Tales of the North: Terror Beneath the Ice

[Adamant Sunrise]

A spray of frigid water breaks over the prow of the ship, sending yet more chunks of ice washing over the deck as the hands struggle to rein in the rigging in the face of the howling blizzard. Snow and ice cling to the sail of the longboat, threatening to freeze it solid even as the craft races over the sea. As bad as it is, the quartermaster tells you that it will soon be far worse. Winter is setting in, and in a few weeks' time, the entire coast will be closed to shipping, lost in months of perpetual darkness. Already, the sea is beginning to freeze over. For weeks now, your craft has plowed through a field of floating chunks of ice that batter continuously against its sturdy timbers, keeping the passengers awake on the occasional nights when the sea has been calm enough to afford any sleep at all.

The ship plunges down the crest of an enormous wave and breaks through the other side. Through a break in the weather, you catch a glimpse of the pale gleam of a signal fire in the distance - land at last. A cry goes up from the masthead, and despite the deafening crash of the waves, is answered by a rousing chorus of cheers from the crew. The ship's mate takes you aside and points out a rocky outcropping barely visible through the blizzard, identifying it as the last stop on your voyage, the remote trading post of White Horn Bay.


~

http://mormonsoprano.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/viking_ship.jpg

Tales of the North:
Terror Beneath the Ice

~

The Hydra is a lean and sturdy vessel, typical of the oceangoing cargo ships famously built by the Luskan waveriders for their daring trade voyages over the Trackless Sea. Double-masted and with square sails, she retains the sleekness of her smaller cousins, the swift-raiding longships made infamous by the northern pirates, despite her greater bulk, deeper draft, and the addition of a covered midships offering protection against the elements.

Though she is not built with any consideration for passengers, her master, like most traders, can be persuaded to clear enough space belowdecks for a few extra hammocks on each voyage, provided that their occupants are willing to work or pay handsomely for their passage. So it is that you have spent the last two weeks crammed into a hold overflowing with barrels of pickled and smoked meats, dried grains, preserved fruits, spices, tobacco and other necessities and luxuries the remote outposts of this far corner of the world will need to see them through the long winter ahead - reading, gambling with the crew, or getting to know your fellow passengers.

On this evening - the third night of Marpenoth, of the year 1089 by Luskan reckoning - spirits are high among the northmen. Despite the freezing cold and the ferocious blizzard, the sighting of a distant signal fire through the storm has promised the end of your arduous passage and the imminent sighting of land after weeks at sea. As songs break out among the bearded sailors working the rigging, the ship's mate, a grizzled veteran, takes you aside and bids you go below to check your belongings, for before the night is through, you will be safely ashore at your destination.

No sooner have you descended into the hold than calamity strikes. Without warning, space is turned upside down as a tremendous, groaning crash resounds through the timbers. The ship pitches upward like a horse rearing on its hind legs, slamming you violently against the deck. As cries of alarm and fear ring from above, it becomes clear that the worst has happened - the Hydra has struck something.

[Virtue]

Bryagh was shaken to her feet, as she tumbled onto the hard floor.

She disliked ships. Only for her diety's vision with which she was following, would she have considered traveling over water at all. She had bartered passage in the ship, only towards the next port of call, but now there seems to have been trouble. She shook her head and tried to regain her footing, when a violent crash rocked the ship again, sending her prone.

The young woman, shook away her crimson hair as it fell over her eyes. She gritted her teeth and stood up carefully, using the wall of her small cabin to steady herself.

By the Flame, what is going on up there!

Quickly, Bryagh moved to her bag and strapped it on her back, retrieving her few possessions and gathering them together. She didn't trust the crew, to leave her belongings in the cabin. There were few she really did trust actually. In her travels, she had learned and experienced more than she ever would have, in her home so very far away. Not all of it was welcoming however, and the farther she got from family, the darker the world seemed to get.

Finally, Bryagh had finished donning her metal armor, it's platinum color offset by her pale complexion and fiery hair. On the front of the breastplate, shone a gold symbolic dragon, it's claws reaching out to where her heart would be underneath. As the young woman strapped a delicate bladed sword to her belt, she let out a quick sigh, as she mentally hoped that nothing serious had happened at the top of the boat. She hadn't signed on to have to fight her way through steel and weapon, if they were boarded by pirates, monster or worse.

"Very well, let us see what has happened."

Bryagh steadied herself again, as the ship rocked more violently, and the young woman quickly hurried up the stairs to the top of the deck.

Bryagh Gorbash
Initiative Check : [roll0]
.

[Scow2]

Shortly after leaving port, Dagryl decided to assist the sailing crew where his great strength and lack of skill were most usable, to keep from getting dangerously bored (And as a gnoll with as many repressed violent urges as Dagryl, being bored can be VERY dangerous).

Being a volunteer, though, he also took time out to get to know everyone else aboard, at least introducing himself and requesting a return of the courtesy, though he tried to learn as much about them as they were willing to divulge over the course of the trip. Those who responded to Dagryl's curiosity with undue rudeness tended to learn that the Gnoll was a master of deliberate incivility.

At the time of the ship's Calamity, Dagryl had been working on the decks, singing a bawdy sailing song. Although he was socially active aboard the ship, though, he didn't readily trust anyone yet, and certainly not enough to leave his weapons and gear unattended in his quarters, and insisted on keeping everything on him at all times. At the start of the voyage in more temperate weather, Dagryl wore only the skirt of his armor, opting to just carry the shirt in his pack and enjoy the ocean breeze on his fur. However, in these frozen wastes he was fully dressed, and the bright green gem harnessed to the front of his vest was glowing brightly and radiating detectable heat, warding off the cold.

As the ship buckles and twists under him, he does his best to remain upright and ready for anything, but not terribly alarmed. "Okay! Who the heck can't figure out how to drive this damn thing?"

[MouseDragon]

The crash of the ship against the rocks sent rope and timber flying on deck, and assuredly anything below decks that isn't very well secured is likewise thrown into disarray.

The dragonwrought kobold taking passage on the ship is caught unaware by the sudden impact, busy as he is taking stock of the few (fairly poorly stowed) belongings he brought on board. There's a brief flurry of paper around him, but he sweeps all the loose sheets together and into his bag, haphazardly flinging in the few things he can readily grab and muttering about ink before sighing faintly to himself. The simple clothes he was wearing are hastily shoved in as well, and he starts to pull on the tougher leather he had brought on board while staggering his way towards the deck, most of the fastenings still undone.

[Adamant Sunrise]

From his position on the deck, Dagryl was afforded a front-row seat to the disaster.

The double-masted ship, her prow carved to resemble a many-headed dragon, raced on with the blizzard, climbing and then plunging down the surging waves. Despite the rough weather, all on deck were jubilant, as the long voyage was nearly over. Within sight of the signal fire, every hand knew that the sailing from here to port will be safe and clear. Yet this cheerful atmosphere was broken in an instant, when a sudden cry from the masthead filled the crew with alarm.

