Nothing has happened in the moments following the tremendous explosion. Aside from some snow settling off of the ruins from the shockwave little has changed. With only a few more scant hours of daylight left, the countryside looks dismal and gray. Fitting, in a way, given the most recent events and the dire circumstances.
Ordrud knows from experience -- and the others know from their maps -- that the logging trail access is just north of the lumber camp's ruins which is the most expedient trail through the forest.
Talavuc's search of the area shows a multitude of tracks in and around the camp, estimated ten men or more moving through the area. Most of the activity is centered around where Andis was, then up through the middle of the ruined camp and out the north side into the forest, down a wide cut logging trail now covered in snow. The tracks aren't yet filled in with snow, and Televuc estimates it's only been an hour or two since they were here, possibly less.
____
"Lets get after the bastards while we still have light, yar?" Rasso queries the others, after Talavuc deciphers the tracks for them.
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"I could keep going for hours - but how about the more fragile people among us? We have a few hours of daylight left. It would be nice to find these bastards and take them out, but we don't want to risk pushing our luck by going too far too fast. We've been travelling for nine hours so far."
Marcellano looks around the area, casually keeping an eye out as he speaks. "How close is that lodge from here? If its close enough, we could try and see if its abandoned - unless its these bastards' base of operations, in which case we try and storm it. If its more than three hours away, however, we might be better off making camp and attacking early in the morning. We can hide in the trees - they should be thick enough to hide our presence. Each of us has those Potions of Endure Elements, so a fire wouldn't be needed." He pauses, scratching some snow off his beard, and taking his hat off for a moment to shake off the snow that got stuck in it after the explosion before continuing, "I'm fine with whatever. We just need to be cautious and not charge in blindly. I'd hate to think what could've happened if we didn't have those bonebags go ahead of us."
Nodding in agreement with the mer-kin, the faceless elf picked up his gear and made his way towards the tracks leading off along the lumber trail. Passing the blackened crater littered with scattered remains Teladon felt a shiver run down his spine. Instinctively Teladon knew he should have seen something.. that it was a trap was obvious enough that even the humans had noticed it. Sighing under his mask he trudged on in the snow leaving the crater behind. As he trailed behind the erutaki woman, Teladon wracked his brain. He had weighted the possibilities utilizing the inborn sight that all Spire Elf's possessed and the likelihoods had been fortuitous.. Yet he had not seen this outcome. Did I fail, or was it an outside influence? The magus whispered, the sound of his words lost in the keening wind. Shrugging to himself Teladon gazed up at the whirlwind of snow and ice ahead of them on the horizon and felt a deep weight of uncertainty fill him.
"The men that set this trap aren't far off. I wouldn't be surprised if they heard it." She grimaces as she works to follow the tracks, keeping her eye out for the less obvious bits that most miss. "They're hunters. I know that I'd wait until night, before turning about and taking a round about path to ambush my prey. They'll assume that we're either tired and camp, or stubborn, but worn out, and attempting to keep up the pursuit. Either situation favors them."
"I assume that the attack on the inn was an attempt to gauge our strengths and understand our specialties. They likely watched the battle with the undead from a distance. It's likely that they have enough of an understanding of our abilities to want to avoid a direct fight until we've been weakened, otherwise they'd have confronted us here or at the inn."
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"Assuming from their strides, they may be using magic to enhance their ability to travel in the snow. We will not be able to catch them unless they rest." The look on her face is dark. "This is bad."
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"Well then, best we find a nice hiding spot in the forest and bunker down, aye? We have enough people who can take watch - myself, the Captain, and Ordrud, not to mention your mink, do not need to rest to recuperate spells. We can take shifts to watch in the night, so long as everyone can be ready at a moments notice. We should take this slow and steady - rushing forward until we get caught in the dark won't help us one bit, especially when they know this terrain better and can out maneuver us."
Ar'Zarrcal listened to all that was said with a detachment that was obvious. His gaze kept slipping back to the crater where Andis had been. Though it was a skillful trap and by all accounts these unknown foes were ruthless, in his mind they wasted a good deal of resources. Leaving Andis bound like that had been too obvious and his death cost them a potential bargaining chip they could have used later.
He turned back to the others, running a hand through his mangy beard and then down to the cold iron sihedron which hung about his neck. "I will require an hour or so for proper prayer and offering to Lissala at moon's first light, but after that I will be able to offer my eyes to the watch as well."
"Dinnit Ordrud here say these woods were full of eeeeevil fey? Aint exactly my idea of a safe harbor where we might berth."
"Yep. And that we should continue down the path to find a defensible camp for the night." Ordrud replies clearly with teenage snarkiness.
Rasso shrugs, it seems he'll be fine with whatever Styvanus decides.
The necromancer's face is a mask of indifference. He watches and listens in silence as everyone comes to terms with what has happened and debate how to go about securing a place to rest.
