GM Rennai's Conquest of Bloodsworn Vale (Inactive)

Game Master Rennaivx

Perry, I do not have scrying. You mean commune with birds? GM, how many castings of enlarge person would you say? I need to adjust my spells/day :).

prestidigation

Anthuria listens closely, concentrating deeply on getting the colors right, the number of soldiers, the surrounding landscape.

As the dragon comments on her ears, she blushes and fiddles with them nervously. Sometimes she forgot they were any different from the humans around her. "I'll have you know I'm not that old! No, the ears are not a sign of age. But the hair and beard might be. A venerable wizard of some sort. Not a young man, at any rate."

She speaks nervously. "If there were a way to trust the dragon, I would agree, but I don't see how we can let such a threat to the Fort remain... Dragon, what do you say? Are you to be trusted?" She looks to Katsa nervously for a translation.

Percival looked at the tiny conjured soldiers, and then smiled mysteriously.

Last two questions

1. "What spells have you seen him binding? Surely not even a mighty spell-binding mortal can make something dragon-kind can't recognize."

To identify his powers beyond anti-petrification and summoning demons.

2. "Have you spirited creatures away to Vardak? Has he been attacked by mortals or other beings?

To identify possible allies in the fight.

Final comment

"If there were a way to trust the dragon, I would agree, but I don't see how we can let such a threat to the Fort remain... Dragon, what do you say? Are you to be trusted?"

3. "I suppose trust is not the issue: respect is...and we earned yours as you did ours. Isn't that right, Syrriolth?

As the image comes together under Anthuria's meticulous ministrations, Syrriolth lets out a low hiss, the fire in his eye flashing. For a moment, he begins to buck and twist in wrath beneath Jetta's feet before another sharp tug on the rope stops him. Though the simple magics Anthuria uses lack the fine precision of more sophisticated spells, it's clear the image of the Armies of Exploration evokes more than a little reaction from the bound drake.

1. "What spells have you seen him binding? Surely not even a mighty spell-binding mortal can make something dragon-kind can't recognize."

At this, the drake's lip curls, and he emits a sigh loaded with exasperation, disdain...and embarrassment? Our forebears perhaps knew magic's secrets...but it is a skill lost to us, even for many clutches before we were trapped. No spell-like abilities for these guys! But I do know he has the ability to sow fear in the minds of his enemies, and to bind foes in place - that alone was... The drake trails off, his claws involuntarily flexing in rage and sadness at the memory of Vardak's dominance.

2. "Have you spirited creatures away to Vardak? Has he been attacked by mortals or other beings?"

With us to challenge them, none of the Vale's mewling weaklings have dared, Syrriolth replies testily (perhaps still a bit sore over the painful memories the last question had brought up). A few of the milksops he has called for, yes, to fetch and carry and cook, but none of any concern, except as playthings.

3. "I suppose trust is not the issue: respect is...and we earned yours as you did ours. Isn't that right, Syrriolth?

"You will not harm us or our own in this vale and beyond it. I cannot presume to intrude on your right to dominate by virtue of your great strength, but promise that we can contest it should it come to bear down on us. You will go north to orc-country or remain in the Mindspin Mountains, but not descend on the humans in the east or west."

You defeated us, did you not? Syrriolth half-snarls. You are the stronger...this time. And if you think yourselves strong enough to take on the Master, then I am not fool enough to challenge it. Confront Master Vardak, if you think yourselves so strong. Should you prove victorious, I will trouble you no further - I will find other milksops more yielding. Should you fall... He leaves the words hanging in the forest air.

You are the stronger...this time. And if you think yourselves strong enough to take on the Master, then I am not fool enough to challenge it.

...
Confront Master Vardak, if you think yourselves so strong. Should you prove victorious, I will trouble you no further.

"That is not our deal." Percival said softly, cutting past the drake's words.

I'm assuming that we are getting a 'blow-by'blow' translation here but correct me otherwise.

Balthus frowned, So now we're accepting the word of a dragon when we have to beg for it? C'mon people, the bo--Amund and the baby owlbears was one thing but this.

He shook his head, "He just said that he's going to continue to test our strength. That's the way they see things. I say we kill it and not jeopardize the lives of innocents. Don't these guys live for like forever? What will happen when I'm too old to heft my axe and we need to deal with this again? Let's do it now.

