Aoo attack 1
Damage
AoO Attack 2
Damage
If either hit DC11 reflex save to avoid catching fire.
"Slash it. Burn it. Stay away from the treeline. Running away just means the forest rises up to kill you."
Shendalyn says while drawing his blade. Looking straight up at the treant before him he grins the smile of the already damned.
Concentration check
Cruxcarr smiles at the ensuing chaos, and plods forward uttering an incantation;
"Undorodik a fa, és hervad akaratát!"
Sicken the tree and wither its will!
The corpulent wizard extends a mottled, sausage like finger as a viscous black ray shoots forth toward the treant.
:
Sholano, watching with raised eyebrow as the chaos ensues, mutters a curse under his breath. "Well, isn't this an auspicious start to the day." With a shrug and a flourish, he unsheathes his rapier and bursts into movement.
Can't come off a coward this early on, can I? Ye gods, this is going to be unpleasant.
Dashing forward with magically enhanced speed, he leaps to the side and whirls as he nears the treant, hoping to dodge underneath the thing's reach and land in the (uncomfortably warm) space between the fire elementals. The extra speed throws off his timing, however, and the midair acrobatics end up with his back to the treant at the worst possible time, giving it an opening.
The treant's relatively slow reactions prove advantageous for Sholano as he closes the gap and Shendalyn's arcane musings speed the actions of all. However none of the attacks upon the treant mark it's hide with force.
Cruxcarr's ray arcane...
Fort Save:
...fizzles out to nothing upon the treant's bark.
The treant then roars with anger "You have come to enter the Horn! I will not leave it to the bog dwellers to finish you... your deaths will be by my hand!" It then kicks out at Shendalyn with a massive rooted leg, while it's fist seeks to crush the devil at it's back once more...
Slam at Shendalyn: for
Slam at Mi'Dre: for
Round 2: Treant, Albina, Sholano, Mi'Dre, Shendalyn, Cruxcarr, Jethryk
Shaking his head at his companions foolishness, Jethryk charges the Treant.
Reflex:
Despite it's bulk the treant quickly moves to shield itself from the worst of Albina's flame, but the fireball does sear and scorch it's wooden limbs.
Jethryk's charge draws a diagonal swipe from the treant as he approaches...
AoO: for
...but he still manages to cut deep into the treant's hip - thick sap oozing from a wickedly cruel slash.
Round 2: Treant, Albina, Sholano, Mi'Dre, Shendalyn, Cruxcarr, Jethryk
Mi'Dre grits his teeth, but the treant smashing his fist into his own back elicits a grunt of pain from the devil despite his best efforts. The world seems to be closing in on the devil, spots appearing in front of his eyes... until he feels a refreshing blast of hellfire. He coos as Albina's infernal energies pour into him, searing some of his wounds and slowly starting to heal his many internal injuries.
"I wonder if you have a heart." he shouts, as menacingly as he can "Let's find out!"
Mi'Dre's attention to his aim pays dividends and he is rewarded with two of his claws finding purchase and raking through bark and sapwood. Though the treant is pained... it fights on with fervor and anger...
Cruxcarr's eyes narrow at the ineffectiveness of his spell;
A potent beast of Nature indeed. I do wonder if its bark will be pliant enough...
The rotund mage calls forth another spell
"Félelem a gyökerek!"
Fear in the roots!
Sholano barks a bravo's laugh and lunges in with a quick doublestep, stabbing twice in swift succession as he aims for the gaps in the tough bark.
...
Cruxcarr closes on the treant, fingers awash with necrotic energy
Cruxcarr Touch: for
Sholano's blade finds no purchase, though Cruxcarr's slovenly form is able to steal some vigor from it. The treant turns momentarily to a nearby tree and speaks in a language like rustling leaves...
"It's animating the trees! Bring the fool tree down and we'll make allies of the bog beasts within!" Shendalyn cries in his best impression of a maniac and brings his sword in a pair of devastating strikes.
Swift: Arcane Strike
Attack
Damage
Sholano's rapier pierces the treant's hide on the second attempt, but the thin point does not harm the beast as much as he had hoped. Shendalyn's swings are wide of the mark.
The treant then turns back from the trees to the group, surrounded and hard pressed it turns from accuracy to brute force - seeking to wreak havoc...
Slam at Jethryk: for
Slam at Shendalyn: for
...both strikes landing home with lung emptying impact.
Shendalyn sees no overt response from the trees surrounding you, though Albina does notice some movement... In the mouth of the cave, you spy a froglike creature stalking and viewing the combat with interest. You recognize it as a boggard, an intelligent race of monsters that err on the side of evil rather than light.
Seeking to siphon even more of the mighty guardian of nature's lifeforce, the corpulent mage sneers and once again attempts to bring his vampiric touch to bear;
:
:
Jethryk staggers from the giant tree's blow, but recovers enough to deliver a vicious retort!
