Seeing Constantine literally grow beside her to an imposing size, Hannelia involuntarily takes a step forward before styling it out and approaching a little closer to the plant to better shoot it. "Nice trick," she grins up at him. "And lovely hit, Emma," she applauds. "If you can keep these shambling corpses occupied, I'll keep peppering the plant with arrows. If it can't move faster than it has so far we ought to be able to keep our distance." So saying, she draws a bead and releases her bowstring once more, another arrow zipping across the meadow.
"Blades at the ready, let's show these gobos they should have stayed dead! Have at ye!" Roger brandishes his great blade and springs forward into battle.
Both Emma and Roger engage a 'zombie' each, their weapons striking true and hard. Hannelia continues to pepper the plant with arrows, and Sirio looks over the battlefield a moment, considering Constantine's alteration.
"Here... a gift from the Church," he says drily, and touches Constantine with a light hand.
Sirio then strides forward, morningstar at the ready...
The distant plant, two arrows now sticking out of it, shambles closer, at what must qualify as a 'run' for a plant, though still isn't terribly fast. It doesn't seem smart enough to grasp that it's just wandering closer and closer to Constantitanic over there....
Constantine finishes his non-pubertal growth spurt, grins as Sirio's comparatively tiny hand offers a not-entirely unwelcome blessing of Asmodeus, and then takes off running towards the plant. His shield also glows as he calls on the spirit within for extra bolstering. His voice, ringing out in a growing battle cry, is the same pitch now, but has a deeper resonance that seems to shake the ground as much as his massive, charging footfalls.
With a mighty swing, Constantitanic seeks to render the plant into so much chopped salad.
One of the zombies lands a glancing blow on Constantine as he passes, but he barely feels it.
Constantine tears forward to the plant with the ground shaking under his huge footfalls, and with one mighty chop of his blade he severs vines and flowers alike. A last thrashing of tendrils accompanies the plant's collapse to the ground!
The two 'zombies', meanwhile, mindlessly return to their targets...
Emma takes a light scratch from the claws.... but now she, and everyone else, can avenge their wounds.
Fresh off his most recent kill, Constantine whirls around and takes a less-than-agile step back. In this maneuver, he swings his sword around and tries to take out the zombie harrying Emma. "Duck," he says nonchalantly as an enormous blade whips through the blades of grass.
It is unfortunately not a particularly inspiring or inspired swing.
Emma lets out an impressed cry as the enlarged form of Constantine slices through the plant creature, rendering it into mulch. Of course, this ends up costing her somewhat, as the plant zombie thing currently bearing down on her manages to get in a strike against her.
Before she can seek revenge against the thing, Constantine's enlarged form barrels over and takes a swipe at the creature. "Duck," her enlarged companion says.
You don't need to tell me twice, Emma thinks. Without hesitation, Emma ducks down as he makes his attack, and then moves forward soon after to strike at the plant zombie herself.
Perhaps it's the zombie's previous attack or the dodge she had to perform against Constantine's swipe, but Emma feels as though it's not a particularly effective attack against the creature.
As if rousing from a stupor, Sirio roars and launches himself at the southern plant creature and whirls his weapon in a neat arc at it.
Having seen Constantine easily scythe down the plant, Hannelia was hoping that the zombies would be easier. However, they seem to have either tougher skin than she expected or a charmed ‘life’ as a trio of weapons all failed to hurt them. ”Huh,” she mutters, moving round to open up an angle for a shot, albeit a harder one with Emma and Constantine engaging it.
"Oh aye careful over there! I've not seen as much pointless spinning since the time we tried robbing a wizard's tower." He spares a comment for his fellows engaged with the other zombie.
Whack! Chop!!! Roger puts one threat down with cold steel and makes it look easy.
The last gob-zomb-plant groans and attacks Emma, still the closest target.
A light scratch along her arm still stings, but it could have been worse.
"Come on, you've got 'im on the ropes!" Roger encourages, moving closer in case his aid is needed.
Frustrated that the plant goblin zombie had been able to cause so much injury, Constantine lifts his sword up and slams it down straight through the creature, utterly obliterating it as he essentially replants it in the ground.
"Fine, no pointless spinning."
Spurred on by Roger’s success cutting his plant down to size and his vocal encouragement, Hannelia carefully draws back her bowstring again. Closing one eye to aid focus, she sucks in a breath and releases both it and another arrow at the last remaining combatant.
