Faolan grabs the feet and nods to Bazsil, "Like s$@@." He hoists the body into the shallow grave. When Bor comes over, he's happy for the help.
"Hey Bor, you want these boots? We have a pair now!" (boots of striding and springing) If Bor doesn't want 'em, Faolan will take them - though he'll hear arguments for someone else readily enough.
He hands the bow and quiver to Bazsil, the archer, grinning. "Seems you're well equipped."
He'll also take one of the potions of CLW.
Bor grabs the boots and tries them on. "They feel good." The soles feel like a bed of soft grass beneath his feet. Standing back up he grabs the body by the shoulders. "One...two...three..." They toss the body into the hole.
He wipes the dirt off onto his pants. "Well, back to camp. Feed them good tonight with all of that meat."
He hands the bow and quiver to Bazsil, the archer, grinning. "Seems you're well equipped."
Hmm...yes, Bazsil will take the longbow +1 and the fire arrows. Does anyone want the composite longbow (+2 str)? Faolan, I think you're the only one who can use it.
Bazsil accepts the weapons of war from Faolan, happy to be able to donate his current longbow to someone else or to the hunters.
"I can't believe we found a second boot," Bazsil says incredulously as Bor begins to test out the magic boots. He watches Bor and tries not to vomit.
"Guys, I don't feel right. I don't feel good at all," Bazsil warns in a deep voice. "Lemme see..."
1d8 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (8) + 2 - 1 = 9 CLW
"Yeah, something ain't right. I think we should make camp. Maybe a good night of sleep will get me right. I dunno."
Actually I can't use it either - no proficiency. :)
"Let's put some distance between us and the house in case Mr. Ugly decides to get up in the night. But yes, I could use some healing as well if anyone has some to spare, and something more I think."
”This was worth the risk.” Krowe says after finding supplies and magical objects.
”And by risk, you mean sacrifice. Heh heh. That’s the spirit, piker.
To Bazsil and Faolan, Krowe offers some arcane advice. ”This creature attacked the flesh and spirit. The magic we have can only restore the flesh, but I am sure both will heal in time. A little rest couldn’t hurt, so let’s make for the camp.”
We should take care to cover our tracks.
@Faolan: fun brawler facts. Martial Flexibility can pick up all sorts of nice feats, including weapon proficiencies not on a Brawler’s normal list, and ranged feats. So you can use a longbow, but for a limited time only.
Bor helps pick up the majority of the gear. Enough to give Bazsil and Faolan a little rest during the walk back. "You too take it easy. We will pick up some more of the load."
In the back of his mind he wonders. Does the veil hold a secret to repairing their ailment? He shudders at the thought. The veil is what caused this nightmare.
Grabbing a large branch he swipes it side to side through the dirt to do what he can covering the tracks behind them.
You make your way back to the camp, slowly and carefully. Arriving at the eastern edge of the forest you travel south towards your camp, keeping to the trees for cover. You are mindful of the signs you've seen of hobgoblins in the woods and all to aware that some of you are weakened by your encounter at the cabin.
1d20 ⇒ 9
1d20 ⇒ 15
1d20 ⇒ 11
1d20 ⇒ 19
1d20 ⇒ 9
You hear approaching footsteps behind you. Turning about and preparing for combat, you see a centaur break from the trees. He stops at the sight of drawn weapons.
"Hi," Bazsil rumbles back, lowering his sword. "We're not looking for trouble, we have enough problems with the nasty hobgobs running around. We're just trying to get back to camp safely."
Bazsil's intonations have a friendly drone to them.
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30 Diplomacy
In all his time Bor had never seen a centaur before. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. His hand grips the edge of his shield, ready to defend himself if the centaur attacked. That is all until Bazsil speaks to it.
He awkwardly grabs a stick of berries and holds it up to the centaur as some sort of peace offering. "The bastards destroying your home too?"
Diplomacy Aid another: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14
He tries to help, though not sure how much.
”Is that a bariaur? Where are its horns?”
Krowe stares at the creature, uncertain how to react. He almost calls for his blackbird, but the awkward greeting gives him pause. Bazsil seems to have a good approach, so he backs it by trying to look non-threatening.
Non-verbal diplomacy aid another: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
Faolan is surprised by the great creature's sudden presence. He's further amazed at the cool heads that prevailed in the group. Everyone seems so calm.
He tries to pull it together when the centaur offers tea. Tea of all things. How strange.
"Sure." he blurts out trying to smile weakly.
Bazsil’s eyes and mind finally catch up to his mouth and he looks again at the centaur, realizing again that it’s a centaur.
