"Perhaps I can continue Edmund's care while you go with these people Vallen? He seems to be passed the worst of it."
Hassan nods, "Very well. If it will be Vallen who breaks the news, I can at least stand at his side."
AoO (not for Istiel because bow, +1 for Freebooter's Bane)
Slightly rushed, and didn't see if you specified axe or hammer, so I'm going with the hammer for optimal damage. There should probably be a default assumption.
Istiel fires into the descending horde of tiny, implike monstrosities (ok, tarsiers), the arrow flying through a few of them, dropping them. Each of the others takes a swipe at them as they drop into range, biting and clawing.
Gair's and Cueta's blades swipe through, sending tiny (yes, tiny) bodies flying, but it is Kal'Tos's hammer that wreaks the most havoc. Monkeys are flattened under the wide head.
Everyone takes 5 points of damage and Cueta, Gair and Kal'Tos are nauseated They can only take a single move action next round, but will get another (DC 14) Fort save each round they are in the swarm.
==============
Edmund takes a deep breath, and coughs up a last mouthful of blood before he looks around him and shakes his head.
"I can't tell you anything about the attack. I woke up with the point of his rapier sticking through the front of my shirt, and then I blacked out until... you saved my life." He looks at Vallen and bows. He puts a hand on Bern's shoulder. "I owe both of you my favor."
"As for the why, I can't be sure, but I went to speak to Ben this morning. I had heard talk of the halflings hoarding the food that was there responsibility and I wanted to assure myself there was no truth to it. I realize I am not famed for my tact, but I thought our conversation was reasonable."
"The recompense I spoke of is a matter of Taldan honor that I have agreed to overlook for the common good. It had nothing to do with the halfling."
Bern frowns at Hassan and then shrugs.
"I acted to protect us," he says. "I will not be kept prisoner for that."
Right now Kal'Tos favours his hammer, once my weapon focus feat is changed to the dwarven war axe he will favour that.
Good deal. Also, I accept Bulgarian as dwarvish.
Wretching, Cueta tries to stumble out of the swarm, to the south, vomit surging through her nose and mouth and onto her lamellar cuirass.
Round 3
When the horde of imp-like tree-swingers descends upon them, Istiel curses and yells as they bite and claw her face and arms, swinging her free hand to bat them away as best she can. Their wretched smell and attacks nearly make her throw up, but she is too focused on making it back to Manari.
She scrambles up a rock and rolls down the other side of the hill, putting some distance between herself and the swarm of monkeys, screaming and kicking at the ones that follow her. The elf knocks one of the beasts off of her leg, rears back her foot, and punts it good 30 feet.
Breathing heavily, she wipes the blood off of her forehead and away from her eyes, drawing another arrow and attempting to knock it. Blood running down her arm slicks the arrow and string, and her fingers slip as she tries to pull the string back.
Gair reels as the tiny wide-eyed creatures drop on him, biting indiscriminately. Unable to engage them properly, he moves away from the swarm to by himself some space to recover.
Kal'Tos continues to smash monkeys with his hammer in between bouts of nausea and profuse swearing in dwarven.
Fort save
Hassan rounds on the young man, "I have been charged with protection of Newspring son. If I feel there is sufficient cause for you to be held, you will abide by my decision. Are we clear?"
Taking a deep breath, the desert warrior looks to Edmund, "However in this case I think Edmund's testimony will suffice. You have done a good thing this night Bern. You have my thanks for your vigilance."
Turning to Edmund, he asks, "You say you went to speak with the halflings this morning? Did anything come of your investigations? I do hope you had more to go on than the idle chatter of hungry foragers before making such an accusation?"
Sorala, grimaces as Edmund speaks. The implications of this confrontation just get worse. She begins talking as Hassan does and talks over him at Edmund at the same time.
"Edmund, when you talked to the halflings, who did you talk to? Were you assured?"
