"Aye, that sounds a fine and wise idea, friend Dorvarr. Ragnarr, you struck the mighty blow which felled the creature- do you wish to search for his treasure?" Vlad is tired and aching, but smiles over at his bloodied and towering companion.
"Aye, that sounds a fine and wise idea, friend Dorvarr. Ragnarr, you struck the mighty blow which felled the creature- do you wish to search for his treasure?" Vlad is tired and aching, but smiles over at his bloodied and towering companion.
Ragnarr grunts and grins a black-toothed grin in response to Vlad's query. He kneels beside the decapitated body, and begins to search it.
A quick examination of the sorcerer's corpse finds a black gnarled wand. A death's head visage grins ghoulishly from its tip. Various strange fetishes are bundled upon his robes and stuffed in pouches but would seem to be of little value in themselves save for macabre curiousity. A pendant inlaid with a black ruby hangs from the remains of his neck.
The warrior wields a stout but wicked looking sword (small). The crossbow is novel in construction permitting for several bolts to be loaded at once (light repeating crossbow).
His chain mail is of fine craftsmanship though too small for a human form.
A quick examination of the sorcerer's corpse finds a black gnarled wand. A death's head visage grins ghoulishly from its tip. Various strange fetishes are bundled upon his robes and stuffed in pouches but would seem to be of little value in themselves save for macabre curiousity. A pendant inlaid with a black ruby hangs from the remains of his neck.
The warrior wields a stout but wicked looking sword (small). The crossbow is novel in construction permitting for several bolts to be loaded at once (light repeating crossbow).
His chain mail is of fine craftsmanship though too small for a human form.
Ragnarr points out the gnarled wand with the death's head and the pendant with the black ruby to his companions, but seems reluctant to touch them. "Should we take them back to Unn? Or might they be cursed... and better left here? Or destroyed?"
"I'll carry them, give them to Unn. It's best you don't carry the curse, Ragnarr." Vlad kneels over the body to take the items.
After searching the cavern and the bodies of your fallen opponents you return to the surface. The prospect of return to Raudurfoss is a welcome thought after your ordeals. The ingredients needed to effect a cure for the Earl and the ailing townsfolk is in your possession. Your ordeals have been overcome and a much needed rest and flagons of mead would seem to be in order.
These thoughts race through your head as you leave the ruined corridors behind and step out into the monastery's courtyard.
Spot DC 18
Ragnarr wipes his sweating and bloody brow. Steeling his will, he ignores the pain of the various cuts and bruises that adorn his bulky frame.
Vlad, still smiling and swaggering from the party's success, pays little heed to the scenery around him- likely he has even forgotten the existence of Greypelt, and expects no ill action on the worg's behalf.
Watching the hulking Ragnarr recover, the stout man takes a breather of his own.
Then the stout man looks over his companions, seeking wounds they would conceal to save their pride...
The cleric looks over Hrafn who is poorly concealing the extent of his injuries. The crossbow bolt is buried deeply in his arm and his frame has been battered by the falling debris. The wild man's unshakeable resolve shrugs off much of his wear but he is undeniably weakened.
Vladimir feels the cold grip his bones once more but shrugs off its debilitation.
Ragnarr feels the warmth slowly return to his joints.
Dorvarr
The stout man regards the wounded druid with a careful eye, then invokes a quick prayer to Thor, while tending the poisoned wound.
The stout man regards the wounded druid with a careful eye, then invokes a quick prayer to Thor, while tending the poisoned wound.
Dorvarr's ministrations bring back a warm health visible in Hrafn's face. The druid thanks the stout man and is visibly relieved at returning to the surface.
After searching the cavern and the bodies of your fallen opponents you return to the surface. The prospect of return to Raudurfoss is a welcome thought after your ordeals. The ingredients needed to effect a cure for the Earl and the ailing townsfolk is in your possession. Your ordeals have been overcome and a much needed rest and flagons of mead would seem to be in order.
These thoughts race through your head as you leave the ruined corridors behind and step out into the monastery's courtyard.
Spot DC 18
From the corner of your eye you spot Greypelt's head peering from behind a screen of rubble on the left side of the courtyard
In the courtyard...
