Rova 10 4708. Wealday. Afternoon. Clearing skies.
Artume had been a quiet, depressed town. Despite your best efforts, there hadn’t been any work, nor any promising leads, just a sullen malaise. Your swiftly dwindling gold reserves made you eager to move to a more hospitable location, such as the nearby city of Gralton. However, the rumor of pirates on the Gralton branch of the Sellen river had caused all barge traffic from Artume to Gralton to grind to a halt. You were one of five individuals who hit upon the same idea, to go by caravan on the overland route to Gralton. Five or six days easy days on a wagon, no problem.
Several other wagons had left earlier that day, but by the time that you had gotten to the gates, the only wagon that was still loading, was a lone wagon taking bags of potatoes to Gralton.
If you had to describe the merchant, Emet Arde, in a single word it would be curmudgeon. Grumpy, clean shaven, with big bushy white eyebrows and constantly smoking a foul smelling pipe weed (a cross between dead fish and anise seed), you had second thoughts immediately, but there was nobody else leaving for days, and he was amicable about taking you…for a price.
A gold for food and your promise to help with the wagon as the need arose got you a seat on the potatoes. The first days had been easy. The track was dry, the potatoes could be shaped into a semblance of a seat, and Emet. despite his disgusting pipe, was both a decent storyteller, and with your gold filling the larder, an excellent chef. The track wound across the low hills, passing through forest stands and across empty meadows as it meandered its way east. Despite the emptiness of the countryside Emet still drove the wagon carefully, his well used and loaded crossbow always on the seat beside him.
Then the third day the rains began. The track became a morass, constantly sucking at the wheels of the wagon. The wagon seemingly got stuck at least once a mile and your pace slowed to a crawl.
The third time the wagon got stuck, it would not move despite everyone pushing, slipping, and trying to rock the wagon out of the muddy hole the wheel had gotten trapped in. It was then you discovered that Emet was a better trader than you had taken him for, as the nearly half ton of potatoes, that you were forced to unload, concealed nearly a hundred sword blanks, ready for the final shaping and sharpening. You repeatedly unloaded and loaded the potatoes each time the wagon was too stuck to move.
After two days of nearly constant deluge and struggle, the rains have finally stopped.
Despite your cloaks and leather, water has gotten into nearly every stitch of clothing you own, and where the water hasn’t gotten, the mud has. Emet and the five of you are caked from head to toe, and everyone is looking forward to drying and cleaning clothes off around a roaring campfire this evening. Spirits are slowly beginning to rise just as the wagon gets stuck once more.
It is in that moment of quiet, without the constant creak of the wagon and the jingle of the horses’ harness that you can hear a muffled, indistinct sound carrying down the track on the damp afternoon air.
Still laughing with the rest of the party at the mud mustache Quillin is sporting, Seamus continues on with the story he was telling. " And so I said to the fella..." Getting stopped mid sentence by the wagon's sudden, jerky, sticking in the mud, he sighs heavily. Seamus tips his brown derby back to the crown of his head revealing his curly hair and a bit of his forehead, "Well hell, just when I though we might get out of this trip with one less dip in the mud, haha. At least Quillin might be able to add a beard." Warmly chuckling, Seamus retrieves a tindertwig from a intricately detailed case and an ivory pipe from his belt pouch. Striking the twig against the side of the wagon and taking in a few puffs, Seamus just smiles, shaking his head in mocked disbelief.
The sweet smell of molasses and bourban eminate from Seamus' pipe as he begins moving toward the rear of the wagon to dismount for another round of potato stacking. Slapping Quillin on the leg in a jovial manner he taunts, "Come on Mr. Mustache, we've work to do, hehehe." Absent mindedly stepping through a loop of rope obscured by the potatoes, Seamus jumps off the back of the wagon. The normally agile rogue is left dangling upside down like a pinata from a tree. Seamus says in an unconvincingly perturbed tone, "Not a word or I'll..." Unable to restrain himself from laughing at his ridiculous situation he admits, ...I'll just have to take it, HAHAHA." As the much needed levity eases, Seamus' keen ears pick up something over the waning laughter and shuffling about of his comrades, Hey folks...did ya hear somethin'?
Can you describe the wagon a bit? Size, height, and what is pulling it would help. Also, what time of day is it?
Yergie makes a perception check (wis bonus is + 2) to try and discern what the sound is, how far away, and what direction it is moving if at all.
Mathieu leans over the back of the wagon, looking down at Seamus. "Seamus my friend, you won't be able to unload too many potatoes hanging from there."
At Seamus' sudden change of attitude, Mathieu grabs a dagger, and readies to cut Seamus free at a moments notice if need be. Mathieu glances down the track, from where Seamus is indicating he heard something.
Yergie makes a perception check (wis bonus is + 2) to try and discern what the sound is, how far away, and what direction it is moving if at all.
Walter lets out a small graon as he tries to get the wagon out of the mud.
He then reacts to seamus' questoin about hearing something and tries to hear the sounds himself.
Perception check
Walter then says " this could be trouble."
Quillin looks nearly as bedraggled as his poor wet gray parrot, Smudge, and twice as cross.
