Umpteenth Dragon's Demand Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Arthur Severance

Bray says, "Well, it's been a long day, so I guess you're all pretty worn out. I thought you'd have more questions. If you do, feel free to ask."

Bray then turns to Tark and says something to him in Halfling that sounds like an expression of surprise followed by a question: "Roeddwn i'n meddwl y byddent yn fwy argraff ac yn chwilfrydig i gwrdd â llafnau llew. A yw pobl bob amser yn hyn yr oeddent wedi'u synnu am y peth?"

Tark replies quietly, also in Halfling, "Ffug, maent yn amlwg eisoes yn cyfrifedig allan roeddem yn rhyw fath o orfodi'r gyfraith."

Unless anyone speaks to them, the Halfllings turn in. Brethon remains by the fire, kept magically aware and rested.

Looking towards the halflings, Bear'f nods... "fella's it a little odd that you would converse without wanting us to understand... Is there any thing else we should know?"

Having received Brethon's spell, Denge and Penelope will stand watch all night, sitting by the fire and talking with Albern, occasionally walking the perimeter.

Looking towards the halflings, Bear'f nods... "fella's it a little odd that you would converse without wanting us to understand... Is there any thing else we should know?"

Bray blushes. "I'm sorry! I was just telling Bray that I thought you'd be more surprised and curious at me telling you we are Lion's Blades. Tark said you probably had already figured out we are law men."

"What else you should know? About the bandits, Mr. Gribb, or things in general? Let's start with Mr. Gribb. We know he is a small-time smuggler, using his contract to move Mahetan blades to Wispil as a cover for moving stolen and black market goods from Maheto to Belhaim and Wispil. However, he has always been a strictly small-time operation. The Lion Blades have assigned drivers to offer him prices he couldn't afford to pass up for several years now. That way, we watch what he is moving, where it comes from, and where it's going."

"This time, however, is different. As Father Dumpkin said back at his inn, Mr. Gribb ran into so me financial problems recently and turned to Dark Lil in Maheto for the money to finance this year's shipment of arms to Wispil. It seems Dark Lil required Mr. Gribb to take pesh this time as part of her price for loaning him the money. She appears to also have given him some for personal use."

"Pesh is really bad. Trafficking in pesh a whole different class of transgression than moving stolen goods and contraband. The Lion's Blades take it very seriously."

"Now these two werebats show up on the towpath and appear to have given him another dose or doses. They must be working with Dark Lil and checking up on him. It can't be a coincidence that he's carrying pesh for the first time and that these two just show up and give him more."

"That's very concerning. We know that bandits work this route, which is why it's so heavily patrolled by the phalanx. What we haven't been able to figure out is why they continue to work it given the phalanx presence and how they manage to still be effective despite the patrols."

"We also know that the bandits are led by an ettin. We know that their attacks follow a pattern: An initial attack by archers, as happened to us earlier today, followed by a second attack by goblins, including spellcasters, mounted on goblin dogs, and, in some cases, a third attack by goblins and some sort of werecreatures accompanied by the ettin. We weren't sure what type until tonight."

"Tonight's events indicate that Dark Lil is working with the bandits. Perhaps she's feeding them intel about the phalanx units, or perhaps she has people inside of the phalanx units working with the bandits."

"She clearly told them about this caravan. She may have told them not to hit it too hard so that the blades and pesh get through, or she may have told them to hit it hard to get the blades and pesh so she can sell them elsewhere and deflect any blame by pointing to the fact that the goods she financed were stolen."

"Regardless, given that you just killed the werebats, I think it's safe to assume the goblins and ettin will attack again. And more werebats, if there are any. They might follow their standard procedure and come in waves. However, since the werebats are dead and were quite formidable, and since the ettin has proven to be unusually intelligent in the past, they might attack all at once."

"This is a huge break in the bandit matter and might be a huge break regarding Dark Lil, too. If we can take out the ettin, this route will certainly become much safer for travelers and merchants alike."

"Mr. Gribb probably took more pesh tonight, so his addiction is going to be raging again, making him useless. It's still two days to Belhaim from here. I think we're all going to need to keep our eyes open. If we run into any phalanx, follow Tark's lead."

