"Proper gen'lman, this guy is! Almost like a dwarf, ye know? Glad we don' gotta keep choppin' all dem skeletons and ghouls and what, e'en better ta get this fella offa da board a war. Dese gobbo scum don' need no more help den dey got a'ready!"
Harek slides his axe into its holder on his hip, but keeps his shield at the ready. Waiting for the others to take their leave, he walks out the door keeping an eye on the undead bloke.
"Good job there, lads. Any fight we kin win wit'out fightin' makes da war easier! So, what's next?"
Halekuu looks around at his allies and when Harek appears to approve of the plan he replies to the abomination, "then we will be seeing you at dawn." Eyes locked on the enemy, watching for any threatening actions he carefully makes his way out of the room.
"I think we best make our way out of this dangerous enemy territory before planning our next step."
Leonar nods at the undead. "It sounds like the time to get out is here. We'll see you at dawn," the Druid nods at the powerful lich.
Ambrose stares hard and cold at the Ghostlord as he speaks, gauntleted fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. The motes of cold blue light that dance around it seeming to respond to his clutch. The knight swallows, still unsure of letting this evil continue to work its foul magic uncontested, and skeptical that it would take the deal anyway. He looks left and right as his allies seem content to take the lich up on its offer, however, and so he slackens ever so slightly and merely gives a stiff nod towards the undead mage. "Very well. The accord is made."
Ambrose turns and walks out with the others, offering a final glance over his shoulder to the unhallowed fiend. One day...
The night is cold and full of silence. The lifeless silence of the blighted lands around this citadel. A silence occasionally punctured by a distant, strangled cry, or the eerie, quiet swoop of a ghostly lion through the air.
In the morning, the Ghostlord waits for you in the mouth of the lion, floating easily to the ground when you draw near.
He offers you two vials in return for his phylactery, as well as his oath, "I will not ally with this dragon-worshipping Hobgoblin, or any of his kind."
"Fer my part, I ain't gon' swing my axe in your direction, s'long as ye don' swing first. An' I promise ta kill all da gobbo scum I kin reach and cut!"
Harek clangs his armored fist on his shield and bows slightly to the undead creaure.
Helakuu looks intently at the vials and then asks, "if you don't mind, I will be casting detect magic on those before the exchange. I'm sure you understand our caution."
"If you keep your word, we will keep ours, and there will be further uncomfortableness between us. Hopefully, we never have call to pass your way again," the Druid adds, as he waits for the results of the magical scan of the vials.
The vials allow the drinker to cast vomit swarm
When the group departs the stonework lion of horrors, Ambrose swiftly collects his steed, Smoke. He checks her over for any injuries or anything else that may have happened to her in the shadow of the lair, and one satisfied strokes her nose. "It will be good to ride again, old friend. And good to put this foul place at our backs."
During the night, the knight of Brindol paces anxiously. "It is good that we are severing this lich from the Red Hand, to be sure...but I hate the thought of leaving him be to continue whatever foul arts he is practicing. I cannot claim to know much of magic, so I will trust your judgment that this...thing...is too powerful. I could sense it, too, in his presence. Some unsettling cold coming off of him..some stale air of dread. We have toppled giants and beheaded dragons and slain our share of mages, but perhaps this foe truly is beyond us...for now. I will set my focus on defeating the Red Hand, but if this lich should ever raise a bony finger against the Vale I will return to stop him." After a moment, he adds, "I hope we can trust the word of a thing without a heart or a soul."
-
Ambrose stands silent as the transaction occurs, watchful for any trickery or surprises that the lich might have in store for them. He rests his hand on the hilt of his blade, eyes fixed on the undead. His teeth are clenched throughout the exchange and he eases only when the lich is gone.
Leonar will approach if no one else does first, and make the transaction. He takes the two vials and passes them to the Mage for inspection of the magic contained therein.
"I can't think of any reason to tarry here longer. Is everyone ready?"
"Aye, lad. Les' put dis place ta our back. I'm glad we fixed this 'liance, bu' dere's more an' more gobbos ta slay. Me axe needs mo' red ta coat its edge!"
Harek's proclamation seems to lighten Ambrose's mood once the lich has departed. He walks over, Smoke's reigns in one hand, and claps the dwarf on the shoulder with the other. "Now that, Harek, is a plan I can get behind. Even as we speak, the Red Hand marches across the Vale. We shouldn't allow their trek to be so easy."
