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Mexus's eyes narrow and he speaks in a stage whisper, loud enough that everyone within 15' can hear him, but not so loud that it will carry up the pass or to the towers. "Gentlemen, I believe that those towers are occupied. Given the position in which they were constructed, and the care that has been taken to conceal their use, I believe that the famous quote from Admiral Ach'ber, commander of Demon Lord Dagon's fleet applies here; 'It's a Trap!'"
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"Gentlemen, I believe those towers are occupied."
Honus makes an immediate halt and throws one palm behind him as sign for the others to stop as well. He scans each tower up and down, then turns his head as if looking at Mexus, but keeps his eyes locked ahead. He says nothing, and slowly rotates his head forward again.
We're within arrows' reach. We need to retreat and formulate a plan. But if we retreat, and someone is indeed waiting to make an ambush, they will know we're wise to their presence. They probably already do. Why else would we have stopped? Even if they know, there's no way they would come out from the towers... unless they greatly outnumber us. But those kinds of numbers could never hide from Zaiharahel. Wait, did he even enter the towers?
This time, Honus looks over his other shoulder, keeping his eyes locked ahead until his head has rotated nearly 90 degrees. Only then does he allow himself the briefest of glimpses at his elf companion before returning his full focus to the towers. He speaks at conversational volume, but continues to look ahead.
"Zaiharahel, when you scouted ahead, did you enter the towers? If they are occupied, then they are occupied with the intent to ambush travelers. The towers were once used to guard this pass during the Winter War, but the war is long over. We're within arrows' reach from here, but I don't think they will fire upon us unless we close the distance. Any ideas on how to proceed? I don't believe there are alternate routes. Mexus, do you possess any magic that could conceal us, or help defend us as we pass through?"
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Mexus considers for a moment, "Most of the spells I have prepared were selected for dealing with the inevitable complications caused by the goblins. If I can see an individual on one of the towers, I can try to put it any anyone near it to sleep, but that would potentially leave the whole of another tower for us to deal with. Also, if I can see a target, if they speak a civilized tongue, I can communicate with them at a great distance ... I might be able to convince them to let us pass unmolested. However, depending on who and what they are, that may be quite a stretch."
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Honus considers previous encounters in which Mexus tried to convince someone of something.
"NO! I mean, putting them to sleep might be an option, and one less tower to worry about is, well, one less tower to worry about, but let's not attempt any communications just yet. Let's also consider that others may need to travel through this pass, and may not be as skilled as we. It may not be our duty to create a safe passage here, but one might consider it a moral imperative. That means clearing these towers of any murderers and thieves that may lurk behind their ramparts."
Honus looks at his feet with a furrowed brow, sets his hand firmly upon the leather wrapped hilt at his side, and waits for anyone else to speak up before taking action.
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Mexus raises an eyebrow in response to Honus's declaration. "A moral imperative? To remove brigands from a remote mountain pass? Sir Gisborne, your sense of civic duty is commendable. And while I certainly have no objection to the wholesale slaughter of any that threaten our lives or the lives of our charges, you may wish to consider that whomever is occupying the towers has the advantages of cover, height, and preparation. If they bar the doors, or trap the space between the towers, we may have little ability to affect any sort of justice on these presumed brigands. I believe that our first course of action should be to devise a plan to get our new friends past the towers unharmed. And then, if the opportunity presents itself, we take the towers and dispense justice. But if they are prepared for a siege, we have neither the time to wait them out, nor the ability to bring down the tower walls. However, I have every faith in your tactical acumen to devise a method that leaves us safely on the far side of this obstruction. And with a fanged smile, Mexus awaits suggestions for a plan.
From where you stand, you can tell that the towers are in a state of very poor repair. Clearly ancient, they have every sign of having been long abandoned, from the rough state of their exterior walls to a bird's nest that clutters up one of the few arrow slit windows. You would guess from the look of them that there must be but one entrance that would lead into a single large room at the base, then a staircase that would lead to a first floor about 25 feet up, and then to a trap door to the tower top.
