Pems, his sword bared, moves to attack the creature!
Round 2, Init 5
AC = 16
HP = 14/14
Weapon Equipped = Falchion
Condition(s) = Irritated by the slowed movement
Pemsworth has the blood of a terrier, trying to pursue an irritated rat. Not intimidated easily. Good for you, locksmith.
Tsin keeps her pacing, and maintain her flanking with Hektir, to repay him for the previous tactic. Either emboldened by the party's numbers, or fearful that the creature will find the strength to abscond with Malavarius, Tsin remembers her strength this time. Her aggression only denies her the accuracy to commit greater damage.
"Aaahhh! Aaahhh! Off with you! You'll not have a meal at our expense today!!"
Round 2, Init 6
Hektir keeps pace and tries to keep in flank.
Good going, Tsin. Maybe you're not just a butcher after all. Maybe so much more.
Hektir slashes with his scimitar.
to hit;
damage.
Edit, pot crit:
to hit;
additional damage.
Malavarius: 21
Pemsworth: 19
Quinn: 18
Antagonist: 12
Hektir: 6
Tsin: 5
Pem rushes toward the creatue, but the snow proves too deep -- almost over his head -- for him to get to the scrum. Quinn follows behind him, and though he outpaces the halfling, it's all he can do to catch the creature, moving in front of it.
The creature -- already badly injured by Tsin's blade -- snarls, and abandoning the wizard, leaps on Quinn instead, clawing and biting at the cleric.
Before it can do any further damage, though, Tsin and Hektir catch up to it, forcing their way through the snow, and kill the creature with a pair of efficient, bloody sword strokes.
Grab:
Pemsworth, deeper in snow than any halfling ought to be, uses his sword as a shovel to dig through, barely making it to the wounded Quinn. He roughly shoves his sword into his scabbard and begins first aid on the cleric, trying once more to staunch the flow of blood of a colleague.
Hektir curses and helps Pems drag Quinn's near lifeless body away from the beast.
You're not dying yet. You don't get to die near me so I feel bad about it.
Hektir will aid Pems ministrations, stuff snow to ease any swelling and helping staunch the flow of blood.
Heal check
"Dammit! We can't continue on like this. We need him up. It's dangerous out here and we can't carry him and protect ourselves."
Hektir gets up and starts kicking snow flurries in anger for several moments before composing himself enough to talk.
"Might as well make camp. It'll be a while before we're moving again."
Hektir will roam back to where the beast was hiding, looking for a lair or treasure trove.
Tsin scowls in frustration. "I can relate, Hektir. This trek is turning out to be a tiring swim, with no distant shore in sight."
She looks over the reptilian corpse. "I've heard of small lizards that can regenerate a limb should they lose it." Her falchion descends swiftly, severing the creature's head from its body. Her frustration eases momentarily.
Looking from Quinn's resting place, Tsin turns back to the tracker. "Don't roam too far. May be, it has a mate." Tsin picks up her step to walk astride Hektir, in his search.
"A dinner I once attended in Oppara served alligator meat. What do you think? Feeling adventurous?" Tsin looks over the creature's torso, and produces a carving knife. She proceeds to peel away skin, and search for muscle that may translate to proteins the party desperately needs.
Malavarius groans in the crimson stained snow as Zeno pecks furiously on the unconscious man's forehead.
Hektir nods at Tsin and Tsin's suggestion of good meat for the campfire.
I guess the butcher would know how to butcher, eh?
"Definitely...let's eat this sucker. Not like it's poisonous or anything and it's new too. Never fought one of these before. Never even seen it before," Hektir rubs his hands together in anticipation.
"Since we're going to be stuck here until tomorrow anyway, might as well make the best of it." Hektir starts gathering wood again for a campfire.
"There's not you haven't seen in these woods, with all the stories with which you lavish us in the Stoat. It concerns me that there should be strange creatures finding their way here." Tsin picks the flesh from the bone. Likely, it'll taste like pheasant.
"Do you think Mr. King will know of its origin?" Tsin places the head a distance away for Malavarius to see when he stirs from unconsciousness. Can't strain his heart too much, leaving it close by.
You can't find anything that resembles a lair nearby, nor any trail through the snow. It's falling at a rate that it's obscuring any small tracks, though fortunately the group that attacked Lady Argentea's carriage left a deep enough trail that it's still standing out from the other heavy drifts.
Quinn sprawls unconscious in the snow.
After three hours of napping, Quinn groggily opens his eyes. "Again? Jeez! How's Mal? Mal, you near me?" Quinn rolls over enough to see the old man bundled in the snow near him. "Everyone else ok? Gather round, there's something I need to do here."
"Right, I best save those last few in case we need them later." Slowly, gingerly, Quinn pulls himself up from the snow and resets his pack, ready to follow the trail again.