After they leave sight of the Lich, Helakuu speaks with Ambrose as they ride away from the godforsaken citadel. "I completely agree with you, my good man. The lich is an incredibly dangerous being and an utter abomination against every rule or law created to prevent abuse of magic. I, for one, have your side when we return to deal with it."
As they settle into their travels he remarks, "Um... where are we going?"
On your first night of rest away from the Thornwild, Ambrose has troubled sleep.
You feel a faint, strange whisper of magic caressing you. Then an image appears in your mind: the female elf whom you recognize as Sellyria Starsinger, the leader of the Tiri Kitor elves. “I have brought troops to Brindol,” she says, “but more help is needed, and the horde nears the town as I speak. Lord Jarmaath asks that you come swiftly; battle is near!”
Ambrose smiles at Helakuu for the support as they travel across the Thornwaste. "You have my thanks, Helakuu. I know this Vale is not your home, but you have fought - and died - bravely to help defend it. I could name no mage I would rather have at my side in that fight or any other."
A warmth seeps throughout Ambrose. He had always found a kinship with his brothers and sisters of the Lions of Brindol, but his tasks had for so long had him riding alone across the breadth of the vale. These companions who had fought and persevered alongside of him...he feels a true sense of brotherhood with them.
To Helakuu's quandary, he offers a suggestion. "We know the Horde marches across the Vale, west to east. Our advantage is speed in our small numbers. I say we ride hard for the east and hopefully ahead of the Horde and see what villages along the Dawn Way need our aid or can give us information."
Night, however, offers a more concrete plan.
Ambrose starts awake, reaching for the air. "Lord Jarmaath!?" He stands swiftly, looking around. "Lady Starsinger? Hello?" Looking around, he rouses the rest of his companions. "Helakuu, Harek, Leonar, Aleste!" He closes his eyes to see if the elf is still there while he tries to explain. "Lady Starsinger of the Tiri-Kitor - she visited me in my dream! She says the Red Hand closes in on Brindol. We must make haste! If there is ever a place where we can best this Horde, it is there."
"About time! I say we ride like the wind itself, ready ta slay and burn all these gob scum. If it's a scrap wit' Harek Ironshirt they wan', then by all the gods tha's wha' they'll get!"
Making sure to properly armor and arm himself, Harek prepares to make all haste towards Brindol, elated at the thought of pitched battle against the goblin swarm.
"I'm ready. Make haste, and let's go save the town!". Leonar turns into a great eagle and takes flight as the others ride their horses.
"We will break these goblins and all of their evil allies on the walls of Brindol. Goblins, bugbears, minotaurs, ogres, giants, lizard-men, hell-hounds, dragons, all of them." Ambrose quickly gathers his gear, the lethargy of his broken sleep falling off of him as his heart pumps true for Elsir Vale. He swings himself up onto Smoke as the others mount up and Leonar shifts his shape to that of an eagle and smiles.
"Ride like the wind indeed, Harek! Ride hard and fast for Brindol, that we might show this Red Hand what sure defeat is!"
Helakuu spurs his faithful steed, "ride like the wind Cayenne, innocents are at risk!"
He whispers to a small bird cupped in his palm then slips him into a pocket, "rest now my friend, our wills will be tested soon enough."
Aleste smiles as the cool morning air whips around his face, "At least we're out of that lich's den."
The party's first day of travel is uneventful and you are lucky enough to find a well-used campsite to rest in at the end of the day.
As you begin to break camp you notice a large vine slithering across the ground toward Aleste.
Helakuu wakes up early and starts doing his morning prep. As he flops the saddle onto Cayenne, Abukcheech chirps a question in his ear. He stops what he is doing and gazes into the brush as he ponders an answer. Right as he is about to respond he sees the danger and yells out to his ally,
As everyone turns to see what Helakuu is shouting about, a tendril reaches out from the vine and lashes out toward Aleste.
After smashing into the alchemist, its tentacles begin to wrap around your ally.
Despite his injuries Aleste manages to twist out of the vine's grasp.
This is a dangerous carniverous vine called an assassin vine which chokes its prey.
