Iorskan thinks this is a great idea! ”I am in need of diplomats and explorers. Volunteers should come to me or Chief Sootscale for this honor. They must learn common. Glory and radishes await.”
Awn, Dharak, and Townsend continue on their way to Oleg's Trading Post , Abaos heads off towards Thorn River Camp , Ozzy, Iorskan, and the kobolds are going to the mite's tree .
Before I assume anything else, I want to make sure I got the teams right. Tell me if I made any mistakes.[/ooc]
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The party wishes each other well, and each team goes its own way. I'll be putting everyone's seperate adventures in spoiler tabs, not because they're secret (though they are player knowledge rather than character knowledge) but because it'll help me keep them straight.
I've decided what I'm doing about random encounters. If people have something to do in a hex (such as talk to the bandits, move a camp, ect.) I won't give them a random encounter, but if people do not, I'll give them a random encounter so that they aren't just waiting around for the next day when they can keep walking. Doing this instead of rolling the random encounter dice might make your walks a little more exciting then traversing the Greenbelt typically is.
While in his favored terrain (forest) Guthruc has a high enough survival to not get lost while taking ten. What's more, he and Abaos just walked this way, which should be good for a circumstance bonus of some amount. The orc leads the ifrit expertly through the dense forest, and they make their way to the Thorn River Camp without incident.
The bandits' sentry spots you while you're still aways out, and a number of them (including Happs Bydon) come out to meet you, wondering why you came back so early and so few, you can tell from their shocked and horrified faces that they're assuming the worst.
Awn, Townsend, and Dharak make tracks for Oleg's Trading Post, walking quickly but mantaining a pace they can . . . mantain. The sun sinks low in the sky, and the troupe begins looking for a place where they can stop for the night, knowing they won't make this trek in one day.
As they walk under the trees and through the deepening shadows, Awn becomes aware of wolves stalking them through the underbrush, hungry and desperate from the bandit camp's overhunting. The observant treefolk quickly points the potential danger out to his comrades, and they ready weapons.
Initiative:
Ozzy, Misters Winky and Blinky, Iorskan, and the kobolds make their way through the winding canyons on their way to the mites' tree. Without Guthruc or Bright Awn, the team is reliant on Poro's survival to not get lost.
The Sootscale's official finders keep the party on course. Or, Iorskan and Ozzy assume so, since they'll have no way of verifying until they either make it to a landmark they recognize or they don't.
Iorskan, Ozzy, assorted Eidolons, give me a perception check.
Hiding in the dense vegetation of a rocky outcropping is a dragon not much larger than Iorskan, a lanky, snake-like creature that's mostly tail and neck. It watches the party with keen eyes, curiosity piqued.
As usual, Mr. Winky, flying above, sees all. He flies down and perches on Ozzy's shoulder, whispering about a dragon about Iorskan's size hiding ahead.
|
Abaos approaches those who come to see him, and holds up his hands. "A situation came up on the trip. Everyone is alive, but the plan has changed. Gather everyone, we meet in 30 minutes for an update." He looks questioningly to Happs. "Is that enough time for everyone to gather?"
He grabs Happs. "Happs, walk with me. We need to have a chat." He'll then move off a little farther from the rest of the crowd.
Ozzy moves over to Iorskan and whispers, Mr. Winky sees a creature over there. Looks like some kind of dragon!
Awn has no time to fret, and manages to adjust the sidereal edges of causality to hamper the wolves' hunt - however, he may have diminished them, but can't quite connect with his foe...
Round 1
[+1 BAB, +2 Str]
[+3 THF]
Bydon frowns. "Allright. Let's walk." In case the other bandits didn't realize that the two of them want privacy, he shouts at the other bandits to leave, although in less polite language.
Once everyone's gone, he asks, worriedly, "What is it?"
Dharak uses martial flexibility to learn Cleave and readies an action.
Townsend draws his sword and attacks one of the wolves, a scrawny red-brown animal
Townsend drives the enchanted rapier deep into the skinny wolf, which lets out a piteous yelp. For his part, Townsend looks surprised at his own effectiveness.
The wolves rush the three of you, snarling and howling. Dharak, who had been waiting for them to close the distance, attacks with his greataxe. He handles the weapon expertly, worried that an errant strike would give the savage animals their chance to maul him.
The half orc cuts deeply into Wolf 2 and buries the head of his axe in the head of Wolf 3, killing the animal instantly.
Wolf 1 rushes Townsend, snapping and barking and looking much less piteous than it did a moment ago. Townsend waves his rapier frantically, trying to keep it from biting him.
He's completely blindsided by Wolf 4, the largest of the pack, underfed like the rest of them but big-framed.
