You stand at the center of Kassen’s town square. The bells atop the Temple of Erastil toll their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town of Kassen. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let Mayor Uptal through. He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies. Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stops and calls out to the assembled townsfolk.
“Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?”
The mayor pauses his ritual speech and looks at your small group, alone in an opening surrounded by the rest of the towns folk, awaiting an answer.
Withdrawing a torch from the bag he just ever so casually had packed for today and holding it lazily in front of him, Greysor strides forward.
"Wells, I reckon I could give it a go. Got nothing else to do today," he winks to the crowd, to knowing smiles from his friends and sighs from those not so enamoured by him.
Marguerite looks quizzically at Arnama Lastrid and mouths "This?" while tilting her head toward Uptal. When Arnama nods vigorously, Marguerite looks up at the elf next to her.
"You too?"
Without waiting for a reply, Marguerite steps forward "I'm game. You may not recognize me, but I was born here"
She shrugs her backpack more comfortably over her left shoulder and looks straight into Uptal's eyes.
"I have a right to do this, and you can't stop me."
"That should get them talking, and maybe Arnama can find our more while I'm off on this quaint little ritual"
Wonderful raises an eyebrow at the mayor’s speech and then at the two who have already volunteered in the endeavor.
Still haven’t figured out why we do this every year. Who went last year? What happened? Ah well.
She raises in her hand, nominating herself as well.
Why did I just do that? She had planned on attending the ceremony briefly and then heading off to Sasha’s, who was due to give birth any day now. Ah well. What’s done is done. Shouldn’t take too long, I would think.
After pausing a moment to see if anyone else volunteers, a well muscled young woman raises her hand from the middle of the crowd.
"If I am needed, I will go."
She then tries to weave her way through her neighbors, making apologetic murmurs as her large frame jostles those she passes.
"Sorry, sorry, 'scuse me, woops, sorry..."
The mayor hands the group the following items
50 feet of hempen rope
box containing tinder
three tindertwigs
a labeled potion of cure light wounds
three torches
a grappling hook
a small bottle of
local brandy.
The mayor once again speaks to the townsfolk. “I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.” With that, the mayor points to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk begin waving goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces.
The group heads out, making good time before entering the Fangwood. The narrow path winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bare of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot.
After a couple of hours the group notices that up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocks the path. Suddenly a trio of snarling humanoids leaps up from behind the log, all greenish
skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges.
Marguerite stops well back from the ugly things
Greysor steps into range and lets fly a bullet from his sling into the closest foe.
With a nervous look at her smaller companions, Mabya quickly move to place herself between them and the creatures, drawing her sword as she does so.
Wonderful pulls the shortspear over her shoulder from behind her back and moves toward the foes in sight, nodding to the tough looking woman coming up along side her.
:: An Ambush ::
Given a moment, you recognize these creatures as orcs.
Greyson lets fly a sling bullet, which seems to hit the shoulder of the lead orc.
Mabya and Wonderful step forward, drawing weapons, trying to shield their companions.
You two notice the sling bullet went through the "orc", and you recognize all three orcs as an illusion. Because of this you do not actually take any damage from the attack rolls below, you need to even react to the illusions.
All three orcs charge at Mabya and Wonderful, great axes swinging. The blows land hard, fast and devastating.
Round 1 - Greyson, Wonderful, Mabya, Marguerite, Orcs
Round 2 - Greyson, Wonderful, Mabya, Marguerite, Orcs
"Heh, excellent" Greysor mutters as he wraps around the back of the group, dropping his sling and backpack to the ground and drawing his rapier.
Round 1 {cyan orc}
Marguerite drops her bow by the bush as she draws her longsword and moves to the west(left) side of the orc.
When she reaches the orc she uses a two-handed power attack
Round 2 {cyan orc}
That ought to distract him from Mabya! Nothing like a sword swishing past your ear to get your attention
With a slightly confused look, Mabya takes one hand off her sword and reaches out, waving her arm back and forth through the space the (red) orcs body takes up.
"Um... I don't think these orcs are orcs."
"What in the Lady's?...
Confused, Wonderful shakes her head, stops speaking, and rams her spear toward the chest of the, er, orc? in front of her.
:: An Ambush ::
The orcs present easy targets, your weapons dealing tremendous wounds. How they remain standing is something beyond you.
Greysor has just realized these are all illusions. The three of you can see all of your attacks passing through semi transparent orcs, hitting nothing but empty air.
