"Is this the cave we have come for? Because if it is not we could bypass this one and not hazard an unnecessary fight. I hear what you said Skall, but are you sure it is something The Lord in Iron demands, or just an opportunity for combat that spurs your words?"
Skallangbiorn's grip tightens on the hilt of his weapon, and he turns his head slightly to address Thorvald.. "I find your lack of faith disturbing, Bróðir heima (*). Perhaps you spend too much time diverting you loyalty to other gods. This is why you do not see or hear Gorum's will for you." Skall turns his head back to the cave interior. "My patron has alerted me to an evil in this area. Either in the cave or nearby."
He falls to silence and awaits what his god reveals, sword at the ready.
"I do follow more than one god, and I am birthsworn to the Sons of the Ursine in the North. If battle is all we sought, we could ride straight to Whitethrone and lay waste until we ourselfs are wasted, but we are here on a specific mission as bid by King Savol. Many lives were spent just getting us across the border and not for us to enter into frivolous engagements. If a fightt erupts, pass judgement on me after you see how I fight, I won't be found lacking by The Lord in Iron."
"The Ulfen enslaved in the occupied territories may only have Gorum left to them to Worship, but my people have several gods that hear them and they still live free."
"Do not forget that the Drunken god has returned Zethyris to us and his followers are many in our group. Diversity of faiths is one of our party's strengths not a weakness."
"I do not say these words out of fear, only a wish to see our purpose fulfilled."
"I think I may have caught a glimpse of something metallic at the rear of the cave," Zethyris whispers. "I don't hear anything moving, though. Shall we prepare ourselves and then toss a torch in?"
"Oh I don't forget what Caiden Caylen performed for him, but do you think it means he is more or less focused on the drunken god?" Skallangbiorn thinks on the pendant the scout now wears. "Diversity has its merits, Thorvald, in life and weaponry. Just not in a person's devotions. As I said, a heart cannot follow two masters. You have a path, a faith, and you follow it. If Savol were to ever turn towards the acts of a craven fool, then he would no longer have my allegiance."
Skallangbiorn turns his head slightly to spot Thorvald again. "Nor would he have any of ours. But I follow him because my devotion...my arc if you will allows me to do so." Once again he turns his attention back to the cave, a soft chuckle in the air. "Our scout returns, brave Thorvald. If you can keep the rattling of your myriad worship totems still we might hear what he has to report."
At Zethryis' suggestion, Skallangbiorn stoops and gathers a small stone. "I can generate such an implement...A source of light to aid in our investigation. But I wonder..." He turns a glance to the barbarian. "What I sensed was opposed to Gorum, and mixed with flavors of hatred and fear. What say all of you? Do we investigate or seek shelter elsewhere less challenging? I think the deeper we stab into his land, the more the poison of it will fill in the gaps behind us."
"Can we postpone the philosophical debates until after that thing is dead? Fact is: Whatever lives in that cave is a predator that eats people. We are people. We need to rest for the night, soon. And wherever we put up our tents, we will have laid out a nice scent track that this monster just needs to follow when it wakes up tonight. I don't care if we kill it for Gorum - or for Zon-Kuthon - or for the memory of Aroden. But we will kill it."
Let's go get it.
Rutilux considers adding something to that, but it's clear little more need be said.
Zethyris slinks back to the edge of the cave and draws Clarise in anticipation.
Skall felt something nasty from in there. Maybe it's not as empty as we thought.
While everyone stands nearby and several argue vocally about the issue a strange event occurs that is almost missed by everyone and it is only afterwards that you realize that something happened at all.
Slowly the shadows and darkness hidden within the various sockets and crevasses about the cave slide together, pooling in the centre like a black tar that piles itself up upon itself again and again slowly condensing from a large puddle spread across the floor of the cave into tall thin mass of shadows so dark you can't see the cave behind hit. Once it reaches roughly human height the upper portion takes the rough shape of a head and torso with two glowing red eyes the only feature present. From the ground the shadow creature lifts a rusted brown weapon that was probably a great sword centuries ago hefting it with one limb while pointing at Skallagbiorn with another, the shadows rippling rapidly and almost slapping against the ground like tendrils. "I smell Iron on you. I will feast upon you and your comrades and you bones will adorn this cave."
