The beach, yesterday
Pietro ... , ready to shoot he gasps in shock at the speed of the thing.
...
The two refugees ran onwards, closing to within mere feet of their would be protectors.
...
Pietro finished fumbling with the quarrel and the crossbow. Too slow. Too slow. Looking up, he laid his cheek along the stock and sighted down the length of the bolt. The lizard's bobbing gait brought its body up and down. At the bottom, the shot was blocked by the refugees.
The shot would have to be well-timed. Pietro concentrated, pushing out of his mind the thought of what would happen if he missed, the thought of what would happen if he hit one of his friends, the thought that he had never fired his father's crossbow at a live target. Lady of Light, guide my hand. He let out his breath and squeezed the trigger.
Perdition take me. I'm too slow. Peter flipped the crossbow over to let the quarrel drop out of the armature, then dropped the crossbow after it. He snatched up his staff and dashed past the refugees, interposing himself between them and the predator.
The beach, Yesterday
Symington's chanting began to increase in speed and volume, and his eyes widened at the sight of the reptile closing so rapidly with the fleeing refugees.
'By Nethys, that thing is fast! And on shifting sand as well! if it had caught us on solid ground,...' The wizard shuddered slightly with the effort of NOT speeding up his rhythmic chanting and losing control of the spell. There was an answering feeling of nervousness from Seraph, now wheeling above him.
After what seemed like a small eternity, Smythe's chanting, gestures, and the now-palpable crackling of energy around him reached a fevered pitch. With a final, grand, gesture he sent a small, black shimmering void surrounded by a blazing halo of light towards the raptor over the heads of the fleeing pair. Those looking at it blinked, thinking perhaps they saw runes formed in the blazing beams of light.
The small bight disc whirled through the air like a spinning sawblade until it reached about halfway between Smythe and the dinosaur, then it suddenly stopped cold, still spinning. In a heartbeat it swelled and grew, the blazing light forming a ring around the dark, shimmering, center until it was almost 5 feet across. The light forming now clearly-visible runes around the edge of the shimmering center. A howl sounded, as if from the end of a very long tunnel, and something burst through the rippling, dark surface, trailing golden motes behind it. It was a great, golden-furred mastiff, fully the size of a not-so-small pony. It hit the ground, its large paws throwing the sand up in great sprays as it leapt forward. Behind it, the circle irised down until it became tiny again, and with a final flash, disappeared.
The great canine charged forward, dodging around Umma and leaping over Ishmael until it came to within a few feet of the dinosaur and slid to a stop, paws out, head down, and hackles raised. Its low, rumbling growl of warning was clearly audible even to those climbing the rocks. It stared at the raptor, all but drawing a line in the sand for the dinosaur, daring it to cross this line,...
OK, so the creature appears right before my next turn. The (current) range of the spell is 30', so the creature appears halfway between Smythe and Lizzy. It's move is to take a standard move (40' speed, so 20' on the sand), which puts it about 10' from the dino. Rather than take a double move, and be in range of teeth with no attack left, it will stand guard here and ready an attack for when Lizzy comes into range. It's vital stats (Copied directly from the PF SRD)are:
AC 13, touch 12, flat-footed 11 (+2 Dex, +1 natural)
hp 13 (2d8+4)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +1
Speed 40 ft.
Melee bite +3 (1d6+3 plus trip)
CMB +3; CMD 15 (19 vs. trip)
Question, where are Umma and Ishmael? Are they to Symington and Pietro yet? Or are they still right in front of the dino?!? I hope Scooby can get between them and Lizzy!
EDIT- If the raptor/Umma & Ish have moved closer, it will move and attack.
NOW for my turn,... ;)
"Keep running! The Foo dog will protect you!" Smythe declares in his aristocratic accent.
"Well, actually it's not a true foo dog, it's merely a common riding hound from the plane of Elysia, far easier to summon, and commonly mistaken for the true Foo by the uneducated,..." He starts to mutter, but is cut off by a screech from Seraph.
"Whot? Right! Things might get, unpleasant, stand by for a rescue Seraph!" Symington declares, plucking a bit of arcane flotsam from one of his jacket pockets,...
The spirit realm
The womans laughter at Milhars question rolled across the night sky. It was a sweet sound, filled with true joy and it brought a lightness to Milhars heart.
"No Milhar, I am not the source, though I worship it as do you. I am Sanaress, last of the 30. I felt your call from across the seas, my white knight. You came in search of me this evenenig but instead found our enemy waiting."
She turned and looked south, where the first of the enemy had fled from Milhars attacks. Her face took on the worries of ages, and a deep sadness filled her eyes. "They will come again. While you are this close to their base of power they wil keep sending acolytes to destroy you when you travel this way. I urge you not to take the spirit path until you are safely in Gergythia."
