Mac's features shift subtly, giving his face a vaguely lupine appearance, and he begins sniffing the air as he leads the way toward the oak trees slowly and quietly..
Grevayne follows a short ways behind Mac; he's not nearly as stealthy, and doesn't want to give the shifter's position away with his plodding feet.
Mac easily finds bloody drag marks in the dirt, leading into a fissure in a hillside. He recognizes giant beetle tracks among the drag marks.
"Beetles," Mac says in a surprisingly quiet voice. "Big. In there. Careful."
He slips through the fissure into whatever is beyond.
Grevayne's eyes widen. He turns back to Freyja and mouths incredulously, Beetles??
He turns back to Mac and follows him into the fissure.
Freyja sends her ioun torch spinning around her head, draws her bow and nocks an arrow, then follows, waving Trjega along.
The fissure is only about four feet tall, requiring you all (but Trjega) to crouch as you follow it into the hill. After about twenty feet of twisty, downward sloping tunnel, the fissure opens into a small cave littered with a dozen cream-colored egg sacs, each the size of a human head. An irregular clacking noise from the back of the cave. As soon as you enter the cave, you hear a terrible screeching sound, and Grevayne sees two large beetles rushing at you.
Not much to tell. They hit hard and their critical causes bleed and staggered. Immune to mind-affecting.
Grevayne (69/69 hp)
Beetle 1 (0 damage)
Beetle 2 (0 damage)
Freyja (72/72 hp)
Trjega (52/52 hp)
Mac (77/77 hp)
Bold may act.
Grevayne strides forward, sending power into his fists as he moves, and begins moving his right hand in a swift, twisting motion as he utters an incantation. more Grevaynes split off from him, and with a quick step, the original Grevayne is lost in the cluster.
The two beetles scurry up to Grevayne, mandibles clacking and dripping. They both lunge forward to bite, and just like that, two of Grevayne's images are gone.
Grevayne (69/69 hp, 3 images)
Beetle 1 (0 damage)
Beetle 2 (0 damage)
Freyja (72/72 hp)
Trjega (52/52 hp)
Mac (77/77 hp)
Bold may act.
Freyja runs into the darkness, until a beetle appears in the light shed by her ioun torch. "Trjega, attack!" she yells, as she fires her arrow at #1.
Trjega rushes past Mac and Freyja and launches herself at #1.
Mac runs forward and leaps into the air past Freyja, morphing into a massive Dire Wolf as he flies, and lands in front of a beetle to take a massive bite out of it.
The animals make the humanoids look bad. Maybe Grevayne can redeem them!
Grevayne (69/69 hp, 3 images)
Beetle 1 (25 damage)
Beetle 2 (0 damage)
Freyja (72/72 hp)
Trjega (52/52 hp)
Mac (77/77 hp)
Bold may act.
Grevayne settles into Dragon Style and goes to tie up the second beetle in a ... head?... lock.
Grevayne gets #2 in a death grip. Both beetles try to bite (Trjega and Grevayne, respectively), but both miss; however, one of Grevayne's images pops.
Grevayne (69/69 hp, 2 images, grappled)
Beetle 1 (25 damage)
Beetle 2 (0 damage, grappled)
Freyja (72/72 hp)
Trjega (52/52 hp)
Mac (77/77 hp)
Bold may act.
Freyja sends three arrows at #1.
Trjega's first arrow sails harmlessly over #1's head, but the second and third finish it off.
Grevayne (69/69 hp, 2 images, grappled)
Beetle 1 (48 damage, unconscious and dying)
Beetle 2 (0 damage, grappled)
Freyja (72/72 hp)
Trjega (52/52 hp)
Mac (77/77 hp)
Bold may act.
Trjega steps forward to bite #2.
Grevayne goes to snap one of the beetle's many limbs, but miscalculates due to the bug's unusual shape, and it slips out of his grip. He curses under his breath.
Mac hustles around the outside and comes into a flanking position behind the beetle, lashing out with a bite.
Mac tears into #2, spewing green ichor. The beetle bites back, eliciting a yelp of pain from the shifter .
