Iron Crisis Part 2 (IC)

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 Bardic Inspiration (Caelyn) | -- Coming up behind the others, Sam leads Rosc slowly over the small bridge. Grepha descends to perch upon Sam's shoulder once more, flexing her hand. "Still getting used to casting spells again..." she grumbles. "Ah, don't worry. You'll get the hang of it." Sam brings out some rope from their supplies after he arrives at the other side and nods in agreement. "Sounds good, Vala. Let me open up with good-guard, maybe? These guys obviously don't like the Throne. So maybe I can open with that once he's a captive audience."

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 39/39 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Solid hit, Vala. Senna concludes as the earth shattering blow punched the servant of nature out of his rituals. I'm game for good guard, I warned the idiot before not to go against us. We are not the Silverhand Sisters, but opposing five adventurers is ill-advised. Senna hoped her praise for both Vala and Grepha was understood, even if she still struggled to acknowledge the imp's support directly. Still, Grepha's past intrigued Senna. Excuse me, again? I thought you guys actually ranked up as you accumulate souls; a vile smorgasbord of greed, confidence and fine prints and nothing more. Senna was wondering. No soul composing either fiend or celestial, no brick in the Wall of the Faithless remembered their previous life. Were you demoted? Senna asks with an impish smile.

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 37/47 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: 6 / 6 d8 HD Caelee spits to the side, a bit of blood staining the dirt as she looks down at Laskel with murder in her eyes. Still, she acknowledged Sam was right- they could use this man alive. Even if he was a Shadow Druid. She removed a length of rope from her bag and began to tie him up, taking particular time to bind his hands to prevent somatic components.

[Amnestic]

With Laskal secured - his focus confiscated, his hands and fingers bound to prevent somatic casting - you settle in and wait for the man to come around, taking the opportunity to lodge under the cover of nearby trees away from the scorching heat. With the ravine down a nearly sheer rock face, Grepha and Sam are, presumably, on waterskin duty given that they're the only ones with wings. It's just over an hour of quiet contemplation and munching on Vala's freshly prepared snacks when the shadow druid begins to stir. His eyes flicker for a moment as consciousness returns, and then his brain catches up to his predicament. He struggles for a moment, feeling out the bindings you've wrapped him in, before apparently conceding his situation.

Though his eyes are not venomous, the look he gives you - especially Caelyn - certainly is. "You have captured me. You think to use me to bargain with Faldorn?" He scoffs, though the effort of doing so almost seems to wind him. He's still feeling the pain of his injuries. An hour of unconsciousness is hardly the best way to heal. "If she were so weak, she would not lead us. Your plan is flawed from the start, though that's no surprise from a druid who has turned her back on nature."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Since it takes an hour for him to come around, take a short rest.
Vala's spending a hit dice - (1d12+3)[7]+(1d8)[3](Chef)+(1d6)[1](Sam's song of rest) should get her back up to full from just one HD.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Break Time Stretching, Sam takes a seat beside a tree and hums to himself, snacking on Vala's cooking. "This would be a nice vacation spot if the woods weren't so cursed," Sam jokes, while Grepha hauls up some water. "This would be faster with larger wings," the imp nags. Sam groans and pushes himself up off of the ground. "Yeeaah, alright. I'll help with the chores," conceding the point with a roll of his eyes, Sam takes the rest of the skins and flies down. Grepha settles near the fire, keeping an eye on the unconscious druid until Senna's question draws her attention. "Dipping your toes into diabolism, Senna?" Grepha teases back, holding the first waterskin she brought up next to the fire with the cap open to boil out the impurities. "You are correct about how devils typically promote themselves. Tempt mortals, gather souls, hitting the grind." Sensing another carrot to dangle, Grepha leaves it hanging at that, glancing at Senna out of the corner of her eyes. "If you want to know more about me, we could always make a deal, or a wager. No souls necessary. I have my eyes set on other prizes." Placing a clawed finger against her chin, Grepha ponders, "But what could you have to offer? Ah, how about this. A while ago, Melian promised me a snow cone. But now she's gone off on her own. Buy me one when we get to the 'Gate, and I'll tell you a little bit more about myself, or about devils." Good Cop Walking over to Laskal, Sam squats down next to him. "I think you have the wrong idea about why we're here," he begins. "We're here to take down the Iron Throne, same as you. And they certainly don't represent the stance of civilization as a whole on your Cloakwood, Laskal." "Civilization is no different from a herd or a hive. It all boils down to animals working together. And when those like the Iron Throne come in trying to profit at the expense of the hive, that cooperation breaks down and the whole thing suffers. Like those little fake ants that infiltrate ant colonies and eat all the food, right? And just like you're a warden who protects the good of the ecosystem here," Sam holds out his hands and waves at the forest, then taps the symbol of Bahamut around his neck. "I'm doing what I can to protect the ecosystem there. So give me some information to help deal with the Throne, and we can get these parasites out of both of our territories." "Either way, fighting us isn't going to do them any harm," Grepha cuts in. "Quite the opposite. Why waste your strength protecting your enemy from its enemy? Absolutely pointless waste of effort." Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+4)[5] (1d20+4)[14] Advantage from Grepha's Help

