Cartographer's page

Alright, so having reviewed my workload, I've decided to let this game go on "indefinite hiatus" so I can focus on writing, drawing, and classes. Honestly, I just don't have the time to do it justice, and I do a disservice to my players by being this irregular and disorganized when I really just don't have the time.

I appreciate you sticking with the game to the end, Almonihah, and I honestly apologize, since I can tell you're dedicated to this character and Isamu's a lot of fun. You've been very patient, and you really engaged well with the campaign premise. I hope you find a place for Isamu elsewhere, should you choose to re-purpose him for another campaign.

I'm making no promises that I will or won't come back to this in the future, when I have more time, of course. "The Travelogue" remains a kind of game I really enjoy. Maybe I'll try running it with Ryuutama or something, a game system more intuitively based on journeys and roleplay. You'll all be quite welcome if anything of that sort ever comes up.

It's been a ton of fun, everyone, and I'm glad we at least managed to see it through to the sort of ending this campaign is suited to—the end of one chapter, and beginning of a new one. That's a good note to leave off on.

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

Though the "ghost children" are plainly still wary of the party's weapons, they seem to be put at least somewhat at ease by Lily's and Isamu's respectful words—and perhaps by the name of Lily Shadow, whose name does occasionally filter out of the Writhing Wood. And Trin seems to be shivering in the breezy plains, huddling against Rex for wamrth, so they make a decision and usher the party back to the ruined town with little more delay.

The closer the party gets to the ruins, though, the less ruined they appear. A warm glow begins to pervade the world around them, and a sensation like a hearth's heat on chilly hands. The old brick walls shimmer and morph, and a soft crackling echoes all around. The buildings begin to look newer. More intact. Homier.

"Welcome to our humble little town," Nimba says, smiling. "We haven't got around to coming up with a name for it yet. The vote is pending."

The two groups are greeted by curious stares by little folk in the windows. Some even come outside of their houses to examine the newcomers more closely. The party is guided into a large sort of tavern or longhall, lit by a crackling fire to be cozy and comfortably. There, Trin is practically accosted with blankets and every hot drink and comforting meal the cook can spell to her mind. The young aasimar seems overwhelmed, and continues to cling to Rex as they uncertainly drink from a spiced egg-cream drink the cook insists will warm their up "quick as Styx." Rex gives it a careful sniff first, of course.

The rest of the party is greeted every bit as warmly, if perhaps a bit more cautiously. Nimba stays with them, but the other scouts seem to fade into the background as he leads them to one of the only tables large enough for Isamu and Yeldrid to sit at comfortable. It's actually a very nicely-carved table, set right next to the fire. "Our guest table," he explains. "Usually for merchants or honored visitors. Which I suppose you are, strangers!"

He hops up onto a high chair as the burly chef insists that the party help themselves. "We are almost to our harvest festival," she chirps, "and for now, food is plenty. It won't keep, so eat! Eat! It's rare enough I've access to bellies big enough to manage it, and waste breeds barghests. Eat!"

Whether the party eats or no, Nimba dines more conservatively, buttering his yams and occasionally sipping from his drink. He spends the afternoon quizzing the adventurers on the events of the Writhing Wood—everything from the wicked birds, which is disgustedly refers to as, "Mockingbirds, truly insufferable birds—" to the strange undead that claimed to be a spirit of the Wood itself, which he snorts at. But he listens in rapt attention as the party explains the trials with Old Wolf. The Tree of Souls is especially interesting to him.

"I am not an expert on spirits," he mutters. "And we haven't a proper sage since Old Mbina died. But the Tree of Souls... we have another name for it. We believe it is a prison for fiends. Maybe that is how 'Old Wolf' got free." He sips his drink. "It is good that he is dead, and that the child escaped. Every soul deserves a second chance to make it over the Styx. If even half of this is true, we owe you a great debt. I will schedule a vote on how to help we can further, if you plan to keep going.

