"Solid thinking," Isabella says. "Now. What were these freaks digging at, and do we want to backtrack to their lair and check for cubs? Owlbears are mean s&@+s, but they can be trained - sort of - to guard places."
Having asked the question, Isabella goes to check on what the owlbears were doing before the party disturbed them.
"I've always has a soft spot for animals," Aramis admits. "We should try to find their nest. I don't want to leave a baby to starve -- even if it will be big and mean one day. Predators have their place."
She looks at Arryn, "As to a plan... I suppose you're right. Approaching with more caution would be prudent. But, if you're hoping for silence, I'm afraid I can't oblige. Some of you may be able to move silently, but I can't." She considers Isabella and Arryn. "What are you thinking, then? We hear danger and I... what? Stand still while someone else goes to look? Walk slow? I'm not staying out of a fight when I can help."
"What kind of hand signs?"
”No, not stand still, but the group can hang back while Isabella and/or I sneak forward. These forests give lots of cover. Even if it’s just Isabella sneaking up to the next bush, peeking through, and waving us forward with some idea of how many baddies and where they are.”
”The guerrilla units in the military use lots of hand signals. I learned a bunch once. They aren’t hard to learn.”
He shows signals for things like 3 enemies ahead, circle round, charge in, narrating them for the others as he demonstrates.
Dregg nods along with each signal. ”Run in and hit something hard. Uh huh. Ok. Next one? Run in and hit something hard. Yeah, I can do that. Next. Hmm. Ok, got it. Run in and hit something hard.” Dregg plucks a few owlbear feathers from his axe as he sets to cleaning it a bit more fully. ”Heh. I like these plans.”
”No, only one of those was run in and hit something hard. The first signal showed how many there are. For example, in that recent combat, our scout would have held up two fingers, like this,” he demonstrates, ”not three, not one,” he holds up three, then just the middle, ”then, since we’d know what we were facing, our scout could have motioned to circle around,” a circling gesture, ”and once we were all in position, attack.” He closes his fist.
”Then, instead of walking in on them blind, we would have all attacked once from hiding, probably taking one of them out before they even knew we were there, leaving an opening for you to charge in while we softened it up from range...”
Arryn trails off as he looks off into the distance in horror. ”Oh no! By Cayden, I’m sounding like my father!!”
"If he used to win fights, that might not be so bad here and now."
”Yeah, he won one or two in his time,” Arryn replies miserably.
From what you can tell, all they were digging up was a rabbit warren; the sounds was -- as Isabella pointed out to Arryn -- likely the rabbits themselves.
It looks like the owlbears came from the north, but their path fades pretty quickly.
”So,” Arryn says, trying to change the subject, ”Anybody know if owlbear is tasty? We aren’t that far from camp. We could have some folks here in twenty minutes to field dress this meat, if it’s usable.”
"Predators usually taste pretty rank, but get them anyway. Better not to leave these lying around to draw scavengers and alert the hobs. Besides, even if they're bad eating, their hide could be good leather."
Arryn taps Garrivek and they head back to the caves, leaving the other three to guard the corpses. Once there, they draft half a dozen folk to come deal with the owlbears, along with those two elves to stand guard over them while they work.
Dregg chuckles as the group starts heading back to the caves, "Heh. All I heard was run in and hit something." He shrugs helplessly when Arryn shoots him a look, grinning widely.
There’s a bit of an edge to Arryn’s look this time. Dregg probably doesn’t notice, but an astute observer would deduce that Arryn is actually quite irritated at this whole recent encounter and fallout.
Garrivek watches the exchange for a time, unable to get a word in edgewise. Finally, he adds, "Scouting ahead is smart. Works wonders for quality of life. Longevity, you see. Handy thing, that. I'd like to keep mine as long as possible." He nods. "It's best to attack your enemies from afar, if you can. Although, your enemies might want the same thing, of course! HA!" Garrivek chuckles. "Next time we see trouble, I don't mind waiting for one of you light-stepping fellows to scramble off ahead a bit and give it a look-see before we come stomping in. But, not far. Nothing ends a life quicker than heading into trouble alone. You'd have to stay in sight."
