Standing Against the Giants, Brimleydower's Giantslayer (Inactive)

Game Master Kagehiro

Giantslayer Roll20

Burning Corpse Stats:

AC 16; CMD 14
Fort +1; Ref +2; Will +2
DR: 5/bludgeoning


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Your attack was enough to drop Red. I don't think any one else managed to land an attack on it this round.


Though vicious, Arctorus finds his clawed swipes meeting only empty air and slivers of grey fur as the wolf continues thrashing and biting wildly. Morgder's attempts meet with success however, his axe arcing wide through the air before the curved edge manages to find a home buried through the wolf's spine and most of the way through its innards. A grotesque smell erupts from the beast's guts, its stomach utterly ruined, and it spasms pitifully in the snow as the last vestiges of life slip away.

At the rear of he frenzy, Tharok and Grafelda continue their frantic attacks against an even more frantic foe. Between the pair, they are able to buy an opening for Skrioth to thrust the tip of her pike through its neck -- still bleeding from the arrow sticking out of it. Held mostly stationary by her weapon, it continues thrashing and growling madly, though the sound turns to an unpleasant gurgle as the blood from the injury seeps into the airway. After several seconds it ceases struggling and slumps to the ground, motionless.

The rest of the pack seem undeterred by pain nor loss of their number. Their maws continue snapping at anything they can grab onto, be it armor or otherwise. For the moment, it seems to be a great deal of the former as they offer no worthwhile injury to their intended meals.

_____________________________

Blue Wolf (Arctorus): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Green Wolf (Tharok): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Purple Wolf (Qyth): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Yellow Wolf (Qyth): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14

Bunch of misses that round. Players are up again, Round 2


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Arctorus clenches his teeth and continues swiping at the wolf near him with powerful, wild swings.
__________
Power Attack 1: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
Power Attack 2: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
If Hit, Damage 1: 1d6 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
If Hit, Damage 2: 1d6 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Skrioth moves towards Qytheerah, "Angradd of the Forge, I humbly request your healing blessings on this one, my comrade in arms."

CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

Skrioth sees Qytheerah's wounds knit up, with but a small scar still covered by the girl's blood.

"Alright Qytheerah, Angradd approves of you, now handle those creatures."

First kill, and max on her first healing spell, Skrioth truly is blessed.


11/11 HP, Active Conditions: none
Stats:
AC 17; touch 14; flat-footed 13 | F: +4; R: +7; W: +4 | CMD 17 | Init: +4 | Perception: +2

Tharok grits his teeth as he forces himself to slow down, to focus, to stop swinging wildly. The wolf is a shifting blur before him, its fur causing it to blend in with the snow and ice. Tharok waits, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears, for just the right moment, waits for the wolf to commit itself to a forward leap - and then swings.

Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Damage: 1d12 ⇒ 1

Face palm!


Male Dwarf Barbarian 2 HP: 9/27 [7/25] (-2 con) | Rage: 4/9
Stats:
(AC 18, T 12, FF 16) | CMD 17 (21 vs bull rush/trip, 23 vs awesome blow) | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +1 (+3 vs poison, spells, and spell-like abilities) | Init +2 | Percept +5

There are no witty lines or strategic words coming from Morgder. He is lost in the battle, the smell of steel and blood and death filling his nostrils, his vision bloody-red and his ears hearing naught but the snarls of his enemies. He brings down his monstrous axe on the next wolf with terrifying speed.

__________________________

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Damage: 2d8 + 10 ⇒ (6, 5) + 10 = 21

Everybody please remember the formatting for combat posts that was requested of us.


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

As Skrioth places her hand on Qytheerah, a sense of scorching warmth envelops the warrior-smith's right leg, a feeling of crackling embers suddenly igniting and snapping into place, similar yet different from the sensation of blissful triumph that usually accompanies the outpouring of her own powers. She can tell from the immediately subsiding pain that her wounds have been healed, and she nods in gratitude towards Skrioth.

