Unwilling to rest upon his laurels, Thorek turns from the crumbling tower to rampage through the Ironfang camp--burning tents and supplies and cutting down any rear-echelon troops too foolish to flee. As the attack on Longshadow breaks off and the Legion forces begin their withdrawal he plants himself on a small rise to watch them go.
"They're too damn smart and disciplined. Kosseruk's dead, and good riddance, but that lot will be a thorn in our side if we don't finish the job," he grumbles aloud to his companions. As they return to Longshadow the dwarf makes certain that pickets are posted and scouts dispatched to monitor the Ironfang remnants.
"Yeah. I don't think this is over by a long shot. But with you and everyone else I hope we can stop this before anyone else suffers," she says while laying down looking up into the sky.
"All I wanted to do was perform. I just wanted to make people smile. And here I am just struggling to help keep people alive," she sighs.
"Great job, everyone! Let's take stock of our supplies and liberated material from the the battle. We'll need to recover and plan our next steps," encourages Daria.
The retreating Ironfangs suffer even more casualties as arrows from your Chernasardo Ranger contingent and the sharpshooters from the local Hunter Bureau rain down upon the hobgoblins' backsides as they withdraw. The chaos of battle makes a true tally impossible, but you estimate that you and the defenders of Longshadow left at least one quarter of their total force wounded or dead. Your elimination of their leadership and elite units is a more grevious blow dealt to the Ironfang Legion, though.
Of their retreating forces, you reason that those who don't succumb to the wilderness hazards of the Hollow Hills will make to regroup with the larger Legion, rather than remaining behind to harass Longshadow.
In the aftermath of the battle Thorek moves among Longshadow's brave defenders, congratulating them for their courage and, uncomfortable with his own inability to comfort the bereaved, focusing instead on the difficult but necessary work of cleaning up in the aftermath of battle. There are fires to be extinguished, bodies to be buried, and next steps to plan.
"Friends," he sighs, wiping sweat and grime from his forehead as he wearily sits on an empty crate. "We've bloodied the Ironfang's nose today, but that damned black tower of theirs...it worries me. They took Phaendar with it in an afternoon, and we're damned lucky they didn't sprout it up in the middle of Longshadow! If we're going to counter the hobs properly, we need to figure out what in the Nine Hells it is and how it works." He snorts in black amusement. "I'm open to suggestions, my only idea isn't a great one."
"I mean even if we figure out how it works they still have an army to go up against our cobbled militia. We really need to work on finding more allies before they figure out that just gathering all of their forces at once would be the most effective tactic.," Lily replies rather grimly.
Sighing, Thorek knuckles his forehead for a minute before speaking again.
"The solution seems clear enough, then: we should reach out to Kraggodan. The Sky Citadel has an army and I doubt the Ironfangs would dare attack it--they'd be crushed. And unlike Molthune, my kin won't be delighted to see the Nirmathis being conquered by hobgoblins. The problem... Here Thorek hangs his head, ashamed. "The problem is that my exile isn't ended for another three years. I don't know what the consequences will be if I return early."
Apart from Kraggodan, the other lead discovered from among Lieutenant Kosseruk's maps and notes is the Valley of Aloi.
Aubrin the Green and your Chernasardo Ranger contingent suggest investigating the valley first, and Mayor Crawbert even offers an additional payment if you eliminate the morlocks that inhabit the valley, as they still pose a threat to the vulnerable Longshadow.
Without prompting, Meriam Kems from the Hunters Bureau proves to be a chipper font of information about the Valley of Aloi.
"Oh, there's so many stories about the riches left abandoned in the valley thanks to vicious storms, territorial drakes, and of course the flesh-eating morlocks,"[/b] the halfling woman explains, excited to put a storyteller's flair on the report. "Heck, every miner in the Hollow Hills can spin a yarn about a cousin's friend's sister who spotted some timeworn treasure from the lip of the valley, only to be chased off by some monster. In fact, I recall..."
