"One other option we haven't mentioned. How badly do you want to fort in one piece? Fire won't work on the walls, but a bunch of oil and an alchemists fire or two to set it ablaze might give archers in the towers something to think about."
"Signy has a point. Cutting off their supplies - more than we already have, anyways - will definitely weaken the fortress as a whole." The knight reaches a gauntleted hand into his hood, scratching his chin. "That said, I'm not sure I agree that the Stag Lord is in control. Bandits need an active leadership, lacking as they do any actual, well, respect or society. We've killed Kressle and a whole lot of his 'tax collectors.' We've seen that there was enough dissent in the ranks that a significant number were willing to desert..." Meneas waves in the general direction of the road.
"Whether or not he feels confident about our presence, the fact that we rode up, hurt one of his archers, and disregarded his authority when he attempted to question us, well... What authority he does have gets eroded. We challenged him, in some small way, and if he doesn't make at least a token effort in punishing us, maybe one of his followers might start to feel that they would do better at leading the gang." There's a slightly bitter edge to his tone. "Bandits aren't nearly as formalized as a proper kingdom, no matter how much the Stag Lord styles himself otherwise."
"I think we could encourage that sort of feeling in his bandits the more we harass them and cut them down." He adds after a moment. "Though I'm not sure burning things is the wisest choice yet."
The more the conversation continues, the more Brental relaxes, and the more his mind spins in positive ways.
"Speaking of the 'tax collectors', it does seem like their primary model of doing business is taking from others. While it's possible that they have some kind of stores, I don't see much agriculture around. They may have fishermen and hunters, but if we harry their attempts at hunting and gathering, then they will surely run out before too long. It's just a matter of how long we're willing to wait them out."
Though Brental would not accept even a possibility of poisoning the lake or otherwise harming the lands around them. Bring the bandits to their knees, but don't salt the earth.
To Signy's point, Brental considers the options and how it aligns with their charter. "I don't think we necessarily need the Fort, but it could remain a useful resource once the bandits are dealt with." But oil and fire would be useful...
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<“Ten long years…”> Lina murmurs softly, listening to the conversation but keeping her dark eyes wide and watching through the darkness towards the fort. The rhythm of her Elven, as it continues for another few lines, makes it clear that she’s quoting some poetry.
Signy’s right about forts. Frustratingly, because numbers are a thing the adventurers can’t easily drum up, and they’re what are necessary for a proper siege, but then again, an improper siege is probably a happier prospect right now.
“I don’t normally keep a lantern burning all hours, so unless most of that flask from before is left over, or we’ve got the right sort of plantation or large animal in our pockets, we can probably only easily get a mess going on a couple of the towers at best,” she starts, beginning to shake off her reverie a bit.
“But we can start whittling them down, like you said. Let them come to us if they want – we probably should get up on higher ground for the night – and then we can keep exchanging visits on our terms.” Her serious mood wobbles a bit, and her open grin shows that she’s imagining, irrelevantly, cards and gloves and such, at least until she focuses again.
“And we can prepare to exploit an opening that presents itself, if we get a batch on the run, say, and can hope that those spook the rest when they see their friends being chased down. The other way of taking a fort, after all, is through overwhelming force. Which would take a better witch than I’m, but there is a downside to committing to one location.”
Her mind fills up again with visions of storybook queens and other heroes, the strike teams that teleport deep into enemy territory and unleash arcane fury. Which, she knows, she and the others aren’t quite in a position to do yet, but still. The principle is the same.
The rest of the night passes relatively uneventfully for the adventurers given the excitement of the evening. When the sun rises in the morning it lies largely hidden behind clouds and in the distance the party can make out the forms of three bandits dutifully guarding the watchtowers though they all appear terribly bored.
After his morning preparations, Meneas looks over the watchtowers in the distance. "Given our history, I think stealth is probably a less than ideal choice."
He considers for a few moments longer. "Certainly if we're trying to sneak by in the day, at any rate." Turning to his companions, he continues. "I know we tried a feint last night, and it didn't work, unfortunately... No. First things first. Let's try to look for any signs that they've sent out search parties."
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Come morning, Morof is a little tired from his work. He has been ignoring the talk about strategy to avoid thinking of how cross he is about it. However, he wakes up and reviews his work, having finished a few scrolls.
He wakes up in a better mood and asks "Did you see a well in there? Or are they taking water from the river? If it's from the river, we can try to poison their water supply. If it's a well, it would be harder."
Brental is a bit wary at Morof's suggestion. "Poisoning the water supply may be drastic. Other creatures would suffer as well."
But searching for additional signs of the bandits in the area suits the druid's fancy just fine. He likewise works the search for tracks.
As they move, he voices one possible idea.