"I will" she says with a renewed assertiveness in her voice. Trying her best to keep her balance against the two attacking wolves, she once again swings her weapon against the one whose muzzle is still soaked in her blood.

_________________________________________________________________________

Standard Action: Attack the Purple Wolf
   Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
   Falchion: 2d4 + 4 ⇒ (1, 3) + 4 = 8

Can I borrow your dice, Skrioth?


His powerful swings meet with empty air initially, but Arctorus is then granted satisfaction when claws tear through tendon and muscle. It's difficult for him to see in the darkness, but judging from the abrupt silence of the wolf that had assailed him, the strike he visited on the creature is acutely lethal. It falls soundless into the snow and moves no more.

Tharok's decision to sacrifice power for precision proves wise, though he only visits a bruise against the wolf thanks to its thick hide and a full, winter coat of fur. The blow manages to divert its gnashing snout long enough for Grafelda's orcish tusks to hit their mark. She grabs hold of the animal by the scruff of its neck, pulling it in close enough to sink her teeth into its face.

Meanwhile, Morgder's axe has become crescent dirge of death in the dwarf's hands. It's substantial weight rises slowly, but the impact of its fall leaves only ruin. Another wolf finds itself pinned fast to the ground, the blade of axe having created a bloody cleft from its nose to its crown. It's legs continue thrashing in a running motion. The ruined wolf jerks uncontrollably several more times as Morgder frees his weapon from its head.

Only two wolves remain, but their resolve is unbroken -- the pack would have dispersed long ago under normal circumstances, but these beasts press on in a mindless frenzy. Their careless attacks seem almost clumsy by this point. The animals seem incapable of discerning flesh from armor.
______________________________

Grafelda Bite Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Bite Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Arctorus (Concealment): 1d100 ⇒ 83 (Hits)
__________

Green Wolf (Grafelda): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Yellow Wolf (Qyth): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Only two of the buggers are still kicking. Players are up again.


Male Dwarf Barbarian 2 HP: 9/27 [7/25] (-2 con) | Rage: 4/9
Stats:
(AC 18, T 12, FF 16) | CMD 17 (21 vs bull rush/trip, 23 vs awesome blow) | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +1 (+3 vs poison, spells, and spell-like abilities) | Init +2 | Percept +5

The glory of battle is gone. The terror, the prestige, the illusion of order. There is only Morgder's endless fury and the vague shadows of bone and metal and flesh before him, a vague tickling in the back of his mind telling him to not attack the tall ones. He hasn't decided about that yet, but there is another short one close and his axe comes down mercilessly upon it.

_______________________

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Damage: 2d8 + 10 ⇒ (4, 6) + 10 = 20


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

Though still unable to land a blow on the beasts, Qytheerah is now having an easier time evading their attacks. Her eyes are still fixed on her closest opponent when it suddenly whimpers and falls down, a gigantic axe protruding from its left flank. Looking around her, she now sees Morgder's frenzied figure surrounded by three eviscerated carcasses, mute witnesses of the dwarf's lethal fury. The young woman can't help but stare at the sight with a mixture of awe and admiration.

This lasts only for a few instants, though. Irritated at her own ineptitude which has relegated her to the role of a glorified training dummy for the duration of the fight, she turns her head looking for any remaining foes, glimpsing one last wolf ironically getting a taste of its own medicine, courtesy of Grafelda.

Even with my sword it appears I'm no match for her tusks.

Dismissing the thought, she closes the distance ready to strike.

_________________________________________________________________________

Move Action: Move three squares adjacent to the Green Wolf

Standard Action: Attack the Green Wolf
   Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 flanking
   Falchion: 2d4 + 4 ⇒ (4, 4) + 4 = 12


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Arctorus squints his eyes against the blackness around him, and growls in frustration before bellowing, "SOMEONE MAKE SOME LIGHT!"