"I do not wish to be harried the entire trip. I say we turn the table on these hunters before advancing further in. You say they expect us to make camp here? Then let's make camp here. Let us build a fire and take every pain to hide it from sight—all the more convincing. Use some of the remains available to us from the previous explosion to make convincing decoys around said fire, and slaughter the fools when they move in for the kill." Fenyx begins scouting out the ruined camp for what would seem like the most obvious choice of shelter from the icy winds and cold. "I don't think we are going to earn an advantage against these woodsman that we do not manufacture ourselves. Though, of course, I will ultimately renege on said course of action if our leader deems it unwise."
Scanning the ruins, Fenyx can see sense in his own plan. There are plenty of good positions to begin an ambush within these burned timbers and toppled walls, but it's not a strategist's eye he sees them with, but the eye of an artist. Sometimes, though two are related, in this case they aren't. Deciding which burned tangle of wood to spring their own trap from is harder than first thought.
Ordrud turns at the Necromancer's words and grins. Now this one should be in charge.
"We could make that work." Ordrud looks around for a good spot.
When Ordrud joins Fenyx in scanning the environment, there's an nod of agreement from Styvanus. "Agreed. We can pull them into an ambush, use their predisposition about us against them. They expect that trap to have weakened us and if we set up a decoy camp, maybe..." the Captain trails off, running a gloved hand over his chin.
Surveying the ruins, Ordrud spies several locations that could serve as good points for an ambush. Prime among them is the now derelict consortium lodge. Three walls still stand as well as a portion of a roof, giving it the appearance of the most defensible location that would shield some -- but not all -- of a campfire's light from view of the forest. One large, wide opening on its eastern flank would funnel attackers that came from the land in a single direction and allow the entire team to come up behind them after the trap is sprung.
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Pit Trap CR 1/2
Type mechanical; Perception DC 15; Disable Device DC 15
EFFECTS
Trigger location; Reset none, single use
Effect 10-ft.-deep pit (1d6 falling damage); DC 15 Reflex avoids; single target in 5-foot square.
Time to Create 1 hour
Requirements Shovel
Pit Trap CR 1
Type mechanical; Perception DC 15; Disable Device DC 15
EFFECTS
Trigger location; Reset none, single use
10-ft.-deep pit (1d6 falling damage); pit spikes (Atk +6 melee, 1d4 spikes per target for 1d4+1 damage each); DC 15 Reflex avoids; single target
Time to Create 1 hour
Requirements Shovel, improvised spikes (daggers, arrows, etc)
This trap consists of a small hole with inward-pointing barbed spikes, this trap is just large enough for a Medium-sized character’s leg. When a creature steps in the square, the trap catches and holds the leg. The target takes damage if it tries to move from that square or if a Disable Device attempt to free her fails by 5 or more.
Punji Trap CR 1/2
Type mechanical; Perception DC 15; Disable Device DC 15
EFFECTS
Trigger location; Reset None; single use
Effect spikes (atk +6 melee, 2d4); spikes hold the target in place; the trap can be escaped with a DC 15 Disable Device check, DC 15 Escape Artist check, or DC 18 Strength check.
Time to Create 2 hours
Requirements Shovel, improvised spikes (daggers, arrows, etc)
She grins and nods to Fenyx, "My thoughts exactly. I was thinking of an encampment in the wilds, but this place offers materials for traps."
She looks about, scanning the area for useful materials,"I have a spell that can obscure sight if we are attacked with ranged weapons, but we need to entrap them. With time I could prepare more spells, but we probably won't have that."
"Be careful when they realize it's a trap. A cornered animal is the most dangerous."
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The consortium lodge ruins that Ordrud noticed looks like a perfect spot to set the ambush, and adjacent buildings facing the burned ruin could all serve as cover to hide the team on an enemy's approach. Furthermore, the best camouflage is what is falling from the sky itself. If team members were willing to lay buried in the snow, they could use the terrain to hide themselves and spring up in the ambush at close range, though they may risk being seen.
Ordrud smiles.
As she looks about, her eyes settle on the buildings for a few moments as her gaze crosses them. "There, that building." She points to the ruins of the consortium lodge. "That is an obvious spot to set a camp, while the other buildings," she gestures to the other ruined buildings, "would serve as excellent cover to hide in as the hunters approach."
"Otherwise, we could mimic their own trap and lie hidden in the snow until they came, but there are more risks in being seen. However, it could allow us to emerge very close to our prey." She grins at the thought. We will make them pay for the lives that they have taken so callously.
"I'll aid in building what traps I can. The ruins will provide much." She begins to walk about the encampment, looking for and picking up bits of fire-hardened wood that could be used as spikes.
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Fenyx begins surveying the indicated area, pacing about the near ruin of the Consortium Lodge as his mind races for any bit of useful information to present that might afford them a more decisive edge. The entirety of Xin-Shalast's libraries were made available to Fenyx, as well as most of the Korvosan Academy's works for much time before he joined Karzoug. Though he had spent the majority of his efforts perusing the selection of tomes, codexes, and manuscripts detailing methods and applications entirely concerned with the undead, he is sure he had read more than a few treatises and historical accounts of northern warfare; accounts of battles where few soundly defeated numbers far in excess of their own. Granted, Fenyx found himself not on a true battlefield, but the concept of the stratagem remained sound. There had to be something he was overlooking.