Don't forget to ask for more info. if you beat the DC by five or more.
initiative
Perception
Initiative
Leonar's sharp eyes caught the tricky vines in motion. He casts Flaming Sphere and directs it towards the vines.
Damage
The flaming sphere rolls into the heart of the vine but has no impact on the sappy plant.
"Aleste!" Ambrose cries as he sees the vines begin their sudden assault on the alchemist. The knight kicks his steed into motion and closes the gap, drawing his blade free as he goes. The shimmering motes of blue light dance along its edge, blurring as the steel moves through the air. He comes up on the melee and swings his blade down in a hard arc, hoping to cleave the vines.
(higher ground)
plus cold
Helakuu pulls his robe arm back and draws a glowing sigal onto his right forearm. Pointing at each party member in succession, everyone feels a jolt of energy pour into them and the world around appears to slow down.
A hasted creature gains a +1 bonus on attack rolls and a +1 dodge bonus to AC and Reflex saves. Any condition that makes you lose your Dexterity bonus to Armor Class (if any) also makes you lose dodge bonuses.
All of the hasted creature's modes of movement (including land movement, burrow, climb, fly, and swim) increase by 30 feet, to a maximum of twice the subject's normal speed using that form of movement. This increase counts as an enhancement bonus, and it affects the creature's jumping distance as normal for increased speed.
Brooding over our encounter with the Lich, I am glad to see the rest of my friends are also of a mind to once again visit the undead abomination and put an end to his reign. But that will ahve to wait until the threat of the Red Hand has been dealt with.
As we travel eastward, we are once again reminded that the Horde is not the only threat. All of a sudden Aleste is under attack and without even contiously thinking about it, I leap into action, my hands moving in a blur, speed even further augmented as Helakuu's spell takes hold.
...."Wha' da hell?..."
The creature is obliterated and the crew is able to get a good night's rest. Even Aleste sleeps soundly, comforted by his friends' competence and power.
The next day you draw near Brindol, very aware of the distant war-drums and regular signs of war-plundering that have struck the coutnryside.
Most potent a warning is the absence of intelligent life, farms, villages and homesteads lie abandoned: pack animals, horses and carts are noatbly absent, suggesting that most people fled before the horde.
As you approach Brindol, It is impossible to miss the fact that Brindol is a city at war, even though as yet there are no smoldering fires or war-torn battlefields. Soldiers toil in what only a few weeks ago were idyllic orchards and productive farms, digging trenches, raising watchtowers, and securing wooden palisades.
The city is almost completely surrounded by a twenty-foot-high wall of stone. The only stretch not protected in this way is the section along the river that marks the city’s northern boundary. Two bridges cross the Elsir and connect the city with the river’s far bank. The highest point in town is a hill nestled in the southeastern quadrant. A large, well-built keep of stone surmounts this hill, its majestic towers rivaled by the presence of a nearby grand cathedral.
Despite the city’s size, the streets are strangely silent and empty.
Patrols of soldiers march down some roads, but there is little sign of the
normal mercantile activity one might expect. Upon closer inspection, it seems that many of the town’s buildings have been boarded over.
War has indeed come to Brindol.
As you near the Elsir Gate, a company of soldiers approach. Immediately taking note of Ambrose's insignia, one of the men addresses him, "Well met. More recruits to join the defence of Brindol?"
The leader's tone however is serious and she snaps out a precise formal salute, "Identify yourself, Lion of Brindol."
Ambrose's heart thumps in his throat as Brindol appears on the horizon. It has been some time since he has been home, and the thought of goblinds crashing against her warm walls gives weight to his heart. Still, he makes a sweeping gesture with his hand towards the city on behalf of his companions. "Welcome to Brindol, my friends. If there were ever a place to stop the Red Hand, it's here."
When they ride up and are stopped by the guards, Ambrose salutes the lead guard.
"Good morrow, my lady. I am Ambrose Harrowfield, emissary in service of the Lions of Brindol and Lord Jarmaath. These are my companions; Helakuu, Leonar, Shaylar, Aleste, and Harek. We've come to add our swords to the defense of Bindol, of course. We have been dealing with the hobgoblins and their allies for weeks, from Drellin's Ferry to Skull Gorge, Lake Rhestin to the Thornwaste. The leader of our new Elven allies contacted us and told us the Horde was approaching, and here we are. Our steeds are exhausted and could use watering, and I myself would like to give a full report Lord Jarmaath, who has requested our presence."
