Technically Whistle Pig flings before the others close, so no -4 to hit.
Just before Vael's spell, Whistle Pig clocks the half-orc with a sling stone. The rock ricochets off his head and into the ladder with a clatter.
Round 1:
Flood troll: Move
Whistle Pig: Hit
Raen: Go
Hamilton: Miss
Vael: Daze
Half-orc: Dazed
Doxon: Miss
Ushyle: Readied
Troll: 13
Half-orc: 3
Raen curses under her breath. Damn! I thought I hid that pretty well. She sees Ushyle come down her hallway and hear the roar to her left -- and notes the half-orc's concentrated gaze and raised blade. She doesn't take her chances, and opts for the long route out of Othdan's room. She reappears in the midst of the more heavily armed fighters.
The trolls wounds continue to bleed as it makes its way into the room. It moves to slash Ushyle across the face, but the half-orc's axe drops, cleanly severing its head! The body drops to the ground, and despite the legends, it does NOT regenerate.
Round 2:
Flood troll: Dies
Whistle Pig: Go
Raen: Go
Hamilton: Go
Vael: Go
Half-orc: TBD
Doxon: TBD
Ushyle: TBD
Half-orc: 3
Vael, knowing that the half-orc is about to recover, moves forward. "I've got one more trick. The kids enjoy this one. Gimme a second!"
The shaman pulls some coloured dust from a pouch, rubs his hands, and joins his fingers in a fan-like shape. He mutters a chant and his eyes go black before a technicolor display flashes from his splayed fingers!
Whistle Pig drives another stone into the half-orc's face! Blood starts pouring as colors blur the sight. , but he's ready this time!
Round 2:
Flood troll: Dies
Whistle Pig: Hit
Raen: Go
Hamilton: Go
Vael: Color Spray
Half-orc: TBD
Doxon: TBD
Ushyle: TBD
Half-orc: 9
Relieved to hear a heavier thud from behind than Ushyle could have made, Raen turns to the half-orc and lets fly with the last of her magical energy. "Just knock him out! We need him alive!" A jet of white fire bursts from her outstretched hand, and she looks suddenly quite spent.
Raen's magic hits the half-orc, though not as painfully as a Whistle Pig bullet.
Round 2:
Flood troll: Dies
Whistle Pig: Hit
Raen: MM
Hamilton: Go
Vael: Color Spray
Half-orc: TBD
Doxon: TBD
Ushyle: TBD
Half-orc: 11
Ham claps his blade on his shield twice before pushing forward, looking to create an opening before thrusting his sword...
Longsword:
But he can't find an opportunity!
Hamilton can't connect with his blade, and finally the half-orc fights back. The battlefield and lack of cohort prevents him from his most devastating techniques. All that's left is his morningstar and hatred. He swings it downward at Whistle Pig's head:
, when that fails him he drops his weapon and drops to his knees, "Mercy! I have no desire to die here today! Gorum's Taint! I can't believe you killed Ghaer so quickly!"
Ushyle drops his greataxe and grabs the half-orc, rather harder than necessary, seething in barely-controlled anger. Maybe we should just end your miserable existence right now and save everyone a lot of trouble.
"I know things! If you kill me you you'll never learn the truth!"
The half-orc bows his head. "I trust you. Do not kill me. Let me live as reward for this information. A group of half-orcs has infiltrated Trunau, and an orc raid on the town is planned for the near future. I don't know the details, or when the attack is supposed to take place—only that they are looking for something in town first. My contact, my boss. His name is Skreed. Skreed never said who he was working for, just that he is part of “the tribe.” Skreed Gorewillow is scary. He murdered someone in town yesterday, and now I wait for him. Skreed picked me to help because I live in town. I come here each night for directions, but murder changes things."
Whistle Pig divests the half-orc of nearly everything:
- Clearly labeled potion of Cure Light Wounds
- Two potions labeled "Move without tracks"
- Potion labeled "Escape Plan"
- Two smoke pellets
- A tangleburn bag
- 5 daggers
- Masterwork morningstar
- short sword
- a thin silk cord wrapped around his waist a few times. Whistle Pig almost skipped it, but he sighed when the halfling put his hands on it. Vaen confirms that it's faintly magical.
- Crowbar
- Thieves' Tools
- A garnet worth about 50 Gp
- 30 Gold coins (Trunau imprint.)