The necromancer allows his strides to carry him into the lodge itself, his left hand serving to balance his perch upon the shambled, upright remains of a wooden support beam. His eyes dance between the surrounding ruin as he ruminates on the current situation...
In Pharast of 3314AR, Ulfen warrior Faurrghost the Seven Souled rallied survivors of an assault on the town of Waldsby in what is now southern Irrisen against the forces of the winter witches that had claimed their homeland. This ill-fated attempt at liberating Ulfen under the heel of Irriseni witches is known in formal military academies as the "Waldsby Flank," a little-known but effective maneuver when command of the terrain is possible.
When the Ulfen soldiers swept in and found Waldsby mostly empty, they were met only by a token resistance of "wounded" Irriseni warriors holed up in a dead-end street surrounded by strategically burned homes and collapsed rubble. These "prisoners" feigned both their injuries and their surrender to the Ulfen warriors. With their guard relaxed, the Ulfen were unprepared to retaliate when Irriseni Winter Guard stormed the town and blocked off their only route of escape, forcing the Ulfen into a deadly pincer attack with their "prisoners" and the Winter Guard.
While the Ulfen insurgents numbered 250 men strong, the combined Winter Guard in Waldsby (including those who posed as surrendering forces) only numbered 75. Their strategy is what allowed them to maintain control of Waldsby until reinforcements from the north could arrive.
There were no survivors of the Ulfen insurgents.
"I'd lay flat under the snow near the false fire, cover meself over and wait fer 'em there like a mud crab."
"I can sleep under the snow. It's how I escaped them last time. I've extra potions of endure elements for those that can't stand the cold." Ordrud offers. "We just need good spots and traps, because they will still outnumber us. We need some way to attack many of them at the same time."
"I'm willin' ter be bait."
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"I'd rather not risk being seen, This shield is probably easy to spot, even covered in snow. I'll serve to cut off their escape. Now I can probably assist in creating a pitfall trap, I've never done it myself, but my shield can probably serve as a makeshift shovel if anyone wants to help."
_______________________________________________________________
"Makeshift?" Ordrud rhetorically asks pulling out his full-size shovel that he stows on his backpack next to his skis. Asking no one in particular, "Where to?"
Talavuc pulls out her traveler's any-tool, forming it into a shovel. "I've got a good idea of the ideal places to set traps." She starts showing everyone the areas that she thinks will have the greatest effect in the coming ambush. "Now we need to figure out how much time we can spare and what traps we can make in that time." She looks up at the sky for a moment, "I'd think until sunset. After that, they'll likely try to approach and attack us while the campfire illuminates 'us'."
________________________________________
The minion of Karzoug watched them go about and plan potential locations for traps, the ambush and possible strategy. It seemed that the actors of this mission were finally coming together in a unified strategy, yet while they spoke of locations for traps and ideas it soon became clear to Ar'Zarrcal that none of them truly knew how to craft a proper trap.
After stroking his beard for some time, his thick fingers seeking to drag snow and frost from his coarse black hairs, the dwarf finally spoke up once more. "I have never before built a trap, but I can attempt to do so if no others have sufficient skill or I can aid the group effort." He looked from one member of the party to the next. "I suspect I am the only one of our number who has a background in metal working. In addition, I can repair any broken tools or objects we may have with Lissala's blessings and further strengthen our materials with my runes."
As those assembled begin doling out responsibilities and tasks, Fenyx nods solemnly to the proposed course of action. "A wise strategy. If I might sweeten the deal a bit, I seem to recall having briefly come across a similar strategum in my studies elsewhere—one that allowed 75 Winter Guard to overcome 250 battle-hardened Ulfens. It hinges on us presenting ourselves as a convincing huddle of survivors around our proposed campfire. The ruse need last only long enough for them to approach, then those lying in wait can spring the trap from behind the interlopers." Fenyx grasps the cloth of his sleeves and slides them off nonchalantly, his appearance briefly transforming from immaculate robes, to simple tunic and breeches, then to a much more worn and damaged version of former immaculate robes. As if remembering himself, he pauses momentarily as an epiphany washes over his face. "Ah, yes, I had nearly forgotten." His hands withdraw his any-tool once again, and a few clicks later the device has become a shovel. He hands it towards Captain Andoran with a slightly bowed head. "No need to risk a shield on a shovel's labor."
After resolving the plan formally, Fenyx begins picking over the ruins of the lumber camp, retrieving as many spare bundles of wood as he can manage. He stacks them in a neat pile under what scant roofing remains over the lodge before seeking out his dwarven companion.
"Без оглед на материјалот е остаток од боксот, јас ќе побара дека модата некои од нив во сурова барикада да се постават на влезната врата на нашата голема камповите. Остатокот ќе треба за Тратот, да го поставите на повеќето амбиција кај ловците гори."
The necromancer then turns to the rest of the group, as he asks, "I don't suppose any of you might supply a fair bit of oil to our cause? I would like to see to it that our uninvited guests receive a warm welcome upon entering our momentary choice of abode." Fenyx draws a line across the entry into the lodge as he speaks, demonstrating his plan openly.