With a mighty blow, the last zombie, looking small indeed next to Constantine's enlarged form, becomes nothing more than a fragmented pile of shredded greenery and shattered goblin bones.
As she shoots, Hannelia watches as Constantine’s massive sword arcs down and utterly cleaves the zombie in two, definitively ending the combat. ”Good job, everyone - that was pretty efficient and we kept clear of the plant. Which reminds me, as I understand it these things can cling on to life and regrow if left to their own devices so we should burn out the roots. Anybody want to take care of that? Let’s not allow it to torture these poor souls any more,” she finishes, gesturing at the remains of the animated corpses.
Swinging her bow on to her back, Hannelia closes the short distance to Emma, concern on her face. ”Are you ok? It’s not broken, is it? That thing took two solid whacks at you so I’d expect some bruising at the least,” she says, scrutinising the other woman’s arm. ”I can try out my new healing spell,” she offers - curiosity to do so tempered by the circumstances in which she’d be trying it - ”though I’d always prefer not to have to use it as it means someone’s been hurt.”
After it is clear that the immediate threat is over, Constantine shrinks back down to his normal-sized self. He stretches, feeling the fresh bruise purpling over the lingering wounds from the day before.
"If I could trouble you a bit, Ms. Venator, I am also still smarting from yesterday's goblin smite and would not mind a bit of healing myself once Lady Blackford is well."
He happily helps to uproot and gather all remaining material to set this battlefield properly to rest, though he has no specific fire of his own to offer.
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"Yes of course," replies Hannelia. "In fact, let me address your wounds first, I'd like a proper look at Emma's, though I confess my knowledge of wounds and anatomy is lacking. The healing magic is therefore something of a bandage over my own ignorance." She says the last bit with just a slight hint of bitterness, disliking both her own failings in not knowing more about the body and its workings, and for confessing it to the others.
It's not weakness though, she chides herself. They have a right to know what I can do and what I can't. They've demonstrated trust in my knowledge and abilities and equally I put my trust in theirs. That's the foundation of teamwork. And she can't deny that they are starting to develop into a team as they learn each other's strengths and weaknesses, and how to complement and counter them. And you like them too. Why else would you be opening up like this? Next, you'll be gossiping like a housewife - not that gossip isn't a good source of information... Shaking her head once, she pulls out of her inner monologue to focus on the task at hand.
"Ok?" she asks Constantine, looking him in the eye to check he is ready to receive the spell and consenting to her touch. Focusing her concentration, Hannelia spreads her fingers wide and places her hand lightly on to Constantine's bruise. She feels the man twitch involuntarily at the touch despite the deftness of her fingertips while she chants through the spell. Unfamiliar though the words are compared to the magic she has known for ages, they just feel right and she can feel the nourishing energy pulse through her hand and to restore the wounds.
The results are instantaneous: before her eyes she sees the swelling recede and the red edges of the goblin wound fast forward through the healing process, with fresh pink skin replacing the rawness at incredible speed. She cocks an eyebrow, rather impressed with her handiwork. "Just like... magic," she smiles. Allowing him a minute to right himself, she continues, "If you need a flame, there's a flint and steel in the bottom left side pocket of my pack, should be wrapped in a black cloth." She gestures to where it sits near where they entered the meadow. "Tindertwigs are in the same pocket on the other side if you need them but I think this will all catch easily enough. And please put everything back carefully where you found it," she adds, trying to hide a note of concern in her voice.
Turning back to Emma, she again checks the woman is ready by locking eyes with her before gently starting to roll up her sleeve. The bruising looks nasty but she's pretty sure it's not broken. It would just feel... wrong, wouldn't it? The paladin's arm is hot to the touch, no doubt a combination of the exertions of swinging her sword around and the warmth of the wound itself, a large discoloured mark standing out against her pale flesh. Again she spreads her palm and places fingertips gently on to Emma's skin, feeling the hairs on her arm stand up, and intoning the words to the spell.
And again the healing magic pours forth and the bruising goes down, rapidly changing colour through unnatural yellows and greens until it shows a much more healthy skin tone. "Good as new," Hannelia grins. "It's not exactly the same as being a divine vessel," she starts to articulate her thoughts aloud, primarily addressing her words to Emma and Sirio, "but that's quite the power trip. We've all used healing potions and know how potent they can be, but that just feels different. The ability to restore health with your hands," she finishes, somewhat in awe.
