Guillame finds that the bandits were traveling slowly on account of the injured among them. However, there are tracks indicating that there are four more that came and were traveling at a regular place, scouting forward and returning to the others. About one hundred feet away from the camp, the tracks seem to stop and form a vague circle. Then four of the sets of foot prints branch off from the circle and head north and west with a short stride. Five other pairs of foot prints set off at a normal pace again to the south west.
Since they do not have horses and you do, it should be possible to catch either set of tracks even though the latter set seem to have a normal humanoid stride. How long it takes to catch them depends on how long ago they came and went. The tracks are no more than a day old.
Although the ground is mostly dry, Guillame finds the light foot prints of at least half a dozen humanoids, but no signs of horses of mounts of any kind. It is difficult to tell the tracks apart from what the group left behind two days prior, but it is clear there are more humanoid footprints than before. The tracks seem to move around the campsite and the tree stands, then make their way off to the south west.
When the horses can walk no further without risking harm to themselves, the group slows to a stop out on the grassy plains. Night falls and they make their camp between the grasses which grow tall with each day of increasing sunlight.
The night passes without incident.
In the morning, the group breaks down their camp, loads it back onto their horses and begins the trek out of the grasslands and back into the forest.
The trees are still in the late summer air, but the shade brings a coolness still lingering from winter. The forest floor is still a bit damp and full of dead branches and leaves, preserved by the snows all winter and now left to feed the new growth.
When the group returns to the bandit camp, they find the place empty of their prisoners. The ropes that were used to bind the defeated bandits look to have been slashed with a blade and lay about the tree stand and on the ground beneath it. None of the supplies that were left remain, either.
The kobold chief nods in agreement, a tiny upwards curl on his lips. "Good! But do not take too long. This curse drains the soot from our scales and that is what makes us Sootscales! Without that we are just dead kobolds, a most terrible death."
The other kobolds shake in fear as Chief Sootscale describes their possible doom and then look expectantly at the group. An occasionally yip sounds from them.
The kobold nods, a grim look on his face. "That is what I would like to ask you. Yes, they live beneath the tree. We don't have the numbers to face them ourselves, but if you do it for us, we will give you the ring and more."
The chief looks at Crytalis, chilled by her attitude, he pause before responding. "Old Sharptooth is displeased with our losing his statue. And as punishment, when one of our tribe dies, their scales turn yellow and they are forever forgotten as a Sootscale." With that, he looks down and frowns. "A raven brings to us this portent. And I have seen it happen."
Then he clears his throat and returns his gaze to Crytalis, and looks at the others as well. "The mites are our enemies. They stole the idol to harm us. In the cage was one of their kind. We keep it just inside- imprisoned. And I hope that we can use him to get our idol returned to us."
The bone in the kobolds hand does not appear to be human, but rather a medium sized beast of some kind.
Chief Sootscale listens intently while Colin speaks, nodding all the while. When Guillame speaks, the kobold seems to stand taller and more proud.
"Well met. I agree to your peace. However, this ring you speak of, if it was with the spoils taken from the Mites, then it is now in the possession of our shaman." The kobold looks down at this and frowns. "Our shaman would not come out to treat with you. He is busy attempting to dispell a curse placed on our tribe."
As he mentions the curse, the other kobold's eyes widen and they shiver momentarily.
"A statue of our god, Old Sharptooth, was stolen from us by the Mites. We would ask you to retrieve it for you. For that, I will retrieve this ring from Tartuk, our shaman. We will also tell you what we know of the land."
Crytalis:
Crytalis Sense Motive:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Chief Sootscale is leaving something out, something that seems to be oppressing and haunting him.
The sounds of yipping echo from the cave, growing closer to the entrance. As more kobolds emerge, their yipping quiets and Nakpik, followed by six other kobolds with scales of various shades of dark grey. They file out and spread to surround one kobold with a skull headdress, red and black feathers across the back, and a large thigh bone club in one hand and a staff decorated with skull bones in the other.
"I am Chief Sootscale," he says. "I bring you humans no harm if you would listen to our plight." His voice is sharp and scratchy, almost rough.
The kobolds around him hold spears at the ready, looking uneasy and ready to strike, but waiting for a response or an order.
The cage is a rickety frame of wooden sticks tied together. It clearly held something, but could not have been something very big or very strong. Traces of blue hair cling to the cage in various places. The door of the cage is hanging lopsided and there are drag marks from the cage into the cave.
