DM CH-P's CoT: The Bastards of Erebus (Inactive)

Game Master Feral

Appario stifles a laugh at Derek's retort.

"Remember Derek, while we're here, we might as well at least see if they are interested in our new business venture...so try not to get them killed."

"We are not enemies. We come at the request of the Mother of the Hagwood. Her home, the Maggot Tree, is under attack and she needs the help of all her allies", Maddok explains.

"Why have the Redcaps of the Bloody Tarn not seen to her needs?"

The satyr hefts his greataxe in a combat-ready posture in response to Derek's insults, looking at its blade meaningfully and menacingly as he takes a step forward.

"These redcaps serve me, not the Mother of Flies! I owe her nothing!"

Maddok looks to Vahnwynne as Madjaw shouts his defiance. The tattoos along his arms begin to glow softly as he moves to interpose himself between the saytr and the party.

"The Mother needs the Redcaps. If you will not act, stand aside so that those with the fortitude can", the big Shoanti growls.

Madjaw steps closer to Maddok, bloodlust beginning to shine in his eyes.

"You challenge my leadership? Very well! If one among you bests me in single combat, this tribe is yours to command!"

Heh, I had a feeling it was going to come to this. How close is he now?

Maddok looks around to his allies, "Very well. Give me a minute to discuss this with the others."

The Shoanti's tribal tattoos begin to shine brighter.

Assuming he doesn't go nuts and attack at Maddok's request:

Maddok turns to his allies and speaks in a hushed tone, "Shu-Ak’eh-Di craves this battle but if I loose him I doubt he'll spare the satyr his life. Do any of you have a way to get him to cooperate that doesn't involve agreeing to this battle. It seems the Mother could use all the strong allies she can get."

"Beat him and take get the allies you seek. I don't think he's going to listen to words here," Appario whispers back, keeping his eyes on the satyr.

"I'll watch your back, as always, in case any of his lapdogs decides to take a swing at you."

He was 30 ft away or so at the time.

***

Madjaw stands, both hands gripping the greataxe firmly, as he confidently awaits the decision.

Sigh. A week since Semenya has posted? (Yeah...I know it's been a slow weekend.) Yahirma? I know you're around!

Appario looks back at Madjaw, both confident but non-challenging.

Ah, one level away from any magical route to forced friendship.

Knowledge (Nature) 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13

A horn-bearing fey...a faun? A satyr? Bah, unbound spirits given form are so reckless when unguided.

"Whether you owe the Mother of Flies anything does not enter into these invaders' minds, Madjaw. They see only that the hag has allies, and these allies must be removed to secure their own victory. You can fight now, while your once-mistress distracts the villains from behind, or you may fight a much shorter battle when the canny humans turn their cold-forged blades on you and your band," Yahirma crows at Madcap and his underlings. Pointing at Dog Tongue's still-dripping headgear, she continues, now focusing more on the redcaps. "When the leaf-searing torches born by brutal giants cast the shadows of hunting hounds across your camp, what is to prevent the Blood Drinkers' parched caps from shriveling in the heat? Much as you may disparage him, Dog Tongue's own cap has tasted the sweet, red ichor recently, and under our leadership, we can bring you the same delectable rewards. Grab your blades, join us, and your boots shall tread the flesh of fallen foes, painted red with blood instead of red with rust."

Diplomacy with Natural Divination 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (12) + 20 = 32

So unfortunate that Yahirma doesn't know about satyr's lusty ways. She's been looking forward to using that Green Widow charm bonus.

I don't think you need to be aware of the target's attraction to gain the benefit from that trait. That said, I am wholly on board for Yahirma using her feminine wiles to achieve our goals. =P

Maddok nods at the shaman's words and looks to the others for further advice.

I don't think you need to be aware of the target's attraction to gain the benefit from that trait. That said, I am wholly on board for Yahirma using her feminine wiles to achieve our goals. =P

It's more like Yahirma not considering that it's an option. She tends to be fairly conservative when it comes to flashing a bit of ankle unless there's a particularly vulnerable target.

