I'll pay him fairly for his information and passage through his territory.
Kelgan returns to the group and shares the news he learned from the bandits. He also informs the group that an elven girl went missing from the Keep.
"The highlands treated us well. Perhaps on our return we might venture to that lake and test our strength against the wyrm. I've not been out on the Moors. No doubt it would be wisest to let the tribesman lead us in his homeland."
Tsarok, you're at the edge of the moors; at the speed these dry-landers move, you have little doubt it will be days before you reach either your village or the bullywugs' -- assuming none of them sink in the boggy parts. You know from experience to watch out for will-o-wisps, snakes, and vaporous monsters of various sorts, and this close to the highlands, an occasional giant is not out of the question. The big birds (what Kelgan would probably call "boobries") can be nasty if provoked.
Caspian muses over a new song called muckity muck thou dost suck, but before he starts it he thinks Cricket might get excited....
This reminds him of a tale he once read about such a place some halflings and a smeagol as he recalled, perhaps he would recall it well enough for a tale at the end of the evening.
"I hate to think we might come face to face with bullywugs in such muck as this, will my fire burn on this water?"
It never came up in the highlands, but out on the moors -- sometimes there will be full daylight, meaning that you'll be dazzled -- unless people are traveling at night, which is a lot more problematic for a number of reasons. That said, the moors are usually pretty overcast, so when in doubt, I'll assume a 2 in 6 chance of sun for each outdoor encounter that's not at night.
Tsarok breathes a sigh of relief upon finally seeing the moors for the first time in the longest time. He'd never been out of the muddy expanse before, and though all the sights and sounds of human civilisation were simultaneously amazing and disturbing, there was definitely nothing like coming home.
"I can certainly lead the way. The question is where you would like me to take you."
The lizard-man pauses, turning in silence to look towards a direction he knew quite intimately. Home... He sighs again, shaking his head and turning away. His duty now was to all those who would suffer from the incursion of the Hopping Madness.
"I can take you directly to where I saw the bullywugs, but I cannot promise the going will be easy."
"It never is, Tsarok. It never is."
"Very true Wyvurn. Well lead the way Tsarok. It won't be any easier the longer it takes. Plus as Kelgan said, there is a wyrm waiting for us on our return trip!"
"Seems unlikely the bullywugs are where you last saw them.....because we would still be at Burl's....."
Never suffer a bullywug to burble!
The going is fairly easy at first -- the highland edges of the moor are essentially low hills with numerous standing ponds, so the wet areas are easy to spot and the hedgerows easy to avoid. Tsarok knows it will get swampier further towards the interior, and wonders how the dwarves and halfling will fare. Something else, possibly more important, is nagging in the back of his reptilian brain, however...
He's perhaps not as worried as he should be, simply happy to have his feet on... wet ground again.
All: Past some thick vegetation ahead is a very long body of water, its length parallel to the ridges of the hills and the hedge-rows, and more or less blocking your direction of travel. You can probably go around it, but it will take you hours out of your way.
Tsarok:
Tsarok calls the group to a halt, raising his clawed hand and lowering his voice to a scant whisper.
"We must tread carefully. This waterhole is the home of the su-nath-yee, a sacred beast of our kind. It belches clouds of caustic swamp-gas and is a terror of the waters."
"It would be safer to take the long route around, but if time is pressing, we can continue through..."
A sacred beast? Old Mother Tree would say that a few extra miles is preferable to face-melting swamp gas. What do you think, Wolvie?
Cricket confers with his wolf.
Aw-woo-woo, grrr, yap yap!
Yeah, Wolvie thinks we should go around, too.
Caspian shifts his gaze among his companions.....
"Face-melting swamp gas?"
"It is probably best to focus on the task at hand and not get side tracked with every rumor of dangerous creatures in the wild. We have had good luck so far in our travels. Let us take the longer but safer route."
Going around turns out to be smart. Overhead, a very large bird (Kelgan calls them "boobries," which makes Cricket giggle) glides down to the water to eat some fish. Something fast and reptilian grabs it and drags it into the pond. Prey drowned, the beast then comes up on land and breaks through the hedgerow -- it can only be described as a small dragon. Bellowing at you to stay away from its meal, it punctuates the demand with a gob of spit which, upon hitting the ground, bursts into a cloud of gas that instantly kills the grasses there. As long as you're not headed towards its home, though, it seems disinclined to pursue.
Knowledge (Warfare) DC 15:
"That would be the face-melting swamp gas....."
"Even with ranged and mounted support that would be a difficult creature to kill out of the water much less in it. I'm glad we didn't stick around to get our face melted off."
Kelgan studies the dragon as it devours the bird, and begins to formulate a strategy, mind and mouth racing to take advantage of the situation.
"That boobrie reveals just how dangerous that foe is. I've a mind to refine our tactics together before we face the bullywugs, and this creature is dangerous enough to make that feasable. If we strike it now, while it is landed, we stand a greater chance then if it were submerged. We should draw it further out, away from the pool."