"If they are sending parties out after us, we can take them with relative ease. But if they insist on remaining behind their pallisade, then I could summon creatures for them to deal with. Elementals in particular are fickle but brutally effective. If Morof or Lina could make me invisible, then I could approach the pallisade, drop an elemental into a watch tower, and then return under the cover of an invisible cloak before they know what hit them."
It’s a long night, and considering what spells she wants to prepare doesn’t make the morning any easier, but eventually Lina settles on, despite her misgivings, adjusting her preparations in case another charge at the fort ends up being the order of the day.
After that, she pointedly – though even she’s not entirely sure what direction it’s pointed in, exactly, since at this distance she hopes, if the bandits are even watching that carefully, they can’t see what the adventurers are up to – takes her time with her tea for breakfast, staring down in her turn across the distance to the fort.
"Did you see a well in there? Or are they taking water from the river? If it's from the river, we can try to poison their water supply. If it's a well, it would be harder."
She murmurs noncommittally at Morof’s suggestion, “Devious. I like it. But what with, though? I might have missed it, but I don’t think I spotted anything that would be strong enough, at least in the quantity we’d probably need. And if we could get someone inside the wall, it might just be easier to have them throw open the gate to let the rest of us in.”
Lina would certainly hope that she can be subtle, sometimes, but as is probably becoming painfully clear to her fellow travellers, she has a bit of a taste for the dramatic.
* * *
When the time comes to skulk around a bit more, see what the bandits are up to and freak them out by moving about mysteriously, she smiles at Brental’s suggestion before sighing in self-deprecation, “Also a decided possibility, but I’m afraid I can’t provide the invisibility yet. I’m a bit too much of a dabbler, always have been.”
Always will be. She’s more or less resigned to the fact, though she has her share of might-have-beens. Which strikes up another pessimistic note, as she considers that she must have passed this place on her way up the river a few months ago. Tacking upstream, she might have missed anything, and she would have looked like slim pickings, if anything, across the lake – for all she remembers of which side she travelled on, but...
If somebody else, someone with a bigger boat or a convoy of, had been less lucky and put in of a night too close to the fort, to say nothing of the raiding parties the bandits are sending out… Just how well-supplied might they be? She keeps an eye out for signs of rapidly abandoned – or disturbed – camps towards the shoreline, as the group discreetly circles the fort again.
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Morof replies to Brental "Let's hope they have a well then. Did you see anything?" Turning to Lina, he says "Well, to my knowledge, if there's a dead animal in the water for long enough, the water will become unfit to drink. With Brental's permission, we could tie a dead critter to a rock and drop it in their well, if they have one. It will take a few days but eventually they'll have to come out to fetch water from the river. If that's successful, we know the source of the poison and we can remove the dead animal, and the water will clean out after a while."
Despite the group's efforts there are no signs of tracks other than their own and that of the departing bandits they had shaken down earlier.
Lina also does not notice anything peculiar at the shore line.
Morof replies to Brental "Let's hope they have a well then. Did you see anything?" Turning to Lina, he says "Well, to my knowledge, if there's a dead animal in the water for long enough, the water will become unfit to drink. With Brental's permission, we could tie a dead critter to a rock and drop it in their well, if they have one. It will take a few days but eventually they'll have to come out to fetch water from the river. If that's successful, we know the source of the poison and we can remove the dead animal, and the water will clean out after a while."
Lina’s nose wrinkles as she considers the possibility. “That’s not really poison, though, is it? More Urgathoan nonsense.”
She speaks without rancour, though it is a rather broader selection of targets than she would normally opt for; it’s more that, even though she’s not maintained her standing in the guild, she rather piques herself on doing things proper, as a poisoner and herbalist, out of professional pride as much as anything. She decides that she probably should start brewing up a stockpile of sleeping poisons, probably, once she can gather the materials.
In any case, the bandits, it seems, are light-treaded, and whatever they’ve been up to, no traces that catch Lina’s eye have been left behind, so she turns her attention to the fort again, taking a bit more of a careful look this time and calculating angles and distances more precisely.
“One minute-” she asks, though she’s careful not to point and risk betraying what she thinks she’s spotted. “Do you think – if you summoned the toughest elemental you could, Brental – that it could clear the tower closest to the gate, and then tie up the others, somehow? If we move fast, we might be able to get a couple of us over the wall at the base of it, and then get the gate open… It would give us a few vital seconds’ more breathing room before they get all their archers into the best position.”
“Not that I mean we should necessarily try that right away, of course. We could hit one of the other towers first, so we can keep them guessing. Maybe with fire first, and then something that moves faster?”