He was adamant, "Grow some balls people! Er, figuratively ladies, no offense."

Without commenting on the ongoing discussion, Jetta focuses all of her attention on the dragon. As the voices of his companions slip to the periphery of her consciousness, she can all but hear the sounds of their captive's heartbeat, as it nervously flexes and tenses below her. The Hellknight holds her breath, waiting for any sudden changes in the creature's pulse...

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

She also directs her discern lies spell-like ability on the drake.

"Grow some balls people! Er, figuratively ladies, no offense."

Anthuria plants her hand gently on Jetta's knee once more, ensuring her growth enchantment remains in effect. She scoffs at Balthus's crude comment. "I've already stated my accord with you! All I'm saying is that if there's a chance of resolution, let's not waste it. Now, manners, please."

Waiting on response from drake and results of Jetta's discern lies before deciding.

Turning his head to glare at Balthus the look over at Perry, You plan to let it live seems to be failing.

Turning his head to glare at Balthus the look over at Perry, You plan to let it live seems to be failing.

"Not a plan... on offer."

Yes, Katsa is giving a running translation for everyone. It's just easier and more readily understandable to have his part of the conversation in first person, and that's how proper translating should be done anyway, rather than third-person summary.

Syrriolth rolls his eyes in a disdainful huff, seeming to think the promise already given more than sufficient and impatient with the formality Percival's Abadaran training requires. Fine, he retorts, raising one wing slightly off the ground in a kind of salute. I give my word to do no further harm to the home of these my captors. I will accord to them their supremacy, and will not raise claw or spread wing to challenge their strength. Further, I will do no harm to their kind elsewhere, should I go from this place. He levels a challenging glare at Percival. Does this satisfy you?

Percival studied the drake's expression and (for a while mulled over the promise), before reminding him to promise two more times.

I've given my word! Syrriolth half-snarls, and Katsa's eyes grow wide; she continues translating, but not without a certain amount of trepidation. You revel in my shame...you are no better than those who made our stone flesh trophies! Once, twice, thrice I vow to leave you be, to make no feast of man-flesh, though it be the right of the strong to devour the weak. I swear it by fang - I swear it by claw - I swear it by scale. Despite the restraint in his mouth, he manages to gather a mouthful of saliva and spit at Percival's feet; steam rises from the small puddle. Are all you humans so treacherous, that you disbelieve a promise so?

Percival nodded to Jetta.

Jetta glances uncertainly at Perry. When she receives confirmation, she reluctantly moves her bulk off the beast and removes the rope from its maw.

Just to make it official...

Balthus just shakes his head in disbelief, "S%+~, now I only killed three dragons!"

He then calmly approaches the 'judges', "Any further loss of life is on you. I get it. It's one thing to release a predator into to the wild. A wolf must still feed its pups. But these are sentient beings who feel they have the right to cause suffering."

What's done is done. No use crying over spilled milk. These things had gotten the ranger where he was now.

He starts to tidy things up and checks on his horse ready for whatever came next.

At Balthus' outburst, Jetta bites her lip and looks at her feet, clearly conflicted by the group's decision. The grizzled ranger's voice reminds her of another, tinged with dissapointment.

"I will strike against civilization’s foes, braving both thicket and darkness...."

"I will rid the world of threats to civilization and make it fit for the law to flourish..."

"I will not be merciful."

Drakes' release

Percival looked up at the dragon, and said sweetly, "Good enough."

Once Jetta released the drake, Percival looked over the corpses of his brothers, and said. "Thank you, Sir Stahle. Shall we be going? I believe we should bring one of these with us. No use leaving a resource unused."

Apparently oblivious to his comrades' concerns, he sets one drake between his steed and holds on to the rope.
Turning to the rest, he said, "We can return two of these with us. Surely coats made of dragonhide can guard us against flame."

Discomfort in team

Noticing his comrades' expressions, he paused. "What?

When Jetta releases the dragon, Anthuria holds her breath, then exhales audibly, trembling slightly. "There are no winners in a situation like this," she says quietly.

"So, we're to follow the river east, toward a small lake, and a stone fortress or dwelling of some kind. How long will that take? Lord Arizian, do you think we have time to have coats crafted? Shouldn't we, ah, tend to the problem of this evil wizard?"