Marguerite seems to have not noticed this yet. And whatever is driving the illusions is trying to deter her the most.
Any and all damage the three of you have taken can be ignored,
for it was fictitious.
Seeing their previous attacks being ineffective, the orcs shift over, trying to center their attacks on one target at the flank. Marguerite is in danger of being over whelmed by the blows.
The orcs blows rain down. She can feel one blow land , and then another much more powerful one land .
.
.
.
.
.
.
As Marguerite feels death steal over her, the orcs fade into nothingness and none of you can find wounds on your body.
Greysor casts around, searching the area for the source of the illusions, while holding his rapier at the ready in one hand and a vial of acid in the other.
Mabya rushes to Marguerites side and shakes her shoulder.
"Stranger, do not die, they were figments! You are unhurt! Please!"
Wonderful lets out a long sigh.
Just an illusion. I knew this whole trip would be a farce. Old town traditions. Probably some old, washed up wizard trying to recap some of the glory days.
She quickly scans the area to see if anyone is nearby that would have cast this illusion.
:: An Ambush ::
Taking a quick look around, you can not find the source of the illusion.
:: Continued Travel ::
With the incident dealt with, the party moves on. The trek is long and arduous, with the forest becoming thicker and more menacing as the day wears on.
As night approaches you find a decent spot to camp. The ground is level and relatively free of rocks and there are thickets on three sides to help shield you from the weather and sight.
"Uff! How did I end up lying here? And what happened to those orcs? There should be some bodies to examine!"
"Thanks for the shake, soldier. I might have lain here all afternoon otherwise. What's your name, by the way? I'm Marguerite."
<Time Passes>
"How about we stop for the night? I think we'd all be more able to deal with that tomb starting fresh in the morning. And this looks likely as a camp spot.
If we stop for the night, I'm going to spiral out from the site for a good 100 yards looking for tracks, traps, and other strangeness. That was one weird illusion, and nobody would do that and then forget about us.
"How about we stop for the night? I think we'd all be more able to deal with that tomb starting fresh in the morning. And this looks likely as a camp spot.
"Sounds good, Wonderful says, adding sarcastically, "we don't want to run into any more dangers on our, er, quest."
Seriously, though. This farse is such a waste of time. I should have just stayed with Sasha, in case she went into labor. She shrugs, and then says aloud without really meaning to, "Fate has willed it.
"You can see the future, priestess? and know what the Fates will?"
Marguerite narrows her eyes and looks more closely at the cleric, taking in the age of her clothes and the symbol she carries.
"You look young for a seer. "
Marguerite smiles a wry grimace.
"Well, at least young from my perspective. How should we address you, seeress?"
"And are you suggesting that traveling through the night would be a better idea? I'm willing to listen to reasons, but pushing for more than a day without rest doesn't seem to make much sense."
"And are you suggesting that traveling through the night would be a better idea? I'm willing to listen to reasons, but pushing for more than a day without rest doesn't seem to make much sense."
Oh, no. Rest certainly is fine by me. As for the address, you can just call me what everyone else does in Kassen. Wonderful.
Wonderful raises her eyebrows toward the half-elf as if to say "And you?"
Oh, you're Wonderful! Arnama said you might be able to help me find some information about my mother. Or at least you might know who to send me to.
You can call me Marguerite. Or ഡെയ്സി in Elvish.
Marguerite bites her lip and looks hesitant.
She doesn't look old enough to have been in Kassen then. But perhaps her teacher was training at that time. Or the priestess at her temple may have old records
In any event, let's get some food and shelter set up, and we can choose a schedule for the night watches. And I think it would be a bad idea to put the fire across the front of the clearing. Too easy for an archer to fire at us while we are blinded by the flames.
Whoever set that illusion is not likely to forget us. And it may just be a warning trigger for someone up ahead. Do you know how much further we have to go to reach the crypt?
"I'm Greysor, if anyone was wondering. And I'm all for a rest, as long as we're careful about it. I'll go have a look around, just to make sure we are alone here."
Greysor wanders around the edge of the clearing, checking for tracks or any other signs of strangers.
:: A nights rest ::
The group settles in for the night, having determined that they seem fairly alone. Studying the map for a bit, they look to only be a half day from the crypt.
How shall we split the night? I'm glad to take the last watch, if everyone else is ok with that. Does it make any difference to anyone what order we watch?
"I'll take second watch then."
"Guess I'm first then."
Wonderful wonders what shenanigans the lot will stumble up on in the morning, or if there will be any more tricks any time soon.