The alpha wolf bowls the young bandit over; Townsend gets his hands up and earns defensive injuries keeping it away from his face and neck, but the heavily-built if currently thin creature digs at his torso with wickedly clawed paws. Despite Bright Awn's protective aura, Townsend is at the brink of unconsciousness.
The heavily injured Wolf 2 gets inside the swing of Dharak's axe and savages him.
But between Bright Awn's aura and the half-orc's solid stance, it might as well have not bothered.
Wolf 5 rushes Bright Awn; like a matador the treefolk sidesteps and lets the mangy animal charge past. Wolf 6, an elderly animal that's missing an ear, an eye, most of it's nose, and walks with a pronounced limp, tries to attack the tanky treefolk but falls down instead.
|
|
Abaos wastes no time. He blathers it all out at once, keeping calm and authoritative to lend credence to his words.
"Martin betrayed us. Awn suspected, and when we confronted him, he spoke, and attacked us. He's dead now. So we're moving the camp, as soon as possible. Awn, Townsend, and Dharak went to warn the Levetons, while the others went to help our other respective allies." He lets out a deep sigh, and looks Happs directly in the eye. "So I have two questions for you. How quickly can we move the camp, and if you have a good suggestion for a new base camp, come clean with it. Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, how's the crowd going to react when I tell them the truth?"
He pauses, and lets his words sink in. "They respect you, Happs. I need to know how they're going to take this. I won't let us fall apart." He says these words slowly, enunciating every word, to get a clear effect.
Awn steps to harry the wolf mauling Townsend (4), possibly attracting the attentions of the old wolf falling over (5) or the quick wolf that passed him by (6)...
Do not fail me T'lass - Abaos will not be pleased if Townsend is wolf-fodder...
Round 2
Attacking the wolf on Townsend...
,[+1 BAB, +2 Str]
[+3 THF]
Bydon nods his head slowly. "Figures. I guess it's hard to keep something this large under wraps long."
"How quickly can we move the camp, and if you have a good suggestion for a new base camp, come clean with it."
We could break and move camp pretty fast, that's pretty much why we live in tents. More'mportant is knowing where we're headed . . . I doubt the men'd stand for wandering 'bout 'thout a heading, and wherever we land we'll need running water. Hm."[/b] He scratches his beard. "You said earlier you browboat the mites into joinin' our noble cause. They live in a giant tree (have you seen it?), in tunnels under the tree. Whatever they use for food and drink, we could too. Likely. And it'd be defensible." He's actually looking pretty pleased with this idea, but then his face falls. "Problem is, Kressel still hasn't gotten back. When she did, she wouldn't know where we'd gone. Or . . . worse, the reason she's taken so long is she never left the Stag Lords fortress. She could be captured."
He considers this for a moment, and then says something that suprises Abaos. "Or she could've sold us out. She's always been sorta . . . mercenary. Did what's 'is name, the spy, mention how he knew where we were?"
"Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, how's the crowd going to react when I tell them the truth?"Not well, I'll wager. They'll be worried about more . . . turn of phrase, traitors in middle of us? In our midst. Hell, I am too." He thinks about it. "But . . . most of the people here, they formed little bands long before they joined our big one. I'd say anyone without ties is suspect, but I figure most everyone can vouch for each other. We'll see."
A Zwippt!!! And a Splipppt!!! And the large wolf has one more breathing hole then he woke up with this morning and Townsend is safe for now.
Still on the ground, he attacks the wolf he wounded earlier with his rapier (not because he has a PC's ability to keep calm and think in numbers in even the most dire straits; it's just closest to him).
Fortunately, his ill advised heroics utterly fail to get the monster's attention.
Dharak, thinking along the same lines as Bright Awn and trying to draw fire away from Townsend, repositions so that he can attack wolves two and five with cleave (still not risking power attack).
With a shout, he whips his ax around and drops the wounded carnivore, but lacks the follow-through to catch wolf five.
For their part, the wolves weren't expecting to be met with such stiff resistance. The three remaining withdraw. They'll be back to eat their comrades when Team PNP has moved on.
Dharak leans on his weapon and looks helplessly at Townsend. "Are you gonna be alright?" he asks.
Townsend makes the kind of whimpery noise that people make after they've been knocked down and attacked by wild animals.
Dharak turns to Awn. "Is he gonna be alright?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"I'm not sure. Yet."
Awn assesses the recumbent Townsend, and makes what shirt the man has left into makeshift bandages.
After his ministrations the treeman searches the immediate area for kingsfoil or similar healing or curative/poulticeworthy herbs.
In Bright Awn's expert medical opinion, Townsend will be just fine.
Awn's high survival check lets him improvise a healer's kit.