Grevayne (69/69 hp, 2 images)
Beetle 1 (48 damage, unconscious and dying)
Beetle 2 (22 damage)
Freyja (72/72 hp)
Trjega (52/52 hp)
Mac (62/77 hp)
Bold may act.
Mac bites back at the bite-back, trying to tear this stupid beetle into pulp.
Mac's second bite tears the beetle's head clean off.
Near the back of the cave, you find what remains of the Rangers, along with the hobgoblins that they were fighting. They are being feasted upon by the beetles' young, 11 immature larvae that feebly come at you but have no hope of hurting you.
Freyja calls Cirieo deeper into the cave. He hangs his head when he sees the carnage, then hobbles over to the larvae and begins squishing them one at a time with his crutch. Freyja wordlessly begins to help. Trjega eats one or two.
Among the bodies, you find:
- 6x longbow
- 56x arrow
- 5x dagger
- 8x longsword
- Boots of elvenkind
- Necklace of small silver skulls (85gp)
Mac, still in wolf form, bites into one, then immediately begins gagging and hacking until he spits up in a corner, then begins licking furiously to get the taste out of his mouth.
Grevayne quietly offers to help Cirieo bury his companions outside the cave.
Cirieo nods and the party goes about the gruesome task. Separating the parts is difficult and time-consuming; all in all, it takes you the rest of the afternoon to complete it. When it is done, Cirieo thanks you. His normal halfling enthusiasm is muted. "I have been with the Rangers a long time and death is a part of the life. But what I have seen over the past weeks is something else. This enemy is cruel and without honor."
"Entirely," Grevayne agrees. "And it seems to be something inborn. I have been prisoner to hobs on two continents, and both treated me with equal cruelty."
Mac reluctantly shifts back into human form and adjusts his tent-pants, strapped to his legs with extra hemp rope. It looks beyond absurd, but the shifter does his best to maintain a serious demeanor throughout.
Freyja's face darkens, as it always does at the mention of hobs. "They are vicious and remorseless. Irredeemable." Her knuckles turn white as her grip on her bow tightens and her jaw clenches. Then Trjega rubs up against Freyja's leg, and she comes back to herself. She absently pets Trjega's head as she looks to the sky. "There is just enough daylight left to get to the spot where we are to meet Herge. Shall we?"
Grevayne makes a sweeping gesture as if to say, Lead the way, and falls in behind the ranger.
Mac looks curiously at the graves, then nods. Returned to the cycle. It is good. Better than burning. Trees will be happy, grass will be happy. Grass will feed the game, the game will feed the wolf, and the wolf will feed the grass on death. It is good.
He follows Grevayne and Freyja happily.
It's only another hour hike or so until you reach the clearing where you found the scorched trees and charred Ranger bodies. It seems like months ago but it truly was only a week.
Cirieo never complains but it definitely seems like the overland travel and all of the emotional stress is getting to him.
When they stop, Mac points at Cirieo's missing leg and says "Grik malghaich, tememn?"
Grevayne turns to Cirieo. "He's asking if he can take a look at your wound for you."
Cirieo blinks, momentarily caught off guard, then shrugs and sits on a log and begins unwrapping his dressing. The wound is approximately three weeks old and was surprisingly well tended. The risk of infection has passed and new skin is beginning to grow over the stump.
Mac inspects the wound, continuing to speak in Sylvan while Grevayne translates.
"Bad-smell wound not a threat. Should heal okay, but long walking is bad for it. We have sled-thing, we should use it for you. Healing takes longer if you walk much, cause more pain."
Grevayne shrugs and begins setting up camp. He refrains from building a fire, however, despite the chill. Something about building a campfire in the middle of a scorched wood seems in poor taste.
"He may be right," he says as he works. "I do not know much about healing, but it makes sense that a lot of walking would aggravate it. You should use the stretcher instead of walking. We have quite a ways to travel to get back to Hearthstone."
Cirieo nods sadly. "Yes, I must admit I have been trying to do too much. I am weary. I will submit to the sledge tomorrow." He casts his eyes downward.
Grevayne clears his throat. "Do not be too hard on yourself. It is admirable, wanting to be able to rely on yourself. I daresay in time you will do so again. But you must also know when to let others help you. Lost leg or no, I have no doubt you will be independent again soon enough. You seem a stubborn fellow. I like stubborn." He returns to setting up the camp.
