Gaje pulls a bottle off his hip and slugs it down. Then he pulls another off and tosses it at Flick. "Birdy boy drink, feel better."
Gaje looks much better after drinking the potion. He climbs up out of the pit.
The gnoll easily gets up and out of the pit. He seems to ignore the bandits now that they are retreating. Swaggering up to the wagon, he pulls a bottle off of Jorge's hip, and pours it down the Gnoll's throat.
Jorge wakes up sputtering and making noises in Gnoll that sound like curses. As he starts pulling arrows from his body, Gaje begins dancing and pointing fingers at Jorge, occassionally showing off muscles or pointing to his bloody axe.
Jorge growls irritably. "Birdy people, search corpses, need pay for potions. Otherwise Sis gonna skin us all alive." The comment makes Gaje pause, then drop to his haunches and hold his head muttering dispiritedly.
Biggy moves and fires at Flick.
The arrow misses Flick, but the size of the shaft makes Flick realize that one hit will likely kill him.
The sleeva all take off at dead runs, and it's shocking just how fast those cheeta's move when they want to. They started out behind the gnolls, but bypass them easily in their first sprint.
The ground-fight construct tries to run after the gnoll but fades away instead.
The duck/falcon astral construct slowly keeps following the disappearing gnolls and cheetahs. Without a direct target to pursue, it gains altitude, still dumbly following its orders.
Hero decided to speed towards Alys, coming to a halt next to her head.
Connor reached Alys just as Selvan came up behind him commenting about his near-Wingless movement. "Last I saw, we were still up against archers out here." Connor snapped back.
As Selvan healed the female elfavian, Connor grabbed Hero and threw him at the other oxcart. Get on top of that and make sure nothing sneaks up on us. he commanded the psicrsytal. The garnet landed only halfway to the wagon, and a grumpy Hero complied, walking the rest of the way.
"I'm going to look around first, make sure they've really retreated." Connor told Selvan. He gave a good look around as he cautiously put his head above the grass line. Not seeing any, Connor ran as quickly as he could back to the first wagon.
Connor arrived to see the gnoll with the axe dancing, while the driver gnoll pulled arrows out of his body. Ouch, Connor thought to himself. "Hor'Gah wants us to search the bodies for anything valuable!" he called out. "Or Janisha will dock his pay!" Connor gave another look around from his vantage point.
"And they had no trouble shooting a walking target anymore than a flying one. So best to move quickly than slog through the horse dung hm?" Not having anything further to say Selvan starts to hurt himself.
Selvan HP:5+6 = 11
Next round selvan touches alys to heal damage adn take that much in non-lethal in turn. 7 left.
Selvan Hp: 11 -3 nonlethal
Do it again for more damage.
Selvan HP 11 -5 nonlethal
And again
Selvan HP 11 -7 nonlethal
That brings her up to one hp.
Selvan heals 2 more pp bringing him to 2 pp left.
So Selvan's hp is at 16 -1 nonlethal.
touch twice again to buffer that hp.
So Alys is at 4hp
Selvan is at 16 -4 nonlethal with 3 uses left on touchy feely transfer. So let's go ahead and use it two more times and watch selvan roll box cars.
So Alys should be at 9 hp with selvan at 16 -9 nonlethal.
In about 4 and a half hours selvan will have no more nonlethal damage.
Within about 30 seconds, Connor will be unable to find the surviving attackers in the tall grass. Their clothing matches the grass in color, so it's hard to see them when they aren't running. Once they slow to a careful duck walk, they all but vanish.
Sam starts gathering the bodies of the dead and systematically strips them of goods.
Connor sent a final mental reinforcing message to the astral construct flying after one of the fleeing attackers.
"Hang in there, Hor'Gah. ", Connor told the young gnoll. "After we get the ox out of here I've got a surgeon's kit in my backpack." He leaned back and shouted "ALL CLEAR!" to the others. Connor looked at the ox still in the ditch. "I can help with this, we don't want the animal to get a broken leg."
Connor concentrated, and first one, then another and another astral constructs grew into winged shapes.
These silvery-transparent mannequin of a winged Humavian stand shorter than a Halvavian. They are ready to move by silent command from its master.