Vael walks over to Ushyle and places a restraining hand on his friend. "Easy thar, Ushyle. Let's see if we ken resolve this without blood. Well, more blood."
To the surrendered half-orc he says. "Me friends be pretty angry, as ye ken tell. They've got some pretty good reason ta be. I be too. but I prefer less violence. So I need ye ta help understand thin's. Ye ken talk yer way out of this moment, but it'll need ta be quick. So... Who be ye, who do work for, and why was Rodrik murdered?"
After he reveals all (I suppose we can all look at the spoiler now), Vael adds, "Will Skreed come back here or nae?"
"I dunno. After he killed that man in town he bolted. I've told you all that I know. I swear!"
Is Gorewillow an Orc Clan or associated with an Orc Clan?
Local +3. I can make it untrained because of my favored enemy.
The name Gorewillow doesn't sound like a clan nearby.
We need to take him back to Trunau and alert The Militia! We need to be on alert.
The half-orc reveals his name to be Dektani, and he does look familiar to you. He bows his head and offers no resistance.
Blue Flames means it's me, and Ghaer should approach. I stay here because when the orcs come, the racists in town will simply slay me for being different. Safer out here. I signal when it's time to attack by coming here and lighting a green flame. Others in town will tell me when it's time."
He adds, after thinking. "Also, one more thing. I am to make a Green Fire here when the town is ripe for attack. That was the plan anyway."
"I dunno. After he killed that man in town he bolted. I've told you all that I know. I swear!"
This raises Vael's suspicions (enough to make a roll).
He's unable to get much of a read from Dektani though. "Agreed, Ham. Let's git him back and waste nae time."
============================================================
The group makes some quick preparations, collecting all the items found before heading back to Trunau.
Dektani is bound and lead on a rope tether by Ushyle, with Doxon and Whistle Pig flanking the prisoner. Hamilton leads the group, urgency in his step. The imminent threat to his home is at the forefront of his thoughts. Vael sends Tulia ahead, with words to let Kurst Grath know that we have a prisoner who knows about his brother's murderer. Raen spends the short trip back studying the items found, both for clues and to better understand any magical properties.
It's a quiet procession, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on everyone. There's little joy in this victory, as it's clear there's so much more that needs doing.
As you report your investigatory findings to Kurst and his father Jagrin, they seemed relieved (his brother even moreso) the elder Grath releases a long breath, saying “At least we know Rodrik didn’t disgrace himself with an unnecessary suicide.” It seems Kurst has come to terms with his brother’s death, and you see his resolve strengthening. "As long as the attack won’t take place until the half-orcs signal for it["/b], Kurst reasons, [b]"and as long as the militia keeps guards stationed at the beacons and around the city walls, Trunau has little to fear. Even if the saboteurs signal the attack from outside the town’s walls without being detected, the militia should have time to sound the alarm and close the gates."
He continues "I cannot thank you enough for restoring my late brother's honor. I ask that you all stand with me at half past the hour of five tomorrow. Join me at the Flame of the Fallen."
The next day is oddly quiet. After the whirlwind of activity starting on the morning of the murder, the town seems to have returned to normal. When you look about you see people preparing for a suspected assault on the town; cleaning armor, checking the hafts of dusty weapons, and of course, checking hopeknives. Business are open and are eager for your coin.
That afternoon, you arrive at the fire. In addition to Kurst and his father Jagrin, Brinya and Omast are present, as well as Katrezra. High Priestess Tyari Varvatos officiates the ceremony. After consecrating the Flame of the Fallen with sacred herbs, Tyari performs a traditional requenching of the deceased’s real hopeknife. Heating the hopeknife in the alchemically infused f lames causes the blade to turn pure black, and after the ritual is over, Tyari hands the dagger to Rodrik’s grieving fiancee, Brinya.
From Momma Spider's Lair (post 723)
- Magic oil
- Magic potion
From Dektani (post 765)
- Clearly labeled potion of Cure Light Wounds
- Two potions labeled "Move without tracks"
- Potion labeled "Escape Plan"
- thin silk cord
Raen can reasonably Take 10 on Spellcraft for a 20.
