CTP's Red Hand of Doom

[CockroachTeaParty]

A CockroachTeaParty Production…

Red Hand of Doom

Chapter I: The Witchwood

It is late summer in the western reaches of the Elsir Vale. The day is muggy and hot, and the sun beats down on a haze of brown dust that envelopes the road upon which you travel. The Dawn Way is an old road, hailing back to the ancient kingdom of Rhestilor, and even before that era, when a clan of dwarves originally laid the stones and cleared the paths; though their name is lost to time, some folks still call the Dawn Way the Dwarf Road.
A motley caravan of relative strangers find themselves along this ancient causeway. Two wagons bring up the rear of the group, owned by the nomadic artists, artisans, and somewhat notorious petty criminals that make up the predominantly human people known as the Seldani. Perhaps even more exotic than these colorful travelers, however, is the presence of a being that for all the world appears to be a humanoid dragon, complete with a pair of leathery wings. Apparently a fabled Dragonborn of Bahamut, there is no questioning this creature's devotion to the cause of good, but nevertheless it is an unusual sight, to be sure. At the front of this group travels a pair of elves, one with ties to the Tiri Kitor tribe far to the north in the quagmire of Rhest, whilst another hails from an even more distant elven nation. Both are formidable-looking warriors, and they scan the road ahead with their keen elven eyes for signs of danger.
For these are not safe times in Elsir Vale. With every passing week, reports of increased hobgoblin activity reach the ears of all the settlements within the usually peaceful valley. Especially to the west, near the borders of the ill-favored Witchwood, the hobgoblin tribes have grown more aggressive and organized. Each of the travelers in this caravan has a need to go west, each for their own reasons, and one by one they came across each other while on the road. For mutual protection, the group decided to stay together, for there is safety in numbers.
The day has been long, and evening is swiftly approaching. You pass by an old farmhouse, on the edge of a small shaded grove. Beams of sunlight illuminate the clouds of dancing dust between the thick canopy of the ancient forest that flanks the road. However, the town of Drellin's Ferry should not be more than a few more hours travel away. You are all looking forward to a cool drink, a hot meal, and a soft bed for the night, when suddenly, the elven ranger, named Quingendon, holds out a hand, and shouts out a warning, pointing out danger ahead:
As the trail passes into a small defile, on either side of the road, lurking in the woods, can be seen a group of humanoids clad in chainmail. Their faces are broad and flat, with keen orange eyes, brightly colored noses, and dusky skin. Hobgoblins! Each of them has an arrow knocked to a longbow, and they train their aim upon you! However, you have enough forewarning to take action in the split-seconds before the first volley is fired...

(Welcome to the game! Initiative will be posted in the OoC thread)

Map: Top of Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/AmbushR1-1.png
>-------> N

The gravelly stuff on the side of the road is a steep slope that counts as difficult terrain.
The hobgoblins have cover and concealment in their current positions in the woods.

[Calenestel]

After alerting his newfound companions to the presence of the ambuscade Quingendon sets something down on the ground, after a few silent words, and slips into the forested roadside, taking to the same vegetation that hides the lurking hobgoblins. He prefers to strike from the shadows and part of him takes great joy in the irony of turning the enemy's tactic against him. Silently, with a grim smile on his lips, the elf moves towards the closest hobgoblin.
The only trace left on the road is a snake, purely golden in hue, quickly slithering back to the wagons.

Heading for Hobbo number six (the square below and to the right of it). I don't know of how near I can get (depends on how heavy the undergrowth is) and if I can hide while doing it. But here's a score of relevant rolls. Priority:

Get into the forest.
Sneak (if possible) upon hobbo 6, drawing swords as he goes.
Attack.

[roll0]
[roll1] (Deducted 5 for moving at more than half but less than full speed)
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

A two on my Hide check? Darn. Glad I took that Elven Cloak. :smallamused:

Animal Companion (named Laurëlócë ) keeps to the caravan, prepared to defend weaker leglings.

[AtS]

Unslinging his lute from his back, Lem stands up in the wagon he'd been riding on. With a jaunty twang from his trusty lute, and a flash of magic from his hands, he begins singing a call to battle for his comrades.

With clash of blades and flash of steel,
spread carnage through this battlefield.
My friends, strike hard and win this fight,
for there'll be rum at the inn tonight!

I doubt anything that Django does will change my actions, so I'm going to post now, since I'm probably going to be busy the rest of the day.

Begins playing Inspire Courage, while activating Inspirational Boost as a swift action.
(+3 to attacks and damage)

EDIT: Also, I suppose I should note that I'm planning on activating the Badge of Courage as an immediate action the first chance I get, which would make the above +3 to attacks and damage grow to +4.

[mucat]

Slower to spot the archers in the woods than the keen-eyed elves, the Seldani man riding near the front of the caravan nonetheless reacts quickly to the ranger's warning. "Cover!" he calls sharply over his shoulder, though further back in the caravan, children and their parents are already scrambling for the shelter of the wagons.

"Hyaa!" he shouts, and spurs his horse forward into the ravine, perhaps hoping to draw fire away from the civilians who have not yet found cover. His eyes scan the woods for threats, and he spots two of the humanoid archers in the vegetation on the right-hand ridge. Pulling his mount up short, Django chants a few quick syllables in a tone that is nearly a song, then points toward a spot between the two attackers. Glowing golden motes stream from his hand, then erupt into a blizzard of light that swirls around the two hobgoblins, settling on their skin and dazzling their eyes.

OOC EDIT: Striking out most of the above paragraph, because the horse ceased cooperating at the "Hyaa!" part.

Django will ride forward along the road as a move action, ending up between archers #2 and #5 (or however far a horse's move action will take him.)

He'll then cast Glitterdust, centered directly between #4 and #5; the spell's 10-foot radius should be barely enough to catch both of them. Will save 17 to avoid blindness.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis might have spotted the ambush himself had he been paying attention; however, the Lirran priest was looking off at the magnificent array of colors cast over sky by the setting sun, wishing that the ride were smooth enough for him to capture it on canvas. However, the warning from Quingendon jolts him from his reverie. With a mere thought, Laerallis summons his loaded crossbow into his waiting hands.

After a quick glance toward the hobgoblins in the trees, Laerallis decides that it may be worthwhile to scan the rest of the caravan's surroundings with his eldritch sight before choosing a target. After deciding on which one to shoot, he speaks a short prayer to his goddess as he swiftly moves into a more favorable better shooting position, takes aim, and then squeezes the trigger...

OOC:Active Invocations: See the Unseen

Laerallis readies his crossbow (a free action thanks to Least Weapon Crystal of Return), takes a quick look about to see if anyone else is hanging around (move action), and then picks the most convenient target to receive his greetings. If he sees anyone else besides the ones in the trees, then he might activate his Travel Devotion power also (swift action) depending on where they are.

EDIT: Eh, what the hell...he'll activate it anyway, as he'll probably want to move to get a clearer shot.

Spot Check: [roll0]

Attack with Crossbow: [roll1] (Yay for Knowledge Devotion (+3) and Inspire Courage (+4)!)

Damage, if applicable: [roll2]

[McNerp]

Flexing his wings, Durrin rushes towards the front of the caravan, hoping to sear any hobgoblins that might threaten his allies. "Flee, beasts, if you want to live!" he shouts.


Active invocations: Endure Exposure on all party members/mounts/NPCs.

Slipping between the wagons, move as close to hobbos as possible. Draw dagger while moving. Ready an action to breathe an entangling line of fire if any enemy gets within 30ft.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Marauder Attack

Quick to spot the lurking danger, and quick to seize the initiative, Quingendon creeps through the underbrush to the closest hobgoblin archer. However, despite his stealthy skill, the cover afforded his target by the tree he hides behind causes the elf's longsword to hit wood instead of flesh. His target turns to glare at him, snarling a fierce challenge.
The sound of steel striking wood, combined with the general tension in the air, and... something else, something unseen, causes Django's mount to skitter and buck. It takes all of the Seldani man's concentration just to keep the poor beast from tossing him to the ground, and he wastes precious seconds trying to placate his horse, to no avail...
His trusty lute in hand, Lem first utters a quick incantation to increase the potency of his song, before beginning a stirring musical performance. A badge at his throat reflects the sunlight, seeming to make his music echo and bounce off the trees, filling his allies' hearts with courage and hope, and his enemy's ears with a certain amount of confusion.
Recalling his excellent knowledge of hobgoblin anatomy, and spurred on by the bard's song, Laerallis levels the sights of his crossbow at a nearby hobgoblin on the left side of the road. He squeezes the trigger, and the quarrel sinks deep into the creature's shoulder, punching through chainmail and causing the hobgoblin to howl with pain. His knees buckle, and he is barely left standing.
Durrin moves up along the caravan, ready to unleash his draconic might on any approaching threats, his magic dagger in hand.
The hobgoblin Laerallis shot drops his bow, and unslings the shield from his back, his breathing labored, his pupils dilated. The hobgoblin nearest Quingendon does the same, but also draws a brutal-looking longsword as well, and readies himself for melee combat.
One of the hobgoblins further along the road blows a whistle, and a volley of arrows flies out of the woods. Two of the projectiles impact the road, hitting nothing, but two arrows fly true, striking the mounted elf Aurellion. One grazes his shoulder, but the second arrow sinks deep into the flesh of his left thigh, causing horrid, biting pain. Still seeing the elf up and in fighting condition, the hobgoblin with the whistle blows two more shrill blasts...

(Waiting on Aurellion's action, then updating the map. The map above is largely unchanged, save that Quingendon and Durrin moved, and hobgoblin #3 is staggered; Aurellion is at 21/49 hp)

[Firebeard]

The biting pain deep in his left leg tells Aurellion that the arrow did a lot more damage than it should have. Gritting his teeth, he slid from his horse Diyonid, pulling his greatspear from it's holder at the back of the saddle. With a feral gleam in his eye, he moves quickly towards the hobgoblin on the left, intent on its destruction.


Dismount and move to 1 square away from Hobgob 3, drawing the greatspear as I go.

[mucat]

No great horseman, Django wrestles desperately with the reins of his panicked mount. His efforts only frighten the creature further, and he decides to cut his losses before the damned pitching beast throws him. He throws himself to the left and half-leaps, half falls from the saddle. An instant later he pitches headlong to the dusty road and rolls clear of the traitorous beast's hooves, then rises to one knee.

By now, he figures, the hobgoblins ought to be too convulsed with laughter to shoot anyone...


(OOC/EDIT: Deleting the rest of Django's actions, both because I posted his round-2 move too soon, and because I want to read CTP's answer to a squestion about spell areas over in the OOC thread...but I didn't want to delete the post entirely for continuity reasons, and I figured falling off the horse is a pretty inevitable use of Django's Round 2 move action...)

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Battle Rages On

Aurellion dismounts and closes the distance with his staggered target.
Suddenly, the door to the nearby farmhouse slams open, revealing two new enemies: A well-muscled hobgoblin clad in studded leather, wielding a short sword in each hand, and a rust-red hound with a slavering black tongue and eyes that burn like glowing chunks of coal. The hound approaches Django and his mount, only serving to spook the beast further. The hobgoblin runs up to Aurellion, parrying an opportunistic spear thrust in an impressive display of martial skill. The hobgoblin grins wickedly. "Good! I was hoping this would be a challenge! Let us dance, elf!"
Emerging from hiding near the caravan, a second hound bounds up to the front wagon. Durrin turns around, unleashing a lance of golden flame, but the beast ignores the blast completely. Then, the hound unleashes a gout of flame of its own. Lem and Laerallis duck under the lip of the wagon just in time to avoid the worst of the flames, though they are still singed.
Laerallis notices a third creature exit the farmhouse: a hobgoblin clad in banded mail, with a shield strapped to his left arm and a mace at his belt. He clutches a scroll of parchment in one hand. Nobody else notices him, suggesting that he is under the cover of an invisibility spell; no match for Laerallis' eldritch talents.

(Lem and Laerallis take 3 fire damage. A DC 14 Knowledge [the planes] check identifies the canines as hell hounds.)

Map: Round 2

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/AmbushR2.png
The two-swords guy is the black circle outlined in red. The hell hounds are marked I and II. The invisible guy is the white circle.

[Calenestel]

His first attack might have been useless. But it was a hurried routine anyway, hardly worth the effort really. Now, bolstered by his newfound ally's stirring song and much more in balance the elf smiles wickedly and weaves his swords in a vicious pattern. He fights grimly and in deadly silence, prefering to unnerve his foe like that instead of screaming like a drunk dwarf.

Meanwhile Laurëlócë holds back, waiting to strike with an eye on the monstrous dogs.

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Animal companion delays to wait for the either hellhound to sustain some real damage before attacking (or until he is needed elsewhere).

[Calenestel]

Critical confirmation rolls for the Mainhand attack:

[roll0]
[roll1]

[AtS]

Deciding that putting on a personal show for a Hellhound isn't the smartest course of action, Lem rolls backward from his foe, hopping out of the wagon with an acrobatic flourish. Somehow, he continues his song unfettered. Then, with a strange, bridgelike change in the music, he furiously begins a solo on his lute (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Up5qSOBF9Z8), and arcane energy swirls from his swiftly moving hands and envelops the hobgoblin that is assaulting Aurellion.


Tumbling to get away from the hellhound, landing on the square directly below Laerallis. Then, casting Hold Person on the dual swords hobbo, using Melodic Casting to activate the Doss Lute's SLA. (If I don't have line of effect/sight from here, then I move southward with the rest of my move action until I do.) And of course, continuing to sing all the while.

Tumble Check: [roll0]
If this fails, I'm still doing the exact same thing, just eating an AoO along the way. *crosses fingers*

Goddamn, I hate that you can't preview threads that you rolled in!

[Toxic Avenger]

The thousands of hours spent reading obscure tomes and listening to the tales of drunken adventurers pays off yet again for Laerallis, as he instantly recognizes the horrifyingly hellish hounds. To whomever cares to hear, in general - and to Durrin, in particular - the normally quiet and contemplative young man calls out loudly as he ducks to avoid the flames. "Hellhounds! Use ice, not fire!"

Laerallis reloads his crossbow as quickly as he can manage, and then peeks over the lip of the wagon as soon as the flames have dissipated. He spots the scroll-bearing hobgoblin, and quickly deduces that no one else sees him. In the tongue of the Seldani, he yells in Django's direction. "One by the door there! Invisible! May be a priest!"

Laerallis hops out of the wagon and moves toward the hellhound harrassing Django, stopping just out of it's reach. While pretending to aim his crossbow at the beast, he is actually watching the hobgoblin through the corner of his eye, awaiting its next move. If it even begins to make movements to cast a spell, he turns and fires...


OOC:
Laerallis reloads his crossbow (move action), and then moves 25 feet to the left on the map (a swift action, thanks to Travel Devotion), putting him 10 feet down from the hellhound, and 35 feet (if I'm figuring right) away from Aurellion. Once there, he readies an standard action (to shoot at the invisible hobgoblin as soon as it begins casting).

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Also: Once his turn is done (and an immediate action becomes available again), if anyone who is within reach gets more hurt laid upon them, and in a big way (Aurellion, I'm looking at you), Laerallis will cast Close Wounds.

[McNerp]

As the hellhound ignores the blast of righteous flame, Durrin curses under his breath. He moves closer to the beast and calls upon the icy breath of the silver dragon, spewing forth another gout of energy from his scaly maw. The ice wraps around the foul creature instead of fading away instantly, burdening its movements.

Move to put hellhound II in range of 15ft cone and use entangling breath. (DC 19 ref half)

Breath:[roll0]
Entangle duration:[roll1]

[mucat]

Django rolls away from his panicked mount on the side opposite the snarling hell hound. The action places him in the midst of several more frighten horses, perhaps not the wisest of moves; at this rate, he'll be stomped to death by the caravan's own horses before the attackers have a chance to touch him.

But for now, a different concern has his full attention: another of the damned dogs is snapping at defenders further back in the caravan, dangerously near the flammable carts where the Seldani civilians have taken cover. Django speaks a single harsh syllable and opens his palm toward the creature, sending a shock wave shimmering through the air until it breaks over the hell hound.


Move action to dismount. (Failed the ride check to do it as a free action; the roll is in the OOC thread.)

Five-foot step further away from Hellhound I.

Cast Whelm (PH2) at Hellhound II: Will save (DC 17, including bonus for Spell Focus) or take 3d6 nonlethal damage.

Damage if applicable: [roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Carnage Continues

Quingendon's sword flashes like lightning, cutting his foe's head clean off. The hobgoblin's lifeless body crumples to the forest floor, but the elf ranger is already moving on to his next target.
Half-falling, half-dismounting from his frightened mount, Django manages to put some terrified horseflesh between himself and the otherworldly hound. Seeing the second hell hound near the caravan, he pushes a blow of magical energy at the creature's mind. The hound winces, shaking its head in pain and confusion as it suddenly feels more tired.
Just barely avoiding the snapping jaws of the angry hound, Lem somersaults off the wagon, strumming his magic lute and directing the musical magic at the boastful hobgoblin with the two swords. Suddenly, the hobgoblin stands rigid, unable to move. His eyes glance from side to side in terror, for he is at the mercy of Aurellion...
Laerallis quickly reloads, and thanks to the blessings of his patron, quickly jumps off the side of the cart, playing a ruse to put the invisible hobgoblin off guard...
Moving closer to the hell hound, Durrin unleashes a bluish-white cone of crystalline frost. The bitter cold sticks to the creature, causing icicles and rimes of frost to coat its rust-red fur. The cold seems to cause particular pain and distress to the fire-based monster, and it shivers with weakness as its movements and defenses are hampered.
The hobgoblin Laerallis shot moments before struggles through his pain, removing a small glass vial from a belt pouch, and keeping a wary eye on the spear-wielding elf next to him. Quingendon's new target repeats the actions of his recently slain ally, dropping his bow and preparing himself for close combat. The remaining archers fire a volley, and Laerallis takes an arrow in his abdomen, but he manages to fight through the pain.
Unseen by all but Laerallis, the armored, invisible hobgoblin moves away from the farmhouse, lifting an amulet of some kind from his throat. He begins to say something, but just then a crossbow bolt punches through his left greave, causing him to choke on his words. The hobgoblin looks angrily at Laerallis, and shouts something in a language none but Lem can understand.
The horses turn around and flee up the road a ways, getting the civilians out of harm's way at least for a few more moments. Quingendon's snake companion takes the opportunity to slither up to the frost-bitten hell hound, delivering a lightning-quick bite on the creature's flank. Too overwhelmed with pain, the monster collapses in the dust, unconscious.

What Lem heard:

"That one! Over there with the crossbow! He sees me! Bring him down!"


(Laerallis took 8 damage, bringing him to 24/35 hp if I'm not mistaken. I'll update the map after Firebeard posts. The hobgoblin blade bearer is paralyzed, making him vulnerable to a finishing move...)

[Firebeard]

Does Aurellion get an Attack of Opportunity at the one that pulled a vial out? Drinking a potion should provoke, but I couldn't tell what action the hobbo was taking. If so, here's the rolls

AoO: [roll0]
damage: [roll1]


Aurellion spun to the side to face the blade-wielder. His first strike was parried to the side by the hobgoblin's blades, followed by an arrogant statement from this goblinkin who did not know that he was already dead. "A challenge? You have no idea, goblinkin. I am Aurellion, of the Three Spears, and you and your band of cutthroats shall learn why the Spears are feared by evil creatures throughout the lands!"

A burst of power flashed past Aurellion, striking the blade wielder and causing it to shudder. A glimpse of movement out of the corner of his his eye caused Aurellion to flick his spear out in a blow to deter any actions the other hobgoblin might make. Then, the spear raked back around, covering his movement past the blade bearer, haft spinning to forestall any return strikes. The elf noticed that the hobgoblin made no move to follow his motions. Ah, all the easier, then. Then, the blade flashed out again and lanced at the apparent leader with all the speed and force Aurellion could muster.



5' step back from the hobbo to get the spear in position, deliver a coup de grace

damage: [roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Aurellion's spear impales the helpless hobgoblin, stabbing right through his heart. Blood foams at the hobgoblin's lips as he awkwardly collapses to the ground, his limbs still rigid as he dies without a sound.
Although one of the hounds is dying in magical frost, the other hound turns on Laerallis, biting his leg savagely. The wound is only made more painful by hellish fire, and the bite mark smolders with sulfurous fumes. Laerallis remains standing, though his wounds are starting to take a toll on him...

(Laerallis is at 16/35 hp)

Map: Round 3

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/AmbushR3.png

[Calenestel]

Smiling wickedly, triumphantly the greenclad elf rushes past the hobgoblin even as he falls to the forest floor, the blackness of death already enveloping him. His thundercloud grey eyes promising death as he bears down upon his next foe. During these circumstances he prefers to fight in close quarters and this shows why: this is the second foe that must drop his bow and scramble for his melee weapon. In terrible silence Quingendon bears down upon his next enemy, swords flashing.

Same procedure as last time.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

Tongue flashing in a manner not unlike his masters smile the long, golden snake raises it's head over the fallen canine and looks for new enemies to attack. He prefers weakened foes to healthy and dangerous ones, wanting to keep himself in one peace and inside his scales.

The snake will use the same tactic as before. Unless the caster is visible now, then he'll probably slither over towards it.

[Calenestel]

Critical confirmation rolls for the Mainhand attack :smallbiggrin::

[roll0]
[roll1]

[mucat]

From the snarls and guttural screams that emerge from the woods to the right of the road, Django judges that the elven woodsman has the hobgoblins there well occupied. So he dodges around his still-skittering horse and crosses the road, making for the edge of the woods on the left.

He is still debating whether to spy out the invisible leader, or head into the woods and try to blind some archers, when he spots the second hellhound harrying Laerallis. Dropping his other plans for a moment, he turns and unleashes another wave of mental energy at the fiendish canine.


Move action: move 30 feet west, to the southeast corner of the western tree zone.

Standard Action: Cast Whelm at the surviving Hellhound. As before DC-17 Will save or take 3d6 nonlethal damage.

Damage, if applicable: [roll0]

[AtS]

Realizing Laerallis's peril, Lem shouts out to his comrades, ceasing singing, but continuing the melody on his lute. "Their leader is invisible, like what Laerallis said," he yells. "He wants them to take Laerallis out! Protect him!" With that, Lem completely changes the tone of his music. Rather than continue the frantic tune he had been playing before, he instead offers a song of prayer up to the gods, to any that might hear his echoing voice - and his pleas are answered, miraculously. Divine energy streaks from the heavens and surrounds Laerallis with a protective shealth of light. "Praise be, and glory on the highest..." Lem says begrudgingly. While not normally a religious man, he understands the benefit that opportunistic piety can offer in a time of need - such as right now.

OOC:
Lem stops playing Inspire Courage, and instead grants Laerallis with Hymn of Fortification - it's the same thing as Protection from Evil.

Remaining Inspire Courage rounds: 5

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis whispers a quick prayer to the Lorekeeper, upon which divine power flows through his wounds, lessening the pain somewhat. Then he feels even more divine power wash over him as he hears Lem's music change.

Doing his best to ignore the pain that still remains, Laerallis steps away from the hellhound and loads another bolt into his crossbow. Figuring that he won't be able to fool the invisible hobgoblin twice, he levels his sights on him as he calls out to the others, his voice strained from the pain...

"He's right over here! Watch for my disappearing bolt trick!"

And with that, Laerallis fires.


OOC:Laerallis casts Close Wounds as an immediate/swift action, healing 8 points of damage (roll in OOC thread). Then he takes a diagonal five foot step down and to the right, reloads his crossbow (move action), and fires on Mr. Sneaky Man (standard action).

[roll0]
[roll1]

However, if Laerallis is hurting in a really big way, then he'll use his Healing Belt instead for his standard action.


HP: 24/3235 (after casting Close Wounds)
AC: 16 (18 versus ranged), or 18 (20 vs. ranged) after Lem's song begins.

[McNerp]

Durrin ever so briefly savors his victory over the hell hound before turning his attention to the other, determined to keep it from harassing his allies. He opens his mouth wide, and out pours a cone of pale orange gas. As the gas washes over the hell hound, its movements slow down perceptibly.

Move towards the conscious hell hound and use Slow Breath cone. DC 19 fort save reduces slow duration to 1 round from 2.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Victory In Sight...

Again, with almost casual efficiency, Quingendon's knowledge of hobgoblin anatomy, combined with the inspirational boost of Lem's song and his own martial skill, guts his chosen target with a single stroke of his red-stained sword. He leaves his foe dying in the dirt as he closes with the last hobgoblin on the right side of the road.
Django moves to the cover of the trees, casting the same spell on the second hell hound. His mental assault punishes the hellish hound's mental faculties, and the monster lets out a whelp of pain.
Lem changes his tune, instilling extra protection in Laerallis, who seems to be drawing more than his fair share of the fire. The lingering memory of the previous song hangs in the air, still making his allies' blood pump with thoughts of victory and triumph.
Laerallis backs away from his infernal assailant, firing another deadly-accurate shot at the invisible hobgoblin. It punches through his right pauldron, causing blood to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. Somehow, he is still standing.
Durrin moves up to the remaining hell hound and envelopes it in a cone of magical gas. As the creature breathes the fumes, its movements seem to slow, as if it is in another time stream. To the hound, the world seems to move faster for a few seconds...
The first hobgoblin Laerallis shot tries to put the vial to his lips, but Aurellion takes the opportunity to impale him to a tree. As the elf wrenches his spear free, the hobgoblin falls to the ground dead, his lifeblood pooling around him. Quingendon's newest target readies himself for close combat, though he cannot hide the glint of fear in his eyes, after having seen the fate of his comrades. The elf is like a lightning bolt cutting through the woods...
The remaining two archers diligently obey their last order, firing another volley at Laerallis. One of the arrows gets lost in the canopy, but a lucky shot grazes Laerallis' cheek. If it were not for the added protection of Lem's song, it could have been a deadly head-shot.
Laerallis can see the invisible hobgoblin move into the cover of the woods. He mutters some guttural words and places his free hand on his chest, and suddenly the blood stops accumulating at his mouth, and he seems to move with renewed vigor.