GM, would you agree that Anthuria's Photosynthesis ability should allow her to regenerate her spells after only 2 hours of rest? The ability states it reduces the need to eat and sleep as if wearing a ring of sustenance, and that item specifically allows regeneration of spells after only 2 hours.

Crossing his arms but keeping quiet. Listening to Balthus's and his little outburst without taking his eyes off the drake. Snapping at Perry when he mentions the corpses, Do you honestly think that would help that creature keep his word! If I were him and saw you drag my kin back, not to mention the vile display we left, I would attack.

Turning around and running a hand through his hair, We should go take care of this wizard.

"I don't think we will have the time to have the coats ready before our confrontation. Yet, to tell the truth, I am unsure when it must be," said Perry. "This wizard's drakes will be reluctant to meet us on the field. How far his arm reaches without their aid remains to be seen. Let us restore our strength at the fort for now."

Moving back, I suppose.

Do you honestly think that would help that creature keep his word! If I were him and saw you drag my kin back, not to mention the vile display we left, I would attack.

"I doubt that."

Glaring at Perry, You may doubt me all you wish.

Once Jetta released the drake, Percival looked over the corpses of his brothers, and said. "Thank you, Sir Stahle. Shall we be going? I believe we should bring one of these with us. No use leaving a resource unused."

Apparently oblivious to his comrades' concerns, he sets one drake between his steed and holds on to the rope.
Turning to the rest, he said, "We can return two of these with us. Surely coats made of dragonhide can guard us against flame."

"Sure," says Jetta, still looking troubled. "But first, I'll take a quick look at the rocks. There might be something of use there..."

"And stop calling me 'Sir'," she calls out over her shoulder, as she stalks over to where the drakes had been roosting.

Looking over the area for clues and valuables. After that I'm good to go.

You may doubt me all you wish.

"Though crafting morbid imagery is not my ideal pastime, Basturo," Percival began. "Say we're the ones doing the assault. I die in the assault, being singled out and hacked to pieces beyond your ability for recovery. The rest of you naturally tactically withdraw to re-assess and formulate another plan. While resting, the dreaded foe tracked us (me excluded, of course, being dead and all), and killed two more of our number without retaliation, and (quite easily) subdued the rest of us.

He then looked downwards.

"Surrendering and even dying is a risk we might run across should we come across the ancient Vardak. I will do my best to plan a few steps ahead, but I shall be honest,"
he said, looking across to his comrades, "Wizards know things even the wisest priests do not. They dabble where angels and demons fear to tread."
He then smiled softly at Anthuria, "Of course, we have our own arcane talent here, so we're not all going to be the bumbling monkeys he may mistake us for initially."

"And stop calling me 'Sir'," she calls out over her shoulder, as she stalks over to where the drakes had been roosting.

"Well, I can't just call you Jet," said Percival, putting up his hands.

"Though crafting morbid imagery is not my ideal pastime, Basturo," Percival began. "Say we're the ones doing the assault. I die in the assault, being singled out and hacked to pieces beyond your ability for recovery. The rest of you naturally tactically withdraw to re-assess and formulate another plan. While resting, the dreaded foe tracked us (me excluded, of course, being dead and all), and killed two more of our number without retaliation, and (quite easily) subdued the rest of us.
"Surrender is not only natural, it's a must. Drakes won't live long if they take insane risks."

He then looked downwards.

"Surrendering and even dying is a risk we might run across should we come across the ancient Vardak. I will do my best to plan a few steps ahead, but I shall be honest,"
he said, looking across to his comrades, "Wizards know things even the wisest priests do not. They dabble where angels and demons fear to tread."
He then smiled softly at Anthuria, "Of course, we have our own arcane talent here, so we're not all going to be the bumbling monkeys he may mistake us for initially."

Crossing his arms, Surrender is one thing but after the release is another. Bitterness and the need for vengeance can cause reckless behavior in the most stable of people. Those feeling can very easily take root, especially considering what you seem to want to do.

"I suppose you could be right," Percival admitted. "Statistically, you're bound to be at least once."

@GM: What's the heal check for that burn? xD

Glaring at Perry and responding in a monotone voice, I think insulting the intelegence of your supposed guard would be a dumb thing to do. Walking past him, But what do I know. Continuing past the cleric to follow Jetta.

