GM Umbral Ultimatum's page

Apologies for the lack of response here, though it seems I'm not the only one ^^ Got sick after returning from holiday.

With no other plans for the time, you settle down for the night, making your resting and watch arrangements as is appropriate - with Kizzirark and Squakowk seemingly having both vanished into the Deep Green, you find your numbers a bit more limited when it comes to determining who will keep sentry for when and how long, but there's thankfully still enough of you to manage while everyone still gets a solid eight hours of rest.

The first watch is uneventful, interrupted only by the same sounds of the woods at night that you've encountered on the prior rest since leaving Oleg's, and anyone who has spent significant time in the wilderness - even closer to Redwall - would be familiar with; it seems even out here in the great unknown, some things just don't change.

1d20 ⇒ 18
1d20 ⇒ 1

When the time comes for the guard to change, however, the two who are awake - the first watch heading to bed but not yet asleep, and the second just beginning their shift - are momentarily caught off-guard as something occurs.

If the group did set a campfire: The low blaze of the remnant fire at the center of your camp suddenly flares back to full life with a sizzle, and the flames flash bizarre and eerie shades of blue, purple, and indigo rather than the usual red, orange, and yellow. This casts alien shadows and unfamiliar colors around the camp and into the woods around you.

If the group did not set a campfire: A patch of grass near the center of your camp suddenly bursts into flame - but not just any flame, a blazing column of blue, purple, and indigo light, spiraling up from what at any prior point in the night was just a random patch of grass and dirt. The azure and amethyst flame emits heat and light as normal, though the colors are strange in the dark night and cast weird shadows into the woods; however, despite burning free of a pit or restraint, the flame does not spread beyond the point at which it began burning.

Reflexively both of you cast your gazes to the fire, but the first watcher's eyes also manage to catch a fleeting glimpse of something up in the trees above - a matching flash of indigo, almost the same shade as the fire, against the dark of the branches and the leaves. You blink, and it's gone, but you're sure it was there... whatever it was.

G&&$@%mit Rowan, made me snort soda out of my nose.

Sounds good to me then! We'll keep on trekkin' on.

I'm sorry for my absence. I missed the fact that paizo was online for a few days and then some health issues got in my way.

But I'm back now.

Obviously, at this point I'll go along with Rowan and move away with the others

Welcome back! I figured it was something like that.

Also everyone pop over to the Discussion thread if you would, interested in your feedback given the changing makeup of the group.

----

The aroma of honey follows you as you resume navigation, but no further mishaps follow; Bertram is almost certain he hears muffled noises that might be laughter, but might instead be very distant birdsong, the exact distance and even direction muffled and obscured by the thick foliage surrounding the group all around.

Fortunately, the scent does not seem to attract further trouble - there's no sign of ants or bees bound your way lured by the scent of what occurred, or if they are they're content to feed on the spot where everything spilled and not pursue the moving group. This leaves you unmolested for the remainder of your trek through the daylight hours.

Bound by what you are still fairly certain is southward, the day comes to a close and night begins to fall and you still are enclosed in all directions by thick forest. The Deep Green, it seems, did not come by its name unwarranted. You're certain you're making progress - you don't see any familiar sights as you make progress, nor do you stumble across the honeytrap again, nor another like it. So there's at least that going for you!

So with Kizz stepping away from the game and Squakowk being nowhere to be seen for almost a month now, I suppose it's time to raise the question of whether you all want to continue with just the four of you (welcome back Tawny!) or reopen recruitment for one or two more people. The group is still pretty well balanced - you have your fighter Dahlia, your mage Rowan, your priest Bertram, and your jack of all trades Tawny - but I could also completely understand wanting to fill out the group a tad more.

Let me know what you all think!

There seems to be no sign of anything out of the ordinary in any direction, other than the scoop-bowl and the puddle of mixed sweets. The group appears to be alone, devoid of even wild creatures in the area.

1d20 ⇒ 10

1d6 ⇒ 1

1d20 ⇒ 2

As the group moves through the underbrush, navigating their way through the wilderness, the sounds of the Deep Green surround them in all directions. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and any wild creatures in the environment are nowhere nearby to serve as a threat. There is nothing in sight but greenery and only distant echoes of life to bring ambience to the woods.

