AA's Kingmaker Part I: The Stolen Lands

[ApatheticAbacus]

KINGMAKER
Part I: The Stolen Lands

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2 Gozran, 4708. The Greenbelt.

Brevoy is a cold land, and spring comes late to its hills and valleys. The air still carries a cold bite as you begin your journey south from Restov, and patches of snow dot the landscape even as sparse pines and grasses begin to green. The sounds of emerging wildlife and the rushing meltwaters that cut channels through the snow and earth accompany you, as does a shy sun, that shines intermittently and never with enough force for the day to be truly warm.

Further south, the well-worn South Rostland Road gives way to seldom-travelled dirt, rutted with wagon tracks and transmuted to mud at some points. Small spring flowers bloom close to the ground, and mosses and lichens, revitalized by the sun, carpet the rocky plains through which you travel. A winter wind blows over the land, defiant in the face of the new season.

Your charter has brought you this way, an impressive document that has put to you a monumental task. Drawn to these lands for your own reasons, you have only your wits, your strength, and your fellow charter-bearers to rely on. You have shared the road with these people since Restov, and yet still know little more than names.


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The road crests a small hill, and you can see its end. It winds its way towards a weathered palisade, capped with four wooden towers, each with an old, battered catapult atop it. The slated roofs of a few buildings peak out over the ten foot wall. This is Oleg's Post, the last point of civilization, however meagre, in the Stolen Lands. An opened gate beckons you onwards, and past the Post, only a few miles off across a flat, rock-strewn plain, a thick wall of trees rises. The Greenbelt. Your charter begins here...

[RocketMan]

My father's seal, Ilya thinks, his blue eyes returning to the scroll. I'm quite sure he's absolutely furious that I've left, yet his own seal is provided me with a means of escape. The young man smiles at the irony as a slim finger traces the cool wax of the familiar Surtova signet idly.

A gust of cold wind ruffles the paper, and Ilya stows it safely in his breast pocket. He adjusts his cloak - dove-grey and made from the finest wool - against the chill. Ilya Surtova is a young man of medium height, with a lithe build, slender but athletic. His face is handsome and youthful in appearance, characterized by large blue eyes, a long, straight nose, and high cheekbones. His mouth is fairly small, with pouty lips that have often smirked playfully throughout the journey. His skin is pale and smooth, but a shadow of stubble reveals his recent time on the road. His hair is a curly mop, slightly overgrown without regular maintenance and a soft brown in colour, which tumbles around his ears and over his forehead.

He wears fine clothing, clearly demonstrating wealth. His shirt is fine white silk, and over this Ilya wears an ornate chain shirt - silver, sparkling, and fitting perfectly - and a deep blue velvet doublet. The young man's pants are a rich burgundy and likewise tailored to fit precisely. A carved horn bow is strung across his back, while a thin blade dangles from his hip. He has a pair of shiny black boots that extend up his calves and which he likes to absently click together when bored.

"I suppose this must be Oleg's Post," Ilya says, slightly skeptically, to the taller, armoured man next to him. "Well, it isn't much to look at, but it must be warmer inside those walls than it tis out here. Shall we?" Ilya says to his travelling companions with another smile, gesturing at the open front gates.

[Leviathan]

As Oleg's post comes into sigh, Zinovia has to suppress a low sigh of relief. Instead, she merely grimaces; likely the shadows that her cowl casts over her pale face conceal the expression. She steadies herself, leaning her thin frame against her blackened staff, taking a long, raspy breath. She seems barely to have survived the journey here on foot, yet never has she fallen behind, nor insisted on a slower pace.

The wizardess surveys Oleg's Post through cold, dark eyes, that belie the the clammy feverishness of her skin. Zinovia's deep red robes catch on the wind. They are voluminous, covering her body from head to toe. Only a few strands of strange white hair that seems almost dead fall from the hood that cloaks her face, which is gaunt and callow. She draws breath again, rattling, then coughing harshly. I will not appear weak, she orders herself, straightening herself proudly.

One of her companions, the one who seems familiar to her somehow, Ilya, speaks. "I do not believe there will be anything that is 'much to look at' out here," she says, her hissing tone reflective more of her discomfort than any particular dislike. "But we are not here to gawk. Let us tarry no longer, and enter."

[Oh My God]

Trudging has been Estanos' lot in life recently, and the fact that this new beginning involves yet -more- trudging comes neither as a surprise nor a burden to the upbeat foreigner. His smiling face framed by an immaculately trimmed goatee, the swish of his white robes ( less immaculate, after this hike ), the small buckler he lugs on his back carrying the blazing sigil of Sarenrae. Every now and again as they've traveled, and some new breath taking vista has rolled in to sight, Estanos has muttered something happy sounding in Kelish.

Perhaps he seems an unlikely companion to the others; it is obvious enough that he bears no weapons, and unlike the 'unarmed' mage he has never left the state of good cheer he began with the entire trip here. Once Zinovia makes her comment on the state of the outpost, he clucks his tongue and suggests," Be charitable, Zinovia. What these folk have built at the edge of the world is commendable. Remember... four walls, however simple or plain make for a pleasant home in the wilds."

" Hello the post!", he cries, hailing the nominal fortifications the gate offers access through. Wouldn't do to startle any would be defenders with a sudden appearance, would it? And having accomplished that, he heads for the gate.

[Blisstake]

"Resembles more a fort than a home," Tireas comments in his whispery voice. He removes his hood to get a better view, exposing his upward-bending horns and fiery eyes. "Probably doesn't have the finest acommodations, but better than a bedroll, I'd wager."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia raises an eyebrow under her own hood, looking Tireas' red horned face up and down methodically. "A tiefling, unless I am mistaken," she murmurs. "And a tiefling who states the obvious, it seems," she adds snappishly. "But you won't find condemnation here, tiefling, for your breed. Your failings just happen to be more... apparent than the failings of those around you. No, I find myself intrigued that you were not slaughtered in the cradle. But it can keep for another time; I tire of idle talk."

[Winterfell]

Viktor's breath rises in the morning chill, an almost opaque mist of white. The paladin - a tall, muscular man with a handsome face and dark blond hair - breathes heavily as Oleg's Post first comes into view. It has been a long journey from Restov, and before from New Stetven, one made no easier by the man's heavy plate armor nor by the omnipresent mud of the roads. Throughout the trip Viktor has seemed constantly on guard, casting suspicious glances alternately at the treeline, the horizon, and his companions. The priest seemed eccentric but harmless; after all, what assassin brings canaries without weapons? The wizardess and the demonspawned were another matter entirely.

"Yes, we should enter immediately," Viktor responds in answer to Ilya's question, hoping that his voice does not betray his tiredness. Nodding in approval at Estanos' call, he strides to the gate and pushes it open with one gauntleted fist (his other hand rests inconspicuously on his pommel). "Greetings," the man calls in a clear voice. "We have come bearing the Charter of Lord-Regent Noleski Surtova!"

[ApatheticAbacus]

As the weary charter-bearers approach the palisade, the sound of someone hammering can be clearly heard, ringing out with each blow. Viktor pushes open the gate, declaring his presence, and those of his companions, loudly.

The inside of the timber wall is as utilitarian as what you have been before. Several sturdy wooden buildings stand around a dirt courtyard, in which a few weeds struggle for survival. One is a stable, with a thatched room and several hay-matted pens, one of which contains a horse that idly chews on grass that has come within reach of its neck. The others seem fit for human dwelling, each with log walls insulated with baked mud pushed in between the cracks, and several small windows.

As you enter, the hammering ceases. A thumping noise draws your attention to a human male who is climbing slowly down a ladder from one of the building's roofs. He finishes his descent, wiping his sweaty brow as he turns to face you. He is a sturdily built man of about thirty with a ruddy complexion brought on by a hard life. He wears a simple tan shirt that is belted at the waist, with sleeves rolled up past his elbows and a pair of mud-stained wool pants. He has light brown, short-cropped hair.

"Charter, eh? That's a fancy word for helping a man out." the man says, unimpressed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Name's Oleg. Suppose you're the ones I sent for from Restov. 'Bout damn time. The bandits are due back tomorrow to rob me blind. So excuse me if I'm not in the friendliest of moods."

[Winterfell]

Viktor frowns. "Our company was chartered in Restov, but not to defend this outpost. Still," he says, thinking. "the charter obligates us to strive against all banditry. Nor would I allow your homestead to become prey for these criminals even without such a duty."

Viktor pauses, still looking grim, and glances over his shoulder at Ilya. We cannot afford delays without risking discovery, yet this man needs my help. I pray to Abadar that lingering here does not bring harm to Ilya. Then, turning back to Oleg, the paladin continues.

"We have come a long way, and are cold and tired. Perhaps we might share your fire while you tell us more of these bandits. You have said they are to return tomorrow?"

[Leviathan]

"I do not see why you should not be in a good mood, impudent little man," Zinovia barks, her reedy voice growing steely and high-pitched, clearly vexed. "Tomorrow your bandits shall lie slaughtered and you will once again be free to hawk pelts, or what ever it is this post does."

She turns to her companions laboriously. Her retort has left her out of breath, and each word is punctuated by a painful wheeze. "If the bandits... come... I will... destroy them. You are welcome... to... assist me."

At Viktor's request for fire, she nods her approval. "Fire would be welcome." She tries to keep her tiredness out of her voice, masking it with invective: "though I care little to know more about men who will cease to exist so soon."

[Oh My God]

Estanos has spent this first small sliver of time glancing around the interior of the outpost, appreciating its simple, journeyman design aesthetics. " For one thing, his mood might be improved by a less venomous tongue, Zinovia," is said sotto voce for the benefit of the fiery mage.

Looking to Oleg, the priest speaks loud enough to be heard, his tone rich and timbrous " Our thanks for your hospitality, friend. As has already been said, in such a colorful variety of ways, there is no doubt that we will be able to lessen your troubles, at least in part."

[RocketMan]

"Do come, Zinovia, I'm sure it's an exciting tale," Ilya says. He doesn't sound sarcastic, exactly, but you get an almost imperceptible hint that the young man doesn't entirely believe it. "I'm glad you're confident, truly, but I doubt you'll slay many foes half-asleep and starving."

"What do you say, Oleg? Will you grant us your hospitality?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

Oleg doesn't even blink at Zinovia's tongue-lashing. Instead, he grunts. "Please, this way. Very generous thing you're doing."

He waves one thick arm, opening a door to let you inside one of the buildings. "'Lana," he calls, "company."

This building appears to be a cozy frontier house, with a small fireplace gently crackling, keeping it comfortably warmer than the outside. Cupboards stacked high with dishes, along with a countertop and copper wash basin, form a kitchen, while a large table is the centrepiece of the house. "Sit, please," Oleg says, clearing his throat rather uncomfortably, shuffling his feet slightly.

At that moment, a woman comes bustling in. She smiles warmly as she sees the group of strangers entering. She has blonde hair tied back in a practical bun, and wears a calf-length cream-coloured dress, with an apron knotted around the front. Her hands holds a tray of food: a loaf of bread, a kettle of soup, and a pitcher of warmed milk. She goes over to Oleg without missing a beat, kissing him on the cheek. The woman sets the tray down on the table, before motioning again for you to sit. "My wife, Svetlana," Oleg says. "We have company, 'Lana," he repeats. "Some folks from Brevoy."

"Yes, dear, I saw them coming up the road," she says for her husband's benefit. "Please, eat!' This time it is directed at everyone, her tone earnest and cheerful. "So you'll help, then?" she asks, hope in her blue eyes.

Oleg nods. "Aye, seems so. Mighty generous. Suppose I should tell you what's been happening, seeing as you don't know much."

Svetlana pulls up a chair and seats herself, while Oleg remains standing. His mouth opens a few times, as if starting to speak. Svetlana is the one who ends up talking, though.

"Two months ago, some people came by the Post. They were bandits... They took our money and some of our wares. There were maybe... twenty of them. They cursed and made all sorts of threats... Their leader was a woman."

"Nearly took my hand off with an axe for trying to defend my own home. Just took 'Lana's wedding ring instead... Said it was the price for my hand. Threatened to do worse to 'Lana if I tried anything." Oleg's hands clench into fists.

"They came back the next month. There were only fifteen that time, and the woman wasn't there. There was a huge brute leading them. He just took everything he wanted and left..."

"Now they're back again tomorrow," Oleg says, his voice sturdy, but with a hint of defeat. "You made a kind offer, but you didn't know what you were agreeing to. There could be twenty bandits here tomorrow..." There is a long pause. "If you aren't, I won't hold it against you."

[Winterfell]

"I have no intention of abandoning your homestead," Viktor says determinedly. "Our purpose in these lands to to restore order and bring justice to all those practicing banditry." One of our purposes, at least. "You are threatened, so we will defend you. Will we not?" the paladin asks, surveying his companions with brows furrowed, as if expecting opposition.

"Our chances of success will be greater with more information, so I must ask that you answer some questions," the man asks, staring levelly at Oleg and Svetlana. "When the bandits last arrived, were they prepared for battle? Were they heavily armed?"

"How well-maintained are your fortifications? Are the walls and gate strong enough to repel the bandits?"

"When do you expect that they will arrive tomorrow?" Viktor's questions flow steadily and deliberately as he seeks to assess the situation. I must do my utmost to keep my prince, and these good people, safe from harm.

[Blisstake]

Tireas for the most part stays silent as Oleg and Svetlana describe their bandit problems. Grateful he hadn't been kicked out, even with his hood down, he speaks up once Viktor agrees to help. "If we've got the surprise, then an otherwise losing battle can quickly become one in our favor. So long as we don't announce our presense before they arrive, we should have a susbtantial advantage. We can either slaughter - er, excuse me, take care of them the second they enter, or shoot them down from the top of the fort when they get close. I don't suppose the catapults are in working order?"

[Leviathan]

Zinovia takes a seat, a long, low sigh escaping as she eases herself into the chair. "No, no," she says as she removes her hood, showing a face that seems devoid of all colour, bloodless and cold; "slaughter was the correct word." She starts to speak more, but descends into a fit of coughing that racks her thin frame. "If... we do not... kill them all... they will come again... Whatever we... do... it must end... this."

She staggers to her feet, going over to a window. "We should trap them inside the wall, where none can escape."

[RocketMan]

"Killing them all?" Ilya asks, raising an eyebrow at Zinovia. "You don't think that we might capture one or two, question them, and find out where their leader is?" The young man continues. "I'll remind you we're not here to slaughter bandits for fun, but to end their threat."

Ilya pauses to sip at the soup brought to the party. "Thank you, Svetlana, for this most admirable meal," he says, smiling politely at the woman.

"I think the ti- er, Tireas," he amends, with a glance towards the rogue that is equal parts apologetic and frightened, "is right, surprising them seems best. Yet I doubt we'll face twenty, Oleg. First it was twenty, then fifteen. Let us hope our bandits are mathematical," he says with a laugh. "For then we shall face a quite manageable ten."

[Blisstake]

"Well then the problem would be solved in two months time, anyway," he responds with a grin, "But we should still help, of course. Let's leave one lucky bandit alive at any rate. At least long enough for questioning."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Oleg does not bother to suppress his scowl when Tireas speaks, but is not about turn away any help he can get, no matter its origins. "I'm no soldier," he says, taciturn, "but the catapults are old. Were here when I came. Never been fixed. Never needed them. Maybe if you were good with some tools you could do it, demonspawn."

Svetlana seems uncomfortable with Zinovia's and Tireas' talk of slaughter, but also overwhelmingly relieved that something might be done.

Oleg, meanwhile, answers Viktor's questions, evidently taking the paladin for the group's leader. The trader scratches his head. "First time, yeah, they were ready for a scrap. Bows and swords. Leader had some damn sharp axes, like I said. Didn't know what to expect, I reckon. Second time, they were still armed, but they just swaggered in like they owned the place. We left the gate open and they didn't think twice, came right on in." Oleg's red face hints that not being able to defend his own property has injured his pride severely.

Oleg scratches his head again. "The fort? I make sure the wall doesn't fall down, but it never seemed important. It was all here when I came. Setting up the post here was convenient. Never thought I'd actually need a wall."

"Still," Svetlana says hopefully, "it's tall. It would be hard to get over."

"I climbed it once myself," Oleg admits, "but it wasn't easy. Gate's the weak point anyway. It's just wood. They could burn it or chop it down. Might take them some time, but it wouldn't be hard."

Svetlana answers Viktor's third question. "They always come in the early morning on horses, an hour or two after sunrise. We've just left the gate open for them, put the payment they want in the courtyard and stayed inside last time they came."

[Blisstake]

"Then by all means," Tireas replies, "Keep the gate open. Let them think they own the place... let it be their last thought as they're picked off one by one." The tiefling's face at this point appears almost livid, but calms down as he notices Svetlana's worried look, and he awkardly shifts in his seat with his hands on his lap.

"But, ah, that's for tomorrow. In the meantime, we should rest and prepare. Would you permit us to rest here, Goodman Oleg?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

"'Lana and I aren't soldiers, like I said. We'll do whatever you tell us. Open gate, closed gate, so long as it gets rid of the bandits."

Svetlana speaks up. "We have some beds we rent out. They're yours for free. It's the least we can do, since you're being ever so kind and helping us out. She is polite, though she does not look at Tireas as she answers.

Oleg peers out the window. "Still sunlight left. If you want to plan, I'll show you around the Post and get your things unpacked from your wagon."

Oleg's Post - Map
You can use this map to make any plans you'd like.

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A1: Market Yard.
A2: Guesthouse. This is where you'll be sleeping.
A3: Stable.
A4: Storage Building.
A5: Middens.
A6-A11: Oleg and Svetlana's House.

[Leviathan]

"All I ask is that on the morrow no one gets in my way," the wizardess says, a hungry glint in her eye. "I will incinerate them as they come through the gate, so long as you stay away from the flames."

No, Zinovia's not just being a bitch for no reason :smalltongue: She has a 4d4+1 burning hands that is dying to fry bandits. So ideally she'd be able to hit a lot of bandits with that. I think the best place for her would be tucked in the area between A2 and the east wall. That way she can blast one side of the courtyard.

[RocketMan]

Ilya listens with feigned intent, learned and perfected during hours of dull sessions at court, as Oleg and the others discuss strategy. It's not that it's boring, not exactly. But how dangerous can these bandits be? Ilya thinks. They may be able to scare peasants, but they've never seen Viktor's swordwork. Or my skill with a bow. Surely, Ilya thinks, this rabble will not pose a serious threat.

"Rest would be good," Ilya says, yawning so dramatically that you're not sure whether it's real or not. "In the morning we'll ambush these bandits of yours, and be done with them." He gives another winning smile at the pair of traders.

[Oh My God]

" As potent as your magic might be, Zinovia, perhaps some planning might be called for. Very few have been -too- prepared." He draws a breath, seem to think for a moment, and then suggests," Perhaps... once the bandits have been lured inside, the mage could begin with this fire of hers, as Ilya there opens up with his bow from atop the wall. Viktor and I would be there to support Zinovia, and then, once we've got their attention, Tireas can move in from behind." As he says their names, Estanos looks to each of his fellows, smiling. He obviously has no problems with the tiefling being, well, a tiefling.

" In any event, I'll be leading a prayer for our victory at dawn. All those who wish to take part are welcome."

Everyone:
Just to give some specifics about Estanos' suggested plan; Zinovia, Viktor, and Estanos would wait in between the eastern wall and the A2 building, Tireas would wait north of A4, and Ilya would be ensconced on the wall's walkway. Once the bandits have filed in to A1, the trio moves up to the southwestern corner of the A2 building along its southern edge, where Zinovia lets fly with her burning hands. As the most visible and threatening source of scary, any surviving bandits should come towards her (and, therefore, Viktor). Meanwhile, Tireas can move in and flank. The whole time, Ilya can be raining death down on bandits.

[Leviathan]

"If we allow these bandits much traction, then we may have to contend with a prolonged battle, priest. Why let them in the fort, near Oleg and his wife, when we can assail them as soon as they pass the gates? If we all strike together, enough of them will die, I am sure, that the rest will be outnumbered. From there, our victory is assured."

At the mention of a victory prayer, Zinovia scoffs disdainfully, but says nothing. At dawn I shall not be taking part in such frivolity. I shall be ensuring that I have enough magic at my disposal to lay waste to bandits. You are welcome to your preaching.

I like the plan, but I worry that it doesn't make optimal use of the surprise round that we should get for ambushing them. Remember, we only get a standard action each (unless AA decides to be generous :smallsmile:), so if we move into position, we can't also attack. I'd say that launching a full-out attack would be best. So right as they get inside the gates, while they're still caught between the wagon and building A2, we should hit them hard.

Zinovia one square the leftmost bedside table inside A2. That would let her burning hands hit six squares in where there are likely to be at least a couple bandits. Viktor and Tireas can charge from either behind the wagon or the south side of the fort (between the wall and A3), hitting the other side. Ilya can hit them from above on the wall. Estanos can buff one of the melee fighters beforehand, then support with spells. Assuming all goes well, we could kill five or six bandits.

[Winterfell]

"I am glad that we are all agreed," Viktor says unsmilingly. The paladin won't truly be glad until the bandit threat is eliminated. "Estanos," he says, the exotic name sounding even more so on his tongue. "Your plan is sound. The wizardess has suggested closing the gate, and I concur," he says with a sharp nod at Zinovia. "I do not wish any bandits to escape and warn their compatriots. I will volunteer for this task, if there is a way to do so."