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 47/47 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: 7 / 6 d8 HD Break Time Caelee watches Laskal like a hawk while she munches on Vala's snacks, her features never losing their intensity as she tried to parse dream from reality and temper her rage. These Shadow Druids were guilty of inciting nature to war, but her Bhaal-touched dreams stoked a much more intense hatred inside her. It required effort not to lift her staff, bring it down, and end their prisoner's life right now. But she put the effort in. As much as she wanted the power her dreams promised, she would not sacrifice her soul for imagined rage. She would confront this Faldorn for what she knew they had done, not what she dreamed they had done. If her dreams were prophetic, however... then she would burn them alive. Bad Guard It took all of Caelyn's will not to stand up and shout at the bound druid. Instead she focused on carving her story staff, keeping her eyes locked on it. "With how easily we defeated you, I have no doubt that Faldorn would have to be a fool to trade your life for anything we would value. But alas, my friends here have morals about killing helpless weaklings." She scraped at the wood pensively for a moment before continuing. "I serve the Balance, Laskel. I believe that nature's bounty is to be reaped and enjoyed responsibly, treated with respect, and, most of all, NOT abused. By sending animals to their certain death against civilized people in an attempt to bring murder and war to where a balance had been struck, you made this my problem. If things were out of Balance and you'd reached out to me for help, I would do my utmost to battle against whatever threatened nature. As it stands, the swiftest way to establish equilibrium is to eliminate those who are abusing their connection to cause chaos and death. That means stopping you and your Shadow Druids by whatever means necessary." She shaved a particularly large sliver of wood off the staff before jamming her carving knife into the stump she was sitting on with an audible THWOCK.

[Amnestic]

"Go take a dip in the port waters of Baldur's Gate. Tell me then that it is being 'reaped and enjoyed responsibly'. Speak to the fish, talk to the birds, converse with those whose habitats and homes have been destroyed to make way for farmland to feed the ever expanding gullet of humans." Laskal's not cowed by Caelyn's show, nor her words. Within his speech and behind his gaze you observe someone whose beliefs are not in the process of being formed, but rather tightly held convictions, ones he has interrogated both within himself and without. A true believer. Or zealot, if you prefer. "Their destruction will lead to rebirth, and only by tearing down 'civilisation'" he says the word with more venom than anything else so far. Pure, unadulterated hatred. "can we return people to a more natural way of living. Words don't sway them. They visit violence upon the world. And so we do the same in turn."

"But if you want to throw yourself on the blades of the Iron Throne, and perhaps take a few of them with you - that, at least, I find agreeable." He laughs scornfully. "If you have a map, I will point you towards their base."