"As for your original mission, to...track down Barlily's sage. Alma." He bites his lip. "That I can help you on now. We know what became of Alma.

"You see, just around a week ago, a giant came stomping over the plains. He was dressed very finely, and very cleanly—not his work clothes, I'd guess. And he had a most curiously-shaped cottage stuck to his foot." Nimba takes a heavy drought from his drink. "When you live in a house shaped like a shoe, you are asking for one of the Very Big Folk to make use of it, so I don't know what right Alma had to be swearing so viciously from up there. But she's alive, or was when the giant came.

"He explained to us that a few days ago, a very well-dressed old giantess in a terrible hurry had stomped on his cart and killed his merchant."

His brow furrows. "I see. I am Nimba—I was chosen to lead this patrol to meet your band. What are your names?"

The little figures exchange looks as they rose out of hiding. They look like... people. Only smaller. Their feet are large, bare, and hairy. and most of them have prominent sideburns—some styled, some allowed to grow as wild as thorn thickets. They are dressed in practical leather and hide armors, and carry slings.

Their apparent leader, a bald man with dark sepia-brown skin and a pair of curved swords at his side, addresses the group. "Who are you? And why do you travel with an aasimar?"

Isamu: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (16) + 0 = 16 Yeldrid: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23 Rex: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20 Lily: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11 1d20 ⇒ 4

As the party approaches the ruins, Rex's head gives a jerk. "Do you smell that?" the little corgyn whispers. He looks around, puzzled. But the sun is setting on the prairie, and in the tall grasses, it's hard to see what exactly he's looking for.

Feel free to assume Yeldrid shares this information.

[ooc]They counted in the high 40s. I'm not sure who's been keeping track of them, but you definitely have some left.[oc]

Did we lose Yeldrid?

The bird gives something like a snort and takes off with an angry warble. "Then see you soon, Shadow. We'll get you one of these days—a spider's only got so many legs with which to run-run-run."

Trin gives Isamu's much larger hand a squeeze. "Can we go?"

There is little Writhing Wood left to travel though, and the journey west is uneventful from here as the party reaches the plains. Gnarly trees give way to waves of brilliant green. The prairie spills out in all directions around the beaten dust road, spilling straight over the edge into a terrible cliff face. Jagged hills rise up around the cliff face.

Between all of this and the forest, though, lies an old, beaten ruin. Isamu checks his map.

"You're going to want to head to the ruins here. The ghost children are good sorts, and can offer, erm, succor and such. Directions, maybe.

The bird gives a short laugh. "Down-down-down you go. So now what?" It fixes its beady eyes on Trin as the aasimar goes to help Isamu up. "Win-win-win for you? Where are you even going?"

Do Lily or Yeldrid have anything to say?

Isamu feels a slightly confused humming sound, and his gravity reverses.

The orcs depart, and Isamu is left to consider a way down.

The party hears a clicking sound from nearby. A plain songbird has perched atop the bridge, staring down at the party in contempt.

"You lived-lived-lived," the songbird says flatly.

The gangles are waiting for the party to leave, naturally!

If you wait about a minute, they awkwardly stand around and then start milling off, giving Isamu the chance to find his way down.

Lily looks up to regard their new 'guests.' She whispers "Get Trin ready to go if they attack," before addressing the gangles across the bridge. "The Old Wolf is no more. Whatever he has promised you is gone, and your mission over. Return to your homes, and the peace and know that Lily Shadow is always here to guard the innocents of the forest."

The gangles exchange looks.

The archer clears her throat. "Old Wolf's control fell with him, and his promises gone sour. Go, then. Too many been killed or eaten for Hell's interest. For today, the orcs are tired of fighting. Take the soul and go. We would rather hunt for rich merchants' treasures than small screaming child anyways. We fight some other time, Lily Shadow."

The others nod in agreement.

Urgh, sorry, I'll get a post up this Wednesday.