[RocketMan]

"I can't imagine closing the gate will be too much of a problem. I'm sure you'll do wonderfully," Ilya says, smiling at Viktor's offer. "I think I ought to stay on the wall above the gate, where I'll be best able to greet our bandit friends."

"Now, if you've got a plan, shall we adjourn to bed?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

"The rooms are yours when you want them." He raises his hand, gesturing with his thumb pointed behind to to the guest quarters. "'Course, there're still a few hours of daylight, if you need to do anything else."

There's time for as much or as little RP as you'd like right now. When you'd like to skip forward to tomorrow, have your character head off to bed, or post OOC.

[RocketMan]

"Well, if that's all I'll be off," Ilya says cheerily. "Thank you for the wonderful meal, Svetlana, truly tis the best I've had in weeks." With that Ilya exits the building. The young man swiftly crosses the courtyard and clambers up a ladder onto the palisade wall.

The sun is beginning to set over the western horizon, casting the mossy plains and deep green copses of trees in an orange glow. The sky is orange, the clouds pink, and the first stars are appearing in the upper purple reaches of the sky. Breathtaking. From somewhere, the young man catches the scent of cedar. Ilya smiles. If you'd asked me a month ago where I'd be now, not in a thousand years would I have told you here, at the ends of civilization with only what I can carry on my back. And yet the bard feels content, free. The endless wilderness just beyond the fragile walls of Oleg's Post seems full of promise to Ilya. As if, amidst the trees and rivers I can slip away forever. They'll not find me in there.

A cold wind stirs beyond the Post, causing the young man standing on the wall to shiver and his curly hair to blow, but he does not move. It feels good.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia folds her frail arms across her chest. Despite her heavy robes, the cold air makes her shiver profusely and visibly. Curse this weather, she thinks. The swordlords might have decided to call this expedition a month from now. But she knows it would not help; she is well used to the chills that wrack her body even in the heat of summer in warmer Cheliax.

With a look of discomfort on her pale features, she stumbles towards the guesthouse, muttering her apologies, as quickly as she can carry herself, her staff's butt leaving round imprints in the dirt as she leans on it heavily.

Once inside, alone, she finally is able to display a degree of weakness. She drops into one of the beds, leaning over the small wooden table beside it. With a wince of pain, she hunches her back more, rummaging in her pack for something. She finds it, drawing out a collection of bottled tinctures and herbs. With a hand that shakes very slightly, she begins to mix several of these, taking pinches of green leaves, tuberous roots, and minced petals.

[Winterfell]

Viktor rises from his chair, and bids the company farewell with a sharp nod. "By Abadar's will, tomorrow we will see this menace off," he says as he exits, armor clinking and fur cloak trailing behind him as he goes. The paladin pauses on the doorstep, eyes scanning the courtyard briefly in preparation for the morrow's battle. He spies Ilya on the wall, and climbs the ladder after him.

"Ilya," the Viktor says quietly, looking down at his charge with concern. He doesn't speak for a long moment, instead continuing to gaze at the other man. "Ilya, I know you're not worried about the morrow," he says, his voice still hushed. "Please, Ilya, this isn't a game. We've come this far. Be safe," the paladin finishes. He continues to stand close to the runaway prince, occasionally glancing down at Ilya but mostly simply looking in silence at the horizon with his brow furrowed.

Abadar, preserve him. Preserve us all.

[Blisstake]

Tiereas sits still, watching the sun set as he restlessly thinks about the excitement to be had the following day. Never had he been able to kill anyone before, though there were a few situations that came close.

The cold doesn't really bother him, but then again, neither does heat. If it weren't for the comments of his companions, he wouldn't even know that the weather was supposed to be cold. Just another part of being human, that he supposes he'll never figure out. After a few hours just thinking about blood and murder, Tireas goes to an unoccupied room to but his mind and body at rest.

With resist 5 cold and fire, I imagine he might not know the difference between hot and cold unless it's extreme weather :smallsmile:

[Oh My God]

Estanos remains with the couple and speaks with them awhile; though there may be practical information to be gained in increasing his local knowledge, his primary interest is simply in getting to know -them-.

Before it gets too late, however, Estanos will politely excuse himself and retire to his quarters. The first order of business there is setting up his small cage of birds upon a table of simple, rugged construction. Having achieved this, he undertakes to feed them, talking to the canaries in quiet, muted tones, words of friendship and encouragement.

The small chest is then dragged to the room as well, and the priest prepares for bed in his usual way. Reading from the The Birth, he takes down notes as thoughts come to him. It is not long before he sleeps, however; he must be up before dawn so that he can bathe himself, get dressed, and meet the sunrise. He doubts he'll have company, but pleasant surprises can and do occur. He smiles to himself, and slips in to slumber.

[ApatheticAbacus]

The night is clear and dark. Oleg's Post is cast in a pale white hue by the full moon that rises overhead, sitting large and luminous in the sky. One by one, candles are extinguished as the Post sleeps...


__________________________________

There is only a few dim rays of sun creeping through the simple frontier windows as you awaken, or are awakened by Svetlana, who knocks gently on the door to let you know that she has breakfast ready. "If people get hungry before a battle..."

Outside, light is starting to fill the night sky, filtering through the palisade's groves and cracks, though stars still twinkle overhead in the great expanse above you.

Oleg is in the courtyard, hauling boxes of 'tribute' into a pile, visible from the gates. "Dawn," he says as he sees you. "Got an hour, maybe two, 'fore they'll be here. Anything you want to do, now's the time."

[RocketMan]

Ilya yawns, blinking his eyes in the sun as Svetlana wakes the party. "I'll only be a moment," he calls after the departing woman. Closing his eyes again, he drifts off for perhaps five more minutes, savouring the first proper mattress in at least a week. The young man then rouses himself. He dresses carefully, wishing he had a mirror, and splashes some water on his face before joining Svetlana for breakfast, once again liberally complimenting her cooking.

After eating, Ilya returns to the courtyard. There's not much left to do but wait. Bounding up to the wall once more, he sits, humming a tune quietly in the chill morning air.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia is already awake by the time Svetlana calls at the door. She sits on her bed, a fur blanket draped over her shoulders, silently mouthing incantations as she peers down at a black tome lying in her lip. She is so still and quiet, except for her lips, that she seems more statue than woman. Under her robes, which she seems to wear constantly, her golden choker glimmers with red. I am ready.

She casts a heavily-lidded look around the room at her... companions. Yes, she supposes that the word is appropriate, if not altogether to her liking. Ilya, the one who I believe I have seen before. He seems of no great consequence, and altogether too pleased with where he is. Viktor. That one will doubtlessly be useful in the battle, in the same manner an ox ploughs a field. Swordsmen are all the same. Honour, courage, and witlessness.

The priest, foreign, probably a true believer. He has the qualities of one who is altogether good and holy. So noble and virtuous that it makes one sick to think about. That's not how a person is. It's how he ought to be, and when the distinction disappears it is a distasteful thing indeed.

The tiefling? Quiet. That generally speaks to competence in his trade. Loud men who make many promises seldom live to keep them. Watch and see what he does today.

Finished with her musings, and her magical preparations, she slowly eases herself into an upright position, grasping at her staff to lift herself. "I find myself not hungry," she says to Svetlana. Food tastes like ashes on the best of days, and before a battle, with her stomach churning, she doubts it will be any better.

[Winterfell]

Viktor wakes early - indeed, he has had trouble sleeping at all. He gets up silently, before his fellow travellers, except for the wizardess Zinovia, have awakened. The man walks silently across the room, and gets dressed in his simple attire, pulling on his trousers and his tunic. He glances down at his sleeping companions.

Estanos. The foreigner. Viktor doesn't like foreigners, but this one seems kind, if nothing else. We will see how he handles himself in battle, the warrior thinks.

Then there's the demonspawned, Tireas. I must remain vigilant, for I will not trust one of his kind easily.

And then Ilya. He sighs as he looks down at his prince sleeping peacefully. It seems cruel to have brought him here, cruel to thrust him into battle. Ilya had never fought, not for real, only hunting or duelling for fun. I will protect him, if it costs me my life.

The paladin's blue eyes rise to Zinovia, who stills so still that Viktor is momentarily concerned that she has died. "Wizardess," he says, his voice tinged with suspicion. "I know not what darkness dwells in your heart. But at this moment I care not, for you have vowed to protect the good people here." He turns to go, before swivelling his head and addressing Zinovia again. "Study your magics well, wizardess, for I fear we shall have need of them."

Viktor stalks from the guest building. He paces around the courtyard until Svetlana announces breakfast. He eats only a few bites before returning to his room to don his armor. When the bandits arrive, Viktor will be ready.

[Leviathan]

"We will," Zinovia replies simply to Viktor's words. She leaves the words hanging for a long time, her cold eyes studying the paladin. "We shall need your sword as well," she says at last.

No more need be said, and so she leaves to take up her position. As she waits, she murmurs under her breath a spell. She staggers slightly from the casting, while a curtain of force falls over her, shielding her from harm.

Zinovia will cast mage armour on herself. It lasts for 1 hour, so she'll do it leaving enough time for it to still be functioning when the bandits arrive.

[Blisstake]

As the wizard and paladin have their short exchange, Tireas bolts awake, swiftly grabbing the dagger by his side. After a few short breaths, he realizes no one is under attack, and calms down, placing the knife back on his bed.

He might as well have been blushing if it weren't for his already-red skin.

"Oh. I was worried I slept too late. Apologies."

Without another word, he begins to put on his black leather armor, realizing there is going to be a conflict soon. When finished, he takes up Svetlana's offer on some food, and waits in position for the bandits to arrive.

He didn't hear anything Zinovia or Viktor said.

[Oh My God]

Up well before dawn, Estanos needs no rousing; every day for over a decade he has risen early to give his goddess a proper greeting. Fetching water in a bucket, and finding a private spot in the corner of the micro-fort, the priest indulges in one of his eccentricities, lathers up with soap, and washes himself clean. One of the pillars of civilization in his mind; soap. The day that Estanos does not wash himself with soap is the day that all reason has fled the world. For breakfast, he eats simply; perhaps a few portions of bread. Cleansed, his clothing restored once more to perfect order, he feeds his canaries and heads out into the pre-dawn darkness.

" I will be leading a prayer, for those who wish to join," he alerts his fellow adventurers, as well as Oleg and Svetlana. Having accomplished that, he heads up to the walkway on the wall facing the horizon which the sun is just starting to kiss. Off to the side, Estanos has done his best to ensure that those who do not wish to take part do not feel impinged upon, he waits for those (if any) who join him before him begins the following prayer.

With his arms raised to the sky, hands cupped as though to hold the purpling dome of the heavens, Estanos intones the following prayer, his cadence calling the favour of his goddess," Great Lady Dawnflower, turn your eyes once more upon this world and warm it with your smile. Grant us light sufficient to see the difficult decisions that we must make in this troubled and turbulent world, the courage to follow that path marked by your radiance, the path of truth and justice, the path we know to be right, and the compassion to forgive those who seek it for falling from this divine way of righteousness."

His hands fall to clasp each other over his chest, cradling the metaphorical seat of his soul. " Warm our hearts with your grace as we prove ourselves worthy of your gaze today in the heat of battle. The fiery furnace where the temper of our steel shall be tested and the mettle of our souls."

His left hand drops to his side, and the right rises, clenched in a fist, to his left shoulder in salute. The ending portion of the prayer sounds less extemporaneous, as though he were quoting some well-worn phrase, "Justice to the true, mercy to the weak, and a swift end to the irredeemable. In your name, peace shall prevail, Sarenrae."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Svetlana wanders over to Estanos as the priest begins his prayer to Sarenrae. Oleg sees his wife and briskly walks over too. "Never put much stock in strange gods," he says dourly. "But no harm in it either." He stands behind his wife, who remains silent, hanging on Estanos' every word for comfort, her head bowed low as the prayer begins. She is trembling gently. When the prayer is finished, Oleg places an arm comfortingly around her and leads her inside.

He returns a minute later, a hunting spear in hand and the plain look of a man who knows trouble is coming etched on his face. "Svetlana's inside, and I'm gonna head that way too. Don't want to make your job any harder protecting us, so I've got us shut in tight and all the doors locked." Oleg takes a long look over his home. "Good luck," he says simply, his voice neither hopeful nor defeated, but just that of a realist who understands the magnitude of what will happen. With that, he turns heading back to his home. A resounding thunk as a heavy wood bar drops in place in the house's door indicates that Oleg and Svetlana are safely ensconced.

As the sun climbs higher into the sky, the day brightens, a pale blue sky falling into place over plain of brown grass that stretches south to the Greenbelt's treeline. You take your positions, waiting in silence, with only the sound of the wind rushing through the Post.

From Ilya's position atop the palisade, he is afforded an unimpeded view of the surround, even crouched low to avoid being seen himself. A family of deer trot across the plains in the distance, near the treeline. And then, suddenly, they freeze, ears pricked, and bolt. From the thick pines of the Greenbelt, a column of horsemen emerge, snaking their way along the plains at a slow gallop. There are eleven in all, and as they get closer, it is clear that they are, without a doubt, the bandits.

Each man wears scruffy, unwashed clothes, leathers mostly, with green and brown cloaks flung over their backs. Most have beards or several days worth of stubble. At the head of the column is a huge man, who seems at least seven feet tall, with a thick neck and a square-jawed head covered by the hood of his cloak. Raucous laughter precedes them as they come to a halt in front of the fort, outside its gates.

"Marn, Tanner, Bol, stay with the horses. Don't want some damn pixie scaring them off. The rest of you, with me. Let's scare the piss out of Oleg." There comes the sound of men dismounting from their horses, accompanied by several whinnies and neighs. Then the bandits come sauntering through the gate, their huge leader in front. The rest follow in no semblance of order, guffawing and laughing crudely.

"Oleg, you crafty son of a whore," the big man jeers as he sees the pile of goods laid out in the courtyard. "Boys, you pack this stuff up. I'm gonna pay our friend a visit and remind him that it's polite to say hello to his guests."

The bandits, except for the three assigned to hold onto the horses, are all inside. The time to strike is now...

Surprise Round
You've got a standard action each, plus free actions.

Your plan is dependent on some people acting before others, so, for speed's sake, if you want to perform such an action, state in your spoiler that you will perform yours after X performs theirs. Mainly this goes for Zinovia and Viktor, I think.

Map
http://img33.imageshack.us/img33/1807/screenshot20120605at344.png

L=Bandit leader, the huge man.
B1-10=the bandits.
Your character is your first name's initial in your speech colour.

The map from the AP shows the gate as closed. It is in fact open, and the squares that would be there are traversable.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia listens to the bandit leader order his men about, and then taunt Oleg. She feels something stir within her, and begin to consume her. But it is not righteous anger at the treatment of these good people. It is her magic, bubbling up, filling her, ready to be unleashed. Words are useless here. She steps forward, raising her hands, pointing her thin white fingers towards her foes. A jet of searing flame bursts from them as she speaks her spell, rushing outwards to engulf the bandits.

Once Viktor moves anywhere, Zinovia will take a 5 foot step to the south and then launch her burning hands southward. This means it will hit B5, B6, and B7, according to the diagram (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/b/burning-hands).

Damage: [roll0]. Reflex DC18 for half damage.

[Oh My God]

Estanos worries not; they have prepared for this. The Everlight hangs in the sky overhead, watching all. Good will triumph. Evil will be extinguished. Bandits that express remorse will be granted mercy. Those that do not will be granted release of another sort.

Once 'events' begin, he clutches his simple symbol of Sarenrae and begins to cast a spell. " Shield the strong, guard the guardian, defend the world," intones Estanos, placing a hand on the shoulder of the paladin, imparting the blessings of a foreign goddess upon him. Shocking!

Protection from Evil on Viktor. Here's hoping the bandits aren't morally gray. <_<

[Blisstake]

His left hand drops to his side, and the right rises, clenched in a fist, to his left shoulder in salute. The ending portion of the prayer sounds less extemporaneous, as though he were quoting some well-worn phrase, "Justice to the true, mercy to the weak, and a swift end to the irredeemable. In your name, peace shall prevail, Sarenrae."

Tireas listens to the prayer with feigned interest, and replies, "Thank you, Father... Priest... Brother? Estanos for the uplifting prayer. Hopefully these are the irredeemable, as I am quite eager for battle at the moment."

Can't see the map from this computer for some reason, so I'll have my course of action up in a bit, either edited on to here or in another post.

[Blisstake]

As the bandits pass, Tireas notices the large man in front, evidently their leader, and thinks about just how unfortunate it would be if the bandit didn't have any useable weapons for the fight to come.

Using Shatter DC 15 Will on any weapon I can see being wielded by the large man. As a spell like ability, this requires no action, words, or any sort of movement, leaving Tireas hidden.

If this is not possible, or there are no weapons visible, Tireas will instead throw a shuriken at B8.

[roll0] vs Flat Footed
[roll1] + [roll2] damage

[RocketMan]

Ilya watches the bandits arrive, peeking over the palisade wall occasionally to mark their progress and relay it down to the others. Stringing his bow as he hears approaching voices, he knocks an arrow. "Let's see how they deal with this," Ilya whispers to himself, muttering an incantation, leaving a shimmering, opalescent veneer over the ground beneath a pair of bandits.

Casting Grease on the 10-foot radius on B8 and B9. Reflex Save DC 14.

[Winterfell]

As the bandits enter the fort, Viktor leaps out from his hiding place, armor shining, shield raised and sword unsheathed. The paladin leaps towards the gate, vowing to seal it to prevent those inside from escaping.

"You shall not escape justice this day, marauders," he cries as he shoves the door shut. "Your crimes end now."

Strength check to close the gate: [roll0]

[ApatheticAbacus]

One moment, the bandits are arrogant, ready to extort, rob, and terrify a poor couple. The next, they are ambushed, taken unawares from all sides before they have time even to react.

Zinovia begins the attack, stepping forth from her hiding place wordlessly, a gout of flame bursting from her hands. Three bandits are caught in the blaze before they know what is happening. Two of these fly backwards away from the wizardess, their dead bodies ablaze. The third leaps out of the way, yet still screams in pain as his skin is seared by the close call.

Estanos touches Viktor on the shoulder, his symbol of the Dawnflower in hand. The paladin is imbued and infused with some small portion of Sarenrae's strength and glory, warding him from evil. So protected, Viktor rushes towards the gates, arms and armour glinting in the morning sun. He grasps the huge gate, throwing all of his weight backwards, tugging them closed. They shut tight, a bar dropping automatically into place with a thud.

Tireas' demonic abilities manifest themselves as the rogue spies the huge leader's deadliest weapon, a recurved longbow that seems as though only one of considerable strength could hope to draw it back. With a mere thought that provides no hint of his presence, the tiefling wills the bow to break. And it does, cracking cleanly in half with a sudden rending noise, and then clattering to the ground.

Ilya's spell coats the ground with an oily sheen. The startled bandits standing upon it unknowingly do not long keep their footing. As they spin to confront their attacks, two of them slip and crash to the ground.

The bandits shout warnings and begin to comprehend their situation as the gates slam shut behind them. But they are still off balance and unprepared, a weakness you can exploit.

Round 1
You've won initiative, so go ahead and post a full round.

Map
http://img585.imageshack.us/img585/8651/screenshot20120606at253.png
The gates are now shut, and do impede movement.

B8 and B9 are prone in Grease. The square below (east on the map) each bandit on the map also has grease on it.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia revels in her victory, letting out a triumphant "ha!" She presses the attack, pushing aside the nausea that wells up inside her from her expenditure of energy. The hand that does not grip her staff points into the courtyard and conjures up a bolt of silvery arcana that sails unerringly towards one of the bandits by the closed gate.

Casting magic missile on B10. Damage: [roll0]

[Oh My God]

Estanos hurries forward, hopefully taking Zinovia's position as she takes a five foot step back. Once he's in place, he raises one hand to the sky, and places the other once more on Viktor's shoulder.

" Guide his blade, Sarenrae!"

Guidance on Viktor, granting him a +1 to his next attack.

I'm going to be touching Viktor a -lot- this campaign, I think. :smallredface:

[Winterfell]

With the gate now shut, Viktor turns, sword raised, towards the bandits. "This is what your evil as wrought!" he yells as he runs towards one of the bandits approaching Oleg's house, oblivious to the risk this puts him in. Reaching it, the paladin slashes at it with his bastard sword.

Charging (if possible) to power attack B4, taking AOOs as needed. This will set me up to SMITE the leader next round.

Attack roll: [roll0] (subtract 2 if the charge failed)
Damage roll: [roll1]

Status:
HP 12
AC 17 (19 vs. evil) (or 19/21 if the charge failed)

[Blisstake]

"Surprise!"

Tireas jumps out of his hiding spot, sword in both hands, slicing maniacally at the closest bandit to him.

Running up to B10 and stabbing him.

[roll0] vs Flat Footed
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2] sneak attack damage
(Bonus from the song brings this to 20 to hit, and 14 damage)

HP: 8/8
AC: 15
F: +0, R: +4, W: +3
Ki: N/A

[RocketMan]

On the wall, Ilya seeks to bolster his allies. Lowering his bow, the prince begins to sing. The tune is an old Issian war hymn, telling the tale of a great battle long ago. Yet this is no ordinary song, rather it is enchanted with Ilya's magic. The steady beat of his song sweeps down from the wall, inspiring those fighting below.

