RaggedAngel's "The Secret of The Windswept Wall" IC

[RaggedAngel]

There is a sweeping rush of talk throughout the crowd, and the cleric narrows his eyes in an expression of both distrust and anger. "And what say the rest of you? Will you refuse to help us in a time of need against a violent monster, or will you answer the call Pelor has given you?" His voice makes it clear that he is ordering you, not asking you. The hobgoblin keeps silent, but he looks towards the five of you with hope. He straightens up once more, holding himself more calmly and confidently, nodding once in your general direction.

[Greenish]

"So this is what being adventurer is about, eh?" Bastion mutters to the group, then steps up. "None of my companions are highwaymen nor hired thugs. What is he guilty of?"

Oh yeah, and my sole point of essentia is back in wormtail belt.

[RaggedAngel]

The cleric seems a bit taken aback at Bastion's words; he seems surprised that a warforged could convey intelligible thought. "Crimes? You must be confused, 'forged; I understand that the differences between living creatures can be confusing to you. This is a hobgoblin, a member of a race of violent and vicious creatures, creatures that live for nothing but malicious conflict and thievery. He has surely committed dozens of crimes, and what else would be be doing here but to commit more?" The hobgoblin rolls his eyes, but he remains silent.

[Jopustopin]

Sida strides forward pulling out her longsword. Then loudly speaking so that all can hear her.

"I am a worshiper of Selûne, but of course I will respond to the call of Pelor. If a viscous and violent monster is nearby, I Sida Fox Crusader of Selûne shall defend the good and oppose such evil."

Sida cast about for such a creature with all sorts of mock squinting and casting about (she cast about too). She stands on her tippy toes to get a good look around the crowd. Suddenly it looks like she's spotted him, staring in the direction of the hobgoblin. She strides towards and then pasts the hobgoblin still looking off in the distance. She squints, looks confused and turns back around to the priest.

"Sir, I cannot see any violent creature about. In fact the only one calling for violence is yourself. If you got your way, I'd be the only violent monster around. Asking me to attack myself is a strange request indeed. I'm a pretty good swordsman, but I don't think I could take myself in a fair fight. I don't fight fair, you know?"

"If there is a city ordinance that hobgoblins are not allowed into the city, we'll escort him out. If he has business here why don't you try asking him what it is? If you want to pay us we'll follow him around and make sure he breaks no laws while he remains inside the city. But to ask us to attack him for assumed crimes without any proof stretches the limits of what I call "good" and sounds more like a weak excuse to justify "evil" in the name of good." We will not do what you ask. Ask something else or leave us be.

[Greenish]

A few strides get Bastion by Sida's (and the hobgoblin's) side. "If a machine build for war can become a blacksmith and a creator of things, such as I have, surely an intelligent creature of flesh and blood has the right to be judged by it's deeds, not by it's appearance." The towering warforged crosses it's arms. "I seek no confrontation, but neither will I shrink from it when my conscience so asks."

[RaggedAngel]

The three of you, a strange bunch if any was ever seen, stand in the center of the mob, and the cleric is barely able to contain the angry masses. The mob turns an angry eye to Wilfred, and he is quickly jostled and shoved into the middle, a ring of space about fifteen feet across. The people do not seem to be murderous, but they are clearly enraged at your reaction to the cleric's proclamation.

The hobgoblin adjusts the buckler on his arm, and you notice the high quality of his armor. His sword, too, is extremely well made, and it seems to almost glow from within. You can't tell if his gear is magical, but he clearly keeps it well-maintained and clean. He looks to each of you with confusion, and then speaks quietly, his voice dispassionate and calm. "I can't say that I'm upset that you're helping me, but it was unnecessary. If they want to kill me they're going to do it; they simply have too large of a numerical advantage. Even with the three of you we only have a three to four percent chance of survival." As he speaks you notice his eyes; they are dark, like most hobgoblin's, but they have a spark to them that you can't quite place.

The cleric notices him speaking, and he grows even angrier. "And now you plot with the beast. So be it. I did not wish to endanger our militia, but you leave me no choice. Guardsmen! Advance!" As he speaks the crowd clumsily opens to let five men through. They have clearly just finished putting on their armor; their shabby splint mail is improperly buckled in several places, and one man is missing his grieves. They look otherwise competent, however, and they each hold a sharp, heavy longspear, the tips pointed towards the four of you.

"Now then. Either stand aside and let the hobgoblin pay for his crimes against mankind, or you will all be imprisoned. If you fight back, we will respond with lethal force." The cleric's words are stronger this time, but the ring of people seem to be a bit less animated than before; it seems that things have escalated beyond most people's level of comfort. They no longer jeer quite as loudly, and no more fruit is flung through the air. The guardsmen seem more confident in their armor, however, and their faces are stern and angry.

The hobgoblin doesn't miss a beat, and he makes another fast remark, his face an unreadable mask. "The odd have improved. If we can defeat these five, the rest of them will break. They aren't warriors, and fear can defeat any number of people. We have even odds."

[Greenish]

"As far as I can see, the only thing he's accused of is being born. I hold that against no one." Bastion grumbles, then tilts it's head to observe the guardsmen, still addressing the priest. "I don't wish to hurt anyone, but if you press the matter, I can't guarantee all of your men make it out alive. Are you sure your prejudices are worth the blood in your hands?"

[Jopustopin]

Sida squints at the hobgoblin but says nothing any longer. She's been trained in the art of diplomacy and knows it's past that point. You can't talk someone out of a dogmatic belief and she's not about to start trying. Instead she's more focused on the hobgoblin.

Knowledge check to identify: [roll0]

[RaggedAngel]

The crowd closes around both you and the guards, though the people leave all of you plenty of room to maneuver. The guards take a moment to ready themselves, and then they begin to resolutely march forward, preparing to charge. Before they can, however, the hobgoblin weaves between you, twisting between the piercing longspears with startling speed; the guardsman in the middle manages to catch the hobgoblin in the hip with his blade, but it does not prevent his advance. He whips his rapier forward in a fluid pont de reverse, his sword lashing out at two of the center guardsmen before they can react, and the gleaming steel cuts far more deeply than the guardsmen's spears.

Wilfred sputters at the sudden display of violence, but he manages to keep his head long enough to begin tracing lines of power over his crossbow, imbuing it with a momentary bit of magic. The hobgoblin may be dangerous, but it's clear to the little artificer who the aggressors are in this situation.

Map:
{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_
1|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x
2|x||G|G|G|G|G|||x
3|x||||H|||||x
4|x|||||||||x
5|x|||B|W|S||||x
6|x|||||||||x
7|x|||||||||x
8|x|x|||||||x|x
9|x|x|x|||||x|x|x
10|x|x|x|x|C|x|x|x|x|x
[/table]
G=Guardsman
B=Bastion
W=Wilfred
S=Sida
H=Hobgoblin
C=Cleric
OOC:
I'm really sorry about the delay there, guys. Let's do this thing. You all get a turn before the men.

Grashnor's Tumble: [roll0] [roll1] [roll2]
Grashnor's attack (Martial Lore DC 11 to identify): [roll3]
[roll4] and [roll5] [roll6]

Potential AoO's: [roll7] and [roll8]
[roll9] [roll10]
[roll11] [roll12]

Wilfred'll use his daily Rapid Infusion to make his crossbow Humanbane.

[Greenish]

Bastion mutters an inaudible curse as it strodes over to the priest and tries to grab a hold of him, raising it's voice. "You wanted a mess, you'll get a mess."

Move to D9, [roll0] to start grapple, [roll1] to hold for [roll2] nonlethal damage.

[Edit]: Ach, 9 to hit. Still, since, he's flatfooted and it's a touch attack, it'll hit if he's encumbered at all.

