Aotor takes Burnes’ Hand and pumps it eagerly. ”Aye sir if any troublemakers be out there we’ll deal with them. If not, I guess a stroll through the peaceful and safe woods is good for the soul.”
"Fair enough. Even I should be able to find that!" He looks to his dwurven companion. "Do you have enough to discuss with your partners, or did you want to ask him about the bounty Maggie mentioned?"
"As strange as it may sound coming from a dwarf, I don't care about the bounty that much. Tyr favors those who fight for justice. Ridding this area of any banditry is good enough for me."
"Thank you, Calmert. I believe we have enough to speak with our fellows. It sounds like something we should be doing, sure enough!"
Once they are all together again Raddosric shares what he learned from Rufus and Burne, "So what's next for our merry band?"
"It sounds like the various town leaders agree, this moathouse to the east is a potential problem and they wanna make sure it doesn't get outta hand," says Rudrik.
In a lower tone he says, "We should probably keep this under our hats. While I was campaigning in the north I learned the hard way that word gets around when you're doing a job and then suddenly the enemies find out about your plans. I think we should keep it between us and the town leaders. Anyone else asks why we're heading out or buying weapons or whatnot, we just tell 'em the roads are always dangerous and we're just making sure we're covered."
Thaldal looks to be rankled by Rudrik's comment for a moment and begins to speak out. He stops himself however and thinks for a brief moment then continues, "Yes that is a good idea, as much as I dislike the thought of sneaking up on a foe. Tyr prefers a battle betveen armies prepared for each other. But this isn't a var, if bandits hear ve are coming they will simply move to a new hole, yes?
"On that note, I think ve should depart as soon as is possible. It is difficult to keep anything a secret for very long."
”That is sound advice Rudrik. I agree we should move fast before the bandits get a chance for advanced warning. I have no issue with traveling in the dark.”
Raddosiric nodded his head in agreement with the plan, "It would be nice if we could surprise the rascals."
”Ah, surprise. My second favorite element. Right after earth I say. And the dark never bothered me none. Heck, I barely notice it myself.” Aotor chuckles at his own “jokes.”
Terry laughs. "Well, while YOU may not care about the dark, I'm afraid I do. I tend to do things like walk into roots, step in holes, and possibly even walk into low-hanging branches in the dark I'm not real keen on the idea of traveling down an overgrown trial in the dark."
”Ah, so you’re saying we should stay here and drink all night, then head out in the morning? There are certain merits to your plan I’ll give you that!”
"Well in deference to our human blooded companions I second the motion to drink here tonight and head out in the morning. The only thing worse for surprise than stumbling over roots is a glaring light moving through the wilderness. It will be a beacon for wild creatures and possibly the bandits."
"They will probably be just as surprised in the morning," the bard conceded. "And it would be nice to be able to see too."
After a little more socializing, and getting to actually learn everyone else's names, "It has been a productive day and a good evening, but for now, I should get a good night's sleep before our little walk tomorrow."
"Fine by me," says Rudrik with a shrug. "Can set out on the morrow, rested and rarin' to go."
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Early the next morning, following a fine breakfast of fresh sausage, eggs, and bread, you are ready to set out.
The track that leads to the old moathouse is thick and overgrown and what should have been two hour's walk takes about four hours as you cut your way through the undergrowth. Doing this by night would have been both dangerous and far more time-consuming.
A scrub of thorns, thistles, weeds, and shrubs grows thickly along the edge of the track which leads to the ruins. Even the track is mostly overgrown and cluttered with fallen branches and trees. Here and there it is washed out, in other places a mire.
Some game evidently still follows the pathway, however, for after a mile or so faint traces can be seen. After two miles, as the track turns more northerly, the land begins to sink and become boggy. Tall marsh plants grow thickly where cattails and tamaracks do not. Off to the left can be seen the jagged silhouette of the moathouse.
A side path, banked high to cross over the wetland to either side, just north to the entrance of the ruin. The track here is only about 15 feet wide or so, with crumbling embankments making travel near the edge dangerous. The bogs stink. The vegetation appears dense and prolific, but somehow sickly and unhealthy, creepers and vines throwing their strangling loops over the skeletons of dead saplings and living bushes alike. The rushes and cattails rustle and bend even to a slight zephyr, and weird birdcalls, croakings, and other unwholesome sounds come faintly across the fen.
As the group closes in on the moathouse, Rudrik draws his pair of blades - long one right hand, short one left - and assumes a hunched, guarded posture.
"You wanna check the side trail?" he whispers. "Never go into enemy territory by the front door, my sergeant always said."
