Our job is to draw the main force from the camp as a distraction. The his is to lob missile attacks and then retreat into the woods forcing them to come to us. Using arrows lit with fire the confusion gives our ally an opportunity to strike directly at their supplies and commander.
"Who is in the camp itself? which ally is this?" he asks. Then he remembers his manners "Thank you sir, for healing our wounded. I am Owen, who might you be?"
Once she's done, Belym returns to Conwall and the militiaman he's speaking with. " You'll find two sets of graves over there. I don't think we have the time or the manpower to return the fallen to Norwhich, unfortunately."
"Thank you Belym. Where is Ron, I know he has been working with you lately?" he asks. He is clearly terrified. You remember Owen from the pub a little while ago, he's just a kid. What do you do?
When (if) it becomes clear that there's some meat that's not being saved for later, Sheridan will approach cautiously, interested in rummaging in their belongings and maybe dragging one or two back to TAM. They can't help it, really, and they try to avoid eye contact with the survivors as they do it. Asside from their basic hoarder's instinct, they are taking this opportunity to assess this upcoming threat. What is the soldiers' armor like? what weapons do they carry? do they look hale (other than being dead)? They're looking for weaknesses they can take advantage of later.
Then, when no one's looking they will have a snack.
** spoiler omitted **
Ron is in the camp. We were to have your forces assault from the side while we hary them and Ron sabatoges from within. I feel the plan can yet succeed.
Sheridan eases off their pack and slips through the trampled brush. They snag a body with a cloak and throw the cloth around their own body as well, then slip back to the far side of TAM.
Once there, they make quick work of breaking down the equipment and body, stashing the incriminating evidence in a spare tank on TAM, behind the sack of fish flakes. Anything they can't store is thrown to the predator tanks to calm their frenzy, or eaten on the spot if it looks really tasty. They make sure to wash their face and hands before returning to a visible position.
Ron is in the camp. We were to have your forces assault from the side while we hary them and Ron sabatoges from within. I feel the plan can yet succeed.
Owen grimaces, "Damn fool old man. He's already en route, isn't he". He turns over to the men "Those of you that can move, gather up your weapons. everyone take a bow, and as many arrows as you can carry. leave enough rations for Vance, Foster, and the wounded. the rest of us are moving out!". Two men come forward, probably Vance and Foster. "I need you two to get the wounded back to Norwich. the rest of us are going on, to attack the Braxans".
Finally he turns back to you. "If I'm going to risk my men in this. I want you on the front lines. If we have to risk ourselves, so do you"
What do you do?
The soldiers haveSheridan eases off their pack and slips through the trampled brush. They snag a body with a cloak and throw the cloth around their own body as well, then slip back to the far side of TAM.
[dice=Defy Danger(DEX)]2d6Once there, they make quick work of breaking down the equipment and body, stashing the incriminating evidence in a spare tank on TAM, behind the sack of fish flakes. Anything they can't store is thrown to the predator tanks to calm their frenzy, or eaten on the spot if it looks really tasty. They make sure to wash their face and hands before returning to a visible position.
[dice=Discern Realities]2d6+2
- chain-mail
- a shield
- a longsword
- a bundle of arrows
- and 4 uses of either Monster food, or Rations (you only)
A smile creeps across my face, anticipation of the glory to come.
Oh, we'll be on the front lines all right. Your men are probably at least risk. Attack from a distance and retreat, let them chase you. We'll charge into camp as they're fired upon, to truly wreck things up!
Sheridan bundles up the distinctly Braxan equipment and stows it for later in TAM. Then, she gives her face and mouth a quick rinse for good measure and comes out just as Owen is shouting to those assembled. If anyone seems to think she's included in those orders, she will accept a bow and an additional bundle of arrows, if available. She would do this by approaching someone who is gathering those supplies and asking them, "What are those for? They look very... purpose-made."