Bright Awn's expert care has Townsend good as new in an hour. The bandits are suitably impressed.
|
|
Abaos nods, and looks to Happs. "His name, or his real name, was Dovan from Nisroch. And yes, he did tell us how he knew where we were- sadly, your instincts are correct. According to him, Kressel sold us out."
He stops there, and waits for a second. "I know ya'll were partners for a long time, so I'm sorry. And, I do hope you're still with us."
He picks up from where we left off. "Look, I know it'll be rough to hear, but we need to make certain that no one's accusing each other for no reason, no one's attacking anyone they don't like. I don't want to interview each of the men; so if they have a suspicion, they'll have to take it to either of us. Is that fair?"
”Dragon! I, Iorskan, fellow dragon, master of the flaming claw, lord of the Sootscales, bid you come out. I would talk with you.”
Bydon looks somewhat morose.
"We were partners for a while there, yeah. Honestly, I shouldn't've trusted her as far as I did." He forces a bit of smile. "I'm still with ya. I don't know why Kressel's siding with the helmeted freak, but what I said still stands: we'd be better off without him, and with your help we can beat him."
"I'll go break the news, make sure everyone's ready to move out first light tommorow. You're sure the mites 'ill host us? They're more annoying than anything, but they're surprisingly hard to kill and they've made a habit of stealing our stuff in the past."
The two-legged dragon comes out of it's tree and slithers closer to Iorskan. The kobolds are surprised; they were skeptical as to dragons even existing less than a week ago, and now they've met two. They're all watching in hushed silence, waiting to hear what the dragon has to say . . . and then it opens its mouth and suddenly they're all a lot less impressed by it.
"Hello other dragon I am too a dragon isn't this neat you are rather small for a dragon the only other dragons I've met are bigger look at all of your legs you have so many you talk so smart have you ever been to school?" The tatzlywyrm cocks its head and lets its mouth hang agape. Then it falls over with a thud and rolls onto its back. "Are these your hills I'm sorry I'm just passing through I thought maybe I'd live here but there aren't very many trees which is sad."
Eadoo takes up the conversation. "If you're looking for trees, there's a lot more of them that way," he points in the general direction of the treeline. "Did someone cut your legs off?" he asks the snake-like dragon. "Can you make new legs out of trees, like the tree-elf?" How he abused himself of the notion that Awn can fashion himself new limbs we will never know.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Iorskan looked at the tatzlywyrm in complete confusion. Why did it look that way? It was odd, to say the least. It seemed friendly enough...but this was HIS territory. HIS kobolds! Something deep inside of him felt the territorial urge to protect his own. He fought it down as best he could.
”I, Lord Iorskan, shall continue to grow larger. This form is merely suitable for now. I grant you safe passage through my lands.” Looking at it’s lost legs and obvious head injury, he felt a surge of compassion. ”Eadoo is correct. I wish you well on your recovery. I give you this advice. Avoid the Stag Lord and his men. And...do not return.”
The tatzlywyrm looks crestfallen. "Oh. Well, I wouldn't want to bother you. Guess I'll be . . . moving on. Do you mind if I stay here tonight I've been flying all day and I was hoping to sit in that tree over there until something got close and then I was going to jump it and eat it but if you want I'll just get moving and hey wait a minute I'm bigger than you I might not have been to school like you have and I'm still pretty young so maybe there's things I don't know but I always thought that the bigger dragons get to push the little dragons around and make them do things? Well that's wonderful I finally find a dragon smaller than I am and it turns out that that isn't how it works at all." The dragon looks somewhat put out at the injustice of it all. "Well, you've been nothing but polite, so I guess I'll be on my way in the morning. It's a big world, I'm sure there's room for me in it somewhere!"
|
|
You're sure the mites 'ill host us? They're more annoying than anything, but they're surprisingly hard to kill and they've made a habit of stealing our stuff in the past."
Abaos shrugs. "We won't know till we get there, right?" he smiles weakly. "Maybe we'll get lucky, though."
As Happs goes off to break the news, Abaos finds Guthruc.
"So, I think we're packing up and heading towards the mite's camp. If need be, do you think you can find the kobold camp? I doubt we'll reach the mite's camp before Ozzy and the rest do, so we'll have to have someone go get them."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Guthruc nods in understanding. "Guthruc meet small dragon at dragon man and bug man home. Tell about bandits move"
Guthruc then breaks into a run directly toward the kobold camp. Guthruc will use the hustle and forced march rules to run toward the kobold den until running for another hour would knock him out. He'll then sleep, only to continue it again when he awakes.