Brental still looks uncomfortable with the idea of poisoning a water source. He knows that some druids are able to conduct a foul ritual to curse an area. But he is hesitant to raise this knowledge. Even if it was temporary, would cursing this area to give them an advantage in their fight be worth the cost? Or would such a blight be unforgivable?
Mundanity seems trite by comparison to the things he has heard some people accomplish. Well, it is an option, should it come to that. Brental shudders a bit.
Instead, he reaches for a bottle something that he had gathered the ingredients for some weeks back.
"I made some tea from some deathcap mushrooms that I found. I doubt it would be enough to do much with, but while we're laying options on the table."
If they didn't use it for this mission, perhaps Garuum would appreciate it as a peace offering.
But back to the idea of Elementals, Brental nods.
"That's what I was thinking Lina," he says. "Earth elementals are the sturdiest I know. They hit hard, resist damage about as well as you or I, and could glide through the stone of the tower as if it were water. Their only limitation is that they are slower. An Aether elemental would be interesting as well. They're telekinetic and nigh invisible themselves. They wouldn't hit quite as hard, but they could zip from tower to tower. And that one I could speak with natively."
"Both have their uses. An earth elemental might be able to bash down the gates, or, failing that, wreak havoc in the fortress while we do that. An almost invisible foe striking and killing bandits would terrify them." Meneas muses. "Either way, we'd be able to use it as a distraction."
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After hearing the description of the fort, he realizes there is no easily accessible well to poison, so he ends up agreeing with Meneas "Yes, we'll have a few seconds of distraction to be able to sneak in through the other side. We might need a plan after that as well."
Thinking a bit more, he says "I think we should engage the Stag lord as quickly as we can. Once he is defeated, the others might give up. Just like what happened with the group we ambushed on the road."
"Earth elementals are the sturdiest I know. They hit hard, resist damage about as well as you or I, and could glide through the stone of the tower as if it were water. Their only limitation is that they are slower. An Aether elemental would be interesting as well. They're telekinetic and nigh invisible themselves. They wouldn't hit quite as hard, but they could zip from tower to tower. And that one I could speak with natively."
“Oh, I like that!” Lina exclaims, her voice pitching higher with enthusiasm, “Like a friendlier – to us, anyway – poltergeist! And the chaos it could get up to!”
She quiets for a moment again as if holding another memory for a second, before continuing, “I wouldn’t want you to expend all your energy at once, Brental, but would it be worth adding something else into the mix for still greater confusion? A stirge or two, to be that much more annoying?”
The witch considers the distance to the fort somewhat dubiously, looking for as much clear space as she can. At a full gallop, it would still take time enough for an archer to loose two or three arrows to get across from the forest’s edge, she estimates, though the first would be a longer, less dangerous shot.
Something like a strategy begins to coalesce in the witch’s thoughts, and she turns to Morof, since it would be asking a lot from him in particular. “Morof, do you think you could scribe a couple of scrolls to lift or help one of us climb? If we do end up making a push, I wouldn’t want to ask you to commit your most powerful regular spells for the day before we even get over the wall.”
“In the meantime, we can maintain a menacing presence in the treeline, see if we can tempt them out, and – when the moment’s right – have Brental sneak up, drop that elemental on them, and gauge the vigour of their response? It means some of us will be kicking our heels a bit, but I think that’s the only downside.”
Well, that, and she expects the others will probably object if she decides to amuse herself in the interval by practicing on her violin. Too distracting, even if she chooses the creepiest music she knows, in the hopes that the wind can carry it to the fort.
Signy is for anything that keeps the towers busy so they can approach. An archer herself, she knows how badly three, or maybe more, archers could maul them as they cover the open ground, then try to get through or over the gate or walls. It's a starting period of free, ranged murder they would be giving the defenders before they can respond. They may not be outright dead by the time the fort is breached, but they would be easy pickings in the close fight inside. The towers would still remain lethal then too unless they could get lucky enough to wedge themselves into some covered spot right away.
Signy still thinks the tunnel is a promising route in, even if for only some of them. One thing she pays attention to is whether the lake ever misted over at any time of the day or night, and if it is, whether the mist ever comes up onto the shore to cover any land. A mist spell might allow a couple of them to get in secretly, especially with an elemental distraction. It would help raise the odds of an open gate for animals and riders.
Brental nods along. "Yes, we can gauge their response to trouble, and hopefully take one or two of them down. And based on that--yes, we take down the Stag as quickly as we can."
Meneas pauses, considering this for a few moments. "I agree. It might also cause them some injuries, and we don't know how much their renegade druid has in the way of healing. While he might have some prepared today, if he doesn't, then he'll use up the spells for tomorrow, no?"
Morof replies to Lina "I can do both. But the climbing spell is more reliable. The other makes you float. A little wind may blow you away from the wall and... well, away from the fort in general."
