The creature, its eyes glowing purple seems to concentrate its mind on the bloodied half-elf, sensing a meal to sate its appetite. Lillia senses that her power over the beast will only last as long as she concentrates her mind. Targ and Latharel seem to be more intent on positioning themselves for the next slash at the beast, whilst Crar runs away in fear.
Bedmyr struggles to find his axe, but does eventually pick it up and readies himself for action, though his attention is taken by Crar as he runs off. Hmmm, what's up with that boy.
Nester calls "Can someone help me calm these ponies?"
Creature at -2AC for rounds, 3 and 4, made will save.
Round 3 - Map
The beast sensing its power, driven by its hunger, moves towards the injured Latharel and pounces up at his face, its hot and rotten breath fills Latharel's nostrils with its foul odour. Instinctively his face jerks to the right as the jaws slam shut, instead of a fatal injury, the cat only sinks its teeth into Latharel's shoulder. As the cat, falls back down to the gore splattered earth, its sharp and fiercesome claws attempt to tear into Latharel's flesh, but his armour holds firm.
@Latharel 2 HPs damage
You are all up
Will Save 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
Bite 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17 damage 1d6 ⇒ 2
Claw 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13 damage 1d4 ⇒ 1
Claw 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12 damage 1d4 ⇒ 2
|Latharel the Lost|
Latharel swings his curved blade. He is bleeding from multiple bites from the beast. He regards himself lucky that it seems not to have hit any truly vital spots.
He hopes Targ managed to draw some first blood of the beast - or at least distracted it well enough for giving him a good opportunity.
Attack Curved Blade 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 5 + 2 = 23 Damage 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
"Pay foul beast for daring to attack me. I'm not a simple meal for you."
With these words Latharel brings down his curved blade with all the strength he can muster and tries to sink it deep into the side of the creature.
Targ's wakizashi slices into the hind legs of the black cat, it screams in agony and turns its head round to see where the threat is greatest. But the scream is short lived as Latharel's blade severs the cats head from the neck. Leaving the creature dead in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. The terrifying combat is over.
@Latharel - you are on 5 HPs, can you update your character stats.
Meanwhile, with fear pushing him away, Crar runs with abandon, straight into a group of fast moving quadrupeds. The druid crumples in a heap on the floor, as his body bounces off the muscled breast of one of the creatures. They stop and tower over him, one his longsword raised and the others with spears ready. One of them speaks, "Are we too late?"
Crar sits up dazedly, shaking his head as he looks up the creatures speaking to him. Centaurs? Then,he realizes what he's just been doing and his heart skips a beat for his friends who he left desperately fighting the beast. He picks himself up and turns to run back to camp, not really answering the centaurs. My friends! Quick, this way!
Is Crar no longer frightened? Then he runs back to camp, hopefully with the newcomers behind him.
Anyone else besides Latharel need healing?
As Latharel's breath returns to normal and the ponies are quietened, the sound of hooves can be heard. It is moments before three large forms are seen in the gradual lifting of the darkness as morning light begins to seep into the forest. The mighty centaurs stand in the firelight, the mighty warrior with the longsword, booms a deep and resonant voice of greeting. You recognise Urdel Thunderhoof and his two subordinates. "Are you all alright?" he questions, surveying the scene of the fight. Before you can answer, Crar comes running back around, red faced and out of breath, panting.
The centaur captain looks down at him with unanswered questions held in his mind, as he speaks again, his sword pointing at the dead cat. "Friends, you have saved us the ordeal of dispatching this menace to our peaceful forest. Might I offer an exchange, if you would let me take the corpse back to our camp, I would offer you these furs." he points at some wooly wolf pelts on his back, tied into a package. He waits for your answers to his questions.
|Latharel the Lost|
"You are welcome to take away this beast. It attacked me in my sleep and I was lucky that despite several bites from it that I didn't suffer worse as it missed any vital organs.
Seems I was more lucky when I finally brought my blade down on the creature.
But I also need to thank Targ - he distracted the creature by drawing first blood. "
Catching his breath, Crar replies to the centaur leader. "Yes, well, as Latharel says you're welcome to it, friend Urdel. You weren't kidding when you said it was a fearsome beast. If you really want the body, we might indeed make a trade with you for the furs." Then he adds in Sylvan to please excuse him while he tends the wounded.
Diplomacy check 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 - Crar tries to be as courteous as possible with the centaurs, being in their home turf and all.
Crar moves over to Latharel and checks over his wounds. "I could stitch up those bites for you, but I've brought something with me that should be a lot less painful." He reaches into his pouch and draws out a slender wand, using it to cast a spell of healing. A warm glow emanates from the wand, causing Latharel's wounds to heal.