However, given the advanced state of decay that is evident, you can only imagine how rough their interior's must be. The wooden insides have probably rotted away or collapsed, though enough must remain to allow the current occupants to gain the tower tops, as evinced by the snow cleared from the crenelations.
Kella flourishes a stick she's taken to calling her sword, and turns to Fahim.
"Boss want Kella lead charge? Frostfur gobbos deadly-dangerous! We attack and kill everyone!"
Dunghurler immediately thrusts his hands into his pants in consternation.
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Honus listens to Mexus, and nods along in agreement. That is, until he bares his jagged smile and directs Honus to devise a plan for him.
Lazy... Always putting off the difficult tasks. I have yet to meet a noble nobleman.
"Running through seems rash and dangerous. What if there is a pitfall of some sort that has yet to be seen? If a couple of us move forward to make certain the path is clear, I would feel more comfortable with that plan."
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The last thing we need is our charges rushing in and dying to a rain of arrows.
"Brave Kella, your offer is as generous as it is fearless. However, I would ask that you instead watch our backs. The people in the tower may merely be a diversion for a much larger foe that will sweep in from behind. If that is the case, then I will feel safer if the deadly Frostfur clan is there to protect our flank."
Fahim then gives a somewhat grim and disdainful look toward Zaiharahel when he mentions trying to "run through" the pass.
"Zaiharahel, I don't know how often you've had to face archers as they look down their arrow shafts at you, but my personal experience is that they are people to be dreaded, not dismissed. It doesn't take more than one well placed arrow to bring down any of us. I have no desire to see how 'lucky' any of us are today."
Fahim then turns to Honus, who he has come to defer to in situations of grave danger, such as this. Seeing Honus in his resplendent armor and shield fills Fahim with the kind of confidence that can only come from standing in the presence of a skilled fighter.
"Honus, how do you suggest we approach? If you give me ten minutes I can prepare a potion that makes me almost untouchable, but I will still be hit by a skillfully placed shot. I also have a potion prepared that can heal some of my injuries. As such, if anyone can risk being struck by an arrow once, its me, so use that to your advantage when coming up with a plan. That being said, I would be much obliged if you could come up with a plan that doesn't involve anyone being hit with an arrow, myself included."
Fahim flashes Honus a gallows humor smile. Honus can see it is colored with worry from the last time the group faced down enemy archers.
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Honus turns an ear toward Fahim as he speaks, then anxiously looks to the path from which they came.
Sweep in from behind? Darn! I hadn't considered that. That will make things so much worse if it's true. We aren't equipped to combat foes from all sides. We need to act.
Honus is not good at hiding his nerves in most circumstances, so when he draws his sword and dawns his shield, and those nerves seem to disappear, the group knows he is acting with utmost confidence.
"Fahim, mix your concoction, then you and I will move toward the left tower door to gain entry. Zaiharahel, ready your bow in case anyone presents themselves with arms at the top of either tower. Kella and Corpselicker, watch for anyone on the towers as well, and point out anything that moves. Mexus, keep eyes on your flank. Zaiharahel won't be able to know if anyone is coming up from behind. Ankleknocker and Dunghurler will help Mexus. When we get to the tower, I will call out further direction."
As they close the distance to the left tower...
"We share the same ill feelings toward enemy archers. If need be, I will pour that healing potion into your mouth. I have one of my own in the pouch on my belt. Just in case."
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Fahim unceremoniously sits on the ground, accustomed to making his potions on the fly in whatever situation he may be in. He places a small, journal sized book with stained pages and significant travel wear on the ground. He flips to a page with diagrams of two identical people, except one is smaller than the other, with arrows going from the larger to the smaller. There is arcane writing in various places on the page, and what looks like an ingredient list for a recipe. The title at the top of the page says "Fahim's Wondrous Weightloss Water."