Activate Inspire Courage. +1 on saves against charm and fear, and +1 on attack and damage rolls.

[ApatheticAbacus]

The bandits begin to recover from their initial shock, but they are hit again, hard, as they do so.

Zinovia's magic missile slams into the chest of a black-bearded thug, sending him staggering backwards with a grunt of pain. The grunt turns into a gasp as the air evacuates his lungs. The sound of flesh tearing is audible as Tireas' sword emerges from his chest, splattering blood over the ground at the bandit's feet. The man slips, dead, off the sword, crumpling.

Estanos' blessing fortified and strengthens Viktor as the paladin charges forward. One of the bandits, his clothing scorched from Zinovia's earlier blast of flame, manages to slash at him as he rushes by. But the shoddily-crafted blade and the bandit's less-than skilled blow deflects off the paladin's cuirass. Now Viktor is on top of his target. The unfortunate villain manages to parry once, but the paladin quickly corrects his strike, slashing across the man's abdomen with a backhanded strike. With a gurgle, the bandit dies.

Ilya's music floods the battlefield, bolstering his companions with tales of valour at arms infused with ancient bardic secrets. Sword arms are strengthened and stout hearts beat all the stronger.

The bandit leader roars, enraged by Oleg's 'treachery.' "Kill 'em all, boys! And then we'll hang Oleg from his own bloody wall!" He reaches back for his longbow, only to curse as he finds it shattered. Instead, his fist curls around the hilt of his knife. He draws the blade, wickedly curved and serrated, and charges at Viktor. The vicious attack whistles past Viktor's face, deflected by some divine providence that comes in the form of a golden light. If not for the huge thug's evil heart and Estanos' warding prayer, the paladin would have a deep wound.

One of the bandits who still stands by the gates gives a long look, then rushes to grasp the wooden bar that has been recently sealed. His arms straining with the weight, he attempts to lift it up. Not as strong as Viktor, it takes him far more effort and time to haul the bar out of place. But he manages it. "Give us a hand, boys," he calls to his mates outside. "Some upstarts need a killin'!" He draws his short iron sword, assuming a defensive position.

Heeding his words, the bandits who have remained outside the gates rush up to them. One of them starts to pull, dragging the wooden doors open. The two others run into the Post with weapons drawn. "I got 'im, boss!" shouts one, a callow youth with a sprinkle of stubble. He leaps at Viktor from behind, but the attack catches on the paladin's shield.

The other, an older man with a trio of long, raking scars running across his face, sizes up Tireas. His sword comes on guard cautiously. "Let's see what you got, demon!" He follows his words with a series of slashes. Tireas deftly deflects the first few, but the bandit's blade gets past him, cutting across his ribs. "Not much."

Tireas takes 3 damage.

The two hapless bandits who have slipped in Ilya's grease spell get to their feet. One of the pair raises his bow, drawing back an arrow. With one eye shut tight, he lifts his aim up the wall to Ilya's position. The arrow thuds into the palisade over the bard's shoulder. The other attempts to stand, daringly risking Tireas' counter-strike in doing so. The tiefling does not waste the opportunity. With the aid of Ilya's song, he brings his blade downward onto the bandit as he begins to rise, execution style. It becomes very difficult to rise without a head.

Round 2

Map
http://img406.imageshack.us/img406/4656/screenshot20120606at117.png
The bandits with names in white don't have any special status. It was hard to see them when it was in black, is all.

The square is the grease effect.

The gate is now open (again).

[Winterfell]

"You have come here to do evil, bandit, but your reign of terror ends. May the Protector of the First Vault bring you to justice!" Viktor cries. His sword ignites with gold flame as he brings it down upon the bandit leader.

Smite Evil and Power Attack on the leader.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Status:
HP 12
AC 19 (21 vs. evil)

[Oh My God]

Up goes Estanos' hand, clutching the symbol of Sarenrae, as high as he can reach with it. " Sarenrae! Sarenrae! Grant us your light!" The sun chooses this moment to finally crest the wall, spilling the fullness of its brilliance into the shadowed courtyard. With this radiance comes a crashing tidal wave of divine presence, filling the fort with its quiet majesty.

The lambent light brings with it a momentary swell of hope in the hearts of the heroes; a hope that is balanced by the edge of wrath the brigands can feel in its embrace. Justice is calling, and she is not pleased.

Channeling positive energy, excluding the leader and up to two bandits who are already injured (I'm pretty sure only the one who got scorched and lived is still on his feet, but there you go). Throwing down a mass heal to restore HP to Tireas, you say? Yes!

[roll0]

[RocketMan]

Ducking the arrow fired at him, Ilya continues his song as he knocks back an arrow in his ornate hunting bow. "Next time you should aim more carefully," the young man taunts his attacker on the ground. "Why don't I show you how one ought to shoot an arrow?" In quick succession, the bard fires off two shots.

Free action to maintain Bardic Music. Rapid Shot to fire two attacks at B9.

Attack #1: [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]

Attack #2: [roll2]
Damage #2: [roll3]

[Leviathan]

Zinovia watches dispassionately as the boy bandit runs at Viktor from behind. She laughs at his futile, clumsy attack as one would laugh at a court jester or some amusement one sees by the wayside. But it does not stop her from raising one black-gloved hand and making a clenching gesture. His mind is subject to a wailing scream that only he can hear.

Ear-piercing scream on B1 (who I assume is the boy described in the post). [roll0] damage and dazed. DC18 fort for half damage and no daze.

[Blisstake]

"I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up," Tireas responds to the bandit that dared to insult him, slashing across the ruffian's chest "I can't hear you over the sound of your organs being sliced in half."

Attacking the guy who hit me.

22 to hit, and 9 to damage from the OOC thread

[ApatheticAbacus]

Viktor's flaming bastard sword comes crashing down on the bandit leader. The massive man is forced down to his knees by the blow, a gaping wound opening at his shoulder as he roars in pain. The young bandit who tried to flank Viktor, meanwhile, is left stunned and shrieking from Zinovia's magic.

Tireas' wound knits together mere seconds after it appears, thanks to the power of Sarenrae that comes pouring across the courtyard in a majestic wave. Tireas then proves an able swordsman. His opponent's insult is rewarded by a painful death, the tiefling's long blade cutting through flesh and bone. The scarred bandit has barely enough time to blink, uncomprehending, as he dies.

Where Tireas proves his opponent's mockery to be a sham, Ilya has less luck. The prince's taunts belie the fact that his own shots bounce of the bloodstained dirt of Oleg's Post without ever making contact with the bandit. But the bard's song still lingers on the air, inspiring his friends.

The bandits now are starting to look worried. Their numbers are dropping fast and they have yet to take down a single enemy. "What do we do, Happs?" one of the bandits calls to the huge man. The leader, Happs, staggers to his feet. "Kill 'em all! Fast!" He jabs at Viktor again with his dagger. This time his weapon manages to find a crack in the paladin's defences, sticking between the armour's plates, and coming out wet with blood.

Viktor takes 5 damage.

The boy who flanks Viktor is stunned, unable to do anything, let alone fight, as shrill screams fill his head. But one of the other bandits, who stands beside him, jumps towards Estanos, catching the cleric in tight quarters between the wall and the Post's guest quarters. He catches the foreign priest across the arm with a wild stab.

Estanos takes 4 damage.

The remaining two bandits - one who still stands just outside the opened gates, and the other who wobbles shakily atop Ilya's grease spell - look at each other, then at Tireas, who has just slaughtered two of their friends. Both pull back their bows and fire. One of the shots grazes the tiefling's shoulder, but the other misses entirely, fired without aiming. The bandit who still stands outside the gates begins to slowly back away from the fighting.

Round 3

Map
http://img193.imageshack.us/img193/4676/screenshot20120606at559.png

B1 is dazed.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia looks around desperately as Estanos is attacked by a bandit, only a few feet from her. And another, the stupid boy, is right behind him."Move, priest! Move behind me if you want to live!" She raises her hands to her neck, touching her bloodstone choker, drawing out its magic. She feels herself grow weak, but manages to thrust out a hand towards the oncoming bandit, as soon as Estanos is safely away. Another blast of flame shoots down the passage that the wall and building creates.

Once Estanos is out of the way, she'll use burning hands from her amulet. This will hit B1 and B5. I figure Viktor will want to move out of the flank anyways, but, regardless, blast effects stop at corners, so it shouldn't hit him. Which I suppose means Estanos could also 5 ft step diagonally down to his left too and be out of the radius.

Damage: [roll0] Ref DC19 for half.

[Blisstake]

Tireas scans the battlefield, noticing that the others were in a spot of difficulty. The tiefling reasons they can handle themselves, and instead dashes off toward the escaping bandit.

"Hey, you! No running!"

Moving right above B3 and attacking.

[roll0]
[roll1] damage

[Oh My God]

Estanos is about to insist that he can handle himself against the bandit when he realizes that the sorceress is not concerned about the -bandit- killing him, but instead worried -she- will accidentally kill him with her own fire. With that realization, he hurries behind her and lifts his holy symbol once more. " Though I walk in savage lands, I fear not! Sarenrae!" Once more, that feeling of safety and hope washes over the assembled heroes. Once more, injuries fade and begin to heal under divine direction.

Channeling again! Excepting all of the bandits except B3 (who isn't damaged yet)

[roll]1d6[/roll1d6]

Well, that's embarrassing. I'll, uh, roll in the OOC thread. >_<

[RocketMan]

Ilya pouts as his shots go wide. The bandits below are quickly being routed by his companions, and the prince hadn't killed a single one! Perhaps this isn't my day, he thinks, crestfallen. Still, the young man has some sense left in him.

"We must keep one alive," he calls out to his companions. "You're very fortunate," he whispers under his breath as he begins to cast a spell on the bandit in the centre of the courtyard.

Maintain Inspire Courage and Sleep on B9. Nobody else is in the radius. DC 14 Will or fall asleep.

Also, I think Team Creepy is winning on the kill count :smalltongue:.

[Winterfell]

"Your men are defeated, and your time has come," Viktor says stoically as he faces down the bandit leader. Then he steps sideways, fast for one in such heavy armor, and again slashes with his golden blade. "Let justice be done!"

Five foot step diagonally up and to the left, and power attack the bandit leader again.

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

Status:
HP 12
AC 19 (21 vs. evil)

[ApatheticAbacus]

The battle for Oleg's Post comes to a halt. Zinovia's fire is like dragon's breath, incinerating the bandit who had attacked Estanos, and the youth behind him. Tireas cuts down the archer outside the gates as he backpedals, putting his sword through the man's throat. Ilya is merciful, compared to these: his spell drops its target into a sudden slumber, but one from which he will most certainly wake.

Viktor finishes off Happs, using shield and sword in tandem, getting through the bandit leader's guard and then cutting him down with his blazing sword.

The clanging of swords, the twang of bowstrings, and the crackle of magic all are gone. In their place, a few bird sing from the top of one of the buildings, unperturbed by the violence to which they have borne witness. Nine bandits, and their huge, brutal commander, lie dead, the lifeblood of those not scorched to death soaking into the ground...

With a clunk, then a click, the door to Oleg's house opens. The trader looks out at the carnage and gives a shrug, unperturbed. But as he walks towards you, there is a lightness in his heavy steps, as though a great weight has been lifted.

"Glad to see everyone still on two feet," he says. "And good riddance about their lot. I told Svetlana to stay inside 'til I had this all cleaned up." He looks down at the bloodied ground. "Could use some rain fer that."

"I bet you need some rest after what you've done. You've got the run of the Post, and the stores. We've got ale if you want it, and as much food as you like. 'Lana'll cook up something special for dinner. I'd be, well, I'd be honoured if you stay so we can thank you properly."

[Blisstake]

"Wait, wait!" Tireas calls as Oleg mentions the rewards of their victory. "You say there were 20 bandits, and we merely eliminated eleven. At least 9 remain, including that vulgar woman you spoke of. I say we interrogate the one still alive, slay him, then use the information to track the rest of them down before they realize their men have yet to return."

The tiefling absentmindedly flicks some blood off of his blade, and walks up to the sleeping bandit. "After all, we cannot vouch for Oleg's safety while the rest remain. Someone want to wake him up? I fear I have trouble being gentle."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Oleg scratches his head, then seems to realize that one of the bandits lying motionless on the ground is, in fact, asleep, and not dead. "Well I don't think they'll be coming back here any time soon what with your ambush. They're cowards at heart. But maybe you're right. Can't just leave that fellow here; I'll grab some rope, then you can wake him up."

Oleg goes off to the stables, returning with a coil of rope that he uses to bind the bandit's feet and hands. "He's all yours. And I won't say a word if you kill him on the spot."

[Oh My God]

Estanos goes around to each of the fallen bandits, determining whether all those who fell are dead, or merely dying. If he discovers any that yet live, he performs a rough sort of triage; if they need attention immediately to ensure that they do not die, he grants it. If they're simply seriously wounded, but stable, he leaves them as they are.

Upon hearing Tireas speaking of murdering their prisoner, the foreign priest's countenance takes on a more serious cast, and he strides over to where the prisoner is bound. " If this young man dies, it will be in accordance with the law. He is our prisoner, and, at the moment, entirely harmless. Killing him out of hand would be a wrong not easily fixed."

He clears his throat, having said that, and straightens his collar. " So long as that is perfectly clear, I will try waking the boy up and seeing if he's willing to talk. Viktor, or Oleg, could you prop him up?"

[Blisstake]

"Oh, of course, Father Estanos, I wouldn't dream of killing this man until he relinquishes the information we need," responds Tireas, completely missing Estanos' point.

[RocketMan]

"Well, that was quite well done, despite the- wait, did you say you wish to kill the prisoner?" Ilya says, incredulously. "First we need to question him, but I'm be very surprised indeed if he's capable of doing any more harm now. If you ask me," Ilya continues, in a voice which suggests that, asked or not, you are about to get his opinion, "his fate ought to depend on whether he's cooperative. If he is, well then maybe there's a glimmer of hope for him. If not, we can ship him back to Restov to face prison there."

"In any event, tis time to wake our newest acquaintance up." Ilya kneels down to check the bindings - not that he knows a good knot from a bad one - before. Then he places his hand on the bandit's shoulder and shakes.

[Blisstake]

"But he attacked us, and now he pays the price. Though I am a resonable man, and quite willing to compromise." He puts his hand to his chin, thinking of an arrangement that would suit everyone. "How about if the man cooperates, I give him a swift death, instead of a painful one?"

[Winterfell]

As the battle ends, Viktor breathes a sigh of relief. Sheathing his sword, he spies Ilya clambering down the ladder from atop the wall. He only resists the urge to hurry to his prince's side because a commotion breaks out around the now tied up prisoner.

Viktor listens with brow furrowed to Tireas, before nodding sharply as Estanos speaks. "Indeed," he says, his voice dark. "I do not doubt that this man has done evil deeds, and deserves Abadar's swift justice, but it is unacceptable to slay a captive simply for convenience, despite what you may think, demonspawned. Restrain your cruelty." He pauses for a moment to think.

"If this man is to die, it must be by the laws of Brevoy, or else we must try him ourselves."

[Oh My God]

" I cannot tell whether you're joking in poor taste, or if I should just be horrified. To kill a helpless man is murder." Estanos looks agog at the bloodthirsty man he happened to have slept in the same building as last night, wondering briefly how it is that his throat wasn't slit. " Murder being a crime significantly worse than the one you -claim- to be punishing. Now, put all such thoughts out of your head Tireas. They are unworthy of you."

[Blisstake]

"Oh, lawful? Why didn't you just say so; I thought you read the charter, I even committed it to memory. But you had other concerns, so allow me to recite it!"

He clears his throat and proudly announces: "'The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope.' I have a sword, and Oleg so gratiously provided us with some rope! But do not let your forgetfullness worry you, we have some questions to ask the man. I shall leave you to your task."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia hobbles over to the prisoner, who remarkably is still asleep despite the raised voices all around him. Tireas speaks, and she breaks into slow, steady applause. "And there we have an eminently sensible solution to what might otherwise be a vexatious problem. I suggest, however, that he - she waves a hand at the prisoner - "not be informed of the end result of his cooperation. I have no particular desire to deal with this man any more that he is necessary and of use to us. And besides, he is a bandit. His crimes are numerous - we have seen one here ourselves. Call it justice if you require a noble word to keep at bay your guilt, be let us be done with this worm."

[Winterfell]

"Demonspawned, you mock justice with your words," Viktor says coldly. "In your bloodlust, you forget that repentance is also a part of our charter. I am eager to see justice done, but we cannot determine this until we have heard the man's words, to see if he repents."

Viktor looks down at the prisoner with distaste. "I suspect it unlikely, but if he aids us, willingly and without reticence, justice may be tempered with mercy. We may then collectively decide his fate, as no law exists in these regions."

[RocketMan]

"Yes, exactly," Ilya says passionately, coming to his friend's defense. "We can't possibly know whether this man is good or bad until we've spoken to him. What if we kill someone trying to feed their children?"

[Blisstake]

"Then he has picked a wildly innappropriate way to do so. Plus, there are many who "repent" when faced with no other option. If you wish to release a dangerous man into the wilds, then the blood would rest on your hands, not mine. I offer you a simple way to reverse that unfortunate situation, but if you won't take it, then so be it. I hardly wish to create a conflict. Proceed as you will, I'm quite hungry now that I think about it..."

Without anything more to say, Tireas happily heads off toward his room, where he left his unfinished breakfast. Bloodshed works up quite the appetite.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Oleg shrugs, a motion you begin to suspect is a common one for the stolid man. "Seems to me that Charter of yours makes you the closest thing we got to a law down here. If you want to make this official, I can set up a table in the house. You can judge him there, and Svetlana and me'll witness it. But like I said, I don't mind if you just kill him. He hasn't done anything but evil so far as I've seen."

"Still," Oleg continues, "best leave that talk 'til you've talked him." The trader walks off, going about the messy business of removing the bodies from his property.

Then the bandit is shaken awake. His is a man of perhaps twenty-two, of dusky complexion, with a spiral tattoo over one eye. Greasy black hair runs down to his shoulders. He blinks once. Then twice. "Sod it," he groans as he recognizes the people standing over him. He tests his bonds, and finding them firm, he lies back, resigned. "Damnit, I knew this was gonna be a bad day."

[RocketMan]

"While I'm terribly disappointed about your bad day, we need to ask you a few questions," Ilya says, attempting to be soothing but clearly unnerved by the man. "We've heard you have a leader who's hiding somewhere in the woods, and we need an exact location. Any other details with which you'd care to furnish us I leave up to you."

Diplomacy, if necessary: [roll0]

[Leviathan]

"Indeed," Zinovia agrees. "I care little for this man's fate either. I simply suggested an expedient course of action. But it occurs to me that I may make this issue simple by leaving it to those who care for it. Let the consequences be theirs."

She begins to leave, casting a disparaging look at the trussed up bandit. "Aren't you lucky that I am completely disinterested in you," she says with a sneer. "My boredom will increase your lifespan."

Zinovia ambles away after Tireas, her staff skidding across the ground as she hauls her body into her quarters that she shares with the others. She sits herself down on her bed with a sigh, leaning back against her pillows. She closes her eyes, and for a moment she seems to sleep. But, without turning her head or opening her eyes, she speaks, her voice directed at Tireas. "You fight well, tiefling." Her tone is airy, for her, and benign. But then it hardens. "Why are you here? I understand the paladin, the priest, the boy. You, I do not see."

[Blisstake]

Tireas swallows the last of his bread and grins, even though Zinovia isn't even looking at him while speaking. "The same goes for you, Miss Zinovia. Your fire is truly awe-inspiring. But to answer your question, well, why not? There's adventure, exploring, and fighting to be had. And free food!"

He chuckles for a moment, but then speaks again after a pause, dropping to a much more serious tone "But you're too smart to fall for that, aren't you?"

[Winterfell]

"Answer swiftly," Viktor says harshly as Ilya begins his questioning of the bandit. "We have little time to tarry here." As the bandit speaks, Viktor surveys the fallen corpses for anything of value.

Not very paladin-y, but really we should take their valuables :smalltongue:

[Oh My God]

Bile rises in the back of Estanos' throat, its acid tang forcing a brief flicker of anguish to show on his face. Disgust washes over him at the conduct of his nominal fellows, shaking his head a little as Tireas and Zinovia walk off; trivializing the intended murder just made it worse. In the eyes of the cleric, Tireas was becoming less a -man- and more a -monster- with every word he had spoken, cleaving closer to the stereotype all assigned his kin.

He crosses him arms and waits, Ilya seeming to have ignored his own interest in speaking with the prisoner, thinking about the horrors that have just occurred.

[ApatheticAbacus]

"Alright, alright, I don't wanna die or nothin'. We was workin' for a lady named Kressle. Got a camp 'bout a day south of here if you got a horse. Nothin' much to look at. Near the Thorne River. Call it the Thorne River Camp, 'cause we're real creative types, y'know?" The bandit seems very willing to talk in exchange for his life.

"Dunno what else you want. All the loot we got is at the camp - that's what I'd wanna know if I captured a bandit."

Oleg quietly approaches Estanos. "Father. I don't know much about these things. So I thought I'd ask. The bodies. What should we do with them? What would be... proper?"