(Laerallis took 2 damage; waiting on Aurellion before the map update)

[Firebeard]

Exalting in the swirl of battle, Aurellion spun, looking for any evidence of the invisible caster that Laerallis was speaking of. Unfortunately, the sounds of battle and the orc's distraction with the vial kept him from seeing anything of use. He did see, and hear, the hobgoblin archers firing at Laerallis and saw the hellhound, woozy but still standing. Making up his mind, he leaped forward, spear spinning in a complex routine as he attacked with abandon.


If I can charge the hellhound, I will, else I will move to within 10' of it and attack.

attack: [roll0] + 2 if charging, PA 4
damage: [roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Aurellion bursts out of the woods, plunging his spear deep into the hell hound's flank. Already burned by Django's magic, the creature falls unconscious, unable to handle the pain.
With the hell hound threat neutralized, all that remains are three more hobgoblins, and one invisible leader...

Map: Round 4

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/AmbushR4.png

[Calenestel]

Moving on, a fierce light in his eyes and a smile on his face the elf suddenly breaks his silence. Not for any battlecries or shouts. No. As he bears down upon the next unfortunate hobgoblin the elf starts humming! He even sings in a low voice as he stabs at the wretch with the beautifully crafted shortsword, a slow, soothing elven song reminiscent of a lullaby. He seem to relish this moment of battle, of perfect balance as he dances from foe to foe.

Yes, Quin is getting cocky. Can you blame him? :smallbiggrin:

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Calenestel]

Oh, this is rich. Critical on the offhand now? :smallbiggrin:

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Toxic Avenger]

As the hobgoblin priest moves again and heals himself, Laerallis points directly at him. "He's there now! Maybe ten feet from Django!" Calling upon the blessings of his goddess once again, he speeds directly toward the farmhouse, hoping that his new location will make the archers' task more difficult. After a few strides, he stops to reload his crossbow, and then fires yet again at the invisible hobgoblin, once he has an open shot.

OOC:Laerallis moves straight to the left 30 feet (swift action), reloads his crossbow (move action), and fires again (standard action).

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]


HP: 22/35
(See the Unseen)
(Protection from Evil)

[mucat]

Between Laerallis's help and the crashing in the nearby underbrush, Django manages to get a decent idea of the invisible hobgoblin's position. He flings a hand in that direction, chanting a few hurried words of magic, and a storm of golden dustmotes whirls through the nearby woods, coating bushes, tree trunks, and one luckless humanoid with a bright film of radiance.

The enemy revealed, Django makes his way into the vegetation, golden flecks adhering to his own legs and boots as he circles for position.

Between Laerallis and the fact that the hobgoblin is moving through vegetation only a few strides away from him, I'm assuming Django can localize the creature within the 10' required for Glitterdust. If a skill check of some sort is necessary for that, say the word and I'll roll it in the OOC thread (and edit this post as needed).

It the area of effect catches the hobgoblin, Glitterdust should effectively negate his Invisibility, and also require a DC-17 Will save to avoid blindness.

He will then take a move action to move adjacent to the hobgoblin, first circling as far north as he can to aid in flanking. (I don't know how much the vegetation slows down peoples' moves.)

[AtS]

Realizing that the team is quickly closing in for the kill, Lem again weaves arcane energy into his music. This time, silvery mist flows from his lute, settling on the ground beneath the now-visible hobgoblin, where it quickly solidifies into slick, slippery oil.

Melodic Casting of Grease on the caster hobgoblin, placed so that Django isn't affected. If Lem needs to move closer to cast the spell, then he does so.

Remaining Inspire Courage rounds: 4

[McNerp]

As the hellhound drops to the ground, Durrin sighs with relief. "Glad it didn't get a chance to take another bite out of you, Laerallis," he jokes, sensing victory.

Durrin punctuates his words with a golden tongue of flame aimed at the glowing outline of the hobgoblin.

Standard flame breath line on the not-so-invisible hobbo.
Edit: Derp. Forgot to roll damage. Rolling it in OoC.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Victory!

In the woods, elf and hobgoblin battle it out, sword to sword. The hobgoblin blocks Quingendon's longsword with his shield, but the elf takes the opportunity to stab his short sword into his opponent's ribs. The hobgoblin manages to stay on his feet, though he clearly won't last much longer.
Sensing the presence of the invisible foe, Django unleashes a cloud of glowing golden dust. It coats the branches, leaves, and invisible form of the heavily-armored hobgoblin. Howling in rage, the now-visible foe stumbles about blindly, his vision impaired by the conjured brilliance of the particles.
Lem casts a spell as he sings, causing a sheet of grease to materialize under the glittering goblin's feet. Miraculously, he stumbles onto a tree trunk, keeping his balance somehow. However, a well-placed crossbow bolt from Laerallis, combined with the flames of Durrin's breathe weapon, drop the glowing goblinoid to the ground, a smoking, sparkling ruin.
At the sight of their invisible commander going down, the hobgoblins in the woods retreat. One of them blasts a shrill series of whistles, and immediately they fall back into the northern woods. Further down the road, another small unit of hobgoblins can be seen retreating in the same direction, obeying the order to fall back with clean military precision.

As the dust settles, the woods are littered with the bodies of fallen hobgoblins. The Seldani slowly bring up the caravan, civilian faces peeking out of shuttered windows or from beneath tarps, relieved to see the danger has passed. The horses likewise calm down.

Briefly assessing the situation, you realize you have two potential prisoners on your hands: an unconscious hell hound, and a dying, greasy, somewhat-invisible hobgoblin in heavy armor.

(Victory is yours! You have 42 seconds to stabilize the dying cleric, or else he'll bleed out.)

[mucat]

Django steps back and regards the smouldering, bleeding hobgoblin spellcaster with caution for a moment or two. Convinced that the creature's sorry state is no trick, he kicks its weapons away, then drops to one knee alongside it. "Still breathing," he reports after a brief examination. "I can't promise for how long, though. If we want him alive to answer questions, he's your patient, Laerallis."

"And thanks for the directions," the Seldani adds as he rises to his feet. "You pinpointed him perfectly."

Leaving the prisoner to more skilled healers than himself, Django makes his way back toward the wagons. He pauses for a moment alongside his slowly recovering horse. "Traitorous bastard," he grins, though the tone is kinder than the words, and he rubs the animal on the neck to calm it. He continues walking, then, until he reaches the wagons where the shaken civilians are just emerging from cover.

Soon the children are laughing again as Django regales them with the tale of the fight, though in his version, the hobgoblins who Quingendon duelled in the woods were at least nine feet tall, and the hell hounds the size of small ponies. Awed, they seem to believe every word, despite the clearly dog-sized hell hound lying in plain sight near the wagons.

Django keeps an eye on the woods as he spins his tale, scanning for further trouble, and after a while he breaks off the tale to walk back and see whether the enemy leader pulled through. Meeting the bard on the way, he grins sheepishly and confesses, "I, um, might have implied to the kids back there that you were writing a song about the fight, Lem."

[AtS]

Lem winks back at Django. "Oh, I'm sure I can get more than a song or two out of today's 'festivities'," he says. "You can bet I'll have a couple ready by the time we reach Drellin's Ferry."

The bard rubs his hands together eagerly. "That was quite the rush, wasn't it, guys?" he calls out to the rest of the party. "We should, like, think about making this our career or something!" Lem laughs at his own joke as he makes his way toward the "abandoned" farmhouse. Intrigued by the structure, and the possibility of the treasure it might contain, he peeks his head inside and takes a swift look around.

[Firebeard]

Chest heaving with exertion, Aurellion spins to try and locate the invisible creature, only to see it crashing to the ground in a haze of golden dust. The other ambushers were fleeing and Aurellion had to reign in his swirling emotions to avoid pursuit.

Seeing the hobgoblin priest lying on the ground, he stalked over, spear gripped in a threatening manner and waited to see if the others were going to spare it, or talk to it. Either way was fine with Aurellion. The elf had seen too many of his kindred cut down by goblinkin to worry about the death of this one. And if the others decided to talk to it...well, he had seen how the obvious threat of a gory weapon could be motivation for a prisoner to talk.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Inside the farmhouse, Lem finds a sobering scene. The hobgoblins had apparently converted the shack to a temporary campsite: dirty bedrolls and old cooking fires litter the floor. More disturbing, however, are the slowly rotting bodies of five humans. One appears to be a local farmer; the others appear to be a merchant and her guards. A few of the bodies are filled with arrows, while others sport gashes and other sword wounds. Victims of the marauders, possibly within the last few hours; a day or two, tops.

After picking through the belongings of the fallen hobgoblins, you amass a small pile of assorted gear, some of which might be potentially valuable.

(Loot in the OoC thread)

[AtS]

Revolted by the sight in the farmhouse, Lem quickly backs out from the door. Putting his hand to his mouth, he tries his best to hold back the bile in his throat - to no avail.

After wiping the puke from the corners of his mouth, Lem weakly stands up from kneeling. "We... we ought to do something for... them. We should... bury them. Or something." He's visibly shaken by the scene.

[mucat]

As Lem staggers out of the farmhouse, Django's expression turns dark. He can more or less guess what the bard found, but he enters the house anyway to be sure, then emerges a bit shakily, his face several shades paler than when he went in.

"Damn," is his only comment at first, as he collects his thoughts. Then he turns to Lem and says grimly, "You're right; we should stay and bury those people. But we can't." He turns and gazes down the road, where the more distant humanoid squad had vanished, then looks back at the Seldani noncombatants who are tentatively moving away from the cover of their wagons. "Lem, the hobgoblins know where we are and which way we're headed, and we have no idea of their numbers. Our first priority is to get everyone to Drellin's Ferry safely. As it is, we'll be on the road after nightfall, and those damned things can see in the dark. We can't afford to lose any more time."

[McNerp]

Durrin suppresses his anger as he takes in the macabre scene in the farmhouse. He stares for a moment, and, noticing his ally's discomfort, says, "Aye, Lem. That we shall. I'll fetch something to dig with. Perhaps you could ease their passage into the next life with a somber melody?"

As he walks towards the caravan, Durrin's anger flares again. He allows a tiny lick of flame escape his jaws, imagining the fiery retribution he would visit upon the murderers of the innocent. Hearing Django's words to Lem, Durrin speaks. "Django, I shall bury them. You and the others take the caravan to safety. I will catch up to you in town tonight.

Shovel in hand, he sets about the grim work of gravedigging in silence.

[Calenestel]

For the first time in the battle Quin raises his voice. After chasing the hobgoblin a little he stops and, smiling wide, he yells in the beasts own tongue: "That's right, little goblin! Run! Run or die!" Contententing himself with scaring the wretch off since noone else seem to want to give chase the ranger then returns to the rest of the group. Smiling cheerfully he wipes his blades on the clothes of the hobgoblin wielding two swords and returns them to their sheathes. "That was invigorating. Even if the third one got away. What have we here?"

Taking in the atmosphere, though, the elf quickly sobers up, looking around. "You found something, didn't you?"

[mucat]

Django considers Durrin's words carefully, his expression carefully neutral. When the dragonborn has laid out his thoughts, Django nods. "Everyone who travels with a Seldani caravan does so freely by their own choice," he says, "so if you feel you have to stay here, you'll do it with my blessings and my thanks for everything you've already done for us."

He pauses, then continues, "But we've got children and old people to protect, so hear me out first. If you'll travel with the caravan tonight and help get everyone to town safely, we'll ride back here at dawn and do what we can for the people in the house. We'll bring some townsfolk with us; there must be someone there who knows who lived here, who will want to help honor them."

He turns his hands over, opening his palms as though to show he has no hold over the warrior's decision. "Either way, I thank you again for fighting for my people. I just wanted to lay out all the options before you decide." He looks back toward the wagons, where a very pregnant young woman is helping to calm the skittish horses, while a nervous-looking young man hovers by her side as though unseen enemies might carry her off at any moment. "And to manipulate you shamelessly through guilt, of course," Django admits levelly to Durrin. "Did I mention that Isabel and Stefano's baby is due in two weeks?"

[McNerp]

"Your words are wise indeed, Django. I apologize, for my grief clouded my judgement. The living always take precedence over the dead." The dragonborn inclines his silver head to the Seldani man, and smiles deprecatingly at his own rashness. "Let us press on."

[Toxic Avenger]

After firing his fourth shot of the day, Laerallis rubs the bite on his leg as he calls back in response to Durrin's comment. "Yes, that makes two of us, because that bite burns like..." He groans inwardly at his choice of words. "...like hell..." He trails off with a sigh, and rushes over to see that the archers are fleeing.

After considering the odds of capturing either of the two fleeing archers, he decides to see to the hobgoblin's wounds instead, groaning softly due to his own wounds as he kneels down to get to work. "Sure, I can keep him alive for now, Django. If someone could get some rope to secure him, that would be good..."

Laerallis opts for stabilising the hobgoblin wounds using mundane methods, not wanting to risk rousing him with a spell of healing. After bandaging the worst of the wounds, he checks to make sure the bandages are working, and then takes a look at the hobgoblin's holy symbol.

[AtS]

Eager to get away from the macabre mockery within farmhouse, Lem quickly volunteers to get Laerallis some rope. Climbing up into the nearest wagon, he unknots a coarse rope from tying down some boxes. With a word of apology to the slightly miffed man helming the wagon, he then returns to Laerallis, rope in hand.

He stops when he sees Laerallis examining the hobgoblin's holy symbol. "Is that...?" he inquires of the cleric.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis examines the symbol for several long moments, seemingly unsure of what he is looking at...but after digging deeper into his mind, he recalls seeing this particular symbol before, or at least something similar. Answering Lem's question, he says, "Yes...I think this is the mark of Tiamat. Odd...I didn't think I'd ever find a hobgoblin serving as one of her priests. She's a dragon goddess, one of conquest and destruction, I believe."

Laerallis glances over in the direction of the fleeing archers. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

[Calenestel]

"Corellon protect us." A godess of conquest leading the goblins? That explained much, really. All too much, actually. His face a little more pale than usual the ranger looks with dark eyes on the captured cleric, his hand going for the hilt of his enchanted sword.
Still, he thinks better of it. Not that the hobgoblin would deserve their mercy, not at all, but he had a feeling some of his companions would want to question the brutish priest. To take himself away from the temptation Quingendon walks away with a disgusted snarl, almost a clearing of his throat, and heads for the farmhouse turned base of operations.


Inside he quickly searches the place, looking for clues of the attackers. Clues further than a symbol of Tiamat. The sight of the slain humans, while unsettling, deterrs him little. He had seen dead round-ears before. He had even killed humans when needed. These probably deserved more respect than the orcminded scum who tried to defile the Tiri Kitor. But they had already agreed that this wasn't the time.

[roll0]
Heh. Haste makes for waste, eh? :smallwink:

After returning, closing the door carefully behind himself, with nothing to show for it, Quin's eyes land upon the still living hellhound. Well, that is surely an enemy that won't talk. Calmly he draws his longsword, walks up to the beast and strikes to make an end to the beast.

[mucat]

"Nothing to apologize for," Django tells Durrin. "I meant it: we owe you a serious debt of gratitude for what you've already done today." He smiles and claps the dragonborn on the shoulder. "Still, I am damned glad that you'll be with us the rest of the way. Thank you for that, too."

Django makes sure the farmhouse's doors and windows are closed securely against scavengers, then returns to the others in time to hear Laerallis's discovery. "Tiamat?" he repeats with trepidation. Automatically, his eyes move from the five-headed trinket to the sky overhead. No vengeful dragons hang in the sky, but he is reminded once again that the sun is ominously near the horizon.

"All the more reason I'll be glad to see Drellin's Ferry," he says fervently. "Let's secure that prisoner and hit the road."

[Firebeard]

Aureliion held his vigil over the unconscious hobgoblin for a few minutes, waiting to hear what the others decided. Once it was clear that they intended to spare him for questioning later he said "Fine. But strip him off all belongings first. I want no chance that he will awake and harm someone else. If it it questioning you want him for, I intend to make sure that he does not escape the fate he deserves."

That said, Aurellion turned to make sure the other ambushers were taken care of, only to find that his brother elf was already taking care of that particular task.

With a chirrup-tweeet, he called Diyonid to him and made ready the horse to accept the hobgoblin prisoner. The military tack and saddle had the perfect arrangement of straps and fasteners to hold an unconscious man upright in the saddle, and Diyonid would not take direction from anyone but himself.

Once the others had the cleric stabilized, Aurellion would tie him into the saddle and immobilize the prisoner's arms by tying the elbows to the buckle on the cantle. A painful, but survivable way to travel.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Riding Into Town

Prisoner and loot in tow, you pack up and continue your journey. In the eldritch light of dusk, after a few more hours of travel, you can see Drellin's Ferry ahead of you: a small town, built on either side of a broad, sluggish river. Pillars of old stone jut out of the water, marking where an ancient bridge once stood. Now, a pair of thick ropes crosses the water, connected to a pair of large, flat-bottomed ferry boats, presumably from which the town gets its name.
As you approach, a small picket of human guardsmen halt your progress. Armed with spears, three of them are clad in leather, whilst another, clad in mail, steps out and calls out a challenge in the near-dark.
"Halt, and state your business, strangers."

[Firebeard]

Leading the warhorse with the hobgoblin prisoner on it, Aurellion spoke up. "We are a caravan bound for Drellin's Ferry, travelling together to avoid the dangers of the road. Such as the ambush led by this piece of filth and another that was left in the dirt a ways back, along with some hellhounds and other hobgoblins. A few of them ran off after we felled the leaders." Saying this, Aurellion untied the straps holding the hobgoblin cleric to the saddle and roughly pushed the creature from Diyonid's saddle to fall hard on the road.

"There was a small farmstead with a barn near the road, where the forest encroached upon the road and steep slopes led from road to forest. The family that lived there was murdered, as was at least one other party traveling the road, we believe. If you know the place, and have men to spare, it would be good to go back in force and lay those good people to rest. Be wary though, for, as I said, some of the hobgoblins got away to spread the tale to their friends."

"We would have stayed and done what we could for the victims, but we were required to escort these people to safety. There is a pregnant woman whose birthing time is near and we felt that the duty to the living took precedence."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The man in the chainmail hauberk nods as he looks at the unconscious hobgoblin prisoner in disgust.
"Aye, you're all free to pass. You're lucky you got through such an ambush unscathed. The hobgoblins have been gettin' more bold with each passing day. We normally don't post no pickets here... s'why we're here, truth be told. I'll ask cap'n Soranna if she can spare any guards to help those poor folk you found. I'm not surprised, really."
He scratches at his brown stubble, and points to a larger two story building in the center of town.
"If you're looking for a place to stay, the Old Bridge Inn's got lodgings and food at fair prices. Welcome to Drellin's Ferry, strangers."
As everyone starts to file by, he takes Aurellion aside.
"What do you plan on doing with that hobgoblin you captured? If you need a cell, we can hold him at the Old Toll House."

[Firebeard]

"A safe guard would be welcome. I think my companions felt that some information could be gleaned from the creature, though to tell the truth I'd rather have just killed him and been done with it. Goblinkin lie, cheat, despoil, and destroy. It's what they do. Any information gleaned from this one is bound to be suspect, if not outright false."

Aurellion shrugged as he indicated the bound prisoner. "Fair warning, friend. This one's a cleric and was invisible most of the battle. If not for our mage, he likely would have gotten away. As you hold him for justice, be prepared for his tricks."

[Calenestel]

When they finally reach the town Quingendon relaxes, and not a moment before. With a slightly relieved smile he puts the nocked arrow back in the quiver and unstrings the shining, black longbow. His first visit of a human dwelling leaves him torn, however, and he stops as soon as they're inside the gates to look at the town without seeming to gawk. It was fascinating, intriguing and slightly disgusting. Wrinkling his nose at the smells, several of which he wouldn't have to endure even in the swamp, the elf hurries after his newfound friends.

[McNerp]

Once inside the village, Durrin makes toward the inn at a leisurely pace, savoring the sights and sounds of the quaint village. Many of the villagers he passes stop and stare at his wings and scales, but he merely smiles back. He knows all too well how strange he must appear to these village folk, and he also knows these to be generally good people, honest and hardworking. As he walks, he silently reaffirms his oath to Bahamut to protect these people, and any others similarly unable to protect themselves, from any who would seek to do them harm. I must uncover why the goblinoids have increased their aggression and put an end to the threat.

[mucat]

Django gives a grateful nod to the ragtag guard contingent as the prisoner is handed over. "Thanks for taking him off out hands," he says. "We'd like a few words with him tomorrow, if that's not a problem, but I doubt the innkeeper would have wanted the extra uninvited guest. Watch out for tricks when he wakes up, though -- as Aurellion says, he's a spellcaster, and he seems to fancy himself a shrewd one."

"Speaking of tomorrow," he adds, pulling his horse out of the main flow as the caravan begins rolling again, "I hope you'll wait till morning to send anyone back to the farmhouse. I don't need to tell you how dangerous the road will be in the dark. If you do wait, a few of us will be glad to ride out with you and help honor the folk who died there. We wished we could stay and do more for them tonight, but..." Instead of finishing the sentence, he simply indicates the rapidly darkening sky and the train of road-weary civilians. "First things first."

[CockroachTeaParty]

You leave the picket behind and arrive at the Old Bridge Inn. It is a stout, two story structure, the ground floor constructed of stone masonry, with the upper story made of wood. An ample stable is attached to one side, although it looks like most of the caravan will have to lock down for the night on their own. The poor stable boys are overwhelmed with Seldani horses and wagons, but they do the best they can.
You realize after a moment that many of the stable boys are actually adult halflings. Indeed, there seem to be many halflings going in and out of the inn, and as you step inside you are greeted by the proprietor, one Kellin Shadowbanks, a middle-aged halfling man with a pronounced widow's peak and clean-shaven face. His eyes sparkle with intelligence and wit.
"Welcome to the Old Bridge, friends. Please, make yourselves at home; we've got the cooks busy as we speak. Grilled chicken, fresh biscuits, butter, bacon, peas, corn off the cob, shepherd's pie with mutton... we could even grill up some salmon fresh out the river, if you like. There's plenty of rooms to go around; we don't take up as much space as you big folk, you'll find. Oy! Melvin! Bring up a fresh barrel of the cherry stout! Grab a bottle of the good gnomish brandy, while you're at it! Welcome, welcome, please, do take a load off, looks like you've had a hard days' travel..."
The inn itself is a cheery place. A fire crackles merrily in the common room, which is surrounded by ample tables and booths. A well-stocked bar can be seen in the corner, where some locals are already half in their cups. A small group of villagers play cards at one table, laughing and bickering and exchanging small sums of coin. It would seem the inn is staffed almost completely by halflings.

[McNerp]

Durrin quickly pays for a room and spends the evening there, meditating and beseeching the Platinum Dragon's favor.

[AtS]

Lem, eager to forget about today's gruesome discovery, jumps at the chance to make merry. He begins playing a catchy, popular tune, hoping to instill a little cheeriness in the atmosphere. It's not long before he's up on a table, dancing and playing his lute, and just generally acting like a buffoon.

Perform check, just for funzies. Lem won't take any of these people's money - it seems that the general altruism of the party is getting through to him. :smallbiggrin:

Scratch that, this roll was so good, I think I'm going to try to get the Seldani noncombatants a free night at the inn, by using Songbird to boost a diplomacy check with the innkeeper.

Perform Check
[roll0]

[AtS]

Lem's animated performance fills the inn with laughter and merriment. Soon, he's got a marching parade of giggling Seldani children following behind him as he sings the tale of a drunken commoner, who is mistakenly crowned king of a distant land. Clapping their hands or tapping their feet in time with the music, the servants are obviously impressed with the bard's skill in musicmaking, and they all go about preparing the rooms for the caravan just a tiny bit quicker - they hardly notice their work, for Lem's playful attitude pervades the inn.

Or, rather, pervades the town of Drellin's Ferry, for the inn can scarcely hold such audacious excitement- Lem's jolly parade of children, halflings, and Seldani bursts forth into the street, no doubt disrupting the more dilligent denizens of Drellin's Ferry from their slumber. Angry fists are shaken from windows, at first, but even the most livid curmudgeon cannot resist the sweet tone of Lem's voice, and the entire town is soon enraptured with the performance.

Lem leads the marching children around the town square, where he ends the song with an unceremonious backflip into the town fountain, matching the end of his tale, when the commoner king is flung from the walls into the castle moat. Sopping wet, Lem hefts himself out of the water, and walks back into the inn, beaming the entire time. With a flick of his hand, the fountain water flings off of his lute, the droplets dissolving into a fine mist, and the instrument is as good as new. Before he enters the inn, Lem stops at the door and shakes his golden mane, much as a dog would, flinging water everywhere, to the delight (or dismay) of the children surrounding him.

"Tah - dah!" he exclaims as he bursts back into the inn. "Now that was exciting," he says, with a wave to his comrades.

Lem steps slyly up to the counter. He seems to be glowing, perhaps with some sort of residual musical charisma left over from his stunning performance. "Now, about the arrangements..." he begins, looking the halfling innkeeper straight in the eye, "I understand that you've a business to keep - and I highly respect you for that! However, as you can see, our caravan is quite large, and while we adventurers," he says, motioning to the rest of the party, "can easily foot our own bills, some of us in the Seldani aren't quite as fortunate or wealthy. Or, we might have a baby coming soon," he adds, with a quick wink in Isabel's direction. "Perhaps some sort of deal could be worked out for a reduction in rates for the civilians we've got travelling with us?" Lem crosses his fingers, hiding his hand in his sleeve so no one can notice.

Quite a bit of actions happening here... for a roleplaying bit, but hey, I ran with it.

First, mending on his lute to make sure it doesn't warp or get damaged from his fountain dive.

Then, he casts songbird on his way back into the inn. That's a plus 1 to his next charisma check.

Then, a Diplomacy check on the innkeeper to see if the NPCs can stay for free or cheaper... but wait! He's going to activate his Loresong ability, for a free +4 to the diplomacy check. That's a total of +5 extra, for those following along at home. :smallwink:

Diplomacy Check
[roll0]

Well, that was a little lackluster. If the innkeeper won't lower the prices for the NPCs, I'm sure Lem had enough gold thrown at him during that performance that it can probably cover a lot of their expenses.

[Calenestel]

Some fish would be much appreciated... goodman Kellin." The title sound a little foreign when used by the elf, as if he is unused to that kind of adress. But he is friendly enough, and the two gold coins he hands the innkeeper for the coming night is, if uncommon, with a tree on one side and a crescent moon on the other. "Salmon and some white wine if you have it."

