[D&D 5e] DM Asmodeus's "Night Below" Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master bwatford

Namara wasn't sure what to think of the dwarves, who seemed overly intent on the gold. And some of the others, including the gnome and the arcanist with the shaved head, were even stranger.

"The light of the sun shines pure from the heavens, allowing all to see clearly. Let the priestess carry the contract, and let us all pray she is favored by Fate to see the end of our journey."

Haven practically spun in circles as she walked through the temple of Tyr, marveling over the art and architecture of the temple while mentally comparing it against that of her own temple. She was quite thankful that Gordrenn had chosen this temple and not one of the countless others; it at least put any doubts Haven had about Gordrenn's intentions to rest knowing that he had actively sought out the blessing of Tyr, ally of Lathander, above other more unscrupulous deities. When her turn came, Haven readily signed the document, her steady hand and beautiful penmanship a lingering byproduct of a youth spent scribing scrolls and manuscripts for the church.

When introduced to Barshan, Haven greeted the man with the same polite curtsy and bow that she offered the dwarves not long ago in the inn. "Greetings, Master Barshan. Haven Amberline from the temple of Lathander here in Waterdeep. I will endeavor to see that neither you nor Master Gordrenn are disappointed."

Haven soon found herself unconsciously nodding in agreement with the words of the foreign half-elf woman. That all stopped abruptly when responsibility was suddenly shifted onto herself, leaving Haven to bat her eyes in confusion and dismissively wave her hands. "Wait...what? Why me? There has to be someone more qualified than myself to handle the business side of things."

"We will not be disappointin' ye Master Gordrenn," Dugwyn eagerly exclaims. I can't remember the last time I had this many coins, Dugwyn happily concludes.

He is startled from his thoughts by the suggestion that the priestess carry the contract. "Beggin' ye pardon but the last person I be trustin' to carry that valuable commodity would be an Abbess. Tis well known their love for the pecuniary aspects of religious service."

He tugs on his beard for a second and suggests, "Best we be trustin' it one of the dwarves for safe keepin'"

"As the Loregiver said: The wise caliph accepts no volunteers as harem guards," Namara says, her suspicions confirmed. "The priestess's unwillingness proves her suitability."

"I'm fine with the lass carrying it. The southerner is right, she'll be mighty afeared o' mucking it up," Grommund agrees.

"Though I suppose I could take it if no one else is willing."

Barshan greets each of you warmly and explains that the caravan will be stopping and trading with other caravans and towns while in route. He also reminds you that your passage is agreed upon as long as you offer up protection services if the caravan was to be attacked.

He goes over to the cart with the two horses attached and the chest in the back. The chest looked to be of good quality with a good quality lock upon it. After checking the chest you find that it weighs about 40 pounds which was not too awful heavy. It was designed with a handle in each end so two people could easily carry it even with the chests bulk itself, which was more of the problem than the weight. Barshan quickly reminded you that such an item was best kept hidden from view during their travels and he would provide a blanket to throw over it.

He then showed you that the cart was built with a bench seat on both sides upon its length. Here you would ride during the two tendays and a half journey with the caravan.

He then told you that the caravan would be departing Waterdeep in exactly one hour and that he suggested that you make any preparations that you needed for the journey. He also explained that simple food and water would be provided in the form of rations or any food stuffs they might procure along the way and guaranteed you would be fed.

Once the caravan reached Nashkel then the caravan would part ways with you. So in Nashkel you would need to procure a pack animal and cart or complete your journey on foot to Thurmaster which would be another tenday away. Gordrenn has provided for us to supply each of you with up to a tenday of rations apiece when we part. You will be traveling along the river so water should not be a issue.

As soon as you are ready, please climb aboard.

Fronar rushes forward and scales the wagon like an experience rock climber. "Let's go! Ohhhh the excitement." Upon reaching the top Fronar stands erect with and turns around in place, scanning the horizon like a man who just reached the peak of a large mountain. He stops his turn as he faces Barshan.

"Boss Barshan, please be so kind as to point out any sites of interest. Could you grace us with a taste of events from past journeys? What other goods are riding along with this caravan?"

Fronar looks at the chest, "Too bad we can't open that thing, I bet I could curl up inside it quite comfortably."

"What are y'all waiting for?" Fronar bellows back at the party. "This thing is not gonna deliver itself! Get up here!"