Tark watches throughout Bray's explanation of the situation. He nods at various points. When Bray finishes, Tark goes into Bray's wagon.

Looking completely dumbfounded Bear'f wonders what has he signed up for..."cheers fellas... I'm hoping we at least have one good nights sleep..."

With that Bear'f takes a cursory glance at the sky... muttering under his breath..."Tanagaar protect us..."

Albern nods knowingly at various points in the explanation. When they finish he agrees whole-heartedly with everything he understood.

"Right! So we kill more goblins tomorrow. Got it!"

On the path from Maheto to Belhaim, Taldor - Oathday, 2 Gozran, 4715 A.R.

The night passed uneventfully. The following morning, Mr. Gribb is again pale and listless. He is in a foul mood, muttering under his breath throughout breakfast and as the caravan packs up. Once underway, he retreats into Tark's wagon to rest.

Travelling along the towpath through the Verduran forest is pleasant today. The air is warmer despite the shade from the thick canopy of trees, which have all gotten their spring leaves.

Brethon spends the morning pointing out trees, other plants, animals, and signs of animals to Rafaelis.

After about two hours of travel, you come to a place where two bodies have clearly been dragged out of the canal and across the tow path. There are numerous tracks on the towpath.

"What is this, by Pharasma?" exclaims Professor Bellerophon.

Survival DC11: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Are we traveling downriver? Is it possible that these bodies were the werebats?

Yes, there is a slight current from Maheto toward Belhaim in the canal as Maheto is significantly higher than Belhaim. While there are locks to traverse the heights and the canal appears level, it is actually gently sloped downward, creating the current.

Note, even if you fail the Survival Check to follow the tracks, you may still attempt the Knowledge checks to identify the ones the group has already found on the towpath.

Denge looks at the drag marks.

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

"Hmmm looks like goblin tracks, and some four legged animals, and a big guy. We need to be really careful."

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Knowlegde Nature: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Rafaelis examines the tracks, "These are goblin and goblin dog tracks. There were bodies dragged out of the canal you say? Must have been our 'friends' from last night." I should chat with Mr Toughtoe thinks Rafaelis.

Rafaelis, who forgot to do this last night before going to sleep, will cast a spell and as a swift action use the Preparation Ritual from the Jack Were-son book. He now has a +2 Natural Armor bonus to AC and will automatically stabilize when dropping below '0' hit points (that's from a trait) for the next 24 hrs or until the spell is expended.

Rafaelis moves up to sit by Tark on the lead wagon and strikes up a quiet conversation, "I think it is time to start discussing tactics. Do you really want to be in the position of the enemy choosing where and when to attack or should we not try to track them back to their lair since they are leaving a nice wide trail of dragged bodies? It would be good to know the lay of the land. Clearly you are in charge here and have much more experience than the rest of us. He pauses to let Tark reply before going on, "Also, it would be nice to have more background information on Dark Lil and her operations. I managed to pick up an inkling in Maheto, but not enough to come up with any helpful suggestions. He adds with a note of satisfaction in his voice, "I did surmise correctly that there were drops arranged to motivate Gribb to move along. If we somehow see our way past our current difficulties, I don't see how you can maintain this charade with Gribb once we reach Belhaim let alone Wispil. He won't live that long. You're going to have to lock him up for his own good, that and to have some leverage to pry information out of him, otherwise you will have nothing but lies, which he is extraordinarily good at doing. Speaking of information, I don't know why you didn't want to keep the heads of the were-bats. They would have had information for extraction. Now they'll just get eaten by their former comrades." After nattering like this for some time he finally wears down and is silent.

Albern will take a place on top of a wagon, halberd at the ready.

He repeated whispers to himself to pass the time, his voice vaguely musical. He whispers a kind of nursery rhyme.

"A goblin or giant say they might
nibble your nose or eat your ear;
But brave little gnomes find ways to fight.
Duck fast, strike hard, never show fear!"

Rafaelis moves up to sit by Tark on the lead wagon and strikes up a quiet conversation, "I think it is time to start discussing tactics. Do you really want to be in the position of the enemy choosing where and when to attack or should we not try to track them back to their lair since they are leaving a nice wide trail of dragged bodies? It would be good to know the lay of the land. Clearly you are in charge here and have much more experience than the rest of us. He pauses to let Tark reply before going on....

