Aramis stops immediately, and tries her best to be quiet, while Barhador scouts ahead.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Lirosa and Taidel nod at Barhador's instructions.
"Don't worry ..." Lirosa says.
" ... We've been hunting here for months," Taidel adds.
"We'll help keep everyone safe," his sister finishes.
Still they look nervous.
"But the woods are probably safer than south ..."
" ... Both from Hobgoblins and Molthunis!" they worry.
--
Mithrielye nods, seemingly in a daze.
"I just can't believe Father's gone. We should still have had decades at least, and now ... he's dead!" she sobs.
Sniffling, she gazes at Barhador in bafflement at the mention of Aubrin.
"But she was a Chernarsado Ranger, wasn't she? And a cleric? I'm just a farmer! How am I supposed to help her?" her voice takes on a bitter twist at the end before it cracks in another sob.
--
Arryn doesn't see any obvious signs of others in the area. If they're hiding in wait, they're hiding really well.
Eventually descending into the gully, you see the body has been brutalized, and its face is almost unrecognizable beneath the bruises and wounds. Despite that, Arryn is pretty sure this was Gilida Dravonich, a trapper and part-time resident of Phaendar.
The wounds on the body came from the same sort of weapons the hobgoblins use. You also notice a broken black fingernail, like a hobgoblin’s, in one of the injuries.
While the injures were clearly fatal, none are decidedly lethal blows. Instead the wounds were shallow and carefully placed to cause pain and a slow death.
As Barhador creeps forward, he comes to the edge of a clearing where the roots of an ancient oak tree crisscross the ground like the tentacles of some subterranean beast. A shadow beneath the tree marks the mouth of a den dug deep into the soft earth. A tuft of pale gray fur clings to the edge of the hole, and a musky animal stink lingers in the air.
A squat humanoid that seems to be nearly all head -- an unfortunate circumstance, considering how ugly its puffy blue face is -- has dragged a wolf pup out of the den by its scruff, lashing the whining creature with a willow branch. Five other humanoids keep what must be the furious wolf mother at bay with tiny torches.
The blue creatures are mites, a pathetic, yet evil, type of fey.
Arryn pulls the black hobgoblin fingernail out of the wound and flings it away in disgust. As gently as he can, he searches the body for useful supplies/weapons before returning to Dregg.
”Nothing we can do for her.”
What kind of head count can they get across the river? Are we talking dozens of hobgoblins, hundreds, thousands...? Also, is the stone tower still there? Any signs they’re building bridges, or any tracks that indicate hobgoblins have come out on this side of the river?
"I agree that we would be safer in the woods, but these villagers need a village. Unless you know of another nearby that is safer, I'm guessing they will feel safer in Molthune. I don't want to tell you to be responsible for them for the rest of their lives. If we don't make it back, get them somewhere they can feel safe and settle down. Not like I'll be arguing with you about your choices."
----------------------
Barhador looks uncertain, hesitant, but he reaches out and tries to provide a comforting touch. "At the end of the day, Mith, everyone here has lost everyTHING they care about or were attached to. Those handling it the best seem to be the ones focusing on other people that are here. Lirosa and Taidel and Ellel and Terey seem to be doing better than most, because they have each other. If you can focus on helping Aubrin focus on others, I think this will get a little easier for you. If you can get her to focus on everybody around her, I think that will help her. Who knows? She might even get Farrow to stop making demands." He tries a little smile after that last, looking to see if anything actually helped, or not. Fearing not.
-------------------------
Based on what he sees, Barhador is confident they aren't, yet, aware of him. He adjusts back to break the potential line of sight to the mites before turning back to the others. He holds up his right hand, with all 4 fingers and thumb splayed out, then he turns it parallel to the ground, and moves it down low, to about waist high, before pointing back at the noise.
He remains tied to the Owl aspect, in order to try to snipe better.