"Reef ahead!"

The mate had wheeled about as if in disbelief. Having made this voyage many times before, he knew that there were no reefs to be found on this side of the light. Only further north were there such dangers, and he could clearly judge from the beacon that the ship is on a safe course far to the south of the reef. Yet as the Hydra pitched downward, his expression changed to one of terror at the sight before him.

The warning came too late for the steersman to react. With a tremendous crash and a groaning of timbers, the ship pitched upward, her belly smashed against an outcropping of jagged rock. The mate was instantly felled as his head slammed into the deck. Others were thrown overboard with the crash, some clinging to flailing bits of rigging while others cried out in vain for assistance. None could help them, as the high water prevented any rescue, dashing those in the frigid water against the rocks.

The scene that greets those running up from below is one of carnage and confusion as the remaining hands try to restrain the rigging, which threatens to haul the beached ship onto her side with the strength of the wind still filling her sails. The steersman, Halsteg, has come abovedeck to survey the damage, barking orders to the men. "You there, haul in that sail! Get a line over the side! Find the captain!" The waves continue to crash over the deck, making most of his orders unintelligible. He scarcely notices the passengers.

[Virtue]

With a sudden impact into the ship, Bryagh was sent reeling into the wall where she stumbled and grasped onto a nearby door handle. She had been making her way up through the ship, from her small cabin far below the deck. She was taking her time however, as her immediate life did not seem to be in danger. She was not too inclined to assist matters up ahead, as she knew the ship would be well armed. She had taken care to notice several other demi-humans as well among the passengers and crew, some armed with tooth and claw as it were.

She allowed herself a small chuckle at her mental joke, and steadying herself, she continued forward towards the deck of the Hydra.

[Scow2]

Dagryl

As the mate was smashed against the ship's floor, Dagryl made his way over to the downed man - He'd seen enough death and injury over the years to know most people were still alive at least a little beyond the point they looked dead. Without the time to make any preliminary checks, he reached for the wand secured in his pocket, and attuning his mind to it and speaking a powerful, unintelligible word, he reached out and touched the downed man, healing or at least stabilizing him if he was not too far gone ([roll0] hitpoints)

His high-pitched, effeminate and strident voice cut through the din of the storm. "I need a spellcaster and someone able to tie a knot immediately!" He shouted, removing his pack and searching the downed mate for a dagger to stake the pack to the deck as he procured his rope and chain from it.

[MouseDragon]

The kobold made his way to the deck, pulling the ties on his armor tight. He spent a few moments staring out at the confusion, looking from the reef to the men in the water and the straining sails. There's a lot to be done, but not much that he can do himself, he thinks... other than trying to stay out of the way, at least.

The gnoll's cry gives something to focus on, however, a question he can answer, and he heads over quickly, "A caster? I don't know any healing spells, I fear, but I can try to hit something at range if you need the ropes cut..."

[Scow2]

Dagryl addressed Spark as he appeared on the deck and offered his assistance. Shouting over the wind, he answered the draconic kobold, assuming he was a sorcerer. "I need enhancements - I'm going down to the reef to see if I can save the sailors, and shove this ship back into the water. Do you know Spider Climb, Enlarge Person, Strength, or any magic of similar effect?" Dagryl asked, listing off a number of handy spells he remembered his former adventuring companions had known and used.

[Virtue]

Her gloved hand moved to the door ahead of her, but it slammed open as another wave crashed against the boat. Bryagh peered out onto the deck, only to see it in chaos. She walked out, trying to keep her balance among the wet wood beneath her, and the chilling winds that battered into the sails above.

Humans were yelling everywhere. Even as she glanced out, she thought she saw one fall overboard. She frowned slightly, and wondered if she should offer up a quiet prayer to her god for the death of those at sea. She sighed. Above else, Bryagh was dissapointed. She had been assured this would be a safe way to travel and the young woman silently wondered if she should have not just paid more for magical means of travel. One could always trust in the nature of magic afterall, and these mundane modes of transportation bothered her.

The boat rocked again, and she with it. She frowned and looked up again, only to be doused with a small stream of water. However this time, her vision brought her something new; a kobold, a dragon kin. Bryagh raised her eyebrow and thought with some curiosity.

Dragon kin? Here? How is it that I had not noticed one before? Interesting.

Bryagh stood up and made her way towards the kobold ahead. She recognized the kobold as male, though the creature he was talking to, did not appear to be human. It resembled some sort of flind, perhaps a variation more common in this part of the world.

Bowing slightly between them both, but primarily addressing the kobold, Bryagh speaks in a quiet, calming voice.

"It would appear we have hit something, have we? Is this vessel going to continue, or are we left here to fend for ourselves?"
.

[TheFallenSon]

Wethun muttered a quick curse under his breath. Frelling captain had hired a less than savory assortment of crew for this voyage. Vagabounds, theives, and cut-throats. Sure there were a few good men aboard, but they were the minority. Not to mention the frelling Gnoll and Kobold, the majority of his adult life had been spent putting creatures like those to the sword...and seeing his friends slain by the same such. His mind drifted to old battles while he assisted one of the crewmen tie knots and mend a bit of rigging. He wasn't very good at it, but a bit of natural skill was helping. He had spent much of it spreading knowledge of the Vigilant One to the heathen crew. He did this by assisting them in there work and subtely allowing the message to flow in conversatio and deed,not in the militant and over zealous way that many of the faithful utilized. He thought he had brought a desire for righteousness to a few hearts.

He stood there reflecting on his bit of missionary work when the ship smashed into the reef....of course it would....he swore outloud as he was launched from the deck. Then he found himself thanking the old sailor he had been helping, and speaking a prayer of Helm's glorious vigilance as he realized that the bit of rigging he had been tieing knots into had saved his life.

"Well isn't this a a great turn of the wheel." Wethun found himself dangling from a bit of torn and mangled rigging, his foot was tangled and he wa hanging upside down. Waves smashed into his face again and again as he attempted to right himself. The salt spray was almost to much, his lungs strained for air and his eyes burned. He slowed his heart and said a swift prayer to the vigilant one. The warrior knew that this was not how his candle darkened. He tried again to right himself and climb back to the railing and then onto the ship.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Dagryl:
Your magic fails to revive the fallen mate. The injury he sustained seems to be too severe.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Though Wethun manages to untangle himself from the rigging, his boots fail to find any traction against the ice-encrusted hull and he is unable to haul himself up alone. He is able to maintain his grip but can do no better, hanging precariously over the side about 15 feet from the place where the others are gathered.

Loose rigging whips through the air over your heads. With a shuddering groan, the ship slides back a few yards, settling into her perch on the jagged reef. Approximately a third of her total length remains out of the water, her prow raised twenty degrees and listing to starboard as the freezing waves continue to pummel those on deck. The condition of her hull is impossible for anyone aboard to know.

Two of the northmen who fell overboard in the collision have managed to crawl onto the reef, in wretched shape. A few of the remaining crew are in the process of tossing a line to them, but hardly any have taken notice of the passengers.

