HP: 11/11
AC: 15
CMD: 16
Speed: 30ft
Equipped: Dahlia
Quiver: 9/10 Arrows
10/10 Arrows, Cold Iron
10/10 Arrows, Silver Blanched
Conditions: none
Ganit refocuses his bow at the so far invincible bear and lets loose another arrow.
Attack:
Damage:
Bron opens his eyes, looking at good old furry bear balls. Taking a quick glance around, he waits for an opportune moment to try to escape from the creature's graps.
** spoiler omitted **
Ganit refocuses his bow at the so far invincible bear and lets loose another arrow.Attack: 1d20+5
Damage: 1d8+5
Once again Ganit's arrow flies true, but it is unable to penetrait the bear's thick hide with enough force to mean something.
The bear, not realising Sir Bronwyn is concious attacks Lukan but the heavy and powerful blows simply deflect off Lukan's shield and though the blows didn't hurt him, Lukan felt a real strength behind them. It seems as if some other presance is here protecting you.
attack: &
The bear's attacks slam against Lukan's shield clearing his head as they nearly rip his arm from his body. Snap out of it Lukan. If you want to save your comrades you must focus. Pushing the final paw back away from him, he sinks his Scimitar deep within the bears neck, but his precise onslaught does not stop. He whips his shield up into the air and thrusts it down upon the bear's massive head, reverberating with a loud clang. Blood flows from the bears neck as he rips the scimitar out of its matted hair and flesh. He retreats quickly after the attack, deftly returning to a defensive stance behind his shield. He peers over the spiked shield, watching the bear's movements readying himself for another attack.
Bron covers his body with his shield, grabbing frantically for the small piece of wood that could mean the difference between life and death. Finding it, he murmurs a half-dozen magical commands, hoping that one of them activates the magic hidden in the wand.
He waits for the moment the bear rears himself to attack Lukan, and rolls to his side, trying to stand up.
I would cast sleep, but my guess is that this huge bear is more than 4HD.
Not sure about the order of things.
If James can make a charge this round, I will move to S51 and use my Touch of Rage on him to give him +1 on attacks, damage and will saves for 1 round
If James cannot attack, then I will move to T50 and use Touch of Rage on Lukan
--> this should give Lukan the +1 on his current attack and damage since he goes after me
Round 2 Init 14
HP = 13
AC = 18 (16 on Charge Turn)
Weapon Equipped = Lance
Speed = 35'
Challenge = 0/1
Status Effects = Mounted
"Defend yourself Lukan, I will attempt to pierce his hide in a moment."
hp healed.
-or-
Round 2 Init 14
** spoiler omitted **"Defend yourself Lukan, I will attempt to pierce his hide in a moment."
Jameson backs off on his horse, readying a charge next round whilst Catrinia goes up behind Lukan and casts Touch of Rage on him before his attack.
Lukan then attacks with a flurry of blows. Due to the power of Catrinia's spell, Lukan is able to cut through the bear's hide with little problem as it has trouble manouvering and something is helping guide Lukan's blade and shield.
It takes the blade from Lukan hard in the chest and roars in pain as blood is spilling all over from the violent and powerful attack from Lukan.
Sir Bronwyn, back on full attempt to stand up, provoking an attack from the creature, which knocks Sir Bronwyn back down to the ground on the floor prone and bleeding out.
attack:
damage:
Cambyl uses his blade and cuts across the bear's hide before moving away by 5ft. The bear is bleeding horribly, but continues to fight on.
Ganit's arrow flies true and stabs into the bear's body, stabbing deep and forcing it to roar in a rage at the pain.
Round 3
Order:
The Hermit Ganit D'Artain
Bear
Jameson Addercop IV
Carina Stigard
Lukan Swane
Sir Bronwyn Raslov
Cambyl
Round 3 Init 14
HP = 13
AC = 18 (16 on Charge Turn)
Weapon Equipped = Lance
Speed = 35'
Challenge = 0/1
Status Effects = Mounted
"Now Donal, now is our time. Hyaaa!"
Rage of the Past, Kill this Bear Fast
I again touch Lukan with Touch of Rage.