Which is why it's all the more bizarre and surprising when as you're walking along, Dahlia is suddenly drenched in a falling downpour of honey and mushed blueberries.

As far as any of you could tell, the sudden drop of sweet disaster came from out of absolutely nowhere. You never spotted any kind of rigging, and there was no sort of tell-tale snapping or twanging of a trap being set off. You were simply walking along, then suddenly blue and gold poured out of the canopy as if tossed aside by a disgruntled kitchenmouse.

Moments after the saccharine calamity, a wooden bowl - seemingly little more than a slightly-depressed piece of bark, chipped and cracked by hand into the vague shape of a scoop - drops to the ground with a soft thunk. It's glazed in the same materials, with visible signs of spillage along the outer edge on one side. A broken piece of spiderweb hangs ragged from the opposite rim.

Hope everyone who celebrated had a nice holiday!

Working together, Dahlia and Rowan are fairly certain they've got the correct direction and set the group out for what they have determined to be southbound.

The woods continue to be thick in this part of the Deep Green, with no real sign of any sort of consistent navigatory guides - no roads or trails, no signs or marks, well beyond the conveniences of civilization. Your ability to negotiate the terrain being mostly determined by your familiarity with nature and the environment to pick out the clues from the landscape along the way.

Insects and birds flit through the trees above and around, and skittering sounds alert the passing group to smaller life avoiding the passing of what, to them, appears as a pack of predators. Even without Kizz, the party is armed and numerous enough to not be messed with by the average wild creature in this area.

You trek for a few hours through the brush, moving steadily south, occasionally pointing out things like the facing of growing moss on trees and rocks or the obscured tilt of the sun above to keep yourselves on track. Your journey is uninterrupted through around what you estimate to be nearing midday.

Make a Perception check everyone!

Make new Knowledge Geography, Knowledge Nature, and/or Survival rolls, those navigating/assisting in navigation!

Weekend ended up busier than expected, but post is up! Free to resume!

The night passes, otherwise uneventful; Kizzirark exchanges the watch for the next person with no report of whatever the strange encounter he had was, and heads off to the edge of the camp to his own rest.

When the morning arrives, however, the badger and his possessions are nowhere to be found. The rest of the group finds their camp circle unmolested and no sight of any danger from bandits, wild creatures, or otherwise, but also no sign of Kizzirark or any struggle from whence he might have disappeared.

The trail through the glade that the group had been following still remains, winding off into the trees to the southwest.

Looks like the forums are back and stable, I'll get this ball rolling again shortly!

The group makes their camp and selects their watch regimen, and those not staying up to be on the defense settle into whatever methods of sleep work for them. The first few hours of rest are calm, and once those unfamiliar get used to the noises of the night, they are able to drift off to sleep without further interruption.

Kizz's sharp senses, though, are more attuned to the necessities of living in the wilderness and the dangers that it might present.

He's the one who notices the rustling in the canopy that might suggest the arrival of a nocturnal predator like an owl or a tree snake. He's the one that's able to pick out the shadows of subtle movements in the leaves to note motion. He's not able to see what's making the sounds itself, but the signs of its passage don't escape his notice.

There's something there, and it clearly has an interest in the group. The question is whether it's something hungry, something curious, or simply something looking for its own place to sleep and seeing them as much of a potential threat as they might see it.

I'm guessing it's Kizzirark? I can roll it if you prefer. I'm picturing something like a 12-hour night, with everyone taking overlapping four hour shifts, so that there's always two of us on watch.

Was going to let you all decide what order you wanted to take, then take the roll(s) from the appropriate person.

Kizzirark set off the first trap with a twig and I think we all assumed that would be the procedure when we discussed disarming them. When the GM asked for the rolls, I in particular thought our original procedure would not be allowed.

My apologies for the lack of clarity! I'll try to reword that sort of thing better next time.

The group clears the glade of all the traps, disarming or simply triggering them, and finds a spot to set up camp as the light continues to wane. Thankfully, enough of the group can see well enough in the twilight gloom to get the camp set up without the aid of a fire.

