What in the name of Sarenrae's holy knickers was that about?! What manner of hoodlum or miscreant actually conjures up fake orcs to waylay travelers in an otherwise perfectly normal and unassuming forest? I mean... who does that?
And more importantly... why, I wonder.
Abbrathil meanders about, walking in small circles shouting at the ground and throwing his hands up into air at the end of every directionless question. He stops for a moment, holding his chin with his hand and tapping his lips with his index finger for a few moments before he suddenly throws his hands up in the air again and continues his tromping and shouting.
Hennon gives the orc he supposes to be at his feet a swift kick and then looks intently back at the deer carcass he had carefully deposited. With long strides he quickly covers the distance between him and the deer and carefully lifts it to his shoulders once more. Then, with equal speed, he heads determinedly toward the spot where Ifrit lies, pulling another chunk of jerky from somewhere in his tunic. When he reaches Ifrit's side he dangles the meat next to the creature's nostrils.
"Here, Ifrit. Hennon am have smoke meat for you... Ifrit?"
Raven stands baffled as he lowers his bow, staring at the spot where the Orc illusion once laid after having fallen.
In all the years I've spent in the surrounding woods, I have never come across illusory Orcs. My gnome friend, you ask an excellent question. If those things were magical figments, then someone was probably behind them. Let me see if I can find the location of this conjurer.
Raven heads over to the eastern part of the path first and then begins examining the ground carefully. He steps over some brambles and heads further into the woods until he stops.
Ah, I think I've found something. Yes. I found some tracks. They are humanoid which appears to have been wearing some light boots or shoes.
He pauses with a "Hmph..."
...Strange...I see where the tracks lead to this spot, but it doesn't appear that they have left. Unless this fellow can walk perfectly backwards through his own tracks, he either disappeared completely or flew off.
Sarenae carefully walks over to Ifrit as the creature pushes itself back up to its feet. As you look closer, Sarenae herself appears to be wounded, though she took no damage in the brief confrontation.
I was able to prevent him from going back to his home, though at the cost of some of my own strength.
She pats the creature on the head and then looks around.
So, it was a person who made these false Orcs attack us?
Abbrathil stops his ranting and walks over to Raven, his short legs moving quickly. Boot prints? Where?
Sarenae, would Ifrit be able to discern our indirect attackers location via olfactory means by any chance? The oversized nasal ridge suggests that he might boast a heightened sense of smell.
Raven points out the tracks which you note are located right behind two tree trunks which split about two feet off the ground. The leaves have mostly fallen off of this tree, so you glance upward and do not see anything in the branches above.
Hennon watches Raven and Abbrathil with obvious curiosity. Seeing them glancing up into the tree above them, a spark comes into his eyes. With a bound he is beside them, his axe drawn and a wide, lopsided grin on his face.
"You want for Hennon to chopping this tree down? This not Hennon's tree-chopping axe, but Hennon make it work."
I would not be opposed to such a brazen act of destruction and it would be quite entertaining if our illusive opponent happens to be invisible and in this very tree!
Abbrathil giggles as he imagines a disembodied voice calling out "Whoa... WHOA!" immediately before a puff of dirt appears nearby accompanied by a dull sounding "whumpf".
Chop the tree down if you wish, friend. He says to Hennon. But, I think it a waste of our time. Whoever was here appears to be gone.
With that, Raven rapidly strings an arrow and fires it up through the tree right through where he suspects the tree-climber would be located. He waits a moment and when he hears no response he shrugs.
Thought it worth a shot. Get it, shot? Ha! He smirks and looks around for reactions.
Perhaps we should move on. I don't think there's anyone here. This boot-wearing fellow might be trying to ambush us again down the path. Perhaps we should avoid it?
Abbrathil glances once more up into the tree, a wisp of a grin still lingering on his face from his enjoyable imaginings. He sighs lightly then turns and looks up... and up... and up to Hennon.
I'm afraid I agree with Robin over here, there seems little point in cutting down this tree - much as I would've enjoyed it. He then turns to address the rest of the group, his left hand massaging the back of his neck. So... are we to go deeper into the sinsiter wood that is filled with false orcs sent by invisible thugs and gods know what else? If the answer is "yes", then let's be off! No sense in keeping whatever mess we're bound to stumble into waiting...
Hennon nods rather glumly, obviously disappointed that there will be not trees felled for the time being.
"Hennon am ready to go. No chopping trees for now, Hennon not have right axe anyway. Maybe we find more false orcs to chop instead. This axe better for that."
Excellent! Which way to the crypt then?
Abbrathil glaces expectantly from one of his companions to the other, having been too engrossed in his own musings and thoughts to have paid any heed as to which direction they have travelled.
This way. Raven points down the path you have been following.
We have several more hours of travel ahead of us. He pauses to look up at the sky. ... and we have another four hours of daylight or so. I suggest we go for three more hours and stop somewhere for the night.
Hennon lifts a hand to his already scruffy chin and rubs it pensively, his eyes narrowed at the woods around them. His nostrils flare slightly as he sniffs the breeze, mumbling a barely audible "Mmmmm. There am cedar trees near." He stops rubbing his chin and takes a deep whiff of the breeze, a smile creasing his face, and he begins fumbling through his pack with his free hand. Slowly he removes the map given to him by the Mayor and he holds it up above his head and lets it unroll.
The map is obviously upside down, but Hennon seems not to notice and his brow is furrowed in concentration as he "studies" it, nodding now and then, looking around and then back to the map, and mumbling "Mmhmm, mmhmm."
