"Indeed, very strange for wolves to stage an outright assault in such a way...it makes me wonder if there is more to this pack than meets the eye, particularly this large, black one. Regardless, something is going to need to be done about them and I would feel remiss letting someone else handle this when we are well and able ourselves."
The man shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Wolves is all I saw. Can't say there couldn't have been any humanoids around, but I'm sure that it was a black canine that took the legs right out from under my horse. They did seem gods-damned cunning, though I didn't stick around to look."
Following the directions given by the survivor, the party sets off to rescue the stranded settlers (reservations about the apparent intelligence of your quarry aside.) You have little difficulty, as the miles surrounding Hopefeld are becoming a second home to you and you approach the stone outcropping with an hour of light before dusk. If the landmark wasn't enough, as you near there is a infrequent growl or low howl that can be becomes more recognizable as you approach.
Clearing some of the more rocky terrain, you find the small copse of trees and jutting stone to be surrounded by a half dozen impressively large, jet-black furred wolves.
The creatures are fixated on the raised stone; too steep and high for them to get to the stranded survivors that all bear the signs of attack. One of the men cries out as you approach, and the beasts turn towards the unexpected arrival of those that might threaten their meal. From the back, a large black wolf emits a set of growls and noises that almost sound intelligible, before it fades into the surroundings, leaving the rest of them snarling towards you in his wake.
Alamina holds her butterfly holy symbol briefly before speaking out.
.
"Be strong and brave, these creatures will fall or flee before us."
Thurl takes only a moment to survey the situation they are in, examining the wolves before he decides if force is required.
-Posted with Wayfinder
With one, then two, then an echoing howl, the beasts amble forward slowly, yet purposefully, growling low.
Thurl's shot takes one of the beasts in the shoulder as it nears, but isn't enough to down it. It and another chomp at the inquisitor, approaching (but not quite achieving) a flank. The final black-furred creature bites out at Raven.
The beasts snap at both Raven and Thurl, scoring vicious bites. One of the ones facing Thurl manages to pull him to the ground!
Vorsirion manages to down the beast that Thurl previously attacked, while Raven does a considerable blow to her own (while not quite finishing it.) The remainder of the beasts close in, although only one is close enough to attack Raven, the other two move to tactical positions.
The beast on Raven misses wildly, giving the party another opportunity to attack!
Alamina brings forth her holy symbol again, unleashing a burst of silvery white light and healing all allies within 30' of HP
Alamina brings healing to the injured party!
Realizing the situation he's in, right in the middle of a bunch of worgs, Thurl spends a moment thinking about the best way to respond to the situation. No matter what, though, simply lying there will only make him worg-food, so he makes an effort to get to his feet and take a quick step away from the black wolves, hoping he doesn't get dragged back off his feet again in the process.
Although only two of the worgs connect in its attack on Thurl, one of the beast bites hard on his hamstring, as if he was hit by a greatsword! Neither manages to pull down the Inquisitor, however.
Seeing blood, the worg redoubles his efforts, but Thurl's evasive movements barely avoid his bite! Likewise, the one attacking Raven misses!
The Slayer and Occultist deal crippling blows to their respective foes, with the worg fighting Vorsirion clearly having enough and slinking away. One worg, clearly not learning the lesson of its compatriots moves forward to attack Raven.
The worg nearly trips over himself trying to trip Raven.
Seeing Vurl take such a nasty blow and in combat with multiple wolves, Alaina yelps in concern.
"No! Be strong and healed, the Mistress will protect you!"
Still heavily wounded despite Alamina's intervention, Thurl maintains his defensive posture.
Although the pack of worgs has been thinned in number, one proves that it is still a threat by latching onto raven with a rending bite, pulling her to the ground as well!
Raven attempts to bring her massive sword down on a worg, but her wounded leg causes her to stumble, missing wildly.
The Worg bites out in return, only scoring a glancing blow, but the ground begins to turn red from the blood spilt by (wo)man and beast alike.
Finally free of the tangle of worgs, Thurl turns his attention to the beast facing off with Vorsirion, trying to fight through the pain of the pain of being chosen as the beasts' communal chew toy.
"I can only do this so many times each day, people! Take these beasts down fast as you can!"
Alamina holds out her holy symbol and channels to cure wounds again, excluding the injured worgs.
HP healed
The battle begins to stretch on, and even though it has been mere moments, the endurance of both sides seems to be tested. Each of the party misses in their attack, and Alamina desperately attempts to keep the party up and standing. Then the worgs lunge forward, unable to find purchase in their blows.
Raven breaks the stalemate, bringing her over-sized blade in with a sickening, bonecrunching sound that ends in an exclamation of pain.
