She's just a mercenary - might not even be a true legion member! Try to take her alive - if you can, we might get intelligence from her!
Cyrioul lights up the rock, piercing a little of the gloom. He then pulls another wand from his belt and prepares to unleash a blob of grease at the hobgoblin's bow...
Feeling confident that her team mates have the hob dead to rights, Bree moves in.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
The barrage of steel, both sharp and strong, from Cedric and Thorek leave the huntress badly bloodied. The losing battle further turns against her as the magic of Cyrioul's wand causes the bow to slip from her grasp.
The Ironfang huntress appears utterly demoralized, but rather than surrendering, she seems on the verge of fleeing.
Boudra frowns and stretches out her hands. Shadows gather at the corners of her eyes, but more importantly, also at the hobgoblin's feet.
Through the dim light, Lily affixes her stare upon the last Ironfang, but to further whittle away her resolve and to weaken her resistance against Boudra's shadow magic.
Perhaps only an illusion formed from the dueling magics of light and dark, but it seems as though slender, inky black threads connect the huntress to her shadow on the ground. She struggles against these bonds, anchoring her in place.
The Ironfang huntress sets her face in a grim, almost animalistic scowl as she struggles mightily against her own shadow's binds. She strains so hard, it briefly seems as though her limbs may tear from their sockets.
Finally, her strength spent, she slumps down defeated. Although she momentarily levels glaring, hateful eyes towards the party members, she largely keeps her gaze aimed down at the shadow-darkened forest floor.
Assuming that the hobgoblin offers no resistance, Boudra hurries forward and seizes any weapons she can from her. "T...tie her!" She knows her voice sounds awkward to other people, but time is of the essence--the shadows she commands yearn to be free, and she can't hold them for very long.
The huntress sinks down, easing herself to sit upon the ground. Despite her defeat, she maintains a glint of arrogant defiance in her eyes.
"Perhaps I should thank you for settling any question of who, between me and Orlu, is the better hunter and survivor. I won't miss him - or his hound. So what will you do? Claim my head, just as I claimed them from your people?"
A cruel, cocky grin creeps upon her face.
Cyrioul pulls Bree and Cedric aside. If you can get her talking, I'll cast a divination that will allow me to peer inside her thoughts, like with the Troglodytes. There's a chance that she could fight it off, of course, but if it works, it might give us more clues as to the Legion's positioning.
Just before the interrogation begins, Cyiroul chants, "Canfod meddyliau!" His eyes turn pale, and he puts his hand on his temple while he concentrates.
Thorek binds the hobgoblin's arms behind her back, scowling at her taunts but not rising to the bait. "You'll be tried, of course, and likely executed unless you can offer something useful enough to commute your sentence."
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Bree makes sure that the hob can hear her talking to Cyrioul and Cedric. Scaring people has never really been her strong suit... but after what they've done, maybe she can make an exception.
"Her head isn't good enough. You saw what they did! There's no use in a trial. Let me have her, just for a little while," she says, shooting an evil grin her way. "I've got a skinning knife I've been wanting to test. I think I could make a decent pair of boots out of her hide. And THEN, you can ask her all the damn questions you want."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The unanticipated threats from Bree seemingly drive a wedge into the Ironfang's mind, providing a breach for Cyrioul's spell to take root.
With a few moments of focus, he is able to glean her surface thoughts.
This scout, named Shalra, had been trailing the refugees during your exodus through the forest, and she is responsible for the murder and beheadings of Innis and Reta. She rues that she did not claim more heads for the bounty offered before you began keeping a tighter watch.
Two names also crop up in her mind - Scabvistin and Scarvinious.
Cyrioul cannot discern their identity from these surface thoughts, but he can surmise that they are officers of the Ironfang Legion. In particular, Shalra ascribes fearful respect to this "Scarvinious," leading Cyrioul to suspect that he or she may be the commander who led the assault on Phaendar.
Lastly, despite her current predicament, Shalra remains confident that she will manage to escape, report back on the fugitives' location, and collect the bounty for providing this information to Scarvinious.
It was her... Cyrioul whispers, stunned. Then, louder, It was her, when we were in the wilderness. She killed and beheaded Innis and Reta. Got a bounty for each of them.
After a moment more of parsing her thoughts, he shares, There are two other names that keep coming up. Scarvinious - maybe a leader within the Legion? Another is Scabvistin, likely another officer.
Finally, he turns to the others. I'm not much for wilderness justice, but I believe that she is too dangerous to even tie up and take with us. She knows her business, and could evade us all. The last thing we should do is take her back to Hidden Hope. What do you say?
