Raiders from the North IC

[Mithric Gunn]

It has only been a few weeks since you said goodbye to your family and friends and boarded your longship. At first, everything went well. The seas were mostly calm, a southerly breeze blew, and the mead was fresh.

Then the storm came. Lightning crackled all around, thunder shook the ship, waves pounded the sides and washed over the deck. The men clutched the rigging and prayed to the gods, many are swept overboard.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, the storm cleared. Upon searching your supplies and counting those who are left, you find that half the crew are dead, including the captain, and the ship is dangerously low on supplies.

In the distance, land is spotted, and as your wounded ship limps forward,
the lookouts spies what might be a small settlement.

[Space Lawyer]

The large man near the front of the boat puts down his oar and stands. "We are low on water and food, and the ship needs repairs. We should put in at that town.". He looks towards the settlement.

Perception to notice any details about the settlement:
[roll0]

[Chainsaw Hobbit]

Arngrim grips his weapons and says "They are sure to have food, wine, and women! To arms!"

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand stalks to the prow to survey the sighted settlement, cutting a calmly commanding and quietly ferocious presence in well-made armor and thick furs, somehow not the least lessened by the recent travails of the longship. "Aye, that'll do- finally, a boon from Ægir!- though hold your swords, brothers, until we can determine whether they be allies or foemen." Glancing over her maps, she attempts to gain a better understanding of their location in reference to home and where they were headed, when the storm hit.

[roll0] Profession:Sailor
[roll1] Perception
[roll2] Knowledge: Geography
[roll3] Knowledge: Nature

Would love an assist roll by anyone who feels themselves up to it.

[Space Lawyer]

Garik puts his hand on Arngrim's shoulder. "Steady, my friend. The skald has the right of it. Let us have a look at where we are."

Rolling to aid another
Knowledge(nature): [roll0]
Profession(sailor): [roll1]

[Cleavon]

Olafr:Furious:

Looking up from where he had rested himself after such a brutal tossing of the ship he finally stood. The brooding mans hair was damp with the brine of the recently tossing sea, and as it hung down in front of his eyes he peered towards the settlement they approached.

His left eye seemed to burn a bright hot orange, and as he stared listlessly out at the settlement his basso voice rumbled forth.

"If they've what we need, it will be ours regardless of friend or foe. If they've any brains among them...they'll act as friend to save their skins."

[Mithric Gunn]

Chiliand and Garik pore over the maps, and scan the horizon for landmarks, but can't seem to find an answer to where they are. Perhaps if the night is not too cloudy, some information could be gleaned from the stars.

Garik:
It appears to be a small village, maybe 30-60 people in the village proper. You can barely make out what looks like a small fishing boat near the shore.

[Space Lawyer]

Garik gazes into the sky, looking for any familiar stars.

Survival: [roll0]

[Mithric Gunn]

The constellations are impossible to see in the daylight, though so far there seem to be few clouds in the sky. Hopefully the weather stays clear.

[stack]

Magnus sits stoically as the others discuss plunder. He raises a hand, calling for a moment of silence. "Let me seek the will of the gods."

He takes a handful of dust and casts it into the water, watching intently at the patterns as it swirls away past the hull. "Ullr, shall we approach this town?"

1 ki for augery (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/a/augury)[roll0] w/ 75% chance of meaningful answer (26+)

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand barks a short laugh of acknowledgement at Olafr's candid assessment. "Aye, if they're not kinsmen or kind, no doubt we'll slake the thirst of our blades soon enough." She calls up to the lookout: "What news of yon settlement? Size? Strength? Can you make out fortifications?"

She leans back calmly on the foremost bench and, in a softly carrying dulcet tone, begins to recite a short bragr involving Heimdallr's extraordinary eyesight, hoping to inspire the lookout's vision.

Inspire Competence +2 to the lookout's Perception

As she awaits a reply from above, and a response to Magnus' augury, she mutters to Garik over the chart. "If luck falls against us once more and they are hostile, what say you to beginning our reaving here? We need the supplies, the men could use the distraction, and if none are found who'll treat with us, perhaps it's because the gods desire they have time to reconsider, repairing the ship under our watchful eyes, or taking a turn chained to our oars." She seems to relish the thought of an unwelcome reception in foreign lands nearly as much as a safe port in known waters.
"Of course, if they show strength enough," her cold smile shows just how likely she considers that prospect, "we needs must consider putting to land far enough away to approach them without risking the remains of our ship. I'd not like to be stranded on foreign soil should the stars not tell us where we are tonight."

[Lionheart]

Nyssa hears the conversation around her, but feels she has nothing to add. Instead she stares at her hawk wheeling in the sky, wondering how a storm could have taken her by surprise.

Knowledge nature to see if a storm is coming, and if there was anything unnatural about the previous one.
1d20+11

[Mithric Gunn]

Magnus:
You look for signs in the water, but see nought but a chaotic swirling, perhaps the future is uncertain. Even gods can be baffled by the multitude of paths mortal man can take.

Nyssa:
You don't sense a storm coming. And as for the storm that almost sank the ship, you didn't sense it coming. It seemed unnatural, but not exactly magical. Something about it seems very, very strang to you, but you're not certain what it is.

The lookout, a grizzled older man with keen eyes, calls back, "It looks a good sized town, 20 men or so, I wager. I see no lookout nor bustlin' 'bout at'all, which be strange, skald. Don't look abandoned, neither." He pulls a knife out and starts wittling a piece of bone.

[Lionheart]

Nyssa will keep her own counsel for now, it wouldn't do to worry the others prematurely, though she would keep her eyes peeled for any clues that might illuminate the situation.

Looking towards the land, the Storm Princess addresses her compatriots.
"May I suggest we proceed with some caution, there is something unnatural in the wind.

[stack]

Magnus scowls at the water. "I saw nothing. Perhaps I blinked, perhaps the gods are busy, or drunk. Put ashore and let us see what our fate will be. Far enough away that we can land before they greet us. If we are to feed the ravens, I would have my feet on solid ground. Until then, I will make another inquiry." Let's see if the blood-thirty madmen have the right of it.

"Ullr, should we dedicate the town to Odin and the gods with fire?" This time he drops some spare feather brought for fletching into the wind.

Augury [roll0]A different enough question, I think, to get a new roll

[Mithric Gunn]

Magnus:
Answer: Weal and Woe.
OOC: I'll roll the augury rolls secret, as per RAW. just announce that you're using it.:smallsmile:

[Space Lawyer]

"I yearn for battle, but fixing the mast will take time. I doubt our ship, damaged as it is, could carry the weight of our reward. If we put to shore well away from the town, and repair our the ship there, we could send some into town to find where we are and if we might find supplies and provisions" Garik looks towards the shore, searching for a good place to haul the ship in, as well as any trees suitable for a mast.


Perception: [roll0]

[Mithric Gunn]

Garik:
The area seems heavily wooded, but you see what looks like a decent place to beach the ship a short way down the coast.

[Space Lawyer]

"I see a good spot just over there. Man the oars, and we'll get up a good speed to beach the ship easily. We'll set up camp then have look at that village."

[stack]

Magnus nods. "A fair plan. I can bring in some fresh game from the wood while we work. I suspect we would all be glad of something besides hardtack." He runs a hand over the finely crafted bow that never leaves his side.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand looks around to her companions, her expression darkening slightly at Magnus' seeming fear of dying aboard a longship. Whether due to thin blood, his strange upbringing, or the experience we all just shared, it's innocuous enough, I suppose. I shan't ask much from him soon, though if it comes to battle, his mettle will be tested soon enough. Leaving it to the gods, she blows off her concern as she did Arngrim's first comment regarding the women in the settlement.
Taking affront at every little thing shows naught but insecurity from one who would lead. Timing is key in confrontation, and right now everyone must stand together.
Moving on from face to face, Chiliand frowns slightly at Nyssa's dire pronouncement. Reading agreement on the faces of most, when she makes it back to Magnus', she thinks briefly again to his seeming abandonment by the gods and files it away- though her faith in the group is unshaken. We're doing their work, after all, and none in this group have given me real reason to doubt them.

"We've accord then."

Pleased by the concordance, she raises her voice and calls out, "Lookout, climb down and rest, and a double ration of mead to you tonight for your fine eyes. Nyssa, take that duty upon your shoulders and guide us in. All others, with me! To oar!"

Unless Nyssa or another disagrees:

Chiliand steps closely to Nyssa, and lowers her voice:

Nyssa (GM can decide a listen check)
"I publicly show my faith in you, druid, before any can think to blame you for not predicting the storm. Don't be down, and don't let us down."

With a meaningful look, she steps away before a response can be made and prepares to row.

1d20+5 Profession: Sailor
Strength

[Space Lawyer]

Garik grabs an oar and settles in, prepared to row.