Viktor
The bandits all have leather armour, longbows, and short swords. You also find a silver amulet with a picture of a stag's head on the leader of the bandits, dangling around his neck.

[Oh My God]

The foreign priest's arms remain crossed as he considers the question, and then answers Oleg," A funeral pyre, to remove their sins and send their souls onwards. I will see to it. But it will wait; first, the living. Then the dead." His expression is flat, its very absence of cheer telling.

[Leviathan]

"Yes, I am," Zinovia replies to Tireas, without moving an inch. "For one thing, if you're going to say such things, you might at least include that the wilds agree with you far more than wherever you were spawned, or rather that the lack of people to see your demonic face and scream their hatred is preferable."

"As such," the wizardess continues, finally moving, shifting her meagre weight into a more upright position, just in time to let out a painful cough. "as such... I think you should try again."

[Winterfell]

"How many men does Kressle have with her? What are their capabilities?" Viktor barks at the captive. And another question," he continues, holding forth the stag amulet found on the bandit leader. "Your leader, he is a servant of the god Erastil? Or a lay-worshipper? I find this strange. Is this a tool of deception?" Viktor finishes, now eyeing the item with a high degree of suspicion.

Detect Evil on the bandit, cuz really I should have done that a long time ago :smalltongue:

[ApatheticAbacus]

"She's got the other ten of us with her. Some of 'em are better than us. Done time in somebody's army, know how to use a sword and shoot a bow. But mostly we're all the same scum out here."

When Viktor approaches with the stag medallion, the bandit takes a look at it. "Happs, religious? No. All the bosses wear those. Kressle mentioned it was someone called the 'Stag Lord.' Some of the older guys looked around real nervous like and everyone shut right up. Don't think it's any god. Kressle just said he put her 'in charge' of us.

[RocketMan]

"Curious," Ilya muses. "This 'Stag Lord,' I assume he is some sort of bandit king? Tis an interesting moniker, I wonder how he got it? Still, this... complicates things," Ilya says with an odd smile, considering the now-increased difficulty of the task at hand. A bandit king! the young man thinks. Ever so much more exciting than trudging through the wilds rounding up common ruffians.

[Blisstake]

"Ah, but the wilds are not much better. Even animals seem to detest me. But I'm avoiding the question, aren't I? I'm helping a powerful man with a delicate situation, if you must know."

[Oh My God]

" There is a particular stolen item. A ring. Taken by Kressle from the family that lives here. Do you know what happened to it?", Estanos asks, and watches the bandit's face carefully, gauging his response.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia shakes her head. "Yes, but animals are themselves detestable, so I'd not put much stock in their verdict. A dog will love without question any man who gives him food, and snarl at any who does not."

The wizardess raises a thin eyebrow at Tireas' cryptic answer. "There are many powerful men, and many delicate situations. As it doubtlessly involves Brevic politics, or Brevoy generally, or some yet more distant land, I find that my interest wanes." She sighs. "I have no time for politics. It is dull and musty as a tome, and full of men who bow and scrape, and those who believe a castle is a prize that matters."

[ApatheticAbacus]

"Bandit King," the bound thug muses. "Its a fancy title, but I guess nobody else's a king round here, and he good as controls all of us bandits. So yeah, maybe king's the right word."

Estanos
Judging by his eagerness to agree with Ilya's assessment, it seems as though he is willing to say whatever you want to hear, if he thinks it will increase his likelihood of being set free. You also detect uncertainty. He's heard of the Stag Lord, but he doesn't know very much about him. He's not quite making things up... yet.

The captive's turns to face Estanos. "We took a ring, sure, first time we came. Took lots of other stuff too. That was... let's see... It was during the winter, so Kressle ain't set up a meeting with some of Brevoy's less upright merchants to sell the loot. Should still be in the camp, along with everything else."

[RocketMan]

"Most intriguing," Ilya says upon hearing the bandit's response. "Thank you for your outstanding helpfulness," he says with a smile. "I have only one more question, if you'll humour me. Why become turn to banditry at all? Surely there are many opportunities for one such as yourself?"

[Winterfell]

"I have heard all I wish to hear from this bandit," Viktor says. "If there are any other questions to be posed, let them be asked now. Otherwise, I suggest he be held here until he can be sent to Restov for trial. If Abadar is merciful, you may yet live." The paladin looks grim. "Now, if there is a celebration to be had, it best be done soon. It would be wise to be away from here at dawn."

[ApatheticAbacus]

The bandit looks glum at Ilya's question. "Opportunities to hang, maybe. One of them lords wanted an army, see, and peasants can die good as anyone else. So I was 'volunteered.' I ran, ended up here. Not a bad fit, really. Never was a good farmer."

"Right," Oleg says gruffly when Viktor announces that he has finished with the bandit. "I'll lock him up in the storeroom. Anyone has more questions, you can find him there." He lifts the bandit to his feet, then pauses. "Oh, and while you were talking to him, I rounded up their horses. Figured you could use 'em when you leave." Then, with a shove, he marches the bandit off.

I'm moving the scene along. If anyone still has questions, feel free to go to the storeroom and ask them.


____________________________

Svetlana has been preparing a feast, judging by the smells of baking that waft from the small frontier house. At noon, she comes bustling out into the courtyard with a huge checkered table cloth and an equally large, beaming smile on her face. She spreads the cloth out over one of the large tables in the courtyard usually reserved for visiting merchants. She hums a slightly off-synch version of Ilya's bardic song as she works. She makes several trips, returning each time with a dish more appetizing than the last. Sausages sprinkled with fresh herbs that have just sprouted up, enough potatoes and gravy to feet a horse, doughy pastries rolled in sugar, and mugs of ale to accompany it all. Svetlana claps her hands enthusiastically. "Lunch is served! Come everyone, let us eat!"

When everyone is seated around the table, Oleg raises his mug. "To you," he says simply. "Couldn't have come at a better time."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia finishes her conversation with Tireas as Svetlana calls to her guests. She groans inwardly, and likely outwardly too, as she stands. But even she has to admit that the scent of food is appetizing, even for her. She feels a twinge in her stomach as she seats herself gingerly at the table, but shakes her head. Such an trivial thing to want... Hells, but I can't help it.

"This is impressive," the wizardess says to Svetlana haltingly, slightly unsure as to how to praise a dish of food. "You have my gratitude." It is hard to tell under her hood, but it seems as though Zinovia's thin lips actually smile.

"To us," she replies to Oleg's toast, raising her mug only slightly, her hand quivering.

[Blisstake]

"Probably for the best," responds Tireas, "Considering your lack of interest just saved a man's life, I can only imagine it added a few years to mine."

***

"Well, we could have come 2 months ago, but I'm glad we could help. You're such kind folk."

The tiefling eats more than his fair share of food, reaching for the meat more than anything. All the while, he steals a few glances toward Zinovia. Although she was quite blunt about the issue, Tireas didn't feel it proper to outright ask why she decided to come along.

Maybe there's a rare tome hidden in the Stolen Lands or something. It wouldn't surprise me.

[Oh My God]

Before the luncheon...

There are bodies to be seen to, souls to be lightened of their sinful load in the flames of absolution. Estanos strips them of their valuables (material possessions do not benefit the dead) and drags them one by one outside of the walls of the small fort. He seeks permission from Oleg to use some firewood, and builds a simple pyre outside the walls next to them.

One after another he pulls the ex-bandits on to the pyre. Once each is arranged, Estanos crosses their arms over their chests, opens their eyes so they can see the sky, and blesses them one by one. Bad men perhaps, but men nonetheless, and respect must be paid to the wasted potential in their lives.

He falls in to a reverie after he starts the fire. So little is clear here. He's been gone for almost half a year, and never felt homesick until this moment. A long sigh escapes him. Not even noon yet and he feels exhausted; a bone deep weariness that has nothing to do with arranging the pyre and moving the bodies.

The fire crackles and catches in earnest, its bright red tongues lapping at the dead. Estanos lifts up his faith, focusing harder on the words, repeating the catechism of Light to dead ears as they vanish in to ash and sky.

" We reject the glamour of evil, and refuse to be mastered by hatered. We reject the false promise of certainty, and spurn the path that is short but wrong..."

___

Estanos eats a very respectable portion of potatoes (sans gravy) and pastries, clearly possessing a hunger worthy of the exertions earlier in the day.

" Truly, your cooking warms both the body and the soul, Goodlady Svetlana."

It feels... better. Whatever malicious air circulated earlier seems to have dissipated. He isn't sure if he can trust it yet, but Estanos is smiling once more. He looks tired and a little worried, but he smiles.

___

Later...

" I thought you might want the chance to confess, " is the greeting Estanos extends to the bandit as he enters the storeroom.

Taking a seat next to the bandit, the priest has attired himself in his official vestments. Entirely black save for the brilliant sunburst done in cloth-of-gold on his chest, its design austere and severe by intention. " I don't know the laws of Brevoy very well, and I wasn't sure if they would allow you benefit of clergy. I wanted you to have the option."

" Anything you wish to say? Actions you regret, and wish to repent...? I'm sorry, I don't remember you saying your name.", Estanos prompts as he sits back in his chair, and waits.

[Winterfell]

The battle finished, Viktor returns to his quarters to remove his armor. Polishing it clean of blood and mending the dents, the paladin stores it safely by his bed before returning to the courtyard in his plain tunic.

"Svetlana, I thank you for your effort," he says sternly, before breaking into a wide grin as he sits. "If there was ever a debt between us, it is payed in full!" the paladin says, laughing a booming laugh as he heaps his plate with sausages and potatoes.

"Indeed, let us all toast to our victory here today," he says, raising his flagon high over his head. "This is the first of many victories to come. Together, we will defeat all the evils of these lands."

[RocketMan]

"Why, how delightful," Ilya exclaims cheerfully as Svetlana brings forth the food. Seating himself properly at the table, with back straight and hands in his lap, the young man waits for the others to join him before serving himself. He samples a variety of food, not eating much of anything. Well, it tisn't the palace, but I imagine there shan't be much better out here.

"To us," Ilya says, joining Zinovia's toast. "Truly, we're very glad to have been able to help."

As he eats, Ilya chatters to his new companions. "Estanos, if I might ask, you said you're from Qadira? Or somewhere else Kelish?" he says, gliding over any distinction between various satraps of the empire. "It must be fascinating to come to Brevoy, though I daren't think that these lands are as exciting as your home."

[ApatheticAbacus]

The funeral pyre crackles, lending a hint of sombreness to the joyous proceedings. Pale gray smoke rises up to greet the sun, and Estanos' prayer lights the souls on their way to their fates. As you eat your lunch, the fires die down lower, embers still hot around the charred yet dignified remains atop the pyre.

At the table, Oleg is his usual gruff self, but he even laughs at Viktor's boisterous declaration that the debt is paid. Svetlana grins alongside her husband.

Feel free to advance your timeline, or talk in multiple scenes. Basically, this is an RP fest for as long as you'd like, as OMG's done :smallsmile:


_______________________

Later, Estanos proceeds into the storeroom, stacked high with barrels and crates. Oleg has put out a cloth mat for the prisoner. Though far from comfortable, it is a small mercy. The scruffy young man looks up as the priest enters, fear in his eyes.

"Marrin, sir, he says, seeming momentarily like a child in the face of a figure of authority. And I... I ain't never done nothing like that before... But if you think it would help. You know. Put in a good word for me in case."

Marrin takes a deep breath. "I know I didn't do my duty to my lord... But I ain't going to repent for that. Don't care what they said, it ain't justice to want to hang a man for not wanting to kill someone... But I guess I ended up killin' anyways. Killed a guard, and another bandit. I... I didn't care what happened here either. The priest of Erastil in my village said we know good and evil in our heart, and I did. But I did wrong anyways... I don't know why... Too hard to go back, I guess." He stops. "And I didn't want to go back. You ever killed a man? It's the power... You feel strong, like you could take on the world. Ain't a right thought, but I liked it. So I guess I repent that." He looks expectantly to Estanos, unsure of what happens now.

[Oh My God]

" The trip itself was remarkable precisely because it was so unremarkable. The benefit of having a talented guide when one travels is the paucity of untoward excitement one finds. Brevoy itself... is very interesting. It is nothing like my home." He smiles, and then continues. " Home being the Empire proper, and not one of its satellite states; I spent most of my life in one of its greatest cities, Persipoli. The Grand Temple of my Goddess is located there, and it is there I studied for my vocation. The city is so busy, always bustling, always carts rolling in laden with... well, everything in the world. It seemed there was always music in the air just barely beyond ones hearing. Some large cities hum, or buzz. Perispoli sings."

The priest looks 'round the table at his fellow travelers. " Are the rest of you locals? Relatively speaking?", Estanos asks the rest of the group, as he resumes tucking in to some potatoes.

[Winterfell]

"Indeed," Viktor says, answering Estanos' question. "Born and bred in Rostland. New Stetven, in fact." The paladin takes another swig of ale. "I'd be very surprised if you could find a man more Brevish than I," he says with a laugh before returning to his ale. If his earlier cheer was due to the victorious battle, it seems that the usually stern man's spirits are kept that way by the drink.

[Blisstake]

"Some would argue," Tireas responds to Viktor, "That anyone born in New Stetven isn't Brevish, but merely Issian. It is so difficult nowadays to even hear the word Brevish anymore instead of Issian or Rostlandic. In fact, I would say that I am the most Brevish of anyone here, having traveled between both Rostland and Issia constantly, unwelcome in both."

[Leviathan]

As the conversation turns towards their origins, Zinovia's eyes flicker to Tireas. I wonder what this one will say. As much as he told me?

"Yes," Zinovia says, responding to Estanos' question, "though I think less than some. My training was in Varisia. Brevoy is woefully inadequate for anyone wishing to learn magic, but it is woefully inadequate at many things, and so I am grateful for my foreignness, if that is an accurate description. Being part of the ruling family has benefits, however obnoxious the politics."

[RocketMan]

Ilya listens intently as Estanos speaks. "It sounds absolutely magical," Ilya says with an almost imperceptible sigh of longing as the cleric finishes. "New Stetven - I was born there as well, though my family, the Kurils, are Issian merchants - doesn't hum, and it certainly doesn't sing," Ilya says. "No, no, it shivers," he says with short laugh.

[Oh My God]

" Oh? You're a member of the ruling family? And you're permitted to run about the wilds without a small battalion of guards? Brevoy -is- unlike my home. The family of the Padishah Emperor is... well protected.", Estanos remarks to Zinovia before finishing off the last of his pastries. He pushes his plate away from himself, dabs at his mouth with a napkin (if there were none at the table, he brought one himself), and waits for an opportune hole in the conversation to interject.

" Not to spoil the meal by talk of unpleasant things, but we should figure our next move. Goodman Oleg here seems to think that the remainder of the bandits won't bother him, now that we've removed half of their force. Before, I had thought we could map out the Greenbelt in a methodical manner. Do we proceed with that, or do we head directly for this bandits camp? We would have the element of surprise, but I worry that we'll stray too far from our true purpose here if we spend too much time hunting bandits. "



____________

Estanos nods his head at points as Marrin speaks, listening to the crimes the young man had committed. Worse than he had hoped, better than he had feared. It seemed life was held particularly cheap in this barbarian nation.

" You have to remember that you can always 'go back'. Every moment is a fresh chance. Every moment you can make the choice to do the right thing."

He stands, looming over the ex-brigand as he says in his Serious Priesting Voice," You must strive ever afterwards to make that correct choice. Will you? I won't lie; it will not be easy. If you swear that your days of committing such sins are behind you, I will see what I can do. And you must really -mean- it. To lie in this moment would compound your villainy further, and doom not just your life but your immortal soul."

[Blisstake]

"I say we attack while they sleep, blissfully unaware of our presense. My eyes see far in the darkness, unlike your human ones, and I can move silently under the cover of night. If good Father Estanos will permit it, I shall slay them in their sleep, save for one, and make certain that these brigands can do no more harm to Oleg, Svetlana, or us."

Tireas stands up, stretches, then continues, "If not, then we face quite a difficult battle, and I cannot guarentee any of our safety should we face a fortified camp. Let me know when you've decided our course of action, and I'll be ready to leave."

[Leviathan]

"I believe we should attack at once," Zinovia says of Estanos' question. "The sooner we may be rid of these bandits, the sooner we may get on with our task in peace, without the risk that they overrun Oleg's Post and butcher everyone inside. And I would rather not make of myself a permanent fixture of this place, so, attack."

"I wonder at the prudence of that plan," Zinovia says softly at Tireas' suggestion. "For one, only fools would leave their camp unguarded, especially in darkness, and doubly so in a lawless land. For another, slaying all of them without a single error that might cause them to wake and seek vengeance seems..." she coughs, her face contorting, "... unlikely."

She strokes her chin under her hood. "I wonder if we might not spare our bandit prisoner. I have thought of a use for him. He presumably knows of the camp, of how to get past its watchmen without harm. He leads us inside safely in return for his little life."

[Blisstake]

"I understand, but it will have to be more than guarded to prevent my entry," he quickly responds, "And in the unlikely event I am discovered, that's your cue to attack."

[RocketMan]

" Oh? You're a member of the ruling family? And you're permitted to run about the wilds without a small battalion of guards? Brevoy -is- unlike my home. The family of the Padishah Emperor is... well protected."

"Well, I don't think Zinovia is, how to put it, very high up within the royal family here," Ilya says. "I, in fact, have it on extremely good authority that the closest relatives of the king, the princes, for example, are indeed very safe." He finishes, smirking, before making eye contact with Viktor and smiling genuinely. I do feel safe, he thinks. Still, there's no reason I can't have my little joke.

"I think that's a wonderful idea!" Ilya exclaims as Zinovia makes her proposal. "He'll get to be helpful, and, by turning against his former-masters he can prove that he's really changed. He can lead us to the camp, and perhaps even get us inside," the young man says enthusiastically.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia raises an eyebrow at Ilya's commentary. "No, I am peripheral. Which is to my liking. And all the royal families breed like rabbits, so my chances of coming into some position requiring good breeding and tact are slight." She does not bother suppressing the sneer that runs across her face. Then she adds, her cold eyes focusing on Ilya, "But then, there was one strange little prince who ran away not long ago over some breeding dispute. A childish action that has likely gotten him captured and punished by now. So it occurs to me that not all Surtovas are so eager to produce sires, and that perhaps my chances are better than they seem." Her voice is mingled sarcasm and amusement.

[Winterfell]

Viktor is horrified by Ilya's cheek, and yet touched at the same time as the other man smiles and smirks while playing his word games. I have kept him safe, and will continue to do so, the paladin thinks. His prince's wellbeing and gratitude are reward enough for him. He returns Ilya's smile

His reverie is broken abruptly as Zinovia replies. Viktor's brow instantly furrows and his expression goes stoney. What does the wizardess know? he wonders, almost frantically. Surely she cannot - even should she know, would she send a message to the court? Could she, out here? The paladin looks back and forth between Ilya and Zinovia, thinking of how to proceed.

"No," he says finally, in a measured voice, deciding that it is best to ignore the wizardess' comment for the moment. "I do not think that sneaking or deception will aid us in this endeavor. We should enter the camp, head-on. Abadar willing, we will triumph again. This captured bandit may join us, though in truth I have little faith that he will not change sides in the course of the battle."

[Blisstake]

"Very well," replies Tireas as his proposal is refused. "If anyone, then, dies in such a reckless assault, then the fault cannot lie with me. Never let it be said again, that I do not understand the value of a life."

[Leviathan]

"Wait just one minute," Zinovia says indignantly to Viktor and Tireas equally. "I never said anything about a frontal assault! Why not simply send them a message now, telling them that we will be arriving shortly, and that would they please ready themselves to receive us? It is folly! At least, it is folly if we do not prepare properly." She clears her throat, though this does little to help her voice, that begins to grow hoarse from all her talking. "We cannot... simply attack in broad... daylight... But neither are the rest of us prepared to fight in the night... should Tireas need assistance... Perhaps the answer is to do both. Tireas can approach the camp in darkness... and kill any who are within easy reach of his blade... Then he retreats, and we attack the weakened camp at daybreak."

[Blisstake]

"That is precisely what I was suggesting, Miss Zinovia. I cannot guarantee I will not be caught, but if I do, it shall be little issue for me to fall back, and have us ambush them in full force."

[RocketMan]

"How dangerous can they really be?" Ilya asks. "If they're anything like their compatriots here, I'm sure Tireas will do spectacularly. Or rather, unspectacularly, since a spectacle would be unfortunate while trying to sneak into a bandit camp," the young man says, seemingly amused at his own cleverness. "Tis a good plan, I think. Shall we be bringing our bandit friend along with us, or not?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

Estanos, during the confession

"I swear," the bandit says uncertainly. "I ain't never done nothing like this before. But fresh starts, y'know. Time for a change. But I'm guessin' first you need to deal with Kressle 'fore anythin' happens to me. I know Oleg thinks he's safe now, but Kressle's a mean-eyed killer. I dunno what she'll do when she figures out we - them bandits - were beat bad."

[Oh My God]

Estanos nods at the question about the bandit; the fact that he does not yet know the young man's name bothers him. " I had been planning on speaking with the man in question further; I'll put the topic forth and see what he thinks. As to the assault... Unless Tireas has a means of taking them all prisoner, by himself, in the dark, then what he suggests is acceptable. Providing," the priest ammends," that they suffer as little as possible in their passing."

