The vines collapse in a shredded pile of strings and leaves. Twitching briefly before settling into death. The rest of the entangling vines return to normal plant life, unaware of the brief struggle for live and death that has just terminated with the destruction of one of them.
Sorogar straightens up and draws the last of Krokkin's wounds to herself through their bond. Then, she places her Falchion back into its scabbard and does a series of hand gestures while muttering an incantation to the First.
She blinks at the unexpectedly large effect of the prayer, and turns around to see Brujah on her shoulder desplaying what can only be described as a s%#+-eating grin. Well, for a bat. The shaman only rolls her eyes.
"Well fought, everyone. I can see my trust in you was warrented. Mostly. Surely the Skyfather would be pleased by this display of strength."
She looks around, reorienting herself. "I suppose we should continue to go north to seek out the mountains. Do you agree?"
Mosely wipes down his sword and then sheathes it. He shrugs and says, "One assassin vine won't be the last awful thing that tries to eat us. Nothing to do but keep moving."
The group continues to move forward into the grove through the now empty tunnel like construction of vegetation. This grove is about 200 yards wide and at one end of it stands several large elk like creatures observing your entrance. It is obvious from their stances that they have seen man before but aren't worried about you much.
A stream cuts through the grove about 75 yards in with gentle idyllic ripples along its surface. Small bits of vegetation are flowering across the grove and some even dangles in the water as it flows by. The sound of birds and insects dominate this peaceful scene with a dull roar of participation. It seems a bit at odds with what has just occurred with the carnivorous plant fiend.
[dice=Knowledge (nature), favored terrain]1d20+7+2
As the groups starts to move forward Krokkin's head keeps turning this way and that scanning for threats and movement. The moment of fatigue and weakness have passed. He is so intend on looking for movement that he doesn't see what is in front of him. A clinking sound is heard as his foot kicks a small bag. He shouts in alarm as he jumps in the air spinning and slashing out at where his foot was moments ago. He lands a few feet away poised and ready to attack again before he realizes what happened. On the ground was a small sack cut in half and a couple of copper pieces. He then notices that there is more than one pile
Beware of the piles He says gruffly as he begins to look at the pile that startled him.
Warren chuckles, as he peels off the limp vines from around his feet and torso, and sheathes his rapier, "Well that was something, wasn't it? Glad I had such a powerful team to keep me alive! Plants...are not my specialty."
Warren looks around and raises an eyebrow. "I must've gotten turned around in that fight. Which way are the mountains?" As he speaks he equips his heavy crossbow and loads a bolt.
Seeing Krokken tumble over the remains and gear of an apparent humanoid, Sorogar puts two and two together. "Ah, right. We could try searching the remains of this plant's earlier victims before we go. Perhaps they carry something useful."
She starts to search the area carefully for remains, probing with her Falchion in deep undergrowth.
"'Beware the piles'? Do the remains of the dead startle you, o mighty warrior?" she asks Krokken along the way, grinning.
She blinks at Warren's question. "That way, of course? Anyone would know that. Right, Sir Mosely?"
Krokkin growls low at Sorogar and continues moving forward. No reason to reply.
"Looks like the plant has had some previous prey," says Mosely as he picks up his machete and switches back to trailblazing. "If there's anything useful or identifiable, take it along."
You search the area thoroughly and turn up a helm from a suit of armor(m) and 2 silver pieces.
You enter the grove and the elk perk up their heads but do not run until you get much closer.
You continue on in a generally northern direction until the light from the noon day sun begins to fade. You know that you need to return to the caravan before you get to far. You will need to report on the grove and the presence of carnivorous plants in the area. Your information on your quarry and what likely waits for you there will be of use as well.
Not being sure who Moseley was talking to, and not seeing anyone else pick through the belongings, Warren whistles for Fencer who trots up to him now that the coast is clear. Warren stows the machete, the silver, and the gem in the pack saddle.