1 point of nonlethal from hustling
2 points from hustling
4 points from hustling
Three hours into his steady and mile eating stride, Guthruc suprises himself by coughing up blood. After this, he proceeds with more care: he breathes with his nose so that he can swallow any blood that comes up. Sixty minutes later he decides that maybe he should walk for a bit, and then he's feeling pretty sleepy and he's thinking that maybe four hours is a pretty long time to maintain a dead run so he falls on the ground and passes out.
And, it's a new day, so I'll advance the calendar and the weather and get another post up shortly!
As they near, they realize that some things have changed in twelve or so days they've been absent. In front of the old border fort are several pitched tent, with eight horses grazing about them and a handful of men and women dressed in the Restov military uniform milling about.
They see you while you're still aways out, and after a brief flurry of activity, four of them (out of what looks to be ten) come riding out to meet you.
Three of them stop a respectful distance away, but the fourth rides right up into your face. Townsend takes a step back. Dharak takes a step forward. She wears a crisp officer's uniform, and speaks (rather, shouts, but she makes it sound formal rather than unprofessional) with an air of authority. Even when she isn't making a request, she sounds like she's giving a command.
"Name's Kesten Garess, of House Garess, as you've no doubt inferred. From the name. And, if the description I've been given is correct, you'd be Bright Awn." She glances at Dharak and Townsend. "And you'd be Guthruc, and you'd be Abaos, and I'm sure the others are around here somewhere."
"Swordlord Eleder tells me that you're her experts on the area. She gave me quite the glowing referral, so I hope you're everything you're cracked up to be. Me and those under my command are under orders from the free city of Restov to put a definitive end to the banditry that plagues this region, to locate the self-styled Stag Lord and bring justice to him. Lady Eleder and the Mr. Leveton have left me under the impression that you'll be both willing and capable of this. Are you?"
Happs Walks in the front, since he's the ranger who knows the way. Abaos walks beside him, since he wants to talk with Bydon. So when the old man with the long unkempt white beard and brown robes, leaning heavily on his walking stick, stands on the banks of the river along the route you planned to go, facing towards the bandits but with his eyes closed, all eyes are on Abaos to find out why.
Guthruc wakes up having healed all his nonlethal damage. He feels ready to take on the world, but fortunately he doesn't have to. All he has to do is walk over to the nearish-by Sootscales and explain that he's waiting for Iorskan and Ozara without speaking draconic.
They break for the night, wake back up, and make their way to the mite's tree. Two guards have been posted in front of the tree, one of which is Spiderhill. One of them runs into the tree at your approach, while Spiderhill bows low and says "Yer returning majesties. Pleaser t'see yer back, truly I am, and Solifugid's just nipped off to fetch yer vassal, the good Viceroy Dragonfly. You can step in if'n you want, I'gotta keep watchin out here."
It seems that the mites have found themself a new leader to micromanage them while you were gone. Whoever they are, they've taken to calling themself 'viceroy', which might be a good sign.
|
|
As they walk, Abaos will inquire if there's anyone in the bandit camp who speaks mite. "Happs, I was wondering," he'll begin, "does anyone in the camp speak mite? Ozzy was the one who translated for us the first time, but since she's likely to be gone once we depart, we might need to figure out an alternative."
As they approach the old brown man, Abaos will kindly call out "Hello, and a good day to you! My name is Abaos; tell me what brings you to this river, here, on this fine day?"
The old man jumps and he opens his eyes.
"I told to bird to wake me up when he saw you," he complains, looking somewhat cross and scanning the sky, a hand to his brow to block out the light. "That's the problem with birds," he informs you. "The don't speak common and aren't smart enough for pantomime. Still, I thought we had an agreement."
The old man walks uncomfortably close to Abaos, staring at him with unblinking eyes. "They say youth is wasted on the young, but you can't be much younger than I am myself, my purple-eyed friend." He reaches out, as if to touch Abaos's face. "Do you . . . mind?" he asks, and then lashes out with a deceptively fast and strong hand, yanking a handful of hair from the ifrit's head.
The old man quick-steps a few paces backwards, stuffing strands of hair in his mouth. "Not bad, not bad," he compliments you on your hair's taste, "but when's the last time you washed it?" The remaining hair goes in a pocket of his robes and traveling cloak.
"My name is Bokken," the old man says, and after licking residual hairs off his hand, he proffers it to shake. "I'm a friend of the Levetons'."
Ozzy enters as far as the prank workshop, where she makes a show of inspecting what the mites have made. This is done both because she is genuinely interested in what kind of stuff the mites have been making and whether any of it will be useful to them, but also to force this "viceroy" to come to them and show proper deference, in order to ensure that allowing him to lead the mites won't be a problem for them.
As she does this, Ozzy translates what she can of what Spiderhill told her, but doesn't know how to translate the word "viceroy" because she's never heard the term in either language before. She guesses based on context and the level of deference with which Spiderhill uses the term that it denotes a position above himself and most or all of the other mites, but below herself and her companions. The best translation she can come up with is "sidekick king".
