|Lord Varg Grenalf|
Standing uncomfortably in the Princes chamers, attended by his gloomy, pathetic excuse for a Silver Dragon was Lord Varg Grenalf. Named after the famous explore Grenalf who explored all of Iobaria at one point. However now he had been called to attend to business in the Lords Districtat the behest of his leige Prince Korya.
Upon hearing the princes's plan he sneered at the idea of using dishonest creatures such as Merc's. Especially Forign Merc's at that. His voice dripped with disdain as he spoke out against this plan. "Mercenaries? What need do we have for such filth? Waste of gold milord. The riders and I..."
|Prince Tzakiv Korya of Orlov|
The Princes voice boomed over Lord Grenalf's making the dour noblemen flinch as he was insulted. "Are incompetents S!@!s! Without your dragons your little better then damned militia and they at least can fight."
The princes companions were not to be seen but Lord Grenalf knew that they could be lurking nearby so the noblemen wisely kept his cool. Much to the Princes amusement. "We hire Forigner's because they are expendable. Had you handle this, like you and your riders promised Last time. I wouldn't be sending my precious taxes off else where. But little matter. If they fail we can strip their corpses. Just like last time..." The Prince smiles darkly as Lord GRenalf swallows visibly. Last time it had been Grenalf's own Men-At-Arms that had been sent to slaughter.
"However if they prove successful I may just keep them here. Perhaps the offer of titles and lands, that they capture, will appeal to these sell-swords."
|Lord Varg Grenalf|
Lord Grenalf barely resisted the urge to wilt under the last part of the rebuke. Give them lands?! He knew that if he didn't act quickly that his own Hold could be offered as compensation. "I won't fail you this time." He glances ever so slightly at his emotionless, gloomy dragon before bowing to his Prince in preparation to withdraw.
|Prince Tzakiv Korya of Orlov|
|Lord Varg Grenalf|
He redirected his rage for the prince at his pathtic dragon instead, slamming his gauntleted fist into its face and sending it staggering into a pillar before tumbling to the floor. The blow brought it out of its distracted state and it started to whimper. "This creature is no better then a flea bitten whore these. Another lashing will ensure it is ready for battle this time..." The Princes snicker of amusment makes him give the wretched dragon a swift kick in the ribs that sends it crawling for the exit or as far as its chain will allow it to escape Lord Varg.
|Prince Tzakiv Korya of Orlov|
The Prince was amused by the Silver Dragon's abuse in his presence. He liked keeping these so called Nobles cowed lest they try and usurp him. However with how dumbed down they kept their dragons the nobles had no real power. Once Grenalf was long gone the Prince looked down at the strategic map, taking note of Lenusya and the bandits that were gathering there. However the glint of scattered grey scales made him laugh. ]"To think that if that beast could recall its true power for even a breath... It could and most likely would tear Varg apart where he stands..." His own voice echoed in the chamber as he continued to postulate to himself. "An interesting way to ensure his demise if Varg starts to get too full of himself."
The Princes dark laughter eched in the empty chamber as he added a piece to the board. That of an upraised sword with a broken crown. "I wonder how well these Mercenaries will fair? It would be nice to have useful servants..."
|Lord Varg Grenalf|
Lord Grenalf wipes blood from his hands as he leaves the horse sized dragon wallowing in its own blood. He hung up a whip with metal lining the tip, a cat-o-nine tails and the large club he used to teach it obedience. As it tried to drag itself into the corner where a small patch of hey lay he picked up a flagon sized beaker of sorts and walked back over to the wretched dragon.
With each footfall of his approach it flinched visibly and he smirked darkly. Looks like its training is setting in, fear is good. It best learn its place if it knows whats good for it. As he stepped up to its side it curled its tail protectively under its battered ribs. He tsked as he popped the top off the beaker. He leaned over and before it could withdraw he spoke, low and menacing. "Drink, or else this continues." It looked up at him and then to the beaker he held and reluctantly opened its mouth.
"Good beast, now drink." He poured the beaker into its open mouth and growled as it gagged. His threat earlier was clear and it didn't dare wretch any of the drink up. As the silver dragon drank down the last mouthful, the beakers contents were fast acting and left the dragon in a hazy stupor. It collapsed into the hay it had barely reached as Grenalf smirked in satisfaction.
"Not so tough. Are you now." He turned and briskly set off to get his beaker refilled. Leaving the dragon chained and beaten in his personal stables.
A dark figure watched Lord Grenalf exit his estate, watching with such unnerving silence that it made no noise as it moved across the ulfen styled homes that were intermixed with the Cyclopean architecture of the fallen empire of Koloron. It tracked the Ulfen noble as far as the crafters ward before descending to the streets and getting within grabbing distance of Grenalf's back. While Grenalf was still completely unaware of how close this figure was to his unprotected backside...
However he reached a foul smelling shop before the figure could do much else. They pulled back a few steps and ducked into a cramped alcove and watched him enter the shop. Once Grenalf was lost to view they retreated back to where they had descended before. Climbing back up onto the rooftops it silently made its way back towards Grenalf's estate before disappearing into the night...
|Lord Varg Grenalf|
Later that night
Varg returned, his beaker refilled and capped off. He was in a pleasant mood for once, at least until he reached his small estate in the mid level of the Lords DIstrict. He found his main door ajar and not a soul guarding it. With his rage coming to the surface he steps through the lit door way, seeing the shadows of the guards he left behind. "No doubt the fools are deep in their merriment! I will teach them a lesson for this foolishness!" He stepped through the door and was instantly taken aback by the utter silence in his estate.
