RoW: Let's Thaw the Frozen Stars! (Inactive)

Game Master Daxter

Lana withdraws her spirit and quickly taps herself with the wand, then offers to use it on Kalt and Sven. Feel free to roll for yourselves, just keep track of charges.

CLW for Lana: 4d8 + 4 ⇒ (4, 2, 3, 1) + 4 = 14
Lana HP: 24 + 14 = 38
28 charges remain.

After making sure all of his friends are safe, Sven tends to their enemies, checking each of them for signs of life and the stink of corruption. "Well fought everyone but I gather this isn't going to be the last of these little patrols we encounter", the big Ulfen warns.

Checking out who is evil and who isn't. Sven isn't making an effort to stabilize anyone yet.

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Survival: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

As the men surrender, Kalt responds to them in Skald, "Face down in the snow, don't move, and we'll deal with you in a moment." He squats down and wipes his blade on the sleeve of the man he's just gutted, and in doing glances at the massive head of the fallen wolf, its eyes half-open slits as it bleeds out. Kalt's own eyes widen in surprise, and he says, "Well, I'll be good gods-damned...take a look at this, everyone."

He points out that the winter wolf has two different color eyes, and explains the significance of this [/ooc](see spoiler)[/ooc] and adds, "Looks like there'll be a bit more blood in the snow, we'll want to skin this beast. Care to give me a hand with that, Avora?" In a quieter tone, so the hunters cannot hear, he continues, "While we're at it, we can decide what to do with the bowmen. Much as I hate to say it, we should start by killing their birds, so they can't carry any messages. Though maybe we can just pull a few flight feathers, and not kill an animal for doing what it was bred to do."

Survival: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (7) + 16 = 23

"I think you're right, Kalt! And, I think I can keep our secrets without resorting to slaughtering the falcons," Avora says, trying not to be offended by Kalt's suggestion.

She aids the ranger in skinning the winter wolf, though sorrowful to see such a magnificent beast twisted by evil. When the task is complete, she turns to the falcons.

Casting speak with animals.

Avora's words suddenly become a series of shrill cries, squawks, and clucks as she says something to the falcons. Her hands emulate the movement of birds in flight as she speaks.

Each of the bowmen is well appointed with survival gear. They look nervous, not seeming to comprehend the tongue of Taldor as you contemplate your fate. They do, however, heed Kalt's command in Skald almost instantly, lying prostrate.

Pulling the feathers out would be both an effective means of curtailing their flight, and they will regrow.

Ooooh. That is very cool. Me wants!

Sven stands guard over the prisoners while Avora chats with the birds and Kalt tends to the messy task of skinning the monstrous wolf.

Edit:

Sven kneels by the prisoners, looking them eye to eye, and speaks the northern tongue.

Or, we could defeather the falcons, though Avora's concern is that doing so would mean they could not hunt until the feathers regrow.

Defeathering them would likely end up killing them unless the falconers continued to take care of them. Does Avora have wild empathy?

Yes.

The falcons look curiously at Avora.

It occurs to Avora after a moment of contemplation that these falcons may be spiritually bound to these men - companions called from nature. It is unlikely the animals could leave of their own volition barring magical compulsion or the death of their masters.

One of the conscious men looks up at Sven, his beard and eyebrows coated in snow.

Nadya listens has the man talks. She utters a sound of disgust as the men plead with Sven. "This man talks of serving the "Winter Guard"; I have only ever heard of the "Iron Guard" - an army of Irrisen with loyalty to Baba Yaga. But I do not trust any servants of the witches; most are eager to betray their own blood."

She joins Sven's questioning of the men.

The man trembles as he responds.

By this time two of the men have bled to death, their corpses steaming in the winter snow.