Once everyone has sat down to eat, he looks around the ruined forest. "Cirieo, what color did you say the dragon was?"
Cirieo winces and grabs his leg, as if the mention of the dragon caused him to relive the grievous injury inflicted by it. "Black. Relatively young but, if you know dragons, you know that even the young ones are capable of great destruction. Ristin can attest to that."
The dragon is likely Ibzairiak, coloquially known as Scar-Maker. He earned the moniker when he left alive most of a hunting party meant to kill him, but with horrific suppurating wounds, acid-blinded eyes, and extensive burns. As to why he is working with Ironfang, you can only guess that they are paying him well.
Grevayne blanches. "Best bet is Ibzairiak, which is bad news for... well, everyone. He likes to maim his victims instead of killing them. Acid burns to the eyes, pus-spewing wounds, terrible burn scars. Taking your leg is right in line with his style. There is a reason he is called 'Scar-Maker,' after all. The Ironfang must be paying a tidy sum for his services."
He stares at his food for a moment, suddenly not terribly hungry. "I have never fought a dragon before. They are resistant to mundane attacks, moderate arcane talent, and a manipulation of shadows, as well as potent acid breath. If I had to guess, I would say a young adult. More than capable of serious destruction, especially with an army at his back." He shakes his head. "Normally I relish a good fight. Dragons, though... Dragons were never on my agenda."
He does have to pause and wonder how epic it would be to wrestle a dragon, however...
Mac seems unconcerned about the the talk of horrible maiming dragons and Ironfang armies, chewing happily at a hunk of cold deer haunch from yesterday. It probably helps that he can't understand a word they're saying.
"I wonder if Kining can make magical arrows. If not, I may have a hard time hurting it." She shakes her head. "We know we will be facing it, whether we are ready or not. We need to prepare as much as we can."
"Agreed." He lets himself get lost in his thoughts after that, not finishing his meal, simply staring off into the encroaching darkness. How in the Hells do you train to punch a dragon? It feels a bit odd, thinking about fighting the very creature after which his combat style was named. As illogical as he knows it is, it feels a bit like fighting fire with fire. Do not forget to ask Kining about mithral and cold iron rings. Adamantine might be a hard sell with resources being what they are, but mithral might be doable. Not that either will be of help against a dragon, but the dragon is not the only foe in our path. Cold iron rings would have been very helpful in our battles in the fort. Maybe Oona would still be alive... A stupid thought; of course she wouldn't be. She was dead before any of them even had a chance to react. But the thought persists nonetheless.
He mulls it over as he watches the stars arrive in the sky.
Freyja spends a few hours training Trjega's new trick before turning in. She is anxious to get back to Hearthstone, but, truth be told, she's enjoying the quiet night in the forest knowing that they will just be waiting for Herge. No need to get up with the sun and pack up camp and rush off to the next encounter with danger and death.
Cold and misty. Seems like at least half the late fall/early winter days are just cold and misty. At least it's not a downpour?
Grevayne practices forms for as long as he can, until he collapses, exhausted, after a few hours. He's never been good with idle time; there was never idle time on the road with Wu. They were always walking, camping in the woods, and walking again as soon as they woke up. They never stayed in a town longer than a day or two. Add to that his impulsive nature, and it means the dhampir can rarely sit still. Alcohol is usually required, and they don't have that.
So he exercises himself to exhaustion and plops down under a dead tree to rest.
Mac watches Mal-Skend run around and punch and kick the air for a very long time, wondering why he does that. It looks like a lot of work. Is he angry at the air? Punching it seems like a stupid way to get back at the air, if he's angry at it.
Freyja continues training with Trjega. Now that the lynx is adept at fighting, Freyja is keen to teach her how to surround an enemy with Grevayne and Mac.
You are all going about your various tasks to kill time when suddenly Herge is just there. You marvel at how quietly the enormous giant is able to move through the forest; none of you had any idea he was coming.
You all gather around. Herge looks at the new party makeup quizzically. "Where is the rock woman? And her wolf?"