"Lord Jarmaath has requested our presence via magical messaging. We've been on the ground, battling the horde as best we could. Could one of you tell him the reinforcements have arrived?". Leonar's posture became more relaxed, hoping the guards don't take them as a threat.
Helakuu rides into town with his allies, taking a close look at all the defensive emplacements and trying to figure out where the likeliest attack will come from. He points out various locations and talks in an unknown language to the small bird perched on his shoulder.
As Ambrose welcomes them to his town he comments seriously, "we shall stop them here or perish."
When stopped by the guards he gives a big smile and says, "it is good to find allies in this fight. We look forward to helping where we can."
The captain is disarmed by your good manners and pleased that you recognise her (Palena Cromberg, of a minor, rural noble house).
However, she seems most satisfied to have encountered your group, "Harrowfield's Heroes, eh? We've heard about you from everyone: some of the first refugees said you slew a dragon, the elves sang your praises from Rhest... it is good to see you hear."
She signals her patrol to split, Come, we will see you direct to Lord Jaamarth."
Helakuu responds with a friendly smile, "pleased to meet you as well. Could you give us a quick rundown on what is going on here? Are we expecting an attack today, tonight or farther down the road? What kinds of attacks or enemies can we expect and do you have any idea what direction they would come from?"
Ambrose blinks at the reference to 'Harrowfield's Heroes,' quite unsure of what to say to that. He clears his throat and straightens his posture in the saddle before nodding to Palena. "Lead on, Lady Cromberg."
The emissary feels positively warm being within Brindol again, and it is apparent on his face. He can't help but beam with pride for his fine city and a wistful happiness at being back settles onto his countenance. In the gaps between talk he points out a few specific points of interest to his companions as they make their way through the city.
"I would like to inquire about the refugees you spoke of, my lady. Did the citizens of Drellin's Ferry make it safely? Speaker Wiston and...ahem, Captain Soranna Anitah?" he adds, strangely and suddenly remembering the Captain's smile to him, her touch on his arm. He shakes his head. "They were the first evacuated. I hope they made it safely."
Adding on to Helakuu's inquiries.."What kind of enemies indeed...tell us, have you seen any dragons? Manticores? I feel that the airborne enemies will be the most problematic, though hopefully Sellyria brought Killiar and his owl-riders."
"Lads, this be a proper greetin' worthy a fightin' men such as ourselves! These folk know jus' how much damage we kin wreak on da gobbo scum an' their tools. Once we fin' da leader, mebbe we kin chop 'im down, an' I'll take 'is head! Nothin' crushes da scum's spirit like seein' one'a their bosses chopped right up! Haw, goose stuff!"
Harek laughs at the end, chuckling about the death of goblins under his axe.
"So, do they serve ale at human sit-downs fer war? If no, I'm gonna need ta stop right quick on da way."
Helakuu responds with a friendly smile, "pleased to meet you as well. Could you give us a quick rundown on what is going on here? Are we expecting an attack today, tonight or farther down the road? What kinds of attacks or enemies can we expect and do you have any idea what direction they would come from?"
She nods in approval of Helakuu's questiong ing, "We're expecting an attack any time, but every moment they delay is a moment to prepare. One thing you can say about the Elsir Vale is that we do not have broad, metalled roads for large armies to march along... From what I've heard: it's mainly hobgoblins but there are some large folk, ogres maybe. The big worry is that they've got any dragons left."
Ambrose blinks at the reference to 'Harrowfield's Heroes,' quite unsure of what to say to that. He clears his throat and straightens his posture in the saddle before nodding to Palena. "Lead on, Lady Cromberg."
The emissary feels positively warm being within Brindol again, and it is apparent on his face. He can't help but beam with pride for his fine city and a wistful happiness at being back settles onto his countenance. In the gaps between talk he points out a few specific points of interest to his companions as they make their way through the city.
"I would like to inquire about the refugees you spoke of, my lady. Did the citizens of Drellin's Ferry make it safely? Speaker Wiston and...ahem, Captain Soranna Anitah?" he adds, strangely and suddenly remembering the Captain's smile to him, her touch on his arm. He shakes his head. "They were the first evacuated. I hope they made it safely."
