Lonely Coast

Game Master The Lonely GM

Colwyn sheaths his sword as he says, "Thanks, and well met friends." He moves to search the goblin bodies as he looks at the sky and says, "Best we be keep'n our celebrations short or we won't be a maken' our destination on account o' the storm."

Liath's face lights up in unmitigated joy, though no sound escapes her lips until she surprises the fleeing creature with a quick trust that bursts through its torso.

"HA!" she exclaims, pulling her weapon free from the quickly cooling corpse. "Praise the Noble One! By the Light did you see that?" She rejoins her comrades, her face still split in a great grin, her statuesque chest still heaving with exertion, her face flushed with battle exertion. "Ho! Even in this place of darkness the creatures of evil can not find safe purchase! Think of the myriad innocents we have saved by making this lonely corner safe!"

She turns to Brevon, and her joy gets the best her. She rushes to him and asks how he fares. Once he is past his fit, she embraces him in fierce, brief, hug. Releasing him, she says, "You were magnificent, brother! Your protective light turned away many blows that could've turned the battle! You must be highly favored by The Justicar as well! Rejoice, for this is a great portent for the future!"

To Colwyn she turns, and sees his mostly-shiny blade. "Ah! Be not so glum! Perhaps we will be again waylaid by evil, and you will be given chance to wet your blade and bring thyself glory! Always we can hope for more tests to improve our mettle!"

"Ah, and, good kobold," her smile runs away. "Truly the earth weeps with the damage your bolts have done to it this day. Is that how you bring glory to Apsu? I am sorry that my tales of mighty paladins wading through hordes of evil-doers with mighty blades of tempered STEEL seem to have been in error. I shall tell my church's scholars to re-write our lore to mention how the shining legions of Apsu truly wage battle."

Her smile is born anew and she turns to Brevon. "Indeed! So great was their heresy that a bolt drank deep of my life's blood, and I am in need of healing. Would you be so kind as to grant me the sacrament of curing, so we might return to our sojourn? The sooner we get there, the sooner we can see how savory the Priory's meat and drink fair!"

As Colwyn mentions searching, she echos his thoughts. "So, too, we must not forget to secure these marauders and see if they have coin upon them, for 'tis now ours by rite of conquest!"

As you search the half-goblins, the winds begin to pick up in intensity, and the sleet starts to become full-fledged snow.

Ooof!
Brevon gasps as Liath's embraces him, struggling to keep his feet.

"Well now yes, a most, ah, enthusiastic one you are," he says, readjusting his muddy robe. "I am ever a servant in the defense of life. A pleasure to help."

As Colwyn drags the body together and searches them, he surveys the scene. "Such a senseless loss of life. Why would they attack us in this way?"

With a resigned sigh he pushes the hair out of his face and brings his staff up to use as a light source. He examines the potions Colwyn presents him, but doesn't recognize their aura or appearance.

"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with these potions. Are any of you learned in the ways of alchemy?"

Cast detect magic
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (9) - 1 = 8

almost forgot

Laying his hands on Liath's wounds, Brevon again closes his eyes and calls forth a memory. Healing energy flows from his hands into her.

CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Ancient Chinese proverb: "Enough is as good as a feast." =-) 3 hp puts me at full.

Kivyx snarled a little at Liath's comment, but stayed his hand, returning his crossbow to his back and searching the ground, hoping to retrieve some of his wayward bolts. "I was caught unawares... I lack the strength to carry heavy weapons into battle as you bigger races do, so I do not usually scream my presence to those who seek to do me harm. But I shall keep your tactics in mind for the future." he rebuffed. He wasn't sure what her issue with him was, but his patience was wearing thin.

How did his idol weather such blows to her pride?

Brevon's question gives him pause - he wasn't totally sure if, being a fellow faithful, he was mocking her like the war maid was, or if he was being sincere. Still, it was nice to here some kinder words for a change, so he humored it. "...I am Kivyx, exile of the Stonescale tribe and champion of Apsu... in training. I've no formal training to speak of, I simply have to learn it as I go. But I am grateful to see that not all of Dralen's faithful are so poor that they cannot afford manners."