Craft (Sculpting) check:
Craft (Sculpting) check:
Craft (Sculpting) check:
Craft (Sculpting) check:
A result of 20 to 29 creates a construct that looks like an accurate portrayal of that creature type.
N Small construct
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception -
DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+2 Dex, +5 natural, +1 size)
HP 15 (1d10+10)
Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +0; Immune construct traits
OFFENSE
Speed Fly 20 ft. (Average)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
STATISTICS
Str 15, Dex 15, Con —, Int —, Wis 11, Cha 10
BAB +1, CMB +2; CMD 14
Feats -
Skills: Can perform any simple task of DC 10 or less for its' duration.
SPECIAL ABILITIES (One option from Menu A; one option from Advanced Constructs Menu A)
Fly (Ex)
Utility (Ex)
Connor looked at Gaje. "You pull. I'll get down there and push." he told the gnoll. Getting down into the ditch, Connor first tried to soothe the herd animal. Using the astral constructs to lift the animal around its' belly, Connor grabbed its' harness and heaved to push the ox back and to its' left.
It was definitely easier for the animal to go in one direction than the other.
Jorge and Gaje both stop Connor, both mumbling in Gnoll, shaking their heads and pointing to the ox's front leg, which is already broke. Jorge has all his arrows out, and pours another potion down his throat, and the wounds seal over. Between the two gnolls, they disconnect the ox from the wagon, and give the wagon a shove and push it back 20 ft. Now that the ox is not attached to the wagon, it's easier to get it up. The two brothers get on each side of the ox, manhandling it and along with the four constructs they lift it up out of the ditch and get it on the ground. There's some squeezing of it's neck by Gaje, as it goes from panic and injured to half-unconscious and injured that makes the lifting easier.
Once it's up, the two throw it on it's side and pin it to the ground, while Jorge pulls a potion off his hip and forces the ox to drink it. The ox's broken leg snaps and cracks as the bone resets itself and the skin slides back over the bone.
Once that's done, they let the ox up, and give it a few minutes to settle down.
"Hah, good job with Ox. Little gray wing things help with lift. Much easier than last time." Gaje says while stretching his arms and shoulders from the effort.
Jorge nods. "Yah, last time, stupid Ox kick me between legs. Janisha get mad because I chop it's balls off. How I know she have breeding contract for ox."
"'Last time'?" Connor asked, suspicious. "Just how often do you guys get ambushed on these runs?" He silently gave mental commands to the constructs, and they began flying higher and higher, circling the party in the savannah.
Jorge looks thoughtful. "Oh, no more than two or three times."
Gaje nods. "Why we quit taking jobs on this route. Usually once on way, once on way back. More if we fight them off. Usually we kill 3 or 4, then get taken out, then wake up a day or two later, kill a couple of vultures, and make our way back home."
"Well," Sam says, huffing under the weight of the dead gnoll he was dragging over, "We'll have to do something about that."
Connor looked aghast. "And when's the last successful supply run that you've had?" he asked. Now he regretted the four, no, five! astral constructs still active. They would only last four hours. Connor didn't have the internal energy to replace them, not and maintain a post all night!
"Guys and gal!" Connor called out to the other Atalantians. "Come here quick! It seems our boys here are regular spoils to the local gang members in the jungle! We've got to talk about this, or make haste to the monastery!"
Gaje waves Connor down. "Calm down birdy boy. They have to go back to whatever camp they have, heal up, get more archers. Be day or two at least. We be at monastery in morning." The gnoll laughs at Connor's apparent panic.
Jorge nods, his tongue hanging out. "Yah, yah, maybe attack again between Monastery and Vuomik."
"I'd rather not take chances. As soon as we strip the bodies, we're out of here." Connor replied. They would talk tactics tonight, around the campfire. Or before they got to the monastery. How many had survived? How many had they slain? Enough to thin the numbers of a second attack?
Connor kept the four astral constructs circling above them, ready to warn of any incoming attackers.
"Already on it, kiddo," Sam says unceremoniously pulling a pair of trousers from one of the slain bandits and checking it against his own waist and legs. Pulling a face, he tosses it onto a pile of stripped gear and clothing before moving to the next corpse.