Wand of cure light wounds 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5. 5hps healed for Latharel, let me know if you need further healing.
|Latharel the Lost|
Having negotiated the exchange of the body for the fur pelts, you and the centaurs gather round the fire and as the light dawns, breakfast is shared. Tales and stories of your lives and their adventures guarding the forest make the early morning go quickly. Trusting you a little more, Urdel Thunderhoof listens to your tale of the fight with the black panther, which after he has given it some considerable thought, he tells you about the foe you just vanquished. "You did well to best a Krenshar, a quick fast and hungry magical beast. As well you found out Crar, it has a frightening ability when it pulls the skin back over its skull, exposing the boney structure underneath, indeed the screech it emits when doing this has made many a brave being run from its fate. Other than that, it behaves like any other predataor of the jungle, so is oft times mistaken for a panther or other big cat." He raises his drink, and the centaurs toast you bravery and courage in the fight.
He learns of your destination and your trek across the Kortos Mounts. It is then that he proffers you some advice and a warning about the deadly
cold found in the high areas of the Kortos Mounts. He suggests you use the furs to help protect yourselves from the elements.
These pelts can be used to fashion one makeshift cold weather outfit, for one of the party.
As the sun breaks through the trees, Urdel Thunderhoof thanks you once more before moving off into the woods toward his tribe’s camp.
I'll move you on tomorrow ....(unless you let me know otherwise .. :) ..)
|Latharel the Lost|
Latharel takes some of the furs and tries to fashion them into something he can wear.
Survival 1d20 ⇒ 15
He only realizes when he is finished that no more furs are left.
"This will keep one in the group warm. We should give it to the one who needs it most in our group."
Latharel feels proud. Beside no training he still managed to get some cold weather outfit fashioned from the furs. Maybe if he spends some more time in the wilderness then tasks like these might come easier to him in the future.
On the to-do list - skill points in Handle Animal and Survival ...
Remembering the fight with the krenshar, Crar certainly doesn't feel very brave. Still, he does his best to join in, and thanks the centaurs when they take their leave. While Latharel takes some time to fashion the furs into warm clothing, Crar forages around for anything else that may help against the cold weather.
Survival check to boost Fortitude saves against cold weather:
Survival check 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 Ugh.
Latharel makes a cold weather outfit, for one of the party.
It is only an hour or so before the party leave the forest, after walking up hill for some time. The edge of the forest is abrupt, a line of trees standing as a thick army on the slopes of the hillside.
You follow a path up, that takes you from the greenery of pastures to the grey inhospitable slopes of the Kortos Mounts. For once the going is easier than making your way through the tangled undergrowth of the forest. The only real barrier to travelling are the occasional streams and bogginess surrounding them as they tumble down the mountainside. Then as you move higher, the grey is turned to white, as the ground is covered by a thin layer of snow. Using the map, you are able to make you way up one of the passes through the pointed rock peaks, covered in snow they look quite pretty, but the wind that whips down through the pass is chilling. As the sun goes down, it you start to look for a suitable place to camp. It is then you make a fateful discovery, it seems only 200 metres in front of you something lies half buried in the snow, it looks like a relatively in tact covered wagon.
Do you investigate or continue to find a suitable place to make camp.
|Latharel the Lost|
The shapes in the snow, soon reveal themselves to be the remnants of a covered wagon, still in relatively good condition, despite the passage of time and weather. Closer inspection shows that although frozen in place, you see that the whippletree has been destroyed, and at least one axle has collapsed. This wagon is going nowhere fast although the rest of the chassis is in one piece.
As the party get closer to the covered wagon, they hear the sound of flapping canvas, as the entrance is blown in the icy chill winds of the mountain pass. You make out shapes inside, a pile of furs is heaped just inside the entrance. You climb up into the wagon, leaving a track of your footprints in the lying snow, but what greets you is not a pile of old clothes. Three bodies with pale and blue skin, huddled together motionless, their limbs stuck in a deathly embrace, under the fur coats that cover them.
Taking your eyes away from the bodies, you see at the back of the wagon it is covered in soot, a portable wood burning stove cold and full of ashes lies dormant. Next to it on its right, a pile of brown dry logs are left unused, and on its left several large boxes and chests, plus a small potters wheel which is lying on its side, its working surfaces reddened with use. Opening the cases you find half completed pottery, simple pots and vases you can find in any market for a few coppers.
Nester bring the ponies closer to the wagon, as you look inside. He ties them to the outside of the wagon, before asking "So what now, do we make camp here or continue on to find another spot?"
You see the sun's last remaining rays of warmth streak across the mountain range, soon the shadows will cut its effect and the cold of night will descend upon you.
Tell me what you want to do now, with the dead bodies, the wagon etc.
What do you do about setting camp for tonight, or travelling through the night?
The bodies show little sign of degradation in the icy temperatures, you think that the bodies have been here at least a month, and died from hyperthermia during the cold midwinter weeks, when the temperatures are more constanly severe.
There is no way the wagon can be repaired and used as transport.
Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Intelligence: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
"We should find shelter soon," Lillia says, looking at the bodies apprehensively, "I doubt this wagon will be mobile any time soon, and its benefits as a shelter are clearly insufficient to stand up to the weather up here."