As he waits for his dinner he watches Lem's show with a smile, but he keeps to the background, sitting at a table by the wall. He considers staying when Lem rushes out in an impromptu parade, but as he sees most of the staff dancing out as well he decides to follow along. He has never been to a human settlement before and should take the opportunity to learn about the roundears as well as the threat to Tiri Kitor. Smiling he follows and quickly enough he is dancing along, untrained but fully enraptured by the performance and possessing an elven grace that makes him dance with the best of them. The usually austere elf seem to indeed have a sunny side.

In due time he returns, checks his pack, forgotten beneath the table when he left, and again starts waiting for his food. A wider, more sincere smile on his face.

[CockroachTeaParty]

If a Seldani caravan wasn't enough to announce the arrival of a bunch of strangers, the bard's incredible performance causes more than a few ripples; more like a massive splash, such as the one that punctuates the end of the song. Lem is showered with silver and copper coins, and even a gold piece or two. When he returns to the inn, Kellin looks up at the bard with an amused smirk on his face.
"Quite the performance, friend. Unfortunately, I don't think we have enough rooms for everyone in the caravan. However, we can get rooms for the expecting mother, and for any sick or elderly who could really use the beds. Any of the others are free to stay in the common room if they want, free of charge, if they're tired of camping or sleeping in the wagons. As for the rest of this little arrangement, I'm sure we can work something out."

The Following Morning

The Seldani go about setting up booths and spreading into the town to do business, under the somewhat-wary eye of the Drellin's Ferry watch. As you all enjoy a fine breakfast, a middle-aged, handsome human man walks into the inn, clad in a fine red robe and tunic with yellow details. He sports a short darkwood walking cane, and he nods to Kellin Shadowbanks as he approaches your table.
"Pardon my intrusion, strangers, but word of your exploits and talents have spread quickly through my town. I am Norro Wiston, Town Speaker of Drellin's Ferry. I heard that you dispatched a marauding group of hobgoblins on the road with great skill. I'm not sure if you have any pressing business, but I'd like to ask for your help.
Our town is under attack, you see. The hobgoblins have been harrying our lands for several days now, pushing into farmland and even challenging our nightly pickets. Patrols come back to town ragged, or they never come back at all. They are organized, and seem to be getting ready for a major attack. We are but a peaceful community of only a few hundred. We haven't the strength at arms or the numbers to keep these creatures at bay. Aid should be coming from Brindol soon, but they're not seasoned adventuring types such as yourselves. If you would head into the Witchwood, and see what the hobgoblins are up to, myself, and all of Drellin's Ferry, would be highly grateful."

[mucat]

[During the evening at the Inn]

"Ha!"

Django gives an approving grin as Lem's song takes hold, and rises to his feet to join the train of revelers. With a flourish he calls up a colorful illusion to accompany the story, the drunken would-be king in ill-fitting robes of state, crown askew and face a mask of comical panic as he fends off the advances of a horse-faced duchess.

As the impromptu party spills out into the street, Django follows, still weaving illusions at key points in the story. Several Seldani musicians join in as well, Isabel on her flute and Robar on his violin, and while they can't quite match Lem for sheer artistry, they lack nothing in enthusiasm.

At Lem's great splash of a finale, Django provides one last illusion, a serpentine moat monster that snaps viciously at the bard's heels, then vanishes sulkily beneath the water as Lem escapes the fountain. "Now, this is what we could make a career of," he tells Lem exultantly as they head back to the Old Bridge.

Back inside, Django orders a brandy and wanders around the room, striking up conversations with the staff and patrons. The night is going well, he decides, savoring the warm twin glows of the brandy and the fire. The good will building between the Seldani and the townsfolk here will go a long way toward smoothing over whatever minor sources of friction inevitably occur during this or future visits.

Despite the warm atmosphere, though, there is an undercurrent of worry among the people here that never quite vanishes. Django is asked three times for the story of the hobgoblin ambush, and the townsfolk all seem to have a story or a rumor of trouble to share in return. He files away the information carefully in his mind; this is shaping up as a dangerous season for travelers, and any scrap of intelligence might just save someone's life.

Gather Information check to learn more about humanoid activity in the region, and Diplomacy check to leave the inn staff and townspeople with a favorable impression of Seldani:

Gather Information: [roll0]
Diplomacy: [roll1]

[Firebeard]

Aurellion accompanies the prisoner to the "jail cell" at the Old Toll House. As he walks, he contemplates the nature of hobgoblins and what the escalated attacks on the surrounding countryside might mean. Upon arriving at the holding area, Aurellion sees the cleric locked away and then asks where he might find the Captain Soranna the picket guard was referring to.

Once his business with the prisoner was finished, he headed over to the inn to partake in the excellent accommodations and good food. He smiled wryly at the antics of Django and Lem - elven bards could play beautiful songs and do some performing, but no one could beat humans for sheer tomfoolery.

The next morning, as he was breaking his fast and preparing to go and talk to Captain Soranna, he was interrupted by the Town Speaker. Not surprisingly, the man wanted them to go out after the hobgoblins that were plaguing the region.It suited Aurellion, who had no love for any goblinkin, but the way the man was talking - "aid coming", "see what they are up to" - it seemed like more than just an increase in raiding. It sounded as if the Speaker was expecting a war.

Nevertheless, Aurellion held his tongue to see what the others had to say first. After all, it wasn't as if they were a tight-knit group of friends and adventurers, He had only met some of them a few days ago when he agreed to help escort the caravan here.

[Calenestel]

The following morning.

Never overdoing his feasting Quingendon is early, even among the firs, to rise. After dressing, but without arming himself with more than his daggers, the ranger heads down into a still very quiet commonroom. After studying the sleeping forms there, an amused halfsmile twisting his lips, he very quietly walks over to the kitchen and orders a light breakfast of chicken, white bread, cheese and water. He is long since finished, and nourishing a cup of tea, when the Town Speaker approaches him and the other victors of yesterday. Calmly he listens to the man's request, not giving much hints of his thoughts but eyeing the other adventurers all the more.
Finally, as he notices how Aurellion waits to see what someone else would say, he calmly decides to speak up. "Speaker Wiston. I cannot speak for my comrades-in-arms from yesterday. I suppose some of them would like to discuss payment and so on. But you can count on me. I am what you would call a ranger and if I hold no real loyalty to your town beyond that of a ranger towards any innocent in need of help goblinkin is among my greatest unfavorites." The grimness of his voice makes the elf seem cold and stern and there's a fierce gleam in his eyes. There is no doubt that he will be the reliable in this venture. He has his own reasons as well, of course.

[AtS]

The Night Before

I never said that Lem paid for his room up there, but I did subtract the 2 gp, so yeah. He did, at some point. :smallyuk:

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind working with you more often, Django," Lem says to the illusionist. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm beat, and my glorious bed awaits me." The bard yawns as he climbs the stairs to his room.

However, sleep is fickle tonight, and Lem spends hours tossing and turning, unable to keep his eyelids shut for more than a minute or two. He worries for his sister, and berates himself for putting on a show of bravado when in reality, he's desperate to do anything in his power to save her. Especially with the goblinoids on patrol, Lem is certain that something horrible might befall her, should they decide to attack Brindol - she might be conscripted, or worse. Why can't I just tell Django and the others that I want to save her? he thinks to himself. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help... I... guess I should tell them. I should tell them the truth, this time. I'll do it tomorrow. With his decision, Lem is finally able to get to sleep, as the sun peeks over the horizon, morning rays piercing the dawn sky.

The Next Day

Awakening late in the day, long after the rest of the company has been out and about, Lem hastily gets ready, gathering his pack and changing into a fresh shirt. When he arrives in the common room, he makes a beeline for Django. Tapping him on the shoulder, he pulls him aside, and says "Look, I need to come clean here. My... my sister and I are the ... somewhat notorious Silvertongue Twins - we're not twins, the name just stuck. Anyways, look, I've put that stuff behind me, but the reason I'm telling you this is because my sister is imprisoned back in Brindol. I don't think it will take too much imagination to realize why I'm worried about the Hobgoblins making their way back there, so I'm asking for you to keep that fact in mind when we're making our decisions from here on out. I'm not saying we drop everything and go back to Brindol, rather on the contrary, whatever we can do to stop them here would be best for everyone... just don't be surprised when I'm off running to save her should things turn for the worst." Having voiced his concerns, Lem lets loose a huge sigh of relief.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Old Toll House

For various reasons, be they charitable or mercenary, you decide to help the people of Drellin's Ferry, and perhaps uncover more about what is going on with the hobgoblins. Speaker Wiston suggests you meet with Captain Soranna Anitah, over at the old toll house.

The toll house is the largest, sturdiest building in Drellin's Ferry. It has been refitted to serve as the seat of government, barracks for the town watch, and a jail as well. You find Captain Soranna drilling with her fellow guardsmen. As you approach, she removes a padded helm and wipes the sweat from her brow. She is a tall, strong, big-boned woman. She would be quite pretty if it weren't for her unadorned, serviceable armor, bruises and scrapes from training, and the large sword at her belt. She has a serious face, one that seems never to smile, and makes her age difficult to estimate. She nods as you approach.
"You're the people who came in yesterday evening. I heard about what you did to that hobgoblin ambush; good work. If you're here to help us, I can start pointing you in the right direction, but I've got my hands full preparing what little defenses we have. Speaker Wiston would like to believe these attacks are just uncoordinated aggression, but I've seen things like this before. We're dealing with more than just a single tribe, here. War is coming, whether we like it or not. Whether they're just after Drellin's Ferry, or getting ready to push into the Vale, I can't say, but maybe you can learn more.
I'd start by heading north along the Dawn Way, into the Witchwood. The Witchwood has always been a pretty dangerous place; monsters, beasts, and worst call it home. I'd travel by horseback, and sleep with a sword under your pillow."
She pauses, looking westward at the primordial forest across the river.
"There's an old ruin about a day's brisk ride from here, called Vrath Keep. Some say the place is haunted. Me, I'd wager the hobgoblins are using it as a staging platform. It's defensible, and few people ever go there. I'd check there first.
Hmm... If you need somebody along who knows those woods like the back of his hand, you could take one of the old game trails up to old Jorr's house. He's a woodsman... lived most of his life in the Witchwood. He hates goblinoids something fierce, too. I'm sure he'd help you if you asked.
If you've got any questions, feel free to ask. Again, I'd go up to Vrath Keep and take a look around, maybe go as far as Skull Gorge Bridge, but beyond there is wild country. The goblinoids rule the hills and mountains beyond, and as long as they stay there that's fine with me, but my gut's telling me something's different this time. And my gut's never wrong."

[McNerp]

"Thank you, Captain. I think we should seek out Jorr. I'd much prefer to not get lost on the way to the dangerous, potentially-haunted-but-probably-goblin-filled keep. In any event, we will return when we know more. Hopefully we'll have slain a few of those murderous hobgoblins along the way." Durrin nods briskly to the captain and looks around to gauge his comrades' opinions. "What think you, all?"

[Calenestel]

Quingendon looks to Durrin with an eyebrow raised in a very unamused fashion. "I would not get us lost. I might not know these woods, but I am no fledgling human scout. I am an elf of Tiri Kitor and a ranger." Yes, he did obviously not appreciate the insinuation that they would need help as to not get lost. Still, though he is proud the ranger is hardly overly so and, while still stern, he then admits: "We should at least speak with this Jorr, though, possibly even ask him along. His expertise might be needed to keep us from getting lost, but it might mean the difference between success and failure in other ways."
At that he turns towards Soranna. "Captain Anitah, have you learned anything from the prisoner yet? Or has he still not come to?"

[mucat]

In Conversation with Lem
When Lem approached him, Django had been on his way out into the streets to make sure everything was still going smoothly between the Seldani traders and the townsfolk. After hearing Lem's first sentence, he motions the bard to follow him outside, and listens with growing amazement to the rest of the story.

"The Silvertongue Twins?" he repeats when Lem has finished. "The ones who convinced Lady Apana that the Bishop of Saint Cuthbert had spoken against raspberry porridge? And blackmailed her under threat of revealing her breakfast habits? That was classic!" he grins enthusiastically.

Then he remembers the rest of the story, and his expression turns more sober. "A lot of people think you're dead, you know. I suppose that part is for the best. But I really am sorry they caught your sister." He ponders for a moment, then adds, "As you say, the best for everyone is to end this war, if that's what it is, right here, before it spreads and all hell breaks loose."

His grin returns. "And if we're both still alive after that, we talk about jailbreaks." He claps Lem on the shoulder and wanders off toward the Seldani booths, marvelling under his breath, "The goddamn Silvertongue Twins..."

As he walks among the booths, talking with Seldani and townspeople alike, Django wonders if the bard might be telling the truth. A convincing line of rumor held that the Silvertongue brother had died in a tavern brawl, not long after the sister, the undisputed brains of the operation, had been caught. Nothing like definitive proof, though...so Lem's claim might just be true, which was great fun to believe; a chance to reunite the Silvertongue Twins would be a tale for the ages. If it was a lie, he could still admire it for its audacity, and wait to see where Lem was planning to take the story. Either way, this would be interesting...


At the Old Toll House
Out checking on the Seldani camp and market booths, Django had missed most of the meeting with Speaker Winston. Others had filled him in on its details, though, by the time the group reached the Old Toll House.

After hearing Soranna's thoughts, Django considers the matter carefully. "If things are as bad as you believe, Captain -- and I've got no reason to doubt your gut instincts -- then I'm leery of taking the caravan back on the road until we've made sure it's safe."

He looks for a moment toward the colorful camp that has sprung up on the edge of town. "I'll have to run the idea past the elders, but as long as my people are welcome to stay a bit longer than expected in Drellin's Ferry, I'm all for checking out this keep and the woods around it. Either things are better than we feared, and all we'll lose is a few days' travel time...or they are that bad, and we've got work cut out for us before humble traders can ply the roads again."

When Durrin speaks in favor of recruiting Jorr, Django nods. "This Jorr sounds like a colorful character; I wager he'd be worth meeting under any circumstances. If he can help us puzzle out what the hobgoblins are trying to pull, then all the better."

[Firebeard]

"Captain, I too am interested to hear what, if anything, the prisoner has said. If this is more than extended raiding, as you suspect, then we may be in for a larger fight than any of us are prepared for. And I like to be prepared. As for the war that you think is coming, our small little group will hardly win a war for you. But yes, assuming the others are amenable, I believe we can perform some scouting duties."

Aurellion looked at the group around him, remembering their success the previous day. "In fact, I would say that we are eminently well suited for such a task. We have the combination of intrusion, trickery, and straight up combat skills to form a team with the highest chance of success. Assuming the others are willing - and able" he looked at Django for a moment "we will definitely help out."

"You said you don't have the men to send on this mission. What about other resources? We could use some horses - trained ones - for those that have none. Also, any equipment or magical help the town could provide would not be turned away. And what about this Jorr person? Is he expecting someone from the town? Is he even still alive?"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Captain Soranna takes in everything with a grim expression.
"Jorr doesn't visit town very often, usually when he's got some impressive pelt or trophy to sell. He doesn't like visitors, but if you make your intentions clear, and mention the possibility of killing goblinoids, I'm sure he'll be aboard.
When do you plan on leaving? I can send word to our merchants and mages around town who might have items you could use. I know you recovered a small caches of weapons from the ambushers last evening; we could use high-quality equipment like that, and I could put it towards working out a deal with horses or other necessities.
As for the prisoner, he's still unconscious. We have him bound in the prison; if you want to try and rouse him, you're more than welcome to. Just be careful."

[McNerp]

"My apologies, Quingendon, I meant no slight to your navigational abilities." Durrin utters this apology gruffly, as thought unaccustomed to doing so. "We ought to set out as soon as we can sell our excess gear. I for one wouldn't mind a new wand or two if such are available."

[Toxic Avenger]

On the way to Drellin's Ferry:

Laerallis checks around for any wounded who need healing, starting with Aurellion, who had received a nasty arrow wound to the leg. He heals only the worst of the wounds for now, saving his last spells until later in the evening to deal with the various bumps and bruises.

OOC:Laerallis uses Touch of Healing to bring anyone below half of their max HP back up to half, and then burns off a Cure Moderate and two Cure Light Wound spells. see the OOC thread for healing stuff.

During the evening at the Old Bridge Inn:

Not being much of a dancer, Laerallis nevertheless joins in anyway; however, after a short time he sits back down, merely content to laugh at Lem's hilarious antics. While the spectacle continues on outside, he stays in, seeing an opportunity to enjoy his food and drink in a relatively calm atmosphere - after which he makes sure to give the insanely overworked barmaid a healthy tip in the form of a gold piece, and offers to make a portrait of her as well...when she is not quite so busy, of course.

Then, he finds a place where he can ply the tools of his trade, and begins to paint that marvelous sunset he saw earlier in the evening, while it is still fresh on his mind's eye. Once he feels he has captured the essence of the sunset on canvas, Laerallis happily moves on to painting the portrait promised to the cute little barmaid.

Laerallis stays in the common room as late as he can handle, in case his gifts from the Lady Poet are needed for any reason, and he sees to healing any remaining wounds of note before retiring to his room for the night.

OOC:Laerallis uses his Healing Belt and burns off the rest of his 1st level spells if necessary. Also, I need to take an extra 1 gp from his sheet for the barmaid's tip. :smallwink:

Morning at the Old Bridge Inn:

OOC: Actually, I've run out of steam tonight. I'll hopefully be able to get caught up while at work tomorrow...


Laerallis wakes up before dawn, unable to sleep anymore. Maybe it's the fresh memories of yesterday's battle, or speculation over Tiamat's involvement with the hobgoblins, or maybe just the humidity in the air. No matter, the sky looks clear, so Laerallis sits outside and waits for the sun to rise. Naturally, he readies his brushes, paint, and canvas as well.

Laerallis finds himself quite pleased with this particular work once the magnificent view is captured, so he brings it inside and offers it as a gift to Kellin Shadowbanks. "Should you decide to display it, I'd suggest over by the front window there. Then if it's cloudy or rainy, this may help one to imagine otherwise."

[Calenestel]

The ranger seem mollified by the apology, as uncomfortable and unaccustomed Durrin might have been. Actually, after a few seconds he gives the dragonborn a thin, appreciative smile. But he says nothing more about it, instead turning to Aurellion: "What say you, friend? Should we try waking the wretch or just head over to the humans' ranger?"

[mucat]

Django wanders over to concur with the others, a little beyond Captain Sorenna's direct earshot. "If we question the hobgoblins' leader," he says quietly, "we don't necessarily need to get him to answer the questions, just to think about him. I may be able to pick the thoughts out of his mind."

His eyes flick toward the Captain for a moment, making sure she is still out of earshot. Not that she is likely to care about the hobgoblin's privacy...but townsfolk get nervous sometimes at reminders of Seldani magic. "No guarantees," he adds. "It doesn't always work. But I think it's worth trying....so when we talk to him, I'll hang back and pick his brains while the rest of you do the talking."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Soranna leads you to the small holding cells, where the unconscious form of the captured hobgoblin can be seen, bound at the wrists and ankles with rope.

(He'll need a bit of healing to regain consciousness. Feel free to cast any spells, make Diplomacy, Bluff, or Intimidate checks, etc.)

[McNerp]

"Begging your pardon, friends, but I think I ought to wait out here while you interrogate the hobgoblin. I don't trust myself not to destroy that wretch for what he did to the people in that farmhouse." Anger flares in the dragonborn's eyes, but he masters it and turns away from the door to the prisoner's room.

[Toxic Avenger]

"No worries, Durrin. If he forces our hand, we'll call for you." Laerallis says as Durrin turns away from the door. Before approaching the unconscious prisoner, he turns to the others. "I doubt I'll do any talking, my interrogation skills are nonexistent. I'll be able to wake him up easily enough, though. Let me know when you're all ready." Laerallis reaches out toward the hobgoblin. As soon as everyone indicates that they are ready, he touches the unconscious priest of Tiamat, his hand glowing with divine light.

OOC:Touch of Healing for 6 points.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion places himself before the hobgoblin cleric, shortspear in his hand. He pointed its blade at the cleric's face. The room was too small for the greatspear, and besides, as much as the weapon would add to the intimidation factor, it would demean the weapon to use it so.

When Laerellis healed the goblinkin, Aurellion intended for teh leaf shaped blade to be the first thing the hobgoblin saw.

[mucat]

Django pauses outside the cell. "I'll stay out here with Durrin," he said. "The mindreading trick will work through the door, and this way he won't see me renew it if it runs out or he shakes it off."

"Remember," he adds as the others prepare to head inside, "you don't need to get him to answer, just to think of the information you want. I can't dig any deeper than surface thoughts, though, so don't push him too hard or all I'll hear is 'Oh **** oh **** oh **** don't hurt me'."

OOC:As soon as the hobgoblion wakes up, Django will cast Detect Thoughts, and spend the requisit three rounds homing in on the hobgoblin's mind specifically. If he makes a DC-17 Will save, Django can't read him.

If the hobgoblin makes his save or if the spell expires, Django will recast it.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The hobgoblin priest slowly rouses, his eyes bloodshot. It takes him a moment to realize where he is, but soon a look of recognition passes over his pace. His breathing is labored and shallow, and he glares at you all with a look of pure loathing.

Django concentrates on his divination. Slowly, the spell focuses on the target. The hobgoblin has an average intellect, and currently thoughts of fear, hatred, and shame fill his head, as well as dread and confusion.

(The hobgoblin has an INT score of 10. The spell was successful, and Django can read his thoughts for the next five minutes or so.)

[Calenestel]

Hands on his girdle, thumbs tucked behind the buckle, and obviously close to the hilts of his swords the second elf, the one not holding a spear in the face of the prisoner, takes a step forward and comes into view of the wretch. With eyes cold with hatred Quin studies the cleric for a few rounds before adressing him in goblin, a cold sneer on his face: "Your little ambush didn't work out so well this time, did it? Now there's questions to be asked before your death. Tell us what we need to hear and I'll make sure that it's quick and painless. Refuse and I promise you it'll take a lot longer." He didn't think he could muster himself to promise the goblinkin his life. And he had a creeping feeling that this one would welcome martyrdom. Thus his simple offer. Not that it mattered really, with Django outside the door. But he couldn't make himself do any less than his best.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The hobgoblin coughs, then his lips curl into a sneer. His voice is barely a whisper as he replies in the Goblin tongue.
"Pain is nothing to me. I shall join my Mistress soon."

Django can sense the fear in his mind fading, replaced by a stubborn pride and determination. The hobgoblin would rather die than betray his comrades. There is also a certain satisfaction Django can sense... a smug certainty that these weaklings will soon be utterly destroyed by the might of Azarr Kul.

[Calenestel]

Going into the role of a harsh questioner the ranger yells at the prisoner in the beast's own tongue: "Don't play with me, scum! Who do you work for? Where do you come from? Where?!"

[CockroachTeaParty]

The prisoner stares at Quin impassively, not saying a word. However, his mind is at work, and Django can pick up thoughts and memories.

First of all, the hobgoblin harbors a certain amusement at the feeble interrogation attempt. Was this elf too much of a coward to make good on his threats? Typical, for an elf. He would never hear from his own mouth where his comrades were from; a silly question, truth be told, considering the Horde is made up of many different tribes, united under their glorious leader, the Son of the Dragon, Azarr Kul. Like a tide of unstoppable vengeance they will spill forth from the Wyrmsmoke Mountains, to conquer the Vale... and from there, they will set their eyes on new targets, new campaigns, all in Her name. The hobgoblin's one regret is that he will not be there to see their glorious campaign's triumphs firsthand. But perhaps his Mistress will reward him in the afterlife with a glorious new form... scales as hard as steel, breath as hot as flame, with leathery pinions to carry him aloft, so that he might look down on all the lesser beings...

[Calenestel]

Not getting more than a sneer in response pushes the elf in just the required direction for this kind of interrogation. The sight of the smug hobgoblin makes the rage rise in the ranger. Savagely strikes out at the prisoner, throwing a punch straight for the face of the beast. "You think this is funny, goblin? Really? Well, let's see if I can change that, eh?"

Right. Hurting is part of the process.

If an attack roll is needed here it is:
[roll0]
[roll1] Subdual of course.

and for good measure:
[roll2] (I've got to buy some ranks in this) Edit: I've REALLY got to put some ranks in Intimidate. Good thing we're not relying on Quin here. :smallyuk:

[Firebeard]

Aurellion gently moves Quingendon aside and faces the hobgoblin squarely. "I can see that you are not taking this seriously. I am Aurellion, Dancer of the Three Spears and defender of the Alan Vale. I grew up defending our forests against all manner of evil creatures, goblinkin among them. That ambush that you and the other filth planned was amateurish. My companions and I suffered no injuries other than a bruise here and there from laughing at your pathetic antics."

"I slew the bladebearer with you in a single thrust, and the rest of your pitiful band ran away. If that is the best you can hope to accomplish, I pity you. Your life is spared now because these others feel that you can be convinced to redemption, or if not that, then to confession. I know, however, that the only use for goblinkin is to hand their corpses as markers for others to stay away. These lands are guardianless no longer. We have come, and we intend to disarm the infantile plans of your pathetic band of creatures."

Aurellion isn't sure that the hobgoblin is convinced, but hte spear in his hand is unwavering, as is the cold in his voice. He had fought against goblinkin all his life, it seemed, and would just as happily spit this evil creature on his spear as stand in this cell any longer. He wondered if Django was getting anything useful.

"If he will not talk, may I finish this so we can go about our business? I believe there are goblins in the Witchwood we need to take care of." He pressed the leaf-shaped spear blade into the hobgoblin's throat, enough to spill a bead of blood.


intimidate: [roll0] + any modifiers from the spear tip

[CockroachTeaParty]

The hobgoblin swallows as beads of sweat trickle down his brow. He spits out a furious reply in Common.
"Your victory is a fleeting one. You scattered only a scouting party! The true vanguard of our forces is on its way, and when the Red Hand arrives in strength, nothing will stand in its way! Your remaining lifespan can now be counted in days! You will be the first to die! I have nothing more to say to you."

Django can sense a bit of fear returning, mixed with resignation. He seems pleased of your intent to head to the Witchwood, where his comrades are lurking. He is confident they will dispatch you with ease.

