NIGHT BELOW - Black Dow's C&C Underdark Campaign

Game Master Black Dow

Attack 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 Longbow
Damage 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9 Arrow

Spiro also moves up and takes a shot before ducking down behind a bush near the river edge.

Frogs!!!

@Huni - Nah not swamp per say... just boggy underfoot, hence the movement penalty :)

@Spiro: Am presuming you shoot the arm in mouth frog

SURPRISE ROUND (PER SAY)

As Ping steadies the party's pack animals and Hûnidark readies himself for
melee, both Mos' and Spiro's arrows fly true thumping into the dining frog killing it instantly... The remaining frog defiantly lets out a rumbling croak as it eyes up its dead companion...

ROUND 1

... which is answered by a chorus of croaks as six more colossal Frogs crawl menacingly from the river's murky edge!

PARTY UP!

Ulf crouches in the thick brush near the burly monk, peering through the reeds at the source of interest. Spotting the massive frog, the ranger squints. "Queer ġesċeafte creatures have ye on the ābufan-grundsurface/above-ground" he whispers. He wonders for a moment if it would be more efficient to simply let the frogs be and continue on their way, but as he eyes the rest of the group moving into position and Spiro and Mos drop one with well-struck arrows, he nods to himself, accepting the course of action before him. "Yet.. say would ye lot the same of min hām, reckon I."

Ulfbrecht takes his handaxe from his belt, tosses it up once a few inches above his hand before catching it and then flinging it at the frog directly ahead of him.

Handaxe Throw: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Casting Color Spray, Wisdom Save to negate.

Ping fumbles at her pouch before pulling out several small, brightly colored marbles. She holds them between her fingers as she frantically chants and points her palms at the three closest frogs.

"Պրիզմայի միջով լույսի ներքո համտեսեք ծիածանը: Թեքերը վերցնում են ձեր գուլպաները:"

Spiro moves as far away as he can... Above the horses... off the map by a bit. and fires at the Yellow? (Colorblind challenged?)

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 Bow
1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 Arrow (Piercing).

Don't let them take the animals!

@Ulf: Am presuming Red Frog or did you target Blue?

Ping's delicate hands explode in a scintillation of colour blasting the three huge amphibians menacing her. As the dazzling rainbow dissipates all three Frogs lie unconscious!

Spiro's shot just misses one of the Frog's that slump - losing the arrow to the Churnett waters...

Crouching down and staying hidden in the grass, Mos fires at the frogs.

Hide roll (17): 1d20 ⇒ 17 (well that was close!!)

Back Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 + 4 = 20
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6 x2= 12

Ping gulps down some air as her hands start to shake. She puts the marbles back in her pouch and reaches for her dagger.

Don't think she can act again just yet, so this is more for flavor.

Hûnidark raises a bushy eyebrow as the fleeing elf speeds past him. With the bog before him slowing movement, he’s certain pursuing a frog would lead to being quickly surrounded. Better to draw them in.

He sidles away from Ulfbrecht, forming a ragged line with his nearest allies. If the frogs moved in, they might be able to flank the beasts.

Move: On map

Aye, the red frog.

@All: Remember to let me know which of the Froggers you're targetting - saves me asking or presuming :)

Ulf's arrow buries itself into the mottled hide of one of the larger frogs. It gives the creature pause as it squirms in pain, but does not fall.

Mos successfully slips into the nearby shrubbery, and lets fly with a fatal shot at the [inset colour] frog... (its a kill Mos just need to know who you're sending to the Amphibian afterlife)

sorry...lets go Froggie light blue!!

Eireachdail emerges from the bushes where he'd retreated in haste before the frogs made their appearance, muttering at the time, "Ah blast...not the trots!"

Tying off his breeches, he takes in the scene, and declares, "What ho! A fracas...with enormous amphibians! Well, not the best subject...what rhymes with frog...bog...flog...clog."

He steps forward and draws his broadsword, stepping afore small Mos, "Keep it up Ser Smallbarrow, and I'll sing your praises at lunch!"

Keeping guard in case the froggies advance.

Mos' shot skewers the frog he targets and it slumps dead.

Eireachdail, having extracted his jellied eel supper, readies himself for the advancing amphibians, while Ping draws a blade...

