir fills his mind, he realizes that poor Trellara is in dire straights indeed...

(Quin is at 15/35 hp. Trellara is down! Oh dear! You have 5 more rounds to benefit from the memory of her Inspire Courage, however.)

Really confusing Map: Round 13:

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/RhestHallR13.png
Everyone is inside, now. The blue lines are walls within the structure.

[mucat]

(Second half of round 12, after Django moves down the stairs):

Before reaching the base of the stairs, Django hears Trellara's voice cut off with a sickening crunch. He takes the remaining steps three at a time, and nearly crashes headlong into the flabby bulk of an ogre at the base of the staircase. The giant is too distracted to flatten him immediately, but that is the only good news he sees. Trellara is crumpled motionless on the floor on the far side of the ogre, and the elf in the doorway alongside her looks decidedly unfriendly.

That impression is confirmed when the elf's spell makes a futile bid for control of Django's mind. Come to think of it, the elf himself has the look of one unnaturally compelled. Making the most of the ogre's distraction, the Seldani answers the elf's mind-bending spell with one of his own.

As the spell goes off, Django shouts to the hollow-eyed mage in Elven: <Help the girl!> Perhaps the reminder that one of his own people is in need will help him break free of whatever evil compels him...and if so, he might be able to aid Trellara before the ogre catches on.

In the second half of Round 12, Django will cast Charm Person (Will save, DC 18) at the elf, hoping to break the elf's will free of whatever is controlling him.

(Assuming the elf really is being compelled by the bad guys, might we get a circumstance bonus for trying to "Charm" him back to his original state of mind, and/or for the fact that letting Trellara die would be against his nature?)

Also, Django never got a chance to drink his Cure Light wounds potion, so he's still at 26/31 HP, with 3 first-level spells remaining. Perhaps more importantly, the potion is still in his hand, if he can reach Trellara with it next round.


OOC: I'll post a Round 13 action after Aurellion has moved, since Django's next move depends both on whether the ogre is alive or dead, and on whether the elf is still hostile.