Being who anf what he is, preparing for combat usually means lifting his weapon to strike. As it was close and already in his hands. Soon things will become messy
"Time to break things" he says in his hollow metalic voice
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Chetiin flips into a flanking position, preferably flanking the one that ripped the papers from his hands. "chatoor, so rude. So dead." As he moves, daggers appear in his hands.
to avoid AoOs
Arcavic attempts to stab the leader with his drow long knife. He narrowly misses the flatfooted leader. Olyvvar casts grease on the archer's bow.
The archer had held his bow over the edge of the tower to get a good shot at Harika. The grease hits the bow and the archer loses control if it. It falls harmlessly to the ground. He looks down and then back up at Olyvvar. "Curse you wizard!"
Chetiin tumbles to the side of the leader and delivers a deadly strike with his blade.
Initiative:
Arcavic
Olyvvar
Chetiin
Leader (coif)
Soldiers
Harika
Gyro
After cursing for losing his bow, the tower archer turns and disappears from sight. The archer hiding behind the bush fires a shot at Olyvvar. His arrow flies wide.
The leader, in the coif, turns and attacks the goblin. Chetiin's successful sneak attack causes him to wince during the attack and he fails to connect.
The leader's bodyguard steps up and attacks the priestess. He too misses. The dog then moves into position and bites Arcavic violently. Blood gushes from the wound in the Drow's thigh.
The archer around the corner fires a single arrow at Gorch. The arrow deflects off of the creature's armor though.
Harika steps back and begins casting. Negative energy fills the air. The enemy seems overcome with fear and doubt.
Gorch steps infront of Harika to defend her. In an emotionless and raspy voice, he speaks to the leader. "You. No. Attack. Mistress." The leader deftly avoids the attack.
Gyro moves to his now designated enemy and brings his hammer down, hard
Crushing what ever was under it into a pulp
Gyro moves to D12 and brings his large hammer down on the leader's head. He connects viciously and crushes the man's skull. Blood and brain matter sprays all within 10', as the now headless corpse falls to the ground. His bodyguard looks on with sheer terror in his eyes.
Chetiin attempts to tumble 5ft diagonal south to flank with the heavily armored servant of the priestess, then lashes out with two blades.
to avoid AoOs
Olyvvar belts out a triumphant song after the leaders' grisly demise. He keeps his rapier out and watches both the bushes for the archer as well as the tower for that guard to show himself again.
Arcavic steps up to setup flank with Chetiin as he moves once more to bring down his weapon on the guard in front of him.
Arcavic steps up. He and Chetiin attack at the same time. Arcavic's knife slides into the bodyguard's side while Chetiin's daggers slice his throat. The bodyguard falls to the ground.
"ta muut" Chetiin says to Arcavic, glancing around for their next kill.
The archer behind the bush fires another shot at Olyvvar.
The archer around the corner fires a shot at Harika.
The dog bites at Chetiin.
The tower archer is seen running off into the woods.
Gyro moves toward the archer around the corner and swings his hammer from the side this time
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Olyvvar keeps his song going while moving to deal with the archer in the bushes.
Arcavic signals to Chetiin to move toward the archer that Gyro did not go after before moving into a flank position that the goblin could take advantage of (with nimble moves, he can ignore at least some difficult terrain, making it easier for him to get behind the archer). Once in position he waits for the goblin to get in position before striking out.
Arcavic signals to Chetiin to move toward the archer that Gyro did not go after before moving into a flank position
Chetiin steps 5ft and stabs again in the flank.
Harika growls and reaches up to snap off the shaft of the arrow that went through her arm. She points at the offending archer and pulls her crossbow off her back, fitting a bolt to the string as she gives her order. "Kill that one."
Gorch's attack misses, but the dog whelps as Arcavic and Chetiin's blades slice through fur into its flesh. It falls over and gasps for life.
Harika prepares to attack with her crossbow.
The archer behind the bush steps back and fires at Olyvvar. He misses widely. "The Queen will find the b&*%~! Our blood is but a sweet sacrifice to her holiness!"
The man behind the corner sees the large warforged towering over him. He steps back and sends an arrow into Gyro's abdomen.
"The priestess WILL betray you. She is with us!" he gives Harika a wicked grin.
