GM PDK IRONFANG INVASION (Inactive)

Game Master Purple Dragon Knight

Gameplay thread. Dot and delete only for the moment. Thank you!

Campaign Start: June 24th.

Phaendar’s Market Festival draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas, many solely to hear Aubrin the Green—the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric—recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town.

“So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”

Crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, but eventually someone tops off Aubrin’s tankard and pushes her back into the center of the room. “All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay, Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“

The front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her. Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying.

Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone...

...Hobgoblins battle with townsfolk in every direction, and from the sounds of battle, the whole of Phaendar is under attack. Bodies lie on the ground everywhere, run through by hobgoblin blades and left where they fell. A wolf howls in the distance, its eerie cry echoed by the screams of the dying.

...such were the first moments that united the heroes together after weeks of monotonous guard duties and simple errands around Phaendar. They recall the moments that followed, fighting for their lives while carrying Aubrin over their shoulders. Going from shop to house, attempting a few acts of bravery, they were able to assemble a few residents, but before long, they were overwhelmed by the hobgoblin forces and had to evacuate the town, crossing the bridge, over the Marideth River. They managed to sustain Aubrin, preventing her to cross the threshold of death's door with the few minor healing tricks they knew, and hours later, the Caydenite was strong enough to manage a few words...

“It... it sounded like a whole army over there.. How... did they fall on us without being seen? These damn plains are so flat you can see an elk from two days off... let alone an army!” She winced and pressed her hands against the bloody hole in her chest. “They sound large. Too large to fight on the ground like honest fools. We need to gather what we can and hide out in the Fangwood. I—I know a few secrets that may keep us safe. Should probably figure out how to take down the bridge while we’re at it, else they’ll just march themselves across before we have the chance to hide.”

With the help of the refugees, now safely across the river, the heroes managed to bring down the bridge, signalling the end of their stay in Phaendar. A ceiling of smoke hung over the city, reflecting the orange glow from burning houses. Ash drifted in the air like falling snow. The screams of townsfolk had died away, leaving an eerie silence broken now and then by the howling of wolves or the harsh tones of the Goblin tongue. Bodies lay in the streets, sprawled in pools of blood where they had fallen. It seemed everyone else in town may have been imprisoned or dead except for the hobgoblin invaders. Phaendar had fallen.

Still, with each camp they built came the unavoidable hobgoblin patrols. The heroes also found bounty notices nailed on some trees in certain locations (See Slide 5 for 'Handout #1'). So they kept moving, pushing deeper and deeper into the woods until Jestyn spotted members of the Children of Stone—a troglodyte tribe that nominally controls a strategic corner of the Chernasardo-and followed them home! there, the canny elf discovered a relatively secure cave which could serve as a permanent base for the group of Phaendar refugees! so as not to risk detection, Jestyn backtracked to their current camp located two hours' march away, and announced the news to Aubrin and the rest of the heroes.

=========================

NOW...

Aubrin smiles. “We wouldn’t have made it this far without you newly minted heroes,” she says. “Everyone wants you to know how much we appreciate what you’ve done for us. We've seen you put your life at risks over the last few weeks and push your limits, gaining new skills and becoming true warriors... We’re going to keep pulling together until we find a place to call home. With you on our side, we will find that home, and it sounds like that cave is just what we need to regain some kind of normalcy! In the meantime, I’ve got something to show you.”

Aubrin picks up a staff and holds it upright in both hands. A crossbeam has been tied to the top of the staff and a green scarf hangs down like a banner. Two bristly pine branches lie across the top, tied down to the crossbeam with twine. “We decided we needed a symbol,” she says proudly. “Something to rally us. What do you think?”

See Slide 3 for a picture of the Hemlock Banner, and Slide 4 for pictures of the main NPCs you've gathered before leaving Phaendar (many more folks were rescued, but those are the named NPCs); Finally, please add your character's info in the Slide 2 table. Welcome to Ironfang 1: Trail of the Hunted!

"Can't stay in one place for too long, you know." Herman's grating voice squalshes Aubrin's positivity. "That's how they find you. Got to stay on your toes, keep your wits about you, never let down your guard." He spits in the dirt. "Cabbage-sucking hobgoblins. Probably in league with those disgusting faeries - how else could they have appeared in town without warning like that!? I tell you, that was fae magic they used!" He does not offer an opinion on the hemlock banner.

"You call that a banner?! OK! I will be quiet!" says Luke, big human male with large sword on his back.

