The man howls as he catches light and collapses.
"Haldarai, come on! Only one left!" Otto walks up to the last of the bandits and lays into it with his halberd.
The tiefling falls to Otto.
Manny peers through the brambles.
"Oh Wizz-zy!,... Come out and PLay-ayyy!" Manny sing-songs as he peeks until he gets a glance at his casting foe.
"DOn't make me come after you!" He adds grumbling. Pointing his staff and orb through the break in the brambles he unleashes another bolt of arcane light at the caster.
Grafire trudges through the underbrush and trees trying to get to the mage to serve him up.
And with a final blast of arcane power, the last of your foes falls.
Sister Naenia seems stunned, and the pilgrims start to return slowly, weeping over their dead fellows.
Akahale takes a second or two to restore himself and goes to Sister Naenia.
"Sister, I am extremely sorry for the loss of your people and regret that we have failed you in this regard. Forgive the intrusion on your natural grief, but in the heat of battle, I could not help noticing a hippogriff descending on your relics. I believe this may be cause for concern."
"Well, that was a damn waste of blood. Now, let's see if any of these fools have a map back to their hideout or something...", Otto mumbles to himself as he begins searching the bodies.
"Remind me again Akahale,... Just WHO did we decide to blame for deciding that wizards have to wear ROBEs? (In a friggin' briar patchNo less!?!)" Manny grumbles and moans, whilst attempting to free himself from the briars embrace.
Akahale opens his mouth to reply to Manny, but refuses to allow himself to be side-tracked from Sister Naenia.
"We have never established the origin of the tradition of wizards and their robes ..."
All traces of the calm confidence Sister Naenia possessed before have fled. She is clearly distraught over the harm that has come to her followers, but there’s more to it than that. You see fear in her eyes.
“They took it! That beast flew off with his bones! Sweet Lady! Please you must help us. You must get the effigy back! It holds Sir Malagant’s bones and the Fiend’s Horn. If we don’t bury him . . . I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Sister Naenia spins in a panicked circle, starting toward the wrecked funeral wagon, then toward a wounded pilgrim, then toward the woods. She seems incapable of deciding what to do.
"Ahem. Sister, you will not help yourself or your followers in your present mood. Allow our good paladin to assist your wounded and inform us of the nature of this outrage. Do you suspect the work of abominations?"
Akahale does his best to sooth the woman and help focus her mind. Inevitably, he suspects the worst and his eyes whirl slightly.
Akahale's wordiness falls on deaf ears, as the Sister tries to check on her surviving followers.
Otto looks up from the corpses. "Listen, Sister. The dragon's right. You're in no condition to do anything until you calm down. How about you just sit down and tell us what you know?"
The Sister looks up from her ministrations, "But... but there are so many hurt.. or..." she says distractedly.
"We can help, if you let us. To do that, we need to know what is happening Sister."
Shaeryyn is waved away by the Sister as she continues to worry over her fellows.
"Sister, please, calm is required here to restore clear thought. The young one is ok and I have a sence we will be assisting you in some way to recover your beloved artifact. Please let our healer help and please tell Akahale everything you know about this attack and who those beings were."
Diplomacy check
Surge + inspired word boost
For this 5min. rest there is one more +2d6 hp. if anybody needs it.
The elderly mage finally pulls himself from the brambles thorny embrace. He straightens up what is left of his robes, and his dignity, and sniffs disdainfully at the woman's attitude. He straightens up to his full height, (Much more imposing if he weren't a half-frozen scarecrow in ragged robes) and intones like only an old man can,...
"MADam! I assure you, there is no need for such carry-ing-ons! At the very least I can reassure you that my friends and I are incapable of turning our back on those in need, or not sticking our noses in where they don't belong. And I venture to guess that our new-found warriors are of a similar bent. BUT, it will exceptionally difficult to assist you if we don't know what;s going on! SO for Heaven's sake, sit down, let us minister to your wounded, and kindly tell the lizard what's going on before he presumes the worst! AND believe me, HIS worst is probably far worse than the real thing! There you go,... out with it now,..."