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Then we kill her. If she murdered noncombatants, she has no rights as a prisoner of war." Thorek's expressing is grim as he draws his handaxe, prepared to cut the hobgoblin's throat and be done with.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"I agree with Cyrioul and Thorek," Cedric says, also grim. "Once you're satisfied with what you can get from her, make it quick. Then we should probably separate the heads from all of these bodies and hide them, to make it harder for them to be revived or posthumously interrogated by their allies. It's a grisly task, but these are things I know I could manage with more experience, so it's a good idea to protect ourselves from our enemies doing the same."
Bree was a little impressed that she came off as scary as she did. She's, however, quite uneasy that it came so easy to her, and that she's not sure that she didn't mean some of it.
"I'm glad to know there isn't another traitor among us."
You dimly recall rumors of a bugbear called Scabvistin who served as hired muscle for a hobgoblin tribe known as the Crackjaw Clan.
The captured hobgoblin huntress, in her mind, only vaguely acknowledges Scabvistin as the commander of the Ironfang division that attacked Phaendar. Despite his position, Shalra's thoughts do not offer much information. She likely does not have much direct experience with him.
At mention of the name "Scarvinious," though, you glean a particularly sanguine image from Shalra's mind. The image is one of thick, hairy arms that bear blisters and scabs, as though from repeated, furious scrubbing. The vividness suggests Shalra works more closely with Scarvinious; perhaps she reports to him?
From Shalra's recent memories, brought to the forefront of her mind, you see Scarvinious working on scrimshaw carvings - using the exposed armbone of a still living captive as his medium. Before you force yourself to sever the mental connection in disgust, you perceive one last image from Shalra's mind: Scarvinious sewing a newly cured hide upon the side of his tent. The hide still bears the face of the prisoner, his stretched and lifeless face locked into a hollow, eternal scream.
Rather than a hobgoblin, he was a bugbear who once served as hired muscle for the Crackjaw Clan of hobgoblins. When the Crackjaws joined the Legion, Scabvistin came with them. The leader of the Ironfang Legion, a hobgoblin general called Azaersi (meaning "Aza the Immortal" in Goblin), must have recognized the bugbear's talent because she made him commander of one of her battalions.
Rumors that follow the name Scabvistin purport that he has fathered many children and raised them with brutality so they fit in, bugbears within the hobgoblins' culture.
Already uneasy from your outburst aimed at the huntress, your stomach turns in a knot as you wonder whether the same bugbear lieutenant has sacked both Rusk and Phaendar.
Boudra doesn't know much about the Ironfang Legion, and while she sees the wisdom in executing this scout, she doesn't want to watch. She averts her eyes, glad for once that she won't be able to hear what's about to happen.
Cyrioul recoils, vomiting as he cuts off the connection. HURRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!!!
It takes him several minutes to compose himself, walking away from the scout to try and breathe in cool air, with tears streaming down his face. They couldn't. They couldn't! No one this side of the Pit could be that horrific, could they? He nearly retches again, but then takes his time to breathe slowly before coming back to the others.
I got two names from her in all that. Scabvistin I've heard of, barely, and he's a bugbear, not a hobgoblin, from the Crackjaw Clan. He probably directed the attack on Phaendar, at least that's what she knows, he indicates Shalra. Other than that, she hasn't dealt with him.
He sighs, deeply weary from what he's seen. But she HAS dealt with someone horrible. Scarvinious, huh? Who is he? You report to him? What's his role in all this?
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Bree doesn't feel much better then Cyr. "Scabvistin..." Her eyes begin to well up with tears. "He... led the attack where my father..." She rubs the back of her hand over her eyes to prevent any tears from falling. "Yeah, a bugbear, chosen by Azaersi, herself." Noticing blank looks she adds, "Ahh, the leader of the legion. And Scab's supposedly sired other bugbears among the legion." Bree feels a cold shiver run down her spine. She won't feel sorry to see Shalra dead. Or Scabvistin.
"Yeah... If you are going to kill her let me just leave before I see it. This whole situation is making me sick.," Lily says while walking out of the camp.
"Turn away if you need to. I hate this part too." Thorek murmurs, barely audible. Once Cedric determines they've gotten all they're going to get out of her, the dwarf plants an armored boot between the hobgoblin's shoulder blades, knocking her to the ground. Kneeling on her back, he pulls her head back and opens her throat with his axe, expressionless.
Standing, he cleans and sheathes the blade and walks out into the darkness to be alone a while.
Bree refuses to look away. This is the only justice she deserves. It won't being anyone back, but IT WILL save lives. "May Pharasma grant her the hell she's earned," she whispers.
It's hard to be patient in a situation like this, but Cedric does his best to maintain a level head and wait to see whether or not Cyrioul gets a response from his inquiry before giving the go-ahead to execute the prisoner. Knowing details about the opposition could mean the difference between life and death for their little band, so vastly outnumbered.
Shalra glowers at Cyrioul, the fading fog in her head and his reactions cluing her in to his magic inspection of her mind. However, her expression soon turns to one of bemusement.
