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"Let us talk to your leaders, before more surprises present themselves."
Makon merely *Grunts* acknowledgement at the Kellid woman's suggestion. He busy himself cleaning off the steel of his axe with the corner of an expensive carpet. Makon mentions almost off-handily... while turning to Naruda.. This one wasn't summoned from Hell... Makon points at the Lemure's body as if to prove his point. At least not recently...it's corpse still befouls this plane...meaning it must have adopted this plane to exist on..... Makon scratches his head in confusion... but, I don't know exactly what that means...
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Atronia nods briskly at Medda's suggestions. "Yes, we should probably make our way out and be careful. I don't know how that fiend got here, but it was not summoned by anyone. Perhaps it was trapped behind some kind of ward, or got through a portal, but that is pure speculation. Either way, I don't want to stick around to meet bigger threats. We have business to attend to."
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"Alrighty!" Ayla remarks cheerily. She turns along with the others, then launches into a long-winded, non-stop, one-sided conversation with the Kellids. Before long, each of them is holding copes of her latest novel, and at least one of them likely wants to pick up some of that lemure goop to clog his ears with...
"And that's why you should never let a squirrel into your brother's underwear drawer! Hahaha!"
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Naruda taps the lemure corpse with her foot to verify that it is still really there.
"Hmmm...I guess it is dead for good. It's spirit is finally at rest."
Naruda watches Ayla chatter with the Kellid warriors.
It looks like Ayla found a captive audience. Perhaps they would be willing to take Ayla with her if we agreed to let them go," she thinks wistfully.
Naruda replies coldly to Willen, "Yes, lets find an appropriate authority to resolve their claim. Perhaps we can find that human with the loud voice and the side burns. He seemed to be someone who could make ths decision of this magnitude."
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The crowd of guards, onlookers, and concerned citizens outside the Blakros Museum quiets as Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin approaches a woman clad in furs exiting the museum. “My Pathfinder agents tell me that you are Medda of the Twinhorn following, is that correct?”
“Yes, I speak for the following.” Medda glares at Nigel Aldain, “I have come to reclaim what is rightfully ours. His agents stole our most sacred relic after we refused to sell it. We have traveled through dangerous lands to claim it back, and still he refused—”
“My agents claim they bought it,” Nigel protests. “I’m not going to just give it to you because you stomp into my office demanding priceless artifacts.”
Valsin interjects, “Nigel, let us listen to her story and decide how to proceed. Medda, tell us about this relic. Why is it so important to you?”
Medda takes a deep breath. “Over 900 years ago, a powerful warrior named Ivvora came into our camp. She spoke of an angel named Vildeis who guided her hunt for a great dark evil she called Eshimka. Several of our scouts had recently disappeared, later found ripped into pieces. The elders insisted that we help banish this evil and ensure the safety of our following. They laid a trap for the evil spirit, luring it to our sacred standing stones on the winter solstice. There, Ivvora and the great dark evil, Eshimka, fought a mighty battle that raged for hours. Just as the night was darkest, Ivvora dealt Eshimka a telling blow, digging her dagger deep into its flesh. The creature tried to escape, but it only snapped off the blade and then collapsed on the center stone. The elders finished their ritual and destroyed it completely.
“Ivvora rested with us for the winter before departing to eradicate more evil from the world, but not before leaving us the hilt of her weapon.” Medda withdraws a bundle of bloody cloth from her bag, then unwraps it to reveal a small hilt with a bloody fragment of black metal. “She told us to bring the hilt back to the standing stones every year at the winter solstice to keep evil away. We’ve had to travel for so long to retrieve the hilt, I’m afraid we won’t make it back in time for the solstice. Please, let me leave now.”
Ambrus Valsin contemplates Medda’s story for a moment, then nods, his brow furrowed. “Nigel, you should send for the Blakros agents who ‘obtained’ the hilt and hear what they have to say. Medda, I’m going to send as many Pathfinder agents as you deem necessary to travel with you and your following. I want to ensure we return this relic to its proper place.” Nigel starts to protest, but Valsin cuts him off. “Nigel, you wanted my help; you are getting it. I’m helping you fix a mistake your agents made. As for your museum,” Valsin takes a moment to survey the heavily damaged museum, ”I’m told most of the damage was done by your own security, not Medda and her following.