Vallen listens to Edmund speak, his face grave. He gives Edmund a traditional bow of his head in return. "I'm flattered to have the favor of one as honorable as yourself. Eli is fleet of foot, and deserves some credit for waking me quickly as well. I can't explain Ben's actions, but we will deal with the aftermath."
The dwarf sighs, transferring his holy light from his shield to his holy symbol- the iron hammer held aloft in his hand. He hands his warhammer and shield to Eli. "We'll go speak to the halflings. Eli, if you could do a dwarf a favor, return these to my camp. I don't plan on fighting anyone tonight."
He waves a hand to Sorala and Hassan. "Come on then. The sooner I'm done with Sorala's diplomatic mission the better." The cleric puts Septimus in charge of tending to Edmund's unhealed wounds as they leave. What possessed Ben to perform such an act, Torag? Why do they follow such chaos in these trying times?
"Edmund, I appreciate that you heard some rumors and investigated them, but please in the future think to bring any issues like this to the council for consideration. Many minds against a problem is usually better than just one - no matter how sharp."
"And please, lay low for a couple of days. Remove yourself to your tent - if the women from the Harpy don't understand, they'll have to move. You need to be out of sight and out of mind."
"We should take Sandlock's body to his kin, or arrange to have it brought along shortly."
------
As the three head to the halflings, Sorala scowls at Vallen's comment about "her" diplomatic mission. "I hope you both understand just how serious this situation is. Perhaps you've heard of the Count Mariscus of Ustelev? Regardless, I'm going to tell you." Sorala's cadence gets more measured and her tone less confrontational as she walks and talks, as if she is giving a lecture.
"Mariscus was a minor Ustalev nobleman about three hundred years ago. Were it not for his penchant for cruelty to his servants and subjects, he'd be but a footnote in history - he was a rather uninspiring and ineffectual count. Where he really shined, though - if you can call it "shining" - was his creative punishments for transgressions, real and imagined, against his rule. His serfs suffered horribly. Drawings and quarterings, the rack, the iron maiden - no device of man built to compound the suffering of others was too much for the count to consider."
"His personal servants, however, were rarely killed - but they were tortured. A jester tells an unfunny joke and his lips get sown shut. A guard falls asleep and his eyes are sown. Maids were made to sleep in the pig sty if their work wasn't up to the count's standards. And all manner of sexual transgressions were visited upon his staff. The count was truly a monster. However, do you know the one group that never suffered under the mad Mariscus? His cooks. For even though the count was insane and cruel, even though that man, and his servants, fell victim to the basest impulses humanity can visit upon the world, his cooks were never touched. Care to guess as to why? It is because even a madman knows not to f++* with those that cook your food, let he end up poisoned in the night."
"The Thayers are a powerful faction here at Newsping. They have toughs and they have foragers and laborers at their disposal. In other words, they have influence. The halflings have food, and the skill to do something with it, and the blessing of the council to distribute it. They also have influence."
"We need to settle this feud tonight. I don't know that the halflings would have the inclination or the ability to poison anyone, but we need to be careful here, for they can do much damage."
"My suggestion - we bring them news of Ben's death, and tell them that Thayer is lingering on death's door as well. Perhaps he will listen and not show his face for a couple of days. We grieve with the halflings and honor their dead. And, these next couple of days, we try to asses whether or not they are in fact hoarding or stealing food. If they are..." Sorala simply shrugs. "I have no idea what should be done about that."
While Sorala lectures during their walk to the halflings, Vallen listens silently. When she finishes, he speaks up.
"An excellent story, certainly. You should tell it to Edmund. Anyway, I do understand how important this is- but why am I having to deal with it? I just want to help building the town, get people onto their feet. I'm a stonemason and smith, Sorala, not some warrior. Yet, instead I've been running around solving murders, fighting kuru, smiting mysterious undead, rescuing women, and now I'm some kind of fire-blasted diplomat!"