“We’d have to hope for calm air, then,” Lina acknowledges, trying to remember what she can about such magic. There’s just so much out there, after all, that despite her interest in pretty much quite all of it, that it’s very hard to keep track, and that’s before adding in any of her other interests. The life of a mage: no wonder it normally takes so long for one to finish their apprenticeship. Anyway. “But if we do go that route, if we were at the wall, whoever it was could just grab hold and swing themselves over, right, and you could lower them down? And you would be doing the lifting, so, unlike a climber, they could fill their hands with arrows in the meantime?”
It’s a very engaging puzzle, and it would even be fun to consider various ways of approaching it, if it wasn’t going to end in rather serious risks and buckets of very real blood, as Meneas’ remarks remind the witch.
Meneas pauses, considering this for a few moments. "I agree. It might also cause them some injuries, and we don't know how much their renegade druid has in the way of healing. While he might have some prepared today, if he doesn't, then he'll use up the spells for tomorrow, no?"
“Unless he just bandages the wounded up and hopes the prospect of a messy end on the points of our spears, swords, etcetera, will motivate their aim. Relying on a vigorous counterattack to stop our assault in its tracks, so they’d have all the time in the world afterwards,” Lina says with alarming cheerfulness, as she considers the ruthless strategic calculation the Stag Lord might be making.
She hums a bit in anticipation, before asking, as the group completes its circle and Brental considers his first summoning run, “We’ll be watching the whole time, of course, but if there’s someplace particular you want us – so far down the road or what have you – just let us know.”
Meneas nods briefly in response to Lina. "Sure, but that'll make it easier for us to kill them anyways. Morale can only do so much to preserve one's life and skills."
The druid is preparing to commune with the earth for a complement of appropriate emergency spells, feeding some of his own intention back into the ground to open conduits to the Plane of Earth. He is focused, but clearly a little bit nervous, especially after the debacle of the previous night.
He echoes what Meneas says. "If it comes to it, we can continue to harass them. Break down their resolve. Whittle away at their resources. A druid only has so much room to plan and prepare for healing magics. But we'll see how today goes."
At Lina's statement, Brental shrugs. "If anyone has some way of making my voice sound like it is coming from elsewhere, that would give me even more cover while I am completing the summoning rituals at the walls. But if not, then I can just hold my shield high over my head and hope that their aim is poor and their ears as untrained as their eyes."
"Since we're not going to bother with trying to catch them by surprise, we could keep the pressure on them into the night. After it's well dark I could sneak down and lob a few arrows at each of the towers. Even if I don't actually make many hits, it would keep them on their toes and tense through the night."
"I don't think it would be particularly risky if I'm by myself. I'd just sneak into range, take a couple of shots, and scoot on back out of range. Then I change position to another tower and do the same again. If I'm slow and careful on my approaches they won't have much time to react before I move away. All towers done in about an hour I'd say."
“M-mm, arrows out of the night sounds like a plan,” Lina nods at Signy's suggestion, noting too, as Brental and Morof discuss auditory illusions, additional spells to work on working out. She inwardly laments that she is only a starving herbalist, because there is little she would like better than to invite magical booksellers to send her their grimoires. All of them. As opposed to having to pick over particular spells. For now, though, she’ll have to be more selective.
“I don’t have anything like that prepared today. And most of what I’ve heard of similar is either short-ranged – although we could produce a dreadful row off at a distance that could be bolstered with other things – or has other limitations, but I’ll see what I can do, going forward, and like Morof said, just being invisible should keep you out of the worst trouble. Even if they realize what's happening, I think they'd have to venture out of the walls to set any countermeasures I'd really worry about in place.”
Just before Morof casts Invisibility, Brental gathers a few iron filings from his belt pouch (cast-offs from when one of the party had sharpened a blade with a whetstone). He speaks a few words while waving his hand over the iron. The iron glows white hot, ascends into the air, and hovers near his throat in the shape of a druidic rune that means ‘earth’. The iron flashes and disappears, while the rune tattoos brown on Brental’s tanned skin. He chuckles as he now hears the faint speech of a nearby honey badger disdainfully contemplating its next meal. He would be able to communicate with the summoned earth elemental soon.
Brental doesn’t feel any different at first when Morof casts the illusion spell on him. But a moment later he looks at his hand and doesn’t see it. He marvels for a brief moment—arcane magic could be so different from primal magic—before remembering why he had asked for this bit of spellwork in the first place.
“I’ll be back,” he says as he takes off running full tilt.