Warren begins constructing a poem to remember all the information they'd learned...and failing.
Krokkin picks up the 14 silver and the machete and continues to look thru the area. He picks up the helm and after a moment of inspection puts it on. Then after another moment he takes it off and tosses it to the ground. He picks up the two silver next to the helm and then catches up to the rest of the group.
The party heads back and the sun fades behind the horizon of trees just as you reach a roaring noisy camp.
Large fires have been established and the animals have been picketed or caged. A few remain in their tracings not yet done with the labor of the day. You find a place to "drop home" near a semi-large fire near the edges of the camp.
Large parties of people move in and out of the firelight and shadows as the camp contains its hustle of tired marchers from a tedious day.
Several of the cages now have new and oft times frightened occupants. Several smaller creatures dart along the tops of the tents,caravan, and nearby treetops. Their chattering sounds almost like a language to the untrained ear.
One of the cages contains a large orange beast with enormous ears and a blunted nose. It squeaks as it paces its confines. Occasionally it buts its head against the bars which results in a rapid electrical light rushing up the confinement and disappearing in the air above.
Another enclosure contains several smallish birds. This container is a mere 5ft square in diameter. They hoover and flit and sing back and forth. One answering the other in a rapid yet logical sequence of chirps, burps, and other sounds. "hijitruiuluiioi" sings one with a bright plume and another sounds back with "jitiyuhgil."
The ogre "commander" finds you among the cages. Report! It took you long enough to get back to camp I began to hope you had been eaten or lost. Well, what have you got to say for yourselves? bellows the brutish lout.
Several snickers of laughter follow from his herd of fauning cohorts. Glancing around you notice that he has almost 50 followers in his group. Most are of mixed races but you notice a few figures hanging at the fringes almost appearing hypervigilant. Around you the camp remains noisy and loud much like many military camps you have seen.
The direction we were sent did not have much in the way prey today.
Send us in a better direction next time. Krokkin growls as continues heading to the area of the camp with his tent.
"Just angry plants trying to choke the life out of us, and the remains of their previous victims. Sounds like you've caught quite a few people."
What you mean people? All we got are creatures! berates the ogre. Again laghter erupts from his crowd.
Mosely wanders over to the cage from which growls emerge.
"Who do we have in here?" he says. Due to his short stature he doesn't need to kneel down to look. He leans left and right to try to see what's responding to the chirping birds with growls.
Small creatures looking something like a small ferret or weasel with yellow and black fur fill the enclosure. There are three of them and they alternatively sit up and growl and bark as the birds chirp.
Distracted by the odd behavior of the animals, Sorogar doesn't spend too much time answering the Ogre. He didn't seem to be in a particularly listening mood anyway, if such a thing was ever true for one. "We didn't find much. There is a tranquil grove a bit up north behind a curtain of assassin vines. When we got there, we felt something was wrong about it. We may be better off leaving it as it is. In my experience, the woods have many powerful guardians and spirits. One of them is him."
She scratches her tiny glowing bat behind the ears, and he makes a screeching purr. "You are the commander, however. Do with this information as you will."
Leaving the commander behind, she moves to the cages of the frantic birds. "This again... they speak some kind of language, the same as Flit, I think. But what is it...?"
Suddenly, Brujah flies from her shoulder and levitates right in front of her face, flittering left and right. From their bond, she sense a spike of alarm! "Wait, you understand them!?"
The bat flies up and down. "That would have been useful to know earlier!"
Landing on top of the bird cage, he shrugs impatiently. "Fine. What is so important, then?"
Brujah extends his wings to their full length and gives a loud screech!
...Which falls a bit flat, given his tiny size - like a toddler impersonating a monster.
"Krokken? What about him?” Sorogar asks.
Her bat stared at her for a second before facepalming with his wing.
”Something wrong with Warren, then? Definitely , though I don’t see how that concerns the birds.”