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 39/39 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Watching the imp lugs small bottles around for them, for free and just to help made Senna's hard stance on devils soften somewhat. Grepha was really trying. Of course a bit of dirty work was nothing compared to agonizing in the Hells, or a few days was neglegible if the reward was reaped in souls, but something told Senna Grepha was actually trying to gain power differently, and not for a typically devilish reason. The question about ice intrigued the cleric. What could a being of eternal hellfire want with ice? Are you homesick for Stygia? I'll tell you what. If you share anything you do with the ice with us, I'll get you your snowcone. Senna was curious. Senna listened to the ramblings of the zealous druid. Her mind wandered, trying to find an angle to counter his logics, but his theories were sound, and they weren't exactly the ones that believed in other opinions. After a while, Senna chimes in. Hear me out for a minute, okay? Now, I have a theory, that unites both your viewpoint and ours. It does not make what the city does to nature any better, but neither does the futile attempt to stomp humankind out. So, what happens if some event pushes an invasive species into a new terrain? Imagine a disease kills all wolves in an area. Suddenly boar and elk populations rise. They ruin old oak trees, as they eat its bark, ruin the newly sprouting saplings. In turn after a few years wind and weather erodes the forest ground, the woods slowly leave and make way for rocks. Birds nesting at the coast are now exposed and culled by birds of prey. These also fish for ... well, fish, and thin the coastal schools of fish. All in all, EVERYONE is loosing because wolves died out in an area. The same goes for humankind. If you cull us, not only are the negative things gone that we do. The positives are vanishing too. Plus, attacking a fortified city, with at least two dozen powerful mages and high priests and a standing army in the thousands is BOUND to fail. Humanity is the apex predator, and resisting this is a futile attempt in trying to think you're a god. What you can however do is stop or limit a mining operation in the name of the Iron Throne. We can stop them poisoning the earth together, throw them out of the mines. We will try to help you negotiate a sustainable solution for both sides. Senna smiles happily, then draws her blade. Her smile freezes into a grimace. If you are to refuse, I will take your answer as a last act of hostility and send you six feet under your beloved ground.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Break Time "What do I want with a snowcone?" Grepha repeats in a deadpan, face spreading into a devilish sneer that looks perhaps more derogatory than she intends. "I'm going to eat it, Senna. What would you do with a snowcone?" The Interrogation It's not exactly an alliance, or even a truce, but Sam brings out the map and shows it to the druid. Knowing where the Throne is will still be a win. Grepha scoffs quietly to herself when Senna tries to reason with - and then threaten - the zealot. True believers never cow in the face of death. Not when their god's dominion will welcome them with open arms. "Words don't say much to people of action," Sam says simply, glancing up at Senna, then back down at Laskal. "Maybe it will be clearer when we get rid of the Iron Throne that we are not enemies of nature."

[Amnestic]

Laskal, with a bit of slow direction, points you towards the Iron Throne's location - about a day to the north-north-east as the dragon flies, longer if the terrain forces you to take a circuitous route, which if your previous travels are indication will likely be the case. Your map lacks any significant details but Laskal does, at least, provide a brief explanation of their base - it's a spot of land mostly surrounded by water from what was originally river that's long since eroded its way onto another path. There they've created their buildings of wood hewn from the Cloakwood's trees, and and begun plundering the riches of the ground beneath the earth. Surrounded by tall wooden pallisades on the edge of the water, there's only one easy entrance by foot on the southwest side, which as one might expect is guarded. What he can't tell you is their numbers or force strength - he doesn't know, at least from what you can tell.

When Senna attempts to convince and threaten him he bursts out laughing. Mocking, and utterly unafraid. "There was a world before mankind, unspoiled by their touch. 'Futile' to remove them? No, it's an inevitability. The current way of living is poison. Not just to nature, but to people's very souls. The corruption they visit on themselves and others for a few more coins? If you think the only soldiers in this war are those who live among the trees you're stupider than you look. Thousands of people are just waiting for the guidance to be shown that the way they live is not the only path. That we can create something different, better, through destruction of the current way. People will die, but no one who is part of the Shadow Druids is so weak as to not be willing to kill and die for the cause. There are some things that can't be compromised on." He shuffles slightly in his seat, jutting out his chin and chest in defiance. "If you're going to kill me then get it over with, little girl. Otherwise leave, and take some Iron Throne with you when you die."

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 47/47 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: 5 / 6 d8 HD "We are not going to kill you, fool." Caelee moved behind Laskel and started undoing his bonds, sparing no bruises as she did. Soon enough he was released. "I told you that if you explained who had upset the Balance I would do my best to address it, and I keep my word. We move on the Iron Throne to end their deprivations on this land. And you will return to Faldorn and tell her that we will handle the imbalance for her. When we dismiss the Iron Throne from this forest, your Shadow Druid's reason for bringing war will be dealt with. Then the only reason to continue your crusade will be your blood thirsty nature, revealing your true colors as monsters, not champions of nature. And then we will come for you, the same way we came for them, to restore the Balance. Bring this message to Faldorn. Consider it a promise, not a threat. There is still time to change your path, but I will not be so forgiving if you persist in warmongering." When she was done, she shoved the druid to his feet. "Be seeing you soon, Laskel."