From Momma Spider's Lair (post 723)
- Magic oil: Magic Weapon
- Magic potion: Shield of Faith
From Dektani (post 765)
- Clearly labeled potion of Cure Light Wounds: Is CLW
- Two potions labeled "Move without tracks": Pass without Trace
- Potion labeled "Escape Plan": Vanish
- thin silk cord: Belt of Tumbling
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Ushyle slunk back to Trunau from the Plague House. His companions were jubilant, but he was not. Even if, he thought, even if the sharp-eyed dwarves managed to miss him taking his last dose while the group was setting up the successful ambush — a mighty big if, since Vael rarely missed much — even if he managed to hide his fix...it was still his last dose of zerk, with no prospect more on the horizon.
After reporting their findings and delivering their prisoner to the Graths, the gathering dissolved into their respective paths, leaving a fatigued and miserable Ushyle to wander back to the Ramblehouse in roundabout fashion, though a roundabout fashion with definite intent on the half-orc's part. But neither Kreeblestones nor little Jenks was anywhere to be found, meaning the half-orc couldn't get more from his normal sources; and Gorkis Meeson, while capable of finding or making some, had never met a secret he could keep in his life — far too risky.
It was going to be a long, long night.
Up in his room, he stripped off his gear and sat on his cot. Already the shakes he feared he'd get were beginning. Long night indeed.
He blinked twice, hard, trying without success to stop the involuntary quivers. His eyes fell on the star rose quartz amulet found in the Plague House. Ushyle had claimed little from the collection of things the group had uncovered, feeling a vague sense of unworthiness that he chalked up to his secret addiction. The rose quartz asterism that had been carved into a rose blossom — he'd been drawn to that, though Doxon had scoffed at its value. It was pretty, and he felt a wave of...of something wash over him each time he looked at it. Not happiness, exactly, but...something.
He didn't know when he fell asleep, twitching and sweating atop the blankets. He really only knew he'd slept when he startled awake, remembering the dream.
A street of cobblestone...butterflies? How absurd, he thought. And in their midst, a single rose grew, with little bits of red about the stones. He saw his hand reach out to pluck the rose. You cannot compromise with evil, or tyranny. Sometimes you must rise up and fight for peace, love, health, and life. How that came into his head, he didn't know. It wasn't voiced, it was just...there. And he knew that Peace, Love, Health, and Life were four...four building blocks, four pillars. Foundation for learning what was worth more than oneself. A way to find one's hidden strength. He saw the rose turning in his hand, and the word hope could be seen on the stem, written in Orcish letters. But there was no word for hope in the Orcish tongue, he recalled. Still, he was certain that was the word.
He woke up surprisingly refreshed, and knew at once who he needed to see. Katrezra.
Though the sun is only an hour gone, to Raen it feels like the night has already grown long. She hasn't been this tired in many moons. Her ever-churning, inquisitive and puzzled mind nevertheless does not slow its frenetic pace. She applies her questions patiently, one by one.
"Who is the troll, and why did you meet him here every night?"
"Who are the other half-orcs working for Skreed?"
"Why did you imprison a boy here?"
"Who is painting white crosses all over Trunau? Why?"
"What do you know of the smith Urnsul?"
"What does the name 'Melira' mean to you?"
***
The morning finds Raen up early, rested well enough but having difficulty putting her mind at ease. She spends most of the morning consulting Agrit's small collection of tomes, jumpstarting a lesson in Giantish and voraciously reading through accounts of historical assaults on Trunau. She also looks through a short stack of religious treatises, trying to identify the half-orc's holy symbol. She spends a few hours copying some new spells into her plain, leatherbound spellbook, and talks briefly with the militia's engineers about some ideas for improving the lower palisade's eastern corner. Finally, with the sun starting to get low, she heads for the Barterstones for a look at today's fare.
Raen's interrogation:
"Who is the troll, and why did you meet him here every night?"
"The troll is Ghael. I almost never see Skreed, but the troll was his messenger. I gave reports, and got occasional instructions from her. The troll was stupid. She didn't know what was going on half the time..."
"Who are the other half-orcs working for Skreed?"
"I don't know. That's not how Skreed works. I know only what I need to."
"Why did you imprison a boy here?"
"I caught the boy snooping around here. I didn't want to kill him. A murder would bring attention, but I couldn't let him report what he saw. I was working through that when you showed up."