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Awn blinks rapidly and favors Kesten with his usual gickshit-eating grin. He bows low, very low, holding T'lass across his outstretched hands while genuflecting thus.
"Lady Garess, allow me to alleviate you from a slight misapprehension you are under the influence of. Masters Abaos and Guthruc are currently operating in our subterfuge mode, removing one of our several newly acquired allied forces of insurgents to a more germane location. This here is Dharak, and that Townsend. [here indicates the half-orc and human] Both have been struck mute by a gnomish sorceror-cum-kobold-diabolist we defeated some days earlier. They have accompanied me here to alert the Levetons that the Stag Lord amasses a great force and that they should prepare and defend."
Awn makes a great show of eyeing the horse.
"Alas, further in this hostile land your mounts will be of no avail - as you can see I and my vocally-challenged bodyguards made our way here on foot, assisted by my powerful enchantment of haste-while-walking. Do you come with us, needs must that you do so on foot, though verily And forsooth I humbly beseech thee tarry here, help the Levetons defend and let us return to report on the exact location of the Stag Lord's camp within the mire and morass of the treacherous no-horse-land that is these Broken Lands..."
|
|
Abaos quickly decides that the man, while eccentric, is only a danger if he's close enough to grab hair.
He shakes Bokken's hand, though leans back just a tad in doing so, keeping his head as far away as possible.
"Pleased to meet you, Bokken," he says. "Any friend of the Levetons is a friend of mine!" He smiles broadly, eyes alight.
"Still, you did not answer my question, Bokken," he continues. "What brings you here? Do you mean to travel with us?" After a moment's hesitation, he'll add "We'd certainly love your company."
"Lady Garess-"
"Captain Garess. Continue."
". . . They have accompanied me here to alert the Levetons that the Stag Lord amasses a great force and that they should prepare and defend."
Captain Garess can't suppress a grin. "Let's hope they come to us! We're fortified, armored, mounted, and we know how to keep formation. We can slaughter any number of ill-equipped and worse trained bandits," she boasts.
She backs her horse up a bit to give Bright Awn more breathing room. (Captain Garess finds that most people are easier to deal with when properly deferent, and there are few better ways to intimidate someone than to ride a hundred kilos of battle-trained mammal right up in their business. But it seems Bright Awn is hard to rattle, so she'll grudgingly respect his personal bubble. It's usually a bad idea to annoy people who aren't scared of you.)
"Alas, further in this hostile land your mounts will be of no avail - as you can see I and my vocally-challenged bodyguards made our way here on foot, assisted by my powerful enchantment of haste-while-walking. Do you come with us, needs must that you do so on foot, though verily And forsooth I humbly beseech thee tarry here, help the Levetons defend and let us return to report on the exact location of the Stag Lord's camp within the mire and morass of the treacherous no-horse-land that is these Broken Lands..."
Bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Awn's claim doesn't sound right to the captain. "What we've gathered from the Levetons, the trappers we've spoken with, and the druid Bokken before he went off wandering and never came back - our intel and yours contradict. I've heard that much of the forest is passable only on foot, but the Kanelands have some navigable paths through them. Seeing as one of our number is currently seated on one of the Stag Lord's horses you left here for us, we assumed the bandit's leader took residence in the more hilly part of the map."
"He does," Townsend affirms.
"I thought you were deaf . . . ?" Captain Garess adjusts her cape and tries a different tack. "It seems pretty obvious to me that you don't want us to get involved. For my part, I hate hate working with people who operate outside the chain of command. Even if they look like they've got their act together, they're invariably unreliable in a crisis. But the Swordlord spoke highly of you, and when I got here I was treated to tales of your team's extraordinary competence . . . and also treated to the devastation left in your wake."
She unhappily attempts to compromise. "So I'll trust that you know what you're doing when I ask: who are the insurgents your friends are warning, are they any good, what is the risk that Oleg's fort is actually in danger, from how many, and will this battle be won or lost without cavalry?"
She then proceeds to leave a plot hook with a possibility of a quest reward. "All other things equal, I'd rather not sit this spat out. There's a man named Falgrim Sneeg," her distaste for the caster is evident in her voice. "We hired him on as a mercenary wizard some months ago, but he killed Etain, stole what he could carry, and left the rest of us to the tender mercy of the ogres. I've it on good authority that he threw his lot in with the bandits of the Greenbelt . . . I'd pay in platinum to see him hang in Restov . . . after asking him a few questions."
"And maybe breaking his face."
"Still, you did not answer my question, Bokken," he continues. "What brings you here? Do you mean to travel with us?"[b] After a moment's hesitation, he'll add [b]"We'd certainly love your company."
