Carrion Crown Season One IC

[Inspectre]

Link to the OOC Thread


Music!

It began with the arrival of the letter. Over the years you had received occasional letters from your old friend Petros Lorrimor, and so its arrival was not particularly alarming. Likewise, its contents seemed innocuous enough at first glance, banal even.

Spoiler: The Letter

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Hello Old Friend,

I realized the other day that it has been some time since last we spoke. You need not worry, for I am in good health. The quiet air of Ravengro has been a great help to my nerves after a life of adventure. Danger may be a flavorful spice to add to one’s life, but an exhausting one as well. I imagine tis strange to hear such a sentiment come from me, given the circumstances in which we met. Nonetheless, these old bones of mine have found that peace quite appeals to them.

The people of Ravengro are an insular lot, it must be said. But though they are slow to trust, I have gradually earned their respect. No doubt my time as a professor in Lepidstadt winning over recalcitrant students has been of aid there. One other thing that I have found helpful is an attentive ear, as everyone carries their share of problems, even if they are too proud to ask for aid.

If you should decide to come pay your old professor a visit, I would caution you to beware the rainy season. Ravengro has quite the stirge population in the surrounding moors, and paradoxically the little blighters are most active then. I would hate for your first experience in town to be hearing the whispering from the townsfolk over your pockmarked face! Nonetheless, I am sure you will find a way to impress them even if such should come to pass.

I hope you will forgive the ramblings of an old man, but I will not keep your eyes glued to their letter any further.

May Pharasma’s waters guide thee,

Professor Petros Lorrimor
7th of Rova (September), 4722 AR

There it was, at the very end of the letter in the farewell – “May Pharasma’s waters guide thee”. Petros had always told you that was an old catchphrase, a challenge and response system set up centuries ago during the darkest moments of Ustalav’s history. “May Pharasma’s waters guide thee” was the challenge, and then the response was some phrase agreed upon ahead of time that could be changed as necessary – “May Pharasma’s waters guide thee, and protect thee from harm”, “May Pharasma’s waters guide thee, and lead thee to Her Throne”, and so on. Its relevance here was that Professor Lorrimor had always told you that when he used that challenge phrase in one of his letters, it would mean that a secret was encoded within. Sure enough, holding the letter up to a candleflame close enough to singe, but not burn, the paper was enough to activate the invisible ink, underlining several words to reveal the true message.

Spoiler: The True Letter

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Hello Old Friend,

I realized the other day that it has been some time since last we spoke. You need not worry, for I am in good health. The quiet air of Ravengro has been a great help to my nerves after a life of adventure. Danger may be a flavorful spice to add to one’s life, but an exhausting one as well. I imagine tis strange to hear such a sentiment come from me, given the circumstances in which we met. Nonetheless, these old bones of mine have found that peace quite appeals to them.

The people of Ravengro are an insular lot, it must be said. But though they are slow to trust, I have gradually earned their respect. No doubt my time as a professor in Lepidstadt winning over recalcitrant students has been of aid there. One other thing that I have found helpful is an attentive ear, as everyone carries their share of problems, even if they are too proud to ask for aid.

If you should decide to come pay your old professor a visit, I would caution you to beware the rainy season. Ravengro has quite the stirge population in the surrounding moors, and paradoxically the little blighters are most active then. I would hate for your first experience in town to be hearing the whispering from the townsfolk over your pockmarked face! Nonetheless, I am sure you will find a way to impress them even if such should come to pass.

I hope you will forgive the ramblings of an old man, but I will not keep your eyes glued to their letter any further.

May Pharasma’s waters guide thee,

Professor Petros Lorrimor
20th of Arodus (August), 4722 AR

Which could be transcribed to:

I NEED HELP. DANGER. COME TO RAVENGRO. TRUST NO ONE. BEWARE THE WHISPERING WAY.

For those of you more learned in the history of Ustalav’s various towns and factions, you consult your own resources of knowledge before setting out to answer the professor’s disguised plea for aid.

Spoiler: Ravengro, Knowledge Local or History DC 15

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The town of Ravengro, originally known as Raven’s Grotto, was founded in 4594 to support and supply the newly established Harrowstone Prison nearby. After the prison was closed down in 4661, the town lingered on but largely went ignored by the County of Tamrivena. A few attempts were made to revitalize the town by transforming it into a lumber or farming community, but all such efforts failed in rather short order. Today the town of Ravengro is an isolated, sleepy hamlet of no importance whatsoever.

Spoiler: The Whispering Way, Knowledge Religion or Arcana DC 15

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A secret cabal of sinister necromancers and undead sympathizers, the Whispering Way are best known in Ustalav as servants of Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant, so-named in part because of his own association with this order. While there are any number of secretive fellowships with varying legal standing within Ustalav, the Whispering Way is the only one whose membership has been officially declared illegal by the government in Caliphas, with punishments ranging from life imprisonment to execution by slow torture. Despite the official government stance that this has led to the organization being virtually stamped out within civilized areas of Ustalav, rumors of the Way’s continued existence abound, alongside rumors that the most notorious members of the organization continue to operate unimpeded in the regions of Ustalav outside the government’s firm control - which it must be said, is the larger portion of the country.

It has taken the professor’s letter several weeks to reach you from the date it was written, and several more for you to conclude your own business and set out to the town of Ravengro. The roads, as always in Ustalav but especially for an isolated town like Ravengro, are dangerous for an armed group but nigh suicidal for a lone traveler. As such you have had to arrange passage with a small caravan of merchants and fellow travelers leaving the county seat of Tamrivena to reach Ravengro at all, let alone in time to come to the Professor’s aid. Today is the first of Lamashan (October), and with any luck at all this will be your final day on the road before arriving in Ravengro at mid-morning. A little over a month since the professor sent out his desperate letter to you – it would have to be soon enough.

This is shortly after the start of your fifth day on the road from Tamrivena. While the weather has thankfully remained dry for the duration of your trip, the chill after the sun goes down certainly heralds the approach of winter. Furthermore, the dark clouds starting to gather overhead suggest that if you do not arrive in Ravengro soon, you may have a cold autumn rain to endure as well.

Fortunately, that defaced signpost you had passed a few minutes ago reported that Ravengro was only half a mile ahead, and so you should only be minutes away from arriving, even at the slow pace the caravan has been traveling to accommodate the slower draft animals. Aside from the guards and travelers tromping along on foot, the caravan currently consists of, from front to the back of it stretched out along the narrow, uneven hardpacked dirt road:

• A traveler’s carriage bearing a Ravengro-local merchant, Luramin Taigh, returning from Tamrivena on business. He has offered anyone traveling a seat within the carriage . . . for the extortionist fee of 2 gold pieces.
• A wagon bearing the proceeds of Luramin’s business within Tamrivena, largely various odds and ends of gear and tools. With the two hired guards riding up front and a third hanging off the back of the wagon, there is no room for a comfortable seat but the guards have grudgingly offered a spot in the wagon amidst the piles of supplies, in exchange for a promise not to steal anything and not to tell Luramin that they allowed you to ride in “his” wagon.
• A magical carriage drawn by phantom steeds summoned by a middle-aged professor who apparently has traveled all the way from Lepidstadt. The professor has largely kept to himself (and been largely shunned by the others in the caravan for his flagrant display of magic), but has introduced himself as Professor Adivon Adrissant in one of the few conversations you’ve had with him. To anyone who has made an effort to speak with him over the course of the journey (requiring a DC 10 Diplomacy check), he has offered a seat within his magical carriage, free of charge.
• A Varisian traveler’s wagon, complete with sketches of butterflies flying over streams twisting around into spiral patterns (symbols of Desna and Pharasma both, to be sure) painted along the side of it. The covered wagon is driven by a middle-aged Varisian woman named Zellara, and you have caught glimpses of a passenger riding inside the wagon, a strange pale-skinned fellow covered in heavy robes, a face-concealing scarf, and a cowl with a monkey pet (or familiar). Like the professor, the strange duo have been largely shunned by Luramin and his hired guards, and thus kept to themselves, which perhaps only increases their aura of mystery. Zellara has made passing remarks to those walking that someone could ride up front with her, or hang off the back of the wagon if they so wished to rest their feet, although she has asked that no one go inside the wagon as her traveling companion wishes for privacy.

(OOC: And so we begin! Everyone can introduce their character and where they are within the caravan, whether that is on one of the vehicles making up said caravan or tromping along on foot at some point near one of the vehicles – please make note of where you are walking in relation to the vehicles so I can get some idea of whether you’re brining up the front or rear of the single-file formation. And once we’ve got some introductory descriptions and banter settled, we’ll begin in earnest with your arrival in Ravengro!)

[Rilem]

Fatima regards the spectral horses pulling the cart she rides in. This would have been an easier way to to travel from Lepidstadt, but she hadn't met this Professor Adrissant until she'd already arrived in Tamrivena, via a much less comfortable journey. She pulls her scarf tighter around her head, both to ward off the chill and to cover her white hair.

With the professor distracted, she pulls out the letter from Petros and reads it for the umpteenth time. She had heard of the Whispering Way; it served as an all-purpose bogeyman for Ustalav, which had enough of those already. She'd known a fellow academic at University who'd been rumored to have dealings with them, though he'd disappeared before any formal charges could be levied.

She glanced around at the caravan making its way to Ravengro, and Petros, and hopefully answers. Who was he threatened by? "Trust no one," the letter said. That didn't narrow it down much.