Fahim takes an empty potion bottle out of his satchel, and begins filling it with pinches of powder, grams of granules, and splashes of solution. Once the mixture looks like pureed lilacs floating in urine, Fahim draws out a small crystal, no bigger than the end of his pinky. He brings it to his lips, then forehead, and finally his heart, all the while murmuring as he does so. The crystal glows brightly for the briefest of seconds before Fahim adds it to the potion bottle and swirls it around. In seconds, the contents of the potion bottle becomes the translucent purple color common to potions of transmutation.
Fahim then places the purple potion in a loop on the strap of his satchel, opposite a honey colored potion of cure light wounds on the other strap. From the same strap he pulls an opaque vial from another loop, and downs it as Honus indicates he is ready. Fahim's body ripples as the mutagen courses through his body, elongating it and causing his skin to take on a metallic luster. He then slips the purple potion from its loop and holds it in his left hand as he walks up next to Honus. He nods to Honus that he is ready, and Honus can see the glassy haze in Fahim's eyes as the mutagen dulls his wits.
"We share the same ill feelings toward enemy archers. If need be, I will pour that healing potion into your mouth. I have one of my own in the pouch on my belt. Just in case."
Fahim's response is thick on his tongue, the mutagen slowing his witty reply. "Yes, just in case. Still, I hope the only drink we need to share is a victory drink."
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Mexus studies the walls of the pass in apparent confusion while Fahim mixes his concoction.
They keep saying "flank," but given the configuration of the pass and towers, I think they really mean "rear" ...
When Fahim has finished mixing his protective solution, Mexus nods once and chants, ”Da mihi auteum arma de daemoni.” As he does, he makes a series of warding gestures before him, while exerting a sizeable effort of will. For the briefest of moments, the air shimmers around him and an encompassing indigo nimbus a few inches from his body appears in the shape of a translucent suit of plated armor, complete with a horned great helm, winged pauldrons, and overlapping plates down his tail. Then, as quickly as the image appears, it simply vanishes. Then, Mexus pulls a light crossbow from under his furs, pulls the string back to cock it, and then carefully loads a bolt. As the pair begin to move forward, Mexus keeps begins scanning the tops of the towers and the pass walls for movement, ready to fire at anyone (or anything) that threatens his companions.
Zaiharahel: 22
Fahim: 18
Mexus: 15
Honus: 14
Enemy: 10
Frostfur Goblins: 8
A vicious wind sweeps down the pass and sends wisps of snow streaming from the craggy cliff tops. With the sun already dipping toward the west and the blue shadows darkening toward black, Fahim and Honus run forth, eyes on the tower tops.
They cover but thirty desperate feet before they notice movement amidst the ragged crenelations, and a small, goblinoid face peeks out at them in disbelief.
"Oi! Lookit! Longshanks are hoofing it our way!"
Immediately another goblin appears, and both raise their bows and take aim down at the running alchemist and fighter.
It's just the moment both Zaiharahel and Mexus have been waiting for. Even as the goblins draw back their bowstrings, arrows nocked, they let fire.
As Fahim and Honus keep running, the shouts and yells from the goblins in the western tower ring through the frigid air.
Three faces press between the spaces of the eastern tower's crenelations; goblinoid and ferocious, with one of them sporting a shamanistic headdress of feathers and rat skulls.
"Kill them!" screams the shaman, her voice shrill in the sub-arctic air. "Kill them quickity-quick! Me light the signal fire!" And with that, she turns away from view.
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Mexus aims his crossbow at the center mass of one of the goblin archers. He hesitates for a second ...
Aim. Keep aiming. Now squeeze it, don't pull it ...
After what seems like an eternity, but is merely a couple of seconds on the Prime Material, Mexus tightens his grip to loose the bolt. With a mighty twang, the crossbow fires, and the bolt streaks through the air. As the cold wind blows, it carries the bolt towards the tower ramparts ...
