Shredder moves in to shred white.
As Telka calls upon Desna's grace, the same mists swirl around the unconscious kobolds beside him, who shake their heads as they return to consciousness. Banon appears to be all bark and no bite as his sword fails to back up his words, but Shredder manages to cut the kobold with two sharp talons. Alaric claws and bites at his own opponent, but one attack simply destroys another image while another just whistles through the air.
Round 4! Bold may act!
Black (-28)
Red (-26, Prone)
Tere (-5)
Jethro
Banon
Yellow (-10, Prone)
Alaric (-23)
Shredder
Telka (-21, -5 Strength 2/??)
Thran (-5)
Cyan (-13, Stable)
Orange (Blinded 1/??)
Grey (Blinded 1/??)
Purple (-10)
Green (-17, Demoralized 1/??)
Jethro sends another pellet of force at the opposing spellcaster while Thran skewers one of the kobolds on his new-found spear.
Alaric's opponent, bleeding visibly, steps back from the dinosaur-shaped druid. He points his staff again as if to unleash another bolt of lightning, then suddenly taps it against the ground...
...and Alaric falls for the feint, not noticing the tiny shovel in the kobold's hand as he tries to dodge a blast instead of jumping back from the hole opening at his feet...
...but the tricksy kobold has caught him by surprise, and Alaric falls hard onto the bottom of a rocky pit. The kobold to the south, eager to get away from Shredder, tries again to blind the dinosaur as she steps around Banon...
...but Shredder is too smart to be caught that way again and pulls his head back in time. Brought back from the brink of death by Desna's divine power, the revived kobold stands quickly and steps away from Telka before involuntarily belching another gush of flames at the cleric...
...but Telka turns his heavy armor to his advantage, blocking the worst of the blast with his shield.
Round 5! Bold may act!
Black (-30, 1 image)
Red (-28)
Tere (-5)
Jethro
Banon
Alaric (-31, Prone, 30 ft below ground)
Shredder
Telka (-24, -5 Strength 3/??)
Thran (-5)
Cyan (-13, Stable)
Orange (Blinded 2/??)
Grey (Blinded 2/??)
Purple (-10)
Green (-17, Demoralized 2/??)
Banon's target lets out one final squeak of terror as the half-orc cuts her down. Tere tries to do the same to the other kobold, but even with his wounds the creature is too nimble and dodges the blow. Thran's speech seems to light a fire under the miners' tails, and they come rushing out of the stairwell. Taking care to stay out of danger, the painted men and women hide around walls and the altar while chucking rocks and even a few bones at the remaining kobolds. The lizards are distracted by the onslaught, and some of the sharper projectiles sting their open wounds.
Round 5! Bold may act!
Black (-30, 1 image)
Red (-28)
Tere (-5)
Jethro
Banon
Alaric (-31, Prone, 30 ft below ground)
Shredder
Telka (-24, -5 Strength 3/??)
Thran (-5)
Cyan (-13, Stable)
Orange (Blinded 2/??)
Grey (Blinded 2/??)
Purple (-10)
Green (-32)
Shredder runs up next to Tere, and tries to remove red's spleen.
Alaric heals some of his wounds and examines his sunken surroundings as Shredder does as his name suggests, slicing open the recently-recovered kobold and removing his spleen. The miners cheer, some more enthusiastic at the blood and gore than others.
Round 5! Bold may act!
Black (-30, 1 image)
Red (-39)
Tere (-5)
Jethro
Banon
Alaric (-18, 30 ft below ground)
Shredder
Telka (-24, -5 Strength 3/??)
Thran (-5)
Cyan (-13, Stable)
Orange (Blinded 2/??)
Grey (Blinded 2/??)
Purple (-10)
Green (-32)
As Telka heals himself and Jethro bombards the remaining kobold with his spells, the caster quietly moves further behind the wall, only to pop out near Tere and Shredder!
The kobold whimpers from the pain of his wounds as he moves though, and the Pathfinders easily hear him coming around the corner. Stomping his foot angrily, the kobold unleashes another blast of electricity from his two-headed staff...