Screetching and sending a clear feeling of frustration to the shaman, the bat flew over to a nearby bucket and disappeared behind it. Then, he suddenly jumps from behind it and repeats his ‘fearsome roar’!
Her eyes narrowed. ”Hidden…? A hidden threat?”
An enthousiastic nod.
”Where? Inside the camp?”
A full-circle wing gesture, then a shrug. ”Could be anywhere? You don’t know? How come?”
Flying to right in front of her and landing, he gives two slow downward flaps of the wings. Sorogar kneeled down. ”Fine. I’m waiting.”
Slowly, ever so crudely, the bat writes the letters in the sand in Orcish script. ”S H I F T E R S – H I D D E N – AS - A N I M A L S”
Rushing back to the rest of the group, Sorogar reports. ”Everyone, we have a problem – I think! Brujah heard the birds talking. Some of these animals are shifters in disguise!”
Old folk tales but then again hats what we'd expect from a spirit talking orc. There ain't no such thing as a shifter! They are just a story that human and obviously orc parents tell their kids to get them to shut up and obey. Ogres don't believe n such crap they teach through the back of the hand. Like this!
The ogre swats at you in a ogreish attempt of humor. He laughs when he misses. That'll keep ya on your toes and maybe quiet more and talking less. Now go make your camp for the night you all are on sentry duty for your area. The brute stands ponting back the way Krokin left moments earlier. you can watch for these mythological shifters while your watching for the boogey man Then laughing the ogre marches further into camp.
if you read the first one:spoiler))
The retinue of retards follows your ogre taskmaster off into the camp. THe group moves among the fires harassing and belittling others much like the ogre did with you. You observe one particularly brave or stupid human grab a club and with intent to pound the ogre only to be caught by a nonchalant and uncaring fist to the jaw. He drops like a felled furoga tree leaving blood and teeth scattered around him. With a laugh the ogre bully continues on into the camp.
"What in the name of the Thirteen is wrong with that Kajnip!? Did someone castrate him to feed him his own testicles!? Even the greenest of Growlings know not to hit their own men for no reason! He's destroying morale and-"
In the middle of her rant, her bat pokes her on the shoulder. "What!?" She yells, fuming.
Brujah flies back a bit, then makes his way over to the yellow ferret cage. "Don't tell me - killer ferrets?"
While the question is clearly sarcastic, Brujah only nods enthousiastically, gesturing a thin line across his neck with his arm/wing and pointing at the ferrets again. In the ground, he traces lines in common: "W E I R D - L A N G U A G E - B U T - D E A T H - T H R E A T S - TO - B I R D S - S H I F T E R S ?"
Sorogar just raises her hands and looks at the sky, muttering something in Orcish that sounds suspiciously like "Surrounded by insanity..."
"Okay, maybe these guys are the shifters, I don't know. You guys figure out what to do with them. I need to fix that human's teeth over there. Almost feels like I'm back at the village nursery..." she continues in Common.
With those words, she leaves the party and the ferrets/shifters(?) behind. Upon reaching the human man, the party can see the Orc girl giving orders to the (potentially much older) bystanders to collect his teeth, a clean white cloth and a bottle of alcohol. She engages in conversation with the bleeding victim, temporarily leaving the other problems in the camp to the rest of the party.
"If the ogre doesn't want to pay attention, that's fine. When the shifters break out of their cages later, that'll be his problem," says Mosely.
"In the meantime let's get something to eat. We need to rest up before we head back out tomorrow."
Upon arriving at camp, you set about preparing food. The sun descends beyond the horizon leaving the camp in an eerie shadow lit twilight. The fires make the night live as the flames dance so do the shadows. THe animals in the cages all settle down or atleast go quiet. Slowly the crowds fade into their quarters or at least their bedrolls.
Hearing Sorogar and her ghost-bat-friend explain the situation, and ignoring the jab about something being wrong with him, Warren volunteers for first watch, gets out his orphica, and begins plinking out a peaceful, soothing lullaby. He makes his way nonchalantly over to where the angry ferrets were that Brujah pointed out, and uses the song to cast Lullaby on them.