Adding on to Helakuu's inquiries.."What kind of enemies indeed...tell us, have you seen any dragons? Manticores? I feel that the airborne enemies will be the most problematic, though hopefully Sellyria brought Killiar and his owl-riders."
She gives an apologetic shrug and quirk of the mouth, "I'm sorry, I don't know much about the refugees. I know that most of the survivors from Drellin's Ferry have pushed on to Dennovar. If your Captain isn't here then she might be in their escort, The Company of Last Hope?"
"The owls have been here, very impressive, Lord Jarmaath seems to use them mostly for scouting. We don't see much of them."
It seems unlikely to you that Jarmaath is in direct command of the elven rangers but Palena has her own soldier's perspective.
After a time you arrive at Brindol Keep and the captain leaves you at the gates awaiting an escort, she leaves you with an old soldier's farewell, "May we meet again in battle to fight side-by-side."
Palena salutes smartly and leaves to see in her patrol.
After a brief wait, you hear a familiar voice and Ambrose is jolted by a hearty slap on his back, "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"
Teyani Suri, the Lion you met in Drellin's Ferry who had been warning people about hobgoblins and ogres on the Old Rhest Road, is beaming at you all. "I'll bring you in to Jarmaath, they're going to include you in a council. Hell of a thing. If you fellas fancy a beer after, the riders'll be at the Stone Wyvern in the evening."
As you are lead into the Great Hall, the low murmur of a dozen muted conversations falls silent as the great double doors at the southern end of this great hall are opened by a pair of guards for your passage. The room beyond is a large chamber, the floors polished smooth and the walls set with many alcoves, each containing a trophy or work of art. The ceiling rises to a cavernous height of nearly forty feet, and deepset narrow windows reach nearly to that height along the northern wall.
A single long table dominates the middle of the room, its surface
covered with books, maps, ledgers, parchments, sketches, drinks, and
plates of half-eaten food.
Before you, behind a long table, sit four people: Lord Jarmaath, Lady Verassa Kaal, Captain Lars Ulverth and Tredora Goldenbrow . Further into the room, you see more familiar faces: Soranna Anitah, Norro Wiston and Sellyria Starsinger.
Lord Jarmaath is a lean man with a short, well-trimmed beard, graying hair, and wrinkles that don’t quite belie his thirty-five years.
Lady Verrasa Kaal: The leader of a wealthy merchant family, Lady Verrasa Kaal is slightly older than Lord Jarmaath (thirtyseven) but remains vibrant and young in appearance.
Captain Lars Ulverth: The leader of Brindol’s Lion Guard is an imposing man with a pronounced limp in his left leg, the remnant of a wound received in a tragic battle with an ogre in which his lover was slain. Lars has stubbornly refused offers to have the old wound magically healed. He is, of course, Ambrose's boss.
Tredora Goldenbrow: Tredora Goldenbrow is the local high priestess of Pelor and the most prominent cleric in Brindol.
After formal introductions, Suri leaves you to your audience. All but Lady Kaal rise as you approach and Jarmaath welcomes you with a broad smile, "Welcome, welcome. We are all very glad to see you."
At this Lady Kaal rolls her eyes, Captain Ulverth locks eyes with Ambrose and gives a small nod while the aasimar cleric makes an effort to remain impassive.
Jarmaath then comes round the table and claps each of you by the hand, giving a firm pump of the fist while also giving your upper arm a welcoming squeeze.
"Shaylar Kallanereeth, I hope I'm saying that right? Can't wait to see that bow singing it's song... And you must be Helakuu, the master of magic. Good to have some real combat casting in the city at last... And the alchemist, Aleste, we've got a laboratory all set up in case you want to mix up anything... Lieutenant Harrowfield, the dragon decapitator!... Thrilled to meet you, Leonar, it just seems to right that a lion-caller should fight alongside the Lions of Brindol... And hello to you too Master Dwarf, hell of a strong grip you've got there."
Jarmaath winces after shaking Harek's hand.
"So, we want to hear from warriors who've been up close and personal with the horde. Tell us everything you can."
Everyone in the room leans forward, eager to hear from you. You notice that Lady Kaal has a quill, ink and paper to hand.