He turns his head to Sorala, the dwarf's unbraided beard looking a tad disleveled. "Do you think I'm some kind of hero, Sorala? Do you think I'm going to go slay a dragon and rescue some princess, and solve all our problems with the blessings of Torag? No! I'm going to build a forge so I can properly worship my god, make some tools so people can get more work done, build some houses for these folk, plan irrigation for the crops, start working on roads... and when that's all said and done, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to carve statues, reliefs, frescoes of the real heroes- people like Gair, Cueta, Kal'tos, ,Manari, Bern, Edmund, Hassan. I'll tell their stories in the stone so everyone knows how the real heroes saved us, as I'm sure you'll do in your books."
The priest shakes his head at her suggested course of action. "I'm not going to lie to these folks. They're hard-working, good folk- most halflings are. Edmund just heard a rumor, investigated, and pissed Ben off somehow- you know how Taldans are, especially that one. We tell the halflings the truth, the entire truth, every detail, then we ask them to tell us the truth. See what Ben was thinking before he left, I bet he told someone he was angry at something."
Sorala stops and turns, facing Vallen with a look of concern. Putting her hand on the dwarf's shoulder, she looks into Vallen's eyes and not breaking his gaze, speaks in a calm manner. "Vallen, you ask if you're a hero. I can say, look around you. How many here have solved murders, rescued women, and fought kuru? You may see yourself as a simple craftsdwarf, but Torag, it seems, has other plans for you. Whether or not you are willing to accept that yet, well, that is between you and your forge-father."
"I asked you speak with the halflings, and I shouldn't dictate what words come out of your mouth. We'll tell them everything. Just be yourself and I'm sure that will be enough."
This one's heart is too much in the right place. I'll need to talk with his priest-in-training, the one who is always skulking about, about our food situation.
Hassan slows as the other two converse, frowning for a moment before moving to stand next to the other two. He gives Vallen a small, sad smile, "I know well where you are coming from Silverclasp. This ill-fated expedition has taken me farther than I ever thought possible in a matter of mere weeks. When we set sail I had one man to look after, much as I had for the last decade. Now I have six score, each looking to me to keep the peace and see that they sleep soundly through the night. It's a similar task I admit but the magnitude of that responsibility is...staggering. I still cannot solve the mystery of why you would all trust me in this manor, after all I have failed my original charge utterly..."
The sellsword looks away for a moment, his eyes deep wells of grief. After a moment he starts again, "...yet you have and so I must find it in myself to shoulder the burden and continue through my failures. It is simply the way it must be after all we have endured. It is much the same for you Vallen. There are many who look to you now, and as Sorala says, you have already proven yourself equal to any of the tasks put before you. Will it be now that you falter?"
"Tell the halflings as much as you will. I agree that we should be forthcoming in this situation. I am uncertain they have much to do with Sandlock's actions this night. The small ones are a tight knit group to be sure, but this is not the first time Sandlock had butted heads with the taldan on a personal level."
He looks at Sorala, "Hold off on asking anyone to sneak around investigating rumors about the halflings. We have little to go on at the moment. If you wish to avoid an incident, make a show of faith while you can. I will ask the guards who have had shifts watching over the supplies if they have noticed anything amiss this last day. I would wager this "hoarding" is simply the result of a few tongue-waggers, chafing at the new rations."
Sorala looks to Hassan, glassy-eyed, her head now pounding. Hand still on Vallen's shoulder, she places her other arm around Hassan, still holding the Garrack-statue, and embraces the sellsword. "You poor, sorrowful man. I should tell you that earlier tonight, when I used your words against you, I never believed them myself. I'm not sure what your original charge was, but I've heard you often say that you fail. Know this - no one can reasonably expect six men and women to catch every threat to 135 people. You truly have the most difficult job here, and I don't envy you one bit."