He bursts invisibly from the tree line, sticking to the road and avoiding the hillside for as long as possible. As he arrives at the nearest tower, he takes a few seconds to catch his breath, and then crouches down to the earth. Now came the challenging part. The summoning ritual always required him to speak aloud, now so close to someone with a bow.
Good luck pinpointing me, though.
The druid's approach to the Stag Lord's Fort is so stealthy and silent that even without Morof's magic he would have been difficult to detect. With his illusion in effect, however, it bordered on impossible.
After Brental's words of ancient power a creature begins to materialize at the top of tower right next to the half-elf from the night before who now appears to have been miraculously healed of all injuries.
From the aether emerges a small but bulky, roughly humanoid creature of dirt and stone, faceless save for two glowing gemstone eyes.
Before a second had passed the small elemental creature is suddenly peppered by arrows from the older Varisian man in the north-western tower as well as three more arrows from below, somewhere within the central tower. And yet, all four arrows clatter off the dense body of this small creature harmlessly scattering off in all directions.
A menacingly cool and collected voice erupts form somewhere below Brental cannot see. It hisses, "My, my it appears we have company. Oh Auchs! Wakey wakey sleepy head it's time to have some fun."
It is now that you notice a huddled figure atop the central tower begin to rise.
A hulking mammoth of a man with deep set, small eyes and a dim-whited expression on his face wielding a large club and with a silver pendant dangling around his neck.
Brental must consider his next move as the man chuckles with pure simple-minded evil written all over his face, advancing on the earthen creature.
Terran is a slow language, not meant to be rushed, and giving the impression of enormous rocks grinding against each other. But when four arrows clatter off of the four-foot tall mound of stone and dirt, Brental realizes he has little time to waste.
“I am Master Copper,” the creature responds, already reaching a fist back to defend itself. The name sounds like Arecurius, in spite of the translation. Strange how that happens.
“I'm Brental. Attack, please.”
“Yes, Master Hill.”
Brental notes with a certain amusement that his name must translate vaguely in Terran to "hill", because that was what he heard when the creature seemed to address him.
Aericurus swings an earthen fist towards the bandit.
Unfortunately it seems to not be quite ready as it swings wide. To Brental's surprise, Aericurus stands tall and ready for whatever may come next.
Meanwhile Brental begins running around towards the next tower to begin another summoning ritual.
Senses darkvision 60, tremorsense 60; Perception +4
AC 17 Touch 10 Flat 17
HP 13/13
Fort +4 Ref -1 Will +3
Immune elemental traits (bleed, paralysis, poison, sleep, stun, critical hits, flanking, precision damage)
CMB +4 CMD 13
Speed 20 ft, burrow 20 ft, earth glide
As Brental darts around the facility the half-elf draws his shortsword maintaining a disturbingly calm demeanor for a man who has just has a four foot tall wall of earth erupt up beside him and try to crush him to death out of nowhere. Still, as he swings his blade at the elemental before him the 'flesh' of the creature proves itself to be nearly impenetrable as the sword is rebuffed the a ringing twang of metal and a frown of pain forming on the man's otherwise placid face.
Another barrage of arrows fire out from all over the fort as men shout to one another various curses and jeers. All are deflected off the elemental's stony hide, save one. The arrow fired by the skinny man at the south-western tower catches a small crack in the elemental's form and blasts out a sizeable chunk of the creature's body showers dirt and rock everywhere. The man cries out in excitement, "Yeah! You see?! You see that boys?! That's how ya do it! Tell the Stag that Jex is his best man with a bow!"
The others all groan in annoyance at this, clearly unbeloved, member of the gang when the sinister serpent-like voice hisses again. "Nobody cares Snitch. No Auchs, what in the world are you waiting for? Hurry up and smash that thing, there's bound to be something more to this trick."
At that the large, hunch-backed man identified as Auchs giggles thoughtlessly to himself as he lumbers up to the earth elemental from behind. Towering over it he leers, "I'm so happy. I got a new toy to play with!" He raises his club high above his head and smirks. "Don't break too fast!"
Auchs' club comes down with a roar but the elemental slings out an earthen arm to parry the blow at the last minute. Auchs is, however, seemingly unperturbed by this turn of events as he laughs heartily, his beer gut jiggling all the way as he does.
Arecurius groans with pain as the arrow finds a weak spot and buries deep between stone plates. The elemental turns around, rebuffing Auchs' deadly-looking blow. Its fist spins around and slams into Auchs.
Brental winces to see the barrage, but knows that if the elemental falls, it will not die but reform on the Plane of Earth. The druid begins invisibly conjuring a stirge to appear by the nearest bandit.
Auchs whines in a low bass tone as the elemental slams its fist into the lumbering man. The thud and crack of his bones can be heard all the way where Brental is standing. The brute stumbles backwards, wide eyed in shock at the pure force of the blow.