...but the bolt is less powerful this time, and even though Tere and Telka take the full brunt it barely seems to phase them. Shredder simply jumps around the bolt, while Thran ducks and only has the top of his head singed. The blinded kobolds near Banon huddle up, rubbing their eyes and listening very intently for anyone approaching. The miners fall silent as the lightning flashes, but Thran's words of encouragement bring them back into the fight after a moment.
Round 5! Bold may act!
Black (-33, 1 image)
Red (-39)
Tere (-16)
Jethro
Banon
Alaric (-18, 30 ft below ground)
Shredder
Telka (-18, -2 Strength 4/??)
Thran (-10)
Cyan (-13, Stable)
Orange (Blinded 3/??)
Grey (Blinded 3/??)
Purple (-10)
Green (-32)
Shredder moves up to get in the face of the spellcaster... thinking he looks a lot like lunch!
Shredder destroys the last of the kobold's images, and the fear on his face is readily apparent.
Round 5! Bold may act!
Black (-33)
Red (-39)
Tere (-16)
Jethro
Banon
Alaric (-18, 30 ft below ground)
Shredder
Telka (-18, -2 Strength 4/??)
Thran (-10)
Cyan (-13, Stable)
Orange (Blinded 3/??)
Grey (Blinded 3/??)
Purple (-10)
Green (-32)
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Alaric looks up, and wonders the best way to get out of there. He then thinks, 'I don't have to be a dinosaur. What else can I be? A leopard! That will work.'
Alaric wild shapes into a leopard, and climbs up 20'.
Alaric Ysande
Male human (Mwangi) druid 5
NG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +1; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +11
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+1 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 natural)
hp 43 (5d8+15)
Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +7; +4 vs. fey and plant-targeted effects
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft., climb 20 ft.
Melee bite +8 (1d6+5), 2 claws +8 (1d3+5)
Special Attacks wild shape 2/day
Druid Spells Prepared (CL 5th; concentration +8)
. . 3rd—greater magic fang (2)
. . 2nd—barkskin (2), resist energy
. . 1st—cure light wounds (2), endure elements, faerie fire
. . 0 (at will)—create water, detect magic, read magic, stabilize
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Statistics
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Str 20, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 8
Base Atk +3; CMB +8; CMD 20
Feats Dodge, Natural Spell, Power Attack, Toughness
Traits deft dodger, natural negotiator
Skills Climb +17, Diplomacy +5, Fly +5, Handle Animal +9, Heal +9, Knowledge (geography) +5, Knowledge (nature) +11, Linguistics +3, Perception +11, Ride +6, Spellcraft +7, Survival +13 (+15 to avoid becoming lost), Swim +9
Languages Ancient Osiriani, Azlanti, Common, Druidic, Osiriani, Polyglot, Sylvan
SQ nature bond (deinonychus named Shredder), nature sense, trackless step, wild empathy +5, woodland stride
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Special Abilities
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Animal Companion Link (Ex) Handle or push Animal Companion faster, +4 to checks vs. them.
Climb (20 feet) You have a Climb speed.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in dim light, distinguishing color and detail.
Natural Spell You can cast spells while in Wild Shape.
Nature Sense (Ex) A druid gains a +2 bonus on Knowledge (nature) and Survival checks.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Scent (Ex) Detect opponents within 15+ ft. by sense of smell.
Share Spells with Companion (Ex) Can cast spells with a target of "you" on animal companion, as touch spells.
Trackless Step (Ex) You do not leave a trail as you move through natural surroundings.
Wild Empathy +5 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.
Wild Shape (5 hours, 2/day) (Su) Shapeshift into a different creature one or more times per day.
Woodland Stride (Ex) Move through undergrowth at normal speed.
Telka's mystical starknife cuts the kobold down, and as a leopard pokes its head over the head of the pit it sees his still form on the ground. As the two remaining kobolds regain their sight, the miners whoop and holler and chase them off with thrown rocks and bones.
The Pathfinders take a few moments to catch their breath and inspect their surroundings in more detail now that the immediate threat is gone.
The miners collect themselves again, pride and hope and relief on their faces. One steps forward and exclaims, "You saved us! Did the praetor send you? I knew he wouldn't let us die out here!"