Letting go of both men, she stands for a second, mulling over the words of the others. "I'll defer to you both about how to handle the halflings. I do want to say that I think it would be wiser to play dumb for now about the possibility of food poaching, and see how things shake out, but I'm no master spy, and you two certainly understand human nature more than I. I also want to say that when you both accused me of Garrack's murder, I hated you, maybe even more than I grieved for my husband. Vallen has since proved his character to me and Hassan, I can see now that I was horribly wrong about you as well - you are probably the two most honorable men in Newspring."
"Let's go and talk with the Sandlocks before my head splits open. Ugh. Sorry. This migraine, it makes me speak too plainly."
Vallen stops as Sorala does, raising a bushy eyebrow. She meets his gaze, skepticism clearly growing on his face as she speaks. "I don't exactly match the description of the heroes in the stories, Sorala. I'm no brave warrior or charismatic leader. But you are right about one thing- Only Torag knows his Grand Plan and whatever part he wants me to play in it, I shall do it."
The dwarf turns his head to Hassan, nodding solemnly. "You had this all thrust upon you, Hassan, and I have to say you've carried the burden well. The forge-father has guided my hand thus far, but I fear being put in charge of too much. He guides me but does not make my choices. This settlement is one misguided decision away from anarchy and starvation. I'm willing to offer my council, but the burden to make those decisions is... daunting. I can only hope to follow the examples Torag has set for me."
When Sorala lets go of him, Vallen starts to walk again, but notices that Sorala is still not moving. He crosses his arms as she speaks, felling a bit uncomfortable but not interrupting. "I'm sorry, Sorala. We were afraid and everyone was a suspect- I don't think Tatya has forgiven me yet, and I don't even want to bring it up." He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "If we have no honor, we become no better than the beasts and goblins. I hope the hunger does not drive me to forsake that." He walks with the two towards the halfling encampment.
Hassan gives the dwarf a tight smile, "The incident with her daughter was a long time ago Vallen. These new shores offer us many more hurts to dwell upon each day. I doubt she still harbours much of a grudge."
To Sorala he nods, "I agree, we should mention the rumours of hoarding as little as possible here. There will be time for such matters later."
Walking again, Hassan keeps a respectful pace back from the dwarf as they reach the halfling encampment.
As the group scatters, some of the monkeys continue to pursue Kal'Tos, swarming over the dwarf, screeching and biting. The rest seem most interested in the packs with the food.
Kal'Tos takes 5hps.
=======
Bern glares at Hassan, drawing himself up in outrage at what seems like a strongarm from the older man, only to let it out in a heavy sigh when Hassan says he believes him.
Edmund sighs and shakes his head.
"I spoke to Ben, who seems - seemed to be the leader of the halflings. I spoke as quietly as possible, and made no accusations. I simply told him that I had heard whispers and that I wanted to see for myself if there was any truth to them. He denied it, with a few insults, of course, and I left it at that. My thought was to wait for the rest of the council to make it back before I took any further steps, but it seems he decided it was better to settle the matter immediately."
Kal'Tos continues to smash the monkey's with his hammer.
confirmation
probably not a crit
Dmg
Kal'Tos will indicate for everyone to gather to him
Channel energy twice once everyone is in range.
Istiel is able to get another arrow in her bow in time to see Kal'tos shouting and sending monkeys flying in all directions with his hammer. She marvels at the dwarf's proficiency for smashing the creatures, as if each one is a piton to be driven into the ground.
When the swarm scatters the elf approaches the battlefield, stepping over smashed monkey and surveying the battlefield. Shivering as the healing energies of Abadar run through her, the elf asks a simple question. "... are these edible?"
"Maybe the ones that weren't turned to mush by my hammer, though the fact that several of us who were bitten became briefly sick leads me to believe it would be better if we did not eat them"
Gair scrubs at the weeping bites that cover him, watching to make sure the scattering monsters do not regroup. He sucks his teeth at Istiel's question, poking at one of the corpses with his axe, "I would advise against it...I do not like the look of these creatures."