”Tea? You have tea?” He stutters. ”Yeah, I guess. I guess we have time for tea? Right?” Bazsil looks from left to right at the party, shrugging. He wasn’t expecting this.
”I can explain, I suppose...” Bazsil does explain should the centaur somehow start serving and making tea. Bazsil will even volunteer some of his water, if it helps.
”I haven’t had tea in days. If you have any to spare, or any other supplies, we would be grateful for the chance to trade.”
As a local to the region Krowe has a personal connection to the story Bazsil tells of the Ironfang Invasion and the fall of Phaendar, but the mercenary has a way with words and he’s happy to let him tell it, only adding details if Bazsil comes up short. They need allies, and any man, woman, or half-man, will do. Even if the centaur is just traveling through it is possible that he could pass word or warning to others in the region.
"We all might be safer traveling together in these dark times." Bor suggests as he looks a bit eager for some tea himself. He listens intently as Krowe explains the dire situation they are all in. "See, even if you wanted to leave, the Hobgoblins seem to be scouring the forest and have us surrounded. As far as we can tell that is."
He takes a sip of the tea. "You haven't encountered any yet?"
"Spare supplies? No, but I could trade I suppose. Do you have a camp or some others near?"
The centaur hesitates when he hears of hobgoblins.
"Hobgoblins, here? No, I haven't seen any. I'm Yorc, by the way. I've some apples and barley here too, might as well make a snack of it."
He smiles and hands each of you a shiny red apple.
Bor: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Bazsil: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Faolan: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
Krowe: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
As Bazsil happily bites into an apple the rest of you notice they are strangely sticky.
Bor pulls his fingers off the sticky apple. "This is like tar. What is this Yorc?" He pokes his index finger and thumb together as strands of the substance cling to his skin like spider silk.
Any check to identify the sticky substance GM?
Bazsil takes a bite of the apple without even realizing he was going to eat the apple, quickly regretting his choice as he plays over the conversation with the centaur in his head.
1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (14) + 10 - 1 = 23 Sense Motive
Faolan takes the apple, happy to have something fresher than the rations he'd been munching on the last few days. He's beginning to miss the goat milk and variety of camp food. When he notices it's sticky though, he grows uneasy.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 - 1 ⇒ (14) + 7 - 1 = 20 (level)
"I say, what's on your apples?" he adds to Bor's question.
You can identify it with Alchemy.
This is oil of taggit. Within a minute of ingesting it you will be rendered unconscious for several hours.
"Hmm? Oh, just something to keep them fresh while I travel.
1d20 ⇒ 6
That Sense Motive is enough to realize he is nervous and concealing something.
1d20 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 2 - 1 = 17 Alchemy - Not sure if this bardic applicable or not.
1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 5 - 1 = 20 Fort
Bazsil squints at the creature, suddenly with much more distrust. He raises his sword.
Craft Alchemy (untrained): 1d20 ⇒ 7 note to self: take some ranks in alchemy next level. Seems to be coming up a lot.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14 Will assume this s enough to sense something.
Krowe’s eyes narrow at the suspicious centaur, feeing suddenly like it has an alterior motive. ”Were you following us before?” He asks and takes another bite of the apple. Sticky, and maybe a little bitter, but a lot tastier than trail rations.
Alchemy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3 (level drain, untrained)
Sensing something is amiss, Faolan carefully and slowly sets his apple down and readies his shield. "Bor, what's going on?" he asks, though his eyes never leave those of the centaur's.
"There is oil of taggit covering these." Bor shows the sticky substance on his fingers. "Those of you that ingested it will fall unconscious within a minute." Bor says calmly, though in his mind he shakes with fear of what is about to happen.
Maybe the centaur normally eats it and just doesn't know how poisonous it is to everyone else.
Krowe summons his blackbird and the fiendish creature appears on a low branch behind the centaur.
”I think you should stay and explain.” Krowe says, reaching into his haversack to grab a pair of antitoxins. ”Were you planning to kill us once we were asleep, or simply rob us?”
Intimidate (if possible): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Bazsil feels his anger rise, but has yet to take action.
1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (12) + 10 - 1 = 21Sense Motive
Does he know about the oil? Is he nefarious? Also, he’s just a centaur, right? Is there a knowledge check on it?
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
He knew about the oil and he appears to be a centaur. You can make a K. Nature roll to determine if oil of taggit is poison for centaurs. His reaction makes clear that no matter what the oil does to him he knew full well what it would do to you.
