Eldon lets out a merry laugh as Delgros asks him where they're from. "I've been to so many places in my life that I could claim I'm from everywhere! It is for that very reason that my name, Eldon Appleton, is known throughout all of Golarion!"
"That reminds me, these boars are much like the ones I fought in the Mwangi expanse. Though those were ever larger and more ferocious, and I was the only one fighting them..."
As Eldon starts telling about the epic battle between him and three huge and extremely ferocious boars, he draws his rapier and moves up to the nearest boar.
Although he misses his first attack, Arval smacks the boar with a backhand. The creature back off, a little, more hesitant than it once was. Wren then follows up with a series of magic missiles while Duristan perks up as Eldon begins babbling.
"That's the most fascinating story I've ever heard!"
However, he is so distracted his arrow slams instead into Arval's back, breaking agianst the warrior's armour. He mutters an apology and this time fires successfully at the southernmost boar.
The boar, having been shot, stabbed, cooked, and blasted, still fights on! Howeve,r blood pours from it at an alarming rate. It is clear its days are numbered.
Whiskeyjack then stomps in, swinging his hammer. That blow connects, crushing the face of the boar. However, the dire boar keeps fighting on despite one eyeball hanging out and what looks like some brain matter visible.
Reluctantly coming up behind you, the six scruffy hirelings look over the boars with obvious fear, and start firing long bows at the nearly dead bow. The arrows finally penetrate, and the boar collapses dead.
The two remaining boars move in but miss once more as they attack ARval and Whiskeyjack.
INspire Courage Active
Whiskeyjack
Duristan
Arval
Lena
Wren
Hirelings
---
Sqr Boar (24 dmg)
Pln Boar (24 dmg)
Round 3, Init 28
"Oh, I've wanted to shoot Arval in the back too, but there is usually something uglier next to him that warrants it more," Wren chides Duristan, and tries to help him again.
DURISTAN!!:
HP: 43/43
AC: 17 (3 dex, 4 mage armor)
Arcane Bond: 0/1 used
Open spell slots: none
Left Hand: wand of magic missile
Right Hand: { }
Sage Advice: (3/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 49 charges left
"I hope you did not make another dent in my armor! If so I'll make you dent it out!"
Arval calls back at Duristan as he gets shot in the back. He immediately launches in another set of attacks on the northern swine. He chops away good chunks of meat from the animal and grins.
"This will be a lovely dinner!"
Eldon double moves to stand besides Duristan, who's obviously very interested in what Eldon has to say.
"...and then I attacked the, like this! And this!"
Eldon shows Duristan some flashy moves, poking the air in front of him.
"I daresay the boars never saw it coming! Which isn't surprising, given my aptitude for being incredibly fast, agile, and much more. As I continued my relentless assault, I..."
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Whiskeyjack began bellowing some kind of mercenary ditty to drown out Eldon's chatter, laying into the boars with shield and hammer. Unable to control his wild swing, he overbalanced and nearly tripped, all the while singing "I like t' go swimmnin' wit' bowlegged women an' swim between their legs..." at the top of his voice.
Hearing a very familiar tune Arval joins Whiskey in his singing.
"If you know any ladies that want to have babies, then send them down to me..."
He grins at Whiskey, urging him to continue and drown out Eldon.
Kawrock continues to chat up the huntsman. "I'm actually from Tien Xia, a country across the sea. I came to Ustalav as a promise to an old friend." The tengu says with a nod. "How long have you been here at the lodge?"
Arval swings twice, one of his blows slashing the enormous boar across the snout, although he fails to intimidate it. Lena blasts the southernmost boar with magic missile, the enormous super-pig squealing in pain and rage. Whiskeyjack's hammer bounces off of its tough hide. Eldon scampers away from Kawrock and Delgros, babbling incessantly.
Duristan looks over to Eldon excitedly.
"Just like that? Well, I don't have a sword, but let's give it a go!"
Duristan takes a step to the left, a step to the right, and then mimicking Eldon, fires.