When Arryn taps him to return to the caves, Garrivek nods. As they turn and leave, he begins to talk. "So, Arryn, tell me about yourself. I love a good story! Why, there was this one time... Ah! Well, listen to me! Plenty of time for more of my stories later. But, you! Tell me about yourself, lad."
”Nothing much to tell. Just a humble, village kitchen boy who happens to be able to throw stuff around with his mind.”
As Garrivek and Arryn leave, Aramis looks at Dregg and Isabella. "Is it me, or is he moodier than normal?" After a moment of consideration she nods. "I guess being taken prisoner really scared him, huh?" Looking at Dregg, then Isabella, she adds, "I'm just glad I got you out."
"Dunno. I was out cold," Isabella says.
Her face darkens. "Bad showing on my part. Might be I was better off, though. Damn bugbear had us stripped. Dunno what all he did. Wish I could kill him another time."
Upon his return, the awkward silence makes it clear to Arryn they were all talking about him while he was gone. He ignores it though, and once the townspeople and their guards are settled to their task, he asks, ”Ready to continue on?”
Dregg looks at Aramis then at Isabella, then regards Arryn as he walks between the two women. He works his jaw side to side for a bit before offering softly, ”Lots of different kinds of strength in the world. Arryn’s got a big share of it, more than he feels, I think. But, in the end, it’s up to him to find that well and tap it.”
"Ready before these s@#~s came out to keep us up," Isabella says with a casual kick at the larger owlbear's head. "Let's get out of here before they start to stink."
"Lead the way," Aramis tells Isabella.
Garrivek nods. "Oh, yeah. I can do that, too." He stares at a nearby stone, which goes flying into a nearby tree with a loud crack. "Not as damaging as yours, mind."
"So nothing special about you at all, hey? Humble village boy. Humble's not my strong suit. Though, I did work at a farm once. Not my calling. Although, I did have a soft spot for the nugs. Adorable, hairless, little critters."
When they arrive he looks at everyone oddly. "What's with you guys? Why do you look so guilty? What were you doing? You can tell me. I can keep a secret..." He drums his fingers on his armour and gets an intense twinkle in his eye, looking very, very interested in what he might have missed.
"I don't know about you, but I'm ready!"
Dregg shrugs, ”Don’t know why you’re so excited, Beltbuckle, the ladies were just saying how they’re worried about Angel here and I was saying that he’s tougher than he thinks.” He looks back and forth then shrugs again. ”Didn’t think that was a secret. I thought it was obvious to everyone that he’s tough and that we were just being polite.”
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Isabella turns and stares at Dregg. "You can NOT be serious. When for as long as you've known me have I ever been polite?"
”If you four are done gossiping like village washer-women, can we move out?” Arryn snaps without looking back.
”Heh. Washer women.” Dregg chuckles as he strides along after.
”You’d look good in an apron.”
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"Last man to try and put an apron on me was still looking for some of his fingers when I left town. Just saying."
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At Isabella's words Garrivek stops drumming his fingers on his breastplate, looks at his fingers, then tucks them into his pockets. "Well, I guess it's a good thing we won't be needing aprons today," Garrivek nods at Isabella.
Aramis raises an eyebrow at Dregg's response. "Worried about him?" She smirks. "Not what I would've called it."
At the talk of aprons, Aramis rolls her eyes. "Nothing wrong with a person in an apron. It may not be glorious, but a woman in an apron put food in your bellies, water in your cup," with a look at Arryn she adds, "And caught your eye."
With a smirk she looks to Dregg. "You got a thing for washer women?"
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”Nothing wrong with a person in an apron at all. An apron would really show off Dregg’s calves.”
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Dregg shrugs at Aramis' question, "Depends. Most are too intimidated by my calves."
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Aramis bursts out laughing.
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"Don't even ask how people react to his heiffers," Isabella snarks.
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”Really? I don’t want to think about what part of Dregg you’d define as heifers. However, it’s getting dairy late, so if you don’t mind, can we cud to the chase and get a moove on?”
"Yes, time to continue on." Garrivek begins to head out.
