Understanding the need to bury the dead Lyra offers to help. "Show us where, and Olive can dig some pretty quick holes." Is the mausoleum safe now? the half-elf wonders.
"Buurrry," rumbles a solemn Olive.
Philgor goes to his room to remove his armor and stows his gear before returning to help with the dead.
Your help is much appreciated and helps ease the devastated town's woes, as you gather bodies, clean streets and help with the pyre, spending the entire day in the endeavor.
Ovir Radan leads the ceremony, and the prayers and hymns last long into the night, covering up for the many sobs and cries of despair.
Early in the morning following the funeral, after you have gotten a full night’s sleep, Terrin hails you and asks you to join him at the town’s southern gates, atop the wall walk west of the gates.
His voice is tired as he addresses you , and he doesn’t look like he’s slept for a long while.
“There’s a problem... again,” he says. “We sent guards to bring in the citizens from the houses outside the walls. The guards spotted more devils in the sky, and it’s got me worried about the outlying homesteads. The folks who live that far out are a bit better at defending themselves, but they’re used to fending off occasional orc scouts -- not hosts of devils.
“Mayor Proum has asked that you all extend your stay here until we can figure out how you -- especially Vegazi -- are involved in all of this. That said, you’ve all proved yourselves in my book. We’re short-handed, and could use all the help we can get, so I must ask you a favor for which you will be compensated. Could you round up the outlying homesteaders and convince them to come within the walls until this problem is resolved? It’s not an official order -- we haven’t seen an invading force and can’t say if the devils even care about attacking the homesteads -- but we have a duty to protect the homesteaders. If you can get these people out of harm’s way, I can find something in the armory or wrangle a dispensation from Mayor Proum to make it worth your time.”
Lisbet puts her back into the work of beginning to recover. "The inglorious side of battle..." She seems neither distraught nor excited by the work. Her handling of the dead can only be deemed reverent.
During the service, she does not sing along with Ovir's chants and hymns, rather she watches, Not like home. These lost are not looked on with envy. By Gorum's might, don't let me die where my song will be a lament! The wind pushes the smoke and ashes to the south, and yet, her cape and her braids flutter in random directions, pulled by unseen greedy hands.
During the night after Lisbet invites her fellows to revel. "Wanna pay respects to the dead? Show 'em how you honor them, show 'em we are ready for whatever may come!" Singing epics and drinking ale, Lisbet is up far too late. She encourages everyone there to share their tale of battle, of glory earned.
Groggy in the morning, Lisbet understands the request, in fact, she had a feeling it was coming. "Aye, they'd be a sight better behind these walls, but ta' be sure, we'll need some help herding their cattle close - most families won't be able to live if they don't protect some of their holds."
Shackleton proves himself a tireless worker, what he lacks in size he makes up in vigor. Rolling up his shirt-sleeves, he sets to chopping wood for the pyre, mind racing for what might have brought the fiends to a small town such as Arwyll Stead.
Shackleton observes the service in solemn silence, but his gnomish nature begins to get the better of him before long, and he begins to shuffle his feet, even muttering under his breath as the funeral hymns finally come to a close. "In Shelyn's name, that was the tune the old cow died of."
________________________________________________________
He joins Lisbet in her revels, lending a curious ear to her tales and matching her drink for drink and spinning tales of his own long into the evening before retiring, his snores echoing down the hallway. "Have you ever come across an owlbear, Miss Lisbet? Daresay you'll never encounter a more fearsome creature in all of Avistan. The Great Hooked Claw Owlbear tracked our party for six days and six nights, the haunted forest filled with the sounds of it's terrifying growl-hoots..."
_________________________________________________________
Shackleton, ever the morning person, awakes fresh faced, even taking his morning jog around the outskirts of town, although the perspiration on his brow and peculiar shade of red he turns show that last night was not without it's ill effects.