Siann shows no interest in the grandeur of Tyr's Temple, following their employer and looking on approvingly at the application of sound contract law to bind all parties in a mutually beneficial arrangement.

When the discussion turns to the bearer of the documents, she points at Fronar shouting at the group from the back of the wagon, "As long as he does not carry them, I will be satisfied. "

Dugwyn reluctantly agrees to allow the cleric to carry the documents and listens to the cavavan masters remarks. He eyes the cart suspiciously as he watches the halfling climb on board. When the halfling begins to bellow at the party he replies, "No need to be yellin' and squeakin' tiny master I be ready to go. But me two feet will be remainin' squarely on the ground." He adjusts his pack one last time.

Dorin throws his head back and laughs.

Aye, brother! My infantry legs be needin' the dirt o'the road too. I'll be walkin' with ya until I can't no more.

Siann crouches down , and rummages through her pack, checking if there were anything essential she was missing.

Satisified that she was ready for the journey, she hitched her pack up on her shoulders and took up a position beside the two dwarves.

"I'll walk with, if that's alright." she asks diffidently, instinctually recognizing Dorin's carriage as oen who has commanded on the battle field.

From the Portal to the temple, Athelwyn's behavior cuts a bit of an obsequious figure. Her eyes drink in the sights, but she keeps her thoughts to herself. It is not until after the witnessing of the contract and the introduction to Barshan that she seems to emerge from her proverbial shell once again.

"I think I'll be glad to see the unending sprawl of this place behind me," Athelwyn speaks as she clambers up into the cart, unloading her pack and tucking it under her chosen seat. "So many people crowded into one place. . . I think a ride across the country will be a welcome reprieve."

Dorin smiles at Siann, also quick to recognize a soldier's preparation to march.

Where'd ya serve, Siann? Unless I be wrong, I am thinkin' you have the air of a soldier 'bout ya.

With a defeated sigh, Haven caved to the peer pressure and agreed to hold onto the scroll. "I need to head back to the inn and gather my belongings first though."

With a backpack slung over her shoulder and the metal rings of her newly donned armor shuffling with each step, Haven made her way back to the departing caravan. She left behind only a note; enough to let her brother know she was ok when he undoubtedly came to check on her later today but vague enough that he wouldn't be able to follow. Hopefully he would understand. The priestess clamored up onto the cart, taking a seat and flashing her fellow passengers a brief smile before turning her attention to the pack at her feet and fishing out a small prayer book for the long trip ahead.

Barshan was amused by the the excitability of the small gnome that called himself Fronar, still he ignored most of his questions as he did seem to ramble a bit.

Barshan was too busy at the moment anyways to have much conversation. He was making sure everything on the now four wagon plus one cart caravan was strapped, tied or lashed in place for the journey. He made sure the kegs were all secured, as it was a promised cargo load that had to be delivered at their final destination as hauling the ale was really what paid for the trip. He'd also have to keep the dwarves out of it for the ride.

He secured the crates of pottery and other stuff that comes out of Waterdeep and ends up all over the Sword Coast by caravans just like this one. Then there were the flyers, it seemed that every town now wanted them. The new 'printing' press as they called it. The newest invention of Waterdavians. Mass produced printed material. So now every backwoods community and town was throwing coin at the new press to make little flyers about their towns and communities. One side of a wagon had scores of these things now attached to it. The new 'press' paid the caravan well to haul the flyers all over as they went. So everyone could learn about new destinations to travel too.

Barshan stopped from his inspections for a moment and looked up at the sky. Where is that final woman. Namara he believed he had overheard when they were introduced. He didn't want to be late leaving.

Namara secured the thick pouch of fragrant tea leaves in her satchel as she made her way to the caravan. She'd spent a silver coin on the tea, which felt extravagant, but she didn't expect to have access to civilized food and drink any time soon.

She quickened her step when she realized the others were waiting for her.

"Peace be upon you, good merchant. May Fate guide our steps and lead to a profitable journey," she said, hoping to calm Barshan's impatience.

Stowing her gear on the cart, Namara decided to walk for a while, blocking out the gnome's incessant chattering as she had once blocked out the howling of the desert winds.