"As to who they are, we were never reeally sure. They began to surface in our travels some 20 years ago. I was but a girl then, in the care of the monastry at Sto. I was travelling the spirit path and saw one of these things destroy a man in spirit form. I fled to my body, and the next day was summoned by Master Stran, the head of the 30 at that time. We have fough them since, desperately trying to find who and what they are. All I know for certain is they have actively sort and destroyed any person who wields the power of the source for good. And for every such one they kill, their numbers swell."
Finally she gazed back at Milhar, her eyes seeming to focus on the present again. "You must be careful here Milhar. Do not travel this path again until your ship has passed these isles and is heading north again. Your fate burns brightly in the paths I travel. Survive."
With that she urges the young man to return to his body.
Yesterday, the beach
Pietro's bolt sped down the beach, eventually falling harmlessly into the shingle sand some 60 feet beyond the charging beast. His elevated position on teh small rocks at the base of teh point had alowed him to see past the two fleeing humans, yet all to no avail.
The raptor barely noticed as the bolt went buzzing past its head. As well might a wasp or fly have assed it for all it knew. Eyes slitted agains the glare of the sun, nostrils falreing it raced down the sand. Its long sinuous neck stretched out before it as it closed the gap on the fleeing peopl. Great ropes of saliva began to run from its mouth in anticipation of the meal to come.
Just as it looked like the great reptile would close its jaws on the hapless boys neck, something big and golden slammed into its side. The great Mastiff had appeared as if from nowhere and now the predator faced a challenge to its hunting. It skipped sideways, the momentum of its run dragging lit slightly fowards and causing it to stumble a little. With a great screeching hiss, it faced the golden mastiff and lowerd its head, challenging to dog in a fierce display of aggression. Great flushes of colour danced along its head as it flushed blood to muscles there and allowed its chromatophores to open and show teh full battle colours of its kind.
Yesterday, the beach
Pietro dropped the empty crossbow and looked down to snatch up his staff. Looking back up he saw the golden dog intercept the reptile. Where did that come from? Nevermind. Lucky its here. Shouting like he would at a bear or coyote to scare it away, he jumped down the rocks toward the raptor, trying to get between it and its prey.
He raised his staff spearlike, and jabbed at the lizard's head.
Looking up from pulling his bit of mystical flotsam from his pocket, Symington's eyes widen in surprise at seeing the Raptor practically in his lap! Although he doesn't cringe, he does lean away from the hissing display of teeth.
"Two words. Personal Space!" He mutters, standing almost eye to eye for a brief, terrifying moment. The golden mastiff, obviously unimpressed by the lizard's display, leaps at the predator's chest, it's own teeth flashing silver in the bright sun.
As the two creatures clash, Symington takes the opportunity to step away from the flailing teeth and claws, instinctively taking dubious shelter behind his conjured companion.
The mage's eyes flick swiftly from the raptor and canine, to Pietro, to the rocks, where he notes with a small sense of satisfaction that Umma and Ishmael are scrabbling up. He also notes that instead of continuing to flee for safety, some of the small party have stopped at the top of the rock formation, watching the conflict below with wide, terror-filled eyes.
'This thing is just TOO fast.' Smythe thinks grimly. It is all he takes time to think, and his hands are already moving.
Symington smoothly but deliberately pronounces arcane words as he brandishes a small metal object. It looks old and battered, and is shaped like a piece of armor, possibly from a set of scale mail. He flourishes the small plate with a grand gesture and a final crescendo of rhythmic chanting. He is immediately surrounded by a cloud of golden, glowing motes. The cloud swiftly shrinks, coalescing around the mage until it is an almost solid glowing mass. For a moment Symington appears to be clad in a set of glowing scale mail armor. There is a flash, and in a heartbeat the glowing cloud has vanished to become a shimmering field barely visible in the bright sunlight.
"Thank you." Symington murmurs, and kisses the small plate before tucking it back into a pocket with a smooth gesture.
"Now! Desist! Down Lizzy! For you shall not pass!" Smythe declares haughtily. His aristocratic accent and tone making it sound like he is chiding a misbehaving puppy, and not a ravenous man-eater.
In the Realm of Spirits
[i]Thank you Sanaress for your time and I shall follow that advice." Milhar turns away and mentally commands his body to gather up his wayward mind.
Then the celestial warrior uses his own healing magic to try and stem the worst of the leg wound.
Finally the man limps back to camp looking for Algret and the others. He relays to them all that happened.
Cynthia finally finishes getting dressed, sliding into a figure hugging pair of midnight blue leather pants and pulling on a pair of blood red boots, the colour an eerie match for her hair. A shiny black shirt slips effortlessly over her bare skin and Phillipe's eyes almost fall to the floor as he watches. Even in her haste under pressure she exudes sexuality in even something so simple as getting dressed.
She moves to the foot of the bed and opens a chest there, pulling out a finely made shirt of chain links and pulling it on over her shirt. Reaching into the chest once more she removes a small mace and attaches it to a hook on her belt. Lastly, she takes from the chest two strangely shaped scabbards, one small and one large. A tear wells in her eye and makes it's way down her cheek as she caresses the blades and straps the large one over her shoulder to rest across her back and attaches the small one to her belt so that it sits in the small of her back.