"If you hope to survive, you had best toughen up, elf," she taunts Cyrioul. "He could be your master one day soon, and if you can't stomach him, he won't keep you around for long. You'll just be another of his 'projects.'
"Our scouts and bounty hunters report to Sergeant Scarvinious. He's been tasked with hunting down the fugitives from Phaendar to ensure that our victory is nothing less than complete. The cur won't fail, not unless he wants to anger his father. That would be a death sentence," she laughs.
"Anything else you'd like to know," Shalra asks with a cocky glance. "Maybe you're curious about what's become of your friends and family from Phaendar?"
Boudra squeezes Bree's shoulder when she sees how upset the other woman is.
She hesitates, wanting to know what became of her mentor in Phaendar, but not wanting to give the hobgoblin the satisfaction of seeing her beg.
Cyrioul bristles. You tell us quickly, we'll make your end even faster. WHERE ARE THEY?
"She isn't going to tell you anything, Cyr. She's just trying to get under your skin. If you're not gonna let me get under her skin, then just be done with her."
Cedric hesitates, wondering how much this Hobgoblin huntress really knows about what happened to the people of Phaendar. But then he realizes it probably doesn't matter, right? Knowing what happened won't make them any more capable of dealing with it faster than not knowing. Sure it might help them plan, but how much can they really trust the information provided by a prisoner that they've openly declared they'll kill anyway?
No, they have no idea what else might be around here, or where the dog ran off to. And a large part of himself really wants to make this thing pay for what she did to those under his protection. He swallows hard and looks at Thorek.
"Do it," he says, trying to sound confident but feeling rather weak in the knees.
"Why wouldn't I tell you?" she slyly says. "It's no secret. Your kin are all still in Phaendar. They've been a big help. Building a new bridge, setting up fortifications...we really couldn't have done it without them. Well, it's not like they had a choice and...hells!"
Shalra cuts herself off with a bitter curse as a sharp dagger, previously hidden behind her, slips from her hands and clatters to the ground. It becomes all too clear that she was talking just to draw attention away from her ill-fated attempt to cut her bindings.
Before she can dive for the dagger, Thorek stomps his boot down between her shoulder blades and forces her to the ground. A bloody split second later, and his axe leaves her head connected to her body only by a few sinews and scraps of flesh.
Examining the Ironfang hunters' camp, you find the cast-aside bones and gristle from a number of rabbits and pheasants they roasted for supper. Their packs contain some tightly bundled packs of dried, preserved food, and as expected of such hunters, there is an assortment of knives, bows, cloaks, and other gear among them.
*6 Provision Points of supplies
*4 Cure Light Wounds Potions
*1 Cat's Grace Potion
*4 Flasks of Alchemist's Fire
*2 suits of Padded Armor
*2 Composite Longbows (+2 Str)
*2 Handaxes
*2 MWK Greataxes
*2 suits of MWK Studded Leather Armor
*1 MWK Composite Shortbow (+2 Str)
*1 Shortbow
*1 Dagger
*1 Magic Dagger
*1 MWK Scimitar
*2 Nets
*1 Magic Cloak
*54 Arrows
*11gp
*96sp
*Fist-sized chunk of raw aquamarine
*Assorted bedrolls, mess kits, tents, and similar gear
Bree helps gather up the useful goods they can use. She's glad to have the food to share with the villagers. She notices the auras on a few magic items as they pool items to split the load and tries to figure out what they are. She also holds up one suit of well-made studded leather. It's gonna take her a while of using prestidigitation to get the stench of hobgoblins out of it, but it might be worth it in the long-run.
Boudra helps gather up the supplies left by the hobgoblins, characteristically quiet. How horrible. I knew that we would have to fight back against these monsters, but I never quite imagined...that. Still. At least we'll be fed, now. She examines the spoils briefly, but she's not much of a combatant--armor and weapons don't hold much appeal for her.
Stumbling backward from the huntresses’ final struggle, Cyrioul curses and then turns away. Alongside Bree he tries to discern the properties of the two magical items.
Lets get this back to Hidden Hope. Can we cover our tracks as we go? And those that brought us here? He starts repacking the supplies.
Working in tandem, Bree and Cyrioul discover the nature of the enchantments upon the dagger and cloak.
Furthermore, Cyrioul estimates that the uncut chunk of aquamarine would be worth up to 200 gold sails to an interested merchant. Now, if only one could be found...
Could this huntress have previously made contact with the troglodyte tribe, prior to your arrival and conquest of the caves? This is a particularly worrying prospect, suggesting that Hidden Hope may not be entirely hidden. If the Ironfangs are aware of the troglodyte's presence, they might eventually send an envoy to recruit them.
...
Night had already fallen as you traced the hobgoblin band's tracks back to this campsite. It would not be impossible to march back to Hidden Hope through the dark, but it would be a dangerous, exhausting endeavor. The still-burning campfire suddenly looks all the more inviting.