(Styvanus Aiding Another)
(Styvanus Aiding Another)
(Styvanus Aiding Another)
(fail)
(pass)
(armor check penalty)
(armor check penalty)
(armor check penalty)
+
++
+ (miss)
Over the next three hours as the dim daylight begins to fade, the expedition team goes about the arduous task of turning an ambush on itself. Gathering up resources from the ruins of the lumber camp, Talavuc outlines her plan for the design and implementation of pit traps concealed by snow and ice. Ar'Zarrcal assists in the process by gathering fire-blackened wood, mending smaller pieces into larger by way of his magic, then whittling them down into sharpened stakes.
Ordrud, Talavuc, Captain Rozier, and Marcellano get about digging the pits while Fenyx and the others left construct a makeshift barricade of broken timbers to protect their false "encampment" in the ruins of the lumber consortium lodge. The ground proves hard and unforgiving, making digging into the frozen soil below the snow arduous and painstaking. Even more so, driving those wooden stakes into the ground deep enough to be secure.
By the time the fire inside the ruins of the lodge is lit, the trap-crafting team is weary from their work. Together, they have prepared three pit traps on the outskirts of the encampment and erected a barricade to Fenyx's specifications. With four pints of lantern oil from Marcellano's pack, they're able to soak the wood to suitable flammable quality to be triggered by Fenyx's magic.
With the task at hand finished, the group divides up into those serving as bait and the ambushing party. Styvanus, Rasso and Fenyx gather around the campfire they have made behind the barricade as night falls and the environs of the lumber camp turn pitch black. Teladon moves to occupy himself beneath the snow just outside of the trapped camp, burying as much of himself as he can in the two foot deep snow. Ordrud does much the same on the east corner of the building, tucked beneath some light timbers that had fallen across the snow, buried deep like the elf. Lastly, Marcellano lays in wait on the west side, tucked behind a fallen wooden beam and entrenched in the snow as well, musket loaded and gripped tight.
Talavuc and Ar'Zarrcal move to the south side of the camp, Naasvit in tow. With little to hide behind and no intentions of burying themselves in the snow, they wait as a more mobile reinforcement, ready to move in at a moment's notice. Here, in the frigid cold of the north in the dark of night they wait, to turn hunters into hunted...
<< | | | >>
It takes less than an hour after dark for the first signs of approach to come. Talavuc was right, they only waited until the sun went down. Unfortunately for the men coming for them, they are just as reliant on light to see as those who have laid the trap are. Ar'Zarrcal can see clearly in the night, with no snow falling and the sky covered with clouds it is optimal conditions for his darkvision. Teladon, too, with the light of the campfire nearby can see much further than his human companions. The others are left to see only the light sources the hunters bring, bobbing up and down in the dark.
The light of sunrods come into view along with the sounds of many figures moving through the deep snow. They come from the north, east and west, clearly having split up before getting within visual range of the lumber camp. Two from the west, one from the north and two from the east. Ar'Zarrcal and Teladon can see them first, humanoid figured bundled up in dark furs and leathers against the polar chill, snow clumped on their clothing, moving much more difficultly through the snow than earlier assessments would have had the team believe. Whatever magic these men were once benefiting from has since worn off.
They do not speak to one another, but instead communicate in hand gestures and nods. They're organized, well-trained and professional about their task required of them. Ar'Zarrcal can see the two coming from the west have muskets out as they trudge through the snow, sunrods tucked into their belts creating irregular and somewhat muted light.
A pair emerge from around a broken stone wall near Ordrud, knee-deep in snow and armed with short swords. They're not even armored unless you count the quilted and padded quality of their survival gear. These are certainly some of the men that stalked him through the Darkmoon Wood, but not all of them.
Those inside the camp can only hear the approach of the hunters crunching through the snow. One calls out in Taldan into the night, "Surrender yourselves, you're surrounded! This territory no longer belongs t'Andoran!"
As the hunter takes a step forward to reiterate his claim, musket at the ready, the ground beneath his feet crumbles away and he falls down up to his waist into one of the pits, letting out a blood-curdling scream as one of the stakes drives into his leg. He struggles, wedged in the snow and earth, his shrill cry of pain carrying on the cold wind.
The hunter at his side takes a few stumbling steps ahead, musket raised as he looks down at the snow. "S-- son of a-- " he barely gets the time to gasp out as he hears another scream from the other side of the camp, this one of fright as another hunter narrowly avoids one of the pits, leaping away just as he feels the ground under him give out.
The two hunters near Ordrud and in line of sight to Teladon look at each other, then scowl. One hisses to the other, "F~%* Thuldrin's orders, kill 'em." Neither man seems to see Ordrud at all.
They're wholly unaware of the ambush they've walked into.
<< | | | : Lumber Consortium Ruins >>
_____________________
You all have the surprise round! Kick some ass!
Forgot one:
Surprise Round
Ordrud threw himself into the ambush building with abandon, thinking the whole time about revenge for their hunt of him. He was tireless. The Chelish marine was surprised to find Ordrud was as full of energy as he was. It was a good team-building exercise as his Lastwall trainers would have called it.