Go ahead and give me a Diplomacy or Intimidate check, Lily. You get a +8 circumstance bonus either way,

Samson blinks, shakes himself, and trots forward as if nothing has happened.

He is about halfway across the bridge when the party notices that a group is starting to assemble on the eastern side.

Standing at the front of over a dozen gangles, head tilted to the side in silent observation, is the archer who escaped the previous skirmish—the one who got in a fistfight with Yeldrid before calling Yeldrid a garbage shooter and running away. She has her bow out, but hasn't nocked an arrow.

Lily Shadow cuts the beast's belly open.

There is a sound like a giant's wheezing, like a long, deafening dying breath. Fetid smoke explodes outward like cinders flying after a log has been thrown into a blaze. And before the party's eyes, the body... withers. The smoke blows away in a sudden breeze.

In a matter of moments, all that remains of Old Wolf is a tattered, ragged wolf skin—or something almost like wolf skin, but oily, crusty, and stained a deep crimson.

Trin draws their fur cloak closer around themselves as the wind begins to pick up.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 7
Thrown Dagger Smite: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17 Damage: 1d4 + 8 - 2 ⇒ (2) + 8 - 2 = 8
Acrobatics: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (11) - 3 = 8
Bull Rush: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Old Wolf snarls as a bullet rakes across his shoulder. Smoke rises from him like an army of campfires over a great, dark hill.

The great fiend seems to swell in size, towering over the little spiderwoman, and charges, trying to flat-out ram her off the bridge, drive her back to reach his true target at last. Trin takes a step back, breath catching.

Behind him, unnoticed, Rex hits the floorboards of the bridge with a faint clunk.

"I will FEED!" the fiend roars, as Lily struggles to hold him back. A roar releases from his mouth even as he speaks, as if multiple voices within him vie to be heard. "You are MEAT! You are MEAT! YOU ARE ALL—"

He cuts off, staring down at Lily with a look that is... almost puzzled.

The Old Wolf's neck seems to bend and stretch unnaturally to turn, to let him stare, mouth agape, at the dagger which has embedded itself between his shoulder blades.

The fiend staggers. "I. I do not understand." His yellow eyes flicker. He coughs up bilious smoke. "You are meat."

He collapses, twitching.

In the distance, the wolf howls are getting closer.

The Old Wolf is down. You knocked him down to exactly zero points—trying to run down Lily finished the job.

Rex holds the dagger—to him a shortsword—uncertainly, and readies to throw it.

Yeldrid is up! I'll give the results of the feint on Old Wolf's action.

For Rex's action, if Isamu is down, he'll Lay on Hands to heal Isamu for 1d6 ⇒ 5.

Rex's eyes are wide as he helps Isamu up. "I can't reach him from up here!" the corgyn half-whispers, half-whimpers. "We've got to think of something!"

Rex gets to his feet and readies to slash at Old Wolf when he falls down again, pausing only to heal himself as best he can. The corgyn does not look well.

LoH: 1d6 ⇒ 5

The attacks skid off of Old Wolf's hide, sending up sparks, as the creature gives a horrid laugh like magma bubbling. There is no humor in his eyes now, and nothing but hate as he lashes out at Isamu: For the moment, his only target.

Round 7: Old Wolf
Bite/Claw/Claw: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 261d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 171d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Reflex: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 61d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Readied Smite: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Isamu takes 14 damage, or only 6 damage if a 17 misses you for some reason.

Seeing Isamu sustain grievous injuries, Rex lets out a howl of anger. Spurred on by his love for his friends, the corgyn springs up to meet the monster as Old Wolf falls towards them—but Old Wolf twists out of the way to land on his feet. He grins as Rex is then in turn sent flying away. "There. Now the paladins can have fun on the ceiling together, and I can feed."

Now, only Yeldrid and Lily stand between him and his prey. The old fiend is badly injured, but as he starts towards them and Trin, his beady eyes glitter in almost mindless hunger.

"Part of me wants to take it slow killing you, Lily Shadow, so I can piece together who you really are. But really... who cares? The way of the Writhing Wood is to eat. So I shall eat."

