Druids and forest drakes share a common interest in ensuring the continued survival of the natural world. While forest drakes tend not to directly aid mortals, they make an exception for their druidic allies by guarding druidic enclaves, scouting for threats, and making secret markings in the trees to ward druids from dangerous areas. This particular drake seems to be very domesticated and is perhaps an animal companion, familiar, or simply long known acquaintance to whoever is its "master."
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"Yes!" roars Aterro with anticipation and glee. He hefts his heavy hammer and stalks in on the creature attacking Fin. "Let us cleanse ALL plagues that stalk this town! When we are done here bards will SING of the band that did cleave so much vermin from this sacred berg. Beast, insect, or abomination can not stand before our combined MIGHT!"
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With songs of glory, visions of heroic welcomes in the halls of and temples of Midgard , and the undying love of his countrymen and women already forming in his mind, Aterro unleashes a mighty blow that...crashes harmlessly into the water dousing everyone in a heavy spray of cold, muddy flood water. The subsequent wave from the heavy maul easily washes up and into both Finnigan's and Trevor's boots once again leaving their feet cold and wet.
In an attempt to either hit the rapid moving water leaper, or get back at Aterro, Trevor slashes again with his axe sending yet another spray of water directly at the cleric and an already soaked Vrindel. While creating an almost perfect cascade of water onto Thor's now soaked cleric, Trevor's blow does no harm at all to the rapidly swimming leaper.
"AHAHAHAH! Does THIS counts as a storm?!" bursts Trevor at the scene, hands on his knees, trying not to topple over from laughter.
"I imagine they prefer to be in the water? Anyway I know we don't prefer it... so why don't we draw them onto dry land?"
Finnigan steps away from the bank putting the wall behind him, positioned so he can glance up and see if Zove is ok, and listen too. He readies himself shoot but also to stab a frog drake if it leaps at him.
Ibrox recognizes the creatures as well as the trollkin druid. Understanding the danger, he stays close to the druid in a fighting a retreat toward the millhouse.
His next blast explodes the water. A spray of brimstone mist erupts after a stern, "Ibrox."
The drake passes through the study and into another larger room which seems to lead back to the main mill works and then to the exterior landing. To the left you can see the shapes of the big grinding stones in the dim light from other windows not blocked by the loft area. In addition, it appears there are several large windows to the south which light up the millworks. Nearby there are a few sacks of flour sitting along the wall, but the area is mostly empty which wouldn't be usual at this time of year.
The drake passes into another small entryway and you can see the glowing runic symbols that mark the main entrance in reverse as if the door was glass instead of wood. Ignoring the door, the creature turns to the left and walks into another large room.
"Yes! Back to the building! They don't manuver as well on land"!
Vrindel takes the "Disengage" action, then retreats so that his back is against the wall of the mill.
Athletics
Vrindel manages to throw the fish off before it can get a good hold and then carefully backs away until he bumps into the stone foundation of the mill. The trollkin is followed closely by Ibrox, whose attempt to strike again at the creatures just generates a cloud of steam to add to the fog already filling the air.
As the party tries to gather against the stone wall and retreat to the higher ground of the landing, the creatures circle around for another attack. The first two move back up and strike at Ibrox and then Vrindel but both gnome and trollkin are able to dodge the monsters. The third leaps at Trevor and lands on the laughing knight's leg, teeth sinking into flesh as just like with Vrindel the barbed tail attempts to wrap around his lower body.
Following the others toward the landing, Finnigan snaps off a shot with his crossbow, but it lands harmlessly in the water. Then using the shaft sticking in the one he hit previously as a guide, the ranger waits patiently until it starts to swim past his submerged feet. Then at the last moment Finnigan plunges his dagger deep into the creature midsection. Blood flows as it twists and turns throwing itself off of the blade to swim on, but it is clearly wounded and moving off toward the deeper water of the main millpond.
Following his quick strike, Finnigan watches the window for any sign of Zove, but sees and hears nothing as his eyes keep drifting back to the remaining threats circling in the shallow waters.
Ibrox makes a break for it. Splashing and wading as quickly as his short legs can go toward the landing. His visions tunnels to the millhouse. The thought of being fish food chases behind him.
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Aterro doesn't even hear the calls for retreat. Like a tiger with his jaws in juicy prey, he stays on the hunt. His hammer continues to rise and fall, chasing after the fish-man with abandon.