11/11 HP, Active Conditions: none
Stats:
AC 17; touch 14; flat-footed 13 | F: +4; R: +7; W: +4 | CMD 17 | Init: +4 | Perception: +2

It's all happening so quickly. The eruption of snarls that had engulfed them but a moment ago has been silenced by the swinging of axes, the gnashing of tusks and the lethal sweep of claws. Tharok staggers back, boots slipping for a moment on the ice, and feels a surge of relief as he realizes that they're going to not only survive this attack, but that nobody's been badly hurt.

Gripping his greataxe tightly, he catches sight of Qytheerah appearing behind the wolf, and with Grafald to his left realizes that they nearly have it pinned.

"Ha! Hyah!" Tharok steps forward, waving his axe, sweeping it back and forth in an attempt to capture the wolf's attention, and in so doing open it up to a final attack from his friends.

________________________________________________

Full attack on the green wolf.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Damage: 1d12 ⇒ 2


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Skrioth will swing at the Yellow Wolf, after which she will take a 5' step to the East.

------------------------------------

Boarding Pike: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 Brace, Reach
Boarding Pike Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

If the yellow wolf moves in on us, Skrioth gets an AOO:

Boarding Pike: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12 Brace, Reach
Boarding Pike Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5


Morgder's axe continues to sing a song of death, driving another wolf into the snow and dirt to thrash and twitch in its final throes. The destruction the stout warrior leaves in his wake buys Qytheerah enough freedom to lend her steel to Tharok's struggle. After hobbling her way across the packed snow of the street to the sole remaining wolf, her falchion -- at long last -- finds its mark. Just at the base of the wolf's neck, Qytheerah's blade severs meat and bone, leaving a far more motionless enemy in her wake.

That's the end of the combat. Looks like everyone shook out okay, despite that encounter having been beefed up quite a bit.

Soon enough, the thrill of battle and the knock of adrenaline in the veins subsides. Everyone is again reminded of how cold the night has become. While some of the wolves continue to spasm and thrash wide-eyed in the street, the threat of any real violence has subsided. Putting the enraged creatures out of their misery proves to be an endeavor without obstacle. The questions surrounding their presence remain strong as ever. Why were their wild animals stalking the streets of Trunau? How did they get inside unmolested? Though stretched thin, there are still patrols within the town's walls, and even more posted at all points of egress. A pack of wolves stalking the streets would have been more than enough incentive to raise an alarm.

Fortunately, the harsh weather that has settled on the region is not without benefit -- tracking the movement of a pack of wolves through drifts of snow is a simple matter. Rounding the corner of a small cluster of nearby sheds, the tracks can be easily traced to the rear of a nearby residence between the boardinghouse and street that winds further downward into lower Trunau. Behind the house rests a two-wheel cart, whose bed is covered with a disheveled layer of straw and a mostly-discarded tarp. Tharok can easily peace together that the wolves had stowed away in the cart -- likely unconscious, given their temperament. There is very little snow accumulation on the exposed cart's bed and the straw within, though the tarp looks as if it had seen significant snow cover before being removed. The tarp itself is thick and stiff with ice, which is to be expected in weather such as this. There do not appear to be any cart tracks in the snow, however. The only signs of passage that stand out are those that the wolves made themselves.

Heal or Craft (Alchemy) DC 10:

Though in possession of a similar temperament, it is not rabies that afflicted the wolves. Instead, it would seem that these animals have been deliberately poisoned.


Male Dwarf Barbarian 2 HP: 9/27 [7/25] (-2 con) | Rage: 4/9
Stats:
(AC 18, T 12, FF 16) | CMD 17 (21 vs bull rush/trip, 23 vs awesome blow) | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +1 (+3 vs poison, spells, and spell-like abilities) | Init +2 | Percept +5

Yeah, there's no substitute for good rolls. What a rampage.

Mordger turns, the death howl catching his ear. His eye is a murderous orb of veins as he marches towards the tall ones. Only I level here, only I equal all in death! His axe rattles on the cold ground as he begins dragging up the blood covered blade. But as the nearest tall figure turns he suddenly feels the fury shrink. No...just one more...always one more... But it's too late. He closes his one good eye...