[mucat]

Careful not to let his concentration lapse, Django approaches the cell door and pounds three times in rapid succession. "Word from Witchwood!" he shouts breathlessly through the door, trying to sound near exhaustion. "The dwarves seized the first stronghold, but Azarr Kul's lieutenants are personally holding the others. I'll gather the wizards; meet us in an hour at Alpha post."

He falls against the opposite wall of the corridor with a thud, hoping the sound will stand in convincingly for an exhausted messenger blundering away from the cell, then focuses once more on the prisoner's thoughts. Whether the cleric believes his lies or not, he hopes it will take the bait and think about Azarr Kul's lieutenants, or the Witchwood strongholds and their defenses.

Maintaining concentration on a spell is a standard action, so hopefully Django can move around and speak without his focus lapsing. Here's a bluff check to see how well he pulls off his act, though he's not necessarily hoping to be believed, just to get the prisoner thinking...

Bluff: [roll0]

EDIT: Natural 2? Damn good thing he didn't care about being believed...

[CockroachTeaParty]

The prisoner doesn't say anything; he primarily looks confused. Django can sense that he didn't believe a word of what was just said. The mention of dwarves seems nonsensical to him; there aren't any organized dwarven threats for miles and miles. As for outposts, he thinks briefly of Vrath Keep, currently occupied by Wyrmlord Koth and his forces. The sorcerer should be able to repel any resistance; of course, there probably isn't a legitimate threat. They're bluffing, trying to get him to say more than he should...

[Toxic Avenger]

Looking down at the bound hobgoblin, Laerallis scoffs and shrugs. "You don't want to talk anymore? That's fine...your comrade said the same at first, but he changed his mind eventually. Now we're just trying to see if your story lines up with his."

The Lirran priest turns and heads for the door. "I'll go fetch some water for our prisoner. He's been unconscious for what, over two days now? We can't have him too weak for more vigorous questioning, can we? I'll see if there's an update on the reinforcements from Brindol while I'm at it..." Laerallis closes the door behind him, and looks at Django, seeing him concentrating intently. Assuming that means all has gone well with the spell, he goes about fetching a cup of water.


OOC:A Bluff check is probably in order...

*crosses fingers*

[roll0]


EDIT: *falls off chair laughing*

[Calenestel]

It could be in an effort to throw the prisoner off a little, or seem insane, but suddenly the Quin relaxes visibly, leaning against the wall. He doesn't smile, he couldn't force a friendly smile to the fiend to save his life, but he doesn't actively seek to be hostile all of a sudden and his tone is almost friendly: "And about this leader of yours, you do realize that we'll have to torture out some information about him. Whether he's a hobgoblin like you, for example."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Django can sense a change in the silent hobgoblin's thought patterns...

Wait... I never mentioned the Son of the Dragon's name... They are all full of lies... So how did they find out his name? Clearly, something is amiss here...

Tiamat my Mistress, claim me in your Greed. May your Breath Fivefold consume my enemies. Praise be to your glory.

Tiamat my Mistress, claim me in your Greed. May your Breath Fivefold consume my enemies. Praise be to your glory.

Tiamat my Mistress, claim me in your Greed. May your Breath Fivefold consume my enemies. Praise be to your glory.

Tiamat my Mistress, claim me in your Greed. May your Breath Fivefold consume my enemies. Praise be to your glory.

Tiamat my Mistress, claim me in your Greed. May your Breath Fivefold consume my enemies. Praise be to your glory.

...
The prisoner closes his eyes, ignoring everything else around him. Django can sense the prayer or mantra repeating in his head over and over again.

[Firebeard]

"It seems that we have gleaned all we can from his mind. I think it is time for Justice to be served. Perhaps if the Captain hangs this one's corpse from a sturdy tree just outside of town, it will serve as a deterrent for any more small bands of raiders. I doubt it will serve to dissuade anything more...serious, though." With that, Aurellion leaves the cell, beckoning the others to follow. He heads for Django and raises a questioning eyebrow, asking without words if the human had leaned anything of interest.

[Calenestel]

"So it would seem." After making sure that the bonds of the hobgoblin are tight and secure Quin draws a dagger and with quick efficient moves he slices of two lengths of cloth from the prisoner's clothes. One he forces into the mouth of the creature, the other he twists somewhat and then wraps around the head of the doomed hobgoblin, gagging the brutish priest. Thereafter he follows Aurellion out of the cell.

[mucat]

Django nods to the others as they join him and Durrin in the corridor. "Looks bad. I think this really is war," he mutters, but waits until they are out of the prisoner's earshot and have rejoined Captain Soranna before giving the details. He hates to reveal Seldani magic to the townsfolk, but this information is too important to keep secret.

"Our guest is a Tiamat fanatic; that part you probably guessed," he says. "Unless he's very good at thinking false thoughts -- and he doesn't seem that smart -- then the hobgoblin tribes have united in the Wyrmsmokes under someone called Azarr Kul. The Son of the Dragon, they call him, and it sounds like he has Tiamat's personal seal of approval and the fanatic following that brings."

"They plan to move soon, and to take the whole Vale when they do," he says grimly. "I don't know if they have the numbers or the strength, but he sure thinks they do. I doubt this will be over quickly."

He looks at the ceiling for a moment, racking his brains for an escape route that would take the Seldani out of the Vale…but no roads from here would be safe, and the odds of getting the caravan clear of the war zone seem impossibly slim. For better or worse, his people's fate is tied now to that of the settled Valefolk.

He shakes off the unsettling thoughts and returns to his report. "Witchwood won't be easy to crack either; he's certain we'll die there. Sounds like the place is full of humanoids, but as you suspected" -- he nods to the Captain -- "Vrath Keep is their chief stronghold in the Wood. One of Azarr Kul's lieutenants is there, a sorcerer they call Wyrmlord Koth."

Django shrugs. "Other than a lot of ranting about blood and vengeance and groveling before his Mistress, that's all I got from him. He figured out we're tricking him somehow, so I don't think we'd learn much more from another try, unless we spent a long time playing mind games."

He looks around the small group. Clever allies, all of them, but their numbers barely seem enough to scratch the walls of this Keep. But their plan does have audacity going for it…

"We could shore up the defenses and try to make a stand right here," he says, "but I still favor Soranna's first idea: grab this Jorr fellow and try to infiltrate the Keep. Can't say I like our chances, but then, I don't like our chances if we hole up here either. And if we sow some confusion along the way, we might delay their plans long enough for folks here to get word out and organize the Vale against them."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Captain Soranna remains grim and serious, seemingly not too terribly surprised by the news.
"You don't have to try and kill every hobgoblin in the woods, but if you could at least head to Vrath Keep and confirm the hobgoblin presence, you'd be doing me a huge favor. If it's as bad as it seems, I'll need more solid evidence than a single religious zealot's testimony if I'm going to get anybody to really listen. I'm definitely sending another rider to Brindol though, as soon as I can. I'd suggest you get moving as well; it doesn't seem like time is a luxury we can afford to waste."

As the morning grows brighter and more beautiful, the sound of the rushing water, birds singing, and children playing in the sun seem tainted by a palpable aura of dread. Something terrible is stirring to the northwest, and these simple folk have no idea what is coming.

[Calenestel]

Quin shrugs and resheathes his dagger. "I won't sit here and wait for them to attack my home. I'd say let's head out as soon as possible." Under the grim stoicism the ranger seem obviously distraught. His home is in the Vale, which he admitted to when he first met the caravan, and the stakes just got raised considerably for him.

[McNerp]

"Servants of Tiamat, eh?" Durrin spits out the name with as much venom as he can muster. "As if I needed more reason to oppose them. Let us be on our way as soon as we can. The sooner we can strike, the better." With that Durrin turns on his heel and walks away, sparing a short backward glance for the prisoner. In spite of himself, he briefly feels slight pity for the hobgoblin priest, unarmed and destined for death.

His pity just as quickly turns to icy rage as the picture of the farmhouse slaughter flashes before his eyes. I must save my anger for those who are still at large and threatening these good people. By my oath, I will see vengeance wrought upon these evildoers. Turning away, he returns to the inn to hurriedly gather his few possessions.

[mucat]

Django nods gratefully as, one by one, his compatriots commit to the mission. He's not surprised by their willingness to engage on the mad errand, but still, he would understand if the elves felt they had to ride to warn their own people, or if Lem had to race for Bristol.

"Please phrase your warnings as strongly as you can," he says to Sorlanna. "I know there's a danger we'll be ignored...but there are too many lives at stake for us to worry about looking foolish."

Struck by an idea, he suddenly asks the Captain, "You said you're in contact with a druid, is that right?" At her confirmation, he suggests, "See if they'll send birds to spread the warning, in addition to your rider to Bristol. We've got a novice druid in our caravan too; I'm not sure Ansel can manage that spell, but if he can, he'll have to concentrate on warning other Seldani bands away while you spread word to the Vale." He glances toward the ranger, and adds, "Quin, can you send a bird to Tiri Kitor, or should we dispatch one there too?"

As a tenuous network of planned communication lines takes shape, Django turns again to Captain Sorlanna. "Captain, before I leave the caravan here, I do need your assurance on one thing. If we go to the Witchwood, I can't say when or if we'll be back. Can you promise me that until the roads are safe to travel or until they decide to chance it anyway, the Seldani can take refuge at Drellin's Ferry?"

[AtS]

Having been directed to the jailhouse by the halfling innkeeper, Lem arrives just as the proceedings are being concluded. "Missed quite a bit, haven't I?" he says, his cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. "Trust me, I don't make a habit of sleeping in late. Though, would you all care to fill me in on what's happened?"

I'm assuming everyone would explain to Lem the important bits, so, in terms of making this whole situation sensical, I'm going to retcon the conversation that Lem had with Django before and put it right here. Chronologically, it makes much more sense. :smallwink:

Insert conversation from this post (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9009617&postcount=68) here.

"I'm all for getting on the road as soon as possible - Whatever we can do to stop these bastards from getting to Brindol is a sound plan in my book.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis leaves a bowl of water with the prisoner before rejoining Django and the others in the corridor. As much anger as he feels over the deaths that he has caused, he nevertheless feels some pity for him. What if he had been raised in a society devoid of compassion, freedom, and appreciation of the arts? Would he have turned out much different? The question still turns over in his mind as he throws his hat in.

"Yes, let's get horses, supplies, and then be off."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Into the Witchwood

After selecting a few magic scrolls from the local suppliers, you all mount up and head into the forest, following the old Witch Trail that leads to Jorr's cabin. The path is claustrophobic and cluttered with undergrowth; the occasional stream likewise impedes your progress, making the six mile journey take longer than it otherwise ought to. By about mid afternoon you can see a simple log cabin emerge out of a clearing in the woods. As you approach, three large hunting hounds emerge from under the cabin's porch and approach, barking and baying savagely. The dogs stop a few paces away from you, growling and snarling a challenge.

[Calenestel]

After leaving the town Quin had stopped only once, and that just outside the gates to pick up the long, golden snake from before. Letting the poisonous slither up and cling to him as he rides without showing the least aversion Quin then takes the lead, at times studying the surroundings, nearby tracks and such as the go. Still, his precautions are needless and they arrive safely at the hermit rangers cabin.

When the dogs runs up to them, stirring up quite a lot of ruckus, the elven ranger calmly dismounts in front of the rest of the party after only a handgesture to his companions to ask them to stay back. Crouching so as not to look big and threatening he holds forth his hands and talks in a soft murmur, trying to soothe the animals.

Wild Empathy time! *Crosses fingers*

[roll0]
Edit: Not bad. :smallsmile:

[CockroachTeaParty]

The dogs snarl and slaver, but one of them tentatively sniffs the elf's hand, and after a moment the dogs back down, trotting over to the cabin. After a few moments the front door slams open. Out of the cabin steps a man of indeterminate age, his skin tanned and wrinkled like old leather. He is clad in leather armor, covered in woodland camouflage. A bow and quiver are strapped to his back. He approaches, patting one of the hounds on the head as the dogs begin to follow him. His eyes are sharp and quick, his hair silver-gray. He scratches under his nose as he eyes you all cautiously.
"Don't get many visitors out here. Who are you, and what do you want?"

[Calenestel]

Crossing his arms over his chest Quin bows to the senior ranger with something aking to true respect. This was a man who had the loyalty of the animals and understanding of Nature. He deserved a lot more respect than townsfolk. "Greetings, Jorr. I am Quingendon of Tiri Kitor. These are my... friends. Good people all. We... have come to ask you for advice and aid in our mission to investigate the rumbling amongst the goblinkind."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The man blinks.
"Goblins? Can't stand'em! Wood's rotten with'em right now. All right, if you know who I am, I wager the folk of Drellin's Ferry sent you my way. If it's goblins you're after, I'm your man."
You explain to him the ambush on the Dawn Way, and the information you gleaned from the goblin prisoner, as well as the fears of the people of Drellin's Ferry. Jorr scratches his stubble with a calloused hand, then turns to look northwest.
"If we're off to Vrath Keep, we'll need to get back to the Dawn Way, then cross the Blackwater. If we keep up the pace, we should reach the keep by sunset. We should get moving! The Witchwood isn't the safest of places, even during the day. Fang! Ripper! Beauty! Stay here and guard the cabin! I won't be gone long."
The old ranger grins a murderous grin as he runs off to gather his traveling gear, and in a few short minutes you are off on the trail once again, cutting west until you reach the Dawn Way and begin your trek north.

The paved highway eventually turns to a cleared dirt trail, but as the trees begin to thin out and the soil grows marshier, the Dawn Way turns into a ten-foot-wide, slippery, rickety wooden causeway that provides safe passage through the bog that is the Blackwater. You proceed in single-file, annoyed by the flies, gnats, and mosquitoes that swarm throughout the stinking mire. Only Quingendon feels relatively at home, for the Blackwater is not unlike the swamp-like area from which he hails, near Lake Rhestilor.

About two hours' ride from Jorr's cabin, you pass by an overturned wagon, half-submerged in the slimy muck. As you slowly proceed, many of you eye the forlorn piece of wreckage. Before any of you can act on any curious impulses, however, several of you spot something unusual: a large, reptilian head on a snake-like neck peeks out of the deeper water. Jorr too spots the creature. "Wait just a second... that's a..."
Suddenly, the water explodes with a thrashing, hissing storm of reptilian heads, all attached to a massive, muscular central body. Its scales are a dull brownish-bronze, and all of its heads leer at you with hungry, black eyes. Each mouth is filled with razor-sharp teeth.
"HYDRA!"

Map: Top of Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/BlackwaterR1.png

[mucat]

Before leaving town:
OOC: Since Lem's revelation about himself and his sister has been moves later in the timeline, I'm reposting Django's response to it in the spoilers below, to make the timeline easier to follow.

When Lem approached him, Django had been on his way out into the streets to make sure everything was still going smoothly between the Seldani traders and the townsfolk. After hearing Lem's first sentence, he motions the bard to follow him outside, and listens with growing amazement to the rest of the story.

"The Silvertongue Twins?" he repeats when Lem has finished. "The ones who convinced Lady Apana that the Bishop of Saint Cuthbert had spoken against raspberry porridge? And blackmailed her under threat of revealing her breakfast habits? That was classic!" he grins enthusiastically.

Then he remembers the rest of the story, and his expression turns more sober. "A lot of people think you're dead, you know. I suppose that part is for the best. But I really am sorry they caught your sister." He ponders for a moment, then adds, "As you say, the best for everyone is to end this war, if that's what it is, right here, before it spreads and all hell breaks loose."

His grin returns. "And if we're both still alive after that, we talk about jailbreaks." He claps Lem on the shoulder and wanders off toward the Seldani booths, marvelling under his breath, "The goddamn Silvertongue Twins..."

As he walks among the booths, talking with Seldani and townspeople alike, Django wonders if the bard might be telling the truth. A convincing line of rumor held that the Silvertongue brother had died in a tavern brawl, not long after the sister, the undisputed brains of the operation, had been caught. Nothing like definitive proof, though...so Lem's claim might just be true, which was great fun to believe; a chance to reunite the Silvertongue Twins would be a tale for the ages. If it was a lie, he could still admire it for its audacity, and wait to see where Lem was planning to take the story. Either way, this would be interesting...
--------------------------
At the hydra fight:

Having learned his lesson at the hobgoblin ambush, Django's first reaction at the sight of the terrifying creature is to get the hell off his horse before it throws him into the bog. He slides off the right side of the animal, nearer to the hydra, and exults in a small surge of triumph as his boots touch the solid wooden causeway.

Still, victory over the evil horse is not enough. There is still the small matter of the hungry-looking, multi-headed swamp beast. Calling to mind the same spell that seemed to work against the ambushers' cleric, he points at the hydra and unleashes another stream of glowing golden sparks to coat its broad back and swirl around all six of its heads.

Move action: Ride check to dismount from the horse:
[roll0]

Standard Action:: Glitterdust on the hydra (Will save, DC 17 -- should each head save seperately vs. blindness?)

[Calenestel]

After making a respectful bow to the human ranger the elven one returns to the saddle and waits for Jorr to finish his packing.

After a while the nature is starting to feel... familiar. The bog wasn't Tiri Kitor, but it actually came close. For every mile they traveled the elf seemed more at ease. He had to ward himself from the mosquitoes and gnats just as vigorously as the other, but it didn't seem to bother him. Rather Quin had a very slight but very content smile. That is until the attack came. A hydra? Those are fearful monsters. Hard to kill. Corellon protect me.

Dismounting as fast as he can manage, and getting caught in the stirrups slows him down somewhat, Quin then sets Laurëlócë down beside him and draws his swords. "Have any of you any good ideas as to how to kill something like this?"

Rest to be filled in after a Fast dismount Ride check:
[roll0] Nope, that will take a move action then. Oh, well...

Move action: Dismount.
Free action: Setting down snake (who have swim speed but we'll keep him close for the moment, so he waits).
Normal action: Draw weapons.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis only sees the beast for a mere second or two before it disappears back into the water, but it is just long enough for him to recognise it as a hydra. He eyes the overturned wagon as he answers Quin. "Hydras heal crazy fast, but they'll die if all their heads are severed...and if the stumps are seared before they can each grow two new ones. That would be suicide, though...six hydra heads working together could shred an armored man to pieces in seconds."

The priest dismounts, and his crossbow jumps into his hands. "On the other hand, they're not too smart...and they don't move too quickly overland. They can be killed without severing the heads...but it has to be done quickly so that their healing powers can't keep up. A few dozen arrows at once would do, I think."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr lets out a whoop as the golden particles blind the hydra. It roars and submerges, wincing at the magical glitter.
"That was some trick! But it won't last forever, and that hydra's gonna come back with a mean hunger! What's the plan?"

[McNerp]

"Let us prepare for it to reemerge. I shall use my flame breath to entangle and impede the beast. We'd do well to have several targets for its fangs, as 6 heads against a single man is likely to be fatal. Spellcasters, what options do you have for hindering the creature?"

Durrin will dismount and move to within 30ft of where the hydra was, staying as close to the road as possible, drawing his dagger as he goes.

[Firebeard]

"Fine then!" Casters and archers line the causeway behind us, melee to the front. I think I am the only one with a weapon that can strike it without needing to be enveloped by its heads so I'll take point." Aurellion said all this as he dropped from Diyonid's back and readied his greatspear for combat. He moved to the point on the causeway nearest where the creature submerged and prepared himself.


Place me close to the submergence point. Readied action to attack if the hydra comes in range, or charge is it emerges further down the causeway.

[Calenestel]

"Everyone dismount!" Quingendon calmly waits for the others to scramble of their horses and then smacks his own and the warhorse's rumps, setting the whole tiny "herd" running. After that he calmly puts his backpack on the ground and takes a place to the right and slightly behind of Aurellion. Without any real haste the ranger returns his swords to their sheathes, thinking that the first blows won't be in close quarters. Instead he takes the shining black longbow from his back, strings it, tests the pull and then draws and nocks an arrow. He doesn't draw the bowstring, though, but stands their, scanning the water for signs of the monster. "So. Do we have any enhancing magics to bring into the fight? I have some flasks of acid and alchemist's fire in my pack. In the smaller compartment. Just think about them and you'll find them."

[Toxic Avenger]

"I have mostly healing spells, but few enhancing magics. I will ask Lirr to protect our front-liner though." Laerallis reaches out to touch Aurellion as he murmurs a prayer, and the Lady Poet answers his request with a invisible shield of divine force that envelopes the elf.

OOC:Of course, the spell is Shield of Faith.
"Here, wear this." Laerallis kneels down and removes a gold hoop from inside his boot. "If you need to escape, speak the word 'Zorro', and this will take you anywhere you wish within three or four paces." With that, the priest attaches the anklet to Aurellion's leg as quickly as he can manage, and then takes position with his crossbow ready.

OOC:Laerallis loans his Anklet of Translocation to Aurellion, and then takes position on the causeway, while putting as much distance between himself and the water as practical.

[CockroachTeaParty]

As the hydra lurks in the murk, you quickly execute a plan to finish the creature off. Jorr helps make sure the horses move quickly and safely up the trail, while Laerallis bestows a protective blessing on Aurellion, who is likely to be meeting the creature toe-to-toe in a matter of seconds. Lem uses his magic to enhance his singing ability, filling everyone's hearts with hope and courage as you move into position.
Everyone but Jorr, Lem, and Laerallis enter the muck of the swamp, moving close to where the hydra emerged. You all ready a specific attack for the moment the beast rears its ugly heads once more.
Just shy of 30 seconds after Django's spell blinded the monster, the hydra explodes out of the water once more, roaring vengeance. At that instant, a barrage of arrows, crossbow bolts, flaming breath, magic, and Aurellion's terrible spear careen towards the creature.
A bright cone of color explodes from Django's outstretched palm, stunning the creature. It blinks its eyes, trying to shake off the confusing illusion, only to have Durrin's fiery breath scorch its scales, sticking to it and burning it further. Jorr, Quingendon, and Laerallis all fire their weapons true, as their bolts and arrows sink deep into the creatures neck and body. Finally, Aurellion's mighty spear plunges deep into the hydra's muscular right shoulder, drawing a gout of blackish-red ichor. The creature groans in pain, its regenerative abilities unable to keep up with the barrage of damage. With one last triumphant jab of his spear, Aurellion plunges his weapon into the monster's heart, ending its life before it can even sink back beneath the brackish water.
Jorr lets out another triumphant whoop of excitement.
"Ha ha! Those goblins don't stand a chance against the likes of us! Yee hey! Woo ha!"
The danger gone, Quingendon takes a look under the overturned, half-submerged wagon. There he finds the half-eaten corpses and bones of a number of hobgoblins, clearly victims of the hydra's hunger. Most of their belongings and equipment have long rotted into uselessness. However, one of the bodies, clearly a former champion of the hobgoblins, is clad in a gleaming silvery breastplate. Quin removes it, only to find the armor incredibly light; mithral, a rare and precious metal lighter than steel yet just as strong.
Bringing it back to the group, Durrin beseeches his draconic patron to scrutinize the breastplate, discovering that is in fact not only mithral, but magical as well.

(Victory is yours! You found a +1 mithral breastplate. How about them apples?)

[Firebeard]

The exertion of the combat left Aurellion flushed with victory. The hydra could have been a formidable opponent if he had not had the others to provide spell buffs and ranged attacks. He cleaned the gore from his greatspear and then went with the others to see what was in the wagon. Quingendon discovered that the wagon was not full of merchants or farmers, as he had feared, but hobgoblins.

Most of the gear was destroyed, but the mithral breastplate elicited great interest from the two elves. A murmered conversation, and a quick game of Hounds and Hares later, and the two elves began to strip off their armor. Quingendon received Aurellion's fine links of elvish chain, while Aurellion cleaned out the breastplate and put it on.

He had been wearing the elven chain for so long, the breastplate felt clunky and inflexible, but he knew he'd get used to it. The change of armor would give both elves a bit more protection in the coming days, and the breastplate would shine like the night stars once Aurellion had a chance to really clean it up and polish it.

[Toxic Avenger]

As the hydra falls, Laerallis replies grimly to Jorr's yelp of excitement. "The hobgoblins have archers, and are likely to outnumber us. We'll have to be smarter than the hydra if we wish to avoid its fate." With that, he reloads his crossbow and goes to help with the overturned wagon. Relieved somewhat that hobgoblins corpses are found underneath, he is nevertheless glad that the party was able to eliminate the hydra before it could snack on anyone else.

"Nice armor...a magnificent work of art. Go ahead, one of you two should use it." Laerallis stays out the way while the two elves compete for the shiny breastplate, and he watches the game of Hounds and Hares with interest, as he has not seen it before.

[Calenestel]

Standing in the muck with barely room for his massive longbow had made Quingendon wish he'd stay on the causeway. Still, he might have been called upon to join the melee as well if their initial volleys had proven inadequate. So much more to his relief then, when their quick but efficient plans proved fruitful. Nimbly climbing back up on the dry timber the elven ranger then quickly heads over to the overturned cart. It didn't contain the horrors he had feared, dead humans or the like, but two rather cheering sights. A few dead goblinkin was always good news for the retributive elf, but more so was the treasure hidden among the gore. A set of armour like that was worth a fortune even for someone who never was to see any fighting. But for him or his companions it was so much more. With a triumphant laughter he shows his find to his companions.

After Durrin had explored the enchantment that further added to the wealth of his found the only difficulty was deciding on the appropriate benefactor. That Aurellion would lay his own claim was expected. Quin was actually more surprised that noone else seemed that interested. But instead of pondering the matter he simply throws himself into a quick discussion with far away kinsman. They both wanted the armour, they both could benefit from it and, more importantly, the group would benefit either way. Finally, after a quick game, he hands the armour over without a fuss. Really, the only other option would have been a knifefight to first blood and it really wasn't that important. Especially since Aurellion handed over his own wonderful suit of chainmail, a set of armour that though nonmagical would make any elf proud. After donning the set Quin seem obviously moved and he clasps the spearfighter's right forearm with his both hands, speaking a few words in elvis: "You honour me greatly. Brother."

After that, and a thorough inspection of the dark longbow, the ranger neatly folds his old chainshirt and puts it in the backpack.

[Toxic Avenger]

As the band continues on, Laerallis asks Jorr to let him know when they are within five to ten minutes ride from Vrath Keep, at which point he will cast a spell which could help glean more information about their destination. When that time comes, he stops briefly to pray, beseeching the Lorekeeper to loan him a fraction of her insight for a short time. Upon finishing the prayer, his body jolts slightly, and his eyes acquire a faraway look...