Emma grins appreciatively at Hannelia. "It may not be divine, perhaps, but it's still much appreciated. And truly - I grew up around a variety of divine casters. Most of them were nice enough I suppose, but always a bit succinct and matter of fact - the fact that I was at an outpost near the border probably had a lot to do with that." Emma shrugs, rubbing the back of her neck self consciously. "Either way, from what I've seen so far, you're a truly kind soul, and a quite knowledgeable one at that. Your empathy and warmth puts you ahead of most in my book, regardless of the source of your magic."
She flexes her arm, which feels much better - between the goblin dog bite and the plants thorns, she'd thoroughly sick of feeling itchy. It's definitely nice to have some relief.
Emma turns to Constantine, shaking her head with a bit of awe at his display in the fight. "I must say my friend, that was quite impressive! At this rate, any future zombie plants will be fleeing from you, lest they be shredded so easily."
While Hannelia deftly sees to both Constantine and Emma's injuries, perhaps surprising herself with her new-found aptitude, Roger and Sirio take a glance around the old battlefield to see if anything of interest remains on the corpses-- the human or the goblin, the old or the new.
Though the twenty years and the elements have taken their toll on the bodies and much of the equipment, some of the better-made gear has held up surprisingly well. On the body of what might have been a human officer, there is a masterwork longsword and a masterwork shortbow.
The roots of the creeper are burnt to cinders, ensuring that the plant cannot continue its grotesque reanimation. It may be part of its natural cycle, but you just aren't fans...
***
After stopping to catch your breath and eat some of your packed rations-- perhaps on the far side of the meadow, away from the gory little psuedo-zombie bodies-- you once again relace your boots, restrap your packs, reload the poor faithful mule.... and you continue. Adventuring is an awful lot of hiking, it seems. Pushing your way through thick brush, climbing over roots, celebrating when even a thin game trail is found since it means that much less work.
The air is cooler there than down in Saringallow, a sign of how you're gradually going higher and higher into the hills, but the exertion keeps you warm and sweating. The biggest drama of the next two hours is discovering a huge blackberry bush that gets everyone's hopes up momentarily for some juicy berries... but alas, it's too early in the season for such, and the berries are tiny and sour yet.
***
You travel through the pass that Asiclassus had mentioned, and you start to climb the ridge. Forest gives way to bare rocks with only intermittent trees, and the hiking gets steeper, but at least you have greater visibility, and gusts of wind that sweep over the rock outcroppings to cool the sweat on your face. The going is slow in a different way, having to pick your way up and down the rocks.
The sun is starting its slow creep down the sky before you catch a very distant glimpse of what must be the fort Asiclassus spoke of: the ridges continue to rise, and some ways off you can see that atop one of the most prominent, the silhouettes of battlements are visible.
As the crow flies, the distance is less than a mile. But given your pace and the frequent up-and-down nature of the terrain, the lack of a clear road, and the number of times you've had to double back as the ridges became impassable, you doubt you'll get there before sunset.
As you stand there taking a breather and considering the distance yet to go, Sirio's sharp eyes focus on something in the nearer distance. A wind-crooked tree stands tall on a bare outcropping of granite, its lean and nearly leafless branches jutting into the late afternoon sky. At the base of the trees a group of ravens is in the intense industry that suggests they have found something dead to feast upon.
Investigating, or pressing on for as much daylight as you have left?
"You're much too hard on yourself, Ms. Venator," Constantine says as he feels the characteristic tingle of positive energy and the itch of new skin growth. "You don't have to be an expert to manage a good job." He smiles and nods. "I feel much better. Thank you."
At Emma's encouragement, Constantine smiles lightly and nods his head. "Thank you, Lady Blackford. I pray we don't find any further zombie plants, but I imagine more goblins in our immediate future. And then I imagine your particular gifts courtesy of Iomedae will be quite useful."
The occultist looks around at the others as Hannelia and Emma discuss the merits of the differing origins of their capabilities. Both Emma and Sirio gained their powers from their respective gods. Hannelia had clearly studied magic in some capacity. Roger, the old sea dog, had honed a dedicated fighting style through his piracy. And Constantine...well, there was power to be found in everyday objects if you just knew where to look. Sainted warriors, dwarven craftsmen, and all other manner of adventurers through the years had said so of artifacts and relics, but Constantine had learned how to draw out similar resonances of less-overtly blessed objects. You just had to have a connection, and be open to more.