_____

In the confessional...

"We do not intend on finding out what she would have done; we are leaving as soon as can be arranged to settle the problem once and for all. I was hoping you would be willing to come with us, as a guide only, mind you. As the first step in your new life."

" Which reminds me..," Estanos breaths, takes a pinch of ashes ( wood ash, this time ) and draws a crude sunburst on the forehead of Marrin. " Rise, Marrin, in the grace returned to you by the Fire That Is Never Quenched. Though your sins will never be forgotten, they are forgiven by the High Most Judge. Strive ever after for the light."

[Blisstake]

"Of course, Father Estanos, my blade is swift and efficient. I shan't kill them all, either, if it comes to it."

[Winterfell]

"If the rest of our company is agreed," Viktor says, scowling slightly, "then I will not object to this plan. Tireas will enter the camp under cover of darkness, and slay as many as he is able, before retreating. We will remain vigilant, ready to come to his aid, but if he goes undetected we will strike in force in the morning." He pounds his fist on the table to emphasize his point.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Marrin, the bandit captive, agrees somewhat reluctantly to accompany the party, worrying that, if you should lose he'll be "gutted for a traitor." But he steels himself to the danger.

Oleg has your new horses (commandeered from the bandits) ready for you after lunch. He looks up into the sky, where clouds are beginning to gather in the clear sky. "If luck holds, you'll get a cloudy night. Be careful out there."

Svetlana joins him to see you off, waving goodbye. "Come back soon," she says hopefully.

And then you are off.

3 Gozran, 4708

With the midday sun high in the sky, partially obscured by grey clouds, you spur your horses out of the familiar gates to Oleg's Post, which so recently were the site of combat and triumph. The palisade and the South Rostland Road beyond grow smaller and smaller as you ride away, diminishing into the distance. Now you are truly in the wilds.

You cross the plain that lies between Oleg's Post and the Greenbelt's treeline. It is a rocky field of brown stubby grasses and cold weather shrubs, with pockets of snow still lingering on the ground. The first flowers are coming into bloom, tiny white specks that grow in thick clusters and carpet the ground, alongside patches of caribou moss and the occasional growth of red bearberries. Hares run and hide as you approach, and an orange fox is forced to give up his quarry to wait patiently as you pass by.

It takes four hours to cross the plains, and noon is steadily advancing towards evening as you reach the treeline. Here tall pines grow close together in a green ceiling above you, their trunks gnarled. The ground is a mat of leaves, logs, and new growths. A narrow hunting trail allows your horses to navigate easily. Marrin tells you that the trail is in fact the route the bandits used to arrive at Oleg's, and that following it will lead directly to their camp.

Despite the trail, the journey will take more than a single afternoon. The calling of birds slowly changes into the hooting of owls and the flutter of bats overhead as the sun falls away. With the moon concealed above the trees, it becomes difficult to see, though between a few torches which Oleg has provisioned the horses, and Tireas' demonic heritage, the path is still navigable.

Well past midnight, the sounds of a river can be heard, and you can see moonlight shining off the water's surface. The Thorn River seems little more than a stream here running downwards to the southeast, splashing and gurgling over wet rocks as it makes its gentle descent.

"We're close," Marrin whispers. "Maybe five minutes away on foot." He looks at Tireas. "If you're goin', go from here. Just follow the river 'til you see it. Rest of us can wait here for you. If you need help, shout. Believe me, we'll hear you if you're loud enough, an' we can get there pretty quick if we make them horses run."

Tireas

The camp is not far. Within minutes of leaving the others, you see the light of a large campfire in the distance. The bandit's camp is little more than a patch of forest near the river which is more bare than the rest. A few logs have been clustered around the fire to form a ring of benches, while an old, broken-down cart sits just off the hunting trail which has lead you here. Near the river, you spy a platform that has been built atop a large tree, with a rope ladder dangling down to the ground. On the platform, you can see a cloaked figure, a sentry, who sits with arms folded across his chest, looking out over the path. A second such platform sits near the firepit, though you cannot make out whether this one has a guard.

The fire allows you to see the silhouettes of four figures gathered around the fire. Two are asleep, but two are sitting upright.

http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/1386/screenshot20120608at103.png
K3 and K2 are the platforms.
K1 is the firepit area. Here there is dim illumination within 30 feet of the firepit.
B3 and B4 are the bandits who are still awake.


Estanos, Ilya, Viktor, Zinovia

The forest somehow seems even darker with Tireas' departure. There is little to do but wait now, and you you set about making yourselves comfortable, though still alert for any sign that the tiefling might need aid.

A cracking twig is the first sign that you are not alone in the woods. Then there comes a growl, and then another from the opposite direction. Something has found you, beyond the torchlight of the flame Marrin holds.

"Oh crap," Marrin cusses. You can see nothing past the torchlight.

I'll have a map up for you once I make one, which should be before you get into combat, if you do. Right now, none of you have darkvision, or low light vision, so you can't see a thing past the torchlight radius (30 ft).

Additionally, since you're waiting until morning here, you guys will have the opportunity to rest and re-prepare spells if Tireas doesn't require your help. Otherwise, too much time will be used up to have sufficient rest time left.

[Leviathan]

"Whatever we are to do," Zinovia hisses, "we must do it quietly. Do not shout, do not raise your voice above a whisper. If they are to hear anything, it must be only the noises of beasts, so that they can assume it is of no consequence."

She continues, trying not to let her shame show through. "I have no spells remaining except minor ones. I... will not be of much help to you here."

[RocketMan]

"Goodness," Ilya whispers fearfully. "What was that? Maybe wolves? Or bears?" the bard asks quietly, his imagination and the darkness of the forest getting the better of him. "Do we dare risk a light, or will that reveal us to the bandits?" Ilya seems totally unsuited to the situation and about to panic. Apparently he decides that a little light is necessary, and with a quick word his dagger begins to radiate a clean, white light. The young man hurries to dull this light with his cloak.

Perception (if applicable): [roll0]

Ilya will cast Light on his dagger, and then cover the dagger with his cloak to make sure it isn't too bright.

[Winterfell]

"Beasts," Viktor growls in a low voice. "Be cautious, for these creatures can see far better in this darkness than we can," he whispers, drawing his sword silently. "We must dispatch these foes swiftly, or else the sounds of battle may bring bandits our way."

@RocketMan: I'm pretty sure we already had the torchlight, so your light spell won't alert the bandits.

[Oh My God]

" Wolves," Estanos agrees. " I... don't -think- they'll bother us. Large group that we are. No need to do much about them. Just, no one leave the light and no one go off on their own."

He looks off in to the darkness, inky and impenetrable. " Simple courage will ward them away to prey more suitable for them."

[Blisstake]

As they approach the camp, Tireas strips off his armor, leaving himself protected only by a thin layer of cloth. "It's designed to restrict movement as little as possible," Tireas explains, "But I'm still more comfortable without the armor on. Better safe than dead, yes?" With the armor off, he hands his sheathed katana and shortbow over to Viktor. "Take care of these while I'm away, will you?"

Taking off his armor for no armor check penalty.

I know there isn't actually a stealth penalty for having a bunch of weapons handy, but it seems a bit silly to be carrying around four different types of weapons while trying to be as quiet as possible. As such, Tireas will only be bringing his dagger and shurikens.

***

Hm, so that's their watch? More awake than I expected, but nothing I can't handle... I hope.

Tireas sticks to the underbrush on the side of the watchtower, using the terrain to obscure his location.

Moving around the watchtower through the trees on the left, trying to approach the base without the bandit on top noticing.

For stealth I'll take a 10 if possible for 16.

If not: [roll0]

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

With only a few minor rustling noises, you manage to conceal yourself in the heavy foliage as you make your approach to the watch platform. The platform is about twenty feet up in the tree, with its rope ladder dangling down. Over at the camp, you can hear the sounds of two people talking, though you cannot make out any words.

Map
http://img338.imageshack.us/img338/4961/screenshot20120609at744.png

Estanos, Ilya, Viktor, and Zinovia

At the edge of the circle of firelight, you can now see shapes moving, closing in around you in wary circles. Three beasts pace around the torchlight, about the size of dogs, but with slender yet muscled builds, with dark stripes running down their backs. They growl and bay as they make a slow approach.

Ilya and Zinovia
These creatures are known as thylacines, doglike hunters that are common in the stolen lands. Usually they fill a niche below wolves, hunting small prey, but if larger animals prove weak, they are not unwilling to attack.

Estanos and Zinovia
In the darkness, you can make out little. But there is something besides the three thylacines you can see out there, judging by the rustling brush. You can't determine where, but there is.

Your horses, which had been sleeping, tethered off the road, begin to wake at the sounds of growling. They stamp their feet nervously, but have not panicked, yet.

Map
http://img515.imageshack.us/img515/9895/screenshot20120609at742.png
The brown blobs are the horses.
The light green area is the torchlight radius.

[RocketMan]

"Quick!" Ilya whispers. "We should take this chance the drive off these creatures, or kill them if they come any closer!"

Rapid Shot on T2:

Attack #1: [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]
Attack #2: [roll2]
Damage #2: [roll3]

[Leviathan]

If the bandits in their camp hear the whinnies of horses, they will know we are here! Zinovia resolves, despite her lack of power, to attack. "We have no choice now. We must defeat them before they spook our horses."

She points a finger at the one Ilya has just fired at. A sliver of frost flies from it.

If Ilya doesn't kill his target, Zinovia attacks that one. If he does, she attacks T2.
Touch attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Winterfell]

"Ilya!" Viktor hisses. "Stop! These beasts may not have attacked..." Still, it seems too late, the bard having launched a pair of arrows. Shaking his head, the paladin charges, trying to bring his sword down upon the nearest thylacine.

Charge and power attack T1.

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

Status:
HP 12
AC 17

[Blisstake]

Tireas clenches his dagger with his teeth (careful not to cut his gums, of course), and climbs up the ladder under the watchtower. If he's lucky enough not to get caught, the Tiefling quickly pulls the dagger out, stabbing at the unsuspecting bandit.

Stabby time. I had a 16 on my climb check, or a 17 if I wasn't allowed to take a 10

[roll0] to hit against (hopefully!) flat footed.
[roll1] damage plus [roll2] sneak attack.

[Oh My God]

Estanos just stands there as the violence begins. He grabs hold of the reins of one of the horses, and gestures at the others for Marrin to grab. If the presence of the cowardly predators wasn't enough to spook the horses, bloodshed might be.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

The bandit watchman notices nothing as you climb the ladder, taking your time so that the frayed robes make no noise, and the branch overhead does not creak under your added weight. Peeking over the top, you see that the bandit is facing away from you, his body language bored and tired. It is a simple thing to slip over the top onto the flat wooden platform. By the time the sentry notices that something is amiss, and looks behind him, it is too late. Your dagger is at his throat, and he dies swiftly.

You now sit atop the platform with the slain watchman. Conversation continues from around the campfire, but from your vantage point, you can see that nobody is moving.

Map
http://img580.imageshack.us/img580/3598/screenshot20120609at929.png

Estanos, Ilya, Viktor, Zinovia

Ilya fires at the thylacines as they enter the firelight. A pair of his arrows strike one of the creatures, bowling it over. It regains its feet with a whimper.

Zinovia's spell splashes against the forest floor, missing its target.

Viktor, after chastising his impetuous ward, closes with the closest of the dog-like predators, killing it cleanly with a stroke of his sword.

Estanos' firm hand, meanwhile, and his quick thinking in directing Marrin to do likewise, is all the keeps the horse from bolting. The gentle force calms them enough that they hold their ground, stamping their feet nervously.

The two remaining beasts jump towards the party simultaneously, snarling aggressively. Both of them focus on the weakest prey, which, even to their animal intellect, is obviously Zinovia. Sharp fangs and powerful jaws chomp down on the wizardess. One tears into her arm, while the other goes for her throat. It barely misses its target, but the wound it causes is still grievous.

12 damage to Zinovia. That's a KO.

The reason why two small thylacines would choose to fight instead of flee is clear when, with a loud bark, their alpha jumps out from the darkness. This beast is larger than its kin, and utterly ferocious as it snaps at Viktor. It barely manages to get past the paladin's armour, but bites down on a relatively-unarmoured wrist.

5 damage to Viktor.

Round 2

Map
http://img528.imageshack.us/img528/239/screenshot20120609at930.png
TA is the thylacine alpha.

[RocketMan]

"Blast," Ilya curses in a low voice as Zinovia falls. Wincing in sympathy with her wound, the young man pulls back his hunting bow again, letting fly another pair of arrows.

5 foot step away from T3 before using Rapid Shot. Directing the first attack at T3 and the second at T2.

Attack #1: (versus T3) [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]

Attack #2: (versus T2) [roll2]
Damage #1: [roll3]

[Leviathan]

Zinovia raises up her hands to protect herself as the pair of thylacines attack. The pain is intense, but, to her credit, she remains quiet as she falls, save for a small gasp.

If there's something I should be rolling to stay quiet, let me know :smalltongue:

Stabilize: [roll0]

-4/-12 before death.

[Winterfell]

"Now you show yourself," Viktor says quietly as the larger thylacine enters the torch light. Undeterred, the man swings at it with his long blade while interposing himself between the creature and Estanos, trying to shield him from Zinovia's fate.

5 foot step to the spot between TA and Estanos. Power attack!

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

[Blisstake]

With the man before him neatly executed, Tireas attempts to strip the man down, and don any armor that he had been wearing, as well as any ranged weapons he might have possessed. Moving the corpse to the side, Tireas, moves to the edge of the watchtower, and tries to see if he can make out any of the details of the conversation below.

Perception Check: [roll0]

If the bandit had a shortbow, Tireas will equip it. Same for any armor he may have had.

[Oh My God]

" Look at the teeth on that thing-," Estanos begins, cutting himself off, not wanting to spook his comrades (or, for that matter, himself) by waxing on the obviously impressive size of the alpha. Instead he fishes his holy symbol forth, holding it in a clenched hand.


" Sarenrae, protect us," implores the priest in a hushed voice; while his mounting panic might tempt him towards a shout, he knows that the goddess hears even the most silent prayer.

Channeling, excluding the proto-wolves: [roll0]

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

Tireas slips into the bandit's armour (only mildly bloodstained), and waits. He is unable to hear anything of the conversation anymore. In fact, there may not even be one so far as he knows. But he does hear a rustling in the bushes nearby.

There's a longbow on the bandit, but no shortbow. The rustling noise is at K4 on the map. See the map from last round, since nothing's changed.

Estanos, Ilya, Viktor, Zinovia

Ilya puts a third arrow through one of the thylacines, finally putting it down. Viktor shifts his stance, taking up a superior position against the alpha, between Estanos and large dog-creature. While his position is good, his swordhand is less so; his swing at the alpha misses, slicing through the air. Estanos, shielded by Viktor, whispers a prayer to his goddess. He bolsters his companions and heals their wounds. Zinovia's unconscious form ceases its bleeding, though she is still far from mended.

The two thylacines who still remain jump at the clustered adventurers. The alpha goes for Viktor, but receives only a bloodied snout when it crashes into his shield. Ilya barely manages to dodge out of the way of the other.

Round 3

Map
http://img826.imageshack.us/img826/426/screenshot20120610at105.png

[Winterfell]

Viktor swings his sword again, hoping that this time it will connect with his target.

Power attack the alpha.

Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Oh My God]

Estanos grimaces as the demi-wolves continue their assault, and once again calls upon the favour of his goddess (hopefully, this time with a bit more conviction and power).

Channeling![roll0]

[Leviathan]

Zinovia comes back to the world, the blackness and pain fading away. "Nhhh..." The immediacy of the situation draws her quickly back to reality. She stands, even more shakily than before, and fires off another bolt of magic.

5 foot step away from T2. Ray of frost on T2.

Touch Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[RocketMan]

Ilya laughs quickly, before barely dodging the charging beast. As it swipes at him, Ilya kneels and fires a pair of arrows at it, aiming for the throat. "You won't get me," he whispers to himself as he does so.

Rapid Shot, provoking an attack of opportunity, on T2.

Attack #1: [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]

Attack #2: [roll2]
Damage #2: [roll3]

[Blisstake]

Why do people make bows this long? They're so unwieldy... damn, what was that?

Tireas peers over, shuriken in hand in case any bandits are coming to investigate.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

The sound in the bushes makes itself clear. A dark-skinned man with long black hair emerges from the bushes, unbuckling his belt. By a pair of old logs whose bark attests to their use as benches, he turns away from you. It is faint, but you can make out the sound of a stream of water hitting foliage.

Map
http://img715.imageshack.us/img715/3499/screenshot20120611at713.png

Estanos, Ilya, Viktor, Zinovia

This time, Viktor's grip is firm and his attack well timed. The thylacine alpha yelps as it receives a gash along its foreleg. Ilya has less luck. His shots thud into the leaf-matted ground, his aim put off by the closeness of the beast to him. Fortunately, he is able to evade its counterattack without much trouble.

Estanos channels Sarenrae's energy once more. This time, the goddess' power swells, washing over the forest, and over Viktor and Zinovia. The wizardess staggers to her feet and launches frost. It strikes the beast attacking Ilya between the shoulder blades.

That thylacine jumps right back at the still-weak Zinovia. Its claws and jaws miss her by inches, tearing away a small portion of her robes. The alpha, meanwhile cannily exploits Viktor's aggressive attacks. The paladin's stance leaves him overstretched, unable to defend himself well. Consequently, the monster's jaws land in a brutal vice around his arm.

9 damage to Viktor.

Map
http://img338.imageshack.us/img338/8251/screenshot20120611at714.png

[Oh My God]

It is the sound of jaws snapping shut on something other than air that alerts Estanos to the trouble behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he identifies that yes, the alpha's mouth and Viktor's arm are tragically conspiring to share the same space.

" That's not...," he begins, and cuts himself off; words of -that- sort will be no help here. Thrusting the reins of the horse he holds in to Marrin's hands, Estanos turns on his heel, snaps the holy symbol from the thong that holds it about his neck, and holds it to the back of the paladin that is all that stands between him and being the meal of a psychotic forest beast.

" In mercy's name."

Cure Light Wounds (Viktor): [roll0]

[Blisstake]

Seeing the bandit as an opportunity rather than a threat, Tireas climbs back down the watchtower, sneaking up to the urinating bandit, careful not to actually step in the flowing water (the other flowing water that splits the camp in half, that is).

More sneaking. [roll0] (-1 for the armor)

Tireas will walk up to the edge of the water with a shuriken at the ready.

[RocketMan]

"What a shame," Ilya laments as his arrows again go wide. "You shan't stay lucky forever, creature."

Let's try that again. Rapid shot on T2, once again with an AOO.

Attack #1: [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]

Attack #2: [roll2]
Damage #2: [roll3]

[Leviathan]

"It is a beast," Zinovia says with a glare at Ilya. "Talking to it does nothing." She hurls another spell while she speaks.

5 foot step away from thylacines (I think you forgot to move Zinovia on the map, AA).

If Ilya doesn't kill it, Zinovia aims for the regular thylacine. If he does, she'll go for the alpha.

Ray of frost, touch attack: [roll0] (forgot shooting into melee last round)
Damage: [roll1]

[Winterfell]

"You will not fell me, beast!" Viktor says as he chops at the alpha again with his blade, nodding his thanks at Estanos as he does so.

Power attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

Status:
HP 6
AC 19

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

Climbing back down the ladder in the bandit's armour is no easy feat, but fortunately the real bandit is absorbed enough in his business that he doesn't hear the few sounds of jostling armour and creaking ropes. And the night is dark enough that he doesn't see anything in his peripheral vision. He lets out a sigh, and you can hear his belt being buckled up.

Map
http://img163.imageshack.us/img163/8743/screenshot20120612at128.png

Estanos steps up to Viktor, mending what would otherwise be a dangerous injury for the paladin. Viktor then finishes off the thylacine alpha, putting his sword through the creature's skull with a crunch. The other beast dies as one of Ilya's arrows finally makes contact with it.

The horses quiet themselves, still skittish, but under control. Merrin too looks relieved, still holding the torch that is the only source of illumination. His firelit face has a sheen of sweat on it from his nervousness. "Right... um, good work. Nothing for it now but to wait for yer friend to finish up."

You can feel free to RP with each other until Tireas finishes up. If you rest (still possible with RP, just not with running around), casters can get spells back for dawn. Otherwise you'll need to rest at some point tomorrow.

[Blisstake]

Tireas hopes for the best, and tosses a shuriken at the defensless man, aiming for the neck once again. While perhaps not using his weapons in the most effective manner, this seemed like too much of an opportunity for him to miss.

Throwing the dagger

Hit: [roll0] vs Flat Footed (and unarmored?)
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2]

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

The knife flies towards the bandit. Partially clothed and unawares, it strikes him. But it does not kill him. Instead, he gives a startled, pained shout. "Argh!" He spins around, searching for his attacked. He spots you, or rather, the dark shape that he can only barely make out. "Bastard," he roars. "Kressle, Dask's a traitor! He ain't on watch, an' he knifed me!"

He rushes towards you, doing up the last buckles of his armour as he moves. You can hear the sounds of movement from the camp.

