dot, just to keep track
Lyra pats the shell of the mound shambling beside her.
Argus spends most of the idle time with the south-bound wagon caravan sitting on the rail or running boards of the passenger wagon, comparing notes between his journal and his formula book. Each morning after breakfast, he heats some water in the remains of the cookfire and breaks out his shaving kit, trimming the edges of his muttonchops and clearing away the previous day's stubble.
The border region between Vigil and Urgir is a hotly contested battleground between the humans of Lastwall and the orcs of Belkzen, in addition to being plagued by horrors from the Hungry Mountains to the east.
You find yourselves on the road to Arwyll Stead, an unexciting voyage where you have gotten to briefly know your companions, three human men, a half-elf woman and a dwarven woman, each of you with your own reason for journeying to the border settlement between Belkzen and Lastwall. The journey has been happily quiet other than conversation between you and the nickering of Argus' pack mules, but you remain wary, especially as you get closer to orc territory.
Unfortunately, your fears seem to be realized as the clang of metal on metal and the shrill whinnies of frightened horses can be heard from up ahead. As the dusty road curves around the hills, a scene of battle comes into view some hundred feet away. Panicked horses bolt past, and corpses litter the ground around the road—some are recognizable as human guards or fallen horses, but others are twisted, winged, horned monstrosities with fiendish features. All of the combatants have fallen, except for two of the flying yellow monsters attacking a lone, wounded half-orc woman wielding a bow.
None of them seems to have noticed you.
Argus gingerly guides his mules up the trail - finding it easier to walk alongside, leading them via a rope than trying to steer the wagon from behind.
He wishes the caravan could have taken them the whole way, but one cannot have everything. Purchasing the wagon and mules ate up the rest of his travel advance.
When the group comes across the scene of carnage and the ongoing battle, he swears. "Erastil's ass." No way to tell if that mixed-blood woman is loyal to Belkzen or Lastwall, but no one deserves to be torn apart by...whatever that monster is. And while mules are calmer than horses, he needs to secure them before they likewise panic and run off with his wagon.
He drops the lead rope, calling 'Whoa' to the animals, while dropping back behind them to hop up on the wagon to set the brake.
Once atop the wagon, the brake set, he reaches into his gear, pulling out a many-pocketed vest, which he shrugs on. It hangs loosely, as if two sizes to big. Which it is. Argus spares a brief, lamenting look at his layered metal-and-leather bomb suit, folded beside a crate of grenades. Armor would sure be welcome if he ends up with that thing's attention. And it would fill out his working vest properly.
untrained
"What is that thing?" Lyra whispers to her companions.
. "Probably some horror from the Hungry Mountains, she hazards. Then she slides the bow off her back and notches an arrow. Then she & the turtle move forward to flank the trail.
Garett winces a little at the sounds of the mules and wagon, in his usual state of perpetual semi-hungover, grumbling a bit under his breath as he trudges along. At the first rings of steel on steel however he reflexively draws both of his pistols, cocking each.
"bugger me!!!" the curse comes out from between clenched teeth in a harsh whisper as the two horrors come into view...catching Lyra out of the corner of his eye looking to take a flanking position, Garett scans the trail, looking to take advantage of any possible cover to flank opposite.
You believe the winged monstrosity is a gaav, a host devil.
Philgor had joined the group headed to Arwyll Stead mostly because he knew that there was safety in numbers. The group seemed to be happy to have a solider among them. He knew very little about this area but this training kept him alert for trouble.
Upon seeing the beasts he moves to put himself between them and the group. He shouts hoping to distract them from the half-orc and give her a chance to escape.
"Remember your training and stay calm"
Thankfully uneventful thus far, the travel had been of passable atmosphere. Traveling with three boys and a half-blooded woman, the judge felt beyond her years sometimes. But that could just be their average lack of maturity. In truth, they were decent enough company; she just was crotchety with exactly how ... backwater this place seemed. I'd expected something closer to a border, at least a trading post...
But a battle was just as good.
At least we'll learn something from this. Ingrid was not one for combat, though she had learned the ways of standard dwarven defense as all of her race did. She did not feel particularly inclined to help the half-orc in front of them at present though. Devils here? She may have called them herself...
Devils were ... well, devilish with their dealings, but their word was worth its weight in salt, unlike that of demons.
"Those devils are not rampaging barbarians. They probably have their reasons for this skirmish. If you feel the need to fight them though, let me prepare you."
Extending her hand to the eager-to-engage warrior, she uttered a word, touched his rib, and Philgor's skin grew of wooden resilience. "Keep your eyes peeled."
Garett: 6
Ingrid casts magic on Philgor as he steps forward, flanked by Lyra and her monstrous turtle companion.
Behind them, Argus stops the wagon and climbs into it, as Garett looks around for cover, though the straggly brush around the trail is unlikely to provide much benefit.