[Scow2]

Dagryl swore as the magic failed to heal the downed mate, and snarled as the crew completely ignored his demand for help. Taking matters into his own hands, he dashed toward one of the crew casting a rope for the overboard crewmen, pulling out his much higher quality rope. "Secure this to the ship" he demanded (Intimidate: [roll0], before explaining, "I'm going down there to help. Quickly"

EDIT: Fortunately for Bryagh, Dagryl wasn't in earshot when the dragonborn addressed the situation so distantly. Otherwise, she would have been the one going over the side of the ship - without a rope, and into the water.

[MouseDragon]

The small winged kobold offered the woman speaking to him a cordial if slightly out-of-place bow, then nodded quickly. "We have yet to go down, and the ship appears in one piece thus far... a blessing, certainly, but I am afraid that I haven't been able to be of much use here as yet... mm. Do you know any healing, or ways to make ... er... " He hesitated for a moment, looking curiously at the gnoll, "Ways to make our fellow traveler here adhere to the hull? Or stronger? As for myself... mm.. well, there's at least one thing I can do."

He looked about for a moment, then darted for mast, scrambling up it a little ways without any apparent difficulty. The kobold then stopped to stare into storm for a few moments before turning his gaze back down to the ship itself and calling out, pointing down towards Wethun, "Ah, someone in the rigging off the side!" If he saw anyone else tangled in the rope or fallen into the water, he did his best to point them out too, helping to spot things for the crew if nothing else.

[Virtue]

"..."

Bryagh turned her gaze to a wounded human laying nearby, as the flind creature ran off to another part of the deck. The winged dragon-kin finished his words and ran off to try to help others it seemed.

The young woman remained where she stood, weighing the benefits of treating a complete stranger with magic, verses the pitfalls of then not having said magic to aid herself later. Although, there was always the possibility she might be rewarded or owed for her small contribution.

Shrugging her shoulders softly, her crimson hair falling in locks against her face, she knelt down and placed a gloved hand against the downed human's body, close to any visible wounds. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she uttered a few quiet words in draconic, and allowed a pink hue to wash from her fingertips directly into the body of the man, filling him with divine energy.

Cure Moderate Wounds
[roll0]

[TheFallenSon]

When the hell did Kobolds get frelling wings...flying Kobolds...the world was going to end. He muttered another quick prayer and looked around him. The damned ice was keeping him from scaling the wall. He looked about, felt his muscles tense and swore some more as waves and salt spay smashed into him again and again. Lucky day.

"COULD SOME ONE PLEASE HELP THE MAN DANGLING FROM THE SIDE OF THE FRELLING SHIP!?!?!?!?!?"

[Adamant Sunrise]

"What do you think you're doing, you flea-bitten bitch?"

The shout comes from the Hydra's steersman, Halsteg, not a man given to tolerating interference with his crew. His former life as an adventurer left him with only one eye, and very little patience. Tearing the rope from the hand into which Dagryl had given it, he shoves the man back to work with a roar and turns to the gnoll, bellowing to be heard over the waves crashing around them. "Listen to me good, varmint - I catch you getting in the way again, I'll skin you alive!" He has seen plenty of gnolls, and knows what to do with them. Dagryl would not have been on the ship at all if he'd had his way, and the rotten creature is damned well not going to countermand his orders when the lives of his men are at stake. The sailors finish tying off the line they were working on and rush to cast it down to the reef, preparing to descend to recover the two others who had managed to wash up on it but are now collapsed.

A short distance away, the fallen mate stirs under Bryagh's touch as divine magic washes over him, shaking his head dizzily, unable to gather his wits just yet. Another wave crashes over the both of them.

[Virtue]

The human stirs slowly from her divine touch, and seems to regain conscouisness. Bryagh stands calmly, as another surge of water splashes around her. She frowns, realizing she is nearly drenched now. The entire situation is a far cry from the warm mountains where she grew up.

She turned to seek out the flying dragon-kin again, but he was now on the other side of the deck, closer to the flind-kin. Instead she happened to hear another scream for help, closer, almost coming from the side of the ship it seemed. Casually walking over, Bryagh notices a human clinging on to a rope on the side of the ship. He seemed to be having trouble climbing up. Bryagh glanced over and looked at the icy waters and sighed.

In common, she spoke to the human, as she brushed her wet, crimson hair away from her face. "It seems your crew has abandoned you to the waters below." Her hands went to the rope and tried to gain a hold, though it was wet beneath her gloves. "..." Bryagh sighs and calls out to the human. "I will attempt to aid you in reclaiming ground upon this vessel." Bryagh strains against the rope and tries to help pull up the human overboard.

EDIT: Fortunately for Dagryl, he doesn't know she is a Dragonborn. Pushing Bryagh over probably wouldn't have gone well for you. How would it look to everyone else, if the monster throws overboard a beautiful human woman? I'm thinking trust issues, let alone what she will do to you when you sleep. ^_^


Climb Check [roll0]

[MouseDragon]

The winged kobold, harbinger of the end-times that he is, remained perched on the mast, moving out of the way whenever sailors approached.

He did his best to help point things out, still, if it seemed of use... descending only if it seemed that the situation was more under control.

[Scow2]

Dagryl snarled back to the steersman, decking him as he attempted to take the rope from the gnoll after his outburst (Attack of Opportunity: [roll0] Damage: [roll1] subdual. Opposed disarm in case punch missed [roll2])"I'm trying to save you're crew's asses here, and unless you'd like to join them, let me work!" He then looked over the side to ensure nobody was immediately under him, and jumped down to the reef (Jump check vs. DC 15: [roll3]).

Landing with only mild discomfort, he'd activate his wand again and make his way to the reef edge, and attempt to grab anyone still in the water and help them out, starting with the unconscious. (Cure Light Wounds: [roll4])


(Tactical Recap:)I'm going into tactical timing at least for me - before Dagryl's turn, on Steersman's initiative, Attack of Opportunity (Thanks to Improved Unarmed strike), On Dagryl's initiative, move action to jump over the deck, standard to activate Wand of Cure Light Wounds. Assuming combat ends (Unless someone up there's foolish enough to want to follow Dagryl down), next round Move Action to reef edge, Standard Action to CLW as he's grabbing them]

[TheFallenSon]

A beautiful redheaded angel spoke of helping him and began to tug that bit of rigging back up onto the ship, by Helm he would reclaim the railing if it destroyed him. He grunted with the effort and even allowed himself a bit of a roaring charge to put himself over the rail and into the boat.

[roll0]

With that crimson haired angels help he was able to drag himself clear over the rail. "Thank you for your help madam, in a time when the world is not ending around us we can talk of compensation for your deed. Thank you again.". He would nod and even bow his head abit to her in gratitude.

He then turned his eyes to the growing madness on the ship and off the ship. He was searching for the place where he would be of the most assistance.

[Virtue]

Bryagh solemnly nodded in return, making careful note of the word compensation for future use.