Shackleton adjusts his spectacles and scrutinizing the young man's face. "You look bloody well awful. You're no good to anyone tired. Sahanā navīnīkr̥ta, as the Irorans say. Endure and renew. You need to rest up or you won't be able to protect anybody." he says, voice laced with concern. "[b]"Besides, we'll beat those bootlickers back to wherever in blazes they come from, you've got my word on that."
cantrips - detect magic, read magic, message, jolt ()
Philgor joins the others for a few drinks the evening of the pyre but goes and gets a full night rest.
Exhaustion won't help tomorrow.
The next morning he goes through his calisthenics and training routine and then walks around the town trying to see where it can be fortified against another attack.
I have no idea what can done against creatures that can fly?
He finds Lisbet and asks her to check the quarterstaff, breast plate, the two black feather necklaces, and double axe to see if they have any magic property.
He makes his way to the south gate when hailed and listens to what Terrin has to say and agrees and then asks, "Someone from this town should go with us. Someone the homesteaders will recognize and trust. Are you going with us as a guild?"
Argus isn't much use for burying - he prefers to split rock with a boom, not dirt with a shovel. But what he can do is help with the survivors - dispensing alchemical remedies and first aid alongside the holy healers.
Then, after finally resting, he brews new extracts - and tries to think of a way to affect these fireproof monsters.
"I can but try." Lisbet whispers an incantation and then examines the items. As she handles them, they seem to come alive and try to pull out of her grasp. Working around the willfulness of the inanimate she does get some results.
"Perhaps I can be of assistance, m'dear girl?"
Lyra watches Lisbet & Shackleton, adding questions almost as much as sharing her meager knowledge of arcane workings.
The quarterstaff isn't magical , nor is the double axe, but you can recognize the breastplate as granting extra protection , while Shackleton realizes one of the feathers is a bird feather token. The others are likely feather tokens too, considering their similar appearance, but you're not sure what type. You also realize the two balls of twine are a rare magic item called a poltergeist knot.
This hopelessly knotted ball of golden twine defies any efforts to untangle it, forming new snarls out of nowhere just when it appears to be nearly unraveled.
On command, the twine unrolls and snakes out through the air toward a target within 50 feet. Unless the target succeeds at a DC 13 Reflex save to avoid the poltergeist knot, at the twine’s touch, the bindings of any containers the target is carrying (packs, pouches, sheaths, quivers, and so on) come undone and all their contents are swept up in a whirlwind, performing a madcap dance around the target’s head.
Anyone can grab an item as it spins by succeeding at a steal combat maneuver (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player’s Guide 322) against a CMD of 12. In addition, the spinning objects obstruct the target’s sight; other creatures gain concealment against attacks made by the target. The equipment moves with the victim, whirling around her head for 3 rounds before falling to the ground.
A poltergeist knot affects laces and buckles only on exterior containers—bottles in a pouch or a bag of caltrops in a backpack, for example, are swept into the whirlwind but don’t spill their contents. The poltergeist knot works on inanimate objects, but can’t open locks. A creature who isn’t carrying a significant amount of gear may be immune to the poltergeist knot’s effect, at the GM’s discretion. Once used, the knot loses its magic and becomes 50 feet of tangled, mundane twine.
"Unfortunately, I simply don't have the men to spare, which is why I need you to go in the first place. I can give you instructions and Jerem -- the guard you rescued yesterday night -- is actually a good cartrographer, and I can have him sketch you out a map," Terrin says.
Vegazi shrugs and turns to you. "I know area some. I can help show you, if you want."
Lisbet gives a morbid laugh about the poltergeist knot, "Story of my li-Oww! " as one of her own 'geists give one of her braid a sharp tug.
"Thank you Vegazi. None of know this area but with your help we should be able to avoid any trouble getting to the farmsteads."
Philgor looks around the group to see if anyone has any questions. If no one chimes in he says, "Terrin, please get the map for us. Everyone go get ready and meet back here in hour."