The creature is slowly gliding out of the cave as its weapon is raised high above its head ready to cleave someone's helm in two.
Standing, or floating before you is a wraith, a terrifying spirit of hatred and evil.
Standing, or floating before you is a wraith, a terrifying spirit of hatred and evil. They are known to drain the life force of their victims and anyone who dies by them will rise as a lesser form of it.
Standing, or floating before you is a wraith, a terrifying spirit of hatred and evil. They are known to drain the life force of their victims and anyone who dies by them will rise as a lesser form of it. Wraiths don't usually carry or wield items since they're incorporeal and this sword looks solid despite the solid layer of rust coating the entire blade
Jediah concentrates and his skin grows grey and flakes of rock drop from his form
"Wraith scum," Skallangbiorn snarls. "Cowardly spirits of hatred and evil. They will drain you, then change you into their ilk."
Skall raises his sword and growls his challenge. "Come then, black whorespawn of shadow. Let me bless you..."
□■□■□■□■
➢
➢ Swift Action: Channel Positive Energy into Sword | DR Good Quality
➢ Using Ferocious Strike (+3 to Damage)
➢
➢
Oh dear, that's far worse than an angry bear... Clarise, you don't happen to have an unmentioned ghost-smiting feature, do you?
Zethyris assumes a swordsman's stance and calls out to his allies, "It seems to be some sort of wraith. Careful, everyone!"
With a diving roll, Zethyris dodges behind the creature and prepares to strike once it is distracted.
Rutilux is glad for more learned men for he could not place the ...thing, that now plagued him.
The warning about what it was, and worse, would do, sounded horrific but there's little choice in how to deal with it. Rutilux's magic flail might work best against dragons, but it may also be one of the few items that could hurt things thing for all he knew. So the cavalier will move as quickly as he can to engage and hopefully end the threat.
Or the magic might not be strong enough, but they'd find out
When Lady Anja sees the wraith picking up the rusty sword, she runs a couple of steps towards it, points her finger at the weapon and screeches.
Thorvald draws Wintersbane from the Scabbard of Vigor and swings mightily with two hands at the Wraith.
"We could use some encouragement here Skald!"
Initiative
to hit
to damage
to hit
to damage
Zethyris rushes in, diving headlong past the wraith and coming up behind it with his new blade, Clarisse, point to bury itself in the wraiths back. Julian takes a few steps back away from everyone and fades into the night. Jediah concentrates and quickly his flesh changes, hardening and shifting into rock. Skallagbiorn prays for righteous fury from his god and his blade answers him, erupting into a greyish white flame, as he steps up and delivers a vicious horizontally disembowel to the wraith. Zethyris follows this up by stabbing his own blade into the wraiths back. The wraith answers in kind by swinging its sword down in a savage slash that seems to bypass most of his armour and he can feel some of himself torn away by the attack . Anastasiya concentrates and wills a dense mass of mystical energies to coalesce hurling it at the wraiths great sword causing the weapon to fracture into millions of rusty flakes and shards of steel. Rutilux moves up to Skallagbiorn's side and swings his flail through the creatures shoulder. Thorvald let's loose his primal fury and stepping up slashes the wraith with a two handed swing with Wintersbane, a blow that would bisect a man.
The object touched takes half its maximum hp in damage and gains the broken condition—a second hit destroys the item. An attended object, any magic object, or a metal creature can attempt a DC 15 Reflex save to negate this effect.
Jediah steps up and slashes twice with Earth's Vigil
Skallangbiorn brings his blade up, stepping back a few steps (5 ft) to give room for Rutilux and Thorvald and Jediah to step up their attacks. He calls upon Gorum to shield the party in his mighty power from the vile wretch opposing his servant.