Ankle! How racy.

If it does come to ritual combat, Maddok/The Beast could use a Shield of Faith since I think that special warpaint wore off some weeks ago.

I'm going to wait to see how he reacts to Yahirma before acting again.

"I doubt this is a situation where you would need to hold back big brother, something tells me he is quite sure he would win, and if he did not...then he probably wouldn't want to live either way.
A Satyr acting this way...I bet he is as mad as his name suggest, possibly hurt and really only looking for death anyway."

"And if you want proof of his strange nature, behold the evidence."

Derek indicates the ladies of the party.
"He is not trying to seduce our lovely ladies."

He then indicates himself.
"He is not having a drinking contest with me."

Finally he indicates Maddok and Appario.
"And he is not using his pipes to charm you two into having a heavy snog session for his amusment."

"Behold, the evidence...and quite strong evidence if you ask me."

Maddok looks at Appario and then back to Derek.

"Perhaps it's for the best."

Semenya simply stands in the fire, lit from below.

"You throw your life away so easily. Is it because you're terrified of these Redcaps seeing you run away from the men who challenge the Mother?"

"I am Semenya Carbachon, the Unburnt. The Seer In Flames. In these flames, I see two paths for you - one is to be rent limb from limb. The other is to lead the Redcaps to glory against those humans that you hide from in your hovel."

"Whichever path you choose, it is yours to take. You do us more good alive than dead, but if it's your death you seek - we can oblige."

And with that, she'll throw down a smokestick, cast Vanish, and climb a tree while Stealthed.

1d20 + 16 ⇒ (16) + 16 = 32 Intimidate
1d20 + 37 ⇒ (20) + 37 = 57 Stealth, while concealed by Smokestick and Vanished.

I'm not sure which fire Semenya is standing in; there was no lit fire in the village when you arrived, since leaving an untended fire lit during the night could have disastrous consequences for forest-villages. I'm going to assume Semenya used prestidigitation or something like it to produce something looking similar to a fire.

***

Yahirma's words rouse the redcaps; they all seem to relish the idea of imminent bloodletting, and their insults towards Dog's Tongue are replaced by the occasional cheer or applause. However, each looks towards Madjaw to hear his response.

Madjaw appears rankled by the redcaps' obvious interest in following Yahirma's suggestion, but he remains defiant.

"If humans come here to fight, they will find me ready. I don't need to seek them out. Were the Mother to fall, someone would need to take her place. Why not Madjaw, who stays out of the business of men?"

Semenya's words continue to agitate him, although her imposing image and sudden disappearance seem to change his attitude, all the while the redcaps are mesmerized by her words and actions.

Following her disappearance, Madjaw takes a step back, then speaks in a more reluctant tone.

"Fine. Take these redcaps with you, but leave me out of this."

Having spoken, the satyr returns to his shelter.

Maddok watches in amazement as Yahirma and Semenya's words (and impressive visuals) win the dark fey over. He nods and waves for the sinister little men to follow along.

"What of you? What will be said of the great Madjaw that napped in comfort while redcaps and mere humans won all the glory? Who would serve such a satyr?"

Ouch! I am as likely to prod the sleeping bear as the next man.. more in fact if I am honest, but I think big brother just kicked the sleeping bear in the groinal area while loudly proclaiming he will make a nice furcoat out of it.

Appario remians silent.

As Derek muses aloud about Madjaw's atypical satyr behavior - much of which comes as news to her - Yahirma steps to Maddok's side and places a hand on his shoulder. "The disenfranchised may rise up to strike the victorious from behind, and those with no hope for the future may act with no concern for others," she cautions. "We have swept this satyrs hooves from under him. I suspect any additional provocation would only spur him to strike at us, not to aim his axe at our enemies."

That's right...satyrs tend to fancy themselves to be romantics, don't they?