Ankih stares as the men bleed out, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot.
I should , by my oaths and training, heal these men. But anyone who would willingly work for a vile woman who turns children into evil dolls.....Too late. Forgive me Milady...
We should definitely take the potions and weapons. Money is always nice too....
" Save the wand Lana...Milady Bless."
channel: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 1) = 2
Wow that sucked.
channel: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 1) = 4

Avora sighs. "It seems unlikely that I will be able to convince them to leave their trainers. They seem to be magically compelled. But clipping their wings would likely be a death sentence."

Sven sighs and gives the prisoners a sad glance but his features harden again when he speaks. "You say what I want to hear but the truth of things is as plain as the nose on your face. My brother here would say we should slit your throats and let you bleed out like your friends. And I should heed his advice; he's the wise one."

"But my father raised me to see the good in men. He believed it was never too late for a man to live a life of honor. Unfortunately, for you lot, I don't have the time to prove it."

Diplomacy (+1 if charming applies): 10 + 8 = 18

"What do you think? Is it to late for you to live lives of honor?"

The remaining men cough a little when Sven speaks. One replies quickly.

In Skald, with Nadya translating.

"Honor we understand; we have never broken our oaths to Queen Elvanna. But upon my life's blood, I will take a new oath. You want us to swear to your gods or kings to disappear, to leave Irrisen and the Winter Guard, we will swear it! At least give us a chance to flee and live."

Groveling before Sven, the man appears stripped of any remaining guile. His remaining companion grunts in agreement.

"Tell them to take their birds and care for them, but not to use them to send messages regarding us," Avora pipes, happy to not have to destroy the animals.

Kalt nods curtly in response to the men's pledge, adding in Skald, "We will accept your pledge and allow you to live, and leave this place. Take your birds, but if I see them flying from here, I'll put an arrow through them, and you. And if you break your oath, or send a message about us, know that I will find you no matter where you are, and put a bloody end to your oath-breaking." He sheathes his blade and gives the hilt a firm pat for emphasis.

A chill smile crosses his face but never reaches his eyes as he says, "Best of luck to you."

Sven digs through the men's packs and takes any surplus weapons and coin leaving them with supplies to survive, weapons to hunt, and little else. He tosses man a bag and gestures back the direction they had come from. "Head that way. Waldsby isn't far. You can resupply and figure things out from there."

Don't forget the cure potions!

The two remaining hunters quickly flee into the woods towards Waldsby, and the quiet of eternal winter returns.

Nadya meditates. "The Iron Guard being overthrown is troubling. They were a known evil, at least." She looks over the group, especially Ankih. "I think you might do well to hide traces of Southern clothing. It might make your journey into Whitethrone easier. Perhaps some clothing can be found in Ellsprin; it is the last town of size before Whitehrone. At the very least it might stop more encounters like these." She helps repack the sleds before she commands the dogs to move again.

************************************************************

The next two days travel are almost monotonous compared to the the last few days of adventure. The loudest sounds are the sound of sled dogs whimpering and the occasional raptor cry in the distance.

Soon the party reaches the edge of outskirts of the small town of Ellsprin. Still several miles from town, the group spies a solitary wooden house, partially surrounded by a small grove of trees and hardy shrubs. A thin column of smoke rises from the chimney, but there is no other sign of life from within, and the window shutters are pulled closed. Fifteen feet in front of the homestead, a humanoid shape lies facedown—the snow around it is dyed red with blood. Some trauma, it seems, has recently taken place here - the blood is clearly fresh.

A few crows call from the trees, but otherwise the woods are silent.

I will update the map tonight

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

As his companions stare at the bloody sight in the snow, Kalt's eye's flick to one side, then back to looking at the fallen figure. "What can have happened here?" he says clearly, then in a much lower voice, "Bush, to my left, something there, watching us maybe."

If nobody else is really into it, Sven's going to take the fancy furs Kalt so lovingly skinned for him. =P

"What do you make of it?" Sven asks of his more nature-savvy brother. "The work of the Iron Guard we've been warned about perhaps?"

The big ulfen clutches the haft of his axe with one hand while sniffing the air in search of a familiar scent...

Detect Eviling the body and the neary areas.

Take the furs, they look good on you.

