Captain Skorma of the guard approaches Brand and tells him quietly, "You're not one of these dreamers. I could use you on the guard. We pay good rates, and you won't end up eaten by the wolf queen in here. Not that I've ever met her. The only man I've met who has met her and lived to tell the tale offered her his services just before she fed him to the wolves and did her every bidding for years until he managed to slip away..."
Gently taking the potion from Tragershen, Aurora goes about a number of (somewhat rudimentary) methods of identifying the liquid within — holding it up to light to determine the coloration; swirling it in its vial to determine viscosity; even opening it up to take a sniff of it before restoppering the vial.
As she works, she distractedly replies to the mage's query, "I should be good to leave in an hour if we're fully supplied."
There's something uplifting about the aromatics in the scent that wafts up to Aurora--she feels lightheaded for a moment, until she realizes that she just feels light in general. She quickly stoppers it back up before all that volatile goodness floats out.
Brand looks up at the captain and listens to his yarn. "A dreamer? Yer right, I'm no dreamer. That said, I am a fool. An' a fool's errand is what we be about. B'sides, I'm rubbish at foll'win' orders. Ye would no want me. Though, if I learn any bits, I'd be 'appy to share with ye, for a touch o' silver in me palm, if ye get me."
He takes a small gulp of ale before continuing. "Now, this wolf queen. She be a right propah lady, or a thin' o fur an' fang? Or, a shifter, p'rhaps? An' the man, 'e still livin' roun' these parts?"
"That guy? He caught the first boat he could find. Took a while, they don't come often. Wolves were howlin' even more than usual in the woods for a while. I had some sleepless nights on the walls with the other guards, but things settled down. According to the guy, well, the wolf queen looks like a normal woman, but she has magical powers. Pulled a giant out of thin air once, stuff like that. Anyway, if you see her, you'll probably die. Remember she's more wolf than human."
Skorma, his scarred face mostly inexpressive, responds to Brand's offer of information for money, "If you come back alive, I'll be glad to hear your tales for the price of a tankard or two. Out here on the frontier we try to share information when we can. Hard enough to keep things going without overcharging for tips."
After returning Tragershen's potion to him and informing him of its properties, Aurora slips back upstairs to gather her belongings and equip herself for the upcoming trek.
When they are leaving the city and out of earshot of others, Tragershen will say "I think we should start with the Demon's Cave. For decades, intrepid adventurers have braved the graveyard entrance and failed. If we have a means to bypass the traps that ward that entrance, we should take advantage of it. We can always circle back and tackle the graveyard if the rumor isn't true."
As you head out of town, you notice Elma Bourse and her mercenaries following you. She awkwardly apologizes for her anger and foul language the night before... "Can we come along with you? I've promised to deliver antiquities to my clients... and my creditors. The men aren't afraid to fight for their pay."
Brans smiles at Skorma. "Pints for tales, sounds like a splendid deal! While pokin' 'bout graveyards is fun an' all, if it's failed many, the Demon's Arse may be best. I am for it."
Turning to Elma with a Smirk. She could be useful, or she could be dangerous. Best to get that clear first. "Ah, a bit more hospitable this mornin', ey? Ye an' yer lads gonna be on yer best? Not gonna try an' roll us for our spoils, are ye? Ye got right cross last night o'er but one blade, makes me a lil concerned..."
Elma smiles at Brand, looking a little more friendly already. "Of course not! We'll come along and help until our fair portion of the spoils matches what I owe my business partners. At that point, we'll return to the Ferry and wait for the next visit of the [i] Laughing Dolphin."
Day One
Day Two
After two days of hard overland travel on ill-defined roads, you're starting to doubt that the forest is actually as dangerous as it's been cracked up to be. You find the Demon's Cave and pitch camp a safe distance from its maw--and it is a maw, as the cave has been hewn out to resemble a demon's face, its open jaws holding the staircase down into the inky depths below...
At about 4 AM, something happens!
"Indeed, you would be welcome."
Tragershen will avoid taking a watch unless there aren't enough people. Then he'd prefer a first watch, just to get rest for spells.
"As they say: The more the merrier, no?"
Brand smiles, "Well then, Elma an' friends. Yer all welcome to join us... as long as ye buy the last roun' o' drinks before we set off!"
People sleeping all night: Tragershen
People taking shifts on watch: Brand, Aurora, Joden, Elma, Sergeant, Merc, Merc
Three shifts: 1 Brand/Aurora, 2 Joden/Merc, 3 Elma/Sergeant/Merc
Brand and Aurora see nothing in the shadows during their third of the night. Neither does Joden, who is probably happy enough that his shiftmate, a scraggly youth with a longspear and a long stare, proves to be a quiet and uncommunicative type.