Tark, who is still on the road looking at the tracks, says, "Yes. No, and yes. I agree. True."

"Also, it would be nice to have more background information on Dark Lil and her operations. I managed to pick up an inkling in Maheto, but not enough to come up with any helpful suggestions."

"They're extensive, and dangerous. Best you stay out of them."

[Rafaelis] adds with a note of satisfaction in his voice, "I did surmise correctly that there were drops arranged to motivate Gribb to move along. If we somehow see our way past our current difficulties, I don't see how you can maintain this charade with Gribb once we reach Belhaim let alone Wispil. He won't live that long. You're going to have to lock him up for his own good, that and to have some leverage to pry information out of him, otherwise you will have nothing but lies, which he is extraordinarily good at doing."

"The caravan won't be leaving Belhaim. Phalanx will seize it and arrest Mr. Gribb pesh trafficking. We'll vouch for you."

Speaking of information, I don't know why you didn't want to keep the heads of the were-bats. They would have had information for extraction. Now they'll just get eaten by their former comrades."[/b] After nattering like this for some time he finally wears down and is silent.

"Got them to work together, though." Tark points at the largest tracks. "First time ever it's been in the open." Then he points at the little tracks. "Four goblins on goblin dogs. His lieutenants." He points to the trail. "As you say, a nice trail to the lair. Get ready."

Bray and Tark pull their wagons off to the side of the towpath a little way beyond the tracks.

Bray chatters with Rafaelis and anyone else within earshot as he gets the donkey settled. "We can't leave the Mahetan blades, wagons, donkeys, and Mr. Gribb unattended. Someone has to guard them. You can do it, and Tark and I can go take on the ettin, and the loot, rewards, and thanks can go to the empire, or we can guard, and you can take care of it, get the loot, and earn the reward and the thanks of the Lion Blades. It's up to you."

Tark looks everyone over. "Take the gnome. He's vicious. Take the widower and the slyph, too. You'll be alright. The rope was brilliant. You're a good team. Don't charge in. Lure them out. Take them bit by bit." He points at Penelope. "You can walk through walls. Hide in the ground. Pop out behind them to flank."

Albern looks bashful at the praise. Me, vicious? I don't want to hurt anyone. Well, maybe if they're mean.

Studying the tracks and listening to the banter of tactics, Bear’f wonders could this all be a trap? "We could follow them but maybe they’re expecting that…"

Take 10 on K:N = 15
Take 10 on K:L = 10
Take 10 on Survival = 19

“I agree we have little choice though…" looking deep into the forest…

Brethon scratches his head, "Even sitting here with the caravan might be dangerous. I'll go along with whatever Rafaelis and the other guards want."

"I've spent a lot of time in these woods. There's a set of caves not far from here. Maybe they're using them as a hideout. The forgotten one would know."

"So, we don't just have to follow this trail or wait here. We could circle around and try to surprise them in their lair or at their ambush site or see if we can't get some more information or help."

He turns to Rafaelis, clapping him on the shoulder. "What do you think we should do?" he asks.

Rafaelis asks Brethon, "Who is this Forgotten One? You forgot to mention them. More information is always better. Circling around behind them and using terrain to our advantage would be helpful in dealing with a stronger opponent. "

"He...she...it...is one of the guardians of the Verduran Forest. It...he...she...watches what goes on and would know. It can be very helpful. Sometimes it comes to my brother's inn. It enjoys good cooking. It gets upset about intrusions. If it thinks we're intruders and we meet it, we won't remember meeting it. It has a home across the canal from here, maybe a mile off."

"Perhaps if we approached but not too near and maybe you could approach first to request an audience, since it knows you, and give us an introduction?"

"We can try that. We should bring it a gift to demonstrate we're not intruders."

"You said the Forgotten One likes good food. How about something nice to eat?"

"Yes, the forgotten one likes to come to the inn to eat."

"Ohhh, that sounds fun. Do you think the Forgotten One likes gyngerbrede"? Little Fee pulls another sweet from one of his many mysteriously hidden pockets.

"Yes, I think it would."

Rafaelis stands, looks at the company and says,"The forgotten one is only one mile away. It behooves us to pay a visit. We may find out other things of note as well. Who knows what mysteries this being could reveal? Unless there are objections let us go!"

