Dregan's bow sings, the first arrow is foiled the creature's thick hide, but the second finishes it. Acid, arrow, and elemental proving too much for the dragon.
Closer to you, Edric remains grappled as the wounded creature thrashes about with it's claws tearing into the man.
But of more consequence, the tatzlwurm gasps a cloud of poison into Edric's face, choking him.
Magna takes another 5' step, flanking the creature, and attacks.
"Keep going, we have them!"
Moving forward, Talia stumbles a bit on the loose rock as she assumes the reed dueling stance, body tilted to the side, sword out in front of her. With a flourish she sends the power of the spell towards the reptile, its face awash with a blinding light. Talia finishes with an upward slash, catching the creature across its flank.
@GM:
Naralesh can barely make out the dragon's location from where he is, and realizes he has little chance of hitting it with an arrow or a snowball through the crowd of his allies. Forcing himself to stay alert despite his fatigue, he scans the riverbank, readying his bow in case any other threats emerge.
The mud elemental, its foe defeated, dives into the wet earth of the small river island. Bursting forth beside the second dragon, it throws its body onto the serpent with crushing strength.
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@GM:
Edric's hammer smashes down on the tatzlwurm, while Talia and Magna strike at it. Talia does some damage, but it isn't until Naralesh's elemental hits it that it lets go. The wurm slumps to ground amid the debris, dead.
Breathing heavily, Talia sheaths her longsword, smiling to herself and her combat prowess - and those of her companions. "Well done! What is this creature that you brought forth from the river, Naralesh? It is a powerful friend!"
Pausing for a moment, the playwright plays the combat back in her mind, taking notes. "And did you say 'Tatzlwyrm? I wonder what Oleg will pay for two heads!"
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Edric staggers away from the body, before dropping his warhammer and staggering into the stream up his knees. Moments later he starts retching into the stream and collapses onto his knees, head barely above the water.
A few minutes later Edric rises, thoroughly water-logged and looking surprisingly pale. "Thank you Naralesh, I appreciate the warning. I suspect this would have been..." He stops short as a heave threatens to ruin his, now fragile, composure.
"Would someone mind getting my weapons? I think I need to sit down for a while..." With that Edric sloshes his way out of the stream and collapses on the bank.
Dregan smiles relieved "Is Edric alright? Be'er search what island carefully there may be mawer ov those fngs" He say moving back up to join the rest of the group and then proceeding to search the island for more ambushes.
Magna goes behind Edric and helps him, putting her hands in his back and channeling the blessings of Torag on him.
"You did good, Edric. I am happy you are here to fight besides me."
"Good fight, everyone." Vosil is about to go and check on Edric, when Magna beats him to it. Shrugging, he lets her get on with it: she's got healing power, after all.
He grins at Dregan, "Shall we?" He searches the island thoroughly, including whatever burrow it was that the second wrym came from.
"If I may, I'd suggest naming this place. Something like Wyrmsbane Crossing?"
The mud elemental inspects Talia quizzically as she admires it. Its squat head swivels back and forth for a few seconds, still alert for any new threats, before collapsing back into a pile of inert mud.
"I believe its name is 'Kaldrukth,'" the elf replies. "It answers to that name, at least. This is the first time I've attempted to summon a creature by name, rather than merely by kind." He stows his bow over his shoulder as the group begins to search the area. "In any case, it is a mud elemental - a creature of equal parts water and earth, with mastery over both, in its own little sphere of influence. I've been studying the languages of the elements of late, to better understand and communicate with such beings. The greater connection a wizard has to his summons, the more powerful they become. This one is certainly the mightiest I have conjured yet."
He looks at Talia's longsword. "That was some impressive magic you used yourself in that battle. Some sort of pattern illusion cast upon the blade's edge to... distract? To blind?"
Breathing heavily, Talia sheaths her longsword, smiling to herself and her combat prowess - and those of her companions. "Well done! What is this creature that you brought forth from the river, Naralesh? It is a powerful friend!"
Pausing for a moment, the playwright plays the combat back in her mind, taking notes. "And did you say 'Tatzlwyrm? I wonder what Oleg will pay for two heads!"
"Wyrmsbane Crossing... sounds appropriate."
She keeps holding Edric's arm, to make sure he is recovered.