Profession: Sailor 1d20+6
Strength: 1d20+5

I edited the strength roll because I deleted on of the ]. I rolled a 1 on the sailor roll.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:Furious:

Staying silent as things were discussed, he was rather interested in getting this voyage back on track. It seemed this village would be the place to get their supplies one way or another.

He took a seat at one of the oars and began to row, his timing impeccable. He was indeed a brilliant mind, stuffed underneath the brawn and muscles that were so needed to make yourself known as a warrior. As he worked the oar he looked up at their landing point. It seemed a decent place to make port as it were.

His hair hung down into his eyes and his shoulders heaved the oar back and forth, working it well as he helped along towards the shore.

Rolls

Profession: Sailor [roll0]
Strength: [roll1]

[Mithric Gunn]

After a short time at the oars, you draw near to shore.

Nyssa:
As you draw closer, you notice figure by a small stream. He seems to be fishing, but when he turns as if hearing something, he sees the ship. His jaw drops, and he drops the pole he was using. He then turns and runs in the direction of the village.

You beach on the shore. It is a small beach sheltered on both sides by trees, with a small stream running off to the side. A pole lies on the ground near the stream, and a crude bucket sits beside it, fith two fresh-caught fish inside.

[Lionheart]

Nyssa stares at Chiliand's back as she walks away, trying to size her up.

As they approach the shore Nyssa points out the figure as he runs.
"There, someone get after that fisherman, he could warn the town of our arrival.

[stack]

Magnus scowls. "If they would receive us in peace, then his escape is no matter. If they would draw blades, then let them come to us. We can dispatch their most foolhardy on ground of our choosing, leaving the defenses weak. If they are cowards and hide in their homes, we can always burn them out."

"Anyone want fish?" he concludes, eying the contents of the bucket.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand hisses a quick curse, then shrugs. "Evidently they've seen our Snekkja longships before, and have reason to tremble at the sight. No matter. Our only other option was to wait until cover of darkness to land, and I'd rather us set up here than scrambling to fortify our position in the dark."

"Let them be warned." It will not save them. Though this reaction may push us to marching on them in force, rather than sending a smaller group to find if they're amenable to parley. "Let them know the fear of our coming." Either they'll be intimidated, or they'll be slain or enslaved.

Chiliand eyes Magnus. ""Hunter, shall you take a volunteer and find us a secure position to encamp and scout the surroundings for game and a likely tree to serve as a mast? Stay within range of my bukkehorn, of course. If aught goes wrong and we need you, I shall signal for your swift return."

She then surveys the immediate surroundings to determine the type of wood- both to see if it's a familiar species that would give them a clue to their location and also to determine its use as raw building material.

[roll0] Knowledge: Geography
[roll1] Knowledge: Nature

How far did we land from where we spotted the settlement?

[stack]

Magnus nods curtly. "Of course. I shall return shortly. I will loose a noisome arrow if I find myself in need of aid."

He strings his bow and stalks into the wood, eyes sharp for game, timber, and foes. He moves in widening arc from their position, careful to remain hidden from any prying eyes.

stealth [roll0] (obviously)
survival [roll1] (for hunting game)
know nature [roll2]
profession sailor [roll3] (nature and sailor for looking for suitable mast material)
perception [roll4]

[Space Lawyer]

This is no matter. If they wish to fight, we will have a glorious battle. If they wish to come in peace, we will sleep a few good nights ashore. I feel we should make camp right here, to better guard the ship.

Garik gestures to two of the sailors. "You, and you. Come with me. Let us find materials to make camp with, and maybe a mast-tree. We will stay close."

To find kindling, saplings, berries, etc.
Survival: [roll0]

To identify a tree suitable for a mast.
Profession (Sailor): [roll1]

While in the forest, to see if the small plants and animals give a hint to our location:
Knowledge (Nature): [roll2]

If necessary, charisma to convince the sailors to follow.
Intimidate: [roll3]

[Lionheart]

Nyssa steps onto the beach and opens her arms to the sky. As the wind runs through her hair, her body begins to transform, taking on the form of a bird of prey.
Silently, she takes off, making a quick recce of the island, looking out for unusual weather activity. She also goes by the town, trying to ascertain the reason for its founding, as well as what force they may be able to bring to bear.

Perception
[roll0]

And knowledge nature
[roll1]

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

As he was alerted to the fishermans choice to flee, he did wonder if the man was going to warn the village of a murderous band, or if he was merely startled. It didn't matter to him one bit what the man, or anyone in the village thought.

As the jobs were portioned out Olafr fell into step with Garik, figuring he needed to be of help in some way, and gathering up of supplies wouldn't be a bad job. He kept his Warhammer at the ready though on his side, eyes open for any returning villagers.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand stares off after Nyssa, bemusedly. "Neat trick, that," she murmers to those nearby. I don't much like the thought of everyone splitting off, but druids seem to keep their own council. I'm sure she wants to be of as much use as she can- who can fault her for that after half her companions died in a storm she didn't see coming?- and she knows her own powers better than any of us.

Pointing to two of the remaining raiders, she bids them keep watch on the perimeter, telling them she'll have fish brought to them when it's ready. Another, she tells to gut and clean and prepare the fisherman's leavings.

With so much left to do before dark, she looks around at the few who are left; already unloading the meager supplies and otherwise making themselves generally useful. So few of us, she sighs, beginning on her own to stack loose stones for a fire pit. This isn't glory and battle and flame we set for, this is work.

[Mithric Gunn]

To all:
My apologies for the delayed update.
Chiliand:
You look at the tree, but you dont recognize its type. It seems like it might be suitable for repairs, though it is unseasoned.
Magnus:
You catch a few hares, though you don't see anything that stands out as good mast material. There is also a small trail worn through the underbrush. it seems to head off in the direction of the village.
Garik:
The sailors go with you, and seem relieved to be given orders. While collecting some roots and berries, you find a tree that might be suitable as a temporary mast. Of course a true mast must be seasoned.
Nyssa:
The weather seems relatively clear. As you pass over the village, you see peopel going about their work. A man hustles down a small trail, toward the village, but when you go in for a closer look, he doesn't seem scared or alarmed. Oh, and it's not an island.
As far as terrain, you see a river next to the village, going inland. In the distance, far away, you see a mountain range. You also make out what looks like a great river in the distance, not too far down the coast.

[stack]

Magnus returns to camp a few hours later, a string of expertly skinned and dressed rabbits over his shoulder, pelts carefully cut and stored for tanning, should the opportunity arise. He spreads them out on a handy board. "Should do for a bit of stew. Round up a few roots and such, be a fair change after moldy hardtack and salt herring. Found little else, small path toward the village."

[unfairtosome]

"Excellent catch, hunter. I knew you could be relied upon. Did you run across a more defensible location to make camp, or shall we stay here by the fresh water? Did you gather anything further about the local populace from tracks or spoor?"

Chiliand waits for the others to return, at which time she expounds further on her thoughts. "I don't recognize these trees- which means we're unlikely to be in a completely unfamiliar area; unlikely to antagonize allies and ripe for the plucking- but they seem suitable for mast, given time to prepare and season...

"Of course," she grins fiercely, "doing that ourselves when we set out from home to win plunder and glory seems to me to be a less interesting course of potential action. Barring further information those of you who are just now returning, I believe we should camp the night, and march early on the settlement for slaves and material.

"Since they're prewarned and likely afraid of us, they'll likely spend the night watching for attack and be weary when we do strike.

"Let us drink and feast tonight and find glory in battle at dawn!"

[roll0] Diplomacy for those who are already enticed by the thought of a full-out attack.
[roll1] Intimidate for those who are less savagely inclined
[roll2] Knowledge: Local to determine how the settlement might respond to the fisherman's warning of a viking longship in the distance

[Mithric Gunn]

Chiliand:
You would normally expect a village to gather its warriors, prepare its women and children to be moved to a safer place, and get ready to trade. Some towns refuse to trade with foreign ships, or have been attacked by longships before and attack them on sight. Others have benefited from trading with viking ships, and would be much more friendly.

[Space Lawyer]

Garik returns to the camp, in time to hear Chiliand. "We have found a tree suitable for a mast, and a bit of food. I don't trust slaves to do the work on our ship. Though it may take time, if we do it ourselves, the work will be better. We will take slaves and riches should it be necessary. As we are, we might find new allies to repair our ship, as well as maybe replenish our numbers. Free men fight better than slaves." Garik settles in and builds a fire, enticed by the thought of the stew Magnus mentioned.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Returning with the sailors, and helping them portion out the foraged berries and other detritus, Olafr heard Gariks statement, and the orange color in his eye seemed to burn a bit brighter at the thought.