Taste Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Kivyx returned to Brevon's side, taking one of the potions in hand. "Precisely as master Colwyn says... this storm is terrible. And I know from experience, not all... less civilized races are welcome into towns, which makes trading for needs impossible." Studying it a moment, he took a small sip and closed his eyes. "...curatives. Smart. War bands like my tribe's would have someone carrying a small collection of them for emergencies... typically for the leader. The rest of us were pretty... expendable. Better hold on to these."

Kivyx opts to hold onto the tanglefoot bags. Those could come in handy... he knew that from experience too. "Well, lady Liath, would you care to lead the way? I would continue to do so, but I would hate for you to mistake my lead as a retreat and stab me in the back."

Laith's eyes narrow at Kivyx's last. "Have no fear, paladin. If I stab you, you'll be facing me. And you'll be armed. And I do not care the weight of your weapons, so long as you find a way to be effective with them. Stay in the rear, if it makes you feel safe. "

Liath leads the way onward, toward the Priory.

As they walk, Liath continues, "I would not leave your questions unanswered, kobold. Thus, Life is precious when it is advancing the good of Society. That is, we all are given certain gifts and we are duty-bound to use them to their fullest.

Does that make things clearer?"

Colwyn says Brevon, "we can worry about the loot later." He shoulders his pack and wraps his cloak around himself a little tighter as he forges toward the priory happy to be sharing the road with his new companions.

As Colwyn listens to Liath he thinks, She be a cocky one. But he has to grudgingly admit, she has a right to be.

Brevon clamps Colwyn on the shoulder as they walk behind Liath and Kivyx. "Very well," he says as he listens to the two of them bicker. "Let us hope that we retain our sanity in the meantime.".

Colwyn laughs as he replies, "not likely."

Kivyx trudges along, pressing against the blustery cold wind as he listens to Liath speak. What she said made sense... but something about it felt... off. Was that all there was to it? The strong defend the meek so the meek can serve them? If that was the case...

"...then why did She save me?" he asked simply. Sparing him did the woman no favors. She didn't have to... he didn't expect Her to... but She did all the same. And he had done nothing in return to help Her. If what Liath said was true, it meant that not only was his thinking wrong, but Her actions would make no sense. By all accounts, he should be dead. At Her hand, to boot.

So why...?

"...is that why you despise me? Because I am fighting against your cycle? I am the meek... trying to defend the meek." Kivyx winced as the wind picked up into his face a bit, trying to hide it in his cloak. "I know all too well the cycle you speak of. My kind knows it well. The meek serve the strong... and, in theory, the strong protect the meek. That is how we survive. But my kind abandoned me, because I was too weak even for them. And humans wanted me dead. The only one who cared... was Her."

Another hour of travel and the only thing that seems likely is a snowstorm. Although certainly not a full blown storm yet, the swirling snow has now all but obscured the trail, hiding landmarks and making navigation difficult

Liath smirked. This one was was beginning to get it. So compelling was Darlen's writ that all could grasp it, was it but said unto them.

"You are on the right track, but yet walk the wrong trail. You speak of the meek "serving" the strong. The Truth is actually quite the opposite of that. The Farmer is paid in -gold- for his wheat. If he could make more gold growing flowers, he would, and indeed some do. The miner is paid in gold for his iron. And in turn the smith is paid in gold for his arms.
The meek do not serve the strong, they serve themselves. They serve themselves by doing what will make their lives the best they can be. As each does what is best for themselves, they do what is best for society."

Then she frowns, as if contemplating a rather unsavory idea. "You were abandoned by your tribe NOT because you were weak. You were abandoned because THEY were weak. They were too weak to protect you, so they failed to do what was best for both them AND for you.
She that saved you offered you the pact of the Strong: That you will do as best for you, and so do best for your new society."

Her face softens, as if coming to peace with an unattainable goal. "I despise you because you are failing -her-. You call yourself paladin but use the tactics of the thief. To destroy evil you must face the danger, not because that is honorable, but because that is best. Fortune favors the bold. If you snipe from trees, the enemy will pen you in and flank you. The best defense is offence, for those that are dead can not harm you."

She smiles. "The enemy will be paying attention to me, so advance boldly, and let thy bolts serve as thy cover."

"Perhaps," says Brevon, catching wind of the conversation ahead of him, "the answer is not to be found in formulaic determinations of 'weak' and 'strong.' For, as you say, the meaning of such words can vary from location to location. Surely there is a more universal meaning to 'goodness.' Perhaps we may extrapolate a more general, and universal, principal, then."