Sheridan bundles up the distinctly Braxan equipment and stows it for later in TAM. Then, she gives her face and mouth a quick rinse for good measure and comes out just as Owen is shouting to those assembled. If anyone seems to think she's included in those orders, she will accept a bow and an additional bundle of arrows, if available. She would do this by approaching someone who is gathering those supplies and asking them, "What are those for? They look very... purpose-made."
The man you ask gives you a confused look, before explaining "This is a bow, it shoots arrows." He draws it back, and fires it into a nearby corpse. He holds it out to you "Would you like one?" He asks. What do you do?
Much like the defense move, I'm rolling bless for the upcoming battle on Conwall. I didn't expect so much ground to be covered between then and now.
They should be here by now. Ron clamps down on his worry. Worst case scenario I do this on my own at midnight.
The old man breathes, and makes his way to the southeast side of the camp, planning to approach towards the horses first.
Much like the defense move, I'm rolling bless for the upcoming battle on Conwall. I didn't expect so much ground to be covered between then and now.
[dice=Cast a Spell (Bless)]2d6+2
After you are done treating the wounded, Owen comes up to you. "Jericho told me what you did back in Norwich. Thank you for that, you saved a good deal of my friends. Could I ask another favour" he says, turning toward the dead "Would you give these men the last rites, all of them?" he asks, a very solem look as he indicated the fallen braxans and militiamen alike. What do you do?
After speaking with Iron Tom, Owen takes you into his tent, which has a map table set up. "You say the camp is about here? in that case, My men and I will set up here, and you and your strike team will ener their camp, send the signal, and we will open fire. Am I correct? And who will be in your strike force?" he asks, trying to take up the commanders reigns. What do you do?
They should be here by now. Ron clamps down on his worry. Worst case scenario I do this on my own at midnight.
The old man breathes, and makes his way to the southeast side of the camp, planning to approach towards the horses first.
you see three large cook fires, one near the commanders tent, one next to the butchers tent, and another near the animal cages. there are senteries, two or three men huddled arond a small fire, posted around the camp, every 80 meters or so. Most of the horses are penned in with a hastily erected fence, however several are tied near the tents, already saddles. What do you do?
The strike force is myself, Tom, Belym and the fish woman. Little large for a strike team, but without a second elf I've had to fill the equivalent number of outlanders. The signal...is screaming Braxinese soldiers.
The strike force is myself, Tom, Belym and the fish woman. Little large for a strike team, but without a second elf I've had to fill the equivalent number of outlanders. The signal...is screaming Braxinese soldiers.
Owen chuckles at your signal, but Jericho shouts "And just where did you get the idea to leave me out of the strike team?" she says. drawing her sword. Owen rolls hi eyes at her dramatics. What do you do?
"Oh, right kind of you te demonstrate." Sheridan takes the offered bow and arrows and looks at the arrows, thinking about the bundle of arrows the Braxan soldier had.
Whether or not there's anything significant to report, Sheridan acts like a child who is not sure if what she has to say is news to the adults.
I tisk at Jericho.
I certainly had not forgotten you. I just suspected you may have wanted to serve alongside your compatriots. You're welcome to join us, though put that sword away. One never draws a weapon they don't intend to use.
"Oh, right kind of you te demonstrate." Sheridan takes the offered bow and arrows and looks at the arrows, thinking about the bundle of arrows the Braxan soldier had.
Whether or not there's anything significant to report, Sheridan acts like a child who is not sure if what she has to say is news to the adults.
The Braxan arrows have a broader head, and yellow fletching instead of the of the Norwich arrows. when you share these findings, you get a few confused looks, before the new quartermaster, Jessica Price, pulls you aside, and asks if you need equipment. What do you do?
I tisk at Jericho.
I certainly had not forgotten you. I just suspected you may have wanted to serve alongside your compatriots. You're welcome to join us, though put that sword away. One never draws a weapon they don't intend to use.
Jericho looks abashed as she sheathes her weapon. "Sorry Conwall, I was just excited. We should start moving, if we're going to be in position before they are" she says trying to save face. What do you do?
Tom is unused to crowds, but tries to unite the soldiers for the upcoming battle. He questions if his words land on deaf ears or not.