[Amnestic]

Laskal has no further comments, just a sardonic, mocking smile. Confident, despite the loss of the battle. When you leave, you do so leaving him tied up on the ground. Once you're some distance away, not out of ear or eyeshot but certainly out of spellshot, you hear the raucous caw of a bird. Looking back you see the ropes fall to the ground and a martial eagle flying off, first straight up to gain some air, and then curving off to the west, though it quickly disappears from sight over a crested hill and the trees. Where exactly Laskal has left to, you couldn't say, but he's out of your reach for now, his avian form flying too fast for the distance to be closed, even by Grepha.

Still, Laskal had - from what you could tell - been honest about the Iron Throne's location, and his hatred for them (and you) was real enough, so with your newly direction you head north, taking as straight a path as you can follow towards the destination noted on the map. Another few hours pass, occasionally having to stop for a break in the shade away from the oppressive sun, before you come to a crossroads. The path you're on splits, abruptly, at the top of an extremely steep slope. Down the path to your right, still some distance away, you can make out a thin plume of smoke peeking up from the treetops. A fire, it seems, though there's no way to see from where you are if it's natural or manmade. This path, it seems, is a longer route. The slope is shallower, and it's a more directly eastward route. The left fork in the road turns more north-westerly, and plunges down at a sharper angle. Manageable, more so than the slope itself, but still looks to get you to your destination faster. Through the thick leafy trees, towards the bottom of the slope, you can spot that the ground appears somewhat marshy despite the heat, the muddy ground being notably more sludge-like than the hardened dirt you've been traveling on previously. It might not pose a problem for you, but Rosc Roche and their cart may struggle.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Tensing up, uncertain how Senna will react... or how he should react in turn, Sam watches the two of them. But thankfully, Caelyn intervenes before he needs to, and Sam lets out a sigh of relief. Grepha looks upon Caelyn in approval, which she voices once they are out of earshot of the druid. "Killing an unarmed, tied up man, that would be murder. Though I have no moral objections to murder, it would feed into your f- ... into you-know-who's hand. Ideally, it would have been most profitable to turn him over to the Fist to curry favor," the imp lands on Sam's shoulder and folds her wings, with a shrug. "But we just don't have the means for that right now. I think you made the right decision, Caelyn. And I liked the certainty and control," she compliments. "It'll feel better if we take him down in battle. Not like that," Sam agrees, quietly. He sighs, hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky where Laskal vanished over the horizon. "It's always zealots, it seems. For this cause or that." After they reach the break in the path, Sam perks up at the smoke trail with his usual curiosity. "Want to check it out?" he asks.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 39/39 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Break time: Can we talk clearly for a second, Grepha? No white lies, no doubt, just two honest people. I do not trust you fully, but you have shown much support over the last weeks, and a trustworthy demeanor that while I cannot shake the feelings of you scheming at least makes me think you're not out for our heads. Because you could have easily let us die with the bandits. Senna pauses with a smile. You shall have your snowcones, and in several different flavors too. I heard cream and cookies is to die for. Though I am more a fan of Amnish yogurt. With Laskal: Senna tucks away her dagger. You're right as always. Besides I am a pretty bad 'bad guard'. That sort of religious zeal just irks me, and the irony of the situation is not lost on me. Senna knew she was just as much a defender of civilization, of science and bookishness as Laskal was of the natural ways. Still, her scientific background gave her a bit of insight into her own ways. Mining ore in such a hostile environment, such a primeval forest as the Cloakwoods was bound to create some problems sooner rather than later. Later: I mean I want information but I don't really want to reveal us just yet. Grepha? Caelyn? Can anyone check the mines out? This is an enemy operation, not a high-jacked mine. They might not be as welcoming as the Nashkel mines.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- At Camp "There are schemes at play. With a devil, there are always schemes at play. We don't operate any other way," Grepha glances down the gorge to where Sam is filling up the rest of their containers of water. "Never trust a devil who tells you they want what's best for you, Senna. But you can trust in a devil's selfishness. Samuel is my biggest advantage. That makes me loyal." She comments, after, at Senna's preferences, "Naturally. Whether it's real ice cream or yogurt, Amnish products are superior to anything we'll find at the 'Gate. But sometimes we have to settle for second best." Sam stoppers the last of the waterskins and takes to the air, struggling his way up in altitude until he can pull himself back up to the campsite. "Phew. I need to work these wing muscles out more." He passes the other waterskins along to Grepha to purify in the campfire. At the Crossroads "The mines are still quite far. But scouting this fire should be simple," Grepha agrees, shifting into raven form, then taking off and melding into the air. "I will return shortly."