Then he clearly readies his bow, and scoots back up to a sniping position. He aims at one of the mites keeping the older wolf at bay, hoping to get it to engage them in order to keep the situation less threatening . . ..
---------------------------
No, I didn't look at them by roll purpose. I went through the post history and pulled out the D20 die rolls, added them to a list, and then did the math.
But 4 out of his last 6 rolls have all been good rolls. I was expecting a far worse Stealth post snipe than I got. A net of -9 (45%) is a pretty big penalty.
Dregg shakes his head, offering a simple word of agreement, "Nope." He works his jaw for a moment before turning and spitting to the ground beside him. "Bad way to go. Did you know her?"
Clover goes along with Barahor. She also heard the sound.
While she might not be very comfortable with wolves, the cruelty of the scene is terrible. Following the elf's lead on what to do, she takes out her sling and drops a pellet into it.
Lacking Barhador's tactical acumen, she simply stands and lets the pellet fly, aiming at the one of them torturing the pup. Afterward she simply remains upright in the open. It only occurs to her afterward, when she sees what Barhador does, that hiding again might have been a possibility.
Barhador's speech seems to do little to cheer or distract Mithrielye, who continues to sniff and rock back and forth, tears running down her cheeks.
A well-made, worn leather backpack lies near the body, apparently where it was discarded. Inside, it contains a bear trap, a climber’s kit, 4 days’ worth of rations, two waterskins, and animal skins worth 150 gp, seemingly far more than you'd expect it to be able to hold.
It's hard to get a good look at the village, but you'd guess there are dozens of hobgoblins there, as well as the stone tower and whatever it might hold. They don't seem to be doing any work yet on a bridge that you can see, but the fact that this body is here means there are probably some at least on this side of the river.
Barhador fires an arrow over the head of the mites, ducking back into the woods just in time to see Clover fire a pellet as she closes the distance between them.
They watch as the wolf rushes past the mites, toward the one holding her pup, heedless of the burn she gets from one of the little creature's torches. Her teeth rip into it and it falls unmoving to the ground, dropping the pup, which scrambles back into the hole.
The other mites split their focus, three heading after the wolf while two pulls daggers and turn their attention to Clover and Barhador, both of whom feel a sense of dread steal over them. .
M1:
M2:
M3:
M4:
M5:
W: 2
Aramis hurries after Barhador and Clover, finally getting a view of the nasty little blue things.
Feeling no pity for the evil little mites, Aramis mutters a few words arcane syllables and thrusts her hands forward, launching a magical bolt of energy at the mite that seems focused on Clover.
Dregg looks at the contents of the bag and nods as he bumps Arryn on the shoulder again. "The group can make use of all of this, the trap and the rations especially. Let's get back though. The more we split overselves up, the more chances the hobgoblins have of doing this to someone else." He gestures to the woman's broken body as he shoulders the bag.
”If see her when she cane in to sell furs, kind of like Barhador. Sort of a resident, mostly lived by themselves in the wild and came to trade. I think we danced together once in a reel. But strange...there’s something off about this backpack...it shouldn’t be able to hold this much stuff.”
He puts it all back in the backpack, confirming that it’s holding more than it should.
”We can’t go yet. Are you skilled at tracking? Can you find where the hobgoblins that crossed over came out of the river? I don’t mean to go hunting hobgoblins throughout the woods, but they may have gathered prisoners somewhere, people they caught over here. Gilida would have fought back, and been killed, but others might just have been rounded up, and made ready to be forced back to Phaendar.”
"Were they taking prisoners in town?" Dregg doesn't seem to think they would, given the state they just found the woman's body in, but he asks the question plainly and without judgement.
As Arryn answers, he sets to the task of scouring the area for tracks or trailsign.
”They were, at least, I believe they were. Anybody that fought back or tried to get out of Phaendar they attacked, but I’m pretty sure I saw people in the distance being herded. Besides, I have to believe there are prisoners, that not everybody can be dead.”
