"Ibrox, there! See that shadow is the mermaid, she's about thirty feet off the mark from trevor!"
"Where? I don't see it." Ibrox searches the water unsuccessfully.
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"Eh? What are you mumbling about?" Aterro questions Zove as the comely wizards's speech sounds like she has a mouth full of marbles. In time he sees where she is pointing and, aided, catches the form of the hunting merfolk.
[ooc]Yes, using my held action. Also, everyone, if it hits, the next attack is at Advantage.
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Trevor finds himself sitting atop a cliff very much like the one he jumped from only a few moments, or was it days...weeks ago? He rubs his palm over his eyes for a few seconds only to look up and suddenly notice the old, old man dressed in a simple black-robe velvet robe sitting across from him. Between the two rests a chessboard, a game started but just barely.
Confused and startled the teenager jumps back slightly. His eyes peering into the almost skeletal face of the old man's coal black eyes that seem to oddly swirl with the depths of nothingness.
"Don't knock over the board." Admonishes the old man in a sandpapery, but firm voice. "It's your move. But I think it's only fair to warn you, you're about to fall for the oldest opening trick in the book, and I've no time for another game."
Looking up and down between the old man's haunting eyes and the chessboard, Trevor says nothing but a shaky hand absentmindedly reaches out a grabs one of the pieces, a knight, and moves it into play. As he does so the man sucks air through his teeth and grimaces slightly. "Are you sure you want to do that?" He asks with a slight, friendly smile just before Trevor lets go of the ivory game piece. Uncertain and with a quick shake of his head, Trevor puts the piece back in its original place and grabs another, but as he does so the world begins to spin and swirl as his vision goes dark again.
"Ah well...it seems your friends have perhaps saved the day." The old man's voice says with a soft chuckle. "'Tis no matter. I'm sure we'll meet again. Hopefully you will spend a bit of time practicing your game, it's been so long since anyone has offered a real challenge. It's as if no one cares about the classics anymore." He adds with a weary sigh as the voice grows more and more distant.
Then the knight's eyes pop open, filled with the murky, cold swirling darkness of the northern sea. They catch the last disappearing remnants of a yellowish light, tinged with a hint of green that sparkles across his chest. The final effect of Vrindel's druidic healing. The thunder of the surf crashing against the rocks above gurgles in his ears as he quickly aborts the natural desire to take a big gasping breath. Despite his best efforts, bubbles continue to float up from his mouth, past his nose and eyes and on up to the surface which seems to be drifting further and further away as he continues to sink under the weight of armor, axe, boots, gear and javelins.
Then not far away, the sea erupts in another burst of light and a muffled, feminine scream drifts through the underwater currents.
Above the surface, Vrindel sees Trevor's body suddenly twitch and come to some brief consciousness, but the trollkin watches as his companions body continues to sink deeper into the sea. Not far away, the water suddenly bursts with radiant light and churns with massive bubbles of steam smelling of cooked fish as sea and mermaid are assaulted by Aterro's magic.
Following the heels of Aterro's attack, there's the splash of a crossbow bolt darting into the sea. Although it is difficult to tell, it did look like the bolt likely struck its intended target.
Badly hurt and no longer thinking of a meal, but survival instead, the mermaid gives up her search and turns toward the open ocean; hoping to put distance between herself and the godly magic that killed her sister and now seeks her own doom.
Trevor tries to keep calm and undress, but the water surrounding him is too much and he just tries to push his way up.
"Does anyone see Trevor? Is he alright? What about the monster?" Ibrox looks for a clue.
Vrindel thinks for a moment of jumping in after the foolish young Paladin, but then decides that he's done enough. He leans against the cliff face for a moment trying to hatch an idea. He giggles a bit at the "silly little ant trying to move a rubber tree plant".
"Here silly little beast. Take this rope to him instead".