Ragnarr and Hrafn gaze out into the open sky with a welcoming expression.
The half-orc sniffs the air catching an ill scent and his eyes quickly turn to the surrounding rubble. "Irons out!" he shouts as a massive form leaps atop a pile of crumbling masonry. The dark eyes of Greypelt stare down at you his great teeth bared. "No human leaves Graypelt's domain."
Init
Vladimir 21
Dorvarr 16
Graypelt 14
Ragnarr 11
Hrafn 8
Vlad charges at the traitorous animal, his eyes blazing with anger.
"Damned spawn of Fenris!"
Vladimir's blade tears a deep and crimson gash upon the worg's hide. The beast roars in fury, "I will feast upon your bones cub!"
Dorvarr up
Dorvarr vaults quickly across the rubble-strewn ground and brings his hammer in a downward swing upon the giant hound. His swing strikes true slamming the hound's side.
As Vladimir moves about upon the rubble his footing slightly slips and Graypelt with lightning speed exploits the knight's vulnerability. His maw rips at the knight's leg with devastating force.
The beast's jaw closed upon the knight's leg suddenly whips upwards with great strength. The knight is wrenched sending him tumbling to the ground.
Ragnarr's battle-lust bursts as he sees his comrade flinged aside. With a bloodthirsty shout, the giant half-orc steps into the gap opposite Dorvarr (flanking) his eyes gleaming with fury and his great axe held high. His swing narrowly misses the beast as Graypelt reacts quickly dodging the barbarian's blow.
Hrafn unable to close against the hound utters a prayer to the gods of the wild. The druid's quarterstaff briefly shimmers with the power of the wilderness as he moves around to get behind the beast.
Top o round.
"Feast on my bones, perhaps! But I'll wear your pelt for a cloak first!"
Vlad struggles to his feet (taking the attack of opportunity, if need be) and swings a mighty blow at the treacherous beast.
The blow goes wild, Vlad's sword whistling through the air above Graypelt's head.
As Vladimir springs up from his back the young knight feels Graypelt's hot breath against his face as his jaws nearly close upon his head. Vladimir weaves to the side and his shield wards off the hound's attack as he springs up on his feet, sword in hand.
Dorvarr up.
"Haha! To eat me, you'll first have to catch me, dog!"
The stout man swings his warhammer, looking to put the beast down, while keeping a wary eye on the young knight to ensure he isn't dead...
Graypelt glares at the knight growling in fury, "Impudent human!". Graypelt still keeps his wits as his jaws leap out quickly at Vladimir. His teeth slash a deep crimson wound upon the knight's other leg but fail to gain purchase.
Ragnarr foaming spittle from his mouth cleaves his axe in a reckless swing at the beast. The axe strikes deeply in the hound's flesh. Graypelt emits a low howl shocked by the strength of the brutish half-orc.
The druid vaunts up the rubble to come behind the ferocious beast. His shimmering quarterstaff held aloft the wild man shouts a battle cry of the woods and swings. The staff raps a strong blow over Graypelt's back. In the hound's eyes one can read shock and surprise as he realizes he had underestimated his opponents.
Vlad resists being dragged off-balance by Graypelt's bite, and struggles to ignore the blood streaming from his wounds, keeping his shield raised. He carefully avoids taking advantage of the beast's confusion of having many targets and readies himself for another lunge, trying to wait for the opportunity when- he strikes with all his strength as Graypelt snarls at him, attempting to plunge his blade through the beast's open mouth and into its brain.
The worg's reflexes prove just too quick, and he snaps his teeth shut, narrowly escaping impalement by the young knight.
Seeing the dire wounds of the young knight, Dorvarr shifts to his side, invoking the Thundar God in a brief incantation.
"With Thor's blessing may this lad survive to prove his courage another day!"
The beast's jaws snap out at Vladimir with lightning speed scoring a devestating blow. A sickening sound of splintering bone follows as the hound tears into the young knight.
Ragnarr up.
"Over here, curr!" calls Ragnarr to Graypelt, trying to draw the wolf's attention away from the wounded Vlad and Dorvarr, swinging at their foe with wild abandon. "You'll pay for your treachery with your life!"
Hrafn roars in battle fury as he swings his quarterstaff in a flurry of rapid, wild strikes.