[RaggedAngel]

The cleric proves just a bit too spry, jerking out of Bastion's grasp before the powerful warforged can get a firm hold on him. He looks up with blazing anger in his eyes. "You dare lash out at a clergyman of Pelor? You are clearly as much a monster as the hobgoblin. This insolence will not stand." The crowd around him begins to yell and jeer, their passions rising.

[Jopustopin]

ON Sida's turn she'll pull out her violin and begin to inspire courage with it. She'll use her feat and cause all her allies (including the hobgoblin) to deal +1d6 ice damage.

The song is especially awesome. I'll update more fluff when I have time, but I ran out making a map in inkscape....

Sida's song is haunting as if to teach a lesson to those who would hear it.

[RaggedAngel]

As Sida begins to sing a chill breeze flow across the battlefield, and your weapons become covered in a fell frost. The soldiers seem shocked at the change; it's likely that the only magic they've ever seen firsthand has come from the cleric. The hobgoblin leaps at the chance to attack, lunging forward at the strongest of the soldiers with a powerful stab, his eyes glinting with a strange light. His blade sinks home, piercing the skin under the man's chin and moving up into his skull. He collapses in a heap, his eyes dull and glassy.

Wilfred, for his part, takes his opportunity to attack, firing wildly at one of the advancing soldiers. The bolt flies wildly, missing its target by a wide margin.

The cleric seems startled at Bastion's approach, but he manages to keep his cool long enough to utter out a few words of power, followed by a single dictation: "Run away, warforged!" A pulse of power hammers Bastion's mind, attempting to compel him to obey.

The soldiers, for their part, hold together well, moving in a careful formation to lash out at the hobgoblin, Sida, and Wilfred without exposing themselves. Their spears glint in the sunlight, the inexperience of their wielders granting no gentleness to their edges. One of them manages to strike Wilfred, but the wound is relatively mild.

Map:
{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_
1|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x
2|x||G||||G|||x
3|x||||H|||||x
4|x||G|||||G||x
5|x||||W|S||||x
6|x|||||||||x
7|x|||||||||x
8|x|x|||||||x|x
9|x|x|x||B|||x|x|x
10|x|x|x|x|C|x|x|x|x|x
11|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x|x
[/table]
G=Guardsman
B=Bastion
W=Wilfred
S=Sida
H=Hobgoblin
C=Cleric
OOC:
Gods, I should have just given them longswords or something. Reach drives me crazy.

Wilfred fires off a bolt at Soldier #5, the one nearest him.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2] + [roll3] Cold

The hobgoblin's attack on Soldier 1, Martial Lore DC 11: [roll4] [roll5] [roll6] [roll7] [roll8]

Soldiers attacks:
Soldier 1, on Hobgoblin: [roll9]
Damage 1: [roll10]
Soldier 2, on Hobgoblin: [roll11]
Damage 2: [roll12]
Soldier 3, on Hobgoblin: [roll13]
Damage 3: [roll14]

Soldier 4, on Sida: [roll15]
Damage 4: [roll16]

Soldier 5, on Wilfred: [roll17]
Damage 5: [roll18]

Cleric Concentration, DC 16: [roll19]
Bastion, make a Will save, DC 13.
If you fail:It's Command, the 'run away as far and as fast as you can for a turn' version. On your next turn you do nothing but move away, provoking AoO's as you go.

Now Sida and Bastion may act.

[Jopustopin]

When attacked Sida dodges out of the way as if dancing and continues to dance; dodging and weaving away from the man's attack.

Sida dances in closer to the man who attacked her. Smiley seductively she proclaims loudly, "Are you insane? By Pelor's name I'm not even armed!"

While the man tries to back away from her she continues her dance, throwing frost and snow away from her body as she moves. She stows her violin as part of her dance and the music abruptly ends; although the song echo's hauntingly in everyone's ear. Sida continues dancing in a manner that proves frustrating to those trying to attack her.

Turn:

five foot step to G5
move action: Stow Violin
Standard Action: Total Defense
Bardic Music Last for 5 more rounds



Sida Fox (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=320253)
Female NG Silverbrow Human Bard 1, Level 1, Init +2, HP 8/8, Speed 30
AC 19 (Total Defense), Touch 15, Flat-footed 13, Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Held in Two Hands mwk Longsword +2 (1d8+4, 19-20)
Two Weapon Fighting mwk Longsword/Longsword +0/-1 (1d8+3/1d8+2, 19-20)
Sling (10 Sling Bullets) +2 (1d4+2, x2)
Chain Shirt (+4 Armor, +2 Dex, -1 Misc)
Abilities Str 14, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 16
Condition None

[Greenish]

[roll0] vs. DC 13.

Targeting the weakest save, sly bugger. :smallamused:

[Greenish]

Bastion roars and shakes the slippery compulsion out of it's mind, then adds in surprisingly low voice: "You've upset me. You shouldn't have."

The words are immediately followed by a solid, frosty arm crunching down in a great arc.

Attacking cleric: [roll0] for [roll]1d4+4[roll] bludgeoning and [roll1] frost damage.

[Niezck]

Wilf swears loudly as he loads his crossbow once more and releases a shot at the same guard.


Reload & fire!

for [roll]d8+2d6+d6

[RaggedAngel]

The divine power of the cleric's spell washes over Bastion, but the warforged's resolve and rage shatters the command, much to the pompous spellcaster's dismay. Bastion's return strike, powered by the remnants of Sida's song, is enough to crush the cleric to the ground, his eyes open and glazed. The crowd gasps and begins to flee, pulling away from the fight.

The guardsmen, however, seem more convicted than ever, and though the hobgoblin manages to kill another of the guardsmen the remaining three fight with renewed fervor and conviction. The two men who had been harassing Sida and Wilfred change their focus, charging towards Bastion with their polearms set low. Their rage gives them accuracy and strength, and they slam into the powerful 'forged, ripping into wood and metal alike.
Map:
{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_
1|x|x|||||||x|x
2|x||C||H|||||x
3|x|||||||||x
4||||||||||
5|||||W||S|||
6||||||||||
7||||||||||
8|x||G||||G|||x
9|x||||B|||||x
10|x|x|||||||x|x
11|x|x|x||||x|x|x|x
[/table]
G=Guardsman
B=Bastion
W=Wilfred
S=Sida
H=Hobgoblin
C=Cleric
OOC:
Remind me to never anger Bastion. Level 3 Adepts should fear his name.

The hobgoblin's attack on Soldier at F2, Martial Lore DC 11: 1d20+10[roll] [roll0] [roll1]

Soldiers attacks:
Soldier shift to C2, attack Hobgoblin: [roll2]
Damage 1: [roll3]
Soldier shift to F2, attack Hobgoblin: [roll4]
Damage 2: [roll5]

Soldier charge to 8C, attack Bastion: [roll6]
Damage 4: [roll7]
Soldier charge to 8G, attack Bastion: [roll8]
Damage 5: [roll9]

Cleric stabilization:[roll[1d100

Dammit, I can't believe they rolled that well. Thank gods Warforged automatically stabilize. You guys are up, and you may want to go on the offense.

[Jopustopin]

(Sida is in G5 from last round)

Sida pulls out her mastework Longsword in a fluid motion as part of her dance.

Turn:

Move: Pull out Mastework longsword.
Standard:
She'll ready an action (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/combat/specialInitiativeActions.htm) to attack anyone that threatens her. Specifically, if a guard moves into a position in which he threatens Sida. Sida will take her readied action to: five foot step closer to the dude and attack him.

I feel really clever since the guard won't be able to attack Sida back unless he continues his move away from her (provoking an AoO).

[Niezck]

Wilfred continues his crossbow assault on the same guard, hoping to finally actually hit the bugger!