... and as the bolt approaches the ramparts, a mighty updraft roaring up the tower wall catches the bolt and lifts it higher and higher until it eventually sails over the tower altogether.
Alright, correct for wind next time ...
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Zaiharahel squints and moves his aim ever so slightly to the side, taking aim at the first goblin. He lets fly his arrow.
As the first arrow leaves the string, he whips another arrow from his quiver and nocks it. He turns his head slightly to Mexus to comment. "On the plus side, the bows that they have hopefully shouldn't be able to effectively reach us here. As for Honus and Fahim... Eh... Maybe?"
Zaiharahel's arrow shatters against the ancient stone crenelation just as both goblins let loose with their bows, each one aiming at a different opponent.
There small arrows pepper the ice at Fahim and Honus' feet, but fail to hit their mark.
Kella's eyes go wide at the sight of the goblins at the apex of the towers.
"Is Icetooth goblins! Worst of the worst! They kill our fat man! Attaaaaaaack!"
So saying, she scoops a chunk of ice in both hands and runs forward, the other three goblins screaming in support and fear and charging right after her. They rush agilely out across the snow and ice, and in moments surge up behind Fahim and Honus, yelling and screaming and waving their fists and chunks of ice.
"We killa all of you!" screams Kella at the top of her voice. "Stupid Icetooth gobbos, we eat your heads!"
Grinning wildly, she looks up at Fahim. "No worry, Frostfur gobbos protect fat longshanks!"
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Mexus scrambles forward as the goblins charge from his side.
I've got to bring down those goblins before the archers kill are cargo ...
Now remember this time, correct for wind ... aim ... squeeze ...
Mexus brings the crossbow to in line with his shoulder and looks down the length of the bolt to aim. He corrects for wind, aiming just a little low, and corrects for the new angle. Finally he squeezes the trigger ...
... but this time he fires between wind gusts, and the lack of updraft takes his bolt directly into the side of the tower. The bolt snaps against the sturdy stone walls.
"For the Mazes!", Mexus exclaims.
I earned a page with Alahazra's death, I'm not going to earn a book watching these two walk into the Lady's shadow ...
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"Grinning wildly, she looks up at Fahim. "No worry, Frostfur gobbos protect fat longshanks!"
You have to give them credit for bravery. I'll withhold judgment on how stupid they are for rushing toward a tower full archers, mostly because I did the same thing. Still, I can't let them die because they wanted to protect me. I have no hope of hitting the enemy from here, but maybe the archers will pull back if a bomb goes off nearby.
"Quickly my friends, around the side of the tower! Hug the wall and wait for Honus to break down the door. I'll distract them with a bomb!"
Fahim pulls a pre-made bomb from his satchel, which is attached to it by a string. As he yanks it free, the string releases a reagent that sets the imminent explosion into motion. Fahim hurls the bomb with all his might, hoping to get close to the goblin at the top of the tower and scare him away long enough for Honus to break in.
to hit the target’s touch AC.
with 1 falling short and 2 through 8 rotating around the target clockwise.
and 5 splash damage to anyone in the adjacent squares. Ref DC 15 to save for half of splash damage.
The next few moments are as chaotic as they are terrible.
While Mexus' bolt flies wide and misses its intended mark, Zaiharahel plants his own arrow perfectly between the crenelations, sending it winging through the air to plunge into the goblin's chest with almost shocking accuracy.
The goblin lets out a scream of pain and rage, but doesn't go down. Its companion begins to yell something, a threat, perhaps, or a dire warning, when Fahim unleashes hell upon the tower top.
The bomb sails through the air, a mighty lob that sees it reach the parapet some fifty feet above their heads. With tremendous skill - or devilish luck - the bomb careens between two rotten crenelations.
What happens next is hidden from view. The consequence, however, is stunning. An echoing boom echoes through the pass like the hammer of some ancient god pounding upon an anvil of adamantine, and flames and black smoke erupt to engulf the tower in their terrible glory.
