Altogether [IC]

[Ilerien]

Having fended off the nausea (though he tried not to breathe through his nose until further notice) Evindal strolled to Tommasia and whispered in her ear specifically so the prisoners wouldn't be able to overhear:
- Here goes our hope to slip into Blackwood in some innocuous manner. Having this many people on the same mission and no established hierarchy is always a tradeoff, - he sighed. - Luckily, these two are too scared of us so far to notice we can't agree what to do with them, but this might change. The most sensible course of action is interrogation and subsequent disposal. But in case Cervena refuses to go with the latter, we can try to instill the hobgoblins with a belief they can't act counter to our instructions without suffering dire consequences. A genuine geas would be ideal, but curses of this kind are far from my specialty. Describing the effects to them in great detail might be the next best thing. Opens a couple of opportunities for some clever deception... Speaking of deception, - the elf watched Cervena drag one of the prisoners away. - Let's give them a little nudge, shall we? A bad petal and a good petal, with a sprinkle of mind manipulation.
Evindal focused on the remaining hobgoblin who was lying on the ground, crossed his wrists and performed a set of sharp gestures, reciting an arcane formula.

Spoiler: OOC

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Charm person on the hobgoblin Cervena isn't interrogating, will DC 18 (19, if he's denied his dex bonus to AC in the current circumstances). Jinx lowers his saves by 2.

If the creature is currently being threatened or attacked by you or your allies, however, it receives a +5 bonus on its saving throw.

This rule likely applies here.

[Gaiyamato]

"Magical compulsion works well enough I guess then." Vildyrámok responds to Evindal.

He shrugs and goes back to trying to drag the corpses into a neat pile by the road, keeping an eye out for anything useful that wasn't destroyed by the spell on the bodies.

Spoiler: ooc

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Given Endymia and Evindal seem to be the only ones making any sense, he will just let them all do whatever they are going to do and is going to focus on the post battle cleanup and looting.

[BelGareth]

The remaining hobgoblin under the party's scrutiny shifted nervously, his eyes darting between the members of the group. The gravity of the situation was palpable, and he knew that his life and his compatriot's lives hung in the balance. Cervena's gaze remained fixed on him, a mixture of sternness and curiosity in her eyes.

"Let's have a talk," she stated, her tone even, her voice carrying the weight of authority and experience. She crossed her arms, waiting for his response. "How many of you are there in the camp?" Her question hung in the air, the silence pregnant with tension.

The hobgoblin swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he considered his words. Fear and uncertainty played across his features, mingling with the fading echoes of battle-shock. "Th-there are ten of us," he stammered, his voice trembling. "We're part of a larger unit stationed in the area."

Cervena nodded, her expression unyielding as she absorbed the information. Her next question was delivered with the same directness. "What are the perimeter defenses?" Her eyes bore into his, searching for any signs of deception.

The hobgoblin shifted uneasily, his eyes avoiding Cervena's gaze for a moment before he continued. "The camp is pretty standard," he admitted, his voice still quivering. "The Centurion leads us. We've set up defensive trenches and wooden palisades, using the natural terrain to our advantage. A squad of archers is usually posted on raised platforms to provide cover, and we have a few ballistae for heavier ranged attacks."

Meanwhile, a different scene was unfolding nearby. The second surviving hobgoblin had fallen under the sway of a charm spell, the enchantment weaving its magic around his mind. His gaze softened, and a faint smile crept across his lips as he regarded the caster. The charm had worked as intended, his hostility replaced by a newfound friendliness. He seemed open, even eager, to answer any questions or follow any instructions given by the charmer.

[LairdMaon]

Something akin to a growl resonates from deep within Cur's torso. The growl continues unbroken as Cur gathers up several swords from the mess of partially cooked hobgoblin.

Eventually, he selects a blade with minor damage and commences digging a large hole. "There are more digging tools here, for any of you wants to join me. Also, I need a headcount for the dead. I lost count in the briefness of the tumult."

[Ilerien]

Evindal approached and smiled despite the sour taste in his mouth, as his compulsion was visibly taking root in the hobgoblin's mind. He hunkered down in front of the hobgoblin to bring himself to the same level, so any perceived threat from him would be gone completely, and asked in soft and friendly tone:
- Don't be afraid. It's over, everything will be fine now. We're going to have a little talk, surely you wouldn't mind. What's your name, friend?