"The promise of adventure, and a warriors call should be enough to rally some to our cause. If none of them can answer, then we'll have little choice but to take what we need for our oars."

He went back to separating the various berries and edible roots, getting them ready for for the pot.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand snorts her disdain for any thought of alliance with the small settlement, now that she is more comfortable in the knowledge that they're no place close to home and wouldn't mistakenly be striking at an ally of their land, narrowing her eyes at Olafr. "So you expect us to march in and convince their perhaps dozen warriors to leave with us, their children and elderly unprotected, to row aboard our battered longship for the sheer joy of our presence?" She sneers. "Or perhaps you mean to trade our so-valuable near-empty remaining barrel of mead or our few molding ship-rations in exchange for seasoned wood and the labor of their shipbuilders?"

Chiliand's voice grows in volume with every passing word- perhaps somewhat related to the fact that she's been at the barrel of mead since shortly after finishing the initial setup of the camp, and redirects her harsh words toward Garik.

"Certainly you don't mean to trade in that fine sword of yours for a soft life of farming and crafting? Is that it? You want to spend the next year of your life drying out the wood needed to repair our ship?"

She glances over at Arngrim, a little surprised that he had not yet had to be restrained from leading a charge. "Arngrim! Where is that ferocity you showed when the settlement was first sighted?"

Returning her gaze to Garik, she continues in a lower, more persuasive tone. "I don't know about you, baresark, but I left home to to pillage and plunder, to win glory and riches for myself and our kinsmen, to sacrifice outlanders to Odin and to build a reputation in the surrounding countries, that they might hear my name and dread my coming."

She lowers her voice even more, adopting a friendlier, though edged, tone. "Do you remember why you left home, baresark? How do you wish to be remembered in song?"

Did those social rolls account for anything? How do our generic raider NPCs feel about my impassioned speeches, the current prospects, and what to do moving forward?

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

"HAH! You mistake the power of intimidation for some misguided diplomacy. I speak only of their possible wish not to die. If they show us resistance, they will shed blood. Do not mistake my intentions."

He stood and peered down the way, in the direction of the village. His orange eye smoldering as he thought of the probable carnage to come.

"I doubt we'd have to kill many before they bow at our feet."

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand scoffs. "And why should we care for their wishes? On the day each man was born, the Norns ordained the day of his death. I do not care to intimidate with words," she lies, "I care to take what I will by the strength of my arms and the comrades I keep- leaving no sniveling cowards behind who live only because they begged our mercy." She fills a drinking horn with mead and passes it to Olafr. "After our victory, a few men can be left to oversee the reconstruction of our longship by broken thralls, and to keep this position secure while the majority continue inland to ravage until we've had our fill. Surely you see the wisdom in that."

We should name our longship, by the way.

[Lionheart]

Nyssa lands back beside the ship, transforming back into human form. She bites her lip, worrying about how they wound up here.
She approaches Chiliand and shares the news of the town.
They seem peaceful, easy pickings for warriors such as we.

[unfairtosome]

With a gleam in her eye, Chiliand nods, spreading her arms to the rest of the assembled group as if to say "What more needs be said?"

Quickly filling Nyssa in as to the gist of the conversation preceding her arrival, and gesturing to the stew, she awaits general acclaim or dissent while prodding for more details of the hawk's-eye view.

"Did you make out any details of their fortifications or preparations? Any new landmarks from your vantage- villages, forts...? Were you able to tell if we're on an island or a larger landmass...?"

[Mithric Gunn]

As the sun sets, the stars come out.
I need either knowledge geography or profession sailor checks from everyone

[unfairtosome]

Relaxing by the fire, charts and maps spread out beside her, Chiliand stares wonderingly into the darkening sky, trying to place herself in the world by judging the bearing of familiar constellations with where she thinks they should be.

[roll0] Knowledge: Geography
[roll1] Profession Sailor (+4 more if the Nautical Chart is at all helpful)

With a decent start to her examinations of the stars, she shares the beginnings of her findings with the others in the hopes that they can fill in what she's missing. Softly, she picks up her bronze lur, Trolljegeren, and begins a gentle tune in the hopes that the sounds of the wind instrument will steady and the thoughts and minds of the others to focus on the task at hand.

Aid Another? My song lends a +2 competence bonus to anyone attempting a Knowledge: Geography check.

[Space Lawyer]

"I am in agreement with Olafr. If they wish for their village to be spared, they will do the work that is needed. As for payment, we give their warriors a place on our ship to find adventure. You speak, sklad, of the reasons I left home, and you are right to say that it was for riches and glory. With our numbers as they are now, we may only attack the poorest and least defended villages. With a ship full of mighty fighters, each thirsting for blood and battle-mad, we could accomplish far greater things. We are not remembered in song for burning a village none have heard of." Garik turns to the sky, hoping for a clue as to where they are. "At least tonight is a fine, clear one, a good last night if tomorrow we go to join Odin in his hall as true warriors."

Profession (Sailor): 1d20+6

[unfairtosome]

"In that, at least, we are agreed." Chiliand lifts her horn in salute, hiding her incredulity behind the mead. I wonder if they really think a few foreign milkdrinkers would be a credible addition to a Snekkja of the North, if they'd even be agreeable in the first place. Does he expect me to suckle them all at my teat?

Morelike they'd turn on us at the first hint of a raid on their neighbors.

[Lionheart]

Nyssa nods to Chiliand, giving a fuller report of what she has seen.
"This is more than just an island, the land stretches far to the mountains on the horizon."
She then attempts to assist the others in their efforts, ignoring the stew until she is no longer needed.
knowledge geography
[roll0]

[stack]

Magnus listens as the others debate, eyes watching the wood, back to the fire to preserve his sight as the sun fails. Eventually, he speaks, slow and even. "It was said rightly that we have little to trade with. Trade is safer, and potentially more profitable, but one must start with something, and we have naught but our ship and our arms. A handful of coin for a few pelts may feed a man, but it won't fix a ship. Let us lay eyes on the village. I will go and see what defense they have layed before first light. We can plan our attack then."

profession sailor [roll0]

if not interrupted before then:
stealth [roll1]
perception [roll2]
taking his time to be careful and thorough

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Taking the horn from Chiliand he nodded in agreement.

"Their defeat isn't in question...the work will be done regardless of the method they are obtained."

He grinned wide as he set to sit by the fire, taking a long drink from the horn, and then raising it up as the conversation continued.

"I believe the skalds predictions will be the ones most effective and likely to be used. Our blood lust will be sated before dawn."

As Magnus left to scout the villages defenses he kept the fire up took his scroll case out. The ancient scrolls seemed too worn with age to be of use, but in the strong mans hands they looked strong, and the runes scribed there bold. He mulled over the runes scribed there, making sure he had the proper magicks prepared for their pending attack.

[Mithric Gunn]

As you discuss your plans by the fire, the stars begin to come out, one by one. You look up, seeking the familiar constellations, but find none. Not a single familiar pattern is there. Never before have you heard of the stars changing; they have always been the constant guide for sailors and hunters.

Magnus:
OOC: let me know if you'll still be leaving to scout. This will happen as you get ready to go.

The men seem shaken, and one even wonders if the gods have abandoned them.

[stack]

Magnus sets out shortly before dawn, hoping to view the village with the first light.

[unfairtosome]

[before Magnus sets off to scout]

The thought of staging an attack immediately with the the dawn forgotten, Chiliand begins drinking significantly more quickly since the creeping awareness grew that this particular array of stars was not, perhaps, not her own.

She stalks back and forth from the fire to the longship, casting glares at the now-threateningly unfamiliar trees, the alien water, even the rabbit stew as if it, too, might rise up and become something completely unexpected.

Recalling a suspicious comment from earlier, Chiliand corners Nyssa.

"What precisely was it that you were saying earlier about that storm, this situation, the very wind seeming unnatural? I think it's time we hear a little more from our druid."

[Lionheart]

Nyssa chews her lip, trying to work out how to answer.
I was born amidst a storm, my parents' names are thunder and lightning. Never once have i been unable to predict heavy weather. The storm that brought us here was more than natural, it took even me by surprise, and brought us to a land where even the stars are strange. I am forced to speculate that we have travelled beyond the reach of sea and sky.
Best not tell the men, it'll only spook them. I'll continue to look into it, don't let it trouble you overmuch.

[unfairtosome]

"I'll not deceive any Northmen who set out with us, and I suggest you refrain from the same. We were placed into this together, and we'll sail out of this together. Hold more faith in your fellows. With this new trial, we needs must stick together closer than ever, in heart and action."

Awakening to their plummeting morale, Chiliand returns to the fire with Trolljegeren, playing a happy, lilting tune on the lur- the muscles of her mouth forming sounds of bravery and hope which resonate around the encampment for over an hour before she finally beds down for the rest of the night.