The shadows prove to be nothing more then the armor racks he had purchased recently, delivered and already setup as he had requested. However he slammed his fist into the door as he saw the discarded weapons and helms on the central chamber of the antechamber. "Desertion... AGAIN! I'll see them whipped for this disobediance and their pay seized! His mood calmed though as his thoughts darkened.
"Easy enough to replace, most likely the Prince offered them more money... Arrogant s+. We will see who has the last laugh."
Posts coming to all primary games shortly!
Her eyes fell across the great Dvezda plains of Iobaria, stretching farther than her eyes could see. She looked up at the circling falcons and smiled, their eyes saw much farther and she was quite jealous at their ability to soar so freely. She turned away from the beautiful scene as the crunch of hooves warned her of approaching guests.
She turned and narrowed her eyes at the abomination that approached. A centaur with a set of rams horns and another set of horns akin to that of the elks of the Icerime mountains. Its stature was thin and elongated compared to the ones that accompanied it and it possessed an unnatural allure that made her nose twitch despite it being a female of its race.
It spread its arms wide as it approached the edge of Fangard forest, passing the runic stones that marked the boundary line and making her anger simmer. They know better. The centaurs halted only when she raised her hand in warning. "Far enough." She lowered her hand as the amassed Centaurs paused to look at her like she was mad, she smiled at their haughty nature. They're assumptions would get them killed. The abomination among them stepped forward despite her warning. This time she moveed forward, muscles surging as she growled. "The next hoove fall will be your last. Respect our boundaries or die." Her sudden aggression and physical change caught all but the abomination by surprise.
It's twisted mouth smiled as it spoke in a guttural language, one that twisted even Signe's stomach. This time she didn't hold back, she released her inner being and fully smashed into the world as her true self. Her roar echoed across the plains, shattering the silence she enjoyed with her rage. "That dark tongue is not welcome here! Not now or ever! Speak as one of this world or leave, you've insulted Fangard long enough with your filthy presence!"
Her roar summoned forth several more howls of outrage that made the Centaurs mill about in discomfort, as they knew better then to test the protectors of Fangard frivolously. Signe fixed the creature before her with her enhanced vision, sniffing the air and wrinkling her nose in further disgust. The abomination sweeped back a few steps and bowed its multi-horned head before she bellowed. "Enough! Why have you come here! Speak now or be gone!
Its offer made her whip her head back in harsh laughter, which only summoned the other two dozen rangers at her back. In their true forms they outnumbered the paltry Centaur force nearly two to one and they barely needed any to whip them out completely...
The abomination looked angrily at her as she continued to laugh before stopping suddenly and whipping her head back down to look down on the creature before her in rage. She rises up on her haunches and steps towards the Centaurs, who all step back save for the filthy abomination. It alone stood defiant as she took a second and third stride, coming to look down on it. "Begone Filth. Fangard would not ally itself with such darkness. Crawl back into the bowels of hell you were birthed from wretch. Lest I decide to do this world a favor and End you here and now." The abomination started to speak but she struck it. Her foot striking its ribs so hard she felt bones break under the sheer power of her true form. Such was her strength that the abomination was thrown several yards back, landing with a painful crunch among the plains grass.
As its defenders rallied her companions struck, like lightning striking a great tree they split their small formation and threw the Centaurs down like leaves in a strong wind. The abomination gasped as she strode forward once more, this time more quickly so that it hadn't the time to recover. She grabbed its throat in her massive hand and lifted it until all its hooves were off the ground. She held it there gasping for precious breath but getting nothing more than a gurgle as she stared at it balefully.
As its eyes watered, on the verge of rolling back moments before unconsciousness took it, she cast the creature aside. Throwing it several yards once more before landing painfully beyond the runic cairn stone's that marked their boundary line.
She released her rage, falling back into her lesser form then, surrounded by her powerful brethren. Knowing that they could end this creature in a single breath if they wanted, but war with one of the Centaur tribes was not what the Fangard wanted or needed. So she reflected, most likely unwisely, looking down on the battered centaurs.
"If this filth ever returns, all that come with it dies. It is not welcome here." She turned her backs on them then as her companions resumed their true forms as well.
They returned to the trees where the cover of the forest would shroud them from the Centaurs eyes and from there they watched them leave. She shook her head in rage and sadness.
For darkness stirred in the heart of Iobaria.
She hoped she wouldn't regret this day.
For what it had offered made her tremble now in the safety of the Fangard.
Why would the Centaurs ally themselves with that.
Blades of Death
This failing mercenary company is finding work in Brevoy difficult now that Choral is gone. The Surtovan's hold no love for particular merc groups and the Blades fall into that sad category. Facing harsher fees and made up charges the group has had to seek employment outside the lands of Brevoy.
For a time they worked in the Stolen lands, however Pitax's lord refused to pay the rest of their agreed sum after the group wiped out an opposing faction to his rise to power. The Pitaxian lord upped the gambit and drove the mercs out in the middle of the night, stealing much of their less mobile gear.
They ran afoul of an ancient black dragon on their broken return to Brevoy. Less then a quarter survived the pitched battle. Leaving the dragon to feast on the acidized remains of their fallen companions as they made their way back.