Round 8: The party is up!

Oh, yes, sorry.
Reflex: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Old Wolf is taken safely back to the ceiling.

'Old Smoke-Belly' hisses as Isamu delivers a small shock to his leg. He leaps at Rex, going for the corgyn's throat. But as the wolf-fiend springs to his feet, Rex swings his falchion. And his blade strikes true, carving through the creature's flesh like butter. He cuts straight through the slice Isamu made, cutting an 'x' in the fiend's flesh.

Old Wolf screams.

Smoke pours from his split belly, making the stomachs of those nearby heave. Beyond words in his pain, he lunges for Rex, eyes blazing in pure, unending hatred. He grabs the corgyn between his jaws and shakes viciously, as though seeking to snap the corgyn's spine in two. Rex weakly manages to escape the grip, tumbling onto the ground.

Rex is bleeding heavily, and his breaths are shallow as he struggles to rise.

Smite: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26 Confirm?: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Damage: 2d6 + 16 - 4 ⇒ (3, 5) + 16 - 4 = 20

Bite: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19 Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Rex is down to 2 HP.

Round 7: The party is up!

Because Lily is right above Old Wolf when she throws, I'll let her treat Old Wolf's proneness like she's making a melee attack—making that a narrow hit!

Yeouch, could he maybe not roll twenties so much XD

Isamu snarls back at the demon and leaps back towards the briefly-vulnerable (he hopes) creature.

This time his leap is straight and true, his dagger aimed directly at his mark. He strikes and then recovers swiftly, flipping in the air to land on his feet behind Old Wolf, falling into a guarded stance as he lands.

The fox lands a graceful leap as he slashes into Old Wolf's exposed stomach. The fiend's eyes bulge, and he lets out a horrible wail. Black smoke and sulfuric fumes billow in equal measure from the cut.

However, the cut is... small. Smaller than it should be. A moment later, the cut mostly closes, and Old Wolf gives a hideous laugh. "Cold iron? Do you take me for a fey? Only the workings of gods and witches can—HSSSS!"

He snarls as Lily's dagger skids off his leg, almost cutting him. A moment later, the horrible roar of Yeldrid's gun drowns out his booming voice, and a bullet slices a thin gash across the wolf's cheek. More smoke trickles out.

For a short moment, everyone is back on the ground level. Old Wolf's eyes dart warily between Lily and Isamu.

With a barked corgyn curse, Rex slashes from the ground at the hateful glutton's belly, his falchion cutting in deep—and this wound does not heal.

Rex Falchion Smite: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Damage: 1d6 + 4 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 4 - 2 = 11

Round 6: Old Wolf

"Paladins!" the monster wails, gnashing his teeth. "May you be the last paladin I ever choke down, miserable wretch!"

He rises to his feet and lunges for the prone corgyn.

Isamu gets an AoO. So does Lily, if she has a melee weapon out.

Oh, and it's a DC 15 Reflex save not to land prone when you get flipped (or to hold onto where you already are, if you can find a handhold).

Old Wolf narrowly avoids Isamu's dagger, his eyes widening slightly as it crackles with electricity right by his ear, making his fur stand on end.

Rex growls and slashes at Old Wolf, who now finds himself surrounded by angry adventurers on the roof of the bridge. But Rex is trembling with the aftereffects of Old Wolf's Roar, and misses badly.

(Smite, Bless, Flank, Despair, Prone): 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 1 + 3 - 2 - 4 ⇒ (1) + 6 + 2 + 1 + 3 - 2 - 4 = 7

Round 5: Old Wolf

Old Wolf is getting annoyed, it is clear. "Enough!" he roars, and unleashes a frenzy of snapping and clawing—that sends him tumbling back to ground level.

