"Sounding more like a Knight every day, Alistair." Eldramin says, advancing with the bulk of the group.
The guards seem frightened by the prospect of fighting giants but noticeably relax when you tell them to take the wagons into the trees and wait for your return. That done, the six of you creep forward, skirting the edge of the forest as you try to maintain cover as you approach the column of smoke.
As you draw nearer, you recognize the thin copse of trees where you camped on your journey to Orlane. It was in this spot that Kierdan encountered his old friend, the elf ranger Varisthas, who warned you of the goblin band you encountered soon after that.
As you draw nearer you see a burning wagon is the source of the fire and smoke. Around it, crude spits hold the carcasses of horses and men, roasting over the flames. Two hill giants move about, along with at least half a dozen heavily armored humanoids who have the look of orcs, but taller and even more brutish.
Most of the raiders are preoccupied with the cooking, but as you draw even with the campsite a sentry on the near side of the camp spots you in the forest eaves and sounds the alarm. Rolen manages to dash away, hiding among the tall grass to the north, but the rest of your have been sighted. Battle is imminent ...
Rolen snipes at the closest half giant from the cover of the tall grass.
Rolen slinks back into the grass.
As soon as the group decides to attack the giants Koralyn casts False Life as a second level spell.
With the enemy in sight she casts Slow on the two giants and up to 4 of the orc like creatures. After casting she begins her Bladesong and moves to find cover, if available.
3rd-level transmutation
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 120 feet
Components: V,S,M (a drop of molasses)
Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute
You alter time around up to six creatures of your choice in a 40-foot cube within range. Each target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or be affected by this spell for the duration.
An affected target’s speed is halved, it takes a −2 penalty to AC and Dexterity saving throws, and it can’t use reactions. On its turn, it can use either an action or a bonus action, not both. Regardless of the creature’s abilities or magic items, it can’t make more than one melee or ranged attack during its turn.
If the creature attempts to cast a spell with a casting time of 1 action, roll a d20. On an 11 or higher, the spell doesn’t take effect until the creature’s next turn, and the creature must use its action on that turn to complete the spell. If it can’t, the spell is wasted.
A creature affected by this spell makes another Wisdom saving throw at the end of its turn. On a successful save, the effect ends for it.
Alistair looks over to Eldramin with a grim, far-away look in his eyes.
"These creatures destroyed my home and killed many friends. It is the reason I am here fighting...in the hopes we can someday take the battle to them and win back our lands!"
Alistair starts the incantation the most powerful evocation spell in his book.
Fireball:
LEVEL: 3rd
CASTING TIME: 1 Action
RANGE/AREA: 150 ft (20 ft )
COMPONENTS: V, S, M *
DURATION: Instantaneous
SCHOOL: Evocation
ATTACK/SAVE: DEX Save
DAMAGE/EFFECT: Fire
A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger to a point you choose within range and then blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flame. Each creature in a 20-foot-radius sphere centered on that point must make a Dexterity saving throw. A target takes 8d6 fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.
The fire spreads around corners. It ignites flammable objects in the area that aren't being worn or carried.
Alistair will drop the fireball right in the centre of the group of creatures...targeting the largest concentration of enemies.
Let them come to us. Koralyn encourages, not wanting anyone to go running into the thick of the enemy.
Eldramin intones a spell the rest of them have heard dozens of times, before thrusting his hand at the enemy.
With combat imminent, Kierdan calls upon Pelor to Bless he companions.
As the cry goes up among the raiders Rolen's arrow punches through the air and buries itself deep into the hide of the nearest hill giant, who bellows in rage before grabbing at the nearest boulder.
His movements slow considerably as Koralyn's spell takes hold, the giant's gnarled limbs moving as if underwater. The other giant and one of the armored humanoids are similarly affected, although others shake off the enchantment and grab heavy axes as they prepare a counterattack.
Before they do, Alistair's fireball explodes among the slowed raiders. One of the giants is too hampered to avoid the flames and is badly burned, but the other - the one Rolen stuck with an arrow - as well as the armored brute manage to avoid the worst of the blast.
One of Eldramin's blasts knocks the armored figure into the fire before it can move, however, as another blast batters the most wounded giant.
As Kierdan calls a blessing down on the group the raiders finally organize a counterattack. One of the armored figures in the back calls out orders in Orcish. The giants both stay put, grabbing boulders that they fling at the party. Koralyn just barely avoids the first throw, but the second catches Alistair in the chest, knocking him to the ground .
The armored figure in the fire flails and tries to roll away before succumbing to his wounds. The remaining five brutes charge forward, covering the distance surprisingly quickly. Pulling up just short of the party, they fling a volley of javelins that falls among the party. Dragomir steps in to protect Alistair and is struck a shallow blow . Koralyn and Eldramin also are struck and Kierdan takes a deeper wound .