The two of the three active frogs advance (10ft Move) and, tho wounded, the largest (red) lashes out at Hûnidark with its bulbous tongue!

Frog Tongue Lash: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Bludgeon Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 2

The last of the three suddenly leaps forward o'er the thickets and reeds (30ft Leap), landing beside Ulf with a menacing croak!

PARTY UP!

Dropping his bow Spiro charges forth drawing his scimitar as he runs.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 Scimitar
1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 Edge

"Anybody got a good Fried Frog Legs recipe"?

Moving slightly to keep hidden and get the best position to shoot from, Mos again fires from concealment at the giant amphibians.

Hide roll (17): 1d20 ⇒ 1 Not too sure if this is good or bad seeing how I need to roll under 17??

Back Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 + 4 = 23
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1x2= 2

(Cough) Targetting which frog chaps? (Cough)

crapcrapcrap!!! sorry...red!

Returning the frog’s kindness, Hûnidark attempts to deliver a mailed fist into the back of the beast’s cavernous maw.

Attack RED

Cestus HIT: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13 | DAM: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Ping rushes up to the closest frog and slits its throat. All the while, she prays to whatever gods may listen to her that there's not more of the huge amphibians waiting to pounce.

Spiro engages the advancing frogs but his flashing blade fails to find mottled hide...

From his position of subterfuge Mos pins already wounded frog with a plumb shot. It pauses in its tracks before Hûnidark's cestus sends it the amphibian afterlife... [Red is dead]

Ping administers a coup de grace on one of the prone frogs [Dark Green is also dead].

"Well done!" Eireachdail exclaims as his fellows dispatch frog after frog.

Not wanting to miss all the fun, he shuffles over and attempts to land an over head blow with his sword! targetting green

Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 3
Damage: 2d4 ⇒ (2, 4) = 6

Ulf takes up his polearm as the giant frogs advance, eye twitching as he watches one make a stupendous leap that puts it right in front of him. Without wasting a moment, he shortens his grip on the weapon to use the spear-headed end and drives it into the light green frog.

Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

But the quarters were too close to sudden to get an accurate strike, it seemed.

The remaining (active) Frogs have had enough and turn to flee back to the sanctuary of the Churnett. One [Blue] leaps into the river, immediately submerging. The other [Light Green] finds itself surrounded as it leaps!

Ulf, Eireachdail & Hûnidark get a free attack vs AC10

PARTY UP!

"That's it! RUN! You amphibious curs!" Eireachdail shouts, swinging at the nearest frog as it flees for it's life.

Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 15
Damage: 2d4 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7

The half-orc punches at the retreating beastie.

AoO on GREEN

Cestus HIT: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15 | DAM: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

The fleeing frog dissipates in a mist of green between the combined attention of Kordite and Skald!

Presuming Ping and Co end the slumbering amphibians then Combat is Over!

Ping quickly kills the other two frogs before looking over to the others.

"I-Is that it?"

It would seem so, the Giant Frog that escaped does not resurface... perhaps plotting a suitable revenge...

<Frog Nemesis Unlocked>

As you check over the others, you note that based on the one with the blue arm hanging from its maw, these amphibrutes likely swallow prey whole and may hold treasure in their guts...

Ulf opens them up and collectively you recover;

19GP
Gem: Pearl worth 25GP
Gem: 2 x Malachite worth 10GP each
Gem: Moonstone worth 25GP

A soggy gown for a child or halfling - worth 8GP
A handcarved wooden deer figurine inlayed with gemstone eyes and waterdeer ivory - worth 3000GP!

Of the blue arm - it belongs to a malicious little goblyn with blue woad covering one half of its body

The wretch has nothing of value.

Between monster XP and Treasure you each gain 556XP - totals updated :)

Ulf looks around, emerging from behind the bushes to retrieve this thrown axe. He turns over one of the frog corpses with his foot to get a better look at it, shrugging.

"Looks it, nebb-wendere face-changer" Ulf replies. He sets to using the recovered axe to open the corpses, loosing the haul onto the sodden ground. "Welthy frogcan, be they." His eye twitches at the goblin corpse. "Eh. Gutt-slime a better smell for the pūca, say I. Be ware..for if lurks one pūca, there lurk many."