Meriam digresses into one such rambling story. When called back to attention, she quickly marks the valley on one of your maps before resuming her tale. Roughly 20 miles southwest of Longshadow near the base of the Mindspin Mountains, it would take about 5 days' travel through rough hills and mountainous switchbacks. Of course, with Daria's help, that trek will likely be even quicker.
Frowning at the map, Thorek looks up at Mayor Crawbert and the other Nirmathi. "Have the morlocks caused trouble for Longshadow before? Why are we only learning about this now?"
"Yeah I mean is the flesh eating part an exaggeration?? Why weren't we told this earlier? Even if they aren't a part of the Legion it would be important to learn about.."
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Kosseruk's notes make a few things clear about the Valley of Aloi.
Besides being the home of the Legion's morlock allies, Lieutenant Kosseruk use the valley as a base and staging area before advancing towards Longshadow with the core of her forces. Additionally, the valley apparently hides tunnels that connect to the lowest levels of Kraggodan - tunnels which the Legion has apparently made use of in the past, according to some of the more obscure notes found among Kosseruk's documents.
"Well, the fact that the morlocks were leaping onto our walls and trying to tear apart our people is trouble enough," Mayor Crawbert replies.
"Admittedly, before this siege, they have never moved directly against Longshadow. However, many of the smaller mining towns out in the Hollow Hills have had to fend off their raids in the past, so they have been a longstanding threat - not on the same scale as the Ironfang Legion, but still pretty bad.
"It's no secret that the morlock tribes dwell in the Valley of Aloi. We've just never had a force capable of striking back against them. On the rare occasions over the years that a traveling band of adventurers, treasure hunters, or even Pathfinders have delved into the valley, I don't know of any that made it back alive. Sorry to suddenly make the trip sound extra ominous, but after all you've done for us, I'm not about to lie to you and make it sound like a piece of pie."
b]"No apology necessary, Mayor, we're all tired and on edge still."[/b] Thorek rubs his temples and flips through Kosseruk's notes on the valley again.
"If there are tunnels connecting to Kraggodan from the valley then we must investigate. The protection of not just Longshadow but my people is a priority."
Lily sighs. "Yeah Im with Thorek. We should deal with them before they become a problem too."
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Grenwold scratched Ringo behind the ears, and then leaped off the elk’s back. The beast glanced backward at him briefly before snuffing once and stamping. Gren whispered to his companion in Gnomish ”it won’t be long. I just have to find the trail again.” The deer sniffed loudly and stamped the ground again. Gren patted his rainbow spotted haunch, ”I know - I just have to check. It’s an old trail.” He looked around, taking a deep breath, and then kneeled quietly on the fallen leaves and moss. His eyes scanned the ground, and the camouflaged bandana around his face fluttered as his breathing steadied.
He was looking for signs of passage. Physical signs. A broken branch. A scrap of cloth. And he found it. The scouts were good, and he had respect for them, light feet in the Fangwood was no easy feat. This one must have been combining brachation with avoiding the soft ground. Soft ground was often present in this area, some water may have been diverted because of the war, but while Gren suspected the increasing signs of fungi in the area pointed to a more sinister cause, the hobgoblin was his priority.
He drops his goggles onto his eyes with a flick, and he sees it - the soft soles had knocked a chunk of fresh moss off of a log that had started to rot. The enemy had chosen well a place to step, but Gren knew the signs. He sighed, and stood up, brushing himself off and shuddering a little involuntarily. He flicked off a bit of grime and then hopped back onto Ringo, ”you were right, but your nose isn’t perfect. Isn’t it better that we checked.” Ringo inhaled deeply and then exhaled, and Gren twitched his legs, and the pair took off on their trail, through the woods - moving like the wind, as if nothing stood in their way.
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Gren was off of Ringo, and pacing. Cirieo stands nervously nearby. Ringo is drinking some water from a stream, and looking around - alert for danger. The wind that often now swirls around him has calmed.
Cirieo adds, ”you two are some of the most experienced rangers we have left. There’s nobody else.” He’s leaning on his walking stick.