All is calm - though not quiet, with the omnipresent noises of the forest, scurrying things and chirping insects and hooting distant night-birds, thankfully all distant enough from your campsite to belay any risk or threat - following the fall of the night. The watch is uneventful for the first few hours; those who are not on watch are able to fall asleep at whatever their personal usual rate is, adjusted for those less familiar with the hardships of resting in the wilds.

Your first night in the woods is looking to be a peaceful one, all things considered. You could ask for little more in your position - save the lack of a bountiful feast to look forward to in the morning, especially for those used to the lavish cooking of Redwall Abbey.

Whoever is on first watch once decided, give me a Perception check.

GM Umbral Ultimatum wrote:

(once again, free to roll - reflex to set off harmlessly, Disable Device to disarm - anyone who wishes to do so)

I would think that the important part would be finding the traps. Once found, we can just set them off with a stick or rock. Or maybe even just flipping them upside down.

If that's what you're doing that's cool! Nobody said precisely what they were doing yet ^^

Tawny's feline reflexes save his paws from the hungry jaws of the trap, and it clanks shut with a snap that echoes throughout the glade.

Dahlia is less swift, unfortunately, and doesn't quite get out of the way quickly enough....

Beartrap: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

... but luckily for her, it clatters sharply shut on her armor instead of piercing through to her skin and fur. The little mouse is able to wiggle herself free with no lasting harm.

Using the methods you've learned from these, you're able to navigate through the glade, setting off or disarming the other traps if you wish (once again, free to roll - reflex to set off harmlessly, Disable Device to disarm - anyone who wishes to do so) and working your way through the area without getting a paw or a flank caught in the mechanisms' waiting teeth.

The far end of the glade, where your route seems to be leading, closes back into thick woods and rugged terrain. The trapper, whoever they might be, seems to have not dared or desired to lay further traps beyond its border; however, the forest is growing quickly darker as the afternoon wends into evening.

Anyone else working on the traps?

Those attempting to disable the traps, give me either a Disable Device check to disarm or a Reflex save to trigger them harmlessly. Only need to roll once par participant.

The group begins moving slowly and carefully through the glade, taking note of the positions of the traps and carefully working to render each one harmless as they make their way past. It's slow going, but better than losing a limb to the hungry mechanisms.

The whole process takes over an hour, to be as thorough as Dahlia and Rowan have advised. By this time it's well into the afternoon - you have maybe two or three hours more before sunset, especially considering the thickening canopy of the Deep Green will bring darkness's fall sooner than the actual sun's departure. You likely won't reach the river crossing(s) today, if your and Oleg's estimates of the distance on the map are correct.

As best you can tell, the trail you're following passes either through this area - possibly confirming that the bandits are responsible for traps - or at least in its general vicinity. Your current heading either requires you to navigate your way through the trapped glade or to divert to go around it.

What do you do?

The trap snaps shut with a loud CLACK sound, snapping the twig apart with ease.

Looking around, none of you see any kind of markers. No signs, no prominent symbols on the nearby trees, no colorful ties marking a border of the trapping zone, not so much as a tag on the traps themselves identifying their owner.

Seems Kizz's suspicions may be correct.

Fantasy Monster: Big Bell Beetle

A beetle that rings when struck. And it is big. And the ringing is loud.

STEALING this for my Redwall game!

The map isn't quite as useful here, better as a general guide to your overall route but not so much for navigating down on the ground level - maps don't generally provide detailed information about the intricacies of the individual terrain.

Thankfully for the group's status of "lost versus not-lost", Kizzirark is able to pick up the slack when other methods fail. The badger's strong sense of smell picks out an unfamiliar scent out of the midst of the wilds, drifting off just to the west. His eyes, despite the alcohol haze, manage to pick out a recent path through broken sprigs and tramped grass.

As the group follows the trail, Rowan and Squakowk see it moments before it claims anyone - a rusted circle of metal on the ground, with a ring of jagged teeth on hinges around its edge. A waterbear trap.

Looking deeper into the foliage, the two of them can spot more of the cruel mechanisms scattered here and there, concealed by overhanging brush, hand-dispersed leaves and detritus, or artfully-stirred dirt.

You've stumbled into some hunter's trapping glade, and were moments from losing your own foot to their efforts.