Dregg manages to find signs of three hobgoblins around the body.
Aramis: 3
Barhador: 10
Clover: 7
Antagonist: 4
Aramis' bolt smashes into one of the mites, slaying it instantly and earning the elven woman a smile of appreciation from Clover, who takes up a guard stance next to Barhador, who fires another arrow at the creature attacking him. Unfortunately, though he's able to quickly shake it off, the sense of impending doom shook him and the arrow goes flying into the woods.
The wolf savages another of the mites, as one closes in on Barhador, missing badly with its dagger as it tries to avoid Clover's spear.
M2:
M3:
M4:
W: 2
Clover keeps her spear aimed at the mite, thrusting to cover Barhador and maybe even hit the thing.
And once again the elf drops his bow as an enemy closes with him. The feathers and big eyes fade into a brown fur and horns, again, as Barhador draws his kukri and tries to slice the mite apart.
Arryn nods at Dregg and follows the half-orc as he follows the trail.
Aramis hurries a little closer to the battle, then fires a blast of magic at another one of the mites.
Aramis: 3
Barhador: 10
Clover: 7
Antagonist: 4
Aramis and Barhador slay the nearest mite before Clover even has a chance to swing at it. Across the clearing, the mites keep the wolf away from it with their tiny torches, fending off its teeth though they can't get close enough to hurt it.
Dregg and Arryn follow the tracks northward.
Aramis moves a little closer, then shoves her arm out at the nearest mite. A writhing burst of vines spring from her hand and wrap around the mite's torch. With a flick of her wrist, the vines tighten around the torch and yank, in an attempt to pull the torch from the mite's hands.
With her spear set in front of her, Clover charges the closest of the mites.
"AAAAHHH" she shouts as she does.
Letting a quick sigh out as Clover charges, Barhador lowers his horns and follows suit . . ..
Aramis: 3
Barhador: 10
Clover: 7
Antagonist: 4
Aramis pulls the torch out of one of the mite's hands as Clover and Barhador charge the other, the latter slamming into it in a violent collision that snaps its neck with an audible crack.
The remaining mite turns and pulls a dagger. It stabs at the elf, but its blade skids off its companion's body as it falls. The wolf snaps at the evil fey, but misses badly.
--
Far to the south, Arryn and Dregg continue to follow the tracks to the north.
In Sylvan, the elf cries out "We should let the pup eat your sweetmeats!" even as he attacks the remaining mite.
But his slash goes wide of the target.
Clover isn't producing much in the way of results with her spear, but compared to the previous day in Phaendar she's showing real gusto for the fight. She grits her teeth and grunts as she works the point of the weapon.
"So. You from Phaendar then?" He keeps his eyes fixed on the trail as he asks the question, unsure if the man accompanying him is up for idle conversation or not.
Arryn shakes his head, keeping his voice low so as not to attract attention. ”Tamran, originally. I made a few mistakes when I was a stupid kid, got kicked out of my family, wandered for awhile and ended up there. Would have moved on, but I met Phaistea and she helped me turn my life around. So I owe Phaendar. You?”
Aramis thrusts out her arms again, at the remaining mite, causing a new set of vines to wrap around the little beast's legs. With a flick of her wrist the vines tighten and retract, yanking hard on the mite's stubby little legs.
Dregg pauses for a second, considering the question. "Tiny little place, smaller than Phaendar if you can believe it. Mining village. Up in Hollow Hills." He resumes walking, his thick shoulders and broad back hunched to bring his face nearer to the ground and the trailsign. "Nearest town of note would be Longshadow. Best guess is bulettes got riled up in the mines. Wasn't even there when it happened. Just came back to a lot of holes and a lot of blood on the ground. Never liked Longshadow though; thought I'd have better luck in Phaendar." He thrusts his chin as the trail jags again then works his jaw back and forth before shrugging, "Not the best choice it seems." He chuckles, the sound genuinely good humored and deep in his chest even as he offers a self deprecating shake of his head.