[DarkNetwerk]

Valerija sat at the back of the Varisian's wagon at the end of the caravan, the mystery of the occupants conveniently causing the others to stay away from it and, by extension, her. She kept an eye on the road behind the caravan, the guards foolishly shunning the rearmost wagon and would have left it's rear flanks open if she weren't there. The hood of her cloak was pulled low to mask the scars on her cheek and demonic brand on her forehead, doing what she could to delay the inevitable confrontation about it and her subsequent explanation. She was a victim, not a cultist.

She sighed and hopped off the wagon to walk behind it, frustrated at the slow pace. If it weren't for the potential dangers of such a long passage for lone travelers, she would have arrived long ago. A plea for help from the Professor, some danger he needed help to face where no one could be trusted... and here she was lazily rolling in after several weeks. She grit her teeth and stomped onward remaining at the back of the caravan.

[Zero Prime]

Lady Alexanna Vidivicci, dispossessed Countess AC: 15 | FF: 14 | TOUCH: 11 | HP: 10 | Current: 10 Fortitude: +4 | Reflex: +1 | Will: +2 | Perception: +5 Magus Spell Slots: 1st: 1/1 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None. "May Pharasma's waters guide you," the timeless farewell that echoed from Professor Lorrimor's letters held a significance that transcended mere tradition for Alexanna. To her, it was more than a challenge and response system from a bygone era; it was a lesson, a bridge between mentor and apprentice. Petros had imparted the wisdom that encoded within those words lay a hidden language—a secret ready to be unveiled. The phrase was a pact, a bond between them, a signal that within the ink and parchment resided more than met the eye. It symbolized the subtle art of communication, the delicate dance of trust and shared knowledge. Lorrimor's use of the challenge phrase signified not just a farewell but an invitation to delve deeper, to unravel the concealed truths hidden within the mundane. Tucking the letter away with a reverent touch, Alexanna returned her focus to the journey. The caravan's slow progression towards Ravengro became a canvas for reflection, each mile a step closer to the town that held not only the promise of Professor Lorrimor's legacy but also the looming shadows of ancestral lands lost to the Whispering Tyrant. As the caravan meandered forward, Alexanna declined the merchant's extortionate offer for a seat, choosing to maintain considerable distance from the opportunistic exchange. Instead, she found herself drawn to the magical carriage conjured by Professor Adivon Adrissant, where the echoes of academia and arcane mastery reminded her of Lorrimor's teachings. However, Adrissant was engaged in conversation with a scarved, white haired traveler, so, in the end she journeyed towards the end of the caravan, where, ultimately, her path led her to Zellara's Varisian wagon, adorned with sketches of butterflies—a welcomed haven from judgmental gazes. Riding alongside Zellara, Alexanna found a momentary sanctuary. Varisian customs, learned through her mentor's teachings, guided her interactions, she respected the woman's privacy, and the privacy of her companion. So she rode the way in silence, tentatively patting the satchel in which was stored Lorrimor's letter. Observing from a distance, Alexanna noted Valerija's vigilance. The hood of her cloak concealed scars on her cheek and a some sort of brand on her forehead. Intrigued, Alexanna sensed the whispers among those who caught glimpses of the mysterious traveler. She dismounted, walking close to the stranger, "I note that you are not in the employ of the Master Taigh, but keep as wary an eye on the horizon as his men. It seems we may share a destination, and if we do, it is my sincere hope that Pharasma's waters guide you," she turned, a sincerity in her dark, almond shaped eyes, "as they do me."

[The_Snark]

Irina had thought, when Professor Lorrimor had first given her a code for passing along clandestine messages, that the man was paranoid. She hadn't complained at the time; for one thing, she'd felt herself too deeply in his debt to object to anything short of murder. For another, if he hadn't been possessed of a suspicious mind, he wouldn't have followed her on that fateful night, and... well. She isn't sure what would have happened then, but for all that the Professor's intercession on her behalf worries and confuses her, she's fairly sure she would have liked the alternative even less.

So she does, undeniably, owe him a debt. Enough that she can't in good conscience ignore a plea for help, even if it turns out to be no more than an old man losing his wits. Maybe especially then. It would be better if he had family to take care of him - but quite possibly he doesn't, and anyway, Irina knows better than most that family doesn't always work out the way it ought. Leaving Lepistadt hurts - a singer gets by on her reputation, and every week she's away is a week for the audience to forget and her employers to find new favorites - but she feels obliged to at least hear the professor out.

If nothing else, the old man has more than enough to blackmail her. Not that he's ever so much as hinted in that direction but... well, he's not the only one with a paranoid mind.

And so Irina finds herself on the road. The journey is a long one, more than twice as far as she's ever been before - Bitterbrook was just under a week from Lepistadt - and sorely taxing to an inexperienced traveler. Every evening sees her tired and sore from the day's journey, nervous at spending the night among strangers, worrying about what she'll find when (if) she finally reaches Ravengro. More than once, she's tempted to turn back. But the farther she goes, the less sensible that temptation becomes; the time and coin she invested in this trip is already spent. May as well see it through to the end.

The last few miles to Ravengro see her resting in Luramin Taigh's spare wagon. Her stamina is much better than it was a month ago - the journey's been good for her in that sense, she supposes - but she still prefers not to walk for more than a couple hours at a stretch. After five days she's come to be more or less at ease around the guards... or rather, she's worked out how friendly she can be without implying more than friendliness, and applied herself to charming them as best she can within that limit.

[Narbaculus]

Is that half a mile straight there, or half a mile following the road? Ekard wonders, not for the first time, at how much roads wind aboveground. It certainly makes it harder to keep track of where you're going when the path turns about itself so.

Speaking of turning about, he glances behind him for the umpteenth time. Unsettling spirits, those horses are, and no mistake. They seem tranquil enough now, plodding along the hard dirt road with the same steady pace as their corporeal counterparts. Ekard knows, though, that such tranquility can turn to disquiet at a moment's notice—or no notice at all. What would Professor Lorrimor think of them? Ekard has never fought a spirit before, but he has no doubt he could describe the creatures in a letter to the Professor. Lorrimor has always had a knack for naming precisely whatever weirdness Ekard has last encountered below Kraggodan.

A shifting sound ahead of him brings his attention back to Luramin's wagon, and to the woman ensconced among the supplies. She can't be comfortable there, Ekard reasons.

Shrugging, he resumes his conversation with the guard hanging off the back of the wagon. "On the one hand, it's easier: I know the tunnels like the back of my hand, and I can expect danger from certain, discrete directions. On the other hand, it's harder: I'm never going anywhere, really, or doing anything other than waiting for disaster to strike. If something is out there, it doesn't have to sneak around and follow me. It just has to wait." Ekard smiles wryly, adjusts the weapon on his shoulder, and keeps walking.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Kristoph Harrisson Male Lawful Good Half-Elf Paladin 1, Level 1, Init 3, HP 13/13, Speed 20 ft (30 ft. Base) AC 19, Touch 11, Flat-footed 18, CMD 14, Fort 4, Ref 1, Will 1, CMB +3, Base Attack Bonus 1, Action Points 3 Falcata +3 (1d8+2, 19-20/x3) Breastplate, Heavy Steel Shield (+6 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex) Abilities Str 14, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 17 Condition Smite Evil (0/1 Used)

From his position near the front of the caravan Sir Kristoph Harrisson, self-announced Paladin of Pharasma, walks with a smile and a light step in spite of his heavy breastplate and weapons. Regardless of the cold and damp he seems in a jovial mood as he makes innocuous small talk with the greedy merchant Luramin Taigh. Over the course of their trip it seems he's deliberately poked fun at the man's "offer" of a seat, instead walking and talking instead of spending two gold crowns on a bench.

"Nearly there, now - I'm sure you're happy to be home, Luramin. Probably time to get back to the shop, start up a nice fire, and dry off from this mist. Do you do much business with Professor Lorrimor? Can you direct me to his home once we get there?" Kristoph asks, smiling at the pending end of their trip. "Once I've visited my friend, is there an inn or tavern in town? I'd like to meet some of the good people and join in their nightly feast!"

The striking man, with elven ears, distinctly otherworldly demeanor, size, bright red hair, and intense green eyes knows he is unlikely to receive a warm welcome in the insular town, but that doesn't seem to bother him. Despite his well polished, matte black armor and the bright blue spiral of Pharasma on the black overcoat, the unlikely knight seems to carry none of the seriousness or dour mood of Pharasmins. Instead he has opted for a joie de vivre that seems at stark contrast to the gloomy, dark country of Ustalav and the suspicious town they approach.

[Farmerbink]

"...and that's how I convinced the duchess to pardon my cousin," Elian finishes with a smirk. No doubt another simple fable, he dismounts from the cart to give the now-vacant space to Irina. His first few steps are spritely and loose, like a squirrel just landed out of a tree before he settles into a dull rhythm of light-footed steps a few paces behind Luramin's goods. Quickly noting his rising heart rate, he frowns slightly. He's never been especially athletic, and this journey has proven difficult for him in many ways.

However, he hides it well- or at least deeply- behind a quick, easy smile, and friendly banter that each and every patron, passenger, guard, and traveler has been on the receiving end of at least once in the last 5 days. It's probably no surprise that he finds himself talking with the tall, lovely woman now riding in the cart once again.