[Amnestic]

It takes Grepha some time to reach the smoke, even when she flies faster than everyone else. About an hour, all told, of soaring over a sea of green trees.

The source of the smoke reveals itself as a cottage, a small squat building of wood, save for the stone chimney from which the smoke is coming from. Outside the cottage is a small vegetable patch, a treestump with an axe stuck in the base, a small skin drying rack, a firepit and a number of tools of the hunter's trade. It sits near, but not quite on the banks of, a small lake that feeds into and out of a river. Three rowboats, complete with fishing equipment, rest on the shore. Broken fences, shattered recently from what Grepha can judge, are strewn on the path up to the cottage, and a half-finished construction of wood - perhaps a long table, perhaps the beginnings of another rowboat - sits abandoned, with no effort made to clean up the crafting site - wood and tools are strewn about in a hurry. There are no creatures - be they people or animals - in sight, but the smoke still billowing means that either there's someone (or someones) inside still, or that they left it very recently.

The building itself has no glass windows, to no great surprise. Its window holes are instead filled with opaque wooden shutters, ones that are decidedly as shut as the front door is.

[purepolarpanzer]

Back At The Ravine

Caelyn nods at Grepha's compliment, accepting it cooly and looking deeper into the forest. "If I was not controlling myself that man would be dead and we would unleash hell on any Shadow Druids we come across. But I am Gorion's child, no one else's. I will contain my rage. For now."

At The Crossroads

"When we get close to the mines Grepha and I will scout. For now I will leave that job to her." Caelee rubs at Rosc Roche's neck as they wait for the report.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Grepha Descending to the roof of the cottage, Grepha surveys the scene. The damage and abandonment do not bode well at all. Hopping up to the top of the chimney, she shifts into the form of a tiny spider and crawls down inside, fearing neither heat nor flame. Sam While they walk along waiting for Grepha to return from her scouting run, Sam turns and grins at Vala. "So how'd the shopping trip go? You two get along?"

[Amnestic]

Grepha

The inside of the cottage is as she might have expected for a hunting lodge - bones and furs as decoration, the pervasive smell of fire and meat and blood, and a variety of appropriate weapons and tools scattered around. It's a three room affair from what you can tell. The central room, the largest, where Grepha has come in from the chimney, is clearly where the majority of activities take place - wooden chairs, stools and sofas, cooking equipment and a corner for practice. Two doors, possibly for places to sleep given the lack of visible beds or cots, sit shut. Two figures are in this room - both male humans, both in their later 30s or early 40s, and both looking extremely tired and generally disheveled. They sit quietly, days of stubble unshaven from their chins, bags under the eyes. Neither speaks, but both have weapons - crossbows and blades - within reach or actually in hand, and they keep looking around, clearly on edge. They're dressed in hunting leathers, but beneath you can see the peak of clothes of some expense - blue cloth, gilded thread. If they see you enter the room they give you no mind. Spiders aren't exactly uncommon in the outdoors, and even as they are they're not wasting crossbow bolts on arachnids. Not yet, anyway.