Still preferring his own weapons (for that very reason), Constantine leaves the longsword to Emma and the shortbow to Hannelia, or at least so he suspects.
---
At the sight of the conspiracy of ravens, Constantine grows quiet. "Let's find out what has the birds so excited," he suggests.
"You're much too hard on yourself, Ms. Venator," Constantine says as he feels the characteristic tingle of positive energy and the itch of new skin growth. "You don't have to be an expert to manage a good job." He smiles and nods. "I feel much better. Thank you."
”You're welcome, and really pleased to hear that.” Smoothing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Hannelia ponders Constantine’s words. ”Yeah, I guess you’re right. I want to be good at things and sometimes I should just accept that maybe it only needs to be good enough.”
As Sirio and Roger finish their sweep of the meadow, they return with a couple of high quality weapons that have survived the passage of time. Picking up the shortbow, she examines it closely, checking for damage to the wood but not seeing anything serious. She then weighs it on a flat palm, testing the heft and balance before taking up a combat stance and drawing back the bowstring a few times to practice her action. ”This is a quality piece of work,” she concludes admiringly. ”I trust nobody objects to me claiming it? It’s of finer make than my current bow so I think I can make good use of it.
---
At the sight of the conspiracy of ravens, Constantine grows quiet. "Let's find out what has the birds so excited," he suggests.
”Good plan,” agrees Hannelia. ”It seems likely that something is keeping them occupied and I’d prefer to find out what it is. Besides, this trek hasn’t got any easier so I’m not sure we’re making it to the fort while it’s still light and a night time assault doesn’t seem prudent.”
"Aye, such a twiggy little thing'd come apart in me hands. Take good care!" Roger hands off the bow to Hannelia.
---
"Hope it's not another murder plant, but aye, attacking the gobbos in their own fort in the dark seems a mite like fighting crabs in sunken caverns. Get the scuttlebugs in the bright sun beach and it's half the battle."
The group picks their way over the rocks, winding uphill to reach the tree and the feasting ravens. As you round the last outcrop of rock you can get a better image of what they are eating: goblin, it looks like. A dead goblin lies at the base of the tree, fairly freshly dead by the look of things-- certainly fresher than the plant-infested corpses you dispatched earlier. One leg is bent at an unnatural angle. Also unnatural: the purple ooze seeping from the small, broken body...
....the body the ravens have been feasting on......
Almost in sync, the small flock of ravens all become aware of your presence. Six black heads, beaks dripping with gore, raise and turn to look your way. Their eyes burn with red, murderous light.
"M̴̩̔u̸̳̐r̴͍̓d̵̗̐e̴͆ͅr̴͍̓.."
A single word, harshly croaked from half-a-dozen beaks.
"More corrupted nature," Constantine sighs. He moves up and around the ridge, careful to stay out of the way of Roger's likely charge. It would be good to get this over with.
"Hmmm, never can trust canny birds!" Roger, perhaps surprisingly, does not charge, but stalks forward side by side with Constantine, drawing his halberd and readying to ward off the bird side by side with him.
Sirio's familiar sinks into his robes, fleeing it's natural predator. Although both are anything but. He smirks at that.
He advances in the crowd and obscures his form with a murmur and blessing from his deity.
Emma moves forward cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the ravens. Though she moves slower than her companions, she eventually positions herself near Constantine and Roger, not wanting to advance further and potentially disturb whatever plan of attack they may have formulating - while also giving them a better chance of defending one another should the ravens suddenly swoop down.
Swooping is bad, Emma thinks to herself.
Either way, it seems it's going to be on the ravens to make the first move. Emma tightens her grip on her shield and keeps an eye to the sky.
The ravens sweeep forward in a rush of wings and cawing! Roger smacks one of the sky with his halberd, less a slice than a swat; the bird tumbles through the air then drops limply.
The others seem to have no more strategy or goal than to mob the nearest people-- currently, Roger and Constantine.
But the approach costs one of the birds badly, Constantine hacking it out of the air.
For all of the flurrying wings and screeching, only one of the ravens even draws blood manages to bruise our heroes.