I'm waiting to see what the knowledge check tells me about the little guy in the bushes.

Kalt: A twigjack, a nasty (chaotic evil & unseelie) fey critter that can jump between bushes (much like a wizard dimension doors) and walk through woods like a ranger. They have a splintery blast that can effect a small area to great effect, and fancy themselves to be rogue-like, especially when it comes to attacking kidneys and other vital spots. They are known to associate with spriggans and quicklings.

Moreover, judging by the frost rimming this creature, it likely has some affinity with the cold, although you are not sure of the specifics of its powers.

Kalt quietly tells his friends about the twigjack, surreptitiously pointing out where it is. He says "I think we should take care of the little feyling first. This body in the snow could be a victim of his, or could be the bait in a trap. I don't think he knows we've spotted him, how shall we handle it? Avora, what do you know of twigjacks?"

Knowledge (nature) anyone?

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Lana shakes her head slowly, as if trying to think through a thick fog. "I have no knowledge of such creatures," she responds in a low voice. Or at least... not anymore.

I'd imagine Kalt already learned everything there is to learn about it.

Sven, with little subtelty, glances in the twigjack's direction and clutches his axe tightly.

"I don't know know what your business is here but I promise you want nothing to do with us. Make yourself scarce or you'll find out just how sharp our iron is", the big man warns.

Sven hears no reply from the twigjack, but instead sees a shuttered window crack a few moment from the hut. A woman's voice, raw and worried, issues from the hut.

Kalt translates quickly for the benighted souls who do not speak Skald, then calls out in return:

He slips his bow off his shoulder and nocks an arrow. Drawing it back part-way, he aims it at the twigjack and calls out, "You can answer my friend, you can leave this place, or you can die. Choose."

There is a rustling in the bush but no response.

As Kalt's words echo in the woods, a silence descends for a few seconds. Then a high-pitched, mad laughter rises. It comes not out of the woods where the twigjack hides, but seemingly from the thin air in front of the house.

There is a whoosh of air, and one can just barely make out a small, silver shape moving with lightning speed, seemingly from nowhere. It leaps at Kalt, slashing at his ankles before springing away to the west (although within easy bowshot).

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

Kalt sees the impossibly fast creature appear an instant before he feels a sharp slash at his ankle. "Ouch! You little piece of..." He has no idea what the thing is, but draws his nocked arrow back fully and sends it flying at it nonetheless. "Let's see you outrun an arrow," he says coldly.

MW Composite Longbow attack: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Composite Longbow damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

Crit confirm: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27
Crit damage: 2d8 + 6 ⇒ (2, 2) + 6 = 10

The small fey cries out in agony and curses bitterly, although it doesn't seem to take the full brunt of the arrow. It issues a rapid string of curses.

The quickling springs forth to assault Kalt, its hands glowing blue. It merely touches Kalt and the fey-touched man feels blood start to freeze.
3 dex damage.

The fey then retreats behind a tree stump, seeking cover from the archer.

Bugsby yells in surprise! "What'sgoingonwhyarethosefeybeingsuchjerkswhenwearejustheretohelp?" He moves up and readies a ball of protoplasm for the next time the silver creature appears.

Meanwhile, in the distance the bush hiding the twigjack rustles and a small burst of blue light can be seen.

Avora and Kalt both can see the bush behind the party rustle. Bugsby shouts "Ithinkoneof'emwentbehindus!"

Growling in rising anger, Sven retrieves one of the iron-tipped javelins from the harness on his back. ”They’re trying to flank us”, the big man warns. ”We need to draw them out.”

Readying as well.

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

"Use cold-forged iron if you have it," instructs Lana. "I believe it will be more effective than regular weapons."

Reaching out one gloved hand, she touches Kalt lightly on the shoulder. "Shoot well, my friend," she whispers, before raising her voice to the creature in the bush. "Hey! Come here!" Casting lesser restoration. First level 2 spell today.