Claw @Lily: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30 Damage(crit!): 2d4 + 8 ⇒ (1, 1) + 8 = 10
Claw @Yeldrid: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30 Damage(non-crit): 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Bite @Isamu: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23 Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Crits?!: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 301d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Lily takes 10 damage, Yeldrid takes 8, and Isamu takes 7.

Reflex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

The frenzy of attacks causes Old Wolf to lose his balance when he begins to fall back down, and this time, he lands on his side. The wolf snarls in rage. "I will consume. I will feast!" He is staring straight at Yeldrid now, the sole active obstacle before him. "Yield the soul or be torn asunder!"

As a brief recap, Medium creatures need to make a DC 10 Acrobatics check to reach Old Wolf when he's on the "floor"/"alternative ceiling". This allows them to make an attack and be launched downwards (though a ranged attack accomplishes the same thing). A "falling attack" works like a charge.

Small creatures need to make a DC 18 Acrobatics check to reach for a normal melee attack.

Round 6: The party is up!

Urgh. Today got away from me. Plans kept changing and un-changing and the net result was I only got about half of what I wanted to do done. I'll aim to get a post up tomorrow, and I'm reasonably confident it'll actually happen this time!

Also, Yeldrid is up!

I'll get up a post Friday with Rex's action and the responses to Isamu's and Yeldrid's actions as well as the next round, but Yeldrid is up!

Yes, projectiles would most likely land on the bridge roof.

And sure, that sounds like a clever idea! I'd let that work like a charge.

Lily throws the dagger, but Old Wolf twists out of the way. He gives a booming laugh. "Your petty steel means nothing to me!"

Okay, looks like Paizo's settled down again. Let's try this again.

Rex Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

"You might want to see someone about... well, your voice, the fact that your neck looks broken... well, just about all of you, for that matter. Do they have doctors in the Abyss?"

Old Wolf charges Rex, shrieking again. "You had better hope so!"

Shivering from the effects of the howl, Rex nonetheless slashes at the fiend as it draws near, letting out a challenging bark of his own at the significantly larger dog. He slashes into Old Wolf, taking a brutal gash from the monster's teeth in turn—and both are promptly launched into the roof.

Readied Smite: 1d20 + 6 + 3 - 2 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 3 - 2 = 16
Damage: 1d6 + 4 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 4 + 4 - 2 = 7

Bite: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 10 + 2 = 29
Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Reflex Saves: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 231d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 - 2 = 13

Once again, Old Wolf twists and lands on all four paws. Rex is not so lucky, however, thudding into the roof and catching himself... well, also on all fours, but not deliberately. Old Wolf lets out a barking laugh. "Say, this is fun! Let's see if the reversal lasts if I shove you off the bridge, Rex!"

Round 5: The party is up! Rex and Old Wolf both have reversed gravity.

Rex stands beside Lily and points at Old Wolf. He trembles with conviction.

Designating smite, and readying an action to attack if Old Wolf comes within reach.

Round 3: Old Wolf is up.

The fiendish wolf lets out another inhuman shriek as he bounds forward. With his howl comes a foul-smelling wind, and all save Yeldrid instinctively shudder. Behind the party, Trin's eyes start to glow a pale golden light, and they clutch at themselves, shivering.

All except Yeldrid, make Will saves vs. Enchantment (compulsion) (mind-affecting).

Trin Save: 1d20 ⇒ 3

Reflex save: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Old Wolf drops back down to the floor of the bridge, cackling as he twists like a wildcat to once more land upon his feet. "Well, now. Now I almost feel sorry for devouring the idiot tortoise guarding this delightful little bridge." Now, the reason for Cappy's strangely uneven way of speaking becomes more and more clear as Old Wolf's natural roaring voice comes back to him. His head tilts to an unnatural angle. He is beginning to look less and less like a wolf, his shining eyes seeming to grow wider and wider as his fur becomes almost pitch black, almost lightless. "How about it, then, children? I wasn't going to eat you, but it seems I've built an appetite."

Round 4: The party is up!

Trin hesitates alongside Yeldrid. "Isn't that what you said last time?"