Though difficult to spot in the powerful, churning currents, the skeletal remains of a long-dead explorer makes up the tatzlwyrms’ meager horde. The skeleton still wears a suit of +1 scale mail, while clutched in one bony hand is a masterwork cold iron longsword. Under the skeleton within a rotting leather backpack is 68 gp, 720 sp, a pewter drinking stein worth 32 gp, a silver ring worth 35 gp, a jade carving of a nude female elven monk worth 185 gp, and a watertight scroll tube.
Inside the tube is a partially completed map of the northwest corner of the Greenbelt that seems to indicate that the explorer approached from the north, reached the source of the Skunk River, and was working his way downriver.
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Talia blushes, her voice pleased with Naralesh's flattery. "Ah, a parlor trick, really - especially compared to your command of creatures from outside our reality..."
"But, I admit it is a parlor trick I'm fond of. The purpose is to distract the target from figuring the exact path of the blade. When dueling, I can use it to mislead, which should make it easier to separate my enemy from her weapon. I can also discharge the trick, as I did a few moments ago, in an effort to blind my enemy. I'm not sure it worked in this case."
Reaching down, Talia grabs her scorpion whip and begins winding it. "Perhaps sometime, in safer surroundings, we should compare notes, Naralesh? I'm sure there's much we can learn from each other."
When Vosil puts forth his idea for Wyrmsbane Crossing, Talia regards the fop with keen interest. It was true he was a bit of a showoff, and brusque with his betters to the point of annoyance, but he also had a sharp mind. Until now, the group's mapping had not much, for lack of a better word, flair. Simple notations for places that were utilitarian in nature. Ford. River. Bandit camp.
"I quite like it, Master Comarenza. Evocative. One will know that something of importance happened here."
Vosil returns Talia's stare with a sardonic eyebrow: he's served as Lore Warden for genuine nobility, scions of Taldor, Qadir, Osirion, youths who could nevertheless trace their lineage back centuries, even beyond the death of Aroden. He's certainly not overawed by some Brevic wench with pretensions of grandeur...
He (somewhat loftily) acknowledges her praise, with a bow; before turning away and looking over the treasure trove. "Pewter, silver, OK craftsmanship, nothing special... Hello!" He examines the statue. "Oh. Not worth more than a couple hundred; thought for a moment it might be a genuine Miklanjalir, but it's a not-very-good imitation. Pity, really. Still, genuine elf make; wonder where he got it."
He turns to Naralesh. "Your people used to live in this part of the world, did they not? Do you have any record of where their settlements were?"
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"Thank you Magna. I'll be fine - I'm just going to have to get rid of whatever that thing breathed on me.." Edric returns to the horses and draws some dry bread out of his saddle bags. He starts gnawing half-heartedly. "If I can get something dry to stay down that should help deal with the poison. Hopefully we won't be doing anything too difficult for the next few... days" He pales again during that sentence but manages to hang on to the bread.
Queasily following the banter between Talia and Vosil Edric chimes in. "I don't need that armour, it would probably suit Magna or Degan better."
"There was never much elven presence in these territories, not in any recent history, at least. Any settlements would have been small, and all but reclaimed by nature at this point."
"did you see anything to identify who he was?" Dregan asks Vosil. "I don't about wearing a dead man's armour, ain't that asking to be haunted? Shouldn't we try to find his relatives or bury him with it? Speaking of which."Dregan goes to the pack horse and gets out his spade and starts to dig a hole a little way back from the bank.
Magna goes to help Dregan, carrying the bones to the newly dug up grave.
"I don't fear no haunting. If you are unwilling to use it, I will."
"The dead have no need of arms and armor. In fact," Naralesh chimed in, smirking, "I recall a certain dead fellow named Heremak whom I wish had been less well-armed," recalling all too well the band's harrowing encounter with the skeletal undead warrior.
Vosil runs a thumb and forefinger along his mustache and down his beard as he considers Dregan's question. "If you have concerns, why not consult with Asha Medvyed? As a priest, she should be able to put your mind at ease on this point."
He nods at Edric's question. "Eastwards it is."
Talia sighs as she sees the rest of the day stretching out before her - and her part in it. "There's a sizeable reward for a Tzatzlwyrm head back at Oleg's. Six hundred gold, if I remember correctly. Dregan, why don't I dig while you butcher the wyrm?"
Six hundred gold is a good day's work, even if it includes manual labor.
