Arun draws his crossbow and then prepares to cast a spell should a humanoid approach the group aggressively. As he draws his crossbow, Sariel bravely moves forward to help the injured fox. His aim is true and he drops one of the predator birds that are harassing the fox. The eccentric magician jogs forward holding his hat. He gets a good view of the scene. The barbarian swings his sword over his shoulder and nonchalantly double moves toward the trees where he saw the figure hiding. As soon as he comes out from behind the bridge tower, an arrow flies out of the tree and hits the large man in the neck, narrowly missing his carotid artery.
One hawk dives toward the human to the west before he is able to react.
The second hawk dives at the injured barbarian.
The first attack misses. The second attack hits the barbarian, but his armor blocks the claws from actually causing any more damage.
The birds are Razorclaw hawks. They have two claws that are very sharp and can be used simultaneously if the are near their prey. They do not usually attack humanoids unless led to.
The fox is special. From your studies, you know that it is a young Hoar Fox. It has special attacks that include cold damage. It has the ability to cast a cone of cold periodically. Unfortunately for the little guy, he is vulnerable to fire damage. They are usually very timid animals and do not attack people unless provoked.
Unsure of what exactly is happening, Khaz makes a double move to C13, drawing his hammer as he does so.
Fergal starts heading toward the injured creature, intent upon helping. As he leaves the treeline he notices a group of what look to be adventurers coming across the bridge, and in his curiosity he is caught off guard as the razorclaw swoops in for an attack.
Gripping his staff, he swings at it, but hasn't fully recovered from the near miss attack and so does not connect. He shifts his position, looking for a better attack angle.
After Fergal moves into a better position, he hears the fox cry out again. Looking in its direction, their eyes meet. The fox's eyes show intelligence. It whines once again...this time pleading for help from the human druid.
Khaz uses the speed of Torag to move into a flank with one of the razorclaws.
The hobgoblin archer moves out of the safety of the trees to get into position to attack Arun.
His arrow soars over Arun's head.
A razorclaw attacks Fergal, using its full attack.
Once again, the claws do not draw blood.
The other razorclaw uses his full attack on Jean-Pierre with no success.
Hobgoblin Archer <<
Razorclaws <<
Arun <
Sariel <
Avogrado <
Jean-Pierre <
Khaz <
Fergal<
Understandably unimpressed with the archer, Jean-Pierre hustles forward to engage him.
While flanking the bird, Khaz swings his hammer.
Sadly the smith was far more used to folding steel than flattening birds.
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"What is hell's name just happened?" With an arrow thudding into the side of the bridge not 5 feet from where he stood, Arun ducks and (swiftly for a larger man) runs to the cover of the bridge towers .
"Communicate, people! How many of them are there? I see one orc by Jean-Pierre - are there more?"
Seeing the hawk swooping and clawing at Khaz, he halts, touching the iron bracer upon his right arm and fires a blinding ray of light at the bird:
Fergal swings with renewed vigor, determined to save the fox. He connects with a meaty crunch, and the razorclaw falls to the ground, dead.
As he rushes towards the fox, he responds to the stranger's question.
"'tisn't mine, nope. S'truth, I came because I heard the little one cryin' out!"
Khaz attempts to hit the razorclaw with his hammer while still in a flank with the barbarian. He swings wide as the tiny animal dodges back and forth, flapping its wings furiously.
Jean-Pierre engages into melee with the hobgoblin. As he does, the razorclaw sees an opportunity to attack one more time. It misses the man once again.
The archer's eyes widen in fear, realizing he had bitten off more than he could chew. His little trap had backfired.
Arun fires a ray, but the commotion of combat causes the ray to miss.
Fergal's staff connects with the razorclaw's head, killing it immediately. The fox watches as the bird of prey that had harassed him falls dead. His tail begins wagging. He tucks it back under his legs as the druid moves up and then lowers his head under Fergal's hand and whimpers. Crouching next to the animal, Fergal can tell that it is injured badly. The crude iron trap is clamped down on its right hind leg.
Hobgoblin Archer <<
Razorclaws <<
Arun <<
Sariel <
Avogrado <
Jean-Pierre <<
Khaz <<
Fergal<<
'Came to help the little one out, so the trap is not his,' Looking from the stranger to The dwarf, swinging wildly at the bird of prey. Sariel drops his sling and draws his sword as he moves forward to help the cleric of Torag. Grasping the sword in two hands he swings it at the razorclaw.