Grenwold pauses, and shifts in his armor, ”I can’t do everything. This is…” He clutches the clumsily carved holy symbol and mutters something to himself, and then responds ”I’m just a scout. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Cirieo shrugs ”I don’t either, but our backs are against the wall. Nobody’s ordering you to do it - but you’ve been hurting them. Every time you ambush a group of hobs and leave the leader dead and the rest without equipment - what do you think happens to the others when they go back? And they always go back…”
Gren flushes, ”I … that’s not fair. They’re not leaving me any choice.” he frowns and blinks a few times, ”why would they hurt their own troops? Their own family?” He stammers, ”and … and … I don’t want to kill them.” He seems distraught.
Cirieo sighs, ”I don’t know - but it’s the truth. One way or the other, it’s effective. They’re afraid of the forest, so for the first time in the war - this is our sanctuary again.”
Grenwold frowns harder and paces again, ”fine. I’ll do it. The forts are secure, at least. But… these fields , they are not my… fine. To Longshadow. But we are not…” There looks to be a lot of tension in his shoulders, but he relaxes as if resigned. He glances at Ringo, ”he is a gift from Shelyn, and look - he’s got blades on his antlers. This isn’t fair.”
Cirieo puts his hand on Gren’s shoulder, ”you’re right, but the Fangwood is as safe as you can get it. And… there are some adventurers, you might be able to help them. They helped me. I can’t believe you missed them really… bad luck.”
Gren slumps, and the straightens up, ”for Nirmathas.” He salutes Cireo in the informal Chernasardo style, a fist slightly raised that he slaps with his palm, and begins packing his things.
The aftermath of a battle was no less exhausting than its buildup, Thorek muses. Where before there were trenches to dig and walls to shore up and the terror of immanent death, now the labor turns to putting out fires, repairing damaged structures and people, and struggling with the heady cocktail of grief, elation, exhaustion, and survivor's guilt.
Thorek does what he can to ensure that Longshadow's people are cared for, taking on the roles of garrison commander and work foreman, even chaplain when he can muster words of comfort. The days pass in a blur of physical and emotional cleanup or long difficult meetings about the town's future and party's next steps.
He meets several times with Esperanza and Eurydicia, floating the idea that they pair of them might stay in town to keep an eye on things and guard Longshadow against Ironfang raids or further attempts at infiltration. He consults with Gaius about crafting or acquiring a veritable dragon's hoard of new items. Maybe it impress his clan elders enough to overlook his illegal return to Kraggodan, he mused unhappily.
Daria works her healing magic—both literally and with herbalism and medical skill, to save as many of the wounded as possible. She takes part in the liquidation of unwanted items as well as requesting new items.
One set of items she is most happy with is an exotic saddle with a heavy load belt as the cinch and a bag of holding to keep it in…Now she and her friends can travel the skies more securely.
"Recruiting these morlocks may be the first exploitable mistake the Legion has made," your old friend Aubrin says during the meeting with Mayor Crawbert, Cirieo of the Chernasardo Rangers, Esperanza and Eurydicia, Meriam of the Hunter Bureau, and other civic leaders who survived or rose to prominence during the defense of Longshadow.
"These subterranean creatures may have given them an edge when infiltrating and undermining the villages in the hills, but it provides our first solid clue of where we can strike back against the Legion's own bases."
Aubrin and your other allies provide a briefing on the Valley of Aloi, pooling their collective knowledge.
This rugged gorge is located roughly 20 miles southwest of Longshadow, near the base of the Mindspin Mountains. Untamed mountains and sheer natural walls of granite render it fairly inaccessible except to wilderness-savvy travelers or those assisted by magic.
"Or those who can transform into a giant bird," Aubrin says with a grin.
The remnants of many failed mining expeditions dot the terrain, as dozens of prospecting parties have disappeared over the generations. In addition to the morlocks that inhabit the area, the valley's local wildlife is another source of predation. This includes drakes and rocs that inhabit the hills and mountains that cradle the valley.
There are also some ruined walls and aqueducts left in the valley, which local explorers and historians have always taken to be remnants of ancient settlement attempts by the dwarves.