Honus, standing before the makeshift door that the goblins clearly erected long after the original had rotted away, feels chunks of stone and rotted masonry hail down upon him, bouncing from his shoulders and head harmlessly along with fading wisps of liquid flame that fortunately burn out before they hit the ground.
The Frostfur goblins as a group stand, slack jawed, staring up in awe at the burning tower top. Kella looks down at Fahim, and he sees nothing but rank approval burning in her eyes.
"Fat man make go boom," she whispers.
Honus slams his sword against the wooden planks, shattering several of them and caving in one plank altogether. Clearly another similar blow will level the portal altogether.
The two goblins at the top of the other tower scream and hurl obscenities down at the group, some of which could be interpreted as complimentary to the sheer amount of flaming damage done, and fire their bows at Fahim.
Excited, terrified, and clearly enjoying themselves tremendously, neither can muster the focus to do other than nock an arrow and then shoot it up into the air, yelling and jumping in place. Their arrows, pitiful, small, and haphazardly shot, disappear into the sky and land far, far from the combat.
The shaman appears by their side, however, and lifts a squirming insect in her claw. Crushing it, she screams out a harsh word, and then points down at where Fahim and Honus stand.
Fahim's eyes roll up in his head, and with a groan he collapses to the snow, snoring loudly almost immediately. Honus feels a terrible weight and fatigue cloud his mind, but with a strenuous effort he shrugs it off, and manages to keep his feet.
Kella immediately lets out a shriek of consternation, and leads the goblins as a group to the fallen Fahim, where they swarm over him, shaking and prodding and kicking him, all of them crying out, "Wakesy wakesy, get up, make more things go boom!"
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... the smell of sweat mixes with incense as their bodies lay entwined in his his satin sheets. His hand traces the curves of her naked, sun-darkened body and she squirms in appreciation. She lifts her head from his chest and stares deeply into his eyes.
"Sultan Fahim, your love making skills are as legendary as I have heard." Tears begin to form at the corners of her eyes, like morning dew on a desert stone. "Though I must go now, I weep to think of the pleasure you have given me, and that I will never have again."
Fahim considers saying kind lies to her, but does not. It is his way to love many, yet stay with none. She is not the first to carry this burden, and will not be the last.
"Sultan, before I go, I must ask one more gift of you...'
"Wakesy wakesy, get up, make more things go boom!"
The cold slaps Fahim in the face like a jilted lover. One moment he is in the warm embrace of a beautiful woman, the next he is laying in the snow, surrounded by goblins.
Rovagug’s unholy balls, what's going on? Where is my desert princess? Why am I in the snow? How much did I say out loud?
Fahim shakes his head groggily and stands up.
"Uh, yes. Thank you. What were we doing? Archers! Yes, there were archers! Quickly, up against the far side of the tower!"
Fahim then runs to the far side of the tower, and beckons the goblins to follow him.
Honus' blow drives the remnants of the door crashing inward.
Shoving his way through the wrecked door, he finds the squalid den of the goblins where they had pitched their pitiful tents and eked out an existence within the tower. Rotting food stuff lies frozen on the hard, icy ground, while a small fire has burned down to coals in one corner. Wrecked furniture and shattered floorboards litter the ground, while a ruined staircase wraps around the inside of the tower and ascends to what would have been the first floor - had it not fallen down a long time ago.
Now a tall, rickety ladder extends straight up to the stone roof a good forty five feet above, where he can see flames writhing through the open trap door.
Nothing else moves or lives within the tower.
Outside, the goblins from the eastern tower line up their bows and fire again, yelling with sheer glee and terror. With Honus disappeared within the tower, and Fahim hidden around the curvature of the same, they turn their ire upon Mexus.
Only one of the arrows finds it mark, slicing through Mexus' ethereal armor to punch into his left thigh.
