Durnim nimbly moves toward the far Rider and continues to laughs at the prone Rider.
Durnim twirls his polearm over his head and attempts to strike the prone Rider, but his grip slips again!
Durnim misses.
Kragg hits, damaging the Rider further- it's icy armor showing the numerous cracks from the several hits.
The Riders heal slightly again.
The one rider, without a target moves and swing.
The other attempts to stand in the grease:
The other rider stands and navigates out around to position against Durnim again.
Turn Order:
2. Kragg
3. Vargas
4. Cold Riders
7. Durnim
New Red 81
No border 14
Rubius: "dead"
Thurgrom: "dead"
Finn Cirrus "dead"
Tawny: "dead"
Dvalin: "dead"
Durnim: 63/77
Kragg: 20/64
Vargas" 31/45
That brings up the party again!
Durnim twirls his polearm over his head and attempts to strike the prone Rider as he gets up.
Divine winds buffet the Rider.
Durnim nimbly steps back from the Rider.
Durnim twirls his polearm over his head and attempts to strike the prone Rider.
Durnim hits when the Rider opens itself to attack, but misses when he tries to press the attack!
Turn Order:
2. Kragg
3. Vargas
4. Cold Riders
7. Durnim
New Red 81
No border 42
Rubius: "dead"
Thurgrom: "dead"
Finn Cirrus "dead"
Tawny: "dead"
Dvalin: "dead"
Durnim: 63/77
Kragg: 20/64
Vargas" 31/45
”Bloody well stay down!” Kragg yelled as he threw a stone hammer at the damaged rider.
”Save your breath! They probably don’t even understand, not that they’d listen anyways.” Khazuk chirped as she flew straight up, out of the reach of the riders.
Vargas continues in his shadow form to Kragg before letting him to slip back into the shadows.
Kragg's rock hits and the rider fades away!
Vargas casts on Kragg again.
The last rider, free from the debris steps in on Durnim
Both miss!
Turn Order:
2. Kragg
3. Vargas
4. Cold Riders
7. Durnim
No border 42
Rubius: "dead"
Thurgrom: "dead"
Finn Cirrus "dead"
Tawny: "dead"
Dvalin: "dead"
Durnim: 63/77
Kragg: 20/64
”One left! One left for the Peak!” Kragg yelled out, for the first time believing that they might yet win this.
Divine winds buffet the Rider.
Durnim steps back and twirls his giant sticker over his head and attempts to strike the Rider.
Vargas taps Kragg on the shoulder as he finishes another spell. "Well done Cousin. I'm moving to help Durnim, watch that you aren't charged." he offers as he begins to tramp across the icy ground.
Kragg hits again!
Vargas cures Kragg.
Durnim's spirit misses, but he crams the giant sticker into the last rider's shoulder in a nasty poke!
The wound partially closes and the Rider makes his effort to retaliate:
A hit!
Turn Order:
2. Kragg
3. Vargas
4. Cold Riders
7. Durnim
No border 74
Rubius: "dead"
Thurgrom: "dead"
Finn Cirrus "dead"
Tawny: "dead"
Dvalin: "dead"
Durnim: 33/77
Kragg: 39/64
That brings up the party again! And Happy New Years!
Divine winds buffet the Rider.
Durnim steps back to pull the Rider into the Grease and twirls his giant sticker over his head and attempts to strike the Rider again.
Watching Durnim continue to combat the rider Vargas chants out his last shadowfade before moving over and touching his fellow dwarf, allowing Durnim to fade invisibility into the darkness.
With one rider left, and a kinsman in danger, Kragg formed an axe. It was of stone, though it was laced with iron. All of the constant practice was slowly improving his abilities. He threw it, determined to pull his weight in this battle.
”They’re regenerating! Do it again! Do it again!” Khazuk chirped, all the while flying safely above the fray.
Durnim misses the Rider, but Kragg's next shot dissolves the final enemy away into the unknown!
The crowds cheers as the bout ends, the few remaining Dwarves exhausted and wounded.
The Queen of Ice looks stern for a moment, before finally standing and applauding herself.
"Excellent! Most entertaining dwarves! And now, we feast!"
The fey lead you to glen where music plays, and tables piled high with frozen treats present themselves! The mad revely of the fey has begun!
As the night wears on, the Witching Hour comes, and for a moment, the Fey pause, a palpable silence over them for a moment, then the party resumes, and over the next several minutes the "slain" riders trickle in one at a time, as do your "slain" companions. . .
Vargas steps from the shadows to perform a bow to the queen. "As you you can observe, we also know the strength remaining hidden when needed. I hope the battle was entertaining." The skinny dwarf, when lead to the tables takes a frozen fruit treat to nibble upon while watching the revelry of the fey and listening. Performing his role of spy in a passive way so as to not offend.
Kragg felt ready to collapse after the battle. He remained silent as the fey cheered, and stood nervously as the fey feasted. His kinsmen were not back yet, and he was having a hard time reading the queen’s mood.
It was only when the others began to come back that he let out a sigh of relief. Though he still worried...were these actually his kinsmen? Or had the fey queen replaced them...