Party

"Neither of us remembered how to get into the wizard house, so we had to detour to get the answer written down." She replies with a mild groan and tugs a piece of paper from her pocket, waves it around for a moment, before pocketing it again - she kept it, and would continue to do so. Just in case. She didn't want to get caught out again, clearly. "We talked, and no one got stabbed, so I'd say it went okay." Her answer is evasive, her voice a little hurried, and it's not hard to see she's a little uncomfortable about dredging it up, though whether it's because of the topic of the party that briefly came up, or her own foibles, isn't clear.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Grepha Reading the room, Grepha takes notes of their weapons - and their unusual combination of clothing. Noblemen on a hunting expedition, or Iron Throne lookouts? Crawling around in what she hopes is a suitable arachnid way, she tries to get a better look at their expressions, and whether their twitchy demeanor is the fear of prey or the anticipation of an ambush predator. After doing a small circle back to whence she came, she ascends the chimney once more. Assuming nothing bars her passage, she shifts once more into an invisible raven and takes off to rejoin the others and give them a briefing of her findings. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+3)[15] Insight to get a read on them Sam Throwing his head back with a laugh, Sam nods. "She can be like that. I'd say no stabbings is a good start." Though he remains good-natured about it, he can tell Vala doesn't much want to talk on the subject, so he changes it. "It sounds like we'll be doing a big favor for a Duke if we get this done," he comments while they await Grepha's return and report. "That'd be a pretty big deal if I want to get improved to claim the Keep for the Glintrunners. I'm not sure what to do after that though- do I leave Miggs in charge, or will I have to stay there - or stop in often? How would tax collectors and stuff react, or people who might try to move there? And there's the xvarts too... Grepha insists they'll never come around." The swirl of idle thoughts that had been welling up during their weeks of travel finally find voice in the silence of the road. Sam had never imagined himself in charge of anything, much less politically. The long shadow of responsibility is daunting, to say the least.

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 47/47 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: 5 / 6 d8 HD Caelyn pondered her own alone time with Grepha when Vala recounted hers. Non-violence hadn't been an issue between them. Her own distant apathy towards the imp her brother won seemed to suit the two of them just fine, so she doubted violence would result. While the druid thought Grepha was running some sort of long con for Sam's soul, she had faith in Sam (more than anyone) to resist her, and in the mean time the imp was increasingly useful for their group. Caelee even swore she'd seen the creature firing blasts like Sam during the last fight. The question wasn't if they could morally afford working with a devil, but if they would survive their haphazard lifestyle without Grepha's assistance. When Sam changes the topic the the kobold keep, Caelee frowns. She let's a moment of pregnant silence fall after Sam's series of queries and musings about the Glintrunners before responding slowly and gently. Sam... tell me if you've ever heard this story before. A group of adventurers enter a place of questionable ownership with rumors of treasure and strange rituals to spur them on. They encounter resistance from defensive... creatures... and plunge forward, eliminating all who stand in their way, with the goal of defeating monsters and accumulating material wealth while exploring. Does that tale sound familiar? I may be putting too much stock in tales, but I have a strong suspicion that when we return to that keep, the Glintrunners will have been chased off by someone with more might than a wounded kobold tribe. Or... worse. Could be the xvarts bullying them, could be some gaggle of locals with improvised weapons and fairly common prejudices against that which is different then them. Could be someone looking for us, following our back trail. If I was hunting us, that's how I would do it. And we leave a rather noticeable trail behind us of charity work and good deeds. Undo a few of them and the Orphans of Gorion will come running straight to you. Caelee sighs and rubs at her temple. "Sorry if I'm being depressive, Sam, but all this responsibility is wearing on me. It's tough being the oldest among us. I miss Melian already, and Vyv. And Aintas. And now I've got druidic responsibilities too. The more we learn of the outside world the more I yearn for times with Father in Candlekeep. Funny. I was always so eager to grow up and get out into the world." She reached out and gave Senna a squeeze on the shoulder and a warm smile to make sure she was paying attention. "But if I've got to grow up, there's no one who I would rather do it with than you two." She gave Sam's wing an experimental stroke and attempted to pull the two of them into a hug.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Taking a long, slow breathe, Sam lets the worries piling up spill out into the air. A few trickles of smoke escape through his teeth. "Maybe you're right. But I have to have faith they'll be okay, or what's the point?" Drawing up some of that well of optimism that had felt so low lately, Sam jostles Caelyn back playfully with his wing and then uses it to pull her into the hug. "You might not think it since he can't speak Common too well, but Miggs is a lot smarter than he looks. Just gotta hear him speak Draconic to see it," Sam insists. "You know, the Glintrunners seemed to have a kind of shamany-druidy kind of thing going, not the usual dragon or dragon deity worship. You could teach them when we get back there."