[BelGareth]

The charmed hobgoblin, his demeanor significantly softened by Evindal's magic, gazed at the elven enchanter with a newfound sense of trust. His initial apprehension had been replaced by a sense of camaraderie.

With a slight smile, he replied, "I'm Grom. You... you can call me Grom." His voice was less strained and fearful, and there was a hint of relief in his eyes.

[Auranghzeb]

Cervena sneered at what she knew was happening on the battleground.

So be the spoils of war, the fields that sow seeds of hate. She said to herself.

Then spoke with the hobgoblin.

I have no ill-feelings towards you, we all have a job to do and mine is as unpleasant as it can be. But I must do it. I can't save your life from those who enjoy the dark parts of our work and join wars to quelch their thirst for violence. So I have learnt does your people, You have witnessed yourself how little value have lives to some of us. I'm trying to do this with minimum carnage, and you will help me. I trust your well trained instincts: Draw in this dirt the perimeter of the camp and describe your centurion to me.
Then I'll let you decide what your fate will be.

[Ilerien]

I hate this. Every time.

Evindal smiled again.
- Wonderful. Well, Grom, you wouldn't mind helping me a little bit, right? Could you please tell me about the Empire's garrison in Blackwood? The numbers, the fortifications, the people in command. And while we're at it, are you maybe hungry? We have a bit to share.

Spoiler: OOC

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This is an attempt to manipulate him on two levels by appealing to some primal instincts besides the magical compulsion. Dunno if I have to roll anything. :)

[Cygnia]

Tommasia drew out what looked like to be a small piece of amethyst and clenched it in her fist. With the battle ending so fast, it would be best to renew what little magic she possessed in case anything else happened.

Then she went over to help Cur with the corpses.

[Olive_Sophia]

Endymia took a step back, and sighed to herself. So this was how it was going to be. Two different interrogations were starting up - her sister was leading one of them, and the other was performed with Evindal's softer manner. In all likelihood there would be some loose ends running around when this was done. She could only hope that the consequences of that wouldn't catch up to them too quickly. She did some quick calculations, and decided that they'd likely still have a few days to wrap things up without interference. The white haired woman fumed internally a bit more about the situation, but in the mean time she got to work moving the corpses. She tore a cape from one of the soldiers and used it to grab and drag the bodies towards the hole that cur was preparing. She wasn't about to start digging herself, however. So when the dead were in place, she tossed the cape on the pile and walked back over to the cart. She leaned back against it and watched the questioners work, with folded arms and a displeased face. Somehow, the remaining soldiers seemed quite willing to talk. That at least was promising.

[BelGareth]

Cervena's Inquiry:
Grom's hand traced the perimeter of the camp in the dirt, outlining its square shape with rows of tents. He explained that it was organized like a typical military encampment, with designated areas for various functions. Alongside the soldiers' quarters, there were guard rotations, dirt wall ramparts, and watchtowers providing defenses. In addition to the hobgoblin soldiers, there were other individuals within the camp, like traders, smithies, and even some less reputable characters, though Grom wasn't entirely sure what to make of them. It all seemed quite different from what he was used to.

Evindal's Inquiry:
With a warm smile, Grom began sharing information about the Empire's garrison in Blackwood. The camp housed approximately 900 soldiers in total. He described the layout, emphasizing its resemblance to a standard military camp, complete with square formations and orderly rows of tents. Guard rotations were meticulously maintained, with dirt wall ramparts guarding the perimeter and watchtowers providing elevated vantage points.

As for the Centurion, Grom provided a detailed description. The Centurion was a commanding figure, known for his distinct appearance. Tall and imposing, he had dark, cruel eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone who met his gaze. His skin was a sickly shade of grayish-green, and his voice had a sinister, almost hypnotic quality to it.

[Cygnia]

The way their charmed prisoner described their target had Tommasia wondering if this particular hobgoblin had something special in his heritage. Not to say that a hobgoblin was incapable of such charisma on his own talents -- but having a "boost" in his bloodline (be it demonic, diabolic, draconic or something else entirely) might explain a lot.

"Does this centurion have a name?"

[Auranghzeb]

Cervena


Cervena tried to memorize the map, delving into her psyche to keep the tracing and the information. Then she looked at the hob-goblin.