"Who is painting white crosses all over Trunau? Why?"
"I don't know. It might have something to do with whatever Skreed's other agents were looking for."
"What do you know of the smith Urnsul?"
"Just a name and a face. Nothing else."
"What does the name 'Melira' mean to you?"
"That means nothing from me."
Given a solid night's rest, you recognize the symbol as one of Nulgreth, the Blood God. He is an orc deity of bloodlust and fighting.
Level 2 Wand: Status
Level 2 Wand: Badger's Ferocity
Level 2 Scroll: Aid
Level 2 Scroll: Protection from Chaos, Communal
Level 1 Scroll: Ear Piercing Scream
Level 1 Scroll: Moment of Greatness
Level 1 Scroll: Frostbite
Potion: Owl's Wisdom
Splint Mail +1
Light Wooden Shield +1
A suit of Green Dragonhide Plate Armor
Shortbow +1, sheds light
Ring of Swarming Stabs
An afternoon spent at Barterstones, selling off the mundane items and gems, Vael walks away with a hefty bag containing 3,665.49 GP. This is split in 6, with each person getting 610 GP, 9 SP, and 1 CP.
During the day of rest...
"You can do it. Try again," Tulia says. The bird is perched on the back of a chair that faces a fireplace. The chair itself has a worn, lived in appearance and the fireplace lets off a low heat.
Vael stands across the room. He focuses his gaze on Tulia, his face covered in sweat. He puts his hands together and hums, then pulls his hands apart quickly. A jagged opening appears behind the thrush, a kitchen table visibly through it. Tulia hops through, and the opening closes. With a glance over at his kitchen table, Vael sees Tulia standing on it.
She picks at a bowl with seeds in it, then says, "See, I knew you could do it."
Vael, for his part, walks over to the chair and collapses into it, exhausted.
Ham purchases:
-Heavy War Horse, Combat Trained
-Saddlebags
-Bit n Bridle
-Military Saddle
-Lance
Ham purchases:
-Heavy War Horse, Combat Trained
-Saddlebags
-Bit n Bridle
-Military Saddle
Ushyle is looking for a MW chain shirt. Other than that (and selling his leather armor and buckler), he's done shopping.
During the funeral ceremony...
Vael attends the funeral of Rodrick Grath. His hip flask has a small sampling of his most recent batch of Oakfist Ale, which he pours out with grave solemnity at one point. He makes a point to see different people during the ceremony.
To Kurst and Jagrin: "Me condolences ta ye both. It's a sad time, ta be sure, but I'm at tha same time reassured. I ken that Trunau has many dedicated ta its safety. Rodrick was chief among them, but," he pauses, thinking of his brave allies, "I'd say many more be willin' ta step up and fill those big shoes of his. And sadly, it seems all tha more necessary now."
To Brinya: Vael rests a hand on the weeping woman's shoulder. "I kinna say I ken exactly what ye're goin' through lass, but ye shou' ken that he's nae gone. Nae really. I ken still feel bits of his spirit. He's here still, and he's with ye especially. Ye've a bond that nae other had. But I want ye ta ken too... if ye need anythin', just ask."
To Omast: The brewer offers a sip from his hip flask. If he's willing, the pass the flask back and forth, standing silent in thought.
To High Priestess Varvatos: When the ceremony draws to a close, the dwarf speaks to her. "A fine ceremony on a sad day. I wish it were for a happy occasion, but so it goes. And I dinna mean ta be too somber, but I ken feel a change in tha winds. Thar's always been a threat ta this town, but... somethin' be different now. Darker. Stay vigilant, high priestess, and pray that Iomedae keeps watch over Trunau when it needs it most."
After the ceremony, Vael purchases a masterwork backpack in Barterstones.
The half-orc hurries to the funeral, arriving just as the ceremony itself begins, breathing hard after his rush over from the Sanctuary. Katrezra had left more than an hour before, with an admonition to not be late — one to which he had just managed to adhere. He was appropriately solemn throughout the service, though his mind was afire with the events of yesterday, of last night, and especially this morning.