Mi'Dre seems intent on carrying out his threat, whether the treat still lives or not he continues to tear into it's back in an attempt to tunnel out the other side, with whatever passes for the treant's heart in his teeth.
Growling to himself, Sholano lunges in with a twisting sort of motion, doing his best to throw the treant's defenses off.
The twin assaults of Albina's fanning flames and Jethryk's brutally efficient sword strike combine to bring the treant to the ground. It's previously mighty voice fades to almost a whisper "No... I have... failed you...." before with a shudder the mighty wooden figure collapses unto the ground and moves no longer.
As you regather your breath and nurse the burgeoning bruises from the heavy strikes that were sustained, you all become aware of what Albina noticed earlier. A froglike creature that watches now with more awe than interest, clearly either impressed or given pause by your slaying of the treant.
Sitting on the tree holding his chest Shendalyn takes some deep breaths waving his sword in Jethryk's general direction. "Good work that man. Good work. Nice to see." Shendalyn winces. "The sword is not for show."
Continuing not to regard the frgo creature for now Shendalyn turns his head slightly to the Gaav still ferociously digging into the trees back. "Please don't blunt your claws and teeth on that thing Mi'Dre all you'll find in there is more wood, sap, and possibly grubs."
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Albina calls upon the infernal powers to grant a devil's healing powers to Shendalyn and Jethryk, using her recently acquired rod to prolong the effect.
She will wait for Mi'Dre's current fast healing to end , and determine if he requires more, unless the boggard interrupts this couple of minutes of healing.
Mi'Dre ignores Shendalyn's 'advice' hollowing out a good sized opening before he finally gives up. He climbs out then, muttering curses and proceeds to give himself a magical acid bath to remove the sap and whatever else might be sticking to him after the fight. He stretches once the first healing spell runs out, flexing still sore muscles, glancing towards Albina who gratefully provides some more of Asmodeus' dark healing.
He is just about to replace his disguise when he spots the boggard, making him smile. He straightens and walks slowly over to the creature. "Well hello slimy dark one. Did you enjoy the show?" he asks, with only a hint on menace to his words.
From what he gleaned of the area in the short time in town, there are no tales of frog men in the forest. The beasts must keep to the shadows rather than seek civilization.
The boggard withdraws warily from Mi'Dre's approach "Jurak is dead... by hands of yours... what else it wants?..." clearly stuck halfway between interest and a desire to move deeper within the caves.
Cruxcarr moves toward the body of the treant, thick hands brushing over the vanquished giants bark in a light caress;
"Yessss. Jurak's bark will indeed suffice... a most interesting material to... to work with..."
The hemothurge's tongue flickers over his lips as his long nail absently traces a rune of gluttony in the treant's life sap.
"Why... the Horn of course! Why else do you think we killed it's 'guardian'." he says with a grin, his wounds slowly closing as he speaks. "So you can either help us out, take us to whatever fat toad is in charge of your tribe, or we can kill the lot of you instead. I've heard frog-legs are considered a delicacy by some..." he says glancing back at the distracted hemothurge
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Albina winces slightly at Mi'Dre's ill-fated attempt at intimidation and mutters an incantation to the Prince of Darkness to steady herself, unsure if boggards have any concept of human beauty, saunters forward a few paces, attempting to look attractive.
"As my associate said, we seek the Horn. It could be of mutual benefit to your people and mine if you would see fit to tell us what you know of it's location and defenses."
She leaves what 'benefit' the boggards might earn unstated, as she is not yet sure what sort of 'benefit' would best motivate them...
"Mr. LAnos I believe your skills are being called for." Sehndalyn says as Mi'Dre and Albina attempt something along the lines of dialogue with a frog creature ready to bolt. "I have business of my own to attend."
Scooping up some of the sap from the treant in his hand Shendlyn begins to makr a complex sigil into the ground.
The boggard is unimpressed by Mi'Dre's posturing, though reacts stonily to Albina's approach. It croaks back "Horn here... you blind?" gesturing at the stone structure that the caves lie at the feet of "Not need speak me, speak Slays-Nine-Men and Hears-the-Father. You stay... I get" and with a narrowed eye and stern look, the boggard turns and bounds away into the horn's interior.
Mi'Dre glowers at the boggard as he fails to react. "Be quick about it." he observes sourly, hunkering down and finally replacing his circlet, taking a moment to settle his disguise around him again as the boggard hops off, unmolested by the devil. Once he is sure he's out of earshot he looks to the others "He's telling the truth, do we want to follow him, or lay in wait?"
Jethryk cleans the sticky sap from his blade, and shrugs unconcernedly as the frog-man hurries away.
"I am not concerned about some primitive frog-people. Let them come to us; meeting them out in the open would make for a more effective battle-ground, rather than engaging them in tunnels that they are undoubtedly familiar with..."
Sholano give Shendalyn a mildly amused look. "Oh, are we up for talking now? Somehow I'd gotten the impression we were just going to slaughter our way in."