"I'm Nakpik. Yip! There's ab-bout twenty of us. Most of us are out patrolling, He says and gestures away from the cave, towards the forest far to the west and the plains to the north. "Only maybe six are here. No match for you! And your big horse and all! B-but, I I'll go get the chief! He'll explain. Yip!" And he scrambles off into the darkness of the cave.
The kobold cowers a bit at the barrage of demands. "T-the chief said to bring any humans inside, so he could ask them for help. He says we're cursed and humans might be our only help!"
"N-no! Sootscales is tribe! Chief talk to you, yes? Come inside, we will talk. Maybe we have the ring!" He turns to look at Guillame as he speaks, but he flinches sporadically whenever Colin or his stead move.
Closing the distance to the cave entrance, the words on the sign come into focus. They read, in faded paint 'Oaktop Silver Mine'.
As the group eyes the cave, a figure emerges. Small with dark grey scales, the creature hobbles out and from his snout emits an excited 'yip'. His tail flicks anxiously. He notices your weapons and his snakelike eyes widen. Then he throws his clawed hands in the air and shouts in common. "Wait! Wait! I want to talk!"
Kobolds are humanoids, so they fall under Knowledge: Local.
The trees on the hill are oak and the opening down into the earth, when Guillame finds it, looks man made, but long ago.
An outcropping of large boulders emerges from the weathered face of the hillock. A narrow opening in the rock leads into darkness below. A fallen sign leans against the side of the cave entrance, and a cage made of branches and sticks sits on the other side.
Guillame is able to follow the trail for five hours without trouble or distraction, save for the occasionally bird or small game.
The kobold tracks seem to be keeping a good pace, despite their short stride, because the group does not come upon the small scaled humanoids before spotting the place where they lead: a small hillock with a copse of gnarled trees on top and down the southern side. Still a mile or so away, there is little else around to where the tracks may lead. The grasslands stretch in all directions and the sky remains mostly obscured by clouds, with patches of blue rolling by slowly.
One of the crows scatters as Guillame approaches, but the others remain, but hop out of of the way if threatened. He finds the bodies of three mites strew in the grass. Dried blood on them and in the grass indicates that they died in combat. They have been stripped of their belongings, as far as a cursory glance reveals, their tiny blue bodies wearing little more than rags. Their over-sized eyes seem to be bulging from behind their puffy eyelids, leaving some of their eyes visible, but staring lifelessly into the sky.
Guillame notices that their tracks seem to stop, while other tracks appear and leave in a more southward direction.
Guillame picks up the trail easily, despite it now being a day colder. The ground is a bit soggy from the recent rain, and the tiny, long nailed foot prints go erratically to the south east.
After about an hour, Guillame spots some figures laying motionless a hundred feet ahead. A small murder of crows hops about on the figures, seeming to have not yet noticed the group.
Guillame found no signs of the Mites having set up camp or stopped to rest, so they must have pushed on through the night.
They find a copse of trees on a small rise, with good visibility all around them.
Doing forced march on mounts causes lethal damage to the mounts, so yeah it's not really a good idea and also kind of cruel. Guillame can estimate that the Mites can only be a few hours ahead at most, depending on whether or not they did a forced march. Let me know how you want to break up watches this time and I'll post if anything happens over night.
Guillame receives no response from the woods to which he issued his challenge. The trees simply wave lethargically back at him, as if saying 'goodbye... for now.'
The group heads out onto the grassland following the Mite's trail, with Guillame and Grognon in the lead.
A few clouds roll peacefully across the sky. The land is mostly flat with small hills scattered about. The occasional copse of a few trees sprout from the grass, which is reaching up towards three feet in some places. The Thorn river recedes slowly into the distance to the south, maintaining it's considerable width after leaving the woods.
Eventually, the sun begins to fall and the light fades. There is still no sign of the Mites, but by Guillame's estimation based on the size of their stride and what he knows about them, they can not be too far ahead.
To continue you'll have to do a forced march. Otherwise you'll need to set up a camp for the night.
Eyes wide, the horse whinnies while jumping and bucking it's hid legs. It bucks it's way out of the tangled area.
You are each about forty feet from the edge of the entangled area. You have to make another reflex save at the end of each turn that's still inside the area. No point in rolling initiative or anything, just post when you can.