Hearing Arun yell about an orc, Sariel calls back, "Where is the orc? I see the hobgoblin that Jean-Pierre is after and the human helping the fox. Are there more?"
"Hoar Foxes and Razorclaws, Hobgoblins indeed! This trip seem indefinitely predestined as a tale of peril and intrigue"
I propose this hobgoblin is the puppeteer in all this, too coincidental for the mental faculties of Avogadro
Hands on hat Avogadro scuttles forward to peer and peek around the tower to where combat still rages.
Sariel's blade splits the razorclaw in two as Avogadro runs forward to get a better look at the battlefield.
Hobgoblin Archer <<<
Razorclaws <<
Arun <<
Sariel <<
Avogrado <<
Jean-Pierre <<
Khaz <<
Fergal<<
The hobgoblin jumps into the creek, preferring to take his chances with the current over facing the barbarian.
Once the threat has passed, Fergal wastes no time in attempting to free the fox from the trap.
He gently strokes the little one's fur. "I won't be lyin' to you, nope. This might hurt a wee bit, okay?"
Having said this, he hits the trap release and pries it open. Once the creature's leg has been freed, he checks it over.
"Let's see if we can't get you back to dancin' through forest and field, eh?"
He places a hand gently atop the wound and murmurs a quiet prayer to Erastil.
He smiles at the fox and says, "There, that should be helpin' some."
Moving east a little to help Jean-Pierre with the Hobgoblin, Sariel, seeing the threat ended, shakes his head, and returns to the bridge. Smiling and calling out to Arun"Hobgoblin, master Arun, very different, Um, or so I've been told."
Wiping his blade clean and gathers his sling, Sariel joins the man who is gently ministering to the fox. 'He prays to the stag god, truly a wise man.' Sariel waits patiently until the man finished. "Good day kind sir, a pleasure to meet you. I am Sariel. I did not want to interrupt you ministrations to the fox, are you a priest of Erastil? I am a humble soldier in his service.' Sariel reaches out an hand to greet the newcomer and to help him off of the ground.
With a roar of frustration, Jean-Pierre attempts to cleave the hobgoblin in two.
The barbarian's blade slices deep into the hobgoblin's side as he jumps. The damage is enough to disable the goblinoid in mid air. When he exerts energy to swim, he goes unconscious, drowning in the river. His dead, bleeding body floats face down.
The fox licks the druid's hand as he assists him from the trap. The divine magic washes over the fox, healing most of the wounds.
Fergal looks over the fox's leg, and wraps it in a bandage to keep it clean.
Once he's sure that the fox seems to be alright, Fergal looks up at the heavily armed and armored man above him. Seeing the wooden symbol of Old Deadeye, he breaks into a smile and takes the offered hand.
"Fergal is my name. And I'm not a priest of Erastil, just a believer like yourself. I'm a druid. I don't need to pray to the Hunter to receive nature's gifts, I just prefer to when I can."
Looking at the scene around him, he lets out a low whistle. "Glad you and your friends got here when you did. I'd not have liked to try to handle all of this myself, s'truth. Any later, and you'd likely have just found my corpse, which would be far less charming, and talkative, than the living me."
"Ye be one of them nature-men? Forgefather's blessing be on ye, who be of his anvil. This must be divine providence, for we are on a mission into the wilds. We be after rare plants, which be needed to cure many a dyin' innocent. Will ye join us? Yer skills will doubtless be of great value."
"Yep, that I am. You say that you're searchin' for plants to save people from a sickness? Well, then of course I'll do whatever I can to help. I couldn't face myself, or Erastil, if I didn't, for sure. So whatever aid I can offer is yours."
He bends and scoops the fox into his arms, taking care not to put pressure on the wounded leg. "I don't suppose you mind if this little one comes along, too? I'm wantin' to keep an eye on his leg until it's fully healed, sure enough."
'Still, a follower of old dead eye, good man. Sariel nods in agreement, "A pleasure to meet you Fergal, and welcome. Khaz is right, Your skill will be of great value." Nodding toward the fox, "It seems you have a new friend. Excuse me, I would speak with Jean-Pierre."