Would be the Thorn and Shrike Rivers, based on your conversation with the bandits; the one they called Thorn Crossing is on Oleg's map as either Broken Bridge or Old Bridge, you're not 100% sure which, and the one called Shrike Crossing as Bandit's Bridge. Nettles' Bridge/Nettles' Crossing is further east, according to the map.

With the agreement among the group to set out south and southeast toward the marked "bandit territory", you gather your belongings and equipment and set out into the wild green yonder. Rowan points the way, using the map and his knowledge of the basic patterns of the surrounding landscape as it depicts, to start the group's trek off in the right direction.

Dahlia likewise quickly picks up the trail of the beetle and wagon here and there, just enough to keep the group on the route the bandits approached by.

Between the two of these guides, you're confident you'll avoid getting too lost in the Deep Green.

Percentile Check: 1d100 ⇒ 86

The first four hours of your trek are uneventful. You navigate your way through the light wilderness in the vicinity of Oleg and Svetlana's waystation, with Rowan keeping rough track of your position relative to the map and Dahlia keeping you on the route of the bandits' backtrail. The foliage isn't very thick here, with minimal underbrush and only light forest, allowing you to navigate easily and avoid getting lost or caught up in rough terrain.

Around the fifth hour, however, this changes. The route southwards becomes more overgrown, with large patches of thick greenery and low shrub along with an increase in tree density slowing your passage slightly and making it a bit more difficult to navigate. You're able - at least you think - to keep on the route of your quarry, but you're no longer in easy terrain.

This is the Deep Green proper, you're sure of it.

Feel free to describe your actions and conversations during the trek thus far. Also, in addition to another Survival and Knowledge Geography roll, everyone make Perception and, for those using it, Stealth rolls. Just in case. ;D

Sounds good! Whoever's navigating or wishes to aid with such, feel free to roll Survival and/or Knowledge Geography.

The couple see the travelers off as they prepare to travel, with Oleg providing a few rations for the trip.

Svetlana pulls Dahlia aside as the group is making preparations, and speaks with her in a quiet conspiratorial manner. "While you're out and about, keep an eye out for Moon Radishes. They're a bluish-grey in color with pale white stalks. They grow wild out here, and if we could successfully cultivate some, we could sell them back to Redwall and lands further west - we'd just need to get ahold of some for their seeds. They also make a wonderful stew, as well."

You have the run of the map, though there are things that aren't pictured on Oleg's depiction of course, and some of his designations may not be 100% accurate. Only one way to find out for certain! Let me know where you want to aim as your first destination or otherwise have a plan, and we'll proceed accordingly.

"Y'can get to the river crossin' within a day if ya hard-march it," he replies, expression thoughtful as he does the math in his head. "Maybe another day or two t' reach the lake if ya have t' go that far. Don't rightly know what all ya'll run into once ya cross those bridges - ain't been down myself an' as ya'll imagine, most o' the other travelers who gone that way don't tend t' come back."

"We'll keep the time," Svetlana agrees, sealing the promise with a wary nod. "Two or three days there, that many back. So seven days, and if we don't hear from you one way or another, or help doesn't come from the west, we'll head for Redwall."

"Bokken is an odd woodlander who's been out here longer than we have," Svetlana answers, returning shortly before the inquiry is made. "They seem to be from somewhere far away, though they speak very little of it, as if it pains them to discuss their history. They make potions and herbal treatments - when Oleg got the woodgrout last year Bokken's remedies cleared it right up."

"Y'don't gotta share too much," Oleg grumbles. "But aye, Bokken's a good sort, if strange. Ain't seen much folk like 'em. Figured if ye were gonna be trompin' about the Deep Green, would be good for ya t' know 'bout 'em."

There seem to be no further inquiries at the moment, simply waiting for the story to continue.

---

Breakfast is served as the arrivals wake and join the table. The dregs of the porridge bowl are scooped up to be fed to the prisoners, who are still in their bindings and their haypile "beds" where they were left the night before. They're asleep when Kizz arrives to check on them, but the badger's less-than-stealthy arrival rouses both; they're not foolish enough to try anything while he's there, simply staring up at the towering creature with visible fear as he goes about his investigation.

They're only fed by Svetlana when the actual guests have had their fill.