After a few seconds, the glaze over Laerallis' eyes fades away. He takes a deep breath before speaking, and he is practically grinning, as if he has just experienced the sublime. "Lirr has revealed to me more about the Keep. It was held by the Kingdom of Rhestilor when it ruled this region, centuries ago. A man named Amery Vrath inherited it shortly before the kingdom fell, after which he laid claim to the Witchwood, and raised an army to subjugate it..."

After taking a quick drink of water from his wineskin, he continues. "This brought him into direct conflict with forest giants...the Twistusk tribe, they were called, and mostly kept to themselves until then. Vrath won, or so he thought, when his forces burned the Twistusk's main village and scattered them to the mountains..."

Laerallis pauses to catch a good breath, then continues again. "But the surviving giants had their revenge not a week later. During a thunderstorm, they destroyed the keep and everyone inside with a barrage of boulders...the keep has laid abandoned and in ruins ever since. As for Amery Vrath, he was neither seen nor heard from again. Rumor has it that his ghost haunts the ruins, under which a great treasure is hidden. If that's true, I hope the goblins haven't found it yet...they'd probably torch anything that isn't shiny."

[mucat]

Django cranes his neck and peers through the trees, in search of any sign of the Keep or its sentries. "Quin, Joon," he says, looking toward the rangers, "do either of you want to go invisible and scout the place out? The spell will only last about five minutes, so we should get a little closer to the Keep before I cast it." After a moment's consideration, he says, "Or I could cast it on myself and snoop around. Advantage is, I could renew the spell when it ends. Disadvantage is that you two are professional scouts, while I'm just a vaguely sneaky bastard. In a purely amateur sense."

[Calenestel]

Studying the keep, looking for any signs of guards, Quin doesn't look to Django but he ponders the question quickly. "Does that mean that you are able to cast the spell more than once? Then two of us might go." The usually grim elf is now looking almost eager, in a rather fey way.

[CockroachTeaParty]

It is getting on in the evening when you finally spot the top of Vrath Keep through the trees. You find a likely spot nearby to tie the horses before proceeding cautiously on foot. A 40 foot high stone wall surrounds the keep, the main structure of which is two stories tall, with crenelated battlements at the top of the main tower. As Laerallis' story confirms, the keep has seen better days: the walls are battered and chipped, large boulders lay strewn about the place, and the main gates have long ago been smashed in by gigantic hands. There is also a large breach in the southern wall, suggesting two likely points of entry. No sign of sentries or guards can be seen from outside, nor are there other signs of life such as smoke or noise. The trees rustle in a warm evening breeze as the keep itself stands forlorn, decrepit in its impotence.
The only other structures of note are a wooden shack just outside the main gate, and a simple wooden stable for horses. Both look like they haven't been used in a long time, and are thick with lichen and moss.

Map of the area

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

[mucat]

"Sure can."

Django waits until the group has secured the horses and is studying the Keep from the cover of the last stand of trees before the forest gives way to open ground. "Once I cast the spells, we'll only have a few minutes," he whispers. "Quin, what do you say we check those two side buildings together, then you check the gatehouse while I look at that hole some giant smahed in the wall for us?"

Once the plans fall together, Django chants a rhymed couplet in some ancient tongue, then moves his hand in a horizontal arc and and fades rapidly from sight. The words repeat, this time from no visible source, and the elven ranger vanishes as well.


Invisibility spells on Django and Quin.

Move Silently roll for Django: [roll0]

If either he or Quin make too much noise and seem to have attracted attention, he'll use his last second-level slot to cast a Silenced Silent Image (which, however odd it sounds, is not redundant...) to simulate some harmless animal that could have made the noise...

[Calenestel]

As Django starts his casting the Quingendon calmly unties the large bundle of canvas strapped to the bottom of his haversack and lays it on the ground by a maple, as an afterthought he takes the waterskin from his belt and lays it on top of the bundle and, feeling sufficiently lightened, he walks over to the spot where Django had disappeared. Suddenly he, himself is gone. All that can be heard is a low chuckle, the creaking of a bow being stringed and the elf's voice in a hushed tone: "Let's move out then, my friend. We'll go for the shack first?" Not even a jingle or tinkle can be heard from the chainmail, nor a creak from leather and scarecly a rustle of leaves and grass.

[roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

The stables seem to harbor little of interest other than dust and spiders. As Django approaches the shack, however, he notes that the structure is unstable; fiddling around with it might cause it to collapse, generating all kinds of noise, so it is decided that the shack should be ignored for the moment.

Django and Quingendon split up, under the cover of illusory stealth, and make their first steps into the inner courtyard of Vrath Keep.

The courtyard is littered with more boulders, and two titanic skeletons can be seen bleaching in the setting sun; forest giants, no doubt, who were killed in the battle so long ago.

There are three main structures of interest within the courtyard. To the north, a more substantial castle stable can be seen, with a pair of wooden double doors serving as the main entrance. There is also a breach in the wall to the northwest, near one of the giant skeletons, that could also provide a means of entry.

In the southeast corner of the keep is a squat, square outbuilding, perhaps an old waystation, smithy, or armory. There are two wooden doors that allow entrance into this building, although one is within the southernmost partially collapsed gatehouse.

Finally, the largest structure, attached to the main tower, is what appears to be the main barracks of the keep. A wooden door would allow entrance, as would a small breach in the eastern wall. Django can hear the mutter of voices coming from the breach, as well as the flickering of candlelight or torchlight within; the barracks seem to be occupied, most likely by hobgoblins.

(I'll need another Move Silently check if you wish to proceed further)

Map of the Area

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

[mucat]

On hearing the voices within the ramshackle barracks, Django's first instinct is to signal Quin; an instant later he smirks invisibly at his own dubious common sense. Snooping on the hobgoblins inside is a job he would rather have left to the stealthy elf, but finding Quin at this point would be akin to the games of "invisible tag" that the caravan's children would play when he or Naia could spare some spells for them.

Seldani may not be as quiet as elves, he tells himself, but we're still a pack of sneaky blighters. Just ask anyone!

Choosing his footing carefully on the rocky ground and wincing at every soft scrape of boot against stone, Django makes his way to the rift in the barracks wall and invisibly leans through the gap for a look at the opposition within. An illusion spell hovers ready in his mind, in case he needs a quick scapegoat for any sound the humanoids overhear.


Move Silently roll: [roll0]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Django takes a brief peak inside the hole in the wall of the barracks. A pair of bunks can be seen against the western wall, where two hobgoblins are snoozing on the lowermost cots. Another pair of hobgoblins are playing a dice game on the floor, and muttering to themselves in the Goblin tongue. There are two more doors within the barracks, aside from the one that leads to the courtyard: one in the northwest corner, and one in the southwest corner, which must lead to the tower.

Django has only a few seconds to take this in before he notices the most alarming thing: there is a large bed along the southern wall, perilously near the hole in the wall, and leaning next to it, sniffing the air suspiciously, is a nine-foot tall gigantic humanoid that looks like nothing so much as a humanoid bull. The minotaur grips a massive axe with blades the size of wagon wheels. He takes a step forward, clearly smelling something amiss, even if he can't hear or see it. He growls to the hobgoblins in Common.
"I smell somethin'. Wake those two idiots up!"

[Calenestel]

Happily unaware of the trouble brewing for Django Quin heads for the stables. He is good at avoiding being seen, but to be able to vanish completely like this? Marvelous. Easily bypassing the ugly guards puts an invisible smile on the usually grim ranger's face and he decides to be bold. So the castle stables it is. Carefully picking his way to the giant skeleton he slowly peeks through the hole in the wall.

[roll0]
[roll1]

Not the best rolls, but unless someone has a really good Listen skill I should still be relatively safe. Well. Unless there's something that can smell me here as well. :smallamused:

[mucat]

Django freezes instinctively at the sight of the suspicious minotaur, before reminding himself that motionless people smell exactly the same as moving people. The humanoids don't look like meticulous housekeepers, though, and it can't be that rare a thing for a scavenging raccoon or coyote to try to sneak in in pursuit of food scraps.

Moving with distinct trepidation, he raises his hands and hastily runs through the gestures of another spell. There ought to be a spoken component as well, but the spell is a simple one, and under the circumstances it's probably smarter to improvise around its vocal aspects...

From the ground near the gap in the wall suddenly comes a scraping noise as if a living creature is skulking among the fragmented boulders, along with a frightened, miserable whine, perhaps a coyote or feral dog. The sound of the hypothetical animal recedes quickly from the barracks, while Django hopes fervently that the noises will not only explain the scent the minotaur caught, but cover the sound of his own hasty retreat as well.

Django casts a silenced Ghost Sounds (zero-level spell, boosted to first level by metamagic. The Silent Spell feat negates the verbal component of the spell, but obviously not the illusory sounds themselves.)

He does his best to evoke the sounds of an unseen scavenging canine skulking away from the building, hoping that the hobgoblins and minotaurs see no need to chase down an animal already in retreat. At the same time, Django will make his way back to the gap in the outer wall:

Move Silently roll: [roll0]

EDIT: Not the greatest roll in the world, but with luck any sound he makes will blend with the Ghost Sound spell and be blamed on the poor nonexistent dog.

[Firebeard]

As Django and Quingendon explain their plan and disappear [see what I did there?] on their scouting mission, Aurellion prepared himself for the inevitable and maintained a watch on both the keep and the surrounding area. He did not want to be caught unawares if the scouting party kicked a hornet's nest of hobgoblins, or if a greenskin raiding party returned to the keep to find a group of adventurers camped outside.

He moved quietly to his watch point, and then scanned the area around them for any signs of trouble.



I'll roll up a few spot/listen checks to see if anything is approaching us, or if I can hear anything from the keep. Specifically, I want to know if any shouts of alarm go up that might indicate that our friends were detected and that they need rescuing. I guess make the rolls every minute?

spot: [roll0]
listen: [roll1]

spot: [roll2]
listen: [roll3]

spot: [roll4]
listen: [roll5]

spot: [roll6]
listen: [roll7]

spot: [roll8]
listen: [roll9]

[CockroachTeaParty]

It takes a certain amount of concentration to cast the spell silently, preventing Django from getting much farther away from the gap in the barracks wall. The minotaur's eyes squint suspiciously as he takes a few more ponderous steps toward Django on cloven hooves. Just as the minotaur is a few paces away, Django makes a hasty retreat toward the breach in the wall, but in his haste he knocks over some loose gravel and small stones. The minotaur growls, and stomps over to the squat outbuilding, but by this point Django has reached the safety beyond the outer wall, out of sight...

Meanwhile, Quingendon carefully picks his way around the massive giant skeleton. He approaches the small breach in the stables. Inside, he can see wooden stables and bales of hay, and out of sight, somewhere in the northeast corner, he can hear the sounds of high-pitched goblin chatter. They seem to be playing some kind of game, and laughing occasionally.
"Ooh, that was a good'un!"
"Round and round she goes!"
"Three coppers on the black and brown!"
However, Quingendon only has a few moments to take this in before he notices a pair of shaggy shapes emerge from a bale of hay across from the gap: wolves, with red eyes and filthy black fur, begin to sniff the air suspiciously. Their jaws slaver with drool. One of the wolves, surprisingly, shouts to the unseen goblinoids in their own tongue, its voice deep and rumbling.
"I smell something. We having elf for dinner?"

[Calenestel]

Cursing like an orc, but only in his mind, and quite surprised to see a talking wolf Quin glances around for a hasty retreat. He doesn't have the magics of Django at his disposal. But he is crafty and woodwise. While the wolf is still looking to his goblinoid companions the elven ranger bends forward, picks up a stone and starts making a retreat. As he heads for the breach in the wall he throws the stone up on the roof of the stables, hoping to fool the monsters that the elf for dinner is trying to sneak away above them.

That's not an attack action so I REALLY hope the DM doesn't claim that breaks the invisibility. Just in case Quin is trying to keep away from view anyways. Old habits and all that.

[roll0] (C'mon, will Cale need a new pair of boots?)
Not right now. Phew. :smallbiggrin:

[CockroachTeaParty]

Django and Quingendon both make hasty, invisible retreats out of the keep. Quin hears the crunch of gravel just when he reaches the stables, and whispers out a challenge, only to find that it is Django, who ran into a similar situation. It would appear the occupants are somewhat defended against simple invisibility, thanks to the presence of particularly keen noses.

Before the cloaked pair return to their companions hiding in the woods, they see one last unusual sight: Swooping up on the eastern wall of the keep, they see a monstrous creature. It is ruddy yellow-brown in color, with the body of a lion. A pair of massive leathery pinions give it flight, and its long tail ends in a cluster of nasty-looking black spikes. Its head is somewhat humanoid, with a toothy maw. It surveys the surrounding area lazily before swooping back down into the keep and out of sight. Noise can be heard from the courtyard: the deep rumbling of the minotaur, the curt barking of hobgoblin orders, and the higher-pitched chatter of what must be smaller goblins. The keep is apparently on alert...

[AtS]

"So... guys. What now? I could always draw most of them out of keep by, er, pretending to be a wandering bard here to experience the "haunted" Vrath Keep firsthand. I might be able to annoy them enough to keep them off guard while the rest of you ready yourselves to strike."
Lem shrugs. "It's up to you guys. And don't worry about the "risk". I live for this kind of stuff." he says with a grin.

[mucat]

Once he and Quin have quickly filled in the others on the improbable array of creatures they found, Django smooths his mustache as he weighs Lem's proposed plan. "I'm not sure that would count as 'risk'," he answers, "so much as 'certain pincushiony death'. They're all on edge now, and I would lay odds that they'll shoot at anything that moves."

"Y'know, strictly speaking, we've got what the good Captain needs: first-hand knowledge that hobgoblins are operating out of the Keep." Before anyone can protest this cowardice, he grins and adds, "Not that any of us want to settle for that. We walked all this way, so we'll damn well cause some trouble while we're here. But getting ourselves killed before we can send word back to Soranna won't help anyone."

He risks raising his head slightly to peer from cover back toward the Keep, then lowers it again. "Nightfall is coming, and that's when they'll be at their best while we'll be half-blind. Early morning is when we've got the edge: their nocturnal creatures tired from a long night of jumping at shadows, and the day shift still waking up."

"So I propose we back off out of their patrol range and get some sleep. Renew our magic, and Quin can send a bird with a note for Dellin's Ferry. Then we spend the day trying to foul up Koth's plans here and see if we can buy Soranna some extra time to rally the Valefolk."

[Calenestel]

After making his report, and finding some grim amusement in how he and Django were chased of in such similiar ways, the elven ranger steps back and listens to the ideas sprouted by others. Lem's suggestion makes Quin wince visibly, and a sour twist to his mouth shows clearly what the ranger thinks of the idea. Django's plans mirrors his own thoughts more closely though, and with his arms crossed over his chest the ranger nods his consent. "I'll have a bird in the air as soon as I've replenished the spell. That should save us a trip back to Dellin's Ferry. The question then is what we should do to hamper the keep's activities? I'd suggest ambushing their patrols, weakening them without exposing ourselves. As long as we can keep them from sending word of their problems to the rest of their army we should be able to weaken them considerably before going for the keep again. But do we have time for that?"

[Firebeard]

"It sounds as if there were two main pockets of troops garrisoned at the keep. How far apart did you say the stables were, and that room with the minotaur?" He listened to the answer and nodded, sketching out the layout of the keep in the dirt as Django and Quingendon explained what they saw.

"Well, if things do settle down tonight, I would say our best bet is to go en masse to the stable, deal with the wolves and goblins there. If we are quick, and the monsters truly are discomfited by the dawn and all-night patrols, we should be able to take them without alerting the rest of the garrison. Then, back over to the building Django investigated, before we search the towers. Worst case scenario, we fall back to the gatehouse and retreat. If that happens, out primary targets are the wolves, since their presence in the stables indicates that they are probably mounts for those goblins."



K. nature [roll0]

I mean seriously, goblins with talking wolves? If that doesn't scream worg riders to someone who has supposedly been fighting against greenskins all his life, I don't know what would.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr doesn't seem to be paying much attention to you as he strings his bow and checks his arrows. Finally, he speaks, the old woodsman's voice rough and very quiet.
"Are you all daft? You think we can just 'camp out 'till the dawn' now? That minotaur, that manticore, and them worgs've all got noses, and in a few minutes they'll be following your scent trail! No, folks, there'll be no rest for us tonight. We're gonna have a fight on our hands within the hour, you mark my words. The question now is, do we wait for'em to come to us, or do we go on the offensive?"

[Calenestel]

A slight blush to his face Quin nods as the other ranger admonishes him and his friends. He is right of course. He should've thought about it. He probably would've if he hadn't been to occupied with trying to figure out a way of taking on the force at all. Not that he would make any excuses in front of the senior ranger. "True," he simply says instead, turning to his friends. "I'd prefer leading smaller groups away into ambushes. Whittling away the hobgoblins and such before striking at the more powerful foes. Does anyone have another plan?"

[Toxic Avenger]

Holding his crossbow, Laerallis's eyes stay fixed upon the fortress. "We should take the fight to them, and quickly," he opines. "I'd bet they'll have reinforcements by tomorrow, and we're just asking to be surrounded out here. Perhaps we can use the breaches in the walls as choke points so we can divide and conquer, though we'll have to keep an eye out for that manticore. If he tries to fly around us, maybe we can use something as cover and fire back on it. If things turn far to the south, we run to the horses and ride. My eyes can lead us through the darkness if it comes down to that, though the manticore would be able to keep up with us, not to mention the worgs..."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr nods his head in agreement.
"If we go at'em now, we might just catch'em a bit off guard. They'll be expecting an elf and a human, not a whole bunch of us. We should focus ranged attacks on that manticore if it stays out of reach. I'll do my part. I reckon one of Lem's songs ought to do us wonders, as well. If any of you has any magics you want to conjure up before we go, now's as good a time as any."
The old man has an eager, hungry look in his eyes. Perhaps at his age he is past the point of worrying about the danger of it all.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion gripped his spear tightly and grinned "Fine then. Let's do this the right way. I'll lead and force them to come at or past me. I can't guarantee that they won't go around to strike the rear ranks, but I will do what it takes to stop their initial advance." Spinning his greatspear as lightly as another might a quarterstaff, Aurellion prepared himself.

[McNerp]

"I will follow behind you, Aurellion, and with any luck slow them so they have difficulty attacking you. Do not fear my breath yourself, for the enchantment I placed on you earlier makes you immune to its effects." With that, Durrin flexes his wings, ready for combat.

[Calenestel]

"I'll be there as well when you need me. After I put some arrows into that minotaur." Again stringing his darkwood bow Quin looks with his usual grimmess at his newfound friends. Carefully he commits their faces to memory, making sure to etch the moment into his memory as well. This would be something to tell the bards of at home and he would make sure that even the roundears would be honoured should some off them fall. Calmly he tests the pull on the longbow, checks the fletchings on his arrows and shoulders his backpack, leaving his tent where it lies. When he turns to his friends once more there's a smile to mirror Jorr's on his face. If the other ranger is too old to worry about his death, Quin is too young to. "Let's go dance."

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis follows the others toward the fortress. "Best to keep an eye out for that manticore as well. When it comes around again, it will fling its tail spikes at us." He then rushes forward to touch Aurellion's shoulder. "Here, you might be needing this." A short praise to the Lorekeeper follows, and an invisible barrier surrounds the elf.

Laerallis then stoops to pick up a handful of dirt, which he smears on his boots. As he speaks another prayer, he feels divine power flow up into his feet and legs from the ground. His movement quickened by the extra strength in his legs, Laerallis moves into position behind some cover and prepares himself...

OOC:Laerallis casts Protection from Evil on Aurellion, Longstrider on himself, and then he looks for a nearby location where he can fire from cover or concealment, if possible.

[AtS]

Lem pulls out his lute and is about to play a quick cadence before he realizes that silence and stealth are fairly tantamount here. Still, he holds his fingers quivering above the strings, ready to strike with as much musical ferocity as his comrades will with their martial ferocity.

Bracing his back against a tree to use as cover, he turns his head toward the party. "I'm ready whenever you guys are," he hisses between his teeth. His eyes gleam with anticipation.

[mucat]

Django nods philosophically at the change in plans, deferring to the rangers' greater knowledge of tracking and eluding. "Gentlemen," he says with a slight bow, "if I don't get the chance to say this later, it has been an honor working with you all. And thank you again for getting our caravan to Drellin's Ferry."

"My magic is about tapped for the day," he reports. "You can count on me for one more Glitterdust, and I can probably manage a couple of Color Sprays. After that, the best I can do is cheat them at cards, tell them tall stories, and sell them overpriced trinkets. Or poke at them with a blade, I suppose." He glances dubiously at the hilt of his rapier as if it were a mysterious, alien object and says, "They'll be really good stories."

The levity fades from his expression as he turns and addresses the bard, his tone level and serious. "Lem, have you still got that Fly scroll? Listen: if we are losing this fight, use it. Someone has to escape with word of what we found here. Every life in the Vale could be riding on it."

Turning his gaze back to the Keep and the hive of preparation it has become, he says, "We'll be sure to take out the manticore so it can't outfly you. The trackers next. And after that...well, after that we're not losing after all." He scans the broken battlements, then admits, "Honesty would compel me to say the sorcerer could incinerate us as well. Damn good thing I'm not honest."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Vrath Keep

You advance up the road, weapons drawn, ready to meet the enemy. Sure enough, just as Jorr said, you spot two goblins, mounted on black-furred worgs, their snouts snuffling at the ground as they follow Django and Quin's scent. As you approach, the goblins spot you, and let out a whoop. One of them blows a hunting horn, and as the blast echoes through the woods, the *woomph* of the manticore's wings can be heard as it swoops over the walls of the keep, following after the goblins, about fifty feet in the air.

The goblins spur their mounts, guiding them with their knees. They fire arrows from composite shortbows at Aurellion, getting to within close range. One of the arrows grazes the elf's ribs, but the projectiles are small, and he shrugs off the pain easily. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you close to join combat...

(Aurellion takes 3 damage. Initiative in the OOC)

Map: Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/VrathFightR1.png

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis points at the manticore as it swoops over the wall. "There it is! Let's bring it down!" He takes aim at the beast, waits a few moments for Lem to begin his musical magic, and then fires.

OOC:Laerallis delays his action until after Lem's so he can partake of that sweet I.C. goodness, fires at the manticore (standard action), and reloads (move action).

Attack: [roll0] (subtracted 2 from the roll due to range penalty)
Damage: [roll1]

[Calenestel]

Hearing Lem and Laerallis go to work Quin raises his bow, takes careful aim on the manticore and looses. In the corner of his eye he keeps an eye on Aurellion, ready to join the melee should the other elf need the help. But for now the flying monster is his main target.

Not sure what bonuses I'll get from Lem and such (and this does take place/time/whatever after him. I hope it's all right that our glorious DM adds in any bonuses when he summs up our actions? :smallredface:

[roll0] +4 = 23
[roll1] +4 = 10
A nine? I'm paying for the first battle, I see. :smalltongue:

[mucat]

As bowstrings twang on either side, Django's eyes move from the airborne monstrosities to the slavering wolves and their riders. By any sane analysis, he knows, his place is in the trees waiting for opportunity...but then, by any sane analysis, this is not a battle that he and his friends can win, so sanity can go hang.

With a roar of defiance, he leaps from cover and charges headlong across the flat ground at Aurellion's side. "Dya san grashki!" he shouts at the goblins and their mounts. Likely they don't speak Seldani, but that's for the best, really; the insult loses something in translation. Their eyes turn his way, as he had hoped, and just before his path intersects the twin whirlwinds of fangs, talons, and sharp metal, he flings a handful of colored powder from his left and and shouts a brief, sharp incantation. Just as before with the hydra, a spectral riot of light fans from his hand, searing the eyes of goblins and wolves.

Move due west 30 feet, which should put both worgs and their riders in range of a 15' cone. Then cast Color Spray at them. (Will save DC 17, including bonus for spell focus, effects vary with target hit dice.)

[Firebeard]

With a battlecry that sounded suspiciously like a shout of joy, Aurellion twirled his spear and flung himself into battle. The arrow wound in his side burned slightly, but the spear dancer ignored the minor hit and charged the worg riders.

His first attack looked to be a thrust with the butt of the greatspear he held, but a twirling motion sent the bladed end spinning around and at the goblin rider on the right.

Reversing direction, he slammed the broad leaf-shaped blade towards the other goblin rider, feinting at the worg before driving the spear tip home at the greenskin rider.



Aurellion enters a Whirling Frenzy for 6 rounds. Gains an extra attack, but all attacks are at -2. Gains +4 bonus to Strength and a +2 dodge bonus to Armor Class and on Reflex saves. AC up to 22 and Laerallis put Prot Evil on me.

Charging to within 10 feet of the worg riders, using my spear's reach.

attack@worg rider 1: [roll0] PA2 (+2 charge, -2 frenzy, +3 frenzy str, -2 PA) + any additional bonuses (song, etc.)
damage: [roll1]

attack@worg rider 1: [roll2] PA2 (+2 charge, -2 frenzy, +3 frenzy str, -2 PA) + any additional bonuses (song, etc.)
damage: [roll3]




If something the manticore does affects this, I'll change my actions.

[AtS]

Seeing the arrows strike Aurellion, Lem knows that the time for stealth is over. Swelling his chest with air, he belts loose a bombastic melody, hoping that his words will spur his comrades to victory as they had done so in the past. He glows with arcane energy as he begins to sing, fueling his song with his magic, and the badge at his throat brightly reflects the waning sunlight.

"My friends, tonight is not the night to falter.
No, believe in yourself, and believe in me.
Strike hard with your blades - strike hard with your hearts,
and together, we'll return home, in victory.

With hands colored red from the deaths of our foes,
and hearts pumping hard from fierce battle throes,
let race that speeding heart, and use it to feed
your blade, your soul and your own dire need."

Lem turns his face towards the dusky sky, his music a prayer to whoever might grant he and his friends strength. The piercing melody echoes through the forest, a testament to Lem's steadfast determination.