Graypelt visibly wearied and weakened from his wounds snarls defiantly readying to strike against the threatening man-beast.
Ragnarr grins wickedly as Greypelt turns his attention towards him. Without hesitation, the man-beast sinks his great axe with deadly accuracy and savagery into the dire wolf's neck... "Go back to the darkness from which you came, spawn of Loki!"
Dorvarr calls out to his fallen comrade. The stout man bravely holds his shield warding off any blows from the savage creature as he pulls the limp and gravely wounded knight from the fray.
Graypelt though focused on the axe-swinging barbarian seeing Thorshammer withdraw seizes the opportunity his hungry blood-soaked jaws tearing for the cleric's arm. Dorvarr with a heaving grunt holds his shield against the beast though he is nearly knocked back by the force of the blow.
The treacherous wolf returns his attention to Ragnarr and again lashes out furiously with his jagged teeth but in his rage he misses his mark as the barbarian nimbly sidesteps.
[ooc] atk 11 3 point power atk
Ragnarr grins wickedly as Greypelt turns his attention towards him. Without hesitation, the man-beast sinks his great axe with deadly accuracy and savagery into the dire wolf's neck... "Go back to the darkness from which you came, spawn of Loki!"
Unlike the worg, the barbarian's strike is true. The barbarian's greataxe sinks deep into the beast's flesh, reaving sinew and bone, as Ragnarr's blow mercilessly cuts down his foe. The hound staggers as blood bubbles up from his limp and open jaws, "I will see you in that darkness soon cursed-", abrubtly the beast of Droskarfell falls lifeless amidst the shattered rubble.
The ravens caw in the distance. A fresh meal awaits them.
The battle over, Dorvarr frenzily attempts to staunch the bleeding of Vladimir's vicious wounds.
After Dorvarr's ministrations, the knight's breathing steadies. Though still unconscious, your comrade would seem outside of immediate peril.
"We should probably set watch here. With proper attention, the lad should be able to walk tomorrow. Unless we really want to drag him out of here..."
Hrafn nods to Dorvarr's agreement. "As much as I'd like to put this place well behind me we should tend to his wounds."
The druid scans about the courtyard and moves over to the far end where the wall has crumbled and several bushes taken root. Hrafn mutters a strange incantation and picks several berries from the bushes. Returning he brings them over to the fallen knight.
(Assuming nothing goes wrong overnight...)
Vlad awakens, his wounds closed by Hrafn's spells, and gingerly cleans himself. He winces on seeing the size of his wounds, but muses on the scars, and perhaps the young ladies they will attract. After all, they are scars received in honourable battle... they should fetch me much attention...
He goes to see Graypelt's corpse, disappointed, and a little jealous, to see that the creature was felled by his friend and arms-companion Ragnarr's blow. Quietly, he smiles to himself and sets to the corpse with his dagger, removing the furred skin and rolling it tightly so that it shouldn't spoil. He takes special care with the head, almost severed by Ragnarr's mighty blow, trying to preserve the treacherous creature's snarl. It will probably require some patching, but it will still make a fine cloak for the beast's slayer.
The stout man approaches Vlad and claps him heartily on the back.
"Good to see you up and about lad. Take care not to be too strenuous in your activities, or you may reopen some of those wounds."
"My thanks Dorvarr... I thought this might make a nice gift for Ragnarr. He fought like a berserk, he definitely deserves this."
"My thanks Dorvarr... I thought this might make a nice gift for Ragnarr. He fought like a berserk, he definitely deserves this."
As Ragnarr overhears Vlad's comments, he can't help but beam with pride and joy... an odd sight, given the man-beast's otherwise fearsome facial features. "Yes, I would love to wear this beast's hide," he murmurs, while gently twirling the Thor's amulet that Ragnhild gave him.
The dawn breaks over the east, radiating deep hues of pink and purple that glow softly over the mountainous horizon dappling the trees in a soft warmth. The air is chill but bracing. The gurgles and cackles of ravens draw your attention to the small swarm roosting upon the crumbling battlements staring greedily down upon the carcass of Graypelt.