The two devils catch sight of you as Philgor shouts, and begin to disengage themselves from the half-orc, who calls out for help.
Now more suitably equipped, Argus leaps down from the back of the wagon, biting the wax seal off of one of his extracts. White vapors emerge from the vial, congealing into a rough circle just ahead of Argus as he runs forward, then disappearing.
Once Argus has taken position behind the pikeman, in the relative safety provided by his long weapon, it is time to get the horrors' attention - diverting them from their current victim and hopefully within range of his bombs.
"Hey ugly! Over here!"
Don't eat the mules. Don't eat the mules. Or me.
Ingrid hefted her warhammer and shield from her back and readied them, following behind Garett.
"You think these devils shouldn't be interfered with?" Lyra asks somewhat incredulously. She looks at Olive and shrugs. Olive moves ahead to the wall, but doesn't close. Lyra moves ahead with an arrow notched but doesn't fire yet. "Why do you attack this woman?" she yells at the devils. Does that ever work? she wonders.
Philgor moves forward while continuing to try and draw the devils away from the half-orc. "Come over here devils so I can send you back to hell."
(Steadfast Pike and Tactician)
Garett: 6*
Philgor: 16
Argus: 14
Lyra: 14
Ingrid: 11
Antagonist: 7
Philgor advance as he calls to the devils, followed by his new companions, the turtle creature scooting past the militiaman.
Fortunately, or perhaps not, they manage to get the devils' attention, the pair swooping away from the half-orc and toward you.
Swooping gracefully, they stab at Olive and Philgor with spears, though neither is able to penetrate their intended victims' armor. Philgor's luck seems better as he gets in a jab as the attacker closes, but the wound seems to close as quickly as he withdraws his pole arm .
Argus takes a few steps forward into optimal bomb range as he sifts his pockets for the necessary reagents. A tiny glass vial of kerosene. A tiny paper packet of saltpeter. And a catalyst crystal that is inert by itself, but which can force other compounds to react much more violently than they would on their own.
He lobs this newly volatilized mixture at the nearest horror, carefully angling the point of impact to protect his allies.
(pole fighting & MW weapon)
Philgor whirls his bec de corbin in a tight circle and smashes it into the beast, "Let's see if you can feel that one devil"
(steadfast pike & MW weapon)
Lyra aims & releases an arrow. Olive bites at the creature hopefully pulling it out of the air.
,
, plus
The hostility clear now, Ingirid gives the adjacent devil a swing of her warhammer.
It seems the halfbreed is out of danger now. Whose side is she on?
Garett: 6
Philgor: 16
Argus: 14
Lyra: 14
Ingrid: 11
Antagonist: 7
Garett creeps forward and lets loose with one of the pistols, the report echoing through the woods as the shot speeds past the nearest devil, the marksman having been more concerned with not hitting a companion to hit his mark. Argus' attack is similarly ineffective, the flame washing over the devil, which just laughs at the attempt.
Philgor has more luck, his polearm cutting deeply into the nearest devil this time, though again the wound seems to be less than he would have expected in the creature's tough hide.
Unfortunately, he's the only one seemingly able to hurt them, as Ingrid's hammer merely bounces off it, and the other ducks away from Lyra and Olive's attacks.
Even worse, they seem to identify the polearm master as the biggest danger and focus their attacks on him. He's able to fight off the first's spear, but he takes a claw wound and leaves himself open to the second, who jabs him with spear and claws.
The half-orc scoops up her bow and launches an arrow toward the nearest gaav, her aim good as the shaft finds its mark despite the distance, only to shatter harmlessly on the devil's hide.
G1:
G2: 7
(Pole fighting + MW weapon + power attack)
Bleeding from several wounds Philgor shouts with rage and rams his weapon into the chest of his opponent hoping to finish it off.
Fire didn't hurt. Great. Think. Think think think. Argus knows he has something that would be helpful...he has an idea.
Move action to get back on the wagon. Another move to start prying open one of his crates. Time to lob some burst jars.
Lyra aims & releases an other arrow.
,
]
Olive bites at the creature hopefully pulling it out of the air.
plus
Garett: 6
Philgor: 16
Argus: 14
Lyra: 14
Ingrid: 11
Antagonist: 7
Garett fires his second pistol, but again can't make contact with the shifty devils as Argus races back to the wagon.
On the front lines, Philgor's able to bring down the first of the devils, pinning it to the ground, while Olive crunches into the second, though is unable to pull it down.
Hampered by the eidolon, it twists and throws up an arm to deflect Lyra's arrow at the last moment , but the distraction proves key as Ingrid's hammer slams into it.
The badly injured devil, seemingly growing desperate, stabs and claws at the turtle creature, scratching it but proving unable to free itself.