Map
http://img88.imageshack.us/img88/3210/screenshot20120612at111.png

Estanos, Ilya, Viktor, Zinovia

The forest is quiet, except for the sounds of night creatures less dangerous than the pack of thylacines that now lies dead. But then you hear a shout. "Argh!" "Bastard,""Kressle, Dask's a traitor! He ain't on watch, an' he knifed me!"

If you want to go to the bandit camp, the fastest way is to mount your horses and gallop as fast as possible over that way. This will require a DC 10 ride check to get there in 5 rounds. For every 5 points by which you beat the DC, you arrive 1 round earlier. Failure means you arrive in 7 rounds. For every 5 points by which you fail, you arrive 1 round later.

If Tireas can hide again, we'll go back out of combat rounds, in which case you will arrive very quickly.

[Oh My God]

" Well, that was close...," breathes Estanos at the conclusion of the fracas with the thylacines. He pats one of the horses on its back, glad that the panic has ended and he can release its reins. He's just about ready to start looking for a place to bed down when the scream echoes through the forest.

" Wait-," the priest says almost immediately after the shout. He can feel the undercurrent of adrenaline from the recent battle increasing the chance some of his comrades might charge right in and try to save their stealthy friend. He holds out his hands, in the universal gesture of 'hold on'. " Tireas knows his way back to us. If they capture him, the difference of a few minutes won't matter much, we can still get there in time to effect a rescue. If he -doesn't- need us, our presence just ruins everything. We need to wait, prepare, and be his fallback position if he needs one."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia lowers her frail body to the ground, propping herself up against a tree. He grimaces at her partially-healed wound. Death had come very close; she had felt pain and darkness before, but this time was visceral and deadly. Wordlessly, she collects her spellbook, opening the ancient black grimoire, beginning to long process of rectifying her lack of firepower.

When Estanos speaks, she looks up at him with her dark eyes. "What you say is sound. And should the tiefling not be found, I shall not squander this opportunity to rest."

She looks down at the ground. "And priest... I hold no illusions that I owe my life to you... I... Thank you." Her lips purse in another pained look.

[Winterfell]

"Agreed," Viktor says with a sharp nod at Estanos. "It would be imprudent to rush in. The demonspawned - Tireas - may be able to escape unaided. If he does not return soon however, we must be prepared to move quickly."

[Blisstake]

"Shut up!"

Tireas throws another shuriken, hopefully stopping this bandit for good, while dashing backward to escape the notice of the rest of them.



To hit: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

I may still have sneak attack since it's dark out, but I don't think the damage matters much at this point. Here it is just in case: [roll2]

Moving 6 squares west.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

Your shuriken flies past the bandit, whistling through the night air. And then you take off in the opposite direction. The darkness cloaks and conceals you, and from the sounds of stumbling, it seems as though he has lost sight of you.

"Still out there, Kressle," the wounded bandit calls to his boss. "Ran off."

"Shut up, you gutless wonder," responds a woman's voice, crude and ill-tempered. "Stick close everyone. Stay together and we'll root out the bastard."

From the darkness, you can see the bandits clustered around their fire. They are lighting torches and marching in a line towards you.

Map
http://img26.imageshack.us/img26/3028/screenshot20120612at842.png
Kr is Kressle.

From your position, you are able to retreat easily through the bushes. We aren't going be strict rounds, so if you want to rejoin the rest of the party, saying so will be enough.

[Blisstake]

Scowling at the missed opportunity, Tireas quickly makes off back to the point where he split up.

When he meets back up with the rest of the group, he announces in a panicked tone, "They found me out... I wasn't able to kill as many as hoped. You probably heard them, let's get out! ...Oh, right, and I'll be needed that sword back."

[Oh My God]

The priest smiles at Zinovia and says," Your thanks is appreciated, but please, do not dwell upon it. I am sure you would have done the same for me." In the hands of another, this last sentence could have been a subtle barb, sarcastic and cutting. But Estanos delivers it straight, honest, and earnest. He honestly seems to believe it. With that, he settles down to rest and wait.

Later, when Tireas reappears...

" Oh... damn. Do you really think we must flee? Surely, they'll have trouble finding us." Estanos stands back up, looks around sharply at the surrounding inky blackness; not this this tells him much, the night shrouded forest being just as impenetrable now as it was moments before. " Tell me you attacked the camp from the -opposite- direction of where we came from. So they're searching in the wrong direction. Right?"

[Winterfell]

"You return," Viktor says, greeting Tireas. "I am glad to hear that you met with some success. I would suggest we relocate our camp further afield." He continues his thought, looking back towards the bandit camp. "I am sure that they will not give up their search for you easily. Our spellcasters need rest. On the morn, I suggest we confront them head-on."

[Blisstake]

"I attacked from the west, and fled back to that direction, but that doesn't necesarily mean we're safe. They think one of their own defected, so that may give us some time, or surprise. It doesn't look like you're all in fighting condition though... did something happen?"

Noticing the beast corpses on the earth, Tireas shakes his head and responds, "Never mind. Father Estanos, your safety and the safety of the group is my top concern. I suggest we either move or hide." Though his blood was telling him he needed to be in the fight right now, Tireas kept control of the situation. As much as he enjoyed their first skirmish with bandits, they were currently on much worse terms.

[RocketMan]

Ilya pulls himself together as the battle ends. Retrieving as many arrows as he can, be returns his bow to it's place over his back before peering out into the blackness of the forest. When Tireas appears suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Ilya gasps and takes a step backwards.

"Oh, it's just you, Tireas. Well that is a relief," he breathes. Listening to the rogue with a worried look, he continues. "I can't imagine that it's a good idea to stay here, what with bandits prowling the forest. We should move, and quickly, before they find us. Viktor is quite right; we'll return in the morning." When it won't be so damnably dark, the young man thinks to himself with a shiver.

[Leviathan]

"Yes," Zinovia says, her voice rasping. "If Tireas has weakened and confused them, it should be a trifle to destroy them on the morrow." The wizardess nods. "After our past difficulties this evening, I will be glad of the opportunity to put my powers to use once more."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Hastily packing up, you retreat away from the bandit encampment. The forest provides excellent shelter, its trees concealing your location behind their thick trunks and curtains of needles. You come to rest in a small clearing a few miles away from the Thorn River. The exertions of the day cry out for rest, and soon a welcome slumber is had...

4 Gozran, 4708

For those not up earlier, the rising sun awakens you, climbing over the treetops, casting long morning shadows of conifers over the clearing. Frost lies heavy on the ground, gently coating the greenery there in a fine lattice of ice. The air is chilly, not yet warmed by the sun. A few birds warble in one of the taller trees. Tied up, your horses graze on a patch of grass that has grown up in the clearing.

Evidently the bandits have not found you, if they even search. The day has only just begun, but there is much to do...

[Oh My God]

Estanos, as always, rises with the dawn. Following a brief wash (creating the water from the air itself), he addresses the group.

" Now that it's light out, we don't have much time." Estanos looks up at the sky, checking the sun's progress across the cerulean dome as best he can through the patchy canopy of leaves. " There is a time sensitive element here. The hostiles most likely will be frightened by what happened last night; they'll have found the body of their 'friend', and know that they're under some sort of attack. That's -good-, because it means that they'll go on the defensive, stay in one place. The last thing we want to do is engage in a running battle through forests that we don't know."

Out comes a stick, with which Estanos sketches out a crude map, and then further etches lines in to it as he speaks. " According to what we know, this path of approach is the one that will shield us from view the longest. We advance as a group until we reach the encampment proper; here Tireas splits off to the right, goes to ground, and keeps up with us, but unseen. He'll stay on our right flank; once we meet with the hostiles, he'll come in off that flank and take them by surprise. Viktor'll be drawing as much attention as he can; I'll be keeping him on his feet. Zinovia and Ilya, you two'll be focusing on keeping them from coming at us in mass numbers. Thin them out, slow then down."

He finishes scratching in the dirt. " Marrin, you'll stay here and keep an eye on the horses. If more thylacines show, get up one of these trees and wait for us after you cut the leads on the horses. Your life is worth more than some mounts. We'll be back for you." The (pacifistic?) priest looks around at his fellows, each in turn. " Thoughts? "

[Winterfell]

Viktor rises with the sun. The morning air is chill, and he dons his armor swiftly and as silently as he can, in preparation for the day's battle, before wrapping himself in his fur cloak. It's many miles to the encampment, he thinks bleakly. Fully prepared, he returns to the cluster of bedrolls and kneels next to Ilya. He places a gauntleted hand on the young man's shoulder and gently wakes him. "Ilya, it's dawn - past dawn - and we need to be away from here," the says softly.

"This is a good plan," Viktor says to Estanos, voice hardly concealing his surprise. Perhaps I misjudged the preacher, he thinks to himself. He seems competent in this matter. "I am ready. If we are all resolved, let us end this threat once and for all." The man's voice is firm and measured as he says this, not showing fear.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia too is up early, as it her way. The cold morning air is uncomfortable, and she remains wrapped in a heavy fur blanket. She uncorks her waterskin, pouring a portion of its contents into a small pewter cup, into which she casts a pinch of strange powder and a few chopped leaves from one of her pouches. She heats it over the fire, warming her bony white hands as she does so. With a feeble cough, she takes a sip of the warmed tea, drinking with a stillness punctuated only by the occasional shiver.

Zinovia listens attentively to Estanos' plan, nodding occasionally from her seated position, but is otherwise silent as the priest explains what he has in mind. Finally, she responds. "It will work. Let is tarry no longer than we need."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Marrin nods. "Right, er, do me a favour an' don't lose. That won't end well with me. Kressle ain't one of them mercy-full types."

Not the most inspiring words of support, but, nonetheless, you begin the trek back towards the Thorn River.

It is still very early morning when you approach the bandits' camp. The pale yellow sun has just begun to melt the frost and burn away the morning mist that hangs over the river. In the light of day, you can make out the camp to be little more than a rough campsite in an accommodating glade. The ground has been worn down by bandit boots to hard brown earth strewn with twigs, roots, and pebbles. A campfire sits extinguished in the middle of a circle of logs. The only man-made structures more complex than the log-turned-benches are a pair of platforms overlooking the camp: one to the south, across the stream from the main camp; and the other raised high in the trees, concealed near the firepit.

The bandits themselves are ready, visibly nervous and on guard. A few reinforcements have joined them, bringing their number to six in all, all unwashed men, except for their leader, who is a surprisingly small woman of fierce features.

Three of them, including Kressle, have taken cover behind a pair of logs. The other three have taken up positions near the tree platforms. All of them have longbows in hand.

You do not have long to take in the sight of the bandits, however, before you too are spotted. One of them points in your direction down the path. "Here come more!"

Kressle roars a battle cry. "Fer the Stag Lord and fer loot, boys! An' fer the pleasure of gettin' to kill idiots who think they can tame us!"

The sound of bowstrings snapping fills the camp as the bandits fire off a ragged volley towards you. Four arrows fly across the clearing. One sticks into Viktor's shield, while two more break into pieces after colliding with the ground. The last of them grazes Ilya's cheek before splashing into the Thorn River.

3 damage to Ilya

Round 1

Map
http://img823.imageshack.us/img823/2769/screenshot20120613at631.png

I wasn't totally sure what the plan was calling for, so hopefully I got it at least mostly right. If I didn't, both whoops and sorry!

@Blisstake: it might be tricky to see Tireas' T on the map. It's right above the compass, on the bandits' flank.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia watches dispassionately as the bandits' arrows sail through the air towards her. "This battle is over," she murmurs. "These louts simply do not know it yet. But they will soon."

She musters her strength, and does something that no one yet has seen her do: run. Each pace makes her gasp in discomfort. I... will... not... fail. But she manages to make it to the logs before finally collapsing. "Nhh..."

Double move action to move eight squares downwards (south) from her current spot. Free action to drop prone for +4 AC vs ranged.

[Blisstake]

Patience...

The anticipation of the battle causes the tiefling to twitch nervously as he waits for his allies to get into position. Slowly moving into cover, he tries not to think about the blood he can nearly taste in his mouth.

Moving two spaces to the west

[RocketMan]

Ilya groans as he is awaken. Blinking against the pale rays of morning sun, he pulls himself up. "Ugh," he sighs. "Really Viktor, must we go now? But it's so early..." He gives the paladin a plaintive look, but seeing the other man's stern expression, he relents. "Fine, fine, I'm going," the prince says, rising with a final yawn.
___________

It really is far to early in the morning to be doing this, Ilya thinks as the party trudges through the woods towards the camp. The forest looks entirely different now, bathed as it is in frost and light. Beautiful, he thinks, his petulance easing somewhat. Then, not paying attention, he stubs his toe on a log, and instantly the young man's grumpiness returns in a renewed flurry of curses and complaints.

These cease immediately as the bandit camp comes into view. Ilya strings his bow and prepares to charge. "I'm quite sure we'll all do wonderfully in there," he enthuses, plucking the string for practice one final time. As the party charges forwards, Ilya follows just behind, darting nimbly though the undergrowth. Sure the bandits have seen the party, he begins to sing another hymn, intertwining the music and his magic to bolster the party.

Ilya will move 25 feet forward and use Inspire Courage. +1 to attack and damage.

[Winterfell]

Viktor charges forwards at the bandits, shield raised to deflect arrows and sword brandished. His pace only increases as Ilya is struck with an arrow from one of the criminals. "You won't do that again," he growls as the runs forwards. "Not while I draw breath. I will bring you to justice." Reaching the log, the man swings his blade at the nearest bandit.

I'm pretty sure that Viktor can charge B5 with his 20 ft move speed doubled. If he can't, he'll just take a full move action to get as close as possible.

Power attack roll: [roll0]
Damage roll: [roll1]

Status:
HP 10
AC 17

[Oh My God]

As they're nearing the camp, the priest lays a friendly hand upon Viktor's shoulder as he points out the location of the (theoretical) female bandit leader. No words are said in prayer this time, but Viktor will be able to feel the physical presence of Sarenrae's protection one more; an odd feeling for a paladin of another god, certainly.

It takes a moment for the fact that their frail, generally retiring sorceress has charged ahead to sink in, and only a split second more for Estanos to discern what she has in mind. With that thought he quickly says,"Viktor, with me," in as confident a voice as he can manage. His holy symbol clutched in his head, he shouts,"For Sarenrae and Sainted Sar ibn Al-din! " And with that cry, Estanos thunders forward weaponless, worriless, and with his head held high.

Before the encounter proper, Estanos is casting 'Protection from Evil' upon Viktor.

Estanos is moving south with a double-move, placing himself one step behind wherever Viktor hopefully winds up; if Viktor -doesn't- move forward, Estanos is going to wind up standing next to where Zinovia went prone, and feeingl -very- stupid.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Zinovia takes the lead, running towards the logs from behind which the bandits have fired. She makes it there before falling. A few of the bandits laugh.

The laughter stop as Ilya begins to sing; even the crude thugs can recognize something strange in the sounds that wash over it battle. Viktor charges, inspired by the song and by the hurt done to Ilya by the bandit's bows. He swings his bastard sword; the bandit bowman cries out in pain and falls as the weapon cuts across his chest.

Estanos follows the paladin, shouting his Goddess' name on the wind.

Tireas creeps closer, ducking down behind one of the log benches by the firepit.

As Zinovia, Estanos, and Viktor reach the logs and the bandits behind them, Kressle shouts again. "Archers, kill th' priest! Everyone else, on the warrior, 'fore he gets another swing!"

A pair of arrows fly towards Estanos. One is not even close, a poorly aimed shot that flies off out of the camp entirely. The other slices through skin and cloth on its way past.

2 damage to Estanos

The bandit behind their log barricade drops his bow, drawing and slashing at Viktor with his sword. The paladin easily deflects it away harmlessly. Kressle uses her minion's attack to launch her own. She draws a pair of sharp hand axes, whirling them around her head with a psychotic mixture of hate and joy in her eyes. Her axe comes across Viktor's flank, dropping down to cut into the back of the leg. If he hadn't moved at the last minute, such a strike would likely have taken the limb off. As such, it still bites deep.

8 damage to Viktor

From his position, Tireas can see the bandit in the camp platform take aim from his position and fire. Once more, an arrow grazes Estanos.

1 damage to Estanos.

The other bandit remaining in the camp, this one at ground level, waves an arm to get his friend up on the platform's attention, then he points a finger northward and begins to move.

Round 2

Map
http://img690.imageshack.us/img690/200/screenshot20120614at905.png

[Leviathan]

Zinovia blacks out for a second, her body lying limp on the ground. I will not fail! It takes all the effort she can muster to raise one hand, forcing it out in the direction the bandits, palm raised, fingers poised. "Burn," she whispers under her rasping breath. The logs and the bandits behind them are engulfed in flame.

Still prone. Burning hands, hitting Kressle and the bandit, Ref DC19 for half damage.

[roll0]

[Winterfell]

"Argh," Viktor yells as Kressle's axe slices into his leg. The pain is excruciating, and the man can see blood pouring from the wound at an alarming rate. Abadar protect me, he prays silently, mustering his strength for a renewed assault. "Estanos," he calls, his voice somewhat weak, "I will require your aid." Then he takes aim at Kressle, his bastard sword igniting with holy flame as he attacks.

Smite evil and power attack on Kressle! B**** is going to die :smalltongue:

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

Status:
HP 2
AC 19 (21 vs. evil bandits, 22 vs. Kressle)

[RocketMan]

Ilya winces as he runs forward. Touching his cheek, he finds blood. Just what I needed, he thinks. Still singing, the bard observes the battle. Kressle and her minions are screened by a wall of enemies, but the bandit on the tower has been shooting Estanos. "Stop that," Ilya calls, a little shrilly, as he fires his own arrows at the bandit.

Let's see if the forum dice roller has decided to let Rapid Shot (on B1) actually work. Oh, and also maintaining Bardic Music as a free action.

Attack #1: [roll0]
Damage #1: [roll1]

Attack #2: [roll2]
Damage #2: [roll3]

[Blisstake]

With everyone in position, Tiereas dashes from his hiding spot, moving toward the unsuspecting bandits with his blade drawn. This hopefully would provide enough support for his allies that have had their fair share of carnage for the battle.

HP: 8/8
AC: 15

[roll0]
[roll1] + [roll2]

[Oh My God]

Estanos needs no prompting; he lays his hands upon the paladin, and the healing grace of Sarenrae flows in to him.

That accomplished, the priest takes a page out of Zinovia's book and takes to the ground, hoping to not acquire any more arrows in the next few moments.

Cure Light Wounds on Viktor: [roll0]

[ApatheticAbacus]

Zinovia's fire washes over Kressle and the other bandit who have positioned themselves behind their log barricade. The unfortunate bandit screams as he catched fire and is rapidly incinerated. Kressle too is burned, but remains standing, her armour and face singed.

Her death comes instead by Viktor's sword. The paladin's sword ignites with Abadar's just vengeance against the wicked turned to holy flame. Kressle parries one blow by the paladin, then another, each time growing more desperate. Finally, she fails. Viktor brings his blade across her neck, cutting cleanly through it. Her headless body falls to the ground.

Meanwhile, the bandit up high in the tree platform overlooking the river stands, trying to get a better shot. Ilya takes advantage of the misstep, feathering him with a pair of arrows. His corpse drops, splashing into the Thorn River.

Tireas dashes forwards, falling on the bandit who has been moving to attack. The long, curved weapon cuts through the bandit from behind, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

Only two bandits yet remain. One, standing by the broken-down wagon, starts to back away and flee. He fires desperately as he stumbles backwards. The shot, unsurprisingly, is not accurate, and falls away into the bushes.

The other bandit, on the platform, swears and jumps for it. It doesn't go well for him: a crack can be heard as he lands on his ankle, then a cry of pain. He isn't going to be walking any time soon. Still, he might be stupid, but he's a fighter. He fires his longbow at Tireas. Despite his pain, his shot flies true, puncturing Tireas' red skin.

5 damage to Tireas.

Round 3

Map
http://img864.imageshack.us/img864/3316/screenshot20120614at148.png

[Leviathan]

Zinovia pulls herself into an upright position as bandits die around her. She leans heavily on her staff, her body trembling. That was... draining. But I can do more. I must. With a jab of her fingers, she sends a silvery bolt flying unerringly towards the fleeing bandit.

Magic missile on B2: [roll0]

[RocketMan]

"Oh no, you're not nearly lucky enough to escape," Ilya says to himself, watching one of the remaining bandits fleeing. "We can question the one with the broken foot, I very much doubt he's going anywhere in a hurry." With that, the young man sprints forwards, knocking an arrows as he does so, before firing it at the runner.

Moving 30 feet towards B2 and attacking while maintain Bardic Music.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Blisstake]

Stumbling from the bleeding, Tireas makes his way over to the bandit that struck him. He looks as if he is about to decapitate the poor man, but instead swings with the flat of his blade, in a an attempt to knock the bandit out.

Nonlethal attack.

[roll0]
[roll1]

"It's your lucky day, fool."

[Oh My God]

Estanos stands back up, dusting himself off. It looking like everything is essentially over here, he checks the two bandits near the log for vital signs (the head bandit no longer having her head, he skips her).

[Blisstake]

Tireas calls over to Eastanos, seeing what he is doing, "Father, Estanos, there's one over here! I was... urg, gentle. Also, there's an arrow in my chest."

[Oh My God]

" That is a terrible place to keep your arrows, young man. I believe a quiver is more customary, and more comfortable in the bargain. Affordable, too," quips the priest as he finishes checking the vitals of the first bandit.