[roll0] for [roll1]+[roll2]+[roll3]

vs Guard at C8.

[Greenish]

Bastion wastes no time stepping up to meet it's attackers, swinging another massive closed fist.

5ft. step to F8, Slam at guard in G8: [roll0] for [roll1] bludgeoning and [roll2] cold.

Since mere 18 just bounces off Bastion's adamantine skin, I'm still in positive HP, too. :smalltongue:

[RaggedAngel]

Wilfred's bolt finally strikes home, and the force of the magically-empowered shot is startling. It sinks into the chest of the soldier and rips out the back of his armor without slowing, tearing a hole the size of an apple in his torso. He has time to do nothing more than look up, stunned, before falling to the ground in a limp heap.

The crowd goes quiet, and the remaining two guards look at each other for a moment before dropping their weapons. The older guard speaks hesitantly. "We don't want any more trouble. Please, leave. I don't want any more death here today. Just take the hobgoblin with you, and please don't return." The crowd parts, and the four of you leave the area as quickly as possible. The crowd is letting you leave, but you get the feeling that if you stick around too long their shocked fear may turn into anger.

Once the four of you pass the last house in the town the hobgoblin sighs and speaks, his voice quiet but clear, entirely free of any accent or dialect. "I... do not know how to properly thank you. Until today I don't believe I've never met a humanoid," he glances to Bastion, "or anyone else who was willing to stand up for a goblinoid. I had always assumed that your kind hated mine to a fault. So, thank you. Thank you for proving me wrong, and for saving my life. I am in your debt." You walk a pace further before he smiles, looking out at the sparse farmland around you with distant eyes. "I just realized that I haven't introduced myself. My name is Grashnor, disciple of the blade and outcast of my people. It is good to meet you."

I promise your part is incoming, Toli.

I also apologize for railroading a bit, but I saw two things happening; you either all leave immediately, or you enrage the ~50 people around you and get torn to pieces. I decided to make the obvious choice, for the sake of moving things along. :smallredface: So, yeah. Wooo, update.

[Greenish]

Bastion taps dust from it's wide-brimmed hat before setting it on it's head again, then grunts. "Name's Bastion. I was to be a blacksmith, but I keep getting into these fights." The warforged glances sideways to it's companions, and it's voice is tinged with laughter when it adds, "Must be the company I keep."

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor smiles at Bastion, appraising the warforged's size. "I can't see why someone would pick a fight with you, but I believe the divinely-inspired jerk back there learned how such fights would end. That was an impressive display of force." He looks to the others, sudden concern in his eyes. "Was anyone injured? I just realized that the other soldiers may have hurt you, and I'd hate you to suffer for my sake. My belt can heal minor injuries, and I'd be happy to use it."

[Jopustopin]

"Again with the blacksmithing Bastion, Didn't I tell you that there is more profit in being an adventurer? There is also a lot more "adventure" in being an adventurer.

Well met Grashnor, I feel terrible about having to defend myself against those guardsmen, but that's all I did. Defend myself. You were just in defending yourself as well. I can't commend your intelligence for walking into the city in the first place. Of course we're probably not that smart either for sticking up for you. In case you missed my name from my grandiose attempt at diffusing the situation, I'm Sida Fox bard and champion of Selûne.

I agree though, the townsfolk were in the wrong.
Sida finally sheaths her longsword while talking and seems to be in a generally positive mood.

[Greenish]

Bastion pokes the gouge on it's side. "'Healing' isn't quite the term. Repairs, on the other hand…" Hearing Sida's chipper comment, the massive constructs gives a remarkable good imitation of rolling it's eyes and spitting, for someone who can't actually do either.

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor shrugs, then grips his belt buckle, a graven silver bear, and touches Bastion on the shoulder. A surge of white light ripples over Bastion, and the wood and stone of his body move and flow back into place. "I have always had the curse of being inquisitive without much regards for personal safety. I thought that a town so far removed from my homelands may not have such a harsh stigma against goblinoids, but it seems there has been increased activity in these hills and the forest of late."

He gestures to the horizon, where the great forest to the east consumes the road. "If I read my map correctly the road cuts through the outermost part of the Shadewood for about a day's march before edging west to the coast. I'd appreciate the company, and it's always safer to travel in numbers. Once we reach Faramor I'm going to be searching for work. Hopefully something that can keep both my mind and my blade occupied."

Bastion heals for [roll0] damage. It isn't a Conjuration (Healing) effect, so I'll say he heals for full.

[Greenish]

Bastion nods his thanks. "We actually met a pair of your people yesterday. They seemed to be 'adventuring' too, since the moment they saw us they came at us swords drawn."

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor sighs and nods in concession. "My people do indeed have a strong and irritating proclivity towards violence in general; we were the ones who created the martial school of the Iron Heart, after all. That said, most of my kind you will meet will be short tempered and vicious, with little in common to the masters of the blade that I hail from." He muses for a moment, and then continues. "One might say that we have become what the world has expected of us. If you tell a man that he is a monster enough times, he will begin to believe you. If the world expects something of you, those expectations can change you.

Take myself. I killed two men today, and I do not feel any regret or remorse; I feel nothing but pity. There was a time I would have wept at such an act; I have not been on my own for an exceptionally long time, and I have already become desensitized to death. I'm one step closer to being the monster most humanoids assume that I am."

[Jopustopin]

Sida turns to Bastion and Wilfred and says,

"Speaking of doing something stupid, are we going to deliver the letter that that mischevious necromancing artificer "left" for us? Or does the sound of wandering into the wilderness at the whims of a lunatic not sound like a good idea?" Sida scrunches up her face and makes a look that implies she's worried that no one will want to go; the look might be sarcastic.

[Niezck]

Wilfed walked silently in thought, as he often did, but awoke to reality at the mention of the other artificer.

"Oh, right, uh... I definitely want to go! That was a damn complex machine, anybody good enough to make something like that is definitely worth investigating more, even if we have to follow her instructions until such a point as we can double cross her."

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor raises an eyebrow, interested in the new line of conversation. "I have many questions, but I'll start with the simplest one: what does this letter instruct you to do?" After the letter and the events at the tor have been explained to him he takes a moment to think, before speaking carefully. "I do not trust this woman in the least, but following these directions does not sound particularly threatening, and I have nothing better to do with my time. And, well, perhaps this Sionaas will be hiring." He smirks a bit at his final statement, but he does seem a bit hopeful.

Quoted for your convenience:

Once they reach the bottom Sida reads the note to the rest of the group. It reads, "Do Not Open" on the front in graceful calligraphy, and so naturally you all tear into it. Inside is a second, smaller envelope and a slip of parchment that reads "Seriously, just be good pawns and take this to Sionaas. He's a wizard, lives in the mountains, pretty famous." Undeterred and unconcerned about the feelings of the artificer, you open the internal letter, which contains two pieces of parchment. One of them reads, "Good job, you're not complete tools; now then, on to business. There'll be a reward if you bring him the other sheet there, the one with my mark." The other sheet of paper has nothing but an extremely intricate and oddly colored mark, seemingly ingrained into the parchment. Wilfred recognizes it as an Arcane Mark, presumably the artificer's, though there's no way to tell for sure.

[Greenish]

"I can't say the lady artificer is a person I'd care to make favours for. On the other hand, I've no other direction, really." Bastion shakes it's head, then turns to add to the hobgoblin: "We weren't even told one is supposed to dislike killing people, until after the war."

The warforged walks a while silently, then mutters mostly to himself, "If I'm back in business, I'd better get myself armed…"

[Jopustopin]

Sida speaks up, "That reminds me; I have all of our coin from selling all of the stuff we recovered from that cairn. My longsword was masterwork quality and worth about as much as you two would get from the split; so after much mathwork I owe you each 305 gp."

