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Zandric continues to inspire his companions to press their advantage, moving further up the hill to join the front lines. "With me! Hurry, before they call for aid!"
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Upon hearing the need for cold iron, Bom drops his sword and draws one of his amentum wrapped cold iron javelins as he advances.
"Don't think I've every used these before" Bom remarks to Ulfur as the move together.
Bom launches the javelin at the wounded gnoll.
Ulfur keeps pace with Bom as Bom give the wolf the "down" command to make sure the wolf stays on the defensive.
Nivik's orbs of arcane energy pierce the Gnoll's flesh.
Ghrezzd's creates a pit underneath the Gnoll and she falls in.
She lands prone with a solid thud. Aggravated, bleeding green profusely, she stands up and tries to climb onto the low road.
Without much success.
Glad to be out of the webbing, the other Gnoll loosens an arrow at the men climbing up the hill.
Luckily the arrow glances off of Bom's armor.
Gnolls (G1 25 damage)
Nivik
Zandric
Bom & Ulfur
Rackle
Pierre
Ghrezzd (4 Damage)
Nivik and Bom's combined efforts finally kill one of the Gnolls before she can climb out.
The party hustles uphill to finish off the remaining target. The gnoll laughs as Zandric taunts her and fires an arrow in his general direction.
She drops her longbow and grabs her spear, ready for the up close and personal combat.
Gnoll
Nivik
Zandric
Bom & Ulfur
Rackle
Pierre
Ghrezzd (4 Damage)
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Zandric charges into the fray! "To battle! We've almost won the day!"
The Gnoll decides to jab with her spear and slam her branch-covered arm at Zandric.
The Gnoll thrusts through Zandric's armor as he tries to stabilize his balance.
Gnoll (17 damage)
Nivik
Zandric (9 Damage)
Bom & Ulfur
Rackle
Pierre
Ghrezzd (4 Damage)
Nivik extends his wand, and two orbs of energy slam into the Gnoll, but to no effect.
The Gnoll parries Rackle's swing, but Bom's sword cleaves the Gnoll cleanly in two.
Searching the Gnolls' weapon packs, you find various amounts of loot.
You also notice one of the Gnolls was waiting outside of a cave.
shoes leaving the nearby cave, perhaps a very young human or a halfling
child. There is no corresponding set of footprints entering the cave.
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Rackle sheathes his blades and searches the bodies, offering up the potions to anyone wounded, and dividing up the coin. He investigates the armor, and after ensuring the armor the Gnolls were wearing are clear of any infective material, he holds one suit up. He considers something, then puts it back with the other loot. "Do we go in-in?" he asks the others, looking towards the cave entrance.
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Bom nods to everyone,
"Well fought."
Bom collects his ranged weapons and then examines the area for tracks and whatnot, invoking his shiny new jade wayfinder.
"Wait...hold on. There are some child like footprints leaving the cave. Who is that we are looking for again?"
Bom will take one of the potions as a precautionary measure. Bom will also ask anyone in the group who can cast a scroll of Bless Weapon to hold one of his scrolls so that the it may be cast upon him if needed.
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Bom slaps PIerre Viret on the back and laughs, "The gnolls!".
Then Bom composes himself a bit, "This infection that afflicts the gnolls. I've heard of it. Over time it turns you into a tree. It's possible that there are trees nearby that could be allies. Do any of you arcane types know if there is a way to reverse it?"
Bom then looks at Pierre, "Speaking of arcane, which are you? I'm not familiar with mediators, how do you do what you do...what is it you do exactly?"
Pictographs on the walls of this shallow cave show an indistinct winged
creature navigating through a sea of swirling patterns and black dots.
A clumsily constructed altar sits at the center of the cave. Dozens of
small niches are carved into the wall, most filled with an odd assortment
of items; teeth, scraps of clothing, a jar of white liquid, a wooden staff,
several pieces of parchment, a cloth pouch, a leather satchel, and several
identical wooden dolls of exceptional quality.
madness.
this is an altar of the Outer God Azathoth.
sloppily wiped away. This blood has the same green tint the gnoll had.
Looking at the quarterstaff, you notice a sigil inscribed on it. You also notice 2
scrolls and a pouch containing a potion of oil and several gunslinger bullets.
the staff are obscure symbols of Nethys.
Inside the satchel you find...
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An altar of madness. To the Outer God Azathoth, it seems.
Nivik moves to the quarterstaff. The sigils on the staff are obscure symbols of Nethys.
This first scroll is Mount... maybe you can figure this one out... the vial is for Silence... this is strange to me, but this one is a tracer bullet, and this one is a lesser burrowing bullet.
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After the battle, Zandric casts cure light wounds on himself to close his wounds.
Inside the cave, he inspects the altar.
"Strange! This altar seems to be dedicated to... madness. That's all I can really tell about it, though."
He casts read magic to identify the scrolls. "This one summons a mount to your side, and this one allows you to speak with plants."
"This oil creates an area of silence. I don't know about these bullets, though."
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"A gunslinger? Not the kind of foe I'm eager to face, but one does not always choose one's enemies in battle, or so I'm told. The oil of Silence could both useful and unhelpful..." Bom looks at Zandric to gauge the Skald's reaction to such magic.
"What I really want to know is whose cave is this? I think the answer is in those footprints we saw and I'll bet they will be returning at some point. Perhaps we can use the scroll of speak with plants to gain some answers. I fear our missing Pathfinder may be a tree and this scroll will be our only way to speak."