Denge thinks over the plan as Rafaelis has suggested it. Looks at Penelope at length, and then says:
"That is a good plan, let us gather information before moving against the enemy."

So Albern, Rafaelis, and Denge seem interested in seeking out the forgotten one (as opposed to following the trail or guarding the wagons or something else). Is everyone one board with that?

Please keep in mind, we're playing this as a "home" game, so you're free to go off mod. In fact, this entire prelude is just that, an off-mod prelude, so there are no limits on what you can do and where you can go (other than your characters' abilities and wealth). Feel free to propose, consider, and pursue other courses of action at any time (even when we get into the adventure itself). I'll roll with it.

Professor Bellerophon's pride is injured, just a bit, when Tark tells them to take everybody except him. But then, dying in an ettin den and being eaten for dinner... doesn't appeal.

Of course, if I die FIRST, then the pain receptors in my body will be non-functional, as will my brain's pain centers, so... no big deal if I get eaten. Of course, if the pain receptors are interdicted, while I'm being eaten, no pain there, either. Hmm, an interesting thought experiment for my anatomy students. "If an ettin eats your arm first, then your head..." yes yes, an excellent exercise.

"So, I'll just stay here, then?" he asks, somewhat perplexed. Even he realizes the group might want a chirurgeon on site.

As the talk moves on to the Forgotten One...

K(n): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

"You know, Brethon, this Forgotten One who you interact with is just one of a species specific to fey places. Likely an immigrant from the first world, like many fey. Their anatomy is quite amazing. You see, when they want you to forget something, a special organ in their abdomen secretes a magical... oh well, well, you don't care about that. Anyway, my point: how will we remember what it says to us?"

Taldus will join in the adventure to the Forgotten One's lair.

"You know, Brethon, this Forgotten One who you interact with is just one of a species specific to fey places. Likely an immigrant from the first world, like many fey. Their anatomy is quite amazing. You see, when they want you to forget something, a special organ in their abdomen secretes a magical... oh well, well, you don't care about that. Anyway, my point: how will we remember what it says to us?"

Tark looks at the Professor as he rattles on about Forgotten Ones. "Take him, too. He knows a lot, and you'll need a healer if you're attacked."

Tark hasn't seen the Professor in action in battle yet. In the first goblin attack, he mostly went back and forth healing the injured. In the second, most of the Professor's actions were cloaked in magical darkness.

Oh no no. I expected this as a logical bit of roleplay, Art. Also, the Professor would kinda like to stay behind. That's the way I conceive of him, being a naive, unworldly, academic. Anatomy lessons? Cadavers? No prob. Real life blood, spurting from your friend's arm? HOLY FRIJOLE GET ME OUTTA HERE!!

But... staying behind because "that's what he would do," doesn't make for a very good game. So I was waiting for somebody to say, "no no, we need the healer."

Tark looks at the Professor as he rattles on about Forgotten Ones. "Take him, too. He knows a lot, and you'll need a healer if you're attacked."

"Uhhh, well, I mean, I do know a lot, certainly. I am a Professor of the University of Oppara, after all, but... errr, well, yes, OK, I guess that makes sense. Might need the chirurgeon."

Damn my eyes to the Spire. Is that halfling reading my thoughts? It's like he knew exactly the reason I was thinking.

Rafaelis claps and rubs his hands together, "Ah good! Now that is settled let us be off. I am so excited! We are going to have a chance to meet unique being! This has the potential to go into a Chronicle."

In the Verduran Forest, Taldor - Oathday, 2 Gozran, 4715 A.R.

Crossing the canal, the water is bracingly cold. However, the current is slow and the canal is not terribly deep. Everyone makes it to the far side without much difficulty. However, everyone is also soaking wet. Here beneath the canopy of the forest, the midday Gozran sun does little to warm you up.

Brethon explains that the Forgotten one lives at the base of a hill about a mile back to the southwest. On the towpath, the hill was readily visible. Here, in the dense forest, it is not.