Emma watches as both Roger and Constantine strike down two of the approaching ravens - the two corrupted birds practically explode into feathers as they drop to the ground below.
Considering the ease in which the ravens were dispatched, Emma almost feels bad about having to attack them.
Almost.
"Never cared much for birds," she mutters to herself. "You always find the most annoying spots to sing in the morning when tired paladins are trying to sleep." She glances over at Roger. "They seem to have taken a particular liking to you there Captain! Have you done something to wrong ravens in the past to make them target you so? Let me see if I can lend a hand!"
Emma steps slightly forward and strikes out with her longsword towards the nearest attacking raven.
With the others having already moved forward before the ravens took flight in a swirl of red eyes, black feathers and noise, Hannelia selects an arrow from her quiver. Drawing her bow, she lines up one of the birds that had mobbed Roger. "More demonic creatures," she sighs. "I really hope we can get to the bottom of this and put a stop to it."
"We will," Constantine says as he strikes one bird down and then moves to slice another that got past his initial defense.
"THEY MUST BE AFTER ME PARROT!" Roger roars with a wild swing of his weapon with a mad glint in his eye. He, uh, must feel quite strongly about this?
Weapons flash and slash, and nearly every swing drops a bird. Sirio heads in to see if he can take the last straggler out...
Sirio's morningstar comes perilously near Roger's whiskers, but the last raven is summarily put down! Our heroes have but barely been scratched.
When you (gingerly) search the (fragrant) corpse of the goblin, using your cold iron weapons to carefully wither away the presence of the purple pus leaking from its tiny form, you find two small, dented tin flasks that have escaped the ravens' hungry pecking.
Constantine is able to concentrate on the flasks and determine the properties of the liquid within via the whispers that only he can hear... One is a potion that will harden the drinker's skin like bark for ten minutes, and the other is a potion that cuts the drinker's size in half for a minute.
The goblin seems to have died, not by raven, but by mishap-- you can tell that one of the creature's spindly legs are bent at unnatural angles. Given its location at the base of this tree, perhaps it fell from the tree? Aside from the potions, the goblin had one of the small bows and crude daggers typical to goblinkind... and a sheep's horn, carved and hollowed to be a signal horn. A watchman posted to observe this ridge?
If so, it's a stroke of luck for all of you-- you may be able to make it to the fort undetected.
Making the most of the daylight, you press forward until further travel would risk a sprained ankle in the growing dusk. The rocky terrain offers numerous little gorges and gullies that will shield any fire's light from watchful eyes.... but it offers considerably less in the way of flat, comfortable ground to stretch out on. Pebbles in your backsides and the sloping, rock-hard ground (I mean, it's literally rocks), combined with the tension of knowing you're definitely into goblin territory now... and goblins are sneaky buggers... who see much better in the dark than you do..... make for a crummy night's sleep, and the watchers often take some time to drift off even when their watches have ended, tense with the possibility of sneaking goblin scouts in the darkness....
But your exhaustion earns you sleep. Aching muscles melt into what comfort your bedrolls give you, even over stone. The sun will come all too soon.
****
The morning is cold, and you don't dare rekindle the fire for fear the smoke will be seen from the fort. Cold rations do little to help pierce the bleary morning hangover. Was it only three nights ago you rested in the best beds at the Witch's End, and had sizzling bacon, and fried eggs, and warm rolls drizzled with honey? Adventuring sucks.
But today, you will reach the fort. And whatever it holds-- goblins, surely, most likely tainted and corrupted. Talon, alive? One can only hope.
Belts are tightened, boots laced, swords girded on. You march.
Two hours' travel through the treacherous gorges stretches to three given your desire to avoid notice from the fort's sentries-- you keep off the ridge's highline, dipping down to the gullies on either side. The mule is more sure footed than any of you-- she never risks a wrenched ankle or a barked shin, but the rest of you acquire those in plenty.
But all the same, eventually you call a stop, and look up to see the ramparts of the old fort much closer, now.
Sirio ties his mule off. From here on, you go with what you have on your backs. Will you attempt further stealth, at this point, or has the time for that come and gone?
Looking up at the fort, Constantine wonders how much resistance they will face within. "As much as I would love to get in under their noses, I confess I'm not much for stealth." He shrugs. "But if anyone might be up for reconnaissance--" he looks at Roger "--it might not be a bad idea."