"I've got my steelband, and my firebombs, which will get its attention. Tsarok, you can spit lightning - how far? Jaegr is as deadly as a mounted lancer with that pick, so it might only take a single strike from him to fell the beast. Cricket, you and Wolvie spread out to one flank, and support us from there. Wyvern, do the same on the other. I don't want any surprises. Jaeger, Tsarok, and I will hold the middle, using our combined firepower to draw it directly towards us. Caspian, you stand a ways behind us, enough to reach us all with your pipes. I've got a few extra firebombs that I'll pass to the flankers - but don't attack with them until it is firmly focused on the center."
"Once it closes, Jaeger and I will engage it in melee, with Wyvern cutting off its retreat. I'm not sure your net will do much to hold it, Caspian, but we need to prevent it from grabbing one of us and drowning them in the pool. Any magical means of doing that, Cricket or Tsarok?"
He thinks a second, then asks Tsarok, his voice more measured.
"Tsarok, you mentioned this is a sacred beast to your tribe. Would they respect a warrior who defeated it, or be angry with them? I have little knowledge of the customs of your people, and I do not wish to offend them - or you. In my culture, a show of strength is how one earns respect. I wish for there to be better relations between our people since we share a common enemy, and I will take every chance I am given to improve them. Answer swiftly, please, for if that beast sinks beneath the waves, so does the chance."
"Anyone with good ideas, share them now."
"Captain Ahab, We don't have time for a fishing expedition!"
"If we stand and fight this creature and defeat it we would surely have the respect of his tribe. It will be in for surprise if it tries to take me off my feat, as I am like the mountain. Against the spit I have no answer for however."
"I cannot prevent the spit, but I can surely heal wounds it causes. Keep your face and stones protected, and my saps and salves can mend most any other burns you suffer. If our shamans can ward us from the spit, that would be even better."
He sets his massive shield in front of himself, hooking his glaive in the slot on its side to form a crude tripod which keeps them both ready at hand. He hands two firebombs to the goblins, and loads his crossbow, bracing it on top of the shield to steady his aim.
"Have you a steelband of your own, dverge?"
"I have a dwarven strongbow from which I could launch a couple of arrows before it gets here."
The drake is maybe 100 yards away from you and waiting belligerently to make sure you go away. You estimate that its spitting distance is about 60 feet. In terms of covering ground, it shambled at maybe 3 mph, walking, but you get the feeling it could cover 300 feet of ground in under 10 seconds, if it really wanted to.
Kelgan:
Golvetto said, "I don't know anything about that. Maybe the humans brought her to the accursed keep in the highlands? Or maybe she's in the village near the keep you just came from. Or maybe anywhere. All I can tell you is that we have not had the pleasure of her company!"
At that, one of the bandits grinned lasciviously, showing off a number of missing teeth.
The clouds overhead are thick, and the lighting dim; some drizzle is falling, but no steady rain. Those with low-light vision can see twice as far as normal. Those with light sensitivity are not bothered.
"Looks like it could bolt for us at a fair clip. Probably only get a few shots off, so make them count."
Capian considers the creature and figures the best he can do is start an inspiration and distract the beast with his awesome bag-piping....
Wyvurn nods and takes the firebomb from Kelgan.
"Give us a 50 count for us to get into position and then attack."
Wyvurn attempts to get into a position to flank the creature. Taking a wide arc out of range of the spit to do so. He tries to keep an eye on it's eyes to make sure it is not tracking him.
The thing's eyes seem to be keyed for movement, but Wyvurn, with the stealth of his elven ancestors, somehow seems to merge into the grass, heather, and rocks, gliding to his selected location undetected even by his companions. The hobgoblin's keen sight enables him to note that the creature, now engaged in bellowing aggressively at the dwarves, has not tracked his departure from the group.
Takes a firebomb from Kelgan with noticeable excitement.
Uh, guys, I think even Queequeg would think twice about this one...
While awaiting word from Tsarok, retreats 15' behind the line of warriors, getting ready to cast whatever spell is appropriate.
The monster, seeing you not retreating, prepares to charge. You notice it has vestigial wings (that it probably uses as flippers in the water); it unfolds them to aid in its burst of speed.
Initiative
Begins his inspiration and tries to come up with a song.....
"Oh, skin me some water dragon, like grandma and grandpa used to slay...."
"Then I'll float on down the river to a Cricket hideaway."
"Drift away like Tom Sawyer, ride a raft with ol' Huck Finn.
Take a nap like Rip Van Winkle, daze dreamin' again."
Seeing it tense to charge forward, Jaegr takes a shot at the beast, then discards his bow and steps forward drawing his pick axe, The Finisher, and makes himself the target,
Jaegr's arrow clatters harmlessly off the thing's scales.
Kelgan steadies against the shield, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Holding his breath, he carefully squeezes the release lever and the steel-tipped bolt streaks across the sky with a small thunderclap.
