As Hrafn pries the ensorcelled cauldron off Dorvarr, Ragnarr continues to scream like a madman as he rains down desperate blow after desperate blow on the thing.
Hrafn, seeing that his wooden weapons are ineffective against the metal creature, cries "Dorvarr, do you still have that dagger? The dwerrow wrought blade might slice this thing's hide!"
As Hrafn pries the ensorcelled cauldron off Dorvarr, Ragnarr continues to scream like a madman as he rains down desperate blow after desperate blow on the thing.
In his savage fury Ragnarr smites the enchanted cauldron. Its metallic body splinters and cracks until it suddenly implodes upon itself leaving only a cloud of ash.
Catching your breath and patting off the ashen soot that now covers the room you return to your task.
Dorvarr surveying the shelf he had just started searching when attacked finds what you have come for. Amongst skulls, strange reagents, scrolls and other relics two jars of rat's tail can be located. A casual glance reveals that on the shelf two stattuetes hewn of walrus ivory that could fetch a reasonable price in the markets. The stattuetes depict writing sea-serpents.
Vladimir scans about and a puzzled expression comes across his face. Approaching the hearth closer he tries to make out exactly what is hanging over the mantle. To his disgust he sees that it is a loathsome shrunken head. Above the head are several pouches of arcane substances and a few other bizarre instruments.
In his savage fury Ragnarr smites the enchanted cauldron. Its metallic body splinters and cracks until it suddenly implodes upon itself leaving only a cloud of ash.
Ragnarr leans upon his axe, hyperventilating heavily. As the rage subsides, he starts to shake and seems visibly drained from the brief fight. He leans heavily on his axe and stares at the ashen remains of the cauldron in frightened wonder, and takes no interest in the search of the hut that his companions are engaging in. "Hurry... we need to get out of this accursed place fast... or before we know it, the table and chairs will attack us, too..."
Dorvarr pauses to catch his breath for a moment then, with a quick prayer to Thor, picks up the 2 ivory statuettes along with the needed ingredients.
"No sense in destroying someone's hard work. Besides, we may need them for trade later. In any case, lets get going, raze this place if you feel the need, but the more time we spend here, the less time we have to save people"`
Most of you quickly take leave of the cursed hut. Stepping outside the mute stares of the grotesque scarecrows greets you. The mist on the Helgamere is beginning to recede revealing the dank turbid waters. As the mists part some of you saw a suggestion of movement over the water. A fleeting shadow, a quick splash and then nothing. A fish perhaps...
Judging from Gudrun's directions the walk to the Temple Grove is several hours on. At this point there are no game trails to aid you as it is only bush from here on to the base of Droskarfell.
Vlad, a little shaken by the encounter, and by finding the shrunken head, turns and grins at Ragnarr.
"Well, why don't you reduce them to kindles as well, my friend? I say we go outside, and burn it from the bridge. It's the only way to be sure."
"No," grunts Ragnarr. "A greater curse would likely fall upon us if we set the witch's home on fire... let's just get out of here and get as much distance as we can between us and this place..."
Ragnarr nearly panics as he notices the splash in the water out of the corner of his eye and sees the mist thickening. He quickens his pace accordingly. "These are bad signs... She comes..."
Dorvarr pauses to catch his breath for a moment then, with a quick prayer to Thor, picks up the 2 ivory statuettes along with the needed ingredients.
"No sense in destroying someone's hard work. Besides, we may need them for trade later. In any case, lets get going, raze this place if you feel the need, but the more time we spend here, the less time we have to save people"`
"I agree. Let the swamp and the woods reclaim it. We have other work awaiting us."
Hrafn whistles swift Byr into the skies, a scout to spy the companions path. "I will lead us to the temple grove, if you'll follow?"
Dorvarr pauses to catch his breath for a moment then, with a quick prayer to Thor, picks up the 2 ivory statuettes along with the needed ingredients.
"No sense in destroying someone's hard work. Besides, we may need them for trade later. In any case, lets get going, raze this place if you feel the need, but the more time we spend here, the less time we have to save people"`
"I agree. Let the swamp and the woods reclaim it. We have other work awaiting us."
Hrafn whistles swift Byr into the skies, a scout to spy the companions path. "I will lead us to the temple grove, if you'll follow?"
Using the map and Hrafn's unerring sense of direction your band plunges into the bush. The woods of the Vale are dense and thick. The ground is a mess of moss-covered rocks. The going is difficult and arduos.
After some hours of trudging you near your destination of the Temple Grove. You are now in the shadow of the towering pinnacle of Droskarfell. However, the sound of rushing water reaches your ears.A wide roaring creek lies just ahead a short stretch. Foaming white water crashes down and piles of trees and driftwood lay scattered on the banks and jagged rocks.