Cold weather and cold food don't help anybody's mood but Hannelia can feel a sense of something - adrenaline perhaps - building as they approach the fort. Hopefully this is the end of this part of the journey and it will shed some further light on what's been going on.
"Nor me," agrees Hannelia. "I've never been particularly adept at sneaking. Although I believe we acquired a potion that would be of use here," she adds, looking inquiringly at Roger. "As things stand, any sense of how we get in, who might be watching, any obvious defences would be a big help. Don't try to push things too far though, we're not planning the perfect heist. And nor," she continues, "is there pressure to do this if you don't fancy it."
Emma chuckles a bit. "I'm definitely not one for stealth either I'm afraid," she says. "Oddly enough, that was one skill that the heavily armored paladins and guards back home never really covered. I do like the idea of trying for some reconnaissance though - chances are we're going to be facing a fair amount of resistance in there. If we can use the environment to our advantage and have an idea of where enemies may be grouped up, that could help."
"Aye, fair a plan as any, but I should infiltrate at high noon. Nobody expects a sneaking mission then! They'll all be hiding from sun, or dozing off in it. I'll take the barkskin potion just in case it goes awry though." Roger strokes his beard as he muses on the plan.
"Noon, hmm?" Constantine muses in concert with the pirate. "At the very least they won't have the advantage of vision on us."
When Roger guzzles down the two potions, his skin starts to take on strange dapplings and markings, so that he practically blends into the rocks around you. Even the keen-eyed among you have to blink to keep an eye on him.
Roger-- this grog is sharpening your eyes, alright! Why, this is better than having a spyglass. You can nearly count the hairs on your companions' heads. Well-- best to take advantage of it and go see what can be seen, eh?
Like a shadow, Roger creeps off, parrot affixed to his shoulder... He slips through the rocks and occasional bushes unseen, the patterns on his skin and clothes shifting to match the rock around him.
Through the rocks, and he sees that a small copse of a few stubborn trees are holding on here in a little shallow before the fort itself. His enhanced sight has no trouble picking out three goblins perched in the branches of the trees, reasonably well-hidden, but unable to dodge the eyes of SuperRoger.
Beyond the trees and the sentry goblin, a rock face rises about thirty feet, with a wooden stairway crossing the face at a diagonal. The stairs look crude by solid-- but Roger's current eyesight can see that about halfway up the stairs there's some sort of contraption fastened beneath the stair-slats, something gleaming like metal or glass perhaps. The stairs continue upwards to hit a flat plateau at the top that holds the fort itself-- a stone block perimeter that the goblins have further enhanced with fortifications that were, perhaps, chosen more for visuals than for actual strategic defense-- mostly, bits of scrap metal, broken weapons and farm implements, and no few number of sharpened bones, all jutting out at haphazard angles to provide a visually impressive, if chaotic, rampart wall.
The stairs end at a large gate in this wall, however. The gate currently stands open, but as near as Roger can tell from this distance, it is in working order and could be closed if the sentries were to raise the alarm. Beyond the gate and the wall, he can see no further from his spot by the trees... at least not without trying to get much closer.
Constantine draws out a pack of cards, then shows off a bit by levitating them and shuffling them midair. "Anyone fancy a game while we wait?"
Roger slyly takes a look around. Whether it's the magic in his belly or the canny old sea dog's tricks, he makes it around with none the goblins the wiser.
"Aye lads, we've got three goblins waiting in ambush in the trees, ready to raise the alarm and get the drop on us, but we've got 'em!" Roger notifies the party of all he's seen.
"There's a gate that could be closed at the sound o battle, so I've got a cunning plan! I'll sneak inside the fort with the last of these potions just as you lot attack the goblins outside. They'll be so busy looking to see what's what as you attack, they won't be looking at their own gate, and then I'll get in the gatehouse and open the gates again if they close 'em. And I'll use the potion of barkskin just in case things go more scrambled than over easy." Roger seemed to be hitting the potions hard today.
Constantine draws out a pack of cards, then shows off a bit by levitating them and shuffling them midair. "Anyone fancy a game while we wait?"
Hannelia rolls her eyes as she looks up, trying to work through possibilities but also trying not to worry about Roger and just trust the pirate’s skill and magical aid. She mutters to herself before replying, ”Sure.” Smiling, she plucks one of the cards out of the pack with a thought and moves it through the air and into her waiting hand.
