Allence's Last Hope

Game Master sarpadian

Umash presents the healing potion: "I don't think I'm fit to travel like this. We got this healing potion from the little dogface, should fix me up enough at least to get me back on my feet, but it looked like you took quite the beating yourself, Drexel. Think you need this one? Also maybe you can have a look at this, can't make heads or tails of it myself.", she hands Drexel the unidentified scroll.

Taking the scroll gingerly, I begin studying it.

spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

I'm as ready to go as I'll ever be, but you guys look like you might need some time.

Should we go back and get our mules a dog? We can't leave Walt the Battle Donkey!

I thought that's what you and Rhona just did?

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How many HP do you have at the moment Drex? Should I use the potion or not?

We did indeed go get the mules and our guard dog, Det. We're all good.

Right, for some reason I thought we got some of their mules, not ours. Brain fart on my part, sorry :P

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I believe about 4 of us are at 0 hp currently. I think DM technically put me at 1HP with 1 nonlethal damage.

After the horses are hooked up, the farmer comes over to the party. He pulls a small, oblong stone with markings out of a belt pouch and hands it to Rhona. "Ma'am, show this here to my cousin Djolik--he runs the Singing Sparrow tavern in town--an' he'll know I sent ya. He oughta put ya up for free, an' you can leave the wagon,tack, an' the stone with him. If ya don't mind, tell 'im about the situation out here; he's got 'is ear to the ground so as he'll know if there's any help fer us. Gods bless ya, 'n thanks again!"

You all get in the wagon and take off eastward. About an hour and a half down the road, you encounter three armed and armored men on horseback coming towards you. Their tabards bear the Kingdom's insignia along with a large oak tree planted next to a river. Their leader shouts, "Halt! Who goes there?"

Feel free to interject anything you would have done before leaving and/or during the first part of your journey. Just trying to keep this moving...

Indeed, let's not dabble too long. I want to get the pace back to where it was.

"Will do, fella," Rhona says, taking the stone from the farmer. "Appreciate the free room and board we're getting, too. See ya 'round, folks."

- - - -

Upon encountering the armored men on the road, Rhona raises a hand in greeting, hoping to keep the mood as friendly as she can. "Afternoon, gents," she says. "Kingdom boys, huh? Us, too. We're on our way to Alenk Town on orders from the Overlord of New Allence. You boys look tense. Not having gnoll problems, are you?"

Chantif coughs and mumbles. Discretion, Rhona, please. Hey?

He sets his hand on his flail, but mostly he just lazes in the wagon and tries to emphasize how injured he looks.

When the riders approach, the leader has his brow furrowed, giving off a suspicious mien. He exclaims, "Say, how do you know about that?" Then, seeing the battered condition of the party, he relaxes a bit and says, "From the look of ya, I'm guessing you ran into some of their rear guard. Amiright? We repulsed their attack on the Town, and my unit got detailed to chase down the ones that got away. I'd love to stay and chat, but duty calls! Oh, and by the way, one soldier to another, be careful approaching Alenk Town: the locals are a bit jumpy. Fare thee well!" With that, he motions to his men, they flip the helms of their plate mail down, and gallop off towards the way from which you came.

After they are out of sight, Chantif looks at Rhona. It might be best if we don't burn that smoke signal so hot...

Having been asleep, I groan and,turn over. "What's all this then?" Once someone explains to me what just happened, "Thank the gods someone was already there to protect the town. I am all for saving people. Just not everyone. Oh yea, this is a scroll of burst of nettles, or nettle burst, or something. I had a little trouble figuring it out earlier." I say handing the scroll back to Umash.

Rhona shakes her head at Chantif and grins. "Oh, ye of little faith. You underestimate my comely charms, sir!" She's clearly not interested in the distinct possibility that she could easily have gotten them attacked. "In any case, I'm glad the guard were able to turn those gnolls back. That's a load off. Maybe now we can kick back, drink profusely, and crash as hard as humanly possible."

She scratches her head and looks over at Chantif. "Sorry," she grumbles, once the others are out of earshot. "Discretion's never been a strong suit of mine. Maybe you should do the talking when we get to town. I can't guarantee I'll be able to resist 'accidentally' insulting somebody and getting us run off."

"I just reckon maybe you forgot our mission is more in the secretive order of things."

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"Ahh, I didn't tell 'em anything important." Did I? she wonders. Only whose orders we were on... ech. This is why you're not a paladin, kid.

"...Right. Well, movin' on along..." She whistles awkwardly as she distances herself from Chantif. Proper grumbling requires space.

"Missions from the overlord are not right common. We don't want no attention drawn our way." As Rhona walks away, Chantif falls asleep in the wagon.

