The Dark is Rising - WotW Part I (COMPLETED) (Inactive)

Game Master Darkness Rising

Tkaara listens to the Sakkarot as he speaks to his Lieutenants, as she does so, a strange feeling comes over her. For those looking at her, her eyes take on a strange alien, yet also starlit, appearance as though wizened from years of study, or perhaps years of something else. When this finishes, she realizes that she can understand the speech of the goblins about her.

During the dinner, Tkaara partakes of the stronger brews enjoying them, and ending up more than a little tipsy before the discussion begins.

Once the Fire-Axe asks the group the question, she pauses to consider, providing Erevan time to respond first. Once Erevan has finished, she looks directly at Sakkarot and speaks, the words, although seeming to be spoken in the common Talingarde tongue, are in fact able to be understood by all as easily as if she were speaking to each person in their favored native tongue.

You honor us great Warlord of the North. You are correct. If it were my choice, we would not slaughter all those to the south. Unfortunately, they have proven themselves willing to impose their laws on all and not allow any who would hold different views. For many years, I fought to uphold the laws of Talingarde, and did so with great skill. However, times change and so they did with me. I found myself in financial difficulties and use my . . . skills . . . to obtain some financial advantages. Well, apparently the punishment for not complying with their law is death. As can be seen, death, at least their choice of death, did not suit me.

If I felt I had a better option, then it is unlikely that I would choose your forces to invade the south. However, we both know that we do not have a better option. If the might of the King and the forces of Mitra are to be relieved of their duties, then it is only with the might of the military being entertained, or defeated. Your forces will ravage the northern portions of the nation without a doubt. I have no family there, and care little for them. My parents live in Gastenhall. If possible, I would ask that they be spared when you reach the city there. Other than them, I have few who I care for and could care less for those who sent me to death for a crime for which death was not an appropriate penalty, or for which in my mind any crime was committed.

When she finishes, Tkaara looks down at the food before her, almost untouched, and plays with it a little.
I understand that this is war, and people die. However, if my parents are killed, then I shall be less than pleased.

At Sakkaroth's questions, Etna first stays silent and lets some of her companions reply first. After some time, she sips some wine and turns to the bugbear, looking him into the eyes.
"Like Erevan just said, I do not like it, but it's necessary." the ifrit averts her gaze for a moment, taking another sip of the wine. "Contrary to him, on the other hand, Talingrade has been my home since I was born. And that's exactly why I'm doing this. Since recently, I've had nothing but contempt for the majority of the Talineraeans, but my failed execution made me have a change of heart: I will help pave the path that will lead this place to greatness." she shakes her head.
"This nation is slowly dying: it only doesn't know it. The Mitrans teachings have been weakening its inhabitants for far too long, and its high time someone set things in motion so that would change. While I can't say that for the soldiers your hordes will slaughter (they should have taken they're occupation well knowing the implications), I must say that I truly feel sorry for the civilians casualties that will happen.". The fire-haired woman stops for a moment, finishing her wine, before looking back at Sakkaroth with eyes full of resolve.
"I would like it if there was another way, but it is what must be done. It is the right thing to do. I will do everything I can so that their sacrifice will not be in vain."

When Etna finishes, Tkaara thinks for a moment before adding to her prior statement.

I may have been a bit wordy before.

The simple fact is that the law of nature shows that the strong are destined to rule, and the weak are destined to serve. If the Talingardians are strong, then they will defeat your horde. If they are weak, then your horde shall be victorious. Up until this time, the Mitrans have not shown themselves to be stronger than these goblin hordes. Rather, they have shown they are smarter then these barbaric peoples. They were smarter because they used the land to create a great wall. A wall which to this point has managed to keep these hordes in the north.

Well, our goal is to open a whole in this wall. Then, as is the Dark Lord's will, we shall see who is truly the strongest.

The Doctor, who had been unusually silent until now, looks up. While he had been obviously distracted by some thought, simply glaring at any goblinoid who got too close and otherwise seeming content to allow his fellows to lead the way, his eyes now glint with something dark and terrible.