"Rrrrr...rob? No, I think not." He licks his lips then looks longingly at his satchel before turning tail and fleeing through the forest.
I'll roll initiative for the surprise round, all of you were expecting trouble so this is strictly for when you get to act. Those who beat him in the surprise round treat him as 15 feet away, those lower treat him as 50 feet away when he moves back 35 feet.
Bazsil: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Faolan: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Bor: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Krowe: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Yorc: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
Turn Tracker Surprise
Bazsil and Faolan at 15, Bor and Krowe at 50.
Round 1, Init 13
Move: Move to foe.
Stnd: Swing at centaur poisoner.
Bazsil moves after Johnny Centaurseed, seeking to stop him from planting more poisonous apples around.
1d20 + 5 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (19) + 5 + 2 - 1 = 25 to hit; (+charge,-lvl drain)
1d10 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 slashing damage.
1d20 + 5 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (4) + 5 + 2 - 1 = 10 to hit; (+charge,-lvl drain)
1d10 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8 slashing damage.
[ dice]1d20+5[/dice] to hit;
[ dice]1d10+6[/dice] slashing damage.
AC: 16 (4 armor, 2 dex) +2 AC vs. gobbos.
Spells: 0/3 used
Words: 4/13 used
Ironfangedness: 0/1 used
Smite: not used
Grit: not used
Panache: are you kidding me?
Ki: not used
Rage: maybe later
[spoiler=Bazsil's Deep Song of Wrath] Bazsil has activated his bard like song. You can opt in or opt out. Your choice...but you get all or none of the below. Bazsil will be opting in because that's what he does. You get:
1) +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution
2) +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws
3) –1 penalty to AC.
4) You cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. [ /spoiler]
I posted something similar yesterday, but Paizo ate it after the fact. :(
Faolan watches the centaur flee into the forest. ”Let it go Bazsil, we cannot catch him and he cannot face us.” he turns to the centaur, ”You should be ashamed, treating travelers that way! If you see us again, we will not be so forgiving!”
He moves up next to Bazsil if only to form a shield wall if the creature turns around.
Sorry for this half-4$$ encounter guys, I screwed up the mechanics basically the entire time. To be clear, Bor knew about the poison and told the rest of you. Bazsil may or may not have eaten the apple, his call. The centaur is 15' from Bazsil and Faolan when they act, then he withdraws and essentially escapes.
The centaur flees, blood trailing from his slashed flank, as the rest of you watch. His satchel is where he left it on the ground, a few apples spilled during the confusion.
Bazsil curses at the centuar as it flees. Spinning back to face Bor & Krowe, wondering why they did so little to act.
"Are we okay with allowing centaurs to pass out poisoned apples? You all are just sitting there...why?" Bazsil bemoans in a deep voice at Krowe and Bor. "When we get back to camp, we should warn everyone about that guy. He's not to be trusted."
Bazsil is still huffing angry when he uses his sword to upend the Centaur's satchel. He takes his time to pour over what is inside and carefully store any poisoned apples for later use.
Take 20 Perception: 26.
Krowe holds a finger up to Bazsil as he finishes drinking his antitoxin. ”Bor said there was poison. I intend to fight that first.” He then hands a second to Faolan. ”Unless you would like an involuntary nap, drink this.”
Meanwhile, Krowe’s blackbird gives chase.
The summoned eagle has a fly speed of 80’. It will chase and attack if possible.
The eagle can certainly run down the centaur, it's reasonable to give it two attacks before the centaur turns and tries to kill it. We can play that out, it is possible to drop him. Will proceed with satchel looting while that occurs.
In the satchel you find 6 apples, 6 vials of liquid that Bor identifies as oil of taggit, 375gp, a rough map, and a package sealed with parchement and wax.
Cracking the wax on the package you find a note and a magical amulet, identified as an amulet of natural armor +2.
Salutations Children of the Stone,
My emissary approaches you as a sign of respect, but by now you have seen my soldiers move unchecked across this green and fertile land.
The Ironfang Legion means to make all of Nirmathas a home to those the humans would hunt, and turn those same humans into our servants and prey. You would be wise to join our alliance. There is no room for neutral parties when war is all around you, and only one side in this conflict will offer you strength and shelter. As a sign of the protection the Legion offers, kindly accept this token of my generosity. Take your time in making your decision, but I trust you will come to the conclusion that provides your small and vulnerable tribe a future.
After reading the note you look again at the map and are able to puzzle out that it shows the location of a cave entrance, located here in the forest.
Bazsil finishes reading the note aloud in his deep rumbling voice.
