Emerging from the shadows a hulking beast of a wolf, far larger than any specimen you have seen, strides forward its massive fangs bared in readiness. The worg has a great shaggy pelt and his eyes burn with an uncanny intelligence. They linger for only but a second upon the wolf slain by Ragnarr but then his gaze squares directly at all of you. Again its shuddering voice sounds in gutural tones:
"You are not the blue-skins. Who are you? Speak!"
The stout man glances meaningly at Vlad, allowing the young noble to answer the beast.
Vlad, seeing that his companions are waiting for him to speak, steps forward, keeping his blade ready.
"We are from the town of Raudurfoss. We came here in search of the fungus called ironbloom. We were attacked here- we did not begin this. If you would hinder us, prepare yourself for battle, son of Skoll. If you would stand aside, then do so. We mean to bring no harm unless we must."
Vlad, seeing that his companions are waiting for him to speak, steps forward, keeping his blade ready.
"We are from the town of Raudurfoss. We came here in search of the fungus called ironbloom. We were attacked here- we did not begin this. If you would hinder us, prepare yourself for battle, son of Skoll. If you would stand aside, then do so. We mean to bring no harm unless we must."
The hulking worg holds the young knight with a steady gaze. "Raudurfoss... the name is familiar to me. The den of the humans, yes." Greypelt gives a low chuckle. "I have tasted the manflesh of those that have seeked me out before. Yet you say you seek mushrooms, yes." The worg pauses his jagged teeth curl in a grotesque grin. "Perhaps we can both be of use to each other then. These things," Graypelt motions with his head to the mauled corpse, "came up from below the earth. I know not what they are or their purpose. They butchered my ... followers. The goblins. Cretins all of them but they had their uses and did what they were told. When they came for me they found they had bitten off more then they could chew." Again the worg makes a guttural chuckle. "There is only two or three left now they come up at night. Kill them and you will find your precious ironbloom. It grows in the caves where the dvergar once mined and forged. Do we have an accord, yes?" The worg eyes you steadily.
Sense Motive DC 10
Sense Motive DC 12
Examining the mauled corpse of the blue-skinned dwarf
Knowledge (Dungeoneering,or Nature) DC 10
DC 12
DC 14
DC 16
DC 18
Ragnarr huffs and puffs and attempts to control his rage. He continues to gnash his teeth and spin his axe, and drool dribbles from the corner of his mouth... He appears confused...
Dorvarr nods at the young noble's words, while catching something in the worg's tone. "We'll take care of these scum, though we'd best see the mushrooms before hand. We've a bit of time before nightfall. Care to lead the way... Greypelt, was it?"
Hrafn sighs at the fate of the two wolves, but recognises that his companions were attacked and acted in self defense. He shies well away from Greypelt, leaving Vlad to talk to this aberration, but his interest is caught by the blue-skinned corpse.
Hrafn looks thoughtful, a frown showing above his beard as he tries to remember the lore he learned as a youngling... he resolves to speak to the group as soon as they are away from the beast.
Dorvarr nods at the young noble's words, while catching something in the worg's tone. "We'll take care of these scum, though we'd best see the mushrooms before hand. We've a bit of time before nightfall. Care to lead the way... Greypelt, was it?"
The worg tilts his head to regard the stout man. "You'll find they lair in the tunnels that stretch out from the shaft. Go back down the hall to the southern wing and you will find it. Their exact location I do not know." His reply is icy in tone. The worg and the other wolf both withdraw into the shadowed chamber beyond. "Happy hunting humans."
"We ought to seek the mushroooms. Forget these... dwarves..." The stout man chuckles. "The beast is hiding them. Let's take it..." The priest's voice drops to a whisper as he finishes the sentence.
Although his rage was short-lived, Ragnarr drops his axe and collapses in a heap on the floor, panting. "Do we... really... want to go down... the shaft... now...??? Or on the... morrow...???"
As your band deliberates you can see the the inky darkness of the night must be spreading over the sky as only a dim glow pierces through the cracked roof of the ruined monastery. As night approaches the winds can be heard howling down from the glaciers of Droskarfell with a biting chill.
Seeking a site outside the monastery
Survival DC 10
Survival DC 12
Hrafn, craft woods-man, considers the environment.
"Follow me, we passed a good campsite on our way."
Further down the slope a copse of short trees and alpine shrubbery lies nearby on the eastern banks of the dried riverbed. The area is dotted with large boulders some nearly 8 feet high. It would appear to be the most defensible and sheltered location.
"Aye, I'll follow you. I don't like leaving the mushrooms for morning, but we'll do no good exhausted, either. I can take third watch then."
Ragnarr rises from the ground and follows Hrafn and Dorvarr. "We need to make sure that we leave no trace of our passage here... otherwise the devils that dwell beneath the earth may be on alert for us tomorrow..."