The fire in his limps have been replaced by lead. A dull throb echoes through his body, from his sore shoulders to the base of his neck, and now the new unpleasant searing in his lost eye. He grunts and falls to one knee, one hand using his oversized axe like a crutch and the other held over his blood-spattered face. Damnit...I can't let that happen, not yet anyways. Not before they know what it means. He looks around and follows the blood spatters. Right, wolves. Poor creatures, just hungry. Still, they shouldn't have got in. After he breathes for a moment Morgder stands and starts following the tracks back.

Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

An idea is almost on the tip of Mordger's mind, but a painful throb through his neck distracts him. He gasps and leans against the cart. Damnit. It's getting worse.


HP: 20/20
Stats:
(AC 15, T 11, FF 14) | CMD 14 | Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +3 | Init +1 | Percept +2

Grafelda spits wolf fur from her mouth, and licks the blood on her teeth. She is shaking like a leaf in the wind. Did that really just happen?

"What the f*#$!?" she asks. "Whose cart is this?"


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

His breathing still heavy in anticipation of attack, Arctorus yells, "SOMEONE. MAKE. SOME. LIGHT!!!"


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Skrioth inspects the dying creatures, and considers what she finds during the walk to the wagon. As the others search the wagon, Skrioth announces, "I believe those animals were given some sort of poison. Possibly something that gave them hydrophobia, or a similar ailment."

Startled by Arctorus' request, Skrioth responds, "Angradd has given me many blessings, but calling forth light with no heat is not one of them."

She considers the scene before her. "forgive my ignorance, but it is considered abnormal to transport hydrophobic animals in this fashion, is it not? A stout cage would seem more appropriate."

----------------------------------------------

Heal: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (16) - 2 = 14


11/11 HP, Active Conditions: none
Stats:
AC 17; touch 14; flat-footed 13 | F: +4; R: +7; W: +4 | CMD 17 | Init: +4 | Perception: +2

Tharok lets out a deep breath and sinks down to one knee, both hands on the shaft of his greataxe, his breath coming out in billows of vapor. His heart pounds in his chest as if it's trying to escape, and as the realization that the combat is over sinks in, so does a wave of exhaustion. It's been a long day. A traumatizing day, and as he stares at the wolf corpses, he can't help but shake his head in mute wonder. What the hell is going on in Trunau?

With a grunt he rises to his feet, cleans the blade of his axe, and gathers his longbow. The others are already gathering around the wagon, making their remarks, and he approaches slowly, his gaze scanning the ground as he does so, looking for any evidence of tracks that might not be apparent to the others.

"The lack of recent tracks besides the cart means somebody left abandoned the wolves there awhile ago, unconscious, knowing they'd awake and terrorize the village." His voice is grim."This was meant as an act of terror. It was fortune that the wolves awoke as we passed by, and not a group of elders. Or children."

His expression hardens as he turns to survey the dark streets. "Somebody is intent on bringing havoc to Trunau. But why now? It can't be a coincidence that this happened at the same time of the murder. Maybe the murder wasn't a crime of passion after all. Maybe it was part of something larger. A conspiracy to weaken Trunau. But for what?"

________________________________________________________

Survival role to examine the scene and attempt to discern more information from the tracks.

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

Panting heavily, Qytheerah pulls her falchion out of the convulsing wolf and looks around to assess the presence of other foes nearby. Seeing none, she heaves an imperceptible sigh of relief before plunging her weapon in the fresh snow, cleansing it of blood and gore. Another handful of snow she melts in her hands to clean her wound, now fully healed thanks to Skrioth's powers. A quick movement and a soft mutter, and her leather pants are just as whole as the skin beneath.

As she follows the others round the corner and behind the house, she offers the obviously exhausted Morgder a supporting arm. "You slew those three wolves all by yourself. I probably owe you my life – here, let me at least help you as you helped me, in my own small way" she tells the one-eyed dwarf, voice full of gratitude. And yet, the murderous fury that pervaded him but a few moments ago is still vivid in her mind.