After moving a few paces, Do want you want my lord but any deaths that creature causes are on you. Much like the cubs are on me.

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13 Helping Jetta look around.

Releasing Syrriolth

As the mouth restraints are loosed and the pressure disappears from his back, Syrriolth surges upward - only to yank hard against the anchor still holding him down, only allowing him to rise a few feet above the ground no matter how hard he strains against the rope. He rises again...and again...and again, growing more furious with every attempt until Amund shouts the command Katsa had taught him to disable the charm's magics. In the space of a moment, the anchor diminishes back to its former, tiny self and unknots from Syrriolth's foot as the drake takes off...not to the east, but to the north, where miles upon miles of rugged, untouched mountain range stand guard along the Varisian border.

Checking out the plateau

The tough, scraggly grass growing atop the plateau of Pointer's Rock is torn and disturbed, as if the drakes had been sparring before laying down to rest the previous night, and you can clearly see the large, tamped-down circles where the beasts rested. And in one of the large hollows, Jetta sees a tiny glint in the sunlight - a gold collar-shaped necklace with a broken clasp, its broad hinged face embedded with rubies and opals, including one crabapple-sized opal whose inner swirls of color seem almost to undulate within. On the inside of the necklace is a curious, swirling etching that looks almost as if it could be writing.

Knowing nothing of gems or gold, Jetta delivers the necklace to Perry's capable hands. She then moves on to the more practical task of tying the drakes' corpses to the horses, as directed previously.

Poor Jetta. Completely incapable of correctly determining the price of any valuable items, seeing as the DC is set at 20. That's probably why she didn't become a merchant... :P

Appraise: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Assessment 1d2, 1 is low, 2 is high: 1d2 ⇒ 1
Due failing by 5 or less, Percival gives an assessment between 2k and 2.5k

"What a work. It must be at average 2,250 gold," he said in wonder. "The gem itself emits conjuration...it must create or summon something. What do you make of this, Anthuria?"

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21
+2 aid another to Anthria's Spellcraft.

With his trophies at hand, Balthus' mind had now moved to getting something done out of dragon hide.

He looked at Amund, "What do you think? A pair of boots, a leather jerkin, or a belt?"

Then on a more serious tone, he added, "I thought you wanted to let the drake go, much like you wanted to let the owlbears live. If that wasn't the case, why did you not speak up sooner? You do realize that Percy did not have everyone's consent when he offered his deal. I never gave my word that I would a drake live."

tag?

Anthuria shields her eyes with her hand, watching the dragon take flight. She follows it until it's completely lost from view, standing on her tiptoes to savor the last glance of it slipping into the horizon.

"Anthuria?" She starts as she hears her name. It takes a couple of tries to break her out of her enchantment with the dragon. "Oh right, the jewel! Well it's certainly a lovely gem, and yes clearly magical, but I can't quite put my finger on its nature."

Spellcraft, Aid: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 9 + 2 = 13 Sigh
Appraise: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

"So back to the Fort, then? We'll report to Tolgrith, then investigate the lake tomorrow? Find this 'Master Vardak.'"

If we're to sleep before returning, Anthuria would take this opportunity to cast commune with birds. It's effective for up to 1 mile away, but maybe the birds know about the human stone house?

With his trophies at hand, Balthus' mind had now moved to getting something done out of dragon hide.

He looked at Amund, "What do you think? A pair of boots, a leather jerkin, or a belt?"

Leveling a blank stare at Balthus, Make what every you want out of that creature. I doubt the boots would be very comfortable.

Then on a more serious tone, he added, "I thought you wanted to let the drake go, much like you wanted to let the owlbears live. If that wasn't the case, why did you not speak up sooner? You do realize that Percy did not have everyone's consent when he offered his deal. I never gave my word that I would a drake live."

Sighing and casting his gaze around before letting his eyes settle on the dead dragon before relying, I never want to kill anything Balthus. All life is precious. But..

His lips twist into a deep scowl, Those creatures were slaves. Their master commanded the attack.

Crossing his arms around his chest as he continues with bitterness in his voice. Coming out here I was prepared to kill them. I did not like the idea, I do not relish in killing anything, but those dragons are a danger to the people of the Vale and those people are my first priority.