Everything is calm and quiet until the third shift.
It’s rather difficult for a large pack of anything to sneak up on a wary watch, and Elma’s not here to get killed. She and her men can the woods in perfect silence, occasionally lighting torches, occasionally sitting in the pitch darkness, occasionally moving. If any of you were awake to watch them, you’d be impressed at their confident experience in managing dangerous situations. So when the wolves come—when the Sergeant hefts a torch in the direction of a snapping twig and suddenly sees the twinned balefires of canine retinae gleaming out in the dark—the alarm is given before anyone is mauled to death. But give them time, the wolves!
Is this song about the mercs or the wolves? Let’s see!
As the sergeant points into the darkness and shouts, all hell breaks loose. Elma shrieks out a warning, pulls her crossbow to her shoulder, and shoots into the gloom.
Her shot is wild, but she quickly reloads and steps back towards the campfire.
The first wolf comes sprinting, almost flying, at the mercenary corporal:
The surprised corporal calls out in pain, but keeps his feet.
Back at the fire, the private jumps up nimbly, pulls up his longspear with dazzling speed, and moves into position to impale the wolf that is gnawing on his companion next turn.
Then, an incredibly muscular wolf with an eerie and evil glimmer in its eye rushes the sergeant:
Despite the many wars he's seen, the sergeant is just a hair slower than the worg. He'd have kept his feet if he'd had time to plant himself in a combat stance, but is caught flat-footed and goes down, blood gushing from a wound that slips past his chainmail.
Far from out of the fight, he drops the torch in his shield hand and lashes out at the worg that is now reaching for his throat:
It's not the first time he's had to fight from the floor, and with a swift counter he learned from the fechtbuch of an Andoran fencing master, he deals his opponent an incredible blow.
Another hideously strong beast emerges from the darkness and rushes toward the corporal. She cannily shifts her approach to avoid the menacing longspear of the private who had run up to cover his friend, trading momentum for safety--and to get a better angle with her packmate.
But despite his wounds and the fact that he's currently fending off another hulking animal, the corporal shifts his shield to deflect the worg.
Tragershen wakes up and rises, pulling forth a small flask as he does so.
Thrust awake by the howling of the wolves and the shouts of the guards, Brand leaps up out of his bedroll and grabbing his twin blades, runs up to offer aid to the sergeant who is fighting from his back.
The mercenary corporal, wounded and surrounded, chops at the smaller wolf with his longsword:
Connecting, and driving his blade deep into the fell beast, he takes revenge!
Meanwhile, another wolf emerges from the forest, rushing at...
Brand!
Brand, who deftly dodges the beast.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Surrounded by the cold, hard stone of the cave, the ruddy faced dwarf slaps absently at the faint (and annoyingly persistent) sounds of howling. Shifting his ever present googles down off his eyes, the bold blue eyes of the dwarf dart around in the darkness.
Nope! Dem be frick'n wolves!
Grumbling (silently) while quickly gathering his gear, Bedlam makes his way to the outside. Scanning the distance, he notices the commotion coming from about 100' from his position.
Drinking his Mutagen, the Alchemist actually begins to grow in bulk; his muscles bulging. He takes off toward the wolves, holding his heavy pick up high, howling in challenge to the wolves!
Joden is instantly awoken by the sentry's cry having learned to sleep lightly many moons ago. He shoots to his feet scooping up his new scimitar and well-worn shield.
"Time to see of what you're capable," he mutters to the blade as its strange purple glow is loosed from the darkness of its scabbard enclosure.
He strides forward with purpose, interposing himself between any of the wolves and an injured comrade if possible.
As a stranger rushes to the aid of the party, Joden springs forward and draws The Scimitsar for the first time!
Another wolf lunges out of the darkness, attacking: who?
The wolf moves carefully towards the mercenary private, who lowers his longspear and attempts to skewer it before it reaches him:
...he just misses the beast, who snaps at him:
It misses too!
As the charging dwarfhulk approaches, Joden calls out in Dwarven.
Bedlam continues to howl. The dwarfhulk kicks loose dirt and rocks, as he makes his way down to the camp.
Aurora does not like when the loud noises of combat suddenly awaken her. She yawns even as she pushes herself to her feet, then gropes for her quarterstaff to take it up and begin readying herself to fight! ... soon. Maybe she needs to wake up just a little more first.
Yet another wolf leaps from the darkness, attacking--
s1 c2 p3 Br4 J5 Be6
Joden!
...but it fails miserably.
Elma fires again, careful not to hit a friend, while stepping back away from melee.
This time she tags a wolf with one of her deadly bolts. It drops unconscious.