I make my word good, you choose to live. And I choose the risk of letting you live. Look me in the eye. Once we are ready, you are going to start running down the road in the opposite direction of your camp. I won't harm you, but my sister will. I'm a knife, not catapult. I'll be clean. Nod if you understand.

She tried to read into the prisioner's soul.

Then she dragged the hobgoblin back with the others, who were digging shallow graves.

Time is of the essence. If you want to play graveyard diggers, it's your thing. We need to be swift. I'm bolting ahead. Our friend here has been useful.

And leaving the prisoner there she bolted back into the woods, towards camp.

[Olive_Sophia]

Endymia was still relaxing by the carriage when Cervena returned, dragging the hobgoblin she'd spared in tow. The paladin looked spotless, even pleasant, despite all that had happened. It seemed that she had regained some of her cocky cheerfulness now that things were winding down.

"We won't be far behind, I expect," she replied. "Our work here is nearly through." And with that, she bid her sister farewell. Endymia was silently happy once that woman was out of sight. She just knew that her every move would be checked and hounded while Cervena was near. But then again, maybe she wasn't that bad. 'She did, after all, leave these soldiers to my itching fangs.' It was an amusing thought, but she didn't expect to act on it. In truth she was eager to put distance between herself and this scene - and hopefully the responsibility for it, too. The sooner she made it to Blackwood, the sooner she could return to the good company and the social invulnerability she'd left at home.

[LairdMaon]

The task of handling the burial of those unfortunate and ill-fated soldiers complete, Cur turns back to his cohort. "Have we learned anything useful? We shouldn't stay here too long. As it is, we'll need some way to explain how we got past this group to get to our target. Come to think of it, this couldn't have been a regular patrol, too large a force. What were they sent out for?"

[BelGareth]

Grom responded to Tommasia's question "Centurion Malgarius" before being dragged off to the others, he numbly nods to the directions, and looks around as if he doesn't believe he will survive even if told so by Cervena.

With the prisoners digging their own graves, and Cervena heading out.

What do you?

Spoiler

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Great time to wrap this up, didn't want to god-mod you guys, so feel free to just move on, and i can wrap it up, or do whatever.

[Olive_Sophia]

Endymia did consider finishing off the soldiers, maiming them, and a number of other cruel alternatives. But in the end she decided that the moment had passed. It was time to go, and dirtying herself with blood and grave dust didn't sound like a particularly good time. If those hobgoblins did send danger after them, it would at least provide her an opportunity to tell Cervena 'I told you so.' So when everyone was ready, she gave the captive soldiers a hard pat on the back, sending them on their way.

"Well boys, you've been spared for today. Don't make us regret it - I couldn't forget such pretty faces. Go on now. And don't let me see you turn back." Then she continued on towards Blackwood with the party.

[Ilerien]

Evindal nodded as Grom spilled the beans on the Blackwood commander.
- Thank you, Grom, it was very nice of you to share. Now, imagine returning with news like this, you might get in trouble with your superiors. And we don't want you and your buddy over there punished, right? - the elf smiled reassuringly and pointed at the cart. - Come with me, please. Also, would you be so kind as to tell me was your patrol a regular one, or were your sent on some specific mission?

While Grom was answering, Evindal rummaged in the cart for several moments, produced a burlap sack and several coins and handed everything to him.
- This would be enough to get by for several days. You both have to disappear for some time just to be extra safe, don't you agree? May I rely on you to do exactly this? - he asked, looking into the charmed hobgoblin's eyes.

Spoiler: OOC

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That would be 4 trail rations and 10 GP. Evindal has faint hope that playing a good cop tips the scales, so they won't be inclined to return even when the spell wears off.

[BelGareth]

Grom nods numbly "No, no, we wouldn't want that" he mumbled listening to the veiled threats, and not so veiled threats from the different members of the ragtag team. "um, this was a regular patrol...my first one..." he trails off, almost about to cry, but then looks you in face and a smile forces itself over his face, there was a slight terror in his eyes as it did so.

The remaining hostages all nod silently, and take what is given to them, and as you move off, they gather the cart, and head off in the opposite direction.

You all head off into the dense foliage of the forest, away from the paths, and the used tracks of carts and the like. With Cervena in the lead it was easy to move, and she only once or twice came back to the group to hold position, but both times were only due to a wild animal passing, and within moments you are back to moving again, in some places the foliage is so thick and heavy you are forced to cut through the barbs of wild raspberry bushes, and you only manage to disturb one nest of badgers who hiss and snark at you without fear.