"I care nothing for the fate of these people. Anything that was worth saving is gone now." His eyes narrow. "I mean it when I say I don't care, however, and that includes not caring about who rules them, or some elaborate revenge scheme; if it had been a viable choice, I would already be back on the mainland, never to return to the cursed island, and every single inhabitant be damned. I work for the Cardinal because I have been left with no choice, to aid creatures I don't care about in killing and subjugating a nation I don't care about for a cause I don't care about in the name of a god I don't care about. Does that satisfy your curiousity?"

Tkaara chuckles softly and turns quietly to Etna.

The Doctor is more interested in tests. Right now, it is a test of his patience.

Sakkarot nods at your answers. "Yes indeed, we will see who is the stronger."

Looking at Tkaara, he shrugs. "If it turns out that your parents are strong, they will overcome the adversity they are about to face. If not, well... Remember the Fifth Lesson."

He looks at Ottakar, and his muzzle twists in a certain amount of amusement. "And what, exactly, would you do even if you had your wish and were back on the mainland? What opportunities would you have there that are not available to you now, if you use your cunning? Or would you simply go, uncaring, to die in the wilderness like some wounded beast?"

Removing his breastplate, you can all see that the 5-pointed star of Asmodeus is burned into his torso like a cattle brand. "Believe me when I say that we all carry our scars. You can sulk, or you can find something to care about. If you truly do not care whether you live or die, you will die. The only question then is how many of your companions you will take with you."

...

Once the conversation is finished, Sakkarot has one last thing to say: “Tomorrow you must depart this camp. It will never be truly safe for you here. Over the next week, more tribes will rally to my banner. I will promise them blood and give them steel. Then at last I will be ready to march. A week after that - two weeks from now - I will be poised to strike. I will move my horde to the valley just north of Balentyne. There we will wait for your signal."

Sakkarot hands you a single carefully wrapped signal rocket.

"Fire this rocket into the air. Within the hour, we will attack. Make sure that the way is ready. Bear in mind that once we gather, my horde will be idle and start to grow anxious. I can hold them together for another two weeks. After that, I expect desertions and squabbling. Get your work done before then. You have one month to infiltrate and destroy the fortress of Balentyne.”

Suddenly the bugbear warlord gets very serious and stern. He stares straight into your eyes.

“Can you do this? In one month can you accomplish what has never been done before? Can you break the Watch Wall?”

Fireday 28 Neth

You spend the night curled up asleep on the furs in Sakkarot's tent, the one place in this camp where you might be called safe. Sakkarot himself stands outside, keeping watch: his flaming axe and the respect for his leadership are the only things that keep you from harm.

It is still dark - and very cold - when he shakes you all awake. "Come. Most of my horde is now heading for sleep. It is nearly six; if you leave now, the Captain can deposit you on the opposite shore of Lake Tarik before it gets light."

He, Grumblejack and the two lieutenants Shaggoroth Night-Mane and Hekkarth Head-Taker escort you carefully back to the pier. Captain Odenkirk is ready - more than ready - to leave. He grows impatient as you say your farewells, permitting little more than a "Godspeed" from the Fire-Axe. Grumblejack looks sad not to be accompanying you, and gives Tkaara in particular a bone-crushing hug. "Stay safe, pretty littl 'un."

Under cover of darkness, with no lights other than the partially-glimpsed stars, Captain Odenkirk navigates the mist-shrouded Lake Tarik and draws up to the Southern shore. "There." He points. "Half a day's walk that direction takes you to the town of Aldencross. Beyond that is the fortress of Balentyne."

He looks relieved to be rid of you. "Our contract is concluded. But first there is the matter of weregild for my men - that nice spiral ivory horn should cover it..." He looks at you, daring you to disagree.

"I rather think not, 'captain.' I have plans for that horn that a simpleton like yourself could not begin to comprehend." As he speaks, the Doctor's features contort and his muscles writhe. Fur sprouts from his skin and his face lengthens into a muzzle. Within seconds, it is no man, but an ashen-furred werewolf standing before the doomed Ulfen. "I do so hope the tales of sailors having salt-water for blood are false; I've had quite enough of the foul substance of late." With that, he lunges at his startled prey.