Getting his shield off his back and onto his arm, and then a sickle into his hand, Terry shrugs. "Front doors aren't always the front door. Used the neighbors' back door all the time. Don't know how this will be, or even IF it will be. But you are right, we should be ready."
Aotor pulls out his mining pick and thumps it against his chest. A shimmering light that looks like rocks cracking spreads out from the point of impact covering his body. ”Oy. This smells worse than a dozen sweaty dwarves trapped in a mine after a long day and the pooper’s clogged. Let’s look around first, I agree.”
"Let's check around the perimeter first," says Rudrik, moving toward a tree and a puddle nearby.
Thaldal also draws his weapon, a warhammer designed to look like a judge's gavel only made of fine dwarven steel. It goes against his instincts to follow orcish advice but he has to admit that Rudrik probably knows more about this sort of thing. He nods and prepares to follow.
Raddosric ducks behind the fallen tree and prepared to trail behind his companions guarding their rear.
Isinghar feels at home in the wilderness and is not inconvenienced by the bog stench. He will survey the area and look for tracks along the trails.
Terry looks at how close they are to the structure, and how non-existent any cover they have from observation. "If they are in there and haven't seen us yet, circling this close around the building should draw their attention. I'll go with the group, but are we sure?"
He hesitates to move either away from the group or the perceived way in.
"Look, if there's people inside, and we go through the front door, we're walking right into the part of the structure that's most fortified and designed to hold off invaders," whispers Rudrik. "Which we can do, this place is a mess that's falling apart, but it might be good to have a handle on the perimeter first and see what we can see. Or at the very least send someone sneaky to make a circle around it."
"It isn't normal to check the perimeter of a building with your hand on the building, is it? Don't you normally keep some distance? Like I said, I'll stay with the group. This just doesn't seem right."
Isinghar has never explored a ruined fort before, so is at a loss for words as Terry and Rudrik debate the merits of circling the perimeter of the ruins before heading in. He finally suggests, ”The bog makes it difficult to scout the ruins from further away, and means if we wish to circle the fort we’ll need to do this following the trail we are on. I am sure the fort was designed to guard and watch this trail, so we will be noticed by any sentries. If there are any. So the choice is should we risk being spotted to gain better intelligence on the fort, or rush in through the front gates and hope to surprise anyone inside? I believe both options have valid benefits and risks.”
”I vote for more intelligence vs. rushing into a situation we are not prepared for, even if it means risking detection. Any sentries hiding in the crumbling fort will have probably already seen us anyway.”
"Giant . . . FROGS?" Terry moves up to the big one, shield and sickle both previously ready, then takes a swing at the big frog.
Isinghar realizes the team is under attack by giant frogs (?) and moves to confront the closest dog sized one, wielding his battleaxe and shield:
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INITIATIVE
Spugnoir
Terry
Goliath Frog
Isinghar
Thaldal
Raddosric
Rudrik
Small Frogs
Aotor
Spugnoir cries out and without thinking, brings to mind the words of a spell. He blows a handful of sand at the frogs and one of the giant creatures falls asleep. Terry strikes at the largest of the amphibians but fails to connect. The goliath frog snaps at Terry, managing to grab the paladin's left arm! Isinghar steps up and strikes one of the smaller frogs, but his weapon slides off the slimy skin without causing damage.
plus grab
Rudrik growls and advances on the large frog, drawing his longsword as he goes. He takes a swing at the hulking beast.
Radosric rushes up into the fray and placed his hands on Terry as he sang a soft song of healing.
Seeing Terry take such a blow, Thaldal moves towards him. He says a short prayer and touches the human with his red hand. Healing magics flow through Terry, healing him somewhat.
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Thaldal and Raddosric both react quickly, restoring Terry to full health even before it sinks in that he is injured. Rudrik attacks the giant frog as well, but his weapon, too, slides off the slimy surface of the frog's tough hide. The one small frog remaining awake snaps at Isinghar, landing a solid strike and biting deep!
Giving only a second to the thought of how he can free himself for the frog's mouth, Terry decides to try cutting the corner of the mouth open with his sickle.
He finds the position too odd to hook the blade like he had planned.
Aotor grits his teeth, grips his mining pick, and clods up making away around Isingar. He swings the pick at the frog and hopes his armor spell holds up.
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Aotor's pick bites into the smaller frog, causing a minor wound. The frog croaks loudly. Spugnoir utters another arcane word and a glowing missile of force flies from his fingertips towards the goliath frog, striking unerringly. Terry tries to cut his way free of the biggest frog's mouth but fails. The frog responds by attempting to swallow the paladin whole and succeeds.