He reaches out a hand to touch Rutilux, Thorvald then Jediah... (those near him).
》Taking 5 ft step back
》Casting Protection from Evil, Communal
➢ +2 to AC for all in range / visible
➢ +2 Resistance Bonus to all Saves
》Tap some shoulders 1) Rutliux 2) Thorvald 3) Jediah
□■□■□■
This spell functions like protection from evil, except you divide the duration in 1-minute intervals among the creatures touched.
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Saving Throw Will negates (harmless); Spell Resistance no; see text
This spell wards a creature from attacks by evil creatures, from mental control, and from summoned creatures. It creates a magical barrier around the subject at a distance of 1 foot. The barrier moves with the subject and has three major effects.
First, the subject gains a +2 deflection bonus to AC and a +2 resistance bonus on saves. Both these bonuses apply against attacks made or effects created by evil creatures.
Second, the subject immediately receives another saving throw (if one was allowed to begin with) against any spells or effects that possess or exercise mental control over the creature (including enchantment [charm] effects and enchantment [compulsion] effects, such as charm person, command, and dominate person. This saving throw is made with a +2 morale bonus, using the same DC as the original effect. If successful, such effects are suppressed for the duration of this spell. The effects resume when the duration of this spell expires. While under the effects of this spell, the target is immune to any new attempts to possess or exercise mental control over the target. This spell does not expel a controlling life force (such as a ghost or spellcaster using magic ), but it does prevent them from controlling the target. This second effect only functions against spells and effects created by evil creatures or objects, subject to GM discretion.
Third, the spell prevents bodily contact by evil summoned creatures. This causes the natural weapon attacks of such creatures to fail and the creatures to recoil if such attacks require touching the warded creature. Summoned creatures that are not evil are immune to this effect. The protection against contact by summoned creatures ends if the warded creature makes an attack against or tries to force the barrier against the blocked creature. Spell resistance can allow a creature to overcome this protection and touch the warded creature.
Zethyris's blade is unable to deflect the incoming sword as it cuts across him, seeming to ignore his armor. Zethyris steels himself against the onslaught and shifts his feet to mimic the Aldori style Montulo taught him - a stance firm enough to withstand enemy blows and retaliate with strength, yet flexible enough to prevent those blows from reaching in the first place. Adrenaline rushing, he strikes back with a horizontal slice.
Anja adjusts the posture of her outstretched hand, to fire three magic missiles at the wraith.
Then, seeing the nasty blow the wraith dealt one of her foreign servants, she backs away from it.
Rutilux isn't sure what Skallinborn is doing, so he focuses on keeping his volley of blows up against the creature, though he's not sure if he even hurt the thing. Maybe he can at least help others by distracting it
"What keeps you in this place spirit?!"
Taken aback by his weapon passing through the wraith with such ease. He changes up his attack strategy. Unaware of the rusting danger the Ulfen warrior continues to unknowingly risk Wintersbane.
With a slight twang of the string, Julian launches an arrow at the wraith, wondering if it will even feel it.
Zethyris aims again and strikes true as his silvery blade pierces the wraiths body. Out of the darkness flies an arrow that pierces the wraith and flies through it. Soon after Jediah's glaive strikes out and slashes two matching arcs in its torso. Skallagbiorn steps back and calls upon his gods divine energies to shield his allies from the wraiths corruption. The wraith turns against Thorvald and even without a weapon lashes out. Its claw-like hand digs deep into Thorvald's chest pulling away some of his vital life force . Seeing the wraith attack Thorvald Anastasiya draws forth more arcane energies and fires off a trio of force bolts that tear the wraith form apart before its shadowy body begins to dematerialize with a howl of fury.
Is it dead? Or is this just another ploy? Zethyris keeps his guard up and takes a quick look around to see if there is a strange shadow anywhere. Not that I saw it the first time...