"Alas, it seems that you are destined to be disappointed, Captain," Erevan says simply, casually. "Unfortunately for you and yours, your usefulness has come at an end. Perhaps it was unwise of you to be as... impolite as you have been."

As he talks, the darkness around him seems to grow darker still. What is more, the shadows he and the rest of the Ninth Knot cast thanks to what little light the stars in the night sky shine, however dim, appear to lengthen and expand and partially envelop the area around him, their shapes flickering and changing from one moment to the next. And the air grows slightly colder, though not unpleasantly so, at least not to those he calls allies, if not friends; felt by all regardless of clothing or natural resistance to such things, it is strangely reassuring, bolstering them and strengthening their attacks and defenses both. The sensation of his power growing brings a crooked smile to the man's lips.

"Although, in all honesty, courtesy would not have made that much of a difference really...," he adds, and the spear in his hands is no longer merely held, but wielded.

"Regretfully, I can only confirm what my companions have just said." the ifrit chuckles grimly as she starts to cast a spell "If only you had not been so greedy, this could have been the first of a long series of collaborations..." fishing the arcane formula, a shower of particles falls on the captain and his surroundings, bursting into a blinding flash soon after.
"Alas, this will not be the case." Etna concludes, not hiding the satisfaction at getting back to the one responsible for that dreadful journey.

------------

Having donned her armor once more now that the sea voyage is nearing an end, Tkaara is disappointed that these supposed adherents of the Dark Lord who hold trickery and deceit in high regard would simply choose to use such a forward approach.

Sighing and realizing that the cat is out of the bag, so to speak, Tkaara turns to the sailors behind her.

I do not know where people are, but several seem to have decided to attack the Captain, so I assume most of the other sailors are somewhere else on the ship, separate from the Ninth.

I am sorry you chose to join with this captain, unfortunately, it is the choice you made and now must suffer the consequences arising therefrom.

With that, she raises her hands to the star filled sky, seeming to pull down stars of many colors which swirl about her hands before shooting forth in a bright arc which surrounds the sailors.

Prior to leaving Sakkarot’s tent, Felrin resumes his disguise for the return to the Frosthamar. Once on board, he makes a point of getting in the captain’s way and rolling his eyes in disdain at the man, playing the role of pompous ass to the hilt. As they sail through the star-lit mist, Felrin moves to the rail, avoiding captain and crew, and quietly savors the notion that soon the captain will die, and his boorish crew with them.

As Captain Odenkirk demands weregild for his lost men, Felrin’s face is split by a wide grin. He dismisses his magical disguise, the grinning face shifting from that of a handsome young man to Felrin’s more usual bone-ridged, peculiar face. This is visible for only an instant as he begins another transformation, his skin turning leathery, his spine lengthening into a tail and his face extending into a sharp-toothed snout. In a deep, guttural voice, his claws held out before him, he snarls, ”I’m going to enjoy this, captain.”

Etna's spell unfortunately has no effect on the Captain, beyond covering him with rather pretty sparkles. Tkaara's spell catches four of the sailors in its arc; all but one of them slumps, unconscious.

The Captain looks on, enraged, and alarmed at the transformations he sees, but mostly enraged. "So, you want my ship, do you?! I killed my own brother to take her, and I'll kill all of you to keep her!"

Round 1 is GO! Etna and Felrin are up

MAP LINK (sailors in black are blacked out, unconscious)

"We really couldn't care less about your ship, captain." Etna sighs at Odenkirk, turning to face the other sailors. Muttering a couple of arcane words, she tries to knock down a couple of the still conscious sailors. After she's finished, the fire-haired ifrit draws her dagger, just to be sure.

"I don't want your ship," Felrin says plainly, "I want your heart in my hand."

He takes a quick step towards the stern, calling on Asmodeus to protect him as he moves. He then lashes out furiously with claws and teeth.