Dregan shrugs at the comments and nods to Vosil "Thanks and thank you." he say handing Talia the spade. I'm surprised she offered maybe she'll make a good leader.
"This will take some time, if someone wants set up camp, there is a good spot about 50 yards back." Dregan removes the heads leaves them to drain while he skins the beasts for Vosil's cloak. After several hours he has got the heads and skin preserved enough for transport. +2 if forest bonus counts
Day one:
+2 extra if in forest
+2 extra if in forest
Day two:
+2 extra if in forest
+2 extra if in forest
Day three:
+2 extra if in forest
+2 extra if in forest
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Once they have a grave dug Dregan will carefully remove the bones from the armour, and take them to the grave. Afterward he says to Magna "If yew aren't worried about dis ghost yew are welcome t' tha armour. But I do fnk if we can find out who dis geezer was all 'is fn' should be sen' t' 'is relatives. Like I 'ope yew would do fer me if I was t' die."
Dregan then spend the rest of the evening carving word in a good strong piece of drift wood. When he is finish it reads "Here lays an unknown geezer, killed by dragons"
"If we find the owner of this armor, I'll happily pay them for it, or give it back to them. Until that time, I'll make sure I use it for the common good."
"There was never much elven presence in these territories, not in any recent history, at least. Any settlements would have been small, and all but reclaimed by nature at this point."
27 Gozran 4707
The forests of the Narlmarches continue eastward towards the Kamelands. The weather is cool, but fair. Sometime around around mid-day your exploration is interrupted by a series of quick, yipping barks from up ahead...
Magna, mounted, signals the others to be alert as she takes the lead, protecting the others.
Aside from offering Dregan his grateful thanks for skinning the two beasts, Vosil has been uncharacteristically silent in the time since. He is lost in thought.
It would doubtless be of interest to the Society that there are efforts afoot to civilise the Stolen Lands; the redheaded wench hasn't said as much, of course, but it's clear that the South of Brevoy is trying to strengthen their position against the North. While such a power struggle would have very little impact in the grand scheme of things, his duty as a Lore Warden is nevertheless to observe and report. Plus, Dylan is not merely his commanding officer, but a personal friend.
However, Vosil has not (thus far) put pen to paper. He has found a degree of camaraderie with his new companions and is uneasy at the thought of reporting on them.
And thus go his conflicted thoughts, round and round.... until the yipping barks rouse him out of his pensive torpor. "Shall we see who or what is making that racket?"
"I don't see why not. Can't be worse than a pair of Tatzylwyrms," Naralesh remarked after casting his mage armor spell.
"I don't see why not. Can't be worse than a pair of Tatzylwyrms,"
There is a clearing in the woods ahead. In the center, someone has dug a pit trap that has obviously been sprung. The barking yips are coming from inside the pit.
Magna dismounts.
"Careful! There could be more traps."
She lets the more agile members to go forward, herself taking care of the horses.
Talia ties Apple to a nearby tree and then draws her scorpion whip, approaching the pit. Looking to Kaalib, she shrugs. "Do your kind bark? Could it be Sootscales in there?"
Still distracted by his own thoughts, Vosil really isn't paying as much attention as he should be. Still, he draws his own whip and moves forward carefully.
Dregan dismounts and watches the other approach. He nods to himself in approval as they seem to moving cautiously enough. He stays back to string his bow and cover the rest of them
The pit itself is about 10' square and 20' deep. A strange creature is at the bottom of the pit: the size of a dog, but the slender build of a cat. It has heavy whiskers and dark stripes down its back. Its long tail flips about, smacking the ground as it paces to and fro in a frenzy. As it sees you, it yips and bays in a complex pattern, warning you to stay back!
Unfortunately, that's as much as you see before tragedy strikes. The ground next to the pit, soaked from the rains, gives way with a rush! Talia and Edric begin to slide forward with the collapsing walls. Edric manages to scramble upward and dives to the ground to catch Talia, but just misses her grasping hand!
The bard tumbles into the pit, landing with a thud in a shower of mud and dirt. Immediately, the creature sets upon her, starving and mad with hunger!
Scrambling to her feet, Talia leaves her scorpion whip in the mud, drawing her longsword as she shifts to the side, the dog-cat just missing her face with slavering, snapping jaws. Adreniline pumping, Talia's barely aware that she's thinking at all, a running narrative berating the playwright in the back of her mind.
Dummy! You did it again! Live through this, and learn patience!