Without stopping Sida tosses Bastion and Wilfred their new coin pouches with 305 gp in it.

"Grashnor, if you want to join us you are more than welcome to. Unless there is some objection about how we split any treasure we find, we'll divy it up evenly and any items you wish to keep will come out of your split based on the price of the item. Otherwise, glad to have you; I've seen you fight and I think your skills will definitively come in handy. So, should we stop at the next city and gear up before trying to find Sionaas?"

[Greenish]

Bastion lets out a gravelly chuckle. "I don't have to go shopping for the sort of arming I had in mind. I'll do it once we make camp."

[Niezck]

"Next city sounds good, I've got some ideas on a particularly potent healing draught I'd like to try... Oh, Sida, you did keep all the magical trinkets, right?"

[Greenish]

"I've still got this." Bastion dangles the Amulet of Prestidigitation between thumb and forefinger.

[Jopustopin]

"I don't have any magical trinkets. Maybe that halfling took them." Sida says

[Greenish]

Bastion shrugs. "Eh, annoying lil' pest or not, he earned his share."

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor stays mostly apart from the conversation, though he seems to be quite attentive to both the content of your talk and your speech itself. After a few hours his speech has become slightly more accented, though not with goblin; indeed, he sounds more comfortable and natural speaking Common, using contractions and slang with greater ease. It may be that you're the first people he's been able to truly interact with, and he seems eager to earn your respect.

You reach the edge of the Shadewood after a few hours time, and the great leafy branches of the deciduous forest great you with open arms, bringing shade from the still-warm Autumn sunlight. After resting for a little while to drink and eat (an activity Bastion still finds amusing) you set off again, the only sounds around you that of birds and the rustle of the wind in the trees.

About an hour into your trek into the Shadewood, about when your path has begun to grow a bit less broad and straight, you notice something odd about your surroundings, something strangely off. Bastion is the first to notice, but the change is obvious as soon as he points it out: the birds stopped singing. All of them. At once.

Toliudar:
Roxanne had only just recently awoken from a pleasant mid-afternood nap when Browneye began to get a bit frisky, though she couldn't immediately tell why. A few words were enough to calm her companion, and after starting on her way through the forest he seemed to return to normal. She was heading back to the far side of the Shadewood, hoping to find another small caravan or some travelers to guide. Walking in the forest was its own reward, though, and she felt no need to rush.

After a half an hour had passed, Browneye pressed up against her, a faint rumble in his throat. She felt a disturbance move through the forest almost immediately, and listened as the birds around her went quiet, one by one. Predator. Predators. Coming from the two-leg-bare-path. She couldn't speak the language of the birds, but they made no attempt to hide their meaning. Browneye whined again softly, and the intelligent wolf focused on a direction a little to the left of where she knew the main road was.

OOC:You're about 200 feet from the path, on the right side of the road if we were looking at a map with the coast in the West. She's currently heading the opposite direction as the other PC's. I took some liberties in this post, but hopefully nothing too reaching.

OOC:You all have a round to act. Roll initiative in the OOC and post your actions here. This shouldn't be a lengthy combat, but it'll serve to introduce Roxanne and Browneye, Druid and Wolf extraordinaire(s).

[Jopustopin]

Sida stands up and slowly unsheathes her longsword. "You're right in that something's not right..."




Round 1:

Sida stands up and pulls out her longsword. She readies an action to attack anything that looks threatening and tries to attack her.

[Toliudar]

Roxanne

The young woman stretched the stiffness out of her back and plucked a twig out of her ponytail. She peered in the direction that Browneye was focused, nodding and laying a hand on his shoulder. Silence in the wood was never a good sign. It meant that something bad enough to interrupt the life-and-death activities of gathering food and connecting with mates was coming.

Roxanne reached out and hefted the spear she had set against the aspen while she slept. She'd come to trust Browneye's instincts, and that probably meant this was more than some farmer's haywagon coming. But if it was on the road, or near it, she'd rather meet it face to face than have it stalk her all afternoon. She swung into the sling she'd fixed to Browneye's back, and urged him softly forward.

Spot, if relevant: Roxanne: [roll0] Browneye [roll1] and scent.
Browneye is moving silently, but making no particular effort to hide. [roll2]

[RaggedAngel]

Roxanne:
After taking a moment to peer through the trees, Roxanne notices something alarming; there is a small group coming along the road, just as she assumed, but though they seem like a motley bunch they don't seem like something that would upset Browneye. It's only then that she notices what her companion is looking at; three or four figures, moving in the woods to the side of the travelers. They seem to be waiting for something, and Roxanne can make out the arc of a longbow, even from this distance. They make a roughly equal triangle with her and the strangers, and they do not seem to have any idea she's around.

[Niezck]

Wilf stops dead and looks around him and the others.

"Yeah... Something's up."

Drawing his crossbow, he loads a bolt and raises it to firing position, ready for anything that may appear.


Draw crossbow, ready an action to fire at anything obviously hostile.

[roll0] for [roll1] for the readied action.

[Toliudar]

Roxanne

Roxanne leans back, squeezing her thighs together to signal a halt. It was hard to make out the figures travelling on the road - they seemed a strange enough group, but who was she to judge? But it was the bowmen off to the side who were riling Browneye, and that was enough for her. She pointed off to the side, and leaned forward to lay a little closer to Browneye's rough, comforting fur. This could be bad.

Her intent is for Browneye to circle around behind the group with the bow, maintaining about the current distance, but getting to a point so that they're between her and the road. Hide: [roll0] Move silently [roll1].

Edit: If we're effectively in a combat mode, Roxanne will ready an action to cast Entangle (centred about 50' away in the direction that an attack comes from), triggered by any kind of attack on her or charge towards her.

[Greenish]

Wordlessly, Bastion flexes his arms and cracks his knuckles.

[RaggedAngel]

One moment, the forest is deadly quiet and still, the four of you seeking about for any sign of danger or threat. The next moment a series of arrows flit through the bushes to the side of the road, and you immediately spot the source of the fire; a trio of hobgoblin archers, with another figure lurking in the shadows behind them. The arrows all seem to seek out Grashnor, but the warrior avoids them with inhuman grace, uncannily dodging the first bolt and catching the other two on his shield.

"Dammit, why won't you just leave me alone!" Grashnor seems to recognize the culprits, and he's clearly furious. "I left, and I cut my ties with you! I don't know why that's such a slight to your thrice damned clan!" He reacts swiftly, moving into the overgrown woods that had concealed the archers. He lashes out at one of the assailants with his rapier, not wasting time to explain the situation further. He strikes hard, his rapier sinking into the archer to the hilt, a strange gleam in Grashnor's eyes. He whips his blade out with a fluid twist and the archer staggers in place, his hand pressed against his wound.

Roxanne:
The figures creep closer to the travelers before launching a volley; you notice that only three of them shoot, and a forth figure seems to be scanning the trees. At your distance of about fifty feet he hasn't seen you yet, but you also can't tell how the fight is going. One of the travelers seems to have taken the fight to the archers, however, and the result is loud and violent.

Map:
{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_
1|||||-||||x|x
2|||||-||||x|x
3|||||-||||x|x
4|||||-||||x|x
5|||H|G|-|||W|x|x
6|H||||-||||x|x
7||H|||-||S||x|x
8|||||-||B||x|x
9|||||-||||x|x
10||H|||-||||x|x
11|||||-||||x|x[/table]

The -'s indicate the separation between the path and the forest. Anything to the left of those -'s is covered in undergrowth, both providing concealment and cutting your speed in half. You're on the road in a more or less random order.