"So you believe that the Ironfang are based underground then? The idea makes sense, but what makes you so sure?"
"So you believe that the Ironfang are based underground then? The idea makes sense, but what makes you so sure?"
"In this case, yes," Aubrin replies. "The valley's dominance by the morlocks that the Legion has subjugated all but ensures that their base, lair, outpost, or whatever you want to call it is underground in this area. What's more, if they used this as an access point to get into the sky citadel, as you say the intel at the command post suggests, then it has to be at least partially underground."
Thorek nods along with Aubrin's reasoning. "I suppose even in the worst case scenario, we can ensure that the morlocks are no longer a threat to the area. If we find a way to strike at the Ironfangs as well, so much the better. How soon can we leave?"
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Grenwold was holding his breath, as was Ringo. The attack had commenced, and Longshadow was under siege. From an empty, ruin on a nearby hill northeast of town the pair had conferred quietly. They had decided that the best thing they could introduce into the legion's plan was chaos. The eyes of the scouts were keen, but the pair were well hidden - wherever there were trees, the pair looked like little more than a log and a bush. Ultimately, Gren inhaled deeply, realizing their best chance of avoiding detection came from being impossible to see.
So, they were holding their breath. The people of longshadow defended themselves with courage. It was the least Gren could do to do the same. With incredible speed, they emerged, flanking the assault from the side and scattering the soldiers - their iron-like discipline confused. Vicious and deadly, their assault carved a swath of pain through the archers that supported the siege engines and infantry. Drawing their fire, the pair disappeared again into the soil, only to emerge again in the back of the line. The timing was never consistent, but the Ironfang knew who he was - the realization dawning on them that the Ghost of the Fangwood had followed them, even here, to the plains. The archers broke, retreating, and only the iron-handed discipline of the commanders were able to keep the situation from devolving into a full-scale rout. Gren and Ringo took many arrows, but their ferocity seemed undeterred, and they even seemed to be healed after some of the assaults.
Eventually, the command tents near the obelisk were scattered, and the legion's honor guard had to be pulled back to protect the commanders - ever wary of a random, devastating assault. But Grenwold did not return - the battle was over, and the enemies had been defeated - they knew the haunting of the Ghost would end when they retreated - and it was as good as the legend says. He spared the dying, and his mercy was all the more detestable.
"Yeah. I agree even if the hostile forces are separate from the Legion the least I'd want is more people to fight," Lily says while slinging her bow behind her back.
”Let’s mark the location on our map and plan our route,” says Daria. ”I have a new saddle I think you guys will like and I have been restocking my poultice supply,” she adds.
Grenwold had spent so much time either alone, or in the company of very few beings - it was obvious that the sheer energy of the town was close to being overwhelming. The noise. The smells. There were almost no gnomes in town, but he found the halflings and dwarves, offering what services he could provide to help them rebuild. Nobody recognized him, they didn’t flee from him, and they appreciated the help that his majestic companion could provide, lifting and dragging enormous stones with Gren’s help - a sight which left not a few dwarves dumbfounded. Rumor had come to him that the heroes of Longshadow were still in town, those which Cirieo had mentioned.
His friend was still in town as well, but Gren was struggling to go see him, and he couldn’t figure out why. But - a Chernasardo Warden did not shirk their duty. Before visiting his old friend, he tried to clean himself up a little, mending tears and scrubbing out the stains in his cloak - sewing patches into the burn holes. Ringo, as always, was the picture of perfection, the few scars he had on his hides nearly invisible - but Grenwold’s wounds did not heal as cleanly.
So, when he finally found his way to the town hall, he whispered something in Ringo’s ear - receiving curious looks from the various big townsfolk - and the large-antlered deer lay down in front of a hitching post, smelling the air. The heroes were having a meeting, and if Gren was going to help, he needed to speak to them. Being a gnome, he could have come in - blaring like a firework or a trumpet - but these last months had made Grenwold much more circumspect, an uncommon gnome. Instead of disrupting their meeting, he merely introduced himself to the nearest clerk and asked politely when the meeting would end, and sat on a bench quietly until the Heroes of Longshadow were done.