Constantine is in the middle of playing a round of Rummy--and losing--when he hears Roger's voice bark back. "I think that you win the game, Ms. Venator," he says with a grin.
To Roger, he looks towards the sound of the hidden voice, knowing that he has no hope of seeing the hidden pirate , and affirms the plan. "I'll use Hannelia's old bow and we'll see if we can get a drop on them. Maybe Lady Blackford can throw some javelins as well. Just point out their hiding spot and we'll wait a few more minutes for you to get into position."
Constantine spares a glance for Sirio, wondering whether an Asmodean bothered to carry anything suitable for fighting at range. Should he offer him a throwing dagger, or not bother mentioning it?
Also taken off-guard by Roger's reappearance - That is an impressive display of stealth - Hannelia listens carefully to the pirate's description of the fort's defences and guards. "Brilliant work, Roger, she enthuses, "if we can take out those guards outside quickly that would indeed be helpful. As well as ranged weapons, I wonder if there's anything we can do to give the trees a shake and see how many goblins tumble out?"
As for the rest of the description of the fort, the staircase sounds like a potential double-edged sword - a single narrow entryway may be easily defensible, but equally may prevent a rapid response. She also voices her main concern with the plan. "This contraption on the stairway," she asks, "is it something you can bypass easily? It's definitely something that I'd like to check out and ensure it's not a danger before you go on up to the top." She bites her lower lip in concentration, weighing up the potential options and trade-offs. "Possibly wishful thinking, I grant you as we want to take out the guards as quickly as possible and I doubt I could make it unnoticed up there to take a look. I'd just hate for it to explode on you, it sounds to me like it's probably rigged to hurt. Not to mention potentially drawing the attention your way that we're looking to avoid," she adds as an afterthought.
"It'll be no trouble at all. The thing about wooden stairs is what they've got to have all sortsa criss-crossy supports on the sides to hold 'em up. When I come up on the contraption, I'll just pop off over the side and climb what to the other side of it. Easier than rigging by a pint and a half!" Roger waves off the danger.
"...I wonder if there's anything we can do to give the trees a shake and see how many goblins tumble out?"
Roger explains as best he can which trees the goblin sentries are hiding in. It results in a slight comedy of errors, of the 'That tree, right there!' variety, and with four other people whose senses currently are not magically enhanced all saying 'wait, which one?' in whispers. The closer you edge, trying to peer through the foliage and canopy to try and find green goblins amid green leaves, the closer you get to being spotted yourself, what with shiny armor, colorful clothing, and the like...
Roger finally has to split off from the others to pursue his own agenda, and manages to bypass the trees and goblins as before. But a shrill goblin shout goes up at the same time that Constantine, Sirio, Hannelia, and Emma finally do spot the hiding goblins.....
Constantine is in the middle of playing a round of Rummy--and losing--when he hears Roger's voice bark back. "I think that you win the game, Ms. Venator," he says with a grin.
To Roger, he looks towards the sound of the hidden voice, knowing that he has no hope of seeing the hidden pirate , and affirms the plan. "I'll use Hannelia's old bow and we'll see if we can get a drop on them. Maybe Lady Blackford can throw some javelins as well. Just point out their hiding spot and we'll wait a few more minutes for you to get into position."
Constantine spares a glance for Sirio, wondering whether an Asmodean bothered to carry anything suitable for fighting at range. Should he offer him a throwing dagger, or not bother mentioning it?
Sirio rolls his eyes at the glance. The other young man was quietly offering to arm him. The priest murmurs after the pause offered by Constantine,
"The Lord of Law extends his arm as long as he needs. His blessings should prove more useful than mortal weapons. One ought to do what one is best at, after all."
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"Oh, he gives you the wacky woobly swooshy arm spell? I've seen that one before, tis' quite a sight to see." Roger comments before he leaves on his secret mission.
Having finally pinpointed three goblins, relatively well hidden in the foliage of their respective trees, Hannelia taps a finger to her forehead in silent salute as Roger heads off on the next part of his reconnaissance. She loses sight of him quickly as he slips into the brush, giving him a window to get past the guards before singling out a target. Assuming the party will be spotted swiftly enough, she strides forward purposefully before loosing an arrow. "Luck be with us; if we can't take them by surprise, let's at least take them quickly," she whispers.