Sheathing his rapier with a wholly unnecessary flourish, he moves up to observe the frog-man's exit and hopeful return. He nods to Jethryk. "Aye. If they need killing, better to do it here than on their turf - although I would rather see if they can be of use first. That is, if we can restrain our homicidal urges, this time...?"
It takes but a minute or more before a larger and more scarred boggard appears. It has a significant swagger to it's gait and eyes you with nascent aggression. The boggard from earlier follows deferentially in it's wake.
The boggard stops still within the caves and rears up on it's haunches... staring with bared teeth.
"No guarantees." Shendalyn says flatly as smoke begins to rise from the sigil etched into the ground in the blood of a treant.
The staring competition continues... the boggard posturing and clearly confident in itself, and unwilling to make first venture of approach.
Seeing the new boggard approach lures Cruxcarr away from his "preparation" of the fallen oak;
The corpulent mage lumbers over, sleeves rolled up and stained with sap. He returns the scarred boggard's toothy smile with one of his own - flashing his own tiny knife teeth as he wipes his hands dry;
"Greetings Son of the Mire and Slayer of Men. Myself and my associates have matters most pressing within The Horn..."
Cruxcarr stands before the boggard, allowing his bulk to fill the creatures vision;
"... We shall not be trifled with, but nor shall we meddle in the affairs of the mire-folk. As the Lady Mariposa alluded to, we can however offer your folk “opportunities” to both further your own power and assist us in achieving ours... A mutual affiliation if you will..."
The hemothurge flashes his knife smile again;
"Our blackhearts and your greenblood... Mmmm?"
:
The boggard stands taller than Cruxcarr, and bears a wellmade greatsword in a cross sheath upon it's back. Croaking it responds "Slays-Nine-Men is boss, and Horn is home... You man thing want in, need give give." with it's posturing you think he's likely looking for tribute and deference.
Behind Kumanda a second more aged boggard can be seen crab walking around the edge of the cavern behind him, not threatening but watching.
Jethryk watches with bemusement as the frog-man attempts to extract tribute from the party.
Methinks he just made a terrible mistake...
"Only nine." Shendalyn says quietly to himself as the ritual completes. "Killed twenty alone in the siege, not counting those hobgoblins..."
As the smoke clears "Gurthock" stands in the middle. Like some form of deranged swarf the red, scaly, and sour faced little demon thing has a back pack strapped to its back as well as a ridiculous looking vest made of violet velvet. That this is all topped off with a red fez atop his head just makes the whole accoutrement even more embarassing.
As Gurthock takes a look at the scene around him he makes a snarling face at the boggards before he spots the felled tree. "Great. Giant frogs and talking trees. Are we in bloody f%#*ing wonderland now?"
Shendalyn smirks. "No, now I'm afraid we are in a period of negotiation just after I barely pulled us out of some silly attempt at deception. Now we can be honest. I am sooooo much better at honesty."
A silly attempt, was it? We'll see about that, my lad.
Stepping forward beside Cruxcarr, a look of utmost respect on his face, Sholano bows low to the boggard; Slays-Nine-Men if he was tracking their crude grammar correctly. Cruxcarr had already taken the lead on this one, and while perhaps not the tack he might have taken himself, it was a line he could run with.
"Greetings, mighty Slays-Nine-Men; and to wise Hears-the-Father as well," he says, nodding to the older boggard lurking further back. If that wasn't the name of some kind of shaman or wise man, then Sholano was a dwarf. It wouldn't do to ignore such a creature, chief or no.
"As you can see by our handiwork thus far," he continues, gesturing to the treant's fallen trunk, "We are not, sadly, in a position to take the time to negotiate with your great people today. We have urgent business within, and cannot afford the delay that talking this out would cause."
"But simply because we are in a hurry does not mean that we must be at odds. We can offer the chance to be on the winning side in a conflict that will soon shake this part of the world to its core. Stand aside, and we have no issue; but help us today, and I can promise that your aid will be returned manyfold."
The big one with the greatsword croaks in a deep tone "Horn belongs to Slays-Nine-Men... You want in... you give-give, I boss... not pink man." puffing out his chest. It's clear from the reaction of the boggard that you first met that the big one is trying to make sure dominance is maintained.
As you speak, the smaller one circling the entryway talks to itself "Pink ones... pink ones... story tell... Father send... Bane-wogs strong... Slays-Nine dead-five... good must." before it bounds forward and with cocked head blurts at you "Father sent you, yes, yes? Help Bane-wog grow strong, yes, yes? Hears-The-Father hears the Father in this... but Slays-Nine-Men is chief..." you get the impression that the smaller one is a shaman of some kind based on the fetish and charms upon him.
"Ah." Shendalyn says smiling. "It sounds as if someone is going to have to die. Of course they don't have to die. Only the wise and terrible Jurak had to die."