A warrioress you would want me, Falayna. And yet, will I ever be worthy of being called that? Will I ever be able to muster such ferocity – I, who just stood there watching my foes being felled by somebody else's blows?

She's not given much time to dwell upon her self-pity, however, as Skrioth's words suddenly rouse a more present, urgent fear in her. Hydrophobia? That would explain the frothing and the recklessness of... Her train of thoughts is cut short by a sudden realization; instinctively, she lays a hand on her thigh. Even this concern is short lived, however, and is quickly replaced by a growing sense of vexation.

Come on, there's no time for that. Should the worst come to pass, I'm sure Lady Varvatos or even Silvermane will be able to help. In the meantime, we have more pressing problems to deal with. Someone managed to smuggle rabid wolves in Trunau!

As if echoing her own fears, Tharok's words suddenly open disturbing scenarios in her head.

"I... have no idea, really. So many things happened today, and I can barely make sense of most of them" the Shoanti says, shaking her head. "Still. Trunau's not that big. Even if it's late, we should alert the militia of the possibility of further aggressions, comb the streets looking for other 'packages' such as this. We... might need to find a torch for Arctorus, I assume" she casually mentions. With all the time I've spent with Sara and Tharok, I always forget most people have trouble seeing in the dark.

"And if nothing else happens, we should start pondering the meaning of this coincidence, that the people investigating the first murder in Trunau in decades have just become the target of a second attempted one. Either way, I suggest we stick together for the night. Both for Trunau's safety and ours. We have ample proof the Ramblehouse isn't safe" she bitterly states. "I suggest we all spend the night at the Longhouse. Kurst's there too, so if anything transpires, we'll hear about it immediately."


After clearing some of the snow, Tharok can find signs of the cart having been placed here, but the cold and snow have likely stripped away any clues pointing towards who left it there.

Beyond that, how would you guys like to proceed?


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Is it possible for Arctorus to "procure" a torch from a wall sconce or something?


HP: 20/20
Stats:
(AC 15, T 11, FF 14) | CMD 14 | Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +3 | Init +1 | Percept +2

We should inquire about town where the cart came from, and inform the leaders of Trunau what happened. The alarm needs to be sounded, and the town searched for further dangers.


Male Dwarf Barbarian 2 HP: 9/27 [7/25] (-2 con) | Rage: 4/9
Stats:
(AC 18, T 12, FF 16) | CMD 17 (21 vs bull rush/trip, 23 vs awesome blow) | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +1 (+3 vs poison, spells, and spell-like abilities) | Init +2 | Percept +5

Mordger grunts at the notion of sticking together. More than half o' us are outsiders and the rest could very well be traitors. Damned but I wish I was better at readin' people. "Ought to let the chief know what's goin' on. She's got a right ta know, an' maybe she can help. And if she's the one behind it we're probably screwed anyways." He finishes with pessimism. His one good eye scans through the ragtag group. "I'll be sleepin' outside again. Don't care ta pay ta sleep somewhere I'm less comfortable, and we don't really know it's not one of us anyways. I'll stick to trusting myself fer now." He finishes coldly. Helena would give me a scolding for that. By the gods I miss her, I really should visit her before all this business gets one of us killed.

I'm really happen that I turned out to be useful in this early phase, dropping a wolf a turn made that fight turn to our favor very quickly. But now we're back to investigation so Morgder will follow along and add the occasional bit of insight!

Brimleydower, how do you want to handle Mordger doing to visit Helena? Do you want to RP her or should I? I made sure to leave some ambiguity to her so that she could properly fit in where she was needed, and she's nothing more than a very minor NPC (unless you have plans for her, of course).


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Skrioth considers her company, before querying, "I don't mean to dissuade the efforts to inform the authorities, and I do not mean to offend, but I have a question. Do your people eat these wolves?" She pauses, looking for reactions. "Because if they do, we should probably ensure that the bodies are properly disposed. Being that the creatures were hydrophobic, however it may have been contracted, they are not fit to be consumed and should be destroyed."