5-foot step to L3, activate Judgment of Justice for +1 to hit, full attack.

Claw/Bite Attack, alter self, beacon of evil, judgment: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 9 + 1 = 25
Claw/Bite Damage, alter self, beacon of evil: 1d4 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 1 = 10

Claw/Bite Attack, alter self, beacon of evil, judgment: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 9 + 1 = 18
Claw/Bite Damage, alter self, beacon of evil: 1d4 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 1 = 9

Claw/Bite Attack, alter self, beacon of evil, judgment: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 9 + 1 = 20
Claw/Bite Damage, alter self, beacon of evil: 1d4 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 1 = 10

The two sailors slip on the grease, but one of them keeps his footing - he shares a look with the other sailors and they bolt for it, down the gangplank and onto the beach.

The sailor who fell on the grease somehow gets to his feet and scrambles off after them.

Felrin's attacks cut through the captain's tatty chainmail, busting a couple more of the links; Odenkirk winces slightly, but they are just flesh wounds. Glaring at Felrin, he draws his axe. "I don't know who - or what - you are, and I don't care." He draws himself up, swelling with rage: muscles bulge, veins stand out in his neck and face. "When I said I'll kill you, it wasn't a threat." His voice booms, spittle and foam flying from his mouth.

"It. Was. A. PREDICTION!!!!!"

His axe crunches into Felrin. There's no recognisable style to his fighting. You wouldn't see it in a manual. But it is, nevertheless, deadly effective.

Erevan, Ottakar, Tkaara are up

Do you have a map? Wondering how many Tkaara can catch in another Color Spray, if none, then she will use Hypnotic Pattern.

The sailors are clumped at the bottom of the gangplank: lacking darkvision, their speed is restricted.

No map; am on my phone

Round 1
Seeing the sailors attempting to escape, and knowing that the Cardinal's command was that none be left alive, and also if any of them make it to the nearest town, it will make everything much more difficult, Tkaara follows the sailors, calling once more on the powers of the night sky to illuminate the sailors and to make sure that none escape. Once more multicolored stars are pulled from the sky into a swarm about her hands from which the coalesce into rays of rainbow colored light which shoots forth in an arc before the barrister.

Tkaara's spell catches all four of the remaining sailors in its arc; this time none of them is able to resist her magic and they all slump, unconscious.

Despite having a spear in his hands, Erevan appears to not use it to attack the enraged Captain, at least not yet. Instead he simply reaches and touches the large man on the arm for a mere moment before removing his hand, leaving behind a black handprint that persists for a second or two before it starts to spread, turning from darkness to shadow and then nothingness as it does so. Despite vanishing like it was never there, its effect is quickly felt by Odenkirk as wounds begin to open on his body, starting from the very arm the hooded man just touched. The blood dripping from them on the ship's floor is black, as black as night, as the large man feels sick, almost seasick a sailor such as himself might call it, as a feeling of nausea begins to come over him.

"A bold prediction indeed, Captain," Erevan remarks in his usual, somewhat courteous tone.

Odenkirk's rage is complete now. "Vile and accursed! Witches! I'll kill every last ****** one of you whores and whoresons!!!!"

He doesn't seem to be in the least bit queasy. Maybe his life on the ocean has inured him to such things.

Not near any place I can get a good connection. Here is my third try to post, sorry for bare-bones.

5-ft. step, drink extract of enlarge person.

Etna theatrically rolls her eyes at Odenkirk "Could you please avoid shouting, captain? It's very uncouth for you to do that. Not that a boor like you could understand something about etiquette, anyway." the ifrit mocks the captain, before conjuring a slippery pool under his feet.

The captain jumps as the grease slick appears and somehow stays on his feet. He roars at Etna, just on principle. "Witch! I'll drown you in the lake for this!"

Felrin is up for Round 2 action

MAP LINK

Felrin reels under Odenkirk's vicious blow, frustrated beyond belief that the man is too quick for his vulnerable spots to be hit. He shifts to a defensive stance and attacks again, moving next to Erevan in the hopes of stepping clear for a moment to cast a spell.