Rex stops as he draws level with Isamu, turning and raising his falchion. The corgyn gives Isamu an unsure, questioning look.

Yeldrid is up, followed by Rex (who is delaying).

Round 2: Old Wolf is up.

1d2 ⇒ 2

The black wolf snarls, racing after the pair. His eyes dart between Lily and Isamu for a moment, measuring his odds—but Isamu's taunting has enraged him. He charges Isamu. Just as his teeth are about to close on the kitsune's leg, though, a strange sensation passes through the ears of those on the bridge: almost like their ears popping.

And suddenly, Old Wolf is falling.

Bite: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14 Reflex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"Oof!" he growls, as he hits the roof of the bridge. He manages to twist as he lands, and howls in frustration, realizing his error. "Oh, I see it. Very clever, fox. You think you're very clever, don't you?"

Lily can take an AoO, if she so chooses. If she takes it, give me a Reflex save, DC 15, to avoid being knocked prone from the resultant fall.

Sorry, to be clear, does Lily want to be where she's placed on the map? Old Wolf can attack her without coming onto the bridge.

1d20 ⇒ 5

"Get back here, you wretched vermin!" the great black wolf shrieks, its voice more like that of a barn owl than any goblin, human or hound. "You would like to see me bigger? I will swallow the moon before I'm done in this world!"

Yeldrid is up!

Who's following Isamu onto the bridge? Rex is eager to fight, but he'll follow the group on this one.

The webs would make it rather difficult, and the river is down a steep chasm. It would be possible for a very good climber who could avoid the webbing, but not for a kitsune or a really mean dog.

Just to be clear, are you trying to bluff Old Wolf into running at you? If so, that'll be a Bluff check, with a +4 bonus for good writing for it.

Bump?

Yeldrid and Trin rush across the bridge. As Yeldrid sets foot on the solid ground, he feels a snap beneath his feet.

He lunges for Twin, yanking the aasimar out of the way and diving to the side as a hail of spears rains down where the pair once stood.

Back on the eastern side, Cappy stares at Isamu and Lily balefully. He glances at Trin and Yeldrid behind the webs, as if gauging his chances, then back at his three adversaries. His eyes glint with reckless anger.

"Alrighty, then." He gives a wide, sharp-toothed smile. "Then let there be blood. You've pissed off Old Wolf, little ones." The not-goblin's form begins to crack and bend. Bones start to snap. His hair grows longer. His eyes, already glowing, start to shine so bright it hurts to look at them, like miniature suns. His voice turns deeper, huskier, and somehow... fuller. As if he's been speaking with only half his normal breath until now. It is a voice like fire, like a roaring, hateful inferno, uneven and trembling with its own resonance and power. "And he's hungry."

The enormous black wolf looms over Yeldrid, giving a feral grin. Only his eyes and teeth are unchanged—his teeth remain like needles.

In the distance, the group hears a gangle give a wolf howl.

Cappy.

The party is up.

Yeldrid, give me a Reflex save.

"Gnome? Gnome?" Cappy seems genuinely affronted. "You nasty little insect!"

Yeldrid is up!

Round 1: Trin/Samson

"Samson? Samson, come on!" Trin kicks Samson's side, but the mule does not move. In desperation, the young aasimar tries to climb off and run. Samson lunges, grabbing for Trin's collar, but Trin ducks underneath and runs behind Yeldrid.

Grapple: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Cappy sighs. "Oh, then go on and run, then, child. Fine. Run back off into the woods, lead us a merry chase. I'll just kill your friends here, then hunt you down any—but if you must make everything tricky..."

Round 1: The party is up.

"And just where is the Old Wolf?" Isamu shoots back, still circling around. "If he's not right here... well, I think removing you from this world would probably be doing some good, given how you're helping to feed this demon. Maybe I could do that before he shows up?"

Is the map accurate at present as to our locations? Cappy isn't barring our way to the bridge?

Yeah, Cappy is off to the side. But the second anyone tries to move, combat starts. Speaking of which...