"Yes, there is truth in fire," he murmers.

So lost is he in thought that he barely notices the worsening weather.

Survival: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5

Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

"I hate ta interrupt your debate but the weather is taking a turn for the worse. He continues louder in hopes to be heard over the wind, "We need ta be pickin up the pace or leggin it through the forest if we want to make it to shelter before the worst of it hits.

Kivyx marched forward, squinting as the storm grew rowdy. Such miserable weather... he should've left earlier. Then, if he had, he might not have survived the encounter with those half-goblins thanks to his new companions. The collective wisdom of his new company rattled in his mind a little.

"...I suppose so..." he mused. Truthfully, though, he had more he wanted to say, but felt it better not to drag things along. He could not advance boldly. He simply couldn't; thieving tactics kept him alive. He couldn't face evil head on like Liath or his paladin lady. It was, however, gratifying to know that what he was doing might be considered the "right thing".

Even so, none of it truly answered his question: why was life precious? He supposed that he was doing good, maybe, but ultimately, he didn't grasp why he had to. Perhaps... it was something he wasn't meant to understand? Was it a concept only stronger races could conceive?

Kivyx's fringes perk up as Colwyn speaks up, before looking up at the weather worsening and hurrying his steps. "Is there no shortcut we could take? Or at least some path that would give us a respite from the wind? Perhaps an underground passage?"

Liath immediate nods at Brevon's words. "Oh, yes, of course of course. I was only using 'strong' and weak' in the traditionl sense. It could equally be said that a rich merchant that fields a company of infantrymen, and keeps all of their families fed, is strong, though he has never held a sword."

survival: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Liath simply notes the snow as a thing. "Good Colwyn, I'd rather not try the forest. If we can stick to our current heading, I'd much rather trust to the path that others before us have trod. Mind you, how long 'till we must needs make camp?"

"Sorry I know of no underground passages," Colwyn reponds to Kivyx's suggestion. "The trail is probably best,"Colwyn agrees with Liath and continues," I 'ope we don't be 'aven to be makin camp."

You've travelled for nearly five hours now and you find yourselves praying that the storm has reached it's peak. Snow now completely covers the trail - if you're even still on the trail. Conversation becomes more difficult as well - the howling winds whip bits of ice and snow into the mouth of anyone who dares speak out against them. Even worse, in spite of your best efforts to stay warm, frostbite and hypothermia are beginning to sink in, those of you without cold weather gear cursing your lack of forsight. Chilled to the bone, you can only hope that the Priory is at least somewhat close.

Liath takes 1 nonlethal damage from the cold.

Liath's teeth start to unintentionally chatter, but she holds them closed with a force of will.

She takes out her hipflask and takes a fortifying bolt of rum before replacing it.

"By the Light, did I ever know a summer's day?" Brevon chatters through his frosted beard. "The weather has turned so suddenly I dare say it is sorcery most foul. We may need to establish camp here, before we lose the trail!"

He draws his thin traveling cloak tight, his hood further down his brow, till all he seems is frozen, dirty blonde hair.

The starts to seep deep into Colwyn's bones when he believes he hears the bells of the priory in the distance. "Almost there," he says triumphantly. His celebration is short lived as he realizes something is following them. Through chattering teeth he warns, "b-beware, s-something ff-follows."

Kivyx tightens his cloak around him as he moves undaunted through the snowy wind. He was grateful to have a heavier cloak than he would've (being a reptile, he had to warm himself up any way he could), but he did wish the sun would come back and make his task easier.

Come to think of it, he was glad it wasn't. The light hurt his eyes something fierce.

When Colwyn speaks up, he nods. They were so close. With any luck from Apsu, he'd finally be meeting his hero again. He'd finally get the answers he so crucially needed. But at the rogue's warning, he immediately spun around, pulling out his crossbow and keeping it at the ready for whatever was approaching. "Are you sure!? Can you tell what it is?!" he called over the wind, eyes trained into the white behind him.

"...go on ahead! And hurry! I'll cover our retreat!"

"What do you mean? What follows?"

Then, dropping his voice, "How close is the Priory? Can we make it if we run? "

"I c-c-an hear the priory bells s-so we must be c-c-lose," Colwyn affirms. "I don't know hat is following us b-b-ut we b-best be keepin together," he suggests as he draws his sword and continues on the path.

