A Heart of Ice: D&D 3.5 IC

[Hattish Thing]

Heart of Ice

"Heart of ice, tears of snow, frozen eyes, reap what you sow." The official motto of Balivia is a dreary one, befitting such a lonely place. Balivia is a large and empty continent located near the North Pole of Medean. The people here are often simple nomads and gatherers, living off whatever they can fish or farm from the unforgiving landscape around them. The land is frozen, the ground impossible to reap a decent crop of. The shore is cold, but the fish are in great quantities here, and many small towns are built on the shores. Settlements of hunters exist as well, moving from place to place after great herds of elk and moose, but that's as close as it gets to real civilization. That is, until you reach the city of Frosthearth, a large trading center located at the base of a mountain range called the Backbreaker Mountains. Here, caravans come from far and wide to trade and move through the area, eager to make their fortune off of trading or mining in the mountains for the highly valuable silver that the range is famous for. You have all been hired from different areas nearby to do some investigation for the Arch-Trader Ari Hjörtur Olvirsson. He's a quite famous native to Frosthearth, and he's offered a great sum of money for a group of adventurers to discover what exactly happened to a caravan he sent up to the mysterious and reclusive Count Krystoff, up atop Mt. Malice.

---

You are each gathered here in a small grove at the bottom of the incredibly imposing Mt. Malice. The ground is hard and covered in snow beneath your feet, and the air is freezing cold as it's inhaled into your lungs, chilling your insides thoroughly. The breath can be seen exhaled from the chapped lips of every other individual gathered here, and it's clear that everyone gathered will be heading somewhere even colder than this, judging by the heavy winter clothing covering each one of them. Large and snow-covered trees surround the small grove, a small path leading out of the place and back to the large town of Frosthearth behind you. It's about eight in the morning, and the sun shines over the blindingly clean snow. A tall and portly man stands before you, wrapped up in a great and tall overcoat, a fur scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth. A hat sits on his head, and goggles cover his eyes. He speaks now, though his voice is somewhat muffled. Ahem. Alright. I trust that everyone has there things gathered, yes? Good. Now, I believe it's time I introduced you to eachother and set you on your way. We really don't have much time.

He'll spend the next few minutes gesturing from person to person and announcing their name. He doesn't know that much about them, so hardly any information is revealed about each of the figures gathered here. After he does so, he claps his mitten-clad hands and speaks. Now! As I mentioned in the letters I sent to each of you, you've been hired to head up Mt. Malice, our magnificent ice queen of a hill, to find what happened to the caravan I sent up there. It's been about a week, and I've heard nothing from them, and even longer than that since I've heard from Count Krystoff, the man the caravan was sent to. As you can imagine, this is not a good thing. The Count used to write often to me and some of the others in town. Hopefully the Count and the caravan are safe and well, and perhaps a storm has simply kept them locked up in Castle Krystoff, but it's hard to tell really. That's why you're here! You're to head up there and come back with the information I need. Should you return, the payment will be quite substantial. Is there anything else you all need before you begin your climb? He shivers a tad and groans, obviously uncomfortable with being out here.

Should there be nothing else asked of him, he'll wave you off once more before beginning to walk back into town, leaving the fated troupe of companions there to gaze up at the great mountain before them. Snow covers the entire fourteen thousand foot high mountain, with a large forest growing out of the snow about half-way. No buildings can be seen above, but there is a small path built into the mountains. This must be where the caravans travel. Castle Krystoff is located about nine thousand feet up, about where the air begins to grow thin, and the cold will begin to steal your breath away. You have quite the climb before you, so perhaps the party ought to start right off and introduce themselves as they begin their ascent up the dreaded mountain, to unravel the mysteries hidden beneath the ice of Mt. Malice!

[Vhaidara]

Artolak, the hulking neanderthal warrior, shoulders his pack and begins the trek up the mountain. His skin is pale, and his hair white, long, and ragged. He is covered by an assortment of hides and furs. This new clan seemed promising. The climb would prove their worth or kill them, though.