Walking.
All there is;
is walking.
Walking from where, he cannot say.
But what Thurgrom Thunderhammer of Clan Thunderhammer does know
is that he walks toward light and the sounds of celebration.
The mynrughdaer appears at the edge of the ice fey celebration, his face devoid of expression or thought. Perhaps he seeks to collect his thoughts. The storm dwarf scion just stares at the snow a few feet away. Lost within his own experience.
Durnim's battle rage ends, and he slumps to the ground exhausted. He checks on Kragg and Vargas joyful that they survived. He spends his last two healing spells on Kragg and himself.
He was polite as etiquette required but unbelieving that his companions would return until they did. He makes his points about dwarven toughness and persistence as politely as he could avoiding any venom.
For those of you who had "died": you wake up in the icy woods, the sounds of the party in the distance but easy to follow back. You've experienced, well, something- a visitation from your deity or one of their servants, a kind of "spirit quest" with a spirit animal for the nature worshipping types, or else meeting your true inner self for those that follow no powers at all.
You feel very much alive and yourself, and as you return you see some of your companions feasting with the fey creatures.
For the survivors, as you begin to eat and drink the fey food, you feel it restoring you, haling your wounds and invigorating your tired bodies.
In addition to agreeing to let you leave in exchange for your promise of silence, the fey queen offers each of you a choice of one +1 weapon or +1 armor made out of Fey Ice
Weapons made of Fey Ice deal an additional 1d4 Cold damage.
Armor made of Fey Ice give the wearer Cold Resistance 5, and does not count as metal armor (for Druids or spell effects that target metal armor).
The only downside to Fey Ice is that the item itself takes a -2 penalty on effects that target objects which are fire or heat based.
Kragg took the chain coat offered to him. His eyes widened when he realized that it was made from ice! The craftsmanship, or at least the magic, needed to make such a wonder was stunning. Removing his torn and bloodied armor, he slipped the shirt on instead. To his surprise it was not freezing, just cold to the touch. He was glad that he could wear clothes beneath it.
”I salute the honor of the queen. This will be an heirloom of my house, and a reminder always of the inviolate word between stone and ice.”
The Effendi Durnim Hornblower accepts a longspear made of fey ice. He twirls it and weighs it comfortably in his hand. "Aye, Queen. This spear of ice will remind us of our exchange today."
Rubius and Tawny came to in the icy woods, Tawny licking Rubius' face in joy that he was still alive. In wonder, he wandered to the feast where he and Tawny learned how delicious magically-frozen meat could be. When the queen offered her generous gift, he hemmed and hawed before finally admitting "Well... a bow would be mighty nice... This old one here is good but your magic seems a bit better 'an what Thurgrom an' I could do."
Vargas accepts a nimble chain shirt of fey ice with a further bow. "Let us hope for no further animosity between our two peoples, there are enemies enough in the world." he says smoothly.
At the direction of his fellow dwarves, Thurgrom sits down at a feasting table and absentmindedly eats the frozen fruit, slowly clearing his mind and soul, bringing him back fully into the land of the living.
In addition to agreeing to let you leave in exchange for your promise of silence, the fey queen offers each of you a choice of one +1 weapon or +1 armor made out of Fey Ice
"Your majesty, I would like to take you up on your offer and ask for a set of fey ice full plate armor, please?" The mynrughdaer bows deeply before the matriarch.
The Queen smirks, "Aye, we shall remember the impertinent Dwarves who gave us such a show here for longer than your lives, I dare say."
After the feast ends, you feel no need for sleep, the fey food regenerating your spirits and you depart back for Gold Peak, arriving in several days without further incident.
Somewhat dazed, Dvalin stumbles into the icy woods. What...he fought. He lost. He was THERE. He had become part of a weave, of a pattern, a timeless form. There was more, and the eons were...but he was here now...back. He kneeled down and touched the icy ground, then a nearby tree, tracing the roots below the snow.
Finally, he stood, then moved towards the sound of joy and revelry.
Arriving at the party, he took count of his companions...everybody was back here, and it seemed the Fey Queen had held her word.
Even so, his suspicion was deep - she offered to outfit them in gear made of Fey Ice...after having them promise they would keep secret about what they had seen.
Dvalin drank, he danced, and he enjoyed the party, but he took care not to eat any food. In many old stories, eating the food of the host was binding the eater to said host...and many old stories had some truths in them. Of course, that made the drink all the more intoxicating, and the party all the better for it, and the fey girls all the prettier despite their lack of beards.
As they make to depart, Dvalin kneels to the Queen once more as everybody receives a parting gift:"Mylady, we shall do our best to steer others away from where our world's border on one another. But do you, maybe, possess knowledge of the surrounding areas, or other such mythical spots in our region the borders of which we could mark on our map, so that we may better find a way around them and simultaneously better prevent others from disturbing your secrecy as we have?"
Flashback to the previous evening. . .