Back in Brevoy things hadn't improved much, taxation was now equally bad for everyone and the Surtovan's were not very loved. They entertained the idea of working with Rostland but the deal fell through due to the vigilance of Surtovan supporters. Instead the Blades of Death saw a ramp up for exploration in the Stolen Lands. They're application was denied, too costly for the snobby Rostlanders and instead their rival Meager Varn and his men went to deal with the Nomen and explore the eastern Stolen Lands.
Undaunted, despite men up and leaving the band, the Blades of Death embarked on a gambit few mercenaries would EVER accept...
Working in Iobaria.
Land of Mad Dragons, Tyrants, Insane Druids and enough diseases that the population had been nearly killed off completely over three times over the centuries. However the full payment arrived and despite the grumbling of the men the Blades, a mere forty men and woman of various races and sexes, set off for a land far more rugged and cold then they were used to...
|Prince Tzakiv Korya of Orlov|
He was focused, looking over the fine weapons laid before him. A fortune in magical weapons at his fingertips but the four figures that stood before him vexxed him greatly. He was nervous of the three standing behind the woman he was considering making a deal with.
"... And what do you want in trade for these marvelous weapons?" He had his hands steepled just in front of his face as he leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees, he watched her expressions like a hawk watched its prey in flight. Intent on not missing a single indication of weakness...
His eyebrows nearly hiked up in surprise when she stated her demands. They were simple, too the point and very strategic. Each another shock to him but what she asked for he could grant with ease, especially for the treasures she laid at his feet. "A Noble Title I will gladly bestow upon you, along with the lands you have requested. You choose a dangerous place to call your domain. Besides these treasures I promise to aid you in rebuilding your domain if you swear to supply Orlov with Finadar's finest wood and to collect the bloodtrees sap. Fulfill this and I will see your domain thrive as an extension of Orlov's everlasting glory."
She thanked him and bowed her head deeply as he stood and formerly bestowed the crown of nobility on her. After the formalities were over he created an official scroll and bestowed his seal upon it to make it official within all the lands he controlled. However her desire would extend his reach for the first time in ages and if she failed he owed her nothing.
Taking the official documents she turned to leave, followed by her silent and cloaked guardians. Just before she reached the chamber doors they flew open, nearly striking her as Lord Grenalf's men lead the way. Her guardians reacted instantly to the threat of their lady being harmed, the offending guardsmen helm was knocked clear off as he was slammed upside the head by the large fist of her biggest companion. The guard staggered but before much more could occur Prince Korya started applauding, enjoying Grenalf's men being embarrassed by unarmed fighters. As the guard recovered glaring angrily, the Prince rose to his feet sweeping his hands wide as he spoke. "Settle this later! Do not bloody my halls anymore as I wish to see this on an open field."
The Ulfen guard spat on the tall barehanded fighter. Hitting them directly in the face, but eliciting no response as their lady turned and bowed her head. When the fighter spoke his voice was deep and heavy almost menacing as he named their meeting place.
"That is where you die Bastard!" The deep voiced fighter grunted in acknowledgement before following his lady out of the chamber.
Lord Grenalf, not pleased one bit by his newest bodyguard's poor reaction strode past them as the Prince sat back down. The Prince leaned back, propping his chin on his clenched right fist as he rest his elbow on his stone throne's rest. "What news to you have for me Lord Grenalf?"
It wasn't until a day after the fight that Grenalf sent men to find out what happened to his guardsmen. What they returned with sent him into a furious rage.
The armored man kicked, struggling for breath, but it was a useless action. One more out of desperation as the metal cord that dug into his thick neck cinched tighter from both his jerky movements and his body weight. His opponent had left him bound and suspended from a thick tree branch,securing the metal cord around the trees base efore burying a grappling hook deep into its trunk.
The Guardsmen couldn't do more the choke as eh watched the lone warrior walk away, he could not curse the whore that brought such a ruthless man into this life...
After a few minutes of struggling consciousness faded into black and the man remained hanging there dead.
His opponent never returned.
Blades of Death
The safest route lead in a Northeasterly direction, through the rugged hills outside of Restov until they met the Icerime Mountains. From there the Blades would travel to the Maw of Karth and make their way on to the ancient Koloran road down into the Hills of the Nomen.
Your new commander, seeing as the last one was swallowed whole by a dragon was a hardened veteran by the name of Rideon Hawkwood, most called him Hawk for his ungodly skill with a bow. He had taken a particular pleasure in training any of those who were interested in the way of the bow. However no one could launch as many arrows as he could or with the same accuracy.
Be warned he is a hard ass, she would have suffered through some grueling training and he doesn't take excuses. Excuses equal working your hands to the bone until he's satisfied. Mouthing off resulting in the same punishment, he will go as far as ordering the Dwarven smith not to let you craft until your bow skills were on par with what he expected from you. Many times he would put you to doing push-ups on gravel, leaning on your back with his foot to make it harder. However at times he would join you, having the heaviest of the men sit on his back and even with bloodied palms he could fire the bow with the same amount of skill and fury.
He is a hard ass, but he has no favorites either and pushed those under him to excel...
The Blades are a diverse group consisting of a little under fifty individuals from all walks of life. They're had been two centaurs at one point but now only one remained and she was alone now that the other was killed by the rampaging dragon.