Oleg finishes his doodle of the map shortly after, and turns it to be viewed by everyone once the whole party has arrived. "Best I know, here's how the Deep Green looks. Put some important spots on there ya might want t' know, an' some spots ya might want t' avoid. 'Fraid if ya want to know any more, ya'll have t' learn it yerself th' hard way. I ain't seen much of it with me own eyes, jus' heard this'n that from travelers an' the like what pass through, an' seen their maps, so can't answer too many questions 'cept what's already on here."

Going to split the RP here - any further interactions with Squak's story can continue, but also going to move the plot along below the line. :) If you're interacting with both parts of the RP, please separate your own post similarly. Obviously not necessary if you're only interacting with one or the other.

Svetlana doesn't seem to have any questions yet, but she is clearly listening as the yarn is spun.

----

(A night later...)

A bright and clear dawn greets the Redwallers and their hosts the following morning, with the day brisk and without a cloud in the sky. A warm breakfast of honeyed porridge and sliced fruit - simple but filling, once more - awaits them when they arrive at the tradepost's table. Oleg and Svetlana ensure there is food enough for all their guests, and enough for seconds besides.

When the party begins to arrive, they find Oleg at work drawing his promised map on the back of a piece of scrap parchment, the curled front of which visibly displays a "Wanted" declaration, though with Oleg currently drawing on it you can't see the image of the criminal it seeks. He acknowledges any arrivals with a small nod and/or a quiet grunt.

"Share what you like, hon," she replies. She stirs a pot of dandelion tea on the table before serving a cup for both of them and anyone else who wishes one.

There's certainly enough food to go around, and the couple are content to serve the travelers as much as they wish to have. They seem happy to leave the guard duty to any volunteers such as Dahlia, and encourage the group to make themselves comfortable in their quarters whenever ready.

Svetlana is the first to pick up on Squakowk's sudden shift in mood, and settles next to the bird as she starts the cleanup after the meal. "You look as if you've much upon your mind."

Rowan makes sure that he makes all of the appropriate comments and noises of satisfaction about dinner before turning to Oleg to talk business.

"So... the bandit we captured mentioned three different crossings: Thorn Crossing, Shrike Crossing, and Nettle's Crossing. Do you know where any of those are?"

"Roughly," the mouse replies, gesturing vaguely toward the exit of the tradepost. "All of 'em are south, just in varyin' directions. I ain't explored a lot of it myself mind, but there's a few other reclusive types what ain't bandits out here in the Deep Green, an' sometimes they come by for this or that. Can draw you a map, though no promises it'll be perfect accurate."

The day wanes on, with your new hosts continuing the various chores and duties of their lives and entrusting you all to find some way to occupy your time that doesn't disturb their work, until at last the dinner hour arrives and the guests are summoned to the table.

Svetlana has laid out a simple but clearly filling meal, with chestnut bread and wildflower salad alongside a large bowl of steaming, spicy beetle broth soup. The texture is seafood-like, though the taste is notably more terrestrial, a little gamy but not too much. It's clear a lot of work went into the simple-looking dish, between the exquisite blend of spices and the extensive labor it took for Svetlana to butcher the gigantic insect into edible parts.

The meal is quiet between the couple, though they're willing to answer any questions the group may still have over the food. Following this, they both plan to take an early night and rest off the very busy, very stressful day, though Oleg does first pop over to the barn to feed the captives a small sampling of the meal; he'll gladly welcome an escort if someone volunteers, but seems confident he'll have no issues if no one speaks up.

If no one has anything further to add or ask over dinner or for the overnight, we'll fast-forward to morning!

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

DREJK. WE NEED STATS. (Or I can do it if you don't want to :D )

"Handed over, aye, sure," Oleg says with a grunt as he assists in the process of tying the captives and leading them away to the barn. "What the hares'll do with 'em when an' if they show up, that'll be another conversation."

It doesn't take long to get the two bound bandits sequestered away into the barn, placing each in a separate stall with a pile of loose hay for a resting place and another for personal business, then ensuring their new "rooms" are suitably shut and locked. Once all that's done, Svetlana disappears into the couple's den to make a "well-earned dinner" for everyone. She's basically unable to be approached for the next couple of hours, going so far as to chase anyone - Oleg included - who intrudes upon her work out with a ladle and a cleaver. She pops out from time to time to haul in bits and bobs from storage, including the meaty remnants of the beetle, but is a mouse on a mission and will not be dissuaded by anything less catastrophic than another bandit raid or something being set on fire.