Ulf admires the deer figurine solely for its craft and gives himself a little reassuring half-grin 'neath his whiskers, hoping his own skill with plane and chisel could match up someday.

Suddenly from the misty gloom of the riverside a loud voice hails you;

"HO THERE! How do you fare? I heard the clamour of a melee! Can I assist ye?"

From a distance you see a tall strongly built human approaching, perhaps slightly smaller than Hûƞidark. He wears the garb of an outdoorsman and the pommel of a large blade can be seen at his back.

His arms are empty and outstretched in the peace sign...

Before Ping can say anything to Ulf, she hears the apparent woodsman call out and tries to unobtrusively put the dwarven priest between herself and the large new comer.

I don't trust this. Not at all!

Ulfbrecht wheels around to the sound of the voice, hand still gripped around the haft of his handaxe. His eyes move from Ping to the newcomer and notes her taking cover behind him and turns to more fully block her from view, facing the human face on. "Gōd-ġemōt to ye, fremde..." the ranger says slowly. "habbaþ things wel in hand, do we, wyrd be cynd." He studies the man for a moment, noting his clothing, wondering if he could be the ranger the group was seeking.

"forġiefe I, but the last folc came upon us on the road meant to make us prey. Mite ye give your nama?"

He scans the surrounding brush and cover in case there are those lying it wait for ambush like last time.

Wisdom? (primary): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

The newcomer heeds Ulf's words and holds his approach;

"Well met strangers. I come with nay ill intent - I am Kuiper - Ranger o' this Shire. Ye've nowt to fear from me, lessen you mean this realm harm."

His broad features are honest, and garb functional for a frontier life.

"I see you've come across a juvenile pack of our Marsh Bullers... Giant Frogs... They'll eat anything they can catch. Well done on seein' then off, they can be tenacious in a pack!"

He casts his eyes across your number;

"Not local... So Vagabondi I would best guess by your countenance. Tell me travellers, ye've not come across a young lad on the road? Farmer's lad, some 12 winters old; name o' Maksim?"

You note a tone of concern in the big Ranger's voice as he speaks.

Hearing the ranger's name and his purpose does help Ping relax somewhat, but she still keeps close to Ulf as she reveals herself.

"I fear we have not," she says. "Though given that we also didn't find him in these things' bellies, perhaps that is a good thing."

Mos stays hidden in the overgrowth and keeps a watchful eye on both the water and their new "friend"

Hide(17):1d20 ⇒ 5

Sorry, the forum outage got me out of sorts!

Ulf relaxes every so slightly, exhaling from his nose and nodding to himself.

"Aye, be ye Kuiper for true? Wyrd shines lēoht on we, then. It is ye we seek!" Ulf looks back to his compatriots. "T'is the ranger, if'n his tunga spins truth."

Returning his attention to Kuiper, he looks the man up and down. "Call-ed am I Ulfbrecht Thragimthall, Deeprunner of Glorigirn. As speaks my far-cȳþþ, nay have we seen this lad, but there are deorc fȳnd about...taking folc by niht. Seek we the Lady Jenneleth, and ye to talk o' the Gleaming Glade. May be our rāda are the same."

Ditto - been meaning to post for days now, then get distracted by RL. My bad, want to keep the momentum we'd built post the Great Kermit Massacre. Will try and get something up tonight/tomorrow

Kuiper strides forward, clasping the dwarv's hand in firm shake;

"Well met Deeprunner... And aye Little Miss, it is good to know Maksim is not lining the gullet o' a Marsh Buller!"

The big ranger pauses, mulling the gravity of Ulf's words;

"Wait, ye seek Jenneleth? Jenneleth of Milborne, the apprentice o' Tausthäuser? Tell me not that she is missing also! As for the Gleaming Glade, what business do you have with haunted place? And, what of these dark fiends ye speak?? Ill tidings ye bring Ulfbrecht and Company..."

Kuiper looks downcast as he awaits your words.

Ping hesitates, remembering what happened at the crossing, but after a moment, she sighs and steps beside Ulfbrecht.

"She is. Taken by a demon in the middle of the night on her way home yestereve, as near as we can tell. She--" The words catch in Ping's through as she realizes what she is about to say. A friend? I barely know her, but--but I did trust her. That's as close to a friend as I seem to have.