After helping Alys up Selvan joins the body stripping spree unceremoniously tossing gear and other obviously useful things into the back of the wagon for cataloging later.
"Don't bother being discriminate. I'll catalog everything while resting in the wagon. Taking arrows to the back, slaughtering savages, and then taking on the wounds of others is tiring work. Quite impressively strong bows on them."
Flick downs the potion, feeling his wounds close and nods his thanks "Shall I scout around a bit, or find some high ground to cover us from? We should probably find a better spot to eventually stop for the night. Dead bodies will attract animals looking for an easy meal"
The group finds :
4 composite +1 short bows
3 composite +3 short bows
4 sets of leather armor
3 sets of studded leather armor
arrows
local gold pieces
local silver pieces
local copper pieces
7 small bottles with runes on them
"Well, we have enough arrows now." Connor quipped. "Too bad I use a crossbow. I never learned the other bows, I went to trade school instead."
"Funny how that works out," Sam says, hauling an armful of the arrows into a wagon, "I went to prison myself." Once the pilfered gear was loaded up he turned to the others.
"I vote we try and track these bandits down as opposed to letting them hit us with better tactics and more troops. We've got some advantages they don't and could use that to punish them for sticking me full of arrows."
"Nice of them to dig their own mass grave." Selvan grunts as he heaves another heavy stripped body into the pit. "Scary thing is I agree. But unfortunately the elite military school I went to taught us that tracking an enemy in their home territory with wounded and drained mental energies was a good way to ensure that you died for your country."
Selvan smiles somewhat maliciously. "Though that doesn't mean we have to accept another ambush on their terms. How hard is it do you think to pilot one of those beasts?"
"Yeah, they faded into the grass really fast. I honestly have zero faith we could track them and ambush them, and Selvan is right, as much as I'd like to give out some payback."
"I'm keeping some constructs up as early warning guards." Connor said, glancing at the sky. "But I don't think any of us should track, not with cargo still to deliver." To Selvan he replied, "I'm not a teamster. Let the hyena-siblings drive. I just want to get to the monastery."
Hero grumbled mentally from the second wagon, but kept watch as well.
"I also don't think it'd be appreciated if we get distracted by every failed bandit ambush. Also I don't think I'm up to hitting a Bandit camp right now. Let's make sure they don't catch us this way again but let's not get distracted. Let's keep at least two outlooks in the air along with Connor's constructs."
Alys is still holding her partially healed arrow wounds.
Once the ox is up and moving again, the brothers strap it back into the wagon's harness, and then start moving around the ambush site.
Another day and a half of high alert sees the group reaching the Monastery. The monastery is about 150 ft long, with large stone walls, and about 80 ft wide. A young feline cub sees the two wagons, and stands up and swings a large wooden mallet into a bell, sending a gong sound reverberating across the savannah.
A dozen felines of various species come out of the monastery, all dressed in very flowing clothes. Once the wagons pull up, a huge hulking feline unlike any the islander's have seen makes his way slowy out. Despite his bulk, his fur is faded white with silver stripes. His back is bent with age. The feline begins yowling and snarling and hissing at Jorge, who returns the words with angry sounding yowls and hisses of his own. Gaje too adds to the sudden sound of a cat fight.
The big striped feline shuffles up to Jorge and brings his arm around in a swipe that bats the Gnoll on the shoulder, and rocks him on the wagon. Jorge laughs and bobs his head, pointing to Gaje. The old man shuffles over and does the same thing to Gaje, rocking him on the wagon as well.
Then the two brothers begin snapping the reins on the oxen's necks, making them pull into the Monastery, where younger fitter looking feline folk are opening the double doors.
Once inside, Gaje and Jorge hop down off the wagons while some of the younger catfolk unharness the oxen and lead them off to a small barn. The interior of the Monastery seems taken up by a large dirt square, while the buildings are along the outer walls. Almost certainly the Monastery has underground reaches, as there's not enough room for all the felines otherwise.