The grove should be a short distance over the creek. The creek looks shallow enough to ford but the current is swift. How do you wish to proceed?
[ooc]
"Temple grove?" asks Ragnarr with suspicion. "What is this place? What do we hope to find there?" The smelly man-beast seems a bit more at ease now that they have left Uzimila's hut in the distance, but still... he clearly isn't entirely without concern. He looks around for the best place to ford the stream, and once he finds it, carefully picks his way across...
"A sound plan, lad. Hang on tight, then tie it around yourself when you cross. There's likely to be plenty of foes looking to take your life, no sense in throwing it in the creek... heh heh."
On the opposite creek bank , Ragnarr bellows a donkey-like guffaw. "Friend Dorvarr, Thor has blessed you with a fine sense of humour! Harrrh!!!"
"Temple grove?" asks Ragnarr with suspicion. "What is this place? What do we hope to find there?" The smelly man-beast seems a bit more at ease now that they have left Uzimila's hut in the distance, but still... he clearly isn't entirely without concern. He looks around for the best place to ford the stream, and once he finds it, carefully picks his way across...
Ragnarr strides into the rushing waters. The creek is ice cold fed by glacial meltwater and the half-orc grunts in shock. He cautiously strides forward the whitewater engulfing his legs and midway nearly stumbles on loose rock but manages to regain balance and continue forward. He reaches the far shore soaked but none the worse for wear.
Ragnarr holding the end at the far shore taut whilst Vladimir holds the other end your band begins the treacherous crossing:
Balance or Str check DC 12
Hrafn balance 9= 2+2(Dex)+5(rope)
Dorvarr balance 7=3+3(Dex)-4(Armor)+5(rope)
The wild man and the stout cleric attempt to navigate the cold roaring waters using the rope to steady themselves. However the rocks are loose and slippery. Dorvarr weighed by his armour stumbles and Hrafn's balance is subsequently thrown. The two fall into the rushing creek.
Hrafn Swim 20 =14+6
Dorvarr Swim 4=12-8 (armor)
Hrafn fights the current and his hand shoots upwards grabbing hold of the rope.
Dorvarr, burdened, slips and stumbles further when a sudden crest of whitewater catches him square in the chest sending him reeling backwards ten feet.
Vlad holds tight to the rope, hoping that he can aid Dorvarr after Hrafn and Ragnarr have crossed, themselves. His heart flutters, knowing his friend is in peril, but knowing that abandoning his other charges would be a worse sin than allowing one to perish.
Hrafn splutters curses and river water through his beard, blinking and grimacing as he comes up for air.
"Vlad - get after Dorvarr - Ragnarr can haul me out," he calls as soon as he is able.
Vlad's step betrays him on a slippery rock, and he slides backwards underwater. The surface closes over his head with a sploosh.
He thrashes frantically, struggling to regain his feet, finally finding a rock to kick off from and catching his breath. Without pause, he forges after Dorvarr.
Dorvarr furiously loosens his armour in the swift water to free his movements. Vladimir clutching to the slippery rocks in the thrashing current reaches out to Dorvarr.
Dorvarr (loosened armour, -2 * 2 Swim AC penalty) 10=11+3-4
Vladimir 17=17+2+2(rope)-4(AC)
Vladimir straining every muscle fighting against the roaring waters seizes his friend's hand and pulls him closer to the rocks.
Dorvarr roll to aid 13=14+3-4
Vladimir 16=16+2+2(rope)-4(AC)
The two struggle through the cascading waters. Dorvarr pulling up his burden as best he can while Vladimir pulling him along makes a desparate flail to a large black rock near the banks of the river. The young knight nearly loses his grasp upon the rock but with a burst of strength clasps it firmly. The two hold on and with a swing fall in a pile upon the far shore drenched to the bone.
Hrafn already half way across the river vaults forward through the rushing water and rocks. The wild man soaked thoroughly shakes the cold water off in a spray.
A little worse for the wear your band has arrived on the far side of the creek. Dorvarr and Vladimir lie on the shore recovering from their exertions.
The thick Waleska trees and staggered jack pines stand at the edge of the Temple Grove.
A little worse for the wear your band has arrived on the far side of the creek. Dorvarr and Vladimir lie on the shore recovering from their exertions.
The thick Waleska trees and staggered jack pines stand at the edge of the Temple Grove.
Hrafn looks round briefly, wrings the water from his beard and cloak, then starts gathering wood for a fire.
"We should get dry. No fun freezing in wet clothes."