Wiping the tear from her face, she turns to Phillipe, her hair flicking through the air with a swish and giving him a mischeivious grin despite their situation. "You can close your mouth now. Oh and you may want to put your eyes back onto your skull as you may just need them today if you want to remain alive." This last sobering thought chases the smile from her face and she strides quickly across the room, pulling a shoulder bag from a cupboard and loading it with all manner of things that might be needed for the journey ahead. Lastly, she grabs a stylish red trenchcoat from a wall peg on her way to the door and slips into it as she puts her hand on the latch and pulls.
Sliding the large blade from it's hiding place beneath her coat, she holds the dull blade in one hand and eases the door open a crack to peer outside. Her gaze instantly goes to the form of Kyle laying still in the grass, blood pooled beneath him. She fights back the tears that threaten to come, knowing that she will nedd to be calm and her vision clear to survive the journey to come.
Seeing the small yard clear, she pulls the hood of her trenchcoat up and motions Phillipe to follow her quietly as she pulls the door open and steps lithely outside. Listening to the screams coming from the direction of the tavern, she shakes her head sadly and beckons for the boy to follow her as she strides quietly towards the jungle behind her cottage. Her long legs carry her swiftly away from the carnage of the village, her only thoughts now about wanting to make for the beach and the probable safety of the water.
Milhar moves around the camp, making contact with the various families, sharing a moment or two with each group to see how they are faring on the beach.
He seeks Algret and her children but does so slowly so that anyone with even the smallest of grievances can bring it up. It has been a few days and a good deal has happened since he last spoke with these people and perhaps most of them are a little more settled. Anywayif the subject of the bugbear or the orc village comes up then Milhar takes the opportunity to explain what has happened without upsetting people. That should help if the orcs ever make an appearance.
A part of her had sensed it coming, but, not wanting to even consider such an unthinkable tragedy, she had pushed it to the very back of her mind. Finally though, the moment had come. Always had Bo-dan known of her heart friend's great desire to fly as the birds in the sky. The moment the injured Gryphon and it's Royal Rider had fallen onto the ship, a small quiet voice in Bo-Dan had warned of this moment
'You shall lose her...' it had said. Now, it seemed, the prophecy was coming true.
As Paera's eyes burned into hers with the intensity of her emotion, Bo-Dan said nothing in return. She knew this moment was not easy for her Vestach; for as hard as it was on Bo-dan for her Love to leave, it was just as difficult for her heart-mate to do the leaving. Yet the love they shared was true, and thus it was also free, therefore never for even a moment did it enter the young monk's mind to try and stop Paera from what she felt she must do.
As their fingers entwine for what may well be the last time, as their lips touch once again in that perfect sweet moment, Bo-dan sends all her love and gratitude through the connection, and feels the same in return. The two allow their very souls to communicate, reveling in one another's light and glory once more, and truly it is an eternal moment of perfection that seems to last forever.
Yet, alas, it cannot, at least not in this time and place. And so the moment ends as the two lovers disconnect. As Paera stands and begins to back away, the two do not say good-bye. Instead, as had always been their custom, they use the greeting they had learned was used by their elvish kin. Too heartbroken for speech, they instead merely mouth the words each knows the other will say. Their eyes strive for one last joining as their lips form the words "Until next."
In her heart of hearts though, Bo-Dan knows there will never come such a time, and as the forlorn cry of a jungle creature wafts morosely through the night, it is only a pale echo of the pain that reverberates in the half-elf's empty chest.
Unnoticted by all, a single tear rolls down the pretty young monk's face. Quivering on the edge of her chin for a brief momment, it finally falls into the fire, evapourating instantly with a puff and silent hiss, never to exist again.
Yesterday, the beach
The great mastiffs jaws clench with a sickening crnch on the reptiles leg. Its iron grip secured, the grat head of the dog twists viciously as it attempts to bring teh animal down to the ground.
No stranger to challenges of its authority, the raptor skips back from the attack, dragging its scaled foot from the dogs mouth in the same movement. A bloody flap of skin dangles from the area where the teeth of the teeth of the mastiff had torn free, and the muzzle of the dog was now sullied by the red gore of blood.
Ignoring the violence of the situation, Symmington casts a defensive spell, encasing himslef within a barrier of pure force. He would be better prepared now if the beast were to attack him.
Pietro snatched up his heavy staff, the crossbow dropping to the sand at his feet as the dinosaur closed on them. Stepping in and yelling wildly he attacked the creature, barely missing it in his haste and wild attempts. The animal had barely seen his attack in time to duck out of the way, and now its head bobbed strangely as it desperately tried to keep both of these new threats in its visual range. The angle of the two attackers made this possible at the moment, but a little furhter apart and the creature would be hard pressed to defend against both of them.
In response to the aggression, the raptor leaps at teh mastiff. It clears a height of nearly 5 feet from a standing spring, its hind legs stretching forwards and the great rending claws of its front toes leading the way.