The weather was fair a high summer's sun, hot enough that the perpetual shade of the forest began to make you cold, especially as the sun began to dip into the horizon.

It was then that Cervana, eternally in the lead found a site, and relayed it back to the group:

You come across a serene forest clearing. In the center stands an enormous and ancient treant, its bark bearing the scars of battle. The treant seems remarkably calm, sitting amidst the clearing and cradling a lifeless hobgoblin in its massive, gnarled arms. A circle of ethereal will-o'-wisps hovers around the treant, their soft, ghostly light illuminating the scene.



However, as your group approaches, it becomes clear that this isn't a peaceful tableau. Strewn around the base of the treant are the broken, lifeless bodies of hobgoblins and ogres. They bear the signs of a violent conflict, with severed limbs and crushed armor. The treant's eyes glow with an eerie intensity, a combination of sorrow and determination.

[Ilerien]

The wizard listened to Cervena's report intently.

- Curious. My Sylvan is likely rusty out of disuse, but treants usually speak some more common languages. I'll ask it what happened. The potential opportunity to gather more intelligence is worth a little delay. We should refrain from any actions it may perceive as a threat to itself or to the forest. I would imagine it's inwardly restless after the battle, - he said and started towards the clearing, expecting the others to follow suit.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge (nature) check to recall knowledge about treants: 17 (rolled in Discord).

[Auranghzeb]

Cervena

Staying close to the wizard, Cervena approaches the Treant sheathing her weapons and adopting a non threatening stance all the while glancing to the sides for any possible threat.

[BelGareth]

As you cautiously approach the treant, its towering form dominating the clearing, it remains eerily silent. Oakthorn's massive frame is a testament to centuries of existence, and its bark bears the scars of countless battles. Its eyes, deep and ancient, regard your party with a raised eyebrow—a gaze that seems to weigh your intentions.

After a pregnant pause, Oakthorn's deep, rumbling voice finally breaks the silence. "I am Oakthorn," it says, its voice carrying the weight of age and wisdom. "I once dwelled in a grove nearby, but I have been driven from it by marauding ogres and their hobgoblin allies. They seek to despoil my grove, and I have defended it as best as I can. But I am weary, and they are relentless."

With a mournful gasp that seems to emanate from the very core of its being, the treant holds up the lifeless hobgoblin, its immense fingers cradling the fallen foe. "I bear no love for violence, but they have left me no choice." he looks at you all with a meaningful look "What are you to choose little ones? violence with old Okathorn?" he stumbles over his words "ARE YOU LITTLE OGRELETTES?" he suddenly yells, as if the mere memory is enough to rile him up.

As Oakthorn speaks, its gaze shifts toward a dense thicket at the edge of the clearing, indicating the path that leads to its besieged grove.

[Ilerien]

Now that's loud.

Evindal stopped and looked upwards at the towering treant, then bowed in respect.
- Greetings, esteemed Oakthorn, may your forest prosper and be safe from those who wish harm upon it, - he said in Sylvan, switching to Common to continue so everyone would be able to understand. - I assure you we are no allies to these despoilers, may their remains serve as nourishment to the trees. Quite the opposite, actually.

Spoiler: OOC

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Here's a diplomacy check in case the situation calls for it: (1d20+13)[17]

[Olive_Sophia]

The white-haired paladin approached Oakthorn with the group, remaining at ease to all appearances. She was ready to fight this creature if the need arose, but that really didn't seem necessary. In fact, the treant seemed a natural ally at the moment. And Endymia had never seen something quite like this tree-like being. It was large and powerful and ancient; she respected it at once. The knight flinched in surprise when it began to speak in its resounding voice. What a marvel! To its question, she replied "Far from it. These brutes were no friends of ours," agreeing with Evindal. "We've only passed so far from the road due to harassment from their kin."

"In fact, if my companions agree to it, I'd be inclined to see the state of the grove beyond. I can't make any promises until I know more, but we may be able to help drive off the intruders."

[BelGareth]

Oakthorn's ancient voice rumbles in response to the party's assurances:

"Your words bring solace to this weary heart," Oakthorn acknowledges with a deep, rumbling sigh that seems to resonate through its very form. "To know that not all beings walk the path of darkness in these troubled times is a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching shadows."

