"Coral! Behind me!," Aladdin shouts as he places himself between her and the turtle. His hands glow with power as lightning etches around his knuckles. "Someone! Quickly! Lend me your weapon for a touch - it'll be quite a shock," he said as he lifted his hands out to his companions.
Rolg unlimbers his flail and, shield before him, rushes the armored monster.
Drawing both shield and wand, Bolgrith tries to recall to mind any memories he has of this fell-beast.
Of the things he’s heard of snapping turtles growing to this size, the most dangerous is this: their snapping jaws become large enough to swallow a man whole. While they are omnivores and eat meat when they can, turtles like these are usually not this violent unless provoked or in heat (more accurately, the cold-blooded version thereof). Given the tranquility of the docks before hand, Bolgrith suspects the latter. A tough hide and a hard shell protect this huge beast, and the amount of strength need to carry a creature so massive implies that the giant snapping turtle will not go down easy.
Logan rips the falchion from his back, touching the flat of the blade against Aladdin's open palms before vaulting off the dock into the shallows, charging the great turtle at full tilt.
The great snapping turtle chomps hard onto Logan's midsection as he moves in, and the hard bite interrupts the Borderguard's slice.
The two dwarf guards that happen to be nearby spring into action. The one who greeted the five raises his axe and moves along the beach, looking for a chance to wade into melee. The other raises a crossbow from the other dock.
The bolt glances on the hard shell, not even noticed by the enraged turtle. Coral urges Aladdin onto dry land, but does not move until he does. "Get off the dock! Get to land!"
With low, throaty clicking sound somewhere between a hiss and a roar, the huge snapping turtle tosses its head and surges forward onto land, and bites down on the awaiting dwarven guard.
The enormous jaws close on the axe-wielding dwarf with the sickening crunch of armor and bones. The guard hangs limp the monstrous mouth.
The commotion is starting to draw eyes, and shouts for help sound off from the dockside town. It looks like more dwarf guards are on their way.
Grabbing Coral's hand, Aladdin runs to land while whispering words. His familiar cloud appears as he runs and begins to lightly mist around the Azlanti. "How is that going to help?" Coral panted as they ran. "Need it for preparation..." Aladdin said over his shoulder to her.
Shield lifted Bolgrith reaches out a armored hand as it glows blue with the dwarvish words of power he chants quietly. Grasping Rolg by the shoulder the Priest sends holy-energy into his companion to help guide him to victory.
Logan's blade slashes at the thick hide not covered by the hard shell, and the sparks leaping up and down his blade burn the flesh of the beast. The huge snapping turtle rasps dangerously at the lieutenant.
"Bank that attack roll though.
Rolg unlimbers his flail and, shield before him, rushes the armored monster.
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 + 1 = 26 for 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
The hobgoblin delivers a swift stab to the snapping turtle.
The strong, scaled muscles of the large jaw work, and the combatants see the unconscious dwarven guard slide down the turtle’s leathery throat.
Four more guards approach the scene with caution, three of them wielding longspears and one already raising her crossbow. The first crossbow fires again, followed by the newcomer.
Both shots glance off hard scales.
Sloshing in the knee-high water, Logan shoulder-checks the hobgoblin as he brings the heavy blade around again. “Flank him!” he cries out, nodding that Rolg should change his position.
The falchion also fails to break the turtle’s tough hide.
Bolstered by the rain, Aladdin could feel his power swell. He points his hand at the turtle and concentrates his will.
Bolgrith raises the wand over his head and speaks the activation phrase, a pulse of silvery-white energy flows from the magic-infused stick as his allies feel vigor and strength fill their bodies.
Rolg steps to surround the turtle and attempts to crack through the shell with his flail.
The muscles under the great turtle’s thick hide diminishes when the stormborn shoots a line of purple energy. And none too soon, for the living fortress takes a snap at Rolg.
But the surly hobgoblin bats the massive jaw closed with his shield before it can harm him.