“Pathfinders, prepare to head north to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords.”
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“My Pathfinder allies, thank you for bringing us much needed support,” says Medda, the Twinhorn following’s spiritual leader. She stands beside Anok, her phantom and constant companion. “After the orc ambush sapped our supplies and strength, we pushed north to our winter home. We are only hours away from the stone circle and our encampment—if we are going to make it there by midnight, we need to press on. Once there, we will use Ivvora’s hilt to perform our time-honored ritual and keep evil from our lands.” Medda produces the small hilt of a broken weapon with only a fragment of its black metal blade remaining. “Let us move. There are dangers in these ancient woods: orc raiders, bears that topple trees, and worse. Stay in groups and don’t get lost.”
As the Kellids and Pathfinders reach the top of the hill next to the Twinhorn encampment, they notice splashes of blood and the occasional corpse dotting the landscape. Medda raises her voice, calling, “My brethren, our families are under attack! Secure the camp and drive back any who oppose you. Pathfinder allies, join us in defense of our home!” The landscape opens into a burned hillside where blackened trees stand like lifeless sentinels. A crude blockade shields the entrance to a natural cavern.
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Across the dead and barren landscape leading to the cavern, a mob of seemingly undead humanoids attempt to break through the blockade. However Medda's loud roar soon alerts them to your arrival.The horde skeletons and zombies turn their heads and attention towards you, and not in a good way.
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“Nigel, you wanted my help; you are getting it. I’m helping you fix a mistake your agents made. As for your museum,” Valsin takes a moment to survey the heavily damaged museum, ”I’m told most of the damage was done by your own security, not Medda and her following.
Shiv snickers loudly as Valsin reprimands Nigel.
"Now that's a burn. Totally worth all this hassle just to see that. Hey nice going, Nigel! Way to help unleash a great evil just to make your exhibition look fancier! I'm sure Hamaria would be proud! Have you given the the repair bill for today's damages yet? 'Cos we'll be sure to share our assessment of the cause of the damage with her!"
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As the horde of undead surge towards the Pathfinders, Shiv spares a moment to yell out.
"Just so we're clear, this is all Nigel's fault! Again!"
He begins to reach for his bow as the skeletons and zombies rush out, then thinks the better of it.
"Great. Skeletons and shamblers. Nothing good to shoot at. Crushing weapons for the boneheads and slashing weapons for the shambling idiots! Let's get 'em!"
He draws his club as he rushes forward through the trees, but makes sure to keep some trees between himself and the skeletons so they can't charge him.
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Naruda taps Ayla's the gnome on the head, filling her with a small amount of additional confidence. "May the gods grant you favor in all that you do."
Duration 1 minute or until discharged
The creature gets a +1 competence bonus on a single attack roll, saving throw, or skill check. It must choose to use the bonus before making the roll to which it applies.
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Makon checks his anger at the appearance of the foul undead ; he calmly drums his fingers on his axe..., waiting for the foul creatures to draw closer. He opens himself up to Atronia’s song of valor and courage, he squeezes the axe handle more tightly biting his lip in anticipation of combat. His blood up Makon only barely manages to stay still waiting for his enemy to come to him.
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Those who pay attention to Atronia's angry singing finds themselves emotionally stirred as they build feelings of hatred and anger themselves! Meanwhile the standoff between both sides is broken as the skeletons make head running straight for the Pathfinders breaking their own ranks. With their swords held high, each charge straight towards a Pathfinder.
Naruda and Atronia are able to anticipate the skeletons coming from afar and brace themselves appropriately for the charge, deflecting and dodging their attacks from all angles! However Shiv's view is hindered by the Zombie leaving him taken by surprised at the running skeleton. First blood is drawn as the skeleton's rusty blade cuts across the Kitsune's arm.