Gyro hears a gear or two crunch a bit as the arrow lodges. He steps forward and swings again
Breaking arm and ribs in the process
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Gyro's hammer destroys the archer.
Arcavic debates trying to catch the fleeing opponent, but decides against it as he moves around and behind the remaining archer to cut off a potential retreat. "Your buddy clearly doesn't have the same view of the sacrifice as you do. Guess he got scared by a simple spell."
Chetiin takes off after the fleeing one.
The archer turns to Arcavic. "He is reporting to the Queen. She will know the b%@!* is with you. We are not afraid to die!" He drops his bow and extends his arms. "Complete my offering!"
He's got a long way to go to reach the Queen if he's heading in that direction.
"Put that way, no." Arcavic knocks the man out, but does not kill him. "I vote we strip him down to his skivvies, tie him to a tree, and let him find his own way home with nothing but the clothes on his back. Let his queen save him if she wishes." After tying the man up, Arcavic turns his attention to tracking the runner.
Gyro will stay with those at the caravan. Its his job after all
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Harika shakes her head. "Just kill him and be done. They're followers of the Blood. He failed his purpose here; there is no enlightenment to be found in such failure." She unloads her crossbow and slings it back into place, making sure the man can hear her. "Your blood will be drunk by the earth and your failure will stain your soul. Know that the next cycle for you will be guided by your incompetence."
She turns to her bodyguard. "Strip the dead of their armor and weapons and pile their gear in the first wagon. Bring me anything they are carrying other than armor or weapons. When you are done, leave the bodies where they lay, to be eaten by scavengers. "
Arcavic follow the man's direction until he reaches a grove. He sees two horses tied to a tree. It appears the archer took a third and is now gone. The hoof prints are fresh.
Arcavic sighs and takes the opportunity away from the rest of the party to let out a nice long string of curse words before gathering the remaining horses and returning to the group. "Looks like we now get to play with fanatics the rest of the trip unless we find a way to switch things up on them to keep them off balance. The chances of getting through unscathed with the current setup sit somewhere around nil. All killing them will do is bring more of them out of the woodwork. We're going to need a diversion of some sort to keep these brainless idiots at least somewhat off our backs long enough that this doesn't devolve into a perpetual headache for the rest of the journey. Any decent gear on the dead we can use to help us deal with these stupid raging morons?" It is very clear that Arcavic thinks very little of his foes as he picks through the gear with a scowl on his face. "And if the fool was right about you, priestess, say so now. I can live with dealing with shifting politics, but backstabbing traitors that hide behind the face of loyalty get no respect from me."
Olyvvar sighs and walks over to the dropped bow. With a thought, the greasy coating evaporates, and he picks it up.
He frowns a bit as he listens to Arcavic, and puts his hand to his chin in thought. He looks at each of the party members and shakes his head.
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Harika frowns at Arcavic. "If you think I am seeking your respect or trust, elf, you are sadly mistaken. You are a hired hand. Do not forget yourself."
"For now, given that the alternative is abandoning the wagons and walking through the woods, I think we will continue on as we are. And if you speak like that to me again, the crows will be eating your eyes on the side of the road like they soon will these incompetents. Keep a civil tongue and I will remain pleasant. Do not, and I will not."
The construct slams his hammer into the ground
"That is enough! I do not care who you are or where you come from. Yes. We are assigned to protect you. Do not make it unpleasent for either of our groups. Lets keep moving."
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Leather Armor x 2
Scail Mail x 2
Shortbows x3
Arrows x 50
Longsword x 2
Scimitar x 2
Daggers x 3
46 gold
Potions CLW x 3
The caravan resumes its trek across Breland. Mountains turn to hills and then into flat lands during the day. By nightfall, the caravan stops for the evening. Jambree circles the wagons off the road and asks you all what the plan is for the night. "By Olladra's luck, we should be able to make it to Wroat by evening tomorrow. We have dealt with brigands before in these woods. How should we set up watch tonight? "
Claudia pulls Olyvvar over to the side.
The young "Priestess" has a worried expression on her face as she pulls Olyvvar aside. "The guards were arguing earlier. Is it safe for me here? And the Priestess...was the guy right? Is she a traitor?"