Begin playing Inspire Courage, Inspirational Boost, Badge of Valor, all that jazz. +4 to attacks and damage.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Decisive Assault

Laerallis, Quingendon, and Jorr unleash a volley at the approaching manticore, spurred on by Lem's magnificent, inspiring song. Laerallis' crossbow bolt falls a bit short, but Quin and Jorr fire true, filling the creature with three arrows.
Django runs out of cover, right in front of the slavering worgs and their goblin riders. A riotous burst of color overwhelms their senses, leaving all four foes blinded and stunned, unable to react or comprehend to what is going on around them.
Unfazed by the arrow wounds, the manticore swoops closer, and whips its tail around with a loud *CRACK!* A volley of wicked black spikes, each two feet long, rains down on the party. Django, Durrin, Lem, and Laerallis all are hit by a spike; Lem manages to concentrate on his song, and keeps the pain from spoiling his melody. Durrin's sheer toughness allows him to shrug off the worst of the wound. Django is grazed by a spike, leaving a nasty gash on his left forearm. Laerallis is hit particularly hard, however, as the spike punches into the meat of his right thigh. Aurellion would have taken a spike right in the shoulder, but at the last second a sheen of silvery light deflects the projectile, thanks to the protective magic of Laerallis.
Leaping forward in a joyous frenzy, Aurellion's first strike beheads one of the blind, stunned goblins. The creature doesn't even have the chance to scream before its lifeless torso topples off the dazzled worg. Swinging his spear around, he punches deep into the second goblin's flank, dealing a devastating wound that robs him of all his fighting strength...

(Django takes 4 damage, Durrin takes 5 damage, Lem takes 6 damage, and Laerallis takes 10 damage; waiting on Durrin, everyone else feel free to post their next round's actions. The worgs and goblins are blind and stunned for 4 rounds (!), so they're pretty much screwed at this point.)

Map: Near Top of Round 2

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/VrathFightR2.png

[McNerp]

Durrin curses the manticore, both for being too far away for him to attack and for the bleeding gash on his side. He sees the reeling worgs and goblin and decides to put them out of their misery. He draws his dagger as he moves forward to spew a cone of golden fire over his temporarily helpless enemies.

Move 30ft west and breathe. DC 20 Ref if they get 'em.
Damage:[roll0]

[Calenestel]

Staying in cover with a sour oath, Quin draws a second arrow, pulls and looses in one smooth motion. The goblins are dead, even if some are still breathing, and there's no reason for him to leave the shielding vegetation. But since the manticore is smart enough to stay airborne several of them, their best fighter included, cannot engage it and they need to take it down fast. He really feels the pressure at this point, souring his fun.
The golden snake that accompanies the ranger, while out in the open, lays low, hugging what grass there is, not bothering with attacking already dead mammals. Letting someone else kill these for him.

[roll0]
[roll1]

Laurëlócë does nothing.

[Toxic Avenger]

"Exit stage left, Lem! It's coming right at us!" Laerallis exclaims as he sends off another crossbow bolt. Not waiting to see if the shot hits the monstrosity, he then makes for the other side of the trail whilst asking Lirr to give him an extra burst of speed, and does not stop until he once again has overgrowth between himself and the next volley of spikes.


OOC:EDIT: Oops, I forgot to spell out his actions in OOC. Laerallis fires on the manticore (standard action), and then moves to the other side of the trail next to Quin and Jorr (move action), using his swift action to activate Travel Devotion for some extra speed (since 40' alone won't quite get him there).

Yay! No range penalties this time!

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Battle is Won

Another volley from Jorr, Quingendon, and Laerallis brings the manticore crashing down to the ground, dead before it even hits the earth. As the last goblin rider is incinerated by Durrin's breath, the party gathers around the stunned, defenseless worgs and finishes them off within a few seconds, primarily from Aurellion's powerful spear attacks.

(By the end of this round, all enemies have been dispatched. What do you want to do now? Do you want to heal, regroup, and decide on what to do next? Or do you want to continue forward into the keep, while Aurellion's frenzy/Laerallis' travel devotion lasts?)

[Calenestel]

As soon as the second arrow was in the air Quingendon were drawing the next and fitting it. But instead of pulling the bow he lets the arrowpoint sink towards the ground with a mixture of triumph and surprise on his face. He would have thought that at least the minotaur would follow behind the fastrunning wargs. But no. Nothing. Shaking his head he breaks out of the forest, joining up with the rest of the group. "Onwards? I say hit them while they still don't know how many of us there are. And before they send for help."

[Firebeard]

Flushed with victory, and with a song of joy burbling from his lips, Aurellion continued up the path, moving with a speed and agility that only an elven Spear Dancer could match. The gore from the worg riders flew from his spear in great arcs as he ran, weaving and spinning to avoid any arrows that may be launched by the keep's defenders.


Round 3 - 4 frenzy rounds left

Double move towards the gatehouse (60 feet). If any additional enemies are in cahrge range, do it, but I don't think your map showed any.

[Calenestel]

"Onwards it is, then! Come along, my friends! The game's afoot!" Fitting the arrow to the string again Quin runs after the other elf, ready to stop, draw and loose as soon as he sees an enemy, preferably one with a bow or the like himself.

[McNerp]

Durrin flicks his fingers and a knotted wand springs into his waiting hand. Following behind Aurellion, he attempts to work the magic of the wand to heal his wounds. "Save some for me, Aurellion!" he calls, the thrill of such an efficient battle making him slightly giddy.

The wand gives off a single weak flash and Durrin frowns. So much for that.

Draw wand of lesser vigor from wand bracer as free action, move closer to the keep, and UMD the wand.
[roll0]

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis breathes a sigh of relief when the manticore goes down...and then he remembers the spike protruding out of his thigh, the adrenaline rush having enabled him to ignore it until now. He reaches down to remove it from his leg, staunches the bleeding with a prayer to the Lady Poet, and then reloads his crossbow before following the elves toward the fortress. "I agree, to wait now would give them the advantage."

OOC:The first round after the manticore kicks it, Laerallis burns a casting of Blessed Aim (good riddance, I say) to heal his leg wound (standard action), reloads his crossbow (move action), and moves 40 feet closer to the next rumble (swift action).

Cure Light Wounds: [roll0]

[mucat]

As his comrades dispatch the dazzled worgs, Django helps himself to a shortbow and quiver of arrows from one fallen rider, shaking the weapon vigorously to dislodge the severed goblin forearm which still grips it. He turns toward the keep to meet the inevitable second wave of attackers…but neither the minotaur nor the hobgoblins emerge, nor does the sorcerer Koth appear on the tower roof to burn them all to cinders.

An unexpected reprieve from Lady Luck…and what else is there to do with luck but push it? Purloined bow in one hand, a pinch of glittering mineral dust in the other and a sell ready in his mind, Django grins and charges after the elves, wondering how far sheer audacity can carry them all.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Operation: Audacity

Everyone pushes onward, toward the destroyed gates of Vrath Keep. Laerallis takes a moment to reload and staunch the bleeding on his leg wound, while Django quickly scavenges one of the fallen goblin's bows.

Aurellion, well ahead of the rest of the group, practically drunk on battle-joy, is the first into the breach. He spots the menacing minotaur lurking behind some of the boulders littering the courtyard. Before he can level his spear and charge the monster, however, several things happen at once.

First, a bugbear, clad in red robes, pops out from hiding near the minotaur. He snarls something and points a clawed hand, and suddenly a brilliant bolt of blue lightning arcs through the entryway of the keep. Aurellion, Quingendon, and his snake animal companion are all caught by the blast. While they all manage to avoid the worst of the attack, the electricity nevertheless singes skin and causes hair to stand on end. Quin's snake friend is made of less robust stuff than the elves, and collapses on the ground with a feeble twitch of its tail, dying.

Next, a cadre of four hobgoblins, armored in banded mail and wielding longswords and heavy shields, charge out of hiding from behind the gatehouses. Using his incredible reflexes, skill, and battle training, Aurellion uses his greatspear to lash out, striking all four hobgoblins with lightning speed. Any lesser soldiers would have been easily felled by such awesome blows, but the goblins are grizzled veterans and manage to stay on their feet. They slash at Aurellion with vicious blows, and if it were not for Laerallis' protective spell, and the heightened reflexes of his battle-frenzy, the brave elf would have almost certainly been cut down.

Finally, the minotaur steps forward, blocking the way to the bugbear sorcerer beyond. He swings his mighty axe with bone-shattering force, and Aurellion dodges out of the way at the last second...

(Aurellion, Quingendon, and his snake take 10 electricity damage. Initiative in the OOC)

Map: Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/VrathFight2R1.png

[Firebeard]

Spinning and dodging through the melee, Aurellion let laughter burble out through his throat. He had trained for most of his life for this moment. The Spear Dancers often fought practice battles against multiple opponents. They didn't usually have minotaur backup, but that was no matter to Aurellion.

The elf was no master of the Spear, merely a practiced Journeyman, but a Journeyman Spear Dancer was still more than a match for most foes. Whirling and dancing, he made the shaft of the greatspear twist and curve, slicing it through the air to pick off blow and discourage those that sought to get close enough to attack.

Most people thought of a spear as a sharp stick. In fact "stick them with the pointy end" was the first lesson Aurellion had learned. he had been 5 at the time. Since then, he had learned that a skilled wielder with a spear could defeat 5 equally skilled opponents armed with swords or hammers.

A Spear Dancer learned that the blade could turn aside blows and cut through armor and hide as easily as te point. The shaft, seemingly rigid wood, could curve through the air with the right leverage, dealing devastating shocks to weapons and armor. It could also sweep the feet from under a foe, or serve as a force multiplier for jumping or vaulting over opponents.

Aurellion put all of these concepts - and more - into practice now, using every trick he had leaned to keep the hobgoblins away from him while dealing out devastating blows.



whoo, I like that. Can I have some more big battles please?

5' stepping back from the gobbos in front of me, sending attacks at targets marked 1 and 4.

attack@Hg1: [roll0] PA2 (-2 frenzy, +3 frenzy str, -2 PA, +4 bardsong)
damage: [roll1]

attack@Hg4: [roll2] PA2 (-2 frenzy, +3 frenzy str, -2 PA, +4 bardsong)
damage: [roll3]

[Calenestel]

Quin quickly picks out the bugbear and guesses it's identity from what the prisoner had told them. He is just about to shout out a warning about enemy spellcasters when a bolt of lightning makes any warnings redundant. Diving to the side he can't quite escape the crackling energies and he grits his teeth as he rolls to his feet again, carefully keeping the bow safe. But that special bond with Laurëlócë makes him glance towards the golden serpent and he falters, letting precious moments slip by. Face pale he sees his ophidian friend twitch and smolder from the same bolt that had singed himself, the snake lay all too still. Slowly he turns again towards the battle, a very dangerous glint in grey eyes that more resemble thunderheads now. With a strong voice he calls out to his friends, even as he raises his bow: "Laerallis! Please see to Laurë! Save him!" And with a growled elven curse he lets loose.

Quin prioritize the spellcaster and will shoot at him if possible. Otherwise he fires at the minotaur, leaving lesser foes to Aurellion.

Standard action: Ranged attack:
[roll0]
[roll1] +2 for favoured enemy = 10
Edit: I'm not having any luck with damage rolls, am I? :smallannoyed:

Move action: 30 feet forward (should be just west of Snakey) while drawing another arrow.

Free action: Shouting to Lae.

[mucat]

Blinking away afterimages of the lightning bolt, Django continues to run toward the gatehouse. His friends seem to have weathered the assault as well as could be expected, though Quin's snake is not moving; stunned by the jolt, Django hopes. A second spell, and they might all fare much worse.

Aurellion has already engaged the hobgoblin soldiers, and clearly has them outnumbered -- there is one of him, and only four of them -- so Django sets his sight on the targets beyond them, the sorcerer and the minotaur. He casts the mica dust from his hand into the air, shaping its flight with a few words of power, and the familiar storm of Glitterdust erupts over the pair.


Move 30 feet, slightly south of west, ending up just north of Lem.

Cast Glitterdust on the bugbear and minotaur: Will Save DC 17 to avoid blindness, also reveals anyone invisible near them.

[Toxic Avenger]

As Laerallis rushes closer to the gatehouse, he sees Aurellion still standing strong, and hears Quin's call for help. Not having anything near a clear shot at the sorceror on the other side of the wall - in fact, not even being able to see him - the priest stops his advance just long enough to see to Laurëlócë.

After a healing touch restores the serpent, Laerallis brings his attention back toward the battle in front. "He'll live, Quin...if he can stay out of further harm's way," he says as he gestures toward the right gatehouse tower - out of sight of the lightning wielder - to emphasize his point.


OOC:Laerallis moves to a point diagonally to the northwest of Laurëlócë, which should be just to the north of where Quin is heading (burning his swift action and a move action to get there), where he uses Touch of Healing on the snake (standard action), healing 6 points of damage.

EDIT: After this turn, when another immediate action becomes available to Laerallis, he just might use it to cast Close Wounds, depending on what pain gets dealt out to whom before his next turn.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Pushing Forward

The party advances, closing in on the bugbear sorcerer and his beleaguered defenders. Laerallis manages to heal Quingendon's snake companion, and the reptile slithers out of harm's way with a thankful hiss.
Django unleashes another cloud of glittery sparks, but the minotaur and the bugbear manage to close their eyes at the right moment and maintain their composure; while they are now quite clearly visible, and covered in golden dust, they are otherwise unimpeded.
Jorr lets loose another volley of arrows, and two of the hobgoblins near Aurellion go down hard. The woodsman cackles with glee. "Yeehoo! How's that taste, you goblin bastards!?"
Quingendon's vengeful arrow finds its mark, and the bugbear gives a grunt of pain. In retaliation, the sorcerer looks at the elf with a baleful glare, and growls strange syllables as he points and gestures. Laerallis recognizes the casting of a Blindness/Deafness spell. Just as necromantic tendrils of dark power clutch at Quin's mind, he manages to grit his teeth and shrug off the ruinous magic. A look of worry washes over the bugbear's face, for just in front of him, the last of his hobgoblin soldiers are being utterly destroyed by powerful spear-thrusts. All that remains between Aurellion and the sorcerer is the lumbering minotaur. The monster closes the gap, swinging his axe with reckless abandon and even trying to gore the elf on his horns, but Aurellion dances out of the way of each and every attack, unscathed.

Map: Round 2


http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/VrathFight2R2.png

[Firebeard]

"I have the cow! The rest of you stop that mage. The last thing we want is for him to get away." Aurellion shouted over his shoulder as he dodged the steel tipped horns of the minotaur. The great axe slashed down at him, but the elf twitched to the side and the blade flashed by, mere inches from Aurellion's twisting form.

Aurellion could feel his battle frenzy wearing off, his body wearying from the exertion. Nevertheless, he spun and flicked out the spear blade twice in quick succession, scoring deeply on the minotaur's body.


Not sure if I can 5' step forward and to my left to get out of the way of the archers and ranged folks, but if I can that's the plan.


attack@mino: [roll0] PA2 (-2 frenzy, +3 frenzy str, -2 PA, +4 bardsong)
damage: [roll1]

attack@mino: [roll2] PA2 (-2 frenzy, +3 frenzy str, -2 PA, +4 bardsong)
damage: [roll3]

[AtS]

Focusing his gaze upon the minotaur, Lem makes an abrupt change in the tone of the music. Childish, festival-style music flows from his lute, and the bard begins singing punchlines to awful puns and horrible, outdated jokes. A huge grin spreads across Lem's face as he watches the minotaur struggle to keep his composure.

Tasha's Hideous Laughter on the minny, using melodic casting to keep the Inspire Courage running. DC 15 Will save to resist. Also, he's staying behind the lip of the keep, where he was last round. Feels safe (enough) there. :smallbiggrin:

[Calenestel]

Sensing how Laurëlócë's agonies are lessened, the feeling of pain subsiding the ranger looks to his newfound friend, just giving him a grateful glance as he stops for another shot. Then he raises his bow, draws it to the ear and looses in one smooth motion and is continuing forward again before the arrow even reaches the end of it's journey.

Had some little time on my hands while at work. :smallwink:
Like last turn Quin fires at the bugbear if it has half cover or less, otherwise he fires at the Minotaur.

Standard action:
[roll0]
[roll1] (possibly +2)
Crappy attack roll. :smallannoyed: I hope the sorcerer has an equally crappy AC.

Move action: Move 30' forward, stopping just behind and to the right of Aurellion (above and to the right on the map), drawing a new arrow as he moves.

Free action: Making hissing noises to Laurë, his empathetic link filling with a feeling of companionship and working in tandem, a call for the ophidian to follow it's friend and master.

[McNerp]

Emboldened by his compatriots' quick dispatching of the various lesser enemies, Durrin moves toward the minotaur at top speed. Thoughts of the villages in the vale being assaulted by capricious and warlike creatures such as these add a gleam of fierce resolve to his face. The dragonborn breathes deeply as he moves and sends a roaring torrent of flame at the half-man-half-bull. The golden fire shimmers as it strikes the minotaur, constricting around its massive frame as it continues to burn.

Move 30 ft over, 5 ft up (with a diagonal) and Entangling Breath the mino.
Damage: [roll0]
Entangle Rounds: [roll1]

[mucat]

Django tries to call yet another spell to his mind, but feels the magic guttering, almost drained. What little power remains seems to fight his attempts to shape it; he can manage perhaps one more spell, he judges, and not a very complex one at that. He can't possibly beat the sorcerer in a magical duel at this point, but if he can get close enough to drive home a short-range spell, perhaps he can at least distract the bugbear while his friends close in.

The fight raging in the gatehouse makes it almost impossible to reach the sorcerer...but there is still the brech in the south wall of the Keep. Django veers left and redoubles his pace, sprinting for the gap in hopes of catching the enemy from an unexpected angle.

Full-round action to run full-tilt around the south end of the Keep, heading for that gap in the south wall. (Quadruple move = 120 feet max, which should get him to the gap.)

He'll pause at the edge of the gap, ready to make his move on the sorcerer next round.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis moves forward to the ruined gate, stopping well out of range of the minotaur's gigantic axe, where he crouches down slightly and waits for a good opening to fire on the sorceror. While he waits, his eyes quickly search for any highly distinguishable objects that the bugbear is wearing or carrying.

OOC:Laerallis moves to the point just to the east of where Quin is heading (swift action), looks to see if the bugbear has any distinguishable or unique objects on his person (move action), and then FIRE!!!! (standard action)

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Victory...

Django takes off running for the southern breach, while the rest of his companions reach the main gates. Laerallis puts another crossbow bolt into the bugbear, but Quingendon's arrow is deflected at the last moment by an invisible barrier of some kind, no doubt a protective spell. Laerallis notices the sorcerer is holding a wand and a small glass vial in his hand, and there is a morningstar at his belt. Lem manipulates the mind of the minotaur, causing the beast to bellow and collapse on the floor even as it is enveloped by Durrin's flaming, constricting breath.
The bugbear, seeing his champion go down, quickly drinks his potion before tossing the empty vial to the ground to shatter. Suddenly, he lifts up off the ground and swoops up and over the outer wall behind him, out of sight. Jorr curses, and takes off running to the north of the keep, trying to keep tabs on the bugbear.
Aurellion doesn't have time to take this in. With one last surge of adrenaline, he plunges his spear into the hysterical, singed minotaur, ending its life with a brutal stab to the heart. Then, his muscles begin to burn with the expenditure of his battle-frenzy, and his breathing comes to him labored. Sweat pours down his brow, to mix with the blood of his enemies that stains his face and armor.
Everyone else takes off as fast as they can, trying to get to the other side of the keep, but Django sees the bugbear rocket off into the western woods, flying much too fast for even Laerallis enhanced speed to catch up.
Everyone returns to the keep. Though victory is yours, the leader of the operation, this 'Wyrmlord Koth,' seems to have managed to escape.

Jorr and Quingendon head into the western woods, following a trail of broken branches, while Quin's snake companion attempts to follow the bugbear's scent trail, as well as the occasional drop of blood from the arrow wounds the sorcerer received. After a while, they come across horse hoof tracks, as if a horse had suddenly appeared from nowhere. The hooves turn north, then east, heading all the way back to the Dawn Way, where they proceed north further into the Witchwood. By this point, the two rangers decide to return to the keep, for night has fallen, and they need to rest.

Meanwhile, everyone else takes some time to recuperate and explore the ruins of Vrath Keep. Aurellion gathers the weaponry of the fallen enemies, while everyone else splits up. In the stables, you find the bunks of the goblins and the worgs, but there is little of value here other than hay, old rations, and worg droppings.
In the small outbuilding, you discover a large hole in the roof, as well as an immense, smelly nest composed of destroyed furniture, hay, and other detritus. This must have been the manticore's 'nest.' A search of the nest reveals a small amount of valuable treasure, including gold and platinum coins and a few pieces of jewelry.
Inside the barracks, you find a much more neat and orderly series of bunks, where the hobgoblin soldiers kept their things. There is little of interest in here, but when you search under the minotaur's bed, you find heavy sack filled with gold.
The northernmost door in the barracks leads to a small room dominated by a long table and stools. Scraps of paper, spilled ink, nails, and quills litter the table and floor. Small notes in the Goblin tongue are scattered around the walls and rushes. This must have been a war room, where the goblins planned their raids. However, it appears that a great deal of the intelligence here was very recently taken, including all maps. The bugbear must have taken them, and now he has escaped... Still, you are able to decipher a small amount of information from the notes left behind. Reports from raiding parties suggest that about a dozen or so groups of hobgobins are within the Witchwood, and that they report to Vrath Keep about once a week or so. They have been assessing the defenses of Drellin's Ferry, and by the looks of things, they are almost ready to attack in force. There are many references to the 'Red Hand Horde,' led by one 'Wyrmlord Kharn.'

The main tower of the keep is last to be explored. The upper floor of the tower is almost completely ruined and contains little of interest, but the first floor was apparently the bugbear's chambers. A fine bed, chair, and dresser drawer are here, but the sheets are messy, and it appears as if anything of value was hastily removed from this room not long ago. You are just about to return outside when Django notices a trapdoor hidden under a disturbed carpet. By the looks of it, not even the goblinoids had found this secret, for the dust and rust on the trapdoor suggest that it has not been disturbed for a long, long time.

Curious, you pry open the passage and descend into the gloom. There, beneath the keep, you find a small chamber with three side passages, each blocked by an iron grate. On the floor is a human skeleton, still clad in rusted armor. Fine-looking iron gauntlets still remain on the skeleton's hands, and it clutches a beautiful longsword of blue-tinted steel. Motes of white light dance up and down the blade, drifting like snowflakes, and the sword is cold to the touch. Behind the iron grates are chests and coffers. It takes some effort, but you force open the grates, and afterwards the chests and coffers, to behold a small fortune in treasure!

The first alcove contains ten iron coffers. Inside six of these coffers is a wealth of coins: silver, platinum, and gold. The other coffers contain letters of credit, dated from the Kindgom of Rhestilor, having long since expired. The final coffer contains a scroll of old parchment bearing the deed to the keep.

The second alcove contains trunks filled with musty old books. Many of them have disintegrated or rotted away. Most of them appear to be ledgers, memoirs, and dairies, penned by Amery Vrath himself. There is little contained within these tomes that you do not already know, and are little more than curiosities.

The third alcove contains a massive chest, inside of which are a few fantastic treasures. You find a small skull of what appears to be a dragon, with curving horns jutting out of the side of the head; Lem and Laerallis believe it is a young black dragon's skull. There is also a string of about two dozen enormous teeth; taking a guess, they might be forest giant teeth. There is also a large gauntlet constructed of wood and bone, sized for a hand the size of a large chair. You also find a fine shirt of mithral links, supple, light, and glittering despite its age. Finally, there is a gorgeous staff, carved from white oak, carved to resemble twisting boughs of holly and oak, curving around a gleaming polished horn at the tip.

After collecting all of your spoils, Durrin calls upon his draconic knowledge to identify the properties of any magical items you discovered.
On the dead hobgoblins you find twelve potions of Cure Moderate Wounds.
On the goblins, you find two sets of small magic studded leather armor (+1).
The enormous spiked gauntlet is magical, though it is too large for anyone to properly wield it (+1).
The gauntlets on the skeleton seem to boost the strength of whomever wears them (Gauntlets of Ogre Power).
The mithral chain shirt is reinforced with magical energy (+1 mithral chain shirt).
The longsword you found, clearly magical, has several interesting properties. When held, it glows with a cold blue light as bright as a torch, and seems to inflict deadly, freezing energy when it strikes (+1 frost longsword).
Finally, the staff is a potent magic item. It seems to harbor incredible healing powers, even capable of returning the dead to life. However, very little of its power remains; it can only be used a handful of times before its magic is used up forever. (Staff of Life, with 7 charges remaining)

As darkness falls on Vrath Keep, you find yourselves with a small pile of fabulous riches. However, the hints from the war room suggest that the danger is far from over. You start up a fire in the barracks as you sort through the loot and plan your next move...

(Everyone gets 2625 XP. A full list of the loot in the OOC thread)

[Toxic Avenger]

Though the written notes of Avery Vrath do not contain much that he does not already know, Laerallis nevertheless tries to preserve them the best he can, and then he copies selected parts into his diary, using divine magic to speed up the process. He also ensures that any items with artistic value are especially cared for.

(OOC: Using Amanuensis for copying any text, of course.)

Once everyone is back at the Keep and planning the next move, Laerallis lets his thoughts be known. "We might have enough information to bring back to Captain Soranna, so we could head back with the news. However, we still don't know how many are in the horde, nor do we know when it will get to Drellin's Ferry, not to mention what exact path it will take. If we want to find out more, I think we'd need to follow that bugbear. We'd lose two days if we return to town first, but we've got to bring what we've found today back to the Captain somehow..."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr stares into the fire, his brow furrowed.
"As much as I enjoy killin' goblins with you, I don't think I bring as much pain to the table as the rest of you professionals. By the looks of those tracks, I'd say the bugbear was headin' north, towards Skull Gorge bridge. I can head back to Drellin's Ferry and give the folks there the scoop. As a matter'o fact, I volunteer."

[McNerp]

"I agree. Let us pursue the hobgoblin and see if we can't find where that 'Red Hand Horde' is headed." Durrin's eyes follow what he can make of the tracks into the distance.

[Firebeard]

I have nothing to say yet

[Calenestel]

"I would have sent a bird with information of what we have learned," the elven ranger says calmly, quietly while studying the longsword they had found. Even before Durrin's divinations he had been sure of what he could expect from the blade. A blend of deduction and intuition had already told him what the dragonborn had to say. At a whole he seem more interested in this blade than the discussion now that Jorr had volounteered. But appearances might be decieving, the look he suddenly gives his friends is sharp and aware. "I think I'll prepare the spell none the less. Who can tell what we may learn tomorrow, eh?"