From the distance, you hear a reverberating howl, that almost has a sound of annoyance. The two remaining worgs growl in response, their ears pinned back.
Raven glances over at Vorsirion, which appears to have been a mistake as the remaining worg on her manages to grab hold of her leg in her moment of distraction and pull her to the ground, savaging her and re-opening wounds that Alamina just healed.
The howls in the distance sound again, almost angrier.
Finally able to move more freely, Thurl takes a quick step backward to get into a flanking position with Vorsirion, striking out against the worg between them.
Thurl brings down a mighty swing, making up for some of his previous poor showing, while Vorsirion swings wildly. The worgs show definite signs of withdrawing.
Surrounded and badly injured, the worgs slink back and runs off into the woods. As you catch your breath, in the distance you hear a series of howls, presumably from the injured beasts. Following the howls, however, is one loud yelp, then another a distance off. A moment of silence follows, then a louder, bestial howl rings out through the woods, almost a roar.
Staring down at the fallen and "fallen" beasts, you realize what wasn't clear in the middle of combat: these beasts are actually Worgs. Turante and Franka are fairly certain that the one large wolf that was seen that departed at the start of the battle was *not* a Worg, despite having apparently commanded the Worgs. That remains a mystery for now, however.
After the threat of the worgs has been removed, the men that had sought refuge on the stone slowly descend. Many of them are visibly injured, yet all are incredibly thankful for your timely arrival. "Erastil bless you", one says, "We thought we were goners, with them beasts snapping at us below. It was only a mater of time before we had to come down for water, or the elements got to us. Even still, that big one looked like it was trying to figur out a way to get to us all, rocks or no. We owe you our lives!"
With the threat of worgs subsided (for now at least) the party is able to escort the weary travelers to Hopefeld. The corpses of murdered settlers and worgs alike are a testament that even though you may be carving out a foothold of a settlement, the Stolen Lands hold greater dangers still.
After your arrival, Svetlana, Akiros, and Kesten Garess ask for a "Leadership Council" (Do you have a word that you would prefer for those?)) with the party and other Leaders, with Akiros and Kesten's request being a shared one. Once gathered, the later begin first, with Akiros leading the discussion.
"My lords, sirs, ladies, I am happy to inform you that settlement of Hopefeld is coming along quite well. We've had our share of troubles, to be sure, but with your aid and guidance we have created a knot of stability within an otherwise tumultuous land. You have far exceeded anything that the Stag Lord might have wrought." Kesten adds in, nodding. "Your aid has been indispensible these last few months, but I have been working on a local militia and permanent guard. I believe we should be self-sufficient for the month-to-month affairs, although we'll still need to convene monthly."
Svetlana clears her throat. "Friends, it is good news indeed about our settlement, however, I hold other of another. I have received word from a new town to the east that has recently formed, named Varnhold. Under the leadership of an ex-adventuring group lead by Jester Varn, this "colorful" sounding individual has sought audience with you all here, in one months time. As much as I am sure that you are itching to have sleep under the stars on tree roots and rocks (she amusedly shakes her head), It may be important that you to meet with them. Their circumstances sound quite similar to your own, and there is potentially much that can be accomplished between cooperation."
The remainder of the Leaders chime in, but generally support both assertions: Hopefeld is prepared for the party to resume exploration, and that it would be wise to meet with this Jester Varn.
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Vorsirion considers the howls and yelps he hears in the distance, and tries to determine what the last, unseen creature might be. He then helps the men down from the stone.
Vorsirion listens to the Leadership Council report and nods with grim satisfaction. They had wrought something in the wilderness. A nagging thought continued poking at the back of his mind.
Who is this mysterious benefactor we have had all this time?
"How far away is this new town, Varnhold? Does it encroach upon any of the territory we have claimed? We should certainly visit this place, and soon."
Once everyone is down and accounted for, Alamina uses her remaining channels to heal the party and civilians as best she can, reserving her spells for future combat needs.[/ooc]
Alamina seems very interested in a new neighbor, checking their maps and ledgers to see just how best to get there.
"I know it seems like madness to enjoy the travel and hardships of the road, but the freedom it entails more than makes up for all the little nagging bits and pieces. Besides, the night sky out in the plains is among the most beautiful and wondrous sight anywhere."
"I agree, Vosirion. We should meet these neighbors and find out what they are like. If they are peaceful and amenable, a strong trade route would benefit us both immensely."
Thurl joins with the others in trying to imagine what beast it was that had joined forces with, or perhaps even exercised direct control over, the worgs they had battled. It was difficult to imagine what sort of creature that might be....and even more difficult to imagine it being one they would enjoy encountering, especially as they are, including any local myths or legends that might be relevant.