[TachyonBlade]

The halfling in the white clothing that stood beside everyone who seemingly were going to accompany him on his quest simply cocked his head. The only thing he cared about right now, were the words "substantial payment". He wasn't sure how much that was gonna be, but if he said the words substantial, it had to be a bit, since he was Arch-Trader. And perhaps he could negotiate with the Count, since what he knew of him gave him the idea that Krystoff was a generous man, and maybe he could extract some more payment in terms of gratitude.

[Yawielas]

Runa Sigridsdottir

A blonde woman in her mid twenties, her hair in small braids under a fur cap, and dressed in blues and greys, stands contemplating any questions she might have. What seems to be a heavy steel shield hangs from her backpack, and links of shining chains are visible under a layer of winter clothing. A finely crafted longsword hangs in a scabbard from her hip, and a composite short bow is strapped to her back. In her left hand she holds the reins of a horse. "How far up can we bring horses? What kind of caravan is it, and how many are with it?"

[esorscher]

"As far as they'll go," Garwin Wormhart answers, with a trace of sarcasm. Nonetheless, his own mounts, a horse and donkey, brace themselves to pull the sled laden with the wizard's alchemical kit. Garwin adjusts his backpack and bedroll, watching the neanderthal walk, without a little internal pride in his own wise decision to have beasts pull him. He pulls his wool cap down around his ears, and tucks his fleece-lined gloved hands into his coat pockets.

[bross]

Brother Fidel stood from where he'd been sitting his thick wool robes momentarily parting to show the scales of metal under it before he adjusted the robe and beginning to walk up the mountain. He largely ignored his new companions preferring instead to focus on the climb ahead.

[Stanr]

A tall man with shaggy grey-black hair and pale blue eyes stands cloaked in thick furs, white and grey. A quiver, scabbard, and hardwood-and-bone longbow are slung across his back, along with a pack of survival gear. He has a coarse beard, although the left side of his jaw is covered instead with a shiny patch of scarred skin, an old battle wound. A snowy owl glides from the trees towards him. He holds out his arm and it alights on his bracer.

After introductions, the owl flies off into the woods and Ivar begins the slow ascent of Mount Malice with the others. After the question about horses, he responds, "A horse could probably survive at the same elevation as us. Round about 3,000 feet you're gonna start to notice it. Around 5,000 feet it'll get difficult. Maybe toss off some gear. Don't wanna work it too hard. Past 8,000 feet, it's gonna be tough going, for all of us." He pauses. "And that's if the path is good enough for 'em all the way up."

[~Corvus~]

Vercingetorix pulls himself out of his own musings to re-focus at the task at hand. Head up the mountain, find merchants, and bonus for reaching the Count Krystoff's castle. He exhales briefly and turns to the trader. What was the caravan carrying? Is there anything important that we should look for besides the people? Most importantly, Do you know the route the caravan would travel, so that we may follow it?

[Morbis Meh]

A smaller, wild haired ginger of a woman sits cross-legged in the snow watching the others talk as she used her small hunting knife to cut up an apple. Sure it was frozen but that didn't overly bother her nor did the fact she was only dressed in a rough leather tunic and trousers. As far as her role in this ordeal was concerned, she only cared about getting the green horns up and back down. She couldn't care less about the status of the caravan or its occupants, the only reason she even bothered to come down was because the fat oaf extorted her into it. She needed certain materials for her own research and he refuse to acquire them unless she did this lame task.

She eyes up each individual with her hazel eyes, occasionally spitting out an apple seed, an overly large lot... Not a good first sign, especially the big muscled lot. Those types were the most likely to freeze or pass out atop the mountain because they required a greater amount of blood to circulate. Not to mention if they lost their limbs to frost bite they would be heavy to drag but then again she would insist on letting said person die instead of slowing down the rest.