Your fallen companion was named Toheric the outcast. He was from Iobaria and had survived countless enemies before the dragon's breath annihilated him. He had been a free spirited and strong warrior who never balked in the face of his opponents. He was one of the few that charged the dragon to aid the bands flight and from what you remembered looking back, he was one of the last to fall...
I will flesh them out later but they were free spirited, courageous and a knowledgeable ranger/barbarian of the Rzorak tribe. He never revealed why he was expelled from the tribe, often growing unnervingly quiet which was a stark contrast from his normal rambunctious attitude.
The winged elves stood out as well, none had seen their kind before and their reasons for joining the band was as strange as their forms. However they weren't as strange as one of the Clerics in the band, they just unnerved others. No one understood why but he just had a sort of presence that made you want to quickly find another place to sit or burn your clothes...
I will follow up on this once we have your character solidified. ;)
The fourth night of travel would bring you within sight of the Icerime mountains and the dangerously tight pass you'd have to traverse to reach the Maw of Karth...
Feel free to poast. I can stop my filler posts if you want~
Maiathreen wraps his wings tightly against his body as he curses the cold air that causes his draconic blood to flow sluggishly. He stares at his wife in mock jealously as she basks in the cold weather. Her scales reflecting the morning light sparkling like diamonds. Her quiver of arrows hanging from one hip as she prepares to train once more with Hawk.
He finishes his own preparations and slides Soul Taker sheath and all from his sash. Holding the sheathed blade in one hand. He quickly and smoothly draws the blade in a sweeping arc. The force of the cut causing the grass to sway against the wind. He follows with a downward cut the blade moving as if it was an extension of his own flesh leaving a faint after image almost as if the blade cut the very air itself. As he moves sunlight catches and gleams along his own scales making it look as if he is aflame. The illusionary flames dance and swirl around him.
After what seems like hours he stops his intricate dance, its at this point that anyone watching would notice the eye embedded in the blade and its strange fleshy appearance along the back of the blade. With a quick flourish he resheathes the sword, as the hilt clicked home against the scabbard time seems to resume and he calmly gathers his gear and prepares for the day. Only a handful of minutes had passed.
Rhavenna was quiet through much of the trek towards the Icerime Mountains. The loss of so many of the company at the hands of the Ancient Black Dragon weighed heavily on her with many a fireside companion and sparring partner gone. Thinking about the horrific battle that barely 50 of their number managed to escape brought back the image of her friend Toheric…..brave, reckless Toheric, charging headlong into battle, her last glimpse of him fighting valiantly, one of only a handful of company members still standing as the unit’s survivors fled.
While the Blades of Death were not broken, if she were honest with herself she’d admit that they were not far from it. Desperate for work, taken advantage of at every turn, the march towards the Icerimes had the feeling of a last hope.
The only surviving centaur of the company, and unique even as far as centaurs went, the ranger often found herself the subject of curiosity and speculation on occasion trending towards hostility or mistrust. The irony was that even among centaurs she was likely to encounter roughly the same mix of reactions.
She had her friends though, the small knit clique of warriors that had for one reason or another connected with each other on some level, understanding the need to watch each other’s backs and the importance of having at least a few people one could trust.
She shivers slightly, brought back to the present by the increasing chill. Though more resistant to the elements than her human or even elven companions, the cold this far north made it clear that as they continued traveling she would soon have need of a jacket of some sort for her upper torso. In better weather, further south, she rarely wore anything other than jewelry when not in her armor, not concerning herself overly with “civilized” mores and customs, but the Dvezda lacked the shaggy hides and immunity to cold weather of the Tsolniva.
She watched as some of her companions trained, the closer they came to their destination, the easier it was to see the tension in the company, and the variety of ways in which they dealt with it.
Events during the four days of travel...
1d20 ⇒ 3
5d100 ⇒ (24, 77, 26, 50, 11) = 188
Wealday 1st of Arodus - Morning: Nothing interesting happens as you make your way out of Restov and into the hills.
Wealday 1st of Arodus: The first night the sentries reported movements in the surrounding hills. The trackers and rangers, Rhavenna included, went out to see what had been near their camp that night. The sentries failed to get a good enough look at the unknowns due to the lay of the land...
Roll A survival check DC 18 to beat
It appears that a band of Hobgoblins and Worgs traveled past the camp fairly quickly, by the look of their tracks they didn't linger long and headed off towards the Icerime Mountains in a Northeastern direction. Almost on Par with your own path.
A total of sixteen tracks are found...
Oathday 2nd of Arodus - Morning
You break camp, striking out once more for the Icerime mountains. The group is thrown into high alert when you spot black smoke rising in the distance, several spiral plumes rising from the old road directly in front of your proposed route.
Your commander has everyone ready for battle just in case and you double your marching speed to reach the site more quickly. What greets you though is the sight of a total and brutal slaughter. Three wagons are crumpled into the roadway, burning and accompanied by ten bodies and six draught beasts. The bodies lay all over the road surrounded by tracks and churned up earth from where mounted attackers encircled and overwhelmed them. It appears the Draught beasts had been brought to bare in the fight and sadly were not enough to turn the tide...
The Ten dead bodies are those of Tengu's, a mix of merchants and their small body guard. A thorough search of the site reveals the remains of a male Tengu child, the wounds on its body are those on par of Worg teeth and claws, they had a dagger still clutched like a small sword in their hands. From the blood soaking the ground the boy didn't die quickly. A second child, a female Tengu lays dead mere yard away from the boy close to the burning wagons apparently they had tried to hide and were speared through the back. She still clutched a mud stained wooden doll with a ruined feather hat laying smashed into the mud...
