Being at the very back of the group he doesn't notice the creature until it writhes up from the muck towering over the group. Mijanor raises his hammer and utters a prayer, "Torag be guidin chur blades now lads" If the creature is within striking distance of him he backs up 10' feet.
Augrok hissed, seeing more and more heads come up out of the muck. He had thought that something was wrong, but could not grasp the idea that eluded him. Now, he thought better of his first idea, a bark of a word sending Ur back to the open ground before the bridge, before sending the same message to his companions. "BACK!" he roared, then followed his own order, hastening himself off of the bridge to the open ground behind them. Once there, he began to speak, his words hissing and crackling, almost seeming to burn as his hands shaped their intent, calling forth a ball of fire around one of the hydra's heads.
Kin Lur: The snake has already moved, it is threatening most of the party. Better make those rolls. ;)
Kin Lur: The snake has already moved, it is threatening most of the party. Better make those rolls. ;)
Single attack with shortbow using Point Blank Shot attack 1d20+9=27, damage 1d4+1=4
Seeing that Alexei has hurt the creature and he could very well attract some retaliation, he steps up to him and places his hand on Alexi's shoulder, praying darkly under his voice.
Kin Lur's arrow digs into one neck of the snakes. Weylan lets out a yelp as he reacts to the onslaught of the snake, and as he leaps back behind Kin Lur, two green glimmering darts fly from his fingertips striking the snake in the body.
Weylan deals 6 damage to the "snake".
Following Augrok and Vykos:
The snake lurches around Ergrin and bites at the targets in range. Each of the four heads bites at a nearby opponent. At the same time, the jaw broken by Ergrin clicks back into place and Kin Lur's arrow is forced out of the neck as the wound closes.
"Snakes" attack:
1 bite on Alexei for 11 damage. Another bite misses.
1 bite on Mijanor for 11 damage.
1 bite on Ergrin for 9 damage. Another bite misses.
Jorr looses another arrow, and the sound of cracking wood echoes as his arrow shatters before leaving his bow.
1 bite on Mijanor for 11 damage.
Mijanor raises his hammer and shouts, "Take it too the thing lads! Torag be watchin chur backs!" Energy flows from him and knits the wounds of the group (he selectively channels the hydra out). If people stay engaged in melee he stays with them. However, if everyone backs off he will also.
While Augrok had moved back, out of the reach of the creature, and the mire it had settled itself into, he had to wonder why his companions were engaging the thing on ground that was hard to fight on. So, just in case he would be needed to help, he moved half of the distance he had traveled, closer to them, while directing the ball of fire in attempts to burn the creature's heads off.
Alexei knows the lance is useless in close quarters. Leaving it in the monster's side, he pulls his swords and goes to work, while his mount attacks with its hooves.
Link to rolls
Scimitar: 15 to attack, 4 damage
Short sword: 17 to attack, 4 damage
Hoof 1: 8 to attack (would have been 4 damage)
Hoof 2: 20 to attack, 5 damage
Ergrin deftly steps under the creatures snapping jaws and delivers a mountain-shattering punch. The creature reels and begins coughing blood in five directions. With a final spasm it lurches towards the party and collapses. Augrok's ball of fire begins to consume the corpse.
"Hmm. Don't see many of them this far west in the swamp," Jorr grumbles as he inspects his bow for defects, "but I be guessin' this heat'll be doin' strange things."
Kin Lur looks at the corpse being consumed by fire. "Do you suppose there's anything of value or use to us in the overturned wagon? I find it unlikely that we'd find plans for the hobgoblins' intentions, but we might find some gear that would help us disguise ourselves... or those of us tall enough to pass for a hob, anyway."
Ergrin deftly steps under the creatures snapping jaws and delivers a mountain-shattering punch. The creature reels and begins coughing blood in five directions. With a final spasm it lurches towards the party and collapses. Augrok's ball of fire begins to consume the corpse.
"Hmm. Don't see many of them this far west in the swamp," Jorr grumbles as he inspects his bow for defects, "but I be guessin' this heat'll be doin' strange things."