Jestyln looked at the banner and thought a moment. "Maybe another crossbar and have the scarf form an X to show that we are out to cross out our enemies. It will also be easier for those loyal to us to show their alliance, by crossing their fingers on their right hand." he suggested.

Grenwold, as always, sat astride Ringo, the pair nearly inseperable. Despite the experience of having escaped Phaendar, and the inevitable bonding that had occured, Grenwold still kept his companions at arms length. He smiled sadly at Aubrin, "it's lovely, Aubrin." The scars on Grenwold's psyche were almost always apparent.

He adds, "it should remain recognizable, almost iconoclastic. Should we find survivors, they will need to know how to identify our holdings." He pats Ringo, who snuffs quietly. The scars on Ringo's hide demonstrate a life as dangerous as Grenwold's.

He peered at Herman, "perhaps it was the blighted fey, Arlantia's minions, and not the otherwise nice faerie folk."

Arthur listens to the others bickering for a minute before responding, "It's a nice enough symbol, Aubrin, but I wonder whether it will hold together when carried into battle? Perhaps we can use the symbol on a flag a bit more. . . conventional. Either way, it is a nice symbol. . ."

Arthur thinks for a minute of the banners he'd fought beneath in the past, of the companions he'd found and eventually abandoned in another life under another name in another place.

"I don't know much about fey," he muses, turning to Herman and Grenwold, "Are there nice fey? Are there some nice and some. . . not nice? I don't know. But I know some of hobgoblins. I know enough of hobgoblins to know that the best course is to kill them dead whenever and wherever you can."

Grenwold frowns, "yes. There are certainly some nice and some not nice. Blighted fey killed most of my family." He pauses, "they are among the least nice. They're technically fey, I guess, but they're... corrupted. I don't know how. I don't even know anything about Arlantia except they answered to her."

I like the banner. - says Dommer, in his more than usual grumpy manner. The Dwarf was antisocial even for Dwarven standards; he was stoic and focused, yet the others had already learned that a good heart was to be found in his core. They had seen the way he manages his bow with violent consequences to his enemies, and had seen he sitting peacefully in his corner, meditating or praying to Erastil.

While most dwarves preferred their up and close weapons, the monk used the unusual ranged weapon he had taken from orc enemies a long time ago. He loved nature and animals, and was a voice of reason from the background. Yet, he was shy, contemplative, and a loyal companion.

Another gnome with an animal standing hear him chimes in. "The banner looks great! A cave would be a good place to hide! My granddad was a deep gnome! He lived in a cave. It was nice and well swept. We can check it out!"

Over the last few weeks, Aubrin had bonded especially well with Dommer, Fizzlewumpit and Grenwold. She had barely held the group of refugees together while the heroes had taken care of scouting and fighting back the horde, and this time once more, the gnomes and the dwarf had shown support in her attempt to raise the refugees' morale and keep them from falling into despair.

@Dommer, Fizzlewumpit and Grenwold: So long as it is held high or hanging visibly, the Hemlock Banner grants you and the refugees a +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and saving throws against fear effects when within 30 feet.

Aubrin says, "The news Jestyn just brought to us is heartening! if our heroes here are successful in ousting the Children of Stone out of that cave, our little community stands a real chance of survival! What say you Jestyn? what say you heroes? are you optimistic that this could work? feel free to share any inspiring words with us homebodies! we may be doing your cooking and food gathering, but your battles are our battles as well, and if you think we have a chance, we'll redouble our efforts here to help support you on the battlefront!"

If the PCs embrace the banner and make some effort to build it into a common symbol for their group to rally around, they create a powerful identity for the survivors as a whole, who begin to stop thinking of themselves as survivors of a violent attack and instead adventurers, freedom fighters, or whatever other identity the PCs’ words and actions best describe. Each PC here can attempt a DC 10 Diplomacy, Intimidate, Perform (oratory), or Profession (soldier) check, and apply any bonuses you feel appropriate for good roleplaying (the GM will apply this bonus of +2 or +4 after the fact, based on roleplay and attention to details provided in the slides). Dommer, Fizzlewumpit and Grenwold have +5 to this check. Each success inspires one NPC follower, generating a promotion the PCs can use to increase a follower’s level. For every 5 by which a PC succeeds at her check, she generates one additional promotion. The GM will provide the total number of promotions achieved after everyone has provided their post, and the group can assign those as they wish in the Discussion thread (more to follow on that, when everyone is done posting their inspirational bits).

Fizzlewumpit calls out to Biter. "Come on buddy we have to rally these folks. Things need to get better so we know we'll have a good home!"