His arrow thwaps into the boar and he beams at Eldon.
"Jolly good! You lot behind me, FIRE!"
Several arrows fly true, slamming into the northern boar. It collapses under the rain of arrows, twitching once before lying still.
The final boar, still in a rage, attacks Whiskeyjack, but the doughty dwarf blocks the gore without too much issue.
----
Delgros blinks as he sees Eldon scamper off, yammering at Duristan.
"Does he ever shut up? Also, that bird woman... man... elf? With the weird feathers. You keep strange company in a dangerous land, Kawrock. But you lot seem capable enough. As for me, I've been here five years I reckon. Good gig, pays well, and I can spend most of my time out here without stepping foot in the lodge and all their politics."
Inspire Courage Active
Whiskeyjack
Duristan
Arval
Lena
Wren
Hirelings
---
Pln Boar (24 dmg)
Round 4, Init 28
"Oh, you're very good at this, aren't you, Dearie?" Wren says, following Duristan into battle and hiding behind him.
Duristan!!:
HP: 43/43
AC: 17 (3 dex, 4 mage armor)
Arcane Bond: 0/1 used
Open spell slots: none
Left Hand: wand of magic missile
Right Hand: { }
Sage Advice: (4/8 used).
:
Wand of Acid Arrow: 2 charges left
Wand of Magic Missile 49 charges left
As he continues the swings and thrusts with his sword he keeps up the song.
"For this is the day we give away babies with half a pound of cheese..."
"Yes, very well done Duristan! Though your footwork would be even better if you did it even more like me. Like so..."
Eldon steps forward and demonstrates what he believes to be the most perfect 5-foot step ever, after which he pokes at the boar with his rapier.
"You see?"
Whiskeyjack sets back, seeing Arval going at the boar with all alacrity, and Eldon doing what Eldon does best - talk about Eldon. He strolled back towards Kawrock and Delgros.
Eldon? Th' lad loves t' hear th' sound o' 'is own voice so much, tha' he rarely allows the air around him t' be free o' it. Ye should hear when he an' Wren really ge' t' goin'. Th' two o' them sound like a market day all by themselves."
"Yes and the words that come out of the avian elf lead me to believe she is some sort of Calistrian priestess." Kawrock adds to Whiskeyjack's comments. "So have you noticed any changes in the woods lately? Like animals behaving differently or becoming harder to find?" He asks the woodsman.
Duristan smiles over at Wren. "I can! Can't I?"
Arval then slashes the boar in front of him twice, viciously, and the big piggy keep son trucking. Seeing that Arval has the fight well in hand, Whiskeyjack cleans the bits of brain off of his hammer and saunters back to Delgros and Kawrock. Delgros drops him a nod and offers up a flask.
Back at the fight, Arval leaps onto the boar's snout and turns over, riding its neck. He dithces his shield, grabs his sword in a reverse-grip, and plunges it into the boar's neck! The boar squeals, thrashing about. It looks about ready to roll over on Arval, but Eldon, brave Eldon, scampers in and pokes it in the snout.
The boar pauses, more confused by the attack than anything, and its rage gives out. With a thunderous crash the boar collapses to the ground. Arval skates down its back, and lands neatly in front of the group.
End of Combat
"OH BRAVO! BRAVO!" exclaims Duristan, dropping his bow to applaud. The men-at-arms behind him look confused and follow suit, awkwardly clapping for the group. He is, however, right back to business. He shoulders his bow and slips on some calfskin gloves before stepping over to the boar.
"Now then... this was obviously killed by... by Pharasma there's a lot of blood..."
There are two types of wounds on the carcass, tooth marks, and tusk slashes of the boars. There are also bites and lacerations that presumably caused the stag's death.
Whiskeyjack moved back over to the boars, and the victim that they had dragged away. Kneeling down, he checked the body over for signs of what had killed it. "Aye, things wha' ge' eviscerated tens t' be a mite bi' messy. Ye should be seein' Arval when th' lad seriously gets 'id rescuin' boots on. 'E comes ou' red from head t' toe."