"What was that?" says Ergrin, his usually calm exterior clearly shaken.
Kin Lur:
Searching the wagon will require some help, as you would not be able to touch the bottom of the swamp without swimming.
"Hydra." Augrok said as he paced towards the end of the bridge, to scowl at the corpse that was still being immolated by the ball of fire he had conjured. His lip was curled back in distaste at the carcass, aware of the threat they posed to any within their hunting range. Very few things preyed successfully on it, and he could think of none at the moment that would occupy a swamp, save for a dragon, perhaps.
The ball of fire that was still charring the hide of the creature he cut short with a hiss of his voice and a cutting gesture from one hand, the fire vanishing as quickly as it came. There was a scowl on the half-orc's face as he took a second look at the carcass, then at Jorr. "Driven away", he stated, eyes narrowed. Ur walked to the edge of the bridge before looking down at the mud, snorting almost as if in derision, before casting a look back at Augrok.
"What was that?" says Ergrin, his usually calm exterior clearly shaken.
Impressed, Mijanor chuckles, "That! Was ya clearly teachin this forsaken by the gods thing the meanin o' bein on a wrong side o' a dwarf. Ack, they don't smell to be good eatin neither." Mijanor steps around and examines everyones wounds. Seeing that they are no more than scratches at this point he grunts satisfied that they are ready to continue. With obvious dislike and a touch of nervousness he keeps a fair distance between himself and the water and double-checking his footing.
Kin Lur:
Searching the wagon will require some help, as you would not be able to touch the bottom of the swamp without swimming.
"Well that was a surprise. That's the first time I've seen a snake pull a polymorph trick like that!" He gives a chuckle that turns into a cough.
"Ack. I agree with you on that though Jorr. This heat is not doing anything for my state of well being. If it were not for our large friend here," he gestures at Augrok, "I am sure I would be a melted puddle of blood by now."
We need to check the wagon for supplies -- if not for our own use, then to deny them to the enemy when they pass this way.
With cautious effort Alexei and Kin Lur are able to reach the wagon. By standing on the side and breaking it open you avoid swimming inside to search the mud. There are no survivors...
A few gnawed and bloated corpses, distinctively goblinoids, protrude from the wagon into the swamp. Several baskets and barrels of ruined food are spilled open into the mud.
The weapons and armor of the corpses are destroyed - chewed and mangled, and others from the wagon itself are broken, pitted, and waterlogged.
But one thing catches your eye. A glint of metal under the corpses reveales a hobgoblin wearing a glistening silvery-white breastplate. It bears no marks of any kind - not even the ever-present imprint of a clawed red hand.
Alexei identifies the metal on sight, having seen it on display on the bodyguards of the wealthiest patrons...mithral.
Impressed, Mijanor chuckles, "That! Was ya clearly teachin this forsaken by the gods thing the meanin o' bein on a wrong side o' a dwarf. Ack, they don't smell to be good eatin neither." Mijanor steps around and examines everyones wounds. Seeing that they are no more than scratches at this point he grunts satisfied that they are ready to continue. With obvious dislike and a touch of nervousness he keeps a fair distance between himself and the water and double-checking his footing.
"What was that?" says Ergrin, his usually calm exterior clearly shaken.
Ergrin glows at the compliment from his cousin.
He looks at the humans working their way through the swamp to the wagon, "You know Mijanor. One advantage of being a foot shorter is that they don't ask us to do that kind of thing."
To be sure, he adds more loudly, "Looks deep. Over my head."
Alexei identifies the metal on sight, having seen it on display on the bodyguards of the wealthiest patrons...mithral.
Alexei thinks back on his training with different armor types, trying to get a sense of how much a breastplate like that might slow him down to wear it... Like, in terms of the studded leather he's used to, how much harder it would be to jump and tumble in it, and whether he could still run at full speed...
"Mithral breastplate," he announces. "Both strong and lightwight. Methinks we should salvage that, and maybe sink the rest... unless someone can do a quick check for anything magical among this stuff."