Thorek nods along with Aubrin's reasoning. "I suppose even in the worst case scenario, we can ensure that the morlocks are no longer a threat to the area. If we find a way to strike at the Ironfangs as well, so much the better. How soon can we leave?"
"You can leave as soon as you are properly provisioned. The rangers and local hunters have confirmed that all remaining Ironfang troops are pulling out from Longshadow. If they want to launch another attack, it will not be for some time, so I think we can spare you for this mission."
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MILITIA ACTIONS
Step 1--Training Attrition
Step 2--Notoriety Penalties
I don't think we do anything here since we're under 100, but GM please correct me if I'm wrong!
Step 3--Treasury Shortage Penalties
We have way over 70gp at the start of the turn, so our Training Score doesn't decrease.
Step 4--Increase Rank
After Upkeep we’re at Training Score 53, which would ordinarily drop to Rank 6, but I hope our Actions this turn will regain that lost ground.
Step 5--Deposits & Withdrawals
I vote we make a 200gp deposit (50gp from each party member) to bring the Treasury to 534gp. We'll want to keep ranking up our existing teams and recruiting new ones, and that will cost money so we should start preparing now.
Upgrade Team (200gp)]
Upgrading our Patrons team into Merchants seems appropriate, given our new allies here in Longshadow.
+ + + + +
With the meeting settled, Thorek steps out of the Mayor's council room and immediately spots the gnome--he'd heard the rumors of course, the Roughnecks had been gossiping like hens that one of their champions had come to Longshadow. Good.
"You there!" the dwarf calls to Gren, tromping up to the gnome and giving him an assessing up-down. "You're the one they call the 'Ghost of Fangwood' aren't you? Well you don't look much like a ghost to me, but the Roughnecks say you're a hell of a scrapper. You here to help out or what?"
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Grenwold sits still, and it's almost like a reflex, but he starts to blend into the background - his legs looking quite a bit like a bench, and his head and torso turning the slate gray of the walls. He scrunches up his face, shakes a bit, and whatever was happening disappates.
He blinks, and turns his head, peering towards Thorek. "Um," and he points at himself, "me?" He blushes a bit, "I guess. It's a little embarrassing." He purses his lips and his brow furrows, "I ask them not to call me that," and he opens his hands wide, "sorry."
Standing up, the little man brushes off some of the dirt on his legs, and looks down. His legs are even shorter than Thorek's, and the dull, battered breastplate under layers of camouflage seems to restrict his movement significantly. Nevertheless, he moves quietly, and with grace, towards the dwarf.
He is wearing a mottled green and brown bandana around his head, covering up hair that must have been bright green at some point - but had faded to look more like the forest itself - a verdant dark green that nearly matched his bandana. His skin is heavily tanned, a nut brown, though he wears a number of scars - evidence of significant fighting that healed with minimal healing magic. It was that, or Grenwold wanted to remember the scars - and chose to keep them for the memory. His eyes are dark green, and his ears are pointed, but his neck is barely visible - nearly covered by another bandana that he likely puts around his lower face - but is bunched up around his neck.
His outer clothes are otherwise somehow clean and well-maintained, but worn, and dusty, as if he had been doing manual labor recently. Despite the fact that none of his gear looks anything like a typical magic item, Thorek gets the sense that much of his gear is exceptional in some way or other, and a fair amount seems to have come from the Ironfang itself. These trophies seem to fit Grenwold fine, so they must have been originally sized for goblins - or appropriate to magic - resized to fit him. He carries an exceptionally sharp scimitar in a loose sheath on one hip, and what looks to be a silvery mace on the other. On his back appears to be a glaive that has serrated teeth. His boots are sturdy and steel-toed, but supple somehow, and he wears a simple wooden carving of a songbird, painted crudely in a panoply of colors, and hung on sturdy twine, around his neck.