Hrafn tends to a small fire and bubbling pot that steams a delicious aroma of ptarmigan, the only intruder that wandered to your campsite last night. A few herbs add savour providing a warm morning repast, a welcome break from stale tasting rations and dry biscuit.
Kjelsbergsson still wincing from his deep wounds patiently cuts away at the beast's pelt. Dorvarr's tough fingers help tear away the flesh and sinew. After some time, the pelt is skillfully removed with the head intact (though with a noticeable gash over the neck). The pelt is truly a wonder and would no doubt fetch a fair price with fur traders. The pelt to be worn will need to be dried and tanned but is easily transportable in the meantime.
Appraise DC 14
"We'll have to wait to tan that lad, we really ought to get back. Lives to save and all..."
After skinning the great hound and safely packing the pelt away your band breaks camp happy to leave the gloomy environs of the monastery well behind you. You begin the treacherous descent down the rocky and mist-laden slopes of Droskarfell to the valley floor. The skies remain clear throughout the day.
With trepidation you enter the woods of the Darkmoon vale. Hrafn's raven flies ahead scanning for trouble but luckily your passage through these black woods seems to go unnoticed by its occupants. Through mutual agreement you skirt the area of the witch's hut which is shrouded in marsh fog and cut straight through the tangled bush. You manage to ford the various streams and rivers with no great difficulty and as the day wanes you arrive on the valley plain the forest behind you.
Ahead stands the lumber camp. You see that the season's last stockpile of lumber, which through your earlier efforts had been saved, has been transported to the town. Only a few figures can be seen on the camp grounds tending to the remaining tasks in readying the camp to close for the coming winter.
One of the figures you recognize as the old ranger Olaf, his bow slung over his back. He notices your approach and after a moment recongition dawns upon him. He waves his hands broadly in the air and shouts across the field. "Welcome! What news?"
"Ho, friend! We have the parts we were sent for- hurry, lead us to Unn. We must brew this cure straightaway!"
As we're on the way...
"Friend, what news? Does the Earl still live?"
Olaf's eyes widen in astonishment. "That is good news friends. Last I heard Thorolf's life hangs by a thread. Bjalfi and many of the men brought the lumber shipment to town. Let me ready your horses you must fly straight away!"
The old ranger barks a series of orders to the other men. In a few minutes you've been provided with a warm dinner as the horses are brought out, ready to ride.
You quickly down the food, and with torches in hand, mount the steeds to fly down the logging road back to Raudurfoss.
Driving the horses hard all night your horses bring you to town in the darkness of the pre-dawn. The watchman in the market recognizes your band from the meeting at the Alf and quickly directs you to the Earl's home where Unn has been tending to the sickly Earl.
As a faint glow grows on the horizon you arrive in the Earl's hall. A dishevelled Unn greets you at the hearth where she had been catching some much needed sleep. A table nearby lies littered with scores of herbal remedies and utensils.
"Greetings. My heart is glad to see you return safely and I have heard that you found the ingredients. Quick without delay there is much work to do. The Earl lives though he is fading quickly." Grabbing her staff, the crone quickly commands the house servants to ready the medicines. Unn scans about your band. Her eyes deepen with worry as she softly asks, "What news of my sons?"
"Greetings. My heart is glad to see you return safely and I have heard that you found the ingredients. Quick without delay there is much work to do. The Earl lives though he is fading quickly." Grabbing her staff, the crone quickly commands the house servants to ready the medicines. Unn scans about your band. Her eyes deepen with worry as she softly asks, "What news of my sons?"
As Unn asks about the fate of her sons, Ragnarr looks at his feet and begins to shift uncomfortably. Given that Unn is one of the few in Raudurfoss with whom he ever had a good relationship, his silence speaks louder than a thousand words.
The stout man lends what assistance he can to the preparation of the medicine. He leaves Ragnarr and Vlad with their grief. Once the healing process has begun, he finds time to locate his old acquaintances.
"Alas, goodwoman, they were slain by a Rusalka- a nature spirit, which they disturbed." No death is easy, but these men were ensorcelled . He must be careful not to cause her grief.
"Their bodies were burned properly, but we recovered these of their possessions for you to remember them by." Vlad hands over Gisli's amulet and Berg's helmet with a sad look in his eyes.