"The outliers will not know us from raiders. Could we get a writ, password, badge or something."
Lyra will stock up on three more quiver full of arrows if the armory can spare them.
"Of course," Terrin says. "I'll bring that back with the map. And please, if you can, I'm especially interested in talking to Grev. He's a retired soldier from Vigil who knew many members of the Arwyll family personally, including Adil and Wate. If anyone can verify the truth of Vegazi’s claim that she saved Adil from the Hell’s Fury tribe’s prison camps, it would be him. Even if you can’t get the others to come back, I'd really like to talk to him."
When you reassemble, Terrin has the map, which he lays out before you, pointing to each of the homesteads he'd like you to go to :
The Border Ranch, where the Morter family lives: Ellia and her husband, Clyde; his brother, Feb, and Ellia and Clyde's three children, two older daughters and a young boy.
Brethun Farm, which is run by Linno Brethun, an old dwarven alchemist from Vellumis who retired to the country for his health.
Vanyahara Ranch, where Pelengren Dweomerhart and Rosette Vanyahara have lived here together since they retired from their fledgling adventuring careers years ago.
Dessar Goat Ranch, where Oliver and Adelaine Dessar live with their five children ranging in age from 3 to 17 years old and a couple workers.
The Turnell Home, where Elzabet and Ort Turnell and their two children make a living by harvesting the fungi and herbs that grow around the Arwyll Stead hinterlands.
Grev's Homestead.
If we only have the morning to prep, Argus will replace his extracts and Dex mutagen, and brew a new potion of cure light wounds.
Lisbet studies the map and has a question of Terrin, "How far between these points?" She shows him from the Border ranch to the Vanyahara ranch and then Dessar to Brethun. "It may be faster to do some of this off trail. Assuming we have someone that knows the ground well enough and won't get us lost." Once the question is answered, she shows everyeon her general idea, "Start here and make a loop 'round." she illustrates the route with a wide circle over the map. "It'll keep us from doubling back, and it should be faster, barring any extra passengers we might have with us."
"Off the beaten track, eh? That's what I like to hear! Cross-country!" he says, taking in a deep breath of country air. He turns to Vegazi. "You know the way, don't you m'dear?"
Vegazi shrugs at Shackleton's question.
"Yes, I can lead. Is hard traveling, though."
"What about the river? Can we use it for to cover more distance?"
"I think the cart would slow us down and I am afraid that the roads would be watched. If Vegazi knows the terrain around her she could keep our movement concealed a little bit."
"That will take us all day, we want to warn these people as soon as possible. If we want to make good time we can send our two best rowers to the outlying steads across the banks, that should save us a lengthy detour."
"RIGHT THEN! That settles it. Miss Lyra, you and your planturtle are with me. Terrin m'boy, can you acquire us a rowboat?"
"Rrrroowboat?" the absent Olive asks. "I'll John HenrRry your Rrrowboat."
Philgor looks at the group as if they were devils themselves. Are they crazy?
Panic starts to set in."What do we know about this river?"How fast is it? How wide? How DEEP?
Beads of sweat start forming on his brow. "How big of a boat are you talking?"I can't swim in this armor. Hell, I can't swim at all!!
"I've never been that good at avoiding attention, but you're prob'ly right about the roads. I'll try to pack light."
"If we want to travel by water, I can pilot a bit." Lisbet is clearly proud of her heritage on the water. "But Philgor has a point, too: with all the devils about, what's to keep them fro attacking an exposed ship on the water where we have no room to fight them effectively?" She shrugs, and adds, "Overland'd still be the best bet."
"Two for the river's speed, two for the road," the half-elf surmises. "I think we need to stick together, as it is we have been lucky to have all of us when battling the devils so far. I'm not sure the river will save a lot of time."
