Age of Giants- Live or Die Trying

[Palanan]

As the tough grasses and vines come alive in the mist, Perriket does his best to avoid them.

Spoiler

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Reflex
(1d20+5)[15]

[Athaleon]

Urist cried out despite himself as vines tangled and grasped him, while the lightning spell shot his limbs through with spasming pain. Desperation to get away from such magic, combined with rising bile as he spat wordless hate at their attackers, lent him the strength to tear away from the growing plants and stagger towards the nearest troglodyte. Blackened and bloodied, Urist brandished his hammer in grim defiance.

Spoiler

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Failed save vs Entangle, escaped as a Move Action, using his remaining Move Action to move to AC-9 to threaten the remaining Troglodyte Warrior.

[Farmerbink]

Paranomasia grimaces as he struggles through the vines. Writhing, grasping, chest-high grass and weeds threatens to bind him in places with every step, but he just manages to escape their grasp. Brankham lumbers around the mass of bizarrely animate flora, as fast as his Dwarf legs will take him. Urist also struggles with the vines, but manages to escape, closing the distance with the warriors harrying Bushi.

Some divine grace seems to wash over Heldrun, as he manages to entirely avoid becoming entangled. He leaps off the ledge and approaches the ranger, loudly calling upon the Dwarven pantheon for aid.

In the same moments, Bushi's savage claws rip the throat out of the nearest Troglodyte, sending the would-be slaver/cannibal to the rocky ground in a rapidly growing pool of blood. She then wrestles her way to the north, just managing to get clear of the aggressive plants, herself. Franklin turns his attention to the shaman in the back, where he just manages to deliver a well-aimed arrow.

As the shaman begins casting a spell, the thundercloud assaults Heldrun with lightning and hail and his allies turn on Urist. The warrior lashes out savagely with claws and teeth, while the ranger brings a savage machete out of a belt loop. ((Urist takes 4 damage from a single claw hit. Heldrun takes 14 damage from the cloud)). Blessedly, the bizarre cloud of seemingly-sentient malice suddenly winks from existence moments later.

((There is an obscuring mists effect centered at Y/6. Perriket needs to roll vs Entangle again (though it's not relevant if you don't plan to move): DC 14. Basically everything is difficult terrain west of Bushi))
Map updated

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Brankahm's Status, Round 4

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Brankahm Runechanter
Male Lawful Good Dwarf Fighter (w/ 2 Archetypes), VMC Bard, Level 2, Init 2, HP 29/29, Speed 20 ft
AC 16, Touch 12, Flat-footed 14, CMD 17, Fort 5, Ref 3, Will 2, CMB +5, Base Attack Bonus 2
Light Dwarven Pelletbow +4 (1d4, 19-20/x3)
MW Chain Shirt (250 GP) (+4 Armor, +2 Dex)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition None

"'m after the shaman! Try to get away from the magic!" encourages Brankahm as he trots forward, takes aim once more with his pelletbow, and fires at the troglodyte shaman.

Spoiler: Mechanics

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Move to AD15 and fire: Pelletbow - (1d20+4)[7] to hit, (1d20+4)[5] (19-20/x3), (1d4)[1] damage, (2d4)[6] critical strike damage. (Miss)

[Athaleon]

Urist retaliated at the Troglodyte that clawed him, swinging his hammer desperately now that he had finally come to grips with the enemy.

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Attack: (1d20+5)[25]
Damage: (1d8+3)[9]

[Triskavanski]

Paronomasia AC: 18 | HP: 16 | Current: 16 Fortitude: +2 | Reflex: +6| Will: +3 | Perception: +4 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None.

Blast it all! The kobold runs up closer to the shaman, "Stick around a while, so we can beat up on you!" he shouts as he casts glue seal on the shaman.

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Glue Seal - DC 13 reflex

[tonberryking]

What's really creepy, or perhaps effective, about Bushi's rages is that she doesn't really go all snarling or roaring all the time. Her eyes burn redder than heated iron, but she only lets out a feral cry when she goes in for a kill and it's too late to stop the blow. Case in point, she leaps from the tangling vines and spins like a buzzsaw before coming down with another pair of claw swings at the remaining warrior to her right, only letting out a wildcat cry after she feels her bone claws connect with the trog's flesh.