Tearing his eyes from the corpse and looking Balthus in the eye, As to why I did not speak up first. Would it have mattered? Our word was given, consent or not. We are supposed to be operating as a team. That means that we work together. When one of us gives their word it is as if we all did. Just like if one of us is attacked it would be as if all of us were. At least that is how it should be in my mind.

"Towards more permanent matters," said Percival, turning his head as he rode towards the fort. "We have a rough idea of the enemy: an aging half-elven male magic-user named Vardak. This magic-user is strong enough to unbind flesh made stone, and has purchased by his deed the loyalty of several lesser dragons. Besides untrustworthy dragons (evident by Syrriolth's conduct and how Vardak treated him and his kin), we also know that besides lesser dragons, Vardak employs demons.

He then nodded at Anthuria and said, "An idea crossed my mind: should we impersonate the conquering Old Chelaxian army and confront this Vardak, the lesser drakes would surely be intimidated enough to turn tail. Carrying the ballista, several archers and hired or aspiring adventurers, as well as a few illusory imagery provided by good Enrico, we might be able to enter the fort unintercepted by the drakes.
"Within is the true danger--wizards, just as dragons, live long for good reason."

With ropes stretching between one of the fallen drakes and several saddles, the trek back through the woods begins. The hauling is cumbersome and slow, but manageable (although a few choice words slip out here and there as the load catches on fallen logs and knots of bushes). You emerge into the clearing surrounding the fort as the sun begins to embrace the horizon; as you enter the fort's wide gates, the mood quickly shifts from tense worry to wonder at your safe return.

Before settling down to rest, Anthuria heads just outside the palisade and lets out a low, tuneful whistle; soon, she is surrounded by a dozen or so birds, thrushes, wrens, and warblers flitting gracefully from branch to branch or landing gently on her head and shoulders. Calling her court to order, she questions them about the stone house Syrriolth had mentioned. The birds warble and gossip for a while, but while one or two can confirm having stories of a castle in the distance, a general lack of trees and insect nests on the mountains' steep sides (and rumors of friends-of-friends-of-friends disappearing from time to time) have left them for the most part uninterested in the area, and unable to add much in the way of information.

Anything else? I know Percival's plan to try and draw drake attention away; let me know if there's any other preparations you'd like to make or anything you'd like to try and get a hold of.

Percival deposits the drake corpses at the tanner. He then handled the cold iron spear, and began training on it as he relayed the events of the day to Sir Tolgrith.

If Perry made a cloak/armor/coat/whatever out of dragonhide, can he gain any benefits vs. fire? Can bones make enchanted weapons? Can organs be used for something useful? Dragon-blood for potions, heart for magic items, etc?

Refusing to have anything to do with bringing the dragon corpses back he abstains from having rope tied to his saddle or helping in any way but would keep his opinions to himself unless prodded.

Scowling but keeping his face foward to avoid showing his displeasure to Perry but making sure his tone is neutral as he answers, I would rather not take the defenses the Fort has. This Vardak could easily send more creatures to the Fort while we are heading for him. I am not certain taking a large number of people would be wise. If the dragons stay there and do not, Amund does not even try to keep the mocking tone in check, flee before our mighty force.

Shifting in his saddle and forcing his tone to be more neutral again, A large group of people is easy to see and have fire rained down on them. The longer we wait to try and execute that plan the more time Vardak has to come after us or hunker down. It is not a bad plan but it would take to long and it leave the Fort undefended.

@ tag anyone for joining in here or continuing the discussion at the Fort with Sir Togrith.
At the Fort

Once Amund is sure Sir Tolgrith is up to date on what has happened Amund would go to check on the cubs.

Percival listened to Amund, and then asked coldly, "Do you have any suggestions?"

On the road:

Jetta receives Perry's plan with a curt nod, glancing puzzledly at the ever more embittered Amund.

"Sounds like a plan," she says evenly. "Though I agree with Amund in that we shouldn't leave the fort unprotected. This Vardak is bound to retaliate after he finds out we've slaughtered his minions. We already know that we can defeat these dragons if needed, so we should make sure to leave as many defenders at the fort as possible. How large a group could we fake with Enrico's spells?"

At the fort:

As soon as she can, Jetta seeks to speak with Perry in private. Clearly troubled, though a bit more composed than previously, she tries to seek validation for her actions.