Mid stride to the second, he stops for a moment and peers in the direction of the calling tiefling, trying to see if he can spot him as he says," In all seriousness; are either of you actively dying?" Having said that, he gets back to work, pressing his fingers to the neck of the second bandit, checking for a pulse that is almost certainly absent. "If not, it will have to wait until I've seen to these unlucky, ah, fellows. They most certainly -are- dying. If they're not already too far gone."

[ApatheticAbacus]

The fleeing bandit who can still stand drops when Zinovia's magic missile hits him square between the shoulder blades.

Tireas finishes off the other with a blunt strike to the bandit's head. The man will have a horrible headache tomorrow, and a nasty lump, but he'll live.

Estanos checks the fallen for any signs of life. Of the eight bandits present in the camp, including Kressle, six are only corpses now. The two survivors are the pair of bandits who tried to flee only moments before - the one who took Zinovia's arcane missile, and the one who Tireas battered into unconsciousness. The former groans, smoke rising from his body. He is about thirty-five years of age by the looks of him. His face features hooked nose, a scar down one cheek and a tattoo in the shape of a dagger down the other. "Guess that's it then," he quips, despite his situation. "Always knew I'd die in some goddamn place too bloody insignificant to have a proper name." The later is is a large oaf of a man, with an overgrown beard, shaggy hair and brows, and a large rounded nose, thoroughly unconscious.

[Blisstake]

"That can be arranged if you aren't cooperative..." Tireas mutters, leaving the actual diplomacy to those more inclined (and charitable).

[RocketMan]

"Well, I must say, that was well-handled," Ilya says cheerfully as the battle subsides. He returns his bow to it's place on his back, and surveys the camp skeptically. "Hmm. And I had always thought one turned to a life of banditry for riches... Apparently not," the young man notes wryly. Still, it seems wise to inspect the shabby camp nonetheless.

Ilya will search the camp.

Perception: [roll0]

[Winterfell]

Viktor marches over to the fallen, conscious bandit. His sword is sheathed but his hand still visibly rests on the pommel. "We require information, and quickly," the man begins. "Is there any further banditry presence in the Stolen Lands, and where? Was this woman, Kressle, your leader?"

[ApatheticAbacus]

The conscious bandit raises an eyebrow at Ilya, looking him over. "Best get the lad out of his fancy silks. Tatzylwyrms like shiny colours. And no, most bandits don't get rich. Most bandits get dead, but we still get a few more years out of it than if we stayed to die somewhere else." He jerks his head towards his fallen comrade. "Take Cutter over there. They were gonna kill him over in Pitax. Matter of fact, they were gonna kill me up in New Stetven 'bout ten years back. Course I didn't murder anyone like Cutter over there." He shrugs nonchalantly. "But life isn't fair, is it?"

When Viktor demands information, the bandit's informal, casual air becomes far more serious. "Like I was saying, a bandit's life isn't really a good one, but that doesn't mean I'll turn on them just because you ask me to." He adds a disapproving look at Viktor's hand, resting on his sword's pommel. "Especially when you ask so nicely," he mutters.

"If you want to get anything out of me, we're going to have to negotiate properly. For one, what do I get? As charming as going to my grave knowing I betrayed people I've known for years is, I need something more tangible." He feigns having a revelation. "How about you swear on your holy almighty gods that you aren't gonna kill me, and then I'll swear that I'll do my best to help you hunt down the rest of the bandits? Sounds fair to me."

[Oh My God]

" We could swear such an oath. There isn't much of a need too, but we could, and mean every word." Estanos begins speaking as he walks over to the small discussion taking place, having seen to his grim task. His voice is pitched to carry, endless practice with oration boosting its volume and staying power. " That's the thing about choosing a path that resolutely does not waver from that of the good. You might swear oaths to that effect, but they're entirely beside the point. The oath isn't why you do the right thing; you are. The goodness lives in your heart." As he says this, the priest touches his own chest, and for the merest moment there is a corona of lambent golden light around his hand as if underscoring his point.

" And beyond that, if you're resolutely -evil-, well, the oath doesn't mean much either, does it?" Estanos begins to tend to Tireas' wound as he continues speaking to the bandit, the cadence of the words he speaks weaving with the tempo of work. " But you're not resolutely evil, are you? You've just had a difficult life. The difficulties of one's life can force temporary paths that are wrong. We know that. The trouble with taking the left-handed path, the path of darkness, is that each successive turning is that much worse. One begins with little transgressions, small sins. Eventually... not so small. You spoke of poor Cutter there murdering, and how you had not. You seemed to hold this as a distinction between the two of you. Is your conscience still clean of killing innocents? After living the life of a bandit?"

After a slight pause to let that thought sink in, Estanos continues,"The thing about these choices between right and wrong, the wonderful thing is that one is always making them. Each moment. Each moment one can choose to do the right thing. Every instant is a chance for an exit from darkness, a rebirth into the light."

Finishing with his ministrations to Tireas, Estanos turns to look once more upon the canny bandit. " If you really want to negotiate, I suppose you could. As the closest thing to a friend and confident you have in this situation, though, I would earnestly advise you against it. You are in a dreadfully bad position vis a vis haggling. Your capitol, the knowledge which you possess, is not unique. You are not the only survivor of this little group, merely the only one currently conscious. The others may not drive such a hard bargain as you, leaving you out in the cold, alone. Beyond that... have you never heard the phrase,' Savvy as a Kele****e Salt Seller'? "

" I urge you; Philanthropy is your best hope at the moment; not a market economy," Estanos concludes.


Heal ( Tireas - Remove Arrow Well ): Taking 10 for an 18

Activating 'Touch of Glory' on Estanos (+1 to the following Diplomacy check)

Diplomacy ( Influence Attitude on the Bandit - If he's hostile, the following roll. If he's merely unfriendly, taking ten for a 22 ): [roll0]

[Leviathan]

"Now here is a captive with a spine," Zinovia says approvingly, seating herself on a log. The wizardess looks over the bandit appraisingly, as one would an item. "Bold, shrewd, altogether too talkative, but still, he could be useful. Far more useful than the boy who led us here, I should think. I say we accept his bargain."

As Estanos speaks, the wizardess smirks. "Or perhaps we can have more for less. Very clever, priest." She looks to the bandit. "My position has been revised." She shrugs with a slightly mean-spirited smile playing about her shrouded face.

[ApatheticAbacus]

The bandit listens through all of Estanos' talk, an amused smile on his hard-worn face. He scratches his black hair, chuckling. "You sure do like to talk, don't you? So do I, as a matter of fact, so let me clear a few things up for you. First, never said I haven't killed an innocent. Only said I haven't murdered anyone." He smiles with an air of bemused secrecy to it, but then it turns good natured. Second, I don't think as much as you do about good and evil. Way I see it, they're for folks who don't know much about they way things work. You ever had your friend decide one night that he's going to kill you? You wake up and he's standing over you with a knife. Now the day someone can tell me what it is when you grab the knife, and struggle with him 'til it gets to his throat, that's the day I'll start thinking about good and evil. You might piss sunshine, priest; well, good for you. You're going to have a bit of a lesson coming to you if you stay in the Stolen Lands, though. See, good and evil are for people with nice cities and holy priests. Out here, there's just survival."

He really does like talking. He grins, an odd brew of wolfishness and sheepishness. "And suppose my knowledge is unique? Suppose Cutter's dumb as a drunken ogre?" He stops to chortle. "Well, he's not, so damn, you got me."

"Guess that means I should answer your questions, eh?" The bandit looks skyward, thinking back to Viktor's interrogation. "There're plenty more bandits. One of the only places to be a bandit, 'cause no one keeps us under control. That's changing, I suppose." He points over to Kressle's headless corpse. "Around her neck - or maybe on the ground, seeing as her neck isn't all in one place anymore - you'll find yourselves a nice little trinket. Amulet with a stag's head on it. That's the boss. He's a mean bastard. Don't know his name; call him the Stag Lord. Well, you ever want to see a true bandit king, you've come to the right place. He's got us all flying his banners." The captive looks around the camp, spotting something on the cart. He points at it: a case of green glass bottles. "Lives in luxury like king, the Stag Lord. Those are a special request of his. We were supposed to bring 'em down to his fort, but I guess that won't be happening."

[RocketMan]

The conscious bandit raises an eyebrow at Ilya, looking him over. "Best get the lad out of his fancy silks. Tatzylwyrms like shiny colours."

"I'll die without these silks," Ilya replies with a laugh. "They're like air, or water. I'd like to see you go from being a pr-, er, wealthy merchant's son to traipsing about this forsaken forest." He pauses, and his jesting seems to evaporate. "But let's assume, as you say, that I'm not cut out for this. Well, perhaps, but then again, who's asking who for their life right now?"

Ilya, continuing to listen, strolls over to the site of Kressle's corpse and retrieves the mentioned amulet. Toying with it idly, he returns to the interrogation. "And where may your 'boss,' this 'mean bastard' be found?"

[Blisstake]

"Oh, I like this one," Tireas comments with a grin when the bandit gives his reply to Estanos. "Can we please keep him alive?"

The tiefling absentmindedly feels around his arrow wound. Pain wasn't something he experienced too often, but he supposes that it will be something he's going to have to get used to out in these lands. The Stolen Lands had gained their reputation by being impossible to colonize, so it logically follows that there would be dangerous creatures - or people - preventing civilization's advance.

Could be worse, anyway. Not as bad as the mob beating, for sure.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia's thin, bloodless lips remain impassive at the chatty bandit's talk. "It is all very well that you find his humour to be to your liking, Tireas, but let us not encourage it above other things. As a means to our survival, bandit, we require information, not a jester."

The wizardess leans in very close to the bandit, speaking slowly and menacing, her voice little more than a whisper. "Tell me, why is it that we should leave you alive? We already have a bandit who Estanos appears to have domesticated. I can read that one like a book: little more than a boy, stupid, doubtlessly fervently religious by now. You are less clear. If we do not kill you, why would you not slip off into the night to regain your past existence, or cut us down in the dark? I do not care for repentance, or redemption, or gods. I will assume the worst of you - that your heart is shrivelled blackness that beats only for wickedness - and then have out of you an answer by which even such a person could assure me of his truthfulness. Otherwise, I will advocate your destruction."

[Winterfell]

Viktor looks at Zinovia as she speaks, a look of great disdain upon his face. "Lady Surtova is correct, as much as it pains me to admit it. We have no guarantee that he will not turn on us. Still..." the paladin says, thinking. "He can face retribution in Restov. We should return him to Oleg's Post and from there he can be taken north."

[ApatheticAbacus]

"Look, miss..." The bandit looks Zinovia over, not sure what to make of her. "Uh, lovely lady, you don't seem familiar with how banditry works. Main thing you're not supposed to do as a bandit is take up with 'the enemy.' That's anyone who isn't a bandit. Just talking to you is enough that I'll probably get a nice 'welcome home' spear in the gut. If you let me help you, I won't go back, 'cause I'm not crazy. It's that simple. And I know you don't want to hear about redemption, cause all bandits are awful and all creepy wizardesses who toast them aren't, but let me tell you, if clean slates had a price, that's what I'd be saving for."

Viktor suggests sending him to Restov, and the bandit waves his hands in protest. "Woah, no! Send me to Restov and I won't tell you anything else, and neither will Cutter. Better to just give me a good clean death here than to send me to wait in a prison for a few weeks before I get some worse death."

[Oh My God]

" It is less that I like to talk, and more that the proper tool must be taken to the task at hand. And words are what this situation calls for; using anything else would be worse than pointless. -You- are the one who likes words, friend..," Estanos pauses that half tick, obviously prompting the bandit to deliver his name. " And so words it is."

Estanos strokes his goatee, the metaphorical cogs inside his head turning at a brisk pace as he opines," As I see it, what we have here is a failure of trust. On the one hand, we have no way of trusting that you won't immediately go back to your old ways as soon as you're out of our sight. On the other, you seem to think you have no way to trust that we'll do right by you if you help us. Of course, the reason you don't trust us to do right by you is because you know that we don't think we can trust you and therefore can't simply let you go. Trust, ultimately, is an act of faith. But faith should never be blind."

"As it stands, you seem all together too pleased with yourself by half to be standing on the path of repentance and redemption. Trying to play silly little word games with the death you've caused?" Estanos shakes his head slowly, sadly.

" As to -your- question, friend? I would call that act evil. This, this was evil, too." Estanos gestures about the encampment, at the slain bandits, the decapitated leader, in the same movement encompassing the whole world. " Sometimes we must sin, to avert some yet larger tragedy. One death to save dozens. The greater good is a powerful drive. But it must be mourned. The instant that we stare into the abyss and we no longer blink is the instant when we have ceased being good men who must do something regrettable and instead become men whom the world itself regrets."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia sighs. "I have concluded that we have little time to waste with this man any longer. Let us decide quickly whether to have him as an ally, or dispose of him as a corpse."

"My own interest in the matter is sated," she continues, looking bored. "I believe that he will prove useful, and he has provided us with assurance that he will not turn against us, for his bandit companions would not have him back. Therefore my suggestion is that we take him with us back to Oleg's Post and, in exchange for his life, he can work for Oleg in whatever capacity he deems best."

[Blisstake]

"And how exactly would Oleg and Svetlana make sure that he stays within the trading post? Especially if they have weapons available, or failing that, kitchen knives. I would hate for anything to happen to them due to carelessness on our part."

Tireas stretches his arms, and looks back in the direction they arrived. "If you don't want to kill him, we can still take him back to Restov, and just do without the information. We have to explore this whole region anyway, right? We'll find the place eventually." While talking, the tiefling makes his way over to the crate filled with glass bottles. He opens one and sniffs it.

"Say, is this stuff any good? I can't remember the last time I had a drink."

[Leviathan]

"If you are concerned for the safety of Oleg and his wife, I see little reason why the presence of this man would detract from it. They sit, at this very moment, completely helpless and unguarded, and yet we do not fret. No, it is only when we capture an enemy who wishes to aid us that we must be cautious. If anything, this bandit would help in defending the post, if only because any time his former compatriots spend slaughtering him is time in which they are not murdering the proprietors."

[Winterfell]

"I am disinclined to leave this bandit alone at the Post with only Oleg and Svetlana. With no officers of the law present, that course of action may have serious consequences," Viktor says, before turning back to the bandit.

"Futhermore, you have not told us where this Stag Lod may be found."

Detect Evil on both bandits.

[ApatheticAbacus]

"Right," the bandit says. "Well, either way, looks like we're heading up north to Oleg's." He holds out his hands for binding.

I'd like to keep things moving and not get bogged down with this. Seems like everyone at least wants to take him back to Oleg's Post, so I'll move things along to that effect. You can decide what to do with him once there, or OOC.

You strip the bandits' camp. By the time you have finished, it is mid-morning. White clouds gather in the sky above the canopy of trees, and a gentle snow begins to fall. The ground and the trees' branches and needles are soon dusted in a fine layer of powdery snow. You reach Merrin and the horses and begin the ride back towards Oleg's Post. This time, though, you do not draw a straight route back. Instead, you spend the rest of the day on horseback, tracing the contours of the Greenbelt. Through the morning, you follow the Thorn River's winding path to the northwest. Then you double back, traversing the snow covered pine forest. The entire area is densely populated with evergreens, tangled and thick in some places, but spread out into more welcoming paths and groves in others. All of the trees are ancient and gnarled. Here and there, you notice small hunting trails, rabbit traps, and other signs of minimal human existence.

D4 Explored! 25 EXP

5 Gozren, 4708

You continue to meander your way back towards Oleg's Post. Taking note of each hill and dale of the Greenbelt, it takes you the entire day to explore this section of the forest. The sun melts away yesterdays snowfall, and by the time night has fallen, you have cleared the treeline.

D3 Explored! 25 EXP

6 Gozran, 4708

The night passes without incident. Today, clouds continue to menace in the sky, but there comes neither snow nor rain. The grasses of the plains surrounding Oleg's Post are buffeted by a strong easterly wind that sweeps down over you. At noon, the gates of the Post are in sight.

You are greeted by an unfamiliar sight. A pair of men stand above the gate on the palisade. One of them wears a suit of grey chain mail, with a surcoat embroidered with the red, two headed dragon on yellow and white that is the symbol of Brevoy. He has a crossbow, you note, and it is pointed in your direction. The other is slightly taller, with brown hair that verges on black, and a chiselled face. He wears heavier armour than his fellow: dulled silver plate mail, over which a similar, though slightly more extravagant, tabard is worn. "Hold," he commands. "State your business. Heavily armed parties are not common here."

[Oh My God]

" On the contrary, they've been all too common. It seems as though that's half the reason we're here." The foreign priest performs an elaborate and esoteric bow as he delivers his name. " I am Estanos ibn Rafiq ibn Omar ibn Jacin ibaq Cayin mar Nasra. We are a group under royal charter to explore the Greenbelt, and extinguish any threats to the greater good which lie within. You, on the other hand, must be the guards Oleg had been expecting when we first arrived several days ago. Good to see you."

" Looks like we won't need to worry about whether its safe to leave our prisoners here, after all," Estanos says in an aside to his fellows. He smiles, and waits for the guards to accept their credentials and indicate that they won't be peppered with bolts if they advance.

[Blisstake]

"Oh, what a shame," Tireas says as the guards confront them. "You came just too late to miss all the action earlier. You can ask Oleg and Svetlana, though; they know we'll be good."

[RocketMan]

"Greetings, friends," Ilya calls cheerfully from horseback. "I'm glad to see that we shan't face all the perils of these lands unaided. Also," he continues, brightly. "Tis heartwarming to know that we won't return here to find this place burned to ground."

"Might we know your names, good soldiers of Brevoy?"

[Winterfell]

Viktor remains dour the whole ride back to Oleg's Post, glowering at the three bandits regularly. He is very glad to see the Post again, with the possibility of a hot meal beckoning. Then, suddenly, he tenses. The banner of Brevoy, he thinks, worriedly. Have the King's men tracked us here so quickly? Perhaps...

The paladin rides through the gates warily, hand ready to go to his blade at a moment's notice. He breaths a sigh of relief as he observes the men. Common guards, not the agents of the crown.

"Greetings, guardsmen. Your presence here is welcome," Viktor says, his tone darker than his sentiment. "We have returned from the wilds, having destroyed a bandit camp. We have prisoners who must be dealt with."

[Leviathan]

Zinovia's frail body is stiff and tired from days of riding. This has also made her irritable. "Now open the gate and cease this foolish impediment. You know what we are. We have done your work for you, and this warrants your respect."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Forgot to give the detect evil results to Viktor in my last post.

Cutter and the talkative bandit (who shall shortly be named) are both faintly evil.

Also, loot from Kressle's fight will be OOC.

"Kesten Garess," the plate wearing guard replies. "Open the gates," he calls down. You can hear a bolt being slid back, and the Post is open to you.

Garess comes down from the wall to meet you. "I command these guards." He eyes your prisoners. "We'll lock them up in the store room." To the prisoners: "Don't try anything stupid or we'll cut you down."

"Right," the talkative bandit says. "Beginning to think I may have done something stupid already," he quips. "Name's Vasily Derorn, not that the guard making death threats cares about names." Cutter, who you've found to be thoroughly unpleasant, silent and glaring, throughout your journey, grunts. The two men are led off to be locked away.

Kesten waves you over to a tent bearing the Brevic seal that has been erected near the wall. He bends over, unlocking a chest that sits on the ground there. "I've been authorized by the swordlords and the Crown of Brevoy to grant a reward to bandit slayers." He removes a sack of gold. "One hundred gold coins each for your defence of the Post and your victory against the others."

Like the man said, 100 gp each.

You notice now that you are inside that the Post bustles with activity, far busier than you have seen it before, as though your victory against the bandits has lifted a curse.

Oleg is nailing a piece of curling brown parchment to a wooden wanted board that stands in the courtyard, joining several others that hang there.

Three of Kesten Garess' guards sit around a table in the courtyard, chuckling with two leather clad men with bows strapped over their backs who you surmise to be hunters.

And finally, a middle aged man with a ruddy complexion, balding brown hair, and a long, drooping moustache, wearing a simple brown wool robe, sits at another table, quietly reading from a book.

[Blisstake]

"Oh, thank you, good sir," says Tireas as he accepts the money. "But killing bandits is its own reward. Not that I dislike the money, mind you."

Walking up to Oleg at the courtyard, Tireas comments, "A wanted board? Well, if all the guards are stationed here, I can't imagine this could apply to anyone other than ourselves. What needs killing?"

[Oh My God]

" Marrin, could you tend to the horses please? Perhaps Goodwoman Svetlana has some carrots for them. I think they've earned themselves a treat, don't you?," the priest requests of the demi-bandit.

Heading towards Oleg, Estanos asks the man in passing," I was wondering if you were at all willing to consider having an addition to the post built. These aren't likely to be the last prisoners we take, and I would be happier to put them in a place more secure than your storeroom next time, if for no other reason than I worry for the safety of your stock. We've some reward money, and I'm willing to fund the construction myself. Think about it, and let me know before we head back out, if you would? We'll probably be staying at least for a meal, if not the night." Having said that, he leaves Oleg be for the moment, and walks over to the robed reader, sensing something of a kindred spirit in the man.