The site that Hrafn has found would seem to serve your purpose well, the trees and boulders providing some measure of refuge from the elements. However it is sure to be a cold night especially at these mountainous heights.
Vlad offers to take up the first watch. He gathers a good supply of firewood by the bedrolls, to avoid anyone having to go off alone, and insists that everyone should empty themselves before-hand.
(In the meantime, perhaps someone could cook up some dinner?)
While on watch, Vlad keeps his sword bare, honing out nicks with a nearby stone. If he finishes that early, then he'll take off his chain hauberk and try to polish that up. He's still paying attention, but keeping himself busy while he watches. If there is any kind of suspicious activity, Vlad will investigate first, sword in hand, and then yell a lusty "Ho! Friends!" or "Awake!" to alert his companions.
Dorvarr is prepared to take whatever watch is easiest for the party, but will take third as default. I'll take 10 on a survival check to prep some food.
Dorvarr sleeps in a heavy shirt, but takes his watch in armour.
As the wood is gathered you quickly have a crackling fire providing a welcome warmth against the night's chill. Digging into your rations you find a repast,Dorvarr finds some lichen that he assures is quite palatable. It is not the food of heroes but it will have to do. Sitting down you become aware of your exhaustion as you feel the weight of your exertions of the past few days. Wolves, goblin, drowned maidens, a coming war; it has been an eventful journey.
Vladimir's watch passes uneventfully save the powerful gusts of wind that occasionally whip down the mountainside blowing snow and ice.
The wind's howls and the flurries make the vigil difficult as imagined noises and shadows seem to be conjured before the eyes.
Ragnarr takes his watch his vigilant and keen eyes seeing deep into the darkness.
As his watch wanes on Ragnarr stands and stretching his weary arms suddenly hears the tell-tale whistle of a crossbow bolt sailing through the air. The barbarian quickly dives for cover but is not quite quick enough as the bolt slams into his lower side. A veil of darkness suddenly falls over the camp. The half-orc feels a clammy chill grip his bones but his fury seems to shake off the effect. [atk 21=17+6-2 dam 3=1+2(snk atk) Fort sv 26=20+6[/ooc]
The bolt came from the north but the location of the shooter is impossible to discern through this hazy and supernatural darkness. The light of the fire is extinguished but strangely the barbarian notes he still feels its warmth.
A horrible and inhuman maniacal laughter echoes through the night, just discernable over the wind.
Vlad 7=4+3
Dorvarr 20=17+3
Hrafn 19=11+8
Init:
Ragnarr 20=18+2
Attacker 19=13+6
Hrafn 14=12+2
Dorvarr 8=7+1
As his watch wanes on Ragnarr stands and stretching his weary arms suddenly hears the tell-tale whistle of a crossbow bolt sailing through the air. The barbarian quickly dives for cover but is not quite quick enough as the bolt slams into his lower side. A veil of darkness suddenly falls over the camp. The half-orc feels a clammy chill grip his bones but his fury seems to shake off the effect. [atk 21=17+6-2 dam 3=1+2(snk atk) Fort sv 26=20+6[/ooc]
The bolt came from the north but the location of the shooter is impossible to discern through this hazy and supernatural darkness. The light of the fire is extinguished but strangely the barbarian notes he still feels its warmth.
A horrible and inhuman maniacal laughter echoes through the night, just discernable over the wind.
Ragnarr's breathing quickens as he starts to panic while the light of the fire dims and the strange chill grips his bones. He fumbles about in the unnatural darkness, trying to yank out the bolt that struck his side, and throwing it as far as he can. The man beast hollers at his companions: "Friends! Up! Attackers! Sorcery! I'm blind!" He grips his axe firmly, but stands his ground, uncertain where he should go...
Ragnarr's breathing quickens as he starts to panic while the light of the fire dims and the strange chill grips his bones. He fumbles about in the unnatural darkness, trying to yank out the bolt that struck his side, and throwing it as far as he can. The man beast hollers at his companions: "Friends! Up! Attackers! Sorcery! I'm blind!" He grips his axe firmly, but stands his ground, uncertain where he should go...
As Ragnarr hurls the bolt into the night again that croaking laughter echoes through the night. A sudden rush of wind flies through the site and then seems to fall into itself at the centre before detonating in a deafening blast rippling through the air.
Spot 19
Ragnarr tears the bolt out from his leg and throws it as far as he can, but stumbles a little as he does, tripping over something in the eldritch darkness. Consequently, his throw falls a little short. He roars in panic, ears ringing from the deafening blast that has just rocked their camp, then charges with axe held high at the blue-skinned, milky-eyed dwarf.
Ragnarr bellowing in pain as he rips the bolt from his flesh hurls it towards the dried riverbed. Though not a powerful throw it falls off some thirty feet. The veil of darkness that had descended on the site is suddenly lifted. Strangely it seems to have followed Ragnarr's hurled bolt.