"What? Really? There are those that would ally with these hobgob scum? Is that what I'm reading here? What...this just opens up more questions than anything."
Bazsil looks to see if Krowe has any good explanations.
"I'm still feeling like poop. Let's get back to camp and see if others have thoughts about this and know this cave."
Bor picks up the amulet off of the ground. He wipes the dirt out of the engraved crevices. "Not surprising really. They are surrounded as well. They are simply trying to survive in their own way. Hard to blame them really."
Anyone want the amulet? If not Bor could use it, but only if noone else wants it.
Faolan reads the note and frowns. "They're gathering allies for a protracted stay - and they're paying them well. That's a bad sign."
He sees Bor drooling at the amulet and tosses it to him, "Here, I have a shield, but this'll help you avoid getting hit. It's a nice one."
He agrees with Bazsil, "Yes, let's head back first. I don't feel at all well either, and I think we need to check in. We've been gone a while, and if elements of the forest are being bribed to join the enemy, they should know. We can come back to the cave later."
Blackbird bite: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Blackbird bite: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
As the mercenaries go through the centaur’s satchel, Krowe’s summoned bird pursues the beast deeper into the forest.
Upon reading the Legion’s letter, Krowe wonders if the centaurs were eager allies, or perhaps unwilling accomplices.
”This poison seems a poor choice for killing. I wonder if the centaur had different plans than murder.”
Fort vs poison + antitoxin: 1d20 + 2 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 2 + 5 = 25
Faolan, Krowe gave you an atotoxin as well.
Krowe stifles a yawn. ”That centaur was tracking us. If might be able to track us back to camp. It made a bad deal with the Legion, but it took a good gash from Bazsil’s blade and we have its payment now, so leverage is ours. If we wait it may heal and prepare a better ambush. We should deal with it now.”
How far is the cave entrance?
”That centaur was tracking us. If might be able to track us back to camp. It made a bad deal with the Legion, but it took a good gash from Bazsil’s blade and we have its payment now, so leverage is ours. If we wait it may heal and prepare a better ambush. We should deal with it now.”
"He's right. The camp won't be able to protect itself while we are away if we end up getting tracked back there." Bor grabs his pack. "Will you two be able to make it that far? We might be able to end this somewhat peacefully if they are just fearing retribution. We might even be able to get a stronger force out of this ourselves."
The centaur turns and slashes at the bird.
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 141d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
1d20 ⇒ 71d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
1d20 ⇒ 101d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
I think only the sword hits and the hooves miss, assuming 5hp doesn't drop the bird it'll get a full attack.
Bor and Krowe prepare to track the centaur, the bright blood standing out against the forest.
Bazsil and Faolan follow or go to camp?
Looking at the crude map you estimate the cave entrance to be 10 miles Northeast of the cabin you found.
Updating map shortly.
Seeing the antitoxin being thrust into his hands, Faolan hands it back, "Thanks Krowe, but I didn't eat an apple." he shrugs, "If we were all unconscious, he could slit our throats easily enough. I dunno if he had killing on his mind, but it would have been an easy option."
He doesn't like it, but splitting the small group up was more dangerous still. Frowning he says, "We can investigate this cave if you insist, but Bazsil and I are quite weak, so keep that in mind. If there's combat, we may be like stalks of wheat to a scythe."
He gathers up his gear and prepares to follow Bor and Krowe.
Augmented eagle has AC 14 and 7 HP
Talon: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Talon: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Bite: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
In the distance an eagle cries!
”It sounds like Sessail is still alive.” Krowe comments at the sound. To Faolan and Bazsil, he says. ”I know you don’t feel at full strength, but I’d wager neither does that centaur. And the letter it has indicates a small tribe, so he could be one of the few members capable of challenging us. We should follow before he recovers.”
Bazsil prepares to follow, letting Krowe and Bor take the lead. He readies his bow, not eager to charge into combat given his weakened state.
"Just remember we warned you," Bazsil warns warningly.
Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Bor nods. "It would be worth it if we can end this peacefully with the rest of the tribe." Bor tracks the blood and heads off towards the cavern as he orients the map. Though in truth he thinks his inherent curse and bad luck may just yet get the best of them all.
Bazsil shrugs, taking the sword and breastplate in case someone needs arms back at camp. He has a sinking feeling about things, which adds to his already drained state.
"Now that the centaur is dead, we can go back to camp, right? We can check out the cave tomorrow."
Bazsil shakes his head at the horseman corpse.
"But we also just can't leave this body here, can we? We should bury or burn it."