[Hattish Thing]

The trader nods towards the others, watching the party assemble and prepare for their venture up the mountain. The one individual appeared to have several beasts of burden to carry him up! Clever man, but Ari Hjörtur Olvirsson knew it took a very particular type of animal to brave and survive the great snow of the mountains. With any luck, the poor animals won't die too soon. He ponders over the answers to the various questions, though it's quite clear he doesn't want to be here. It's cold out, even for someone used to the harsh temperatures. The wind was biting and whispering nothingness into his ears. He'd rather be inside, with his family. Perhaps enjoying a big bowl of gruel. He takes his mind off of warm food and replies and speaks! "Horses? I don't know. Depends on the breed. The caravans were pulled by growts, a kind of mountain goat. Perhaps you've seen them around here? Big horns on 'em." He takes a small paper out of his big coat and reads off of it. "Hmm. Here's the inventory. Let's see... Several crates of dried food, beans, grains. A few candles and parchment. Ink... A few knives and tools. You know, general supplies and things like that. We send one of these once per month up to the Count. Nothing particularly interesting in the inventory."

He sighs and speaks, a tone of sadness in his baritone voice. "There were eight men. Good, strong men, too. Arlaya, the ninth member, was female. Best caravan driver in the business. She always makes it up the mountain, making sure the growts are well fed and watered and generally cared of. She has quite the way with animals, you know. She isn't the kind to get lost, which... sort of makes her disappearance all the worse! She left a kid down in Frosthearth. Hopefully we can find here before..." He looked towards Vercingatorix, the little man having to crane his neck upwards to see the huge figure's face. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you managed to find the caravan, and bring it back down. But I understand that looks fairly hopeless right now. Just bring back the crew, if you can. I've no idea what could have happened to them..." He places the paper back into his pocket and shivers, rubbing his gloved hands together before continuing. "Well, there's a small trail heading up the first hundred or so feet, but we've never been able to build anything above that. No one wants to work up the mountain like that. They say there's wolves... and trolls.. and even worse things. After the man-made path ends, you'll need to cross a small bridge. After that, there's no path. So... good luck to you all." He smiles sadly, clearly bothered by the thought that his workers, some even his friends, could be dead.

He rubs his temples and shrugs. "Well. There you go. Anything else you need?"

[Yawielas]

Runa Sigridsdottir

Runa looks at her horse, then walks over to Ari with it. "May I stable my horse here untill we get back then? I don't wish to leave her half way up." When that is settled, she is ready to leave with the others. She can only remember a few names, and looks at each one to try to figure them out. The tall man with shaggy hair that looked like a ranger seemed to know what he was talking about. Reminded of her brothers, she smiles briefly, then starts walking.

[~Corvus~]

Ari Hjörtur Olvirsson sighs and speaks, a tone of sadness in his baritone voice. "There were eight men. Good, strong men, too. Arlaya, the ninth member, was female. Best caravan driver in the business. She always makes it up the mountain, making sure the growts are well fed and watered and generally cared of. She has quite the way with animals, you know. She isn't the kind to get lost, which... sort of makes her disappearance all the worse! She left a kid down in Frosthearth. Hopefully we can find here before..." He looked towards Vercingatorix, the little man having to crane his neck upwards to see the huge figure's face. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you managed to find the caravan, and bring it back down. But I understand that looks fairly hopeless right now. Just bring back the crew, if you can. I've no idea what could have happened to them..." He places the paper back into his pocket and shivers, rubbing his gloved hands together before continuing. "Well, there's a small trail heading up the first hundred or so feet, but we've never been able to build anything above that. No one wants to work up the mountain like that. They say there's wolves... and trolls.. and even worse things. After the man-made path ends, you'll need to cross a small bridge. After that, there's no path. So... good luck to you all." He smiles sadly, clearly bothered by the thought that his workers, some even his friends, could be dead.

He rubs his temples and shrugs. "Well. There you go. Anything else you need?"

Vercingetorix

The goliath has a sympathetic, but not unkind, look on his face when he says My commiserations on your loss, good trader. If we find these people, I'll take responsibility for getting them back down the mountain. We'll do what we can.

[Stanr]

Ivar looks impatient to begin their journey, and nods as Ari speaks. Once the man is done, he says, "I'm ready to start, if the others are. Sooner we leave the farther we'll get before dark and gods know what it brings." He whistles sharply and the white owl returns to him. He gives it a hand signal and the bird flies high, circling the path up the mountain.