"It would seem the ship has little hope of repair. With land so close to our approximation, perhaps it would not be a viable alternative to take the smaller ships to shore, and abandon this lost cause. Other than the wind and water, it seems there are few others in immediate assistance among your crew."

Bryagh, having offered her idea, began walking towards where the cutter ships were located. She quietly wondered if someone else hadn't had the idea already, and absconded off with their means of rescue.

She had little idea how to pilot one of the vessels, but as a passenger she naturally believed that she would be among those not left here to the icy waves. Wasn't only the captain to go down with the ship? Something like that.

Making her way across the wet deck, she looked up to see the winged dragon-kin. Nearby, she also noticed crew running in chaos, and the flind-kin seeming to argue with the human in charge. Sighing softly and slicking back her red hair, she continued walking towards the smaller ships.

.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Halsteg glowers as the gnoll leaps down from the prow, followed soon after by the two northmen, armed with hatchets, who had been preparing to descend after their comrades.

The reef upon which the Hydra has beached herself is a narrow, jagged ribbon of rock running parallel to the coastline, which lies perhaps less than a mile off. Though a more accurate measure of the distance is hard to make in the storm, the water between seems less tumultuous than one would expect - protected from the rough waves by the breakwater formed by the reef. If one could be hauled across the rocks, a small boat launched from the opposite side would stand a good chance of reaching the mainland intact.

Keeping balance on the icy surface isn't easy, but within sight of Dagryl are the two injured mates who have managed to haul themselves up onto the reef. Both have sustained grievous injuries, their bodies torn and bloody from the rocks, and now lie collapsed and senseless. Cursing at the ice, the Luskans drag their comrades up to the exposed keel beneath the prow, sheltering against its bulk as protection from the elements as they stop to secure the first of the fallen sailors to be hauled up.

The other, left to wait, stirs a bit in response to Dagryl's magic and coughs out a mouthful of icy brine, murmuring drunkenly of death and devils in the water. No sooner has he uttered the words than an ominous sound reverberates from the encircling reef, one easily heard by all those on deck - the chilling sound of many inhuman voices raised in a war cry.

A rain of crossbow bolts tears into the ship from all directions, taking the men by surprise. One sailor tumbles down from the rigging, neatly punctured. Another bolt barely grazes the kobold, inflicting no damage. Dagryl is not so lucky, and a bolt fired from out of the dark catches him in the shoulder (inflicting 6 points of damage) before he can react.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Spark:
From your vantage point, you can immediately notice half a dozen or so shapes moving in toward the ship from the rocks, monstrous humanoid in outline. Several more seem to be moving in the water, but the surf occludes them to such an extent that you cannot be sure of the number.

[Virtue]

Bryagh paused in her steps, as a moanful howl ripped through the icy air. Soon after, the chaotic sounds of the crew and passengers simmered down, as dull shapes seemed to come closer to the stranded ship.

Bryagh could scarcely make them out, but they didn't look friendly, and she took a step backwards, closer to the safety of the central mast. She flexed her fingertips, and prepared herself for battle, if they so attacked.

[Scow2]

Dagryl snarled at the highly inconvenient timing of the assault - He couldn't tell if there were still crew in the water, his weapons were still on the deck, the survivors needed healing, and some of them looked like they needed to borrow his Crystal of Adaption to survive the cold.

Ignoring the bolt wound for now, he spoke quickly to the surviving crew on the reefs"Keep yourselves low and hidden in the reefs. Do any of you know how to use a simple cure wand?" He ordered the survivors, then asked... It was difficult for him to stoop to asking a question, but the survival of the crew was more important than his pride.

Without waiting for a proper answer, he'd turn around, looking for the source of the attack, while remaining close to the crew on the slim chance one was a bard or cleric, or could at least fake it. (Total Defense action)

[MouseDragon]

The kobold saw the approaching shapes and called out, "Incoming, from underwater!" He scrambled quickly the rest of the way up, pulling himself into the crow's nest to gain more cover and make himself harder to spot. He crouched down there, peering about and flexing his hands for a moment before starting to trace patterns in the air, energy crackling around his claws. (Attacking once into combat)

[TheFallenSon]

He moved quickly to the edge of the hull, the bat lizard's warning had swung him into action. He would draw his heavy blade and take a bit of cover, no need to get a belly full of whatever was incoming. He grimaced as he took in the situation around him. If this was an attack, it would likely leave this hulk of timber unable to do anything but limp to port. He was sure a great many men would die. He did not intend to be one of them.

He would wait for the attack to progress. Then charge at any enemy he could flank and slaughter.

[MouseDragon]

The kobold finished tracing the occult pattern in the air, then spread his fingers wide and directed a twisting blast of arcane energy towards the approaching figure nearest the ship, yelling down at the attackers "Stand down or face your destruction!"


Using Eldritch Blast with Spear Shape:

[roll0] as a Ranged Touch Attack...

[roll1] damage if it hits

[Adamant Sunrise]

From the kobold in the crow's nest, the twisting bolt of magic strikes one of the encroaching figures in a crack of thunder and sends it toppling out of view, sizzling with eldritch energy. In the flash, the pair of others nearest to the light are briefly illuminated.

Foul-looking beings standing roughly a foot shorter than a man, their features bear a mixture of fish-like and amphibious characteristics, with partially webbed digits, bulbous eyes and sickly, pale green flesh. Weapons and armor gleam briefly in the light, and alien shouts are heard that are unmistakably imbued with intelligence.

Grappling hooks begin falling on deck, and a half-dozen of the creatures leap over the railing to fall upon the beleaguered northmen, of whom only three or four remain in close proximity. From the prow, the steersman snarls as a hand crashes to the deck. Drawing a cutlass, he rallies the infuriated Luskans. "By the bitch queen, lads, to arms!"

[Adamant Sunrise]

Round 1.

The attacking creatures fall upon those nearest indiscriminately, making no distinction between passengers and crew. From his position of relative cover against one of the small cutters resting on the deck, Wethun is overlooked - while Bryagh, standing a short distance away at the base of the mast, is exposed from all sides and presents a good target for flanking. Two of the creatures fly at her, making gurgling cries as they hack with hatchets and sabers. Though she manages to duck under the first, the second catches her from behind and inflicts ([roll0]) damage.

More arrows continue to fall around Dagryl. Though their position against the keel gives him and the Luskans with him some cover, it does not seem like a safe place to linger. Crouching against it, the closest of the two shakes his head with a growl. "We'll have to get back up to deck, get some better weapons." He unsheathes a dagger and offers it to the gnoll. "You'll need this."

[TheFallenSon]

An almost feral grin would cross the warriors face as he saw the fishmen try and corner his flame red angel. Her armor held true, and gave him his opening. They would pay. Creatures like these never seemed to realize how foolish attacking men, the chosen of nearly all the gods, could be. They would learn. With a roar he would charge across the deck towards the creature who's blow had landed on his angel. He was a man possessed with one big ass sword, this blow would be epic. At least he prayed it would be.