Spoiler: OOC/Rolls

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Acrobatics check:
(1d20+10)[21]
Trying to land on space AD-8

Claw Attacks:
(1d20+10)[18]
(1d20+10)[21]

Damage:
(1d4+3)[7]
(1d4+3)[5]

[Farmerbink]

Having found some semblance of safety amidst the sudden violence, Perriket burrows into the sandy ridge, desperate to remain hidden from the shaman.

Brankahm's attack goes wide, as does Franklin's, but between the two of them, they manage to distract the skulker enough for Urist's hammer to deliver a truly savage blow. With startling force, the cleric plunges the weapon of his god fully through the enemy's ribcage and deep into its chest. It blinks, gurgles, and dies as Bushi leaps down on his companion. Her claws savage the other warrior, drawing wide-eyed frustration (and realization that their "prey" was not so easily taken) from the shaman.

Paranomasia's sudden bold ploy draws a snarl of fury from the shaman's lips, but he manages to avoid the sticky substance without too much disruption.

The remaining Troglodyte keeps his focus long enough to call up some dark spiritual forces. A huge mass of bats, thick enough to block sight and choke off breath blinks into existence on top of Paranomasia; between the reptilian assailant and Heldrun and Urist. With no apparent concern for their own safety, they pile into the Dwarves and their allies, biting and clawing with mindless fury.
((Paranomasia takes 4 damage. Urist and Heldrun take 7 damage each. Bushi takes 3.))

End of Combat

Your weapons and claws prove almost totally useless, as there are simply too many of the tiny creatures for physical violence to be significant. A few moments later, they suddenly wink back out of existence, leaving behind only the wind rustling the nearby grass. In the sudden stillness, you realize that the shaman must have bolted as soon as the bats were around. You don't see it nearby, and immediately suspect it left in search of easier prey.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Brankahm huffs up to where he last saw the shaman and takes a look around. Seeing no sign of the reptile he asks, "Anyone see the leader? Or which way he fled?" before trotting down the slope at a steady, dwarfish pace for about thirty seconds. When it's clear that the attacker has gone to ground, so to speak, he stops and calls back, "I've lost 'im. Coming back up - don't attack me by mistake!"

Once back at the site of the ambush-turned-to-counter-ambush he looks around and notes that all of the companions still live. "Well done, everyone. Not the cleanest fight, and much louder than ideal, but we live. Is everyone ready to move on a bit and find a new, safe hidey hole for a bit of a rest?" he asks as he helps everyone gather their things and settle for a bit more of a march before they try to recover and rest...

[Palanan]

Once the tough grasses have stopped their whipping and clinging, once the dense low vapors of fog have dispersed—and most importantly, once the murderous sphere of crackling pain has vanished—Perriket will cautiously slide up from where he had been crouched, cautiously approach the trampled areas where the fight had been thickest, and will attempt to pick up the tracks of the troglodyte:

Spoiler

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Perception
(1d20+9)[17]

Survival
(1d20+7)[16]

[Athaleon]

"Aye..." Urist wrenched his hammer free of the Troglodyte once he was finally free of the bats. He bled from a dozen places, and though no one wound on him was serious, it was clear he was barely able to stand. "I will need a rest, at any rate. Then I can heal our most grievous wounds once I've rested. I have these scrolls, in a pinch, but I'd rather save them if we aren't about to get into another scrap."

[Triskavanski]

Paronomasia AC: 18 | HP: 16 | Current: 16 Fortitude: +2 | Reflex: +6| Will: +3 | Perception: +4 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None.

The kobold comes by and slaps Heldrun, "Be healed! Stop bleeding on everything, its disguesting." the slap is accompanied by healing energy.

Spoiler

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(1d8+2)[8]

Life back to him

"As merciful as I am, there is a limit to my generosity, until next time. " he snaps his fingers as he starts walking away, cleaning the blood and dirt off Heldrun with a prestidigitation.