Inspire Courage, obviously.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

As he listened to Chiliands inspiring tune, he tucked his scrolls away, certain he had prepared what he needed for the coming battle. He spent the rest of the time in silent thought.

[Mithric Gunn]

Magnus:
When you go by the village, you notice that their are men with torches there, in armor. The armor looks to be well made, their weapons finely forged. You think theres somewhere between 10-20, and there is a man in a dress in the center, ordering the others around.

They seem to be separating the villagers, many of whom are crying. As you watch, 2 of the soldiers grab a woman from the group and start dragging her towards the man in the dress. As she screams, a villager knocks a guard to the side, drawing a knife, and rushes the soldiers. Another soldier knocks him to the ground and kicks the knife away, laughing.

OOC: If you wish to refer other characters to this post, rather than explain it all, feel free.:smallwink:

[Space Lawyer]

Garik had a bit of stew, then spent the night sharpening his sword. If battle was to be had in the morning, he may as well be prepared.

[stack]

Magnus returns to the camp and relates what he saw.When you go by the village, you notice that their are men with torches there, in armor. The armor looks to be well made, their weapons finely forged. You think theres somewhere between 10-20, and there is a man in a dress in the center, ordering the others around.

They seem to be separating the villagers, many of whom are crying. As you watch, 2 of the soldiers grab a woman from the group and start dragging her towards the man in the dress. As she screams, a villager knocks a guard to the side, drawing a knife, and rushes the soldiers. Another soldier knocks him to the ground and kicks the knife away, laughing.

"There seems to be dissent in their ranks. Striking the leader and his guards down may win us allies. A safe harbor in this foreign place would be a boon. Now, I should seek guidance before we attack."

augury

[Space Lawyer]

Garik roars with excitement at Magnus' words. Aye, this is news I like. A chance for battle while winning us allies and a good port. To arms! Let the blood flow and the screams be heard, and may they please gods! If there be a plan of battle, let it be heard now.

[unfairtosome]

"Did it look like dissent or did it look like we've got competition?" Chiliand laughs. "We'd better hurry if we want our fair share."

She looks over the gathered group, counting and thinking. "It sounds like all of us will be needed when it comes to blows. Let's do our best to drag the longship deeper off-path and obscure it as best as possible with local fauna, that way we need not leave any men behind."

[Space Lawyer]

Garik calls over the raiders, and makes preparations to pull in the ship. "Though it may be wise to leave men to guard the ship, I'll not deny any the chance for battle and glory."

Strength (to move the boat): Taking 20 due to the time we have to move it, +5 strength mod. Total of 25.

Survival (to hide the boat): 1d20+8

[unfairtosome]

"The glory of battle, yes, and the chance to not be abandoned in the foreign land. A half-broken Snekkja benefits few when we've no knowledge of our location, and splitting the group benefits no one."

[roll0] Survival roll to assist someone on hiding the longship
[roll1] Disguise check

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Rising as he listened to the news of the village, he gave a wide grin and hefted his hammer. As Chiliand detailed the plan to hide their means of conveyance, he made way to the ship and began to help with the heavier of the lifting.

"Lets get this ship hidden men, we can't give up such an advantage. If they've found turmoil we can easily overtake the whole lot of them!"

[Mithric Gunn]

You get the ship stowed and hidden, the men seem glad to have something to distance their minds from the troubling news of the stars. They get their axes and prepare to move out.

[unfairtosome]

[unless there are more preparations and interactions before we set out]

After quickly finishing up the necessary chores for decampment, Chiliand begins the march, letting Magnus and Nyssa take the lead and choosing the path as they see best. Silently, with one hand on her lur and one on her axe, she debates entrance strategies. It's unlikely we'll be able to sneak up on them- they've been both warned by the fisherman and awakened to battle by their own internal politics. I wonder if it might be best to increase morale and offer the potential for intimidation by leading us in with a fighting tune- announcing our intentions and location, yes, but also our lack of fear.

Grinning to herself, eyes flashing at the expectation of blood and glory, Chiliand reaches her conclusion. It was never much in doubt.

[barring further interactions/scene information before we approach near enough- in this case, a half-mile or so (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/equipment---final/goods-and-services#TOC-Horn-signal)]

Chiliand begins piping hard upon her lur, its high arcing tones calling her companions to battle- which, when coupled with a Ghost Sound (http://paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/prd/spells/ghostSound.html) providing the noise equivalent to another 20 vikings thrashing through the underbrush on their way to pillage and easy plunder, makes for quite a fearsome sound.

[Space Lawyer]

"Arngrim, Olafr, with me. We'll take the fight directly to the leader of whatever this other group. Kill him and the rest will fall easy. What say you?". Garik becomes increasingly wild looking, the bloodlust rising.

[stack]

Magnus checks his bow, then runs his fingers over the fletching of an arrow, reflexively attempting to straighten the already meticulous feathers. "I will give cover. Should have a few feathered before you reach them."

planning on engaging from long range. How many increments will depend on the situation when we arrive.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Nodding to Garik he stepped up next to the man, ready to head in with the force that sought to decapitate their leadership. He readied his warhammer and made a mental check of his prepared spells.

He had a couple of nice tricks he thought he might put to use. He waited with Garik until the signal, then let forth an incantation as they made their way towards the village.

He brought his warhammer forth and concentrated as he approached the village, electricity gathering his hand and spreading up the weapon. His orange eye burned hot as he stared headlong at their destination.

DM

Casting Bulls Strength just before we head into the fight. Lasts 50 rounds.

When we begin to move up, spending one point of my Arcane Pool to turn my MWK Warhammer into a +1 Shock Warhammer for 10 rounds.

[Mithric Gunn]

@stack:
Sorry bout missing that. Augury gives you weal.

You approach. You see the village men chained near their community building. The women and children are nowhere to be seen. 3 soldiers stand over the men, blades out. A man in a dress stands in the center of the village, and seems to be shouting commands at the soldiers. 3 soldiers stand with a villager, chained at wrist and ankle. The captive is beaten, bruised and bloody from head to toe, but his eyes are alight with defiance, and he spits in the robed man's face. One of the soldiers slaps the peasant across the face, and the robed man's face twists in rage, his hands alight with arcane fire, about to destroy the peasant.

Everyone:
They dont seem to see you. Surprise round. Magnus: the man in the center is the same as the one you saw before.
I'm extremely busy with work right now, so I wont be doing a map this time, expect maps in the future, though(no promises):smallwink:
You are about 50 feet from the man in the center, 65 feet from the farthest soldier.
Yalls avg initiative: 10
The enemies: 6
Surprise round first, then your first init.
Feel free to post both actions at once if you want.
Once the surprise round and first round are done, i'll post a recap of whats happened, along with the enemy's actions.
Then second round will start(if theres any left standing).
And check out my cool new Avatar!:smallbiggrin:

[Space Lawyer]

Garik draws his sword and charges towards the spellcaster. He lets out a fearsome cry, seeming to transform into a wild beast, spittle flying from his lips and eyes rolling back into his head:smallfurious:. He runs around anyone between him and the spellcaster, intent on cleaving the witch-man's from head to toe. Come here, little magic man! Let my blade have your blood!

While running, using any extra movement to avoid AOO.
Surprise round: draw sword, move 40 ft towards spellcaster
1st round: Rage, Feral Trance, move towards spellcaster, attack.
Attack Roll: [roll0]
Damage Roll: [roll1]
Current AC 16, Str 22, Con 23
Rage rounds remaining: 20, Feral Trance round remaining: 14

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Hearing Gariks roars of rage he joined in with the man, racing forward and bringing his warhammer to bear against the spellcaster.

Attacks:

Surprise Round:
Charge the Spellcaster if close enough(Power attack active)
Attack:
Damage:[roll1]

Possible Crit?
Attack:[roll2]
Additional Damage:[roll3]

Round1:
If based to the Spellcaster, Swift action to activate Arcane Accuracy(1 Arcane Pool, + Int bonus to attack rolls) Full attack, Power attack active, Spellstrike channeling Shocking Grasp into first attack.