Jet returns, giving a look at the remaining trio as she glances over the meet.
"Nothing happening here then? I felt like my eyes were burning."
She begins carving the meat, handing it off to Drugan and Folke as Lirosa and Taidel keep watch.
"I hope this is edible," she says. "I suppose beggars can't be choosers, but I certainly don't have any recipes for whatever these things are. Probably gamey, but maybe they'll taste like poultry?"
--
You continue on and you've judged you've made it about 10 miles as it starts to get dark. You enter a clearing where several large, felled trees litter the ground here, each cleanly cut and shorn of its branches. You're wondering whether it could possibly be a place to camp when you hear a voice call out: "Halloo! I need some help up here!”
Looking up, you see an elf stuck in the tree about 60 feet up.
"Hello, yourself! How did you get yourself in this predicament?"
Arryn looks about for a fallen ladder or rope.
"It was hobgoblins!" he calls back. "I was working up here when my friends saw a group of them and ran away. I tried to come down after, but I slipped and ... I think I broke my wrist. I can't climb down! Please, help me!"
”Hold still,” he says, then reaches out with his mind and lifts the elf out of the tree, slowly down to the ground.
”What were you folks doing out here in the middle of the forest? Is there an Elven town nearby?”
"Thank you," the elf sighs with relief, tears in his eyes as he lands. "I don't know how you did that, but thank you!"
Once he calms down a bit, he answers Arryn.
"We're harvesting lumber," he says. "I was in the tree when my friends saw the hobgoblins and ran. I hope they're OK. It's been horrible. They were everywhere, and thank Desna they didn't think to look up!
"They were just killing ... Two days ago, they lured a few people into a trap. There were six of them below my tree; five crept off one way while another went the other making a lot of noise. Then she suddenly comes sprinting back with three humans in gray-and-green ponchos racing after her. I wanted to call out a warning, but ... I was afraid the hobgoblins would realize I was there."
He looks down, his voice quiet in shame.
"The hobgoblins killed the three humans. I could hear them crying out in pain; I think it was a slaughter. So close, and there was nothing I could do..."
”How long ago did your friends run off? Isabella, can you see any signs of what direction they might have taken?”
"Checking," Isabella says, her voice emotionless as she pulls down her goggles, draws her longsword and starts looking about for signs. "Of course you realise those poncho-wearing folks may've been Rangers," she says, almost conversationally.
”Almost certainly,” Arryn replies. ”But first, there might be some injured elves to find. Will you be able to show us where you saw the men in the ponchos?”
Aramis checks over the elf's wounds, curious if he's still in need of healing, or his wounds have set and there's nothing she can do...
"It was a few days," the elf replies, and he does indeed look as if he's suffered the deprivations of several days without food or drink. "Either they escaped and kept on running -- and I don't blame them -- or the hobgoblins got them."
He's still holding his wrist, which is clearly broken, along with his other ills.
He nods, however, as you ask about his leading you to the bodies, and you find them a short distance away -- three humans dressed in gray-and-green ponchos now stained with blood. "Rangers, you say? I thought they were just a myth..."
Most of the bodies seem to have been stripped of anything useful, but one still has a quiver of a dozen arrows; a short distance away a potion bottle appears to have fallen and been missed, nearly buried in the underbrush.
”I’m sorry,” Arryn says to the bodies, then gingerly removes the ponchos. ”I can imagine some scenarios where these could come in handy.”
Arryn also looks for some worthless trinket the may have that could identify them to their comrades.
"Is anyone good at setting bones?" Aramis asks her companions. "I can heal him, but if we don't set the bone properly it won't heal right."
Then Aramis heals the mans wounds as best as she can. She rifles through her things, but turns up nothing. "Does anyone have any food for him? I stopped packing food for myself a week ago." She hands him her waterskin -- still full from the last time she filled it a few days ago. "Here. You can keep it. I'm not thirsty."
”Hold on, this will hurt a bit. The bone has probably already started to heal. Ready? On the count of three: one..t...”
Snap, he puts the bone back in place with an expert and practiced hand.
Aramis gives Arryn a nod. "Thanks."