Leave a Thayan necromancer time to replenish his troops while he knows where we are set up. Arthur smiled up at the man. "So I'm not hearing any kind of guarantee you aren't going to just move down the road and let your troops engage in banditry again? I've been kind enough to tell you why we are here, perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell us why you are here? Perhaps we can even help you complete whatever business you have so you can leave these lands with your troops." ...not likely
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"Oh, we will definitely be moving on," the Thayan says smoothly."This little... venture has been vexing from the beginning, and nothing but trouble since. My troops and I will leave the area, and leave Lord Phylund here in your tender clutches, in return for safe passage. It is a simple deal. Accept it, or Lord Phylund's story finishes right here and we fight our way out. You may prevail and stop us, or we may win through, leaving your corpses here to rot, who can say? Either way, Lord Phylund dies and there will doubtless be casualties on both sides - nobody wins. The path of least resistance should appeal to any man of sense." He looks at the slavering alpha gnoll next to him, the captive barely conscious, the wicked serrated knife threatening to pierce his skin at any moment. "Don't delay too long, Hrauloggni isn't blessed with an abundance of patience." The bone wand twitches in his grasp as he stares down at Arthur intently.
Carric trains his +2 arrow on the wand weilder, just in case negotiations break down.
Revjak speaks up.
"If that man dies, *you* will be next. Remember that before you prattle. Tell us why you are here."
The wizard - who you now all realise is actually quite young despite his beard and multitude of tattoos - looks down his nose at Revjak, his air of calm cracking slightly. Is it condescension, or fear that shines through? "Enough of this back and forth! Either I surrender this building and my captive and you allow us to leave in peace, or I kill him now and our forces battle to the death. Make your choice!"
"Your terms are poor, we have no reason to trust you especially with your disdain for the Lord. But an adjustment. You and an honor guard of say six of your minions leave while the Lord stays in the window. Your other men ensure we do not pursue. After an hour they then withdraw after handing the Lord over to us."
"Your safety is assured, we're more confident in the Lord's safety and your men can still withdraw. A compromise but a fair one. I suspect in your plans your own safety is of paramount importance."
The wizard nods. "You are quite correct in your suspicions; I want nothing more than to leave this place alive. I accept your compromise. I will leave with a guard, the rest of my troops will remain for an hour, then hand over Lord Phylund and follow me. Give me an hour to gather my things and prepare for my journey back to Thay, then I will leave." He looks down at the lone gnoll in your midst, then flicks his wand at it, instructing it to re-enter the lodge. The nervous gnoll does just that, backing its way in through the double doors, then slamming them shut behind itself.
The wizard disappears from the window. The large gnoll slowly drags Lord Phylund, if it is really him, back into the upstairs room, grinning.
Reynwyn watches from his position tensely, starting to feel the shaking of his hands as the adrenaline from the fight starts to wear off slightly from the lull in the battle. 'I knew you had our backs. I shall hunt down this necromancer later once we have recovered, milady.'
Carric welcomes the rest as he recovers his arrows.
Revjak grunts his assent, feeling wearied from the battle.
He rests sitting against a wall, Azuredge still leaning with a loose grasp on it.
Arthur was tense during the restful period but tried to keep everyones spirits up with a tall tale about an elderly halfling woman who goes on a series of misadventures.
Piety comes back and rejoins the others, having heard half the conversation. He stands waiting for the hour to be up.
After the hour has passed, the reddish alpha gnoll reappears at the window, his captive still barely standing. Shortly after, the double doors in the south section of the lodge open, revealing the Thayan wizard, still holding his wand. He moves out, slowly and warily, and as he does you can see that he is flanked by six minions. However, they are not gnolls.
All six minions are obviously undead. Three of them appear to be typical, if horrifying, skeletal warriors. Wearing rotting armour and bearing rusted longswords, they follow the wizard out into the fading sunlight. The other three, while similar, are obviously another class of undead. Wearing ornate and reasonably well-maintained armour, and bearing battleaxe of greatsword, these skeletal warriors radiate a crackling aura of power. All three of them bear the Phylund coat-of-arms somewhere on their apparel.