After a few more moments of studying the sword he suddenly seem to come to a decision with himself. As if he had debated something difficult and just reached a consensus. Standing up he holds the frostblade before him, looking to his friends. "I would claim this for me. If any of you would likewise like to claim it I will offer my own sword in compensation. It is a good blade, finely crafted and have served me well. Furhtermore it was given to me by my... paternal uncle. But given to any of you, friends, I would say that it would still be honoured." After a quick hesitation about the words "paternal uncle" in common the elf gestures towards the longsword at his hip. It really is a wonderfully crafted blade, in unmistakeable elven style.

Edit: D'oh. Ninja'd. I would have to rewrite this entirely. But I'd prefer just to say that Quin speaks before Aurellion. OK?

[Firebeard]

"We need to rest and recover. I do not mind resting here, but we must begone by morning light if we are to have any chance of catching up to this sorcerer. We also need to post sentries to watch for any of the returning patrols."

Turning to Jorr, he said "Jorr, I appreciate the help you have offered, both the offer to return to the Ferry with the news we have discovered and the fact that you fought beside us to this point. Your skills will be missed, and I think I speak for all here when I say that you are welcome to join us again at any time. But, before you go, is there anything else you can tell us about this Skull Gorge bridge and the trail between here and there?"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr rubs the stubble on his chin.
"Aye, I'll keep watch most of the night. As for Skull Gorge, well... it's a good three hours' ride from here, straight north along the Dawn Way. You'll cross the Gold Creek, and then the woods will start to thin out. The gorge itself is a nasty piece of business: practically a sheer drop, more than a hundred feet to Skull Creek below, which has quite the powerful current. Really, it would impassable if it weren't for the old bridge the dwarves' built so long ago. It's the only way across the gorge without havin' to detour a good 20 miles or so. It's the perfect bottleneck, and if this 'Red Hand Horder' is fixin' to cross it, I'd imagine they'll have sentries posted. If Vrath Keep was their headquarters in the Witchwood, then Skull Gorge Bridge is likely their next major stronghold.
If I were you, I'd check out the bridge, kick the crap out of anything keeping guard, then proceed north and try to catch a glimpse of this army with your own eyes. My word'll only mean so much to the folks of Drellin's Ferry, but if you can assess their strength yourselves, it'll go a long way towards making them listen. I got a feeling in my gut that this army is too powerful to stop with the Vale's forces west of Brindol. I'm sure we've already put a wrench in the gears by cleanin' out this here keep, but a few less hobgoblins and minotaurs aren't going to stop them, that's for damn sure."

[Firebeard]

"It sounds as if this bridge is strategically significant. What would be the effects on horde movement and local commerce if the bridge were destroyed? I think it would be a last - or at least backup - resort, but if it is the only way across the gorge as you say, then we may be able to stop the army in its tracks."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr grins mischievously.
"That's solid dwarven architecture we're talking about, now. I wouldn't put it past you lot to destroy it, though, if you put your minds to it... It would sure as hell make things a lot less convenient for a large army. They'd get across eventually, but it would delay them several days. As for the effects on 'local commerce,' well... if that army is as bad as I think it is, there won't be much 'local commerce' left once they get through with Drellin's Ferry, or maybe even the whole Vale. So I won't say nothin' should that bridge suffer a tragic... eh... 'architectural mishap.' Heh."

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis ponders the possibility of this plan. To take down a dwarven bridge would be possible, but exceedingly difficult. One would need a lot of heavy equipment, and a whole lot more help...

Yes...heavy help...

With that thought, Laerallis heads over to the loot pile and returns with the huge spiked gauntlet, laying it down where everyone can see it. "Jorr, do you know if the Twistusks are still around? If they are, I'm thinking it might be worth asking them to help deal with the goblins."

[mucat]

Django breaks into a broad, slow grin at Laerallis's words. "Lem, when you write the immortal epic about the defeat of the Red Hand Horde, what would it take for you to pretend I thought of that idea? Name your price."

[CockroachTeaParty]

Jorr shrugs as he scrutinizes the massive gauntlet of horn and bone.
"Ol' Vrath and his men wiped out most of the Twistusks long ago. The few that remained to avenge their fallen tore down the keep, then went into the eastern foothills of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains. I've never seen any forest giants in my neck of the woods, but then again, I haven't explored much of the western Witchwood. As odd as it sounds, considering their size, finding a forest giant in these woods would be like finding a needle in a haystack. You could waste weeks looking for any remnants of the Twistusks, if they're still alive. Besides, I don't imagine they'd be too fond of us Vale folk, after what Vrath did to'em. I guess you can keep an eye out for any signs'o giants, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

[AtS]

"Your firstborn daughter's hand in marriage. If she's as good-lookin' as her father, that is." Lem replies with a sly smile.

Turning to Laerallis, Lem remarks, "Any chance you could ask Lirr for some help with bridge destruction? There's got to be some sort of 'divine intervention' that could aid us in this juncture. An earthquake, or maybe even turning the bridge to mud?" The bard strokes his tuft of beard thoughtfully.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis shakes his head. "I wish it were that easy, Lem...divine magic of that power requires a level of faith few ever attain in one lifetime. Even a simple stone shaping prayer is yet out of my reach." With a straight face, the priest adds, "Nice idea though, I think I'll take it for my own." With that, he picks up the giant gauntlet and drops it unceremoniously in front of Django. Unable to keep a straight face for much longer, he looks straight down at the floor for a moment in an attempt to hide his smirk before continuing, this time addressing everyone.

"A druid or an acolyte of the Earth gods might be able to help, if we were lucky enough to bump into one along the way...not to mention helpful giants. If not, we'll just have to figure something out once we take the bridge. If we have or find anything that can pass for mining tools, we should bring them along. I'm curious to see what a pickaxe could do in the hands of Aurellion, now that he has shiny new gloves."

Turning back to Jorr, Laerallis adds, "So we'll head straight for the bridge in the morning, then. No side trips to search for phantom giants. I'll write a message for you to bring along to Captain Soranna. She might need something on paper in order to convince anyone."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Third Day

At the break of dawn, you part ways with Jorr, riding hard for Skull Gorge. After two hours of riding through the morning haze, you come to a fork in the Dawn Way. The main road proceeds to Skull Gorge, roughly an hour away, while a side road turns to the west, deeper into the Witchwood and the shadow of the Wyrmsmoke foothills. Standing by this side road is a massive effigy made of sticks, vines, and broken furniture and junk. The shape is vaguely humanoid, roughly 15 feet tall, and hangs together with rope, vines, and animal sinew, using a nearby tree for support. Birds have nested in the old barrel that represents the figure's 'head.'

You guess that this construction must be a territorial marker used by a giant tribe. The workmanship seems a bit shoddy for forest giants, and even though the effigy looks like it's been here for years, it still seems a more recent creation than the fall of Vrath Keep. Perhaps some remnant of the Twistusks still lurks somewhere in the western woods... The question is, can you afford a detour? None of you know how far this side road leads, or even if you'll run into any giants on the way...

[McNerp]

"This is certainly a sight to behold. Perhaps once we've investigated the supposed horde, we can turn our attention to the giants." Durrin rubs his scaly chin as he ponders a few scenarios that might result from meeting with giants. Most of them involved man-sized boulders flying through the air at his comparatively squishy head.

[mucat]

Django has found a piece of charcoal and some parchment among his supplies, and is busy making a rough sketch of the effigy. "If we do meet giants," he muses, "we can break the ice by raving about their artwork."

He finishes his sketch, folds it carefully, and packs it away, perhaps to ask an expert about later. "For now, though, I'd say we should press on for the bridge. Once we see what's waiting for us there, there will be plenty of daylight left to double back and search for giants if we're desperate enough."

[Calenestel]

"Agreed," the laconic ranger says, never even looking to the others. His own attention is on the trail ahead, searching for tracks or other evidence of enemy activity. Or giant activity for that matter. Laurëlócë is more attentive of the discussion, eyeing the rest of his master's troupe with his hard eyes, tongue flicking out and in.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis raises an eyebrow at the effigy, and raises it even more when he looks upon Django's sketch. "And after we rave about their artwork, I can throw free lessons into the diplomacy pot...that should help seal the deal. But yes, let's continue on to the bridge first."

[Firebeard]

"Agreed, let us move on. The day grows shorter and I would see what defenses, if any, these goblinkin have set upon the bridge."

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Northern Witchwood

Another brisk hour's ride north, and just like Jorr said, the trees begin to thin. The trunks become skinnier, more sickly-looking, and the soil becomes more dry and arid. Thorny pricker bushes, nettles, and brambles make for an unpleasant, forbidding wilderness. Eventually, far in the distance, you can see a few things of note by the late morning light:

A plume of smoke rises above four squat structures in the distance. They appear to be guard towers made of stone, and the smoke is likely coming from a camp fire. The terrain in the distance contains a thin, brownish slash in the countryside, which must be Skull Gorge.

This must be the bridge, and there appears to be activity here. However, the cover of the trees is all but gone; if you wish to get a closer look, it might be prudent to proceed with stealth, or else prepare to attack...

[Toxic Avenger]

"Perhaps I should have spent the last of my gold on a spyglass." Laerallis focuses his vision on the bridge as he tries to spot anything else of note, a difficult task from such a distance.

OOC:Spot: [roll0]

[Calenestel]

"I'll have a look. You wait here. And be ready to come to my aid should I need it." And with that Quin pulls the cowl of his cloak over his head, seeming to blur with the surroundings. Carefully picking his pace and a route that utilizes what cover there is, he starts forward.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Taking advantage of his practiced stealth skills, and with the aid of his elven cloak, Quingendon proceeds forward, ducking from scrub to dead tree trunk, even occasionally crawling on the dusty ground. It takes him a few minutes, but before long he has a better view of the bridge and the forces that occupy it.

The bridge spans the gorge for roughly 70 feet. From the ground, Quin can't see the bottom of the gorge, but he can hear the rush of water down below. On either side of the bridge stand two watchtowers, making for four total. Each is pentagonal in shape, and about 40 feet high, topped with a conical roof. Spiraling wooden stairs attached to the outside of the towers are the only means of reaching the top. On the opposite side of the gorge, on the western side of the bridge, is a cluster of hide tents, gathered around a central camp fire. A flag flies from the largest tent, red, bearing a black five-fingered gauntlet insignia.

Quin can make out several hobgoblins in the camp, talking, cooking, and gambling. In each of the towers, a single hobgoblin is posted, each armed with a longbow. They keep an eye out for intruders, but none of them spot the lone elf hiding nearby. A pair of rust-colored, red-eyed hell hounds patrols the bridge itself. They slaver in the heat of the sun, and smoke drifts out of their nostrils. Quin can almost smell their sulfurous hides.

The most alarming thing of all, however, is the creature curled up on the roof of the watchtower nearest the camp. Lazily soaking up the sun, its tail twitching idly, a green dragon can be seen. It is about the size of a large pony, and its yellow eyes scan the horizon for anything amiss. The occasional puff of acrid green fumes escapes its nostrils and toothy mouth.

(Photobucket is down, so I can't post a map just yet, but that's all the important information. Nobody spots Quin, so he can return to the others safely.)

[McNerp]

"Hmm. That foul spawn of Tiamat will be most troublesome. Unfortunately, my wings aren't yet strong enough to allow me to do battle in the sky. I'll focus my attention on impeding the ground troops unless the dragon comes within my range."

[Firebeard]

"Do we have a way to bring it down to earth? Or perhaps allow one of us to fly up to it? I am afraid that it will simply hover and use its foul breath on us if we try to engage it from the ground. Also, I do not feel comfortable trying to cross that bridge with the beast ready to knock anyone who tries it off into the gorge below."

[Calenestel]

After making his way back and giving his report about the troops holding the bridge Quin sits down in the shade of a gnarled tree, taking a healthy swig from his waterskin. It had been a rather dusty and hot crawl for him, and with a nasty surprise at the end of it. That and he could almost feel a taste of sulfur and acid on his tongue. As always he prefers to listen to some of the reactions and ideas from his friends before making up his mind. "If we could lure it into the woods, then we'd have him grounded. But then again, I really have no idea about how that would be accomplished. And I don't think sneaking up on it under invisibility spells would work. It would probably smell us, and the hellhounds certainly will. It's just a small one. No bigger than a pony, though. So maybe we can handle this like we took care of the manticore?"

[Firebeard]

"Concentration of fire? It could work. Especially with a little inspirational music. If it hovers low enough, I can help out with a javelin or two, or try that bow I picked up at the keep. Mostly though, I think I will best serve by holding off any ground units on the bridge while the rest of you deal with the dragon. If it lands, then I will lend my spear to its destruction."

[AtS]

Lem eyes the ground thoughtfully. "Can you guys think of any way that we could somehow block off the bridge for a while? I think, for us to succeed here, we need to practice divide-and-conquer. Thus, trap the hobgoblins camped on the other side over there until we're ready to fight them, and deal with the dragon and archers on this side..."

Turning to the elf with an apologetic look on his face, he says, "Aurellion, while I mean no insult to your martial prowess and years of training, I highly doubt that you'll succeed in holding off all of the hobgoblins by yourself. One simple push or misstep could send you flailing into the gorge below, and there's... a lot of hobgoblins. Plus, you'd make yourself out to be huge target for el dragón. You can't expect me to believe that it won't go for you first if you're managing to stem the tide by yourself. And if you fall, the rest of us are relative sitting ducks.

The bard strokes his beard pensively. "The only thing that I can think of is for Django to create some sort illusion of the bridge collapsing. Then, we'll just have to hope that none of the hobbos decides to tempt fate and walk where once the bridge was. Of course, that's just my analysis of our magical abilities. I'm sure each of you, Django, and Laerallis, know your own talents much better than I do."

"But that's still a big gamble..." At this point, the bard seems to be arguing with himself, conflicted. Unless we can guarantee that we're holding back the encampment, I suppose we SHOULD make a contingent plan where Aurellion and perhaps Durrin work in tandem to hold the line for as long as possible. It doesn't give me much hope for success, though. Lem sighs, and then shrugs, holding up his palms.

"However, as for taking down the dragon, he adds, his tone slightly more optimistic, "I DO agree with Aurellion. It simply can't stand against a barrage of magically-enhanced arrows. If anything, we'll at least deter it from really causing problems - as in, breathing its acid all over us.

He taps his fingers on his lips. "We need to make sure that we don't back ourselves into a corner here. Try to stay as spread out as possible during the battle. As long as you can hear me sing, you'll receive the benefit of my song. And, he says with a chuckle, "Laerallis here isn't afraid of hoofing it around the battlefield, it seems. Praise Lirr. With that final thought, Lem crosses his arms and leans against a tree, waiting for a response from the others.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis grins and nods. "Praise Lirr indeed...I'll really need her help to hoof it about if that dragon manages to unload on any of us. I'll have the healing staff ready if need be. Anyway, I agree about that beast...we should shoot it until it drops, though we may need to take out the nearest two archers first. We might then be able to use the towers as cover against the others. Perhaps we could approach until they are just within our range, let them have it, and then focus on the dragon. Lem, you can shoot and sing at the same time, right? We may need more firepower yet. A Dragon is typically far tougher than its size may indicate."

Laerallis finds a relatively concealed spot and sits down. "Now I have not prepared all my prayers this morning, but since Quin was not seen it seems I'll have time to do so. There should be enough protective magic for almost everyone after I'm done." With that, the priest sets out to finish his morning prayers to the Lorekeeper.


OOC:Laerallis needs fifteen minutes to finish preparing spells. Resist Energy will be one of them, and then a few Protection from Evil spells to finish off his 1st level allotment.

[mucat]

Django shades his eyes and studies the camp on the far side. "You were right, Laerallis, a spyglass would be perfect here. I'm sure someone in my caravan would have been glad to sell one cheap. Not that it would do anything, mind you, once you stepped out of range of Naia's illusions."

"Speaking of illusions, and their many fascinating uses," he adds, "Lem's idea is a good one: I could put on a show of the bridge collapsing to split their forces. That bugbear didn't see us use any illusions, so he won't have specifically warned them about that. But I can't manage a lot of sound; it would be pretty quiet as major engineering disasters go." He thinks for a moment, then suggests, "Disintegrating it into dust might be more convincing. I wager they don't know what a Disintegrate spell actually sounds like. I sure don't."

"Trouble with all these plans is that their leaders could slip away again," he says. "Well, that's the second trouble. First is that the dragon will eat us."

"Y'know," he muses after a moment, "I bet I could sneak up invisibly on one of those towers, downwind of the hell dogs on the bridge. Alter the mind of the tower sentry a little, and ask him to tell us about the bridge defenses, and who is in that camp over there. And hope like hell the wind doesn't shift while I'm talking to him."

[OOC: What are the wind conditions like?]

[McNerp]

"I'm fairly confident in my and Aurellion's chances even if the illusion should fail to dissuade them. There can't be that many hobgoblins on the other side. Whatever method we decide to use here, I'll be where I can do the most good, using my breath and these wands I always have at hand. I am no mage, so getting them to activate can be tricky, but it shouldn't take me more than one or two tries to get a spell off. Fight well, brothers, and may the blessings of Bahamut and whatever deity you look to be upon us."

[Toxic Avenger]

After completing his prayers, which mostly consisted of painting a picture of the scene ahead, Laerallis replies to Durrin. "I'll ask Lirr to give her blessing upon the both of you, to improve your odds of holding the bridge." Turning toward Django, he asks, "How elaborate an illusion can you conjure, Django? A disintegration spell has to originate from somewhere...could you also have a flying wizard appear?"

[mucat]

"Ha!" grins Django. "You ask if I can put on a show with illusory wizards and dragons and explosions? That's half the reason the caravan doesn't get chased out of every town we pull up in!"

He considers the bridge carefully, judging angles and distances. "But without my lovely and talented co-conspirator on hand for this show, I'll have to keep everything in a limited area. Wizard appears just above the center span, let's say -- hell, make it an ogre mage, just to confuse 'em -- zaps a thirty-foot bridge segment to dust, then hovers there wreathed in lightning, calling up spells and looking angry." His voice picks up tempo as he continues, clearly enjoying this part of the plan. "If that dragon's not too bright, we might keep him busy fighting the mage rather than the pesky little archers annoying him from our side of the gorge. And it'll take a brave hobgoblin to come anywhere near the whole mess, so that'll delay the moment when someone pokes at the missing bridge section with a stick and finds it still there."

[Calenestel]

"I was unsure about how big an illusion you could manage as well," Quin says slowly, as usual listening before he speaks. "But if you have that level of control, do you think you could add in some illusory hobgoblins that dies horribly? Aside from being entertaining that should add to the horrific realism for our brutish enemies." There is a certain glint in the rangers eyes as he speaks about goblinkin dying horribly. He might be enjoying it just a little too much for being entirely healthy for him. Not that it's a bad idea in itself.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis stands up, and sets his new painting down on a rock to dry. "Oh yes...I like it, I like it. Just keep in mind that most hobgoblins aren't dumb, and even the youngest of dragons could be smarter yet, so there's a lot that needs to make sense...dust blows with the wind, hobgoblins can't just appear out of nowhere...but no doubt you've thought of all that already, Django."

He taps his chin for a moment, and then adds, "I think the ogre mage might be a bit over the top, but it doesn't mean you can't make it work, and it'll be one heck of a good show either way."

[AtS]

Lem sheepishly taps Django on the shoulder.

"My skill with illusions is woefully inadequate. Think the next downtime we get, you could work with me on developing them a bit more?" he asks the beguiler. "I could start helping out a bit more in situations like this, and I'm sure I'll find a use for it in my future performances. Oh, and by the way," he adds, "I'm loving the ogre mage idea."

Turning to address the rest of the company, Lem says, "I'm going to hang back for a bit at the beginning of battle. It takes a bit of concentration to juggle my instruments and weaponry all while singing at the same time, and I would prefer to fumble around like that in the safety of the woods, if you all don't mind. I'm sure I'll join the fray fairly quickly, though, and you'll definitely still be able to hear my song. The bard lets out a prideful smile. "I've got quite a set of lungs on me.

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Battle for Skull Gorge Bridge

With the last of your plans decided, and your protective spells cast, you proceed out of the sparse woods towards the distant bridge. The heat of the morning sun beats down upon you as the dust swirls at your feet. Lem's song lifts your spirits, but you can't quite get rid of that feeling in your stomach... dread, excitement, anticipation, all mixed together.

You hear a distant screech, even above Lem's voice: the dragon has seen you. The bridge is still a few hundred feet up the dawn way, but you can make out shapes in the camp mobilizing. A horn blasts from one of the guard towers.
aaWOOOOOOOOOooooo

The distant, brownish-red forms of the hell hounds can be seen sprinting full-tilt down the Dawn Way, drooling and snarling as they approach. The first of no doubt several volleys of arrows flies from the guard towers. Most of them land harmlessly in the dry ground, the range too great for accuracy, but one lucky arrow grazes Aurellion's left shoulder.
Most disconcerting, however, is the slowly growing shape of the dragon, flapping its great leathery wings, leaving a trail of sickly green vapor from its nostrils as it closes the distance. Faster than the hell hounds, it is soon within relatively close range. You can see its yellow eyes leering at you with cat-like black pupils. A golden amulet hangs from its scaly neck, and a pair of intricately woven, deep-blue leather bracers grace its clawed forelimbs.

Map: Round 1

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR1.png

[McNerp]

Durrin once again lags a fraction of a second behind his comrades as they all begin to respond to the incoming threat. Cursing his slow reflexes, he hustles forward to meet the enemy head-on. "The dragon is out of my range!" he calls out. "I'll see what I can do about the hellhound." The dragonborn flicks his wrist and one of the wands in his bracer shoots into his hand. Here goes nothing.

Move 30 ft straight ahead and UMD a wand of grease, the effect of which will be placed as far ahead as possible (25 ft) to keep the hellhound from charging.

UMD: 1d20+10

[Calenestel]

When the dragon comes near Quin stops with a calm that is very much superficial. Inside his gut is churning and he can feel his heart pound. And he thought the manticore was bad? No, the manticore or the hydra weren't easy, but this is a dragon, if a rather young one. Still, this is what he has trained for all those years. This is why he read any scrap of lore he could find on dragons and why he had spoken with anyone with real experience about fighting them that he could find. Evil dragons were, in his mind, the greatest threat to the goodly races in existence. And he is a ranger, standing between the dangers of the wild and those unable to defend themselves. Thus he manages to keep his nerves and wits collected, his knowledge of dragon anatomy well in mind, and with fluid, almost meditative motions he draws an arrow, nocks it. Smoothly gliding from move to move he draws the bow as he takes aim and looses his first shot. Only then, when the arrow isn't followed by two from Jorr does he realize how much help they'd had from the elderly human. But instead of fear he feel a tinge of regret for the man. That he would miss a battle like this!

[roll0]
[roll1]

Aaaand of course my rolls suck. :smallsigh:

Still, as he looses the arrow the wind turns ever so slightly. And Quin's next thought is a curse at the ill luck that would have him miss the beast. So much for his studies.

[Toxic Avenger]

As the dragon rapidly approaches, Laerallis sees fit to point out the painfully obvious. "Here it comes...spread out so it can't hit all of us with its breath!" With that, he fires a quick shot at the hellhound, as the dragon is still well out of range of his crossbow. Then he advances forward and off toward the left as he reloads.

OOC:Laerallis shoots at the hellhound (standard), activates Travel Devotion and moves four squares diagonally to the northwest (swift), and reloads (move)

Attack roll: [roll0] (+5 normal mod, +4 from Lem, +3 from K.D., and -2 from range penalty)

Damage: [roll1]

[AtS]

Belting out a song of valor and heroics, Lem levels his crossbow, taking aim at the dragon flying above the party. He squeezes the trigger, and prays to himself as the bolt flies through the air.

After taking his shot, Lem heeds Laerallis' advice, and books it away from the rest of the party.

Lem takes a potshot at the dragon, at a -2 penalty due to the dragon being ~95ft. away from him at the time.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Lem then uses his remaining move action to move 30ft. away from everyone, ending as far away from the nearest party member as possible.

[mucat]

Django sprints from cover at full tilt, his boots barely touching the ground as the barren ground flashes beneath his feet at an alarming, and magically enhanced, rate. He veers to the right as he runs, both to follow Laerallis's advice and to find a better angle to view the distant bridge.

The midday sun is nearly at his back as he runs, but he casts no shadow. The arguable cowardice of charging into battle invisibly while his friends are in plain sight does not bother him; if things go as planned, none but himself would be able to hold the invisibility for more than the first few seconds of battle. Grand gestures of honor make for excellent stories, but when the dragon is real, practicality trumps all.

What does bother him, belatedly now, is the risk that they'll all be killed before they can send word of what they found here. Then again, Jorr knew they were heading for Skull Gorge Bridge, and if they fail to send a bird with further news, their silence itself will tell Soranna what they found there.

In any event, the time to worry about that is past. He has sufficient angle on the bridge now to judge its central span. His enhanced speed slows to a jog as he wraps a small bit of fleece around his forefinger, then traces a glyph in the air.

The air above the center of the bridge shimmers, then is cut by a flash of indigo light. In the wake of the flash, a hulking creature hovers where none existed before. The ogre's skin is a sickly pale blue hue it is not covered by garish, blood red tattoos. A chain of skulls, some with human or hobgoblin flesh still stretched dryly over them, cross its torso like a macabre bandolier. In the crook of each arm the creature holds a full-grown hobgoblin, looking like halflings next to their captor's bulk. One of the hobgoblins struggles to free himself, while the other is motionless, dripping blood from a crushed skull.

Django is too far from the bridge to hear the hollow pop of outrushing air as the ogre mage appears, or the fierce growl that exposes its rotting teeth, but he is confident that the illusion is working well and that the sounds are there. Facing the camp on the far side of the gorge, the hovering monster dashes the still-struggling hobgoblin against the bridge below, where it impacts with an ugly crunch and lies twitching and broken.