The caravan leaves Waterdeep just about right on schedule (though you have no idea what schedule that is, nor any reason to think otherwise), and the journey south to Nashkel is rather boring and uneventful. In fact, the most exciting thing that happens is about 2 or so days into the journey when a group of 5 split off from the caravan near The Laughing Hollow and start heading west towards the marsh. Strikes you as odd that even one person would venture into and/or near a marsh, but 5? Maybe they are heading towards one of the towns on the coast, you think to yourselves.

Anyhow, from that point on, the journey is completely uneventful. You pass by several caravans on your way south, stopping briefly from time to time to talk to them and for Barshan to negotiate trades with them. It's actually a decent way to make a living, running a caravan, and more than one of you think that if you had the money...

The city of Nashkel is much smaller than Waterdeep, but still a decent size. It is nestled in the crook of a mountain range, and serves as a hub for mountaineers and traders alike. You stay with the caravan for one last day, helping unload goods from the wagons and put new ones on, and for that Barshan pays for you to stay at a local inn for a single evening. In the morning, when you wake, the caravan has already left the city, leaving you to continue on about your business of heading west and delivering this package of yours.

Dugwyn looks at the gnome and his tiny legs and proposes, "I be suggestin' that we get a donkey and mayhaps a cart or it might be takin' us a long while to reach our destination."

"Yes, a cart and a mule would help carrying food, as well. Barshan was generous to see us off with so much, but I do not look forward to carrying it along with everything else."

"You bet your bearded balls I ain't goin tae carry that thing. I'll gladly contribute to an ass and cart. We'll need a cart to carry all the food and feed anyway."

Dorin smiles at Siann, also quick to recognize a soldier's preparation to march.

Where'd ya serve, Siann? Unless I be wrong, I am thinkin' you have the air of a soldier 'bout ya.

"Indeed. I was the standard bearer for a mercenary company down in Amn for a number of years, " Siann says, her mouth going hard, "Learned the soldiers way from the mercenaries and the way of the fist from my Master." she says, holding up a clenched hand.

As they travelled and talked, Dorin came to realize that Siann had lived a life of deprivation before being taken in by the mercenary company. After , it was her soul that had been deprived, her worldview becoming very black and white, very disciplined, the lessons often brutal and severe.

------- In Naskel -------

Siann nods at the suggested payment arrangement, "The wagon and animal makes sense. I will contribute my share."

Gold deducted...

"What a TRIP! Remember that beautiful marsh? Did anyone ask what those 5 travelers were seeking?" Fronar looks left and right as if about to relay a life changing secret and speaks in a voice of a whisper, but clearly audible for the entire group, "So where do we find a cart and pack animal? Who needs these?" Fronar slowly reveals 4 shiny gold pieces from his covered hands. "I'm an amazing negotiator! People always seem eager to listen and help me. Want me to handle this?"

"I bet a little hobknobbing with the locals will produce some leads on where to invest our coins."

"I'm also a skilled negotiator. I'll go with ye and watch your wee back. Make sure no one sees fit ter perforate it."

What timid wariness dominated Athelwyn's behavior evaporates in an instant when the caravan finally winds its way out of Waterdeep's gate and outskirts. Her posture, though still proper, belies a sense of excitement bordering on wonderment. At times, she seems as if a child seeing the world for the first time. A few glimpses into her history confirm this to nearly be the case across the long trek southward.

Athelwyn is forthcoming about her beginnings in Halruaa. It is a rather matter-of-fact overview of living in the enigmatic magocracy so far to the south, though not quite a rote telling. Entire communities therein thrived with magic to such an extent that nearly every facet of life was dominated by some form of dweomer—clothing, fashion, architecture, cuisine, and nearly everything in between, including magic-borne airships and floating structures. She seems a little more tightlipped about her personal history, however, only mentioning a usual upbringing in an academy for magic-users. She is quick to change the subject when specific details are sought.

Though her sense of adventure does not abate, the unavoidable aches in her back, joints, and legs from spending so much time poised atop a bobbing and bouncing cart bench prevent her from enjoying what Nashkel has to offer. Instead, she thanks Barshan for his generosity in providing them lodging for the night and disappears into her room, exhausted. The early hour of her retiring the night prior is nearly matched by the lateness of her hour in rising—it is closer to afternoon than morning when she finally emerges downstairs, bleary eyed but still failing to contain a spark of anxiety and eagerness about the trip ahead.