Attack one:
Attack:[roll4]
Damage:[roll21d8+20
Shocking Grasp Damage(Electricity):[roll5]

Possible Crit?
Attack:[roll6]
Damage:[roll7]
Additional Shocking Grasp Damage(Electricity):[roll8]

Attack two:
Attack:[roll9]
Damage:[roll10]

Possible Crit?
Attack:[roll11]
Damage:[roll12]

[stack]

Having focused his mind as the neared the village, and as the others rush into the fray, Magnus calmly pulls an arrow from his quiver, notching, drawing and loosing in one smooth motion. Two black and one red feather, a barbed arrow, one that leaves a wicked wound. The motion is repeated twice more, hardly a breath in between as he stands otherwise motionless, legs wide.

used gravity bow before getting to the village
surprise round
attack (longbow) perfect strike (take better of two rolls) vs the leader
[roll0]
[roll1]
damage [roll2]

round 1
flurry of blows vs leader if standing, nearest foe otherwise
[roll3] perfect strike (take better of two rolls) vs the leader
[roll4]
damage [roll5]

[roll6] vs leader if standing, nearest foe otherwise
perfect strike (take better of two rolls) vs the leader
[roll7]
damage [roll8]

only the first arrow on each target is a thistle arrow, subsequent are durable arrows

thistles cause bleed damage for 1d6 rounds. I presume it equals their base damage, as it is unspecified otherwise

Also, rolls do NOT include inspire courage, so +2/+2 to all rolls.

[unfairtosome]

Was there any reaction to my signal horn or Ghost Sound?

Having swapped Trolljegeren for her weapon as they entered the settlement and visibly bolstering her companions with her willingness to leap into battle, Chiliand, still howling, charges toward the men in the center of the village, laughing and whirling her axe about her head as she comes.

Pausing for only a moment, she laughs and makes a rude gesture with her axe toward the one matching Magnus' description. "Still want to slap a woman? Try slapping this one! Although I suppose we do have you Níðingr to thank for doing all of the hard work of rounding everyone up for us!"

Surprise round: Run to within 30 feet of the furthest soldier, preference to staying near to Garik and Olafr.
First round: Dazzling Display (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/feats/combat-feats/dazzling-display-combat) [roll0]

Statblock after first round:

Inspire Courage +2 (visual) Round 2/15
Ghost Sound - coming from behind the group now, as if there are still 20 more howling Northmen to come pouring in the settlement Round 3/5
HP: 45/45
Spells left: 4/4 1st level 2/2 2nd level

[Lionheart]

Nyssa remains at the back of the group, not even deigning to draw her weapons. Her eyes turn white as she calls a storm down upon their enemies.

Call Lightning, first bolt on the leader/spellcaster guy. DC 17 Reflex save to half.
[roll0]

[Mithric Gunn]

As Garik moves forward, drawing his sword, Olafr charges beside him, his mighty hammer swinging towards the mage, throwing sparks as it glances off his magical defenses. An arrow flies past their heads, hitting its mark, piercing the mage's arcane armor. Nyssa calls down lightning on him, and smoke curls from his hair as Chiliand runs past him. The Northmen charge forward, screaming warcrys, and attack one of the soldiers, ganging up on him. Arngrim charges with them. The soldiers turn in shock, too surprised to react.

Garik swings, his mighty blow cleaving through the mage's shileds, wounding him. Olafr's hammer swings twice, hitting with a solid impact on the mage. Lightning crackles through his hammer, coursing through the mage. He twitches as two more arrows sink into his chest. Chiliand's shouts seem to shake the soldiers to the core as they attack.

The mage, heavily wounded, dances to the side, casting a spell, and disappears. Two soldiers attack Garik, their blades finding flesh. Two others join the melee, one attacking Chiliand, but missing, another charging Magnus. His shortsword blurs past Magnus, narrowly missing him. The other soldier attempts to fight off his attackers.
Garik takes 9 and 8 points of damage for a total of 17, before any dmg reduction. The others missed. Mage is invisible, though yall know his square. 50% miss chance, which i will roll.
sorry bout taking so long, work has been crazy, new job and all.:smalleek:

[Space Lawyer]

"Hrrrrng!". Garik swings his sword at the soldier who hit him first. "HAHAHA! PATHETIC RUNT! THIS IS HOW YOU SWING A SWORD!"

Attacking the soldier who hit for 9.
Power attack 4
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]
I realized my last rolls were very badly messed up. These include inspire courage, rage, and feral trance.
Current: 19 rounds rage, feral trance 13, HP 74

[stack]

Magnus slides back a step, stony mien unmoved by the attack. Two more arrows leap from his bow, seeking the heart of the one who foolishly charged him.

5' step backward
flurry of blows vs attacker, switching to next nearest if he drops. Durable arrows for both.
attack [roll0] (includes bard song +2 and PBS +1)
damage [roll1] (includes bard song +2 and PBS +1)

attack [roll2] (includes bard song +2 and PBS +1)
damage [roll3] (includes bard song +2 and PBS +1)

I presume you will roll bleed damage for previously struck targets?

[unfairtosome]

Did the chained man act/move at all? Any reaction to the Ghost Sound?

Chiliand, furious at her prey vanishing, carefully lines up with the last known location of the mage. Coward. Raising her axe to the sky and calling out to Thor, she points directly to where she thinks he is and stomps hard upon the ground.

Without a map this is rather difficult, but I position myself, wherever I freely can, that allows me to include the mage's last spot and as many soldiers as I can in the cone of my attack. If someone is next to me, I take a 5 ft step to include him in the blast as my #2 priority. If someone is next to me- did I get an AoO? It's okay if I target any of the PCs in the cone if it allows me to achieve an angle that affects additional soldiers. I then activate my boots, which cast a refluffed Stomp (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/psionics-unleashed/psionic-powers/s/stomp). My ghost sound moves to my location to make for an even more exciting story to tell.

Statblock after second round:

Inspire Courage +2 (visual) Round 3/15
Ghost Sound - coming from right next to/on top of Chiliand to make her sound like 21 stampeding Norse warriors Round 4/5
HP: 45/45
Spells left: 4/4 1st level 2/2 2nd level
Boots 2/3 left

[Lionheart]

Nyssa smirks as she sees her lightning bolt find its mark. She continues to twist the air between her hands, calling down another bolt onto the second soldier attacking Garik.

I've got five minutes of calling lighting, so I'm going to do as much as I can :)
Again, DC17 REF for half,
[roll0]

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

"Your magicks will not save you wizard! The eye can see all!"

His orange eye burns bright with fury as he turns his focus onto the last space the spell caster had entered. He grinned wide as his hammer swung strongly into the suspected area.

Full Attack

Full attack if Olafr can make a Five Foot Step to reach the square, if not then only count the first attack.

Power attack active. Olafr has Blind Fight, so two rolls to beat the spell casters concealment please.

[roll0]
[roll1]

Possible Crit?
[roll2]
[roll3]


[roll4]
[roll5]

Possible Crit?
[roll6]
[roll7]

[Mithric Gunn]

The two soldiers attacking Garik drop, one to his mighty blow, the other to a bolt of lightning. The one who charged Magnus meets his end at the point of his arrow. Olafr steps forward swinging. A corpse appears on the ground, its head smashed in. The man attacking Chiliand is staggered by her stomp, but remains on his feet. The forgotten prisoner stands up, wrapping his chains about the man's throat, preventing him from fleeing. Another soldier is beaten to death by several of the men. One of the men lies bleeding on the ground.
Only the grappled soldier is left. I'll end the combat here, as yall wont exactly needs rolls to kill/fight/hug/etc the lone grappled soldier.:smallbiggrin: One of your crew lies bleeding out from a shortsword wound. The village men are chained, and the one defiant one has his chains wrapped around the soldiers throat. barring PC intervention, he will strangle him to death. The wizard is dead.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Swinging harshly into the area and feeling that familiar crunch as the mans skull gave way to his hammer, he stepped back triumphantly and surveyed the field of battle.

It had been a quick rush, and they had routed their enemies with little effort. Such was the glory of their lives. Crushing their enemies, seeing them driven before them.

Turning his gaze onto the man who was being strangled with the length of chain, he grinned and stalked forward, his orange eye burning bright with an inner fire, and as he spoke the power coursing through his eye flashed and the mans went wide for a moment as the power washed over him.

"You did not fight well. You will not find the happiness you seek in the afterlife."

Smacking him with a Hex during that, I'll give him a -2 to Ability checks. It lasts minimum 1 round, even if he makes his save so...yeah. More of a roleplaying thing.

[unfairtosome]

"Someone find some bandages and tend to Latham. I refuse to lose any more Northmen."

Chiliand stares at the grappling men, torn briefly between whether to step in and stop it for the purpose of questioning the soldier or to call for a spear and thrust it through them both, putting an end to the matter. By and by she decides just to watch- and admitting to herself that she likes the chained man's internal fire and recalling the previous night's words from Olafr and Garik about the need for more men.

[unfairtosome]

The disconcerting howling of twenty vikings finally dying down around her, Chiliand stows her axe and slowly surveys the settlement. She assigns two uninjured men, including the grizzled old lookout, to find positions that will best warn them of anyone approaching. Two more, she assigns to round up the prisoners, purposefully neglecting to order that any especial care be taken in their treatment. Disappointed in Arngrim, she assigns him to search the bodies before dragging and disposing of them outside the settlement.