Rage Str 20 /Con 18 /HP 40 /Will save +7 for seven rounds/ -2 Ac/Charge for +2 to hit and -2 AC/ AC 15 this round, 17 next round.
Power attack 3 and sneak attack if flanking the creature that attacked Bryagh.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[MouseDragon]

The kobold gestured again from his hidden perch atop the mast, sending another bolt down towards another of the fishlike archers on the reef.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Scow2]

Dagryl shook his head at the crewman offering the dagger, and keeping his wand in his left hand. "I'm good."

Keeping an eye on his enemies, he headed toward them while using the reef as cover.

(Moving 40 (or 20 if the terrain's considered rough) feet toward the enemies, and using full defense option. This might take a few rounds to get there)

[Adamant Sunrise]

Wethun's bastard sword explodes from the chest of the sea-devil attacking Bryagh, his sneak attack having been a complete surprise. Uttering a strangled croak of alarm, the creature gropes horribly at the air before crumpling forward onto the deck in a pool of putrid gore, never to rise again.

The kobold is not so lucky. His second eldritch blast misses its target and blasts into the rock behind it, doing little but making the warlock a target for retaliatory strikes from the archers.

[Virtue]

Bryagh barely had a chance to react, when unknown creatures erupted from the water, and launched themselves in a wicked assault on the ship. She was unfamiliar with the beasts, and as they moved closer, she even more wished she had chosen magic as a means of transport.

One of them took her by surprise as she stood by the mast in a state of somewhat dis awareness. First, shipwrecks and now attackers.

Lovely.

A small wound ripped open into her side as she was pushed suddenly, from a claw attack. As she stood back to assault the comings creatures, the one that had attacked her exploded in half, and the man she had helped earlier stood behind it grinning.

An eerie sound came beside and another creature came close enough to attack. Without hesitation Bryagh moved her fingers forward, allowing a deep divine energy to wash out of her and out, in a pinkish hue.

They were under attack, that much was certain. And now that she found herself personally under danger, it seemed the course of action was to deal with these beasts if she could.

Bryagh uttered a few words of Draconic, reaching for pinches of colored sand in her spell component pouch at her waist, and launched her magic out at the closest attackers.

Color Spray

Level: Sor/Wiz 1
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: 15 ft.
Area: Cone-shaped burst
Duration: Instantaneous; see text
Saving Throw: Will negates
Spell Resistance: Yes
A vivid cone of clashing colors springs forth from your hand, causing creatures to become stunned, perhaps also blinded, and possibly knocking them unconscious.

Each creature within the cone is affected according to its Hit Dice.

2 HD or less
The creature is unconscious, blinded, and stunned for 2d4 rounds, then blinded and stunned for 1d4 rounds, and then stunned for 1 round. (Only living creatures are knocked unconscious.)

3 or 4 HD
The creature is blinded and stunned for 1d4 rounds, then stunned for 1 round.

5 or more HD
The creature is stunned for 1 round.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Round 2

Fighting continues between the Luskans and the seaborne raiders, with the former seeming to get the worst of it. Bryagh's spell blasts out and catches three of the sea-devils in its cone, but the magic washes over them to no visible effect. The creature that had just missed her wheels about and lunges savagely at the woman:

Attack (cutlass): [roll0]
Damage (cutlass): [roll1]
Attack (bite): [roll2]
Damage (bite): [roll3]

Meanwhile, two more of the creatures have clambered onto deck and rush at the man who has just brutally killed one of their number, charging him from both sides:

Attack 1: [roll4]
Attack 2 (flanking): [roll5]
Damage 1: [roll6]
Damage 2: [roll7]

[Adamant Sunrise]

The narrow band of terrain into which Dagryl ventures is a forest of jagged rocks, ice-encrusted and riddled with shallow pools of freezing brine. The formations provide good cover from detection as he works his way toward the raised position where he spotted the archers highlighted in the eldritch light, and they have the added benefit of affording some protection from the crashing waves and the freezing wind outside. The air becomes quieter and less tumultuous as he works his way inward.

Unfortunately, the stone formations also make it impossible to see more than one or two dozen feet in any direction, and the going is slow. At an intersection in the natural maze of rock, the gnoll is alerted by the sound of feet splashing in shallow water as two of the murky-eyed sea-devils pass by, armed with hacking weapons, moving in the direction of the ship. The creatures continue past, apparently unaware of his presence.

[TheFallenSon]

Wethun shifted his focus to his new attackers. He smiled and flipped his blade about, slashing the first bugged freak through the middle. Then striking it's forehead with the pommel of his sword like a hammer on an anvil. He roared as his blows fell on his foe. The righteous would be vindicated. "May my eyes never falter! May I be ever vigilant! I will not fail in my duty! On this day as in all others! I STAND MY WATCH!!!"


Power Attack -2 to hit +4dmg
[roll0]
[roll1]

[MouseDragon]

Once he could muster the will for it again, and assuming that nothing happened to the draconic kobold sent another lance of energy down towards the archer he missed last time.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Scow2]

Down on the reef, Dagryl had to restrain his eerie, blood-curdling laugh as the intruders stumbled into his line of sight. Jumping at the one behind, he lunged forward, leading with a spiked elbow.

[Attack (Armor spikes): [roll0] Damage: [roll1]]

[Virtue]

Bryagh...had a nice, long post ready but it was eaten by the forum, so ...whatever.

She attacks the nearest creature with prism breath or something.

Prism Breath (25 feet, Lightning Line)
[roll0], Unusuable again for [roll1] rounds.
Reflex Save for Half damage : DC 16.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Round 3

Dagryl's spiked elbow plunges messily into the back of the sea-devil, prompting a gurgling shriek from the unfortunate creature as it tumbles forward under his weight, and a cry of alarm is raised by its companion. On the rocks above, one of the bow-wielding devils, suddenly alerted to the gnoll's presence, aims its crossbow, but recoils sharply in pain as an eldritch bolt from the kobold blasts into it. The two archers scramble for cover, disappearing from Spark's sight while the two confronting the gnoll move to encircle him.

Attack (cutlass): [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
Attack (bite): [roll2] Damage: [roll3]
Flanking attack (hatchet): [roll4] Damage: [roll5]
Damage 2: [roll7]

On the ship, Wethun's whistling sword-stroke sends a head sailing through the brine-soaked air in a font of gore, shorn clean from the body of his victim. The attack leaves him exposed to the second of his assailants, however, which leaps at the human from behind.

Attack (hatchet): [roll6] Damage: [roll7]
Attack (bite): [roll8] Damage: [roll9]

Bryagh's attacker staggers backward, yelping with the electric shock and shielding its bulbous eyes as though dazed and blinded from the discharge.