After thinking for a moment, she continues, saying, "I think I will have a more friendly chat with Madjaw. The spines of the piquote may ward off the okapi's tongue, inspiring inaction, but it must bloom with sweet nectar to call the moths to break cover and feed. So too may our shaggy-legged war leader need incentives to aid us." Keeping eye contact with her party members for a moment more and motioning to the increasingly bloodthirsty redcaps, she remarks, "Would somebody mind filling in the shock troops while I'm busy?"

With a few loose ends delegated, she trots to Madjaw's hut and invokes a blessing of parley (casts sanctuary) before poking her head in. "The Mother of Flies may not cut the finest figure, but that is not to say that she will be the only woman watching the siege break. I myself have heard tell of a satyr's prowess, and, well..." she trails off.

Kindo Kane, let us hope this is not a threshold I must cross

"I wouldn't want to think that the spoils of war will be limited to ogre clubs and suits of mail."

Bluff to imply potential... favors down the line for any satyr so brave as to fight on Yahirma's behalf 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (8) + 17 = 25

Is she...is she going where I think she is going, and doing what I think?

Derek muses for a moment, then quickly tries to block out the images that begins to form in is very imaginative mind.
No, surely not, she has too much self respect, even if the idea would titillate her at all, which I doubt.
Still, talk about taking "the bull by the horns" as it where, or at least the goat.

Secure in is belief that Yahrima is just implying the offer of "nectar" rather than really handing out some, Derek instead snorts with amusement as he considers the poor Satyr being lead by the nose by Yahrima.
I should get him a nose ring and a leash.

Maddok watches in confusion as Yahirma saunters into the Satyr's hut. Realization quickly dawns on the Shoanti.

"That woman has no fear at all."

"No, I think she is just very brave big brother. Bravery is not a lack of fear, but the ability to act even when fear gnaws in the pit of your stomach.
Now *I* have no fear, mostly because I am just too stupid to realize when I should be afraid."

"That's good enough for me, Little Brother", Maddok says with a laugh.

Semenya watches Yahirma go into the hut from where she's ensconsed in a tree. If there's sufficient distraction, she'll come down when nobody's looking, the better to preserve the air of mystery.

Next to Appario, she says ... "Fascinating. I'd say I hope she knows what she's doing. Then again, I think a better prayer may be that I hope she remains ignorant..."

"Might we want to see what we can see of the forces arrayed against our madcap band of bloodsoaked murderers? Up for some scouting? Or would you prefer to remain here to rescue Yahirma if it's...necessary."

I believe the Maggot Tree and it's attacking army are some distance away. Besides, we have more allies to recruit.

"Dog's Tongue mentioned a great beetle and the Mother spoke highly of it as well. Where is this creature kept?", the big man asks of the allied Redcaps.

"Yes, and perhaps more importantly, how is said beetle controlled?"

Somehow I doubt this is going to be a case of "ask nicely".

"Nobody said this was going to be easy.
...Thank Cayden Caelian nobody said that was going to be easy, or they would be removing my boot from their mouth right about now."

Yes, the Maggot Tree and the siege are about two hours' walk through the forest from where you currently are.

***

Madjaw stops in his tracks at Maddok's words flung at his back, hesitates for several moments, then continues walking stiffly towards his shelter without looking back.

Following Madjaw into his spartan shelter, Yahirma finds the satyr standing next to a primitive bed, his greataxe slung upon it. A set of panpipes stand against the ground next to the bed.

The satyr turns around surprised when Yahirma enters, grasping towards his axe but stopping short of actually picking it up as it becomes obvious that Yahirma is there to talk and not to fight.

Sense motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

A burgeoning smile serves to somewhat sweeten the satyr's face as Yahirma makes her suggestion, and his eyes fill with a different type of lust than the bloodlust that was there earlier as he looks up and down Yahirma's figure.

"You intrigue me. Tell me more! What do you see in Madjaw's future should he follow your lead?"

Appario's jaw drops as the watches Yahirma walk into the hut.