+1 attack and damage
Filled with confidence and brimming with strength, Lukan strikes at the bear once again.
Full Attack
Scimitar Attack
Scimitar Damage
Shield Attack
Shield Damage
HP: 11/11
AC: 15
CMD: 16
Speed: 30ft
Equipped: Dahlia
Quiver: 8/10 Arrows
10/10 Arrows, Cold Iron
10/10 Arrows, Silver Blanched
Conditions: none
A little more inspired by his companions finally drawing blood, Ganit positions himself again and takes another shot at the foul beast.
Attack:
Damage:
Ganit's arrow doesn't manage to get in this time and the bear launches it's attacks at Lukan, however Lukan is easily adempts as blocking both attacks. In fact the attacks were so sluggish he might as well have just stood there laughing.
attack: &
Jameson charges in with his lance, stabbing the creature deep in the belly as it reared up to meet it's opponent, however it is now too late as the blade digs in deep and it lets out an almost human-sounding sigh of relief.
Suddenly the bear shrinks and turns into a incredible old man with the look of peace in his eyes as he suddenly ages into bones and then the bones turn to dust and blow away in a sudden unnatural wind.
Also, the temple appears to suddenly seem cleaner as if someone just took the time to clean the stone and pillars as well as the stones you are stepping on. The water in the pool suddenly becomes immaculate, giving off a magical healing aura about it.
Lukan sees the symbol of the Elk in the side of the temple suddenly give off a glow. It should be obvious to any follower of Old Deadeye that he had a part in this somehow.
Cambyl rushes to Bronwyn's side.
"We are going to have to get you to stop trying to be the enemy's lunch!"
"I know it's much to ask, Cayden, but if you could spare some healing for our friend here, he can live to get eaten another day."
hp healed.
hp healed.
Donal prances off to the side as Jameson pumps his lance in the air in victory. After the transformation of the bear the large half-orc noticeably sobers.
"Is Sir Raslov going to live Cambyl?"
What just happened here?
Shaking her head and chuckling: Didn't I mention after the frogs, that while many women probably consider Bron to be tasty, he should really avoid trying to become each monster's next meal.
Glad you survived though, I doubt Lukan would appreciate the off color jokes - or being consumed by wildlife.
"I think he will be fine, James. It seems Cayden is smiling on you, Sir Bronwyn. Even enchanted evil bears are not able to finish you off." Cambyl smiles, despite a worried look on his face. "I think we need to make sure Lukan's ale is gone by the time we get back to Oleg's. There's no sense in letting any of it go to waste!"
"Well, that pool of water looks much better than it did! Anyone know anything about such pools? If this is a temple to old Dead Eye... what might it's holy water do?"
"Well, that pool of water looks much better than it did! Anyone know anything about such pools? If this is a temple to old Dead Eye... what might it's holy water do?"
Bron rises from the dead, his face a mess of wet blood and dirt from the ground.
Some women, heh?, he says, blinking to Carina.
I believe I had enough of heroics for this month. Lukan, you should take point the next time. At least I bought you the time to change from bow to sword-and-board, right?
He sits by the water, wetting his hand and trying to take the sand and dirt off his face. Noticing the crystal-clear quality of the water, he takes a sip.
I second Cambyl's motion. Also, my head is spinning like as a cartwheel; a gulp of ale might just do the trick to keep it from spinning.
Bron rises from the dead, his face a mess of wet blood and dirt from the ground.
Some women, heh?, he says, blinking to Carina.
I believe I had enough of heroics for this month. Lukan, you should take point the next time. At least I bought you the time to change from bow to sword-and-board, right?
He sits by the water, wetting his hand and trying to take the sand and dirt off his face. Noticing the crystal-clear quality of the water, he takes a sip.
CLW:
Isn't this the temple that the good priest spoke of at Oleg's?
While it appears to have been blessed by Old Deadeye once we defeated the bear, I suppose we should check it to make sure that there are no other surprises once we bring the good priest here.
Also, if this water has the power to heal, we should see whether it maintains its power once removed from the temple area. A waterskin or two of healing water would go a long way toward helping Bron survive repeated consumption.