Oleg, meanwhile, gets back to work on repairs and renovations as he had been when the group arrived. If questioned, he mentions needing to make things ready for the arrival of the Long Patrol and "any other hopalongs what might show up once there's proper travel on this road," which his tone implies might not be the result he had originally wanted but he's resigned himself to the fact. He doesn't have any chores or tasks for would-be helpful woodfolk, simply asking the group to not get in his way and implying they'll need their rest for whatever may come next, though he doesn't state anything too specific.

Oleg and Svetlana observe the conversation going back and forth, not yet interrupting until Dahlia turns the direction of the discourse upon them directly. The two exchange a meaningful look, and after a short pause Svetlana finally speaks.

"While we were wrong when we thought you were sent by the authorities to handle these troublemakers, we were assured someone was on the way, at least one representative from the Long Patrol. I would say the most suitable arrangement would be to lock them up until the hares arrive, and hand them over when they do. Such things as brigands are their duty anyhow, and if they're going to be this late in coming to assist, best we have their work bound and waiting for them when they finally do show."

"With bows on'neir noses an' bells on'neir tails," Oleg adds with an amused snort.

"We can keep them bound up in the barn," Svetlana continues, gesturing in the direction of the building, "until they arrive - but I absolutely do not believe it's safe to let them go. Even if they claim running back to Kressle will end with them skinned and scorned, it will also inform Kressle of your arrival and give her time to prepare for making more trouble. The less she knows about the current situation overall, the better for all of us."

"An' can't take a bandit at their word 'bout that they'll be runnin' eastward what they says they will," Oleg offers once again. "Not any further'n my tail'll reach, anyhow."

"Ye're blightin' right I wouldn't," Oleg spits. His tail lashes irritably until Svetlana takes his hand, giving it a little squeeze and seeming to calm him a bit.

"There ain't nowhere to go," the more talkative bandit answers. "Can't go further south since that's all th' land o' the Big Boss, an' would hafta get past Kressle an' reach one'a the crossin's ta get there ta begin with. Goin' back west we'd jus' get picked off by th' Long Patrol or somethin'. Ain't nothin' north but badlands, wouldn't last a day."

There's a pause, then the wounded rat manages a pained grunt. "... could go east more." He lets that hang a few moments before continuing, gritting his teeth against the throbbing from his wound. "Stick north 'nuff an' we wouldn't hafta worry 'bout endin' up in any part o' the Deep Green what's haunted, yeah...? Get out o' the Stag's reach, an' outta that badger's."

"Gyarhgh!" the second bandit howls in pain, attempting to flail away from the attack but unable to escape his bindings.

"I don't knows what'cha mean!" the first bandit wails, eyes boggling at the sudden assault. "I ain't bein' dishonest wit' yas, honest! Or uhh, I honestly ain't dishonest, I swears! Honest!" If the rat wasn't visibly spooked, he'd certainly be visibly perplexed as he fumbles over his words in near-panic.

All but Squakowk: You're fairly confident the blabbering bandit is telling the truth, he seems legitimately afraid of what the group can do, especially after seeing the brutal death of Happs and that you defeated the beetle in the first place.

You're also confident the runaway bandit is also telling the truth - that this Kressle is as terrifying to him as you are to his partner, and that her punishments for talking to Redwallers should she get her paws on them will be cruel, painful, and inventive.

Both certainly know the way back to their camp, and you would be surprised if Oleg and Svetlana don't have some kind of map of the surrounding area of the Deep Green, even if it's not a complete or thorough one, that may point the way toward the Thorn, Nettles', Shrike Crossings that the talkative bandit mentioned.

Squakowk: This blathering buffoon seems to be sputtering a whole lot of nonsense but whether it's accurate or not is beyond your ken; as best you can tell, he's just vomiting words to spare his skin in hopes of some manner of reprieve or leniency. What to do with the information itself is more questionable.

---

Oleg remains off to the side, now leaning on the shovel as his tail flits about irritably. His eyes are narrow and wary as they dart from one brigand to the other, but he doesn't interfere with the group's decisions. He seems comfortable having ceded control of the situation to you all.