The far side of the road is nearly a nearly impassible mess of bushes and thorns; you can force your way through it, but each square marked with an x takes 30 ft. of movement and it'll hurt anyone who isn't named Bastion. I don't recommend it. (Yes, it's a mildly-surmountable waist high fence (Insurmountable Waist-Height Fence). Don't judge me.)


OOC:
Grashnor will move from G6 to D5, attacking the archer there.
Attack: [roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3]

Well, take it away. Party initiative and all that, though you don't know about Roxanne yet.

[Jopustopin]

Sida hits the pommel of her longsword with the palm of her leg and it seems to emit a hum like a tuning fork. Sida begins to emit the same note as well vocally and images of good triumphing over evil play through your head. You feel a surge of confidence and know that victory is at hand.



Swift: Inspirational Boost
Standard: Normal Inspire Music (All allies have +2 to hit and +2 to damage)
Move: Draw longsword
not-an action: Five foot step F7

[Toliudar]

Roxanne

Roxanne reflexively tightened her grip on Browneye's neck. Yelling, bowfire, tuning forks...what could all this mean?

She had been about to cast her spell to make the forest rise up and hold everyone in place. And yet...it was the archers who had truly unsettled her friend. If she awoke the underbrush now, there was a great danger that they'd still be able to fire their arrows, but the others wouldn't be able to move. What should she do? She needed more information.

Hunkering down to remain partially concealed behind a tree, Roxanne began chanting and gesturing. She had to let go of Browneye, but gave him a reassuring pat before she got started. Soon, she'd have a for-the-moment friend to go suss things out.

OOC:
Roxanne burns Speak With Animals to cast Summon Nature's Ally 1, which will take effect at the start of her next turn. I'll figure out where to place the whatever-it-is then. Relative to the map, where is she?

Browneye readies an action to attack anything that comes within 5' of them. Attack: [roll0] Damage: [roll1] Automatic Trip attempt: [roll2]

[RaggedAngel]

Roxanne:
She's 35 feet "left" of square 6A. You actions and readied attack are duly noted, though they keep failing their spot checks against you. Stupid hobgoblin fighters with 8 Wisdom.

[Greenish]

Bastion sighs. "Adventuring, bloody adventuring." It draws a sling from it's belt and whips it in a great arc, sending a lead bullet shooting towards southernmost interloper.

Move action: draw the (already loaded) sling.
Standard: shoot hobbo in B10. [roll0] for [roll1] bludgeoning.

[Niezck]

Wilf loads another bolt and fires at one of the hobgoblins.


Fire at B7 - [roll0] for [roll1]

[RaggedAngel]

Bastion's sling goes wide, but Wilfred's bolt hits home, punching straight through a goblin's studded leather armor and into his rib cage. The hobgoblin lets out a startled shout of pain, and his allies narrow their eyes and focus their attention on the artificer. The two remaining archers begin to fire at Wilfred, but before they can aim Grashnor lets out a loud whistle, calling their attention back to him. "You're my problem, scum. Not him. If you can kill me, then you can do whatever you want to that one. Not until then."

The wounded hobgoblin near him takes that as a chance to lurch away, but Grashnor catches him with his blade, slashing his throat and sending him to the ground. The figure in the back of the fight, who had been hidden in the shadows until now, moved forward at that. He was taller and stronger than the others, and he held a bastard sword in one hand and a heavy shield in the other. He brought his blade down on Grashnor, hard, but the martial adept was able to withstand his assault and reply in kind.The archers began to shoot at Bastion and Wilfred, ignoring Grashnor's challenge, and though they were beginning to be frightened their bolts were still sharp and well-aimed.

Roxanne:
True combat breaks out, and no one has any idea that you're there. The archers are clearly the aggressors, but the travelers seem to be an effective fighting force; they react quickly to the danger, and they seem to begin to inflict damage right away.

Map:
{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_
1|||||-||||x|x
2|||||-||||x|x
3|||||-||||x|x
4||||X|-||||x|x
5|||H|G|-|||W|x|x
6|||||-||||x|x
7||X|||-|S|||x|x
8|||||-||B||x|x
9|||||-||||x|x
10||H|||-||||x|x
11|||||-||||x|x[/table]

The -'s indicate the separation between the path and the forest. Anything to the left of those -'s is covered in undergrowth, both providing concealment and cutting your speed in half. You're on the road in a more or less random order.

The far side of the road is nearly a nearly impassible mess of bushes and thorns; you can force your way through it, but each square marked with an x takes 30 ft. of movement and it'll hurt anyone who isn't named Bastion.

EDIT- Big 'X's are for dead bodies!

OOC:
The hobgoblin near Grashnor attempts to hobble away, provoking an AoO.
[roll0]
[roll1]

Grashnor is then intercepted by the lurking guy in the back, who seems to be less of a mook and more of a boss.
[roll2]
[roll3]

The mooks shoot at Wilfred, who they greatly fear, and Bastion, who they should rightly fear.
Attack on Wilf: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
Attack on Bastion: [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]

Grashnor replies in kind to the bossman.
[roll8]
[roll9]

[Jopustopin]

Sida voice continues the song without pause. Sung entirely a cappella and in celestial she dances forward across the road and into the forest over branches and into the archer both blades moving gracefully along with the rest of her. The archer is unsure which blade to dodge and chooses poorly... very poorly.




Move F7:E7:D7:C6
Standard: Longsword hobgoblin in B7 [roll0] for [roll1] points of damage.
Accidently rolled 1d2
Actual Roll (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12391250&postcount=466)


Please do not forget you have +2 to hit and +2 to damage. :smallsmile:

[Greenish]

Bastion calmly sets another bullet into it's sling and whips it around, aiming at the southernmost hobgoblin.

Move action: reload sling.
Standard: Attack hobbo in B10, [roll0] for [roll1].

[Niezck]

Wilfred repeats his previous routine against the same hobgoblin, going for the kill.


Same as before. Let's explode some heads!

[roll0] for [roll1]

[Toliudar]

Roxanne

A grim, snarling wolf literally appears behind the 'boss' hobgoblin and lunges forward, tearing at his legs. From further away, another wolf - this one with brown fur and a halfling woman in some kind of jury-rigged saddle - darts forward and stabs at the hobgoblin from behind.

"Hey, you! That kind of ambushin' don't seem fair, and we won't hold with such stuff in these parts!"

At the start of her turn, Roxanne summons a wolf to C4. It immediately attacks [roll0], +2 if flanking with Grashnor. Damage: [roll1]. Automatic trip attempt on successful hit: [roll2]. Wolf is AC 14, HP 17.

Roxanne will urge Browneye forward to D4. If he can reach in one move action, he'll try to bite the boss. Attack: [roll3], +2 if flanking is working. Damage: [roll4] Trip attempt: [roll5].

Roxanne will then attempt to stab the hoblgoblin. Attack: [roll6] Damage: [roll7]

[Toliudar]

Browneye crit confirmation: [roll0] [roll1]

[RaggedAngel]

Wilfred's bolt and the summoned wolf's bite both go wide, but the barrage of attacks by Bastion, Sida, and the rather frightening halfling's wolf all hit home, and though neither of the two remaining hobgoblins go down they both seem to be heavily injured by the blows. The archer, looking at the state of his fallen allies, seems to decide to cut and run, turning and making his way through the woods as quickly as he could. He turns and looses a bolt at Bastion as he goes, apparently attempting to prevent the warforged from launching another gruesomely powerful stone.

The leader of the hobgoblin's brigade, though bleeding, seems to be dead bent on killing Grashnor. He brings his bastard sword down on Grashnor heavily, and the strike opens up a wide, bloody rent in Grashnor's chest, causing him to let out a ferocious shout of pain. He grips his rapier with a bloodless hand, and he grabs the leader of the assailents by the front of his armor. Grashnor looks the hobgoblin in the eye, an there is a pause in the violence for the briefest of moments. "You attacked those who saved my life. You will die for that."