Sitting at the center of the slaughter is a ragged banner of a poorly stitched skull with an axe stuck in it...
Commander Hawkwood was most unsettled by the murdered children, surprisingly he buried them himself in an almost reverent fashion. He used his own bedroll to fashion the wrappings. The dagger he left clutched in the boys hands and the doll was bound tightly to the little girl. He did all this wordlessly with a resolute but grim look.
The rest of you busied yourselves with burying the dead and clearing the road, once that was done, Commander Hawkwood addressed all of you. His voice was beyond reproach as he stated clearly. "We are not a charity, we don't do good works but today is an exception. I'll give a hundred gold to the one that brings me the bastard leaders head. If we find any that fly this symbol, we kill them. If we find a group, your orders are simple. No Prisoners, No Mercy. Kill them to the last and leave their corpses to ROT. Got it? Good." He tears off the symbol and stuffs it into the rim of his belt. Knowing your Commander he wasn't about to forget what happened here.
You travel further up the road and found where the merchants had camped previously...
Oathday 2nd of Arodus - Night The night passes quietly, the weather remains clear and calm. Commander Hawkwood goes off alone to hunt and returns with several birds and fox for meat that night. He also has three more of the tattered banner, along with a set of freshly cut ears from an unknown creatures. He burns these items in a separate fire whilst mumbling to himself, sounding like he was counting or something...
"two down, fourteen to go."
Fireday 3rd of Arodus - Day and Night
Passes quietly, the weather turns colder as you awake to a cold spell gripping the area around your encampment. A low fog covers the area until noon when the rising sun dispel's the fog, however the cold continues to roll off the mountains due to a westerly wind. It remains cool to cold throughout the rest of the day until you make camp once more...
Starday 4th of Arodus - Morning
A surprise awaits you all in the morning, before you have a chance to break camp a large shadow passes over the camp. Some react in a panicked fashion looking skyward and seeing a light colored dragon wheeling overhead. Commander Hawkwood calms everyone when he identifies the dragon as a Silver. Everyone calms down quickly, most knew that Silvers were of the most trustworthy of dragonkind. Although they could be a bit stuffy and uptight when it came to following rules and such...
It was larger then a horse, fairly young but still glorious in how it shined in the early morning light. It introduced itself as Aradacemorn...
Aradace 'High' Morn 'Priest'
Defender of the southern Icerime Mountains. His voice booms in the small clearing as he regards each of you with his reptilian eyes, lingering for a few seconds on Mai and Livain before seeing Rhavenna. Seeing her he took a deep breath his sides noticeably expanding before exhaling and narrowing his eyes at her briefly before looking to the approaching Hawkwood. "I smelled your campfires and came to see if you had seen strange creatures or needed assistance."
Hawkwood's grim look set in and it only made Aradacemorn look more interested, especially as your commander pulled the tattered banner out of his back pocket. Which made the dragon narrow its eyes... "Found a caravan overwhelmed in the night and I seek to find those who did it." He displays the symbol and surprisingly the dragon nodded.
"I have. They live in an old ruin near the lower parts of the Icerimes. Along with their foul smelling Worg companions."
Hawkwoods raw charisma catches you all by surprise as he speaks to the dragon in a stern voice. Even Aradacemorn looked surprised with his demand. "Give me their location. I have business to settle with those murderers." He pauses as he steadies his breathing, his hand visibly shakes before he reins in his anger knowing that the enemy was this close. "There was children among the dead and they died in agony."
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
Aradacemorn arced his eyebrows in surprise, before quickly becoming calm once more before he responded. "Very well..." The dragon gave detailed directions to the ruin, an old keep built in'sto the bedrock of the mountain that had been abandoned for decades before these creatures found it.
Hawkwood gives Aradacemorn his thanks before turning and relaying orders to keep the camp up and preparing any to go fight...
"Who wants to go fight or am I doing this my-g&+-d$*n-self!? Eh?" Hawkwood looked expectantly at his fellow mercs and without hesitation several shouted to be included in the battle to come.
Aradacemorn watches everything silently, gazing at certain mercs from time to time. Mai, Livain and Rhavenna being some of them...
Survival: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27 29 if human
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 29 if human
Aware of everything that had occured and angry at herself that they handn't pursued the lead she'd discovered a few nights ago, Rhavenna's exotic features hold a fierce expression at the idea of punishing those responsible for the carnage she'd witnessed.
"Ready and willing to cut down every last one of those sons of b##~~es Commander."
"Good! I am glad to hear it!" Hawkwood gives an encouraging shout to Rhavenna as he looks to the other volunteers.
"The one who brings me the leaders head I will pay as promised. For each banner collected I will give 25 gp. For every Worg Pelt I will give another 25 gp."
Aradacemorn arcs an eyebrow at this, but says nothing. Clearly the young dragon disapproved of such means to gain an end. But it wisely doesn't argue with the vengful mercenary commander.
"Gather your gear, we leave as soon as everyone is ready. By tonight we will clear that warren. They have angered the Blades and now they have Hell to pay!" Many of the volunteers give shouts of agreement before doing as told, dispersing and gathering their gear while the majority that remained behind settled in to defending the camp more heavily...