Only one of Felrin's attacks hit, clawing through the captain's tattered chainmail. He screams in anger.

"KillyoukillyoukillyoukillyouKILLYOU!!!"

Swiping furiously with his axe, he connects with nothing but air as Felrin goes on the defensive. He howls with rage, wordlessly.

Erevan, Ottakar, Tkaara are up

As Odenkirk's wounds, both mundane and supernatural, accumulate, Erevan adds one more, his spear piercing the Captain's already ravaged armor and then his stomach. Such is the force behind the strike that the steel spearhead almost comes out the man's back.

Round 2
Not having tried this before, Tkaara once more calls on the heavens. As she does so, she pulls the mites of light from the sky, some falling into her hands and others accumulating in her eyes giving them and eerie sparkling appearance the Forsaken have become used to. From there, she steps up behind the doctor and touches his huge beastial arm and causing the lights to jump from her to him, forming up as a wall of light which moves with his arm, not effecting his movement, but distracting any attack toward him.

Etna, make sure the sailors stay down.

"But the captain was so nice to us, Tkaara: let's not ignore him like that." Etna chuckles as she tries once again to hinder Odenkirk's onslaught with the slicky subtance, this time trying to coat the captain's axe in it.

Etna's spell has no effect whatsoever, beyond enraging the captain further (if this is indeed possible).

Felrin steps along the rail of the Frosthamar, calling upon Asmodeus to bolster him in this fight. He can feel the Dark Lord’s power surging through his body, knitting together flesh torn asunder by the captain’s axe. At the same time, Felrin invokes a spell, channeling more infernal energy into his body, strengthening him for the fight.

I will render unto you this man’s blood, my Lord, he vows silently as he prepares to step back into the fray.

Taking advantage of his new form's increased reach to stay out range of the enraged captain's furious swings, the Beast seeks to systematically destroy the man's defenses, leaving him relatively helpless before the villain's barrage.

First he ducks down and lashes out with a claw, catching the other man's legs and upending him into the grease. His other claw descends a moment later and plucks the axe from the prone man's grasp, tossing it over his shoulder casually. Finally, his great lupine maw darts in and savagely removes the majority of the flesh from on of the captain's thighs, sending blood fountaining out from between sword-like teeth.

The captain grunts as he lands heavily, tripped by Ottakar. His greataxe lands on the ground beside him.

Felrin steps away and calls upon Asmodeus' protection. Etna gestures, and the captain's unattended greataxe is suddenly covered in a sheen of slick grease.

Grabbing a handaxe with both hands, the captain lashes out at the only person he can reach, which is Erevan. The axe lands a solid blow even through Erevan's armour, despite the captain's prone position. A veteran of many, many, brawls, it is doubtful that he regards being prone as that much of a hindrance. It's hard to tell from the growls.

Erevan, Ottakar and Tkaara are up for Round 3!

MAP LINK

Erevan groans quite audibly as the Captain, despite being without his largest and most dangerous weapon, strikes and strikes true even with a smaller one. In retaliation, the hooded man shifts his grip on his spear and thrusts downwards, his attack aided by Odenkirk's prone position even though it hardly is one of his most accurate strikes.

"Will you die already?"

Eager to see the fight concluded, the Beast savages the prone man. It is difficult to see if the wounds being inflicted are fatal or not due to the vast amounts of blood spraying about like so much more sea water, difficult to tell if the captain is screaming or not over the sound of bestial snarling and the tearing of flesh and ligament...

Ottakar does indeed manage to (quite literally) rend the captain limb from limb, with anguished screaming, snarls and gouts of blood.

Combat over!

You quickly dispatch the sailors, who have not yet recovered from whatever it was Tkaara did to them; they die without ever regaining consciousness and you are thus spared their pleas for mercy.

The sailors have little of value beyond a dagger each, and 7d6 ⇒ (2, 3, 4, 3, 3, 5, 2) = 22 gp in assorted coins.