Then he drives his rapier through the swordsman's chest, and they both collapse to the ground in a heap of blood, Grashnor alive but clutching his chest in agony.
Map:
{table=head]_|A_|B_|C_|D_|E_|F_|G_|H_|I_|J_
1|||||-||||x|x
2|||||-||||x|x
3|||||-||||x|x
4|||Wo|Br|-||||x|x
5|||H|G|-|||Wi|x|x
6||||S|-||||x|x
7|||||-||||x|x
8|||||-||Ba||x|x
9|||||-||||x|x
10|||||-||||x|x
11|||||-||||x|x
12|||||-||||x|x
13|||||-||||x|x
14|||||-||||x|x
15|H||||-||||x|x[/table]

The -'s indicate the separation between the path and the forest. Anything to the left of those -'s is covered in undergrowth, both providing concealment and cutting your speed in half. You're on the road in a more or less random order.

The far side of the road is nearly a nearly impassible mess of bushes and thorns; you can force your way through it, but each square marked with an x takes 30 ft. of movement and it'll hurt anyone who isn't named Bastion

OOC:
Hobgoblin arrow to Bastion: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
Bossman's attack on Grashnor: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

Grashnor's response, if he doesn't die: [roll4] Damage: [roll5]

The bossman is dead, the archer is alive, Grashnor is at -1 and bleeding out. I love it when the numbers work out cinematically.

[Greenish]

Bastion lumbers over to the fallen Grashnor, then looks around. "I think he needs repairs, but I'm no good with meat."

Move to E5, if it matters anymore.

[Toliudar]

Roxanne looks over to her right at the fleeing hobgoblin, and weighed the possibility that he was heading for reinforcements. Chances were pretty slim, especially since he'd set off in the direction she'd come from. Roxanne nodded once to the for-the-moment wolf-friend, and it disappeared.

Meanwhile, she gathered from the armoured man's strange talk that this fellow who had just put his sword through the big hobgoblin was to be valued.

"So, he's a decent fellow, is he? Well, I suppose I owe him a chance to show that."

Roxanne nodded cautiously at the four travellers still standing, and guided Browneye around the fallen hobgoblin towards Grashnor. She planted the butt of her spear in the ground near his side to brace herself, then leaned over to thump him soundly on the chest.

If I'm tracking time properly, the summoned wolf vanishes at the start of her turn. Roxanne will give Grashnor a charge of her healing: [roll0]

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor opens his eyes with a gasp, the wound across his chest smoothing closed, though his armor still bears a wide rent. He looks up to Roxanne, confused, before putting the pieces together. "I... don't know what to say, except that I thank you." He stands up, feeling his chest for any injuries. "You seem to be as strange as these three, and I can't say I can complain. I promise I will repay you as soon as the opportunity arises."

He looks over to the fleeing archer, and he narrows his eyes. "I don't really want to let him go, but I can't overtake a lead like that. What do you think we should do?"

[Jopustopin]

Sida drops her longsword, pulls out her sling and whips her arm back trying to lead the hobgoblin correctly. She was never the best shot, but every now and then she gets lucky. Not this time as the shot sails through the foliage and is never seen. She shrugs her shoulders at Grashnor.


Concealment: [roll0] miss on 1 - 20
Sling: [roll1] for [roll2] points of damage

[Greenish]

Bastion gives a hard twirl to it's second sling, already loaded with a bullet, and lets it whistle towards the fleeing hobgoblin.

[roll0] for [roll1] bludgeoning damage.

[Niezck]

Wilf, still in the battle mindset, ignores the chat of the others and loads another bolt which he swiftly looses toward the fleeing hobgoblin.


[roll0] for [roll1]

[RaggedAngel]

Sida's stone whistles through the sparse trees with good aim, but the bodies between her and her target throw the shot off course. Bastion's stone and Wilfred's bolt, however, have better luck, and they arrive at the hobgoblin's back at about the same moment. He lets out a cry of surprise and tumbles to the earth, motionless.

Grashnor sighs and stoops down, cleaning the blood off of his rapier onto the shirt of the bastard-sword wielding hobgoblin. "Good, now we can be sure they won't come back looking for trouble. Standard procedure when an entire hunting party is lost is to leave the target alone; had he gotten back to the clan they may have come seeking revenge."

He looks to each of you for a moment before nodding and carrying on. "I owe you all some exposition. First, however, does anyone object to searching the bodies for valuables? I'd like to get on our way before I start with my tale, and I'd hate to leave their weapons or gold here to rot."

He raises his brow at Roxanne, inquisitive. "And on another note, what may I call you? My name is Grashnor, and once more I would like to thank you for saving my life."

[Niezck]

Zoning out of his combat focus, Wilf looks around him at the litter of bodies and his companions. Lowering his crosbow, he walks toward each of the corpses in turn and checks them for any items of worth, using his keen artificer's eye to judge value.


Loot the corpses! Anything that seems magical or of decent quality will be Artificer Knowledge'd

[RaggedAngel]

After searching over each of the hobgoblin ambushers, their valuables are piled up on a large, flat stone a little ways off the road. The bowmen each had a well-made, sturdy longbow, studded leather armor, one or two daggers apiece, and two potions that are marked in Goblin as "Mild Healing" apiece. Wilfred spends time inspecting all of the gear, and other than the potions nothing seems magical to his artificer's senses.

The lead swordsman had a bastard sword, a heavy steel shield, and a chain shirt, each of fine make and good repair. The chain shirt seems to have some kind of faintly glowing green gem embedded in it, which comes off with a firm tug. Wilfred pegs the gem as distinctly magical, but he can't ascertain anything else about it. The sword and armor don't seem to be enchanted, however; just the crystal. In addition to that he had an additional potion of healing and another one, marked in Goblin as "Sneaking".

So, in list form:
1. 3 masterwork longbows
2. ~60 arrows
3. 3 sets of studded leather armor
4. 5 daggers
5. 7 Potions Cure Light Wounds
6. masterwork bastard sword
7. masterwork heavy steel shield
8. masterwork chain shirt
9. armor crystal
10. "Sneaking" potion

Oh, and 540 xp each! Gotta love that juicy xp. I'll go update the table in the OOC.

[Toliudar]

"And on another note, what may I call you? My name is Grashnor, and once more I would like to thank you for saving my life."

The halfling woman, still sitting astride her wolf, sticks a hand out in greeting.

"Roxanne Greeneye. Nice to meet you, Grashnor. And yes, if you know the story of why those four were trying to kill you, I'd be curious to hear it. They seemed pretty determined."

Roxanne pats the wolf twice on the shoulder, and he seems to relax a bit. She glances a bit uncertainly at the other four, especially Bastion. She gives the distinct impression of trying to see who's underneath the helmet.

[Niezck]

Wilf seems entirely uninterested with the conversation going on, instead sifting through the items recovered and spending quite some time looking at the unknown potion and gem, eyeing them up from every angle, deep in thought.

[Greenish]

"Greetings, miss Greeneye, and thank you for your help. I am known as Bastion, the singing lady is Sida, follower of Selûne, and he", Bastion waves towards Wilf, "is Wilfred, obsessed with magic items, pardon him.""

[Toliudar]

With a nudge of her knees, Roxanne guided her wolf onto the road, which she looks along in both directions.

"Well, it's good to meet you. I'd be much obliged to get that story about why those four were so wanting you dead."

[Greenish]

"Not us." The massive warforged nods towards Grashnor. "Him."