The Braxan arrows have a broader head, and yellow fletching instead of the of the Norwich arrows. when you share these findings, you get a few confused looks, before the new
"Forgive me, I'm new to all these banners an' colors an' such, but it seems to me that we could catch them off guard if we used these Boraxicans' equipment to pretend we are allies until we get in range. That could just be me, though."
[dice=Defy Danger (CHA)]2d6-1
Tom is unused to crowds, but tries to unite the soldiers for the upcoming battle. He questions if his words land on deaf ears or not.
"Forgive me, I'm new to all these banners an' colors an' such, but it seems to me that we could catch them off guard if we used these Boraxicans' equipment to pretend we are allies until we get in range. That could just be me, though."
"That may be wise for the strike team, but it's a long shot. You and Belym would stick out like sore thumbs, and Conwall wouldn't stand up to much inspection" She says, offering you a chain shirt and longsword. What d you do?
I nod to Jericho and let her know that we'll leave as soon as Iron Tom is finished berating the soliders.
Sheridan takes the sword and the shirt. It takes a few minutes, but she manages to navigate the armor. She holds the sword in place, and her skirt parts and wraps around it, holding it at her hip.
I nod to Jericho and let her know that we'll leave as soon as Iron Tom is finished berating the soldiers.
"While we wait, may I ask, where did you get Catastrophe? Are all elven weapons this fine?" She asks you, reaching a hand tentatively toward your scabbard. What do you do?
Sheridan takes the sword and the shirt. It takes a few minutes, but she manages to navigate the armor. She holds the sword in place, and her skirt parts and wraps around it, holding it at her hip.
I subtly place my own hand on the scabbard, hoping to discourage her from touching the blade.
I made it. We all do. You can't buy Windsteel, or have it bequeathed to you. If you want to wield Windsteel, you have to make it yourself from a Skyforge. Climb the trees so high you get intoxicated by the increased oxygen. The fires burn hotter up there, hot enough to melt the bones of Asmodians, reforge them into, well...
I look down at the hilt, still glistening after all I've put it through. I give a mirthless smile towards Jericho.
Most elven weapons are finer still than Catastrophe. But I wanted it hooked and twisted, valued effectiveness over the aesthetic. I've regretted that decision every day for a hundred winters, but you can't take it back. Catastrophe and I are bonded for life.
I lower my voice slightly, as to not sour Tom's attempts to rally the crowd.
I don't just mean the sword when I say that. You should steer clear of me, girl. I'll only bring you ruin.
I shake my head, the moment passed. My smile returns to the flip one that Jericho is used to.
As soon as Tom finishes...whatever...it is he thinks he's doing, be ready to leave at once. I don't know what he's building up to, but I'm positive a hearty "Move out!" can only serve it.
I subtly place my own hand on the scabbard, hoping to discourage her from touching the blade.
I made it. We all do. You can't buy Windsteel, or have it bequeathed to you. If you want to wield Windsteel, you have to make it yourself from a Skyforge. Climb the trees so high you get intoxicated by the increased oxygen. The fires burn hotter up there, hot enough to melt the bones of Asmodians, reforge them into, well...
I look down at the hilt, still glistening after all I've put it through. I give a mirthless smile towards Jericho.
Most elven weapons are finer still than Catastrophe. But I wanted it hooked and twisted, valued effectiveness over the aesthetic. I've regretted that decision every day for a hundred winters, but you can't take it back. Catastrophe and I are bonded for life.
I lower my voice slightly, as to not sour Tom's attempts to rally the crowd.
I don't just mean the sword when I say that. You should steer clear of me, girl. I'll only bring you ruin.
I shake my head, the moment passed. My smile returns to the flip one that Jericho is used to.
As soon as Tom finishes...whatever...it is he thinks he's doing, be ready to leave at once. I don't know what he's building up to, but I'm positive a hearty "Move out!" can only serve it.
"What left you so jaded?" she asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. What do you do?