DM - Tareth
Vrindel isn't a good enough swimmer to jump in and help Trevor out, however I wanted to ask about the feasibility of a plan. Druidcraft allows him to give a CR-0 a two word command. Could Vrindel take his 50' rope, and command a fish to "Deliver Rope" pointing at Trevor's flailing form? If not is there something (His Scimitar??) he could tie to the rope and sling towards Trevor?
With his initial burst of energy, Trevor thrusts upward toward the glittering sunlight and life giving air at the surface. But it doesn't take long for the weight to overcome his momentum and start slowly dragging him back down into the darker depths.
Finnigan, Aterro, and Ibrox watch the drama unfold below, ignoring the words of conjuring as Zove prepares a last blast to end the fleeing mermaid. The shadow fae's word reach their usual climaxing crescendo. She whips a delicate fae hand toward the mermaid....there is a loud POP! And the sun simply flickers out of existence....all is pure darkness except for the single orange bolt of fire that quickly snuffs out in the sea. The cold depths of interstellar nothingness rush toward Midgard.....and then the sun pops back revealing the startled stares of Zove's companions glaring in her direction.
With no time to correct his master's inept handling of the primordial forces, Snicker the Savior, leaps from the small perch where he and Vrindel watch the struggling knight. With little more than an idea and a brave heart, the tiny frog fights the tough currents and manages to swin under Trevor's flailing form. The little frog's eyes narrow in on the big teenager's back, trying to find the best place to offer a push when he sees Vrindel's rope floating on the surface above. Too far away for the knight to reach, but Snicker the Swift might be able to beat the currents again, swim to the rope, and bring it back to the drowning man. The frog looks back and forth between the man and the rope, wondering what he should do.
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Aterro watched the proceedings impassively. He had done all he could do with an enemy in the field, and so considered the struggle at an end, and this merely another obstacle on the Path of Life. Thor teaches that the strong naturally survive such labors, so Trevor will survive or die, in the natural order of things.
He looks up as the sun winks out, and gazes at Zove, giving her an appreciative nod at the bit of magic.
Failure to make progress wisens Trevor up, at least enough to let figure he needs to get rid of his armour.
Fishing
Vrindel sees a large grouper at the edge of his vision, but Trevor's flailing scares it away at the last minute. He watches the small frog begin tugging at his rope floating just beneath the surface as the hemp begins to soak with water.
Not fast enough...
He pulls his belt pouch out, and begins to fill it with stones to help sink the rope if necessary.
Bubbles swirl about Trevor's face as more precious air escape from his now burning lungs. But the effect of shedding his heavy chain shirt is immediately noticeable in how much more buoyant his body is. As armor and boots quickly sink into the depths, the knight feels the current push him upward slightly. Unfortunately instead of simply sinking like a stone, the churning waters along the cliffs now have a greater effect on his general direction as well and he quickly finds himself being dragged south. South and away from the small perch where Vrindel rapidly ties the weighted pouch to the end of the rope; ready to try a second time to get a life line to the struggling boy.
Ibrox wanders around the top of the cliff looking for a better perch to find Trevor and mermaid.
His lungs exploding, Trevor now focuses on reaching the surface, which seems so tantalizingly close!
Trevor bursts to the surface taking in huge gulps of air that immediately ease the pain in his burning lungs. Although nothing helps the discomfort of the several broken ribs and general battering caused by his initial leap into the sea. It takes a few seconds, but the knight finally reorients himself. Fortunately he hasn't drifted too far out to sea. It appears he's only twenty-five feet or so from the shore and he easily spots Vrindel. The trollkin stands on a low ledge just a little further north, soaked in the spray of waves bursting against the rocks just a few feet below.
Not long after breeching the surface, Trevor feels a slight tap on his chest. First instinct is that the mermaid has found him, but he looks down in time to realize it is only Snicker's small frog feet kicking him in the chest. Zove's little familiar is there holding the end of a weighted rope that leads back to Vrindel. Finally getting his attention, the little frog pushes the rope into Trevor's hands, swims around him a couple of times and then heads back to the shore in a flurry of graceful strokes.