The wizard addresses you all as you stand to face him. "The agreement has been made. Lord Phylund is in plain sight, and I take six bodyguards with me. The rest will follow, unmolested, in an hour, provided they deliver you Lord Phylund alive and whole. Following that, we will all of us return to Thay. Will you abide by these terms?" he asks, obviously looking for a guarantee that you won't accost him as soon as he and his undead are separated from the rest of his forces.
Be on your way, Thayan, and take your unnatural creatures with you.
Revjak glares at the Thayan with undisguised suspicion and not a little disgust.
"Leave, Easterner, and take your *things* with you."
For a man who was on death's door not long ago, Revjak looks almost hale and hearty. And clearly ready for battle if needed.
"I hope you haven't come up with any cunning ploys or we'll definitely be crossing paths again..."...we probably will either way.. mused to himself silently.
"One last thing to allay my frayed nerves..." Arthur hands his sword to Revjak while it's still in it's scabard. "...unarmed I want to touch the Lord myself before you leave... a minor delay but it would put my mind at ease. Illusions are far more effective on those who aren't careful wouldn't you agree?"
Reynwyn watches as the Thayan exits with his undead minions and grinds his teeth against the blatant slight. "Must we endure such insults from this bastard?" He whispers to his companions, but then he recalls the dagger to the throat of Lord Phylund and his own reassurances to Lady Phylund that he would look into the disappearance of her husband rise to his mind. He twists his ring and sends a whispered message to Arthur. "Perhaps once we have Lord Phylund safely within our custody we could wipe this gnoll filth from these lands and then track down the Thayan..."
The Thayan raises an eyebrow at Arthur's request, and annoyance and impatience are obvious in his expression. He comes to a halt, surrounded by his undead servitors. "Fine, if you want to walk unarmed into a den of bloodthirsty gnolls, be my guest. Hopefully they will be able to restrain themselves." He nods to a gnoll loitering inside the double doors, who rouses himself to lead Arthur up to the second floor.
Arthur moves toward the lodge entrance warily, the words of multiple spells on his lips in case of an outbreak of violence. As he steps into the shade of the lodge the odour of gnolls, like unwashed dog mixed with rotten meat and urine, washes over him. Despite the coolness of the interior, beads of sweat appear unbidden on his brow as he finds himself in the lair of his enemies. There are three gnolls in the first room, which appears to be a stable. Wooden debris, including old cage bars and poles, is piled on the floor just inside the entrance. Crude beds have been made from heaps of dry leaves, straw, and dirty rugs. The nominated gnoll barks at you softly and points to the door in the east wall, indicating Arthur should precede him.
Going through the door, Arthur comes to a great hall supported by two large pillars. Frescoes adorn the plaster walls, and a long rectangular table stands before a huge fireplace, upturned and broken chairs lying around it. The fire is low but lit. Bones, dried skin, and pieces of rotten meat are scattered across the floor, and a brick staircase leads up along the southern wall. Again, the gnoll, now starting to pant and drool in frustration at not being able to kill and eat Arthur, motions to the stairs.
Cresting the stairs, Arthur finds himself in a sitting room, its walls decorated with paintings and other interesting objects. A round table sits in the middle of the chamber, and a suit of decorative plate mail stands on the east wall near the fireplace that sits above the downstairs fire, though this one is unlit. To the west is a set of double doors, and two doors are closed on the southern wall.
At the window in the north wall stands the alpha gnoll, his lips drawn back in a snarling grin, the serrated knife at the human lords' throat trembling in anticipation. Standing around the walls of the room are the two feral gnolls that retreated from Piety, their chests heaving as they pant, as well as the grey-furred archer gnoll and six more reddish-brown gnolls with spears. Arthur has quite literally walked into the den of the beast. The tension is huge, as the gnolls obviously fight their natural instinct to charge at Arthur and tear him limb from limb with their claws and teeth.