Both feet come down on the desperately turning dog, rending two bloody lines along its flank and nearly gutting the poor beast. It howls in pain and terror at the attack, its huge jaws snapping back again at the creature, but just missing in its pain.
As Milhar wanders the beach his head swims with a fever and his limbs seem to twitch involuntarily. While he tries to appraoch peopel, they seem to avoid him, almost tripping over themselves as they step away from him.
It is hard for the man to understand, his head aches and a great thirst has come over him. At his feet, teh almost forgotten Sen trots along, occasionally reaching out to touch his leg and try to support the now staggering sorceror.
As he approaches Algrets campsight his vision swims more erratically, and he crashes down on to the sand in a fit of twitching limbs and high fever.
Algret sighs as she witnesses Milhar collpase. She looks back at the two men who helped her carry Vik to his sick bed and nods in teh direction of the greay man. "Twould seem another needs our help this night too."
Cynthia's story
As she approached the edge of the village, the beautiful warlcok realised her view was distorted somewhat. A shimmering haze seemed to hang in a sheet around the entire village, the effect drifting and distortnig with the morning breeze blowing along the main path to teh beach. With a start, she realsied it was webbing, hundreds of square metres of silken webbing spun across the canopy of teh trees and strethced around the clearing of the village. Hundreds of tiny spiders clmbered in and amongst the strands of silk, high above her head.
With a desperate cltch, Philipe grabbed her arm and pointed a little way off to their left. Her eyes followed his hand and she could see the tattered edges of webbing fluttering inwards. It appeared as if someone else had escaped this death trap as well, for they had cut a great hole in the web.
The two of them moved quickly. The sounds of screaming and shouting were getting less and less, as the occupants of the tavern were obviously overcome by the attacking arachnids.
Leading the way, Cynthia ducked through the envelping webs and moved into the damp foliage of the jungles undergrowth. As phillipe mved through, the breeze seemed to die off and the trailing flaps of the severed web fell limply, drifting down onto his back. They clung to him, silk and resinous protein acting like a glue to trap teh boy who suddenly froze in terror.
A movement caught her eye, and she looked back and up. The webbing aobve her hut held the bloated form of the giant spider that had killed Kyle. It had returned to hoist its coccooned meal back into teh webbing for later feeding, but it had paused suddenly. Its leading legs had picked up a support strand of the web and it was slowly teasing it, as if it had suddenly sensed something trapped further along.
Phillipe looked wide eyed at the girl in front of him, his mouth openeing and forming the soundless words "HELP".
"Hey! I like that dog! Down you brute!" Symington says with righteous indignation. He raises his cane and throws it. Actually, it looks more like he tosses it like a sissy city dandy. From the way his wrist flopped, it should land just past his feet. Yet the cane spins through the air as if hurled by a discus thrower, conking the lizard directly on top of the head.
Instead of falling, the cane then flies backwards, directly back to SMythe's waiting hand. He raises his left forefinger in an imperious gesture, then points it at the ground. "DOWN Lizard! Peitro, get behind it lad, you don't want to be in the way of those claws!" He says, taking another cautious step back.
:)
Milhar frowns up at the sky and tries to wipe his brow again.
The whirling raptor's tail swung wide and high to keep it's balance. From the corner of his eye Pietro saw it coming and ducked under it. On the tail's recoil the lad was not so lucky. It caught him in the shoulder and knocked him sideways so that the lizard was between him and the dog. He braced himself and swung the staff in a wild roundhouse .
Other than that, like Vic said, I'm just enjoying All the great writing going on!
Having seen the cane of Symmington strike the great reptile with some success, Pietro moves to the rear of teh creature. His hands grip firmly to the staff, but as he attempts to strike the beast, he stumbles on a loose rock at the last minute. The blow ends up becoming a desperate attempt to keep his balance, using the pole to prop himself up.
The raptor is completely oblivious to teh missed attempt by the young man. Its focus is purely on the great hound that challenged its hunt and caused such a great wound to its leg. The stinging blow to its head had rattled it, yet it seemed unsure as to where the attack had come from. Raring back, it launched its rear claws forwrds again, scything main claws pulled back in a savage arc of power and death.
One of the claws skips off the dogs tuned head, barely causing any trouble at all. The second one however catches the exposed throat of the hound, tearing it open from jaw to shoulder in a bright spray of frothy blood. Even as the gore arcs across the afteroon sky, it seems to shimmer and become motes of light in the air. The dog itself begins to dissolve from the point of the fatal wound outwords, dissipating into small motes of dimminishing light before finally winking out of existance. There is a slight rush of air as the material of teh dog dissipates and its displaced matter is filled by the atmosphere around it.
The great reptile looks around confused for a moment. The disipating animal had knocked it off balance. Its wounded leg stung as more sand entered the torn flesh and more creatures were shouting and attacking it. Its eyes blinked and it hissed a warning, turning in a defensive move to keep its head facing the threats and stepping sidewards in a slight retreat.
