Viro lets out a very unheroic shriek and starts repeatedly stabbing the boar.
"WHY!?!"
"WON'T?!"
"YOU DIE?!"
Boar Hunt - Round 3 - concluded
Viroleth's frustrated stabbing is enough to finally cause the mighty boar to expire. With a wheeze and a grunt, it lays down its last.
End of Combat
From behind, Aldern Foxglove lets out a great whoop! "Hurrah! To have finally killed that creature. What a terrific hunt! Just capital! You fellows did a fine job supporting me there. Couldn't have done it without you, no question.'
The jovial fellow goes around slapping you on the backs and congratulating himself (and you) on such a job well done. Finally, the huntsman comes back and begins dressing the boar.
"I say," says Foxglove again as the spears are all gathered, and you begin the walk back to the ponies, "I think I shall grant this kill to you. I must head back to Magnimar on pressing business this afternoon, and I'm sure you fellows will have someone to prepare and cook it for you, eh? What say you?"
Viro looks down at his blood-covered hands and the dying, twitching boar at his feet.
Today. I am a man.
Calming himself down, Viro hands back the spear and smiles wanly at Foxglove.
"Unfortunately I ran into some logistics issues getting my entourage out to Sandpoint. That said I'm sure I can find some good help around here." Viro gives Foxglove the sort of false smile reserved for someone who has given you a bad haircut.
Inbred nitwit. "I think I shall grant that kill to you!" That's what you sound like you posh turd.
Aye we'll find someone to roast it fer us... Beromar replies with a cold stare towards the cowardly noble. And best o luck in MAgnimar! Any Giants around there by chance?
Bruin interjects himself between the nobleman and the rest, trying to diffuse the situation before things got hostile. Poor fellow probably felt bad enough.
"Why thank you, Lord Foxglove, for your generosity. I'm sure the patrons down at the Rusty Dragon will be most appreciative. We'll be sure to send your regards."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The ride home is uneventful, save for the constant blabbering of the esteemed Mr Foxglove. The man just won't shut up about his own hunting exploits and how he let you guys have the kill this time since it was your first timing boar hunting.
Finally and thankfully, the town is in sight. As you cross Tanner's Bridge, Foxglove reins in his horse. "This is where we must part my friends, for I am headed to Magnimar this moment. It was my pleasure to hunt with you, and I must once again thank you for your bravery on the day of the goblin raid. Until we meet again, farewell!" cries the nobleman, spurring his horse to a trot, and turning the beast up the street to the Coast Road.
Tired, ear-sore, and wondering about goblins and skeletons and old corpses, you wander into the Rusty Dragon. There, Lars and Morris relieve you of the pig you hunted, and being the preparations to roast the creature for tonight's dinner.
Good thing not all ye bigfolk blabber like that one! Beromar grumbles as he and his new found companions return to the Rusty Dragon. There Beromar seats himself with a cup of water and begins to inquire about the local patrons about giants.
Viro lets out a loud groan upon return to the inn. He dedicates his evening to getting drunk and sarcastically praising Foxglove.
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At the Rusty Dragon, Loges enjoys a wine and the company of his new acquaintances.
I must admit that my experiences are relatively few.
This Goblin attack does have me puzzled. From what I have read of the species,
they tend to destructive patterns without any sense of order.
This attack is beginning to look to have purpose.
He looks at the others.
I am thinking that there is more to this than is apparent!
He then look over at Viro.
I also am at a disadvantage as to the whims and ways of nobility.
Are they all like this Foxglove character?
"They're all a bit entitled," Bruin answered for Viroleth.
"But some of them can be a bit more prickly than others. Foxglove wasn't too bad, in my experience. A bit insufferable, maybe. But you don't need wealth and titles to be that."
Bruin looked thoughtful.
"I met a druid named Davy when I arrived in town. He seemed to be experienced with hunting goblins. We could go speak to him."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Next door to the Rusty Dragon, stands the Goblin Squash stables. The livery sign in front shows a horse hoof smashing a cartoon goblin. The place is perhaps the best-tended stable you have ever seen. The stalls are perfectly mucked out, the hay and water tenders are full, and flies and other pests are at a minimum.