:: On Second Watch ::
The first watch goes by smoothly and Wonderful wakes Greysor for his turn. The first half of Greysor's watch goes just as well. The only noises being from small creatures and the forest being otherwise peaceful.
A bit more than half way through the second watch however, Greysor can hear a low growling coming from the open side of the camp site. He is unable to pinpoint the distance, but after a few more moments it sounds closer.
"WAKE UP LOUTS, TROUBLE'S HERE! Greysor shouts as he leaps to his feet and lights the torch sitting beside him, rapier ready in his other hand.
Marguerite opens her eyes and looks around.
Wonderful tries to rouse herself from sleep.
Didn't I just close my eyes?
:: On Second Watch ::
Greysors cry is enough to wake Marguerite and Wonderful.
Out in front of the campsite, two wolves appear. One of them rushes forward towards Greysor and bites his leg, but fails to drag him to the ground.
The wolves appear to be starving
Round 1 - Red Wolf, Greysor, Marguerite, Blue Wolf, Wonderful
Round 2 - Greysor, Marguerite, Wolves, Wonderful
Greysor cries out as the wolf tears into his leg, ripping away and lunging around to place the immediate wolf between himself and the second one, knowing that he probably can't take another hit like that. As he manoeuvres, he swipes at the wolf with his rapier.
"I could use a little help here!" he shouts to his companions.
Marguerite stands up and looks toward Greyson, and sees the farther wolf, lurking in the shadows beyond the light of the torch.
"We've got a hungry pair of wolves here."
She draws her bow and aims at the farther wolf
As the arrow flies, she takes a 5-foot step to put the campfire at her back.
"Wonderful, Greyson's bleeding badly"
:: On Second Watch ::
Greysor's strike misses its mark, probably due to being distracted. Marguerite's arrow flies true however, creating a large wound in the wolf.
As it cries out in pain, in charges toward the source. The wolf savages Marguerite, but she manages to stay on her feet.
Wonderful launches herself to her feet, muttering "Not today, Lady. Not yet," more begging than telling.
Greysor guardedly steps towards the wolf attacking Marguerite, lunging with his rapier, hoping to drop the wounded wolf as quickly as possible so that his companions can help him deal with the other.
Marguerite drops her bow and pulls out her longsword
Holding it in both hands, she makes a powerful lunge at the injured wolf in front of her
As blood pours out of the wounded animal, she says, "That should solve THAT problem"
Looking around, she sees the wolf that attacked Greysor.
:: On Second Watch ::
Standing Wonderful channels energy into the group. As the wave of energy washes over her allies, she realizes it also washes over her foes.
Greysor steps over and strikes the wold, dealing it an irritating wound. Pulling our her blade, Marguerite swings and cuts he head off the wolf.
With only one enemy nearby, the remaining wolf bites at Greysor missing by quite a bit.
Wonderful pulls her spear over her shoulder, and in one fluid motion hurls it at the wolf.
Greysor deftly steps around the wolf, attempting to avoid its flashing claws and teeth. With the wolf trapped between him and Marguerite, he stabs at it's unprotected flank, shouting "Get the bloody thing!"
Still wielding her sword with both hands, Marguerite makes a powerful attack on the wolf in front of her
:: On Second Watch ::
The blows from Greysor and Marguerite are enough to slay the last wolf.
If your foes deceased, you have time to tend to your wounds and return to sleep.
Wonderful quickly surveys the area, making sure there are now more lurking predators, and then heads over to Marguerite and Greysor.
"Everyone alright?" Sorry about healing that wolf there, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get to you in time."
"It's just a scratch. I'm fine."
"Did you get enough rest? Why don't you both grab a bit more sleep while I take the last watch"
After picking up her discarded bow, Marguerite inspects the bodies of the wolves, noting their emaciated condition.
She then walks the perimeter of the camp, looking for any signs of other predators, recent use, and especially looking for a low, sturdy branch.
Once people go back to sleep, she swings herself up on the branch and settles in for the remainder of the night.
Watching the turning of the stars, every hour she descends to walk around the campsite about 20 feet from the ring of stumps and branches that mark the boundary, occasionally throwing another branch on the fire, and using the flare to scan the deeper woods.
Greysor says with a slight smile "Thanks for the help there, for a second I thought you both were going to... leave me to the wolves"
Greysor reclines back onto his bedroll, pulling his hat down over his face and is soon quietly snoring, the handle of his trusty rapier just inches from his outstretched hand.