Definitely, it's one of the few games where it's as much fun being actave and inactive due to the quality of the story.
Cynthia turns from the boy and takes a few steps towards the waiting jungle, before sighing and shaking her head. She pivots back on the ball of her foot and aims a slice at the strands of webbing holding him captive, attempting to free him quickly and resigning herself to the fact that she is going to have to face the spider.
"At least I'll avenge Kyle," she thinks to herself, a look of hatred coming to her face as she turns from the boy. Telling him to run, she summons a bolt of fire to hand and hurls it at the webbing supporting the bloated beast.
Arcane Bolt (Fire) Ranged Touch Attack:
Damage (Fire):
A brief shadow of sadness crosses Symington's face as he watches the hound return to where it was summoned from. It is swiftly replaced by a look of cold fury.
"I said, I liked that dog." Smythe says softly. There is no venom or anger in his voice, and it is all the more chilling for the lack of emotion.
"I'll teach you, you oversized set of luggage!" He declares while taking another cautious step back, and throws the cane once more, properly this time.
The cane spins through the air, connecting with a solid thunk on the side of the raptor's hard skull. It flips back to return to Smythe's waiting hand.
"Meddle not in the affairs of Wizards, for you are crunchy, and taste good with katsup!" The dandy says with a haughty sniff, the red lining of his black cloak flapping in the sea breeze.
"No, wait, or is that dragons?,..." He mutters.
The follow-through from Pietro's roundhouse carried him back between the raptor and the others. The staff struck the rocks behind him and rebounded. Where did the dog go? In another second the raptor would turn its undivided attention to him or Symmington. Beginning from a low croush, Pietro desperately exploded toward the lizard, stabbing with the end of his staff.
Been busy with school stuff, will update tonight hopefully.
Cheers
Symmington's stff again flies true and strikes the raptor solidly. Its hiss of pain is genuine and deep this time, the blow causing the creature to stagger up the beach a step or two before righting itself again. The reptilian eyes turn unneringly to the metal staff and the man holding it, they narrow in focus and a rumble starts in the chest of the creature.
Then Pietro moves, his hands pushing the heavy staff with lightning speed and great strength. The solid Thwak it makes as it strikes the side of the creature is followed by a scream of pain from the beast.
It's left side now heavily damaged from both the staff blow and the torn leg muscle, the dinosaur determines this hunt ot be too dangerous. With a final hiss of defiance, punctuated by a low whistling noise from obviously damaged lungs, it steps cautiously away from its two attackers. The left leg almost buckles as the pain begins to override its aggerssiveness, but it catches itself at the last moment. With a staggering gait, obviously favouring its left side the creature backs away from the humans on the beach until it feels it is safe enough to turn then begins to lope towards the jungle in defeat. A trail of blood follows its path, coagualting in the shell sand and staining it dark red.
Behind them, a sudden cheer errupts and the small group of refugees comes clambering down the rocks to congratulate the two men, clapping them heratily on the back and in the case of the two who were chased, giving them both tearful hugs.
Cynthia's story
Cynthia's blade parts the webbing with ease, allowing the terrified boy to slump to the muddy ground before desperately scrambling forwards past his saviour.
The beautiful warlock looks up resigenedly as the great spider dashes forwards along the web. The weight of the thing bows the web downwards as it moves, and again a keening noise can be heard coming from the creature as it pushes air rapidly in and out if the spiracles lining its cephalothorax.
Almost before she can react, it is in front of her. For a moment Cynthia can see her face reflected in the glassy orbs of the spiders eyes, then her rage takes over. A bolt of force launches from her hands and strikes a blow to the creature, rocking it on is webbed perch.
In response, its legs bunch and its sinks lower on the webbing. Retractable fangs extend forwards and a clear liquid bubbles ominously of the shiny black chitin of the fangs. As it is about to launch itself forwards, a crossbow bolt coms from behind the girl and strikes it squarely in the abdomen, just above the spinnaretts. A great bellow of rage follows this and Cyntia suddenly finds herself standing beside a large but old Ulfen warrior, a big axe in his hand.
"Get behind me girl!" he yells at her.
The spider leaps....
Cynthia is surprised to see the huge warrior step up beside her, but her surprise is short lived as he orders her to get behind him. Chafing at being ordered around in such a manner, she instead steps into the beast and swings her Curve Blade in a long arc. Unfortunately she miss-timed the creature's jump and her swing misses, passing before the spider's eyes as it completes it's leap.
Attack Giant Spider with Cold Iron Curve Blade:
Milhar naturally returns to being a servant again. As Capt. Venn introduces people, he moves around the tent passing out drinks of water or rum and whatever breakfast is available.
The sorcerer shakes the hand of the pair of adventurers without any fuss, "I am Milhar, and it is good to finally meet you." The handshake is a little limp and the man's face is a study in average and normal, except maybe the eyes are still red around the rims.