Shot taken, he tosses the weapon to the mossy ground and picks up his shield, snapping the glaive into his hand, and falls into his defensive stance.
"Tsarok, stay close to me. I'll protect you while you blast the dragon."
The hill dwarf's bolt strikes home between a pair of scales as the monster charges, but doesn't slow it a bit. Tiny wings pumping to add to its velocity, the thing covers most of the distance in a rush, then, almost as an afterthought, comes up with a final burst, crashing directly into Jaegr.
Its blind, headlong rush leaves it open for a moment as it comes.
Unless the drake dies instantly from your attack of opportunity, the monster's rush knocks you back 10 feet.
Cricket starts chanting the opening to a spell in ancient Elven.
It sounds like
Kallmeish Mael Steerbucktip ah ab Pequod....
"I'll make up the words to the songs if you don't mind!"
Caspian quips at Crickets spellcasting......
[/b]
The beast's speed surprises Jaegr as it crashes into him. He manages to get off an awkward swing before getting knocked back, his forge armor absorbing some of the blow.
OK, to recap up round 1, Wyvern stealths into position; Cricket begins his spell; and the dwarves fire ranged weapons. The monster came in fast, knocking Jaegr back out of reach. Caspian begins his inspiration.
Tsarok still needs to act (I'm assuming he delayed).
Then, for round 2:
1. Wyvurn (assumed)
2. Cricket (14)
3. Kelgan (14)
4. Jaegr (13)
5. Dragon (10)
6. Caspian (4)
7. Tsarok
Jaegr moves back to the creature trying to avoid an attack. . Once up to the creature Jaegr enters his stone stance and fights while trying to defend himself.
Status
AC increases to 28, Touch to 16 , CMD increases to 24, 5 Temp Hps
Caspian inspires thorough the song encouraging them to slay the dragon and by giving the impression that even feeble old halflings can do it.....
""Oh, skin me some water dragon, like grandma and grandpa used to slay...."
The creature's burst of speed impresses Kelgan. Contemplating the creature's speed is one thing - seeing it is quite another. As Jaegr is flung backward, he takes advantage of the clear line of fire to .. fire. He scrapes his glaive along the front of his shield, knocking away chunks of smoldering charcoal and exposing several scorching embers embedded deep in the wood. They flare to life immediately when exposed to air, sending a plume of fire out at the drake.
Once Jaeger returns to the fight, Kelgan uses the reach of his glaive to interfere with the drake's movements, slowing it minutely, but enough to give the mountain dwarf a slight advantage.
"We can move around, Tsarok. Just keep behind or beside me, and keep me in swinging range of the dragon."
Status
AC: 32, CMD: 18, HP: 42/42, AoO: 2/3
Kelgan, you might want to hold off on the burning hands until Tsarok, Wyvurn, and Cricket act, to make sure you're not going to catch them (or any pets, etc.) in the area of effect.
Per the plan, Wyvurn will wait until the creature is fully engaged with Jaegr.
Once the dwarf has its attention, Wyvurn will slip up within assured tossing distance and attempt to firebomb it's arse and the ground directly behind it with hopes the front line can keep it backed up into the flames. Perhaps singing its scales will distract it enough for Jaegr and everyone else to get in a few good licks.
Wyvurn will then attempt to hide in plain sight amongst the smoke, flames, and surrounding marsh grass.
I also just realised I haven't updated my possessions (talk about lazy)... perhaps we can work it into our travel through the swamps - one evening Tsarok can leave camp to visit his tribe, explain things, and pick up some improved gear.
I should be far more active after next week when university is over for the year. I really wanted the opportunity to play in this game, but holy hell have I been busy lately!
Tsarok seems rather shaken by the sudden suggestion (and overall agreement!) that they should... just go right ahead and kill the su-nath-yee. Horrified might be a better word for it, really. His brief protests of the terrifying nature of the beast and its sacred ties to the land and how all the spirits of the swamps would rise up against them in retaliation seem to fall on dead ears, and in the end he sighs in resignation.
All I can do is give the beast respectful ceremony after its death - or ours.
The lizardman wisely remains behind Kelgan, delaying in hesitation before finally committing to an attack. He draws a rusted iron plumbata from his person; as soon as he lays his hands upon it, it crackles with conducted electricity. The dart seems to find its way into the su-nath-yee's side with a sizzle.
The monster is wounded by Jaegr's retaliation and stung by tsarok's lightning dart, but the splash from Wyvurn's firebomb doesn't seem to have bothered it much. Sorely beset, it bellows loudly, a call that echoes over the moors. An answering call comes from the nearby pond, and a second drake, this one still spitting out bird feathers, emerges from the hedgerow and comes running to join the party...
Cricket's spell (whatever it is) takes effect, and he and Wolvie can act; then Kelgan and Jaegr are up.
Tsarok has great misgivings about the karmic consequences of their actions, but, since the storm gods have not blasted him on the spot, figures that maybe the spirits aren't paying attention.