Two crossbow bolts again glance off thick scales, and two dwarves with longspears move cautiously into position. The third dwarf with a polearm hefts his weapon and, bolstered by the spell from his kinsman, bellows a warcry, charging headlong at the huge turtle. The point of the spear drives deep into reptilian flesh, at the turtle’s neck. The great snapping jaws click and hiss in rage. Another dwarf makes a stab, but is unsuccessful.
Logan arcs another slice, but the hard shell gets in the way.
Rolg raises his shield before the beast and goads it, hoping to give Logan an opening.
Aladdin throws his hand forward and purple magical energy spews forth.
Stomping forward into the shallows Bolgrith reaches out a glowing hand and presses it against the Stonebits armored back. Guiding energy flows from the Cleric as he chants a prayer to the god Irori.
The great beast suffers a barrage at the sorcerer’s hands, but resolutely stands firm.
The turtle snaps at Bolgrith as the priest steps within range, but the dwarf ducks under the bite.
Great jaws then turn to Rolg, but are again rebuffed by the mercenary’s shield.
Crossbow bolts and spearheads are unable to pierce the tough scales, save one.
Despite the aid of his friends, Logan’s blade is unable to connect with turtle hide.
Rolg draws up to his full height for a splint second to shout over the massive sea creature. "Come on Logan! Kill it!"
The shield snaps back into place so fast as to barely register its movement. Now hit me again you overgrown soup.
"Try again lad..." Bolgrith murmurs as he continues the guiding chant.
Aladdin fires another volley of missiles!
The stormborn’s hail of magic bludgeons the turtle’s head, and the great beast collapses on the beach. The surf sloshes against the hulking, thick-scaled body, and even dead, the huge turtle is a sight to see.
The guards nearby drop their spears and pull daggers from their belts. They begin frantically cutting away the flesh to get their kinsman swallowed whole. The hopeful prayers on their lips turn to anguish when a bloodied and crushed dwarf body is pulled from the gore, bitten and pulverized beyond recovery.
Despite their loss, the captain of the guards welcomes Bolgrith home, and then thanks Logan and Aladdin profusely for their help, hesitantly acknowledging Rolg’s contribution to putting down the beast. The docks may have been completely destroyed, had the four not intervened. The captain asks he could repay the help, within reason.
If the fallen dwarf has wife or child, Logan asks the captain to give his portion of the gold to the family of the fallen.
"We seek audience with the three Kings. Do you have any advice or aid on how to be seen today?"
Bolgrith steps up next to the young warrior, his hand glowing blue as he taps out a quiet prayer to Irori.
"Aye, I, along with my friends, are escorting young Master Stonebit here. He is the envoy from Steward Wyldoat who has urgent news for the Three Kings." He opens his hands beseechingly. "Is there any way you could help us procure an Irkei Stone?"
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The captain raises his eyebrows in surprise at Logan’s forfeiture of an reward, “An honorable gesture, befitting of your clan, Stonebit.”
He nods understandingly at the task ahead of Logan and Bolgrith, and those with them. He smiles wistfully. “Irkei Stone, of course, the most efficient way of gain audience with all three kings. If I could help you more, I would. But I am a mere guard captain, with no means of acquiring such an expensive thing. The best I can offer is the whereabouts of Stormcall’s Grand General, Korvik Thunderhelm, who is said to have one. I was under his command several years ago, before a blasted goblin nearly hacked my foot clean off.”
The dwarf glances at Rolg before continuing. “Go toward the center of the island, closer to the temple. His clan oversees the combat training barracks for the warpriests of Master Craftsman Torag. You might not see the training grounds right away, but you won’t need to -just follow the sounds of steel on steel. He isn’t one to lend it out to folks, in fact the surest way to rile his anger is to directly ask for it. The last soft-handed merchant to do so was thrown into a dueling ring with the Grand General himself.” The dwarf captain chuckles at the memory. “A single tap from General Thunderhelm’s hammer knocked some sense into the old fool, and he left with the humblest apologies and a goose egg on his head.”
After a dubious look at Aladdin, the guard captain nods to the battle kit of Logan, Bolgrith, and Rolg. “He’ll respect you for your acceptance of battle as a part of life, but that won’t be enough. The dwarf did not become Grand General by swinging his hammer the hardest. He is cunning and wise. There were too many ranks between he and I for me to know him personally, but I know my superiors greatly admired his mind for strategy and detail.”