"Letting the beast go was against my order's creed," she says to the priest. "And surely Abadar's, as well. Are you sure it was the right thing to do? I decided to trust you in the moment, but I can't shake off the feeling that I should have just killed the beast when I could. Balthus was right: the only reason it complied was because it was scared for its life, and given chance, it will likely cause more destruction."

On the road

Reaching forward to scratch Pretty Girl on the neck, My suggestion is that we do not leave the Fort unprotected. I personally prefer to take a smaller group and try to be unnoticed. We are more likely to catch Vardak by surprise using stealth. The larger group would give him time to prepare to fight us. But I will go with what the group decides.

"My suggestion is that we do not leave the Fort unprotected.

"Less of a suggestion, more like a detail I would not miss!" Percival shot back, before looking away.

Amund: "I personally prefer to take a smaller group and try to be unnoticed. We are more likely to catch Vardak by surprise using stealth."

Jetta: "Though I agree with Amund in that we shouldn't leave the fort unprotected."

"Sneaking is unwise unless you have a secret path. Boarder-forts are designed far from potential cover. Not all of us can hide from the drakes and the wizard's defenses," he said, gesturing at the heavily-armored Jetta and then his own flatfooted self. "Bravado is what we need to pull this off. Vardak is the one real threat in the vale at this point, and I would not take him lightly. I'll see to wise application of force, but we will need numbers.

"I...do not know. I presume images of ten, twenty? With ten real archers and the props, we might pull off this...gambit," Percival said, with increasing slowness of speech, as if slowly being laden by self-doubt.

There was an air of finality to this, regardless of whether the gambit would succeed.
Avoiding any and all authority from Tolgrith to Apar and subordinates from soldiers to Enrico, Percival headed to his office. When sought by Jetta, he suggested his office after a few moments for him to change.

At the Fort.
@GM: I'm retroing. Percival leaves the reporting to Amund or the others. Sorry for the inconvenience. We seem to be experiencing some unexpected character development. :/

Sitting at his makeshift office in the fort, Lord Percival Arizian held a quill in his right hand, holding it over an improvised map of the Vale. Scribbles along the map first charted positions of interest, and now was empty of any new input.
Out of his armor and into a more comfortable amber doublet, Percival looked every bit the lord laden with the troubles of stewardship and defense of his people, coupled with a worry that only priests concern themselves with--worthiness and righteousness. The nature of his secular and scholarly halves received a blow, as did his image of who he was.
Why would I be bestowed the honor of divine revelation? he thought at first, before adding with an air of self-hatred and disgust, as he grit his teeth. When my purpose of coming here was so mundane?
LAND, GOLD, AND TITLE!

Reflection theme.
The quill's point was a few inches off the map, laden with black ink. It was still. There was few to add.
Looking over the map and then out the window, Percival exhaled, looking up to his merchants' scale on the table, before burying his face in his hands.
The servants fly to bow to their master's might, to explain why their travels bear no fruit. Servants' fear burned the empty chest - the master's wrath will burn the thieves who took the treasure within. New emerges and old perishes - who will be blamed but the upstarts, the recent pieces laid on an ancient board? They come...they come...they come!!
"They come indeed..." said Percival, echoing the prophecy.
Indeed, to a point, the final outcome of the upcoming battle is irrelevant. The greatest struggle was not without, but within.
"If the Lord graced me with a vision of the future, where I bring great victory and glory unto His name," Percival said into the nothingness that filled his room. "But..."
He left that hanging, as if not knowing where to go from that point.
Indeed, beyond answering the call to glory, there was nothing more. The means has become the goal, and a victorious warrior may drink himself into a grave out of the loss, confusion, and aimlessness he may find after peace reigns.
But what do I need? What do I want? he mused, looking at the map with glazed, unfocused stare.

With Jetta.

"Letting the beast go was against my order's creed, and surely Abadar's, as well. Are you sure it was the right thing to do? I decided to trust you in the moment, but I can't shake off the feeling that I should have just killed the beast when I could. Balthus was right: the only reason it complied was because it was scared for its life, and given chance, it will likely cause more destruction."