The weasel like creatures become sleepy and curl up to sleep. The other animals and caravan members in the area begin to doze then sleep.
Seeing the weasels have gone to sleep, Warren continues playing (but not casting lullaby) and patrols the entire area, ensuring that all the creatures and his fellow adventurers remain safe from any threat from which the weasels might've otherwise distracted him.
After having painstakingly washed the teeth and the wound itself in sterilizing alcohol, and feeding/forcing the human man a foul-smelling yet pain-relieving herb down his throat, Sorogar incants her hex, tentatively touches the now set teeth with her wand and gives a satisfied nod. "brave and foolish. Not a good combination when dealing with an ogre. You should try to reconcile the two and take better care of yourself in the future," she tells the man, before walking away.
She relaxes slightly when she catches sight of Warren keeping watch over the Ferrets, and suppresses a pang of guilt over her earlier outburst. Warren was... hard to get a read of, she supposed, but probably deserved the benefit of the doubt for now.
After taking a quick glance around the encampment, she sets herself down near the Ferret cage and him, and draws a piece of parchment, a Quill and a vial of an ink-like substance for her pack, then begins to scribble.
She begins to write a letter adressed to the noble funding this expedition. In it, she describes the cruelty of the current Ogre taskmaster and how he callously disregards security risks, even after being specifically informed of humanoids disguised as animals amongst the ones the 'animals' the ogre had apparently caught. In it, she stresses that she believes he is unfir to lead and might well lead their portion of the caravan to avoidable disaster.
"So, Warren. We haven't had much time to talk during the chaos of this trip, thusfar. What made you join this journey?" She asks him, during a pause in her writing.
"I guess I'll take first watch," says Mosely as he's scrubbing pots from cooking. "Gonna be up cleaning the dishes anyway."
"Thank you, sir Mosely," Sorogar replies, shifting her gaze. "I suppose I will take the second one, then. I can keep going for a little while longer, and will be resting my feet writing this thing anyway."
The night passes without a hitch and the morning dawn soon scrawls across the tree covered horizon. "Scouts head out in half an hour. YOu five take a break for the morning! comes the roar of the scoutmaster ogre as he points at the your group. Tromping through the camps the bellow is heard continuously until it fades into the din of the rest of the preparations.
Half an hour later, the wagons are beginning to be hitched and moved towards the mountains yet again. The sun reaches its pinnacle about noon and the caravan pulls to a stop for midday meal.
As you sit and eat, the feel of increasing humidity begins to permeate the air. Soon an acrid smell begins to waft from behind the caravan. The winds seem to carry the smell forward. The animals begin to go crazy in their harnesses at the smell. "Acid rain" comes the cry throughout the camp Put up the covers! See to the animals! Hurry Hurry we haven't got much time before it hits." the lead animal handlers call out. Their anxiety is high and visible as they rush from cage and animal to animal encouraging the handlers to go faster and lending a hand occasionally.
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Hearing the call of acid rain, Warren tries to think what the best thing to do in this situation is for the animals. He puts Fencer under a cover with the other beasts of burden, and tries to determine which animals are getting the most anxious.
Warren goes to whichever animals he decides are such and positions himself to get as many animals as he can within ten feet of him and casts Lullaby again with a song: "When I find myself in times of trouble
Ma' Jaidi comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be..."
"Not what you were meant for... I suppose we have that in common, then," Sorogar muses, feeding a few nuts to Brujah, before the bat jumped Mosely's plate. "I was trained as a Witch Doctor since I could walk. But... while my tasks did have meaning, I wanted to achieve something on a larger scale. I suppose that is my reason. Time will judge it as prudent or foolish."
When Sorogar wakes up from her slumber, she groggily looks around the frantic camp. She was due at least a few more hours due to her patrol, right?