"Rah rah rah"

"No everyone likes to live in a hole! Fizzlewumpit turns away from Biter towards the other refugees. "Come on folks...we'll make the best of it." He turns to an old halfling woman. "Widow Proudfoot, you were the best baker in town. Why I can get Harell the dwarf can build you a stone oven to be the best baker in the new cave area!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Arthur scratches his chin considering the request, "What do we know about this Children of the Stone? Troglodytes- are those some of the not nice fey? Is there any intelligence or knowledge we could leverage before going into their territory unprepared? And can they be dealt with, or will they need to be dealt with?"

He strolls across the room to Aubrin, "Yes, we will secure the use of this cave and bring at least some safety to the people. We will carry this banner into battle, and make it the symbol of our freedom."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Arthur frowns after speaking: he was a soldier, and a warrior, but he's never yet been what he would call a "hero" or a "leader" and he doubted he was fit for the role, though if this was one more identity thrust on him, he would take it where it led him.

Clarifications: you are currently outside in the forest, having a discussion near over the dying embers of a campfire. Most of the refugees are packing, having understood that it is the time to relocate. You are not in a room, indoors or within a cave yet. A cave was spotted by Jestyn after he followed some troglodytes there using stealth. Based on Jestyn's intel, it is a defensible location with one main point of entry. He did not, however, sneak into the cave or go anywhere near it so as to avoid detection; therefore, you do not have a count on the enemy thus far.

"Very well, Arthur. We will pack everything here and get everyone ready for travel while you guys secure the cave. I will follow your tracks with the group in a few hours: leave a marker about halfway there and we will wait at the marker's location for your confirmation that the cave is secure before we continue to move forward. Good luck friends! may Cayden's luck be with you all!"

"Guys, take one of these. I've been brewing something fierce in preparation for this assault. May the rest of the gods be with you, if Cayden hasn't grown completely on ye yet!"

Each PC may choose one of the following: antitoxin or tanglefoot bag.

"**SIGH!** alright hotshots... come over here and gimme yer weapons. I'll giv'em a good sharpenin' 'fore you leave and risk yer necks again..."

Kining spends a good 5 minutes on one weapon for each of you. This weapon will inflict one additional point of damage for the next day, which should be enough for all the battles required to take those caves from them.

"Good luck friends! I've packed lunch and dinner for you all. Take care!"

Your food needs are taken care of for the next two days with this hearty food; your STR is considered 2 pts. higher for the purposes of encumbrance, and this extra food doesn't count towards your load.

"May the Old Faith be on your side during this battle. Here. Take some fragrant herbs you can chew if the smell of the trogs is too much to bear. This should help you bear most of the stench."

You can chew on these for four hours, in bites of one hour each (need not be consecutive and some portions can be saved for later). This provides +2 bonus against the trog's stench ability per portion chewed on; i.e. if you chew two portions, you get +4; three portions, +6, etc. but this means you will spend those multiple portions over the course of one hour. Chewing 3 or 4 portions at the same time disrupts speech and leads to a 20% chance to fumble a spell if that spell has a verbal component.

"You don't want to die, do you?" Herman looms over Rhyna like a shroud of ill omen. "Then you'll need to let go of any dreams you might be harboring of a bed, or walls, or safety. Tonight we are the hunted, like wild animals before savage beasts." He certainly seems like he would know about that, more twigs in his hair than many of the nearby bushes. "So remember, only the wary survive. The strong? They trust in their strength until it fails them. The wise? They try to ponder and find the best course of action and are easy prey. The quick? They run into a trap all the sooner. You only live if you never let down your guard. So don't forget it!"

Intimidate: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

The smiles brought by Fizzlewumpit Rumpwoggle's prospect of bread and bakery goods swiftly disappear upon hearing Herman's grim warnings. One by one, however, the men and women nod grimly, and steel themselves as they hoist their backpacks over their shoulders, readying themselves for the tough hike ahead.

Dommer tries to smile, awkwardly, to the commonfolk as they help the group prepare for the journey. He picks each item heartily and thanks, but he's just too antisocial to have a true charismatic impact. At some point, noticing he doesn't have the empathy of Fizzle neither the scariness of Herman, the monk starts to limit himself to tap people on the shoulder and try to give them comfort and reassurance.

You saw me' arrows before, gent. We will succeed and get us som' place tae' hide and defend as we structure our rebellion.

He looks solemn to the crude banner for moments, until speaking again.