A black and white tabby cat stretches lazily on the stall edge, standing up for attention as you enter. Bruin points out the strings of dried goblin ears hanging from the barn rafters here and there. In the back, repairing some leather tack with a knife and awl sits Daviren Hosk, whistling a song to himself.
He stands as you enter, a bit surprised to have guests. "Aye, well if'n it ain't t' heroes o' Sandpoint come tae call. An' t'what great honor dae I owe the privilege o' such a visit, dae yae ken? Slummin' doon 'ere wit' the small folks are yae?"
Bruin smiles at Daviren, and greets him with a warm handshake.
"We prefer the term 'sensibly-sized', actually. It's good to see you again. Actually we were wondering if perhaps we could take advantage of your expertise."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Hosk puts down the leather-working tools and stands wiping his hands on a leather apron as he does so.
"Pull oop a stool an' sit, mae friends. Daen't 'ave a wee 'un for yae master cleric, but mayhap, this'll do?" He motions at a blanket covered anvil sitting near the back wall.
"Forgot mae manners, in mae surprise at guests, I did. How 'bout a drink for yae, eh?" he pulls a bottle of old rye whiskey from a drawer on the workbench, pulls the cork, and takes a big snort, passing it around, to any who'll share.
Exhaling sharply, he says "Nae, what can an oold fella like mae dae fer yae hero types? Mae expertise is it?Yae got a wee horse that needs a'shoein'?"
Aye! Beromar adds and then in an attempt to lighten the mood Ye now the stinkey, stupid kind!
Bruin takes the bottle from Loges and takes a hearty swig without so much as batting an eye. He passes it on and then takes a seat on the anvil.
"We don't know much about goblins. But their behavior at the festival strikes us as odd."
He remembers to leave out the business at the chapel. Probably best not to spread that around.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Beromar accepts the bottle of booze from Bruin but eyes it with disgust as he passes it on to Viroleth who likely will find it more enjoyable than him.
Feeling the after-effects of his night of drinking and complaining about Foxglove, Viro mutely follows the group into the Chopper, looking like a particularly unpleasant level of hell warmed over.
"Musha futwa snoora boof boof."
He takes the bottle gratefully from Beromar and downs the takes the bottle and downs some hair of the dog. When he speaks again, his voice is raspy, but coherent.
"Heroes of Sandpoint? I like that. Heroes never get suspiciously murdered by criminal organizations. We'll pass that around. Anyhoo. Goblins. They were organized. That's not what goblins do. Right? Do you know anything about the clans around here?"
Hosk looks at the assembled group, itching his scarred eye. He squints and swigs deep from the rye when it comes around again.
"Gotta tell yae, I was a'wonderin' t'same thin', maeself. Not sure if'n yae ken, but I was goblin hunter 'round these parts for years, a'fore I retired to the life o'ease yae sae 'ere. Kept t'peace out in the hinterlands, I done, and a right good job o' it tae, if I mae sae. Shalelu the elf huntress took mae spot fifteen odd years ago, an' she's as good as any. Better'n I ever was, don't yae mind it."
Anyway, I ne'er ken goblins to attack a big settlement in a big group, a'fore. They are fierce wee buggers, but cowardly an' only attack thin's they ken they can kill easy. But organized tae attack a defended settlement? That's some'un a'stirrin' 'em up, eh? Not yer usual, and that's a fact, boyo."
He goes on to explain about the five or six goblin tribes living in the area, and how they usually kill each other about as much as they ever attack or kill anyone else. The long history of internecine rivalry precludes the idea of a coordinated attack unless some higher power called them to it.
"I suggest yae get over to 'ear what Shalelu has tae sae tae Sherrif Hemlock on t'morrow, dae yae ken? She'll have a report that tells soomthin' off the stirrin's in the coontryside, I ken. Mayhap, that'll be yare clue tae what's behin' it all?"
Beromar has troubles following the humans oddly slurred speach but manages to gather the gist of it.
An Elf hunter ye says? Hmm goo idea me thinks. Girl might know some of giants around here too. Gotta look into it once this Goblin mess here is cleaned up...
Bruin frowned.
"So something out there is scary enough to unite the goblin tribes. That's -- unsettling."
He looked to the other, well, Heroes of Sandpoint. A flattering title, but one not exactly deserved. They didn't do anything that the town guard didn't do.