[~Corvus~]

Vercingetorix

The Goliath looks around for any of the straggling adventurers and encourages them to head up the mountain with the rest of the group. We need to stay together, a big group like ours, he thinks.

Not that any of them need too much encouragement. With that, they are off!

[esorscher]

Garwin takes his seat on his sled and reclines against his bedroll and backpack. With a word, his horse and donkey begin to trudge up the mountain. As the group continues up the mountain, he'll let his sled slip back, behind the woman with the bow, enjoying the view. The snowy mountainside is pleasant, though not unfamiliar, to gaze upon.

[Morbis Meh]

Mjoll takes the lead wordlessly, deftly walking up the well known path as she had done for the last decade or so. She looks at the man with the owl and gives him a bloodless smile "The gods do know indeed what prowls in the darkness... so do I and I on occasion roam with them, now I suggest being a little more cautious and a little less impatient because on misstep on a mountain could be your last...hehehe" Turning back around she trudges onward paying no mind to the greenhorns.

[Hattish Thing]

Runa Sigridsdottir

Runa looks at her horse, then walks over to Ari with it. "May I stable my horse here untill we get back then? I don't wish to leave her half way up." When that is settled, she is ready to leave with the others. She can only remember a few names, and looks at each one to try to figure them out. The tall man with shaggy hair that looked like a ranger seemed to know what he was talking about. Reminded of her brothers, she smiles briefly, then starts walking.


Vercingetorix

The goliath has a sympathetic, but not unkind, look on his face when he says My commiserations on your loss, good trader. If we find these people, I'll take responsibility for getting them back down the mountain. We'll do what we can.

The trader nods towards Runa, smiling lightly at her as he does so. He declares, "Hrmm? Oh, go right ahead, milady. If you like, I can guide her back towards the stables. I assure you she'll be given the best care money can afford. Quite the beautiful breed, and fitting of yourself, yes?" He sort of words his small compliment poorly. He's still not the greatest Common speaker, and his thick accent confirmed that long ago. He turns to the much taller man, clapping his hands loudly and raising his eyebrows. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much, sir. I'm sure my workers will be very grateful for you assistance, my tall and wide friend. You look to be a mountain man in every since of the phrase, and I hope our cruel mistress, Mt. Malice, treats you well." He turns gravely, his smile fading to a sort of concerned frown. "I wish you each my luck. I'm sure you will need it, comrades." He'll move over to Runa's horse, to gently grab the powerful animals reigns and lead her away from the mountain, and back to town. He salutes the group and walks away for the final time, looking over his shoulder once or twice as he watches the group slowly begin their fated ascension up the dreaded mountainside.

---



Mjoll takes the lead wordlessly, deftly walking up the well known path as she had done for the last decade or so. She looks at the man with the owl and gives him a bloodless smile "The gods do know indeed what prowls in the darkness... so do I and I on occasion roam with them, now I suggest being a little more cautious and a little less impatient because on misstep on a mountain could be your last...hehehe" Turning back around she trudges onward paying no mind to the greenhorns.

It's midday, and the bright sun shines across the snow, blinding the party. A light wind blows, teasing the scarves and longcoats of the brave mercenaries. However, with little fear in their bold hearts, the group will begin their travels upwards, to the mountainside. The path is gentle here, the slope quite faint. The going is troubling, and might be a bit more than some members of the group are used to, but for the majority, the path might even be described as pleasant. The snow falls lightly down here, but it's clear the higher you get, the more snow will fall. As the party travels upwards, they may feel free to talk with eachother. It's fairly peaceful here, and the wind whirls about in the mountaineers ears, whispering nonsense in it's flowing, somber tone. The light wind might even be comforting to those used to much harsher climates. Small planks and boards sticking out of the snow mark the pathway up, but there's absolutely no tracks left behind from the caravan. The snow must have covered them all up already. Anyone could get lost out here, and never be heard of again! It's quite the gloomy thought. There's... something off about this place, this mountain. Not many people like travelling up here, and even a skilled ranger knows better than to attempt to brave this landscape.

