Vosil draws the bow back to its fullest extent before firing, and then again, and then again, trying to end this fight swiftly.
Unfortunately, only one of his shots hits; and that only due to a lifetime's guile and experience in being able to make the most of any opportunity a foe provides.
Seeing his attack miss, Gavriil strikes again with his rapier, the blade flashing in the dim light with unnatural speed.
Where his first attacks fail, his last attack succeeds in scoring a hit!
Naralesh begins casting a summoning spell (summon monster III), taking his time with the magic in his weakened and distracted state.
Still here, trying to get everything calmed down to get some time for this game.
Gavrill's hasted catches the wounded wisp, and slays it! It's light fades to nothing, leaving a few tiny motes to fade slowly in the evening sky. The second wisp buzzes angrily, dashing back and forth in front of you.
Still Talia talks, the strange syllables spilling from the Viscountess's mouth. She lashes out with her whip, more to distract the creature than anything else, and leave an opening for their general's powerful attacks.
The last wisp swoops in (prior to Edric's attack) and flashes a sickly green.
Then the paladin's return blow hits, squarely striking the evil wisp.
Far out over the lake, tiny lights can be seen moving toward the island...
As the first wisp flits away into nothing, Gavriil spins to attack the second with Edric, his rapier still flashing eerily in the night.
Twice more Gavriil’s rapier finds its mark on the little light of death.
Gavriil's rapier makes short but brilliant work of the wisp. The light -motes explode in a shower of luminescent sparks. Out over the water, the lights continue towards the island. Rough count puts their number at a dozen or more.
Talia's weapon lowers, as does her jaw. A dozen. Not good. Not good at all.
Her voice trembles a little, fear creeping into her inflection. "We have to go. Now!"
The lights are still far out on the lake, maybe a half mile or more, but they are steadily closing on the tower in the nettles.
Gavriil sheathes his rapier hastily as the others point out their approaching doom. He starts towards the boat and says, ”Come on! If we head east we might be able to get out of here before they get here! Edric! That includes you! I can’t talk our way out of this one and you can’t smash your way out! Deanna would rather you live to come back than to die foolishly!”
Talia is nothing if not pragmatic, and if she truly admits it to herself, a bit of a coward as well. She brushes by Edric and climbs into the boat, before grabbing a paddle and peering impatiently at the approaching lights.
"Queen's decree: this damned isle is off limits to our people."
The long sharp thorns of the nettle bushes rip and tear at clothes and your flesh as you make your way to the boat. You shove off, the wooden bottom scraping along the gravel-strewn shore with a loud rasp. Then it's a flight for life, pulling on your paddles as hard as you can before the wisps find you in the deepening gloom over the lake. After an hour of hard rowing, it's over. The bizarre tower fades away to the south, keeping it's secrets hidden. If it wasn't clear why the lake is named The Candlemere, it is now.
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Even in the woods, the wind is bitter; Talia wraps her cloak tight, and fears for her horse. Her eyes sting, her nose runs, and the Viscountess can't help but dwell upon their recent defeat and retreat from the haunted island.
Winter, truly, is the cruelist season.
Gavriil keeps his cloak wrapped tight around him as the country side rolls by.
Gavriil keeps his eyes on his surrounding following their defeat on the misty island. He doesn’t plan on getting caught off guard again.
11 Kuthona 4708
The cold grip of winter continues to hold the Narlmarches in its icy grasp. The steam from your breath mixes with that of your snorting horses as you chart the woods in this area. There is no silence quite like that of a snow-covered forest.
13 Kuthona 4708
It takes two days to map an area while fighting snow and cold temperatures, but you forge ahead. Around mid-day on the 13th, you come across a huge deadfall of trees and brambles lying in a mossy heap, a mountain in miniature left from a violent windstorm several seasons ago.
Dregan cautions you to move slowly. Numerous cavelike hollows can be seen throughout the deadfall from where you sit on horseback. "Can' be certain, but Ima thinkin' this here's a hodag den." He waits for some response, then says with some irritation: 'The hodag's a rare 'un. Ain't never seen one meself, thought it was jes a legend." He looks over to where the bottom-most cave opening sits. "But, there it be."
"Have you seen the poster hung around Fairhaven? The one about the lumberjack that is offering his spear for the proof of one of these... hodags?"
Talia draws Worgslayer and looks pointedly to Edric and Gavriil, as if to say, you first....
Please.
|
Well since you said please... Edric is getting quite good at reading Talia's, remarkably expressive, looks. Dismounting he draws his warhammer and shield, preferring the additional protection in the likely cramped quarter ahead.
Once Gav nods Edric leads the way into the den, shield held out in front of him.
Gavriil dismounts his horse along with the others and draws his rapier. He nods towards Edric and says, ”Age before beauty,”
He looks back to Talia and says, ”We’re going to need a little light.”
"Be careful," Naralesh warns. "Hodags are burrowers and they're extremely hard to track. If you let one build up enough momentum to charge, it'll throw you through the air when it hits, and they can keep fighting when other beasts might have died."
Before they enter, Naralesh casts shield on himself. Responding to Gavriil's request, he casts light on Edric's shield (assuming the paladin's shield hasn't already begun to glow from Edric's own powers). He also draws his sword.
The 'cave' made in the fallen trees is quiet in the snow-covered forest. Only the crunch of your feet in the snow can be heard. Strangely, no tracks can be seen coming or going inside the cave.
At the back of the tree-cave, a mound of debris shifts upward, then bursts outward in a spray of pine needles and snow. A vaguely reptilian creature charges forward, it's body covered in spikes with razor-sharp teeth filling it's mouth.
It rushes straight for Edric, snapping at him.
Its powerful jaws lock to Edric's arm and flings him sideways to crash into the side of the tree-cave in a heap.
As Edric halts the hodag’s attack with his shield and follows up with a round-house swing of his hammer, Gavriil steps up and brings his rapier up from below, hoping to catch the beast under its snapping jaws.
Gavriil’s gamble pays off and just as Edric’s hammer connects with the beast’s head, his own rapier find’s it’s mark under the beast’s jaws.
Naralesh confidently chants the words to a summoning spell, easily pulling forth earth elementals from the ground.
He grits his teeth as the strain of the magic washes over him, but it leaves him unscathed.
The elementals surround the beast, two flanking its sides and the third opposite Edric.
So much for legendary creatures. The earth elementals pound a corpse, as the hodag is slain by Edric and Gavriil.
The creature’s den is a 30-foot diameter chamber, the ceiling of which is a tangle of dead trees that forms a natural dome-like ceiling. Dozens of bones and half-eaten carcasses (including those of several lumberjacks and bandits) litter the lair, for the hodag is a messy eater.
Within the hodag’s filthy lair are three handaxes, one masterwork greataxe, a suit of +1 studded leather armor, and a +1 keen spear that lodged in the hodag’s back after an encounter with a frightened lumberjack—it eventually managed to dislodge the spear here by rubbing its back against the walls of its lair.
Gavriil rides along with the others quietly, it’s too cold for playing the lute on their travels in the winter wilderness. Instead, he keeps and eye out on their surroundings while they travel.
Talia's mood is upbeat, even as her nose runs in the cold. The Hodag had quite a haul of treasure in its den. Her cut would by a lot of clothes.