As the beast remains stationary long enough to sink their teeth into Trevor, the WarCleric senses his time has come.
"Now DIE as you deserve to!"
Finnigan tries to get up to the landing because he can still shoot at them and plus he's worried about Zove.
"I don't like having my feet in the water!
"Aterro, no!!!" says Trevor as the priest strikes in his direction. He manages to fling the tadpole up in the air with a flick of his arm and avoids the priest's blow.
"Yeesh, you almost clunked my head out!" he shouts as he replaces his helmet and swings at the nearest tadpole.He thought of retreating, but Thor's servant was staying... So he stayed his ground. His wet ground...
"Ah! Khors guide my hand!"
Realizing he owns no missile weapon, and knowing his damage from a distance spell will also damage his comrades, Vrindel's frustration begins to show...
Vrindel gives up trying to convince the stubborn war cleric to play team ball, and concentrates on living.
Magic Stick thingee
Wooden Thwack.
Trevor shakes the creature off his leg giving it a fortunate flick with his foot that sends it flying toward Aterro who swings and connects with his maul crushing wing, cartilage and bone. This also sends the leaper right toward Vrindel standing at the base of the landing. The trollkin reacts quickly and a flurry from his staff finishes the poor thing off by caving in its toothy skull.
Ibrox safely scurries up to the landing and takes cover behind a barrel.
The wounded creature swims off into the safety of deeper water. Another floats dead next to Vrindel. The third, still hungry for a meal and not aware of how tenuous it's situation really is, leaps out of the water at Trevor. The young knight tries to duck out of the way, but the tadpole's aim and timing are perfect and it manages to latch onto his arm, immediately flicking its tail around to wrap him up.
Finnigan tries to leap up to the landing in a single bound, but instead steps on the slick, membranous wing of the floating dead water leaper. The slippery fish wing throws off the ranger's timing and he ends up right back in the shallow water next to Vrindel who suffers yet another spray of water from Finnigan's mishap.
Various muffled shouts, laughter, and then more urgent shouting can be heard from outside behind the double doors off to your right at the end of the big open area. The sound of footsteps thumping on the wooden landing beyond echo into the room, just as you leave all of the noise behind and follow the drake into the second room off of the entryway.
This room opens into what must be a main living area. A table, chairs, sit along one wall. There is a wood stove toward the back of the room. Several cabinets and shelves line the interior wall, while set up in the center of the room are several makeshift pallets covered in blankets and several small to medium sized bodies. The soft, rhythmic sounds of breathing drift from the pallets. The drake turns and stands protectively near the pallets.
A small silver bell and half empty bottle sit on the table along with a piece of charcoal and mortar and pestle containing some mix of ground herbs.
"Massster asked me to protect young ones.....while they sssslleep. Guard until returnsssss."
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"Volcano? Ha!" the Son of Odin calls back. "This is NOT a volcano. This is but three matches left out in the MAELSTROM of Thor's deluge. We shall speak of tactics when a foe worthy of CHALLENGE comes to face our STEEL."
As the druid comes to his senses and joins the GLORIOUS COMBAT, Attero hails him. "Ha! You see? Does not the blood sing in your veins faster? Are you not steeped in renewed vigor as the blood of your enemies flow?
Be at ease, Trevor. Though they find you extra tasty, I shall see that they feast upon you, no longer!" The great hammer of WAR again rises and falls like a blow from Valhalla.
= 21 damage *sign of the hammer*
From the safety behind a barrel, the gnome pulls out his crossbow. He loads and carefully aims at the creature, in case it survives Thor's hammer.
"DON'T!" says Trevor as he tries to get away from Aterro's target. As chance would have it, he manages to slip away and readies a strike in case the thing twitches still.
"Aterro, I swear by Khors, You will be the death of me!"
Trevor manages to slip away from the creature just as Aterro brings his maul down in another crushing blow. Again water sprays everywhere, but this time the water leaper tadpole is much less lucky. The lower half of its body it pulverized by the blow. Its left wing is mangled and broken and its tail only twitches limply in the shallow water. Stunned, but still alive, the leaper's short life is shortened even further when Ibrox finishes it off with a final killing blast that leaves it floating and quite dead at the feet of thoroughly soaked Trevor and Aterro.