"Yo, birdy guys. These be the Monks. No start fight, if you like using your limbs. They good in fight. Good use claws, chop you up, chop you down." Jorge warns.
Gaje nods. "Yah, those cats be fast as lightning."
Jorge's tongue lols out and he nods in agreement. "Be little bit frightening."
With a new day, and renewed psionic energy, Connor used his powers more wisely. Keeping Inertial Armor and two astral constructs up at all times was tiring, however. He had spent last night arguing tactics with Selvan and Sammark during and after the campfire dinner. Connor was on edge the rest of the night, and while walking and flying between the wagons the next day.
Holding psionic focus (Energy type=Fire); HP=11 Power Points=4; AC=18/14/14 with IA; Active Powers=Inertial Armor manifested (30 minutes left); two Astral Constructs active (Utility-Winged type; 1 hour left)
Connor watched the snarling wordplay and the friendly blows between the striped feline and the two brothers. I need a translation power. he decided. Not that some kind of illusion or cover psionic ability wouldn't be more useful in battle. And they had been hired for their brawn, not their brains.
Connor landed the two little constructs, one on each wagon load, before they all went though the gate. Listening to Gaje and Jorge, Connor looked up. Wingless Surface-dwellers always thought walls were enough. Not to those who fly. Hero, who was back on Connor's necklace, agreed.
"How long are we staying?" Connor asked Jorge. "Is there anything these monks can tell us about the jungle gangs?"
Jorge laughs. "Yes, can tell how their bones crunch when they attack. Bandits afraid of Monks. Monks be very scary." Jorge points to a young female monk. The monks not unloading the second landing have gone back to training, and the young female races into the middle of a group of other younger trainees, flipping and leaping heights that make Connor a little less sure a flyer is safe attacking. The female sends other trainees flying with spinning kicks, ending in a small cloud of dust with a half-dozen felines scattered around her. She bows in a circle to her opponents.
Jorge grins. "She not be scariest here." He nods at the old tiger. "Master Lot be very scary. See him take a 100 stride step and kick guts out of bandit."
"So relative safety if nothing else." Selvan says stretching his limbs and wings to pop all of the kinks out from the rough ride.
Sam watches the acrobatics display for a moment before helping unload some of the lighter stuff. He was good but not that good on his feet, perhaps he could get the monks to show him a few things before he left. Regardless, the recent fight had him wanting to start actively training his mind again. There was a physical component to his old regimen that the monks might also be able to help him reconnect with. Regularly using his powers had shaken off the dust of disuse but his range was severely lacking at the moment.
"Does Master Lot speak the trade tongue?" Sam asked Jorge, "I'd like a chance to talk to him if we're gonna be staying the night here."
Gaje scratches his ear, looking a bit sheepish. "Not know. Master Lot might understand trade tongue. Might understand god speak or devil speak. Only ever hear Master Lot speak Fashtali."
Jorge nods. "We be here for a couple of days while monks unpack all boxes and sign off on delivery. If want speak, suggest try talking Master Ysm. He usually most friendly of monks. He usually beat Gaje and me up for 'training', then bandage us up and make us tea and talk. Good tea, worth getting beaten up for."
"Hmm, that must be some tea. They got any fire-water around here?"
Gaje looks confused for a moment, but then grins and nods. He goes over to his wagon and digs in his back pack. He returns with a small stone flask and hands it to Reagher.
It's lamp oil.
Sipping it lightly to test it, Reaghar becomes glad he did.
Unable to stymie a chuckle at such circumstances, Reaghar says "no, this is fire OIL. I meant liquor. I hope this isn't the tea you've been drinking."
Jorge wrinkles his nose. "You should not drink that. Bad for, make runs."
Gaje laughs and nods. "Fire water not for drinking." He looks at Jorge and asks him something in Gnoll.
The two goo back and forth in Gnoll for a bit, and then finally seem to come to a consensus. "You want liquor, but we no carry any. Monks no drink. Be some in Vuomik though." Jorge finally responds.
Sam nods and saunters off to look for this Master Ysm. He was curious to see more of the monastery. He had heard of various religious and philosophical monasteries back on the island. Some rumors put his own skill with psionics to shame, could such a disciplined and careful dedication to an ideal really sharpen one's mind so? He wanted to find out.