11/11 HP, Active Conditions: none
Stats:
AC 17; touch 14; flat-footed 13 | F: +4; R: +7; W: +4 | CMD 17 | Init: +4 | Perception: +2

Tharok checks his pack for torches, candles, any means of creating light, but he comes up dry. "Sorry, Arctorus. I've nothing on me to create light. We'll get that fixed as soon as we can." He then quirks his head at Skrioth and gives her a funny look. "Eat wolves? We're not that badly off just yet." Though there have been orc sieges where we came close...

He glances up at the falling, swirling skeins of snow, and then looks to his companions. "I second Qytheerah's suggestion that we all sleep in the Longhouse. We may have made ourselves targets by investigating this issue. You're of course welcome to sleep where you like Morgder, but this is a dangerous time. It might be wise to stick together." Though with the way he wields that ax, maybe he'd do just fine...

"I'm for alerting the guard, urging them to sweep the streets for more of these 'packages', and then telling my mother about this latest development and what we've discovered so far. If there are saboteurs working within Trunau, she needs to know about it."

Unless dissuaded, Tharok's going to tell the watch, then head to his mother's to update her on this attack.


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

"Nevertheless, Skrioth does have a point" Qytheerah chimes. "Other beasts may still try to feast on them, thus spreading the epidemic." She pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts. "I'd say the militia should be well prepared to deal with this. Burning orc corpses has become a grim routine of every siege's aftermath. We usually cremate our own losses at the Flame of the Fallen, by the Longhouse, but I'm afraid most Trunauan would consider defiling it with some rabid beast's carcass tantamount to sacrilege. So really, alerting the authorities and disposing of the bodies might turn out to be one and the same thing, after all."

As she turns to address the dwarven warrior's reservations, however, her expression darkens. "You're a valiant dwarf, Morgder, one whom every Trunauan is now indebted to and whose martial prowess I can only hope one day to match. And you're entitled to your suspicions. But please realize how irrational aiming them towards one of us would sound right now. Everyone here owes either Trunau or Rodrik a lot. We've spent the last day together. No motive, no opportunity, hardly a method. Moreover" she adds bitterly, "I must advise you even the subtlest insinuation Halgra, Tharok's mother, might have something to do with this would probably prompt vehement reactions around town. Some might even call such accusations nothing short of treason." And I'd probably be among them.

In agreement with Tharok. First thing should be alerting the watch and the Councilors, then Qytheerah would probably join them in combing Trunau. If nothing else transpires, she'd call it a day and make her way to the Longhouse for a good night's rest.


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Arctorus grunts in the darkness, growing more and more frustrated.

We stand around, bantering like idiots, when it is clear what we should do. WHY IN THE BLUE HELL DID WE PUSH ON INTO THIS DAMNED DARKNESS!? Let's just alert the guard and get to bed and continue this in the morning, when we can see clearly?


Male Dwarf Barbarian 2 HP: 9/27 [7/25] (-2 con) | Rage: 4/9
Stats:
(AC 18, T 12, FF 16) | CMD 17 (21 vs bull rush/trip, 23 vs awesome blow) | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +1 (+3 vs poison, spells, and spell-like abilities) | Init +2 | Percept +5

"Yeah, it'd be a pretty good cover up, wouldn't it? And just because something's treason doesn't mean it ain't right. Rising up against an evil tyrant counts as treason, but it's still a good thing to do. Law ain't always right."


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Arctorus lets out a low growl at the bickering going on in.

"ENOUGH!" he bellows out. "If someone here is a traitor, it will come out sooner or later, and we will have to deal with it then. Until that is proven, let us get on with it and do what we are tasked to do so we can get some rest before morning. Otherwise, tomorrow is going to be a very long day and we all need to be well rested to try to bring this whole mess to a close and let Rodrick's soul find peace!"


