Ulark raised his bloody axe and swung it at the next hobgoblin. He was starting to get some experience in fighting. The former logger knew how to cut down trees, and now, it seemed, he could do the same against hobgoblins.
Seeing Micheo beset by one of the attackers Dugan maneuvers back to assist the Oracle.
Inconnu charges forward swinging his sword at hobgoblin Micheo is fighting against.
Ulark's axe fells the hobgoblin before him like a rotten log, leaving the ambusher dead on the ground.
Dugan buries the sharp head of Glintaxe in his foe's shield, but the wooden board protects its bearer from the attack. Inconnu's sword is closer to the mark, but his foe still manages to parry the swing.
Dugan finds another of the hobgoblins at his back, its sword digging ineffectual furrows upon his mithril armor.
True to his words, Micheo stabs at the hobgoblin in front of him, his rapier tip unbelievably sharp.
Micheo runs through the hobgoblin before him, his magic steel slicing through armor, flesh, and bone as though it were paper. The wound nearly brings the brute to his knees, but he remains standing for now. Joanne sidles up behind one of the others and delivers a glancing kick to his flank.
Unnatural groans and growls briefly distract Inconnu from the hobgoblins bearing down upon him. Fur begins sprouting from the bare-chested man whom you thought needed rescuing from these hobgoblin brigands. However, as his skull elongates into a lupine muzzle, his muscles strain and tighten, and his hands turn into clawed paws, you realize that he was never the one in any danger.
Recovering from the strain of his transformation, he steps forward and looms over Inconnu, ready to strike with tooth and claw.
Not to be outdone, three of the hobgoblins surge forward with their iron swords. One blade merely clatters against Dugan's armor, but the other two inflict stinging slices upon Joanne and Inconnu.
Dugan's face reddens with anger at having fallen for the man's ruse and he swings his axe in a wide arc to strike the Hobgoblin at his back.
The enraged dwarf proves that Ulark is not the only one who can fell enemies like trees, and Glintaxe brings an end to one more hobgoblin who might otherwise prey on travelers like yourselves.
Having no more hobgoblins near him, Ulark had a moment to survey the battle. Seeing the werewolf looming over Inconnu, Ulark ran at full speed towards the beast, axe raised.
Ulark buries Man-feller in the broad, furred back of the werewolf looming behind Inconnu. The mighty blow elicits a howl of pain and rage from the man-beast. Strangely, the blood that pours forth from the wound is silvery, seeming to glint in the moonlight.
"It's a silver blood werewolf like one of those I spoke of before!" Inconnu says as he tries to put down the hobgoblins with an attempt at dissembowling it before repositioning.
The hobgoblin, still reeling from the near-mortal wound dealt by Micheo, is put down as Inconnu's sword guts the foe like a fish.
Joanne starts kicking the Hob next to her
and misses.
”Fascinating! Now kill it before it eats us!” Ulark said as he ripped his axe free, noting how it was very much not dead and very much angry.
Micheo, with celerity that belies the weight of his armor, turns and slides to confront the revealed werewolf. He firmly thrusts with his keen rapier, and the enchanted steel plunges into the foe's furred chest - lancing one of its lungs in the process.
In retaliation, the werewolf rakes Micheo with its sharp claws, leaving nasty wounds that ooze blood. Still set upon his original prey, though, the beast gnashes his jaws at Inconnu, but the bard blocks the bite with the blade of his sword - holding the creature at bay.
The surviving hobgoblins continue their ill-starred duels with Dugan and Joanne. One finds his blade unable to penetrate the dwarf's uncanny armor, while the other finds the winged woman too nimble to hit.
Ulark grabbed the werewolf’s fur with one hand, and with the other brought his axe down straight into it’s back. It was a solid blow, of that he was sure!
Joanne tries kicking the Hob next to her
Dugan turns towards his attacker, clashing his axe against his armor in a challenge before lashing out with the ancient dwarven weapon.
Inconnu does his best to slash at the werewolf before stepping back... if he could help the others put down the hobgoblins they could overwhelm the powerful lycanthrope.
Ulark buries Man-Feller deeply in the werewolf's back, and Inconnu's sword stroke leaves a deep gash in the beast's throat. The wolfen creature slumps to his knees, awash in streams of silvery blood, before falling to his side. The fur begins to recede from his beastial body and his muscles contract as he slowly returns to his human form.
Glintaxe deals a bloody wound to the hobgoblin before Dugan, but the foe is not dead yet.
Heedless of his own grave injuries, Micheo steps forward and strikes at the nearest hobgoblin, trusting his friends to cover his back.
Although Micheo's rapier thrust does not find its mark, the remaining two hobgoblins' morale has already broken. With most of the fellows and their lycanthrope ally slain, their will to fight is utterly vanished.
They withdraw, fleeing into the trees in hopes of living to fight another day.
Ulark let them go and rushed over to Micheo. ”You’re hurt!”
Micheo looks down, his tongue unfurling.
"ZYVYZThank you Ulark. So I am. Shall we rest soon?"
"The distance is only three miles and we've covered much of it already." Inconnu responds to Micheo before turning to the man that was fleeing from the hobgoblins and the lycanthrope.
"What happened before you found us?"
The man who was "fleeing" from the hobgoblins lies dead in a pool of silvery blood. As the bedlam of the moonlit battle fades back into the calm of night, it becomes clear that this man, this lycanthrope, had been in league with the hobgoblins. He feigned helplessness so that while you turned to fight the hobgoblins, you would not expect his transformation and attack from behind.
The hobgoblins carry little beyond their arms and armor - a collection of ratty leathers, knicked longswords, and small dented steel shields. A sash wrapped around the slain lycanthrope's waist proves to be a finely woven crimson cloak trimmed with silver threads.