In addition to two handaxes and a set of four daggers, the captain has a masterwork greataxe, and three items that register as magical: his belt, a bottle of liquid, and his tatty chain-mail (now even more ragged following Ottakar's depradations).

You conduct a thorough search of the ship and find a large heavy wooden trunk in the late captain's quarters. It is locked, but Felrin clicks his tongue and gets to work - in a matter of moments it is open.

Inside, you find (beneath a filthy, doubtless flea-infested set of fur clothing) 6,000 gold Andoran crowns neatly stacked in a coinbox; doubtless this is the Cardinal's payment - now yours. In addition, the trunk contains another 115 gp in various coinage, mostly Talirean and Taldan. A small silver statuette of a mermaid (worth 50 gp) and six bottles of fine Varisian whisky (worth 20 gp each) complete the trove.

Tkaara's arm drops as the captain falls and her mace slips from her hand as exhaustion once more overtakes her.

That went . . . better than it might have. She coughs, although her face appears much more wholesome than it has for the majority of the voyage and none of the medically induced bloodshot eyes or other affects that have been readily apparent when her disguise is down are showing this night.

She then looks at the bloody corpses of the sailors knowing that it was because of her that they never even had a chance to fight back. Not that they would have had a smidgeon of a chance of winning, but still to have had them murdered while unconscious rekindled something within Tkaara that pulled at the former barrister before her descent into her present predicament. However, that feeling disappeared almost as quickly as it came as the need to salvage what could be gotten from the ship and then scuttle the remains once more entered her mind.

As she looked at the fallen captain, she was suddenly overcome by a feeling of lightheaded ness as her eyes took on a cloudy appearance with specks of light just apparent as though looking through a thin layer of clouds at the stars beyond. When this happened, she noticed several auras emanating from the captain's fallen corpse.

It appears our good captain possessed several magical items. The potion seems to have healing properties, moderately strong ones too. The armor is odd. It seems designed to always stay with the appearance of being beaten up. I doubt any amount of polishing or repair would make it look new, rather it would quickly revert to the tattered appearance you see before you. Oddly, I do not believe that this would in any manner effect its function. It also has two other properties. One allows the wearer to summon a defense against those aligned to good. The other property allows the wearer to cause an opponent to suffer ill luck resulting in the opponent having a tougher time striking anyone, or avoiding the effect of spells.

The belt is also magical, although I cannot determine what it does.

Suddenly realizing that Erevan and Felrin are both rather seriously injured, she moves over to them while calling on the power of the heavens to aid in their healing. As has occurred before, she causes pinpricks of light to swirl about both companions before settling into their wounds, binding the wounds with a brief sizzle and the smell of burned flesh.

Tkaara then looks about the ship.
So, what do we do with this boat? We can burn it, but with the town not that far away, the smoke might raise suspicion. If someone is a good swimmer, we could take it out a way and simply sink it. We could raise the sails and hope that the winds take it north into the ice where it will sink? Anyone have any other thoughts?

Not without some problems, Etna helps the other forsaken to gut the remaining sailors.
They died peacefully after we knocked them out, at least. Can't say the same thing for the captain...and I'm glad that was the case. Now I just have to clear the blood from my clothes...

"Unfortunately, I can't identify this either." the ifrit shakes her head after examining the belt. "But we'll have time to go over acquired equipment after we decide in which way we'll dispose of the boat and corpses." the fire.haired woman continues, casting prestidigitation a couple of times on herself to clean the captain's blood that Ottakar sprayed all over the deck. "Don't count on me sailing this thing and then sinking it, though: I've had enough salt water for the rest of my life."

"Thank you," Erevan says with a little bow of his head as Tkaara heals his wounds. Though not as pleasant and pain-free as he would have liked, the healing is certainly welcome. He does add with a smile however, "I should think it would be too much to hope you could do something about the burning sensation, yes?"