[Scow2]

Dagryl
Laughing as one of his opponents managed to get a firm, blood-drawing bite on his arm, Dagryl spins around, jamming his arm back against the roof of the sea devil's mouth, using his free hand to get a firm grip on his opponent, and letting him feel just how many spikes there were in the chain shirt.
Bleh... Grappling doesn't let me use my move-action - moving in a grapple takes a standard... and whatever happened to the chance of hitting the wrong target attacking into a grapple? Stupid rules :(

Touch attack: [roll0]
Grapple Check: [roll1]
Armor Spike fun! [roll2]

[TheFallenSon]

His prayer would be cut short for just a moment, his roar of praise contained a momentary pause as his body responded to first an axe blow, then the feel of that bastrad fishmans teeth in his flesh. He took a deep breath and began again.
"I am the sentinel, I am the guardian. My watch is my duty. My duty is my life. I will guard the realms of men. I am the shield, I am the blade. No beast, no demon, no devil, nor heretical witness shall shake my resolve. Fall...fall..FALL FALL BEFORE MY MIGHT." His blade would lash forward as he stepped toward the beast that had struck him. He would aim first low then high. His blade cutting through the monsters tendons and taking it's legs out from underneath it. As the monster feel he would flip the blade and thrust it through the screeching creatures teeth. He grinned at the sound of the dry sound the teeth made as the blade crushed through them. Then a small laugh as his blade caught flesh and the beast gurgled in its own blood.

Stunting, rolls are before stunt modifier
power attack -2 to hit +4 damage
[roll0]
[roll1]

[MouseDragon]

The kobold muttered darkly as his targets scattered. Those left wouldn't be quite as convenient, but... he'd have to take what he could get. The two passengers on the deck seemed to things in-hand, so he aimed carefully at one of the attackers busy chasing the crew about, sending a bolt of energy down towards them.



Stunting, rolls are before any modifiers due to melee/stunt

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Adamant Sunrise]

Back aboard ship, Wethun's bastard sword plunges down into the deck, through the open mouth, throat and brainstem of the wretched creature that dies at his feet. Battle has quieted down for now, as the initial boarders have been beaten back. The kobold's final eldritch blast rains down on one of the retreating devils just as it disappears over the side. The prow is slippery with gore, though the waves are doing their part to wash it clean.

The Luskans take a head count. Two of their number are slain, the master among them. He was barely conscious when the first raiders leapt onto deck. Three others are seriously injured, including the two that were recovered from the reef. Only three are still able to fight, and the one in charge seems to be Halsteg. The corpses of a dozen slain invaders wash about the deck on a layer of blood-slickened seawater.

Having seen Wethun fight, one of the Luskans who was with Dagryl approaches him, nodding in respect while the others busy themselves. "Your friend went onto the rocks," he motions with a gloved hand. "Not likely he'll find anything pretty out there."

[Adamant Sunrise]

As the gnoll's elbow slams back into its maw, the bloodied sea-devil emits what must be, to its kind, a roar of rage, but what sounds more like a gurgling croak to other ears, toppling back in the grip of the towering carnivore and clawing madly to free itself. Its compatriot leaps at the gnoll's back, hacking and biting furiously.

Blood Frenzy active.
Opposing Grapple Check: [roll0]
Flanking attack:
Hatchet: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Bite: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]

The creature's strength is surprising, but not up to the task of resisting the gnoll. Dagryl feels it ebb away in her grip, its grievous injuries causing it to choke on its fluids.

[Scow2]

Dagryl gives the impression of ignoring the other Sea Devil gnawing on his bare shoulder, and decides to help his spike-impaled partner with the gagging problem, thrusting a spiked-bracer-clad arm into the throat and pulling out anything that may or may not belong down there.

Continued grappling
[roll0]
damage [roll1]

[MouseDragon]

Lacking further targets for now, the kobold hmms softly before scrambling back down the mast, looking around and asking the first person he can find, "Are they all retreating? The passenger that went onto the reef, the big fuzzy one... has he come back on board?"

[Adamant Sunrise]

Dagryl:
I should have made this clearer, but the grappled creature was already dying in the last action, so you now get a free turn against the one remaining, whose last attack failed to clear AC.

"Reckon they had enough for now," the steersman spits, "But they'll be back. Sea-devils. They've been campin' out on these rocks. That explains the light." He gazes again at the far-off signal fire, still visible through the storm. "That ain't the White Horn light, and this ain't the bay. We're off course. Bastards led us into a trap."

As efforts to patch up the wounded are taking place, one of the surviving hands informs the kobold grimly that Dagryl was last seen venturing onto the rocks, alone and unarmed.

[TheFallenSon]

Wethun sighs, and now...winged lizard people also speak, this must surely be a marker of the end times. Turning his gaze skyward, for just a few seconds, he began to mutter a quick prayer of thanks. Smiling he would flick a bit of gore from his blade...then thinking better, would dig a bit of oil cloth out of his belt pouch and wipe his blade clean. "Yes, the sailors seem to think the dog face is still down in the rocks, care to go and retrieve him with me?"

The question was directed to the other two passengers, they did seem to be the most capable group on the wreck of a ship at the moment. He would need the help, especially if that furry menace had gotten itself bitten by a shark worshiping fish eyed demon of the sea....or something like that.

[MouseDragon]

The small kobold looks around at the carnage on the deck, sighing softly before nodding to the human, "Yes... and we can check if there is anyone or anything else left there to deal with. I couldn't see it clearly, from the mast... too many rocks in the way."

[Scow2]

Dagryl is only twenty or so feet away from the ship, and making enough of a racket to ensure everyone knows he's still out there.

Of course, he wanted to take his time with the remaining Sea Devil, perhaps killing it with the dying body of his companion. But he had other things that needed tending to. Merely releasing his grip on the choking creature, he turns and invites the surviving Sahuagin into his brutal embrace.

Time to start this party all over again! I wish I could have beat the other to death with his companion, but D&D's rules make the results underwhelming. I should have been a monk.

Anyway:
Touch attack (No AoO):[roll0]
Grapple check: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2] piercing.

[TheFallenSon]

"Lets go make a difference dragon mouse, we should probably get some rope, I am not a fan of coral...or sharp rocks."He would move quickly around the ship, hopefully he could find some rope. The dog man looked like he could take a hit, sorta. He probably needed to hurry.

[Adamant Sunrise]

The creature savagely throws off the gnoll's attempt to grab it, but has had enough and bolts away, fleeing north into the labyrinth of rocks with all its strength.

Back on the ship, the ropes secured to the prow earlier in the scene remain in place, and can be used to descend safely to the rocks.

[TheFallenSon]

The warrior moves quickly to the prow and then quickly down the rope, he wasn't quite sure, but he thought he heard the sounds of battle out there amongst the rocks. Quick and quiet he ran through the rocks, he smiled...the smelling wet dog easily pulling him in the direction of the gnoll and his opponents. This would be one hell of a tale. 'The day I saved a ship, a gnoll and a kobold' he chuckled and continued forward.

[Scow2]

Unfortunately for Wethrun, by the time he'd catch up with Dagryl, the battle was already over. Tearing off one of the fish's arms, the gnoll took a bite as he looked off in the direction the other foe had fled, and sporting just two fish-bites on his spike-banded arm and bared shoulder.