~~~
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Shiv spits out a wad of blood in the skeleton's face as he swings his club at the skeleton in retaliation.
"Cheap shot, but I can give as well as I can take, bonehead!"
He also takes a moment to channel some if Chaldira's divine power into himself.
Finally, if his strike destroyed the skeleton, he pulls back behind Ayla before he gets swarmed. If not, he just takes a 5ft step back.
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As Shiv withdraws Wilen realizes he's been exposed to the remaining undead.
"Well, those zombies seem to move slow enough. Let's see if I can turn them back into parts before they get over here."
He steps up next to the pile of bones and lobs one of his bombs at the nearest zombie.
Not only does his bomb hit his mark, but somehow it manages to land right in the open claw of the shambling zombie. It's face keeps a blank expression as the bomb detonates in its hand.
"Uh, hey Ayla? Make sure to put that in the book."
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The explosion from Wilen's bomb obliterates the zombie into a million chunks of flesh, leaving nothing left of the living dead. The burning rotting flesh stinks the air causing a few to gag a little.
Naruda and Makon tactically moves around the skeleton splitting it's concentration leaving a perfect opening for Makon to swing his great axe. The blade of the axe cuts straight through the ribs leaving it incapacitated. The ranks of the undead horde slowly crumble against the might of the Pathfinders!
But the remaining zombie retaliates charging straight through at Wilen. But the fumbling movements of the walking corpses makes it easy for the halfling to anticipate it's attack.
~~~
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Atronia refrains from sighing as she sees a skeleton rattling as it approaches. She takes the hit without recoiling in the slightest, then she tightens her grip on her sword and swings it in a strike angled upward, aiming at the spine and hoping to cleave through it and compromise the structure of the walking skeleton. All the while, she keeps singing her song.
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Ayla bursts out laughing as the zombies and skeletons fall to her allies.
She scampers forward and...
...lobs her acid vial at the skeleton fighting Atronia.
But her vial falls short, causing she, Atronia and the zombie to all be splashed by a few stray drops of acid.
...and waits for a free shot against any enemy in range.
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The acid splash disintegrates the remainder of the zombies legs, causing it to fall over in pain. It yells an ungodly howl, but is clearly in no position to continue the good fight.
Onlookers from behind the makeshift barricades cheer on, and praise the pathfinders in what looks to be perfect teamwork! They are impressed, and speak wonders of your abilities as they personally come to thank you. Medda feels the same, as she thanks you for your help, but she presses the group to meet the elders immediately at a nearby tent as she fears about the reasons the undead are attacking.
A little further, you arrive at a large tent its thick hide walls muffle the sounds from outside. Medda enters a few minutes before you to try to gauge the situation. Soon after you grow tired of waiting and you enter; iron spikes pin down an enormous map in the center of the tent. Wooden carvings of warriors and monsters lie strewn about the map, marking the location of fighting warriors and the encroaching undead.
As you enter, you hear Medda’s voice through the tent.. “You’re asking us to leave behind everything we know and care about!”
“Indeed,” rumbles Anok the phantom’s deep and booming voice, “You would have us abandon our sacred pledge to Ivvora.”
“Aye, I’d have us abandon this lunacy!” Another man proclaims as you enter. He is a towering man, broad-shouldered and sturdily built, wearing the cloak of dire polar bear. Covered in scars and with a proud bearing, his presence fills this tent as he paces back and forth. “Surely we can find better winter hunting grounds, where we don’t have to compete for game with bloodthirsty orcs and cursed undead! As for leaving behind what we care about... What I care about is my warriors, many of whom we’ve left behind on this battlefield!”
“Who are we as a people if we abandon our oaths? I demand,” declares Medda, “that we stay and fight for our homes and our traditions!”
In addition to Medda, Anok the phantom, and the towering man, there is a fourth person in this room. An old woman with plenty of scars of her own, is calmly listening to the arguments while she fletches arrows. She has to bring the arrows close to her face as she fletches, but her ears are turned towards the conversation. With tanned and wrinkled skin, white hair cut short, and a weathered longbow by her side, there is an intense focus about the old woman, and the other three leaders keep darting glances her way, as if waiting for her to weigh in.