"Everyone okay? Thorvald?" Zethyris calls out while he inspects the surroundings.
Adjusts his grip so he can quickly defend the group if the undead reappears.
"Is it gone?" Anja asks warily.
Fort
reflex
"You can't kill a metal. The metal lives on. . . But my armor on the other hand . . . Is another matter. It will need some repair."
Breathing heavily he asks, "Did we destroy it? Do you feel it's presence Skall? If it is gone shall we go and get whatever that is in the cave?"
"If it reforms, this will be a poor place to camp."
"You mean that wasn't it yet?"
Littered amongst the cave are the old bones of several humans. Some appear ancient while others could be no more than a few months old. By where they fell and the conditions of their bones it looks as if most of them took refuge within the cave and were ambushed by the wraith. Most of the armour present sits near the edges or has been casually discarded. Everything metal is little more than rust but you can see several different weapons, some appeared to have be of high quality, and old Linnorm styled armours.
The cleric grins broadly within the confines of his helm. "Mighty Lord in Iron, your servant has seen victory. Glory to you, wielder of the blade..." His prayer draws forth the divine energies of his god, then sends it outward to heal Thorvald and Zethyris of there wounds.
➢ ...blammo, healing
He sheaths his sword and steps among the ruins of the cavern. Skallangbiorn considers what he knows of wraiths. "The enemy is still in this place, bound to it like the stink of a coward's sweat. It will take prayers and a ritual cleansing for which we have neither the time or preparation."
Skallangbiorn looks through some of the implements left in the cave by the ghost's dangerous proclivities. "It will not have the strength to coalesce fora long while. We can feel free to claim the beast's lair for the evening. For the time being, brother Thorvald, you have your pick of some interesting pieces of armor here..."
"And you, Zethyris," Skall turns the to the scout. "...such ferocity and skill, your ability with the blade has increased 10 fold. Well done."
Zethyris smiles as divine power flows through him, washing away the chill of the wraith's blow. "My thanks, Skallangbiorn."
He takes a look around the cave to ensure that this is the only entrance once Skallangbiorn says the wraith won't reform. "I doubt you'll find much of value here," he says, lightly kicking a rusted helmet. "I can't even be sure there still is steel under all this rust."
"And you, Zethyris," Skall turns the to the scout. "...such ferocity and skill, your ability with the blade has increased 10 fold. Well done."
Zethyris looks up from brushing his boot off, pleased with the compliment. "Well, I've been itching for a real fight for some time. Montulo taught me the ways of the Aldori Swordlords while we were investigating The Lord of Mirrors, but sparring is never quite the same as when someone is aiming to take your head off."
"Well, clearly the effectiveness of the Aldori fighting style is NOT exaggerated in the tales," Rutilux says, his own admiration clear.
Thorvald searches the cave looking for usable arms and armor, but he also hopes to find items of antiquity.
He then sits down with the deluxe repair kit that Savol had given him to see if he can save his ancient breastplate.
"The enemy is still in this place, bound to it like the stink of a coward's sweat. It will take prayers and a ritual cleansing for which we have neither the time or preparation."
With a hint of sadness Anja adds: "We did serve your lord of iron well, then: we won the fight - but we did nothing to end the fighting in this place once and for all." I wonder if this is an omen for the rest of our journey.
"You destroyed his weapon, that must count for something and we did not fail to bring the fight. I think The Lord finds himself appeased. It would be good to clear this place of the spirits presence, but our mission is elsewhere. Pitty we do not have time to send him to his final rest."
The cave provides you a safe albeit unpleasant location to rest for the rest of the night and late in the morning after everyone has a chance to rest you make ready to move on. There is still no sign of the wraith from last night and come dawn the light of the morning leaves the cave feeling more natural than the night before.