"If I die or the Lord does your Master will die... now I can't say I can take you all on alone... but I promise you before I die you'd lose an eye. But stay your blade and none of that comes to pass." Arthur smiles with more confidence than he feels before touching the noble and trying to feel for discrepencies and any signs of illusion.
"I'll be leaving now. We'll see you soon enough." He nods to the lord before slowly moving down the stairs almost imagining he could hear the tension groaning.
Arthur makes his way slowly across the room, trying to avoid triggering any of the twitchy gnolls in the room. The alpha begins emitting a low, sustained growl as Arthur approaches, and the edge of its blade begins to press harder against the captive's skin. Arthur reaches out a hand and touches the held man, and indeed feels the smooth dry skin of his shoulder - the vision matches the reality. As Arthur nods to Lord Phylund the man gives a groggy nod in return, almost as if drugged; hopefully his brain hasn't been broken by all the beatings he has obviously taken.
Arthur makes his way back out of the lodge, his skin crawling as the gnolls' eyes follow him intently, and it is all he can do not to break into a run. But exit he does, to find the Thayan regarding him with impatience.
"You are satisfied? Good. Now I leave. My gnolls will transfer Lord Phylund as they leave. If you stick to our agreement you will never see me again in these parts. Break it, and I will return in wrath." With that, he turns to leave.
Revjak tenses outside.
One of our own has walked alone and without arms into a den of monsters. Brave or mad!
But out of respect for the counsel of his companions, he stays his hand. For now.
Reynwyn watches in shock as Arthur opts to go into the building unarmed, he sends Jareth to land upon Arthur's shoulder. "I'll immediately know of any treachery and you will die first should you break your word." He then sends his vision into Jareth's eyes and watches everything, his breath seemingly caught in his throat by what he sees...
Once Arthur makes it safely back he looks the Thayan in the eyes. "If we ever see you again, Thayan, or if we hear of you and your gnolls waylaying anyone else, then we will come after you. Now get you gone!"
Arthur moves back out of the building breathing slowly and making no sudden movements.
"Well a new experience for me but I see no sign of trickery."
Piety listened to the wizard's entire spiel with something akin to merriment. Tinpot wizards who have a little power always let it go to their heads; this is likely one of the reasons that magical research and theory have regressed.
Irregardless, Piety waits for an hour then storms into the building.
Revjak grins broadly when Arthur emerges from the den of gnolls.
"You did well to get out! Now we wait, I suppose?"
"We wait." He puts a hand on Revjak's shoulder and takes his blade back. "This could still go badly but we had to try."
The hour is up. The red-furred alpha appears at the double doors holding Lord Phylund by a metal collar that's around his neck; he no longer bothers with the knife to the throat. Behind him stand his twelve packmates, and all of them are snarling, drooling, or both. The alpha motions the rest to take off for towards the woods, and they scatter. When they are about half way out of sight, the alpha snarls, pushes his captive forward onto his face on the ground, and flees as well.
Revjak glares at the withdrawing gnolls, making it clear even without words that he will meet steel with steel.
Arthur casts detect magic, particularly trying to see if the man is under the influence of an enchantment or if there is any illusion magic at work.
Piety moves into the building, just to make sure they aren't hiding within.
Only the alpha gnoll returns Revjak's glare, and it snarls at Revjak in frustrated fury as it follows its packmates into the cover of a stand of trees.
Arthur moves forward towards the naked, hairy captive lying in the dirt and casts his divination spell. After a few moments, he concludes that the man is not enchanted, nor affected by any spells at all.
Piety moves forward towards the double doors that lead into the stables and peers inside warily, his senses straining to detect any remaining enemies. His initial assessment is that the immediate vicinity is clear.
Now that the gnolls have left. "We should move away from this place. If those gnolls turn about to attack us we tired and not fighting at our strongest. If we decide to follow after them the risk would be too great in my opinion. If we wait until tomorrow they'll be less wary of being pursued."