[Farmerbink]

Perriket peers down the slope as the party generally begins recovering from the fight. As the vines wither and dissipate, he sees only the swaying of scrub grass and the distant beginning of sunrise as the sun's first rays begin to lighten the sky over the great forest of ancient walnut trees sheltering Stepdownsy Forynth. It'll be several minutes to dawn yet, but not enough time to nestle back into your bedrolls unless you plan on spending much of the day in recovery.

At this point, the fleeing Troglodyte obviously wants nothing to do you with you, and the skill to enact it without more effort from the party.

Tired, and in some cases bruised and worse, the party begins their preparation for the rest of their journey.

Spoiler: OOC

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Mechanically, if you want to press on, everyone who took first and second watch (I had to do some digging, but that's Paronomasia, Perriket, Brankham, Franklin, and Urist) will do so fatigued for the day.

[Palanan]

“We need to be away from here, quickly,” Perriket urges the others. “That thing may be on its way back to its nest, or hive, or whatever they have—and we need to be well gone before they return. We need to find a route that isn't so exposed and press on, as fast and far as we can go.

“Also,” he glances reluctantly at the loud kobold, “there are others of us who have been injured.” And indeed, his flank is badly scored with a long streak of char from where the hovering fiery ball lashed him with its flickering tendrils.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Brankahm nods in partial agreement with Perriket. "Shouldn't stay here, but too many of us didn't rest well for it to be too far away, friend. Let's look for another secluded spot - if the trog comes back with more we will have trouble, either way. But we risk walking into something worse doing it dead on our feet..." he says, trying to negotiate by meeting the fearful ratfolk in the middle. The dwarf doesn't yawn or show much fatigue, but there is a tightness around the corners of his eyes of stress and strain from the difficult night. "Come on everyone - take a couple of minutes to prepare, but let's move before the sun rises. We'll go an hour, maybe two, and then find cover to rest, hopefully behind the tree line..."

[Palanan]

"We need to go as far as we can, as fast as we can," Perriket insists.

"And if there's someone who can help with this—" he glances pointedly at his scarred and bloody wound— "then I'll have a better chance of finding us the best route."

[Triskavanski]

Paronomasia AC: 18 | HP: 16 | Current: 16 Fortitude: +2 | Reflex: +6| Will: +3 | Perception: +4 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None.

“Also,” he glances reluctantly at the loud kobold, “there are others of us who have been injured.” And indeed, his flank is badly scored with a long streak of char from where the hovering fiery ball lashed him with its flickering tendrils.

"As I stated, there is limits to my generosity. There is no more healing for any of you tonight from me. So stop bleeding on your own." The kobold groans back. He only had three spells, and used all three of them already. Paronomasia was no cleric but a supervillain after all. He snaps his fingers to clean the filth off the ratfolk though with his prestidigitation.

[Palanan]

With a sour, sidelong look at the kobold, convinced the creature is holding back, Perriket will do his best to bind his wound using his rudimentary field-bandaging skills. He will hiss and wince perhaps a little more than is strictly necessary.

Spoiler

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Heal
(1d20+6)[7]

[DarkOne-Rob]

Brankahm shakes his head a bit sadly. "I'd try to help, but I'm no good at first aid. Sorry," he finishes awkwardly. As the others mill about he takes a moment to collect the dead troglodytes and looks over their gear curiously. He seems more interested in any markings or signs that might mean something than in the actual equipment, but he doesn't avoid taking anything that might prove either valuable or useful.

[Farmerbink]

His companions still deciding how to move on, Brankahm busies himself with the unsavory task of rifling through the belongings of the deceased. Most of his findings are unsurprising and uninteresting: the Troglodytes are unarmored, and only equipped with rudimentary (though undeniably effective) weaponry. However, one of them carries a trio of vials filled with thick, red liquid. In a small sack, a surprisingly well-made chain with clasps for wrists and neck clanks dully. Someone stuck in the manacles would struggle to use his hands or look far from directly ahead. Another chain in the same sack could secure ankles, making escape a difficult proposition at best. No doubt it's for the best that you never found out what that was like firsthand.