Ibrox and the others above, see Trevor burst up from the depths like a breeching whale and start to slowly make his way to the shore with help from Vrindel's rope.
Trevor pulls himself back towards his companions. He's trying to speak, but he keeps getting water in his mouth and coughs and coughs instead. But he makes progress and reaches the shore.
He slips a few times, clanking and cursing as he stumbles to the drier shore, then, finally safe, collapses on the ground, face up, gasping for air, crying, and mumbling: "I- I- Khors... I- "
Vrindel looks down at the struggling Paladin with a stoic look on his face. "You should reconsider your career. You jump off a cliff, nearly drown, and your first words after rescue are about some game!
Vrindel reached down to help the young man up. "I will heal you, and show you the way, but you will have to find your own way back up. Perhaps another rope can be brought down, and with it's assistance... and securing about your waist you can come back to the top".
Cure Wounds
Vrindel then morphs back into his previous spider form, and returns to the others. He'll take the time to help tie the ropes together and secure Trevor, before staying at the top in spider form... just in case.
Finnigan sits a few feet away from the cliff with his back to the ocean, dramatically making his point about the dangers of cliffs and enchanted song.
He looks a bit mad, like he's having a solitary picnic by the sea, and facing away from the scenic view.
To make matters worse he begins speaking at the top of his lungs to the empty road before him.
"Trevor, mate, honestly! I thought you were old enough by now to let you go off alone with no one holding your hand but look what happens! Honestly! And for what! I've heard better minstrels round the pub even on a Khorsday let alone on Marksday evening when the workers get out!"
Trevor lowers his head as he is reminded of his foolishness: "Yes, you're right. I- I apol- You know what?! I did it for Khors! In His service! And you know what else?! It didn't work. So I am sorry for that. But I'm not- Hmmm... I'm not sure I'm sorry for trying. Perhaps if we try hard enough, the gods will listen? Perhaps I haven't tried enough up to this point? Perhaps I need to try harder?!" he goes on as he climbs his way very slowly and carefully with the rope around his waist, feeling every muscle complain and, much worse, feeling the pointy rocks under his bare socks.
And die trying... he thinks, a bit sad, then thinks again and adds: "And die trying! It doesn't matter, because I'm gonna learn chess and even death will give me a pass!"
Obviously, so much sea water...
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As was his habit, after the battle and with the outcome of the current life-struggle out of his hands, Aterro moved off apace and knelt down, again giving thanks to Thor, hoping the lives taken were pleasing to him.
As Trevor re-emerges, safely in the land of the living, Aterro curtly nods, acknolwedging that he made it through his ordeal alive.
"The tactics of the Khors-faithful are...different, than those of my people."
He pauses for a moment before adding, "Since you now appear before us all but naked, shall I assume that you mean to go once more unto the breech to retrieve thy kit? Well, for such an attempt you will need more than just what, ahem, nature provides."
Aterro raises a gauntleted fist. "Any job worth doing is worth dying for," he intones.
Trevor looks at Aterro, then down the cliff and into the dark and cold water: ”They might be too deep... What do you think?” he says, shivering and growing paler.
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Aterro sighs thoughtfully. "I think there are dangers...we do not know what else is down there. We do not know what other horrors we might awaken by disturbing that which is best left alone.
But I also know that as you are, you are unlikely to survive in our quest. We have already seen a large village razed to the ground, and we are, ultimately, in disputed territory.
I think barefoot and naked is a bad thing to be on the battlefield."
He turns to the others. "Zove and Vrindel, have either of you craft enough to locate, or even secure, Trevor's gear? I fear that his survival may depend upon it."
Trevor takes a deep breath while looking down at the churning sea: "You know, Brother, I think Khors is testing me, and perhaps Thor is testing you too. Testing my resolve. And I'm not naked, not completely! Well, perhaps for a priest of Thor, that counts as naked, but for Khorsites? Khors is my armour, Khors is my shield! Khors is my athletic support! I'm not naked! I walk in His path and he guides my arm!"