And it wasn't as if they were a united band or anything. Just 4 strangers who seemed to get along - and fought together. But they all had their own business. And likely wouldn't be around each other for much longer.
But Hosk seemed convinced otherwise, as if taking for granted that they would stick around and solve the goblin mystery. And indeed he had to admit that as a priest, he had an obligation to the faithful here.
But what about the rest? Certainly they weren't obliged in any way.
Bruin thought on this, and his mood darkened.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Viro leans against the doorframe, trying to look thoughtful as he nods along.
"Okay, we'll speak with this Shalala. It also may be good to see if any of the little bastards survived the attack so we can question them. I'm no military man, but what was the purpose of the raid? What were they trying to do?"
Smelling the delicious aroma from the Dragon next door, Hosk determines that it is time to eat. He stands and shows all of you out, heading next door himself for some of the delicately spiced roast pig prepared by Ameiko and her crew.
The dinner is laid out for you. There is enough meat to serve the whole Inn and then some. The seasoning and flavor is an unknown Oriental mixture but the taste is wonderful. As the ale flows, Ameiko joins you at table and jokes, "Between saving the town and feeding the people, there might just be a song about you yet." She sits and listens laughing along with your stories of the hunt and of the exceedingly brave Aldern Foxglove. Soon, though she excuses herself, "I must go oversee dessert in the kitchen. It is our first time making this dish, and I want it to be right." She rises gracefully and lithely departs, Lars the barman, following her into the kitchen.
A few moments later, the front door of the Inn flies open, slamming into the wall behind. A tall thin elderly Tian man stands there and screams in a high-pitched voice:"Where the hell is my fool of a daughter?" His eyes can the room which has become abruptly silent, with the many patrons, formerly feasting, now looking down squarely at their plates. As he searches the room, he soon sees your group at the head table.
"You!" he screeches. "The so-called Heroes of Sandpoint. What are you doing here? Haven’t your antics caused enough trouble? Bringing goblin attacks on our town, burning and killing innocent people. Rogues! Scoundrels! I should call the Sheriff and have you locked up. Get out of this place!" His voice rises in volume and pitch until he is literally screaming. Spittle flies from his lips and his face reddens and hands tremble with anger.
Viro looks up incredulously from his meal. He opens his mouth to retort angrily, but then shuts it. He pauses for a moment and then raises his hands, raising his voice to address the old man.
"I give myself up voluntarily! Please tell the Sheriff to come arrest me for my heinous crimes. I am certain, a man with your obvious intellect and good breeding, has plenty of evidence to back up up his claims. In the face of such evidence I can do naught but capitulate. Because if you do not have this evidence, you would be a laughing stock."
Viro looks evenly at the old man and stands up, giving him his best attempt at a dangerous look.
"Go ahead. Have the Sheriff arrest me for whatever fool charge you've fabricated. I dare you."
A particularly large wad of spittle landed on Bruin's face. He wiped it off with a handkerchief.
"Charming," he muttered quietly.
At first, he chuckled at Viro's antics, but he decided to intervene when the man's voice grew cold and serious.
"Easy, Viroleth. No, need to get overly worked up. I'm sure we could work things out with the Sheriff if needs be. And, sir, I do believe that perhaps you should go home. I suspect that you may not be yourself at the moment."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The old man scoffs at your protestations. "Lies and sarcasm, the stuff of villains, I would've expected no different. Perhaps from now on you will leave the fighting to trained professionals who might have saved the town from a burning. Instead this filthy bunch of vagrants attracts nothing but trouble." He is clearly playing to the crowd as well, his words replete with over the top hand gestures.
Just as you are ready to reply, the kitchen door slams open and Ameiko storms out a large soup ladle in hand. "Father!" she yells. "What in the name of all the gods are you doing here, and acting this way! You should be ashamed!"
"Yes, I should be ashamed," he agrees. "My daughter is a rogue and a harlot and acts like a commoner when she should be treated like a princess." He slips into a native tongue that you have a hard time understanding, pointing his finger in her chest the entire time.
Ameiko replies in the same tongue vehemently.
As you watch with dismay, the father snarls with rage and grabs a fistful of the lovely Ameiko's long raven hair and starts to pull her toward the door.