Vlad, soaked and exhausted, agrees. He strips his chain hauberk off, and sits down to catch his breath on a rock, staying well away from the slippery edges of the river.
"Aye. Let's... find shelter for the night...'twould be wise, friends of mine." Vlad's going to dig in his pack and see if any of his food is still dry... if not, he'll feed it to the bird.
You camp at the creek's edge. Hrafn communicates through a series of whistles and gurgles to Byr who takes wing over the woods of the Temple Grove.
A sulphurous smell wafts as the wind shifts. Gazing into the dense forest a hazy mist can be seen rising in the shadowed recesses of the forest. Pools of small hot springs can be seen bubbling quietly.
Driftwood thrown upon the banks serves as easy forage for a fire to dry your chilled bones.
Byr returns from his flight and lands with ease upon a rock near Hrafn the bird gurgles peacefully and begins to pick around the shore for food seemingly unperturbed by your immediate surroundings.
You camp at the creek's edge. Hrafn communicates through a series of whistles and gurgles to Byr who takes wing over the woods of the Temple Grove.
Byr returns from his flight and lands with ease upon a rock near Hrafn the bird gurgles peacefully and begins to pick around the shore for food seemingly unperturbed by your immediate surroundings.
Hrafn speaks slowly round a mouthful of trail-bread.
"We're safe here. For the moment."Then... later...
"That was an exciting day. Everyone OK?"
"Despite my dip, I find I'm better each day." Vlad takes a deep breath and looks around at his companions. "I must thank each of you- in all my challenges, I would have fallen were it not for your arm , your guidance, and your sheer muscle. I thank each of you- without any one, I would have perished in the past few days. When my grandchildren are small and fat and sitting about my legs begging for stories, I shall recount these days to them." His piece said, Vlad shares his food, finds a warm place by the fire, and dreams, smiling.
The sun begins to set as the long nights of the northern winter begin. The weather though chill is fair and clear. Sulphurous mists from the bubbling hot springs of the Temple Grove begin to collect as the dusk gathers. The constellations rest overhead in the firmament and the reddish star of Odin's Eye glimmers balefully over the peak of Droskarfell. Hrafn, Vladimir and Dorvarr warm their selves by the fire.
Watches are set. During Vladimir's watch (the third) the shimmering witchlights of the aurora shimmer overhead cascading in green and bluish hues. The howls of wolves on the hunt sounds over the Vale. The wolf pack thankfully seems to be already tracking quarry and after some time the howls diminish and recede.
Eventually, the glow on the horizon heralds the dawn and your band rested and recovered from their ordeal are once again ready to resume their mission of mercy.
The morning light provides greater visibility into the luxuriant and lush growth of the grove.
Spot DC 11
Happy to be warm and dry, Dorvarr goes about his morning rountine, praying to Thor for his blessings and his strength and dressing for a day of adventure.
"Here's hoping our fortunes this day continue to improve..."
The stout man catches a glimpse of something, attempting to discreetly alert the others if they don't already seem to notice.
"Seems like a bright morning today, maybe Thor's light guides our path today?"
Happy to be warm and dry, Dorvarr goes about his morning rountine, praying to Thor for his blessings and his strength and dressing for a day of adventure.
"Here's hoping our fortunes this day continue to improve..."
The stout man catches a glimpse of something, attempting to discreetly alert the others if they don't already seem to notice.
"Seems like a bright morning today, maybe Thor's light guides our path today?"
Dorvarr's Spot and any other Spots 15+
Eventually, the glow on the horizon heralds the dawn and your band rested and recovered from their ordeal are once again ready to resume their mission of mercy.The morning light provides greater visibility into the luxuriant and lush growth of the grove.
Hrafn wakes refreshed; feeling in tune with the landscape around him and ready - more than ready, keen - for the day's journey ahead.
"Seems like we're not the only ones stopped here last night, he murmurs to Ragnarr. "I don't think axemen grow on trees in this grove."
"Seems like we're not the only ones stopped here last night, he murmurs to Ragnarr. "I don't think axemen grow on trees in this grove.""Hrnh? Axemen?" Ragnarr does not seem to notice whatever it is that caught Hrafn and Dorvarr's eye.
"Over here." Hrafn moves quickly but cautiously towards the fallen warrior, looking out for signs that might explain what has occurred.
Moving cautiously through the undergrowth Hrafn sees the swollen body of a young warrior. He lies face down in a shallow pool his cold hand still tightly grips his axe pointing upwards on the ground. The axe is grimy with dried blood.
Knowledge(local) DC 10
Search DC 8
Search DC 12
Knowledge(local) DC 10