As Guillame makes to head out away from the tree line, a huge swath of roots begins to writhe and grow underfoot, as if animated by an unseen force, or gaining a life of their own. Vines emerge to join the roots as they reach up from the ground and grab at the arms and legs of Guillame, Grognon, Joyus Storm, Bandit and the pack horse. The total area of the roots are 80 feet in diameter.
Joyus Storm, the pack horse and Grognon all become entangled by the roots and vines as they wrap around their ankles and knees. The others are free to move as normal, the vines not finding purchase on them.
Entangled gives the following debuffs: Move at half speed, Cannot run or charge, –2 penalty on all attack rolls, –4 penalty to Dexterity. Must make a concentration check (DC 15 + spell level) to cast a spell (or lose the spell). You can attempt to break free with an Escape Artist skill or Strength check.
I assume that means you cast Detect Magic. We may have gone over this already, but you'd need Knowledge: Arcana in order to identify the school of magic involved.
Crytalis detects a single, faint magic aura emanating from the oil.
About two hours from the camp, Guillame spots the edge of the woods. The trees give way to a flat, grasslands, with the river flowing out into it.
The damp ground makes it easy for Guillame to follow a group of about three or so Mites through the woods. The stream by the bandits camp had merged again with many other smaller streams and make the Thorn river proper, about forty feet wide to their South West.
As Guillame is standing up from a set of clear tracks, he moves forward taking his eyes off the ground. Just as he does, an area around him suddenly becomes covered in an amber hued oil that seeps up out of the ground.
Guillame Reflex save:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Throwing out his arms for balance, his quick reflexes allow him to stay balanced and upright.
Guillame knowledge:nature:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Guillame:
As far as he knows, the oil is not a natural occurance
Birds chirp unknowingly in the trees. The branches clatter about in the light wind. The sky above the greening branches is cloudy, with patches of sun falling through.
"He's Hanull," Says Semper, gesturing towards the bald one. "Those two are Callub and Tiran. I think they'll come around." He lowers his voice. "I'll talk to them while you're gone. To make sure."
If Muadhnait stays behind, we'll still continue on with stuff with her. It'd be a good opportunity to build some character- talk with some ghosts or do some backstory or whatever you'd be into.
After Colin's speech, the bald bandit responds. "If you're looking for that ring in the stuff the mites took... I think their lair is a bit of a ways off across the Kamelands to South and east a bit, under a big old sycamore tree. I don't know if you can make it there by sundown. Might you could make it to the old bridge, south down the river. Then head southeast from there in the morning."
Another bandit that has awaken, the one that has not yet spoken, shoots him a glare. "Shut up, damnit! These are our captors here."
"Maybe he's right, though. About the opportunity and all that." says the first.
The second bandit grunts. "One captor's as good as the next. Can't we ever not have someone orderin' us around, puttin, ropes and chains on us, one kind or another. Killin' us, or workin' us to death."
The bald bandit looks at the second with a confused expression.
The bandit takes the bottle and a swig. He winces.
"I wouldn't normally be so quick to spill all this, but you and your crew clearly mean business, and I ain't dyin' for no drunk demon, couldn't give two s&$~s about me." He winces again, but this time at the pain from his wounds, takes another swig, winces a third time, then hands the bottle back.
"A ring? Was likely with the bags some mites stole yesterday. Little bastards snuck in and ran right off when we spotted 'em. But we didn't chase after because they didn't take much of value. As for companions... eh there's maybe eight others? About a dozen or so around this camp. Plenty more back at the boss' fort."
Guillame:
Guillame Know: Nature:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Mites are one of the least powerful fey creatures. Small and so ugly as to be mocked by goblins, Mites cowardice is often overcome by anger at their position and interaction with other creatures. They befriend and occasionally ride spiders and favor living underground. They have no lack of evil intent against other creatures that dwell beneath the earth, as well as those on the surface. They can cast minor magic tricks and occasionally draw doom onto the victims of their violent outbursts. They have a minor reduction to damage, unless struck with cold iron, like many of their fey type.
At first the bandit listens half-interested, but when Guillame starts talking about Crytalis, his eyes widen a bit and he pays his full attention. He has a bald head and a few scars on his face and neck.
He shrugs. "Beats the hells out of me, but it's color ain't like no green I've ever seen. Were givin' it to the Stag Lord, might calm the demon down. They say he never takes his mask off, but I know true, he ain't no regular man, that bloody thing is his face. Antlers and all. But I think he's slippin' to the bottom of a whiskey cask, demon or no."