Percival said nothing for a long time, inviting Jetta to sit down on a nearby chair. Leaning back on his own chair and dripping his unused quill into an inkwell, looking out the window to the vast wilderness under the autumn sky. It seemed like a thousand years since he looked over holdings he called his own--when the needs of the lord that was he met the needs of the Lord that was Abadar. He looked up to the young lady, who seemed all too young to be talking about murder and regret for not taking life.

You've come to the wrong place for validation, I'm afraid. That is short in supply.

[ooc[On the road[/ooc]

Sighing and forcing his tone to remain neutral, No apologies needed my Lord.

Keeping quiet for the moment but unwilling to let it stand there. My issue with taking people from the fort is that we were the primary combatants in that skirmish and that is an unfortunate fact that you cannot refute. The more combatants we take the weaker the Fort will be.

"He did not swear falsely. That was clear to both my eyes and yours," Percival said, hand covering his forehead. Something in him seemed older and wizened, as if some ghostly force shaved years off his face during the expedition.

"That was the only reason I didn't snap its neck," Jetta says in response. "But there were no morals at play there. Only fear. As soon as it's out of our reach, nothing binds it to its word..."

The Hellknight seems to notice Perry's sudden gloominess, quickly forgetting her own troubles—at least for the moment. She leans in with a look of worry on her scarred face, reaching over to touch his arm.

"What's wrong, Uncle?" she asks.

While with Sir Tolgrith

After giving the run down of what happened and not bothing to hide any information Amund would ask, Would it be alright if, in the early morning, you, the others, myself, and any others you deem privy to that conversation could met here and discuss what we plan to do concerning Vardak? I would prefer a decisive plan and hopefully some rest will give us clearer minds.

Assuming he does not mind. But if for some reason he does that same happens just requesting to meet elsewhere.[/b]

Once assured that the cubs are fine and that the others have had a little time to themselves Amund would move though the Fort and let the others know that their presence is requested tomorrow morning to discuss what is to be done about Vardak.

[ooc]tag everybody for a planning meeting

The Hellknight seems to notice Perry's sudden gloominess, quickly forgetting her own troubles—at least for the moment. She leans in with a look of worry on her scarred face, reaching over to touch his arm.

"What's wrong, Uncle?" she asks.

Perry let Jetta's hand touch his own, and he lowered his arm.

As usual, character development is free to continue in sidebars.

Sir Tolgrith appears both elated at news of the drakes' defeat and sobered at word of the conjurer living on the Vale's edge; when Amund finishes, he drums his fingers on the tabletop absent-mindedly, the beats landing on the ink-scribed mountains surrounding the still-incomplete map of the Vale. I'm not pleased to hear one of those monsters is still roaming free...but if you could detect no falsehood in his promise, you were just as bound by your word as he by his, I suppose. And he seems to have flown away from the Fort, at least when he took off...

Sighing, he rises. I'll assemble the others in the morning, as you said, so we can figure out what to do about this wizard. Until then, take your rest...dragonslayers.

The next morning...

You arrive in Tolgrith's meeting room to see the captain and several others gathered around the table, five seats left to the left and right of the table's head. Besides Tolgrith, several other faces you recognize stare back. Mairen sits back against her chair in serene confidence; Guard Lieutenant Sarina taps a fingernail on the table, anxious to begin planning. Father Apar leans forward with hands folded; even Oakbrow looks up from his seat, nearest the one window in the close space. Beckoning you to your seats, Tolgrith calls the assembled to order and invites Amund to repeat his recitation of the news about Vardak, self-proclaimed Lord of Bloodsworn Vale.

So, it seems we have a contested claim on this place...and the other claimant's showing little restraint in exercising his claim, it would seem. What's to be done, then?

Sarina bursts out, as if she'd been waiting to speak for a while. Siege, Captain, she answers with a smart salute. In the mountains like that, he can't have much in the way of fields or livestock -

You'd be surprised how much food you can grow even in a pot on the windowsill, Oakbrow interrupts. And if he's a mage, well, for all we know he can just conjure food into being from nothing - what good would a siege do against that?

Father Apar clears his throat kindly, but insistently. To call food and drink from nothing is a feat reserved for the gods' blessings...no mere arcanist could manage it. But if he has the aid of fell beings from beyond - and these types rarely seem to hesitate recklessly calling upon powers they cannot hope to control...