"That being said, I could use a decent pair of boots... And dry socks..." he says, giving the sea a final shrug before heading out, asking: "So did we kill those mermaids after all?"
"Trevor mate my boots will never fit you. I've got candlesticks for feet! You can have my socks for now, to fight the chill. Shall we have a fire then? Somewhere away from the bloody cliffs edge? Or shall we be on the way? If you're so fond of enchanted melody I'm sure Zove can sing you a soothing ballad mate. Honestly."
Finnigan unlaces his boots and removes his socks, wondering if his feet will chafe inside sockless boots.
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Aterro chuckles as Zove breaks into song. Eventually he nods at Trevor. "Aye, you have the right of it--to me, a warrior without armor may as well be naked, and so I put the word to it.
But.
But I see that you are not overcome with grief over the loss, and so, neither shall I worry upon it.
Aye, let us make haste, and see what miles we can make before sundown.
I can think of no more fitting penance than walking in socks, and so Trevor, I give you the final words we all receive from High Father Joakim:
Embrace the pain."
Aterro smiles more and leads the others back down the road.
"I can make you some fine boots, Trevor." The cheerful gnome offers. "I just need to harvest some leather."
”You all saved my life... Thank you. Thank you! I’ll be fine for now, I’m sure, until we find boots, or leather... Now, while we walk, anyone can show me how to play chess?"
"Yes, chess! The old man told me to improve my game if I wanted to stay alive. I guess I was about to die... Anyway, I saw it! When you're dying, you have to play chess, and if you win, then... Well, I'm not sure... But I'm not taking any chances!"
He speaks gingerly while he hops while walking, trying to avoid pointy rocks on the road.
The rest of the day is uneventful and ends up being a pleasant spring day. The sun is warm and bright, much to Trevor's benefit as his soaked clothing, slowly dries over the course of the day. Of course, the bright light makes things a bit less welcoming for Zove who tries to keep to the shade of the trees when possible.
As evening approaches Vrindel spots an old farmhouse not far from the road. The homestead appears to have been abandoned long ago with the former fields grown over by brush and small trees. The building itself, is in poor shape with doors and shutters fallen from their hinges and one corner of the roof collapsed. However, one half of the single room building still provides reasonable shelter and a stone fireplace, that has seen some use in the past few months indicating this isn't the first time the old place has been used to shelter travelers.
Vrindel is quiet for the most part. He stays a spider till the ability runs it's course trying out the form for future reference. He finds a quiet time to speak with Trevor away from the others.
Trevor
In life sometimes we learn more from our mistakes than from our successes. I've experienced much in my life, and being what I am, leaned to consider carefully my actions. One thing I've learned is that the gods are maddeningly confusing, and you can seldom take them at face value. Sometimes they use obtuse examples to teach instead of just coming out and telling you things.
I would suggest you consider your near death experience and encounter with your god at more than face value. Perhaps he is suggesting you should consider your next move carefully in the game of life to remain in play. Just a thought...
Vrindel checks the area for dangerous creatures (spiders, snakes etc.), then looks up the chimney to make sure it's clear, before helping the others build a camp for the evening.
"I would take final watch tonight if that is suitable".
Finnigan looks over the homestead warily.
"I wonder if some grim eldritch hag has assembled this enticing shelter to tempt travellers to bed down for the night. I suspect we'll awaken in an iron pot just beginning to simmer, floating alongside so many turnips seasoned with drakesblood and black shallots!"
But upon closer inspection he finds the place perfectly suitable for a night's rest and sets down his pack.
Trevor is all smiles during the long walk, at least at the beginning. "Wow! I never realized how heavy my kit was! It almost feels better on my feet even without boots! And this sun! I would be like a slow-cooked pig, like Aterro right now, baking in metal under the sun! Now I can feel the breeze under my armpits, instead of the rubbing of steel on sweat! I feel so free... So alive!"
When Vrindel speaks with him, he takes in the Trollkin's words carefully, weighing them against his short experience.
