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Watching Dirk's aggressive tactics with interest, Binjion decides to capitalize on his efforts. He steps forward just to the left and a bit behind Dirk, placing his hand gently on the warrior's shoulder. "Do please excuse my gruff companion. He tends to be an abrasive and violent man and folk who make him cross tend to end up injured, bleeding and wishing they hadn't. I am here to tell you that we can avoid all of that trouble. We come on important business from Falcon's Hollow. A sickness plagues the hollow and many have fallen ill. We search desperately for a cure in the wilds, yet we seek Sai Rohdam's insight as to a few key locations of which only he is knowledgeable," continues the Cleric smiling gently all the while. "We require but half and hour of Sai Rohdam's time and if all of Falcon's Hollow succumbs to this dread malady, there will be few left to grow crops to feed your camp next year. Surely you must see that we all must depend on each other to continue as we always have? Besides, letting us by will take up no more of your time and friend Dirk here will even ensure that your fingers are strait enough to swing an ax tommorrow..." he threatens in an a sweet, friendly tone.
Torillan steps up next to Binjion, shifting the heavy shield on his left arm slightly. The hilt of his hand-and-a-half sword juts up over his right shoulder, and he stares intently at the logger.
Daegen - whom now appears garbed in studded leather armor and a brandished rapier on his left hip after a brief stop at his shop - shrinks away from the conflict in order to share his thoughts aloud, privately to the gathered companions.
"Dar neg krug meh duhgreen mech, Dirk," he says delicately in a whisper. "Dhen varren nuk fal'ahd."
When the Caretaker speaks, Daegan shuffles his position between Dorsea and Bijion, vocalizing his concerns.
"Perhaps it would be in our best interests if we were to withdraw, and look for an alternate group of loggers with which we can arrange our meeting?"
"Dar neg krug meh duhgreen mech, Dirk. Dhen varren nuk fal'ahd."
Dwarven -- "If you want honey, best to not kick the [bee's] nest, Dirk. Harming them yields nothing."
Dirk turns to Deagan and says quite loudly in dwarven "Well if fools wont get out of the way of a real quest, then they are of no help or use, so we must deal with them accordingly!"
Dirk then turns to the logger and awaits his response.
In Dwarven
"Milani teaches me to give no quarter to these kind of men. I will not suffer their ignorance much longer. If a fight is inevitable, then let them come." Dorsera speaks sternly without turning from the men.
"Do we have a problem loggers?" Dorsera asks, glaring at the men.
Ignoring everyone else, the lumberjacks give Binjion their ears. After the Pharasman cleric finishes explaining himself, the leader of the group considers for a minute. "Alright, you can go on...but if you or any of your companions here cause any trouble, you'll bring down the wrath of the entire camp on you. Don't be stupid," he spits. Then he points out another of the lumberjacks across the yard. "That there is Milon."
As you head to your intended target, you notice other workers within the camp who have been watching the exchange between the adventurers and lumberer guards.
When you approach the woodsman, he stops whatever he's doing and turns his focus to you. "Yeah?"
Dirk walks confidently toward the indicated man and clears his throat.
"Hmm...so im assumin' that you be Malian Whassisname, then." Dirk stands tall and proud, puffing his chest out slightly with self importance.
"I'll let my companions do most of the talkin', I cannae say I'm much of a Diplomer, or whatte'er they're called."
Dirk steps aside to allow the more diplomatic members of the party talk.
"Sorry to take you from your duties Milon, but we need some information that we were told you possess." Dorsera addresses Milon politely. Looking over at Daegan. "Daegan, you prepared a list, correct? We must speak of the locations."
Milon looks at you rather apathetically. "What kinda information? What'sit for?"
Looking over at Daegan. "Daegan, you prepared a list, correct? We must speak of the locations."
The wiry half-elf stepped forward at the beckoning of his services.
Briefly nodding in a bow, Daegan procured some notes from his satchel, which was now securely settled cross-shoulder behind him. He sided up next to Dorsera and quickly got down to business.
"We're seeking an experienced woodsman, someone that might point us in the right direction to procure rare herbs and roots from the wilderness. Our sources say that you might be that someone we're seeking."
"We have a list prepared, if you are willing to view it." Daegan folds the parchment once in half, and again, then extends it, his bony fingers secured beneath his tightly-wrapped leather gloves.
1 - rat tail -- a pickled root (extremely rare)
7 - ironbloom mushrooms -- found near abandoned dwarven forges
"It would be much appreciated if you could scribe us some form of map to these places. As for the rat tail, Laurel said Ulizmila may have one. Wherever her hut is."
Milon stands up straight and responds slowly and directly to the point, waving off the parchment presented to him. "Listen here...this is a place of work and I need to be doing it. I can't risk being caught catering to a group of wandering strangers when there's stuff around here to be done. I could have my pay docked or worse, and I gotta nephew who needs all the help money can buy right now. If you ain't gotta better reason for me to help you out other than being appreciated..." the woodsman lets that last word hang for a second, "...then please go away."
Dirk, obviously upset and angry at the treatment the party is recieving.