"Bah, wha-hnh?"
The stout man rises to his feet, grabbing his warhammer and strapping on his shield. With a quick glance around to appraise the situation, he begins to ove toward the dwarfen figure.
Hrafn jolted awake by the thunderous din rolls across the ground seeking cover amongst the rock outcroppings. His ears ringing painfully the hermit's eyes frantically search amidst the flurrying snowfall and darkness for the source of the inhuman laughter. He sees the strange twisted figure crouched on the opposite side of the camp. The loathsome dwarf cackles.
Top of Round New Init Order
Init:
Ragnarr 20=18+2
Attacker 19=13+6
Vladimir 16
Hrafn 14=12+2
Dorvarr 8=7+1
Wounded,weary but angred Ragnarr lurches forward to the loathsome dwarven figure. His heritage blessing him with an uncanny sight in the dark negotiates the terrain moving at a breakneck pace to the edge of the camp. Ragnarr leaps high his feet landing upon the rock the assailant was using as cover. His axe swiftly comes down in an overhand swing. The strike is clumsy and the creature quickly rolls to avoid the axe-blow.
The pale-skinned dvergar steps back quickly from the enraged barbarian and shouts in a black, discordant tongue. Ragnarr feels a rippling wave of energy assault his mind but his anger sustains him and he shrugs off the effect. The creature gazes at the barbarian with hate and shock.
Hrafn, Dorvarr up.
The stout man grips his warhammer and closes on the pale creature.
Hrafn follows close behind the charging Ragnarr wielding his thick quarterstaff. He aims a mighty blow down upon the crouching dwarf
but his strike is averted as the figure nimbly raises his shield.
Dorvarr moves in grunting in anger but the creature is remarkably agile and sidesteps the blow.
Top of Round
Initiative
Top of Round
Ragnarr spitting in fury brings his axe down again on the agile dwarf
but his foe ducks his head at just the right time.
The dwarf's eyes bulge and a toad-like sound issues from its throat as one hand clutches a sword while the other inscribes an arcane gesture over the rock. Abrubtly, a veil of darkness again falls upon the immediate surroundings. (Dorvarr, Ragnarr, Hrafn are in darkness area but not Vladimir)
THe figure turns to flee in the dark.
Vladimir Spot 12
With a sharp warcry, Vlad, still wearing his hauberk, charges after the figure, setting on him from behind with his long knife drawn.
"Cowardly cur!"
Vladimir shakes off the ringing in his ears and catching sight of the fleeing shadow breaks out into a dash across the rocky ground to head the quarry off. The young knight with knife held high comes crashing down on the dwarf burying the blade into his arm. The creature bellows out in pain and, as if possessed, its body jerks and spasms. It turns to face you gnashing its teeth madly. Looking into those hateful eyes and its twitching face you have no doubt that this dwarf is entirely deranged.
Ragnarr stumbles through the stygian darkness that blocks even his keen sight, moving towards the sounds of combat between Vlad and the dvergar. "Don't let him get away!"
Hrafn and Dorvarr regular actions up next.
The stout man glances quickly at the deranged creature, judging the distance. He hefts his hammer and tramps off to put an end to the vile creature.
The stout man glances quickly at the deranged creature, judging the distance. He hefts his hammer and tramps off to put an end to the vile creature.
Following the sound of Vladimir's angry shouts Dorvarr navigates the veiled darkness until he comes out almost right on top of the knight and dwarf locked in melee. His hammer swings connecting to the creature's back. The blow would have shattered his spine but the dwarf moved at just the right time and the hammer slams into the creature's ribs. A thick gurgling sound issues from the creature's lips but he remains standing though staggered.
Hrafn follows close behind Dorvarr and attempts to slide in an attack in the closed quarters but his jab overshoots the dwarf's shoulder.
The man-beast lumbers over and joins him companions in the fray. "Perhaps we should take him alive... and make him talk!" He swings his axe awkwardly, trying to catch the dvergar with the flat of its broad head.
The man-beast lumbers over and joins him companions in the fray. "Perhaps we should take him alive... and make him talk!" He swings his axe awkwardly, trying to catch the dvergar with the flat of its broad head.
Hefting the flat of the axe Ragnarr strikes a stunning blow sending the dwarf staggering backwards. He falls to the ground his senses out.
"A fine blow, my friend Ragnarr! Bravely done!" Vlad, panting and blinking owlishly, kicks the blade from the dwarf's wizened hand and kneels on its chest (heavy enough to cause discomfort and limit movement, not heavy enough to break ribs).
"We had best tie him, lest he wriggle free. This one looks to be... dangerous. His sorcery nearly claimed us in our sleep, se we shall have to be on our guard, as well."