"I wonder who this person was and why he was bewitched into the form of a bear. We should be more concerned with finding the cause of this man's fate. It would appear that whatever hexed this place is gone but we should search for the temple's history. Failing that, we should ask Jhod what he knew before sending us here."
Jameson dismounts from Donal and leans his lance against his shoulder as he pats the horses flank.
"Well done Donal, you were very brave."
Unstrapping his shield and slinging it over his back he takes his lance in a two-handed grip.
"We should explore this temple fully. Although the evil is gone I would like to confirm it, and finding some artifacts of this place may bolster Jhod's convictions."
Though he is not my god this Old Deadeye blessed us in some way, it hurts my faith not at all to help his. Iomedea would approve.
Ganit nods at Jameson's suggestion and sets out to examine the temple. On his way he puts a firm grasp to Bronwyn's shoulder as he passes by.
The water appears to become just normal clean water when removed from the pool. Tastey, but in no way magical.
Inside the temple it appears to become cleaned up and maintained slightly. As you are entering you area all already seeing the changes being done. The alter appears to stand firm.
There are books scattered, many rotten over the years but one that appears to be a jurnal stands out, somewhat perserved over the years.
Inside is the account of a Taldan Priest of Erastil. Here he documents his life and the ins and outs of the days life. Near the end it get's disturbing.
"I've tried to stay strong and believe that we will settle this land, but they have won. The tribes of trolls, savage humanoids and other creatures we have encountered will drive all the colonists out. I believe it is too late to be on their side, instead I will lure a bear here and sacrifice him in the name of any who will answer the call to aid me against these colonists. I will never die in this cursed lands and I damn Erastil for not protecting us in our hour of need."
There appears to be no other entries after this one, but a few paw prints all over the jurnal. The bear seemed to have recognised it, but didn't know what to do with it and instead left it there in the corner of the cave.
"Trolls!?! That is not good news. Surely they aren't that close. Oleg would have had some news of them. I wonder how long this taint has filled this temple."
"Cayden keep this place free of evil."
Lukan instinctively slings his sword down to remove the blood, but this time only dust falls from the blade. He blinks uncontrollably as he stares at the unnatural sight before him. Looking up he sees the holy symbol of Erastil and he falls to his knees. Erastil had been good to him. He had kept him from harm this far and almost made him an invincible force. Bending his head down he offered a silent prayer, Thank your for your help, Old Deadeye. I will always be in your debt. Please allow us to tame these lands and please continue to watch over us all. Bronwyn's wise suggestion wakes him from his prayers and he turns to the knight with a smile for the first time - a strange sense of peace stirring within the fighter.
"That would be best. Its good to see that you are alive... I was... Worried."
He turns to Cambyl and nods in agreement, "That is what I bought it for...to be enjoyed."
Lukan props his shield and sword against the side of a nearby pillar and he moves to sit by the side of the pool of water while the others investigate the temple. He hunches over and runs his fingers through his hair. By the gods... my hair is turning into that coward Ganit's. I better get this cut next time I'm at Oleg's. Finally pushing the last strands of his black hair back, he looks to the sky and breathes out a deep sigh. Relinquishing the last bit of air from his long he looks over to Carina.
"What was it you spoke to me when I was fighting the bear Carina?"
What do you mean spoke to you? That is how I use these abilities I have been gifted, or perhaps it is cursed, with. Why, does it sound as though I am speaking? I have never heard a language such as it. If it is a language, I know not what it is. I am simply repeating what I have learned in my dreams.
Bron smiles instinctively when Lukan does, glad to see a smile on the rough face of the warrior.
No need to worry about me. My father had a saying that goes "only the good die young", and I was never any good to begin with so...
Hah! The authorization has been given! Break out the casket, Ganit, for it's been a long trip and kissing the floor has built me up quite a thirst! Must be all this sand! *phht*, he exclaims, spitting sand.
"You spoke in a very guttural language." Lukan pauses a moment thinking upon the subject of dreams. "You are fortunate that your dreams teach you things... My, nightmares, only repeat a single lesson over and over again." He rubs the scar on his face as if it aches. "I guess its not only my dreams."