Crytalis gets the sense that he's just telling her what she wants to hear because he's afraid. However, his memory of how easily he and his crew were defeated may stick with him as a reminder and drive him to change his ways.
"Tributes?" He shakes his head. "No, we just bring the loot into the fort and have our fill of there after it gets picked over. And it's to the south and west, down the thorn river, past the crossing where the Shrike river meets it and then both flow into the lake Tuskwater out in the Kamelands."
While he speaks, he gestures with his hand to the south. "This camp is barely a few hours into the forest. You'll find the edge to the south down the river. But I can't draw you a map, on account of those are the only details I know."
"Yeah... that's an amulet he uses to signify his followers. And unless it's been changed recently, the phrase is: ‘By the Bloody Bones of St. Gilmorg, who wants to know?’"
Semper adjusts his back to try and make himself more comfortable, still not likely to be able to move very quickly. Then he looks back to Crytalis. Not much older than two decades, he has short brown hair and a wide face. His eyes are a muddy green. "Since I've been so helpful. What do you say you let me go? Swear I won't be keeping up my theivin' ways. I'll head back to the River Kingdoms if I get the chance. Won't bother around here no more. I can see the error of my ways, honest."
The bandit looks a bit relieved, but still frightened. "Our boss is a monster of a man. Calls himself the Stag Lord. He’s a deadeye with the bow, and I saw him crush a prisoner’s hand to mush in one fist. He's got this stag helmet, skull, antlers and all. Never takes it off..." Semper trails off for a moment, staring out past Crytalis to the trees.
Then he blinks and looks back to her. "It’s hard keeping track of who’s working for the boss, so we use a master phrase as a sort of password to get in to the fort on the northeast shore of the Tuskwater. But I wouldn't go back there if I could. I've got no more loyalty for him. He's a bloody drunk. He's half of what he used to be, and ain't never been right in the head. A few weeks ago he punched my horse just for spittin' in the yard." He makes to spit, but just dry air escapes his lips. "Personally, I wouldn't care if he dropped dead tomorrow, but even drunk out of his mind he's still got a fair amount of fight in him."
The bandit groans and tries to stretch, but is limited by the ropes. His face is twisted in pain. He speaks slowly, as if to spare himself.
"What happened to Ha- urgh." He stops, closing his eyes a moment, and then shakes his head lightly. "I'm... Semper. I come from the River Kingdoms. Not including Happs, there was one other group of four. We all numbered thirteen total including Kressel there. " He nods his head towards where Kressel is still laying unconscious, then winces. "And that's not counting our boss and all his lackies... Er, the other group is around hunting. They'll likely be back within a day or two. You aren't going to kill us are you? Or cut us up some more? I mean all of it, honest."
Brumir gives a respectful nod to Guillame, and then makes his way off into the woods, leaving the group with their now-prisoners, still laying unconscious on the dirt.
After another hour, three of the bandits stir and cough themselves awake. As they realize their situation, they struggle against the ropes to no avail. Kressel and the other remain unconscious.
Brumir reaches and clasps Colin's hand. He looks him in the eyes and nods affirmingly. "You've already given me a new start. I won't forget it. If we meet again, and you could use my help, I'll give it"
He turns to Crytalis. "Dunno if it's that magic still lingering, but you're something else. Keep each other on a tight leash. Hate to find your corpses out here. But I think if you two stick together you'll get your way. Make a place for us all." He holds out his hand to her.
Brumir's curled lip turns into a grin as he looks over at their defeated enemies laying motionless, but it's only a moment before the grin shifts into a frown. He turns back to Colin. "About all this. Your companions and what you're out to do. And her," He nods his head towards Crytalis. "I know Crytalis put some spell on me and that it brought me around. I'm glad for that, though. You did me a real favor not taking me down back at Oleg's. And I thought by coming out here and helping you with these scum, I might have paid you back. And I see now what you're trying to do, but..." Brumir grows sullen then. Although he appears older than Colin, in this moment it's obvious that his age is truly not much more, if at all. "The reason I left New Stetven was to get away from this kind of life. Thievery and paypack. I hoped that things would be more simple out here. That I could find a way to live that wasn't at the edge of a sword." He pats his falchion in it's sheathe. "Maybe I can't."
He shakes his head. "Anyway, if you see us as even, I'd like to go my own way."
The potion is indeed similar to the ones they already have, a Potion of Cure Light Wounds
Brumir brings the bandit down from the tree stand, and arranges him, along with the rest in a line under the trees between the camp and the path. They are each just out of arms reach of one another, laying on the ground with their arms and legs tied.