Ghost Sound ends. Inspire Courage ends. Take 20 on Perception to look around the settlement.

[Lionheart]

Nyssa rushes up to the wounded Northman and surveys the damage. She looks into the man's eyes as she places her hands on his wound, reknitting flesh and bone with the power of the sky.

Cure light wounds,
[roll0]

She will then bandage him up and go to investigate the spellcaster's body, such power rarely came through natural means.

Heal check
[roll1]

And a perception check on the wizard's corpse
[roll2]

[Space Lawyer]

His rage dying down, Garik sits down on a nearby log. He looks at his arms, checking his wounds. He looks down at the bodies. "You may have died a fool's death standing against us, but at least it was not a cowardly one. Nyssa, if you are healing the wounded, I would appreciate a bit". He is happy that these villagers appeared ready to fight when called. They could make worthy additions to the crew. This meager village likely had little else to offer.

Also taking 20 to survey the settlement, total of 27.

[stack]

Magnus glides forward, hand still on his bow, though it is lowered. "The last one may be worth questioning, though I suppose we can get some answers from the villagers. Let us get them freed." And find out where we are and who we just fought. Bloodthirsty fools would charge ahead with no knowledge, no preparation. We don't even know the name of the village they are drooling over sacking.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

As they began to tend to the wounded, the fire in his evil eye diminished, going back to a warm orange glow that was hard to see unless looked for. He knelt down near the man that had strangled one of the fighter with his chains and he gave him a light grin.

"Well met. I am Olfar...and these comrades of mine seem to have destroyed those who would destroy you...Tell us of this land. Do not spare a detail."

[Mithric Gunn]

All the soldiers are wearing well-made breastplates with skirts, heavy shields, and armed with shortswords. All their gear and armaments are completely uniform. The wizard is wearing robes and has a ring on each finger, and is carrying a heavy tome in a satchel at his hip. He is wearing ornate jewelry, and his clothes are of fine cloth.
The village looks emptied. Everything of value has been taken, it seems. The men chained near the townhouse seem apprehensive, glad to be rescued, but unsure of these wild-looking warriors who destroyed the trained soldiers.
The big man in the center of the village finishes choking out the soldier, lets him fall to the ground, and says, "Granas fo shana rah. Po hrana gran fo das?"
5 shortswords, 5 heavy steel shields, 5 breastplates with armored skirts. 2 rings, assorted jewelry, 6 pouches with a total of 300 gp's, stamped with unfamiliar symbols and a dragon on one side. Each soldier has assorted gear, including canvas for tents, pickaxe and a short shovel.
The village has some bread and cheese deemed not worth taking, but it seems everything of value that could be carried off has been. There are a few corpses in the buildings. They appear to have been tortured and mutilated. The wizard has several scrolls in a pouch.

[stack]

Magnus helps strip the bodies. "I don't suppose anyone understands any of what he said? These look like soldiers. Could be we've walked into a war. Profitable, if we walk the right path, but it is a fine one."

He goes to the speaking man, gesturing to his mouth and ears, trying to find if any in the village speak any other languages.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand shrugs. She had been hoping this would be easier. Not knowing where they were was beginning to really irritate her. "I was always more concerned with learning battle stratagems over linguistics. The structure seems similar enough to our own, though. I'm sure we could puzzle it out if we gave it long enough." She pauses and shrugs again. "Or we can chain them to our snekkja and hand them oars. Doesn't take a whole lot of translation there."

Did we see anything that can be used, perhaps by dismantling a building, as a new mast? If I send men back to paddle the boat over to the village, how many would it take minimum?

Motioning to Nyssa to show her what the wizard carried, she concentrates on the gathered items.

Detect magic - 3 rounds on the items, and a cursory glance around the settlement, concentrating further if there's any detectable aura. [roll0] Knowledge: Arcana
Read magic on the scrolls.

After examining the spoils for magic, Chiliand strides over to where Magnus and Olafr are standing with the big villager, taking out her nautical chart. With little hope, she shows it to him and enunciates carefully while gesticulating as she deems appropriate. "Where are we?"

Can I take 10 or 20 on an intelligence check to figure out what he's saying, or should we roleplay it out?

[Lionheart]

Nyssa will pull out her wand of cure light wounds and do the rounds of anyone that needs healing.
Do you want an individual roll for each heal or just one roll for all of them?
[roll0]

And then she will have a look through the wizard's scrolls, to see if anything is useful to her.

[Space Lawyer]

Garik looks over the villagers chained near the townhouse, seeing if any are suitable as warriors. He looks for those that show signs of defiance and pride, unbroken by the chains. If any of them show calluses on their hands indicative of and experience with weapons or oars, that is all the better. Some of the children could be trained as bearsarks. He stands in front of the chained villagers, saying "We have many questions about this place. Who here speaks another tongue?"

If we're doing the standard languages, first in Common, then Dwarven.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furioius:

Hearing the strange tongue that the man spoke, he thought about what that may mean for a moment. He knew several languages, but this seemed to be one that he could not figure. He knew he had no translation magic in the Scrolls of Runi, and made a mental note to change that if possible.

Standing he turned from the man and stepped up beside Garik, issuing the same question in several other languages should no one answer him, consisting of Orc, Giant, Elven and Draconic.

[Mithric Gunn]

Scrolls are of Share Language, Acid Arrow, and Bull's Strength. Shortswords, breastplates, and heavy shileds are all +1. Ring of Speak Languages, constant effect. The other is a Signet ring with an unidentifiable conjuration aura. The dragon symbol on the ring matches the symbols on the soldier's armor.

[Mithric Gunn]

The villagers seem not to understand any of the languages you speak.
Anyone with a linguistics skill trained can take 20 over a few days to learn the language. Untrained takes a few weeks.

[Space Lawyer]

Garik sighs, and wanders over to the gathered equipment. He picks up a sword and shield, and straps them to his waist. "These people don't seem particularly unfriendly. Should we bring the ship up here?"

[unfairtosome]

Garik sighs, and wanders over to the gathered equipment. He picks up a sword and shield, and straps them to his waist. "These people don't seem particularly unfriendly. Should we bring the ship up here?"

As soon as Mithric responds to the question about whether or not we can just send some of our NPCs back for it!


"A not-unreasonable idea- but hold a moment... I think I see..."

Kicking through a pile of weapons and armor- These arms did not bring luck to their former bearers and I will have no part of them- Chiliand stops and beams with sudden delight as she surveys, with her magically enhanced vision, a particular aura shining off of the enemy commander's belongings. "Ah, perfect!" Eschewing delicacy, she roughly tugs a particular ring off of his still-warm finger and, without bothering to cleanse it of blood, slides it onto her left middle finger. Picking through the scrolls, her smile widens further. "Odin has already answered our unspoken concern."

[unfairtosome]

Raising the scroll close to her face, the skald grimaces and, focusing to the exclusion of all else, attempts to memorize what she finds there.

[roll0] Spellcraft to learn Share Language, DC 16.

An hour passes before she smiles triumphantly and casts it aside after watching as the scroll's words disappear in her hand, line by line.

Striding firmly over before the large, still-manacled visitor, she grips his shoulder with one strong hand and places the other roughly over his eyes and forehead.

[unfairtosome]

Speaking softly and sonorously to Odin, she improvises a brief stanza of praise, focusing on his wisdom and generosity in leaving easily-defeated warriors in this settlement, carrying items appropriate to solving their current struggle with understanding the natives and, not forcing her to learn a new heathen language, but instead granting her the ability to gift on the much more relevant tongue of his Northmen.

Cast: Share Language. If he struggles or protests: Chiliand beckons two men to hold him down while she performs her spell. Will save vs. touch: [roll0]

Satisfied, she steps back to survey the results and addresses him in her own tongue.

"Now then. Where are we?"

[Lionheart]

Nyssa take the scroll of Bull's Strength, leving the Acid Arrow to someone better versed in such spells. She then looks around the town, not pillaging, just keeping her eyes open for anything useful.
Perception
[roll0]

[stack]

"If you can speak to him now, let us ask a few useful questions."

"Who were the ones attacking them? Why?"

"Where are we?"

"Try not to scare them any more than we need to. We saved them, so they should be grateful, and we may need a place to come back to. If nothing else they can tell us where we can go to sell off the unneeded gear, whatever our men don't take." Magnus himself doesn't bother with any of the salvaged equipment, preferring to stay mobile and unencumbered.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand laughs and motions expansively with her arm. "He should be able to understand you now, so ask him yourself.

"As far as I'm concerned, they're welcome to keep whatever the men don't need. Particularly if they want to march on whomever it was that took their women. We're not exactly about to be able to set sail again soon to one of our trading partners."

