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Unable to reach the ... thing, Ulric decides to urge his comrades on with a war chant taught to him by his skald mentor. The epic of Ragnar the red, he of many bloody battles had alwayd fired up Ulric's blood and pushed him to fight. Perhaps it would help his conpanions as well.
From the map it looks like thing Red attacked Tchort?
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Even as his arrow flew by the shoulder of his target and sunk into the wood of the carriage, Ylosani was reaching over his shoulder to draw another arrow from his quiver.
He saw the effect, or lack thereof that Nox's arrow had and the corresponding effect that Grindahl had with his sword. He's not sure what these things are, but it seems fairly obvious that his bow is not going to be as effective as his sword.
He limbers the former, sliding it into it's sheath with his left hand even as he reaches with his right for the hilt of his sword.
Normally, he would ignore Ulric's song, or at least the call to brute violence it calls for, preferring a more...skilled approach to combat. It seemed brute was what was called for here, though and he lets the inspiration wash over him, feeling himself grow fiercer and tougher in the process.
As he hears his Ulfen kinsman begin an uplifting tale from his homeland. He knew the stories of the Red, a famed Ulfen berserk warrior with thousands of victories to his name. Spurred to battle, Grindahl lets out a primal roar as he steps forwards and brings his longsword round to cleave at the walking corpse.
for
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"That was...unusual," Ylosani comments. "A trap, no doubt."
Much as he would feel more comfortable with The Bow of the Southern Winds in his hands, it wouldn't be effective for what he has in mind. He keeps his sword in hand, instead.
With the zombies taken care of, he approaches the carriage that served as their cage, examining it for other dangers or clues as to who left them and where they went.
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Eventhough he never struck a blow, Ulric felt the exhilaration of battle flow through him with his words, and was slightly out of breath as the last... thing fell. Letting his recitation finish he inspects the corpses and wagon.
"Zombies, foul magics indeed. And to leave them as a trap, clever but terribly cruel. We are dealing with a nasty foe here. I cannot wait to cross swords... or claws, with him!"
After examining the wreckage, he turns his eye to the battle site, lookinh for tracks or clues.
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As the adrenaline flees him, the Song's magic fading and the word's ceasing, Grindahl looks around expectantly, his warped maw twitching in barely controlled anger. Seeing no further danger, the Ranger calms and keeps watch as his allies search the poor dead and the carriages for clues. When nothing can be found, he shakes his hair from his face and looks around for tracks, clues to which direction their charge was taken.
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Ulric looks about the ambush site, "aye, hopefully Grindahl can find their tracks and we can get moving."
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Ylosani hangs back as they move on, watching the ambush site until it is out of sight because he suspects there may be more trouble from that direction. Their foes have already proven dangerously cunning.
He remains back as the chest appears. Again, he knocks an arrow and watches their surroundings for evidence of ambush as his companions approach.
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Ulric snorts at thr chest, "agreed, if that doesn't scream "I'm a trap, I'm not sure what does."
He stands back as the witch attempts to open the chest.
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Ulric frowns at the chest, approaching it slowly to look inside.
"Perhaps they looted it and just left it behind?"
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well.... before ulric manages to get to the chest he springs a simple trap
however even though he didn't notice the trip wire rope, he heard the log being released and coming down at him, and was able to flatten himself before the log hit him.
After determining it was clear, Ulric stands and proceeds to inspect the chest, he finds to his dismay, not even cobwebs, nothing at all but the smell of Air.
though he did notice something a bit odd, that the chest sits awkwardly for being half buried
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Ulric takes a moment to catch his breath as he narrowly avoids the trap. "When I find these clever fiends" he growls, low "I am going to take pleasure in gutting them."
though I do have to respect their deviousness, at least a little
Approaching the chest even more cautiously, Ulric peers inside and sees... nothing. "Couldn't be that easy" he mutters, looking at the oddly placed chest.
"This thing looks odd, maybe there is something under it?" he says to the group, then, looking at the expended trap "but a trapfinder should check it out before we move it."
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Eyes narrowed at the suspicious chest, Grindahl is ready to shield himself in case of explosion as Nox throws open the chest with magic. When nothing happens, the Skinwalker lets go of the breath he hadn't realised he was holding and is about to atep forward as Ulric does. Spying the falling log, Grindahl is unable to call out warning as Ulric drops expertly, the rigged wood swinging harmlessly overhead.
"The accursed Fey are a blight on the good souls of Golarion. It will be my pleasure to tear them apart." he growls softly through animal fangs.
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The cache contains the majority of the weapons and armor stripped from Lady Argentea’s guards, including five sets of leather armor, three sets of studded leather armor, a masterwork chain shirt, two light wooden shields, seven longswords, two spears, a masterwork dagger, and three light crossbows with a total of 25 bolts.
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As it becomes apparent that there are no more traps awaiting them, Ylosani cautiously moves forward. The quality of the gear that the lady's bodyguards were using and the fact that the Fey were still able to overcome them only accentuates the danger the group is facing.
None of the mundane gear in the cache interests him but the high quality chain shirt catches his eye.
"That would prove useful to me," he comments. "As it's previous owner clearly has no further use for it."
He will also take the dagger, if no one else claims it. It's not as effective as his sword, of course, but you never knew when you were going to need a small, quality blade to cut yourself out of something.
"We can pick up the rest and return it to the town for the militia to use if we come back this way," he says. "Such forces can always use more equipment."
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Ulric pokes through the equipemnt with his fine new sword tip.
"Facinating that they would bury it all thus. I make no claims on any if this."
He moves back to the trail, ready to move on.
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As the group looks over the equipment, Tchort picks up one of the light crossbows, and all of the bolts. "I may carry this," he says. "As you have no doubt noticed, the blades won't do me much good, but a crossbow could prove useful." After finding a place to stow the crossbow. He strips the shredded gloves from his hands, fully exposing his claws, and tosses them aside in the snow before pulling a new, clean pair from his backpack.
He snugs the new, clean gloves on before taking point with Grindahl as they pursue the wily fey that already are plaguing the group.
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after a near bit of excitement of a trap, chest and loot, you continue on a little ways till the path splits
looking down the left path, you can see the snow building up, and seeming to become very heavy a ways down though no wildlife goes this way, there some to be slightly newer tracks.
looking down the right path, you see a light dusting of snowfall though tracks look old they go this way.
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Ulric looks down both paths, "well, I see we have a choice. Since we are chasing what we think is the cause of this cold, I say we go towards the deeper snow."
Looking to the rest of the group, "thoughts?"
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As they unearth the hoard, Grindahl grabs the last crossbow and some of the bolts as well as one of the spears, just in case its extra reach is needed in future. Following at the head, Grindahl keeps low, examining any tracks before his allies can spoil them with their careless footsteps. As they stare at the two pathways, the Skinwalker examines for the best route.
"Pause for one moment, rushing ahead only to go the wrong way won't help us
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Ulric watches the ranger study the trails before venturing. "Which way do you suggest, cousin?"
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Grindahl kneels in the snow and ponders the tracks, looking at the difference in snow levels and the age of leaves scattered on the ground. After a short while the Skinwalker stands and brushes the snows from his knees and ahrugs his broad shoulder.
"Little difference between them, half a day at most. Still this trail is fresher so let us go?" He says after a while before startinn to move on.
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"Good enough for me", Ulric grunts as he falls into step behind the ranger and their scout, blade and shield ready.
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