Finn Cirrus, drunk with excitement and not a little bit of fey wine, grows bold and asks the Ice Queen directly, "Your majesty, I thank you for sparing us, but I must ask: we came here because of the mists that shroud your land, we are seeking the entrance to our own Cloud Kingdoms which have been lost to us for many years."
The Queen laughs at his boldness, "Aye, Cloud Kingdoms you say? I know naught about them, but the mists that guard my lands edges are produced because the eternal cold here clashes with the moving weather of the mortal realm. No, there are no cloud kingdoms here."
The next day as you are travelling back, Finn seems glum, but determined, and not a little bit hungover, "I shouldn't have expected to find the Cloud Kingdoms on my first attempt. There must be other strange phenomena out there- so this wasn't what we sought, but I will find them!"
A few days later you are back at the Villa, taking stock of the situation there.
Agrim greets you, a grim look on his face. "While you've been away there's been activity here. Farmer Noam who lives nearby has spotted orcs on his farms, carrying away pumpkins. So we scouted the area, and sure enough- orc tracks. It looks like a scavenging party, only five or six, but we've posted more guards and have not yet caught a glimpse of them."
”Orcs? They grow bold to pillage our lands. They must believe that we are weak given that their siege struck so deep. Is there any indication where they raid from, and if they are part of a larger force? Pumpkins are not the easiest thing to carry, or to transport. Perhaps they are foraging for a larger force...?” Kragg mused.
Rubius growls in frustration. "No. I won't have orcs pillaging our lands. I say we track 'em down and end 'em."
"Aye!" Thurgrom agreed. "I'd like to talk with Farmer Noam and get some more information."
"How long ago was that?", Dvalin asks - 5 or 6 Orcs carrying large pumpkins would definitely leave a trail they could have followed...but the fact more guards had been posted with no more sightings seemed discouraging.
"And let us fetch a map of the area, to see where larger groups may have decided to make camp...we will not allow them to pillage here, regardless, but I believe we'd best assume a larger incursion. If we're lucky and it's just a group of independent raiders, great. But if there's an Orc Army marching on us, we'd best be prepared."
"Let's hunt them down. Where there are six, there are more." The Effendi suggests.
You go the next morning to visit Farmer Noam.
"Aye, orcs- they must have come down off their Hidden Plateau. I saw five or six, but I know there must be more close by. Their leader, by the looks of him, was a tall orc, a head above the others, with a wicked scar across his face."
Farmer Noam was a stout hill dwarf, well over two hundred years, his wrinkled skin and gray hair betraying that he had farmed more seasons than he had left. He leads you to his pumpkin to the area where the orcs were spotted.
"Is it just you out here, Farmer Noam, or do you have some farm hands?"
Kragg went about looking for clues, figuring that Thurgrom and his silver tongue had the issue of gathering information well in hand.
Orcs Rubius thought with disgust. Trampling our lands and taking our goods, threatening our people. That, I won't allow. He bent down to carefully examine the ground for any sign leading to the invaders.
Dvalin went to inspect the fields and the nearby area with the others, leaving the talking to Thurgrom.
"Down from the hidden plateau. Even a moderately-sized raiding party will need water and cover - if we know where they came from, and towards were they retreated with the stolen pumpkins, we should be able to guess a few likely locations for them to have made camp. Even if they moved on, a larger band would be easy to follow..."
Waiting to see what else the others find, Dvalin tries to remember the lay of the lands, water sources, hills, wooded areas...
The Effendi looks around.
Farmer Noam nods to Thurgrom, "Oh, just myself and the missus in the slow times; we hire out day laborers when the busy seasons come."
You easily find the signs of the Orc band, and can discern there were 6 total, and follow the track to the south. Based on the direction Dvalin knows a few likely locations where they might be hiding, and as you follow the tracks his suspicions are confirmed-- they seem to lead towards a nearby stream and to a spot where a hallow behind some rocks has created a recessed cave.
As you drawn near, you can see the sign of smoke coming from the cave- the orcs are currently lodged inside.
"Khazuk, could you do a fly-by and estimate how many Orcs there are?", Dvalin asks the Trush Familiar.
It would be best to deal with the Orcs here and now, before they moved on, but their relative numbers would be essential in formulating a battleplan.
It could be there were just the 6 they trailed, or there could be 10 score of them waiting in camp, with multiple foraging parties sent out.
Despite their success against the Riders and the hardyness of his comrades, Dvalin would rather not chance a frontal confrontation if they found themselves heavily outnumbered.
The Effendi holds his hand up to hold the crew. "Let me investigate with my Divine Sight." Durnim concentrates on exploring the cave.
Rubius growls gruffly "Let's get in there and take 'em out. We'll try to take one alive so we can ask if there are others in the area. Then he can face justice later."
Then Rubius casts divine favor on himself and Tawny, weapon of awe on his bow, and summons several elementals to the fray. He also heightens his reflexes.
Vargas watches from the back of the group as there are preparations. "Remember brothers I can grant invisibility to allow for safer scouting also, but we seem to be prepared. Orcs usually appear in numbers more than first seen so let us be prepared for a rush." says the thin dwarf while rubbing his chin thoughtfully.