The smile and peace that had overcame him begins to fade. He turns solemnly to Bronwyn and then looks suddenly in the direction they came from and shouts, "DAVE! Get your mule-ass over here. I need a drink." He sighs and mutters something under his breath as he gets up to pull the mule into the temple grounds. He pours himself a mug of frothy ale and takes a sip. Sitting his mug down he begins to fill two other mugs and passes them to Carina and Bronwyn. "It'll ease the sting of that bear's claws, Bronwyn." He leaves the keg tapped and waiting for Jameson, Ganit, and Cambyl to return.
"Judging by the looks of that man-bear-priest at least 40 years, likely more." Ganit replies to Cambyl. He then edges towards the entrance of the temple with the journal in tow and surveys the tree line. The sunset replaced the still waters of the center pool with glistening gold and the occasional wink of blinding white sparks. He watches a single splintered arrow floating listlessly along the surface, taunting him with its perceived symbolism.
Perhaps this beast best embodies the effects of my iconoclasms. My arrows reflected from his hide like the sun from this fountain; as if he would not accept them. As if the two of us shared too many sentiments to be at odds with each other. He looks down to the book and then back to the pool.
But I was able to wound it, to weaken it. This couldn’t be another test of Erastil’s, it has been too long since he plagued me with his petty trials. My bathetic interpretations should be forgotten and I must stop giving meaning to that which is meaningless. This pathetic fool sought refuge in the skin of a bear but was still too weak to protect what was his. He sold his soul to some nameless devil for what, prolonged life as a mindless beast? He would have died anyway but he could have kept his morals and thus integrity. A man without morals can scarcely be called a man at all. Ganit throws the book back into the depths of the temple, letting it split apart among the rest of the molding tomes.
I suppose his death was fitting.
Accepting the ale from Lukan. Thank you. I truly do not think you would want the dreams from which my abilities originate. I do not know what they are, but usually they involve brutal bloodshed. I see these horrible green skinned tusked monsters battling humans, elves and dwarves. Every time there is some frightening tattooed witch doctor using magic against his enemies. These monsters speak in this guttural tongue, if a language it is. I have no idea what the language is, but in my dreams I can understand it, and sometimes when I awake from the nightmare, I recall how to use the magic just as the witch doctor did.
However, the lessons in which I learn are rare, usually the nightmares involve the slaughter of men, elves and dwarves. And the capture, rape and slavery of the women and children. Trust me, I would prefer to have your one nightmare, at least then I would know what to expect.
Jameson looks upon the renewed temple with a mixture of awe and sadness.
How many dead because of this man? Because he lost his way. I too have suffered greatly, but I would not turn on my own like that. Would I? It is well we cleared this place but I wonder what it all means.
"Orc lass, ye speak Orc when you fling your magic about."
"Do you understand me? Is this the language of your dreams?"
Lukan stares into his cup and nods in agreement, "Aye. I will not begin an argument to decide whose dreams are worse. I suppose we each have our own demons."
He looks to Carina with sincerity as he speaks wisdom learned through experience, "We can not be weak. We can not let our dreams become reality once again. We must learn all we can from them, bear them as a reminder of our weakness, and struggle to become more then what we are." He points out to the rest of the party and continues to speak, "I can not watch another comrade die." With that his gaze returns to the depths of his ale mug.
Carina almost chokes on her ale, spitting out a mouthful in a very unladylike way. The language is orc? How would I speak orc? Is that what you were just speaking? I have no idea what you said if it was. Other than stories told to scare children, I have never seen or met an orc, don't even know what one looks like - although I am going to guess that you are about to tell me that the monsters in my dreams are orcs, right?
Carina has a look of bewilderment and utter fear.
Carina's thoughts turn to the strange dreams she has had and begins to wonder if she is somehow connected to these dreams - and the brutal orcs in them.
From the archway Ganit calls back inside the temple, ”Looks like they busted open that keg, Cambyl. What would your patron say if he caught you studying these texts when there’s fresh ale and gathering comrades less than fifty yards away?”