Beromar rises calmly and cracks his nuckles.
Me name be Beromar Copperkettle! And I ain't call meself no hero of this town. Folks here callin me that. But if ye lookin fer trouble I'll be glad ta join ye outside! Shame on ye callin names on folk ye don't even know!
|
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Loges continues to eat as the Tian man provokes the table.
He smiles nonchalantly while enjoying his pork.
When the Tian man pulls Ameiko's long raven hair and starts to pull her toward the door, Loges frowns.
He speaks a quick arcane phrase, pinching some butter between his fingers.
A grease spot appears under the Tian man's feet!
School conjuration (creation); Level bard 1, magus 1, sorcerer/wizard 1, summoner 1
CASTING
Casting Time 1 standard action
Components V, S, M (butter)
EFFECT
Range close (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels)
Target one object or 10-ft. square
Duration 1 min./level (D)
Saving Throw see text; Spell Resistance no
FAQ
If an opponent casts grease on an item, and the wielder succeeds at the initial save, what happens?
The spell description says "an object wielded or employed by a creature requires its bearer to make a Reflex saving throw to avoid the effect," so succeeding the save means the wielder avoids the effect—in other words, the spell is negated and there is no grease on the item.
[Source]
DESCRIPTION
A grease spell covers a solid surface with a layer of slippery grease. Any creature in the area when the spell is cast must make a successful Reflex save or fall. A creature can walk within or through the area of grease at half normal speed with a DC 10 Acrobatics check. Failure means it can't move that round (and must then make a Reflex save or fall), while failure by 5 or more means it falls (see the Acrobatics skill for details). Creatures that do not move on their turn do not need to make this check and are not considered flat-footed.
The spell can also be used to create a greasy coating on an item. Material objects not in use are always affected by this spell, while an object wielded or employed by a creature requires its bearer to make a Reflex saving throw to avoid the effect. If the initial saving throw fails, the creature immediately drops the item. A saving throw must be made in each round that the creature attempts to pick up or use the greased item. A creature wearing greased armor or clothing gains a +10 circumstance bonus on Escape Artist checks and combat maneuver checks made to escape a grapple, and to their CMD to avoid being grappled.
Bruin stood up on the table and placed his hand on the handle of his mace.
The older Tian man slips in the magical greasy goo on the floor, allowing Ameiko to wrench herself out of his grasp. She turns on him swinging the soup ladle like a battleaxe, braining her father and spattering all nearby with batter including the father who wears it all over his hair and outfit.
"You're as dead to me as you're mother," the man spits as he turns on his heel and leaves the Inn. Ameiko stands nearby, holding back tears. She pulls a long black hair from her ladle and gamely calls "Guess I'll need a clean ladle now, since jackass stew ain't on the menu." Most guests laugh, a welcome relief from the uncomfortable moment that passed.
The laughter seems to help Ameiko's mood immensely and she smiles, gives a littel curtsey and heads off back to the kitchen. She stops at the head table where you sit, and gives Loges a big kiss on the mouth, and says "Thanks for the aid, buster. You all stay in teh Inn as long as you like, no charge. And the ale's free too!' Then she disappears into the kitchen.
Bruin sighed as he remembered a similar conversation he had with his own father.
"If you do this, boy -- if you go off with them priests -- You're dead to me, you hear? Dead. I have no son!"
"Like I said before, fellows -- there's worse things than being insufferable."
Viro looks at Ameiko give Loges a big kiss and he lets out a sigh.
"I really wanted to see him try and arrest me. It would've been hilarious. Next round is on me. Here's to disappointing our parents!"
"Here, here," a somber Bruin agreed. He sat down and stared at his mace for a moment.
"I think I need some new weapons. Perhaps a bandolier of throwing daggers. I keep finding myself in situations where I would like a weapon handy. I'll ask around and see if anyone knows a place I can go to tomorrow."
Bruin also makes a point to quietly inquire about Ameiko's father.
Morning, 23 Rova 4707, Sandpoint, Varisia, The Rusty Dragon
As the morning sun rises over Sandpoint, the town is back to some semblance of normalcy. Business has started again, and while a few families still mourn lost loved ones, or tend wounds, mostly the village hums along.