Lyra's nods at Lisbet's statement and agrees on her original cross-trekking route. (& keep things moving)
"This won't do at all." the gnome frowns, tucking a hand into his pocket and conjuring a silver piece. "Heads for the river, tails overland."
Shackleton flips the coin, letting it hover above his palm for a second before snatching it from the air with a flourish.
"Overland it is! Daylight's burning, chaps. Do try to keep up." the gnome says, shouldering his pack, taking a deep lungful of morning air and making his way slowly up the trail.
Having finally made a decision, you set out on the road toward Border Ranch. The miles pass quickly as you walk, senses alert for any sign of orcs or devils, but none appears.
Around noon, you pass through a gate in a split-rail fence, into a wide, craggy pasture where cattle contentedly graze. Ahead of you, a wooden farmhouse and barn are the only sign of civilization, with three adults and three children working on various farm chores.
As you near, an older woman stops working and leans on her hoe to watch your approach, wiping the sweat from her brow.
As they travel down the road Philgor asks Vegazi, "What do you know about these homesteaders? Have you ever meet any of them?
Vegazi shakes her head.
"No. Try to avoid people. Don't think much of people like me. They're easy to avoid and means less running."
The woman blinks as none of you say anything.
"Can I help you?" she asks, a note of wariness in her voice.
"Evil has taken wing in the area. The townstead is offering sanctuary, if you'd go." Lisbet does not mince words, in fact she breathes a sigh of relief...until she feels her sword lift out of it's scabbard. She pushes it back down with a sharp *click* as whatever spirit rushes away, rippling her cloak as it goes.
Lyra also explains the death of the patrol that led us to the town and the devil attack on Arwynstead. "You've seen nothing of the kind here I presume?"
The woman listens with wide eyes as Lisbet and Lyra explain the situation, then quickly agrees to head for the safety of Arwyll Stead.
She's explaining that they've seen no evidence of any threats beyond the normal when you all notice a band of a half-dozen orcs coming over a hill 60 feet away. They begin charging as they notice you, war cries on their lips.
"Another one of your sisters?" Lyra asks only half-joking. She knocks and looses an arrow at the nearest orc. As the arrow reaches its point she looses a second.
,
,
Lisbet bellows a challenge and begins to grow into her fighting trim. She stomps off towards the raiders, fighting her cursed spirits to get her sword to the ready as she goes.
As the orcs close in she swings her heavy blade and it crushes the tusked foe hewing armor as easily as the flesh beneath.
for
Philgor turns to face the orcs and shouts, "Form a line on me and let them come to us."
"Don't worry ma'am, we'll show em what's what!" he barks, confidently, moving to his place in line. Beads of perspiration form on his brow however, as he faces down his fearsome foe.
Argus will lob an explosive bomb into to densest cluster of orcs.
Splash damage is 6 points of fire damage to all targets within 10 feet.
If 13 doesn't hit touch AC:
Philgor: 7*
Lyra: 21
Shackleton: 20
Argus: 18
Lisbet: 10
Vegazi, Antagonist: 9
Spotting the orcs, you move quickly, Philgor and Shackleton bracing for their approach as Lisbet suddenly grows to giant size.
Argus and Lyra take the fight to the orcs immediately, as does Vegazi, bomb and arrows instantly creating havoc in the arrayed forces and dropping three of the orcs before they can even get close. A fourth -- badly burned -- stops and staggers away, while the remaining two press on toward Lisbet.
The remaining orc seems uncowed, though, and his falchion ducks around Lisbet's blade, chopping into the large woman's side.
"Haha! Die, thin-skin, die! We are coming for you!" he cries in Common.
O1: 6
O3: 6 (fleeing)
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Argus looks grimly pleased with his bomb's results. Orcs and bandits...these he is equipped to handle. Burning alive is a terrible way to go, but those who live by the sword, die by...volatile semi-magical chemistry. Anyway, they started it.
He'll shoulder the big crossbow and launch a bolt toward the Orc harrying Lisbet .