Brethon's Take 10 Survival Check: 10 + 9 + 2 = 21

Brethon nevertheless adroitly leads you to the base of the hill and a large alder tree growing there. The tree his brilliant golden leaves. In its lower branches, just above head-height for the humans in your group is a
miniature house. It has bright blue walls, a red door with a stained-glass inset, a steep, and pale-shingled roof. It rests on a balcony of twigs, and thin tendril of smoke rises from a tiny chimney.

"Well, here we are," Brethon says quietly, gesturing for everyone to stop a respectful distance from the house.

He clears his throat before continuing. "Ahh, err, sir, ma'am, ah Forgotten One, are you home? May we speak to you for a moment?"

A high-pitched voice answers from inside the house, "Go away. I'm not taking visitors. Don't make me come out there and make you forget why you're here."

Brethon goes on, "Uh, we're sorry to disturb you, but it's about the ettin."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

The voice replies, "Yes, well, be that as it may, I'm afraid I can't help you. Good day."

Brethon looks at the rest of you imploringly.

Brethon's set up a fairly good diplomacy check for you. However, the DC to take a creature from unfriendly to indifferent is 20 plus the creature's Charisma modifier. Brethon has currently failed by 4 or less, so the creature remains unfriendly. A little help could tip the scales in your favor.

Rafaelis calls out, "Oh please impart some of your wisdom upon us o' great and ancient protector of the forrest that we may help purge the forrest of this blight of an ettin along with her werecreatures and goblin lackies. They are very destructive to all around. We have brought a toothsome treat as a humble attempt at compensation for your time."
Aid Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Oops! Not so good.

"Treat, toothsome?"

The red door opens a crack and a tiny brown head with large, pointed ears and slanted eyes peers out toward you.

"What kind? Let me see."

Look here, oh forgotten one, people are dying, creatures are dying, plants are dying! We are trying to out a stop to this and we need your help.

Aid Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12

"Umm, yes, sir.. missus, oh great forgotten one, I, I mean we, could really use your help. There is a bad monster killing in the forest, it really is unbalanced, and unfair. It's not right, it's not natural. We could really use your help. "

Aid Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

"psst Allbern! Show him your Gingerbread. Try talking nice to him/her/it in Sylvan too. Rafaelis stage wispers to the gnome.

Look here, oh forgotten one, people are dying, creatures are dying, plants are dying! We are trying to out a stop to this and we need your help.

"I have my own problems, thank you."

"Umm, yes, sir.. missus, oh great forgotten one, I, I mean we, could really use your help. There is a bad monster killing in the forest, it really is unbalanced, and unfair. It's not right, it's not natural. We could really use your help. "

"Yes, it's all gone to hell in a handbasket. You were mentioning treats?"

"psst Allbern! Show him your Gingerbread. Try talking nice to him/her/it in Sylvan too. Rafaelis stage wispers to the gnome.

The forgotten one's ears twitch forward at the mention of gingerbread, and it licks its lips.

"Oh, um, hi. Well, you don't have to make me forget why I came here, because I'll probably forget shortly if I haven't forgotten already. Anyways, I brought some gyngerbread, made with honey, spices and bread. It's delicious! I bought it in Cassomir and I was saving it for later, but if it will make you feel better, you can have it instead. I mean, it would be nice to have some for later, after we chase off those goblins and the meanie giant, but I'll be alright." As usual, his words come out in a jumbled rush.

Diplo. Aid: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
SM: 1d20 ⇒ 6

"Gyngerbread? Could you bring it over here? Could I have just a little?" The door opens a bit wider, still not fully, and a very slender brown arm reaches out through it over the balcony.

The arm has a long, nasty scratch on it.

The purple-skinned gnome skips over happily and offers up the delicacy. "Here you go mister!"

heal: 1d20 ⇒ 16

"Ow, I've got a few ouchies like that before. Looks like it stings."

The forgotten one eagerly reaches for the gyngerbread and starts gingerly nibbling at it. As he, she, it does so, it comes more full out of the doorway. It's covered in scratches from head to toe, all partly healed.

When Albern considers the scratches, they seem about the size and shape to be caused by the dogslicers the goblins were carrying in the attack yesterday morning.

"MMMmmmm! This is delicious! Thank you! Would you like some beer? I have a little. Do come closer."

The forgotten one goes back into the house, leaving the door ajar. You hear sounds inside of clanking glassware or china, of cupboards opening and closing, and of liquids being poured.

sense motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13