"See 'ere? This be th' boars. They didnae kill i' though. Here be th' real cause o' death, this stroke on th' back o' the neck. Ain't a boar did tha' one. This, coupled wit' th' paw print means somethin' big an' nasty be prowlin' around here."
Wren pulls out a feather, utters some words of arcana power, and begins to feather brush clean herself and Duristan. "Hold still now, Dearie, I think you have some of Arval's blood on you, or is it pig's blood? So hard to tell...this will be done in a moment..."
Wren looks over herself, then Duristan, to make sure traces of dirt and blood are gone. She stows the feather into her 'armor' and looks quite pleased with herself.
She stands and waits for others to look for tracks and prepare the boars for return to the Manor for the grand feast.
"This will be a nice feast in my honor tonight, Duristan. You've done so much for me today," Wren coos appreciatively.
Duristan looks up, a gleam in his eyes.
"We can't go anywhere! Don't you see? The clearest sign of werewolves! The tracks, the slaughter of the stag... it all fits. Men, no comfy Lodge for us, we're waiting out the night for some werewolves!"
He looks at all of you.
"You lot! You have to camp out with me. Together we will be unstoppable, think of the hunt!"
Duristan grins wildly. The hirelings all groan miserably, one throwing down her bow in disgust. Delgros stows his flask, stomping through the brush and obviously irate.
"Oh come on! I in no way agreed to a full hunt, I just said I'd show you the damn stag. Here it is. This is a fool's errand I'll have no part of it. You're on your own."
Duristan doesn't make any effort to argue with Delgros, and instead looks to the rest of you.
"You have a choice then, friends. I need your stories, your owlish advice, your martial prowress, incredible magic, and everything else you bring! Come on and let's have an adventure!"
"If you wish me here for owlish advice then believe me when I say the tracks do not match a werewolf." Kawrock says.
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"Well you're not the first to express the need of my stories, advice, martial prowess, and incredible magic," Eldon comments, clearly flattered by all the compliments he just received.
"I'm always up for adventure, with or without werewolves, but I can only come with you if my assistants also wish to join you. They need my expert guidance, and even I cannot provide it to them if I'm not with them."
Eldon sighs, deeply troubled by the dilemma. "It is perhaps my only shortcoming; I cannot be with everyone who desires my presence."
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Kawrock momentarily contemplates setting Eldon on fire.
Arval leans into Kawrock just as he finishes his song.
"Not much choice is there now?"
He whispers to his feathery friend.
Wren politely tries to convince the man otherwise.
"Should we not return back with the magnificent feast we have already won so that others might see your skill? And we might have a rest and a bath? We have been on the road for a long time. Tomorrow, we can hunt again."
|
Lena stares at the insane fool of a noble man.
you're a, a... she pauses, remembering that nobles don't like being called idiots, um, brave for your idea, but a leader would think of his, um, men. The trail will still be here tomorrow, and we'll be well rested. She whispers to the others back me up guys. I don't want to spend a night in the wild when there is a comfortable bed waiting.
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With the group arguing and/or pleading, Delgros simply wanders off, leaving you with Duristan. He slaps his hands together and starts barking orders to the hirelings.
Several crates are produced, and they pair off, producing enormous silver traps and hunks of raw meat. Two pairs move off from the chosen camp-site while the remaining pair sets up camp, and procures meat from the dead dire boars for dinner.
Duristan reaches into his own pack, and pulls out a crystal decanter of brandy.
"Put your feet up, these men and women are paid for this. Our task lies in the wait, and the brandy. This, my good friends, is Black Pearl Aduard III, and is dare I say the best Ustalavian brandy I could find and those Caliphvasos know their spirits! I'd be honoured to share it with you for a tale."
He holds up the bottle, looking at each of you entreatingly. Comfortable chairs are laid out for you by a roaring fire while the pork crackles enticingly over it on a spit operated by the two annoyed hirelings.