Hearing Wethrun come up behind him, Dagryl asked, "Hungry? I've got a flask of fire if you'd like to cook it," with a comically deadpan offering of the punctured devil shark - its blood and several chunks of gore still decorating the gnoll's armor. "On a more serious note... how's the crew back at the ship? I'd like to go hunt down the rest of these guys, and if anyone else needs healing, I need to at least get this back to them."

With that, he picked up his CLW wand, activating it with a growl to repair the damage from the crossbow bolt. [roll0]

[Adamant Sunrise]

Icy brine washes around their feet as Wethun and Spark come upon the gnoll. Most of the ground here is submerged beneath an inch or two of freezing surf, which ebbs back and forth with the crashing of the waves against the rocks close by. Though it is dark, you can see that the water nearest the gnoll is stained red with blood from the corpse of his recent victim.

Around you rises a forest of jagged rocks, some rising two or three times the height of a man. The wind whipping through them continually creates a chorus of unsettling moans, making it difficult to hear much beyond them. The last creature fled to the north and disappeared among the rocks.

Map:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AikoZgFLXcT8dFF2alpMTEhVcmQ0eUZRWHZPUFpJZ 3c#gid=0

On the body of the sea-devil, Dagryl finds little of interest. Its dagger and cutlass seem to be of decent quality, though mundane. It had been covered haphazardly in hide armor.

[MouseDragon]

The kobold trots along with the human, keeping a watch out as much as he can for anything not yet accounted for. "Eh? Saved a kobold? I must admit I'm not used to battle... did it go reasonably, based on your experience?" Once they find the gnoll, he looks dubiously at the fish-creature's corpse, "Mm, there are a lot of injured back at the ship, but many may be beyond the ability of your wand to heal. As for others... did you see anything that would indicate they ran us against this particular rock on purpose? Or was it just convenient for their false light? The steersman thought they may be camped out on it somewhere."

[TheFallenSon]

He grinned at his little side kick of a warlock." I hadn't meant you to hear that bit, it was an old man being a bit sardonic as he remembered a battle. It of course went swimmingly. He would guffaw at that bit as he closed in on the Gnoll.

"I've never eaten a fish man...but I guess I will try anything once. After we've destroyed the last of our enemies of course. As a wise priest once told me, 'once you have broken the will of your enemies, sortie from your walls and crush them body and soul. The slain cannot trouble a watchful guardian.' So put that in a barrel of pickles Dog Face, and let's run the beasties to ground! " He surveyed the area and awaited his new found, and soaking wet war hound, point the way to their mutual enemies.

[Scow2]

Dagryl shrugged, "Actually, I need to get back to the ship before we continue the carnage - Gotta make sure everyone still alive back at the ship is going to make it to the next port, as well as get my fishing pole and bucket."

With that, Dagryl will head back to the ship beached on the reefs, heading up to the deck to get his pack, bow, and flail, and healing kit, then help with the ship.

Not sure whether to bother slowing the game down with interaction aboard the ship or not - Taking 10 on all heal checks to stabilize downed crew - wish D&D had d20 Modern's "First Aid" ability

[Adamant Sunrise]

Dagryl is welcomed back aboard with a cheer from the Luskan crew, who seem to be in surprisingly good spirits, with the corpses of a dozen slain attackers piled on deck to bolster their confidence. Those injured are at least stable, and most are working - it seems someone aboard is a competent medic. Still, despite the accordion music wafting about, an atmosphere of nervous anticipation permeates. Preparations are being made to abandon the wreck. The rigging is secured and provisions are being loaded onto one of the small cutters, while others keep watch for another attack from the reef-dwellers.

[Scow2]

After retrieving his stuff, Dagryl returns to the others. On his way off, he tells the ship crew, "Me and the other passengers are going fishing. Think we can get a pretty big haul?"

[Adamant Sunrise]

A few of the hands laugh grimly as the gnoll disappears down the rope. Halsteg stops to call over the side, "Whatever you lot are doin' down there, you best be quick. Storm's pickin' up, and we ain't waitin' around for no passengers!"

Noticing the pale Uthgardt woman on deck, the steersman turns to inquire, "Now how about you, miss? Ye coming or staying?"

[MouseDragon]

The kobold chuckles, "Well, you can tell me what they taste like, then... I think I will leave that to those of stronger constitution than myself."

He nods in grim agreement to the human's second idea, however, drawing himself up to full height, "We may have driven them back for now, but I suspect that they will continue to prey on other ships if they are not stopped. If we have the strength to end their threat to others, then we cannot refuse the call." The kobold draws breath to continue, then cuts himself off abruptly with a slightly sheepish expression, coughing faintly into a scaled hand as they wait for the gnoll's return. "Er. Regardless, I have my armor and the medallion of my faith... I don't have use for or skill with other weapons, but will do what I can."

[Haberdashery]

The sturdy, ice-white woman turned her head, the mangled body of a nigh-mutilated sea-devil in her arms. The body stank, and was leaking gushes of red all down the front of her, matching a similarly colored spray that had peppered her face and hair. The brilliant, violent color was a stark contrast to her absence of color. She dropped the body with a wet, sickening plop next to its fellows.

"Coming." She replied, strangely articulate for someone with obvious barbarian blood, and with an accent of a Ten Townsman.

[TheFallenSon]

Wethun knelt in the cold rocks, the feel of the cold quickly soaked into his bones. He opened his senses to the world, the smell was something new. A memory to file away for later, brine, blood, and steel. He began a brief and silent prayer to his patron. Best to ask for protection now, the upcoming venture would certainly be interesting.

He would smile a wicked grin as the pale woman and the dog faced mauler made their way back to him and the lizard. It looked like the group of passengers was formidable indeed. They would cut one hell of a pretty picture. He chuckled as he stood up from his prayers on the icy rocks. "Quite a group we've gathered here on the rocks."

[Adamant Sunrise]

The storm is indeed picking up, when Dagryl and Rye meet up with the others. Though you are relatively sheltered here, the booming of the waves against the nearby rocks begins to sound like thunder.

The creature that fled from Dagryl disappeared among the rocks to the north, where the terrain slowly rises and emerges fully from the water. You can't see what might lie behind those rocks from where you are, but now and then a faint, gutteral scrap of alien speech finds its way to your ears, from a distance.

Map:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AikoZgFLXcT8dFF2alpMTEhVcmQ0eUZRWHZPUFpJZ 3c#gid=0

[Scow2]

"I could certainly use something on the rocks about now," Dagryl snickered to Wethrun's comment. Anyway... those fishies aren't going to kill themselves, and the crew's thinking about swimming off without us. So we'll make this slaughter quick. My ears are good, but my eyes are terrible and the surf is deafening... do we have a better scout than me?"

Without waiting for an answer, the gnoll would heft his brutally ornate flail and head north at a quick scamper, trying to hear the whereabouts of the sea-devils through the din.