James laughs a bit at Carina until he sees she isn't joking.
"You mean you don't know what you're saying and have been traveling with me this entire time and don't know I'm half-orc? My mother's people are indeed green with tusks. If you didn't recognize me as a "monster" from your dreams then you must be having nightmares indeed. Orcs are brutal combatants that neither give nor receive quarter, but then elves and men and dwarves are no less horrible when they go to war."
How can she not know these things?
Shaking her head while looking at the ground stunned.
No, I had no idea what those monsters were, sorry, those orcs. I do not believe there are any in Brevoy that I know of, perhaps in the north, but certainly not in the south. They were one of the monsters, like dragons, that my parents used to scare me as a child so that I would stay in bed and stay out of trouble.
But why would I have these dreams - my parents are humans, I was born and raised in New Stetven. Where would these dreams of such monsters, er orcs, come from? I'm sorry James, I did not know of your heritage, I did not mean to offend you with my dreams and referring to your mother's people as monsters.
Bron pats Lukan in the back, offering:
And as long I have any say in it, you won't have to. That scarf... You served in the ninth, wasn't it? My father used to tell me they were good men, even to the last stinking one. And boy, did they stink! But then, so do we, right?
He takes a mug of ale and says:
Well, we mustn't forget those who came before us, and those who gave their lives so we could be here. We should honor them always, in memory and word, and we should learn the lessons they seek to teach us. But don't let us be haunted by these ghosts of the past, for I'm sure even now they cheer for us in our quest in their heavenly homes. A drink to the warriors of the past, and the roads they opened for us!
"Judging by the looks of that man-bear-priest at least 40 years, likely more." Ganit replies to Cambyl. He then edges towards the entrance of the temple with the journal in tow and surveys the tree line. The sunset replaced the still waters of the center pool with glistening gold and the occasional wink of blinding white sparks. He watches a single splintered arrow floating listlessly along the surface, taunting him with its perceived symbolism.
Perhaps this beast best embodies the effects of my iconoclasms. My arrows reflected from his hide like the sun from this fountain; as if he would not accept them. As if the two of us shared too many sentiments to be at odds with each other. He looks down to the book and then back to the pool.
But I was able to wound it, to weaken it. This couldn’t be another test of Erastil’s, it has been too long since he plagued me with his petty trials. My bathetic interpretations should be forgotten and I must stop giving meaning to that which is meaningless. This pathetic fool sought refuge in the skin of a bear but was still too weak to protect what was his. He sold his soul to some nameless devil for what, prolonged life as a mindless beast? He would have died anyway but he could have kept his morals and thus integrity. A man without morals can scarcely be called a man at all. Ganit throws the book back into the depths of the temple, letting it split apart among the rest of the molding tomes.
I suppose his death was fitting.
Since the priest turned to bone and then ash you can assume he's been here since before the Taldan settlers left, back many, many years ago. If he was normal he most likely would've died some time ago.
The curse seems to be something that any angry deity would do. As he seemed to want to save his own skin by sacrificing an animal it seems somewhat poetic justice that Erastil forced him into the form of a bear until someone was worthy enough to defeat him and bring back honor to the temple.
Bron pats Lukan in the back, offering:
And as long I have any say in it, you won't have to. That scarf... You served in the ninth, wasn't it? My father used to tell me they were good men, even to the last stinking one. And boy, did they stink! But then, so do we, right?
He takes a mug of ale and says:
Well, we mustn't forget those who came before us, and those who gave their lives so we could be here. We should honor them always, in memory and word, and we should learn the lessons they seek to teach us. But don't let us be haunted by these ghosts of the past, for I'm sure even now they cheer for us in our quest in their heavenly homes. A drink to the warriors of the past, and the roads they opened for us!
Lukan smiles to Bronwyn and raises his mug into the air. Nods, and silently takes a sip of his ale. Aye, we will honor them and achieve what they could not."
"You must have been quite sheltered growing up Carina, for Rostland has many orc tribes and half-orcs and not uncommon there. As for you powers, I would say you show many of the same signs as my brother. There must be orc blood in your past somewhere."