With most of his wounds having been taken care of, the golden-eyed man looks down at his clothes and armor, both covered in blood here and there, most of which is not even his, a courtesy of the good Doctor's... enthusiasm. "Could you perhaps do something about my clothes as well? I see you are quite handy with such magic," he proceeds to ask of Etna, seeing how she takes care of the stains on her own attire.

Tkaara looks at Erevan and rolls her eyes.
If you would like to avoid the smell of burned flesh, I shall leave you to healing yourself next time.

As Felrin steps toward the captain, he sees the Doctor tear the man to pieces, the man’s blood flowing across the deck and out the scuppers, staining the icy water red. Felrin’s claws clench in frustration and his jagged teeth are bared in a snarl of rage. No! Mine! his mind cries for a moment, but he takes a ragged breath and calms himself, though he does not speak.

I must not let my anger at this world get the best of me, especially if I am to lead the Ninth Knot. Must hold it in check…

”Well done, Doctor,” he says after collecting himself. ”Well fought, all of you. He was an opponent to be reckoned with.” He undergoes another transformation, returning to his ‘normal’ self, noting as he does so that he is badly injured. Looking up from examining his injury, he sees Tkaara approaching to heal him, and nods gratefully, gritting his teeth against the burning sensation. ”Thank you, Tkaara.”

Still aching somewhat, and unsure what lies ahead of them, Felrin uses his bond with Asmodeus to administer healing energies to himself, smoothing away much of the livid pink scar left behind from Odenkirk’s mighty axe-blow. Feeling much better, he joins the others in silencing the Frosthamar’s crew forever, exerting some effort to take a business-like approach to the matter, in spite of the desire welling up in him to tear their throats out and stamp his feet in the blood. He does take a moment to lay his hand in the blood on the deck and whisper a prayer to the Lord of Hell, guiding their souls into his service.

With the crew dispatched, Felrin turns his attention to the question of the ship, and offers, ”If I change into the right form, I can swim quite well. If we get the ship pointed in the right direction, I could sail it some way off and then scuttle it, with the bodies all locked in the captain’s cabin, then swim back. Though I don’t know how deep the lake is.”

Lake Tarik is really more of an inland sea: it's a hundred miles East-West, and maybe half that at its widest point North-South. It's enough of an obstacle that it keeps the bugbears (and other beasts) out of Talingarde.

It's certainly deep enough to drown a boat so that it will not be found.

Tkaara, who had been avoiding the bloody murder and trying to stay away from the bloodshed to avoid the strange urges that came with seeing blood flowing freely, nodded at Felrin's statement.

And the general resistance to cold that you have shown also makes you the best choice to swim back. You probably don't want to wear armor.

Suddenly Tkaara gets a twinkle in her eyes, and not from magic this time.

It would be fitting if you were to use the captain's axe to hack a hole in the bottom of the ship to allow the water to rush in.

Felrin's teeth are bared once again, but this time in grim laughter, "A fine notion, Tkaara! Using the man's axe to sink his pride and joy would be a pleasure indeed."

He begins to strip off his armor in preparation for the job ahead, asking as he does so, "Anyone else want to come? Or have additions to the plan as clever as Tkaara's?"

It would be fitting if you were to use the captain's axe to hack a hole in the bottom of the ship to allow the water to rush in.

"I would have liked to stab the captain with his precious narwhal horn, myself. Alas, that will have to do." Etna grins malevolently as she casts prestidigitation on the rest of the group, cleaning bloodstains and various gory parts (doubly so for the Doctor).

"No, I think that Tkaara's plan is sound. The faster we get to Balentyne, the better: we have to start gathering info, making plans, and I need an hot bath more than anything else."

After a few minutes, the Beast shrinks back down to normal size. He remains in lupine form, however, casually licking the blood from his claws and eyeing his surroundings, moonlight glinting off his amber eyes.

As Felrin busies himself with taking care of the ship and its now dead captain and crew, Erevan takes a few moments to study the transformed Doctor. He, or perhaps it, seems so different than the highly intelligent half-elven man, though the... Beast is far from a mere animal; a look into those eyes makes that easily apparent. As the hooded man ponders how he might approach a fight with such a creature, he is failry certain of one thing, that he would much prefer it if it did not come to that. Still, it does not hurt to be prepared.