Spoiler: OOC, loot

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3 javelins, with amentum, 3 machetes, 3 cure moderate wounds potions, and a masterwork manacles.

[Athaleon]

"Ah, that changes things..." Urist rumbled as the curative potions were discovered. "But still, let us save the scrolls if we can."

Spoiler

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Scrolls of Casting Cure Light Wounds, for anyone still needing healing:

(1d8+1)[4] First one +1 as these are now his own spells, not scrolls
(1d8+1)[9] Second one +1
(1d8+1)[4] Third one Only prepped two.

[Palanan]

Perriket will nod his weary gratitude to Urist, and then he'll sniff cautiously at the other items Brankham has assembled, scenting for magical auras with a brief casting of Detect Magic.

[tonberryking]

Bushi stays quiet following the battle, doing what she can with her small hands and then scampering off ahead trying to find suitable shelter or camp grounds for the night. To no one's surprise, she darts in and out of sight the entire time.

However, to the surprise of the others, perhaps, she doesn't ask to be healed. She was clipped a little and while she's not leaving a blood trail, it's clear she was in a fight. She doesn't try to hide it, but even after the discovery of the potions she doesn't ask for one. Potions are luxuries for leaders and important goblins...it might not even occur to her she can ask for one...

Spoiler: OOC/rolls

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(1d20+18)[22] Stealth roll

(1d20+4)[15] Survival check to try to help find shelter along the way...

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Definitely slavers, or they liked to eat their meals extra fresh," mutters Brankahm as he inspects the troglodyte equipment. With a shrug he collects everything before offering the potions to the wounded. "Hey - three potions here, likely healing. Check them out and then drink up while I take a quick look around..."

Without waiting for the scouts, the sturdy dwarf makes his way up intent on seeing if there are any other good spots nearby. After about ten minutes, all while staying close to the others, he returns looking tired and resolved. "Bad news, I'm afraid," he says, without any real hint of being upset. "This spot is likely our best bet for at least several long hours. I think everyone is too tired for a forced march - I'll stand the first watch..."

Brankahm says this to the entire party, though he looks to the scouts for confirmation, indicating that if they doubt him they should look from above too. As they argue, scout, or agree he helps the rest of the crew settle again before finding a good place to post up where he's unlikely to fall asleep...

[Farmerbink]

Franklin nods soberly. "We're doing well. We've avoided notice of the big folk so far, and we're close than I hoped to the halls of the Craghammers without being chased there." He glances around the area a bit warily, as Brankahm goes on his brief scouting venture.

"We're a single hard day of equal parts climbing and crawling away. Only about seven and a half or eight miles from here, but there's a lot of slopes, and it's not always up. There's a narrow road- more a track really- about two miles south makes it more like a half day of gentle uphills, if we wanted to risk it..."

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Decide after sleep - no one makes good decisions tired" declares Brankahm. The dwarf then sets aside each of his weapons and begins practicing forms, intent on doing something to keep active during his watch.

Spoiler: OoC

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An easier path is likely to have encounters. As a player I'm for encounters - they're interesting and make us figure out how our PCs would react. I don't expect to survive fighting each, so it's good to figure out how we retreat/hide from some of them.

I'm pretty sure Brankahm would be willing to do either but concerned about the harder path. Injuries happen from falling just as easily as combat, and he's prepared for combat.

[Triskavanski]

Paronomasia AC: 18 | HP: 16 | Current: 16 Fortitude: +2 | Reflex: +6| Will: +3 | Perception: +4 Active Effects: None. Conditions: None.

"Yes, rest, sleep, it is something that we need. Our power will grow, but until then.. Sleeep." the kobold says before moving to find a place to flop over. Then pops up for a moment "And no murdering each other in sleep! only morons do that!"