Istiel frowns, kicking at one of the corpses with her boot. "A shame."
She moves over to check on their food- there is clear evidence that the monkeys were after their supplies. "This place reeks. I suggest we move on at the break of dawn."
Cueta squats, and picking up a dead monkey, takes it to the light by Kal'Tos's shield. Using her stone axe, the woman removes the fur from the leg of the monkey by peeling the skin back from the foot, and then using the axe as a cleaver, separates the joint of the hip from the body, creating in effect a drumstick. Sniffing the meat and peering at, she looks for signs of disease, poison, or parasites.
"I don't know, Gair. The monkeys of my childhood were quite tasty. You remove the skin and fur and then put them in a smoking hut, hanging the meat and then burning wood to cook the animals in the smoke, for hours on end. Those monkeys were quite tender and filling. We ate them on occasion in the Shackles too, when we stopped at islands where they were plentiful enough to shoot from the trees. That's where the saying comes from, you know - "Easy, like shooting monkeys in a tree." The ship's cook usually boiled them then - not so tasty, but it did the trick on an empty belly."
Gair raises an eyebrow consideringly, "Desperate times...I long for some proper game though..."
Stopped near the small cookfires of Newspring's halfling contingent, Hassan looks to Vallen, "Well this is it Silverclasp. I will follow your lead."
+20 monkey-meat food.
Kal'Tos smashes his hammer into the heart of the swarm, killing several, and the rest of the monkeys scatter to watch harmlessly from the trees. The first grey light of dawn is filtering through the trees.
Gair has trouble getting any further sleep this night. The kellid simply sits with his back to a tree and watches the slowly lightening forest until it is time for a cold breakfast. He eats quickly, washing down each mouthful with a quick swallow of water, "Do we finish covering this area or try to find more sign of the goblin's passing now the sun returns?"
Cueta, not seeing the point in trying to sleep again, crouches next to Gair and uses her axe to cut slivers of meat off the monkey she butchered earlier, eating it in small, raw gulps. Quietly, not wanting to bother the northman, the Mwangi appreciates the sounds of the forest changing with the dawn - the slow buzzing of insects, the increasing chirping of birds, and the rustle of trees in the wind. When Gair speaks, Cueta holds out a handful of monkey meat to the warrior. "I think we should finish covering the area. If the goblins are close we'll find them regardless, and if not, we'll know that this area is safe for our foragers - well, safe-ish, anyways."
Sorala grits her teeth and massages her temple. Garrack, help me attain a clarity of mind to see the truth here, with these halflings, and may they continue to be friends to all.
"Indeed, Vallen. Speak calmly and with confidence. I'll help you in any way I can with this grim business."
Gair frowns at the offered meat before taking it, "Regardless of where they lay their hearths, we know the hobs patrol this area. I would hesitate to call it safe, for it is clearly part of their territory. Though I agree with you. By making a sweep of the area we are likely to encounter them anyway. If not, we can try to pick up their trail again. It has lain cold for a week already. One more day is not likely to make too much difference. If we can at least get some idea of where they headed we can determine which direction to expand our search in?"
Istiel is pleased to hear that the Mwangi is knowledgeable about how to skin and prepare the monkeys. "Good. Nothing can go to waste at this time."
However, she is aghast as the woman sits eating strips of raw monkey, instead watching the slow rise of the sun as she has many mornings before. "We must finish exploring this area, and find the source of the hobgoblins."
Vallen sighs as they approach the halfling camp, clucking his holy symbol and whispering a prayer to Grundinnar. Please guide my thoughts and tongue in this, Peacemaker, just as you settle disputes between your kin.
The dwarf finds Gwen, waking her if the earlier ruckus has not roused the small folk camp. Vallen sits down on the ground in front of her, folding his legs, and encourages her to do the same.