As the conversation turns to procuring a beast of burden and cart to assist with the transporting of their goods, Athelwyn nods consent to the plan. "I'll readily offer up my own share to the tally. Though it would probably be best if I abstained from any bartering for the time being. I have yet to master the North's approach to commerce. . ." More quietly, she half-mutters, ". . . or swindling"

The party agreed that the best course of action was to purchase a mule and a small cart before continuing their journey toward Thurmaster. With that decision made Fronar and Grommund struck off into the town to find what deals could be struck.

After some discussions with the locals and a little haggling the items they needed were procured. A mule they found at the market, one an old farmer had no longer any use of. The animal wasn't in its prime but it would do for this trip. The cart on the other hand was little more than a flat board with some small wheels and about an eight inch side rail that kind of made the thing look like a half a shallow box. The merchant assured them that it would hold all the mule could pull. Fronar haggled over the cart and finally at least got the man to throw in a old ridding saddle in the deal. That way Fronar did not have to walk as he was the shortest of the bunch.

With business complete the two were on their way back to the group with their new found mule and cart when Fronar spotted it. There sitting in a window was a map of Haranshire. They would need that, so Fronar went in and paid the 2 gold for the item and quickly looked it over. The current town they were in wasn't on the map but they surely could not be that far away and judging by the map their next destination would be Milborne which looked to be about five days away from Nashkel. All they had to do was follow the Churnett river. Once they reached Milborne they would be able to have another nights proper rest before making the last hike to Thurmaster.

Now proud of their find the two returned to the group. They would just need a marching order and watch rotation for when they camped and they would be ready to be off again.

"I'm willing tae take whatever night watch is needed. I've got no trouble seein' in the dark, nor stayin' awake," Grommund offers as they prepare for to continue their journey. He takes up a position near the center of their group, just behind the cart. He carries his bow, with an arrow knocked in case of any trouble.

Aye, we need to be just followin' the road to Milborne. That is where our journey leaves the beaten path. I will be settin' up on the left flank of the cart fer the journey. I can also be takin' a night watch - just be lettin' me know when.

He looks to Siann and smiles.

I'd welcome yer company on the march, Siann.

"I have able night sight, as well, and do not mind sitting the dark watch," Namara says. "Lacking a bow, I will take a position near the head of the column, where my javelins may be of use and my shield can provide a bulwark for those who follow behind."

Dugwyn nods his head at the purchase and says, "I be takin' a position in the rear," as he pats his crossbow. "As far as watches go I ain't picky, I'll be takin' the last watch."

Location: Ambush On The Road
Map of Current Area (Click Here)

Your journey west from Nashkel has, for the last 4 days, been rather boring. You've seen some animals off to the side of what some people might call a road, and some people tending fields off in the distance, but you've been rather bored. The only way that you've found to keep the boredom from overcoming you is to talk about whatever is on your mind. The weather (which has been rather nice), who is taking what watch, switching the marching order multiple times, where you came from...everything. And even that's wearing thin at this point.

You are, by your estimation, some hours away from Milbourne, with The Lyrchwood to your north, walking along the road (again, why you think it's called that is beyond you, as it's more an overgrown path than a road) east at a decent pace. It is about noon, and you've just restarted walking after stopping for a brief lunch and minor rest. You've just gotten moving again - well, maybe 30 minutes or so ago - when up ahead you notice 3 farmers walking on the path in your general direction. They seem to be deep in discussion about something, but you're too far away to tell what.

No sooner do you spot them than, from out of the wood to the left and right of you, archers with bows drawn sit just inside the tree line with arrows pointed at the group. They seem to be trying to be hidden but the scarcity of the fall leaves make their appearance pretty obvious to all of you. If they were trying to hide from anyone they were doing a piss poor job at it.

As this is happening, one of the farmers from ahead seems to spot them too and yells "Bandits!"

What do you do?

initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

"BANDITS! That doesn't sound good. Protect the cargo!" Fronar's eyes shift left. He speaks, but it doesn't seem to be diected at anyone around. "Do not let them take the chest! "Yes uncle! Of course. I will not falter. Show me guidance!"

Fronar's eyes return to looking forward and he mumbles while pointing at Archer #1.

"Incertus, Pulcher, Imperio!"

With her pack stowed on the cart, Namara is able to react swiftly to the farmer's cry. Her eyes lock on the archer to the west and she charges, sword leaping clear of its sheath as she slashes at the bandit.