Aside from Rhavenna there were nine others, Commander Hawkwood among them, one was a particularly skilled warrior from Tian. He wore his strange heavy armor and carried a banner braced to his back of the blades while sitting astride a sturdy breed of warhorse that carried his large array of weapons into battle. He had his bow drawn and ready prior to departure...
Anyone else? Moving this forward in the morning~
The first of Arodus passes Maiathreen by without incident. Every so often his hand brushes across the hilt of Soul Taker, drawing the blade a few inches and letting it drop back into place. He walks along next to his beloved Livain her presence a soothing balm to the rage that constantly boils beneath the surface belaying his calm and disconnected exterior.
Upon hearing about the movement that night however the silastrixian warrior appeared on edge, and it seemed a good thing too as they noticed the plumes of smoke rising. Upon arriving a Maiathreen looks on dispassionately his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of the two children. To any on lookers he would appear bored or disinterested.
But careful observation catches the sight of his fingers tightened on Soul Takers hilt causing the blade to shake.
:We'll kill them all... I want them to suffer like they suffered:
:As you wish master:
The blade responds simply before going silent. The next day of peace does little to calm the growing fire within his soul kept barely in check as he dreams dreams of blood and fire. The shadow of the silver dragon falls over him and in the flicker of an instant Taker is unsheathed, its with some reluctance he puts the foul blade away.
He listens to Aradacemorn's revelation about the goblinoids hideout and Hawk's request. He looks over to his wife and knows the right thing to do. He steps forward to offer their support.
"We'll hunt them down till nothing but ashes remain." He says as flames flicker between his finger tips.
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17 So I didn't hear boss man.
Wanted to have Wallace do something prior to the mountain climbing. Trying to guess Hawks personality here, sorry if I failed in that. Hadn't wanted to slow the game even more by asking about it. This weekend had me quite busy.
Wallace had been sulking, not that many noticed.
With the ancient black still fresh in his mind on hearing his new leaders plan he spoke with the man in his quarters. Having been cut to a quarter of their numbers would disbanding not be a better end than sending men unprepared into the north?
An upfront payment like they had received spoke of either ulterior motives or desperation, neither being goo-
And that had been right around where Hawk challenged Wallace to find a better method of providing for fifty fight warriors, half as many horses three cooks and a train of ageing wagons. That many of the warriors in the band were only one step away from losing hope and giving into the depression they faced at their crushing loss to the dragon. That if he was such a great speaker he ought to be able to speak hope, food, and gold into the mouths and pockets of the failing company. If he couldn't do that he could damned well Shut up, Leave or Challenge for command like any of the others.
Knowing a losing bet when he saw one the cleric withdrew from the conversation and left the topic alone.
With this argument in his mind Wallace considered his future, goggles donned, as the mountains drew closer. Thoughts lofty as the snows came closer.
The dragons arrival along with Hawks behavior had the odd caster stand for a moment.
"I will face this peril, and ensure others do not fall." the human states before looking at the band in general "If anyone knows the creatures language I can likely craft a sermon to ensnare them with. Permitting the others to get into position for ambush, those who would slaughter innocents deserve no honor in their death. That would mean any who do know the language would likely want to plug heir ears, I can be quite convincing." Wallence ends with a small smile hands opened.
With that Wallace retrieves his gear and walks over to the Silver that had landed in the camp.
We have never encountered a peaceful dragon before, fortune finds us this time.
Coming from southern lands I seek to ask for any advice you would give us on surviving the lands of Iobaria. We travel a rough enough road without knowledge of the land."
To speed this along (decause Dialogue takes a bit in PbP), Wallace is attempting to ask the dragon for information relating to the land of Iobaria and major threats it knows of. Following that would be seeing if the dragon knew of the ancient black that attacked the Blades. A name would be great for that one, as Wallace intends to one day return and make it answer for the death it wrought.
Other information or whatever the dragon feels like sharing would be great as well. Ultimately I like the idea of having a contact in the mountains that could know quite a bit.
Knowing he might need to influence the creature he'd cast his cantrip to boost diplomacy before coming over.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31
Livain stands quietly. The only movement visible is her black hair softly sifting with the wind. Her pale face seeming empty or deep in thought. Seeing the little bodies of those children limp, with no spark to their cold eyes sent a sharp pain to her heart. Inside she moaned and wept as if they were her own. Like a mother, she will be a force to reckon with.
A cold and vicious fire burned in her heart as she turned the images of those fallen children in her mind over and over. She plastered her silver wings against her body, concealing the deep angry tremble deep in her body. Inside she was distraught but her face would never betray the privacy of her heart. Looking at Maiathreen, she could see her own rage reflected. She stepped closer to him and loosened her wings a bit so that they would brush his.
A gesture most would see as an accident, but to Livain and Maiathreen would be sharing a small intimate moment. She could feel the bony ridges of his wing clack against hers upon contact. She spoke softly to her husband,
"We cannot let the worthless scum responsible for this evil get away. I feel that revenge is sweetest, especially when served cold. I can be the iciest wretch they will ever meet."