"One is company, two is a crowd," Bokken cryptically replies, before clarifying, "And I can hardly leave the bird alone, can I?"
Again he scans the sky, before relenting. "It seems my erstwhile companion has abandoned me, so I suppose you can love my company for now. It's a scenic route, isn't it?" He begins walking along the river, prattling nonsense as he goes.
"The drums of war beat, my elderly junior. But I don't fear battle; I don't plan to get involved! What frightens me more is that those drums herald more than the clash of steel on steel. They herald peace. Peace when it's all over. Peace can be a nasty business, when you do it wrong. Right or wrong, well or poorly managed, we'll soon trade the clash of steel on steel for steel on wood, and not long after that we'll have replaced our elk with sheep, and our wolves with sheepdogs."
He points an accusatory finger at Abaos, but his tone remains congenial. "That's not so bad a thing! We'll have happy campers living in peace on the edge of the wilds! Peaceful communities within walking distance of the only-partly spoiled wonders of nature! People coming to gawk at the giant tree growing in the Kanelands, where you're heading right now. I won't be pleased at all, but I'm old and I've had my fun. It wouldn't be fair to hold up the many for one stubborn old man. Who everyone agrees is mad!" He gives a not-very-sane sounding laugh.
"And like minds will always move deeper, deeper into the Greenbelt. The wilds always go deeper! And we humans always do to. Until we're knocking on the doors of the elves! Then we'll probably take a few paces back. Haha! Serves us right too!" His face turns more serious. "I do worried about Oleg, though. He came out here to be alone, to get away from all the noise. But the noise seems to have followed him. And he won't go deeper, he's settled in. He'll be the master of his castle until we all turn to dust."
"Look at that!" Bokken points up at the sky, where you see a feathered shape circling overhead. "Tardy, but at least we got this moment to talk."
The bird keeps circling.
With a shrug, Bokken continues walking. "And we get this moment to talk, as well. I think sometimes I expect to much from that bird. But to business, as our time likely draws short. I come," he raises his arms and voice, being dramatic, "with grave tidings of dismay!" The eccentric druid lowers his arms, and grows serious again. "About the Stag Lord."
He lowers his voice. "The Stag Lord appeared out of nowhere one day, no history, no name, no face. He claims right to rule by the strength of his arm and the pull of his bow, and that's legal tender this far from anywhere. No one knows where he came from." the druid pauses dramatically. "Except me."
"I can't tell you his name. As far as I know, he doesn't have one. But I knew his father. That bastard's name is Nugrah. And he's evil. Some people change with time, some people are redeemed, but Nugrah's evil." His eyes lock with Abaos's. He wants to make sure the ifrit's getting this. "And a liar."
"He was exiled from the Green Faith when I was, oh, about your age, Abaos, only older. Nugrah was exiled on the spot and tried at the scene of the crime. Tried for murder." Bokken spits the word. "Though some might argue otherwise. Hell with them. And also tried for practicing arts forbidden and necromantic. Mayhaps unwisely, the leaders of our order let him live, to care for the son he should never have had and perhaps raise a better man than he was himself."
The old druid rolls his eyes. "And now we see how that turned out. The drums of war are beating, though they sound like heavy footfalls on a soft river bank."
"I'm telling you this so you are warned: the Stag Lord is strong. It's said he strings his bow with a length of chain, so he doesn't-"
"He does," Happs interrupts. "And then there was this time when he picked up and threw-"
"Shut up, I'm not done talking. Have you no manners? Kids these days . . . I'm joking, there's no need to look so offended! I was saying. The Stag Lord is strong. But Nugrah's smart. He's frightening. And if he's the power behind this throne, you should be prepared for him. That's what I came here to tell you."
The mites have indeed created a new toy! Out of spider's silk, they've created a kite that when pulled fast enough (such as by a giant centipede) can lift a mite aloft! They got the idea from Solifugid, who tested the unintentional prototype . . . unintentionally. Fortunately, mites have DR.
Nakpik wants to try the kite, Zornesk wants to market the kite to kobolds, and Eadoo still doesn't understand the concept and is worried that you'd just get dragged on the ground if you tied yourself to the kite. In the middle of Nakpik's long winded explaination, Viceroy Dragonfly arrives with his honor guard.
The Viceroy wears a helmet made from the chitinous remains of a giant dragonfly's head. You can't blame him, mite faces aren't exactly aesthetically pleasing. The rest of his armor is also made of the iridescent remains of a giant dragonfly. Probably the same giant dragonfly. They aren't known for being common or easy to kill.