After a few moments, he regains his composure and closes his mouth.

Woah.

There is some discussion between Dog's Tongue and the other redcaps, who after the profound effect of Yahirma's and Semenya's words and imagery have now seemingly gained respect for their kin, then Dog's Tongue speaks up.

"Fmughwa slumbers in the Trollclaw Cleft, called so because of a tribe of trolls that once dwelled there. The Trollclaw Cleft is about an hours' walk north-east of here. From there it would take an hour and a half to reach the Maggot Tree. A tribe of jinkin gremlins keep the beetle satisfied with food, and are supposed to lead it to the Maggot Tree when the Mother needs its aid. The Blood-Drinkers haven't visited that area for quite some time, so they don't know what has kept them away."

He licks his lips, then takes on a more cautionary voice before continuing.

"Before approaching Fmughwa, everyone has to smear themselves with a foul-smelling compost, taken from a mound kept near the cave's entrance. The beetle will attack anyone who doesn't reek of those smells."

To Derek's last question, Dog's Tongue shrugs, and another brief discussion with the other redcaps follows.

"Fmughwa cares only about gorging on food. Once it is awakened from its slumber, it will follow in the wake of freshly-killed meat."

Appario's eye brows go up as Dog's Tongue speaks.

Foul smells?

1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 13 Sense Motive

He's joking, right?

Maddok stares up a the nightsky, "Let's hope the stories of Satyr prowess are fantasy and Yahirma does not take long. With those travel times we will have few hours for actual battle before the sun rises."

"As soon as those two are finished we will leave for Fmughwa's cave and see why these jinkin's have been lapse in their duties."

Semenya will cast Message to keep in contact with Maddok and Appario and Derek from her vantage point up in the trees, and use Darkvision to keep people apprised of what's going on.

Derek raises an eyebrow at Maddok, wondering if his stoic brother is cracking a joke or not.
"Well, the most likely explanation is that they are dead of course, but if so, this was well planned.
They knew enough to cripple her defences..."

Appario detects no sense of hidden motives in Dog's Tongue's explanation; he seems to be telling the truth.

"You intrigue me. Tell me more! What do you see in Madjaw's future should he follow your lead?"

Leaning against the hut's door frame, Yahirma sighs deeply while gazing upon the satyr. "The call of battle summons up so many emotions, and in dancing its steps I have felt things that transcend what mortals are meant to know. When a blade thrusts towards its target, portending the snuffed life of its target, one can see the future glimmering along its thirsting shaft. Hidden within the flurry of blades, if one watches closely enough, she can see other futures," Yahirma confides.

With that she detaches from the door frame and saunters over to crouch by the edge of Madjaw's bed. "In the kaleidoscope of light that shimmered off of the Abadaran's starmetal blade only to reflect from the electricity swathing the actor's rapier, I saw a horned, hooved champion bearing an enormous axe. His prowess could not be denied!" she exclaims, quivering with excitement.

Truth...more truth...

"With each swing at the enemy, he brought himself closer to the woman he loved," Yahirma continues hurriedly after giving the satyr a moment to contemplate how it might feel to be such an unstoppable warrior. "As the swords danced, I saw more. Charmed by his charm and seduced by his strength, she swore herself to him but mourned that for their differences she could never be his," she concludes bitterly, dropping her eyes to the floor. There here gaze hovers for a moment before returning to Madjaw's face, a tear just now blossoming at the edge of each eye. "...They made a pact together to stand before one who might allow their love to flourish beyond the passion of a moon's passing. I can think of only one so powerful as to allow any ambition to be realized, but even now that one lies trapped."

Resting a hand upon his thigh, she remarks, "Who might be my-" her ashen face flushes as she chokes and attempts to correct herself. "-Her champion?"

Let the "almost no falsehoods included" misdirection continue! Bluff! 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (17) + 17 = 34

LOL

Maddok nods at Derek's theory and watches the direction of Madjaw's hut whiles listening for any updates from Semenya.