Watching the corpse float down the stream, Sariel Approaches Jean-Pierre and asks the swordsman, "I am not much of a woodsman, Do you know how can we tell if he was alone or not? Should we check where he was hiding in the woods?"
Seeing the bow laying on the ground. Sariel nods toward it. "That longbow looks like it's in good shape, no reason to let it go to waste." Sariel picks up the bow and offers it to Jean-Pierre, "The shooter was your kill, by rights the bow is yours." Sariel looks around and frowns, "A shame he did not drop the arrows too." Sariel touches his holy symbol, smiling. "Erastil honors the longbow as his weapon of choice, but without the arrows it is just a stick and string."
Not content to let the body get away, Jean-Pierre jumps in after it.
Water cascading off his body, he dumps the corpse back on the shore, and systematically loots it.
When Sariel brings over the bow, he tests its pull.
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Arun watches with awe as Jean-Pierre does his thing, from dispatching the hobwhatsit to diving into the creek to retrieve the carcass. "He's a force of nature of a different sort, that one, " he says with a smile.
Turning to the druid, "Hail and well met, Fergal. My name is Arun Smithson, an itinerant blacksmith, mage and traveller. We'd certainly be glad of your company and guidance in the wilds ahead." Arun shades his eyes and scans the woods the hobgoblin emerged from. "For a start: do you believe such creatures often waylay travellers alone, or are we dealing here with one of a larger band?"
"Anyway, you'll find us an eclectic band to travel with. You say if we'd arrived later, we might have have found your corpse less talkative - well, once you meet our Avogadro, you might yet yearn for that silence yet!"
Fergal grins at Arun. "Well met to you too, Arun. I'm glad to have some company too, eclectic or not, especially if there are more of them hereabouts." he says, nodding towards the body the large swordsman is searching.
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As if on cue Avogadro swoops over, all cape and legs.
"Not a foe at all then? But mayhap a fresh member to our motley band! Welcome indeed my berobed friend and Mr Fox is recovering well I see, all the better, all the better"
Avogadro reaches into his jacket and draws forth a very fake looking raw steak, held gingerly between long fingers. He offers the morsel to the fox whilst the continues to speak.
"But where are my manners! I am called Astounding by all men of sound countenance, Avogadro the Astounding! I am leading these gentlemen on a mission of great import at the behest of the innocent and impotent citizenry of yonder town. We are to earn and indeed demand their up most gratitude, both figurative and palpable in the form of tangible benefit, by becoming foragers. Saviours. Heroes! Will you join us Fergal?"
As his monologue teaches its climactic conclusion Avogadro once more draws his string of gaudy silk handkerchiefs and dabs at the corner of his eye.
Fergal looks at Arun. "I see what you meant."
He smiles at Avogadro and strokes the fox held to his chest. "As I was tellin' your friends, I'm happy to assist however I can. I've no interest in bein' a hero, but you're doin' a worthy thing, and any sort of help I can bring to that, I will. So... are you a mage like Arun, here? Two mages, two swordsmen, and what I'm guessin' is a man of the cloth due to the big hammer and the holy symbol, though I don't recognize that particular symbol. And me. Is this everyone, then?"
Jean-Pierre swims out and retrieves the corpse. He slowly loots the hobgoblin's dead body.
Heal: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
Fergal is able to bandage the leg to a point that Rusco can move at 30' movement speed to keep up with the party for the rest of the day.
The group gets their things together. By best estimation, it is shortly after midday. The rest of the trip to the Lumbar Camp is uneventful. You approach the camp in the late afternoon.
The Lumbar Consortium Camp cuts an ugly scar of stumps into a dense stand of proud darkwood trees. Five sturdy-looking log buildings-seemingly a bunkhouse, meal hall, office, barn, and smithy-stand with numerous wide carts and sleds amid the sawdust-covered clearing.
Several rough looking loggers are move around doing various jobs. None of them pay attention as you come to the outskirts of the camp.
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Gentlemen, I hate to broach the delicate matter of how to divide the loot, but might I suggest we track any spoils against any costs we incur, say for healing or bribes, and divide up the loot on an equitable basis and the end of our time together? If you like, I have paper to hand, and could provide an honest recording of our gains?"