Tsin takes the firewood gathered by Hektir, and sets to work on both fire and cooking.
She tries as best she can to kebab the useful bits of meat from the loathsome reptilian creature. When the food becomes ready, she parses it out hot. "Should have burned out any parasites. Go on. What are you waiting for? It's best when the heat keeps it tender."
Malavarius sits bolt upright once Quinn's healing energies wash over him.
"I say, laying prostrate in the snow is no way to go on adventuring. Zeno, was this your idea? How do you keep tricking me into these befuddling naps-" He holds his hand up to his head then, fighting off a brief wave of dizziness.
"Twice dead, you say? My my, that just simply won't do. And why aren't you warning me of these terrible things, Zeno? Eh? Eh?! That's right! You're just as ill-suited. Ha!"
As Zeno puffs indignantly, Malavarius turns his attention to the group. "Well, thank you all again for saving the life of old man." He smiles and waves his hand over his soggy clothes, leaving them perfectly dry. "Now, what was it this time that nearly did me in, hmmm?"
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Take 20 Survival to start fire (w/Flint & Steel) = 28.
Hektir builds a nice warm fire.
* * *
Hektir bites into the searing meat offered by Tsin, a bit of meat juice running down his chin when he finally notices Quinn's stirring.
About time he woke up. He's always been a sound sleeper.
"C'mon Quinn...rise and shine! It's time for lunch," Hektir offers the man a bit of meat and/or water to help him greet the day. "I thought we lost you there for a while."
Hektir is somewhat pleased as the Old Man, aka the walking meat shield, revives.
Tough old bird, ain't he?
"How are you feeling there, Malavarius? You know, no one will think twice if you wanted to return to town. No need to continue to put yourself in danger like this...especially when you're so unprotected."
Hektir offers the man a kabob.
"Here, taste this. It's what tried to eat you. I call it 'meat lizard'."
Moving on again after your forced rest, the early afternoon remains bitter, with Pemsworth quickly feeling the cold's effects.
Still, it doesn't seem to get worse as another hour of trudging through the heavy snow passes and you come upon a bizarre scene.
Feathered bundles and strange fetishes hang from the lowest branches of the trees in this part of the forest, swaying and shifting in the wind. All are stuck through with small pins holding pieces of leather bound around them.
There seems to be a small winged humanoid hiding in the trees near the trail.
Pemsworth:
Tsin:
Pemsworth:
Tsin:
Quinn gladly takes the offered bit of cooked beastie and chews it contemplatively. "Not bad, not bad, I've had plenty worse on the road. Not something I'd eat all the time, but throw it on Tsin's butcher block and I suspect she finds some fine cuts of meat hiding in there."
and the quest continues...
Quinn scowls at the motley fetish tree. "I don't remember seeing anything like that around these parts."
"Oh! Oh my! You cooked it for dinner did you? Splendid, I say, quite splendid. But no, I'll not be returning to town, young man. I'm very old after all, I can't just sit around waiting for things to happen. Vim! Vigor! Best they be used while we have them, wouldn't you say?" After eating and listening to a description of the beast as well as examining its head, Malavarius taps his index finger against his lips for a few moments in thought. "Mmmm, yes... yes. I believe this was a tatzlwyrm. Never heard of white ones before, however. Most troubling. Lopping off its head was a grand idea though, most beasties have great difficulty recovering from such a trauma don't you know."
Malavarius turns his attention to Zeno, "Oh stop it you! You were worried!"
The bird puffs his chest feathers indignantly.
"Oh fine, fine. Have it your way then, you grumpy goose! You know, I wonder though, do you suppose these people here realize how horrible this tatzlwyrm tastes? Putrid! Downright torturous! You wouldn't happen to like a bit, would you?"
Malavarius laughs heartily as Zeno blinks a few times before flitting over to land on Quinn's shoulder.
"I say, what new absurd disturbance is this?"
Cantrips Prepared (3): light, prestidigitation, read magic
Level 1 Prepared (3+2+1): floating disk [ ], mount [ ], protection from evil [ ], shield* [ ], snapdragon fireworks [ ] [ ]
Protective Ward used: 0/8
Zeno detect magic used: 0/1
Hektir draws his scimitar before entering the field of fetishes.
Perception
"What the heck? What are these?"
"N-n-n-no idea. L-l-l-looks like some sort of weird doll place." Pem's chattering teeth almost obscure his words.
A slow smile grows on Tsin's face as she watches the others chew. She nods intently as she realizes that Malavarius is speaking bits of knowledge around the flecks of meat. "A tatzlwyrm you say? Where there's one, are there others?" Tsin asks the question while setting her gaze at the edge of the fire.