The private quick-draws his longsword and takes a hack at the wolf that attacked him a moment ago:
He grievously wounds the wolf.
Meanwhile, the first worg sadistically tries to finish off the prone sergeant:
Sarge yells in pain, but fights back:
It's nuts how well he fights from the floor. He's giving out more pain than he's receiving.
The corporal tries to kill the other worg:
...but he misses. The worg returns the favor:
...dragging the corporal to the ground and mauling him badly. He is still conscious, judging by the profanity mixed in with his screaming, but just barely.
Seeing the new dwarf charging at the wolves, Tragershen thinks That kind of reckless initiative needs to be supported! He moves after the stumpy dwarf, casting a spell on him as he goes.
Casting Enlarge Person on Bedlam. It is a one round casting time, so it won't be in effect until next round. Tragershen is trying to keep the dwarf between himself and the wolves.
Impressed by the fight the sergeant is putting up against the worg while on the ground, Brand steps around to the back of the creature, putting them in optimal position.
And lunging in dangerously with his first thrust, Brand skewers the worg through the ribs. But so intently did he lung, that he threw himself off balance and his second swing went wide.
Brand's reckless lunge puts the worg straight out of action. His own wolf follows him, growling and snapping, attempting to get revenge:
But the attempt fails.
Bouncing and bobbling; bullying and brushing by bushes and brambles; befouled and a bit befuddled, the dwarfhulk thunders down the hillside with roaring and cursing challenges!
Joden grunts in approval at the dwarfhulk's response.
"Praise be to Torag!" he bellows as he swiftly swings his scimitar and shield in a combination attack at the closest beast.
Joden smacks the wolf who was fighting the corporal and the private, nearly finishing it off--but the violet violence of the scimitar fails to reach the beast.
The wolf snarls at Joden... but, gathering itself, it tries to finish the prone corporal before dealing with this new menace:
But the young soldier, despite clinging to the ledge just this side of unconsciousness, wiggles out of the way.
Adjusting her grip on her quarterstaff, a rather grouchy Aurora jogs on over to assist Joden with his wolf.
Aurora's swing just misses one of the beasts attacking Joden. It whirls around and snaps at her.
The two manage to fend each other off for now.
Elma pumps another crossbow bolt into the melee, this time aiming for one of the big wolves...
Elma's on a roll. Her bolt takes the target, wounding it slightly.
The private flails his sword at the worg who is mauling the corporal:
But in his panicky haste, only the flat of the blade connects with the beast, doing little.
Sarge stands up and speaks to Brand, "Thanks, and more thanks when the fightin's done! You take the lil' one, I'm gonna save my men." He leaves Brand fighting one of the smaller wolves and runs into the larger combat with the other worg, placing himself so that his friends will have flanking positions for the rest of the fight.
The corporal fights desperately from the ground:
...but he spent his time playing quickdraw instead of studying Sarge's funky old-fashioned groundfighting techniques.
The worg, now surrounded, wants to take at least one victim to the next world...
The corporal's body goes limp as the wolf's jaws shake him from side to side like a chewtoy.
Brand turns to face the remaining wolf as the sergeant runs off.
He manages to get a slight jab in on the beast.
With his long strides, Tragershen manages to keep up with the stumpy dwarf. He finishes his spell just as the dwarf reaches the melee.
Brand's wolf takes another chomp:
The sergeant's decision to save his own men is looking pretty selfish right now, as Brand is dragged to the ground.
Elsewhere, it's Dwarf Time!
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Rumbling and tumbling down into the fray, the dwarfhulk brings his heavy pick down upon the halfling's wolf.
Joden stops to whistle as the newcomer suddenly grows in size and makes wolf paste with his first swing.
"Good thing the new dwarf turned out to hate them more than us," he mutters. He then attempts, unsuccessfully, to add his own contribution to the fight.
Brand struggles against the wolf as its large maw clamps around his hip and drags him to the ground. "Ye cursed fleabag, I'm gunna gut ye in a moment, jus' as soon as i-" The wolf lets out a gurgled short yelp, as suddenly a massive metal spike slams down through the top of its head, shattering bone and brain alike, and tearing free the lower jaw that had been clamped around Brand.
He looks confused at the jaw in his hands, then up at the massive figure standing over him. "A thousand blessings to ye, kind sir. Seems fortune has favored me, by sendin' me a mighty giant... dwarf? That feels a tad bit strange to say, but, tis welcome! I owe ye, master dwarf."
The dwarfhulk offers a hand.
Bedlam Bottomland, at yer service!
The wolf tries to take down Joden...
...but it doesn't work. Waaay too much armor, shield, and beard between him and the dwarf.