"My liege!" your new vassal declares, and then drops to one knee. This move causes his cape (made from the wings of a, you guessed it, dragonfly. He's committed to the theme) to flare out behind him. "This is the first we've met in person; so I hope you will forgive of me any breach in etiquette," he says in his fanciest undercommon, learned from a Derro fantasy novel that the mites possess. (Also, incidentally, where Grabbles learned himself to say big words.) (And Derro literature is every bit as terrifying as you suspect.)
"It is with tremendous gratitude that I thank you for removing the tyrant Grabbles from this tree. In his absence, those of us unhappy with his rule (or who may have posed threats to it) have returned! Our greatest artisans, tinkerers, and our only remaining armorer, have returned to the safety of the great Tree, the bastion of our culture thanks to you. For that, I am eternally greatful."
There's a pause. "Bastion is the right word, right?" the mite wants confirmed.
Zornesk elbows Iorskan. "Ask her to ask him if mites eat radishes," he politely but eagerly requests.
Satisfied, at least for the moment, with Draconfly's show of deference and pleased to hear that the mite colony's losses haven't resulted in a collapse that would reduce their usefulness as allies, Ozzy nods and invites him to stand. She briefly explains the gist of his words to in Common, both to avoid being seen as a mere interpreter and to cover the fact that she doesn't understand some of the larger words herself.
Ozzy ignores Dragonfly's question about the word "bastion" because she's not certain what it means herself. Instead, she begins to inform him of their imminent attack on (and subsequent victory over) the Stag Lord. She introduces the kobolds, then directs the mites to pack up the kite and any other inventions that will prove useful in the battle, and mobilize their forces to meet the rest of their new allies.
Assuming Iorskan translates Zornesk's question, Ozzy will add, Your new friend Zornesk, Official Finder of the Sootscale Tribe, wishes to know if you and your people enjoy radishes. She'll also inquire as to whether any of them speak any Common or Draconic, as interpreters will be important to the future of their new coalition.
She unhappily attempts to compromise. "So I'll trust that you know what you're doing when I ask: who are the insurgents your friends are warning, are they any good, what is the risk that Oleg's fort is actually in danger, from how many, and will this battle be won or lost without cavalry?"
Awn blinks as the Captain talks for a loooong time. It appears the woodborn need not attempt to misdirect the woman further. Still, a modicum of truth might suffice moving forward.
"I am unsure of their goodness, or badness relatively, but we have allied with and civilised some of the less human...oids; and assembled a number of humans and half-breeds that have become dissatisfied with their current leadership models. As for the risk to Oleg - suffice to say that we evaluated the risk and found it sufficient to travel here and provide advance notice that the Stag Lord builds his force."
Awn pauses for effect, being unversed in the verve and power of italicization.
"As for numbers, our next step is to establish that very figure; as well as to ascertain the best method for wresting control from the Stag Lord. I admit, my earlier obfuscation stems from my severe dislike of being mounted, though in my estimable defence I did attempt to stop certain more...hungry and barbaric of our number targeting said beasts in our initial...devastation. I am of the opinion that we can overcome the Stag Lord without cavalry, and with considerably less numerical advantage through the judicious implementation of indirect force."
|
|
Again he scans the sky, before relenting. "It seems my erstwhile companion has abandoned me, so I suppose you can love my company for now. It's a scenic route, isn't it?" He begins walking along the river, prattling nonsense as he goes.
"Fantastic! Your company is most welcome."
"I do worried about Oleg, though. He came out here to be alone, to get away from all the noise. But the noise seems to have followed him. And he won't go deeper, he's settled in. He'll be the master of his castle until we all turn to dust."
Abaos files this away for later- could be useful someday.
And if he's the power behind this throne, you should be prepared for him. That's what I came here to tell you."Abaos turns to Happs. "Have you ever heard of this Nugrah?
Finally, he turns to Bokken. "Before the bird takes you away, Bokken, may I ask you a question? My men have heard rumors of a foodamancer () living with the Stag Lord, and have wearied of the endless radishes that so fill these woods. If it is at all within your power, do you believe you could scrounge up a wonderful meal for my men?"
When Guthruc finally arrives at the kobold den... running and breathing semi-heavily, he does not understand the questions directed at him in draconic.
So, he proceeds to ignore them and sit upon one of the kobold's house-mounds. In fact, the same house-mound he sat upon last time he was there. He waits, ignoring all attempts at communication not in common, orc, boggard, or giant.
If someone moves in front of him and attempts to pantomime, he might help out around the place.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The captain nods her head while Awn divulges his guerrilla plans.
"I'll admit, attrition's not my forte, so I'll defer to your judgement and that of your insurgents. I'd like to meet your other leaders and strategists when convenient, but the necessities of deployment come first. We'll hold the trading post, and scout locally. When you've a better idea what we're up against, or if they're headed our way and you need to fall back, or if you're headed their way and could use back up, inform me."