Silently, the big Shoanti ponders what positions Yahirma favors.

Beautiful! Weaving Maddok's and Vahnwynne's relationship into this bluff is an awesome touch!

***

Madjaw's eyes follow Yahirma's every movement as she saunters through his humble abode, and with each word and gesture of implied promise his breath grows heavier. Her touch on his thigh produces a distinct reaction, and she senses that this satyr is close to bursting.

Looking deep into her eyes with his own lustfilled eyes, Madjaw sees no falsehoods within them. He grasps her hand briefly, then releases her as he proclaims his intentions.

"She need look no further! Madjaw will lead the redcaps into battle, and emerge the champion she desires!"

He slings his pipes onto his back and again grasps his axe firmly. Returning his gaze once more to the woman by his bed, the satyr returns outside, striding towards the group of redcaps with confidence.

"Follow! Madjaw will show the humans how battle is fought in Hagwood!"

I sit awed. Well played, Yahirma.

Appario stands awed after the response from Madjaw.

Women. I only there was some way to profit off their ability to do that?

Maddok is visibly impressed by Yahirma's abilities and the Satyr's change of heart.

"I am glad to hear it Madjaw. You will not regret this", the big man offers. "We have one more ally to see to. The Mother's pet, Fmughwa. We will see to it and the jinkins and meet with you again near the Maggot tree."

"Oh boy. Now we get to cover ourselves in excrement? Lovely." Appario asks the group.

If I was flying, I could just fly above the beast and no worry about my stench. Of course, I can't fly.

Derek, somehow more or less able to follow Apparios thoughts just then chuckles.
"Come on, of course there is. You KNOW this one, but let's not try and make a profit from that shall we?"

He is getting predictable is ol' Appario.
Good thing I'm around to add some drama and chaos to his world.

Holding up a hand, Yahirma beckons for Madjaw to show a moment's restraint. "While I am certain your might could flatten a hundred warriors, we shall have to be prepared for as many more. For that reason we shall secure the aid of the Fmughwa and its keepers. From there we may immediately march to the Tree."

The satyr wrinkles his nose in disgust.

"Madjaw will not be smeared in filth when reaping his rewards as champion. I will take the redcaps to the Tree. We will attempt to measure our speed so we won't arrive too long before you."

Madjaw passes close to Maddok, lowering his voice as he speaks in a challenging tone.

"Perhaps there will even be something left for you."

"I doubt that will be a problem", Maddok replies with a perfunctory growl. "But I will be glad to clean up whatever you can't handle."

To big man turns to the Gardeners, "Let's keep moving. This battle needs to be finished before the dawn comes."

Maddok takes Vahnwynne's hand briefly before leading the party towards the Trollclaw Cleft.

Appario agrees, looking for the goo that will cover their smells for the bug.

"Let us begone before these savages forget their duty again and turn upon us," Appario says in a quiet tone.

Madjaw smiles viciously at Maddok's reply, then leads the redcaps into the forest towards the Maggot Tree.

Vahnwynne grips Maddok's hand tightly, not saying anything but speaking volumes with her eyes.

Dog's Tongue licks his lips as he watches the satyr and redcaps go, then once again takes on the role of guide for the group.

"It's this way. There won't be many foes on the way. Many still fear the Trollclaw Cleft for its ancient reputation, and more recent arrivals to Hagwood have learned to give Fmughwa's cave a wide berth."

***

After the previously estimated travel time of one hour, the group arrives at a clifflike ridge, with a small copse of trees growing against it. Close to the north-eastern end of this ridge there's a shallow, 40-ft long cleft; a 20-ft-wide opening that leads into a cavern that reeks of a breath-stealing stink of carrion and vinegar. Thick tangles of roots and foul-looking fungi grow thick around the cave's walls, making it difficult to navigate.

The vinegar stink comes from a heap of rotting compost near the entrance to the cavern, while the source of the carrion stink isn't immediately obvious from outside.

***