When it was time to hide, Ordrud pulled the snow above himself with too much practice in the past week than he would have wanted. His revenge kept him warm and on edge hunting for two-legged prey.
He patiently watched the hunters enter the trap. Wait for it. Wait for it. He repeated to himself. Finally, one of the traps successfully sprung and went berserk. Roaring like an angry bear, He jumped out of his hiding hole.
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Round 1
He charges one of this hunters swinging with all of his might.
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Surprise Round, Initiative 22
Sweating beneath the snowdrift Teladon silently continued his chanting. Maintaining a spell, even one as basic as the one he currently maintained was tiring and he was glad that the others could not see his body shaking with the barely restrained power he felt resonating through him.. Finally after what seems like hours of maintaining the 14th invocation of conduction he quietly let the rhythmic chanting rise within him building upon the thunderous energy that hungered for release within him. Hearing the order to kill his team and the mention of someone named Thuldrin, Teladons first though is the need to need to leave one the hunters alive.. at least for now. Rising out of the snow like a white phantom Teladon let the loose covering of freezing white powder fall from his armor as he crouched in the ruins.
Round 1, Initiative 22
Stalking forward with the same skills that he once used to hunt his dark brethren in the ruins of Celwynvian, Teladon glided through the snow towards the hunter nearest to him. As he neared his prey his withdrew his blacken scimitar, its blade already crackling with barely restrained power as lightning danced upon its edge. Knowing that the first strike was the most critical, Teladon split his mind for just a hairsbreadth, maintaining his ritualistic intonation while binding into his blade the 23th incantation of empowerment. Finishing the whispered incantation the electrified blade began to slowly trail a thin ribbon of blue ethereal light while simultaneously glowing with engraved elven script. Then, before the hunter knew Teladon was upon him, the silent elf attacked.
Surprise Round, Initiative 22
Talavuc heard the cry from the hunters and knew that now was the time to strike. The day's work had been wearying, but as she stalked forward in the snow, moving along the wall, her muscles seemed to shake off the fatigue and her clouded mind brightened. Now is the time to hunt. She set the sling in her hand to spinning, ready to release and gave a high whistle to Naasvit. Follow, it commanded.
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Round 1, Initiative 22
Seeing that the trap had been sprung, Talavuc stepped out from the wall, giving a sharp, shrill whistle and pointing to the lead man with her off hand. As Naasvit bounds towards the man, Talavuc releases the sling bullet at him, the dense metal sphere whistling through the air at him. Naasvit crosses the intervening space after the bullet, rushing at the man, but unable to quite reach him.
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Surprise Round
Rasso is waiting in tense silence when he hears the hunter's scream. He whirls quickly then hears Ordrud's battle roar. So much for waitin' fer 'em to burn! Best get out there and lend a claw.. The merman scrambles up the knotted rope attempting to get over the wall and into the melee.
Round 1
Once over the wall, Rasso scuttles forward through the thick snow a few paces before lunging out with his long neck to bite at one of the hunters near Ordrud. "Boo!" he shouts. The hunter lunges back at the last instant and Rasso's jaws snap shut on only frigid air.
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Beyond the mock campsite, the painful scream of one hunter is soon joined by the alarmed cry of another. Hearing Ordrud rise and surge forward with a blood crazed cry, Fenyx clicks his tongue in mild annoyance—mostly at the thought of having spent painstaking hours laying a line of traps that will likely serve no purpose now. Just beside the Shalasti man, Rasso scrambles up and over the wall to join the fighting without. Sounds like someone else is coming from that way. The necromancer takes a short step forward near to the Captain, his mind and fingers already preparing a dweomer to deal with any interlopers he finds. He sees the hunter who had managed to avoid the pitfall around the corner, and the wizard's fingers begin working with quickened fervor, an unfavorable curse spilling out from Fenyx's lips as he gives the spell form, "Фер вратат раса Хун терор!"
Stark terror washes over the hunter who had previously dodged one of the cleverly concealed pit traps, seeking to find purchase in the darkest recesses of his mind and replace sense with crushing fear. As the spell begins taking it's toll, Fenyx strains his ears to try and determine the number of approaching hunters beyond, but can make out little over the clamor of battle echoing from beyond the wall Rasso scrambled over a moment before.
Trusting in the superiority of his command over the spell he weaved, and confidant the previous hunter will soon be fleeing the battle entirely, Fenyx steps up to the crude barricade-trap and bounds over it carefully. Seeing Rasso's failed attempt to skewer one of the hunters on his massive pincer, the necromancer decides to lend the merman a hand with his foe. His left sleeve recoils slightly to reveal an elaborate tattoo coiling the length of his forearm in the shape of a skeletal serpent, it's head evident just shy of his forehand. The tattoo thrums with silent energy, and the serpent begins shimmering in an undulating pattern of poisonous-veridian. Fenyx's right index finger and thumb reach towards his left hand's outstretched palm, as if he seeks to physically withdraw something from the mock cage his finger's have formed. "Бул дос авторитет фарси пого: венеат." His pinched fingers drain quickly the green essence from the entirety of his tattoo, a small globule of the necrotic energy remaining at the tip of his right index finger. With a cruel look, Fenyx aims it at the hunter Rasso is battling, and the ball of energy takes on the form of the necromancer's tattoo as it snakes through the air in an attempt to strike the fur-clad man.