"I know you won't, but I'd love to hear more about your eyes, and I'd settle for another story of the opera house." Smiling easily, he manages to just dance the line of flirtatious without ever crossing it into anything the young woman might take too seriously. "At any rate, I'm walking now, so you get to fill the silence. If that sign's any indication, it'll only be 3 more days to Ravengro!" he jokes, with a twinkling eye that makes one wonder if he's serious.

[Gyrfalcon]

Aaron pulls his cloak tighter around himself, shifting his weight with practiced ease as an exotic rhamphorhynchus swoops in and lands on his shoulder, wrapping a leathery wing around the back of his head for a moment before perching, its tail curled around his neck loosely as it peers around with bright interest.

The young man sighs as he adjusts his glasses and runs a gloved hand through his messy black hair, grimacing at the perpetual mist of water – not even properly rain – that kept everything damp and clammy.

It was an odd collection that was making its way to the sleepy town of Ravengro, he thought to himself. A Paladin of Pharasma, something that didn’t properly exist but indicated a fanatical devotion to the Gray Lady. A professor openly displaying his magical talent, something off-putting to most Ustalavans in general. Aaron had a somewhat different viewpoint and had tried to strike up a friendly conversation with the Professor, but had inadvertently let slip that he had been expelled from the University of Lepidstadt, resulting in the professor coldly dismissing him. Another of the travelers had managed to ingratiate herself enough to receive a seat in his carriage, something that Aaron’s sore legs made him slightly envious about.

As for the young man himself, he had hung off the back of the traveling Varisian’s wagon in turns with some of the other travelers, but had largely kept to himself, for the professor’s warning was clear. Aaron suspected that many of the unusual and colorful characters in this caravan might be other acquaintances of the Professor’s, but could just as easily be spies sent to keep an eye on the old man, for his wisdom was well known, and his enemies many.

Trudging forward, he drew closer to the rumbling wagon containing the merchant’s wares. It was only a few more hours of walking, at least.

[DarkNetwerk]

Valerija glanced over at Alexanna's words. When she realized the woman was speaking to her, the scarred red-head winced, trying to hide further within the folds of her hood. She turned to look away with a shrug. Thank the Norns we're mere minutes away from Ravengro before conversation started, at least, she thought. When she realized the woman's greetings echoed the Professor's challenge phrase, she blinked and turned her head sharply towards the noblewoman to get a better look at her, unconsciously clutching her belt pouch which held his last letter containing that phrase. "Uh... yeah... waters," she replied. Was that just a coincidence? In any case, the letter said I should trust no one... Is this some trick? Someone got to him and learned the phrase?. Valerija shook her head, clearing it of any paranoia that was beginning to encroach on her thoughts. "Guards are up front so can't get a good view of what might have come behind...," she said with a shrug. "They'll be on their own after Ravengro," she finished with a tilt of her head towards the town they approached.

[Inspectre]

Alexanna & Valerija

The guards – along with the rest of the caravan more or less – have shunned Valerija much as they had done to the magical carriage. She didn’t think it is because of anyone seeing her brands, because she knew from experience those tended to be MUCH more alarming to people. Instead while she can’t confirm it without calling the guards out, she suspects it has to do with the same reason a lot of other people in Ustalav tended to be terse or downright rude to her – they thought she was a Kellid.

Valerija didn’t know many of the details, but apparently there used to be a wild, fierce people who lived in this land before the Varisian settlers came. Tensions rose, wars broke out, and eventually the Kellid were all driven out or killed. The survivors either eked out a living in isolated villages far from the rest of “civilized” Ustalav, or moved north to settle in Sarkoris. And even Valerija knows of what happened in Sarkoris after the Worldwound opened, disgorging thousands upon thousands of demons and wiping that country off the map.

So even though Valerija is from the opposite end of the continent, the people of Ustalav just saw her and assumed she was part of the local “barbarian” population that were viewed about only one step above orcs, who frequently raided into Ustalav and every couple hundred years made a pretty good run at burning the entire country to the ground. By this point in her life, though, Valerija was pretty used to that sort of treatment from the world at large – at least she’s not being constantly ogled by the guards the way the soft-soled floozy currently riding in the back of the supply cart (Irina – The_Snark’s character) was.

The one person who has been kind to Valerija throughout the journey has been Zellara, who seemed to have made it a point to ask her if she wanted to ride on her wagon at the back of the caravan, or share a campfire with her at night to ward off the autumn chill. Unfortunately, the guards shunning the varisian fortune teller’s wagon left the back of the caravan vulnerable to attack from behind, which is why Valerija took it upon herself to do their job for them.

Alexanna has also been somewhat shunned by the assembled group, although her isolation seems to have been more by choice or process of elimination than Valerija’s journey had been. As such, the disposed noble (I’m assuming Alexanna’s been traveling incognito rather than stomping around announcing herself as the “last” Vidivicci, here to lead everyone to the golden age of man – but do feel free to correct me. But yes, revealing herself to be from a noble family, even a basically disgraced house like Vidivicci will cause people to react to her differently.) has also drifted to the back of the caravan.

The two of you share an awkward conversation, dancing around the idea that perhaps you had a mutual friend waiting in Ravengro who had reached out for aid with a secret message, as the front of the caravan rounds the next bend in the road. Already alert for trouble at the back of the caravan, both of you pick up the subtle shift in the air – something was about to happen. And carried faintly on the wind from out of the depths of the forest . . . what is that sound. Is that . . . is that . . . flute music?

Fatima
Additional knowledge results for exceeding given DCs

Spoiler: The Whispering Way, DC 20

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One of the main reasons why the Whispering Way has succeeded in largely keeping its secrets is that its adherents are fanatically dedicated to maintaining that secrecy. Neophyte members are told only what they need to know, leaving only the upper echelons of the organization cognizant of the Way's actual philosophies and goals. Very little is ever written down in physical form, orders are instead communicated in-person or via magic, and conversation between members is again often held either magically or at no louder than a whisper (hence the name "The Whispering Way"). Further frustrating efforts to learn more about the organization, those members which are initially captured alive often commit suicide via cyanide capsule or magic. Such methods also tend to leave the corpse too damaged to be useful for spells such as Speak with Dead, and those who run afoul of the Whispering Way also often have their corpses mutilated in the same fashion. It is little wonder then that the chief symbol of the organization is a gagged skull, often decorated in such a way to not be immediately apparent at first glance.

Spoiler: Ravengro, History DC 20

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The county of Canterwall in which Ravengro resides has long been considered a cesspool of corruption, inefficiency, and malfeasance from its rotating cast of noble families serving as its ruler, ever since the fall of the previous ruling noble house, House Adachi some six centuries ago. Which is why it is a little curious that the ruling house of Canterwall at the time of Ravengro’s founding – House Rask – paid for the construction of Harrowstone prison and the nearby town of Raven’s Grotto, and didn’t use it as some sort of private dungeon in which to dump dissenters and political rivals. Instead the prison seems to have been operated as a proper prison for actual criminals brought in from across Ustalav. Indeed, House Rask even appointed a minor war hero – Lyvar Hawkran – to serve as the prison’s warden. A half-elf, Lyvar served as Harrowstone’s first and only warden until his death during the fire that consumed Harrowstone Prison in AR 4661.

(Int check succeeded!)
While the university of Lepidstadt is a fairly large place, it is not so large that you have not heard of one of its more (in)famous faculty. Professor Adivion Adrissant primarily taught history, philosophy, or various magical theory courses (more general theory of magic than actual spellcasting) - when he is ever actually present at the university and not out on “sabbatical” touring Ustalav for various field studies. It is whispered that he could trace his lineage back to the very same Adrissant who defeated the Whispering Tyrant atop Gallowspire over six hundred years ago, and that is why he receives such special dispensation from the university.

Due to traveling in slightly different circles at the university, you had only briefly met Professor Adivion a few times briefly at large functions held by the university, but you got the impression that he was a brilliant man much like Petros Lorrimor, but lacked Lorrimor’s warmth and ability to easily converse with anyone about anything (and have something to contribute to the conversation). Still, there was one other thing you knew about Adivion Adrissant – Petros Lorrimor had confided to you that he was old friends with the professor, and that if you ever got into trouble while at the University, you should turn to Professor Adivion for help. Surely that should qualify him as an ally you could trust, and yet Lorrimor’s secret message had plainly said to “trust no one”.

You are still wrestling with that final secret message as you read over the letter one last time before arriving in Ravengro when you hear Adivion loudly slam shut the book he is currently reading – Heroes and Villains of Ustalav, Volume III and slip it back into the satchel sitting on the seat beside him. He politely clears his throat, waiting until he is sure you are looking up from the letter at him before continuing. He steeples his fingers in front of his face as he begins to speak.

“Miss Eisen – I believe we’ve met before, at the University of Lepidstadt? I’ve been hoping that you would be willing to humor my curiosity, but wasn’t sure how to bring the subject up before now. But since we seem to be nearing our joint destination, I have two questions that I would like to ask you.”

The professor spreads his fingers out, parting his hands to gesture to you, clearly giving you the opportunity to deny him out-of-hand if you so chose before launching into the actual questions.

(Going to assume you don’t just say “No, shut up” out of hand here. )

Twirling his hand, Adivion gestures at your scarf and the hair underneath it.

“I have caught glimpses of your hair before now, and I’ve been curious as to why you choose to hide it. Admittedly, there are three possible causes that I am aware of that could result in silvery-white hair such as yours – age, genealogy, and some sort of magical calamity. You appear to be a fairly young woman, so unless you are some sort of “foul creature of the night” riding around in my carriage by day I have to presume that you are the age you appear to be.”