Running a hand over his face, he opens his steely blue eyes and looks at her sadly. "About 10 minutes ago, Bern Hearthseeker witness Ben sneaking through some bushes. Suspicious, he followed him- impressive, given the halfling's stealth. Bern witnessed Ben find the sleeping Edmund and using his rapier to stab him through the chest. Bern responded by crushing Ben's head in with an axe. I arrived a few minutes later- I was barely able to save Edmund with magic, but Ben was already dead. I'm sorry Gwen."
The cleric sucks in some breath, looking at the ground for a while. After several moments have passed, he asks a question. "We don't know why Ben would do this, and are looking for some information. Was Ben agitated tonight?"
Gair climbs to his feet, wiping the grease from his fingers on the bark of the tree and shoulders his pack, "Agreed. Lets get moving."
Hassan regards his dwarven companion with an uncomfortable look as Vallen makes an extremely emotionless report to the obviously devastated halfling woman. Stepping forward, he drops to a knee before her, "I am sorry Gwen. The responsibility for your loss falls to me. I vowed to keep the people of Newspring safe and I have failed you and your kin not once but twice...I wish that I could tell you why this has happened but I'm afraid we must look to you for that. From all we know, this violent end is the result of slights, real or perceived, taken much too far."
He pauses, giving the halfling a moment before continuing, "Could you tell us what transpired when Thayer came to see you? And anything Ben might have said before he left?"
Cueta grins at Istiel, noticing the horrified look on the elf's face. "Oh, it is pretty awful raw. But, it will save some of our cured food for later."
The Mwangi then packs what monkeys she can in her pack and helps Kal'Tos get the rest stored away. Setting off following Gair, she keeps her wits about her for signs of angry tasiers or sneaking goblins.
With the food stored as best they can for now, Kal'Tos suggests that they continue exploring m
Gwen Sandlock stares at Vallen, and her grief and fury is evident, but before she responds, Hassan speaks, calming her. As her tears start to flow she simply sits and stares into the distance.
"I can't believe he went and did it," she says. She glances up at Hassan and takes a deep breath. "I wasn't there when Thayer spoke to Ben, but I do know that Ben was upset by it. He was angry, but he was always angry when it came to the Thayers. What's being done with Bern?"
=======
The explorers gather themselves and set out to continue their survey of the hex. While traversing a scar on a hillside where a rockslide laid the bedrock bare, Kal'Tos notices a telltale reddish tint to the rock that he quickly identifies as iron rich stone.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully.
Vallen shakes his head regretfully, as he too is stunned by the situation. "Bern was simply defending Edmund and is not to be held accountable for Ben's death. If you wish it, Gwen, I can ensure his story is the truth with the Lawful blessings of Torag, but I trust the lad."
Istiel sends her time during dusk looking for a shelter that the group could spend the night in. She is extremely vary of any animal dropping. particularly those that may come from monkeys.
Sorala, sighs, trying to hold her concentration to the conversation as the others talk.
"Gwen, know that if there is anything that I can do, please don't hesitate to ask. Your grief will be deep as the ocean, and will come at you in roiling waves, interspersed with anger - at Bern, at the Thayers, and at Ben as well. Throw yourself into your work, to the point of exhaustion, and you will be able to sleep at night."
"What was Ben so angry with as to go and try to settle things with Edmund in the dark?"
Kal'Tos notes where the likely deposit of ore is, a smile spreading across his face when he sees it.
[B]"we must return here when things have settled down, the rock here contains metal which between myself, my brother and Vallen can be refined to make additional weapons or tools."[B]
As the group stops by the iron deposits, Cueta listens, nodding her head excitedly. "So, forgive my ignorance, Kal'Tos - I assume this means we can dig this iron up and make things like nails for building houses and ships, but we turn this iron into steel for weapons as well? Real, dwarf-made steel to replace these stone and wood kuru trifles I'm carrying around with me now?"
At camp that night, Cueta cuts up the finest monkey sashimi that she can with her axe, longing for a proper buccaneer's knife.