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Styvanus sat tensely by the fire as he awaiting the inevitable ambush. He had been quiet for the most part since, as he saw it, his orders had led to the death of an Andoran. He couldn't help but think of the possibility of what had happened if he had followed his gut and went to save the man himself. He couldn't shake the thought that he would have been able to spot the tripwire and avoid it. "I could have saved him. I should have saved him" His thoughts seemed to shout inside of his head.
He shifted his gaze slowly from Fenyx to Rasso to the campfire. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of comfort in the glow of the embers and the warmth against his face. He knew that the stillness of the night would soon be shattered. "I can feel it coming" He thought, his ears twitching and perking up at every stray sound in the frozen night.
Just as he expected, a cacophony of sounds erupted. Shouts of pain and surprise from beyond the barrier, as well as what sounded like orders to kill, as well as the sound of shifting snow and an alarming shout of rage from Ordrud. Before he knew it, Rasso and Fenyx were out of sight.
Never one to be left out of a fight, Styvanus follows Rasso's course of action and climbs the rope to get into the fray of combat. Before he moves, he pulls a flaming log from the fire and rolls it against the barrier, seeking to set it ablaze. As he reaches the top of the rope, and seeing Ordrud, Rasso and Fenyx bearing down on two hunters, he moves towards the west. " Sorry to disappoint, we won't be such easy prey. Make peace with your Gods while you have a chance scum." He warns, bringing his shield into a defensive posture that demanded the attention of their attackers.
__________________________________________________________________
Ar'Zarrcal kept to himself as he waited with the human from the lands in the distant North. As she was not forthcoming with conversation, neither was he. He stared mostly at the sky during the long wait, watching as the light of the sun first turned the snow caked land a bloody red and then a brilliant purple, before giving way to darkness interspaced with the occassional flicker of the stars and the moon. His hand went to the Sihedron around his neck, but he would have to forego his prayers for a little longer. Even now he could see them emerging from the woods, light guiding the way for them. It was a pity too few of his companions were blessed with his superior vision.
Then it all fell apart. He wasn't sure who came out of hiding too soon, but it was either the Orc or the Elf. Why they didn't wait he could not understand, but he could reason that out later if they survived. Keeping to the darkness he moved behind Talavuc. He wanted to urge her to hold her action, remain hidden until the hunters get closer, but she was quicker than him and moved more swiftly through the snow. Closing his mouth, Ar'Zarrcal hunkered down and plodded through the snow. It was clear that mobility in this terrain was going to be a severe obstacle for him. He might need to offer forth a prayer to his goddess to rectify such troubles in the future.
The light of sunrods come into view along with the sounds of many figures moving through the deep snow. They come from the north, east and west, clearly having split up before getting within visual range of the lumber camp. Two from the west, one from the north and two from the east. Ar'Zarrcal and Teladon can see them first, humanoid figured bundled up in dark furs and leathers against the polar chill, snow clumped on their clothing, moving much more difficultly through the snow than earlier assessments would have had the team believe. Whatever magic these men were once benefiting from has since worn off.
They do not speak to one another, but instead communicate in hand gestures and nods. They're organized, well-trained and professional about their task required of them. Ar'Zarrcal can see the two coming from the west have muskets out as they trudge through the snow, sunrods tucked into their belts creating irregular and somewhat muted light.
A pair emerge from around a broken stone wall near Ordrud, knee-deep in snow and armed with short swords. They're not even armored unless you count the quilted and padded quality of their survival gear. These are certainly some of the men that stalked him through the Darkmoon Wood, but not all of them.
Those inside the camp can only hear the approach of the hunters crunching through the snow. One calls out in Taldan into the night, "Surrender yourselves, you're surrounded! This territory no longer belongs t'Andoran!"
As the hunter takes a step forward to reiterate his claim, musket at the ready, the ground beneath his feet crumbles away and he falls down up to his waist into one of the pits, letting out a blood-curdling scream as one of the stakes drives into his leg. He struggles, wedged in the snow and earth, his shrill cry of pain carrying on the cold wind.
The hunter at his side takes a few stumbling steps ahead, musket raised as he looks down at the snow. "S-- son of a-- " he barely gets the time to gasp out as he hears another scream from the other side of the camp, this one of fright as another hunter narrowly avoids one of the pits, leaping away just as he feels the ground under him give out.
The two hunters near Ordrud and in line of sight to Teladon look at each other, then scowl. One hisses to the other, "F$!! Thuldrin's orders, kill 'em." Neither man seems to see Ordrud at all.
They're wholly unaware of the ambush they've walked into.