During the travel, Olyvvar mutters to himself constantly, while eyeing each of the caravan guards. Every so often, he seems to have an idea, but then discounts it before sharing, and his muttering begins anew. A child, perhaps? Not a halfling, certainly. he is overheard while appraising Chetiin. Then while studying Gyro, he frames his fingers and squints at the warforged. Golem -- too easy. Too simple. Armored? Perhaps. A statue? Hmm.
He opens his mouth to answer Jambree about the watches when he is interrupted by Claudia and pulled off to the side.
Traitor? Traitor to whom? She may have conflicting loyalties. One to the church, the other to her family. Not an easy position in which to be. He strokes his chin in thought as he views the rest of the party. I've no answers for you. It seems as though our ruse has been up the very moment we were given it. I believe we need to devise a new deception.
Claudia leans in and hugs the actor. She puts her head on his chest. "Whatever you think. I'm scared. I don't trust them."
"I would say keep the watch we already had. It won't fool everyone, but it will help hold up the story about our guests a bit better than nothing. I would recommend light sleep for everyone though; I doubt our friends wasted much time in gathering reinforcements."
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Olyvvar steps back into the camp and clears his throat. Ladies, gentlemen, droids -- he looks at Gorch -- mysterious, armored, hollow-voiced things, he pauses until all eyes are upon him.
We should decide now how to best approach our appointed task. It appeared from the comments of the guards at the checkpoint that not only did they know about our mission, they seemed quite certain that the one they sought was within our company. Furthermore, with that one fellow having escaped and is now able to convey his description of our appearances to his superiors.
He pauses for dramatic effect, then continues. Pardon my bluntness, but a dark elf, a warforged, and a goblin traveling in a caravan with members of the Church of Vol and <ahem> a renowned actor, is simply too distinctive of a collection of beings. While motley bands of divergent types are fairly commonplace on the roads, this particular array will draw too much attention.
Therefore, unless the decision is to abandon subterfuge and meet everyone with strength of arms, then I suggest we take some radical steps to change the makeup of our group. Does anyone agree? Olyvvar asks.
"What precisely do you have in mind? I'm open to ideas, but we can't leave the caravan looking like it's unguarded without creating additional problems."
The actor paces around a little, inspecting each wagon, deep in thought.
I see two options. One, we try to disguise ourselves as a family of wanderers. Abandon the trappings of the Church; our hunters are aware that we have two of the clergy with us. That will require disguises for Gyro, Chetiin and Arcavic. Oh, and that Gorch fellow.
He sighs at the thought of that task. Or, we try something entirely different. We disguise ourselves as the hunters. We go after their quarry with the same devotion as they have.
Olyvvar looks around, making eye contact with everyone.
"You're forgetting the rest of the caravan. It needs guards in these lands even without any special passengers. The challenge is you, your ward, and the priestess. Gyro, Chetiin, and I are guards; the most effective disguise we can have without hurting the caravan is exactly the position we currently fill. Short of getting more guards from somewhere in the next few hours, that part is unlikely to change. Any changes will have to be with yourself and/or the ladies, whether that be different disguises, false papers, or hiding you three amongst the cargo and making it seem like you met up with additional guards and went cross country. Gorch can pass easily enough as a guard; he wouldn't be much of a challenge to deal with."
Chetiin returns after failing to track the enemy to hear Arcavic's report.
At the insistence to kill the remaining foe, Chetiin does so immediately, as if he had already decided to do so and was merely waiting for the others to arrive at that conclusion.
At the argument between the party members, Chetiin says nothing, going on about his business of readying for departure. Who knows what side the goblin would take, if the party erupted into conflict?
"Enemy has a face now. If we sneak ahead, kill them, no problem."
After a short pause, he adds, "But, if you want disguise, give disguise, chib. I will wear. But no good at disguise myself."
"Sir. I am what is called a Warforged. Forged by the dwarves during their war. Living construct so to speak"
Later
"One can not easily disguise one such as myself. I will be on guard through the night. I do not need sleep or rest. Just inform me of what the plans will be regarding the way forward so i can... adjust accordingly"
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Harika nods at Arcavic. "A caravan is not distinctive in itself. Combining the two approaches could be sufficient. Let Master Olyvar disguise the four of you- an elf, a halfling or gnome, and two armored humans, perhaps- while the three of us hide amongst the cargo."
"Seems like a reasonable enough solution, I suppose. I could dig through the equipment gathered from the dead and pass myself off as a "normal elf" long enough to get to Wroat without too much effort."