Adivion gives a faint smile as he folds his hands back into his lap, although its as the rumors say – his lack of charisma makes it look more like a condescending smirk than a quiet laugh at his own joke. He begins to descend into lecture mode as he rattles off his other two theories.

“I seem to recall that you are conducting various alchemical studies at the university, so perhaps a side effect of your work could qualify as a hair-changing magical calamity, but I also recall seeing you during your first year at the university as well – same hair. So unless said calamity happened when you were but a child, I believe that we can rule that potential out as well! Which leaves genealogy open as our sole remaining avenue. The study of genealogy is something of a private hobby of mine, and I would guess that you, Miss Eisen, are a half-elf, likely able to trace your heritage back to some elven ancestor from Kyonin. I understand that the elves of Kyonin consider a child born with silvery-white hair to be something of a bad omen, which is a bit of shocking superstition from such a civilized realm, but I suppose old prejudices die hard. If that is indeed why you feel compelled to hide your hair, Miss Eisen, then I would recommend that you . . . shouldn’t. I . . . know something about the weight of expectations placed through mere happenstance of birth, and have found it quite liberating to defy those expectations. Only you should dictate the terms by which you live your own life, Miss Eisen.”

The professor is silent for a very long moments, and then riffles through his satchel again to produce a folded sheet of paper which he offers over to you.

“My second question is this – I’ve been watching you pour over that same letter over and over again since we left Tamrivena. That letter wouldn’t happen to resemble this one, would it?”

Flipping open the folded paper reveals a letter from Petros Lorrimor that is almost an exact match for the one you’ve been pondering over since starting this journey.

“It would seem that our mutual friend, Old Petros, has found himself in a spot of bother, hasn’t he?”

(See below at the “All” section for a further update)


Irina, Aaron, Elian, Ekard

Despite their voiced concerns about the safety of the supplies at the start of your journey, the guards certainly no longer seem to mind all of you alternatively taking turns resting for a few miles in the back of the supply wagon they’re guarding. While the interior is rather cramped with all the crates and sacks inside, you’ve managed to hollow out a small space where you can sit down on a sack of some sort of seed, making a lumpy but supportive cushion. It certainly beats walking, in any event.

The guard riding off the back of the wagon, a swarthy man named Lars, chuckles at Ekard’s comment about lurking dangers waiting for his approach beneath the mountains, barely glancing over as Elian clambers out of the cart to switch places with Irina.

“That sounds a lot like cavaran work.”

Lars says to Ekard, pressing onward with his comparison.

“You never know when you’re going to follow the road straight into an ambush of bandits. Have to keep a careful watch at all times.”

Lars explains, decidedly not keeping his eyes scanning the treeline for lurking bandits as he continues his conversation with Ekard. One of the guards riding up at the front of the supply wagon calls back.

“Hey Lars! Ask him if it gets cold in those tunnels! Ustalavian winters are dark as death and twice as cold!”

The two guards up front on the wagon share a chuckle, although unlike Lars they do seem to be keeping a careful watch out for danger, two heavy crossbows propped up against their seats.

(See below at the “All” section for a further update)
Aaron Only
Additional knowledge results for exceeding given DCs

Spoiler: The Whispering Way, DC 20

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One of the main reasons why the Whispering Way has succeeded in largely keeping its secrets is that its adherents are fanatically dedicated to maintaining that secrecy. Neophyte members are told only what they need to know, leaving only the upper echelons of the organization cognizant of the Way's actual philosophies and goals. Very little is ever written down in physical form, orders are instead communicated in-person or via magic, and conversation between members is again often held either magically or at no louder than a whisper (hence the name "The Whispering Way"). Further frustrating efforts to learn more about the organization, those members which are initially captured alive often commit suicide via cyanide capsule or magic. Such methods also tend to leave the corpse too damaged to be useful for spells such as Speak with Dead, and those who run afoul of the Whispering Way also often have their corpses mutilated in the same fashion. It is little wonder then that the chief symbol of the organization is a gagged skull, often decorated in such a way to not be immediately apparent at first glance.

Spoiler: The Whispering Way, DC 25

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While the Whispering Way has become strongly associated with the Whispering Tyrant and thus considered synonymous as his servants, technically the organization existed for centuries prior to Tar-Baphon taking over the organization for his own purposes. The Way’s original goal was simply to develop ways to extend mortal life through arcane and alchemical means. This research often involved undeath of some sort such as vampirism or lichdom, hence the ease with which Tar-Baphon took over the organization once he returned from death as a lich. One of the most enduring mottos of the Way, at times used as a secret pass phrase by its agents, are the words “Transform, Transmute, Transcend”, tracing the progress of an aspiring member of the Way transforming themselves using the alchemical transmutation techniques the Way has developed to transcend their mortal body.

Kristoph
Leaning out through the open window of his carriage’s door, Luramin gives a wistful sigh at Kristoph’s comments.

“Aye, it will be nice to be back home – I miss seeing my girls. But someone has to go buy whatever supplies are needed from Tamrivena to keep our shop running! Ah . . . I should have known you’d be looking for the Professor, you look like the sort he’d make friends with on one of his foolish adventures.”

Luramin shakes his head, a faint tone of disapproval in his voice.

“Suppose at least now, Kendra is old enough to take care of herself while he’s off doing . . . whatever. Anyway, it’s the old two-story manor house with the dark grey roof, just south of the town square – can’t miss it. Give my regards to Kendra when you see her. If you’re looking for drink, only place in town for that is the Laughing Demon – that’s at the end of the western road out from the town square, right along the banks of the river. It’s the same for lodging – only one place in town for that, the Outward Inn, right along the main thoroughfare in the town square, can’t miss it. Although with so many people heading into Ravengro today, they might run out of room quick. I suppose I could offer you a spot in one of the backrooms of my store . . . but I imagine you won’t be interested in that.”

Luramind concludes, with just the faintest hint of bitterness in his voice at Kristoph’s imagined refusal of that offer (no doubt at a price) as well. Kristoph doesn’t fully hear his last comment, however, as he is distracted by the sudden onset of a powerful smell that assaults his nose. The smell comes on without warning, wafted to him by the passing breeze – an acerbic mixture of earth, mildew, and a faint undercurrent of copper, like a muddy farm field that has been watered in blood. The scent fades back out to nothing as suddenly as it came, like a single puff of perfume that blows across his face and then disperses to nothing. Unfortunately, a few moments later he and Luramin have other concerns.

(See below at the “All” section for a further update)


All

As the caravan rounds the latest bend in the road, it is clear that the dense forest is beginning to thin out – you must be getting close to Ravengro indeed. And yet trouble appears to block the way, as suddenly from the edge of the treeline, an old vine-covered tree descends to crash down across the road some forty feet in front of the caravan. Reacting quickly, Luramin’s driver pulls the horses’ reins back, slowing them to a rapid stop about twenty-five feet back from the sudden obstruction. The guard on board Luramin’s carriage immediately leaps off as soon as it has stopped, snatching up his heavy crossbow and scanning the treeline.

“We got trouble up here! Road’s blocked by a tree!”

The guard loudly reports back to his fellows, who likewise begin clambering down from the supply wagon as the entire caravan slops to a stop. Yet despite this appearing to be the perfect precursor to an attack by bandits, no threats emerge from the treeline as yet.

“We’ve got to get that tree cleared out of the way! Where’s that woodchopper’s axe at!?”

The lead guard calls back, beckoning his fellows forward towards the front of the caravan, all of them now nervously scanning the treeline as they advance.

(OOC: I have placed everyone onto the map below for the upcoming battle, although no threats are plainly visible as yet. You all have a round or two to reposition yourselves to a new starting point either closer to the front or back of the caravan, depending on your preferences. You may also each give me your choice of either a Perception, Survival, or Knowledge (Nature) check to see if you do manage to spot any approaching threats from the dense treeline on either side of the caravan. Normally it would just be a Perception check, but there are extenuating circumstances that make Survival and Knowledge Nature also relevant here.)

Battle Map

Spoiler: Status & Position

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Kristoph (M11) - 0 damage
Irina (J18) - 0 damage
Aaron (M21) - 0 damage
Elian (K20) - 0 daamge
Ekard (I20) - 0 damage
Valerija (L35) - 0 damage
Alexanna (J35) - 0 damage

[Zero Prime]

Lady Alexanna Vidivicci, dispossessed Countess AC: 15 | FF: 14 | TOUCH: 11 | HP: 10 | Current: 10 Fortitude: +4 | Reflex: +1 | Will: +2 | Perception: +5 Magus Spell Slots: 1st: 1/1 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None. As the caravan neared Ravengro, Alexanna found solace in the company of Zellara's Varisian wagon. The colorful sketches of butterflies adorned its sides, offering a whimsical contrast to the dark mysteries that surrounded them. Valerija's presence added another layer of enigma, and the subtle harmony between the three women created a haven within the moving caravan. Zellara's kindness stood out amid the wary glances from others, and Alexanna respected the fortune teller's preference for privacy. Varisian customs guided her interactions, urging her to honor the boundaries set by Zellara and her mysterious companion. The caravan's rhythm became a shared experience, each mile a step closer to Ravengro's secrets. As the notes of the flute drifted through the air, the atmosphere within the wagon shifted. Alexanna exchanged glances with Valerija, recognizing the subtle cues of heightened tension. The crash of the tree ahead intensified the unease, prompting Alexanna to take charge. Her hand rested on her family sword, the embodiment of Vidivicci resilience. The dark-wrought blade rasped as it cleared it's scabbard, it'sbarbed hilt concealed a singular lidded eye that remained closed, a symbolic representation of the family's enduring strength. When the ancient tree crashed down, blocking the road, Alexanna's eyes narrowed with suspicion. The guard's urgent cry broke the uneasy stillness, and the noblewoman sensed the subtle dance of an ambush. Valerija's presence at the back of the caravan became a vital asset, her vigilance not lost on Alexanna. In response to the lead guard's call for an axe, Alexanna moved decisively, approaching the rear of the caravan with measured steps. She acknowledged the potential threat and prepared for the possibility of an ambush. "Valerija, stay vigilant. There's more to this than a fallen tree. Bandits may seize the opportunity to strike. Keep close, and be prepared for anything," Alexanna urged, her voice steady. The Varisian wagon, with its fluttering butterfly symbols, became a symbolic refuge, Alexanna, comfortable that Zellara was concealed within faced the impending challenge with singular determination.