That's how all o'them started. Slowly, with a bunch'a braves, some food and a big desire fah freedom. And they had fear, too - the invaders might be an advantage now, but they'd be careful not tae' underestimate the strength of our resolve.

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 3 + 5 ⇒ (7) - 3 + 5 = 9 Yeah, I know... Minus 3. Yay. Lol

"As long as I have something to fight in the cave, you guys will be OK! I like to fight!"

"And one more thing. Can we add some kind of sword to that banner, it will look much better?"

diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19

Luke will take antitoxin

Stepping over to the banner, Jestyn grasped it as he looked upward. "The pine cone is a symbol of growth and renewal. The mighty pine tree started from a lowly cone. We must nurture and preserve our group for it to grow and survive." he said, pointing to the cones.

"The two sticks that form the banner are lashed together, and are only as strong as the bindings. We must stick together if we are to survive." he said pointing to the lashing of the sticks.

"The scarf of green represents the protection of nature in our endeavor. To protect us and for us to use as cover to strike down our foes. We mush preserve it or other forests will wilt and die" he said, touching and kissing the scarf.

"The Hemlock Banner!" he said, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Antitoxin

Diplomacy, Untyped, unbreakable survivor: 1d20 + 6 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 5 = 22

Grenwold exhales, and begins to speak, his small voice adding to the crescendo of Jestyn, heard rarely in the last few weeks, except when he was issuing tactical orders, or in the form of grunts. His voice rises as he speaks, with vigor "We will carry it, Aubrin. We will carry it as we bring peace to the fallen. We will carry it as we bring hope to the hopeless. If it takes a hundred years - Nirmathas, and the Fangwood will know freedom again."

He takes the banner, and fastens it to his glaive, holding it above the others. "On my honor, this banner will not fall unless I can no longer draw breath." The dappled sun shines between the leaves of the great oak trees surrounding them, illuminating Shelyn's favored blade, and the banner. "What beauty has been destroyed - shall be restored. What peace has been disrupted - shall be renewed. What cruelties are visited on our loved ones - shall be ended." He raises it up further and says quietly, "for Phaendar!"

Gren thinks a moment when he hears about the troglodytes, and tries to recall what he can about their society.

knowledge (local): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

Grenwold takes the tanglefoot bag.

antitoxin

"Herman don't be so grim!" He rubs the badger's nose. "Come on, let's head to the trog's cave"

Arthur takes an antitoxin

Arthur fumes a bit at Luke's comment, "I don't see how a sword is relevant at all. In fact, I think you're the only one who even uses a sword. We cannot simply rush into battle- without proper planning and preparation even the lowliest of foes can prove deadly!"

Arthur listens to the others,= then nods to Fizzlewumpit, "Aye, I suppose we can discuss the plan as we travel then."

Jestyn accepted the gifts from Vane, Kining, Jet__, and Rhyna. "Thank you for the gifts. Some, I hope I will not need, but they will be handy none the less."

"Who needs planning?!" answers Luke to Arthur. "Fool!"

Dommer takes the antitoxin as well.

I bet you wish they had some nail polish fah gifts, huh? - says Dommer towards Jestyn, playfully - Yeah, I know, and I'll probably enjoy the food the most. Hah.

The Dwarf organizes his backpack and starts counting his arrows in preparation. He looks around the woods and plans on asking someone to cut some wood meanwhile so he can get the shafts ready later for more, as he anticipates he will lose some of his - even the durable ones.

He then starts planting some seeds in the soil, praying to Erastil as he does so, keeping the space of an arrow between them. He asks for the god's guidance and protection of his companions - but also for the protection of the people who will stay behind.

antitoxin

** spoiler omitted **

Also antitoxin.

Herman keeps a wary eye on the gnomes as the group prepares to depart. Too much like fae, those two. Spies? Unlikely - those vile little creatures do not seem to think of the future, unlike these gnomes. Still, one can never be too careful with faeries. Slinging the scaredy rabbit across his shoulders, he nods. "Let's go give everyone some false hope."

Grenwold nodded quietly as the others discussed, and when Arthur mentions that Luke is the only one who uses a sword, Gren says quietly "I use a sword, too."

He spends a little time training the experts in the town, showing them what skills and magic that he has. He knows a bit about many things, and his quiet instruction seems valued. He's always distant, however, as if his mind is on other things.

When they get ready to depart, Gren says to the others, "So. Troglodytes. Can we negotiate with them, or share the space? I don't want to hurt anyone... even if they are reptilian." He frowns, and shudders slightly.