[Haberdashery]

The Uthgardt woman sniffed, drinking in the scents of those that now gathered around her, and in particular the smell of the hyena-man with his perpetual grin. Her scarlet eyes darted between each of them, scrutinizing them as if they were haunches of meat hung up to dry for the winter. In the end she said nothing, as the wind caught her hair.

She patted the curve of her thigh and from behind her, silent as a ghost, a slim white beast stalked up beside her, the white of its fur having camouflaged it only until a moment before. The great cat's muzzle was awash with running blood, and its eyes were a brilliant, terrible blue.

"Not I." The albino woman replied. "But she might be."

[TheFallenSon]

Hide
[roll0]

Move Silently
[roll1]

Spot
[roll2]

Wethun drew his blade and moved forward, as he caught Dargly he held a finger to his lips and moved further up the rocks. He kept his eyes open, looking for any sign of their enemies. Hopefully he could skewer those fishmen before they got the drop on the majority of the group.

[MouseDragon]

The kobold shook his head when asked about scouting, "I'm afraid not, haven't had occasion to..." He keeps back with the others, doing his best to keep someone between him and the worryingly large cat (at least for as long as it remains by the woman's side and does not leave to scout.)

[Haberdashery]

Those red eyes of hers studied the kobold for some time, watching his nervous body language. The snow leopard did the same, breathing softly with little guttural clicks. A grin then broke the woman's face, and she showed pearly teeth that matched the color of her skin.

"She will not eat you." She said, pulling her furs closer around her as the wind bit deeper into her flesh. "At least, I do not think she will. Provided you do not make yourself look overly appetizing."

[MouseDragon]

The small winged kobold offered a somewhat unsteady grin, "Well, I don't think I would be particularly appetizing." He paused, then winced and nodded apologetically, "Ah, and I do not mean to cause offense to yourself or to.. to her. It is simply that... well... there were no large animals save horses within or near the temple complex, bonded companions or otherwise. I've seen plenty of illustrations, of course, but that is not quite the same thing."

[Haberdashery]

The woman shook her head. "No offense taken. You are very small. I was frightened when I first saw her, and I am just about twice your size."

She closed her mouth again, and suddenly an awkwardness began to seemingly creep into the sturdy, shapely young woman. She flashed her eyes downwards, and then back up at the little kobold. She paused overly long, and then finally said, "I am Rye."

[Adamant Sunrise]

Creeping forward, Wethun and Dagryl come upon a clearing of sorts in the forest of rock formations, seemingly deserted. About forty feet ahead, the rock wall appears to give way to a natural cave. Beyond the range of the gnoll's darkvision, its darkened mouth is unlit by torch or fire, though there seems to be some trace of illumination further in.

[TheFallenSon]

He looked about the clearing as intently as possible. His eyes narrowing in suspicion, he didn't trust open spaces...nor did he trust fishmen, ruddy caves, wet dog men, or creepy ice witches. This whole twist in the weave of fate stank of, well of death, glorious death, but death all the same. His eyes narrowed he would look to the dog man after giving everything a once over.
Spot
[roll0]

[Scow2]

Dagryl chuckled upon seeing the cave entrance. "Heh... what are the odds we can go fetch the ship, get it into the water, and crash it over the cave?" he snickered, letting his mind go on a flight of fancy and imagining the carnage of broken timbers and the full strength of the stormy seas flooding into the cave and impaling all the sea-devils undoubtedly inside, reducing them to bloody pulps. "Eh... not gonna happen... They've likely got it well-guarded, and I'm not sure we have time to slaughter everything down there before the idiots back on the ship decide to row awa without us. But... I'm not one to pass up an adventure like this"

[Adamant Sunrise]

As far as Wethun can detect, the clearing is, in fact, deserted. Straining his eyes in the darkness, he can discern the existence of a recently doused fire just inside the opening of the cave, where it would have been sheltered against the elements. Judging from the faint illumination from deeper inside, there does not appear to be anyone around.

[MouseDragon]

The kobold offered a warm smile and a slightly out of place bow, "Wind-Blown Spark, a lay deacon of sorts in the service of the Morninglord. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He tilted his head a bit to one side, listening for any sounds of combat, "I don't hear anything... no nasty surprises laying in wait as yet, I suppose? Should we move forward the rest of the way?"

[TheFallenSon]

"Looks clear from here, can you here or smell anything out of place?. There looks like an old firepit is in the cave, and maybe torches or something is keeping the inside lit. I say we gut em and head back after. See what's in the cave first then make our choice." his hoarse whisper broke his silence, he continued to peer about. Making sure all
Was well. If Dargly doesn't smell or see anything off, Wethun would signal the others up before continuing to the cave.

[Haberdashery]

Rye brought her own ear to the wind, the white curve of it departing the mess of similarly colored hair. "I don't hear anything either." She paused, chewing the sounds and the howls of the rocks thoughtfully. "Yet." She echoed. "If there is to be an ambush, then they must still be lying in wait."

[TheFallenSon]

Whispering a quick prayer, Wethun broke from cover and began to push across the rocks to the cave.

Move silently
1d20+7[/

Hide
[roll0]

Spot
[roll1]

[TheFallenSon]

Move silently
[roll0]

[TheFallenSon]

As Wethun pushed across the ice he signaled for his hidden companions to follow him at a run to the cave mouth. Once there he would signal for a silent move forward into the cave, weapons ready. A feral grin crossed his face...nothing like a bit of a rough an tumble to make you feel alive.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Reaching the mouth of the cave, the first thing that greets the human is the loathsomeness of the air from within, air that seems strangely warm in contrast to the frigid cold outside. Scattered about the entrance are the remains of two cooking fires, recently doused. As your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, you notice that small piles of bones lie strewn around your feet—most appearing to have belonged to fish or other sea creatures, but a few bearing a disturbingly more familiar aspect.

The faint sounds of speech you heard on your slow approach up the rocks have died away completely. Although faint traces of light seem to be illuminating the cavern deeper in, beyond a bend, the immediate area seems indeed deserted.

[Adamant Sunrise]

Map:
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AikoZgFLXcT8dFF2alpMTEhVcmQ0eUZRWHZPUFpJZ 3c#gid=0

[TheFallenSon]

The warrior allowed his body a quick shiver, an a neccessary and nearly silent yawn as he turned on his heels and pushed back into Dargyls line of sight. He would wait for a bit, letting his eyes adjust he would try and pick the gnoll out from the rocks and ice.

Once he saw the hyena man...and he knew that the creature saw him...he began to gesture for the group to move to the mouth of the cave.

[Haberdashery]

Wethun's hand shot up from across the ice, and Rye's sharp eyes turned to meet it, catching it just before it ducked back under into veritable obscurity. She jerked her snowy head towards the direction of the signal, gesturing at the little kobold beside her, and began to creep forwards. Her hide boots crunched in the freshly fallen snow that had come to blanket the ice, and she pulled her furs tighter around herself as the wind began to pick up, howling through the forest of icy razors. The leopard padded silently after her.