The day's ride is quite boring and uneventful as you ride through a tundra that seems to become more and more barren the farther you get from the border. By the time nightfall hits the land surrounding you is devoid of any growth, no grass or bushes and rarely can be seen a strange dead or withered looking tree with the bark peeled off of the trunk.
Crossing a rise in the landscape you can see a large town in the distance probably less than an hours ride.
You still have several hours before the sun is gone so you can look for somewhere to camp or get a look at the town.
Thorvald waited for either Ana or Rutilux to give direction, but after waiting for what felt like almost two days he spoke.
"Ana, Rutilux, do you think we should avoid the village? Or hide in plain sight? It seems someone will cut our trail and follow it to us at some point. I believe we should either make haste towards the cavern, or lead the trail into town. Going into town might throw curious patrols off not wanting to confront a witch led menagerie, or give us intel. . . Either way we must choose and act."
"I don't think we should tempt fate and risk revealing our presence here. I vote for skirting around the village, unless we think we need local assistance to find the cave."
"I trust Zethryis on matters of subtlety ..let's skirt around for now. If we get found, we can try Ana's ruse then, it will either work or it won't, so where it works or not may not matter as much. If it falls apart in a town, we'd probably face greater numbers," The cavalier suggests
It appears Anja had been lost in thought. Somewhat startled, she finally replies: "Huh? Yes, I agree. No need to visit this town. But stay in character, everybody. Just in case."
Skallangbiorn sits astride his horse and considers the options. "As much as stirring discord and misinformation in an Irrisen town would aid the war effort and please me, I agree with Zethyris as well. Without a scouting of the place, we don't know how effective our little subterfuge will prove under heavy scrutiny. We could be running into a nest of witches and spineless nobility who will see right through us." He shifts in the saddle and rests his mailed hands on the saddle's horn. "We will need to be cautious in our rangings afield. A town of this size will undoubtedly have patrols outside the walls. Perhaps the one we ran into yesterday(?) is from this place."
If all are in agreement with not entering the town, he'll begin searching out a place to make camp for the evening. Preferably one that puts a rise in the land between themselves and the town.
...search for a campsite
As he searches for a viable location, he'll set about searching for tracks and other indications of patrols (lines of horses tracks, footprints as though men marching in a rough formation etc.)
...search for evidence of patrols
Less than an hour after turning your horses aside and choosing to give the town a wide berth you can see silhouetted against the horizon a line of soldiers, maybe two dozen strong, marching towards the town from the east. The procession is led by two men on horseback, a thin man in heavy robes and a muscular man almost as big as Savol, who appear to be arguing but you're much to far away to hear anything.
The next four days and nights consist of riding and skulking about avoiding patrols and habitation until you finally reach the rough area the notes talked about.
Spread before you is a large range of broken ground covered in rocky hills and gullies for at least two leagues up to the foothills of the mountains. From your vantage point you can see a dozen openings or shadows that could easily be caves within a few hundred feet of you and you can't shake the feeling that there are eyes upon you, countless eyes watching your every moves.
You're reminded of something from your childhood, during a family outing to inspect some distant holdings you remember the locals call this area 'Warren Rock', it had been so long ago that it had slipped from your memories. If you recall correctly the locals named it that because this range used to be home to a large population of "Little White Biters" which were probably goblins or something similar that were wiped out by the Jagwidga almost a century ago.
For the past two nights you've been troubled by odd dreams. You don't remember much when you wake up aside from scattered and fragmented images of a samurai in deep green and yellow armour and ashigaru (armoured foot soldiers) battling Skald barbarians at the foot of a mountain that looks disturbingly similar to the ones south of this range.
"I remember this place. Those hills are called Warren Rock. The creatures who lived here were called Little White Biters. They were a pest, a bit like Goblins I think. But they were wiped out by my family, a hundred years or so ago. Tread carefully, nevertheless. Lest these hills are now infested with angry little undead spirits."
Rutilux looks about curiously as Ana explains the history. He nods at her words, but frankly the feeling of all those eyes is quite unnerving.