"This man is under the effects of no magic that I can discern whether it be enchantment, illussion or transmutation. We should be aware of the claims of the Red Wizard of Thay however."
Revjak keeps his gaze locked to the Alpha's until it turns and leaves.
Still tense, he keeps watching even after the gnolls are out of sight.
"Unless there are valuables left, let us be away from this place."
He walks over to the man.
"I will carry him when we are leaving."
"I can carry him. You may have need of your axe, while I do not need weapons." says Piety before throwing the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Reynwyn watches the gnolls departing with open frustration and disgust. He approaches the nude man and offers him some clothing and water. "Milord Phylund? Can you tell us what happened? I am Reynwyn and this is the Company of the Azureaxe out of Waterdeep. I am here to return you home to your wife. You are safe now."
"As you say, Piety. Your fists alone are deadly!"
7pm, Higharvestide feastday, 335 NR (1367 DR)
The gnolls disappear into the woodlands, the shadows of approaching night hiding their forms as they flit through the trees, fleeing after their master. The wind begins to pick up as the sky begins to turn from purple to full night as the sun, hidden by the trees around you, begins to dip beneath the horizon. Carric looks up, feeling rain on the air, and sees tall clouds marching across the sky, hiding the stars that should be emerging as dusk takes hold.
In the twilight, Reynwyn moves to the naked captive, offering food and water and trying to elicit some kind of response, but the man is barely conscious. Reynwyn wraps him in a spare cloak, and Piety prepares to lift him.
There is likely rain coming. We should probably rest here at the lodge tonight, and make for town in the morning. I can even cobble together a litter so Piety can have his hands free on the return trip.
Carric gathers the horses and brings them up to the lodge. He then uses his woodland skills and materials he can find to craft a litter before bedding down for the night.
Revjak stands watch while Carric works.
He comments to his elven friend:
"A rough day, but we still stand."
"Your frail bodies probably do need rest, especially that one." Piety points at the hostage.
Arthur feels a little conflicted, the Lord would not survive without them but now the gnolls were getting further and further away. He's a little more quiet than normal but accepts that for now they must rest, perhaps tomorrow would bring more answers and opportunities.
"Let us get him in some shelter and a safe place to rest. I imagine he has suffered greatly at the hands of those monsters... This is assuming he even sleeps again after his ordeal. We should watch him closely though after hearing the words of the Thayan. Lord Phylund may be more than we anticipate and we should be prepared." Once Lord Phylund is situated, Reynwyn joins Piety in checking the rest of the lodge. Once out of earshot from the others, Reynwyn leans over to Piety. "I wonder for what the Thayan was searching? He was a very long way from home and had to be seeking out something here or nearby."
Revjak keeps a keen eye on the perimeter, his senses straining for sight, sound, or smell of the gnolls or the undead. Meanwhile, Carric sets to settling the horses in the stable and setting up a basic camp in that area, with Arthur quietly assisting him.
Piety and Reynwyn start poking around the lodge, but find little of interest. The gnolls have trashed the place; most of the furniture is broken, and the gnoll's stench is everywhere. They do, however, encounter some crude traps, obviously rigged by the gnolls: heavy falling spiked planks . They manage to avoid them without too much difficulty, however, and in truth, the traps seem designed to alert guards with the clattering noise they make rather than seriously injure.
But it seems the necromancer and his gnoll troops have completely looted the lodge; there is little sign of anything of value. However, in the north section of the ground floor, there is a spiral staircase leading down into darkness.
To keep himself alert during his watch, Revjak hums a hunter's victory tune. And muses wistfully.
That last time I hummed this was when I helped bring back an elk to the tribe's camp...
As Piety and Reynwyn poke about the lodge, Lord Phylund begins to stir, catching Arthur and Carric's attention. He moans, turning from side to side in apparent discomfort or stress. His eyes are mostly closed, but they flutter open occasionally, revealing eyes rolled back into his head. He doesn't seem to be having a full-blown fit, but the man is obviously not well.