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Tom stands in front of a significant portion of the soldiers to hear the eulogy of those who passed, These men buried at your feet have completed their journey, having fulfilled their roles in the divine pathway of fate only to be cut uncomfortably short from a violent end. It tastes bitter in the mouth of any rational man, for he too bears the wisdom of the righteous; the desire for working together to build a future - a family, a community, a nation. Each of these men will not be forgotten by those who continue down their path, their losses will teach you to be slightly sharper and to hope all the more for that selfish future we all desire. When you return from war to your homes earned in battle, these men's sacrifices will pave the future generations of this nation.
I am not long in this land, but since I first encountered the wake of the Braxian method of warfare I have witnessed nothing but uncomfortable strife in this land. It be not just the warfare of men, but the judgement of the divine to allow such horrors linger unanswered. They, and by they I do not mean every man woman in child just those of import or perhaps even with majority sway, they have accepted some wickedness to chip away at their humanity and resort to extortion, poison, pestilence, and worse - all for the sake of the immediate gain.
They salt the earth for victory, and unlike those who fight for their future they feel like the crops that will no longer grow in this land or the fish left dead from their camps are not their concern. It is an easy shortcut to fall into this path of slaying the yet unborn future generations of a nation, and one that Evil men prey upon.
For not your sake, but the sake of those who come after you. Those who have no voice, and who will live an easier life without this strife. For those children and grandchildren lay your life on the line once more to take a stand and purge the cancerous lesions that have been swayed by Evil - stand and fight with everything you have if only for everything you may yet have. Thank you.
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Sheridan notices the look she gets, and spreads her pectoral fins and dorsal disk, wiggling the little spurs at their end. "They're a mite bit more effective in the water." When Sheridan gawks and stares at the clothes and devices the others show them, it's because their race has never had a need for purpose-made tools. The bounty of the deep provides for all needs.
Tom stands in front of a significant portion of the soldiers to hear the eulogy of those who passed, These men buried at your feet have completed their journey, having fulfilled their roles in the divine pathway of fate only to be cut uncomfortably short from a violent end. It tastes bitter in the mouth of any rational man, for he too bears the wisdom of the righteous; the desire for working together to build a future - a family, a community, a nation. Each of these men will not be forgotten by those who continue down their path, their losses will teach you to be slightly sharper and to hope all the more for that selfish future we all desire. When you return from war to your homes earned in battle, these men's sacrifices will pave the future generations of this nation.
I am not long in this land, but since I first encountered the wake of the Braxian method of warfare I have witnessed nothing but uncomfortable strife in this land. It be not just the warfare of men, but the judgement of the divine to allow such horrors linger unanswered. They, and by they I do not mean every man woman in child just those of import or perhaps even with majority sway, they have accepted some wickedness to chip away at their humanity and resort to extortion, poison, pestilence, and worse - all for the sake of the immediate gain.
They salt the earth for victory, and unlike those who fight for their future they feel like the crops that will no longer grow in this land or the fish left dead from their camps are not their concern. It is an easy shortcut to fall into this path of slaying the yet unborn future generations of a nation, and one that Evil men prey upon.
For not your sake, but the sake of those who come after you. Those who have no voice, and who will live an easier life without this strife. For those children and grandchildren lay your life on the line once more to take a stand and purge the cancerous lesions that have been swayed by Evil - stand and...
The men cheer at your speech, clearly filled with righteous fury at the men who have slain their kin, and poisoned their town. The will stand and fight against them, as long as you do.
Belym, Conwall, Sheridan, & Iron Tom
he company is ready to move out, and you need to be in position in a short while. What do you do?
Ron
How do you infiltrate the camp, and where do you go?
I don't respond to Jericho. I shared too much as is.
It's time to move out. I take the strike force to our rendezvous spot with Ron, hoping he's still there.
As the party approaches the vicinity of the Braxan camp (say, somewhere shortly before the quarry, but after the militia has split off from our group), Belym pauses, kneels down, and casts her thoughts into the soil. Strength, and speed. Power to move. A form emerges from the earth...