The monks finish unloading the wagon, and the group is invited in for the evening. The evening meal is held outside around a fire pit. On the pit is a stripe-beast and a horn-beast carcass, slowly rotated by one monk or another, each taking a turn, even the Elder Monks.
Master Ysm is a middle aged Sleeva with impressive muscles, and he stops at each of the islander's, shaking their hand with a powerful paw (and retracted razor sharp claws!). He is polite, and speaks fairly clear Tradespeak. The party hears him make a morning 'training' appointment with Gaje and Jorge.
In addition to the two sources of meat, the monks bring out two casks of drink. The first one is a spiced blood drink, made from the blood of the two animals being cooked. Gaje and Jorge grin and get big mugs full of the spiced blood drink. The other cask is a large cask of water. One of the monks approaches the water, with a small bowl of water. He is wearing some leather gloves that are thin but well made. He washes both gloves up to the elbow. Then, standing again next to the cask, he makes a few passes over the water. His gloved fists begin to give off white vapor and then he plunges them both in the cask. When he pulls his hands out, they are coated with a thin sheen of ice. He repeats this three more times, then cracks the ice off his gloved hands and back into the water. The cask of water is now giving off a faint haze of cold vapor, the water a mix of ice and water.
The party notices there are no vegetables, other than some spices on the meat. A quick look around at all the carnivores makes it obvious that vegetables are not high on the menu around here.
Connor was polite towards Master Ysm. He had already let his inertial armor drop, and the astral constructs had faded away when their time was up. "We are from Atalantia, Master Ysm," he told the larger feline. "From the largest floating island-in-the-sky."
----------------------------
Watching the evening roast, Connor decided to try the striped one, when the time came. He'd have to use his dagger to make bite-sized chunks of the meat, since he did not have retractable claws.
As the monk with the leather gloves approached the water cask, Connor saw the gloves. Magic. he thought to himself. The monk's demonstration of making ice confirmed his suspicion. Not bad. Connor caught Sammark's eye, nodding towards the now chilled water. But Energy Splash from either of us would do the same, in time. he thought to himself. Connor regained his psionic focus, just in case he needed it.
Walking over to Selvan, Connor muttered "Tomorrow morning you, Elrohir, or I should do some wing-stretching, see how the countryside looks before we set out. If the hyena brothers are right, we could see another bandit attack before we get to the frontier town."
Reaghar, excited for feasts as he always was, happily sliced off pieces of both meats with a long knife.
Nothing like ice water to help digest all this meat, but i wonder if this blood stuff is alcoholic...
Reaghar tried a glass of the blood drink to see if it'd do the trick.
"Hm, we might die of constipation on this diet," Sam mentions to Connor in Strix with a wry smile. Never the less, he slices a few thin morsels for himself from each beast. He even takes a cup of the spiced blood to go with it. He was enjoying life among these land-bound and wanted to experience as much of their alien culture as he could. He did, of course, snag a cup of water as well.
He looked to his companions, for that is what he supposed they were, and found a remarkable lack enmity towards them at this juncture. Perhaps, despite himself, his winged allies were starting to grow on him some. Perhaps that was merely him seeking a bastion of familiarity in this strange land. Still, there were other matters to attend to.
Spying Master Ysm amongst the monks, he approaches to a respectful distance and gives a curt bow.
"Master, I was wondering if you would be willing to humor an unenlightened stranger to these lands," interestingly, Sam's usual demeanor dropped almost entirely. This was, perhaps, the most polite any of his acquaintances in the group had ever seen him.
Flick happily takes a small slice of each beast, and a cup of the icy water. The little man doesn't eat much, but does compliment the cooking.
When Connor makes his comment, he responds "I'd be happy to go, but I don't think this should be a solo flight."
"No, no it shouldn't." Selvan confirms sipping his ice water and eating his roasted meat in quiet contemplation. "I don't think you could keep up with us either if we seriously stretched our wings"
Flick arches an eyebrow questioningly at Selvan "I seriously hope you aren't talking to me. I'm pretty sure I could fly circles around you"