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After about another hour and a half of travel, you come to a T-intersection. The left arm of the T is paved with the same cobblestones that have made up the River Road all the way from New Allence, but the right arm of the T is simply hard-packed dirt. In front of you, the terrain gently slopes down, and in the distance--maybe a half-mile out--you can see a lake of moderate size with the setting sun glinting off of it. You can see several huts along the shore of the lake. Between you and the huts are some fields, but you don't see any people. At the intersection is a large wooden sign with two arrows, one pointing left and one pointing right. The right-pointing arrow is labelled "To Eastshore"; The left-pointing arrow is labelled "To Alenk Town". Following the directions for Alenk Town the party travels for about another half-hour before coming around a bend in the road to see a large hill directly in front of them. Atop the hill, you see a wooden palisade. The road narrows at the base of the hill; the path up the hill is steep, and only barely wide enough for the wagon. The path terminates at an iron gate that has watchtowers set into the palisade on each side of it. From the watchtower on the left comes a man's voice: "Who are you, and what business do you have in Alenk Town?"

The stop and turn had brought Chantif to a drowsy half-awake state. The guard's harsh voice brings him to wakefulness, but he stays still with his eyes closed and lets the others handle the interaction.

Before GM's update
"Thanks, Drex. I don't think I can make much use of that can't convert either of these scrolls into alchemical formulae, since they are really just elaborate prayers. The other scoll is a lesser restoration spell. I could attempt to trigger either from the scroll, but i'm more likely to ruin the thing in the process.", Umash carefully stows the scrolls away for the moment.

After GM's update
Umash sits up slowly: "We're from around the countryside... were out hunting. Got ambushed by a small band of gnolls. As you can see they did a number on us. We are looking for healing."

Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Considering that y'all still have 700+ lbs of equipment with you, I think a -5 modifier for "lie is unlikely" is in order. Speaking of which, could I get Chantif to update the spreadsheet with the gnoll and gremlin loot? I won't penalize y'all encumbrance-wise for the trip from the farm to town, but figuring out how much that stuff weighs will let you figure out how much you need to sell/get rid of before you keep going.

"That sure is a lot of stuff for a hunting party...but you do look like ya could use some healin'. Tell ya what I'm gonna do: We'll open up, and y'all come on in. Once ya get inside the gate, head for the building down the road with the pointy top, that's the temple. Some of my boys will meet ya there, and we'll see what's what. Head straight for the temple mind ya. No detours." The hear the sound of gears turning, and the gate opens.

Rhona remains tight-lipped during the exchange with the guards, keeping in mind her faux pas with the troops out on the road. After the gates open, she relaxes a bit, and nods thankfully to Umash for being the one to speak up. "Well, this works," she mumbles. "Leave the healin' to the priests. At least we can spare our supplies that way." There is a slight hint of bitterness in her voice every time she speaks of healing. Almost gives one the impression that she resents not being able to do it herself.

"It wasn't my idea.", Umash responds to the watchman and points her thumb at the others behind her: "They insisted on bringing all this stuff along, I told them it's just dead weight. We expected to be out looking for a while, didn't know there were gnolls in the area- you know how it is, news travels slow out there- but these people just have the need to over-prepare." she shrugs and slumps back into the cart.

bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19 maybe I can still fix this.

"Uh, whatever, just get to the temple."

It's not easy, but eventually the wagon makes it up the path and through the gates into the city. The gates clang shut as soon as the wagon is through. Once inside, the party can see a building with a pointy top on the right side of the road about fifty yards ahead. Once you arrive there, you see several of the town guard standing there, armed and armored, and there are a couple of people leaning out of nearby windows with crossbows leveled. The leader of the guards motions towards a man in plain brown clerical robes and says: "I ain't buyin' that 'huntin' party' malarkey for a minute. Now, y'all answer the good father's questions right civil-like, or we'll lock ya up 'till we can figure out what to do with ya."

Chantif murmurs to the party from the wagon. Where is the captain of the garrison? We should be speaking to him. Something doesn't sit right, here.

"Excellent question, I don't like this.", Umash responds quietly. She then turns to the guard leader: "Fine, let's just not do this out here. And call off those grunts already, do we look like we're in any fighting condition?"

How I wish I was a bard right now. Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Chantif rolls heavily onto his face, as if to emphasize his wearied, wounded state.

Perception (priest): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22 Perception (guard sgt.): 1d20 ⇒ 4
DC to overhear whispered conversation is 15.

The priest smiles a bit and says: "Sarge, I know you're worried about the lieutenant, but that's no excuse for reacting like this. Just because a couple of them are half-orcs doesn't mean that they're working with the one that injured Jym. Dismiss your men, and we'll take this inside."

The guard frowns. "Look at 'em, Father. Look at all the gear in the wagon. If they're hunters who got ambushed by gnolls, I'm the Overlord. We'll do it your way, though. Garrison, FALL OUT!" The crossbowmen close the windows, and the guards gathered near the temple door form up in two lines and march back towards the gate through which you came.