How long will you all travel?

As you set on your journey, some unpleasant memories suddenly flash into your mind. Why, you just remembered a story you once heard regarding this specific mountain! It was a fairly popular bit of news around here recently. Just about two months ago, an expedition of explorers attempted to make their way up Mt. Malice, to the very top. From what you remember, they started with about twenty-five capable men. Only three returned, and the stories were quite disturbing. One story spoke of trolls lurking in the mountainside, things with sharp claws and sharper teeth. Furry, rather than their scaled cousins. Another told of strange thins moving through the forests at night, and wolves the size of grown men! There was even an unconfirmed rumor that when the explorers ran out of food... they resorted to eating eachother! Of course, this is just speculation, and the survivors never did admit to anything.

Hmm. Upon closer review, perhaps these stories aren't the best to share with the group? Or maybe they are! Up to you.

[Vhaidara]

Artolak looks back. Finally the rest of them are moving.

He will continue until something interesting happens, someone approaches him, or it gets dark.

[bross]

Fidel continues up the mountain following the lead of the precession's march

[Stanr]

Ivar follows the others, but has his owl fly above and ahead of the group.

[esorscher]

Garwin continues to follow the party, bringing up the rear with his sled.

[Yawielas]

Runa

Runa walks somewhere to the back of the party, since she was one of the last people to come along after getting her horse taken care of. She lets her eyes roam between the landscape and her companions, curious about them. However, noone seems very talkative at the moment, so she returns to studying their surroundings, minding her step.

[~Corvus~]

Vercingetorix

With a longer stride than the others, the Goliath has the luxury to take in the scenery of the mountain. Not that there's much to see when it's so life-killingly cold, and his cold weather clothing is more than sufficient to hold back the weather's advances... Even so, this is the longest time the he has been in snowy weather: First the job in the dwarven town, and now here? And the pay hadn't been great on the last job either.

Vercingetorix crosses his arms, stares into the distance, and tries to make himself smile. Managing a wry grin, he takes himself away from his own musings and passes the party before long, even Mijoli. He turns around and looks at everyone, and sees that the others are just concentrating on the hike. Not too concerned that they can't get to know each other later, he presses on.

[Morbis Meh]

Mjoll sets a casual pace, fast enough to get a goodly distance and keep them warm but slow enough so it isn't too physically demanding at these higher altitudes. She was counting her blessing that no one tried striking up a conversation or god forbid singing; she could be charming if she wanted to but the keyword was WANTED. She had little time to spend holding the hands of mercenaries while she was so close to her goal. When the giant oaf strode dumbly past her, Mjoll snarled inwardly "You do realize the point of having a guide is to stay behind said guide so that they can GUIDE you, don't you? I would think that something so trivial should come naturally but if not then I shall remind you: stay behind me greenhorn, unless you have a burning wish to fall off a cliff, fall through a thin layer of ice covered by snow, wander into hostile territory... You know minor inconveniences like that, you feel me Champ?"

[Hattish Thing]

Speaking of unpleasant hazards that may occur, Mjoll may soon find herself regretting her heated outburst at the oafish, and surely gigantic man that passed her, smiling gently. This is due to a sudden hail of small and poorly crafted arrows that suddenly seem to rain from the sky, over the little group. It's difficult to see where the volley came from, but there's a steep hill to the right of them, and a camp of... something, could be up that direction, and just out of view. It's hard to tell whether the camp is sixty feet away, or eighty. The hill is far too large to let the expedition on the ground view it's secrets. The path heads left, and the opposite direction of the origin of the attack, but who knows what could be out there? The arrows head down, twelve of them at the very least, seeking to find their way into the unprotected flesh of the mercenaries hiking up Mt. Malice. It's difficult to hear during the great wind, and the snow obstructs their vision a tad, but maybe some kind of listening will give more away about their strange new threat? After the volley of eleven arrows comes down, an even more intimidating object falls from the sky. A huge crossbow bolt, almost giant sized, comes launching down to it's target, completely surprising the party.

For now, the party must only attempt to dodge.