Spoiler: Out of Character Actions

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Neither Nature, nor Survival being her thing Alexanna will, instead, roll Perception. Obviously distracted by the haunting flute melody, she get's a 10.

[Rilem]

Fatima smiles at the recognition and the unexpectedly tender advice. “I do remember, sir, and thank you, it’s good of you to say so.”

She plucks a lock of ivory hair from beneath her scarf and waggles it in the air, as if it’s a worm on a hook.

“It’s a congenital condition yes,” she says. “My mother had many … unconventional men in her life, in her youth at least. She had no trouble dictating her terms, I think, though not always the consequences. I was one of them.

“And you’re correct, the color has negative connotations. Superstition is a powerful force, but I must say the hue has proved unfortunate in my case.”


She leaves the hair dangling. “Still, If I were really serious about hiding the color, there are a half-dozen compounds that would do the trick; they've been used in Osirion for centuries. Using a half-measure like the scarf says something about my motives, I suppose.”

Fatima’s eyes widen a bit as Adrissant produces the duplicate letter, and nods. “It does seem that way, yes. The letter was worrisome even on the face of it, such an odd request, there must have been something unsaid.” She drops her voice to a whisper, just for a moment. “And then, there it was.”

She nods toward her own letter. “I should not be surprised that Professor Lorrimor would reach out to you — he spoke of you as someone who could be relied upon. But it’s worrisome that he’d feel the need of one so accomplished. It makes it more real, somehow.”

And, unspoken, she thinks, And odd; there’s an obvious power imbalance here. Any trouble that a third-year chemistry scholar could help with would be trivial for someone with the resources and abilities of Adrissant. So why contact both?

Perhaps Petros was uncertain his message would get through, so he wrote to anyone he could trust. And two wind up in the same wagon? That would suggest many letters; there could be other letter-bearers in this very caravan. She looks around at the other travelers just as the guard calls out.

Spoiler: rolls

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Know (nature] (1d20+8)[25]

[Inspectre]

Spoiler: Information Fatima may wish to immediately share with the group

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You are quite some distance away from the front of the caravan and the fallen tree blockading the road, but those striations of color on the vines wrapped around the tree's trunk are unmistakable - that is a Greater Northern Hangman's Vine, otherwise known more commonly as an Assassin Vine. Assassin Vines are carnivorous plants that, as their proper name implies, wait for prey animals to approach the tree they are currently wrapped around and then strike, crushing and strangling the careless creature - be it animal or humanoid - and then deriving sustenance from the rotting corpse. They are quite dangerous to an individual traveler, as they will sometimes take up residence along a treeline near well-traveled paths waiting for meals to attempt a cross-over into forest cover. You've never heard of one toppling its tree over to blockade a path before, because that's rather counterproductive - most animals will simply go around, rather than through, any such obstruction.

More curious, however, are the two prickly bushes that rolled down the embarkment along with the tree, and now have effectively set up flanking positions on either side of the road just in front of the fallen log. Those by your estimation are Mire Nettles, another carnivorous plant renowned for its extremely painful toxin-coated needles. Less adapted for hunting big game than an assassin vine, the mire nettle has developed a curious method for hunting smaller prey - it can periodically fire a barrage of its nettles up to an impressive 60 feet! The toxin in the nettles stun smaller animals for long enough for the nettle to uproot itself, waddle over to the injured prey, and finish it off with repeat bashing from more nettle-covered branches. Mire nettles are more of a swamp than temperate forest plant, however, although both it and the Assassin Vine are Ustalav natives. You've never heard of multiple species of predatory flora working together in symbiosis, however, so either this is a really strange coincidence, or a very troubling local mutation!

[Rilem]

Fatima tilts her head in confusion for just a moment before everything clicks into place, then stands bolt upright on the wagon and adopts her best lecturer's voice.

"Stay AWAY from the tree!" she cries at the caravan guards and anyone else moving toward it. "It's covered in hangman's vines. And those bushes are dangerous, too; they fling their thorns, can fill you with toxin from … oh, no, from where they are now."

She hops off the left side of the wagon, grabbing at her pack. If they were in range, no sense in being the tallest target around.

[Gyrfalcon]

Aaron's eyes widened at the white-haired woman's warning, quickly waving his hands in a complex pattern and chanting quietly. A glowing outline of armor fades into existence around him as he racks his memory for any useful information about the hangman's vine or the rolling thorn bushes... while looking for any further hostile plantlife in the trees. Unfortunately, the stress makes his mind go completely blank, and nothing useful comes to mind as he looks around wildly, his memories bringing to mind horrific details of a massive plant monster called a Tarantula Tree. Though if such a thing was present, they were all dead anyway.

Spoiler: OOC

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Aaron casts [Mage Armor] on himself.

[roll=Knowledge (Nature)]1d20+4[/roll]
Knowledge (nature) - (1d20+4)[5]

Aaron Eldaval
M NG Human Necromancer (Wizard) 1, Level 1, Init 5, HP 8/8, Speed 20'
AC 15, Touch 11, Flat-footed 14, CMD 10, Fort 1, Ref 1, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0, Action Points 3
Light Crossbow (20) +1 (1d8, 19-20/x2)
Dagger -1 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2)
touch Acid Splash +1 (1d3, )
Mage Armor (+4 Armor, +1 Dex)
Abilities Str 8, Dex 12, Con null, Int 19, Wis 10, Cha 14
Condition Active Effects: Mage Armor (1h)

---

* post roll count doesn't match database

[DarkNetwerk]

Valerija didn't mind being shunned, being mistaken for some tribal group late of this area. It was an oddity but her own fierce people received similar treatment at times, even in Taldor where her people are used as honor guards for the nobility. She recalled that sense of being looked at as the 'other' despite her parent's calling. She shook her head to clear it of those thoughts. At least their remaining away from her kept them from noticing her foul brand. Then a different reaction could arise, one she was used to, but always dreaded when it came to pass. It helped that Zellara offered her some succor to her in the nights and long travel and while, for the most part, conversation was brief and to the point, the other woman, Alexanna, also appeared friendly enough.

Valerija tensed on hearing the faint sounds of a flute carrying through the woods, the sounds, while faint, standing out to her over that of the rolling carriage and other, more expected noises of their travel. The town is too far and the wrong direction for the music to be coming from.... She glanced over at Alexanna who appeared to be having similar apprehensiveness to the situation. The crash of the tree was enough for Valerija to shift her position, putting her back to the wagon and shugged her bow from her shoulder, tugging an arrow out of her quiver and nocking it in a swift motion. Her eyes scanned the brush on the rear flanks of the caravan, waiting for an inevitable ambush, nodding at her fellow traveller's words. The call from further up the caravan about some kind of plant that could throw their thorns? Will an arrow do anything to a plant? she wondered, pausing in her preparation. She sighed and shrugged, deciding to keep her eyes out for movement coming out of the woods that differed from the direction the wind might naturally take it.

Spoiler: Actions (OOC)

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Valerija will reposition to K34 and draw her bow, prepared to fire should a target present itself.
Perception or Survival roll: 14

[The_Snark]

"Three days, you say! Almost enough time to finish one of the songs from the opera," Irina says lightly to Elian. The elf's attention had unnerved her a little at first: strange men are not to be trusted, no matter how handsome - indeed, the handsome ones are often worse at handling rejection, being less accustomed to it. She'd given him her best polite brush-off at first, projecting disinterest without puncturing his ego... hopefully. Luckily, he'd taken it gracefully. After a couple days, she'd come to the conclusion that he had no special interest in her; he was just as happy to pass the time bantering with Lars or Ekard as her or the swordswoman with the fancy accent, and his flirtations had the feel of a game rather than anything serious. In fact, she had the sense he was keeping his distance as much as she was; most of what he shared about himself took the form of tall tales. Once she was in on the game, well... Irina found she rather enjoyed teasing back.

She wishes he'd stop complimenting her eyes, though. There's no story to tell, just an old sore spot he keeps accidentally leaning on.

Irina is about to offer to sing something - a proper traveling song with a beat you can walk to, not fancy opera nonsense that wants a dozen musicians for accompaniment - when a crashing sound from up ahead interrupts. The hair on the back of her neck prickles with unease. A fallen tree blocking the road seems innocuous enough, Irina being ignorant of ambush tactics or how bandits like to work, but falling just as they happen along? That's an unlikely coincidence. When the scholar shouts her warning she crouches, searching in her pack for the sling she carries for just such an occasion... sort of. Wolves and brigands were what she'd expected. Would vines and bushes even notice a thrown stone?