With a long drawn out whistle, "Mithral?! By Torag's own 'ammer that there's a sight a mite more beautiful than any bonnie lass. Let me take a look to the workmanship and be seein if'n I can tell ya aboot it." Despite himself at the mention of mithral he finds himself much closer than he would normally like to the waters edge.
Impressed, Mijanor chuckles, "That! Was ya clearly teachin this forsaken by the gods thing the meanin o' bein on a wrong side o' a dwarf. Ack, they don't smell to be good eatin neither." Mijanor steps around and examines everyones wounds. Seeing that they are no more than scratches at this point he grunts satisfied that they are ready to continue. With obvious dislike and a touch of nervousness he keeps a fair distance between himself and the water and double-checking his footing.
"What was that?" says Ergrin, his usually calm exterior clearly shaken.Ergrin glows at the compliment from his cousin.
He looks at the humans working their way through the swamp to the wagon, "You know Mijanor. One advantage of being a foot shorter is that they don't ask us to do that kind of thing."
To be sure, he adds more loudly, "Looks deep. Over my head."
"I'll climb down and pass stuff up to you. Easier for you to pull me out than otherwise."
Augrok was distracted by his own thoughts, wondering if it would be worthwhile to somehow manage to get the two dwarves swimming. . . Maybe a practical joke at another time. Alexei's procuring of a rather surprising piece of equipment from the mired wagon brought him back from his distraction. Grunting, he looked at the breastplate, but knew (and cared) little about the finer points of craftsmanship, instead closing his eyes as he licked two of his fingers, pressing them over his eyelids.
The hissing sound of his slow exhale ended with the whispering of a word that was not really any word of any officially recognized language. His inhalation following that word was deep, exhaling in another long hiss between his teeth, the whispered word ending that one as well. This time, he cocked his head as if listening, his inhalations, exhalations, and speaking forming a sort of rhythm. The others would maybe recognize what he was doing, though it had been a long time since he had given an explanation of why he performed it like that.
Augrok:
With the power of nature flowing through you, you become attuned to the subtle changes in the flow of magical energies that permeates the world. Focusing on the contents of the wagon, you become aware of a fine blue haze drifting. With patience, you wait as the mist surrounds the mithral breastplate. With a few seconds concentration the mist settles around the armor and begins to glow faintly.
Bad rolls are back! 1d20+7 = 9. Alexei's knowledge of warfare is somewhat lacking when it comes to armor properties.
Watching Augrok examine the armor for a moment, "By Torag's beard lad, this ain't some tree or furry critter. Let a forge lovin dwarf take a gander at it." Lifting the breastplate Mijanor taps it with his hammer while holding it up to his ear and then bites the edge, "That's pure mithral alright, always has that sharp tang to it." Holding his hammer with the symbol of Torag on it's side facing out while saying a quick prayer he concentrates intensely on the armor in front of of him......
Alexei:
Mijanor:
The breastplate definitely shows the glimmer of magic, though faint. Your best guess is that it has been imbued with some minor magics, though you cannot be certain as to the exact effect.
Your training as a smith brings you more detail. The mithral is not from these parts - the mountains in the area do not produce the ore. But the craftsmanship is definitely dwarven. You are able to locate the blacksmith's mark - the smith was a certain Norf Helmbreaker, who forged the armor over a century ago in the Hammerfist Holds. With some minor adjustments to straps and buckles the armor could be made to suit the human-sized members of your party.
He seems thoroughly engrossed in what he is doing, to the point that it doesn't seem to matter whether anyone is paying attention or not. "It has a bit o' magicks aboot it. Can work aboot figurin out what they do later. Ya see 'ow the workin o' the mithral is stout and strong. The thickenin o' the metal o'er the chest ta protect the heart and the bracin down the back fer the spine. This be some fine dwarven craftsmanship from the 'ammerfist 'olds. See here! That's the mark o' Norf 'elmbreaker! This musta been forged o'er a century ago. These mounts aren't known fer there mithral so musta 'ad it brought 'ere. Maybe from the gas-forges. I can 'ave this fit to any o' ya larger folk faster than I drink a pint o' ale." Matter a fact, you are pretty sure if you all just up and walked off that he wouldn't even notice.