Another arrow from the half-orc comes flying overhead as Olive's tug throws off her aim.
G1: 9
The devil kept busy by the summoner's being, Ingrid made her way towards the seeming "victim" of this situation.
Answers would be nice, after all.
Argus looks up, ready to hurl a nested glass jar at the horrors, only to see that one is run through with Philgor's pike, while the other is being steadily mauled by Lyra's planturtle. No need to rupture all their eardrums as well. The jar is dropped back into it's indentation in the straw.
"Wasn't that exciting." he mutters, hammering the crate lid back into place with the heel of his hand. He shifts the stack to uncover another box, marked with a red teardrop shape and labeled 'PHARMALOGICA'. Might need to help put that pikeman back together in a minute or two.
Lyra pulls her sickle after dropping her bow. She steps up to the demon and distracts it with the small blade.
Olive lets out a low gutteral hiss. With Lyra attacking the demon the turtlekin makes another attempt to bring the creature down.
, , ,
Philgor shifts back to put some distance between him and the creature and use his bec de cobin to its full potential.
The rough terrain of the wall rocks cause him to miss his footing and swing wide of his mark.
Garett: 6
Philgor: 16
Argus: 14
Lyra: 14
Ingrid: 11
Antagonist: 7
Philgor and Olive aren't able to get through the devil's tough hide, and it stabs and claws furiously at the turtle beast until an arrow hits it, and it collapses on the ground, apparently dead.
The half-orc watches warily as Ingrid approaches.
Argus will start donning his armor (hastily) - in case the half-orc turns out to be hostile or there are more of those horrors hanging around.
The judge was fortunate she spoke both her tongue and that of the greenskins.
"I am Ingrid Balt, arbiter of this area for the time being. My intentions are not hostile, though I must know what your relation is to these devils!"
She lowered her warhammer, putting action to words.
Philgor checks to make sure the two devils are dead then looks to Lyra and says, "Can you and Olive get up to the top of that hill and check the area? Argus and I will check for survivors on the battlefield and see if we can find out what happened. It looks like Ingrid is dealing with the half-orc woman.
The strong-looking half-orc woman, blood streaking down her face, shows her teeth, possibly a smile, possibly a threat.
"I called Vegazi," she says in poor Common. "Devils attack so I kill them. But they are strong. You are thanks for helping."
Behind her, five human bodies lie on the ground, along with a half-dozen quickly disintegrating gaav devils and a green-skinned woman with thin horns curling from her brow, a mane of crimson hair, and knobby, undeveloped wing stumps on her shoulders.
You believe she's an orc-descended tiefling.
Philgor searches among the bodies for survivors and to see if he can find any indication where these humans were from. Were they troops or civilians?
Once he has his armor on, Argus follows Philgor to look for survivors. If there are any signs of life, he will use his healer's kit and/or potions of cure light wounds as necessary.
On the tiefling corpse, Philgor finds dirty black robes, a necklace of black feathers that looks like it could have some value, as well as a scroll. She also had a quarterstaff outfitted with tribal fetishes.
His further search reveals:
The devils had nothing but spears.
Among the humans’ gear that is still intact is a chain shirt, two suits of studded leather, 15 arrows, three longswords, and a shortbow. One of the bodies carries a silver holy symbol of Iomedae and a flask of holy water. Most of the weapons and armor are adorned with the mesa-and-sunburst insignia of Arwyll Stead.
The final man, who you would guess was the leader of the group, bore a nice longsword, a nice mithral chain shirt, and a nice heavy mithral shield, all of which are clearly marked with the Arwyll crest (a badger standing its ground). He also wore an obsidian arrowhead necklace around his neck worth 45 gp and a silver signet ring worth 150 gp.
Argus, looking over his shoulders, notes a vial of liquid that Philgor had apparently overlooked among the final man's gear.
Argus will attempt to identify the vial.
She's tough. It was as if her wounds did not mar her energy.
"Please, share some food with us and share your tale. We may be able to help you and protect others for the same plight."
Lyra concentrates a moment and her eyes gain a green cloudy look. Olive, take the hill and watch over us.
To the half-orc she asks. "Did the devils slay your companions as well? Are these your companions?" she adds realizing she may have assumed too much.
Olive growls an affirmative and begins 'swimming' through the grasses to the hilltop.
Argus believes the vial he spotted is a potion of cure moderate wounds.
The half-orc seems taken aback for a moment at Ingrid's request.
"You are thanks," she says, watching you warily. "I am not calling these companions. I live in the hills for many and many years, when I long leave my forebears' tribe. I see the devils, so I try and help. We should help them more, and bring them back to their home."
The judge smiled. Some good in a harsh land. "Perhaps, but first, you deserve a rest."
She fished-out some jerky from her sack. "Here. A ranger I met on my travels smoked this - it's delicious."