As the storm wanes a little you can now all see what Colwyn had sought to warn you about. Two long, gaunt and black furred forms slip through the falling snow towards you. Their jaws hang open exposing long, sharp fang and their powerful shoulder muscles bunch as they prepare to leap among you. Wolves!

Party is up. I assumed that Brevon has be actively maintaining the light spell he cast after the last battle with 1d100 ⇒ 95 rounds or duration remaining.

"Yes, stay close, we mustn't get separated. My energies wane."

Brevon draws his crossbow, which begins to glow.

Cast light on crossbow.

Colwyn quickly agrees with Bevon as he draws his sword and moves towards a tree, "Let them come to us."

Liath nods vigorously at Colwyn's words and joins him, shoulder to shoulder. "There are two of them. This way we can both reap more glory afore the day is done!"

Held action: Attack on approach w/ reach

Kivyx squinted as the wolves approached. They looked hungry... and this snow was doing awful for his sight. If only-

One could almost see the light bulb go off over his head before reaching into his pack and producing a chunk of preserved mutton. 'I was really looking forward to eating this... but if it keeps them off our backs, it'll be well spent.' Whistling a bit, he waved the meat over his head to grab their attention. "Come on! This is what you're after, right? No need to get testy, eat up!" He tossed the meat a little ways toward the wolves, hoping they'd prefer some cured mutton over an angry bunch of travelers.

Gonna see if they'd prefer meat that won't fight back versus potentially dangerous food. I'm guessing this would use one of my trail rations, but well spent if they let us be.

Handle Animal (untrained): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Ah, I see, so this is how it's going to go, huh? Figures. Hopefully my dice start to improve. It's hard enough being a kobold paladin without the RNG turning against you.

Ignoring the meat, the wolves begin to stalk around you, eyeing their potential targets. Although they move swiftly, they do not attack. Up close you can tell that one of them (the one further behind on the map) looks just a little bit bigger, more dangerous, hungrier.

Round 2 - Party is up

New round? Initiatives?

Liath returns the hungry stare. "You wish to c-c-come and p-play, eh? I h-have n-n-no patience, else I w-w-ould make this in-interesting. Al-l-las I must k-kill you quick."

All she can think about is getting to warm alehouse and ordering a steaming plate of beef.

One of the wolves snarls - all he can think about is getting to a warm cave and ordering a steaming plate of Liath.

Whoops, added a new round indicator to my last post. Unless I specify otherwise, you can just assume that the entire party can act.

Colwyn waits for a wolf to come into the reach of his sword.
Readied action

Liath can wait no longer. The best defense is a good offense. Time to rollz yer dice an' takes yer chances.

"The Justicar protects!" she cries and lunges a few feet at the nearest wolf.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (4, 3) + 6 = 13

Remember, if the other wolf closes to attack me, I get an AoO:

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (2, 2) + 6 = 10

Well, I get to -try- an AoO. =)

Brevon's breath is bated. Realizing he has been holding it in, he exhales. The cloud of vapor rises before him. He sees the creaure in the dark, looming, lurking between the trees. His hands trembling, he raises his crossbow. His fingers are numb from the cold and he fumbles for the trigger.

"Hells," he whispers into the dark, reaching to reload.

Ranged Attack: 1d20 + 1 - 6 ⇒ (7) + 1 - 6 = 2
dmg: 1d8 ⇒ 6

Kivyx frowned as the wolves ignored his mutton, feeling he wasted a perfectly good meal... no, it should still be good. He'd just have to dust it off a bit and warm it up. Later.

Right now, wolves. Leveling his crossbow at the biggest wolf, the kobold took aim, but with the snow whipping around him, he was having trouble tracking his target. It wasn't that it was dark - it could be pitch black and he could still see fine - but the snow. By Apsu, this snow was awful. Still, he readied an attack on the big wolf, hoping the rest would sort itself out.

Light Crossbow: 1d20 + 6 - 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 - 6 = 5

You know... I'm getting kinda sick of that, dice...

The larger wolf turns out to be surprisingly nimble, dodging even Liath's powerful blow. Meanwhile, the winds blow the crossbow bolts wildly astray.

Sensing an opportunity, the two wolves simultaneously charge towards Liath, again dodging past her weapon. Although the smaller wolf is unable to get a hold on her with it's teeth, the larger of the two latches it's fangs around Liath's knee, savagely dragging her to the ground. 5 damage to Liath, who is now prone as well.