Arrows:

On Brother Fidel: [roll0] [roll1]
---
On Runa Sigrid: [roll2] [roll3]
---
On Garwin WormHart: [roll4][roll5]
---
On Vercingatorix: [roll6][roll7]
---
On Mjoll: [roll8][roll9]
---
On the halfling in white: [roll10] (Only one arrow, lucky you.)
---
On Artolak: Crossbow Bolt: [roll11]



All arrows that hit deal 1d6+1, the crossbow bolt appears to have missed and landed deep in the snow.

[Yawielas]

Runa

Runa cries out when an arrow suddenly strikes her leg, and she brings up her shield against the rest of the volley, looking for the nearest shelter.

[Vhaidara]

Artolak barely moves as the massive bolt impacts the frozen ground near him. He freezes in place, listening for any movement in the distance.

Thinks he's so wise.
[roll0]

[bross]

Fidel begins to contemplate the meaning of an arrow sticking out of his breastplate before beginning to walk towards cover behind the sled unsholdering his longspear

[esorscher]

One of the arrows whizzes by, narrowly but harmlessly, but the other imbeds itself just above Garwin's heart. An inch in any direction, and he'd be bleeding out, close to death. He stays down on his sled, but draws his crossbow, straining to listen for where the attackers are coming from.

Listen Roll in OOC thread: [13] (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17860124&postcount=170)

Drawing crossbow as a move action, remaining prone.

[Stanr]

As arrows begin flying past and striking his allies, Ivar immediately rushes to the base of the steep hill to their right, hoping to find some cover. He draws his bow and nocks an arrow to it. The ranger then quickly signals to his owl, which continues to circle high above them. Finally, he quiets his breath and listens intently.

Ivar listen:
[roll0]
Owl listen:
[roll1]

[~Corvus~]

Vercingetorix

Sure that the guide was just pausing for another tongue-lashing, the goliath turns to face Mjoli so that at least he's being talked to face-to-face. When he sees the arrows and the ballista bolt, his head snaps over to the origin of their flight. Seeing that Mijoli hasn't acted, he grabs the smaller woman and pulls her to the hill, along with a few other adventurers. He whispers to her, If you want to continue being pissed at me, fine, but it seems we're already in hostile territory. So what's the best way up this hill?

[Yawielas]

Runa

Runa tries to listen for any sound that might give away their foes' location, while looking for cover.
Listen [roll0]

[~Corvus~]

Vercingetorix

Thinking that Mijoli is intentionally giving him the silent treatment, ignoring her seemingly minor wound, the goliath roars and charges up the hill.

He will do his best to sprint up the hill, running if possible.

If the snow is too thick, or the hill too steep, then he has other options: Goliaths can spend their turn to climb at an accelerated rate without penalty. In that case, spending a full-round action to move 60 80 feet up the hill.

What does he see?

[Yawielas]

Runa

Seeing the goliath charge up the hill, Runa glances towards the others, then follows, her shield raised above her head against arrows. Apparently the giant had heard or seen something to give away their foes' location, and she couldn't very well let him charge in alone.

[Vhaidara]

Artolak, his legendary senses failing him, following his fellow giant in the uphill charge.

[Morbis Meh]

Mjoll ignores the large brute and focuses for a moment then suddenly disappears.

full round action to go invisible

[Hattish Thing]

And so, with the strong wind blowing his furs and longcoat back, the goliath charges up the hillside. His hands are thick, and his balance absolute. It's quite apparent that he's very much used to this sort of exhaustive work in the snow, judging by just how quickly he rushes up the deep, pale, wet snow. Several other hikers run beside him, eager to assist the giant man-like being in his endeavor, however, they'll take an extra turn to get up the steep slope! Others below duck and hide behind snowy trees, or behind the large sled. No volleys of arrows come flying down the hillside to plunge into helpless flesh this time, and some sort of small commotion can be heard by those running up the hill. It's the sound of swords and weapons being unsheathed, a grinding metal against metal, along with a great barked order, out of a deep and gravelly voice. Should anyone speak Giant, they'll recognize the shout. <<"The man-things come run up, break them, dogs!".>> Vercingatorix will reach the top of the hill first, and notice the somewhat startling sight before him. About five tents are set up, made of thin and ripped material. It's obviously a small camp, suggesting that these things were on the hunt for something, and eager to move fast. There's no campfire, but a body is currently impaled on a spit, from one end to another. The body seems to belong to a young woman, once clad in fur. She's quite dead, and a fair section of her seems to have been bitten off. It's repulsive, and horrible, but the Goliath is distracted from the sickening sight by the eleven large creatures resemble hairy, feral goblins standing about six feet tall each, clad in dark armor.