"It's too dark to head the whole way back, but we should move a distance away. It doesn't have to be far, but I don't favor bedding down amid the smell of death," Torvald waves a hand at the hobgoblin corpses.
We may have more to worry about than that, Thorek... Cyrioul gestures at the aquamarine in his hand. There's more to this stone than first meets the eye. It's nearly identical to the gems in the walls back in Hidden Hope. See? there's a bit of residue still holding on here that matches what the trogs had on the walls. If that's true, there's a chance this huntress has been there once already. Is she the only one, or has she told this Scarvinious about it?
He blows out his cheeks as he pockets the gem. I know we can't get back tonight, but we'll have to head back at first light, if possible.
Signing to Boudra, he asks, You have good knowledge of the land, and surviving in it. Where should we make camp near here?
"I can't imagine they know too much about Hidden Hope. They'd have already hit us by now if they did. Maybe the hobs had met with the trogs previously?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Cedric looks up from collecting the heads of the Hobgoblin corpses and wipes sweat from his brow from the effort. He wouldn't suggest such an unpleasant course of action without being willing to execute it himself.
"We should definitely put at least some token distance between ourselves and this camp," he agrees. "I don't fancy trying to get all the way back to Hidden Hope at night, and now am even more worried about going straight back in too straight of a course."
"We just stumbled across a pair of trogs in the woods, maybe the Ironfangs did the same? One of them might have had a shiny in their belt pouch," the dwarf tries and fails to keep his tone relaxed and unconcerned.
Boudra glances around. I don't know this exact area, but I can handle myself in the woods, and I see well in the dark. Ask Thorek if he can come with me? Then we can find a spot nearby, she signs to Cyrioul.
Assuming the others agree, she leads Thorek (at least) out into the woods to find a suitable campsite. Not very far from the group, mind.
Boudra leads Thorek out in search of a safer campsite, but she almost stumbles into danger. At first she does not notice the faint chirping or the foul odor, so she almost plants a leg inside the burrow of a giant ground cricket. Thorek grabs her by the arm and pulls her back at the last moment.
The giant vermin, the size of a wolf, is just as surprised as the scouting pair. It exudes a yellowish-green fluid from its joints, the source of the foul odor, to ward away these intruders, then it crawls back into its burrow to hide.
This unexpected encounter convinces them to change their heading, leading Boudra and Thorek to discover another site that will serve as a temporary camp, being free from giant crickets and other hazards. The night passes peacefully, albeit fitfully, as the pair’s story of the cricket leaves everyone wary of every chirping insect they hear throughout the benighted forest.
.....
You awake to an oppressively hot morning that leaves you sweltering in your underclothes. It is almost punishing to don your armor, but you are spurred onward by thoughts of what dangers might be racing you to reach Hidden Hope.
Despite your growing apprehensions, you return to Hidden Hope and find no signs of battle or woe. No arrows, fires, or Ironfang effigies mark the scene of another atrocity. The Hemlock Banner yet stands by the entrance, hanging idle in the windless morning that leaves thick curtains of sweat upon your brows.
Elden and Thor rush out from the cave mouth, where they stood on guard duty, and eagerly greet you.
”Thank the gods you’re back,” Elden gushes. ”There’s some kind of disturbance down in the lower levels. Aubrin’s standing watch atop the hole, and the Trogslayer’s gone down to investigate.”
Huffing and wiping sweat from his brow, Cyrioul drops his pack inside the entrance of the caves. Nethys stay his hand... what next? He sighs, Lead on, Elden, just know it's been a difficult few days.
"Yeah just show me where to go. Well go fix whatever issue is going on down there. What sort of disturbance?", Lily says while pulling out her bow.
Bree's just happy everyone is okay. She hopes there isn't a problem with the crysmal. Or the forge.
Cedric raises an eyebrow, and follows along. Hopefully it's not serious, but heaven help whatever's responsible if it is. He's had some serious emotional whiplash these last couple days, and it's getting harder and harder to keep it together.
The refugees nervously continue their work as you pass through the tunnels of Hidden Hope. You find Aubrin standing atop the shaft leading to the lower levels. She has her staff gripped tightly, and she cocks her head as though listening for the slightest sounds of distress from below.
"I'm glad you've returned," she says, offering a calmer demeanor than the rest of the refugees. However, you wonder how much of it is just a show, offered as reassurance for the others.
"We heard a tapping and scraping sound originally. Caladra said it was the 'crystal scorpion' and that it was friendly. She went down to investigate, see what the thing wanted, but hasn't come back up yet."
"That seems unlike her. We'll check it out, thanks Aubrin." Frowning, Thorek starts to descent to the lower level. When his boots touch ground again he readies his dorn-dergar and calls out, "Caladra...?"