You find the ambushers' packs hidden among the trees where they originally lurked. Each one only contains a single day's worth of food, suggesting they were not far from home - likely the larger arms of the Arthfell Forest to the south and west. A well-made polearm and sturdy longbow with a quiver of arrows are propped against a tree, likely left behind by the deceitful lycanthrope.
An assortment of items are also stuffed into their packs, suggesting these brutes have been attacking travelers, merchants, and farmsteads around Olfden for some time. These include a number of valuable knick knacks and gems, including a large, finely-cut sapphire and a black pearl. An ivory scroll case holds three rolled up sheets of parchment, likely magic scrolls of some kind. There are also a pair of pewter flasks, one holding a heady potion and the other a thin oil.
5 suits of Studded Leather Armor
5 Longswords
5 Small Steel Shields
MWK Bardiche
MWK Chain Shirt
MWK Buckler
MWK Composite Longbow [+4 Str]
20 Arrows
Magic Cloak
Sapphire (1,000gp)
Black Pearl (450gp)
Other precious stones (worth a total of 260gp)
Bronze flagon with warrior images [50 gp]
Set of six ivory dice [30 gp]
Carved ivory scroll case [60 gp]
Decorated silver plate [60 gp]
Golden holy symbol of Sarenrae [50 gp]
Ivory bowl with animal carvings [40 gp]
3 Divine Scrolls
1 Potion
1 Magic Oil
Dugan eyes the silvery pool suspiciously. 'Is that supposed to be that color?'
”These are surprisingly high quality chain shirts. I’ll take this one...and this bow. If nobody minds?”
Inconnu starts to examine the magical items as he explains to Dugan. "It's one of the Silverblood Lycanthrope, the ones who attack in large numbers with evil druids one night many years ago. They were hoped to be all dead, but this one at least survived. Silver doesn't affect them as well as other werewolves."
"I don't mind Ulark, there's only one good chain shirt but you'll make use of it anyway. The bow, few others could draw it!"
Micheo does feel better, considerably so.
And looking at his own hands, he feels compelled to touch his own wounds.
And they close faster still.
He looks to Ulark.
"I believe you could best use those items. And it appears that Saranrae has gifted me considerably more healing power. I feel joy at this!"
Inconnu is able to identify the magic properties of the cloak, two of the scrolls, and the oil. Fortunately, he is also able to decipher a worn label on the potion to identify its nature.
Inconnu begins to describe the magical poperties of each of the items. "The cloak could be of use to several people in our little band."
"I believe that I need it least. I feel Saranrae's grace upon my shoulders much more strongly in these days."
"It might be wise for Dugan to hold onto the potion of cure moderate wounds. Micheo those scrolls are something you'll be able to make use of far better than myself... The oil of continual flame, does anyone have a problem seeing in the dark that isn't me?"
"Those are fine suggestions, Inconnu. I am well enough to continue."
”I’m just worried. These silver bloods attacked the town before. And now this one is working with hobgoblins. Aren’t they known for being organized? This attack could be a symptom of a larger problem.”
"That is certainly a worrying possibility. One that we can help counter."
'I'd be more than happy to hang on to that little helper. As to our Who-wolf problem, maybe we could do a little of both. Check the immediate area for any signs of further man-animals. If noting turns up, we turn in?'
"Sounds fair to me."
The rest of the woods bordering the road between Olfden and Adamas is sparse. You spook more than a few raccoons, nighthawks, and other critters, but nothing so large as the former ambushers lurks nearby. The scant humanoid tracks you find can be attributed to the werewolf and hobgoblins, and you surmise they were operating on their own here. Most likely, they were spying on traffic between the town and the fortress, looking for vulnerable marks to prey upon. Whether they represent merely an independent gang or they actually serve a greater force within the larger Arthfell, you cannot say.
The Gleaming Tower of Adamas stands less than two miles away along the Elberwick Rise, catching the moonlight in a way that makes it almost glow.
"So, shall we try to make the tower? It is only two miles away."
'It'd be nice to have it at our backs while we rest.'
"Two miles isn't so long, we can do it... hopefully without further ambushes."
The remaining road brings no new surprises, and you close the distance to Adamas in peace.
The 65-foot tall circular tower of white marble rises from the floor of Darkmoon Plain at the base of the Elberwick Rise. The lower 25 feet of the tower is built pressed against the cliff wall itself, wile the remaining 40 feet rises freely above. Atop the shelf, where the cliff edge meets the tower, a circular wall of the same white marble extends out from the tower and surrounds a few small outbuildings within this courtyard.
Only a few small arrow slits break up the monolithic exteriors of the tower and enclosing wall. Atop the flat, crenelated roof of the tower flies a flag bearing the regiment's insignia.
As you draw closer, it is obvious that the sentries atop the gatehouse are watching you. They do not offer a hail, simply waiting to see what you do.
Joanne whisper
"Let's just hope we don't go down into the dungeons..."
"Those do sound ominous, though I know little else of them."
Inconnu calls up "We've had a run in with some bandits on the road. Among their number was a silverblood werewolf. I think you'll agree that's out of the ordinary enough to disturb you at this hour."
Even from a distance, you can see that the mention of silverbloods gives the sentries pause. Two of them murmur to each other, seemingly trying to figure out the course of action to take. However, the third guard simply calls out.
"Were any of you bitten?"
His question earns him a slap on the back of the head from his fellow. You can hear his chastisement.
"If they were, they wouldn't admit it! They'd try to keep it secret, you dullard!"
Thus, two of them devolve into indistinct bickering. The remaining guard maintains his discipline and poses a new question.
"What business finds you out so late, anyhow? You look like adventurers. Were you hunting bandits?"