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Aterro laughs heartily and joyfully. "Ha! Do you want to live forever, Paladin? Are you captivated by the thought of dying an old man, piled high with covers and surrounded by family? Is that what Khors teaches of? Ha! Such a fate is not for men of action, like us. 'Tis only to die with honor, with STEEL in hand, that vouchsafes us a place of respect in Valhalla.
Or perhaps you are just salty that there are none left for you to wet thine blade against? Ah, well, be of good cheer, beseems we have not seen the last claw raised in anger against us this day."
The WarCleric plungers his hammer in the growing wet to cleanse the filth of the monster from it, then stalks back to the millhouse, gazing upward.
"Have we heard from our little wizard yet?"
"Whatever." says Trevor as he puts out his hand to get help standing up. Soaked clothes and heavy mail made standing hard. As Aterro seems to ignore him and continue his talking, he rolls on all four and clumsily gets back to his feet, then picks up his helmet, empties it, and puts it on his head. The helmet immediately slides above the paladin's eyes and his shoulders sag.
"I'm bleeding everywhere..." he comments with a weak voice.
Once the last creature falls, Vrindel heads for the window.
At the loud War Priests gloating he only shakes his head... "Remind me at dinner to share the story of the Raccoon and the Fox".
"Come Sir Trevor. Let me see to that wound".
If there is a rope. Athletics (Climb). If not he'll call out for Zove.
"I'm getting worried about her... I'm not waiting for a a rope. Someone give me a boost, let me try this again..."
Finnigan will look about expectantly hoping for someone to make a cradle with their hands for him to step into.
Trevor sees hope again as Vrindel offers to have a look and sloshes forward to him: "Thanks. I feel dizzy... Hey wait! Where are you going?!"
With Aterro's assistance Finnigan manages to climb up and reach the window. A little extra effort kicking along the outside of the building and he manages to scramble inside ad disappears from the view of those down below.
The floor is a bit of a drop, but the ranger is able to safely make the short hop, the thud of his boots echoing in the quiet of the mill. Trevor's shouted question drifts up from below as Finnigan finds himself in an open, empty room, lit only by the window. A single stairway to the right goes down into the dark interior of the mill. There is no sign of Zove, but a strange clicking sound can be heard from the darkness below. After a few heartbeats it is easy to determine the sound is getting closer.
Suddenly the drake's head whips around and up toward the loft area with the window and several thumps are shortly followed by a louder thud. The drakes golden eyes suddenly whirl and glow with a deadly golden light. A growl from deep in its belly rumbles through the room as an eerie red glow emanates from it's open, tooth filled jaws.
"Intruderssss....must protect...."It says as it takes off back toward the stairs at a pace much faster than one might expect for such a large creature. The sound of fast moving, clawed feet tapping on the wooden floor echos back into the dark of the mill.
Trevor goes slightly green and turns to Vrindel with a needy look on his face...
"Let me see to the worst of your wounds anyway".
While the others are scaling the wall Vrindrel takes a moment to call forth some healing magic on Trevor.
Cure Wounds.
The Trollkin takes something smelly from his side pouch, spits on it, plucks a hair from Trevors head, slathers it on his worst wounds, and mumbles a few words of healing in a sing-song voice.
He then begins to head towards the open window, when he hears Zove's melodious voice from the side of the building with the latched doors.
"Come on this way. Let's make this easy".
Zove rushes after the drake and watches it disappear up the stairwell, its clawed feet ignoring the stairs altogether as it instead simply climbs up the wall and into the empty loft. The shadow fey quickly unbars the doors and throws them open to see a startled Ibrox standing just outside and Vrindel nearby healing Trevor. Aterro still stands below the window waiting for a sign or signal from Finnigan.
"Trespassssser. Leave hi near. Sssss...Baw harm na dilthen onesssss." It lets out a long angry series of hisses that you recognize might be words as Zove's shouts of 'Allies..." burst forth from downstairs."
Trevor hears Zove as Vrindel heals him: "Hmm... That feels much better." he says and bows deeply to the Trollkin.
He turns to the doors as they open with a big grin on his face: [b]"You found some survivors?"[|b] he asks, hopeful.
"My Pleasure".
Vrindel follows Trevor into the building, and hears the gruff threatening voice from above.
He looks at Zove...