...But what was that, acid rain!?
Splashing her face with some water from her waterpouch, she surveys their surroundings. What was the status of the shifters? If they were going to attack, few better moments than during one of those storms - everyone would go for cover and few would risk their necks to save whatever animals they exposed to the elements.
Still, she had to help out the animal handlers first!
Afterwards, she motions for the party to join her under a tent flap near the ferrets. "Everyone, I think we should watch the ferrets carefully. With most of the personnel seeking shelter, this would be a perfect time for them to strike."
Krokkin wakes up about an hour before dawn, packs his tent and belongings, reading himself for the day in silence. He has little mind for the bustle of the camp as he goes thru his morning routines. He gives a quick nod to the scoutmaster as he continues to eat is breakfast.
As the group stops for lunch Krokkins hackles slowly start to raise, his tail flicking constantly in agitation. when asked he just growls and retorts something is off.
The call of Acid rain is almost a relief for Krokkin. Knowing why he is feeling this way is almost cathartic.
He notices the beckoning from Sorogar and comes over with the rest of the group.
After hearing what she says he starts laughing
Really, I know that the plants might have scared you yesterday but now you want me to fear ferrets? Tell me the story of these ferrets and their exploits to make you fear them.
If there was some spare time in the night after finishing the letter to Baithro, Sorogar would have asked the human Warrior whose teeth she set for free to deliver the letter regarding the taskmaster's behavior to him. I have a feeling this individual wouldn't mind helping thigns along if it put the ogre in a bad light to his master.
Sorogar lets out a barking laugh and draws herself to her full height (probably reaching Krokkin's shoulder at best). "I see you haven't lost your bravado, Growling! But allow me to educate you. While you were lazing about in your tent yesterday, the rest of us did some actual work. It might have escaped you that some of these animals are talking, and these ferrets in particular appear to be shifters with agressive tendancies. According to Brujah, at least. Not that the taskmaster would do anything about it, but such is fate."
As the downpour of acid rain begins, she takes a step back from the entrance, yet not letting the cage out of her sight. "I believe these 'Ferrets' are simply waiting for a moment to strike, and that everyone hiding from this storm would be the perfect moment for that. We could, of course, not do anything and let the taskmaster take the fall for the resulting damage. But it seems to me that both many animals and guards here would suffer, both from the attack and from him venting his rage on the people. Unless, of course, you all have other ideas?"
The rains descend with sudden onslaught. This few beasts that were not covered or sheltered hip whine and cry. The handlers finish getting them sheltered and wiped down and place salve on the wounds. The sun is still bright out and the rains pass after about 20 min.
The weasels/ferrets seem to remain calm during the rain though .let it the other animals only remain in a handler controlled state of panic. The birds are also strangely quiet.
Moments after the rains pass the bedlam begins. First several of the work beasts fall over writhing in agony and terror. Second a roar from the surrounding foilage unpinpointable but all encompassing. Next several of the cages explode outward. Fear and panic ensue from those so released.
Massive boulders and large trees rain down amidst the chaos. The rush of feet and boot follow the barrage. Line after line off massed monsters smash into the side of the caravan on the car right flank.
[ooc=initiatives]mo,sor,kron, warren, gren[/ooc]
Mosely is up immediately when the call of acid rain goes up, putting a cover over his little tent. He checks on the animals briefly, but when all hell breaks loose, he draws his sword and shield and prepares to meet the charge of the troll-like monstrosities.
Soorgar swallows a half-made curse and whirles on Krokkin, then immediately casts a spell, the incantation supported by short and agressive motions. "Hold still! Ek Tukor Okak Kaj!"
Just as she finishes, his already big mucles start to bulge outward!
"Right, we're dealing with the threat BEHIND our lines before running at the front! Get those ghost shifter ferret... things quickly and then we move. Use that strength and throw something approapriate heavy at whatever gets in our way, or something!"