She follows Fatima's lead in hopping over the side of her wagon, ready to take cover from... wherever those bushes are. Presumably the other woman is jumping out of the line of fire.

Spoiler

Show

Let's move on over to I18 and draw a weapon.

Perception (1d20+5)[8]

[Narbaculus]

"Dark and cold, eh? I'm used to that, though I've never been this far north. Maybe I'll stick around and see what an Ustalavian winter is really like!" Ekard smiles at the guards' laughter, but he does not join in. Of course, there's nothing wrong with keeping a light air, especially at a boring post or on a long journey. The tall, pale man walking on the other side of the wagon certainly seems to have mastered the trick. Three days? Honestly! Ekard shakes his head.

Suddenly, a tremendous crash echoes through the forest. A tree has fallen in Lego City! Shaken out of his reverie, Ekard starts forward in response to the lead guard's report and request for an axe. With practiced ease, Ekard unhooks the blade covers from the polearm on his shoulder. Longer than the dwarf is tall, the urgrosh is serious enough for two business ends: opposite the axe-head at his right hand, a spear-head adorns the end near his left.

Eager to put some more distance between himself and the creatures behind him, Ekard approaches the tree carefully. With the guards' words about ambush fresh in his mind, Ekard wonders what could have brought the ancient tree down. Is it just old, unable to sustain its own weight any longer? Maybe some disease has rot the trunk from within, or...Ekard glances toward what used to be the base of the tree...was it cut?

Spoiler: Perception check

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(1d20+1)[17]

A second shout, from the middle of the caravan, gives Ekard pause about 50 feet from the fallen tree (H13). "Stay AWAY from the tree! It's covered in hangman's vines. And those bushes are dangerous, too; they fling their thorns, can fill you with toxin from … oh, no, from where they are now."

[DarkOne-Rob]

Kristoph Harrisson Male Lawful Good Half-Elf Paladin 1, Level 1, Init 3, HP 13/13, Speed 20 ft (30 ft. Base) AC 19, Touch 11, Flat-footed 18, CMD 14, Fort 4, Ref 1, Will 1, CMB +3, Base Attack Bonus 1, Action Points 3 Falcata +3 (1d8+2, 19-20/x3) Breastplate, Heavy Steel Shield (+6 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex) Abilities Str 14, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 9, Cha 17 Condition Smite Evil (0/1 Used)

"Huh..." says Kristoph, suddenly serious in the face of mortal threats to the caravan. "Those plants, along this road, and the tree...not a coincidence...

Everyone who can't fight, get inside your wagon and close the blinds, tight! The rest, guards and armed travelers, look for the ambush! Where's that music coming from?!?" the half-elf bellows as he draws an exotic curved blade and readies his heavy shield for battle...

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Draw falcata and ready shield. Perception (1d20-1)[10].

[Inspectre]

Round 0

Reacting to the threat of the sudden ambush and the road being blocked, the caravan slows to a halt as everyone rallies to its defense - your very survival depending upon it.

Up front, the lead guard hops down from his seat beside the driver and starts venturing towards the fallen tree until Fatima calls out her warning, bringing the man up well short of the vine's reach. (Bad guy surprise round averted thanks to Fatima!)

Dismounting from the supply wagon, the two guards up front brandish their heavy crossbows and cautiously scan the treelines as they advance, one hustling up towards the front while the other turns and starts making his way to the back to protect the caravan's vulnerable rear. Lars hops off the back of the wagon to allow Irina to clamber out after him, although while the opera singer takes cover alongside the wagon the guard walks forward a few steps behind Ekard, his own heavy crossbow unslung and ready to be brought to bear and fire as soon as a target presents itself. While hardly an experienced woodsman, even Ekard could see that the tree served as the caravan's blockade was old and rotten - one with a big, thick trunk though! - and seems to have been crushed and cracked apart at the base to snap off from its base further up the embarkment alongside the road (Ekard estimates it will take about 30 points of slashing or fire damage to break the tree as an obstacle to the caravan getting out of here).

After delivering her crucial warning, Fatima hops out of the carriage to see if she can do more to help while keeping out of the line of fire from those mire nettles. She hears Adivion call out behind her from within the carriage a moment after she hops down.

"A moment, Miss Eisen - I would like to give you a hand without losing one of my own."

The professor quips before he intones a brief succession of arcane words and there is a flash of magic from within the carriage. Adivion opens the carriage window next to Fatima, sticking his arm out towards her as his scarf slithers off of his own shoulders, climbs down his arm, and then hops over onto Fatima's own shoulders, curling around her shawl protectively.

"My scarf will do its best to protect and aid you, you merely need speak what you require of it at any given moment. If things become too dangerous, retreat back inside the carriage here with me - I daresay it will take more than a few angry plants to break into it!"

Adivion casts Allied Cloak, and then transfers command of the scarf over to Fatima for the duration of this battle. She gains a +2 shield bonus to AC, and once per round may command Adivion's scarf to use aid another on her, boosting a skill check by +2, grant a +2 dodge bonus to AC on top of the +2 shield bonus against an enemy in melee with her, or grant a +2 to-hit bonus against an enemy in melee with her (sadly it has to threaten an enemy in order to grant the AC/to-hit bonuses, so that's melee only.

Then the flute music that was only audible to those with particularly acute hearing crescendos, and then everyone can hear it. As well as its disturbing accompaniment - the flapping of dozens upon dozens of leathery wings from the depths of the forest on both sides of the road! The leathery wings become clearly attached to stirges as the tiny bloodsucking nuisances begin to become visible through the treeline, flocking towards the caravan for a meal. The ambushing plants likewise seem to take the flute music as their own cue to become ambulatory, the vine beginning to stretch and unwind itself from the old, rotted tree it had crushed while the mire nettles bristle and wave their toxin-coated thorns menacingly!

Valerija may take a free bow attack against one of the targets visible on this Battle Map, prior to Round 1 beginning in earnest. The most logical targets would be Stirge 5 or Stirge 10, both of which currently have Cover (+4 AC) against her attack due to all of the trees and underbrush blocking a clear shot at them as they approach through the trees prior to Round 1 and become visible targets.

Battle Map

Spoiler: Initiative!

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-Our Heroes-
Kristoph - (1d20+3)[6]
Elian - (1d20+3)[16]
Aaron - (1d20+5)[14]
Fatima - (1d20+3)[8]
Alexanna - (1d20+5)[21]
Valerija - (1d20+2)[5]
Ekard - (1d20+2)[5]
Irina - (1d20+4)[8]

-Allies-
Adivion - (1d20+7)[18]
Guards - (1d20+2)[16]
Zellara/Trader - (1d20+3)[11]
Luramin/Driver - (1d20+1)[8]

-Bad Guys-
Assassin Vine - (1d20+0)[16]
Mire Nettles - (1d20+1)[17]
Stirges, Lots of Stirges - (1d20+4)[15]

Spoiler: Initiative Set

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Alexanna - (1d20+5)[21]
Adivion - (1d20+7)[18]
Elian - (1d20+3)[16]
Guards - (1d20+2)[16]

Assassin Vine - (1d20+0)[16]
Mire Nettles - (1d20+1)[17] - Delaying
Stirges, Lots of Stirges - (1d20+4)[15]


Aaron - (1d20+5)[14]
Zellara/Trader - (1d20+3)[11]
Luramin/Driver - (1d20+1)[8]
Irina - (1d20+4)[8]
Fatima - (1d20+3)[8]
Kristoph - (1d20+3)[6]
Valerija - (1d20+2)[5]
Ekard - (1d20+2)[5]

Spoiler: Status

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-Good Guys-
Kristoph (M11) - 0 Damage
Elian (K20) - 0 Damage
Aaron (M21) - 0 Damage, Mage Armor (+4 Force Armor AC)
Fatima (L23) - 0 Damage, Allied Cloak (+2 Shield AC, Free Aid Another 1/round)
Alexanna (J35) - 0 Damage
Valerija (K34) - 0 Damage, 1 Free Shot on Bad Guys prior to Round 1
Ekard (I20) - 0 Damage
Irina (I18) - 0 Damage

-Allies-
Adivion (K25) - 0 Damage
Driver (J9) - 0 Damage
Luramin (K11) - 0 Damage
Guard 1 (M7) - 0 Damage
Guard 2 (H10) - 0 Damage
Guard 3 (M19) - 0 Damage
Lars (G15) - 0 Damage
Zellara (J31) - 0 Damage
Trader (J33) - 0 Damage


-Bad Guys-
Assassin Vine (J1/K2) - 0 Damage
Mire Nettle 1 (H2) - 0 Damage
Mire Nettle 2 (M1) - 0 Damage
Stirge 1 (A10) - 0 Damage
Stirge 2 (C17) - 0 Damage
Stirge 3 (A20) - 0 Damage
Stirge 4 (A23) - 0 Damage
Stirge 5 (C31) - 0 Damage
Stirge 6 (S9) - 0 Damage
Stirge 7 (Q15) - 0 Damage
Stirge 8 (R18) - 0 Damage
Stirge 9 (Q23) - 0 Damage
Stirge 10 (T31) - 0 Damage

[Farmerbink]

Elian smiles widely and genuinely as he and Irina dance with words down the otherwise dreadfully dull road. He gazes to the sides once more, endlessly disappointed by the never-ending expanse of trees in the gloomy woods. For a moment, his eyes betray his surprise by the distant flute music, as he peers around suddenly with keen intent. With fluid motion, he grabs the back end of the cart and rises to his feet on the rear edge to see better his surroundings. From there, the sudden thud of a falling log has an obvious cause, and he immediately scowls in suspicion. "Well, the trip just got more interesting," he murmurs to both Irina and Aaron, and possibly to no one. His tone leaves no room for doubt or confusion over his distaste, or perhaps unease. Still, from his perch he peers into the woods, obviously expecting something unpleasant.