Close now, you see that the armored humanoids are orogs, orc-and-ogre hybrids known for their strength and discipline. Clad in heavy armor, they ready their axes for the imminent melee.
Still moving with the Bladesong Koralyn is tagged by the lucky javelin throw but it does not penetrate past her false life. She casts Blur and prepares to receive the enemy, moving up to stand by Drogomir in the front line.
Eldramin steps back and shoots once more at the weaker looking of the two foremost orogs.
Badly wounded from the bolder crashing into him, Alistair barely gets out the chant for another ball of fire that streaks towards the two injured giants.
Fireball:
once cast, he reaches into his pack to retrieve the healing ointment he has kept there.
Rolen again snipes at the closest half giant from the cover of the tall grass.
Rolen slinks back into the grass.
Kierdan continues to pray to Pelor for his Blessing. When he sees the boulder smash into Alistair, he immediately moves to the wizard's side and lays his hand upon his shoulder.
May the radiant grace of the Sun Father give you strength, friend!, the priest calls out as he keeps a wary eye on the accursed giants.
He keeps his shield readied as the orogs approach.
With the orogs and giants still off-balance from the magical assault, the party works to maximize the damage before closing to melee.
As Koralyn and Dragomir move into position to intercept a charge, others continue to flings spells and arrows at the enemy. The first of Eldramin's eldritch blasts glances off the heavy armor of the lead orog, but the second hits him square in the chest, knocking him back in a heap.
Alistair's second fireball goes off a split second later, leaving the wounded and slowed hill giants in worse shape than before, their skin charred and smoking as they bellow in rage. The screams of one end abruptly as one of Rolen's arrows sprouts from an eye socket.
Kierdan's prayer heals the worst of Alistair's wounds as the orogs charge, whipped into a frenzy by their leader's battle cry.
Dragomir slashes one that approaches but suffers a minor wound himself, while Korlayn expertly evades multiple blows that come her way.
Kierdan is not so lucky. The priest is taken by surprise as the surviving giant flings another boulder, smashing into his armor and nearly driving him to the ground .
Rolen again snipes at the remaining half giant from the cover of the tall grass.
Rolen slinks back into the grass.
Momentarily stunned by the boulder, Kierdan manages to maintain his concentration on the Bless.
Then, Kierdan decides to heal himself after briefing considering attacking the giant.
Dancing and spinning Karolyn tries to take down a wounded Orog.
Eldramin steps back and shoots once more at the weaker looking of the foremost orogs.
Feeling better after the healing by Keirdan, Alistair keeps the ointment close, but mutters the words to a spell that sends a number of energy darts flying towards the last giant.
Magic Missile (2nd Level):
Steel clashes against steel as the melee is joined. Working together with sword and spell, Koralyn and Eldramin manage to drop one of the wounded orogs. Dragomir, meanwhile, flies into a frenzy as he lays about with his axe, cutting down two more in a bloody flurry.
Rolen sinks another arrow into the thick hide of the remaining hill giant, as Alistair's magic missiles burn holes next to it.
Gasping for breath as its life leaks out of numerous wounds, the giant launches one more boulder, but its aim is off and Alistair is able to dodge out of the way of the deadly missile.
Nearby, Dragomir and Koralyn easily evade the axes of the two remaining orogs, who appear to realize the fight is lost. Rather than fear, their eyes contain only a weary resignation - neither appears willing to kneel in surrender.
Eldramin aims at the nearby orogs, hoping to knock back the foes to take the heat off of his allies and prevent flanking.
Karolyn, with equal resole shown by her adversaries continues to fight. Her blade slashes and flashes as she lightly dances in and around the emery.
Rolen again snipes at the remaining half giant from the cover of the tall grass.
Rolen slinks back into the grass.
Alistair again takes aim at the enemy and releases a number of azure darts which fly unerringly to their target.
Magic Missile (2nd Level):
Kierdan continues to concentrate on his prayer to Pelor for his Blessing.
Seeing no one else in immediate need of healing, the priest instead calls Sacred Flame down on one of the attacking orogs.
Though your enemies fight to the last, the battle is a foregone conclusion. Rolen finishes the wounded giant with a final arrow as the others gang up on the remaining orogs, cutting them down with sword and spell.
Even with a hole in his gut, the orog leader laughs as he draws his final, shuddering breaths.
"I will clear a space for you in the Abyss," he says, the shudders and lies still. A moment later, his eyes snap open again, showing only white.
"The Blood Lord comes to reclaim what is his. The maimed usurper will be cast down, his secrets spilled, and the Prince will trod upon his thrice-dead corpse."
The orog's body seems to cough, then, and a foul-smelling mist escapes his mouth and quickly dissipates. He says no more.
As disturbing as those words, you soon make a more gruesome discovery. The orogs and giants appear to have come from the west, where they evidently slaughtered many elves. From the orogs' belts hang strings of pointed ears, and the giants' sacks contain larger, equally bloody trophies.