As you search in the darkness under the canvas covered wagon, you spy a small clasp, dropped down in the pile of wood, as a ray of sunlight peeked through a gap in the entrance. It strikes a reflective surface, it could be a gem, sparkling a yellow light. Taking the canvas back from the entrance, might provide enough light to find the small piece of jewelry before night falls.
Crar ducks in and has a look around the ruined wagon. Seeing the bodies, he kneels down and has a closer look at them, though he is hesitant to touch the bodies - touching the bodies might disturb the spirits of the departed. However, he can't only surmise that the cold got to these poor travellers.
Heal check to examine bodies 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8 Hmmm.
After examining the bodies and looking around wistfully, he steps out and looks at the rest of you. "I don't think we should stay here. It's a place of death. There will be spirits here. It's getting dark, but I would feel more comfortable if we moved away a bit to find a camp. I will pray for these lost souls tonight."
|Latharel the Lost|
As Latharel opens up the canvas from the wagon to search for the bauble, all inside the wagon are assaulted by the wind as it whistles across the pass, dropping the temperature inside the wagon several degrees. However, the cold blast and the light reveal the small broach fallen behind the stack of logs. Carefully picking it out Latharel finds a citron stone atop an image of spinning potters table, the sign of a potters guild. Obviously worn in the market to signify the legitimacy of their trade.
You quickly replace the canvas, attaching it once more to the wagon, covering it once again so that the chill and icy wind is repulsed. Before exiting and once more into the last rays of the sun.
Nester asks to look at what was found, he quickly looks at its quality and materials, shaking his head, he throws it back to Latharel, "Worthless, maybe 2sp if you're lucky." He pulls his coat round him some more to protect himself from the wind. "It'll get colder tonight, mark my words, we need shelter."
Targ and Latharel can both do heal checks for the bodies if you want.
|Latharel the Lost|
Aye, good advice, meant to do that but I guess I was I was so keen to post that I forgot to actually roll.
Survival check 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
With his eagle eyes, Crar scans the surroundings for anywhere nearby that would provide better shelter. But up at this altitude, above the tree line, everything just appears exposed and cold. "To be honest, I don't see anywhere better to camp than here. If we stay here, I will attempt to appease any disturbed spirits in the area." The feathered eagle shaman shakes some of his talismans and dances around a bit as he speaks to the local nature spirits, ignoring any looks he may be getting from the rest of the party.
|Latharel the Lost|
As Crar dances trance-like around the wagon, against the setting sun you see a small black dot, that seems to be coming in your direction. You pay it little heed, but returning your gaze a minute later, you see wings beating slowly as the powerful bird scythes through the air effortlessly, then glides and turns in the eddies and upward drafts of warmer air. The black tipped primaries look like single fingers splayed out, pointing to either side. From the tips, the secondaries are mainly white with grey banded markings, which contrast with the brown of the body and leading edge of the wings. Two large yellow talons tuck into the body, keeping its efficient aerodynamic shape efficient and a fan tail of white and black marbled with feathers complete the magnificent bird. The bird, its yellow vicious hooked beak circles overhead.
As Crar reaches a crescendo of noise, the bird lets out a single sqark and turning flies behind the snowy mountain peak.
At the end of Crar's dance, he falls exhausted to the floor, breathing heavily, his eyes closed.
Targ strips the three dead bodies of their winter cloths, and offers them to those without winter coats, before removing the dead bodies from the wagon.
Lillia helps Crar into the wagon as Targ batons down the canvas and keeps the worst of the chill wind at bay. Nester and Latharel clean out the stove and start a fire, that begins to warm the inside of the wagon, though it is still cold and temperatures are dipping quickly. Outside the ponies, tied to the wagon stamp their hooves as the cold begins to bite.
As you all try and get positions in the wagon, you can just about squeeze 5 of the party into the wagon. Bedmyr, ever the hardy dwarf offers to stay outside, making himself comfortable under the wagon.
Despite being on the inside of the wagon, you keep guard as normal through the night, not knowing what might be abroad and dangerous high in these mountains. As the wind rises and the darkness enfolds the peaks, the temperature rapidly deceases, your breath almost freezing in front of you, as the stove pushes what warmth it can into the wagon.
Nester is without winter clothing, Bedmyr is sleeping outside. In total you have 4 winter coats found on the journey, who will wear them?
Currently Latharel has one of the 4 coats, from the furs he crafted earlier. Anyone with winter clothing already on their equipment list before this journey started please indicate that, so you can wear it.
If you want Bedmyr inside the wagon, who is going outside, how do you organise who is in, who is out and when they are out?
I need 4 fortitude saves off every one please? If you have ranks in survival, then please roll that as well. Please spoiler your rolls..
Crar will sacrifice himself for the team - share the coats amongst yourselves. Bedmyr might be strong enough to weather the cold himself. We might be ok if we all rotate to take a turn outside the wagon for short periods.
Fort save 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Fort save 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Fort save 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Fort save 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Survival check 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
|Latharel the Lost|