Bom spends the down time resharpening this weapons with his whetstone.
After investigating the cave, the party continues down the path.
The town of Mercy rests a mile south of the banks of the Ustradi River. A
wooden palisade encircles a collection of its approximately one hundred
wooden buildings. Hardy trees laden with red and yellow fruit dot the
surrounding landscape. The road leads to a wide gate, which bears
a prominent sign with orange-painted letters.
Mercy does not allow dishonesty, firearms, or large weapons within town
limits. Respect the curfew.
You arrive one hour before sunset, passing through fields of cashew trees.
As you approach the town, a male human opens the gate. He seems to be the only
armed person you see, and gives you a polite nod as you approach.
"Welcome to Mercy. I’m Sheriff Molume, and I keep the peace around here.
As you can see from the sign, we don’t allow people to walk around with large
weapons around here. Before I let you inside, I need to ask you to hand them
over."
"Wow. Usually outsiders start protesting that they need to defend themselves. I'll make sure the folk here know you can act civilized."
He nods and thanks you for your compliance. As you enter the town, he goes
over the curfew.
"We pray and attend temple twice daily, once at sunrise and once just after
sundown. We ask that you stay inside the guesthouse from 1 hour before sunset
until 1 hour after sunrise. That gives you 10 hours each day to wander around.
When you hear the triple bell you can leave the guesthouse, and when the
triple bells ring again, return to the guesthouse and draw the curtains.
Curfew begins shortly."
"This way to the guesthouse." You pass by many adults, wearing yellow-orange scarves and belts. Many give the
party a suspicious eye as they pass.
Sheriff Molume leads the party to the guesthouse, a large building at the edge
of town that the people of Mercy leave open for visitors.
"We have no other visitors coming, so it's all yours." He lets you into
the main room. "See this box at the front door, with the orange flag?
That's the message box. Three times a day, there will be food inside. If it's
after curfew and you need assistance, just raise the flag."
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During the journey, Pierre chats with Bom a little.
"Oh. I serve no arcane purpose. It is a holy one, though. I'm a servant of the glorious Iomedae. She gives me some strength and a little of the might that shines upon her entity!" he says with a calm smile. He shows the little book he wears as a necklace that is actually quite old, even if the outside is circled with silver and gold.
"The mean to contact her, beside prayer, is with the study of Aroden's word. That's why I always carry this Arodenite Institution with me, but... Enough talk about me. This is not why I joined the society. I joined to help the society settle missions... differently. What about you, though? Are you a trained gnoll killer?"
_____________________________________
The skinny cleric of Iomedae grins and bows deeply. He looks straight in the eyes of the sheriff, searching to test him, weighting each word he says.
"That's a worthy deed! Prayer is always met with answer. Not always the one we expect but there is an answer. May I humbly ask to visit the place? Also, we are looking for an Osiriani woman from Mercy named Amenira that came to Alkenstar every month. Ever heard of such a creature?"
As Pierre speaks, Iomedae's might shines upon him and he glows with a peaceful aura of good.
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An hour earlier....
Bom continues the conversation with Pierre,
As for me, I have turned to the teachings of Gorum, not too long ago. I admire Gorum for his love of battle. My faith has given me some tranquility, as odd as that sounds. In my line of work, fear can grip a man and render him useless. At heart I'd rather talk it over than beat someone's head in."
Bom points to the circlet on his head that confers a sense of nobility to the Ranger.
"...Yet, some creatures don't talk, they just kill. So when I think of battle as the destination and not the journey, then there is a feeling of coming home when I draw my sword..."
Bom trails off for a minute as if lost in thought. Then slapping his shield, with a smile,
"I am still getting used to this spiked monster. I'd prefer something a little lighter which doesn't get caught on every vine and low hanging branch. Always worried I'll poke someone's eye out when I'm walking through the streets. "
Sheriff Molume has seen all sorts of outsiders come to his village. Bloodthirsty barbarians, conniving con artists, and smug magicians all try to swindle and corrupt the law in Mercy. And another group, fresh off of some kind of fight, carrying heavy weapons, just arrived at his footstep. He couldn't wait for them to stop asking questions and be on their way.
But Pierre's words disarm him. Maybe it's his age, maybe his smile, maybe it's the concern in his voice. But maybe he could trust this group.
"Amenira..." he stammers. "She usually visits Alkenstar monthly, to send letters to her family. But, I haven't seen her in 2 months. I ashamed to admit, I thought she had grown tired of our hospitality and simply left without saying goodbye." He sits down. "Her house is on the west side of town. It has an orange roof. You can't miss it."
The Sheriff seems lost in thought for a minute, like the words simply flowed from him and he couldn't understand why. He hears Nivik's question first.
"What? Oh. Right. There's a plant around here. It looks like an onion. If you crush it and add some water it makes an orange dye. It's very strong at first, but with enough washings it's easy enough to wear. It's easy enough to make, so people wear orange and yellow clothing out of it."
"The-the curfew." The Sheriff shakes his head when Zandric asks him about it. "The people of Mercy value their privacy. There are some ceremonies that take place at night time, but outsiders aren't allowed to participate."
Sheriff Molume is telling the truth, but he's omitting details.
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"And why don't the people here like-like outsiders?" the Tengu asks, then shuts his beak and lets the smooth-tongued Cleric talk instead from now on, a little awed by the man's words and demeanour.
Rackle perks up, and his beady black eyes seem to see much, when the sheriff speaks. He leans over to Pierre and whispers, "He's not telling us everything."