Upon hearing Hawk ask for volunteers she could feel her scales fluster a bit and raise. Her eyes darken as a storm of emotion brewed which was quickly dispelled when her husband stepped forward to help. Watching Maiathreen do this, Livain felt pride in her husband grow. She knew he was doing the right thing. That was when Livain stepped forward as well. "I will go too"
Aradacemorn regards you with an appraising look before responding grimly. "I do, a companion and I battled them over the Stolen Lands, although we never knew its name. Vicious creature. We were outmatched though and barely survived that battle. I abandoned my den lest it attack me in my weakened state. My companion split off to recover some things from her den and was supposed to meet me here but..."[/smaller] His features falter as a look of sadness enters its reptilian eyes. [bigger][i]"... She never came."
Aradacemorn looks into the distance and his teeth flash for the briefest moment as he spoke. "Find me before you do, I'd like to make it answer for its ways if I can."
The commander is more and more pleased by those who volunteer, finally selecting those he wanted to come with and raising the number to thirteen total warriors.
With everyone prepared Commander Hawkwood leads you in the direction the dragon had indicated, splitting the group into three squads consisting of Hawkwood's Squad of five, Xiang Yu's four mounted warriors and Rhavenna, Mai, Livain and Wallace as the third squad of four.
Commander Hawkwood laid out his tactics. "My squad will provide ranged support and footmen while Xiang Yu's squad draws out the enemy and their Worgs. Rhavenna and the rest of you will strike them from behind, under a three prong strike they should fold quickly. Then we burn out whatever remains inside the ruins. Any questions?"
Aradacemorn still speaking draconic.
Wallace nods to the dragon, concealing his concern of a horse sized lizard smiling near him. "I will ensure that the news finds you once I have gathered what I require. If you have anything useful, knowledge or material that would assist us in surviving the northern lands it would be appreciated greatly were you willing to share."
Pulling down a set of goggles over his eyes wallace smiles back at the shining creature
"If nothing else I thank you for speaking with me, I must make ready to leave for the fort.
Wallace shrugs Didnt even choose to ask about my idea, suppose ill save it for another day.
I'd assume we are also there to catch the ones attempting to escape out the back then? Sounds fine to me. turning to appraise his group wallace nods. knowing the speed you three can reach I can say that even mounted I will slow you down. The yak I purchased is sure footed as any goat but it lacks the speed of a horse.
"Don't looks so dour Wallace! Ya best bring yor best because were not holding back. We kill them to the last and burn the ruin if we must!"
You travel for some time until you come to what was once a cleared field, obviously cleared for line of sight for the ruins warrirors in bygone years. Wild and unruly plants grow all across the field now, untended by any druids hands with several foul trails cut through them but the Worgs and goblinoid allies.
The Ruin was that of an ancient keep, its outer wall long crumbled into rain beaten rocks and surrounding a battered stone keep with a massive hole where its front gate should have been. Four towers with the remanants of peaked roofs crown this fort as well, it was probably a very impressive sight long ago...
The stench that rose from the area was enough to rankle your noses.
Perception and Actions please.
Silently Hawkwood and his squad vanish into the thick undergrowth while Xiang Yu's men wheel around and head for the most open patch of earth they can find, his horsebow drawn and ready for the coming battle. That left the rest of you to decide what you needed to do. Although you only had moments before Xiang Yu did something loud and most likely reckless...
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Maiathreen glances over at Rhavenna. "Does it matter? Any that try and run will just become sport for us to chase down and hunt." He says as his red heritage starts to bleed forth overwhelming the calm gold. "Not like they can out run us, certainly not Livain's arrows."
I'm saving my buffs for just before combat is joined since they are all fairly short term.
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23
Wallace sighs and looks to Maiathreen "The ruin is damn big for sixteen warriors to hold, I'd make the bet that what we encountered was a raiding party of a larger force. Aradacemorn made no indication to our number being correct. We've only seen them slaughter innocents, so we have no idea how good they are individually. For all we know they could be better than us. Plus we look to fools to hawk if we miss any hidden tunnels or easy escape routes by rushing headlong into battle. Xiang Yu does that, we are not Xiang Yu." Wallace shrugs realizing he has strayed from the point.
"Finding the back door and sneaking up on them also means we can kill them faster than the rest of the crew outside and have a better chance of catching the Leader with its pants down. We let them run, both Hawk and Xiang get gold that could have easily been ours." The human states, figuring that appealing to greed worked better than logic in this case.
"Oh and I would make even bet that the approach on the ground is trapped Rhavenna, keep an eye out for it.
Actions would be scanning the area for dangers, and trying to figure out more of the terrain before actually devoting to something. Though without anything else catching his attention he would begin moving toward the back of the castle/ruin.
A low growl starts in Maiathreen's chest as his pupils contract to thin slits but he says nothing to refute Wallace's words. He turns from the cleric and looks towards the ruin.
:Are you ready blade?:
When Maiathreen is in combat or soon to be his Red dragon blood becomes the more dominant so he becomes more blood thirsty and cruel. At other times the gold and red war leaving him in a state of fluctuation where he has to contain that budding anger.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Livain felt relatively calm knowing Maiathreen reflected the same rage. Gods help the pathetic souls that Livain and Maiathreen have come to seek vengeance on. Ice and fire are harsh by nature, so were the pair when provoked. She could feel the cold stinging her veins as her eyes took in the sight of the ruins. The smell made her nose wrinkle for a moment and she let out a silent hiss as if to curse the rank odor. She felt herself becoming more animalistic.