He continues "my name is Grenwold, Sir. Cirieo said... um... that there were heroes of Longshadow here?" He looks over Thorek, "I'm guessing you're one of them?" He bows slightly, "if you would like my help with this Valley you want to investigate." He's a little stiff and formal when he says this, as of trying to adhere to a particular syntax or nicety. He straightens up, "um, me and my deer, of course. He's outside."
A solemn calm remains upon Longshadow as the town's residents and refugees from other Hollow Hills settlements work to rebuild, and as you marshal your militia teams during the process.
Your informants keep vigilant for signs of Ironfang infiltrators, your merchants smuggle relief supplies up the river to Longshadow, and the Roughnecks conduct perimeter patrols all the while.
Following Thorek out of the meeting is a female snow elf wearing simple earth tone clothing under a green-scaled breastplate. She carries a shield on her back and a serviceable scimitar on her hip, and across her nose arches a simple but rugged looking set of glasses. A few more items of interest are apparent, including an amulet with a stylized claw on it and a finely-crafted headband holding her long hair back.
”Hi, I’m Daria,” says the elf, ”Did you say you have a deer companion? I would very much like to be introduced.”
Grenwold blinks, bowing slightly ”hello. Yes. Ringo is outside, having a rest. He was moving stones for much of the day. I told him to rest earlier but… he doesn’t always listen to me. Um…” He looks over Dara, ”you must be one of the heroes? I taught him Gnomish, and he knew celestial when I met him.” Looking carefully at the way Daria is dressed, Grenwold makes a guess ”maybe you can talk to him in animal language, too, but I haven’t done that much.”
"Hi. Pleasure to meet you. My name is Lily and Im glad to have your help. ," Lily says to the gnome with a warm smile.
Gren steps back as the various folks emerge from the meeting room. "Oh, hello Miss Lily. You must all be the heroes. Yes, sorry..." He purses his lips, "sorry - if I can, Ringo and I would like to try."
"Hmph, we're in no position to turn away allies, and if you're half the fighter the Chernasado say you are we'll be in good company indeed. How quickly can you be packed up and ready for an expedition? We'll be headed to the Valley of Aloi."
Lily just cocks her head a bit at Gren and says,"You know you don't have to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."
Belatedly realizing it would be rude to go see the deer before properly greeting Grenwold, she sticks around for the moment. At the mention of their trip, however, Daria does get concerned. “Our mode of travel may be difficult for Ringo. He must be rather large to lift heavy rocks, and we typically fly via giant eagle,” she says worriedly.
Grenwold shrugs, ”oh - he’s not very large most of the time - I usually shrink him so it’s easier to hide. Um, and he can fly too - but usually he just runs fast.” Grenwold inclines his head, ”I know where the valley is, if you want me to meet you there. I don’t think he would ride around on anyone but you can ask him.”
Lily just cocks her head a bit at Gren and says,"You know you don't have to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."
Gren shuffles his feet, and blinks rapidly, and then looks up at the human woman, and then looks away.
”That could work,” says Daria. ”How soon would you two be ready to leave? I have some poultices that might be of use for you and Ringo,” she offers.
Thorek glances from Grenwold to Lily and back, but just grunts softly without otherwise commenting--this doesn't seem like the time or place, and gods know there was more than enough horror to go around lately.
"Alright, well...let's go meet that deer then. It's not a fey deer right?" He says the word with a peculiar emphasis, glancing around as though worried someone might overhear.
Grenwold shrugs ”we can leave now, he’s got all our stuff on his saddlebags. But I don’t think he’s fey. We are both resistant to the darkblight at least, my entire family was.” He swallows nervously, ”my people, um … gnomes originally came from the first world, though.” He shrugs, as if to say I think? and inclines his head before turning to go outside.