She takes a move action towards the ferrets, drawing her faachion along the way.
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Seeing both threats, and seeing Mosely go after one and Sorogar after the other Warren draws his loaded crossbow and begins singing an encouraging song:
"Yeah, you could be the greatest
You can be the best
You can be a dire ape banging on your chest..."
Anything would be more alarming than ferrets, Krokkin laughs. Seeing that Sorogar is not seeming to joke with him he narrows his eyes and looks between her and the funny little creatures. He is ready in his mind to dismiss her completely just as the chaos starts.
His shock at the little creatures turning to almost smoke to slip thru the bars, immediately turns to anger and rage. He barely hears Sorogar at first as the rage rolls over him. There is a momentary awareness that he is stronger than when he normally taps into the river of ferocity but the thought is washed away in the crashing waves for anger and adrenaline. On those waves he hears himself making fun of Sorogar and the shame of those words fuel him to action.
Sorogar's voice and direction cut thru the haze giving Krokkin laser focus on the task at hand.
Krokkin Grabs one of the 100 lb sacs of grain on the cart next to him and roars out You are my Prey as he throws the bag directly at the ferrets.
It barrels into them from the side knocking them up against another cage. The bag continues moving, slamming into the ferrets a moment after they hit the cage.
Krokkin roars again and charges straight at the ferrets.
The troll-like creatures hear the sound of a horn and begin to withdraw with order and speed. They have put out nearly 1/3 of the fires in camp and left several dead or in the state of agony. The Gril is still barking commands to attack and then to see to the wounded.
Stunned by the onslaught of a huge bag, the "ferrets" slam into the cages. Momentarily they remain solid enough to be pinned. One of them speaks in a raspy high pitched guttural voice. Fools! Why stop us? WE are not the threat. We would destroy the threat but you have now stopped us momentarily.
Two of the remaining three, turn insubstantial and fade through the bags of grain. At the others speech, they wait looking from him to you. They are tense yet do not appear to be overly hostile.
The third seems to pay you no mind what so ever and heads again towards the birds. This time he randomly shifts in and out of "smoke" making vision of him chancy amidst the steam and smoke of the extinguished fires.
The ogre looking around as he bellows order to the handlers and guards. Archers get yourself to the roofs of the vehicles and give us any cover we may need. Spear men, roving patrols of 5 keep your eyes open the threat may still be out there waiting for our guard to be down again.
.Seeing you five doing what he perceives as nothing. Turning he strides towards you stepping over things that get in his way or merely kicking them out of the way. Cat looks like he could be useful. The rest of you are both dull witted and weak backed. You 4 start with the smaller cages and see that they are upright and the occupants are secured." he commands. IF they need serious healing get a healer from over there. He motions negligently to the west where a long line of healers are working with the animals.Pretty kitty follow me your strength can be better used elsewhere. he walks in between you and the creatures as he talks.
The little creatures turn hostile in body language. Hackles rising and poping and hissing noises gushing forth from their mouths in anger as the ogre passes between your two parties. It continues to build as the ogre obliviously walks towards the cages by the birds. Stop him he will cause problems and increase your danger. screams the speaker.
Thoroughly confused by the sudden turn of events, with both the attack's abrupt cancellation and it seemingly aimed at... putting out fires, along with the shifters now claiming the birds are evil instead of them, Sorogar is still reeling from the implications and too flabbergasted to respond to the ogre captain's insults.
Afterwards, she instead picks up the remaining rogue ferret in one arm and walks toward the lead ferret, hoping Brujah could translate if needed. The other healers could take care of business for now, she reckoned. Putting down the rogue ferret next to the others, she crosses her arms and frowns at them sternly. "Okay, I am listening and suggest you take this opportunity to talk. Who are you people really, and what quelm do you have with the birds?"
Mosely sheathes his sword and rubs the bridge of his nose.
"Just what I need. Surrounded by lumbering, macho idiots."