The elf side of her was stepping aside and the dragon was fully present. Her eyes became cold and calculating, scoping out for any signs of life. She was ready to strike when given the order. Livain clutches her longbow, Ellura in her hand. Her ivory nails trace the intricate pattern carved into the wood. She mindlessly formed frost on her bow as her icy rage coursed through her.
"Gold is a key to many-a door of mortal knowledge, which is in turn a lesser key to ascendancy." The human states a in low semi-religious tone. Though those experienced with Wallace would also know it was a similar tone he used when charming barmaids, Shopkeeps, female guards, nuns... anything that needed charming really.
"I'd also argue that any mercenary who doesn't have gold in mind, either as a primary goal or a means to an end is in the wrong profession. Farmers don't risk being horribly killed nearly as much as we do." The human states as he rolls a shoulder and checks gear for damage, finding none he examines the terrain for more hints.
Your conversation is interrupted by the shrill cry of Xiang Yu's horn. A relic from his country that was used, more often than not, to announce a challenge or right to challenge an opponent. The reaction from the fort was that of the deep howls of several wolves which quickly filled the forests.
Of the six paths, each looks fairly rough despite their worn appearance. This young forest was quite untamed and roots and branchesran rampant across the worn paths. If there is any traps within there they are to difficult to make out.
After the third horn call you finally see movement from the fort as a huge large wolf and its hobgoblin rider emerge into the light of day. The goblin waved a wicked blade over its head in an angry fashion, looking over its shoulder and back into the ruins as if trying to rouse something behind it.
Hawkwood wasright not to confront them in the dark as Hobgoblin's were fierce enough warriors and night would have only given them an advantage...
They finally descend the battered ramp leading up to the fort and are quickly followed by over a dozen more hobgoblins with monstrously sized wolf mounts as well.
You can hear the thundering hooves of Xiang Yu's group as they jockey for positions some distance away. Its followed by the fourth and final horn blast, which makes all of the goblinoids and their wolves mill apbout as though they were in pain.
With your goggles on you can see that the wolves reek of the touch of aberration, despite their outer appearace being normal, its a farce. Their mounts appear to be completely hairless, with several tentacles that are whipping at the air in annoyance at the sound of the shrill horn cry. They also have no eyes either, just empty sockets that appearto have scarred over...
K-Planes check please
Final posts for preparation up to you. ;)
Wallace nods "They will likely flee if they realize they are outmatched, aim for their mounts and cripple their escape. I have a feeling that they are just as dangerous if not more so than the warriors who ride them." The human states, his words with an even mete of someone who is understating. "We should concentrate our efforts on one foe at a time and ensure they are down. If Rhavenna does not object I can jump on a one of her packs and inspire any allies near us. I also have a spell of defense and one to make the user more imposing. They would work well used on you Rhavenna and would likely last til the end of this fight."
Unfortunately being a low level caster with mediocre combat stats wallace can't bring much to this fight. Fortunately he knows a person that could serve as a MIGHTY STEED! well if said steed were carrying you like one does a sack of potatoes, and if one happened to have a horse body grated to them that is.
----And now for more explanation.
His domain gives him an At will SLA (Lore Keeper) to learn about what he touches, and is how I plan for him to cope with this issue.
I'd also be very interested in obtaining a superior version of it at some point. Potentially by sacrificing the domains L8 ability.
the flavor of the ability in combination with Wallace's god makes me smile.
Peeking through hidden windows of the universe to learn about something in another place, another time.
Given time I'll likely have him branch out some and grab some basic knowledge ranks just to be able to make the check but I'd say in most cases Wallace will end up needing to rely on either his teammates or his domain ability.
Now as a player I'm fairly sure I know whats at work but we shall have to see once Wallace gets close enough to find out.
Seeing the goblinoids appear a smile stretches across Maiathreen's lips. He draws Soul Taker and prepares a speaks the words to a spell his voice a rumbling growl as he speaks in draconic.
A shimmering force appears around his body and fades away as the spell takes hold.
The Wolf-riders ride towards the path farthest of your position, angry growls and howls easily alerting Xiang Yu that the enemy was coming. When you heard the sound of thumping hooves die completely down you could only imagine what awaited the goblinoids as they road into the ambush.
12d20 + 8 ⇒ (16, 1, 1, 4, 13, 11, 11, 3, 19, 2, 11, 2) + 8 = 102
Perception check to beat DC 21, roll stealth checks as you want to...
A metallic glint can be seen up in the battered towers of the old fort, if you didn't have a clear sky you are sure you'd have never seen the tower guards...
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12
Wallace shrugs "Now's the time then. Move quick as you can and cut them off from the fort!" With a ill muttering the cleric casts a spell and Rhavenna blurs slightly as if viewed through old glass. Random bursts of odd color dotting the effect.
Stealth: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
He then proceeds to step on an old dry root and gives a muted curse.
Rhavenna is now under the effects of Shield of Faith. +2 deflection bonus to AC for the next 3 minutes.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Livain casts her own spell makin her arrows hit harder and heavier. A glint in her red eyes shows her enthusiasm for the coming hunt. With a quick flap of her wings she is skyborn landing in the upper branches of the trees.
Casting gravity bow and moving to the tree tops hoping for a better view.
Wallace was the first to be spotted by the rear runners,the four hobgoblin riders lean back and reign their large wolf companions around before charging towards Rhavenna and Wallace!
8d20 ⇒ (9, 19, 2, 15, 7, 18, 10, 1) = 81
Ini as followed
Livain YOUR UP!