He turns, limping back to the guard barracks just beyond the docks. “Come with me. I will write a letter, bearing witness to your heroism on my docks.” After a few minutes of scribbling on parchment over a low stone table, he hands Bolgrith the letter. “Here. Perhaps it will help, perhaps it will not. Either way, if you intend to beseech his favor, do not insult his intelligence with a blundering request. Especially if you’re going to present this along with it. Good day to you.”
He waves as the four plus Coral make their way from the dockside buildings. He raises his voice with an afterthought, “Oh! Goblin! I’d watch your back the further inland you go.”
The carrier of this letter, a Stonebit and envoy to the Steward, came this morning to the aid of the northeast docks when an enormous turtle the size of a ship threatened to sink docks, capesize longships, and ruin trade goods. Without the Stonebit and the dwarf, man, and goblin that accompany him, the dwarven guards would have suffered a greater loss of life.
I, Waod Ironholf, Captain of the Guard, bore witness to their sacrifice and heroism, unasked of them but bravely given. Let it be known that the honorable Stonebit declined any reward for his deeds.
After thanking the captain, Bolgrith begins making his way towards the nearest settlement.
He yawns and starts going through his gear, trying to find something that could be used to etch on Rolgs shield.
As Logan follows Bolgrith, he tries to remember if he's heard of General Thunderhelm.
Well, I suppose it doesn't hurt to meet new people.
"My name is Rolg, dwarf, and I always watch my back." Rolg says not unkindly, but he does give the captain a hard look before turning back to his comrades. "Bolgrith, Logan, we follow your lead here."
"Aye, Brother Rolg. First things first, I think it'll help us move through these lands if you professed faith in Torag, god of most dwarves." He regards the hobgoblins shield thoughtfully. "If you'd allow me, I'd like to etch Torags holy-symbol on your shield, just to help keep the peace." He smiles wanly. "Though we still need to have that conversation about Irori one of these days..."
Logan nods. "Understood. The more we can find out about General Thunderhelm, the better. But I think Bolgrith is right in that finding some way for an island full of dwarves to leave you alone would be good. Bolgrith, " he turns his attention to the dwarf. "would having the island holy symbol on his shield be taken as blasphemy?"
Rolg nods at Logan's question. "I wondered that too. I'm not so mercenary as to defame another's religion, but if it would cause no trouble, I will gladly bear Torag's symbol to keep the peace."
"And I have not forgotten Irori, Brother Bolgrith. We simply have not had much time..."
"I do not think they will take umbrage at Rolg, acknowledging and respecting the god of these isles." He traces out the holy symbol for Rolg to see. "You don't have to tell anyone you follow the faith, just that you seek his good will while you travel among his people."
A while later, Rolg returns minus his usual weapons. He still has his flail, but it tucked behind him in his belt. His shield massive round shield now studded to give devastating blows bears proudly a carven image of Torag's Iron Hammer.
Erring on the side of caution, Bolgrith accompanies Rolg to the blacksmith that is among the buildings of the dockside town. He gives a funny look at the request, seeing the a hobgoblin ask for a shield that hails the Master Crasftsman, but he finds a well-made shield amongst his stock and begins customizing the work. Lastly, he prays enchantments over the chiseled steel.
After he is paid, he still seems anxious to be seen with a hobgoblin in his shop, but he very politely asks where the two are headed next, and gives his best directions.
At the library, the dwarf and the Stonebit find thorough historical records of the Hammertide Islands. However, General Thunderhelm is mentioned very little. He’s commanded Stormcall’s ground troops for over thirty years, but in those decades, the dwarf people have seen relative peace with their foreign neighbors. To be sure, there were disputes on the seas where international boundaries ended and sovereign dominions began, but the preemptive military actions in these disputes were largely made by the admirals of the dwarven fleets. Still, the three kings demand commanders that are sharp as razors, even in times of peace. The generals conduct continuous training for their soldiers, from man-to-man fighting to formation deployment strategies. The historical accounts give record of General Thunderhelm’s lineage, his quiet but steady rise in rank, and his attendance at the signing of important laws and treaties for the dwarf people. Beyond that, it seems he has little interest in politics. If the four wanted to learn more about the dwarf beneath the Thunderhelm name, they would have better luck asking the populace of Stormcall Island.