[RaggedAngel]

You all load up the hobgoblins' valuables and divide them so that they can be easily carried; it would be wasteful to let works of fine craftsmanship rot out here in the woods. You continue down the path, as before, at a steady pace. Once you have traveled a few minutes from the site of the battle Grashnor begins to speak, his voice clear and calm.

"I come from a hobgoblin monastery, one of the last great strongholds of my people. We were not always a race of bandits and mercenaries, you know; we were once the proudest of the goblinoids, and though hard hearts and cruelty have always been common among the hobgoblins such traits did not always define us. It was in this time, a better time, when we built our greatest cities and places of war, and those that remain are a sight of wonder.

I was raised there in the mountains, and it was a challenging existence. The monastery is one of the last places in the world where the Iron Heart tradition is lived in full. The martial school of the Iron Heart is, in my opinion, the greatest thing ever forged by goblin minds. It is the martial school of perfection in arms, and I have devoted my life to learning it.

My life, however, was called into question about a year ago. I was called to be pressed into service to raise funds for my monastery. I volunteered readily, until I discovered that the mercenary work I was being hired for involved the slaughter of an entire village of humans; the elderly, young, and sickly were not to be excluded.

I cannot claim to have many morals, but I am a proud warrior, and to commit such an act is nothing but vile. I left my tribe and my home that night. My only mistake was taking something with me. I am hunted, you see, for two reasons. The first reason is because I am a deserter and a traitor, and for that I deserve death in their eyes."

He pauses, and looks to each of you with solemn eyes. He slows to a stop, takes off his pack, and begins digging through it. After a moment he takes out a sturdy wooden box. He holds it gingerly, as if it contained a priceless treasure. With another glance around he opens it, revealing the contents; a single slip of paper, about the size of Bastion's hand. It is slightly yellowed, and is covered with compact, neat handwriting.

He closes the box after a few seconds and puts it away, meticulous and careful in the packing of his backpack. He stands, and continues to walk. "That is the second reason I am pursued, though I believe they may have lost enough lives to leave me alone. That last attack would have finished me, too, had it not been for you all. They came for the script, you see, because that piece of paper will buy my freedom when I arrive at a large city.

That paper is what is known as a martial script; it contains the knowledge of a martial maneuver, and is imbued with the power and prowess of a master. That particular script grants knowledge of the single most powerful technique known to my people; to give that to a master of another school will be seen as my deepest betrayal.

I must, however, find a master willing to take me as a student in exchange for this script. My people are insular, and vain, and cruel. If we continue like this, the Iron Heart will die with us. I cannot see that happen, and if this scroll reaches a true master then it will not have to. That is why I journey, and why I cannot die. I no longer live for my people; I live for my art."

I'm a bit sorry for giving you a big blob of NPC backstory, but I also felt bad for taking so long to update, so I decided to make his tale better than just "I ran away, which made them mad." Hopefully my writing is good enough to make this enjoyable instead of unbearable.

I also promise the plot will move along promptly; after this conversation you'll be moved along to the city, and from there it'll be a quick trip to the Windswept Wall and your next module. :smallsmile:

[Toliudar]

As they walked along, the wolf's paws padding silently along the trail, Roxanne leaned back in her saddle, listening intently to Grashnor's story. She tucked her slender spear into the crook of an elbow. All this truck about pride and perfection and suchlike sounded like a lot of male chest-beating to her, but the world was wide, and it took all types.

"So...you're all heading to this village that Grashnor was supposed to help slaughter? To stop the others from doing the job? Or did I miss something?"

The little halfling paused to pull out a waterflask and squirt some into her mouth. She noted with a grimace that it was already half-empty. Better to keep an eye out for a spring, she supposed.

[Greenish]

"You missed that it apparently happened a year ago." Bastion shrugs. "As they say, 'that ship has sailed', regrettably."

"We, on the other hand, are playing messenger for a murderous necromancer who tried to kill us. Funny how that works."

[Niezck]

with the subject of their mysterious artificer clearly on his mind, Wilf chimes in on the conversation.

"Artificer actually. She just happened to make something that raised the dead... I can make scroll that heal people, doesn't make me a healer."

[Toliudar]

Roxanne nods twice, apparently understanding, and then realizes that she didn't understand at all.

"Wait. So this whosiartificiwhatsis tried to kill you, and now you're delivering a message on their behalf? I no longer think that getting Browneye here admitted backstage at a livestock showing is complicated. You people - yer complicated!"

[Greenish]

"I've found it best not to think about it too much", Bastion notes dryly.

[Jopustopin]

"She didn't try to kill us. She was toying with us. And your actions dictates who you are Wilfred. Someone who spends all day healing is a healer. It doesn't matter how they accomplish it. She is a necromancer that uses artifice to accomplish her dark deeds. Besides, delivering this message beats being a blacksmith eh Bastion?" Sida says cheerfully.

[Greenish]

"People don't usually try to kill you all the time when you're a blacksmith." Bastion fingers the holes in it's greatcoat where various and sundry weapons have left their marks.

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor shrugs, thumbing the hilt of his rapier. "You may have less chance to get killed as a blacksmith, but answer me this; your people do not die of age, correct? What would you rather spend a life doing; an eternity of labor, or a life of adventure and excitement with the chance of death?" He smiles, his eyes bright. "I may be biased, but I would choose adventure every time. The excitement makes life worth living. Plus, the letter implies that you'll get some compensation, does it not? Either way, Faramor is only about a day away. That reminds me; where are you headed, Roxanne? You haven't yet mentioned."

Knowledge (Local): [roll0]

[Toliudar]

Roxanne smiles faintly and taps the side of her nose.

"Been following this for a while, on the advice of friends. There's excitement aplenty to be found in the birth of a calf, and in seeing your daughter figure out how to sit up for the first time. But there seems to be a natural order to the way things happen, and it's good to listen to that order. So this is the year where I see other places, and learn new things."

She looks around at the four.

"Like, frinstance, I never talked to a hobbo. Uh. Hobgoblin before. That's somethin' to tell the kids. And you -"

She turns with interest back to Bastion.

"He said you live forever? How's that work? You got some kinda curse or something?"

[Greenish]

Bastion instantly replies to Grashnor's words with "Labour is it's own reward", but it's words seem rote and distant, as if it was repeating something it's been told often.

At Roxanne's question, the warforged tilts his head. "I am Warforged. Have you not heard of us?" It taps it's chest. "I'm made of obsidian, darkwood, adamantium and magic. I do not age, nor rest, nor eat, nor procreate."

[Jopustopin]

"Nor dance..." Sida says with dissapointment.

[Toliudar]

Roxanne's brow furrows.

"Huh. Pretty sure I'd a remembered stories like that. Ain't been too many wars in my neck of the woods. Maybe we just haven't had call to have too many of your kind. Good to meet ya."

She turns back to the road for a while, lost in thought. Eventually, she murmurs.

"No sleeping, eating, screwing or dancing. Huh."

There is a brief silence.

"I'd miss the eating."

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor lets out a laugh, and picks up the line of inquisition with Roxanne, asking her about what she has and has not seen in her travels. The time passes quickly; you're an interesting bunch, and you learn about each others' interests and skills in the walk. The day slowly fades, and you find yourselves near the other edge of the forest, the trade road having brought you through the deepest portions of the Shadewood un-harried or harmed.

As night begins to fall, you're faced with the option of continuing onward out of the woods, or simply finding a flat spot to set up camp and resting for the night. The trees are fairly sparse here, and it shouldn't be much trouble setting up a simple lean-to for those of you without tents.

Sleep time! I'm going to roll a percentile die to see if anything harasses you in the night, but there is a very low chance of it. The chance will decrease or increase based on how and where you sleep.

[Greenish]

Bastion collects wood and gets a fire started, then selects a piece of wood and begins carving it with his knife.