"Look you, we're out here about to risk our lives to save the small town, that you probably use for supplies, from a deathly sickness, and we're not important enough to talk to?"
Dirk stamps his foot on the ground.
"Do you know what I've seen, back there, in that town? There are children sufferin' from the 'Taint, and they're not fairin' too well, let me tell you! How can you leave lives of children fade away from this sickness, and feel no compassion what so ever?"
Obviously angry and upset, Dirk starts to walk away from the woodsman, and eventually sits on a rock a little distance away from the man.
"I'll be over here 'till you all finish up, the children aren't going to live very much longer from blackscour taint, by The Forge, they're only children."
Dirk then starts mumbling to himself in dwarven, to the effect of cursing the existance of uncaring fools with no compassion.
"Huh?" Milon is shocked. "The blackscour taint? Why didn't say that's what you're here for, to begin with? What'd you have to be so cryptic for? Of course I'll help out!" He snatches the parchment out of Daegan's hand and straightens it out, reading its content. "Uh huh...I can show you how to find all these places. Let's go inside the office over there." Rhoddam nods toward one of the buildings and immediately starts in that direction.
Inside, the office is vacant when the adventurers enter. It's filthy, covered by a blanket of dust and grime. Many different heads of fierce animals are mounted on the walls. "Ya know, my nephew has that sickness. My sister's so distraught over it, and I had no idea what I would do! And it's not just the children who are affected, either! Hopefully, this mission of yours won't be in vain." Milon pulls out some inks and takes to sketching out a rough map of the area.
"Here's the eldest tree, on the other side of the river" He points to a spot heavily marked on his sketching. "...and here's the witch's hut, west of the tree. And here is where the dwarven ruin is at, on the edge of woods, at the base of the crag." The lumberer fans the parchment for a couple minutes, then rolls it up and hands it one of the PCs. "I wish you guys luck. If there's anything else you need finding, let me know."
Deelin steps from the shadows where he has been trying to remain inconspicuous and looks over Daegins shoulder at the map and says I think I can guide us to these sites. Your help may have just saved many live Milon, thank you.
"It looks like we have what we need. Thank you Milon." Dorsera thanks Milon with a bow.
She then turns to the rest of the group. "We should head out soon. If you need to make any preparations, please do it now."
"I stand corrected, Milon, you are a decent guy after all." Dirk looks to his feet in obvious guilt. "I do apologize fer the way I was actin', and fer my friends beign so cryptic, sometimes they make me feel like I'm born a badger, with all that fancy smart talk."
Dirk looks quickly at the map and turns to Deelin.
" Aye, methinks I can help yer in that regard, Deelin, me-boy. As fer preperations, Dorsera, I have my axe and my wit, I'm about as ready as you'll ever see me!"
Dirk starts to hum his adventuring tune again, an obvious gleam of excitement in his eye.
There's no time like the present, Dorsera. I have everything I need Deelin says presenting his bow and pack in an obvious gesture. He then heads outside ready to continue.
"Looks like we should head for the eldest tree first. Lets get moving then." Dorsera replies to Deelin's presentation of his items. She then follows him out of the camp.
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"See now, that wasn't so hard..." Binjion mutters under his breath. He watches with interest as the others converse with Sai Rohdam.
In response to Deelin and Dosera, "Indeed, we have quite the tour of the Vale ahead of us by the looks of it and, I would also surmise that the eldest tree should be our first stop. That is, unless one of you has a raft in your back pockets? No? Well lets be off then," he finishes while absently adjusting the straps of his pack.
Leaving the lumber camp, you head northward. After two hours, you reach the edge of the lake. Any further travel today would require a forced march.
Dirk stops for a few seconds to look at the animal.
"I donnae see this bein' really that important, but if we're savin' the animal, mind yer fingers, those buggers look nasty!"
Dirk looks at the party with a slight air of boredom.
"I thought we were fetchin' fer an adventure...a single trapped fox donnae count as adventure does it?"
Dirk awaits the party's decision patiently, but obviously bored and uninterested in the poor animal.
After travelling the day in quiet contemplation, Daegan lurched around a corner tree, examining the wounded creature from afar. His brow narrowed with suspicion.
"The lumberers don't pack traps to capture woodland critters; I suppose the trap might belong to a hunter who has not yet returned for his claim."
Daegan moves a little closer to inspect the trap -- but still at a decent distance to avoid startling the fox (maybe 30 ft?) His right eyebrow arches and he voices his opinion to his companions while his face remained afixed to the trapped animal.
"The device is crude, and believably within my capacity to disable -- however, I feign to assist until the creature is soothed or otherwise departed."
Whether anyone was looking at him with a questioning eye, Daegan concluded by adding,
"I'm awfully prone to illnesses and the like, and won't risk helping it if no one else is."
Deelin crouches and steps past Daegan, It's a Firetail Fox he says while indicating for the others to hold still.
He slowly moves toward the frightened creature one open palm outstretched and whispering soothing words in Elven as his love, Aulistriana has taught him.
Deelin ...whispering soothing words in Elven...