That goblin lets out a squeal of delight, and begins to hop up and down, yelling down to Mexus, "Did it hurt? Pain? You feel pain? I did that! Me!"
The Frostfur goblins waver, and for a moment Kella looks longingly at the other tower, but then she scuttles after Fahim, and the others do likewise.
Ominously, a wisp of black smoke begins to rise from the top of the eastern tower. Where the flames and black smoke from Fahim's bomb seem to already be dying down, and never have risen far, this signal fire smoke begins to ascend into the clear evening sky like a dark finger of charcoal hue. It's clearly not yet fully caught; at the moment, it's but a strand of smoke. But it's growing thicker by the moment.
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Searing pain lances through Mexus's thigh where the small arrow bites into it. He grits his teeth to bite back the expletive that wells up from the burning recess of his mind. Motherless Mephit!
Mexus drops to a knee, where he lets his crossbow carefully fall beside him.
You want to play with the art, Finger Painter?! Let's see if you can swallow your own giant's pace!
As Mexus rises, he concentrates, exerts a significant effort of will, and pulls a handful of colored sand from his component pouch. As he angrily growls the incantation, "Nam ego vos, de malorum daemonum!", Mexus calls into a being a 3-foot, irregular, acid-green portal atop the battlements, directly over the goblins. The upper half of a hazy, incorporeal humanoid form pours out of the portal for a moment, its arms spread wide, and a soft shower of sand pouring forth from its arms to fall about the goblins.
I may not have enough mastery to fully summon an Animate Dream yet, but I can definitely borrow its power for a moment!
After a moment, the hazy humanoid form pulls back into the portal, which then collapses on itself, to finally wink out of existence altogether.
Immediately two of the goblins sink out of sight behind the crenelations, the shaman groaning audibly as she fights to stay lucid but fails to keep her eyes open.
In a matter of moments, one lone goblin stands in view, jaw slack, staring down at his snoring companions.
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Fahim charges toward the other door to help Honus break it down before the enemy goblins wake up.
"To me fellow goblins! Help mighty Honus break down the door. I will distract the enemy archers."
Quickly, think of an insult you heard the goblins say to one another. Ah yes, this one definitely offended Ankleknocker when Corpselicker said it."
"A haaklaar daan daraan or togaach rhuul ogaar ghuuraan rhuul!"
The goblin bares its fangs at Fahim in amusement, and screeches back, "Nu haaklar daan daraan or togaach? Jahr uurl kooloch!"
Then its head ducks out of sight as it no doubt sets about waking its sleeping companions.
The Frostfur goblins charge up behind Fahim, and swarm about the doorway. Ankleknocker squirms between Honus' legs, while Kella lobs her chunk of ice at the door so that it shatters and sprays frozen crystals over everybody. Dunghurler keens and casts fistfuls of dun colored muck at the door, splattering Honus and Kella, only to be shoved over by Corpselicker who in turn is knocked down as he trips over Ankleknocker's legs.
The smoke from the signal fire grows stronger just as the flames and black smoke from Fahim's bomb dies away, leaving the crown of the tower charred and silent.
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Zaiharahel mutters curses under his breath as he angrily nocks another arrow. "...Didn't work the first time, so why stop now?" Grumble. "...And those who spake had their tongues removed, for so harsh was their sound that none should hear..." He narrowed his eyes as he took aim at tower top, waiting for one of the goblin heads to poke up, then fires.
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Mexus rolls his eyes as he quickly unshoulders his pack and sets it before him. He rapidly unbuckles the top flap and pulls out a scroll tube marked with a large "Z" stamped into acid-green sealing wax.
Hel has a point. If it worked once, it should work at least as well again ...
Mexus stands ready to use the scroll of Sleep on the goblins as soon as one peaks out from the crenelations.
The door shatters before Honus like so much tinderwood, splintering fantastically before his frame. With a crash, the fighter destroys the door, leaving the way wide open for the group to move inside.