Enough of your jesting, Seamus. You damned Imp!. Arrr, not more tuber transport. I'd gladly have chanced the pirates at this point. I don't think they could have done any worse than this confounded wagon and these Bloody POTATOES!! Quillin pulls a potato out of his tunic and chucks it into the bush as he drops off the wagon.
He barks out a chuckle after he finds Seamus dangling next to him.
HA! Serves you right. Anyone have a stick so I can beat this apple out of the tree? Quillin lunges at Seamus in play and slips back into the muck unsettling Smudge. Bloody bones!!
Smudge flies up into the gray sky echoing Quillin. Bloody Bones!! Bloody Bones!
Perception
It is mid-afternoon. While the clouds are beginning to break up, there is no direct sun for you to tell the time. The wagon bed is 9 feet long, five feet wide with 2 foot sideboards. It is being pulled, if you can call it that, by two unnamed and inconsequential draft horses.
While mostly clear in the center of the track, underbrush lines the verge, forming a green barrier to vision. You know from experience that you can easily move through the undergrowth on the edge of the track into the forest. The track averages 10ft wide. The track curves significantly to the left up ahead.
What are you all standing around for, we've got a wagon to move? asks Yergie as she attempts to clean the mud out of her ears with a mud covered finger.
Suddenly becoming very serious, speaking in a hushed tone"Quiet, Quiet. We have trouble up ahead." Quickly righting himself, Seamus waves his companions nearer to him. " It sounds like some of the local scofflaws have set upon some folks up ahead. We need to act quickly before Matty is forced read some last rights." Pointing to Walter then himself "Walt and I should head into the underbrush and see if we can get the jump on them. The rest of ya's move up the road and wait just out of sight till you hear the first sounds of battle start,then roll in and put the hurt on 'em. This sound about right to you guys?"
Walter agrees and seems to think to become quietly says to seamus "Let us hide and see if they spot us, Any indication on how far ahead they are?" Walter starts to get out his bow and looks to hide silently in the underbrush.
Mathieu hops out of the back of the wagon. "I figure they must be about 100 feet up the track, just around that bend. You two go on ahead, and we'll slowly walk up to the bend and wait for your signal."
Mathieu turns to Walter and casts a spell. "A little something to help guide your arrow true."
"Let's get moving. I don't like to read last rights!" Mumbling under his breath, Mathieu adds, "Especially for those who don't yet deserve them."
"I find the most prudent approach to a problem is the direct one. We need to see what's going on."
She hoists her bow, ready an arrow, and begins to walk to the curve in the road.
Quillin blanches slightly when Seamus mentions trouble ahead.
Bandits? Well, I see no reason to risk my...
Quillin suddenly realizes that everyone is leaving him behind and scuttles after the tall folk up the road. He senses Smudge react to his feeling of nervousness.
Nodding to Walter, Seamus quickly follows him into the underbrush. Walter, when we get a better look we'll see if wecan make this fast and quiet. In my experience, you never know who or what may be hanging about." Turning to the others,"Remember, wait for things to kick off. The confusion we start should give you guys the chance get the drop on 'em without risking any of our necks more than necessary."
“Be careful, you lot. This could be a trap by some bandits..or worse.”, Emet warns as he grabs his crossbow off the seat next to him and climbs into the bed of the wagon, taking cover. One of the draft horses whickers softly at all the activity.
About fifty feet around the curve of the track, the forest opens up into a small, tree-dotted meadow. Green grasses about two feet tall cover the majority of the space, broken here and there by small thickets of brush. The track continues its curve to the north west along the eastern side of the meadow.
Around 100 feet away there is a group of people next to two wagons that have been pulled off the track. Two human males and a Halfling male are kneeling in the dirt of the track. There are at least three well-armed men wearing brown studded-leather armor standing menacingly near them. One of the armed men carries a shortbow, another a spear, and the third a short sword. A fourth man sits slumped and unmoving at the base of tree, surrounded by the armed men.
"I said, get to your feet scum! Or we will give you more to blubber about! Get those goods into the other wagon!" One of the armed men shouts, turning to wave and point his spear at the unarmed men and the wagons.
The armed men do not appear to be aware of your approach.
Whispering to Walt, "It appears these fellas are intent on getting what they want, but in my line of business things are not always what they seem at first glance. Let's get a little closer before we start offing people."
Whispering to Quill and Yergie, "No matter what, I think we should take them all alive. Nonlethal damage only. I don't want to have to spend the rest of the day wrapping bandages around wounds that didn't need to be there."
Quillin nods to Mathieu. I despise violence-especially when it is directed at me. I have a spell that might incapacitate these fellows, but I will need to be much closer. Should we wait for the signal or move in and find out what's going on?
Quillin casts mage armor on himself and creeps up anyway to C23.
Stealth
Perception
Walt nods in agreement to Seamus. He slowly walks his way forward in the bushes. He wispers to seamus " If the armed men start attacking everyone else we may have a problem and may need to fire back to protect our freinds." Walter after hearing the bandits speak wispers to seamus "why are they changing wagons here ."