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Jethro huffs and puffs, catching his breath. "Those kobolds were dangerous. I'm glad we bested them. Are the rest of you alright?"
Looking around the area, Jethro notes that the altar - now defaced - was once dedicated to Torag, head of the dwarven pantheon. "Telka, my friend, do you see this? Terrible. We should try to restore it if we can. Perhaps you could say some dwarven prayers over it once we get it cleaned up?"
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"I feel tired as hell. Good spell ya got there. Woulda been a waste of energy cutting those last two down." Banon agrees between deep breaths.
"Shame about the Torag thing. You need something lifted, let me know. Meanwhile, take a look over here." Crouching over the bone pile, he points on finger to different individual bones. "The big ones are probably ancestors of that thing that attacked in the night. The humanoid ones are recent. Looks like those damn lizards were sacrificing a lot of poor bastards."
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Telka eventually struggles his way to his feet.
Oof, that was tough. He looks over at the altar.
Ack, that is a crying shame what they have done here. He looks around, It would be good if we could do something about this but I dont think we are safe here.
Some of those bones are old but some are much more recent.
He looks over to the miners, Yes, we are here on behalf of the Praetor and the Pathfinder Society. We need to get you lot out of here and soon.
He looks over the altar to see if it might be possible to at least clean it up a bit before we have to leave.
As Jethro and Telka inspect the altar, they find a leather satchel bearing the Glyph of the Open Road leaning against it. The satchel does not detect as magical, but upon opening appears to contain far more space that should be possible from its size. Inside are a bottle of clear liquid, a jar of gritty grey salve, a field journal, and the overpowering smell of spoiled trail rations from over a dozen rotting packets of food.
The miners murmur appreciatively. "Never heard of this 'Society', but we're sure glad you showed up when you did," the talkative one says. "As for how many kobolds, probably hundreds. Not sure where the rest are right now - probably inside, or still out patrolling the jungle. Let's not stick around and wait to find out. Do you know the way back to Fort Bandu?"
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Jethro lets his comrades know that they have found an elixir of vision and some stone salve. "Who could make the best use of this elixir? I reckon we should hold the salve in case any o' us gets petrified, though I can't say it fills me with reassurance to know that whomever this satchel belonged to was worryin' about that... Now that I think about it, I wonder if this mighta been Sharrowsmith's bag?"
The journey back through the jungle is much less eventful than the trek in, and after two mornings the Pathfinders arrive at the gates of Fort Bandu. As the miners cheer and embrace their loved ones (or a bottle of booze) again, Praetor Sylien strides out to meet the adventurers with open hands. "Welcome back, Pathfinders," he says graciously. "If you could, I think my office is a better place for a discussion."
--------------------------
"Now then," he states once everyone is inside, "patrols are reporting a sudden withdrawal of the kobolds. With their raids less frequent - and even some folks taken and returned to us - the people of Fort Bandu are ready to hold their ground against whatever the wilderness throws at us. You have our gratitude for your assistance, and my apologies for doubting you." He bows, then straightens. "If I may be so bold, I do not see Nieford with you. Where do you intend to head next?"
"The Krihirik?" Sylien replies. "They're a tribe of grippli - the frog-folk - that live just northwest of here, outside the Bandu Hills. We often have a member of the tribe visit here several times a year to barter for food and gemstones." His brow furrows as he squints at the map on the wall. "If I remember correctly, their last trader left yesterday morning. Odd - Valacosti sent me a note only an hour later saying urgent business had come up and he had to leave. Scouts reported him heading to the northwest as well."
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The journey from Fort Bandu to the Kaava Lands is oppressively hot, but it gets easier as the days go on and the terrain transitions from rugged foothills to open grasslands before giving way to dense jungle. Following the directions from Praetor Sylien, it is not difficult to find Krihirik village, which lies approximately ten miles inside the jungle's border - and twenty feet off the ground. Narrow rope bridges connect a few dozen tree-dwellings overhead, forming a small, but secure community. Bright-skinned, bulging-eyed gripplis go about their daily business nearby. Crates and sacks of trade goods litter the jungle floor, and several gripplis busily inspect a bundle of swords, throwing down their spears and nets in favor of freshly forged steel.