Sweating beneath the snowdrift Teladon silently continued his chanting. Maintaining a spell, even one as basic as the one he currently maintained was tiring and he was glad that the others could not see his body shaking with the barely restrained power he felt resonating through him. Finally after what seems like hours of maintaining the 14th invocation of conduction he quietly let the rhythmic chanting rise within him building upon the thunderous energy that hungered for release within him. Hearing the order to kill his team and the mention of someone named Thuldrin, Teladons first though is the need to need to leave one the hunters alive, at least for now. Rising out of the snow like a white phantom Teladon let the loose covering of freezing white powder fall from his armor as he crouched in the ruins.
The moment Teladon arises from the snow there is an immediate yelp of fright that comes from one of the hunters that have set upon the camp. Recoiling, the hunter readies his shortbow, reaching behind himself to his quiver in a panic for an arrow.
Talavuc heard the cry from the hunters and knew that now was the time to strike. The day's work had been wearying, but as she stalked forward in the snow, moving along the wall, her muscles seemed to shake off the fatigue and her clouded mind brightened. Now is the time to hunt. She set the sling in her hand to spinning, ready to release and gave a high whistle to Naasvit. Follow, it commanded.
Ordrud threw himself into the ambush building with abandon, thinking the whole time about revenge for their hunt of him. He was tireless. The Chelish marine was surprised to find Ordrud was as full of energy as he was. It was a good team-building exercise as his Lastwall trainers would have called it.
When it was time to hide, Ordrud pulled the snow above himself with too much practice in the past week than he would have wanted. His revenge kept him warm and on edge hunting for two-legged prey.
He patiently watched the hunters enter the trap. Wait for it. Wait for it. He repeated to himself. Finally, one of the traps successfully sprung and went berserk. Roaring like an angry bear, He jumped out of his hiding hole. The eruption of snow from Ordud's emergence sends the hunter nearby staggering back in surprise, eyes wide and hands fumbling with his sword.
Rasso is waiting in tense silence when he hears the hunter's scream. He whirls quickly then hears Ordrud's battle roar. So much for waitin' fer 'em to burn! Best get out there and lend a claw. The merman scuttles up the knotted rope attempting to get over the wall and into the melee. The moment the merfolk's blue, carapaced form crowns the top of the wall, the hunter in direct line of sight lets out a frightful cry of surprise, now faced with two monstrous opponents.
Ar'Zarrcal kept to himself as he waited with the human from the lands in the distant North. As she was not forthcoming with conversation, neither was he. He stared mostly at the sky during the long wait, watching as the light of the sun first turned the snow caked land a bloody red and then a brilliant purple, before giving way to darkness interspaced with the occassional flicker of the stars and the moon. His hand went to the Sihedron around his neck, but he would have to forego his prayers for a little longer. Even now he could see them emerging from the woods, light guiding the way for them. It was a pity too few of his companions were blessed with his superior vision.
Then it all fell apart. He wasn't sure who came out of hiding too soon, but it was either the Orc or the Elf. Why they didn't wait he could not understand, but he could reason that out later if they survived. Keeping to the darkness he moved behind Talavuc. He wanted to urge her to hold her action, remain hidden until the hunters get closer, but she was quicker than him and moved more swiftly through the snow. Closing his mouth, Ar'Zarrcal hunkered down and plodded through the snow. It was clear that mobility in this terrain was going to be a severe obstacle for him. He might need to offer forth a prayer to his goddess to rectify such troubles in the future.
Not evenmoving from his cover in the snow, Marcellano pushes the muzzle of his rifle up through the snow, training his sights on the hunter lodged in the pit trap up to his waist. Poor bastards, he muses before squeezing the trigger and eliciting a thunderous explosion of gunfire and smoke. The musket ball hits squarely in the hunter's jaw, blowing the lower portion of his face clear off in a shower of bones and flesh, teeth littering the snow like hailstones. He gurgles one last breath, then collapses down into the pit. The hunter beside him, his own musket gripped tightly in both hands, stares in slack-jawed horror as he is sprayed with his compatriot's blood.
Beyond the mock campsite, the painful scream of one hunter is soon joined by the alarmed cry of another. Hearing Ordrud rise and surge forward with a blood crazed cry, Fenyx clicks his tongue in mild annoyance—mostly at the thought of having spent painstaking hours laying a line of traps that will likely serve no purpose now. Just beside the Shalasti man, Rasso scrambles up and over the wall to join the fighting without. Sounds like someone else is coming from that way. The necromancer takes a short step forward near to the Captain, his mind and fingers already preparing a dweomer to deal with any interlopers he finds. He sees the hunter who had managed to avoid the pitfall around the corner, and the wizard's fingers begin working with quickened fervor, an unfavorable curse spilling out from Fenyx's lips as he gives the spell form, "Фер вратат раса Хун терор!"
Stark terror washes over the hunter who had previously dodged one of the cleverly concealed pit traps, seeking to find purchase in the darkest recesses of his mind and replace sense with crushing fear. As the spell begins taking it's toll, Fenyx strains his ears to try and determine the number of approaching hunters beyond, but can make out little over the clamor of battle echoing from beyond the wall Rasso scrambled over a moment before.
Toe-to-toe with Teladon and now awash with fear, the hunter closest to the camp watches with absolute terror in his eyes as Teladon's sword twists and begins to move into a striking poise. Somehow he remains rooted in place, likely frozen in abject fear of the presumably faceless killed behind that dark Mordant mask.