---
Tsin raises her falchion towards the hanging targets, and lets her blade dance around them, getting close, but never touching them. It breaks up the monotony of the trudging, and takes her mind off the burning in her hips. "Someone hung these? Is it marking territory?"
Nothing seems to happen as Tsin's blade near the strange fetishes.
As you get closer, though, the fetishes all appear to actually be dead crows pierced with tiny arrows.
Know (Nature)
"Are these crows?" Hektir asks, cutting one down.
"Dead crows shot through by teeny little arrows by the looks of it. Ha ha! See that, Zeno! You'd best be on your guard, you... you.... oh bother, I lost it again. Bah, I'm sure it will come to me later. Now, what's all this talk of crows and tiny arrows?"
Tatzlwyrms are thought to be primeval relatives of true dragons, having branched off the line millennia ago and evolved in a way that sets them notably apart. Undersized compared to their larger cousins, tatzlwyrms are nonetheless ferocious in their own right. And while tatzlwyrms are hardly impressive specimens when put beside their notorious relatives, most other reptiles can't compare to them mentally. They understand Draconic, though other languages are beyond most tatzlwyrms' limited comprehension. Nevertheless, tatzlwyrms are deeply cunning, building complex lairs and rudimentary traps.
Tatzlwyrms are quite rare, and only a few particularly curious and lucky adventurers can claim to have seen a living specimen. Reports do agree on some basic features, however. About the size of a full-grown human, tatzlwyrms have only two limbs and no wings, and possess a weak poisonous breath similar to the breath weapons of their true dragon relatives. An adult tatzlwyrm is 6 to 8 feet long, including its winding, organless tail, and it weighs between 400 and 500 pounds. A tatzlwyrm's scales give the creature limited camouflage, ranging through various shades of green, brown, and gray.
Like true dragons, tatzlwyrms are strict carnivores. They spend most of their time hiding, waiting to attack any prey that ventures too near. They consume their food slowly in the dark security and seclusion of their lairs. Tatzlwyrms have a remarkable knack for ambush and camouflage.
"Take a look and see if that thing is frozen solid, or just on the surface?" Quinn encourages Hektir. "I wonder if this crow canopy was here before the strange winter, or did its creator arrive along with the snow?"
Tsin's question shakes Malavarius out of his conversation with Zeno and the man's shining blue eyes meet hers. "Hm? What's that? More than one? Why, I would think most assuredly there are more. It'd be a bit tragic if we'd just killed the last one, wouldn't you think? Ah, but you mean to ask if they are solitary creatures or social ones. No, tatzlwyrms are like their more legendary cousins, the prefer isolation. It'd be a rare thing if we ever see another one for the rest of our lives, I should think. Quite remarkable we even stumbled on to this one. Quite remarkable indeed."
"This little effigies have no magical purpose knit into them that I can think of. How odd."
Hektir will proceed, cutting down any of the fetishes that cross the trail, his shield is ready.
"Keep on alert. This ain't right."
Pemsworth slowly draws his sling and loads it, keeping his eyes open for the owner/responsible party for the dead crow garden.
Surprise
As you move closer to the crow corpses, Hektir, Malavarius and Quinn are suddenly hit with what feel like frozen needles! The wounds themselves don't hurt badly but you're filled with a wicked chill that emanates from the injury.
Thought it's tough to see them at first, you can spot three archers in the trees -- lithe, diminutive humanoids with wispy, mothlike wings and long, thin ears. Their skin has a sickly bluish cast marked with spidery white veins like hoarfrost on glass
They look like some sort of sprite.
They seem to be winter touched, a special breed of fey immune to the harsh weather and low temperatures of the frozen north.
Stealth:
Stealth:
Stealth:
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Antagonist:
Pemsworth slowly replaces his regular bullet with one of the cold iron variety. He calls out to the little things. "Hey there! We're sorry to be bothering you, as my old dad would say, but we're following some big folk who kidnapped a lady. I don't suppose you could tell us anything about that, and then we'll be off, no harm meant to you?"
Tsin chunks her falchion into a small snowbank, and draws her new crossbow. She then positions herself with as much cover as she can acquire.
"Hold your fire! We are merely passing through. Continue your attack, and we'll be forced to defend ourselves!" She tries to balance the crossbow as best she can, but does not fire it. She is relieved when Pemsworth speaks up.
"What the devil?!" Malavarius raises his staff and a soft, golden light blossoms from the head, radiating out and down like a slow falling sheet of water.
Cantrips Prepared (3): light, prestidigitation, read magic
Level 1 Prepared (3+2+1): floating disk [ ], mount [ ], protection from evil [ ], shield* [ ], snapdragon fireworks [ ] [ ]
Protective Ward used: 1/8
Zeno detect magic used: 0/1
Fort Save
Know(Nature)
"Icy cold Fey. Remember the warning from the guard about how to defeat them!" Hektir hisses.