HP: 20/20
Stats:
(AC 15, T 11, FF 14) | CMD 14 | Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +3 | Init +1 | Percept +2

Grafelda ignores the petty accusations and assurances flying around the group. She turns to Tharok, making to go with him.


11/11 HP, Active Conditions: none
Stats:
AC 17; touch 14; flat-footed 13 | F: +4; R: +7; W: +4 | CMD 17 | Init: +4 | Perception: +2

Tharok purses his lips, decides that action is better than any further rejoinders, and turns to head down the street toward the closest guard patrol that he can find.


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Skrioth ponders, "at least they can't very well name me a traitor. One needs to be an insider first, right?"


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

Qytheerah's about to reply to Morgder's tirade when Arctorus' outburst silences everyone. "Halgra's no tyrant" she manages to mutter under her breath. This is paranoia.

With that, she shakes her head and follows Tharok and Grafelda in their search for a patrol.


You could fashion a crude torch easily enough. The town is mostly lit by small bonfires and the occasional brazer at important junctions/gates. There's also a general store that sells torches and other light sources, of course.

A note and reminder on Trunau guards and authority figures: officially there is no investigation, as the suicide ruling is accepted currently. This is basically a personal favor to Kurst (and Rodrik's memory) on the hush-hush because Jagrin is being a bull-headed prick. There'll generally be a common thread of the guards giving a token "we'll look into it" if you come to them for help or information. Naturally, the onus is on the PCs given the scope of the adventure. That's not to say you should avoid talking to guards at all; I just wanted to be as candid as possible about their minimal impact on the main thrust of the investigation. Mostly in the interest of avoiding several fruitless conversational posts that would probably be a bit frustrating and paint the militia as impotent goons.

At any rate, sounds like the path ahead is going to be alerting the militia and informing Halgra of what's going on before retiring for the night at the Longhouse (minus Morgder).


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

Got it. Indeed, if I understand everyone's intentions correctly, this is going to be more 'dutiful citizens reporting the presence of dangerous beasts in the streets' rather than 'we were investigating a murder and suddenly we've become targets ourselves'. I'm all for just handwaving any interactions with the militia and, barring any significant event occurring (like more citizens being attacked), skipping to the next part (which might very well be the next morning).


+1


11/11 HP, Active Conditions: none
Stats:
AC 17; touch 14; flat-footed 13 | F: +4; R: +7; W: +4 | CMD 17 | Init: +4 | Perception: +2

Given Brimley's clarification, I believe Tharok would first inform the guard, then decide to be proactive in sweeping the city streets himself for any further wolves, and only then go speak to his mother. He won't want to risk innocents getting hurt.

As such, just like Qytheerah I'm all up for handwaving these activities so as to skip to the next significant encounter/development.


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Arctorus will accompany Tharok...with a torch he can acquire one. But he will wait outside of his house unless sternly pressed to accompany Tharok in.


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Count me in. It's not like Skrioth has any other pressing social engagements that would demand her time.


What remains of the night, and a little of the early morning hours, passes without further incident or activity of note. At long last the cloud cover that had dominated the sky begins to peel back, sharply edged clouds mirroring the moon's silver radiance that retreat to the horizon like outstretched hands of some terror spawned horror. The cold still cuts to the bone, but it seems evident that the threat of further snow will not hang over Trunau at least for the immediate future. And it is in this cold that several choose to effect a sweep of the village in the hopes of finding and preventing any other rabid wolves from claiming one of Trunau's own as a victim. Those members of the militia on duty are more than eager to lend their own eyes and steel to the task. In short order, a full dozen persons are committed to the task. While there is ultimately nothing of note to uncover, the fresh wound on Qytheerah's thigh -- still burning mildly with each throb -- dissuades any notions that the entire ordeal could have been a flight of fancy or concoction.