Arun surveys the pile of items looted from the hobwhatsit. Noting that despite JeanPierre's best efforts, the armour appears in good condition, he looks at the barbarian and asks aloud whther anyone wants to claim individual items.
Looking at the clear blue potion, Arun examines it, and licks a fingertip dipped inside to identify it:
Given time, he tries to assess the bvalue of the pyrite semi-precious gemstone
Sariel watches Jean-Pierre test the bow, "It will be a fine addition after the string dries, hopefully our attacker has extra strings just in case."
Returning to the party in time to hear Arun speaking about 'spoils' he gives the wizard a dirty look when uses the term 'bribes' but decides to leave it alone. "Yes, determining in advance how we divide items would be helpful. But remember we are here to help these fine people, not loot and pillage them. We should only profit from those who are legitimately outside of the law." Nodding his head toward the fallen Hobgoblin. "Like that brigand there."
Pointing back down the path he asks "shall we continue?"
Waiving at the loggers, Sariel proceeds to what looks to be the office, opening the door, he introduces himself. "Good day, I am Sariel and we are here to gather herbs that will help cure the fine people of Falcon's Hollow, can you tell us where Milon Rhoddam is Laurel said he was the most experienced woodsman available."
Jean-Pierre shrugs.
"The bow is less effective than this one's sling. This one has no desire to claim it."
He then winces slightly.
"If someone could spare some healing, though, this one would appreciate it," he says, grimacing as he pulls the arrow out of his chest.
spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Sariel enters a filthy office, thickly decorated with taxidermies of fierce forest animals. An old, rough looking man sits behind a messy desk. A wooden, hand-carved name plate on the desk says "Jarlben Trookshavits".
The man doesn't look up from his work. "Who in the hell are you and why in the gods' names are you interrupting me? Ever heard of knocking?!"
"Good day, I am Sariel and we are here to gather herbs that will help cure the fine people of Falcon's Hollow, can you tell us where Milon Rhoddam is Laurel said he was the most experienced woodsman available."
He softens just a bit at Sariel's words and his calm demeanor. "He's at the smithy. Now get out of here before I really get mad!" He goes back to working, ignoring the paladin.
Seeing how injured Suis is, Khaz hurries over. It is fairly obvious that the dwarf had never really seen combat before, as his eyes widened at the sight of the blood. Still, he dutifully went to work. He began by slamming his hammer on the ground, shouting Torag as he did so. A wave of healing swept out, causing all of the minor injuries (such as blisters, rashes and other minor ailments) to instantly heal. Then, holding his hammer, he slowly waved it over the Barbarian, symbolically striking him as if shaping metal on a forge. With each 'blow' the man's wounds healed, until he stood without a hint of wound or blood loss.
"Ach! Good as the day ye were crafted! Forgefather be praised!"
Jean-Pierre nods his appreciation.
"This one does indeed feel renewed, and thanks you."
"Now that's impressive, sure enough. I've some gifts of healin' and the like from nature, but nothin' as fancy as that. "
Fergal surreptitiously looks around, then lowers his voice. "Should you ever meet my mentor, don't tell her I said that. She'd crease me."
Glowing from the compliments, Khaz nods his appreciation. "We each do what we do. I'll never swing a blow like Suis, nor will I ever feel the connection to Torag's anvil like Fergal or ye mentor do. But when we recognize that we all come from the same smith and are made from the same materials, we are indestructible."
'They all seem to be getting along well' Sariel smiles and watches as his new friends begin to get to know each other. 'Khaz has an interesting take on how we each have something to give, of course I would credit Erastil.' Sariels smile widens at some private joke as he follows his friends.
Once they have left the taxidermist in peace, Jean-Pierre offers:
"This one notes that that was well done. This one wishes that he had such skill with words, but notes that he has a tendency to alienate those that he speaks with, instead."
Avogadro holds his 'kerchief of many colours over his mouth as the loot is laid out. But his eyes twinkle at the gem. Firsdt chance he gets his fingers scuttle out like spiders legs and snatch the gem from Arun.