The priest replies: "If the power of the Judge can't protect me, your squad isn't going to do much, either. Feel free to come inside and join our little chat in your capacity as acting CO, but I don't need a bodyguard." He turns to the party and says, "Please come inside. I heard you asking each other where the garrison commander was. He's inside, but it may be a while before you can talk with him. For the time being, you'll need to talk to Pawal. Tell him the truth, though: I'll be verifying your story. You have my word as one who knows he will soon have to face the Judge that I won't discuss whatever you tell me with anyone else."

Chantif clambers out of the wagon and moves to follow the priest inside.

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Umash visibly eases and climbs of the wagon as well. She shoots a glare at the guard leader as she follows the priest inside.

Rhona shrugs, glad that Umash is better with diplomacy than she seems and thankful that the priest seems friendlier than the soldiers were. "Thanks, Father. We appreciate the hospitality. Been a long day, as you can probably tell from the look of us." She stretches, pops her neck, and follows after the others.

You all enter the temple, with the priest leading the way and "Sarge" Pawal bringing up the rear. As you walk inside, you can see that the stone benches that normally serve as pews are currently serving as hospital beds. Most of the wounded are civilians, including a few children who appear to be badly burned. Pawal walks past the party and heads straight for the lone soldier left in here. He's a human, about twenty-five years old. His lower body is still encased in plate mail, but the helmet and breastplate have been removed, revealing a solid mass of blisters down the soldier's left side. Somehow, despite what must be excruciating pain, he is asleep...or maybe unconscious. Pawal squeezes the soldier's unburned right shoulder and says: "You're gonna be alright, L-T. I wasn't meant t'be an officer. Soon, you're gonna be back to runnin' this place, an' I can go back to doing what I'm used to, not that I'm any good at that, neither, 'r ya wouldn't be layin' there right now." He turns to face the party. "I'm sorry for overreactin' out there. It's been a long day for us too. I don't like being lied to, especially when you can't come up with one better than the one ya told; who do ya take me for, an idiot? An', I'll be honest, it didn't help none the one what was speakin' up was a half-orc; I couldn't see anything but the tusked bastard that flambed Jym earlier today. He's like a son t'me. I trained him up 'fore he left to Kassht the City for the Academy, made sure he'd make the grade there, an' I've been his senior NCO ever since he came home. An' it's my fault. I shoulda tackled the derned little hero, 'stead of letting him go try to save those kids...Anyways, it's done now, an' I'll can do for 'im is try to fill his shoes as best I can, 'til he's ready to it hisself. Father, let's take this to the back room, an' see if we can get the truth out of 'em."

The priest leads you to the back room that apparently serves as both his office and living quarters. There is a bed along one wall and a desk along the opposite wall. The other two walls are covered with bookshelves containing both codices and scrolls of various descriptions. The priest takes a seat at his desk and says, "Two of you can sit in the chairs over here, and the other three can sit on the bed. Pawal, I believe you have some questions?" With that, he begins waving his hands and chanting.

Umash snarls at the remark about half-orcs but then gathers herself for a slightly civil response: "Forgive me, I would have cooked up a better lie for your refined tastes, had I known in advance that your men are that suspicious. We're here on important business. Nothing to shout around the open street."

"Yeah, well, whatever, we're not on the open street anymore, so tell me: who are you, really?"

Chantif takes a seat on one of the chairs. It groans slightly under his weight. He sits in a relaxed pose, legs apart and hands on his knees. "Name's Chantif. Clever spell, there, making us not lie to you."

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For the first time since you made his acquaintence, a smile crosses Pawal's face. He says: "A pity that things have come to this. We can't afford to take any chances, though, 'n--to be fair--Father Lyam did warn you ahead of time that he would be verifyin' yer story. Anyways, pleased t'meet ya, Chantif. Would ya care to introduce yer friends? What brings ya to our little hamlet?"

Feel free to play this however you want, within the bounds of the spell, but it's been a while since we started, so I'll remind you that you need to show your requisition papers either here or at Meston in order to trade your hot weather gear in for the cold weather gear you'll need crossing the Teeth.

Is it still hot out? Will we still want that gear between here and Meston?

Feeling horrible from my wounds I focus on not moving as much as possible, I still pay attention to what is going on, but I let others do the talking. I hope we can get some sort of healing out off them, but its probably not likely. I think, looking at all the injured.

For a split second, Umash contemplates Chantif's response. That's what the spell does? Let's see if it worked, or if they have a way of knowing wether it worked.

"I'm Tharka." she pauses a moment as she sits down into one of the chairs "We're here on orders from the capital. There has been a small band of half-orcs suspected to be spies for the orcs and we have been tasked with tracking them down, apparently on their way north.", she then swears to herself as if regretting what she just said.

bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Chantif and Drexel are the only ones who IDed the spell AND the only ones who failed our Will saves and are incapable of lying.