"You helped save a load of lives, little angel. Most would probably say that squares your debt. One life in exchange for a dozen? I'm no scholar, but that simple math says they're the ones who should probably be owing you now." He turns around and arches an inquisitive eyebrow.
”Some mistakes can’t be undone with arithmetic,” Arryn mutters mostly to himself, then continues on in silence, trusting to Dregg’s tracking skills, since his own are embarrassingly weak.
Aramis trips the mite -- unfortunately felling it just as Barhador went to stab it, causing the elf's slash to pass over it. The wolf proves quick to pounce, however, and it rips out the little fey's throats.
It looks up and growls menacingly at you, bloody teeth bared.
--
Southward, Arryn and Dregg continue to follow the tracks.
"Easy, girl!" Aramis urges it. "We'll leave you and your pups be, if you leave us.... Easy..."
Suddenly Clover recalls the painful wolf bite from the day before. She backs slowly away from the wolf.
Barhador also backs off and, as his face takes off a more lupine cast, starts growling at the wolf.
Unfortunately, neither his nor Aramis' attempts seems to penetrate the animal's anger and it takes up a guard stance in front of the den.
Waving the others back, slowly, Barhador retreats to the new corpse furthest from the mother wolf (and cub(s)), stopping only to cut off a hunk of meat from the thing's arm or leg, before tossing it towards (but not at) the mama wolf and continuing to back away.
Aramis follows Barhador's lead, backing away from the clearing and leaving the wolf to tend to her cubs.
Arryn and Fulgun continue following the tracks north, as Barhador, Aramis and Clover make their way out of the clearing and continue heading north, traveling a couple more hours until they reach Gristledown.
Unfortunately, as they approach, a pillar of smoke gives them faint hope for the logging camp and their arrival shows it is indeed no more. Only two charred walls of the longhouse survive with a half-dozen bloody, flayed skins attached to them.
"Let's not make the trip a waste. Let's scan for hostiles and then go see if there's anything to scavange." His form flows again, staying feathered, but with smaller eyes and nose, and mostly brown coloration.
Aramis curses, then nods. "Agreed."
She follows behind Barhador, as quietly as she can, keeping an eye out for anything of use.
Clover is sickened by what she sees.
"Do you think that's what has been done to the people left in Phaendar?"
"Only reason to expect otherwise is wishing." He shudders as he replies in a far more calm and level voice than his body language suggests.
As you move closer, you notice a 10-foot patch of earth, wet and stained red.
To Barhador's eyes, the scene is even worse. The bones of four people clearly lie just below the surface of the path of earth -- and are moving every so slightly! Similarly, one of the skins seems to shiver and pull away from the wall.
It's a shredskin, a wretched undead creature created either when a humanoid is skinned alive to be preserved as a trophy.
--
Meanwhile, to the south, Arryn and Dregg realize they've closed in on their own prey -- the tracks indicating three figures moving steadily northward.
Lovely!
Arryn indicates that they should quietly move to flank the three, then he turns and promptly walks into a thorn bush.
”Shoot! Hide. I’ll be bait,” Arryn whispers.
As she takes in the scene before her, and moves to inspect the village, Aramis draws her sickle, in case and hobgoblins are still around.
Noticing the the red patch of earth Aramis clenches her jaw. She approaches closer, not realizing anything is amiss.
Dregg glances down at the clanky, overlapping plates of his lamellar and shoots Arryn a flat look. He takes one step forward, his lumbering footfalls seemingly amplifying the rattle of his armor like a ringing gong after just one step.
He stops and turns to regard the smaller man again, working his jaw back and forth before observing. "I do not think this is going to go as smoothly as we hoped." He slides his axe free and shrugs.
”I guess now we find out if you know how to use that thing,” Arryn says, making no move to draw a weapon himself.
”Uh, you do know how, don’t you?”