Egrin stares at his cousin and tries not to feel envious. He reminds himself that dwarven lust for material things distracts from the inward seeking quest: 'Mine the mountain, or be the mountain. That is the choice.'
Vykos looks at the armour and admires the craftsmanship. "It is indeed a fine piece Mijanor. I am afraid however that wearing it would impede my spellcasting abiliites. I think Alexei would be the best choice for it."
Alexei looks at the armor dubiously. "So long as we're riding, I'm willing to give it a go," he says, with some reservation. "But if I find that my speed while dismounted is affected even a whit, I don't want the thing -- it would do more harm than good. No offense to the dwarven craftsmanship," he adds to Mijanor with a wink.
Jorr stands watch across the bridge as Mijanor suits up Alexei in his new armor. Several minutes pass as the dwarf makes the necessary adjustments, leaving Alexei looking the part of a noble warrior.
Alexei: A few quick defensive and exercise routines allows you to assess the armor compared to your studded leather. Overall the armor feels lighter, and surprisingly more maneuverable.
Long into the afternoon the party travels up the Dawn Way. At this point in the road, the Witch Wood forest crowds upon both shoulders of the Way. Before sunset approaches, Jorr finally points out your destination.
Looming out of the shadowy woods ahead is a forlorn sight - a ruined keep. The old castle sits on a small rocky hillock, and you can catch glimpses of a broken tower between the trees. A moss-covered stone at the side of the road you are following marks a footpath that looks like it leads up to the keep.
"This be the only way up to the keep aside from striding through the woods," Jorr whispers. "From here on out, best be as quiet as possible 'til we cross swords."
Alexei looks at the armor dubiously. "So long as we're riding, I'm willing to give it a go," he says, with some reservation. "But if I find that my speed while dismounted is affected even a whit, I don't want the thing -- it would do more harm than good. No offense to the dwarven craftsmanship," he adds to Mijanor with a wink.
"Lad... I 'll be puttin what ya just said off ta the elf blood addlin chur brain. It be obvious ya never seen mithral before. This armor be better than any ya set eyes on, especially since ya not be wearin any real armor now. Shut chur trap til I 'ave it on ya......then tell me it ain't so."
Long into the afternoon the party travels up the Dawn Way. At this point in the road, the Witch Wood forest crowds upon both shoulders of the Way. Before sunset approaches, Jorr finally points out your destination.
Looming out of the shadowy woods ahead is a forlorn sight - a ruined keep. The old castle sits on a small rocky hillock, and you can catch glimpses of a broken tower between the trees. A moss-covered stone at the side of the road you are following marks a footpath that looks like it leads up to the keep.
"This be the only way up to the keep aside from striding through the woods," Jorr whispers. "From here on out, best be as quiet as possible 'til we cross swords."
"Torag can be makin it so we don't make a sound or if'n ya know where the lookout is he could be silenced. Can't do nothin aboot em seein us though. Someone quiet want to go get a lay o' the land or maybe put a knife in the lookouts throat?"
Long into the afternoon the party travels up the Dawn Way. At this point in the road, the Witch Wood forest crowds upon both shoulders of the Way. Before sunset approaches, Jorr finally points out your destination.
Looming out of the shadowy woods ahead is a forlorn sight - a ruined keep. The old castle sits on a small rocky hillock, and you can catch glimpses of a broken tower between the trees. A moss-covered stone at the side of the road you are following marks a footpath that looks like it leads up to the keep.
"This be the only way up to the keep aside from striding through the woods," Jorr whispers. "From here on out, best be as quiet as possible 'til we cross swords."
"I'm not against striding through the woods, if it gives us an advantage on any lookouts, but I'd be hard-pressed to take anyone out with a single shot, even if I get close enough. It would undoubtedly be slower, though."
The preparations Augrok was taking went without saying. The half-orc had traveled light, living off of the land. While everyone prepared, he waited, his posture and the tension of their communication communicating to Ur, who remained by his side, casting about the forest. His eyes were searching as well, doing what he could to get the lay of the land. They were not planning on taking the trail to the tower, were they?