Chantif nods at "Tharka." "They can introduce themselves." Seeing Drexel's gray pallor, he adds, "But Drexel there may be needing some healing magicked up fer 'im before he's liable to say much. I'm in pretty bad shape myself--We both took a few arrows when we ambushed some Gnolls on our way here."

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"Yup yup," Rhona says, idly looking around the room, trying not to contribute too much. "Fleabags were terrorizing a farmhouse and the folks who lived there. Had some kind of gremlin with 'em- little creep was chuckin' fireballs around like nobody's business." Rhona, unsure of why Umash has begun referring to herself as Tharka- what, her middle name or something? Finally, and thankfully, Rhona realizes that revealing their real names could still be unwise, and deliberately avoids giving her name (unless prompted directly and personally). "We could use some healing, if you can spare any potions or spells or anything. We all got roughed up quite a bit."

I don't see anything in the rules that says Father Lyam would automatically know who passed their saves, so I'm just going to give them straight-up Sense Motive checks. I have to ask, Umash, are you always this good at guessing? Maybe you are an investigator, already :).

Pawal frowns. "There's something screwy here, but enough of your story checks out that I'm willin' to not pursue it any further. I think I met one of those half-orcs yesterday. He stuck around here a couple of days, then set a fire at the school. When Jym ran to help the kids, he appeared outta nowhere, a bolt of fire hit Jym, and he went poof 'fore any of us could get 'im. I'd be careful messin' with 'im. I don't reckon ya've got some supportin' documents that I could reference in my report? Anyways, I reckon ya oughta help 'em, Father."

Father Lyam smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid that I'm afraid I've dispensed as many of the Judge's blessings as I can for today. If you'd like to come back in the morning, I should be able to help you."

Det shakes his head in mock shame, "Can't trust a half-orc. I say we should just lock 'em all up at first sight." Then, realizing that this was a really really bad time to be cracking jokes he says, "Uh, sorry, I was raised by dwarves, and they joked about literally everything. Sorry about Jym...is there anywhere I can get some javelins?" Det clears his throat and takes a step back, clearly embarrassed.

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"That firebug mage of yours might be worth checking on. Although if he's really one of our targets I don't see why he would draw attention to himself with wanton acts of arson. If nothing else then for the sake of the town's safety we should look into it,"[/b, Umash says, [b]"We've got our requisition papers. Those should prove we are here on Capital's orders. Our mission otherwise was to be kept under wraps so naturally we don't carry any more documents."

Everybody sees Sarge Pawal and Father Lyam go rigid at Det's joke, though it's hard to tell whether the joke itself or the social awkwardness of them not being sure they were allowed to laugh prompted the reaction. When Det explains, Pawal's face relaxes and a wan smile crosses his face. "Jym would understand. He always said that was the best part of dickerin' with Drolik for supplies. Speaking of the devil, Drolik's the town blacksmith. You'll find his shop back towards the gate, third buildin' on your left as you leave here. If you hurry, you can prob'ly catch him 'fore he heads to the tavern. 'Might be interested in taking some of that stuff off your hands, too, if'n you're interested in sellin'."
He turns to face Umash. "No, Ms.--Therka, was it?--I don't reckon it was no random act. Maybe I'm being too paranoid on account of not bein' paranoid enough before, but I think the school was a diversion to pull Jym into the open, like, so as he could get at him. It ain't no coincidence that the gnolls showed up the next day; no ma'am, they're workin' together. The spy came in to paralyze the command structure, 'n the gnolls came in to finish us off. They weren't countin' on me and my boys bein' able to handle ourselves without no officer around." He gives me a fierce smile. "If you can find 'em, miss, I'll be on 'im quicker than fleas on a gnoll! I understand operational security; I just need something to put in the report, you know, to cover my as-," he looks sheepishly at Father Lyam, my, uh, rear. After ya come and see the Father in the mornin', come by my office and ya can show the documents and sign my report, and whatnot."

"Thanks, Sarge," Rhona says, trying on a winning smile. "I'd love to get rid of some of that excess gear we've been toting around." She leans a bit closer and says, quietly but not quite whispering: "Know any good bars around here? I think we could all use a good drink after the day we've had."

Rhona's response made me realize I may have let Pawal's speaking in dialect get away from me. What I was meaning for him to say was that Drolik might buy your stuff, if you catch him before he heads to the bar.

"No problem. Always glad to help out fellow soldiers. We've got a couple a bars 'round town. Me and the boys, we usually hang out at Briton's Morningstar, over by the garrison, and there's also the Singin' Sparrow, which is down the road a little further into town from here."

As a reminder, the Singing Sparrow is the place run by the farmer's cousin, but obviously Pawal wouldn't know that you know the farmer.

"Lets go to Singing Sparrow and return tomorrow for some healing."