As a hail of ineffectual arrows and sword swings from the other bandits either miss or deflect off the element's stony hide the previously jovial man before the element stammers.
"Ow!"
With a sudden onset rage twisting his face the man lifts his club high above his head and bellows. "OWWWWW!" Tears fall from the man's eyes as he brings his heavy club down on the elemental once more with more force than before by quite some measure. The elemental is starred to dust in an explosion of rocky shrapnel and dirt as it is no more. Still Auchs continue screaming in rage and slamming his club into the ground pulverizing what is left of the elemental even as it disappears.
Just as the one creature fades away another insectoid creature with two pairs of bat wings, a tangle of thin legs, and a needle-sharp proboscis appears next to the older Varisian man who, to his credit calmly turns to face it, sword drawn.
Although Brental cannot see the demise of the elemental, he hears the telltale signs of destruction. It sounds as though Arecurius got a solid blow in on someone--not enough to kill, but enough to significantly wound. Healing that would hopefully be a little harder than Meneas' arrow from the night before. We'll take every advantage we can get...
As the summoning ritual finishes, Brental counts the number of arrows that he hears whistling through the air to try to get a good count of the number of assailants, realizing how deadly a head-on assault will be. They may not be the best shots in the River Kingdoms, but with numbers it was almost inevitable that one of them would eventually land a deadly shot.
The stirge appears behind the Varisian man and hungrily moves in to take a drink.
The stirge's barbed legs wrap around the man's arm and it launches its proboscis into his neck.
A grappled creature cannot use Stealth to hide from the creature grappling it, even if a special ability, such as hide in plain sight, would normally allow it to do so. If a grappled creature becomes invisible, through a spell or other ability, it gains a +2 circumstance bonus on its CMD to avoid being grappled, but receives no other benefit.
Brental repeats the same motions and incantations as before, summoning another stirge to harangue the older Varisian man.
The Varisian man groans and his unnervingly calm demeanor suddenly shifts to a loot of pure panic as the insectoid creature burrows its long probuscis into the man and begins sucking away his life blood.
The man swings wildly at the creature but only hits his hand against the creature's carapace causing him to fumble his sword to the ground. "Someone get this bloody thing off me!" he shouts.
Brental witnesses six arrows wizz by both the stirge and the Varisian man as all the bandits attempt to hit the creature without also firing on their ally and end up firing wide. All while the large man known as Auchs continues to poud at the ground where the elemental had once stood, frenzied in his rage.
Before the first has even gone down another stirge materializes in the air by the Varisian man, its wings generating a terrible buzzing as it hovers menacingly.
With grim determination, Brental continues to follow through with his plan. The stirges are performing surprisingly well compared to the poor fallen earth elemental. As the second one emerges from the ether, Brental reaches back into the earth to beckon a third to join its brethren. This would be the last of his spell energy for the day, but it would be worth it to throw this band into a bit of chaos. They would almost surely be aware that this was a supernatural attack, but let them wonder from where or why.
The stirges continue their bloody, horrifying feast. Brental wonders for a moment what happens to them, and the bandit's blood, should they survive their assault. One more to go, and then he'll run back away to his companions and report the success of the mission.
The Varisian man howls in agony as the second stirge successfully latches onto him and the two begin simultaneously sapping the man of his life. Despite all the panic, the man is just able to retrieve his short sword from the ground and pierce it through the abdomen of one of the insects causing a visceral crunching noise and a spout of the creature's blood mixed with the man's own. Despiite this the creature holds on, seemingly determined to drain this man down to his last once of blood.
"Stop shooting! Swords! Swords you idiots!" The frightened Varisian shouts to his allies who respond by shouldering their bows, drawing their swords and moving en-masse to assist their struggling compatriot.
Just as he finishes his cry for aid, however, Brental finishes the last of his ancient words of power and a third stirge appears by the man who shudders visibly even as allies rush to his aid.
As the stirges continue their bloody work, Brental notes the sound of the crowd drawing their swords and gathering more closely. This could be a valuable tactic to draw them all together and drop something even deadlier on them en masse. None of them would die today, but at least one would be severely taken down and possibly out of the fight.
As the first stirge manages to hang on despite a sword through its carapace, the second clings to the other arm and the third seeks another opening in the armor from which to drink.
This exercise had been useful, albeit a bit disgusting. Brental had learned about the tactics of these bandits, and seen their organization and communication in the face of adversity. They were certainly a deadly and difficult bunch, but that was more about their position and numbers. They could be goaded and corralled, and seemed to be at least somewhat less aware of the nature of what he had done. Signy should have some fun with that later.