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 39/39 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Oh, I would not be sure. Kobolds are horrible fighters, but masterful trappers and tacticians. It was our luck they have been removed from the Nashkel Mines, their ambushes are legendary, and fill many travel journals. You can mainly be glad they are forced underground by the sun each day, or else there would be way more accounts of kobolds ambushes on travellers than there would be news about bandits. Senna seems to state. Monstrous ingenuity was key here. If you really want to improve their defenses, you need to find them some other tribe or race or guards, that can look out on the fortress walls during the day. Maybe someone who can improve the castle walls too. My mind goes to dwarves, but humanity is barely able to deal with these stubborn folk, them dealing with kobolds would be nigh impossible. Theoretical ramblings were Senna's favorite. Turning back to Grepha, now that she was away again, Senna was pulled towards a confession of sorts. Truth be told, I am glad we have Grepha now. She seems loyal enough and is a true help, but please watch out for any infernal trappings, Sam. Though between all of us, I worry for you the least, I don't want to loose you to a footnote on some odd contract. Our violent demise might be the most probable, but I can pray and hope Deneir has some semblance of power over our souls. I don't think he would have any sway if you gave up your soul to her.

[Amnestic]

Vala's quietly glad that the attention was moved off of her, instead listening quietly to the discussion over what is now Glintrunner Keep. No comments from her, but she's weighing your words in more ways than one, while trying to look nonchalant.

The tired men don't respond to Grepha's exit, evidently her infiltration went off without a hitch, and she's back with the group - two hours after disappearing off to investigate the smoke, reporting back the details of what she finds.

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- "What about halflings?" Sam suggests, holding up his arms in a hopeful shrug. "They're usually pretty relaxed, I think they'd get along with the Glintrunners! And they like to set up alongside other communities. Only problem is finding some who might be interested..." letting his arms fall back to his hips, Sam hums in the back of his throat. "Have you met many of them in your travels?" Sam asks Vala. Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+5)[23] History about halfling clans in the Sword Coast region Eventually, their discussion is interrupted by Grepha's return, and she fills them in on the state of the lodge. "At first, I thought they might be Iron Throne lookout. But no, they looked afraid of something. Oh- sorry," Grepha laughs softly and flicks her gaze over at Caelyn knowingly. Because Sam's already sparked that look in his eye again that said 'let's go help them'. "Maybe the Throne have been giving them trouble. We should go see what they know," he rationalizes, but the words in his head are probably a lot less practical.

[Amnestic]

"I passed through Corm Orp on my way to the Gate. Everyone was nice enough, but it felt a little..." She trails off and makes an incomprehensible gesture with her arms and hands. "forced? Like everyone was wearing masks of their own face. Might'a just been my impression, but I didn't stay long. Sometimes when you get a feeling you just gotta go." She finishes with a much more understandable shrug of the shoulders. "But just like 'bigfolk', 'halflings' seem to come in all sorts. Wouldn't trust them to play nice just because they're the same height as your kobold friends."

Spoiler: Halfling Settlement Knowledge

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There are only two majority Halfling settlements in the vicinity - Corm Orp and Gullykin, the latter of which is closer.

Corm Orp is a small village with a majority halfling population, but still has a number of human residents. It's located a decent clip east of Baldur's Gate, beyond the Forest of Wyrms, and rests in the shadow of the Darkhold. Little more than a hamlet, its primary trade goods were wine, grape-based dyes, and other textiles. With its extreme proximity to a major Zhentarim stronghold, rumours abound that they halfling hamlet trade information to the Zhents for protection and exclusion from any potential schemes. Such rumours are best not brought up in town, however.

Gullykin has a far more innocent standing - at least on its face. South of the Wood of Sharp Teeth, east of Beregost, this small village is known mostly for wine as well, but it serves as an 'important' resting place/stopping point for travelers, adventurers and treasure hunters headed to Durlag's Tower. While there are rumours about Gullykin, they're less malicious: That there is a network of underground tunnels beneath and leading from the village that lead to underground ruins, from which they source some of their wine. Likewise, such a rumour remains unproven, but not exactly disproven either. The residents are at least more liable to laugh off such a jest, instead unlike those of Corm Orp.