With a deep breath, he makes a visible effort to set his will.

"Aaron, goodman, be warned the trees appearing in front of you are merely figments. I'm hopeful the insects will be fooled and go around."

Spoiler: Elian, Round 1

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Elian Evenstarr
M Neutral Dhampir Sorcerer, Level 1, Init 3, HP 5/5, Speed 30
AC 13, Touch 13, Flat-footed 10, CMD 12, Fort 0, Ref 3, Will 4, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
(+3 Dex)
Abilities Str 8, Dex 16, Con 8, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 18
Condition None

Cast silent image, causing an opaque illusion of a wall of tight-knit trees and vines to appear from roughly N/15 to O/24.
DC 15 will to disbelieve

[Zero Prime]

Lady Alexanna Vidivicci, dispossessed Countess AC: 15 (19) | FF: 14 (18) | TOUCH: 11 | HP: 10 | Current: 10 Fortitude: +4 | Reflex: +1 | Will: +2 | Perception: +5 Magus Spell Slots: 1st: 0/1 Active Effects: Arcane Pool (+1 Enhancement); Shield (+4 Shield Bonus to AC) Conditions: None. In the face of the impending threat, Alexanna quickly assesses the situation and issues a stern warning to her fellow travelers. "Take cover! Get inside the wagons and barricade yourselves!" Her authoritative voice carries urgency, urging them to seek refuge within the protective confines of the carriages. As she issues the warning, Alexanna doesn't waste a moment. With a fluid motion, she draws an intricate sigil in the air using her free hand. The arcane energies respond to her practiced command, the lines of the sigil shimmer. forming a protective magical barrier around herself. An ethereal shield materializes, hovering before her like a guardian ward. Her eyes narrow in focus as she invokes the arcane energies within, a subtle glow envelops her weapon—a connection between the wielder and the arcane forces she commands. Simultaneously, the eye-shaped sigil engraved on her blade glows with an otherworldly light, causing the eye to open wide, radiating a pulsating aura, like an otherworldly presence inhabiting the blade. Prepared and vigilant, Alexanna stands as the guardian of the caravan, her warning echoing through the air as the magical sigil and the eye on her blade serve as visible manifestations of her readiness for the imminent confrontation with the stirges.

Spoiler: Out of Character Actions

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Swift Action: Activate my Arcane Pool, giving my Sword a +1 Enhancement Bonus for 1 minute.
Standard Action: Cast Shield
Move: North & West, ending in H30

[Inspectre]

Alexanna circles around to the north side of Zellara's wagon, channeling her magic into her blade and weaving it into the air around her with practiced ease as she moves.

Elian erects an illusionary wall of vines and trees along the edge of the forest along the caravan's southern flank, and watches through the barrier that is currently transparent only to him (although everyone will get a +4 bonus to disbelieve it once something passes through it, for now it is an opaque wall to everyone's eyes save Elian) as the stirges begin to adjust course in their inboard flights to go around his illusion.

There is more casting within the depths of the summoned carriage as Adivion switches sides, and then a quartet of magical projectiles streak out of the window and unerring fly towards two of the stirges approaching from the north, battering them both at two missiles apiece. Barely visible through the dense tree cover, twin explosions of blood and gore rain down as both stirges pop like punctured balloons.

Spoiler: Adivion

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Move: Moves over to the north side of his carriage at J25
Standard: Magic missile, 2 missiles at Stirge #3 & #4 each.
Stirge #3: (2d4+2)[8]
Stirge #4: (2d4+2)[9]

"Take out those bush bastards!"

The lead guard commands as his hefts his heavy crossbow up to his shoulder and fires at the southern mire nettle. He then falls back, taking cover just behind the horses as he prepares to reload his crossbow.

The guard moving up from the supply wagon follows suit, targeting the bush on his own side, before likewise ducking beside the front of Luramin's carriage for cover while Lars moves up and swings out to the side to ensure his field of fire is clear before snapping his own shot off.

The last guard, who had been heading to the back of the caravan, blinks in surprise and jumps to one side with a muttered curse as Elian's illusionary wall seems to burst out of the ground right next to him. He gives a glare of suspicion at Elian as the caster sets his will to maintaining the illusion, and then the guard doubles back along the wall. He stops and takes up position at the edge of it to hold his crossbow, aiming down the sights at the treeline and waiting to snap a shot off at one of the stirges closing in on Kristoph once its out of the woods.

Spoiler: Guards

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Guard #1
Standard: Shoot at Nettle #2
To-Hit: (1d20+6)[10]
Damage: (1d10)[8]
Move: Move to L9

Guard #2
Standard: Shoot at Nettle #1
To-Hit: (1d20+6)[23]
Damage: (1d10)[7]
Move: Move to I9

Lars
Move: Move up to G11
Standard: Shoot at Nettle #2
To-Hit: (1d20+6)[23]
Damage: (1d10)[2]

Guard #4
Move: Move to M15
Standard: Readied action to Shoot at Stirge #6 when it clears the treeline
To-Hit: (1d20+6)[20]
Damage: (1d10)[7]

The lead guard's shot goes wide, shooting over the top of the thorn-coated bush, while on the other side of the caravan both the other guard and Lars's shot slam directly on target . . . and even the heavy crossbow quarrels barely manage to snap off a single thorn (The mire nettles have DR 5 versus Piercing attacks (presumably Slashing or Bludgeoning weapons will be more effective).

"No good, no good! There's nothing there to hit!"

The second guard shouts out from the north side of the caravan, prompting their leader to curse under his breath and then shout out in repliy, "Fine, then shoot the big viney bastard! He looks like he's got some meat on 'im!"

Waiting patiently, the fourth guard takes careful aim, and then looses a crossbow quarrel that sends the stirge swooping towards Kirstoph to fly backward into a nearby tree, the heavy bolt pinning it against the bark as it writhes and slowly dies.

[Inspectre]

With another tortured creaking of wood from the rotten tree trunk, the massive vine manages to finish unwinding itself and slithers forward, a dense carpet of thick vines, some of which are easily as thick as a grown man's arms - there is little doubt this thing could easily crush a humanoid victim to death . . . if it could catch them. Thankfully, an ambush predator, the assassin vine is not very fast, and so only manages to make it about halfway towards the front of Luramin's carriage as the guards hold their position and slowly start reloading their crossbows.

Spoiler: Assassin Vine

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Double moves a fearsome 10' to J3/K4! It's not going to be a good day for anyone it catches up to, however.

The mire nettles, meanwhile, having a very rough humanoid shape to them - which is to say they have arm-like branches, and leg-like root structures - pull themselves up and shamble forward, quickly moving past the assassin vine as they wave their branches, and then with a rapid motion, release a spray of thorns into the air! With the guards taking cover behind the carriage and its horses, the nettles target those more out in the open - namely, Lars and Luramin's driver who is still cowering up in the carriage's front seat, trying to keep the horses calm.

Spoiler: Mire Nettles

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Nettle #1
Move: Move to H5
Standard: Release spray of thorns at Lars
To-Hit: (1d20+5)[15]
Damage: (2d6)[6]
Recharge: (1d4)[3]

Lars Fort save (if needed): (1d20+5)[18] vs. DC 13

Nettle #2
Move: Move to L5
Standard: Release spray of thorns at Luramin's driver
To-Hit: (1d20+5)[24]
Damage: (2d6)[3]
Recharge: (1d4)[3]

Driver Fort save (if needed): (1d20+1)[21] vs. DC 13

The thorns ring loudly off Lars's chainmail armor, but it manages to hold. "Armored" with nothing but a cloth tunic and pants, Luramin's driver is not so lucky, although thankfully the mire nettle's aim is bad and most of the thorns embed themselves into the wooden frame of the carriage, although the few thorns that do strike flesh cause the driver to howl out in agony.

"Pharasma preserve us, that HURTS!"

From the treeline, the remaining stirges come swooping into view, each of them picking out their own target to descend upon. One settles on Lars, Ekard, and Alexanna to the north, while to the south Kristoph, Fatima both have stirges attempt to land on their shoulders like greasy, bat-winged, mosquito-beaked parrots. Forced to go around Elian's illusionary wall, one stirge can only flap around confused around the guard hiding behind said wall (double moves to Guard #4's square), and likewise a stirge flaps around Valerija's head but doesn't quite come in for a landing just yet.

Spoiler: Stirges

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Stirge #1 - Move into Lars' space and attempts to attach to him (Lars can't AoO due to having a ranged weapon out)
To-Hit: (1d20+7)[25] vs. Touch
Success: Stirge is attached, effectively grappling its prey, although the stirge is small enough not to apply the Grappled condition - you may move freely and use both hands as you wish. Next round if still attached it drains blood.