Their noses and claws stand out, which are similar to those of bears, however their claws are not long and sharp enough to be used as weapons, so the beasts carry axes, swords, and even a club or two. Ranged weapons have been dropped in the snow in front of them, at the command of their obvious leader. Said leader is standing behind his men, clad in a shoddy breastplate and a massive amount of fur, a large crossbow resting beside him, a huge axe in his hand now. The towering thing seems to be a massive golbin, or on smallest giants ever seen, standing only twelve feet tall. However, the monster's ripping arms show that the leader obviously possesses great strength, befitting most giants. The male thing is bald and has spikes, resembling horns, set upon it's head instead of hair. The thing has an earthy skin tone that blends with it's snowy surroundings. The most peculiar and distinguishing thing about the great brute is the fact that it only has one large eye in the middle of their forehead. The smaller creatures growl towards the goliath and charge forward, the massive cyclops behind them cackling heartily. <<"Hah! One man-thing alone? Charge it, break it, eat well tonight!">>

Roll for initiative.

[bross]

[roll0] in action...

[Vhaidara]

Artolak runs up the hill alongside and slightly behind the goliath.

Initiative: [roll0]

[esorscher]

Still reclining on his sled, Garwin urges his beasts of burden forward up the hill. As they drag him, he casts a summoning spell, bringing a hawk into existence ahead of him. This is no ordinary hawk, however, as it seems stronger, and more suited for the cold terrain. The hawk dashes forward toward the largest target, and screeches as it claws at the giant's eye.

Move forward and uphill 30' on the sled, summoning a fiendish hawk using Summon Monster I in conjunction with various feats. The hawk appears 40' ahead an uphill, flying in the air. The hawk then charges the Cyclops (60' fly speed) and attacks, trying to blind the Cyclops (if that's possible).

Hawk: [roll0], [roll1]+[roll2] cold

[~Corvus~]

Vercingetorix laughs out loud in defiance, shouting to them while brandishing his weapon. Come, then, foolish cretins while your cowardly leader feeds you lies. COME TO YOUR DEATH!!


Initiative: [roll0]

Intimidate[roll1]

[Stanr]

Ivar rushes up the hill to the edge of the camp, his thick furs and cloak swirling behind him until he's just close enough to see the goblin-creatures. His owl remains circling the camp, looking out for more potential enemies. The ranger squints through the flurry of snow, then nocks an arrows to his longbow and draws it back. He holds his breath for half a moment, grey eyes focused intently, then looses the arrow toward the largest creature, presumably their leader.

Ivar heads to the bottom-right corner of the map posted in the OoC thread. Owl circles the camp at about 60 feet up. Not sure how big the hill is. If he can make it up in one move, he'll attack. If not, he'll run and just stop at the edge of the camp.

Attack:
[roll0]
Damage:
[roll1]

[Yawielas]

Runa Sigridsdottir

Runa nocks an arrow as she runs, to let a few arrows fly before she enters into direct combat. When she can see their enemies, she quickly loosens 2 arrows towards the goblinoid to the far right, grimacing at the sight of the unfortunate woman on the spit.