[Amnestic]

With Grepha's return, and Sam's gentle, good-natured prodding in the 'right' direction you turn eastwards. Travel is slower than when Grepha was flying solo and it's two hours of plodding through the densely packed forest watching the smoke plume steadily grow larger and larger. When you finally arrive, you don't have a chance to call out or stealthily approach - Rosch Roche's creaking cartwheels more than give away your presence and have done for some time. Still some distance away from the cabin, the door opens suddenly and one of the men Grepha encountered earlier appears on the threshold. He raises his crossbow, already racked with a bolt ready to loose. "You there, you won't take-" His raucous yells are cut off as his eyes adjust from the moderately lit firelight of the cabin to the blazing sun of the outside and he sees you for who you are, rather than who he apparently expected you to be. As quickly as his weapon was raised, it's lowered again. He gives the group a once over, his eyes narrowing at Caelyn for a moment, but whatever concerns he has over her presence seems dispelled by the rest of your group.

"I apologise for that sudden rudeness. I...mistook you for someone else. For what it's worth, well met. I am Aldeth Sashenstar, of the Sashenstar family." Despite the man's weary form and slight fatigue in his stance there's still a noble's pride behind his introduction - a slight uptilt of his nose, a pitch shift for emphasis. "I'm sorry I couldn't be more hospitable. As you might see I'm under some stress currently." He gives you another look over, appraising your weapons, your armour, your stances. "You look...rather capable. Perhaps you might help some folks in trouble? My friends and I have been holed up in our hunting cabin for several days now, unable to leave. A group of uncouth savages have declared their intention of murdering us all. They already got one of us." He looks past you, around at the somewhat open area, and retreats a half-step into the house, fear scrunching his eyesockets. "You might be just what we need to tip the scales."

Spoiler: DC13 History - Sashenstar Family

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The Sashenstars are a prominent noble family with significant ties to the Merchant's League - Aldeth's brother currently leads the league, which means they hold significant sway. The league itself is dedicated to the trade of goods and providing armed services for guarding caravans (a task it has somewhat failed as of late, you might note).

[purepolarpanzer]

Caelyn Syol'arael Wood Elf Druid AC: 15 HP: 47/47 PP: 17 PIv: 10 PIs: 17 Conditions: -- Concentrating on: 5 / 6 d8 HD "Locals may know a better approach than directly down road and into their defenses." Caelee nodded at Grepha's remark, simply acknowledging that she saw it coming first. "But we are not here to chase lost cows or get into farmer's disputes." She gestured down the road towards the east before setting Rosc Roche to pulling with a nudge from her heels. At The Cabin Caelee keeps quiet, letting Sam take the lead in negotiating. She was a hunter herself, so she didn't fault them for harvesting nature's bounty, but she would be judging their use (or misuse) or nature's gifts. She began to pet Rosc Roche's neck and whisper in his ear in elvish.

[Spore]

Senna Human Arcana Cleric AC: 19 HP: 39/39 PP: 17 PIv: 12 PIs: 17 Conditions: - Concentration: - Senna doesn't react immediately, but would have drawn her shield if combat was an issue. Her boots would have sensed hostility anyhow and catapulted her into the fray anyhow. Yet another oddity of her gear, which was more boon than curse. You are the ones that founded the Merchant's League, right? That is good news, we share a common enemy then. Or in this case, two kinds of enemies. I assume you ran into a bunch of Shadowdruids, right? Where, and how do they prevent you from leaving? My name is Senna Candlebright, Glyphscribe of Deneir, and these are Caelyn and Sam, my s....travel companions. I promise you, while she too is a druid, she does not subscribe to the same zealous principles as the other druids of this forest. First things first though, do you have any wounded you need assistance with?

[RandomWombat]

Cheerful Sam | Grepha Half-Dragon Warlock | Imp Warlock AC: 12 HP: 48/48 | AC: 13 HP: 17/17 PP: 10|13 PIv: 15|12 PIs: 11|13 -- | -- Now Grepha is in raven form, circling above the cottage on watch. Sam holds up his empty hands to signal his peaceful intent when the occupant emerges with his crossbow, offering a friendly smile that would probably be intimidating on most draconic creatures - his casual stature diminishes the threat of his sharp teeth. "Aldeth Sashenstar? Wow, imagine meeting someone like that out here!" he lowers his hands as tensions drain out, looking off in the direction Laskal had flown. The League are business rivals of the Throne, so Sam hopes these guys will be helpful. "The Shadow Druids gave us some trouble too. But we're actually here to investigate the Iron Throne, they're the thing that set those druids off in the first place. We discovered they're up to some shady business but we need proof." It might be a little daring to come right out with it. But Sam watches to see how the merchant hunter reacts.