Chiliand picks through the pile of plunder again, this time coming up with a signet ring bearing the same design as the armor of the men they just faced down.

Check to know the ring's magic and its method of use:
[roll0] Knowledge: Arcana
[roll1] Spellcraft
Check to know what a dragon insignia usually means, and to guess at what it might mean here:
[roll2] Knowledge: History
[roll3] Knowledge: Local
[roll4] Knowledge: Religion
[roll5] Knowledge: Nobility

Appraise: [roll6]

"Who were these people? What does this symbol represent? Answer me, man!"

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

His normal eye seemed to widen a bit when he watched the pilfering of the wizards goods. Olafr had only a small interest there, and the things that Chiliand found seemed to be far less interesting than Olafr had hoped.

Turning he went to the people gathered there, wandering about the streets of their small homes. He knew that some time would be needed for Chiliand to get whatever plan she had under way, and when his ear caught the casting of a spell he turned and went back from his little walk.

It had seemed that they had found a way to possibly communicate with these people, and all the better. He stood close, sure to remember everything they said. He was very interested in their current location, and wanted as much information as possible. He wasn't much for diplomacy, and he often intimidated people without every trying, so he stayed at the periphery of the conversation for now.

[unfairtosome]

When Olafr returns to the group from wandering the settlement, Chiliand lackadaisically motions him toward the remaining scroll, as well as pointing out the jewelry and a heavy tome once contained by the now-deceased spellcaster's satchel. With his predilection for reading, she thinks, referring to his frequent time spent immersed in his Scrolls of Runi, he may as well have the first crack at the book.

While waiting for the manacled leader of the settlement to respond to her questioning, she also proffers the signet ring for inspection by any who might wish to look upon it, and nods to the assembled men to take what they will of the weapons- if they're familiar with the short sword and feel it an improvement over their own equipment. If anyone's to use to the armor, she muses, unconsidering of their potential use as a disguise, we must need find a way to mar the dragon symbols and remove those goofy skirts.

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

As his eye fell upon the heavy tome the wizard had carried, he nodded to Chiliand, picking the book up and taking a seat on the steps of a nearby building. He idly watched as the man was grilled for information for a moment before turning his attention on what the book held.


Hmm. Olafr assumes this to be the mans Spellbook, and is prepared to cast Read Magic if necessary. Just hoping that this is in a language I can read.

[Mithric Gunn]

After the scroll is cast, the man answers, "This is Fiera's Hold. You must be from the ship Jergan saw. I am Harn, blacksmith here. Are your people at war with the Dragons?"
You would probably need to send all the men back to bring back the ship.
As for the symbol, you know that some tribes venerate, and sometimes even worship dragons, and many northmen use carved dragons, as they are typically a symbol of power and might. But you don't recognize this specific symbol. You think it would be worth about 300 gp just from the metal and gems.
In the wizards spellbook:
Ray of Enfeeblement
Silent Image
Hideous Laughter
Invisibility
Mirror Image
Summon Monster III
Hold Person
Rage
Haste
Teleport

[stack]

Magnus steps over to the man. "We know nothing of the Dragons. We landed to make repairs and they looked like they needed fighting. You can repay us with information and aid. Our ship needs repairs, as I said. Give us a map and a few men to make repairs. We may be willing to take on any who wish to go as well."

His face remains impassive throughout, unaccustomed to speaking as much as he had the last days, uncomfortable away from the solitude of the wild.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand lets out a breath and motions for the man's shackles to be removed, as well as the restraints any other local may be wearing. I'd not intended us to play hero to their damsel in distress, but it seems that's the role we've been thrust into this day, and a blacksmith makes a potent ally in a foreign land.


"Firstly, as there appears to be little in the way of supplies here, no doubt we'd be able to offer some wild game and perhaps some celebratory mead, should you extend us the hospitality of your village. Can you lend us Jergan to go with Arngrim," she points, "and some others to guide our Snekkja safely into port here?"

Slowly, she asks question after question, waiting patiently during some answers and prodding deeply with others. For starters:

About those in the settlement:
"What do you call yourselves? Is Fiera a lord, a god, a local? Who are your gods? Where are your children and womenfolk? Where are your ships, those for fishing and those of war? Do any others of your craftsmen remain?"

About the Dragons:
"Are these Dragons a new threat, or a constant one? Whence do they hail? What more do you know of them?"

About the land itself:
"What sort of landmass is this? What others are nearby? What terrain comprises the interior?"

Need any checks on these questions?

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Finding no interesting information in the spellbook aside from new spells, he pulled for his scrolls and set about marking down some things into them. There were several incantations that might be useful in coming battles, as well as some more powerful ones that he would be able to make good use of later on in their travels.


Copying:
Mirror Image
Invisibility

Haste

Teleport

Into my Scrolls for later use.

[Space Lawyer]

Garik smiles. "Wars are for those put more time into thinking about how to fight than simply reveling in battle. As Magnus said, we will take any of your people who yearn for glory. They will learn the ways of a true warrior, and sail with us. Now, these Dragons, what riches do they have, and where are their cities?"

[Mithric Gunn]

"The Dragons come from a city far down the great river. They have magic and steel to aid them, and they strike without warning. They have great wealth, it is said even their poor live like kings.
Jergan traveled much when he was younger, and the few times he's drunk enough to speak of them, he told us of how they use magics on those they capture to control them, and force them to do unspeakable things for their gods."
He turns to Jergan and barks orders in his strange language.
"Jergan, could you go with these people? They say they need to guide their ship here."
Jergan nods, and heads towards Arngrim and the others. They head out to retrieve the ships.

I do most of the smithing and woodwork here. As for the fishermen, they went out about a week ago, and have not yet returned. The bastards probably got to them. Might have been how they found us.
As for Fiera, legend says that he was a great warrior who came from a strange land, and carved out a hold from the wilderness, teaching us to build. Probably just a minor chieftain whose exploits have been exagerrated over time.
As for the terrain, you'd best ask Jergan."
Jergan will draw you maps when he gets back. They don't match anything you know. The area is dominated by a great river, and a great city sits a good ways down its bank. He says its the only large city in the area, though he'll point out a few holds he remembers visiting. The holds closer to Drak(the Dragon's city) pay tribute in exchange for the Dragon's protection.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand nods agreeably and reaches into her backpack for the jug of honey mead she had stored within. I can refill it from what's left of our cask when the longship gets here, she supposes. Question and Answer is a thirsty game. I hope they know how to brew more in this strange land. She takes a healthy quaff and hands it over to Harn, indicating that he should continue passing it along when he's finished.

"Do you... not have magic and steel to aid you?" she responds incredulously, before continuing with her questions- repeating some, as she had obviously gone too quickly at first. Some blacksmith!

"What do you call this language of yours? What do you call your people? What did these Dragons want with you- why did they have you chained? And again, where are your womenfolk and children? Have any others, like us perhaps, recently appeared in these lands, or is it just local towns and these Dragons, downriver? Are there any other factions? Who do you trade with? Where do you get your materials? What are your plans now that we've freed you?"

[stack]

Seeing the others now drifting his way, Magnus leaves the talking to them. At the mention of wild game, he takes his leave to do a bit of hunting. Everyone could do with some fresh meat, it seemed.

profession hunter [roll0]

[Mithric Gunn]

For all:
"You ask many questions. I will try my best to answer all of them.
The tongue we speak is called Gurundian, after the continent. Some of us in this area speak the old tongue of Fieran, but that has mostly died out. Your tongue sounds similar. None in the village speak it save for the elder and his wife, the witch. The elder died in the attack, and I myself saw the witch hit over the head, and drug off. The blow may have killed her, but she was a tough old woman, and I'd bet she still lives.

As for our people, we are called Fierans by others, and we live in the area surrounding Fierans Hold. We have no kings, and bow to none. We serve who we choose, and we pay our debts. The Dragons are the people of the great city Drak, and seek to conbtrol the region. The elder thought they would not come here. He was wrong.

They took our women and children. I have heard of them attackign southern holds in this way. They strike like lightning, and take the women and children. So long as they hold them, the southerners pay tribute, in gold, food, crafts, and men. They will find that Fierans are noone's dogs. We are wolves.

The Dragons control most of the south already. I told the elder that they would come, that they would seek to control or destroy us, but he said that so long as we did not provoke them, they would have no reason to strike at us." He spits, his eyes flashing.

"We mostly trade with other Fieran holds in the area, Secondhome to the east, and Wolf's Run to the south. Farther to the east is Gurnhold, Jurgen sometimes goes there to sell wildcat pelts.

And as for our steel, I learned my craft in Wolf's Run, and there are no better smiths this side of the world. But I cannot work magic into my blades, and there are only so many born each year that have such gifts...
It is said the Dragons can teach even the ungifted magic, but I always thought it was just rumors."