Arval, not caring either way, pins his shield in the ground and lies back on a very comfy looking chair. He accepts a good swallow of brandy, and thinks to himself but nothing special comes to mind to spin a tale about.
"Not much to tell to be honest."
He says to the man whilst waiting for a good chunk of meat.
"Began as a farmer. Worked as a blacksmith for a while and then ended up on this weird adventure."
"Never turned down a drink an' th' chance t' swap stories. An' stories I be havin' ne'er doubt!" Whiskeyjack moved in to take a draft of the offered bottle.
"This be th' good stuff i' be. Arval, lad, ye be wantin' t' try this. Reminds me o' tha' time in th' Blue Dragoons when Rayden Vansk - 'e be th' Captain a' th' time, afore 'e lost 'is foot t' tha' sand weevil - liberated a whole cask o' Thuvian Red Fire Whiskey from th' group o' raiders we were se' ou' t' hunt down. Th' manifest we were given by th' merchant's guild didnae have any Thuvian Red listed, so's Rayden shared i' ou' among th' Dragoons as a reward. Grea' day tha'. Hoyden go' so piss-blind drunk 'e fell on th' fire an' only lived because fifteen o' 'is mates pissed on 'im t' pu' i' out."
Whiskeyjack guffawed and went for another drink. He loved telling stories from his old mercenary days, at least as long as the drink held out.
"I'll be on watch." Kawrock says as he slips into the trees.
Eldon sits himself down near the campfire and starts a story of his own once Whiskeyjack's finished his.
"I was a mercenary once. The best for hire, I shall add. I remember one day in the Red Dragoons..."
He continues to tell his story, which is much like Whiskey's story but centered on Eldon himself. By the time the story includes booze, Eldon's deformed it so much that it's taking place in a sky castle filled with dragon riding drow warriors.
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Wren squawks around, trying to get herself comfortable in the camp. She doesn't help in the cooking, but does watch and give advice for things that people are already doing.
She *does* eagerly partake of the brandy. She doesn't drink that often and, for some reason, this seems like a good time for it. The alcohol unlocks her already loose lips even further.
"Did I ever tell you all about the time I went into this strange troll guarded castle with a bunch of hooligans?! I don't suppose I did...blahblahblah...troll dogs guarded...blahblahblah...a halfling with a big mouth...blahblahblah...wouldn't stop pooping words...blahblahblah...and a black bird thing who thought he was a big red chicken...blahblahblah...very bad bridges, should have made of fudge...blahblahblah...this dwarf with a terrible accent, couldn't understand a word he was saying unless you imagined him swimming in jello...blahblahblah...sexually attracted to me, of course...blahblahblah...another halfling, cute thing but was besotted with the human...blahblahblah..."
Wren and Eldon find one of the most precious things in the world: an audience. Duristan eats every word up, and as the brandy - which is truly excellent - gets lower, he occasionally interjects with exclamations of "I say!" and "So what happened next?". He is particularly drawn to Whiskeyjack's story, horrified and delighted at the same time.
"Hahhahahah - pissed on him to put him... oh my. Well my tales of heroism are much nearer the present. I came here for the lure of adventure, and to date I have killed three werewolves. I reckon I have a gift for the business."
As if to punctuate his accomplishments, he pulls down his tunic to reveal a strange scar on his shoulder.
"This was given to me by a local witch - a scar ward! It grants immunity to lycanthropy. I can put in a good word for you once we get bafck to the lodge. No sense in werewolf-hunting without a scar wa---"
Duristan's voice dies out as a short, horrid snarl pierces the night, followed by a smothered man's scream.
Kawrock, who has been on alert the entire time identifies the sound as emanating from the southwest, which is where one of the hirelings went.
|
|
Lena settled down, somewhat sulky spending another night in the wild. Well, she fad to admit the chair was comfortable, the food nice and wine tasted good.She snoozed, lulled by the mindless drone of eldon's and wren's voices saying very little in a very long way.
When the snarl and scream happened, she woke with a start.
Recasting mage armour as she did.