Their slaughter of the Fair Folk appears to have only stopped with your arrival. The corpses of several elven rangers are strewn around the campsite. Several are half-butchered, hung from spits, but a few are intact enough to be recognizable. One is Kierdan's friend, Varisthas, who aided you on your way to Orlane.
Rolen begins to search the campsite and bodies for any loot plundered in the defeat of the elves.
Alistair quickly writes down what the orog said so that he will have a record of the strange prophecy, if that is what it is. To the giants he takes his knife and cuts their hands and feet off, muttering "Let them try to raise these beasts...no undead servants for the great eye!"
"The Blood Lord comes to reclaim what is his. The maimed usurper will be cast down, his secrets spilled, and the Prince will trod upon his thrice-dead corpse."
These words roll around in Kierdan's head as he contemplates their meaning...
Kierdan snaps out of his thoughts when he sees the massacre of the elves and his friend's body.
No! Varisthas! How can this be?
The anguished priests quickly looks over his friend and his old elven companions, searching for any signs of life.
After his examination is complete, Kierdan stands and faces the rest of his group.
We must bury them, then I must inform Varisthas' band of his fate and check on their welfare. That is the least I can do for the elves of the Oytwood after what they did for me and my family.
Koralyn looks on scene with despair. Finally she manages We have avenged the fallen Kierdan, though we knew it not at the time. With no more words she sets about doing what must be done to bury and pay respect to these warriors.
Kierdan knows from his study of dark cults that "Blood Lord" is a title sometimes claimed by the demon lord Orcus. "Maimed usurper" would seem to refer to Vecna, who in some circles is said to have stolen power from Orcus.
Examining the bodies, it is clear all are beyond the help of all but the most powerful magics, which sadly are outside Kierdan's reach. All he can do is inform the elven refugees of the Autumn Court in Hochoch, and hope that word reaches the families of the slain.
[dice=arcana]1d20+2
Whatever possessed the dying orog would seem to be linked to the demon lord Orcus, who apparently seeks revenge against the arch-lich Vecna.
"Hmm, seems like someone might be acting against the ol' Arch-B@*$*..."
With heavy hearts you lay the dead to rest, burying the massacred elves in graves at the edge of the wood before burning the orogs and giants so their corpses will not attract carrion-feeders. Mindful of the words spoken by the dying - or dead - orog, Kierdan says a prayer to ensure none rise again to afflict the surrounding lands.
The drovers and guards give the campsite a wide berth and travel on for several hours before setting camp. You rise early the next day, eager to return to Hochoch.
The sun is still an hour shy of noon when you crest the hill south of the town, which stretches out on the far side of the Realstream beneath a pall of smoke. The slums and temporary barracks outside the city's walls have grown in your absence, as has the number of banners camped in orderly rows near the western gate. Some new military effort must be forming, as the displaced people of Geoff seek to retake their land.
Wearily, you descend the final distance to the water, where the ferry waits to take you across. With the treasures you looted from the Mistress's lair and the tomb of Dalvan Meir safely secured in your magic sack, you avoid the hefty "recovery" taxes imposed by the city's military rulers, and pass into the city itself. Home at last.
Promising to meet the next day, you head to your individual homes or to the nearest inn, where baths, ale and hot meals await. You sleep well, despite the nagging worry of the evil you unearthed from the naga's abode. Such threats are for another day.
The next morning, each of you finds a slip of paper, tied in gray silk, beneath your door. Each contains an invitation to the Freckled Lass (aka the Poxie Doxie), the ale-soaked tavern where you first met. There, you are greeted by half a dozen members of the thieves guild known as the Talons -- and at the back table, regal as a queen, the Snow Owl, Onshae.
"The conquering heroes return," the guildmistress says, inviting you to sit with her. The bartender, One-Eye, looking as if he is not used to being up so early, brings a steaming pot of tea and several loaves of fresh bread, then disappears back into the kitchen, muttering about entitled half-breeds ...
"You've had a quiet return to the city, though the bards already tell the tale of Orlane's curse and the heroes that lifted it," Onshae says. "A pity you were not better rewarded - my man at the gate said you declared no plunder when entering the city. Well, should you find anything that slipped your mind then, my offer to fence any relics or coins you recovered still stands."
She winks, then gestures toward the table.
"I have other business I'd like to discuss, and at least one client who wishes to engage the services of those who defeated the "scourge of the Rushmoors," as the bards are calling it. But such talk is for another day, I think. For now, enjoy yourselves. Have a rest. You have earned it.
"Further adventures await, no doubt, but not all of them must be conquered today."
Rolen simply smiles and nods at the Snow Owl. Having been in her employ, albeit not publicly, for years, he knows she will want some kind of report. He grabs a drink , and raises it to the others. As he passes by her, he speaks in a low voice.
Let me know when you would like to speak in detail.