The treant nods in agreement as Evindal and Endymia speak of their intentions, and its gaze softens with gratitude.

"Your willingness to aid me in my time of need speaks volumes," Oakthorn continues, "If you choose to venture into my grove and drive out these intruders, I shall be in your debt. But know this, noble souls, my grove holds secrets and ancient guardians. Tread carefully, for the trials within may be as treacherous as the foes you face."

With a final, resolute nod, Oakthorn extends one of its colossal branches, gesturing towards the dense thicket that leads to the grove. "I am too weary, and shall stay here with my friends for company, my roots seem to like this ground, maybe I will stay here for a longer time"

As you stand in the clearing with Oakthorn, you can't help but notice the ethereal dance of pale, flickering lights that surround the treant. Six will-o'-wisps, small, glowing orbs of ghostly light, hover in close proximity to Oakthorn's massive form. Their eerie radiance casts an otherworldly glow upon the treant's bark, creating a mesmerizing and surreal spectacle.

The will-o'-wisps emit a soft, melodic hum, their haunting harmonies intertwining with the rumbling timbre of Oakthorn's voice. Their movements are graceful yet erratic, resembling a spectral ballet. Despite their mesmerizing beauty, there's an undeniable air of danger about them.

These mystical entities appear to be in harmony with Oakthorn, almost as if they are guardians or companions, and their presence adds an aura of enigma to the ancient treant. They occasionally dart and weave among the party members, their luminescent forms casting eerie, shifting shadows on the forest floor.

As you watch the mesmerizing display of the will-o'-wisps, it becomes clear that they are not just ethereal lights but sentient beings, and their connection to Oakthorn is an integral part of the grove's mysterious ambiance.

[LairdMaon]

The treant's story triggers an involuntary reaction in Cur. His metallic hackles rise and the various plates of steel that make up his epidermis readjust to look like he's puffing himself up. He says nothing verbally, but his stance speaks of oncoming violence.

[Cygnia]

"Hobgoblins allying with ogres -- that's never good news to hear in any circumstance." Tommasia said with a grimace. Blackwood was their objective, but gaining this treant as an ally might be worth the detour though -- not to mention disrupting any burgeoning alliance between the hobs and ogres.

[Ilerien]

So these ancient guardians are useless against hobgoblins and ogres, but they still persist to put us through some sort of trials? Peculiar.
Hmm. I wonder what these wisps are doing here and what's their connection to Oakthorn. I would have loved to try cracking this mystery instead of playing an assassin for the Crown.

- Quite worrying news indeed, - the mage agreed, looking at the will-o'-wisps dancing around the treant and trying to see patterns in their movements. - We have some time to spare, though not much, to try and investigate it. With your blessing, mighty Oakthorn, we shall proceed into your grove and see if we're able to discourage those unwelcome creatures from setting foot in it, - he addressed the treant and slowly started towards the thicket.

[Olive_Sophia]

The treant expressed his thankfulness that they 'did not walk the path of darkness' - that was definitely saying too much in Endymia's case, because sin was a passion for her. But she didn't feel like correcting him in that moment. On a bad day, she might burn the grove down herself out of pure caprice. But just then she was more interested in spilling hobgoblin blood. She did take note of the will-o'-wisps that illuminated their close surroundings. Endymia was actually quite familiar with spirits and the like, so they were less amazing to her than the massive natural wonder that was Oakthorn himself. But their presence did elevate the sense of danger that his last words had evoked. His 'warning' about the trials was almost a threat. It felt like a bad omen to Endymia. But she assumed that if hobgoblins and ogres had made their way through, they too would have a great chance of success. Still, it might be worth hedging their bets.

As she approached the thicket, planning to head into the grove, she turned back one last time to the treant. "We're off then. Rest easy, Oakthorn. But before we go, is there any advice you would offer us concerning these trials? I'm sure you know much about them. We would aid you, so help us help you - if you can."

[Auranghzeb]

Cervena
She couldn't believe her ears! Her sister was actually acting kindly, the performative kindness of their father, but nonetheless.

As the will'O'wisp descended on the treant, Cervena grew nervous, she knew these creatures to be evil, feasting on the life force of creatures, she looked at them with deep mistrust and her nosetrils flared as those of an animal, trying to discern the will'o wisps scent from her sister's stench of evil.


Th hobgoblins seem to be taking strides to secure all lands in the surroundings.