'Preferably catching him unaware and in half-elven form would be ideal,' he thinks, 'but if that is not possible, not allowing him to drink those concoctions of his would be the next step perhaps. Silver would be needed, of course, or something similar. Maybe a slash across the eyes? No, he would still have his sense of smell. Between the ribs then, make it difficult for him to breathe?'

Shaking his head and shrugging, he chases such thoughts from his mind, or rather he chases them into some other part of it, not unlike filing something away for some potential future use. And then he turns to look at the First among them prepare for the bit of work needed to get rid of the ship now that its has been plundered of everything valuable or of use.

Once the equipment is offloaded from the ship, Tkaara looks to the others.

We have a pile of Andoran coins, which while accepted, might raise a few eyebrows around here. Perhaps the Doctor should be from Andorran, or at least he spent time there. That way, if we have need of purchasing something valuable. Tkaara chuckles. Like this backwater hole of a northland town will have anything that costs thousands of gold.

Regaining her train of thought.
If we need to make any purchases of value, having one with a foreign accent would be invaluable in any subterfuge.

Also, regarding our stories. It might be wise to enter not all together, but rather separately. If we are all in a group, then that might raise eyebrows as none of us look like professional guards. Sure, we have armor and weapons. She glances at Erevan and the Doctor. However, short spears are not common for guards. Longswords are common, and we seem to be lacking in them. Erevan could carry the great axe, which appears to be well made, but other than that, we do not have much in the way of common guard gear.

Thus, I was thinking that Etna and the Doctor could arrive as one group, and get two rooms at one of the better inns in the town. Perhaps Erevan and Felrin, or Felrin and I could enter from a different side of town and rent a room at a less expensive inn. We could use the same room since I, as you all know, do much better when the sun is not bright in the sky. Our cover could be that we represent some noble from the south who is interested in importing northern wares, or something of that nature.

Finally, the last of us could spend a night in the woods, and arrive the next day so that the connection between us would be that much more difficult. We can meet on the street or in pairs as necessary to discuss plans. Perhaps we could run into one another at a watering hole and spend the first night "getting to know one another." Then, we could set up meetings at some place where we would not likely be seen, a stable at night or something would be opportune.

Once she finishes even this statement, Tkaara is out of breath once more and has to take several swigs from her water skin before recovering her breath.

OK, just keeping things moving here

FIREDAY 28 NETH

You watch from the shore as the Frosthamar makes its last voyage. Soon it is out of the range of your darkvision and you wait. And wait.

Time passes. Is that the sound of an axe? Splintering boards? Or is that just your imagination?

Finally, Felrin swims back into view, grinning broadly. The deed is done and the Frosthamar lies fathoms deep where it will not be found.

Hefting your luggage and mentally rehearsing your new cover stories and identities, you make your way through the forest, heading Southeast. By the time the sun has risen, the trees have given way to a broad plain, on which lies a paved road: the Great Western Road, which stretches along the Borderlands, connecting Farholde on the Western shore with Daveryn on the East shore. Aldencross is where that Road ceases its East-West traverse and heads South, to Daveryn. In consequence, even without its strategic location, it makes a natural market town.

So. So close now. Aldencross is half a day's walk away; you should be there shortly after lunch. Less than a mile from there is the watchtower of Balentyne – your goal. Already Sakkarot’s horde gathers and prepares to move. Within two weeks, they will be in a small valley north of the lake awaiting your signal. Fire the rocket into the air and you will summon that horde. You will take the first step towards claiming vengeance against your enemies.

There is no doubt that the future of this green and pleasant land lies in your hands. You could go to that town right now and warn them of the plots of the sinister Cardinal Thorn. You could give yourselves up and face the justice you deserve. You could turn back from the horror and the slaughter that you are going to inflict upon these Mitran sheep.

This is the moment. This is the turning point. After this, there is no going back.

Anyone eager for redemption?