A blue-and-brown-skinned grippli in practical traveling clothes bounds forward and holds out his webbed hands in welcome. "More visitors come to trade with the Krihirik?" he asks. "You are most welcome here, htough I fear we have little to offer at this time. Or perhaps there's some other reason you came all this way?"
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Jethro looks around the grippli village with interest. He has not seen such a community before and he has no doubt that his notes may be valuable for a future monograph he is planning.
When the blue/brown grippli greets them, Jethro is hesitant to speak - diplomatic ventures have never been his strong suit - but he looks around for any sign of the orb they seek, careful not to disturb the social customs of the village.
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As they approach the village Telka steps forward.
Hello, yes, we were looking for the tribe called the Krihirik. It is good to see that we have found you. The journey has been long and hot he says mopping his brow. We are looking for a friend of ours, a dwarf by the name of Nieford Sharrowsmith, we believe he came this way and may have visited your people. Might you have any news of him?
The grippli stares blankly at Telka and Thran. "You are the first dwarf to visit the Krihirik in some time," he says finally. "And I do not remember a Neiford Sharrowsmith visiting us in any case - and with a name that long, I think I would." He glances around again at the Pathfinders. "Now, is there anything else that brings you to our village? If not, I have quite a bit of work to do..." He glances at the crates and sacks stacked nearby.
The grippli smiles at Tere, but shakes his head. "Unless you're better at climbing than you look, there's unfortunately not much you could do," he says gently. "No offense intended."
When Jethro mentions an orb, the grippli's eyes furrow in confusion, then widen in surprise. "An orb... Oh! If that is why you are here, you must speak with the elders. Come, I will take you to them." He whistles sharply, and several smaller gripplis on the catwalks above hurry over to lower a tall ladder from the trees to the jungle floor. "I'll meet you at the top," he says, hopping over to a nearby trunk and scampering up.
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At the top of the ladder, the Pathfinders see rickety rope bridges connecting half a dozen tree houses to one other - though several on the north side of the village appear overgrown and abandoned. Their grippli guide, who introduces himself as Gwellik, takes them to the largest dwelling overlooking a small pond. Inside, three gripplis with mottled gray-brown skin are passing a finely-crafted short sword back and forth, cooing in admiration. "Elders," Gwellik interjects, "these strangers seek an orb among us." He turns back to the Pathfinders. "This is Mother Bogwynne, our lorekeeper and chief elder. With her are Finyik, the hunt-master, and Diblop, the chief brew-mistress and miracle worker."
Mother Bogwynne, the largest of the gripplies, slowly gets to her feed and hands the sword to the trader. "Thank you Gwellik. You have done well in our time of need, bringing both weapons and travelers from afar to lend aid to the Krihirik." She pauses and looks over her guests in the meetinghouse. "So, you see a weapon to fight against the guardian of the Bandu Hills? Word of our tribe's secret seems to have reached many ears of late. The Krihirik have such an object, but it is a treasured possession, entrusted to us long ago - one we could not surrender lightly. However..." She looks to Finyik, the hunt-master, whose old bones creak as he gets to his feet to speak.
"We are fewer in number with each season," the old grippli croaks, "for we are hemmed in by enemies on all sides. Those who would seek our remaining weapon would do well to bring us one in return, and this is the same opportunity we gave to those who came before you. Travel to Deepblood Ridge, where two beasts of the Kaava Lands reign, and bring back one or more of their eggs. These we can nurture as our own, far from the hungry talons of the lizardfolk who fear the beasts and would eat their young. Do this while surviving the dangers of our forest home, and you shall have our gratitude and our respect."
Finyik sits down, and Diblop, by far the oldest and grayest of the three, speaks. "The great scaled ones are mighty creatures, the king and queen of the Kaava Lands' many beasts. But the lizardfolk - may curses haunt their breed to the ends of the jungle - chased them off, leaving the nest vulnerable. Now is the time to strike! Those who can defy the lizardfolk and aid us now will be most fit to wield the weapon the dwarves gave us so long ago and end the vile guardian's threat once and for all."
The three elders look at the Pathfinders expectantly.