Wren is slow to react to the scream, the alcohol going right to her birdy head. Thankfully, her frail body doesn't let her sick the alcohol back up.
Taking to her feet, she follows behind Duristan as people go to the sound of the screams and trouble.
Kawrock hops down from the tree and heads toward the screaming. "This way!" he calls out to the others.
Arval, snoozing away in the comfy chair, sits right up when hearing the scream. He grabs his shield and starts following Kawrock's direction. Whilst moving he pulls out his sword.
Whiskeyjack was well in his cups when the scream sounded, and to be honest, at first he thought it was someone's rightful reaction to the combined mouth farts of Eldon and Wren. As the others began grabbing weapons, though, he heaved himself up and took up his shield and hammer.
"Where be th' danger, eh? Bird-...Kawrock, ken ye be sheein' anythin'?
Firebeard's normally thick dwarven accent is now slurred and even less intelligible.
The group woozily get to their feet, making their way towards the sound of the scream.
The six of you approach the path, and see the body of one of the hirelings - you think her name was Yohin - on the ground. Standing over her, is an enormous, grey-furred werewolf with bloody jaws. She holds the body of the second hireling, who presumably gave the scream, and drops the body.
"Stop! No further. I demand to know why you have entered Vollensag territory!"
Her voice is a low growl. She towers over everyone in the party and Duristan become silent as a mouse. He is clearly terrified.
Arval lowers his sword as to not anger the werewolf.
"This noble, or whatever he is..."
Urbar says as he points at the terrified man.
"Wanted to track the carcass that was lying here before. We killed the swine that killed it and he wanted to stay the night around the campfire. We still have some meat if you are hungry?"
Arval says to the werewolf, not fazed by the two bodies. Having had only one glass of drink he seems more clear headed than the others.
"Yes, what my assistant just said."
Eldon takes a careful step forward. "Fact is we just arrived in this area yesterday, and had no idea this is Vollensag's territory. If sharing in our food makes up for this unfortunate misunderstanding, we'd indeed like to offer you what we have left. I hope you don't mind if we wait for the sun to return before we make out way back to where we found the noble? Most of us can't see very well in the dark."
Wren waits as well, but is ready to launch into a long rambling speech if needed.
The werewolf throws the body aside, staring at you all, full of menace.
"Your false explanations are meaningless! Go tell whomever sent you to stay out of wolf affairs! Let him know that his dealings with Mathus Mordinracht and the Silverhide pack do not sit well with the other tribes of this wood. There shall be much blood spilled between our kin before a Silverhide packlord sits upon the Highthrone. Mathus the betrayer shall never claim the title, and should you and yours continue to support him, the wrath of the wolf packs shall full upon him! Now leave our territory and return to your cozy wooden den, or share the fate of these poor. Little. Sheep."
She stands steadfast, not moving and challenging all of you with a glare.
Duristan tips his hat and makes to get the hell out of there.
"W-well... let's be off, shall we? I think we've had our excitement for one day!"
"What? WHAT?! WHAT!?!" Wren cackles, trying to process the insane ramblings of the werewolf.
Know (History/Local) - Mathus Mordinracht
Know (History/Local) - Silverhide Pack
Know (History/Local) - Highthrone
Eldon stares blankly at the werewolf. He turns his head to his allies, then back to the beast.
"Uhm... Can we take their bodies with us, so we can bury them...?"
Whiskeyjack couldn't believe what his companions - no, his friends - were saying. Were they truly going to just wave their hands and dismiss the fact that a werewolf - a bloody damned werewolf! - just murdered two people in front of their very eyes? The dwarf wasn't going to stand idly by, that was sure.
"Ye dinnae be allowed t' be killin' an innocent an' then le' t' make demandsh! If'n i' be a figh' ye want t' be gettin' us offa yer landsh, then come a' me! A champion o' Angradd'll not le' ye jest murder folks in front o' him and walk away like ye be his sworn lord."
Whiskeyjack raised hammer and shield high and made ready to charge into battle.