Quinn's eyes cross as the needle jabs him, "OOWWW, what's that for then?" Spying the creatures in the trees, Quinn calls up to them along with the others. "Ho there, little sprites, we mean you no harm, come have a chat with us."
Quinn: 23
Malavarius: 19
Tsin: 18
Pemsworth: 13
Antagonist: 11
Hektir: 9
Mal creates his protective ward around the group as the others try to reason with your attackers.
The fey seem disinclined to listen, though, and fire more arrows, ducking behind trees again afterward. They target Mal and Hektir again, the latter being hit in the neck, while Pemsworth is also hit.
Most of you easily track their movements behind the tree, though Tsin loses track of all but the easternmost of the creatures.
Confirm?
Stealth:
Stealth:
Stealth:
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Round 2
"Confound it all, that hurts you frosty little spriggans!"
Malavarius traces concentric circles in the air with the head of his staff, each one smaller than the one before. As he finishes, a bright flash of light which looks remarkably like Zeno with his tail afire, bursts from the head of the staff and zips erratically through the air before exploding in the square of the nearest sprite.
"Little buggers, let's see if you like the crow treatment!" Quinn draws his light crossbow and loads it.
Round 2, Init 18
AC = 17
HP = 14/14
Weapon Equipped = Light Crossbow, Standard Bolts
Condition(s) = Protective Ward, +1 Deflection Bonus to AC
The second volley is all the confirmation that Tsin needs, especially after seeing Hektir get skewered. "Alright, winged ones."
She draws and loads the crossbow, grumbling about attacks at a distance, and cowardice. She almost drops the bolt when she observes Malavarius conjure flame. That. That was much needed. Looks like you've brought something special after all. Well, something special, other than Zeno.
Round 1, Init Last
Hektir curses as another arrow pierces his flesh.
Fort Save
"Dang that's cold! Stupid fey, stop shooting!"
Hektir sheathes his scimitar, draws his sling...already thinking about sending a cold iron bullet through their heads.
"Ah! So much for diplomacy..." Pem mutters and sends a cold iron bullet at the fey who shot him!
Hektir
Quinn
Malavarius
Tsin
Pemsworth
Antagonist
As Hektir, Quinn and Tsin grab their weapons, Pemsworth lets a bullet fly, though the shot goes far wide of the small creatures.
Malavarius' aim proves to be more true, his blast catching one of the tiny fey, causing it to shout in pain: "Fire! Fire! Flee!"
Wasting no more time, the three sprites fly away from you, back toward the northwest, the direction the trail leads.
Pemsworth goes searching for his lost bullet , then returns to the party. "What are wintery fey doing in this part of the land, at this time of year?"
"Quite the question there, young master Smith. What are these snowy miscreants doing in our quiet little corner of Taldor, hmmm? Are they the cause of all this snow or are they displaced with it? Questions, questions, questions..." The rest of Malavarius' words are lost as he mumbles in his beard, staring after the fleeing fey.
Round 2, Init Last
Hektir loads his sling with a cold iron bullet and follows the path, alert for the fey.
"C'mon out you little flying ice rats!" Hektir's gaze flickers to Tsin. "Rats! They are rats!"
Hektir twirls his sling as he walks, ready to shoot should they come back.
Perception
"C'mere you little buggers!"
Hektir ignores the multiple arrows sticking out of him.
Tsin wrenches her falchion free of the snow-covered log, then sheathes it. She returns to the light crossbow, and watches Hektir run after the fey.
"Hektir, wait for our firestarter! He was most effective just now, and I would have him close by to weave his flame if they return." Tsin walks up to look over Malavarius' shoulder. She grows distracted as she tries to sort through his mumble for pertinent information.
"Malavarius, what kind of fey are they? Are their intentions as cold as their weapons?"
There's no response beyond more falling snow to Hektir's demands.
The trail continues, the forest becoming cold and colder as you continue onward, cutting more deeply into both Pem and, despite her winter garb, Tsin.
Pemsworth:
Tsin:
Pemsworth:
Tsin:
GM tracking note: It's now about 4 p.m.
"Hmmm? What's that now? Kind fey? No, I don't think they're kind fey at all. Not one bit in fact. And you know, I don't think I have any memory of ever seeing such a thing as those little frosty imps. Curious times, we're in. Curious times."
Zeno offers proudly as he comes to rest on Tsin's shoulder.
"Eh? Sprites? Never heard of 'em before. He's probably making it up to impress you."
"Oh? Bet your tail feathers would you? Hmmm. Well that settles it then doesn't it? Ha ha! Sprites!"
Hektir moves along, sling in hand, still looking for the cold fey, but eventually begins to look for a place to camp.
Survival