"Stand down and you will be spared!" she yells, loud enough for the other archer to hear.

Archers attempting a pincer is worrisome enough, but it is the unidentified 'woman' in the nearby brush that remains the wild card in the present situation. It was no matter. They faced no easy mark, but a Halruaan wizard (albeit it one with little in the way of seasoning). Even so, the brigands with readied bows posed a more direct threat to the farmers that occupied the road beyond. Athelwyn quickly resolves to end one of the ne'er-do-wells with a quick incantation, but not before offering a warning to her companions.

"Siann! Another to your right!" The shouted warning is quickly followed up with arcane syllables that issue forth from the small woman's mouth with a bizarre, echoing lilt, "Spar'le aen Deith!"

A small maelstrom of fire briefly flares into existence above Athelwyn's head, coalescing rapidly into a condensed sphere of fire that streaks past Siann and towards the archer in the treeline ahead. Athelwyn, confident in her mastery of The Weave, does not wait to see the results before she wheels around to the opposite side of the cart to seek cover from any retaliations the aggressors would offer.

Grommund grunts, raises his bow and fires an arrow at the same archer his companions are attacking. The dwarf's shot is rushed, and poorly aimed. He curses under his breath as he reaches for another arrow.

I am going after the archer, Siann!

Dorin rushes into the woods with his Maul raised high for a downward blow.

Siann nods as the bandits appear, recognizing that their methods were amaturish at best. Her body coiled about to leap forward , when Atheywyn's shout brought her up.

Turning, she ran into the bush to the side of the group looking for the individual the wizard had seen....

Haven's head spun to the left and then to the right, her eyes catching sight of the woman camouflaging herself among the bushes. Deeming Athelwyn's warning to have been sufficient, Haven instead focuses on the bandits between the group and the farmers, resolving to herself that she would protect them. Even though the priestess had never seen actual combat, she steeled herself and began working on a spell despite her trembling hands. With a final thrust of her hand skyward, a bolt of holy flame shot down to the ground near the bandit on the left.

Dugwyn raises his crossbow and releases a bolt at the bandit trying to flank them on the left. He immediately reaches for another bolt before he marks where is shot lands.

Crossbow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 5

Location: Ambush On The Road
[url=http://www.kingdomofmorrain.com/NB/Ambush_Final.jpg]Map of Current Area (Click Here)

Round 2 Initiative: Haven, Athelwyn, Fronar, Siann, Grommund, Namara, NPC, Dogwyn, Dorin
Names in gray have already went this round.

Haven was the first to react to the would be attackers. She was determined to protect the approaching farmers as well as her own group. Even though the priestess had never seen actual combat, she steeled herself and began working on a spell despite her trembling hands. With a final thrust of her hand skyward, a bolt of holy flame shot down to the ground near the archer on the left. The flame came down true when she called it forth, the brilliant white flash of light engulfing the archer as his skin sizzled and burned. He howled in agony until the light subsided. He wobbled a little under the extensive damage he had taken to his skin but remained standing.

Athelwyn was the next to take action as she quickly resolves to end one of the ne'er-do-wells with a quick incantation, but not before offering a warning to her companions about another enemy that was hidden nearby. A small maelstrom of fire briefly flares into existence above Athelwyn's head, coalescing rapidly into a condensed sphere of fire that streaks past Siann and towards the other archer on the right side of the treeline ahead. Athelwyn, confident in her mastery of The Weave, does not wait to see the results before she wheels around to the opposite side of the cart to seek cover from any retaliations the aggressors would offer. She may not have waited to see the result but it was a brutal one as the bolt of flame struck the man directly in the chest as it exploded and engulfed him in flames as he dropped to his knees and then to the ground. His body still aflame and unmoving.

Fronar shifts in his seat eyeing the battlefield before him. As he sees the one archer go down in flames his eyes return to looking at the other and he mumbles while pointing at him. A blast of pure force energy erupted from the small gnome's fingertips and raced across the short distance to the remaining archer. The force striking the injured man directly and causing him to crumble like hay blowing in the wind.

Siann while turning, she ran into the bush to the side of the group looking for the individual the wizard had seen.... slashing and kicking wildly into the brush. She hacks into a rather springy limb and the shortsword swing ricochets off and strikes her in the leg. Ignoring the wound for the moment she kicks out with her foot into the brush but her blow finds nothing but more brush.