Cappy giggles. "Oh, he's close. He doesn't show himself save when it's time to feed."

"Besides, why not wait to feed the wolf until tomorrow? Whatever he eats it'll taste better for the wait."

"Tempting." Cappy taps his head, grinning widely. "But nothing tastes better than aasimar." His voice becomes deep and guttural on the last line as Trin reluctantly spurs Samson forward.

Initiative: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 201d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20 Isamu: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9 Yeldrid: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 Rex: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7 Lily: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Initiative Order:
Cappy
Trin/Samson
The Party

Round One: Cappy

Cappy's eyes shine with excitement as he gazes at... Samson. "Poor, simple beast," the not-goblin whispers. "Taken through such peril. Why not rest a while?"

Samson visibly stiffens.

Yeldrid, roll me a Will save for Samson vs. (charm) (mind-affecting), DC 16. Trin's action will depend on the results.

"Because eating a child is just about the worst evil of which I could conceive," Isamu answers instantly, "And I've always striven to stop evil when I find it."

He starts slowly sidestepping, circling around to one side of 'Cappy'. "You know, I don't seem to recall Cappy having just that kind of difficulty speaking properly..."

"Oh, very sorry." Cappy grins. He has noticeably slowed down his speech. "Sometimes I just get excited and skip every now and then. But tell me, Isamu—fighting evil is one thing, but you won't win this fight. So why not cut your losses?" He gestures to Trin, who has gone very stiff. "Old Wolf doesn't have much of an appetite for mortal meat. He'd likely not care if the lot of you skedaddled. Why go for a pointless death here? You could do so much more good if you lived to fight another day, yes?"

His eyes gleam. "Isn't that what is about? Doing good?"

He actually did have a noticeable quirk of skipping words. Cappy speaks quickly.

Trin gives the tiniest of nods, but they seem hesitant. Their eyes flicker to Isamu, who stands closest to Cappy right now.

"Aw, Old Wolf just had little, ah, turtle soup." The goblin gives a high-pitched, almost dolphin-like laugh. "He get hungry, he does. And if you ask me, the boy here just didn't when to quit."

At Lily's question, he glances her way, adjusting his cap slightly—the sudden movement almost sends Isamu and Lily to their knives, but they manage to stop themselves before he notices. His eyes glimmer a brilliant, sickly yellow, like the outer edges of a wild flame. "I never know how to answer that question. Why the scorpion sting? Why do you to stop Old Wolf's eating? Now, that is a question would like to hear an answer to!"

There is the creaking of a trapdoor hinge.

"Oh, now, what's got every all off-ease?"

Cappy leans against a young oak, his cap as gaudy red as ever and his eyes just as bright—maybe a bit brighter, come to think of it. He stares at the party, his expression virtually unreadable. "Now, you don't really to cross this bridge, do you? In such a hurry to leave? You just might hurt my feelings there."

If you try to do anything other than talk, feel free to roll initiative.

Isamu still has the dagger Yeldrid gave him.

S%*+, I could have sworn I posted this last night.

Let's just say one of our surviving ewes is extremely ill-tempered and violent. The one we buried was a beloved family pet who mostly lounged out in the yard like a big boulder. To put it bluntly, I'll probably be burying another pretty soon.

Does Isamu respond to Yeldrid's knife request?

As the group draws near to the bridge, they see that it is an old and rickety thing, covered in moss and mildew and lichen. Into the eastern side of the overhand are carved these words: It that seeks that blood be shed shall find the world turned on its head.

The bridge passes over a steep gorge. Down below, the group can hear a rushing creek. Thick spiderwebs fill the air around the bridge, perhaps explaining why Ragnok did not recommend trying to bypass the bridge itself.

There is blood pooling around the entrance, but there are no immediately apparent signs of a body.

Map is updated.

Haha that really got away from me. Got kinda sidetrekked digging a sheep's grave. Let's try tomorrow!