He had sought the counsel of the blind oracle to help make sense of his dream; Katrezra confirmed quickly that there was too much there to be ignored. Ushyle learned many things in succession: the cobblestone butterflies weren't absurd, but a sign from Desna, goddess of dreams and of travelers; but the rose was a symbol of Milani, patron of uprisings and of hope, as were the words he knew from the vision. Katrezra suggested that the latter was aided by the former in her missive to Ushyle. What was she trying to tell me? he asked, and the wizened half-orc shrugged with a smile. The ways of the gods are inscrutable, my boy. You'll need to learn the "why" for yourself. But now you know the "how," and can look for the "what."
Katrezra, a scholar of many faiths, gave him a small, tattered book he said was the holy book of Milani, and Ushyle had flipped through it, but found the same frustration he had faced when trying to learn the words of Iomedae in his youth. Katrezra laughed — not at him, he didn't feel, but out of genuine joy. Sometimes, my boy, the words matter less than the feelings. You've a good heart, and you'll know what's right.
The ceremony over, he was free to let his thoughts ramble again. Hope, he thought. Of all things for a goddess to preach. Especially now, with Trunau on the brink of invasion. More questions than answers sped through his mind. And the scar on his cheek had grown more red, like the blood coursing through him; and the star rose quartz amulet he wore about his neck felt unheavy, almost like it wasn't even there, and its presence filled him with...with something, though he couldn't find words to express what that something was. The feeling was light, it was airy, it was freeing.
He didn't even notice that, for the first time in months, his body did not crave the zerk which had previously consumed him.
Indeed, the copy of The Light of Hope smells of old roses and musty pages.
As the sun sinks below the horizon, the peaceful evening is shattered by the brazen calls of signal horns. Shouts and screams from the town’s lower quarter join the clamor, followed by a crash as an airborne boulder smashes into one of the guard towers. Trunau is under attack!
The solemn atmosphere at the Flame of the Fallen transforms into sheer chaos. Patrol Captain Jagrin Grath and Omast Frum immediately fall to action, barking orders left and right. Trunau's training is about to be put to the test. They order the able-bodied to the walls while the town leaders hurry noncombatant townsfolk into the Longhouse for safety.
Kurst Grath turns to you. His eyes gimlet. "You have helped us much, and I ask that you help us some more. You're heroes here now, greater than simply wielders of might. I need you to help us save our homes. You know the signal lights? Light them! I need to organize the militia. You move like a well-oiled unit. Go! If we must defend in the dark, we're lost for certain. Slaying orcs is helpful, but it’s even more important that you rescue townsfolk from danger. Send anyone you encounter in Trunau’s upper quarter to head to the Longhouse to take refuge or rally with the other defenders."
The excitement of yesterday has Raen feeling a little more adventurous than she's felt prudent the day before. She sneaks a look a Agrit's spare spellbook before the dwarf comes in for the day.
Yep
Yep
Yep
Nope
After studying them and consuming practically a vat of ink, Raen dips into the bag Vael dropped off earlier and adds a few coins to the shop's books as penance. As the sun dips low, she ventures out to the Barterstones to buy a light crossbow.
* * *
Raen is silent during the ceremony, staring deep into the flames. Murder. Now where have I heard that word before? She shakes the thought from her mind.
The crash of the boulder takes her by surprise. "Beacons first," she concurs, threads of pure force lacing their way across her body at a snap of her fingers. "Inner Gates first. If that falls, the Commons won't matter. Hurry!"
She strides off into the night.
The words are barely out of Kurst's mouth before Ushyle's militia training takes over. He instinctively directs a pair of citizens to secure a post (take 10 on Profession (soldier) for 17), as the faint scent of roses floods the area roughly fifty feet about him (bless), then races toward the Commons to help light the Beacon.
Vael hustles to keep pace with Raen. "Agreed. That second beacon be near me home though. I hope they dinna git in ta that point!"
To Tulia, who stands on his shoulder, he says, "Stay close. Last thin' we need be a stray arrow-"
She interrupts him with a chirp into his ear. "I'm well aware of the dangers. Let's not waste any time."
The shaman nods, then pulls his cold iron warhammer out of its holder. He hefts it meaningfully. "I'd hoped ta nae be sayin' this, but... it's time ta crack skulls again."
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Whistles Pig lets out a shrill whistle that is best described as the distressed mating call of a elk. Seeing that he has everyone's attention is states. "We are going to the closest beacon. It will lead those farther down the hill toward the Longhouse."
He starts off at a trot not checking to see if anyone is following.