Fizzle turns to Grenwold "I don't know if they'll leave the cave voluntarily. It's their home!"

The speeches done, Arthur took to checking his equipment one final time before they departed. Testing each blade in its sheathe to ensure it would neither fall out when not drawn, nor stick when drawn. He tested the sharpness of the freshly sharpened halberd, and tightened each strap on his armor. He stretched his arms and legs, going through a disciplined routine he'd learned in the monastery to prepare his body before combat. Finally, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, performing the mediation routine he'd also learned at the monastery to prepare his mind for combat.

His blue eyes snapped open, and he said half aloud, "I am prepared."

Realizing the conversation had continued around him, he stammered, "Does no one know about these creatures? I'd rather set a stealth assault up if we feel diplomacy will get us nothing, but if we think words have a chance, well, better to avoid drawing a blade for blood if one of your golden tongues could be as effective?"

"You've never heard of troglodytes? they are stinky creatures, and this is not a metaphor. The stench will make you gag and make your eyes water. Coexistence and diplomacy here is physically impossible. Be careful in your approach and steady your blade. Stealth is always the best approach in my opinion. A surprise attack will allow you to take a few of them down before they can mount a proper defense at least. If you're lucky, you can take down the guards quietly and proceed from one cave to another before they know what fell upon them. And words? the Children of Stone will make a meal out of you and laugh at your words. Several of my Chernasardo ranger buddies fell to that tribe along the years, and those who made it out speak in fear about the trog's cooking pots. These are no friends... Grenwold, Arthur... are you both sure you're ready for this? And Jestyn, yes: the location you reported fits the reports I've read in recent years. The leaders of these trogs are into some kind of evil cult worship. Arrive ready to kill, and don't hesitate."

"I like how this sounds Aubrin. I am ready as I can be!"

”Get your hands out of my stuff!” Herman pulls his pack up out of reach of Fizzlewumpit’s short arms and glowers at the gnome. ”And keep your foul fae tendencies to yourself!” He plucks a small, bewildered green frog from the folds of his bedroll and hurls it into the underbrush.

"Plan for battle then. We might want to see if we can thin their patrols before we go attacking them in their home." Jestyn suggested.

[b]"Do we have a map? Otherwise we'd best get near and scout to make our battle plan."[/b

Grenwold will map everything they see as they go - does he have an understanding of where the cave would be based on his geography, survival, etc, or was it already mapped?

Grenwold pauses, and adds quietly, ”I would like to talk to them, maybe the cave is big enough for all of us.” When she asks if he’s ready, he says, ”you’ve seen me fight. You know I will spill blood if necessary, but thirdhand reports are not always to be trusted.” He looks at his bloodstained glaive, ”I would just try to speak with them, first, nothing more. Maybe nobody tried speaking to them...”

Leaning into the Shelyn stuff a bit.

When Herman intimidates Fizzlewump, Grenwold approaches where the frog fell, and retrieves it, petting it, ”please do not throw animals, Herman.”

[b]"Do we have a map? Otherwise we'd best get near and scout to make our battle plan."[/b

Jestyn already scouted the location a few days ago, as per the posts above. It's basically located at the base of a wooded ridge, and it's all trees and dense forest until you get there.

Aubrin looks at Grenwold, "Not sure the rest of your friends will agree with that plan Grenwold. As for me, I won't live in a cave alongside troglodytes, sorry. So if that's what you heroes wish to do, I don't think I'll follow. I'm only speaking for myself though. What about the rest of you?" says Aubrin, turning to the refugees.

"No way I'm sharin' space with some stinkin' trogs. That gnome's got the wrong kind of shrooms in him. Hopefully he sweats those out 'fore y'all git to the caves..."

"That would... certainly put a strain on our resources..."

"I wonder if the reptilian creatures are familiar with the concept of freedom of religion? a conundrum if I must say so, this coexistence idea..."

"I agree with Aubrin. These are no mere random troglodytes. This tribe is dangerous and has been a thorn in the Chernasardo's side for decades. They consume their kills and adorn their homes with their bones, according to the ranger reports. If Jestyn found their hideout, it is an god-granted opportunity to strike and rid the forest of a dangerous evil. Moreover, the hideout will be filled with their leaders, while the brunt of the tribe would still be spread out at the four corners of the Fangwood... 'tis an opportunity that the Chernasardo rangers themselves would have loved to come across in the old days before the hobgoblin invasion..."

"I agree, no use becoming the main course at a Trog social. We will have to teach them the error of their ways, at sword and arrow point if needed." Jestyn said.