Enough. Sir Tolgrith's voice cuts through the chatter as he turns to you. Well, we seem to agree a siege will do little good - and with as many as it would take to keep this place sealed off, I'm afraid we'd leave the Fort unattended, or nearly so. And I fear this wizard is not the only one who'd love to make a move against us, given a chance. One hand to his temple, he nods. Any suggestions? The five of you have proven invaluable since your arrival, and Mairen has become one of our most respected lieutenants. She inclines her head subtly. Were there any ideas you had in mind?

Let's nail down the plan IC so I know what I'm working with - from there, have fun storming the castle!

Balthus cracked his knuckles, "Well, I'm no military genius or nothin' but what we did last time seemed to work pretty well."

He shrugged, "We try and hide as we pay the wizard a visit and then see what we're up against. It may be that we have to sneak in or break in his castle or whatever stone house he lives in."

He looked at the others, "However, until we actually get there and see what we're up against, there's not much preparing that can be done. At least not real good preparing."

He concluded by saying, "I think just us five should go. The rest of you should prepare for an eventual attack. I wasn't happy about letting go of that dragon so I would be extra careful these next few days."

Once he is done recited what had happened, again leaving nothing out nor downplaying or embellishing on anything, Amund falls silent and listens. Quietly watching each person as they talk.

Resisting the urge to make a sarcastic comment at Balthus and making himself listen instead. Nodding slightly in agreement but unwilling to bring the released dragon back up, he had already said his peace on that and it was largely ignored. I agree with Balthus in this instance.

Looking back over at Sir Togrith, This option keeps the Fort protected. The down side is that if we fail there not really a way for you all to know so, like Balthus mentioned, you should preparefor an eventual attack. But not from just one dragon. You should assume the worst.

Crossing his arms as he continues, Not that I assume we will fail but you should be prepared regardless of what we decide here.

"Of course we'll go together. There's no question." Anthuria says matter-of-factly. "Now, I truly believe the dragon won't be back. At least, not that dragon, but there may be other threats emerging from this wizard. So yes, it should be just the five of us. We've worked quite well together, I think." Except for the incident with the... Oh, and there was the... And that moment of tension when...

She smiles at her allies hopefully, willing them with her eyes to agree.

At the Meeting:

Were there any ideas you had in mind?

"Our first order of business should be sending out scouts," says the Hellknight. "As it is, we don't know the exact location of our target. I'm more than ready to be a part of the strike team, but recon is not my speciality. We should try to find out beforehand if there is more than one entrance, and the amount of defenders at each. If we can't sneak our way in, Lord Percival's suggested deception seems like the best way to get rid of resistance outside the structure. That requires preparation, however, and we can't set that up if we're already out there by ourselves."

I no way am I saying we should not be prepared. Scouts are a good starting move.

Scouts, then. Tolgrith nods to Lieutenant Sarina, and she begins running through a roster in her mind, picking out the most able candidates even as the conversation continues. They'll bring what information they can about the place, and from there we can assess whether a larger team or illusions are necessary to draw attention away from the front door. It sounds as good a plan as we're likely to get - besides doubling the watches until you go and return. Like you've said, we don't want to be caught by surprise.

And the vigilance of the Fort does indeed increase - from time to time, Orrend and his cousin Pily can even be seen (barely clearing the walls) in the watchtowers, keeping eyes on the skies while other guards take an opportunity to rest. Three scouts are dispatched toward where the drake had reported the stone house amid the mountains, but the distance is vast; with nearly fifty miles of forest and plains to cross and the need to move as secretly as possible, the trip stands to take three days or more each way, even ahorse. But with no better recourse, the band departs, and the waiting begins.

A pair of messengers sets off on horseback toward the mountains' cleft and Korvosa, delivering word of the occurrences in the Vale - and two days later the pair stumbles back, joined by two small children drooping atop a severely injured horse. There was...there was a group of carts...attacked, between here and the pass... one of the messengers reports. He seems far better off than the horse and his companion, though he clearly avoids putting weight on his right foot and kneads at a stitch in his side as he speaks.

Went...to see if we could help...or find out more about who'd been driving. There were...bugbears, I think...big ugly brutes with smashed-in faces. Rooting around in what was left...supplies and such...and they found the kids, hiding under one of the covers. We scared them off, but we took a beating... These two were all that was left alive...said their folks'd been coming up to settle...start a farm under the Fort's protection...