Brental stops his frantic summoning and counts down the approximate time he has left to remain invisible. He had to be almost halfway though. Not enough to go safely into the tunnel again, but enough to listen to the aftermath for a little bit longer and then run. The druid presses himself against the pallisade walls and listens for about another thirty seconds before withdrawing.
Lina watches distractedly from her safe perch away from the action. After all, if everything goes according to plan, there shouldn’t be much for her to see, what with the sight-lines and what-not and – most importantly – Brental being invisible.
There are a few signs of what looks like rapid motion behind the ramparts, and occasionally the breeze carries a distance-muffled cry of warning or alarm, but it doesn’t look like her druid friend’s in trouble, so the elf witch settles back a bit.
She doesn’t get complacent, of course, and most of her attention goes to keeping an eye out in case she needs to try to provide additional support or a distraction.
Hopefully, with a bit more pressure through the night and suitable preparations, the morrow might even allow a direct attack. Well, as direct as an illusionist, a witch, and several other cunning warriors are likely to attempt.
Sneeg attempts an attack on the new stirge in response to its attempt to join the blood frenzy only to arc his blade terribly off course completely encumbered by the growing swarm. The stirge pierces the man's sternum and begins to remove any and all of his life's blood.
As this horror-scene progresses, however, the horde of bandits descend upon the swarm with a series of enthused roars, eager for action. The skinny one who had shot the elemental before is the first to act and completely halves the first stirge Brental had summoned and cheers aloud. "I DID IT AGAIN! I ACTUALLY DID IT AGAIN!"
The rest of the bandits all groan in synch in annoyance as they join the fray. A rather rotund man with a greasy sandwich in his left had takes another swing but the grease on his fingers causes him to fumble and miss as Sneeg spins about in fear and agony.
The half-elf man takes a similar attack but also finds that his sword meets nothing but air as the insects prove just too difficult to hit even attached to their victim.
Several other bandits come in with varying levels of success against the stirges until the hulking , although heavily injured man named Auchs comes swinging in wildly with his club.
Sneeg raises his arms in terror as the titan rapidly smashes his club down towards the man and lets out a cry of terror as Auchs smashes the third stirge in a shower of gore and then crunches the final one to the floor where it pops like a bloody balloon.
After it all Sneeg stands, alive but clearly incredibly drained while Auchs gives off a hearty belly-laugh and calls for more carnage.
Brental is able to slip quietly away after this all to report his progress to the group, he wasn't able to hear much of consequence after. mostly just curses, brags, and demands to know what the hell those things were.
Meneas looks up sharply when Brental returns to visibility, cursing and reaching for his sword before relaxing. "Call out to us when you do that in the future, man! You startled me half to death."
He pauses. "How badly did you damage them?"
After congratulating Brental for the mayhem he caused, Signy waits until the night's darkness is full. She circles wide around the fort until she is at it's farthest guard tower. There she pauses to beseech the Lucky Drunk for some good luck of her own, then slips in toward it quietly and carefully.
She takes the last part low and slowly until she's within her bow's best range. She selects the cleanest shot she has on a guard up in the tower and sends off two arrows in rapid succession at her target.
Brental apologizes to Meneas for the startling, but is rather pleased that he had done so much better this time than last night.
"None dead, but two rather severely injured. More importantly, I feel I have a better idea of their tactics."
Brental relates what he observed during the mayhem: their preference for ranged combat combined with generally poor accuracy but numbers being their ultimate deadliness. Predictability in response to a threat. An oafish-seeming melee-oriented bandit who would be very deadly if he managed to get a hit off. Someone hissing who Brental couldn't tell human from otherwise, based on the sound of the voice alone (but probably human).
"I'll look forward to what Signy finds later. She could even take one of them down."
As this horror-scene progresses, however, the horde of bandits descend upon the swarm with a series of enthused roars, eager for action. The skinny one who had shot the elemental before is the first to act and completely halves the first stirge Brental had summoned and cheers aloud. "I DID IT AGAIN! I ACTUALLY DID IT AGAIN!"
The rest of the bandits all groan in synch in annoyance as they join the fray.
Brental relates what he observed during the mayhem: their preference for ranged combat combined with generally poor accuracy but numbers being their ultimate deadliness. Predictability in response to a threat. An oafish-seeming melee-oriented bandit who would be very deadly if he managed to get a hit off. Someone hissing who Brental couldn't tell human from otherwise, based on the sound of the voice alone (but probably human).
"I'll look forward to what Signy finds later. She could even take one of them down."
“Well done,” Lina beams as Brental makes his report, half-wishing that she had been there to see the full spectacle.