Svetlana returns around this time, her apron stained with the beetle's ichor and a large butcher's cleaver in one paw; if you didn't know what she'd just been up to, she'd be a proper terrifying sight right about now. She meanders her way over next to Oleg, looking around to piece together the situation that's unfolded in her absence.

Sense motive checks if you wish!

"Where is Kressle's camp?" Rowan demands of the bandit he's been questioning.

Rowan hooks a thumb over at Kizzirark while looking at the bandit he's interrogating.

"Better answer quickly and thoroughly. Give me a reason to try and change their mind."

"South!" the first brigand blurts, wriggling as much as his bonds and the threatening blades will allow. "W-where th' Thorn crossin' use'ta be!"

"Shut up, y'idjit!" the other, still behind held down by Squakowk and Tawny, cuts in. "Worst these soft-headed Redwallers'll do is work us, an' th' badger might kill us, but Kressle'll have our hides for 'er tent!"

The warning, however, goes unheeded as the first rat continues to ramble. "Kressle cut th' bridge so's folks couldn't cross there, hav'ta go down t' th' Shrike crossin' instead an' pay th' toll, 'spec'ally since Nettles' Crossin's haunted! Ain't no other way further south no more!"

"Quiet, ya fool!"

Oleg shoulders his shovel and gives the returning pair a hearty salute as they make their way back into the tradepost. "Good work, lads!"

He then turns back to the first captive and eyes him, then glances around the group, his momentary elation fading. "Was afraid'a that... knew there was more of 'em, th' first time they came by this Kressle was in th' lead. Nasty piece o' work, she was... which makes it all th' worse that she ain't th' one in charge, an' someone else is th' Boss givin' th' actual orders."

He trails off, expression falling first into a scowl then into a disappointed sigh. He continues to speak but in a lower, more subdued tone. "When she first showed up, she an' that whole pack o' rats, she snatched th' ring right off Lana's paw, she did. I spent moons lookin' for a proper oyster for that pearl to make a proper weddin' ring, I did, an' she just took it quick as y' please. Said it were 'payment' fer not takin' her first share o' the profits outta me tail."

He rallies a bit, looking at the two subdued bandits, and nods firmly to the group. "These bastards should be able t' tell us where th' rest of 'em, and their wretched mistress, are hidin'. Elsewise, I figure there's only a matter o' time a'fore they try t' try again, or worse come mainly for revenge."

Not upset at all! That's just a separate move attempt and would take a different and longer action to do all those things, much less do them all together. Hence why I just toned it down to knocking him down (Successful bull rush) and him dropping the weapon in the process.

Likewise I will be out of town all day tomorrow and all day Wednesday through Friday this coming week. I'll make a special effort to post Monday and Tuesday so there's as little delay as possible!

Okay, let's hold off on descriptions like that please! That's my job, and no, a bull rush does not destroy his weapon or break his hand. That'd be a completely different roll to break a weapon for example, a sunder attempt.

The arrow whiffs past the charging dodo, and the bandit having to pause his flight to take the shot gives Squakowk enough time to close the gap. The bird slams into the rat with the full bulk of his body, casting the rodent to the ground and causing him to lose his grip on his bow in the process.

Before he can grab it and get back to his feet to take another shot or continue his escape, Tawny is standing over him, the cat's paws between the brigand and his weapon, rapier drawn and pointed.

"Hwaaaugh...," he says as he finally slumps, apparently giving up, and raises his leathery paws in surrender.

"Kressle's back at th' camp, waitin' for us ta gets back." He pauses a bit, swallowing audibly, before continuing. "... I dunno where th' Boss is. I ain't never seen 'im. Kressle jus' gets orders an' takes his cuts t' him when it's time."

Only one bandit being chased! Give me a CMB check for a bull rush.

Tawny's arrow clips the fleeing bandit a second time, and he stumbles momentarily before turning to fire back. This time he sees Squakowk running straight at him full-bore, and tries to take a shot at the charging bird instead.

Bandit vs Squakowk: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

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"T-that's Happs'," the captive bandit replies, eyeing the talisman. "He gots it from Kressle, I thinks. All the big-shots gots 'em. Means the Boss puts 'em in charge."

The other bandit is still on the run btw, it's just Tawny's move before he does anything else :)