Lesser Restoration (Dex): 1d4 ⇒ 1
Stupid dice. :P

Edit: Nevermind. Someone has pointed out to me that I'm a cheater and lesser restoration is a 3-round casting time. So instead, Ima cast command (approach) on the twigjack. Will DC 16. Second level 1 spell today.

*Cough*

Would you cover your mouth when you do that?

Sorry about that.

Having only seen a blur, Ankih looks around warily as he pulls out his crossbow. Heeding Lana's advice, he loads it with a cold iron tipped bolt...
" Milady, shine your light on us, so that we may see our foes with clarity..."

You people are funny. :) And I am stoopid - I've somehow made it this far without owning a single cold iron arrow. And I failed to use Rapid Shot last round. Where was the coughing guy when I needed him?

Though he's a tad slower than usual, Kalt steps to one side so he has a clear line on the twigjack and looses an arrow at it.

MW Composite Longbow attack, Dex penalty: 1d20 + 8 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 8 - 2 = 18 minus whatever cover modifier you deem appropriate
Composite Longbow damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Actually after playing in a few PFS scenarios, ALL of my characters start with cold iron and silver weapons. Cold iron doubles the cost, and for light weapons, silver adds 20gp. not too bad...

Kalt, you only take a -1 for having 2 dex damage.

Funny thing is, Ankih, so do mine, and I've just never remembered to get any iron arrows for Kalt.

LOL

It seems that I am destined not to get this post made. This is the fourth time I've had to rewrite it.

Avora smiles wickedly, moving forward as she casts.

Casting touch of combustion.

Avora vs. Twigjack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13 (touch attack; DC 14)
Damage (fire): 1d6 ⇒ 4

Effect: Your successful melee touch attack causes the target to ignite in a violent burst of flame, dealing 1d6 points of fire damage. If it fails its saving throw, the target also catches on fire. If the target catches fire, on the first round thereafter, creatures adjacent to it (including you) must each succeed at a Reflex save or take 1d4 points of fire damage.

Kalts shot is skillful despite his sluggish blood, but the lightning fast fey quickly dances out of the way of the arrow.

Meanwhile, the twigjack looks quizzically at Lana as she casts her spell, and the magic fails to take hold. It occurs to you that perhaps this particular fey doesn't speak the Taldane tongue, as far north as you are.

Avora just misses the twigjack with her flaming hand, but her hands continue to quiver with the magic of fire.

The quickling leaps out from behind it's cover, intending to strike out at Kalt. Sven hurls his javelin, while the waiting gnome shoots a glob of goo at the fast moving creature and hits! The creature is not stuck, it does move slower and burns under the protoplasms acid. The creature slashes at Kalt again with the biting cold of its claws and attemptss to stagger away in the tangle of protoplasm. The observant among you can't help but notice the quickling's wounds start to mend slightly in the snow; it seems to be magically drawing strength from the cold itself. 3 physical, 5-2=3 cold to Kalt. Kalt could reach the gooey creature in one move this turn if he wished.

Finding his hiding spot discovered, the twigjack fires a spray of wooden splinters in a panic; they embed themselves into Avora's flesh painfully! 12 pts, DC 15 reflex to half

Reflex: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Instinctively, the girl turns away from the blast and manages to avoid the worst of the spray of slivers.

Did I forget to mention party up? Party up...

Sven moves closer to the fey assaulting Avora, retrieving his axe again along the way. ”Avora, watch out! That thing is dangerous.”

Double moving.

Lana is an intelligent character who speaks Sylvan as well as Skald and knows a thing or two about fey. Not to mention the fact that they've been speaking Skald to us... does it really seem fair to penalize her—no, completely waste her action—for my neglecting to mention which language(s) she's using?

Seeing the little fey speedster slowed by Bugsby's protoplasm, Ankih quickly aims and fires the crossbow he just readied.
Cod Iron Bolt ranged attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
damage: 1d8 ⇒ 2
Sarenrae guide my hand...
Missing he reloads another cold iron bolt.