While all this happened, Styvanus sat tensely by the fire awaiting the inevitable ambush. He had been quiet for the most part since, as he saw it, his orders had led to the death of an Andoran. He couldn't help but think of the possibility of what had happened if he had followed his gut and went to save the man himself. He couldn't shake the thought that he would have been able to spot the tripwire and avoid it. "I could have saved him. I should have saved him" His thoughts seemed to shout inside of his head.
He shifted his gaze slowly from Fenyx to Rasso to the campfire. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of comfort in the glow of the embers and the warmth against his face. He knew that the stillness of the night would soon be shattered. I can feel it coming. He thought, his ears twitching and perking up at every stray sound in the frozen night.
Just as he expected, a cacophony of sounds erupted. Shouts of pain and surprise from beyond the barrier, as well as what sounded like orders to kill, as well as the sound of shifting snow and an alarming shout of rage from Ordrud. Before he knew it, Rasso and Fenyx were out of sight.
Never one to be left out of a fight, Styvanus follows Rasso's course of action and climbs the rope to get into the fray of combat. Before he moves, he pulls a flaming log from the fire and rolls it against the barrier, seeking to set it ablaze. As he reaches the top of the rope, and seeing Ordrud, Rasso and Fenyx bearing down on two hunters, he moves towards the west. "Sorry to disappoint, we won't be such easy prey. Make peace with your Gods while you have a chance scum." He warns, bringing his shield into a defensive posture that demanded the attention of their attackers.
The huntsmen were not prepared for this.
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Stalking forward with the same skills that he once used to hunt his dark brethren in the ruins of Celwynvian, Teladon glided through the snow towards the hunter nearest to him. As he neared his prey his withdrew his blacken scimitar, its blade already crackling with barely restrained power as lightning danced upon its edge. Knowing that the first strike was the most critical, Teladon split his mind for just a hairsbreadth, maintaining his ritualistic intonation while binding into his blade the 23th incantation of empowerment. Finishing the whispered incantation the electrified blade began to slowly trail a thin ribbon of blue ethereal light while simultaneously glowing with engraved elven script. Then, before the hunter knew Teladon was upon him, the silent elf attacked.
Before the hunter can even cry out from the fear Fenyx had driven into the core of his mind, Teladon's lightning-woven blade cleaves him from clavicle to hip, slicing through the makeshift, padded armor and winter gear and spilling steaming entrails out in the snow. The hunter collapses to the side with a wet slap, legs kicking subtly.
Seeing that the trap had been sprung, Talavuc stepped out from the wall, giving a sharp, shrill whistle and pointing to the lead man with her off hand. As Naasvit bounds towards the man, Talavuc releases the sling bullet at him, the dense metal sphere whistling through the air at him. Naasvit crosses the intervening space after the bullet, rushing at the man, but unable to quite reach him.
Across the camp, Ordrud moves through the heavy snow with quickness. A bit too lumbering to truly be a charge, but even without the added momentum his finely crafted and enormous sword still swings with all the fury of an orcish warrior behind it. Rasso, at the exact same time, scuttles forward through the thick snow a few paces before lunging out with his long neck to bite at one of the hunters near Ordrud. "Boo!" he shouts. The hunter lunges back at the last instant and Rasso's jaws snap shut on only frigid air.
It is Ordrud's greatsword that slaughters the hunter it is brought down on; severing a raised arm, cleaving into his chest and straight out his back. The man doesn't even get a chance to scream before he collapses into several pieces in the now crimson snow.
Immediately the hunters begin to back away. The one man left standing by Ordrud and Rasso screams as loud as he can, "Mercy!" He protests, brandishing his weapon but clearly without intent to swing it for fear of angering the abominable creatures that have attacked him.
The surviving hunter on Marcellano's side of the camp does one better and simply throws his musket down to the ground and drops to his knees, hands raised in the air. "Please don't kill me! Please!"
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"Styv, orders?" Rasso calls over to the Captain. If it were up ter me I'd show ye the same mercy ye showed that poor sod on the barrel of powder. Rasso thinks, glaring at the hunter nearest him.
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Styvanus meets Rasso's eyes and he nods. " ಥಟ್ ವೆನ್ಟ್ ಬೆಟ್ಟೆರ್ ತನ್ ಎxಪೆcಟೆಡ್. ಠ್ರ್ಯ್ ಟೊ ಕೀಪ್ ಓರ್ಡ್ರುಡ್ ೞ್ರೊಮ್ ಕಿಲ್ಲಿನ್ಗ್ ತಟ್ ಒನೆ ಟೂ, ಬುಟ್ ಇಟ್'ಸ್ ಒಕಯ್ ಇೞ್ ಹೆ ತಿನ್ಕ್ಸ್ ಹೆ ವಿಲ್ಲ್.." Trusting his right-hand-merman, he turned then towards Marcelanno and Teladon." Bring them over, search the dead for anything useful. I think we need to have a talk with our new friends." He says flatly, his voice commanding and stern.
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Aquan