Akahale sighs inwardly as he listens to the wurbling attempts of his friends to calm a deeply distressed woman.
"It would be as well if you told us what we can do to help. Otherwise, I fear Mage Mandrake will expound on his need for trousers at great length."
Sister Naenia snaps out of it upon being approached by Akahale. She breathes deeply, "It was a distraction, the attack I mean. They were after the effigy, or rather the relics within. The bones of Sir Malagant and the Fiend's Horn. Please, you have to retrieve them! You can keep the armour and the sword if you do so, but we must have the relics. They must be buried, to fulfil the command of the exarch."
Akahale extracts his trusty notepad. "I should be most grateful if you would explain further. I shall take notes," he adds, unnecssarily.
"What do you wish to know?" she asks.
"I would like to know more of the history of the relics and the command for reburial. It appears there is some urgency."
Akahale waits benignly, pen poised.
Manny listens intently as well, his bedraggled appearance making him seem more miserable than grandfatherly at the moment,...
Shaerynn also listens, and rests as she does.
The Sister explains that the Fiend's Horn is said to be the actual horn from the head of Sir Malagant's foe,struck off with Sir Malagant's dying blow. It looks like a foot-long bone horn with a bit of skull attached to the end from when Sir Malagant's sword clove through the Fiend's head. She knows that Sir Malagant's sword was magical but she doesn't know it what way. She doesn't think his armour was magical.
She asks, "Will you retrieve these relics, please, I beg of you?"
"We will endeavour to do so." Akahale is at his most perturbingly benign. "You implied urgency in this quest. A reburial is required, I believe."
"I thank you, sir," she replies, "Will you swear in the name of the Raven Queen to return with the bones of Sir Malagant and the Fiend's Horn?"
"I am a worshipper of Bahamut, but I do not believe the Platinum Dragon would be offended if your mistress will accept one not of her faith."
Akahale coughs slightly and waits expectantly.
"Listen, I'm not a religious man. I start swearing in the gods' name now, I'll just be a hypocrite. But I will give you my word that I'll bring the relics back. Can't give you any more than that."
"I do not serve the Raven Queen, but I shall swear in her name to return with the relics, good Sister." Shaeryyn says.
"Hmph. No telling what the Raven Queen wants with an old fart like me." Manny mumbles wryly.
"But if it's a promise you want, I swear that we will return with the relics." He says seriously.
"OR an order or onion rings. They're yummy! Both, probably." He adds, smacking his lips in anticipation.
Hadarai accepts the blessing, kneeling graciously before Sister Naenia.
"Yes Sister we will honor our word and bring you the artifacts. We must remeber our fallen heroes and keep traditions alive." As well, it would seem, we have an adventure ahead of us." A smile creeps across Grafires face.
Sister Naenia nods with relief and blesses everyone bar Otto, intoning the words, "Fate be with you".
She then adds, "I suggest you set out at once, so you can follow the trail these wretches must have surely left behind in the snow."
Akahale looks around suspiciously.
Sister Naenia nods with relief and blesses everyone bar Otto, intoning the words, "Fate be with you".
She then adds, "I suggest you set out at once, so you can follow the trail these wretches must have surely left behind in the snow."
"Of course! Child's play itself! We shall follow the trail back to the thieves and deliver justice! This way!" Manny declares, and strides boldly forward through the snow,... in the wrong direction.
"Ahem. Mage Mandrake. You appear to be walking into a tree."
"Nonsense! Balderdash! Falderal!" Manny declares vehemently, just before performing a perfect 'George of the Jungle' into a tree trunk.
The elderly mage wobbles for a moment, then topples backwards into the snow.
"Bah! What idgit put that there?!" He complains, holding his large, now tender, nose in one hand while trying to push himself back up with the other.
"Stoopid place for a tree anyway. With them in the way I can't even see the forest!"
Otto watches the wizard's fumbling with apparent disinterest. "We've joined a band of crazed lunatics, haven't we?"
"I must confess that we have our eccentricities, but my egg-brother and myself are entirely sane."
Akahale stands up for dragonborn.