Round 3

Round 3
For a second Colwyn selfishly thinks, Now that they are distracted we can make our escape. But as he considers the situation he cannot let the brave warrior die in such a horrible fashion. He moves toward the nearest beast and strikes out at it with his sword.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Attack: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

"No!" he cries as Liath is pulled to the ground.

Without thinking, Brevon rushes forward to her aid. As he comes near, the smell of Liath's blood hangs heavy in the air.

A memory, I need a memory! Think, Think!

In a panic, he tries to recall his dreams. But all he can see is the wolf. Liath's blood. The ice. Darkness. Death.

And a face, barely visible, floating in the depths of memory. A face he has tried desperately to forget, for every time he envisions her is wracked with guilt.

Zelara.

And another memory comes to mind. She, coming to bed, wandering the darkened hall of their home. She carried a single candle. It's flame illuminated her face as she peeked into his study. He, deep in thought, barely noticing her. Come to bed, she said. In a minute, he replied. The look of disappointment on her face. Goodnight, she said, snuffing out the candle.

"Be Gone!" he roars at the wolf, a gout of flame erupting from his throat.

Cast Fire Breath (Su) (essentially burning hands).
Reflex Save DC 14
damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1
pfft

As the wolf bites her and her back hits the ground, she lays still a moment, long enough to think 'well. this could've gone better.'
Then she's moving, standing, trying to keep her weapon between her and another bite long enough to get back into position.

Total Defense, +4 AC. Stand up.

"--hey!" Kivyx shouted as Liath fell to the ground, before putting his claws in his maw and whistling loudly. He remembered one of the tribe's slurk herders using that whistle to coral the slimy beasts. He hoped it might work to at least distract the wolves. All he had to do was distract them long enough for Liath to get up.

If they did take the bait, Kivyx would dive into the snow to hide from the creatures. After all, HE didn't want to become their meal.

Handle Animal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Stealth: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19

Colwyn and Brevon both manage to land hits on the wolves, although the two hungry beast seem to quickly shrug off the pain. Kivyx's whistle fails to distract the wolves, however Liath also manages to regain her footing unharmed.

Crowded by so many opponents, the wolves seek to withdraw back into the forest, however, Liath manages to slay the smaller of the two before it can escape.
Liath AoO: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (3, 1) + 6 = 10

As the larger wolf retreats, it's sharp eyes pick out Kivyx's hiding spot in the snow, and it instead changes course for it's next prey.

Colwyn trudges through the deep snow and makes his way behind the large wolf. "Hang on, he thinks, hoping he isn't to late.

Double move avoiding AoO

Kivyx heaved a small sigh of relief that the wolves backed off, but now had another problem: the big one was still running around. His best bet was to stay put and wait for an opportunity to strike.

Besides, this snow was cold.

If the wolf doesn't close the gap, Kivyx will stay hidden in the snow. If the wolf comes close to attack, he'll fire his crossbow from his prone position (I don't THINK he takes a penalty for that, but if he does, just apply it retroactively.)

Stealth (if wolfie leaves him be): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
Light Crossbow: 1d20 + 6 - 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 - 6 = 101d6 ⇒ 5

Edit: Disregard the stealth, Kivyx will just attack the wolf. Also... I think these dice hate me even more than Liath did.

Lilith breaths heavy a moment, trying to catch her breath and gauging how bad the bite war. Yeah, it was bad. Nothing some grace couldn't take care of, but the will was sapped. She would need to bolster herself for more battle.
Besides, it was selfish of her to try and grab -all- the glory, especially after already felling one wolf with the ever-sharp polearm. Surely the paladin wanted to bring glory to his dragon god? And would the thief want his blade to go wholly without a kill this day? Such a concept was...alien.

Lilith centers herself, readying for another charge, but also giving the others a chance at honor on the battlefield. Yes, that was fair.

Blessing of War, +1AC

Brevon runs to Liath, breathless.

Cast cure light wounds on Liath

CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

posting on mobile, sorry for simplicity

The wolf lunges at Kivyx as he lies prone in the snow, but luckily its gleaming fangs merely glance off the kobold's scales. After this attack, the wolf again pulls back into the forest.

Round 5