Sitting on the ground near the entrance is a stocky, muscular elk about the size of a black bear, with a pair of wide, stout antlers that are thick and broad. The antlers have some protective straps and padding, and it looks like there are places that someone could add sharp blades attached to the straps, should they want to- but at the moment there’s stone dust on his head and back. The deer has a heavy ridge on their back. Nestled just behind the ridge is a beautiful, but well worn leather saddle with a stout horn, a broad cancel, and short stirrups. The fender, skirt, and housing show an intricate leaf pattern, and strapped on either side are saddlebags full of miscellaneous survival gear, some of which is peeking out from the overstuffed bags. There appears to be one satchel devoted to maps, the rows of tubes seeming to be a hands breadth away from the rider. The elk is wearing a bridle, but no bit.
The deer itself seems to have a shining, almost luminescent coat, and golden brown eyes that track the movement of the party as they approach, along with the broad nostrils that seem to take in every scent with a quiet whuff. He’s got a few scars here and there, but most of his form is pristine, and untouched - as if formed of some otherworldly ‘stuff’ beyond a typical elk or deer. There are no knots in his fur, his hooves are sharp and unsworn, and lack any cracks or detritus. There’s a slight breeze surrounding him that appears to come from everywhere and nowhere, and this breeze kicks up a bit as the party approaches. Despite his size, he looks incredibly strong, and has a clearly thick hide and fur.
His back left flank seems to have a few dotted rings of subtly multicolored fur, near his rump.
Ringo lowers his head and lows quietly with a whuff but doesn’t stand up.
Grenwold stands near Ringo’s head and scratches the elk behind the ears after getting around the antlers, and peeks over. ”This is Ringo. He won’t bite if you want to pet him.” He turns slightly to Daria, ”like I said, he knows Gnomish and um, a planar language, if you want to talk to him - but he’ll just nod or shake his head, or roll his eyes if he thinks he’s turned into a comedian deer.” Grenwold snickers to himself, and Ringo raises an eyebrow. The gnome translates in Gnomish, and true enough - Ringo rolls his eyes.
Daria approaches calmly and speaks softly to Ringo in an unknown language. She pets him gently and says in Common to them both, ”I have some poultices and tinctures that may be of use to you, if you are interested.”
Ringo raises his head, and whuffs at Daria. He doesn’t seem to know what she’s talking about, exactly, but he appreciates the soothing words and appears to be relaxed, at least with her.
Daria gets the sense that he seems very protective of Gren.
Daria approaches calmly and speaks softly to Ringo in an unknown language. She pets him gently and says in Common to them both, ”I have some poultices and tinctures that may be of use to you, if you are interested.”
[dice=Druidic Wild Empathy]1d20+10
Grenwold nods, ”of course, thank you. We would take anything you have to offer.” He pauses for a moment, ”I used up our healing supplies during the Battle of Longshadow.”
Lily looks at Thorek and just shrugs. She's not really curious about Grenwold's past if he doesn't want to talk about it but still she's just a bit concerned.
Upon seeing Ringo she beams. "You are such a pretty deer. I promise to protect you and your friend to the best of my ability."
Daria hands some small potion bottles to Gren, saying, ”These two will help protect you from attacks (Ironskin gives +6 enhancement bonus to natural armor for 11 minutes), these two will help with healing (Cure Serious Wounds 2d8+8), and this one is for more subtle injuries (Lesser Restoration). I have others as well, but this should do for now, unless you want something to give you a Strength boost (Bull’s Strength).”
Daria fixes the planned route in her mind (that 39 survival check) and says, ”Shall we go then? Prepare to climb aboard,” as she heads to a nearby open space.
Ringo whuffs agreeably to Lily, though he doesn't understand until Gren translates, at which time, he inclines his head and stamps the ground. Standing up, the deer's muscles ripple under the fur, and he raises his head to smell the air, and then looks down at the gnome - blinking languidly.
Grenwold nods pats Ringo on the side, and then nods, "thank you for these. I do not need strength, the land and my goddess provide." He shakes his head at the offer for the strength boost.
Nimbly, he puts a foot into one of the stirrups and hops onto Ringo's back extremely quickly. "Well, I'll meet you there. It was nice meeting you all." He bows slightly, and grabs the reins. Ringo stamps once, and the little deer maneuvers away, with Grenwold raising the bandana around his neck to cover the bottom of his face.