Hmm. So, try to get close, except for the big one? It will be easier if we can move together to take them down quickly one at a time, too. Maybe with cover? Especially if they favour their bows. Tricky, but…
Just in case, and since it seems like a useful option to have to hand going forward, Lina borrows Morof’s ear (and his spellbook!) so he can help talk her through spells to conjure a mist, before she starts thinking about helping Brental check climbing gear – knotting ropes on grapples and such – in the hopes that whoever gets over the wall first can ease the passage for the others.
"You've a gift for teaching, I think, Morof. Thank you," she tells the wizard, as she finishes copying notes on the method - adapted to her own technique and way of thinking through such things - into her own grimoire, with a flourish of her pen.
She's got a good feeling about things by the time night comes on again and Signy slinks off to sow her own bit of violent chaos, though time will tell. For now, though, the best Lina can do, probably, is review her spells and get enough rest so she doesn't make any mistakes on the morrow.
Meneas' hood bobs once in a satisfied nod. "Good. That will help. If their druid spends the time to heal them with magic tomorrow, then he'll be less threatening himself. Otherwise, we'll have a few wounded to deal with, and that's always preferable to fighting a full-strength foe."
He considers a few moments. "Given the Stag Lord's helm and style, as well as their fondness of bows, I wonder if these bandits have any relationship to Erastil. Rogue worshippers? Mocking blasphemers?" He shrugs. "I'm sure Jhod would have something to say about it, but... might not be relevant, anyways."
"With their focus on ranged combat, they'll probably want to stay on the towers and walkways, no? Veil's not going to be able to climb up those and would be too heavy - especially if I'm riding her - to stand on them even if she could." Meneas slowly begins pacing as he considers. "I almost feel like we should go in from the back, because then Veil won't be as likely to be injured, and it's got more surprise on its side." The hood turns to his companions. "Thoughts?"
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Morof is impressed with Brental and says "That is impressive magic! I suppose druids are far more resourceful than I would have given them credit."
After, he thanks Lina for helping him understand his own handwriting "You make a lot of sense when you talk of the conjuration. I suppose the mist does come from the water plane, doesn't it!"
Answering Meneas, he says "Or I could just make Veil able to climb walls. That is, if you can convince him to do so."
Signy vigorously agrees.
"Yes yes, that's what I've been saying for a while now. If we can lay down a layer of fog or mist, we can approach from the water side and, if done well, nobody might even realize it's anything out of the ordinary."
"We might be able to get inside without anyone being the wiser. I didn't get a good enough look to be exact about it, but we should be able to use wall and roof cover to keep ourselves protected from some of the towers in most places inside. If we're smart about it and lucky we might be able to take a couple of them down before an alert is raised, and use the closer space inside to stop all of them from getting to us at once."
"Sure, we might not have Veil and Vod there helping us, but I think the tradeoffs are worth it. Really our biggest advantage is in the magic we have, and it's better used directly against them than it is used just getting us inside."
Meneas snorts at Morof's suggestion. "I don't doubt she'd like it, but I do doubt that I'd be able to hang on to her while she was running up the walls." He nods at Signy. "Besides, she's right. I don't want to deplete your spells just getting into the fort when we'll likely need them inside."
The knight takes a deep breath. "But I will say that if we can manage it, getting the doors opened would be really handy for Vod and Veil to come in once we reveal ourselves. Without Veil, I'm much less effective as a fighter." He shrugs, sounding resigned. "I'm not exactly trained as an infantryman. I don't like leaving her behind, but I think it is a good idea to try to sneak in. Ideally, after dark when they will be at least somewhat less likely to catch sight of us."
Meneas turns to look back in the direction of the fort. "Unless we could do it at dawn or dusk. Whenever they change watches, I guess. But learning that would mean putting off our attack again."
Brental feels increasingly good about proving himself today follow the debacle of the previous night. He wasn't used to the praise, but he basked in it. Yes: he was resourceful. A druid's magic was often subtle, but could be powerful. Their connection to the world only grew more powerful with training, enabling them to do almost anything. Brental wasn't there yet, but given enough time...
"Thank you, all," he says. "I'm pleased to serve well."
To Meneas' speculation about stag-and-bow predilections, Brental shrugs. "It's certainly possible. I'm sure there's some story behind the Stag skull."
Whichever direction they attacked from, they would have a challenging time getting in and around. "If we go up and over the walls, the mists and climbing magic will be very useful. If we want to sneak in, though, I can also make Veil small and transportable until we're ready to bring her back out."
Brental is noncommittal given the information they've obtained so far. Either plan seems reasonable, but sneaking in--as best as possible at least--offered a lot of promise. Signy's reasoning is good, though. "It could still help to have a distraction of some kind if we're trying to sneak in. They may not be the most vigilant, but we're also--most of us at least--not the best at sneaking around."