"Who's that upstairs, and what little ones does he speak of"?
Vrindel looks almost excited... or at least that's what you think since Trollkin faces aren't the most familiar in the world.
"Really! I must meet him. It sounds like we have much in common. And what are these "Little Ones" he speaks of".
The big Trollkin then walks to the bottom of the steps, and hollars up in Sylvan. "Greetings Walker of the paths. I walk along side you... my name is Vindrel".
I've never met a Forest Drake though I've heard of them. This should be interesting.
There is a bright flash of orange light from upstairs followed by a short squeal and some garbled rapid talk which absolutely could not be considered begging for mercy. A bit of silence and then a few quiet, hissing words not quite loud enough to be heard below. A few moments later a rather rattled Finnigan comes walking down the stairs. His hands to out to his sides and one holding a short piece of burnt rope. The bottom edges of his short cloak trail thin wisps of smoke that fill the room with the smell of burnt, dirty cloth. But perhaps to the envy of some among the group... his boots seem quite dry.
Mere steps behind the scout, comes a sleek, green scaled, forest drake. Its golden eyes narrow at the sight of yet more trespassers in the mill and with a quick snort that sends another trickle of flame spurting near Finnigan's feet the creature moves down the stairs its nostrils working diligently as it gets closer.
It looks first at Zove and then for a few long heartbeats at Vrindel after he introduces himself. The creature gives a nod of acceptance toward Vrindel then proceeds to look over the rest of the party. Another long gaze lands on Ibrox, but eventually it moves on with seemingly no other interest in either Trevor or Aterro.
"More trespasssssers. But none gar- i rot ben undeath. Mín discusssss. Minn- a closssse fen." It says to Zove and Vrindel before turning to go back into the dark interior of the mill.
"Hey ! Watch it! I'm going I'm going!" fin says, dancing around the jets of flame licking his heals.. "I never meant to hurt your little ones! Not in the least! Um... guys? I think he's friendly. Sort of."
Trevor bows to the strangest creature he has ever seen in his short life. He is at a loss for words, for once, but his fear kicks in and triggers his Divine Sense, while he steps back as fire is nostril-projected.
Vrindel nods and looks at the others before answering in Sylvan.
"Just a minute guys. He wishes to speak with us alone. Please don't break or attack anything until we return at least". The last said with a firm glance at Brother Aterro.
Sylvan
"Thank you for trusting us forest brother. Let's start at the top. What happened here, what is happening here, and what can we do to help"?
With adrenalin and divine energy suddenly pulsing through his body, the drake's aura becomes clear to Trevor's eyes. The deep greens and earthy browns of the forest are highlighted with bursts and streaks of golden brilliance. The creature is powerful, loyal, and strong willed for certain, but nothing evil blemishes its aura.
Seeing some of the party linger by the door, the drake beckons again for everyone to follow.
"Ilya maime túl. Even i devil nur. Better ana tír- ar keep varna."
It leads the party back past the rune inscribed front door and into the living area Zove encountered earlier. With a quick, tiny puff of flame, the drake lights a pair of candles illuminating the scene for those unable to see in the dark interior of the mill. The cold wood stove sits in the corner near a table and chairs. Cabinets and shelves line the interior wall, while the center of the room is filled with several several makeshift pallets where several sleeping figures lie bundled in furs and heavy blankets.
On the table are a small silver bell, a half empty bottle, a piece of charcoal and a mortar and pestle that still contains a small portion of some finely ground mix of herbs.
Having provided the light, the drake carefully moves to the pallets where it gently pulls back one of the blankets to reveal the face of a small human girl. Likely around six or seven years old. As the party gets a closer look, there are a total of six children ranging from six to twelve or thirteen years old. All seem to be sleeping comfortably, and all have another rune marked in charcoal on their foreheads.
"Taurë nur's ar peler titta ones. Ni váre- yare theime lóre ar so...investigatesss...Peler. Better ana lóre than risk harna or ssssneaking eth. Manime days sí ar onlime rotted ones túl ana mardi. Vamme ssssinte mana happened -esse peler. Some túc- hini, maquen- help -o héru -o i taurë. Onlime ssssinte taurë héru worried ar agree. Maquen- Scorch ana tír- ar váre-. Cannot lende titta onessss, cannot hir héru." It says in the language most often used by fae and creatures of the deep forest.