Finally done, the celestial warrior takes his seat in one corner out of the way with a long drink of water.
I have drunk four whole glasses of water since the evening and my walk in the spirit realm. So not only do I receive mind wounds that require healing and cause harm to my body but also there is this thirst. Perhaps Sanaress meant for my to use the candles not only to mask my journey but also to stop these deletrious effects on my body..
Yesterday, the Beach (Epilogue)
Symington watches the lizard back away, cautious himself, waiting for the lizard to leap and attack once more. As it dashes across the sand, he raises his steel-headed cane once more,... Then he relaxes ever so slightly. Only Pietro is even close enough to see the change. The iron leaves his gaze and stiffness leaves his posture, though he holds his cane up and ready until the beast actually enters the trees. Then he slowly lowers it and places it's end on the ground, leaning upon it heavily.
"Well, That was exciting!" He says straight-faced as the rest of the group on the rocks erupt into cheers that are partially happiness, and partly fear and stress relief.
"Best to leave it go lad," he adds as he notices Pietro's still ready stance and the rest of the gatherers run back to congratulate them. "We were lucky, my conjured friend managed to get a decent bite on the lizard when it appeared. And if I'm correct, those particular lizards hunt in packs, rather like wolves. We were fortunate that it was alone. If we follow it, it will undoubtedly lead us directly to it's pack mates. We would not fare so well against more I surmise." The dandy recites matter-of-factly.
The tall dandy endures the heartfelt congratulations of the others with obvious discomfort at the physical expressions of gratitude, but smiles warmly and politely demurs that he did anything brave.
"I merely used my magic to summon assistance. Peitro here charged up to deal with the brute face-to-teeth! He deserves all accolades for bravery." Smythe tells the others calmly. He looks back towards the treeline.
"Come along Lionheart. Let us gather the rest of what we have collected so far, and return to the safety of the main camp. If that reptile returns with it's friends, I can't call on another heavenly canine today for assistance!" He tells Pietro softly. Then he turns to his familiar as the great Raven settles onto his shoulder.
"Ah, there you are. Do make yourself useful, and keep an eye out for more of those creatures. And this time, try NOT to fly low enough to make such a tempting snack, won't you?" He declares dryly.
Meanwhile, back at the beach,... Today,...
Symington stands at ease in the Captain's tent as the others enter, casually discussing various things with the Captain and Pietro. The tall, immaculately well (if oddly) dressed dandy seems very self-confident and completely at ease with both peasant and captain, as if he holds himself neither above nor below either of them. He shakes hands as introductions are made. His handshake is firm, but relaxed, reflecting both his self confidence, and the fact that he feels no need to prove himself to others.
"Smythe, Symington Smythe, Arcanist, at your service." He says, nodding politely. His assured manner of speaking and aristocratic accent make it a declaration.
He Speaks little at first, listening politely as others speak. But any watching him observe that his eyes flick over everyone rapidly, and he misses very little in the way of details.
Yesterday, the beach (Post Epilogue)
Pietro tried to cheer as the raptor turned away and limped rapidly back toward the cover of the trees. Instead he gasped for breath. Relief, wonder, and pride swirled in his mind along with questions. Where was the dog? How did Smythe do that trick with his stick? Would it come back?
He tried to compose himself to speak and turned to ask Smythe. But the mage was already talking. Then the shakes hit and his knees buckled. He caught himself with his staff and listened to Smythe go on and on. The questions could wait.
That evening
Pietro and Astallia sat on the beach, lounging back against an upside down launch. The couple held hands and leaned together. Her head lay on his shoulder. The sun was still illuminating the clouds on the horizon. The bright orange clouds contrasted with the deepening purple sky above. They had talked about the day, about their old lives, about what lay ahead. Now they were silent and just watched the sky.
That night
Pietro lay on his bedroll looking up at the sail canvas stretched to form a tent over his family and the others. COntent and proud (his father had even clapped him on the back and said, "WHo'd have guessed you were such a fighter?) his mind drifted again over the fight, the celebratory dinner, walking the beach and talking with Astallia.
He rolled over and was falling asleep when he heard a woman call his name. He raised his head, "WHo's there?"
His father replied, "No one. Go back to sleep."
Again Pietro began drifting into unconsciousness, and again the woman's voice called, "Pietro." He raised his head, "Astallia?"
His father replied. "SHe's with her family. It's just us. Now go to sleep. You're keeping us all up."
"Yes, father." Pietro eased back onto the bedroll. He waited for the voice again.
"Pietro." He stayed quiet. In his silence he heard,[i] "Be worthy. FOr victory. For the heart."
Pietro dropped off to sleep mumbling to himself, " Victory for the heart. Astallia."
Today
Pietro sat quietly in the tent. This morning with the captain and the champions of the ship, he didn't feel bold. He felt small and poorly dressed.
He took Milhar's offered hand. It was like shaking hands with a haddock. "I am very pleased to meet you. It is an honor." To the sorceror's offer of food and drink, "No thank you. I have eaten already."