Stirge #2 - Move into Ekard's space and attempts to attach to him (provokes AoO from Ekard)
To-Hit: (1d20+7)[9] vs. Touch
Success: Stirge is attached, effectively grappling its prey, although the stirge is small enough not to apply the Grappled condition - you may move freely and use both hands as you wish. Next round if still attached it drains blood.

Stirge #5 - Move into Alexanna's space and attempts to attach to her (provokes AoO from Alexanna)
To-Hit: (1d20+7)[20] vs. Touch
Success: Stirge is attached, effectively grappling its prey, although the stirge is small enough not to apply the Grappled condition - you may move freely and use both hands as you wish. Next round if still attached it drains blood.

Stirge #7 - Move into Kristoph's space and attempts to attach to him (provokes AoO from Kristoph)
To-Hit: (1d20+7)[14] vs. Touch
Success: Stirge is attached, effectively grappling its prey, although the stirge is small enough not to apply the Grappled condition - you may move freely and use both hands as you wish. Next round if still attached it drains blood.

Stirge #8 - Double moves into Guard #4's space (doesn't provoke as Guard #4 doesn't have a melee weapon out)

Stirge #9 - Move into Fatima's space and attempts to attach to her (provokes AoO from Fatima)
To-Hit: (1d20+7)[16] vs. Touch
Success: Stirge is attached, effectively grappling its prey, although the stirge is small enough not to apply the Grappled condition - you may move freely and use both hands as you wish. Next round if still attached it drains blood.

Stirge #10 - Double moves into Valerija's space (provokes an AoO from Valerija)

Only Ekard manages to duck aside, the dwarf's quick reflexes and plenty of practice ducking to keep his head down serve him well as he manages to avoid the stirge getting its hooked feet into his armor for a landing spot. Everyone else (assuming your AoOs don't splatter it) gets a new fleshy parrot "pet", intent on burying its thin syringe-like beak into the side of their neck!

AoOs

• Fatima has an AoO against Stirge #9 (if she has a melee weapon out)
• Alexanna has an AoO against Stirge #5
• Ekard has an AoO against Stirge #2
• Kristoph has an AoO against Stirge #7
• Valerija has an AoO against Stirge #10
  

Spoiler: Initiative

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Alexanna - (1d20+5)[21]
Adivion - (1d20+7)[18]
Elian - (1d20+3)[16]
Guards - (1d20+2)[16]

Assassin Vine - (1d20+0)[16]
Mire Nettles - (1d20+1)[17] - Delaying
Stirges, Lots of Stirges - (1d20+4)[15]

WE ARE HERE

Aaron - (1d20+5)[14]
Zellara/Trader - (1d20+3)[11]
Luramin/Driver - (1d20+1)[8]
Irina - (1d20+4)[8]
Fatima - (1d20+3)[8]
Kristoph - (1d20+3)[6]
Valerija - (1d20+2)[5]
Ekard - (1d20+2)[5]

Battle Map

Spoiler: Status

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-Good Guys-
Kristoph (M11) - 0 Damage
Elian (K20) - 0 Damage, Silent Image Wall (N15-O24, Conc.)
Aaron (M21) - 0 Damage, Mage Armor (+4 Force Armor AC)
Fatima (L23) - 0 Damage, Allied Cloak (+2 Shield AC, Free Aid Another 1/round)
Alexanna (H30) - 0 Damage, Arcane Pool (+1 Enchant 1/10), Shield (1/10)
Valerija (K34) - 0 Damage
Ekard (I20) - 0 Damage
Irina (I18) - 0 Damage

-Allies-
Adivion (K25) - 0 Damage
Driver (J9) - 0 Damage
Luramin (K11) - 0 Damage
Guard 1 (L9) - 0 Damage
Guard 2 (I9) - 0 Damage
Guard 3 (M15) - 0 Damage
Lars (G11) - 0 Damage
Zellara (J31) - 0 Damage
Trader (J33) - 0 Damage


-Bad Guys-
Assassin Vine (J3/K4) - 0 Damage
Mire Nettle 1 (H5) - 2 Damage, DR5/Slashing or Bludgeoning
Mire Nettle 2 (L5) - 0 Damage, DR5/Slashing or Bludgeoning
Stirge 1 (G11) - 0 Damage, Attached to Lars
Stirge 2 (H14) - 0 Damage
Stirge 3 (A20) - DEAD
Stirge 4 (A23) - DEAD
Stirge 5 (H30) - 0 Damage, Attached to Alexanna
Stirge 6 (S9) - DEAD
Stirge 7 (M11) - 0 Damage, Attached to Kristoph
Stirge 8 (M15) - 0 Damage
Stirge 9 (L24) - 0 Damage, Attached to Fatima
Stirge 10 (K34) - 0 Damage

[Inspectre]

Luramin's driver, grumbling that he wasn't "getting paid enough for this ****", scrambles down from the seat atop the carriage, favoring his one leg that still has several finger-long wooden spines sticking out of it, and limps around to behind the carriage to take cover. Luramin seems to busy himself this round taking cover within the carriage.

Spoiler: Luramin's Driver

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Double moves to cover behind Luramin's carriage

Spoiler: Luramin

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Hides and wishes this am-bush was over already.

At the back of the caravan, Zellara is somewhat more helpful, as she begins to loudly hum a haunting yet beautiful melody of her own. The humming seems to confuse the stirges at the back of the caravan, causing them to flap about awkwardly and seem to depart from their victims rather than their previous intent of staying to suck their blood. (For 30' around Zellara, there is now a zone of "no stirges allowed", marked by a purple circle on the battle map. Any stirges in that area - or brought into it - will seek to immediately move out of it on their turn, even if still attached to someone (i.e. Fatima/Alexanna).

From within the Varisian's wagon, there is a loud clanking and clattering, as her traveling companion seems to be shuffling things around looking for something. "Aha! Hehehehe, there it is!" Comes a loud cry from within the wagon a few moments later.

Spoiler: Zellara

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Effectively countersongs the haunting flute that seems to be inciting the stirges to attack, creating a zone of safety from stirge attack within 30' of her.

Spoiler: Trader

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Finds something useful within Zellara's wagon.

[Gyrfalcon]

Aaron relaxes as the stirges hover uncertainly for a moment before taking the illusionary thicket at face value and swining to the left and right, attacking one of the unfortunate guards and Fatima.

”My thanks, Elian. That was quick thinking.” he says gratefully as instead of being attacked by an overgrown mosquito, he can now work his own magic safely. That said, safely is a relative term – all of the stirges in sight are flapping wildly while trying to attach themselves to various people. Between the two people in sight, he judges the lady who had shouted the prescient warning about the hostile foilage – Fatima? as most in need of help.

Spoiler: Actions

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Aaron will attack Stirge #9 (attacking Fatima) first. If it dies to AoO, he moves 20’ W and attacks Stirge #8 (attacking Guard #3)

In both cases, he casts Acid Splash.

Attack – (1d20-3)[15] (suffering penalty firing into melee) vs Touch AC
Damage – (1d3)[2] Acid damage

[DarkNetwerk]

The arrow Valerija launched towards the stirge went wide resulting in nothing more than drawing it's attention. Thankfully, the creature was far enough away that it was unable to attach itself, once it approached, as it had for the others. Cursing at herself under her breath, she drops her bow and pulls out a longsword, wielding it with both hands. She may have been a bit hasty in her actions, however, as the swing goes wide. Vajerija was able to catch her breath as the stirge begins to flap about and seek to depart thanks to the Varisian woman's music.

"Those with the bugs come to the back!" she called out as she realized the source of the creatures unusual actions. "Zellara's music confuses them!" she finished as she prepared to strike the creature when it tried to flee the area of the music's influence.

Spoiler: Actions (OOC)

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Rolls here.

Free action: drop bow
Move action: draw longsword to wield in both hands
Standard action: attack stirge #10 (an attack roll of 9 misses)

As Valerija did not have a melee weapon when the stirge arrived, so no AoO there, but will have an AoO when it tries to leave (an attack roll of 23 is likely a hit and also a possible crit with the base roll being 19. I'm not bothering to make a second post to roll since the initial damage is 10 but @Inspectre, go ahead if it's relevant/required)

[Narbaculus]

Ducking the stirge's...talons? Ekard counters with a stab of the urgrosh, aiming upward at the beast's underside.

Spoiler: Attack of Opportunity at Stirge #2

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To hit: (1d20+4)[17]
Damage: (1d6+3)[8] piercing

With one foe dead, Ekard turns to the stirge attached to Lars, hoping to dispose of a second.

Spoiler: Charge at Stirge #1

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Move (10 ft) to H12; take a -2 penalty to AC until the start of Ekard's next turn.
To hit: (1d20+4)[22]
Damage: (1d6+3)[8] piercing

Ekard pins the stirge to the ground, using a boot to shove the corpse off the spear-head. Wiping his brow, he places a steadying hand on Lars's shoulder. "Stay behind me," Ekard looks toward the mire nettles, "and let's get these vile things!"

---

* post roll count doesn't match database

[Rilem]

Fatima raises her hands awkwardly, trying to slap away the winged assailant — but the enchanted scarf is faster, throwing loops around the stirge's wings and neck and prying it away from her shoulder.

Given the opening, she draws her dagger and thrusts at the struggling thing while pulling the scarf — and the stirge — in the direction of Zellara.

Spoiler: Actions

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Move: Draw dagger

Standard: Attack roll of 11 (not enough, I think, unless the scarf also flanks for me) for 3 damage.

Five-foot step into the no-stirge zone