It is to the sounds of market and commerce that you are awakened this morning. After a day of bashing skeletons and hunting boars, you wonder what could this day have in store for you as you roll out in hopes of meeting the Sheriff and the ranger Shalelu for a briefing.
With some fine breakfast in your bellies you set off for the City Watch office. There you find Sheriff Hemlock, and an intense auburn haired woman who is introduced to you as Mayor Kendra Deverin. The mayor thanks you warmly for your part in stopping the goblin raid.
Also in the room is Shalelu Andosana, the ranger for this part of Varisia. She smirks when Hemlock introduces her as an "unofficial member of the Town Guard." He calls your group "Sandpoint's newest crop of goblinslayers."
Hemlock explains "Shalelu has been a thorn in the side of local goblins for many years. Few in the region know as much about them as she does."
He goes on to recap her report about increased goblin raids along the Lost Coast Road, particularly in the dale between the Mosswood and the Nettlewood. Only yesterday, a farm south of Mosswood was burnt to the ground by a group of goblins. Shalelu was nearby, and saved the family driving off the goblins for now.
At this point, Hemlock cedes the floor to Shalelu who unrolls a Map of Sandpoint Hinterlands.
The cold blue eyes of the elven ranger fall on your group for an uncomfortable moment as Shalelu silently takes your measure. Apprarently reassured, she begins:
"Belor's told me of yoru work against the goblins--well done. I've dedicated the last several years of my life keeping them from causing too much trouble around these parts, but they're tenacious and fecund little runts. Like weeds that bite."
"There are five major goblin tribes in the region, and, traditionally, they're pretty good at keeping each other in line with inter-tribal squabbles and the like. Yet from what I've been able to piece together, members from all five tribes were involved in the raid on Sandpoint. A fair number of Mosswood goblins I dealt with yesterday were already pretty beat up, and there was a lot of chatter about the 'longshanks' who killed so many of them. NOW that I've met you it seems obvious form their descriptions who they were talking about. Seems like you've made quite an impression."
"In any event, the fact that all five tribes are working together disturbs me. Goblin tribes don't get along unless they've got something big planned, and big plans require big bosses. I'm afraid someone has moved in on the goblins and organized them. And judging by the recent raids, what they're organizing seems like bad news for all of us."
Hemlock steps in at this point. "With those ill tidings in mind, I am headed out this morning for Magnimar. Hopefully the city will release a few soldiers to help protect us until we can identify and end this threat. While I'm away, I've asked Shalelu to sniff around Shank's Wood, Brinestump, Mosswood, Devil's Platter, and other known goblin dens to see if she can discover anything about what's going on."
He turns his eyes away from the map, and to your group. "As for you, I'd like you to maintain a public presence in Sandpoint over the next few days. The locals seem to have taken to you, calling you Heroes of Sandpoint even. Having you around town will keep worries down until I arrive back with the soldiers."
"I am leaving as soon as possible, and hope to be back in the next 4 days or so, with a force of men-at-arms. Good luck and keep the Mayor here involved in anything newsworthy that occurs."
With that the Sheriff hastens out of the briefing room and makes ready to depart. Shalelu asks if she can join you for the noon meal in a few hours. She wants to catch a little shut-eye first, as she's been riding all night, but would like to catch up at the Rusty Dragon if possible.
Beromar grunts ungently at the suggestion of providing a heroic presence. But anyhows the Dwarf is far more interested in the Goblin slaying Elf ranger. He hasn't ever before dealt with Elves but the fact hat this one dislikes Goblins makes her a bit more sympathetic. Trying to be nice he adreesess the Elf
So eh...me Miss Shalelu. If sometin stirrin up em Goblins me was thinkin I heard much talk of Giants roamin round this here area. Which was why I've come here inna first place. So me was thinksin that ye knows maybe it's giants rilin up them Goblins!
Although obviously hung-over, Viro is still tickled pink at being called a hero and is in high spirits. He snaps his fingers as the Sheriff speaks. "I knew it! Still, I don't know why they're doing this. I mean... what did the goblins hope to accomplish in the raid?"
He offers Shalelu a winning smile, despite his half-lidded eyes and slightly greenish cast. "Lunch sounds brilliant." Viro shoots a glance over to Beromar. "When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail, right?"