[Farmerbink]

Franklin, apparently eager to latch onto an agreement, slumps to a slouch, his back resting against one of the many rocky bluffs nearby. "I know that's my vote," he murmurs, nodding his accord with Brankahm and Paranomasia in turn. Heldrun grunts, to claim attention more than overtly agree or disagree. "I slept well and was up for the day anyway. You lot hunker down back on the ledge and I'll keep watch with Bushi until you feel ready to press on."

He stumps to a projection from which he can see into the distance with a bit of a grimace. "I'll be all but a beacon up here without some cover," he grunts, as he takes a few steps back to keep most of his plate-clad torso behind the rocks. "Bushi," he calls. "If you would, take point?"

With Bushi and Heldrun on watch, the rest of the party (some more begrudgingly than others) settle down to make up for the lost rest caused by their reptilian pursuers. A few minutes later, Bushi hisses savagely, as she notices the Troglodyte druid now several hundred yards down the hill and scrambling away with obvious purpose. Heldrun joins him peering over the edge with a growl, but immediately assesses that catching the survivor would be probably impossible, and definitely more trouble than it's worth. Instead, the pair watches until it's too far to keep up.

You're now about 8 miles west of the road you worriedly crossed some three days ago, more a thing you're aware of than something you can see, exactly. Late in the morning, most of you are feeling more rested and considering moving on. Just a few minutes before the sun reaches its zenith, your lookouts notice a strange development. Gradually (at this great distance), a long cloud of dust rises from the road, from north to south. Ultimately, it proves little more than a discomfiting disturbance as you begin to hypothesize what could (and would) be disturbing so much earth with so little concern for other things noticing them. Franklin frowns deeply, muttering, "probably a dozen giants or more..."

Nowhere near foolish enough to try to interact with such a thing, you resolve to wait another hour or so, until the beginning of the dust cloud has passed your current latitude. Somewhat better rested, you break camp in earnest and spend most of the afternoon trekking up further into the hills. After a few hours, the distant dust clouds are visible, rising gently into an otherwise clear sky. The base, where giants or carts or some other caravan might be, however, is too distant to be anything more than a not-so-subtle reminder of the forces at play on the surface.

---

The evening and night pass without incident, thankfully, and you rise much better rested the next day. "We'll be at their front door by lunchtime, if we keep yesterday afternoon's pace." He glances around the area with an odd expression. "To be true, I expected to see explanation of their silence by now," he admits. "We won't be able to see the gates until we're about 100 yards away- they're nestled in a ravine about a mile that way-" he points, roughly west-southwest upwards into the hills.

With as much optimism as you can muster, the party breaks camp as the sun rises in earnest over the distant walnuts and mountains beyond. The going is rough- marked by loose gravel and many short, steep climbs. Fortunately, nothing living makes the passage any more challenging, and other than a few bruised knees and scraped palms, you round the last bend (by Franklin's explanation) no worse for wear.

You find yourselves looking down a narrow canyon, perhaps 120 feet long, both sides lined with medium-sized wooden huts, the structures apparently built into the rocks themselves. At the end of the ravine, a set of huge stone double doors loom, perhaps 15 feet tall, flanked by bronze statues of Dwarven warriors clad in metal armor. "Oh?" Franklin wonders, visibly confused. "They didn't have any of these huts outside the halls proper last time I was here... Been a couple years, but still..." With a bit of trepidation, he continues forward. Strangely (?), no one and nothing stirs among the buildings, though it appears by all counts like a typical main thoroughfare for a decently large surface city.

[Athaleon]

"Very curious, then." Urist's whisper still managed to rumble in his throat. "A lot of work went into these structures, considering, especially if done only within the last two years. But on the surface, in these days? And deserted now, for all that." He frowned, deep in thought as he examined the stonework.

Spoiler

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Perception: (1d20+9)[29], +2 if Stonecunning applies here.

[DarkOne-Rob]

Brankahm doesn't speak, instead looking around suspiciously at everything, first in front of the party in the ravine, and then back behind them (looking for an ambush). He makes eye contact with the scouts, shrugs, and then gestures for them to take the lead (stealthily)...