I turn to Yergie and ask, "You suppose they would buy a traveling cleric and bodyguard act? Besides, its not like I would be completely defenseless with you by my side. And the rest of the party would get a few pot shots off from hiding before they would know what hit them if things turned sour. Just a thought, if you're okay with it, I'll start walking. But we need to do something quick, those spells aren't gonna last forever."
I turn to Yergie and ask, "You suppose they would buy a traveling cleric and bodyguard act? Besides, its not like I would be completely defenseless with you by my side. And the rest of the party would get a few pot shots off from hiding before they would know what hit them if things turned sour. Just a thought, if you're okay with it, I'll start walking. But we need to do something quick, those spells aren't gonna last forever."
"I believe it's worth a shot. If I can get close enough to them, I can plumb the darkness of their souls for evil. It can't tell us their intent, but it may help us discern friend from foe. Allow me to take the lead."
Yergie moves with Mathieu, one square ahead as a protective barrier.
I put my dagger away as I begin walking toward the first wagon.
”Hail and well met strangers. My friend and I were traveling this muddy excuse of a road when we heard voices. I am a healer traveling from Varisia. It appears you have someone in need of healing, perhaps I may be of assistance?
Diplomacy:
Walter a bit curious as to why his companions are walking forward slowly takes a look at the armed men to see what their reaction is and if they are going to atttack his companions. He knows getting to close will mean he does not use his bow effectively.
"What in the world is that crazy cleric up to,Walter? Be ready we may have to act quickly if this gets ugly. Let's continue to move up on their flank. With the others on the road holding their attention we should be able to get in place a little easier."
Seamus and Walter move quickly and quietly forward through the underbrush. While Seamus stops at the meadow’s edge, Walter crouches down with years of practice and ghosts forward to find cover behind a tree.
Quillin ducks off the track as soon as the meadow begins to open up. Crouching down, the grass proves easy to move through, though wet. After moving several yards, three or four small birds suddenly explode out of the grass before him, startled into flight and nearly giving Quillin a heart attack. Pausing a moment to catch his breath and not hearing any disturbance from the group ahead, he continues up to the tree he spotted and takes cover behind it.
The man with the spear whips around as Mathieu and Yergenflorn make their way up the track, his piggy eyes narrowing with suspicion at the sudden appearance of the two strangers.
”Look lively gents! It looks like we may have a few more customers here.”, he calls to his comrades who quickly trot over at the call. He begins to walk toward you but pauses as Mathieu’s words begin to sink in. ”Assistance for the wounded you say…”, a sort of odd smile crosses his face, and he scratches an armpit. ” Yeah we got wounded. Why don’t you go on over and take a look.”
I continue moving cautiously forward with Yergie one step ahead of me.
"Over here? Who needs the most attention? If you could point them out to me I would greatly appreciate it."
Quillin mumbles to himself, Fah. I don't like the looks of this one bit. Better to apologize later than get my throat cut sooner. He grabs a pinch of colored sand and takes a deep breath.
As soon as there is action Quillin rushes forward to -A21 and casts a color spray angled from
-D20 to -B18. (DC 15 will save)
Easing a bullet into the pouch of his sling, Seamus begins getting a gauge for a shot on the armed man nearest him. Watching their actions closely for any signs of ill will, the halfling maintains his cover.
Just as soon as Seamus began become suspcious of the brigands actions,he is awe struck by the, up till now, meek gnome and his blast of color filling the meadow. "For love of Desna! That freakin' gnome has lost damned mind." With a quick whip of his arm he sends the conical bullet zinging across the meadow.
If that scum ain't evil, I'll eat my filthy mudencrusted, mildewing hat.
Are the enemies knocking arrows, or pointing weapons at us, or are they letting us approach? If they have aimed their bow downward, I would swap my bow for my shield as a move action, and have my hand nonchalantly resting on my flail's handle.
pss. do we have a discussion thread so I'm not cluttering the PBP up?[/ooc]
Walter waits slowly in the the attack and then ponders to think. Then as Walter notices a bullet get slung and draws an arrow and starts looking for the men to retaliate and to starts aiming at him. Walter starts to wisper under his breath then he stops himself. Walter makes a tiny step to move forward.
Init:
The sling stone and arrow whistle out of the forest, nearly missing the man armed with the bow and “thunking” quite loudly into the wood of the wagon a couple feet behind him.
The large warrior, his piggy eyes wide with shock, eyes the arrow still vibrating in the sideboard of the wagon. He turns back and sees the approaching warrior, priest, and the gnome hiding behind the tree in a new light, one of hunters, with him as the hunted.
Professional paranoia is a trait that successful bandits carry in spades. Trusting his instincts he yells, “They got us outnumbered! Back to the fort!”
"These folks are no friend of the light, do not let them flee!"
Walter knows he has them by suprise to knock another arrow and let it fly at the thug with a spear. Walter wants Matheiu not to get attacked with the spear. He then tries to hide back down in the bushes again.
Seeing another arrow fly loose from Walter's bow, Seamus quickly loads another bullet. Taking aim on the same thug Walt seemed to be aimin at, the halfling takes aim and whips his sling into action.
"Let's see how the stinkin' filth liiked that one."