He pauses a moment, and his eyes grow cold.
"You asked what we plan to do.
Our women and children were taken by those southern dogs. Our village destroyed, our livelihoods taken.
We will return to the ways of our ancestors, as we always have in times such as these. We will forge plowshares to blades, flails to clubs, and woodsmen's axes to waraxes. We will hunt these southern dogs in their own home. We will kill them in the night, the day, or when ever else they show their dirty, pox-ridden faces. We will rain such devastation on them that they will never again be able to threaten our home. And we will take back our families or avenge them, and noone will stop us."

"I am grateful for your assistance, and when this is over, if I live, I will gladly serve you with my hammer in war or peace. But for now I must have my vengeance. If your path leads me to my vengeance, I will follow you. If not, I hope we meet again one day, in this life or the next, so that I may show you Fieran hospitality."
Magnus:
You manage to shoot a deer and a few rabbits, as well as collecting some herbs and roots.

[Space Lawyer]

"HAHAHA! If it is vengeance you seek, then come with us! We have no grudge against these people but they provide battle, riches, and honor! We will show you a true way of pillage and destruction. You say you are wolves? I can teach some among you to become bears! Their homes will not be safe! Walls will not stop us from spilling blood and taking what we will! Sail with us, you and your most capable men, and you shall find your revenge and glory! We will take this city of Drak, and everything of value in it."
Garik's eyes flash as he speaks, envisioning the battle to come. "We should travel to this smith-city you speak of, Wolf's Run. We can sell this equipment."

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Gathering up his scrolls and the heavy tome he walked past the little gathering, having taken in all the information that he needed. He gave the man only one parting comment before settling into another, more comfortable spot at the base of a tall tree.

"Follow along side, or trail behind in our wake. If this truly is the land of one of the heroes of old, then we shall cleanse it of these so called "dragons". Make sure to keep an eye out for your own...and secure them out of the way of our war path!"

He grinned wide as he penned the new spells onto his scrolls. The thought of their first adventure abroad bringing them to such an embattled land, and the chance to defeat a greater force...it was all falling into place.

[stack]

Magnus listens to the man's response before leaving. So, these are our brothers...and out brothers claim the right of vengeance. So they will have it. Our blood and glory thirsty hounds will join these wolves and we shall feast on carrion until we are slain or run out of foes. So be it, my bow shall not want for prey. Though my times of solitude shall be few and far between, I fear. Still better than pining after a foolish girl back home.

Returning with the meat, he sets to spitting the deer. "We shall have a feast. Bring out the mead, I have brought the meat. Let us mark the beginning of your vengeance, brothers, with food and drink. Both may be scarce in the future."

[Lionheart]

Nyssa listens patiently as the man says his piece. She purses her lips in thought. This place is interesting, if nothing else

"Fieran! I would have you answer one more question, the right answer could elicit more support from us, from me, than you would otherwise enjoy.
Tell me, what do you know of travellers? Of arcane storms of transmigration? I would know everything you can tell, though it may be no more than a breath in the wind."

[Cleavon]

Olafr:furious:

Seeing the hunter return with a fair catch, and the call for a feast is made, Olafr went about with the men to bring the ship closer to the village. He was surging with excitement, their journey finally finding a great enemy for them to defeat, just as the hero this land was named for.

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand, listens, cringing, as everyone speaks up all at once without conferring with one another.

[roll0] Sense motive to assess Harn's resolve and ensure he isn't attempting in deceive or leave out something that may be important.

After informing the blacksmith and the gathered Northmen what she recalls of the legend of Fiera and how that may tie into why the languages sound similar...

You remember hearing about a legendary warrior known as Fieran the Mad, who disappeared long ago with his crew in a god-sent storm. No one knows what happened to him.
He was legendary for his knack at doing the thing that his enemies least expected, often seeming insane to his allies until his strange plans somehow succeeded. Once, when his men came down with a terrible disease, leaving him with a devastated force, with the enemy close on his trail, he strolled boldly into the enemy camp, politely asking to speak with the general. He told the general that if he did not surrender that day, the morrow would bring great pain to many soldiers. The general, knowing Fieran's reputation, declined the offer of surrender, but withdrew that night, assuming he must be vastly outmatched.

...she motions for the blacksmith to leave them for a moment and gathers the core group together to express her doubts about the apparent course elect.

Anyone who is around for it:

At Magnus, she seethes:
"How can you call them brothers?? You do your true kinsmen a real injustice. These men were overpowered and had their women taken by these pathetic "Dragons" that we overwhelmed in seconds. That would never happen to our brothers... and to gift these foreigners with that appellation discredits real Northmen."

Whirling to address everyone:
"The blacksmith talks big, true. Words, only. He let himself be chained rather than to die fighting in defense of his people!"

Directed to Garik:
"The smith city is the place LEAST likely to give a good price on weapons and armor- they can make their own. Supply and demand, bearsark! Besides, if you want these folk to come with us so bad, then they'll need to use it more than we can use the profits. Investing for the future spoils!"

To Nyssa:
"What will a simple blacksmith know of transportation and arcane travel? This witch he speaks of, though- if she speaks the tongue of Fieran... OUR tongue... then that could be our way back- taking a healthy share of plunder with us, of course."

Chiliand stops a moment to ponder- and catch her breath.

"If she is dead, then striking at this city of spellcasters might be our only other chance to win back to our homeland- with the blood of Drakkans [she puns] bathing each of our blades and their spoils decorating the hold of our ships."

She concludes her rant with an admonition to not be so hasty in inviting them along... to maybe set up some test of strength and valor....
[roll1] Perform (oratory)
[roll2] Diplomacy

"We needs must test their mettle before joining our fates to theirs."

If we want to be relatively subtle, we can use the next several days to "train the men" (aka assess them), repair the ship, pore over the maps, develop a battle plan...

[Mithric Gunn]

Chiliand:
Harn is being honest. As for his resolve, he seems to be a man who's just lost everything, and now is intent on having vengeance.

Harn answers Nyssa, "I know very little of such things. Perhaps the druids of Wolf's Run would know of such things. They are legendary for their wisdom and knowledge."
As Chiliand shares the tale of Fieran, the village men nod in recognition. Clearly they have heard this one before. After the tale, Harn and the men begin preparations, gathering food, sending out hunters, and sharpening weapons.

All:
Let me know what yall decide on. Several things will happen once you decide to rest for the night, and in the morning. Feel free to plan in IC or OOC as needed, I will try to finish my maps up tomorrow, and then transcribe them sloppily onto my computer(I'm a very poor artist on a computer). Who knows, this might end up on the homebrew forums as a campaign world...

[stack]

Magnus pointedly ignores the curt response to his words. "Druids? It would do no harm to know more before we set out. The man who hunts without knowing his prey dies hungry. We can take the measure of these, as you say, then perhaps seek these druids as our ship is repaired. I can judge if any have skill with the bow. Any that fight poorly can still contribute, even poorly aimed arrows have their use, though it may take time to craft weapons for them."

[Lionheart]

Nyssa nods agreement with Magnus, as far as she was concerned druids were both wiser and more useful in a fight than these weak villagers.

I too would seek the wisdom of these druids. I have little to add to the proceedings here, so I shall seek them out at once. If any of you wish to accompany me, you may do so, I shall be travelling by foot."

She then surveys the villagers, before addressing them directly.

"I should like one of you to act as a guide, any volunteers?"

Diplomacy to convince a villager to show me to the druids.
[roll0]

After speaking, Nyssa goes back to wondering about how it is that they got here, the legend of Fieran bears a striking resemblance to their own situation.

Spellcraft to attempt to determine whether a spell exists that matches what happened to them or to Fieran.
[roll1]

[unfairtosome]

Chiliand aims a fiery glare at Magnus, only slightly mitigated when he appears to agree with the brunt of her point about being too accepting of these men without knowing enough about their worth.

[roll0] Intimidate check.

When the druid speaks, the skald laughs at her impetuousness. "Hold, Nyssa. Unless you have some secret shared language to speak with these druids in, or the druids are somehow also privy to the language of Fiera without it having changed much since his time- how do you plan on communicating?

"Once we've prepared appropriately- with maps and plans, knowing distances and directions- then it might be time to talk of visiting this Wolf's Run, or formulating another course of action. A day or more will not likely make a difference, and the thought of splitting our Northmen for any real length of time pleases me not."

Chiliand is totally going to hold a grudge against Magnus for at least an hour- or until the first course of dinner, whichever is first.

[Lionheart]

Nyssa raises an eyebrow at the skald's words. She nods half hearted agreement, knowing that it wasn't worth arguing over.

"Very well then. Though I fear that time may be of more importance than you know. The men we killed will have orders, their disappearance won't stay hidden forever."