Cynthia's story
Cynthia's blade scythed close to teh great arachnid, but's leaping from was too quick and the darkened weapon slid over teh top of its falling body.
The big Ulfen didn't miss however, his great axe slicing into the creature unneringly and spraying a gout of ichor aver the blade.
The seemed to writh in teh air and its keening increased in pitch to an almost hissing scream. It was answered almost immediately by three or four more such screams from deeper in the village. The hairs stood up on the necks and arms of all those who heard those screams, a primal instinctive fear coming to the fore.
The axe blow knocked the arachnid sidewards in its leap and it landed in a tangeld mess on teh ground near Cynthia's feet. However, it had flipped and faced the two attckers again almost immediately. The uncanny speed of the thing was disconcerting, as were the cold reflective orbs of its many eyes. It rared back, venom still gelaming from great fangs, ready to attack again.
The twang think of a crossbow being discharged behind her made the warlock flinch, especially when teh quarrel zipped past her body and sailed past teh spider. The bolt caught partially in teh webbing behind the arachnid before tearing through. It's clean flightpath turned into a tumbling spin and it fell clattering onto the shingled roof of one of the village huts.
In the background, the boy Phillipe was scremaing for everyon to run, his voice getting more faint as he took his own advice.
Risking a glance back at the Garundi and giving him a withering stare, Cynthia once more turns her attention back to the wounded Spider, wanting to finish it as quickly as possible before others arrive to help it.
She grips her Curve Blade tightly and brings it down squarely between the beast's eyes, whispering "for you Kyle" as she watches the creature twitch before her, trying desperately to escape from the damage inflicted upon it.
Attack Giant Spider with Cold Iron Curve Blade:
Confirm Critical Hit:
Damage:
It was Vik who heard them first. Well felt them really. The tremors in the ground reached up through the Ulfens body and in an instinctive manner he knew they were coming. Despite the mild fever and ache in his joints he stood abrubtly from teh breakfast table around which everyone was planning the day and moved to the edge of the tent.
"Something is comink" the great warrior stated calmly.
Before long everyone could hear the rumble of massive bodies pushing through the jungle. Strange trumpeting calls echoed through the morning air, and the sounds of trees being pushed aside and other foliage snapping grew louder.
The group spread out from teh camp area, naturally taking up positions in a defensive formation near the front of the barricade. Bo Dan felt empty, as if part of her was missing. It was is if one arm had been cut form her body leaving her defenseless where Paera had stood by her side in the past. Despite the grief, she stood firm with the others.
When the trees parted to reveal the great dinosaurs everyone gasped in wonder. They were huge creatures, standing fully twelve feet tall at the shoulder. Their hind legs were massively muscled, and theywlked with a stoop backed stride that allowed their smaller forelimbs to support them. Great bands of dappled colouring crossed their back in a crude pattern of camoflage. While it might prove to distract a predator when a herd was tight packed, to the humanoids looking at them now, it just exagerated the magestic beauty of the creatures.
A cry came from the lead beast, and everyone looked up to see the frantically waving form of the Hlafling woman who had led the dinosaur expedition days before. She was riding high on teh shoulders of teh biggest creature, a crude rope leader tied around its head and held in her hands. She called again "Where in the nine hells is the Corral you idiots!? How in teh name of Gozreh's great beasts are you expecting to keep these things here until we can slaughter them properly? You lot" she demands, pointing at the group standing with gawping mouths "Come and help us keep teh herd buched. When they smell the camp they're as likely to panck. We need to get them over near the rocks where we can hem them in"
She turns back and calls in halfling to what you now realise are her children. They have been running alongside the small family group of dinosaurs, desperately trying to keep them moving in the same direction. Mostly it appeared as if teh great beasts were ignoring them.
All told there were seven of the great dappled psauropods. Trundling in at the last was a smaller beast. A great armoured shell sat over its low form, spikes of bone sticking out in a circular pattern from this shell. At the end of a long muscular tail, another bony protubance grew into the head of what could only be described as a mace. Strapped to its back was the blanket covered form of a human shape. It was wrapped completely from head to foot and bound by rope in what was clearly a manner for transporting a dead body.
Knowledge nature DC 10 (or knowledge dungeoneering DC12).
Game mechanics stuff
Something in her mood prompting her to take the riskiest position, Bo-dan grabs something she can beat on that will make a noise (a metal shield, wood plate, even two big (hollow preferably) sticks if there's nothing else) and quickly runs towards the back of the back. There, although she has no experience whatsoever with creatures of this type, she understands where the Halfling hunter intends to lead them and the monk does her best to help in this task, making noises to drive the beasts away from any unwanted areas and guide them along the path they need to go. She also uses her significant agility and monk training to help get get into the best positions possible.
Intimidate 1, 2 & 3: , ,
Acrobatics:
If nothing else, the forlorn Half-elf is glad of the activity to help get her mind off the almost overwhelming pain pulsing out from the hole in her chest where her heart used to beat.