"I haven't actually eaten yet, so I'll go do that. Take care of yourself." She turns her horse around, but twists in the saddle for some parting words. "Do you want me to tell Oleg that you're here?"
Happs has never heard the name 'Nugrah' before, but he says that there is an old man who lives under the Stag Lord's castle who heals wounded bandits (though his bedside manner is lacking; if they aren't mortally wounded most everyone prefers to risk infection and let their wounds heal naturally), conjures filling berries, and seems to have a certain rapport with rats. He guesses that old man could be a druid, though he hardly fits the stereotype.
Bokken snaps his fingers as at Abaos's prodding he remembers something he meant to do. "Good food is easy to find on the road, if you know where to look. The best place to look is in the pockets of cryptic old mages." He reaches into his robes and retrieves four grubby brown pouches, each tied with a different colored flower to distinguish them.
Each pouch contains a number of Goodberries, small fruits that are as filling as a day's rations, as well as providing some healing effect.
"They won't stay fresh forever," Bokken warns. "So eat them while they're still good."
The viceroy is eager to please, and the other mites' propensities for violence (and complete lack of fear of humans: they have DR) ensure they have little qualms about going to war with someone they've never met who's never wronged them.
The mites assemble for battle. You have:
17 mites eager to win a decisive victory alongside their new rulers
8 giant centipede mounts
1 mite cavalier
1 giant dragonfly mount
1 giant whiptail centipede, huge sized, extracted from beneath the tree with great difficulty.Three mites remain under the tree to watch over their centipede eggs and make sure nothing eats them.
He seems to be waiting for something, Iorskan, they hope, so they don't bother him and instead go about their daily activities mining and swimming in the shallows of the river for fish.
Their anxious quiet is shattered, however, when the fire nation boggards attack! Two of the muscular frogfolk unleash their terrifying croaks (while out of range of Guthruc), sending fearful kobolds splashing out of the river and trying desperately to outrun their friends (since they won't outrun the boggards).
Guthruc hears the croaks and immediately recognizes it's source. He opens his eyes and turns to face his soldiers-to-be.
"cease attack on the kobolds at once! There will be plenty of time for conquest when you join my warband!
Me and my allies plan to create a utopia, and you can help tear down the obstacles that stand in our way; the first one being the stag lord.
I will ask you this three times. Would you like to join our efforts and become part of my warband?"
Svetlana asks if there's anything they can do for you, or if you're interested in buying or selling.
The boggards let their morningstars answer for them, charging into melee range.
Guthruc bats one of their spiked weapons aside, but is punctured by the other. 7 points of damage get through his DR.
|
|
He turns to the bandits. "Everyone! My good friend Bokken has delivered unto us a veritable feast of delicious foods, the best in the forest!" He says this dramatically, with a flourish, even going so far as to risk losing hair as he throws an arm around Bokken in a friendly way. "Tonight, we feast like kings!"
He flashes Bokken a warm smile, and asks "Would you care to join us?"
Abaos will lead the group onwards towards the mites, stopping for dinner when it is time.
Guthruc wipes off the blood now dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
"Fine. I had hoped to resolve this without much violence-"as soldiers tend to be less useful when unconscious or dead "-But you leave me no choice."
Guthruc enters rage and swings his log at the boggard who recently hit him.
"Join or DIE!"
Guthruc deals 19 points of damage to the boggard. It's looking to withdraw from combat but-
Chief Sootscale breaks cover and sneak attacks it senseless
The other boggard leaves its friend on the ground and beats a hasty retreat for the river. The occasional boggards aren't used to the kobolds defending themselves, and certainly aren't used to wandering orcs defending them and trying to press the frogfolk into service!
The kobolds, realizing that the latest of the normally disastrous boggard attacks ended in failure, break out in cheers. Chief Sootscale gives a speech in draconic, the kobolds attempt to lift Guthruc onto their shoulders, fail, and then someone gives him a some manner of decorative hat made out of grass.
Leading the mites, Ozzy sets out to meet up with the kobolds.
|
|
I think it makes more sense for us to meet there than at the mites' tree. The bandits will be happier setting up camp there than with the bugs and seedpods and whatnot. I say we retcon it so that that was the plan all along.
Can we get an update on how much XP we should have? I think I missed updating it at least once while we've been split up. Or is it not worth trying to track it for ourselves?
combat over, exp is split with the party.
Guthruc does not let the second boggard retreat so easily. As the kobolds quickly surround him for praise, Guthruc shoves past them and charges the boggard attempting to flee, shouting in its native tongue: "I do not recall running like a spineless coward being one of the options!"