Guess who's on guard duty? :smalltongue:

[Toliudar]

While there's still light enough to see, Roxanne begins veering off the road, she and the wolf moving among the dense trees as easily as others navigate a crowded street. Within a few minutes, they trot back onto the road.

"There's a small clearing over here. You can just see the road, but there's enough cover that we won't be seen, after the cookfire's out."

If the others are amenable to such things, Roxanne will guide them towards the site, then turn to head off into the wood.

"I've got a hankering for something fresh, and it's the right time of year for [elderberries]. Don't do anything stupid. See you soon."

With a curt nod, she and the wolf slide off into the trees.

Survival check ([roll0])to gather some food for supper. A rabbit or other small animal would be fine, but mushrooms, berries, nuts, etc are also all wonderful.

[Jopustopin]

Sida seems very happy at having a food gatherin' halfing in the group and makes herself comfortable on a fallen log. She spends about an hour and a half meticulously cleaning and tuning her violin, occasionally playing a song but seemingly upset at the results before going back and cleaning and tuning it once more.


She'll stay up later than most people talking to Bastion until the moon is high in the sky. She'll than wander a bit away for a moment in prayer before going to sleep for the night.

[RaggedAngel]

The day breaks, and the rest of the night has washed away the pains and wounds of the day before. The forest floor on which you slept is sprinkled with heather and ferns, and most of you will agree that the night was preferable to one in a lousy inn, despite the chilly morning dew. Bastion spent the night in silent meditation, watching over his flock of breathers. Surrounded by nature and companions, Bastion's spirit grew a bit stronger, and brighter. When morning came he found himself stronger, and able to call forth more powerful configurations of his form.

The six of you set out along the road to Faramor, leaving the calming shade of the forest behind you before midday. The forest is replaced by farmlands, and while the six of you make for an odd bunch you encounter very few people. Around lunchtime you're passed by a cheerful gnomish peddler, who waves at you with a wink from atop a mountain of goods lashed to his unhappy donkey. You eat a brisk but filling meal before continuing onwards, the sun just peaking out from the clouds.

The day slowly ages, but before true evening can fall you see it in the distance; Faramor, the largest city for a hundred miles, a tiered city of three rings, with a half-dozed towers in the central circle. It isn't a true metropolis, not really, but as the only port city for a long ways it has most everything the common man could ever look for, and a bit more besides.

As you approach the city the traffic slowly begins to grow thicker, and Grashnor grows more uncertain and nervous. He and Bastion draw a few look of interest, but nothing openly hostile. Roxanne and Browneye, too, gather their share of inquisitive stares, and the six of you are given a generous berth. Finally, Grashnor speaks up, addressing the group at large.

"Well, friends, we have arrived, and I'm more uncertain of my path now than ever. I thank you for seeing me here, and I hope that my time with you has brought our peoples a bit closer. If nothing else, it has given me knowledge that there are truly good people in this world, despite all the evil I have seen. I thank you for that optimism more than anything."

He looks to Roxanne and Browneye, inquisitive. "I must ask, Roxanne; are you comfortable in cities? I don't think you'll get in trouble for bringing a wolf inside the gates, but I've never known a true druid before, so I figured that it would be better to ask than to drag you into a place of pain or discomfort."

[Greenish]

Though it's set face reveals no emotion, as usual, Bastion seems to be on unusually good cheer in the morning. Almost, if such a verb could be applied to a lumbering creation of adamantine and magic, chipper.

[Toliudar]

He looks to Roxanne and Browneye, inquisitive. "I must ask, Roxanne; are you comfortable in cities? I don't think you'll get in trouble for bringing a wolf inside the gates, but I've never known a true druid before, so I figured that it would be better to ask than to drag you into a place of pain or discomfort."

Roxanne had indeed been getting a bit antsy as she realizes how big a place Roxanne looks up at Grashnor with a sudden look of suspicion. What does he know of the druids? I guess it would be a reasonable guess, given the circumstances of our meeting, but still. Interesting.

Roxanne shrugs.

"Well, I'm a bit curious to see what could be makin' that awful racket of smells, all in one place, but I ain't never been in a place that big, no. And Browneye neither. But all I know was that you're delivering some kinda message for a guy who's tryin' ta kill ya. If ya want company to try to kill him right back, seems only plain an' honest to tell me what's actually goin' on here."

[RaggedAngel]

Grashnor raises his eyebrows, but he seems to take Roxanne's directness and honesty well. "When you put it like that, I can see why you'd be uncertain. I was not present for the actual letter-delivery request, but I've read the message and heard the story well enough. As far as I've gathered, these bunch," he sweeps his arm to gesture to the others, "took shelter in a massive burial-hill.

They encountered a wide manner of unsavory things in there, the least pleasant of which was a big, er, magical thing that animated a bugbear corpse. The person who built the machine eluded them, but they rekilled the bugbear and cleaned the place out. After looking around they found a letter, which told them not to open or read it. Naturally, they immediately opened and read it. It says something to the effect of 'give the piece of paper contained inside to a wizard named Sionaas, and you'll be rewarded.'"

He shrugs noncommittally. "As best I can tell, none of them had much better to do, and it was clear that this woman has significant skill, and therefore can likely provide decent payment. They left the tor when the day broke, and they came to the small town nearby." He taps himself on the chest, his smile fading. "I was in the town at the time, being introduced to the local hospitality. The pompous ass of a cleric they have in that place decided that I was a good person to bear the blame of the local hobgoblin raids, because clearly we're all the same person, since we look different than you folk."

His voice gains a tinge of bitterness; it's clear this is a touch subject. "So, like I said, they saved my life and we fled the place before the bumpkins could break out the pitchforks and torches. I intend to find a master here, and theses guys are going to see if anyone's heard of Sionaas. It's implied that he's fairly well known, so if they can't find anyone who knows about him then it's just a wild goose chase."

He thinks for a moment before nodding to himself. "That's everything, I think. So, want to help them with their goose chase? Once I find someone who knows about the nearest school of the Sublime Way I will be leaving you all, though I'll be sad to go."

[Toliudar]

Grashnor's directly clearly goes over well with Roxanne as well. She nods, once, deep in thought, before turning to the others.

"I didn't do anything to get that there piece of paper, so I don't think I'd have any claim to any re-ward for sending it in. But if it leads you on to something interesting, I'd like to hear about it. And, meantime, I figger I got me a city to see, right?"

She looks up at the other three, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

[Greenish]

Bastion shrugs. "Not a whole lot to see in a city. Big. Noisy. Full of people. Disorganized as anything. You want to tag along, we'll probably need your help. Again. Might get us all killed." The warforged looks somewhere far away. "I didn't realize I missed to good old bad days. Funny that."

[Jopustopin]

"Oh Bastion; we're not going to die. We're heroes. Today we're heroes in a city! Cities are where heroes go to get rewards and accolades and wine and song. I think we should relax and enjoy ourselves. Wilfred, Bastion how much time do you guys need in the city? I'd like to know how much time I have here before we're heading out again." Sida says

[Greenish]

"Technically speaking, all of you are going to die, sooner or later." Bastion fingers the holes in his greatcoat. "I'll have to get this fixed, but that shouldn't take too long."

[Toliudar]

Taking silence to imply consent, Roxanne settled back in her harness. Bastion's comment caused her to heft an eyebrow towards Sida.

"Cheerful fella, ain't he? Fun at parties, suchlike. Well, best be going in, then."

She makes sure that her hunting spear is pointing straight up, and gees her wolf gently forward again.

"Hush, now, and 'member. No biting anything bigger than a rat less you talk with me first."

[Jopustopin]

Wilfred, Bastion how much time do you guys need in the city? Sida says

Sida waves her hand in front of Wilfred's face, "Wilfred... hello?"