"Are you not a priest? But you are right. Everyone say the gods are this and the gods are that, but they all say that it is foolishness to read them literally. So yes, perhaps it's not about chess. Sounds like a complicated game anyways, plus I'd have to carry a board, and no one elese knows how to play... But how can I serve Khors if I do not show valour? It's a conundrum, yes?" he asks, genuinely intrigued and looking for input.
Once at the mansion, he is about to say something nice about their luck, but then Finn makes him go quite pale and weak in the knee: "Hags? Like in the stories..?" and starts missing the steel rubbing against his sweat...
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Trevor is all smiles during the long walk, at least at the beginning. "Wow! I never realized how heavy my kit was! It almost feels better on my feet even without boots! And this sun! I would be like a slow-cooked pig, like Aterro right now, baking in metal under the sun! Now I can feel the breeze under my armpits, instead of the rubbing of steel on sweat! I feel so free... So alive!"
Aterro looks askance at the nearly-naked paladin. "The hammer that beats the anvil is not harmed by the flame," he replies.
At the farmhouse, he replies to Fin, "If this is meant to be a trap, then I would have them work at it more. I have inhabited caves with greater ambiance. Indeed, I'd wager our cave of last night was a better spot than this.
Still, hags fear fire, so let us have a merry flame to pass the night."
Aterro repeats his demonstration of the night prior, plucking up whatever trees or wood he can find, snapping them in his metal gauntlets, and casting his flame upon them once dumped in a great pile in the fire place.
He roasts the rations they have for supper, spearing the salted pork on great spits of green wood, filling the modest house with a salivating smell of cooking meat, giving the boring meal at least a new taste.
"I will take first watch...to guard against all the vile hags will be stalking us I'm sure."
Aterro chuckles to himself as he takes out an oiled rag and rubs down his gear to keep the moisture away.
The sun drops low in the sky disappearing behind a bank of dark storm clouds brewing over the waves beyond the western horizon. The air turns chill and the damp, moldy smell of the slowly rotting wood fills the rickety shelter, after the more pleasant smells of dinner drift away. The stars soon fade and then wink out as the ominous clouds drift overhead brining a cold chill wind. With the wind, the fire dances and swirls in the old fireplace and smoke occasionally billows into the shelter, blown back down the old chimney by the approaching storm.
The hours of the first watch tick by to the clink and clatter of Aterro oiling all of his various bits of armor and metal gear. The noice can barely be heard over the growing wind and creaking of the trees as they lean back and forth with each gust.
Suddenly a voice cuts through the noise of the storm. It's loud, gruff baritone coming from the road north. "I'm tellling you I saw it t'other day when we covered this route. Should be just up t'way, an I for one don't want to get soaked again."
"Wait a minute..." says a second voice. Similar in tone to the other, but with a bit of a nasal sound to it. "You smell smoke? Thought I caught a whiff."
"With your beak, that could be smoke from clear back home." Jumps in a third voice. "There ain't a soul out 'ere for leagues. Just that rotten pit of a village, t' boss has got us holed up in."
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Aterro sighs heavily as he accepts that he will have no night pass without bloodshed.
He carefully (as he can) stalks over to Zove. He shakes her shoulder gently, mumbling, "We have company coming. Bandits, by their sound. Wake and be ready, I will attack them soon."
He cautiously does this for all the group, for all souls cry out for salvation.
Ibrox continues his mapping of the landscape while enjoying warm sun.
When they approach the farmhouse, he is very cautious. He looks for huge foul legs hidden and curled beneath the structure. Allowing his companions to enter first, he finally enters the structure. The cheerful mood returns to the gnome and busies about his camp routine.
His dreams are dark bordering on nightmarish and is happy to awake again among his companions.
Finnigan rubs his eyes. He hadn't even had a chance to start dreaming yet.
"Let some of us feign sleep, I say! We can learn their intentions and what's more get the drop on them. I shall conceal myself hither and train my darts on them as they approach..."
He stalks into the gloom concealing himself with a view to the campsite from the north side, and lines up his sites.