A snort of a chuckle erupted from the estranged apothecary's nose.
"I said soothe... not swoon."Daegan did not further interrupt Deelin, as he was anxious to determine the extent of damage the fox had suffered at the maw of the trap.
Daegan returned to his satchel and produced rolled leathers.. He unfastened the new strap, and unfurled a variety of tool-like implements - the likes of which comprised hard-forged surgical instruments. Daegan quickly inverted the bundle and wrapped it around his left wrist, retying the knot on top of the toolset.
He then waited patiently for the go-ahead nod.
The small animal squeals softly, reaching to Deelin with its snout. It doesn't seem to hostile.
"Deelin, if you can get it out of the trap, I can patch it up."
These are also known as firefoot fennecs Deelin says as he extricates it carefully from the trap. Wrapping it in his cloak he presents the frightened animal to Dorsera for her care.
Torillan watches as the others extricate the fox from the trap. He offers to help in need be.
The fox is compliant as Deelin pulls apart the jaws of the trap, succeeding at freeing the little creature. Meanwhile, Torillan and Daegan spot a grey-skinned hobgoblin perched on a low branch of a tree, 50 feet northeast, holding a bow with an arrow nocked, pointed at Deelin. It lets loose its missile, and the arrow whizzes just past the ranger.
Seeing the party trying to help the animal causes Dirk to feel a little guilty about not helping out.
Just as Dirk is about to jump in and show them all what strength really is, he sees and hears the arrow wizz past Deelin.
Cursing himself, Dirk grabs his axe and holds it ready to attack anything that is a threat.
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A feeling of unease creeps up from the pit of Binjion's gut as Deelin works on the trap freeing the fox. Something is not right here, he thinks to himself.
The cleric sucks his lower lip as he watches Deelin free the fennic from it's terrible predicament.
Not right at all, he concludes as the arrow flies from the tree. Spotting the hobgoblin too late to act, the wizened cleric attempts to the surmise the identity of, and size up his opponent while also looking for a place of concealment or partial cover.
Dorsera quickly grabs the fox from Deelin and a pale light pours from her hand into the creature . After setting the fox on the ground, Dorsera draws her crossbow and shifts into a stance to fire.
"Who is firing on us?" She asks, seeing the arrow fly by.
Meanwhile, Torillan and Daegan spot a grey-skinned hobgoblin perched on a low branch of a tree, 50 feet northeast, holding a bow with an arrow nocked, pointed at Deelin. It lets loose its missile, and the arrow whizzes just past the ranger.
"Get DOWN!!", Torillan yells. He draws his sword over his shoulder and adjusts the shield on his left arm. He begins to trot towards the hobgoblin.
Just after the arrow flashes past Deelin, a look of anger crosses his face as the realisation occurs that this poor fennec was harmed for such a stupid Hobgoblin trap. There will be retribution.
Roll initiative.
Daegan's elvish features narrow angrily as the arrow shot erupts from a new foe.
"Hobgoblin! Fifty feet north-east!" he shouts, warning the others, hoping that they're as reactive as he is.
Daegan flits from his position behind the tree, turning and moving hastily between each source of cover until he can reach his mark.
The hobgoblin fires another arrow at Deelin, but misses. He then whistles loudly, and four birds that look like overgrown rooks, appear from the tree tops and start diving towards the PCs.
1) Hobgoblin
2) Daegan, Deelin, Torillan, Dirk
3) Large Crows
4) Dorsera, Binjion
Daegan does his best to adhere to the cover the trees provide, attempting to close in on the hobgoblin. At the whistling sound, and the attack birds appearance, he decides on a ranged attack over melee, and draws one of his hidden daggers.
Stealth Roll: 1d20+8 = 26
Standard Action: Drawing a dagger from his wrist sleeve.
Moving into the cover of the small tree on his left Deelin draws his bow and in one fluid motion knocks an arrow. When he reaches cover it is loosed straight toward his antagonist.
"Ah, finally a fight, now i can finally sink my axe into somethin'. I've been meanin' teh test this baybeh out!"
Dirk runs at the Hobgoblin's position knwoing that it will take a while for him to get there.
Deelin: Drawing a weapon is a move action, so you can't draw a weapon, move to another spot, and make an attack, in one round.
Dirk: You couldn't act in the surprise round, so you can't draw your weapon until this first full round.
The hobgoblin is 10 feet up.
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"Kunka volunga taka Grung, mi fanna sol watta mi ohs Pharasma it si si!"* shouts Binjion while moving beneath the tree to the Northeast for concealment. He then holds aloft his silver energy burst symbol and chants quietly at first in an unintelligible tongue. "Lady of the Grave, Bless our comrades, give them strength so that we shall triumph in this endevour."
*Traslation from Goblinoid:
Torillan jogs towards the hobgoblin, almost daring him to shoot.
Dorsera quickly grabs the fox from Deelin and a pale light pours from her hand into the creature . After setting the fox on the ground, Dorsera draws her crossbow and shifts into a stance to fire.
"Who is firing on us?" She asks, seeing the arrow fly by.