"Stability is what we are here for. I am certain that Abadar smiles upon and blesses our efforts to bring civilization and trade to an area that has been sore for it a long while. Any temporary discomfort for us is well worth such an end." Thurl says in reply to the Council.
At the mention of Varnhold, the half-orc's ears perk up. "Indeed, this is an excellent opportunity to try and grow both settlements and even further cement our respective places in the wilds. There might even someday be a joining of our two colonies if both should continue growing."
Svetlana looks at the unrolled collection of maps that the party has been working on piecing together. East of where you narrowly avoided an encounter with a mammoth is a new rough outline of a map, depicting the mountain range known as the "Tors of Levinies", an extensive and nearly impassible set of mountains that spread South East of Brevoy. "From the indication I've been given, the city of Varnhold is founded roughly 100 miles from here. I imagine the mountains will ensure that there is little direct conflict for territory for some time." She places a polished stone with a 'V' where she has indicated. "I imagine visiting there will be beneficial in the future, but for now, preprarations have begun for a delegation to meet here, if that is alright."
While the others in the group consider the question, Thurl reaches back into his memories, hoping he might remember some bit of knowledge that might reveal the origin of the name.
Thurl remembers a little about Jester Varn: He has made a name of of himself as a notable tracker and archer in the Stolen Lands. One factor that has lead to his notoriety is his distinctive appearance: He has a facial scar leading from his right lip up to his cheek, leaving him with a permanently scarred grin. The rumor is that he gained this scar while captive of a group of bandits while he was young.
"I have heard the 'Varn' name before, I think. A tracker and an archer of some note in the Stolen Lands. I haven't ever seen the man myself, but he is said to have a very distinct appearance: a scar running from his right lip to his cheek, apparently from a time captured by bandits as a youth."
Turning around Tuskwater lake, you do see signs of a snapping turtle that must be the size of a small pony, but as it is in the lake and you are on land, there is a stalemate.
As you continue your explorations, the Lake Tuskwater stretches ahead with no end in sight. There is at least another several days travel to get to a place where it would be transversable without a boat. Even at point that it starts to narrow, it is still over a mile wide before expanding out once more.
Venturing east along Gurdin river, you find a shallows along the river, allowing for an easy ford later, but otherwise uneventful.
From there, attempting to get a better idea of what lies towards Varnhold, you explore in the direction of the mountains. While climbing through the hills of the Kamelands, Vorsirion makes a discovery: a crack in the rocky terrain that appears to lead towards a man-made passage. However, above the passageway is a carved sign: "Beware the Sleepless Guardian."
"Oh, dear. I do believe we are all but forced to explore this place. So close to our capital, and potentially dangerous to our citizens, it seems like we'd be fools not to look in."
Alamina looks to the others, getting her shield out and ready.
Thurl spins his falchion in his grip, giving a nod to Alamina. "Whatever this 'sleepless guardian' is, having it so near our expanding city cannot be allowed. Not to mention I have no desire to leave some potential threat at our backs as we continue forward."
With a measure of resolve, you venture into the passage. Immediately inside is a entryway that is only hope to bats. These prove to be more annoyance than treat, and after the initial outpouring of leaves only a guano covered room.
The passage forward is covered in web, moving forward you find another large room.
Four tunnels exit this circular chamber in the cardinal directions. Four large monstrous faces, carved from stone, leer and grimace from each of the walls between the tunnel entrances.
A skeleton sprawls facedown in the middle of the room.
" Ugh. The undead are never pleasant to deal with. I, for one, am hoping you're wrong." he answers; still, just in case, he keeps his bow and arrow ready to fire a shot off should the skeleton suddenly animate.
As Vorsirion gets close enough to the skeleton, he notices the faintest outlines of a runic outline on the floor. Somehow his elvish senses determine that it is a trap which would cause Rays of Exhaustion to shoot from the faces in the room if sprung. With this knowledge, you are able to avoid the trap and move forward.
The skeleton itself appears devoid of anything interesting. Time has appeared to have stripped it of all clothing, and there are no items or remains that appear of interest.
Keeping a wide berth from the trap, the party hears a clatter of bone and metal from either side of the room. Clearing through the webbing erupt a half dozen armed skeletons from each entry! Malevolent evil red eyes glare out of otherwise lifeless skulls.
"Bah...knew I should've brought a club or something..." Thurl grumbles to himself, drawing in a deep breath. "Ah, well. Hindsight and all that!" he adds before weaving a swift spell. Before him there appears the ethereal form of a light crossbow, a bolt already ready in the weapon's channel and ready for firing. At his mental direction, the crossbow releases its quarrel at the nearest skeleton!