With little else to do, dark rings deepening beneath eyes, and eyelids threatening to descend closed, most make their way back to the Longhouse to get a night's rest in relative peace and safety. Morgder, on the other hand, trudges back out to his lonely vigil beyond the walls, the tracks of those guards who had gone to fetch him still barely evident on the white of the snow. Their gifts prove a welcome reprieve from the elements that the dwarf had been sorely lacking in. A faint scent of lilac and cloves lingers on the fabric of the tent, speaking plainly of the pleasant woman who had likely seen to the donation. It's a warm thought to pierce the doubts and violence that otherwise swim in the brusque dwarf's mind.

Morning dawns, sky still clear, and a radiant sun climbing across the sky. It helps to offset the frigid temperatures, but it is still undeniably cold outside. Most calling Trunau their home go about their tasks ignorant of the danger that had plagued their streets only a night before.


Male Dwarf Barbarian 2 HP: 9/27 [7/25] (-2 con) | Rage: 4/9
Stats:
(AC 18, T 12, FF 16) | CMD 17 (21 vs bull rush/trip, 23 vs awesome blow) | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +1 (+3 vs poison, spells, and spell-like abilities) | Init +2 | Percept +5

Morgder gives grunts of approval at the militia members sweeping the streets. Good ta know things are being taken seriously. When he goes to get some sleep he smells the lilac and cloves, then smiles for the first time that day. He sleeps like a rock, gaining his strength back from his loss of control today.

Morgder spends the frigid early hours out in the wilderness, doing some early fishing. He finds a pond and uses the haft of his axe to crack open the sheet of ice on it and sets to his task. It's a calming act, something simple and necessary for life that helps clear his mind of the day. Once he gets a half-dozen fish out on dry land he reaches for his flint, and half an hour later he's picking his teeth with his dagger. With breakfast done and the sun peaking over the horizon, he makes his way back to the Longhouse to meet up with the others.


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Skrioth opens her eyes in yet another unfamiliar place. I imagine that waking in strange locales is an occupational hazard of both whores and adventurers.

She looks around at the place in the light. She had chosen a bed in a corner, and the room was large enough that her clouded vision occluded too much to let her see the far end, or any of her "friends." Feeling a bit of panic, she calls out, "Qytheerah? Grafelda?" What would her father think if she woke in a strange place calling out the names of males, and finless ones at that? Best to stick with finding the women.


HP: 20/20
Stats:
(AC 15, T 11, FF 14) | CMD 14 | Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +3 | Init +1 | Percept +2

Grafelda wakes to Skrioth's call. "Aye, lass? What is it?"


Female Merfolk Oracle of Flame / 2 (AC: 19 [T: 13 FF: 16] | HP: 4/17 (0NL) | F+2, R+3, W+1) | Init: +3 |Perc: +3, Darkvision 30’)

Chagrined at not spotting Grafelda asleep so near to her, Skrioth responds, "breakfast, of course. Where do we eat?"


Female Aasimar (Angel-Blooded) Oracle 2 (Battle) | HP 20/20 {effects: 1 pt. of DEX dmg} | AC 15 (Tch 11 FF 14) | CMD 15 | F +1, R +1, W +1 | Init +2 | Perc +3, darkvision

Despite the long and tiring day behind her, Qytheerah's sleep has been short and fragmented, the pulsating pain in her thigh keeping her awake for most of the night. The rest she's spent among feverish nightmares, plagued by visions of Rodrik perpetually fleeing from her while running into the arms of a mocking Brinya; upon finally reaching him, he started bleeding out from every pore, then turned into a vicious lupine creature which attempted to devour her. It is little wonder, then, that the Shoanti smith is already long out of bed when Skrioth calls for her.

"It's now been served in the main hall. I've put aside some for you girls."

Despite the chilling temperature outside, she's visibly sweaty. Indeed, she's spent most of her morning devotions trying to exhaust herself through gymnastics and physical activity, in a futile effort to vent her frustration.


HP: 58/58 | Rage: 16/16
Stats:
Current AC: 21 (AC 17, T 10, FF 16) | CMD 23 | Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +4 | Init +5 | Percept +11

Arctorus awakens and sits on the side of the bed in silence. He listens to the others talk among themselves, once again on the outside of the conversation listening in.

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