He is so engrossed in his inspection of this treasure that he entirely misses the meeting with Jarlben
The group enters the smithy. A dwarf works, furiously banging away at an anvil. A half-elf sits in a corner smoking a pipe. He is dressed in the garb of a ranger, mixed with camouflaged greens and browns. He looks up as you all approach, awaiting your introduction.
Avogadro holds his 'kerchief of many colours over his mouth as the loot is laid out. But his eyes twinkle at the gem. Firsdt chance he gets his fingers scuttle out like spiders legs and snatch the gem from Arun.
[dice=Appraise]10+9+1
He is so engrossed in his inspection of this treasure that he entirely misses the meeting with Jarlben
Jean-Pierre steps up, and bows formally to the half-elf.
"This one is Jean-Pierre. It has been heard that you are the best at what you do; this one's colleague here," he says, pointing to Sariel, "will expound on what assistance these ones would be requesting."
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Feeling instantly at home in the warm glow of the forge, Arun introduces the party: "Greetings master dwarf. I'm sorry to interrupt your works, but we're seeking a tracker by the name of Rhoddam." Addressing the man sitting by the forge, "Sir, might you be the man we are looking for? We come from Falcon's Hollow, seeking to lift the sickness which afflicts that place, and your advice and guidance is critical to our success. "
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The Dwarf looks up and stops banging while the newcomers speak.
"This one is Jean-Pierre. It has been heard that you are the best at what you do; this one's colleague here," he says, pointing to Sariel, "will expound on what assistance these ones would be requesting."
The Dwarf nods at the large man then turns to Arun as he speaks.
"Greetings master dwarf. I'm sorry to interrupt your works, but we're seeking a tracker by the name of Rhoddam." Addressing the man sitting by the forge, "Sir, might you be the man we are looking for? We come from Falcon's Hollow, seeking to lift the sickness which afflicts that place, and your advice and guidance is critical to our success. "
The ranger sits up at this. "I would be pleased to assist you. I have relatives in the town who are sick. What is your mission and how can I aid you?"
Fergal scoops his new little friend up as they enter the smithy. He listens with interest, stroking Rusco's fur, since he knows the least about the situation.
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Sariel steps forward, nodding to the ranger and then the dwarf. "Greetings master ranger, Master Dwarf" Motioning toward his friends,
"I am Sariel servant of Erastil and my traveling companions, Jean-Pierre and Arun Smithson have begun to explain our dire situation. Mistress Laurel the herbalist in town has had some luck with the disease. She believes she has a recipe for a cure if we find the ingredients."
Sariel pauses for a moment to let the information sink in. "She has asked us to find these ingredients as quickly as possible giving us the locations of where they may be found and your name."
He nods toward the ranger "Master Rhoddam, as the person to ask for directions, so here we are."
Sariel holds up three fingers "The three items areelderwood mold, Ironbloom Mushrooms and a substance known as rat's tail."
Looking for recognition in Rhoddam's face, he continues. "She believes the elderwood mold would be growing on the oldest trees in the vale. The ironbloom Mushrooms would be growing in the north near abandoned dwarf forges and the rat's tail is a complete mystery, but she believes Ulizmila the witch who live in the deep woods may have a clew."
Pausing again so the information can sink in, Sariel continues. "So not only do we need to find our way to three different locations, we need to do it as quickly as possible so we can save as many lives as possible."
Gently smiling at the man, "The greatest aid you could be to us is if you would travel with us guiding us as to where to go the quickest."
Looking down, "If that is not possible, I guess directions or a map would have to suffice."
Rhoddam stands as Sariel speaks, excitement overtaking his face. "Laurel! You good ole girl! I had given up hope!" He leans over and rummages through a bag. He pulls out a map and rolls it out on a table. "OK...gather around." He methodically points from point to point. "Here is the oldest tree. It was once a druid's grove, but she has been dead for years. Here is Ulizmila's hut. We will need to approach carefully. She is a wicked woman. And here..." Points to a mountain range to the north. "...is the old dwarven mines. We could be back in Falcon's Hollow by late tomorrow night if we leave now." He looks up from the map.
Khaz nodded at Sariel's words, glad that she was good with them. He felt out home here, what with one of his kinsmen working the forge. Standing as he was on hallow ground (as indeed all forges were), he kept his peace and enjoyed the moment.