Not the sort of details he would include in a show for village children, Django admits -- not if he wanted to leave their parents in a happy, trinket-buying mood -- but you have to know the audience. And if he can't fool a band of unwary hobgoblins, then he doesn't deserve to call himself Seldani at all.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Tiamat's Wrath

As the enemy closes, the party releases a salvo of ranged attacks. Laerallis manages to hit the closest charging hell hound, while Lem gets in a lucky shot with his crossbow, the bolt punching under the green dragons left flank. It lets out a shriek of pain, but the hell hound merely growls, smoke trailing from its nostrils. Aurellion moves up and lowers his mighty spear, ready to meet the hell hound's charge. Durrin tries to activate his wand of grease, but instead of the spell working, a nasty smell like rotting pork emanates from the tip of the wand, along with a rude, flatulent sound.
The hell hound charges down the road, its fangs bared, but at the last second Aurellion slams the point of his spear down the beast's throat, impaling it completely. It lets out a whimper of pain before collapsing limply on the haft of the spear, bleeding a foul black ichor.

Django's illusion of an Ogre mage appears out of thin air above the distant bridge. A volley of arrows from the camp and the towers flies up at the ogre mage, some missing the illusion, others passing through it completely. Django prays that the hobgoblins are too stupid to realize that what they're firing at isn't really there.

The green dragon flies slightly closer to the ground, directly above the scattering party. It opens its jaws wide, and releases a cone of sickly green gas. Though you do your best to spread out, the gas catches everyone but Laerallis and the invisible Django. Thanks to the protective power of Laerallis' patron, Aurellion and Durrin emerge with minimal damage, but everyone else is enveloped in the hellish cloud of acidic fumes. The breath burns like fire, causing painful welts and angry red blotches to appear on your skin. Quingendon's snake companion writhes on the ground in pain before collapsing, unmoving save for the occasional twitch. The dragon leers at you, surveying the devastation. It almost seems surprised you are still alive. It makes a long turn before rising once more higher into the air, heading back north towards the bridge. A smell of ammonia lingers on the green-tinged air: a patch of dead grass has withered and melted into brown sludge.

(Aurellion and Durrin take 8 acid damage, Lem, Quin, and the snake take 17 acid damage)

Map: Round 2

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR2.png

[Calenestel]

Quin never had much time to curse his failed shot before the dragon retaliates. As the cone of acidic fumes envelop him and his friends Quin manages to hold his breath, but that is all. He really has no chance to dodge aside or otherwise evade the attack and he knows he is in deep trouble. The pain is secondary. The pain is transitory. The pain hurts as hell but can be endured. The real problem is that they cannot take too many of those blasts and have any hope of surviving the fight. Then he realizes the pain of Laurëlócë and as he glances down he sees that the golden snake was even more unlucky. Aside from an occasional twitch of it's tale it was yet again lying all too still. And this time there were no Lae to heal. Or rather, he doubted that Lae would get there in time, knowing that the round-ear would prioritize the sapient creatures to a mere ophidian! No. That's not fair. Fighting hard Quin fights the resentment down. Lae wasn't a round-ear, he's a human and a good one. And while he mourned the fact he shouldn't begrudge the priest his priorities, they were in a fight for their lives. All that was left was vengeance. Turning a baleful eye on the dragon the ranger draws and releases his retaliation: a new green-fletched arrow. A loud yell of anger speeding the projectile on it's way.

Don't think Snakey is gonna make it this time. :smallfrown: He's at -8 already and there's more "important" persons hurt almost as bad. Too bad, really. I really liked him. It would seem that an animal companion is a rather weak spot for Quin. :smallmad:

Anyways: Quin is attacking and hoping Lae will get a healing spell to him before the dragon has a chance of blasting us again (it should be a couple of rounds at least).

[roll0]
[roll1]

I rolled a frickin' FIVE?! :smallfurious:

[Firebeard]

Yanking his spear free from the dying hellhound, Aurellion looked around for the next target. Tears streaming from his eyes from the remnants of the acid spray the dragon had unleashed, he saw the other hellhound making its way towards the group.

With a shout of "Corellion!" Aurellion leaped forward. He would rather have a chance to take on the dragon, but his job for now was to handle the ground forces and prevent them from harming his supporting teammates. Charging across the intervening ground, he whirled his greatspear and slammed it home into the running hound's body.


Charge hellhound B.

attack: [roll0]
damage: [roll1]

[McNerp]

Durrin's platinum scales pop and hiss as the wave of acid dulls their gleaming. He looks up at the dragon, still out of range. He also notices the hellhound is too far for him to reach.

Durrin makes a snap decision: he has to save the snake.

Drop the wand of grease (to be collected post-battle) and move adjacent to the snake, using a swift action to draw Lesser Vigor from the wand bracer.

UMD: [roll0]

[mucat]

Django hears the dragon's hissing roar as it belches toxic gas behind him, and the answering shouts of pain and anger. He wants to look back, make sure the others are holding their own against the beast, but he forces himself to keep his eyes on the illusory ogre mage. Few things are worse than an angry dragon, but one of those few is an angry dragon backed by a horde of archers.

Still covering considerable ground despite slowing to maintain the phantasm, he passes close by the second onrushing hellhound, hears it clash with Aurellion behind him -- the battlecry is unmistakable -- but his eyes remain fixed on the illusion.

Under fire from archers in the camp, the ogre mage swats angrily at the arrows pincushioning its body as if they were annoying insects. Still, reflects Djangp, there's only so long the ogre can shrug off arrow fire before it gets ridiculous. So let's give him a better excuse to stay in the action.

Growling defiance, the hulking blue ogre moves its thick fingers through a surprisingly intricate series of gestures -- the same ones Django would use to cast Mirror Image, in fact -- and rather than one ogre there are now five identical ones, blurring and shifting through the air above the bridge.

Starshine's Game, they call it back in the caravan, though the origin of the name seems lost to history. Keep the marks busy guessing which target is real, and they'll have no time to consider that maybe none of them are.


Move Action: continue moving forward, angling a bit away from the central path. Move rate = 60 ft (from ongoing Expeditious Retreat).

Standard Action: maintain concentration on the illusion; as described, the ogre mage shows annoyance at the arrow fire, then appears to cast Mirror Image.

By the way, Minor Image doesn't let the caster move the illusion around except within the spell's original area of effect, which is why the Ogre Mage "teleported" in rather than some more mundane means of travel. A level-5 caster can manage nine 10-ft cubes, so the region Django's illusion will play out in is 10 feet wide, thirty feet long, and thirty feet high -- encompassing the central 30 feet of bridge, and extending from 10 feet below the bridge's surface to 20 feet above it.

[Toxic Avenger]

The dragon finally within range, Laerallis greets it with a crossbow bolt, and then reloads again. He sees the location of the others as the dragon rushes past him overhead, and he shouts out another warning, but the dragon's speed is far too great.

OOC:Just before the dragon breathes, Laerallis shoots at it with his crossbow, reloads, and...to make things easier, I'll say he didn't move that round.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

"Spread out! You're still too close!" Too late...the beast seems to have caught everyone in its breath. Though all seem to be still standing, the priest knows that most are not likely to withstand another such assault. At this moment, he decides to get closer to the dragon, which at this moment happens to be well away from most everyone else. There, he takes a shot at the beast's underbelly, and in the case that its horrid breath has been replenished he hopes to draw all of it to himself...and that the power of his Goddess will protect him...

Now we're getting caught up...

Laerallis moves his full 40 feet as a swift action, putting him just to the left of the dragon (but 40 feet below, of course), then he shoots and reloads (standard and move actions).

Attack roll: [roll2]
Damage roll: [roll3]

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Battle Continues...

Most of the party recovers from the acidic breath attack of the dragon, and Lem and Laerallis manage to stick two more quarrels into the green dragon's scaly hide. Durrin attempts to activate his healing wand and save Quin's snake companion, but again, his magical talents fail him, and the wand does nothing at all.
Aurellion charges the hell hound, his spear leaving a large gash across its flank. The beast remains standing, and closes with the elf, gnashing with its sharp teeth. Aurellion's new mithril breastplate protects him from the hell hound's attack, leaving black scorch marks on the gleaming metal.

Django can see his distant illusion change into multiple versions of itself, but this time no volley of arrows streaks towards it.

The green dragon, bleeding from multiple crossbow wounds, flies towards the bridge, landing on the far western tower where it originally was seen basking in the sun.

Map: Round 3

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR3.png

[Firebeard]

@Gm

Did you remember to give me an AoO for the spear when the hound attacked? I have a 10 foot reach :smallbiggrin:

[Calenestel]

As he gets some slight reprieve Quin quickly kneels beside his ophidian friend and tries to help the poor animal, knowing that he can catch up in a moment. He hadn't done anything usefull in this battle anyway.

Should the DM allow it: a Heal check (c'mooon):

[roll0]

Edit: Yessss! :smallredface:

After using some scraps of cloth to cover up the worst of the snakes acid burns he soothes the serpent, bidding it to stay put and out of the way before returning to the battle at hand.

[McNerp]

Durrin mentally resolves to purchase some sort of item to increase his speed as he hoofs it toward the still-out-of-range hellhound. He begins taking in air as he moves, ready to spew forth a frosty blast should the hellhound move any closer.

Readied action to breathe a 15ft cone of cold on the hellhound.

[mucat]

Django is still trotting toward the bridge when the dragon overtakes him, passing forty feet above and to his right. Even from this distance, he is buffeted by the hot air from the beast's wings, and his eyes burn from the residual acidic tang that follows in its wake.

Squinting to clear his stinging eyes, he remains focused on the illusory drama playing out above the bridge, still a couple hundred feet ahead. At this rate, by the time the hobgoblins think their way past the illusion, he ought to be close enough to inconvenience them with some real spells while the others regroup. And if things go badly, he'll be far from the dubious safety of the trees...but it's not as if no one has ever Spider Climbed down a sheer rocky gorge while dodging arrow fire and outwitting an angry dragon. There is ample precedent in stories, though off the top of his head Django can think of none from mundane life...

First things first, though. If the dragon engages the ogre, he can't convincingly portray the brutish wizard as standing its ground for long, so it had better get down to business while there is time. All five images of the creature reach as one into the smashed cranium of one of the skulls strung across its body, and draw out a sliver of dark grey metal. With a disdainful sneer toward the hobgoblin camp, the ogre casts its arm sharply downward toward the bridge. A green glow erupts around the metal sliver in each image's hand, coalescing into five identical beams of pale green light which lance downward into the surface of the bridge. The light spreads like quicksilver over the surface, engulfs the stonework in a brilliant flash...and then the central thirty feet or so of the bridge is simply gone, leaving only drifting dust motes which glow iridescent green, then fade like dying embers.

Move action: move 60 feet due north.

Standard action: maintain concentration on the illusion. The ogre mage will now appear to Disintegrate the central 30 feet of the bridge (a real Disintegrate spell would only affect a ten-foot cube, but he doubts that detail will blow his credibility.)

If the archers do resume fire on the ogre mage, he will have one of the images -- whichever one he judges is taking the heaviest fire -- shimmer and vanish.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion's armor held the hound's snapping jaws off of him as he danced backwards. The hound's smoking slobber burned from his breastplate and shrouded his movements in a smoky mist. The agile warrior bent like a reed in the wind and then lunged tout with the spear. Like a swift snake, the greatspear plunged at the beast again.



5' backwards, attack

greatspear: [roll0] PA2
damage: [roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

The Enemy Mobilizes...

Aurellion easily slays the last hell hound with a mighty thrust of his spear, eliminating the immediate threats. The rest of the party reloads and consolidates, while Quin manages to prevent his loyal snake companion from dying.

Django moves ever closer to the bridge; he is now a little less than 100 feet away. He can see the hobgoblins on the opposite side of the gorge moving around, shouting to each other, though he can't make out any words at this distance. Some of them point up to the illusion of the ogre mage, others to the apparently disintegrated bridge. Again, no arrows fly skyward. The green dragon, perched on the top of a tower, does something, its wings flexing idly as it fiddles with something on the roof. It seems to say something to the hobgoblins below, while paying no attention to the illusion above. A feeling of dread sinks into Django's gut, and soon enough his fears are confirmed: the archers in the four towers fire a salvo of arrows at the 'destroyed' section of the bridge. No doubt they've seen the arrows clatter on solid, seemingly disintegrated stone. They've worked out that the illusion is indeed an illusion; it's only a matter of time before they focus their fire on the rest of the party.

(Laerallis still has an action, so he can go ahead and post two like last time if he wishes. There's nothing of interest to post on the map just yet; the enemies are still far away from most of the group.)

[Calenestel]

"Oh, by the Nine Hells." Quin had looked up from his friend just in time to see the enemy very successfully disbelieve the illusion. Muttering a few more choice oaths the ranger snatches up his longbow and sprints of from a crouching start runnig full out towards the bridge, only stopping to draw a healing potion from his belt and quaffing it before continuing on. "Aurellion! See if you can find their leader! If there's this many of them we should try and scare them off!" And really, having his commander spitted like a pig by that elf's great spear would have scared him at least. For the time being Quin decides to keep trying to hit the dragon.

[Firebeard]

Aurellion ripped the spear from the corpse of the hellhound and slapped his hand on the haft to clear the blood from the blade. A fine spray spattered the corpse and the road, and Aurellion's eyes gleamed as he looked tot he challenge ahead.

Hearing Quin's shout from behind him, he half-turned and raised the spear in salute. If there was an obvious leader on the ground, the elf would take care of him.

[mucat]

"Damn it all!" Django had not given the hobgoblins permission to be smart.

The quintet of illusory ogres make identical rude but imaginative gestures toward the hostile camp before vanishing without a trace. Underneath them, the bridge is, as the enemy already deduced, whole and undamaged.

Still moving north but free now from concentrating on the illusion, Django can finally spare a glance over his shoulder to see how the others are faring. The news is good, for the most part: both hellhounds are down, and his comrades seem to have weathered the skirmish with the dragon more or less intact -- though Quin's snake looks to be having yet another terrible day.

"<I'll take the left-hand tower!>" he calls back to them in Elven, then accelerates to a full-out, magically-enhanced sprint. He leaps just in time to clear a shallow gully, nearly hidden by the angle of the sunlight. As it flashes beneath him, he wonders how many mages have broken their necks under the influence of this spell before their enemies even got a shot at them.

The tower looms just ahead now. Django casts a dubious eye on the rickety wooden stairs spiraling up its exterior. Given time and care, it might be possible to ascend them quietly, but right now he values speed over subtlety. Slowing only enough to avoid putting a foot through a rotten plank, he clambers up the stair and into the guardhouse proper.

He spares only a brief glance at the tower's lone guardian, veering away and trying not to give away his location too blatantly, but the bulk of his attention is on the movement of the troops across the gorge.

EDIT: Striking out stuff that did not actually happen
Django lets his illusion drop and takes a full-round action to Run at four times his move rate. Together with the Expeditious Retreat spell, this should give him a 240 feet of movement, enough to reach the tower and climb the stairs in one round.

He has no actions left this round, so he will decide next round whther to deal with the sentry or ignore him and annoy the main enemy force.

[Toxic Avenger]

With the dragon now well out of accurate shooting range, Laerallis rushes over toward the others to assess damage. "He's off to heal himself up, no doubt! We should do the same!" He stops just long enough to reach down and touch Quingendon's snake companion, bringing it further away from the brink of death.

OOC:Laerallis moves 40 feet to the square directly south of Laurëlócë (swift action), uses Touch of Healing on the snake to heal 6 points of damage (standard action), and then moves down to the square northwest of Lem (move action).
Moving on toward Lem, he adds, "Make use of those potions! If we don't, they will!" He lends Lem a healing touch, and then takes off toward the northwest again. "Stay as far apart as you can! That dragon will be back for sure!"

OOC:Laerallis uses Touch of Healing on Lem for up to 6 points (standard), then moves 80 feet northwesterly (move and swift actions), ending up 6 square to the north of where he is shown on the Round 3 map.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Push to the Bridge

Everyone proceeds north, Aurellion and Durrin leading the way as they sprint closer to the bridge. Quingendon, Lem, and Laerallis proceed a bit slower, doing some minor healing. Lem faces the interesting conundrum of being unable to drink any potions, lest his song be interrupted. Trusting in Laerallis' restorative touch to pull him through, he continues his uplifting battle ballad.

Django reaches the base of the southwest watchtower. He makes it up a few of the steps, but the panting of his own breath, combined with the creak of the stairs, makes a great deal of noise. Up above, he sees a hobgoblin's head poke out from the crenelations, gazing with unseeing eyes around the wooden stairway wrapping itself around the tower. The hobgoblin's head disappears, but Django can hear the soldier shouting something in the Common tongue.
"Ozyrrandion! Ozyrrandion! Something's on the stairs of my tower!"
Another, more distant voice, can be heard shouting from the other side of the gorge, but Django can't see or understand the speaker. Then, much to his dismay, he hears something land on the roof of the tower he is scaling. The head of the green dragon looks over the lip of the roof, its yellow eyes squinting with uncanny accuracy at the area where Django currently occupies. The dragon grins a toothy grin, green steam wafting from its mouth and nostrils.

Another bark from the unseen voice, and a volley of arrows is launched skyward. Aurellion can see a group of five hobgoblins on the far side of the bridge, bows in hand, apparently being commanded by a sergeant with a booming, authoritative voice. Most of the cloud of arrows fall too short, far, or wide, but two arrows find their mark. One is a glancing blow against the right side of his face, leaving a bleeding cut, but one digs itself into his left shoulder. The two soldiers in the closer towers fire at Durrin, and one of them manages to land an arrow in the dragonborn's ribs. Everyone can see the green dragon, perched on the closer of the western towers, looking down at something unseen on the wooden stairwell...

(Aurellion takes 12 damage from the arrows, and Durrin takes 7 damage.)

Map: Round 5

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR5.png

[McNerp]

Durrin winces as the arrow punctures his abdomen. Luckily, his scaly hide considerably lessened the impact of the metal point, turning a definitely fatal blow into a merely likely fatal blow. Determined to get some use out of the hitherto-useless wand, he waves it with a flourish and prods the area near his wound. He lets out a brief "Whoop!" of celebration as a leaf-green tendril of magical energy begins to stem the trickle of blood leaking from his gut. Wasting no time, he begins moving toward the bridge, ready to hold the line.

UMD the wand of lesser vigor: [roll0]

Edit: Finally!

[mucat]

Django stares upward at the broad reptilian head gazing back at him. For something which is about to kill him, some distant part of his mind notes, the creature is actually quite beautiful. He opens his mouth, not quite sure what he intends to say -- some final defiant quip, perhaps, or simply to whimper like a kicked puppy -- but to his surprise as much as anyone's, what emerges instead are the words of a spell.

Instantly, the air around him clouds over with a thick white mist. Good of my brain to think of this while I was busy gawking at the dragon, he reflects happily. An instant later, it occurs to him that the dragon still knows his location, and no fog bank will prevent its acid from dissolving him to a greasy puddle.

"Bastard spawn of a sand lizard!" he shouts up at the unseen beast beyond the fog, then begins sprinting up the ramshackle stairway. The racket he makes would betray his position to a sleeping, deaf octogenarian, but he hopes the dragon's bulk will prevent it from tracking him around the tower fast enough for an accurate attack. Still, he tenses in dread anticipation of the acidic breath, expecting it to sear into him at any moment.

Suddenly Django finds himself back in bright sunlight; he has cleared the top of the fog bank. It stretches below him, a pure, blinding white, filling the space between the guard towers and spilling around the sides of the tower he is on. Not only will the vapor provide an ideal hiding place from the dragon, he notes with satisfaction, but it neatly blocks the line of sight from the massed archers on the far side of the gorge to his allies approaching from the south.

Certain that he has stretched his luck to the breaking point, Django speaks one last word of magic and simply steps from the staircase, out into space. Thanks to that final spell he drifts down slowly, back into the fog bank and not reaching ground until several heartbeats later. His boots hit the sand with a soft scrape, further muffled by the thick fog; he fervently hopes that the dragon is still hunting him atop the stairs.


All right; complicated round, but I think it all works.

Standard Action: Django casts Obscuring Mist; from his current location, its 20-foot radius and 20-foot height should be enough to fill the space between the towers, and should block the line of sight from the archers on the far side of the gorge to the rest of our party. The sentries in the towers on our side can still see everyone, of course.

Move action: Climb as far as he can up the staircase (60-foot move, so with the difficult terrain he should make it 30 feet, or almost to the top of the tower.) Making no attempt to be quiet; he wants the enemies to know he climbed the tower. End the move action by stepping off the edge of the stairs.

Free Action: Cast Feather Fall, and land back in the mist cloud at the base of the tower. Try to be as quiet as possible at this point, so the dragon thinks he's still at the top of the tower.

[Calenestel]

Close enough! Quin thinks as he tosses the now empty vial to the ground. He didn't feel much better from it, but at the moment he figured he wouldn't go into a heavy melee. That was Aurellion's job. Instead he draws a new arrow. Never loosing sight of the dragon he knocks, draws and looses in a smooth motion, hoping to have better luck this time.

[roll0]
[roll1]

YES! Not a crit but, by GOD, that should hit him at least! :smallbiggrin:

[Firebeard]

The flight of arrows briefly darkened the ky as they rained down upon him, but Aurellion just laughed. He was still laughing as one creased his cheek and another slammed into his shoulder. The laughter cut off abruptly and Aurellion grunted in pain.

Time to take action. The elf moved forward at a diagonal, putting the leftmost tower between himself and most of the archers. As he moved, he shifted the greatspear to his left hand, using his right to draw forth one of his precious javelins.

The Way of the Three Spears taught absolute proficiency in longspear, shortspear, and javelin. Aurellion's training had him replace the standard longspear with the far more deadly greatspear, and he spent most of his time with that weapon. Nevertheless, he could use the javelin in a pinch, and that is what he did now.

With a few skipping strides, he hurled the javelin at the dragon, knowing the reach was great, but that his need was greater.


Move forward and diagonal to the left, trying to get the tower between Aurellion and the archers on the bridge.

Hurl a javelin (30' range inc) at the dragon.

javelin: [roll0]
damage: [roll1]


The elevated target and the fog cloud around the base of the tower influenced his aim, and not for the better. He heard, rather than saw, his javelin skip off the stone tower.

[Toxic Avenger]

Laerallis takes a few more quick strides toward the tower, fires another bolt from his crossbow, and then reloads once more.

"That's right, that's their leader right there!" Laerallis calls out to Aurellion as his bolt sinks into the dragon.

OOC:Move forward 40 feet (swift), fire (standard), and reload (move).

Attack roll: [roll0] (not including any range penalty)
Damage roll: [roll1]

[CockroachTeaParty]

Fog of War

Taking a gamble, Django conjures a cloud of thick white mist, which effectively blocks the opposite side of the bridge from view. He then retreats back down the stairs, hoping the mist and his own invisibility will mask any pursuit.

The mist proves to be a boon: no volley of arrows flies from the hobgoblins on the other side of the gorge, as they can no longer see their targets; however none of you can see what they are up to, either.

Quingendon and Laerallis each score a hit on the green dragon, which roars in fury. It shouts at the hobgoblins in the nearest towers. "Kill the archers!" It hisses in anger, before diving down into the mist and out of sight. The soldiers obey the command of the dragon, and both fire upon Laerallis. An invisible sheen of force deflects the arrows, saving him from any injury.

Meanwhile, inside the mist, Django sees the outline of the green dragon land nearby. It snaps its teeth at him, missing by a fraction of an inch. It would seem the dragon still can't actually see him, but it knows where he is. It hisses to him softly, the smell of chlorine almost overwhelming this close to the beast.
"How kind of you to provide us with a private canopy in which to duel..."

(Durrin heals 1 hp)

Map: Round 6

http://i113.photobucket.com/albums/n223/CockroachTeaParty/SkullGorgeR6.png
Nobody knows where the dragon is exactly but Django.

[Calenestel]

Quin notices the fog springing up when he draws another arrow but thinks little of it. That is, until the dragon disappears into it even as he is about to draw the bow. Muttering a curse at the cowardly dragon the ranger decides this is a good opportunity for some additional healing. Deftly he grips his drawn arrow in his left hand, along with the bow, he draws one of the two remaning, more potent, potions and empties it. Tossing the second phial to the ground he then starts forward while scanning the right tower for signs of the enemy.


Since drinking a potion is a standard action (stupid rule, should be a move action :smallwink:) Quin will close the distance somewhat (30 feet) after drinking a CMW:
[roll0] aaaand the first potion was a complete waste. :smalltongue:
also: [roll1]

[mucat]

"I'm generous that way." Django supposes that his voice further helps the dragon pinpoint his position, but by then he is already running, so the footfalls will have already spoiled any advantage he might have gained from silence. His enhanced speed is not enough, though, and the dragon's claws rake across his scalp, a fraction of a second from a decapitating strike.

Adrenaline turns the pain from the wound into a distant, clinical sensation. Blood flows warmly down the side of his neck, but then, scalp wounds always bleed far out of proportion to their actual seriousness. Django runs on, following the edge of the western tower until the stairs looming through the mist help him pinpoint his position, then cuts sharply toward what he thinks must be east, wondering in an oddly detached fashion whether some miscalculation will send him over the edge of the gorge.

Fortunately, he clears the edge of the mist between the two towers, and risks a brief pause to look north across the gorge. Several of the hobgoblins are still visible, drawing blades in exchange for their now-useless bows, while the others he guesses might be climbing the towers on that side for a better line of sight over the fog. None of them look like immediate threats worth spending a spell on, so he reverses course and steps back into the mist.

Any reprieve his magical speed bought him must be close to gone, but every second the dragon spends dancing with him is time for his friends to heal and prepare. Of course, it would be better yet if they could use that time to fill the creature with arrows...

Django speaks a brief word of power, then a few added syllables to make his spell sound more complex than it is. The sound of wingbeats fills the air around him, though he sprouts no actual wings. Then the illusory sounds race skyward while Django himself stands silent, hoping the sounds will draw the dragon upward into clear air.


Move Action: Run around the dragon, then out the northeast border of the mist cloud. After seeing what the hobgoblins are doing, step back into the mist.

Standard Action: Cast Ghost Sound, creating a sound of wingbeats as if he had cast Alter Self or some other spell giving him wings. The wingbeats recede upward into the air above the cloud, in an attempt to lure the dragon into following.

By the way, if the wind is still out of the southeast, then Django is neither upwind nor downwind of the sragon right now, but sort of sideways from it.