" You don't seem to be associated with the guards." Estanos brings himself up short, seeming to cut off his conversational thrust as he chuckles ruefully and apologizes. " Please excuse my manners; it seems it takes only a few days in the wilds for me to forget them. I am Estanos ibn Omar ibn Jacin mar Nasra, devoted servant of Sarenrae the Healing Flame." He repeats a somewhat more restrained version of the bow he delivered outside the fort, touching his forehead and lips as he does so. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Do you mind if I join you?"

[RocketMan]

"Thank you," Ilya says as Kesten Garess hands off the reward. He is unusually subdued, as if not wanting to draw attention to himself. A Garess, he thinks to himself. He may not be looking for me, but with his family he might recognize me nonetheless. Taking his gold, Ilya hurries off to somewhere less conspicuous.

Spotting the laughing hunters and guards, the young man joins them. "Something humourous gentlemen?" he asks with a smile. "Unless I'm much mistaken, you two are hunters. Is there any chance you might know something more about these woods than a group of five bandit-hunters who arrived fresh from Restov not a week ago?" he asks wryly. "If there's anything you'd care to share, it would be most appreciated."

If there's anything more to know about Kesten Garess, other than that he's a Garess and a Garess is a noble, perhaps a Knowledge (nobility) check might reveal it?

Knowledge (nobility): 1d20+6 (dndsheets is down at the moment, so I'm going by memory with that bonus).

[Leviathan]

Zinovia follows Estanos over to the robed stranger. She eases herself down opposite him, feeling faint, wiping away cold sweat from her brow. Her eyes close, and for a moment it looks like she has fallen asleep. But they open again, looking with brazenly at the man's book, more interested in it than him. "A reader," says, her voice little more than a whisper. "That must be a rare thing here. I am Zinovia Surtova, devoted servant very little," she introduces herself cadence as Estanos. Of course, unlike the priest, Zinovia has already seated herself, not bothering to ask whether she is welcome at all.

[Winterfell]

Viktor pays neither Oleg nor the hunters nor the older man any attention. As the company disperses, he hurries to speak with Kesten Garess. Approaching, he greets the commander.

"Hail, Sir Garess," the paladin says with a salute. "As I have said before, your presence is most needed here, for these lands are yet lawless and full of evil. Still," he says, cracking a rare grin, "being stationed here must be better than spending all your days at court."

"My party has ventured some short distance south of the Post here," Viktor continues. "As you are aware, we have dispatched a significant camp of bandits. However," he says, his countenance again grim, "a larger threat has come to our attention. It seems the bandits of the Stolen Lands are united under the rulership of the so-called Stag Lord and likely pose more of a threat than was initially thought. You and your men ought to be aware of these... difficulties."

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

Tireas approaches Oleg at the wanted board. The trader turns at the tiefling's appearance to speak to him. "Tireas, right? Yeah, it's mostly for you. Thought you could use some coin down here, so I set it up. Lot of hunters an' other folk have trouble. Way I see it, problems get fixed and you get some more resources. Suppose someone else could do 'em and claim the bounty, but not many with your skills 'round here. Maybe some of the strangers who came in day before yesterday with the guards, but they didn't even look at the board."

Wanted Posters
WANTED: TUSKGUTTER

Cant rite to good so I mak this short. Tuskguttor is a meen boar. Ever hunter in the green belt got a woond by Tuskguter. Rite nasty pig. Last yeer I tusseled with him. Got my leg of all the way. Now Im retired cus cant hunt with one leg. Anyon hoo brings me Tuscgutters hed gets my bow and arros! Kil that pig!!!

Vekkel Benzen

WANTED TATZLWYRM

Wanted: One tatzylwyrm head, good condition.
Pay: 750 gold pieces.
Deliver to: Oleg Leveton.

CROWN PROCLAMATION: SOOTSCALE KOBOLDS

The Swordlords of Restov, acting on behalf of the Crown of Brevoy, in light of the current kobold threat to the region known as the Stolen Lands, hereby authorize and deputize any and all volunteers to act as our agents in this matter. They are to eliminate the Kobold threat to the stability of the region and the welfare of its inhabitants.

Success in this matter will be rewarded. The Swordlords or Restov have charged Captain Garess with the holding of a prize of 1,000 gold pieces, to be discharged upon completion of the task.

Oleg looks as though he's remembered something suddenly. "Oh, and 'Lana got some letters sent this way from one of our provisioners. She said one of them's for you."

As if one cue, Svetlana comes out of the house, holding a pair of letters. "I'm so glad you're all safe! Tireas, this one's for you," she says merrily, handing off the letter before continuing on her way.

Estanos and Zinovia

"A fellow priest, then" the moustached, robed man replies, his voice rustic, slow of speech without being plodding or ponderous. "I am Jhod Kavken, of the Church of Erastil." When Estanos mentions his lack of manners, Jhod chuckles heartily. "No need for apologies, brother. I am a simple man; pleasant company with or without manners will do me fine."

To Zinovia, he adds, that, "indeed, the Parables guide me on my journey. I could lend them to you if you wish more devotion."

"But you must be the Charter bearers that I've heard so much about. You have brought hope to the people of this stead, whether you know it or not, and for that, Erastil smiles upon you.

The priest pauses, stroking his moustaches. "I wonder if I might ask a boon of you? I travelled here because of a vision. In my dream, I saw an ancient temple to my god, overgrown and empty. A great bear guarded it, and I could not enter. I believe that the temple of my vision is somewhere in the Stolen Lands. I had come here to ask if any of the hunters know of such a place, but they do not. If you find it in your travels, I would be grateful for the news."

Just then, Svetlana comes hurrying over to Estanos. "Sorry Fathers. I've got a letter for you," she says to Estanos. She holds it close to her nose, taking a deep breath. "Mmm, smells like myrrh and a dozen other spices." She hands it over after another sniff.

Ilya

The hunters and guards welcome Ilya to their table. "Good on you for askin'," a hunter with a bushy brown beard replies. "Lots o' men don't an' most of them ain't around no more. Not a forgivin' place, this."

"You want my advice, go see Bokken; it'll keep ye alive. He's a damn buggered nuisance to talk to, but he brews a mean potion, an' when ye've been wolf-chew, ye won't regret it."

This is met by a mumbled agreement by the man's companion. "An' o' course, there's the fey. Mostly they be alright little bastards, only play tricks and such. But if they're the little blue fellers, then ye best run or fight. Those ones is called 'mites' and they ain't the nice fairies."

Bokken has a hut at F2 on the map.

Ilya
You can't recall any specifics, but you know that Kesten Garess suffered some disgrace back in Brevoy.

Viktor

"I see," Kesten Garess says, frowning severely as Viktor gives him the news of the Stag Lord. "Thanks for the warning, friend," he says, dropping the "garrison commander" attitude somewhat. "I'll tell my men to be on the lookout, and maybe talk to some of the hunters about forming a militia."

Kesten shrugs his broad shoulders, his plate mail clanking. "I guess you should know," he says slowly. "We came down here at the same time as some Issians from House Surtova." Kesten nods at the heraldry on Viktor's armour. "They went out into the wilderness the day after we arrived. They barely said a word to anyone but each other, honestly."

[Oh My God]

" We would be only too glad to help, Brother Jhod." Estanos nods in assent. "When we find this temple, is there anything in particular we must do? Slay the bear? Not slay the bear? Bless something?"

Obviously a little startled by the mail delivery, it takes him a moment to react. "Ah, a letter? Splendid. My thanks, Goodwoman Svetlana." Taking the letter, the priest carefully opens the packaging and begins to peruse it.

[Blisstake]

"I should write these down then," says Tireas, pulling out some parchment and a quill. "Hmm, never heard of a Tatzl worm before, but worms don't really sound that dangerous. Oh, that's wyrm; those are like dragons aren't they? Never fought one of those before."

When Svetlana presents him the letter he comments, "Why thank you, good woman. I do wonder who this is from."

[Leviathan]

"I will do without your parables, Jhod. I do not need guidance on where my life must lead, and what I must do. Like you, I am already aware of the paths that I must travel."

"Pour devil's blood over the altar?" Zinovia adds quietly to Estanos' query about what they must do to the temple. Her wan face curls into a small smile, her gaunt cheeks twitching. It's not entirely clear whether she's joking.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas

"Yeah," Oleg says, "they're a local beast. Biggest predator around here, wingless dragons, hide in the forest and ambush." The stolid man shrugs, a common gesture, it seems. "Never seen a live one. Supposed to be as big as a man, sometimes bigger. Figured a head to mount in the Post would scare away troublemakers and animals. Don't want to tangle with one. And it makes for good conversation for the hunters."

Before Svetlana leaves, she replies to Tireas' question about the letter. "There's no name on it, but it's nice, fancy paper." Indeed, the only name upon the letter is "Tireas Slate," written in black ink with a slight flourish to the writing. It has been carefully sealed with wax, though no mark has been pressed into it.

Estanos and Zinovia

"In my vision, the bear was ferocious and dark, corrupted. It guarded the way to the temple, and I fear that it will be a threat to you. I suspect that it must die."

Jhod looks confused and perturbed by Zinovia's comment, as if trying to make sense of it. He glances briefly at Estanos. "No, despite the bear's corruption, young lady, I believe that the temple is not lost to Erastil. I will re-consecrate it after you have found it, and, in time, I hope that it will flourish."

He hesitates, looking back at Zinovia. "And... young lady, if you wish it, I can try to heal what ails you..."

Estanos
You open the letter's envelope. Inside is a letter, written on fine papyrus. The hand that has inscribed it is fine and flowing, and the language is Kelesh-ite.

I greet the new day with you, Estanos ibn Rafiq mar Nasra. May our Goddess watch over you and guide you always.

I write you this letter from the golden halls of the Grand Temple at Persipoli. I have lived here for my entire life, and yet its spires and statues and mosaics leave me in awe. It is truly a wondrous place.

Your letters have found me well and content, but I cannot be so for long. Even with the beauty of the city and the peace I find in my prayers, I cannot but feel your pull. Your work calls to me; it has made me question myself and my calling. To walk in contemplation in a temple, to learn the arts of the sword as mediation. These were my joys, but I startle myself from that sleep to find that you do true and good works in the world, where our light is needed most. I am told by Arch-Canoness Shazzar that I cannot leave. Sarenrae herself granted you your sign and summoned you to your station, while I have only my conscience and my love summoning me to you. I cannot deny those any longer.

This is the last letter you will receive from Persipoli. It will take me many months, but I am coming.

May the sun's rays never fail to warm you.

Petra

[Oh My God]

Upon reading the letter, Estanos is struck stock still for a long moment. He obviously can't quite believe the words he's reading.

Once the moment passes and he's moving again, Estanos folds the letter up once more, places it within the envelope for safe keeping, and tucks it in to the folds of his clothing. He blinks a few times, and then says to " Please, try not to let what Zinovia says trouble you, Brother. The path she is walking is not one I imagine you or I would be able to understand, but she means well."

" As to your request, all I have heard about Erastil is nothing but good. To aid one of his faithful in their task can only serve to improve the world. I assure you, we will do our best to see your hopes realized."

[RocketMan]

"Thank you, good sirs, you've been invaluable," Ilya says smoothly. No point antagonizing the locals, he thinks to himself. No matter how provincial they might be. He smiles again, just to make sure they're appeased. "And however nasty this Bokken is, I'm quite sure he won't rival the bandits we just met. Or the cold!" Ilya says with a final laugh.

[Winterfell]

“Issians?” Viktor says, frowning. “From House Surtova? It... it is strange that they are here under their own jurisdiction, separate from your command,” the paladin says, he voice wavering only slightly with concern. Surely these Issians can only be the King’s agents, unless - no, why else would they be here?

“I thank you for your time, Sir Garess,” he says, giving a stiff bow before hurrying away. Crossing the courtyard, he spots Ilya speaking with a group of hunters. He approaches, standing just behind the prince and whispers in his ear.

“Ilya,” he says quietly, “I have disturbing news. Your father’s agents reached the Post, and are now somewhere in the wilderness. We - you - must be cautious, and discreet. Please, be careful.”

[Leviathan]

At Jhod's offer of healing, Zinovia begins to laugh uncontrollably, the first full-bodied noise she has yet made. She recovers, shaking her head, her eyes glinting with feverish light. "...If you had that power, priest, I do not think you would need our help finding mere ruins."

And I shall incur no more debts.

She clears her throat. "But enough of this. I have heard ill spoken of Erastil, but I find the prospect of an ancient temple tantalizing. It may be empty, but the faint chance of some secret has to it an allure."

[ApatheticAbacus]

I... see." Jhod looks as though he does not see at all while Zinovia laughs. "That may be, but if you should ever decide to live differently, my offer still stands, hopeless though it may be."

He bows to Estanos. "And I look forward to learning more of Sarenrae from you. Now, I must excuse myself. I promised Svetlana that I would earn my keep chopping wood, aside from extending healing and other remedies to those in need." The ruddy-faced priest stands, spry for his age. "Until our next meeting."

[RocketMan]

Ilya doesn't look nearly as concerned by Viktor's news as perhaps he should be. While his eyes do widen, briefly, at the mention of Surtova agents, he quickly regains his cool.

"And I was so sure we had out-witted them too," Ilya says with a laugh. "I suppose you're right, I had better lay low, or else I'll risk being dragged out of these freezings woods and back to the palace!" he says, clearly enjoying the irony. Then, more seriously, he continues, looking levelly at Viktor. "I will be careful. I know what I have to look forward to back home."

[ApatheticAbacus]

You spend the rest of the day at Oleg's, and take the night to rest there. It is a refreshing change from the last several days that no watches need to be taken.

7 Gozran, 4708

The day dawns bright and sunny, and, by the time that the dawn has passed into morning, the air has warmed considerably, bringing with it scents of blooming flowers and growing grasses. You leave the Post behind, watching Kesten Garess and his watchmen atop the walls shrink to dots, and then disappear.

Turning your horses eastward, you cross the plains quickly. Mapping the region, you ascend to the tops of heights of land to obtain the best views. Around you, the plains are vast expanses of hardy grasses growing in clumps amidst strewn rocks and boulders.

As the day creeps on, it grows warmer still, and you come across a small, circular hut situated at the top of a small hillock. It has stone walls coated in moss to the point where it is almost part of the hill. The roof forms a point, with smoke drifting upwards from a simple chimney. Approaching, you can see a face watching you through a grimy window beside a wood door. It is male, with a tangled grey beard and long hair. It quickly disappears, and the door opens.

A man emerges, jittering. He wears a loose, faded garment that might once have been a robe, but now is little more than cloth. "What do you want," he asks in a high-pitched voice. "Bandits? Nononono, bandits know better than to come to old Bokken. Taught them better. Well come now, tell what you want, or go away and let Bokken have his tea!"

[Leviathan]

Zinovia does not dismount from her horse as the strange old man comes out of his house. It is too tiring a process for the wizardess, and this man is likely too insignificant.

"We are here," she says from the depths of her hood, "to teach bandits who have not visited your abode a lesson that they will not soon forget, old man. We are also tasked with exploring this land. If you have any sense in your head, then your help would be welcome."

[Winterfell]

"Pull yourself together, man!" Viktor barks at the hermit. "We have no intention of harming you. We are tasked by the Crown of Brevoy with exploring the Stolen Lands - any aid or information you possess is welcome."

[Oh My God]

For the moment, Estanos says nothing to the hermit, fearing that the obviously easily excitable man will suffer from an overload of sensory information. Instead, he looks to the surrounding countryside, and drinks in the wilderness.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Bokken's head swivels back and forth, then he leans in and whispers to you, conspiratorially. "For me to welcome my help being welcome, you have to make yourselves welcome. I need fangberries. Lots of fangberries! They grow in patches. Great big fangberry patches. Full of fangberries." He breaks into crazy laughter. "Don't let the fangs get you! If you bring me a bushel of fangberries, I'll tell you what I know, and even give you potions."

The madman scowls, perturbed suddenly. "Now I'm a hermit, so you should be going. I don't entertain. So as your questions or off you go!"

[Winterfell]

"What are these fangberries for, hermit?" Viktor demands, eyes narrowed suspiciously. He isn't particularly eager to help this strange man acquire a possibly dangerous substance without at least knowing why he wants it.

[Blisstake]

"Good sir... er, man, we mean no offense. We simply thought you'd be willing to allow us to purchase some potions and poultices from you, since we've all heard such great things of you."

Tireas stiffles a yawn before continuing. "But we'll get fang berries if that's what you need. Keeping in mind we have no idea what they look like or where they grow of course."

[ApatheticAbacus]

"Oh. You want to buy potions? Why didn't you say so? I buy, sell, trade, just like a proper shopkeep! You can see my wares if you want."

He has 2 CLW potions, 2 endure elements potions, and 1 CMW potion in stock. He can make anything from the adept spell list of second level or less.

"What do fangberries look like, hmm? They're... berries. With... fangs. Big. Sharp. Point. Thorns." Each word is punctuated by the mad hermit making a clawing gesture with his hands. "Oh, and they're nice and shiny and red."

He scowls at Viktor. "None of your business, some might say. Very rude to ask. Did I ask you what you were going to do with your Charter? No. No no no I did not. Maybe I'll eat them. That would be fun. De-fang them first. Maybe I'll use them in potions. Maybe I'll use them as bait. Who knows? I don't! Not yet!"

[RocketMan]

"You didn't have to ask what we're doing with our Charter because we told you," Ilya says, raising an eyebrow and looking at the hermit with a smirk. "Still, Viktor, I hardly think it will risk countless lives to bring the old man some berries..."

[Leviathan]

"I tire of this lunatic," Zinovia whispers to the group. "If we happen upon some of these fangberries that he desires, then we can consider our options. But for now, let us be on our way. It is not our task here to make pleasant conversation with every misbegotten inhabitant of the Stolen Lands."

[Oh My God]

In the hushed, whispering council initiated by Zinovia, Estanos interjects, " We should, indeed, be on our way. I keep hoping we'll stumble upon the lost temple Brother Jhod asked us to find. And we can little accomplish that standing here, conversing with this apothecary."

" With regards to his errand I, at least, have no concerns about the man. I feel nothing ill in his manner; only... interesting," the priest finishes with a shrug.

[Winterfell]

Viktor nods in agreement with the others. "Indeed. We should move on. It is likely that we will find these fangberries in the course of our explorations," he says. "We can return at that point. However deluded, he may be a valuable ally in these uncivilized parts."

[ApatheticAbacus]

The old hermit waves you away with his hands, as if you were large and undesirable flies. "Yes, yes, come back with berries. Don't get eaten. That just makes the animals bigger and then I might get eaten!"

8-9 Gozran, 4708

You set out once more, heading east across the expanse of plains, much like those that have come before. They slope into rising hills dotted with copses of trees, often cut by millennia of harsh winters into rocky cliffs and ridges. Soon, as the hilly plains continue, you come to the edge of your Charter's jurisdiction. From the top of a hill, you can see that, to the East, the region known as the Nomen Heights rise higher still, with cloudy mountain peaks in the distance.

You turn back Westward, travelling south. The hills give way once more into the familiar flatlands that you have spent much of your time traversing. Spring has brought forth wildlife and even many of the few stubborn hunters out of hibernation. You spot the occasional man walking through the grass, inevitably headed up towards Oleg's Post with a brace of rabbits or a skinned dear over his shoulder.

10 Gozran, 4708

On your fourth day on horseback since leaving Oleg's Post, as you near the forests of the Greenbelt, the grasses of the plains turn to green scrubs, gravelly dirt, and the ever-present mosses that cling to rocks and the trunks of what few trees there are. The sun shines brightly, and cool gusts of wind swoosh through the air.

At noon, you see a strange sight. On a patch of plain that seems like any other, lie an assortments of bones. They are laid out in no particular pattern or semblance of order, but instead lie randomly, strewn. The recognizable ones seem to be those of animals: a large elk skeleton fallen on its side, and several deer skulls...

Tireas
Your keen eyes note that, at the centre of the strange boneyard is a circular patch of earth unlike the rest, slightly darker than the rest. And then, as you look at it, it moves, sliding up a few inches, as though the circle has been lifted up like the lid of a jar. And from underneath, you catch a glimpse of eight pairs of beady black eyes watching your party. The earth closes shut again.

[Blisstake]

"What a nice man," Tireas says in a dull voice as they continue on their way.

***

As the group approaches the newest location, Tireas comments, "That's odd," as he viewsthe animal remains, wondering what could have caused it. When he notices the slight shift of the earth however, he takes out his blade and quietly says, "Watch out. Keep your eyes to the ground."

Preparing an action to attack anything advancing at Tireas

[RocketMan]

"The ground?" Ilya says, sounding skeptical. "Whatever for? I doubt the earth is going to suddenly decide to try and swallow us up. Or has anything in particular inspired your new fear of dirt, Tireas?"

[Blisstake]

"Sir Ilya, I mean no disrespect..." begins Tireas in a hushed whisper, "But it would be best if you just listened."

[Oh My God]

" Bear traps? " Estanos quietly inquires after a moment of reflection, the priest slowing his pace, his eyes glued to the ground, carefully minding each step. " Quicksand? Pits? "

[Winterfell]

Viktor scowls, about to bark a retort at Tireas, but stops himself. The demonspawned is probably right, he thinks. Ilya isn't prudent, and if there is some peril lurking it is best to remain quiet. The paladin says nothing, but rests his hand on the pommel of his sword and scans the terrain.