A cry came from the lead beast, and everyone looked up to see the frantically waving form of the Hlafling woman who had led the dinosaur expedition days before. She was riding high on teh shoulders of teh biggest creature, a crude rope leader tied around its head and held in her hands.
"Well. There's something that you don't see every day." Symington says dryly. He salutes the Halfling woman by touching his cane to his forehead.
"Well, this could be tricky. They could step on us and not even realize it. Best stay out of the way Seraph, and stand by for a Valkerie Rescue!" The raven on his shoulder turns to look at him directly, and makes the distinct sound of a raspberry. The bird then obediently takes off towards a nearby tree.
Ignoring the bird's comments, Symington closes his eyes. The encounter with the raptor yesterday had given him reason to reconsider his memorized spells, and this morning he had exchanged a couple of the ones that may have been useful around the camp for ones that he hoped would be more useful for dealing with dinos. He cast the first one now. WIth a simple mental effort he triggered the cantrip. There was no visual effects, but he could feel the web of minor magic surrounding him now, giving him the ability to use simple spells and tricks with but a thought.
'It should be more than enough to aid with simple herd beasts. Even large ones.' Smythe thinks to himself as he hangs back a moment, his eyes scanning the entire scene as the others start to dash forward and take positions around the herd.
Milhar takes a moment to look over his equipment and magicks before shrugging. "Dinosaurs like these are not something I am prepared for," he murmurs to no one in particular.
Then the sorcerer gingerly drops down before the leaders and moves around to one side, slowly drawing a winter blanket from his pack. He begins to wave it when he is directly opposite the rocks.
The waves start off gentle and gradually become more vigorous until he reaches that point where he hopes the muttas move away.
Cynthia's story
With a shuddering twitch the great spider callapses on teh ground, skewered by the dark metal blade of the warlcok. It's legs spasm briefly before all movemt ceases.
Deeper in teh village, teh screams of people have almost completely stopped, but teh keening whistle that the arachnids were making seems to be getting louder.
The old Ulfen turns to Cynthia with a grim look on his face. "Time to go girl. We havn't the strength to kill that many."
Not waiting to see if she listens to him or not, he turns and begins to run down the path, reaching out and grabbing the shoulder of teh Gharund who was busily reloading his crossbow. The darkskinned man stumbles around and then also begins to run. Neither men are setting more than a vigorous jog down the trail, unlike Phillipe, who has disapeared ou of sight down the trail.
Cynthia found herself at the back of the group, with a possibly large group of angry giant spiders following up behind her.
Cynthia takes one last look at the Village before turning and running after the two men, wondering where they came from and taking the chance to follow them back to whereever they are going.
Know(plants)
Pietro quickly dashed around the back of the beasts to the edge of the forest. He had seen something yesterday. There! Climbing the bole of a tree was a vine. A vine whose leaves were much favored by the great saurians.
He quickly cut a length of the vine away from the tree with his dagger and wrapped it around the end of his staff, leaving an arm's length trailing free.
Then he hustled back to the dino line. Using the staff for reach he dangled the vine in front of the nose of a straying beast and led it back into line. The trick was to get the vine close enough so the dino could see and smell it and chase it. Then to whip it away fast enough that it didn't know where it went.
Dex checks to play lead the dino (includes +2 farmboy bonus)
Milhar sees that his actions are not a complete failure and so keeps waving the blanket, adding the odd shout of, "yeeahhh!"
Still a little uncertain, he keeps watching to see what the others are trying to do.
He ran around the rear took to the woods to find his foliage. He's going to be on the landward side toward the middle or rear.
Symington's steady gaze sweeps the flurry of activity, both watching with interest the dinosaur's handlers techniques, and looking for where there may be trouble keeping the usually gentle but enormous beasts under control. He idly leans over, and plucks several small objects up off the ground, either acorns, or small rocks or shells. He stands back up and rolls them idly in his hand. Suddenly his attention is drawn towards one side of the dino pack. It looks as if at least one of the animals is tired of playing 'follow the leader', and is thinking of going solo. Almost casually Symington strides that direction, his long legs moving him there with deceptive speed.
Symington takes a deep breath, and bellows in a surprisingly loud voice for one for skinny. "EYE-YAHH!!! He screams, drawing his arm back and throwing his handful of small objects towards the face of the recalcitrant dino. The tiny objects explode, each vanishing with a loud 'POP!' and a puff of colored smoke.
"I-YAH!, I-YAH!" The wizard screams again, scooping up another handful of loose debris from the sand. He looks at his partner.
"What? When one can summon a storm, or tornado, one has to be able to be heard OVER it!, Quite right, Whot?" He says with a grin, tossing his handful of debris and yelling once again as they vanish in a series of rapid 'POP!'s and smoke.
Making sure the children are well clear of the activity, Algret approaches, shaking her head in wonder as she whispers a swift prayer to Torag for insight.
She watches the movement of the herd attempting to anticipate them and see where her help will be needed most.
Sense Motive