"She is a friend," Ping says softly after her hesitation, sounding almost scared by the words coming from her mouth. "She is a dear friend and I want to see her safely back to her home."

Ulf nods to Ping. "Aye, as says the spryt of Jenneleth. Ah, yet not a werod - company - o' mine. Join-ed these folc but few dagas ago. Cnāwen the lady longer than I, helping her back to her spell-mǣster. Met them on the rād, our tasks akin. Seek I the Gleaming Glade huntoþ thrall-makers..slave-takers. A cult of the Rīpere God, like as not. The mann Garyld in Haranshire said of the Gleaming Glade, a place where such folc lurka." He closes his eyes, summoning the stone slabs in his mind on which he has chiseled the descriptions he was given of the group he seeks. " If'n ye the tīma, speak on their līcness would I, if'n ye know of them.."

Mos places his hand on Ping's shoulder to show his support for the gnome and his willingness to stay by her side.

Ping looks up at Mos, uncertain what to make of his show of support. It seems the past few days have well and truly shaken her and her world.

Spiro remains calm and quiet observing the surroundings as the others speak. He wonders if he could scrounge up enough herbs to make giant frog legs delicious.

The big ranger holds and listens intently, brow furrowing as Ping and Ulfbrecht speak their words.

"So she is taken. By a daemon ye say? A creature that serves the Cult of the Reaper no less... Fell tidings indeed..."

He mulls his words, as if recounting them to himself before he speaks;

"The Gleaming Glade is an ill storied place. It is the site of a great battle betwixt a powerful Necromancer and Lord Parlfray's ancestor centuries past. The legends tell how a goodly host rallied to defeat the wicked mage, yet as he was struck down, the blackheart accursed the forest - blighting the trees and rendering the place lifeless... Garyld speaks true as o'er the years it has drawn the odd madman or death prophet, but I've nay heard of any such cult visiting upon that barren place of late."

Kuiper rubs his dimpled chin as he tries to make sense of the news;

"If Jenneleth is taken, perhaps those that took her also may have the lad Maksim that I seek? Though for what purpose I would hate to think... The God Reaper's clergy have little use of the living, save for sacrifice to their dark lord..."

His voice trails off as the gravity of peril the missing souls face settles in...

Ulf nods, his face dour. "Aye, some daemon or dēofol..a niht-waccheman o' Harranshire, says he a mann-bakke..some fūl kross-blod of mann and bat. Fell upon the lady and flēag her away." His eyes drift to the sky and he squints. Shaking his head, the ranger shrugs, palms open to show his lack of concrete findings.

"Ov the Gleaming Glade and this dēad-raiser or yer Parlfay know I little...yet o' the cult - or, at least a few of its ilk - know I some. These folc were active in my land for some years, to my ear. Dǣling in thralls n' other ful deeds. But if'n they seek to make offers to this god o' theirs... more'n the Lady Jenneleth n' yer Maksim be in danger. Though hope have I that taking the tima to dig into þēow-trade n' blæc-mal means they don't have aims to just make offrung ov them..." Ulf's voice trails off as well, an image of his niece slinking through his mind.

"If'n wish ye to join eyes n' arms to find those were tacen, to mine mynd, a good path. Be I a scout n' tracker as well..though mine skills in the toplands are not as sharp."

Kuiper nods;

"I know not o' there fell intent, but if you and your friends have had dealings with that murderous clergy, I'll defer to your kenning. Yet I would say that this side of the river, betwixt myself and The Lady Finella , we would know of them..."

He points across the river, towards the opposite bank;

"My own eyes have seen little sign of him this side of the river. Maksim's Da does send him to Hog Brook yonder to gather herbs and pick trufa unearthed by the rooting of the wild pigs... Perhaps we start there, less the Gleaming Glade is your stern intent, tho' Count Parlfray may know more o' what price of victory o'er the Necromancer..? Regardless ye have my blade and ken of this realm while we seek those lost!"

As I've touched on previously gang Haranshire in the early parts of the campaign is very sandlot, so plenty of opportunity to wander and get yourselves into mischief. That being said, I've the over arching plot strings for you to tug at also :)

"I-if we help find this boy, Maksim, will you help us find Jenneleth," Ping asks.

Kuiper nods and smiles warmly;

"We shall find them both... together little one."