Attack 1[roll0] confirm if crit [roll1] damage[roll2]
Attack 2[roll3] confirm if crit [roll4] damage[roll5]

[Hattish Thing]

The battle begins now, the goblinoid beings charging forward, wanting nothing more than to slice the party members to shreds and bits. They operate by swarming and flanking, doing their best to surround the largest fighters and taking turns at them. Five of the tall and wide monsters come towards Vercingatoix, eager to try giant meat tonight. They brandish maces of steel and spike, no doubt quite good at cleaving flesh and smashing bone to dust. However, the things don't attack this round. The giant didn't scare them away, but they do have second thoughts, so Vercingatorix has bought himself a round to attack before the bugbears begin their formation around him. However, next turn the things will have the giant surrounded. Most unpleasant! Three of the monsters will charge towards Sigrid, including the one on the far right. A sort of bloodthirsty glee is in their eyes, and one of the goblinoids charging her even has a heavy looking axe, rather than a mace. Her first arrow misses one of the three goblinoids, but her second smashes into the same one with incredible force. The bugbear, for that's what they were, now has an arrow embedded in it's shoulder. It's not particularly happy about it either. The cyclops seems to be getting some attention as well, for it was content to simply watch the entire thing occur. Nothing better than watching your minions work! That is, until the hawk comes rushing towards him. The bird of prey misses his head, but circles around. Closely following, an arrow comes flying through the air to stab the thing in it's mighty guy. He roars out in pain as a good chunk of his life force vanishes. Now, he looks around in anger, unable to find an attacker. However,next turn he will be in the middle of the map and ready to pick an opponent.

(One bugbear is wounded, five skip their turn. Bugbears 1-5 are against Vercingatorix. 6-9 are fighting against Sigrid. 9-11 are attacking Ivar.)


Bugbear 6 (16 HP): [roll1] Damage: [roll2]
Bugbear 7 (16 HP): [roll3] Damage: [roll4]
Bugbear 8 (16 HP): [roll5] Damage: [roll6]

---

Bugbear 9 (16 HP): [roll7] Damage: [roll8]
Bugbear 10 (16 HP): [roll9] Damage: [roll10]
Bugbear 11 (16 HP): [roll11] Damage: [roll12]

[Stanr]

Ivar remains on the edge of the landing, while his owl continues to circle overhead, scouting for further enemies. He draws another arrow, nocks it, and fires straightaway at the largest enemy. Before the arrow has even reached the creature, he looses a second one.

Full attack on the leader.
Attack 1:
[roll0]
Damage 1:
[roll1]
Attack 2:
[roll2]
Damage 1:
[roll3]

[~Corvus~]

The goliath looks around, deciding to help out Sigrid instead of be culled by the bugbears near him. He yells as he charges the nearest of the three as it is running to attack his companion.

attack: [roll0]
Magical Lamp Post Damage: [roll1]
Sneak Attack: [roll2]

[Yawielas]

Runa Sigridsdottir

Runa draws her sword, a long, finely crafted blade, and swings it swiftly at the closest of her attackers, following up with another jab. Her shield is in her other hand, ready to defend against more blows.


Melee attack 1 [roll0]
confirm if crit:[roll1]
damage[roll2]
melee attack 2[roll3]
confirm if crit: [roll4]
damage[roll5]

[Vhaidara]

Artolak steps forward, his fists flying towards the nearest bugbear. As he does, he lets loose a terrifying howl and ice begins to cover his skin.

5ft step left, Rage, full attack against the guy next to me

Attack 1
Attack: [roll0]
Crit: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Crit: [roll3]

Attack 2
Attack: [roll4]
Crit: [roll5]
Damage: [roll6]
Crit: [roll7]

Add 2 to both of my to-hit rolls if Vercingatorix goes after me (flanking)

[esorscher]

The hawk continues to assault the cyclops's eye. Garwin, meanwhile, waves his hands and says a few words, but then disappears behind a thick wall of smoke, which envelops several bugbears, sickening and nauseating them.

Hawk:
Talons: [roll0], [roll1]+[roll2]

Garwin:
Wall of Smoke, Cloudy Conjuration
a 60'x10' wall appears with the right-most bugbear at its top-right corner, left 15', down-diagonal 5', left 40'. (Axes would really help--A1-A3, etc.) Garwin's sled is not within the smoke. Should catch 4 bugbears with the following effects:

Sickened
Fort DC 16 or Nauseated while inside the smoke, and for 1 round after