After an hour, none of them regain consciousness. Brumir keeps a watchful eye, resting against a nearby tree stump cleaning off his blade and eating a handful of nuts and berries, as well as some dried venison.
Brumir stands and sheathes his falchion, then dusts the crumbs from his clothes and armor. He finds Colin and says "Got something I want to talk to you about." His brow is furrowed and one side of his lip is curled slightly, revealing a large, pointed front tooth.
The most recent tracks that Guillame finds are likely from the present bandits. He also finds countless older tracks of similar boots, indicating that the bandits have been here for at least a week, and may have had more in number at an earlier time.
Guillame also finds the tracks of at least three of a smaller creature having been in the camp about a day ago.
Certainly, the tracks are Small sized but not from an animal. They are also not from vermin, unless it is a large vermin that walks on two legs. Most likely it is a fey, but it is unclear what kind exactly. The feet are three toed, with a long, curved toenail. They leave the camp, more deeply imprinted, and head south-east through the woods.
Yeah, Brain Drain can be used like that. It will also give a knowledge check. I'll reveal which knowledge skills Kressel has and can be used by Muadhnait if/when she uses it.
The green liquor is strong but mundane, and tastes of licorice, anise and perhaps several other herbs or plants that are difficult to identify.
Those who are unconscious will get a save every hour to determine if they wake or not. Until then, they are unconscious unless healed to 0 hp or higher.
Brumir nods in silent agreement to Colin's argument. Then sets about helping Crytalis bind the bandits arms and legs with rope.
We'll say you take apart 2 of the tents to get the necessary amount of rope to tie them all up. There are the cloth sections left, but only 3 tents are left fully functional.
Colin successfully stanches the bleeding of each bandit, preventing any of them from dying. Guillame finds the following loot among the unconscious bodies and around the campsite:
From the bandits (all together)
(4) leather armors
(4) longbows
(64) arrows
(4) short swords
(8) days trail rations
(40) gold pieces
From Kressel unidentified potion
studded leather armor
(2) masterwork handaxes
(4) daggers (the fourth of which is on the ground by the western tree stand)
85 gold pieces
Beneath the eastern tree stand, Guillame spots a stash of supplies:
(10) days trail rations
firewood
(5) tents
Underneath the more mundane supplies, there appears to be the bandits spoils:
(321) silver pieces
(90) gold pieces
a pair of silver earrings
a wooden music box
(3) crates of furs and hides
Inside a polished wooden case there is:
(8) bottles of potent greenish herbal liqour
That's true. I'll put the link to it in the campaign description and try to find a way to fit it into the description under my name. I'll just leave up Oleg's map on there for now, since I put stuff on that one.
You can also spend the rest of the day exploring that hex to see if there is anything else there. Or look for the rest of the bandits, apparently nine in number.
Also: I removed the links for the Obsidian Portal. As much as I like trying to use it, it hasn't really been doing much for us. And it wouldn't let me put up anymore maps since I cancelled my Ascendant subscription. I'll just be using all Google Drive images instead.
If you want to flesh out the profile for your character, do it on the forums. I put a link for the exploration map below my name. If you guys get maps in game (Oleg's, treasure maps, etc), I'll provide links for them.
Yeah I read the disabled status description as the half speed being because of the single move action restriction. But your ruling is definitely right.
But doesn't normal traveling speed imply you aren't jogging a double movement every round? Wouldn't that be more like a hustle?
Either way: Let's say that having a disabled bandit walk back would have you overland travel at half speed. Do you think making a travois and having the bandits pull it would be faster than half speed?
It's funny how down people get on paladins for their moral code and how that makes them not fun to play, and then it never seems to be a thing that people talk about in game (on podcasts and stuff). It seems to be either dick-ishly held over the paladin's head, or just not considered at all. I think coup de gras-ing a bunch of regular humanoids is not very "good" even if they are bandits. Maybe if they were demons or devils or some other inherently evil subtype.
Yes. I updated it on the battlemap, but Kressel is unconscious and dying.
Once you get them stabilized, they'll only regain consciousness after making another DC 10 Con check, which they can make each hour until they succeed. Then they are disabled and still at negative hit points, so they can each make only movement actions, or standard at the risk of losing more hit points and falling unconscious again.
I can't find a precise ruling on overland travel while disabled, so I'm going to rule that you can move at normal speed to take them back to Oleg's.