Bolgrith shuts yet another book with a sigh of consternation. Yet another nearly useless account of Stormcalls provincial administration. Never so fully had his attempts at research been met with such little success. He turns to his companions and looks up into their obviously bored faces. Stiffing a yawn the dwarf says, "Well. All this effort for naught. It seems the library isn't to be where we find info on the good general." Standing up to his, admittedly minor, height he stretches and continues. "All these books are thirsty work though, what do you all say about getting a drink somewhere?"
He packs up his papers and charcoal and makes for the exit.
Logan cracks his neck and looks at the dwarf. "All this parchment definitely makes a person parched. I say we head to a tavern closest to the barracks."
Once the four enter the busy tavern near the barracks, Coral whisks Aladdin away to the dance floor. The rest of the adventurers mingle with the crowd. Most of patrons appear to be there for an afternoon meal, so there is no heavy drinking or the shouting and gregarious behavior that follows revelry. But Bolgrith is welcomed by many, and Logan is well-received with a nod. Rolg finds a frosty welcome, and those that see his shield shrug and carry on with their meal and conversation.
The dwarf priest and hobgoblin find two seats at table surrounded by other dwarves. Logan was couldn’t fit at the table, so he opts to try his luck at the bar. At the bar, a dwarf buys him a pint, but Logan did not realize until too late that acceptance of the brew meant that dwarf was going to bemoan his uncontrollable children and difficult wife. The poor Stonebit can’t get a word in to even excuse himself.
At the table, the other two learn that General Thunderhelm, while not considered soft by anyone, has a taste for fine scotch. The other dwarves eat their lunch while conversing, learning a bit about the unlikely pair as well, and they remain civil about their firm opinions about goblinkind. While General Thunderhelm is not a dwarf who can be bought or bribed by a bottle of scotch, his respect for anyone will increase if they can withstand a few drinks of his favorite scotch, BiaGhiaoc, and maintain intelligent discourse.
Rolg, ever direct and to-the-point, asks where one could acquire this spirit. One of the dwarves leans in and whispers that the barkeep here actually has a bottle, but he keeps it under lock and key, for few people request it and fewer still can afford a splash of the golden, fiery drink.
Rolg nods his thanks for the information and excuses himself for a moment. Walking to the bar near Logan, Rolg asks the bartender. "How much for your bottle of BiaGhiaoc?"
The stoic goblinkin stands waiting for a reply, thinking nothing of such a direct request for a treasured possession.
Bolgrith hurries after his companion to the bar. He chuckles under his breath at Rolgs directness and is quick to chime in. "What my friend here means," he pats Naxdag on the shoulder "is that we've a mighty thirst..." The dwarf draws forth his coin purse and lets it fall, heavily, to the bar-top.
Logan sighs inwardly at the situation he finds himself in. His right eye fights a twitch. I wonder how the others are faring. As the dwarf continues, Logan nods and grunts in acknowledgment. If I stealthily drew a sleep arrow... A slight, mischievous smile plays at the corner of his lips, buthe decides against it for now.
The bartender raises his eyebrows at the amount of coin, and says, “Whoa, brother, I don’t know who you talk to, but you’re not buying a ship here, just a bottle of scotch…”
With a shifty glance around, he produces a key and stoops below the bar. A second later he straightens and plants a three-quarter’s full green glass bottle labeled BiaGhiaoc.
“Four hundred gold bits, if you would,” he smiles pleasantly under a large moustache. The exchange is starting to draw attention from those at the bar.
Bolgrith smiles widely and hands over the coin. "Two glasses and a round on me, please."
Those at the bar express casual thanks, though some of them decline the drink, saying that they need to get back to work soon. The barman takes the gold and leaves the bottle of scotch and two glasses on the bar. Those that accept Bolgrith’s generosity watch the four with their full attention.