Grommund didn't have a target left standing but he kept his weapon ready and searched the horizon for any that was left. Seeing Siann hacking and kicking into the brush but he had no target to fire at.

Namara ran over to where the archer lay on the ground to the left and prepared to run him through with her longsword but he was already dead. The blast from Fronat having finished the man by crushing his rib cage inward when it hit him.

With a flash of metal and the stealth of a cat a woman popped up from the bush in front of Siann, this one looked to be more skilled than the other archers. Her shortsword was flashing in quick succession at Siann. Siann's years of training served her well as she managed to fend off the furry of slashes coming at her. One blow just barely missing her as she twisted out of the way. However before she could react the woman took off around her with a flash of speed, she ran right by Dugwyn before he could react and the woman went straight for Haven as she yelled "I got this caster, boss!"

No sooner had the woman yelled her words than the farmers coming down the road reacted. Tossing aside their disguises and pulling crossbows from their backs they advanced and fired. The man behind the front two farmers barking and giving orders "Don't kill the casters. TAKE THEM ALIVE! Everyone else dies. Concentrate your fire on that one!" he says pointing to Namara. The first bolt landed at Namara's feet but the next one nicked her arm in a flesh wound as it went by. Namara wasn't out of the woods yet, the farmer behind the others who was obviously their leader advanced behind the others drawing a heavy crossbow from his back and aiming it in her direction. He fired the heavy bolt which zoomed straight for her but she was quick enough to duck the incoming missile as it sailed overhead.

Seeing the woman swiftly go by him Dugwyn spun in a whirlwind as the woman went after Haven. He fired his crossbow at the woman at almost point blank range. The bolt lodging itself in the woman's back shoulder.

Dorin surveyed the battlefield, if he ran to help Namara he would not reach one of the farmers in time but he could help Haven who was right here close to him. He spun back on the incoming woman that was after Haven. Bringing his maul down and into the woman's ribs as she yelped in pain as the sounds of bones breaking could be heard. Still the woman quickly shucked off the pain and injury. Yes she definitely was a trained professional.

Grommund finally had a target. He wasn't going to let the others beat up on the woman without him having some say in it. Grommund grunts, raises his bow and fires an arrow at the woman that his companions are attacking. The dwarf's shot is rushed, and poorly aimed and sails right over the woman's head. He curses under his breath as he reaches for another arrow.

A voice only audible to Fronar echos in his head. "Just like I told you, my gifts are GREAT in power!" Fronar flashes a devious smile, "Já frændi, þeir sem leitast við að kúga göfuga nafn okkar, mun falla eins að einn gerði!"

In response to the man's orders, Fronar glances at Athelwyn, "Did you hear that? It must be our lucky day! They don't want us harmed! What good fortune." He turns his gaze and outstretched finger to Farmer 2 and repeats the previous incantation.

"Incertus, Pulcher, Imperio!"

Grommund fires a second arrow this time at the man commanding the "farmers". This time his arrow is much better aimed.

Seeing that the melee has been brought to him Dugwyn drops his bow and draws his handaxe. He steps forward and delivers a blow.
Handaxe: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Handaxe: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21 I think I have advantage for flanking
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

There is no flanking, nor advantage for it in 5E, unless GM houserules it.

Namara grunts as the crossbow bolt slams into her shoulder, but the heavy mail does its job and prevents the missile from penetrating, although she expects a nasty bruise in the morning.

Faced with three archers, she decides the best course is to harry them and try to disrupt their shots. Darting forward, she slashes at the farmer on the right, keeping the other in sword range and using the pair for cover from the man in the back who seemed to be calling order.

Frowning mightily, Siann casts about in the dense underbrush, trying to find the individual Athelwyn had said was hiding therein.

She hopes none saw her embarrassing display, wincing from the injury she inflicted upon herself.

-----RETCON !!!!----

Twisting and spinning for her life, Siann manages to avoid the hidden woman's attacks, then crouching watches as she attacks the wagon.

Straightening, wincing at the pain in her side from her self-inflicted wound, Siann decides the others at the wagon should have numbers on the woman.

She spies Namara taking on a number of bandits single-handed, and decides to assist...

Once she moved, she reaches into her pouch and pulls out one of her darts, sending it on its way with a whip-like motion of her arm...