Long into the afternoon the party travels up the Dawn Way. At this point in the road, the Witch Wood forest crowds upon both shoulders of the Way. Before sunset approaches, Jorr finally points out your destination.
Looming out of the shadowy woods ahead is a forlorn sight - a ruined keep. The old castle sits on a small rocky hillock, and you can catch glimpses of a broken tower between the trees. A moss-covered stone at the side of the road you are following marks a footpath that looks like it leads up to the keep.
"This be the only way up to the keep aside from striding through the woods," Jorr whispers. "From here on out, best be as quiet as possible 'til we cross swords."
"Torag can be makin it so we don't make a sound or if'n ya know where the lookout is he could be silenced. Can't do nothin aboot em seein us though. Someone quiet want to go get a lay o' the land or maybe put a knife in the lookouts throat?"
Ergrin steps forward quietly. "I'm quiet. See. You didn't even hear me stepping forward. ... Did you?"
Weylan looks around excitedly. "I'm not a great warrior like any of you, but I could use my talents to make a illusory person walking far ahead of us - that way we could see if anybody is watching the path."
Weylan looks around excitedly. "I'm not a great warrior like any of you, but I could use my talents to make a illusory person walking far ahead of us - that way we could see if anybody is watching the path."
Alexei quickly reaches out a hand, stopping the lad. "Not a bad first idea... but battle is like chess; one needs to think several moves ahead. If sentries spot an illusion, they'll know its true nature soon enough, and will also know we're nearby, and that a spellcaster is with us, and that they should be on the lookout for obvious illusions in the future. In other words, even if the ruse succeeds, we give them more information than they give us. Whereas if a few of us sneak in, they may never know we're there until we choose to strike."
His lip curls. "But splitting up is something I mislike, especially with no means of communication. Lad, you wouldn't have a spell that allows messages to be sent over a distance? Or, failing that, one that simply makes a big fireworks display?"
Ergrin grins at the suggestion that 'a few of us sneak in' and attempts to calm himself and tune in to his environment.
Vykos defers the decisions to the more military types as the will know best, although it doesn't stop him offering his opinions.
"I will put my hand up for leaving the horses here. I think they will make too much noise and make us bigger targets."
"I like the idea of sneaking, although I'm not too good at it. Maybe we should go through the woods? That road is awfully open. Can the Hobgoblins see in the dark? Maybe it's best to go in the day when at least we can all see better."
"Mabe we should send a scout to see what's up."
Alexei:
Weylan looks slightly ashamed that his idea was not any good. "Sorry, sir. I guess I got ahead of myself. I don't have any fireworks or anything, but I can hypnotize a couple of people - maybe if we see the sentries I can make them not sound the alarm."
Alexei:
Weylan looks slightly ashamed that his idea was not any good. "Sorry, sir. I guess I got ahead of myself. I don't have any fireworks or anything, but I can hypnotize a couple of people - maybe if we see the sentries I can make them not sound the alarm."
Mijanor nods at Weylan, "Good lad. Between us we should 'ave a shot at keepin em quiet til we crack their skulls."
"Your idea was clever, lad... the rest is something one learns from experience. Hypnotism is a good trick, one that will be a most exceptionally useful in this foray. Can you do it but once, or several times in a day? If the former, keep it until one of us signals thusly:" Alexei draws his sword and makes a quick, unmistakable sweeping gesture with it at a nearby tree.
Inwardly, Alexei worries. He was once involved in a skirmish in which a single sorcerer won the entire day with a spell that knocked men unconscious with a flash of jarring colors. According to the sorcerer, a mere apprentice, that spell was quite simple, and he could use it something like three or more times in a day.
"I don't like being separated, either, but I'm not sure I see a way to approach with everyone quietly. I think the stealthy might be able to go ahead and signal back to the others when it's clear."
"That said, I have to defer to Alexei and Mijanor -- I have little experience planning for a group like this."