Sheridan finds Conwall among the throngs of vaguely human figures. "M'ladygen'ral? How far is our band marching from the river? Might there be some need of message relay to Northridge?"
Ron continues to wait until he can hear sounds of battle joined. He is positioned south east of camp near the horses.
I don't respond to Jericho. I shared too much as is.
It's time to move out. I take the strike force to our rendezvous spot with Ron, hoping he's still there.
You move out, the militia in fair spirits, Owen stays by you, hammering out the plan and contingencies. You reach Ron withing a couple hours. What do you do?
As the party approaches the vicinity of the Braxan camp (say, somewhere shortly before the quarry, but after the militia has split off from our group), Belym pauses, kneels down, and casts her thoughts into the soil. Strength, and speed. Power to move. A form emerges from the earth...
[Dice=Summon Elemental: Forceful tag]2d6+2
[Dice=Control gained]1d4
you summon the creature, a massive beast of stone and spike. However, instead there comes forth a large man of stone, who bows to you as he is called through.
Sheridan finds Conwall among the throngs of vaguely human figures. "M'ladygen'ral? How far is our band marching from the river? Might there be some need of message relay to Northridge?"
You move out, the militia in fair spirits, Owen stays by you, hammering out the plan and contingencies. You reach Ron withing a couple hours. What do you do?I don't respond to Jericho. I shared too much as is.
It's time to move out. I take the strike force to our rendezvous spot with Ron, hoping he's still there.
You move out, the militia in fair spirits, Owen stays by you, hammering out the plan and contingencies. You reach Ron withing a couple hours. What do you do?I don't respond to Jericho. I shared too much as is.
It's time to move out. I take the strike force to our rendezvous spot with Ron, hoping he's still there.
Yes, but he's invisible.
Our strikeforce arrives in the spot where we were supposed to meet Ron, but he's nowhere to be found. There are two options here...either he's here and hiding or he's gone. I watch the camp and look for signs of chaos. One way or another when the militia opens fire we'll have to rush in. Hopefully Ron won't be in too much trouble without us.
From his vantage point in a tree 200 feet south of the camp, Ron notices his team approaching the rendezvous point. He climbs down and cautiously makes his way to where the team crouches secluded in the underbrush.
From the air next to you there is a whisper. Glad to see ye made it. I know ye can't see me, it be some magic from the altar I guess. What of Garin?
From his vantage point in a tree 200 feet south of the camp, Ron notices his team approaching the rendezvous point. He climbs down and cautiously makes his way to where the team crouches secluded in the underbrush.
From the air next to you there is a whisper. Glad to see ye made it. I know ye can't see me, it be some magic from the altar I guess. What of Garin?
Jericho steps forward, towards where she thinks you are (shes about a meter off, that helmet really does mess with sound) "Garin is dead, Ron. A lot of the militia were killed" she says, her calm facade straining to remain. What do you do?
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"Bucky! They gave me a pointy bit." Sheridan indicates the sword at her waist. "-and a springy thing." She twangs the bowstring against the chainmail she's been wearing. She manages to look less proficient than a toddler with either. She tugs the turtle on her head back into place. "S'okay. I'll mostly just try to keep folk out o' trouble. Don't think I want too many demonstrations on how all this works."
She looks around trying to figure out where Ron is.
Off Jericho's remarks, I fill Ron in on the rest of the pertinent information:
And while Garin's death is a tragedy to be sure, there is a small bit of congratulations in order, Militia Commander Bucanero...
Commander? These be desperate times indeed. These Braxan dogs will pay.
Pointy end towards the Braxans, Dan. Good luck. Don't worry Jericho, ye haven't seen the last of ol' Ron.
Ron heads north and attempts to pass between two groups of fully focused and undistracted sentries near the latrine. He avoids any muddy ground.
Commander? These be desperate times indeed. These Braxan dogs will pay.
Pointy end towards the Braxans, Dan. Good luck. Don't worry Jericho, ye haven't seen the last of ol' Ron.
Ron heads north and attempts to pass between two groups of fully focused and undistracted sentries near the latrine. He avoids any muddy ground.