Then the old woman looks up with clouded eyes at the tent flap opening where you are gathered. Squinting at the sun in her face, she asks with a quavering voice, “Are you the warriors that Medda told us about? If so, I am pleased to meet you, and hear your wisdom. I am Jala the Patient. This bear in human form is Kragr Bloodhand. You already know Medda and Anok.” She pauses, grabbing a drink from a leather water skin and licking her lips. “Speak. We are at a decision point.”
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Ayla scampers into the room and gives a polite little bow.
"Don't mind if I do!" she exclaims happily. "I'm Ayla! Ayla Vivindor! Pathfinder extraordinaire and famous adventure novelist. When we're through here I'll give you some of my books! Right now's not the time, of course, but later!"
"Now's the time for action! For resolve! For pluck and determination! I've got plenty of that! But do you? That's the real question, hey?"
Ayla examines each of the three leaders before her.
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Naruda sees a kindred spirit in the wise and calm Jala.
"Let me speak with Jala and see if I can melt her heart."
"Wise elder Jala, I beseech you to consider giving us your blessing and council in the upcoming fight. The creatures that we have seen are an affront to nature. If they are not destroyed they will spread through your lands, growing in numbers. The undead need not food nor warmth to live. They need to be stopped now, while your warriors are still fighting with full bellies and before the storms of winter come in full force."
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Before Ayla's stands Kragr Bloodhand, a massive Kellid standing at least a head taller than her. Hie is a little intimidating with the many scars across his body, and a dire polar bear cloak. Unfortunately, Ayla's greeting isn't taken in good spirits. Perhaps it's her approach or demeanor that doesn't bode well with him. Ayla doesn't get a good read on the man and what moves him.
"True determination is with self control...Ms. Ayla."
On the other side of the room, Naruda attempts to pleade with Jala the Patient. Although age may have wrinkled her skin and clouded her vision, but she still wears her leather armor and longbow proudly. Regular exercise has kept her body strong, despite her old age.
"Hmmm." She responds, deep in thought at Naruda's words. Clearly she reacts well to nature, but from her manner of act, it is also likely that she is a strong soldier and stout follower of the old religion. There are times where she shows some disliking, when emotions are used in an argument.
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Naruda thinks that she will be able to make the most impact with Jala and continues spending time with her. She asks Jala about the animals that they hunt, the best places to pasture animals and the medicinal value of their local plants. She also asks about things like where the tribe gets the feathers for their arrows and the metal for their weapons. Mostly she is trying to show an interest in how the tribe lives; and when appropriate she will mention how the evil being released will upset the balance of nature and the life that the tribe has made for themselves.
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"Well, clearly you've got lots of that! Look at you! Self control,all over that face. Yeah, I can see it! So we can count you in, then? You're not going to flee while folks like me fight to save your people? No, siree, I can see that! You've got more honour than that! Yeah, sure ya' do! Why, I once heard the stroy of when you and your warriors....."
"That was downright heroic, man!"
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A heart to heart discussion about nature slowly moves Jala to reason that the undead must be stopped at any cost. But her mind continues to be pre-occupied by the other discussions earlier. She requires more push to take a firm stance.
"You must have heard a wrong story. We do not fight unnecessarily, the blood of innocent should not be spilt." Kragr sternly replies as he maintains his staunch demeanour about the situation at hand.
Medda on the other hand, is clearly distracted by all the conversations in the room, and isn't sure what to think. Wilen's voice is drowned out in the noise. "Sorry, I didn't get that, what did you say?"
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"Oh my apologies Wilen. I treasure the Pathinder's time, but there are certain risk I am unsure of." Medda looks worried and nervous altogether based on the unfolding of events. She holds tightly to her holy symbol the whole time, looking for some sort of divine guidance. Wilen believes an inspiring speech may move her to act!