Finally, after a minute or two of this, Hennon lowers the map, looks at his companions, and proclaims quite certainly: "Hennon am lost."
If you do not protest Raven's suggestion, you travel three more hours or so before the sky begins to darken once again, this time signaling the close of the day.
Raven smiles at Hennon's comments as they begin to depart.
No fear my half-orc friend, I shall lead us right to the Crypt and then triumphantly back to Kassen with the Everflame in tow. We shall feast greatly upon our return and exaggerate the many obstacles which attempted to impede our success. In other words, good food and good times for all!
Raven slows his pace as he begins to search the area for a place to stop and rest. As you traveled he frequently paused to pick up some dry pieces of wood and carry them under his arms. He also handed some to Hennon seeing how much he could carry.
Ah, here we go. This should suit us. Raven suddenly breaks off from the path and makes his way through to a mostly clear spot to the side of the trail. He allows his backpack to fall to the ground and pulls out some flint and tinder along with some old weathered parchment.
Hennon if you would assist me in building a fire with those logs, we can take a load off and rest here for the night.
As Abbrathil busies himself with his own sleeping gear, he turns to Sarenae.
Forgive my ignorance, Sarenae, but I must confess I am terribly fascinated and perplexed by Ifrit. I heard you say back in Kassen that he is an eidolon... what exactly is an eidolon? I... I mean... do they eat? Sleep? Do they hunt? He glances toward the eidolon nervously. If they do, I certainly hope Ifrit at least realizes how dreadfully unpalatable and unsatisfying gnomes are... heh heh heh... heh... heh?
Sarenae smiles when Abbrathil mentions Ifrit.
Many people are curious about him. He is not native to this world, though he does eat, sleep, and hunt like other predators. He is from the plane of Nirvana... a place of ultimate peace and tranquility. I hope to meet him there someday in the afterlife, but for now he will accompany me here in this one.
She chuckles.
...Oh, and don't worry. Ifrit is not fond of gnomes.
A visible wave of relief passes over Abbrathil's face. Well! That's just the most splendid news I've heard all day! The slight gnome then busies himself with the rest of his gear, humming quietly and slightly off key while doing so.
Hennon grins toothily at Raven and immediately stoops to deposit the deer carcass near the center of the clearing. He swipes his left hand over his brow to remove a few globes of sweat and leaves behind a barely visible streak of mud as the sweat mingles with the dust on his hand.
Moving to where Raven has begun setting up a small ring for the fire, he unloads the impressive stack of wood that Raven had been giving him over the last hour. He nods his approval and pats one of the larger pieces. "Fir am good choice, Birdhead. Make nice hot fire for cooking venison." He kneels beside his companion and begins removing any small branches with pine needles. As he finishes he begins inspecting a few of the smaller pieces, nods satisfactorily at two of them, and in a sudden, brutish motion pulls them in half, lengthwise. He hands the fragments to Raven.
"Here am kindling."
Abbrathil watches discreetly from within his bedroll as Raven stacks the kindling neatly in a teepee formation. As the ranger turns to his pack to pull out his flint and tinder, Abbrathil seizes the moment and shoots a burning hands spell into the pile of wood then immediately disappears back into his bedroll, the fabric heaving around him as he tries in vain to control his giggling.
Raven takes the kindling from Hennon and nods as he sets it near the bottom of his growing stack of firewood.
Pulling out a set of steel cookware, he sets the deer down and begins to dress it. As he is doing so, a blast of flame shoots past his backside and sets the pile of wood on fire.
Raven spins around after hearing what sounds like a small explosion followed by a penetrating heat through the seat of his pants.
"Whaa!" He shouts as he spots the flames slowly engulf the pile of wood. "What in bloody blazes was that?" His head turns towards Abbrathil's direction as he hears the gnome giggle beneath his bedroll. "Gnomes..." He mutters to himself, and then continues to dress the deer.
Make Perception checks.
Raven:
Sarenae:
Hennon watches Raven intently as he dresses the deer. After a few moments he is completely lost in thoughts of venison and notices nothing else.
Perception:
All four of you hear what sounds like howling off in the distance. It sounds to be coming from a small pack of wolves as you can hear more than one howling in unison.
Raven pauses and lifts up his head. Ah, we have some wolves about. Careful now... they are a bit closer than they sound. Just stay close to the fire and they may not bother us.
Continuing to dress the deer, Raven looks back down but keeps darting his eyes about looking through the trees as he digs into its flesh.
Perception:
A half hour passes as Raven finishes dressing the animal and preparing to cook it on a spit he has set up above the fire. After he sets up the meat, he begins fiddling with his bedroll and sets his bow up against a nearby log.
Sarenae sets out her bedroll as well, as Ifrit moves up close to her and immediately begins to breathe heavily. Flinging her cloak aside, she looks down at her studded leather armor and then flings the cloak back, apparently deciding to keep it on while she sleeps. She lays down and wraps one arm around the creature as she closes her eyes.
Just as soon as Sarenae shuts her eyelids, a series of growls penetrate the campside from the west. Sarenae's eyes both shoot open and she sits up and looks around. We're being attacked by the wolves!
Ifrit leaps up and growls as his elongated neck twists about allowing him to search the immediate area to the west.
Raven grabs hold of his bow and then picks up his quiver as he draws an arrow while simultaneously slinging it around his back.
Just as he does this, three wolves emerge from the trees to the west, their eyes glowing from the light of the fire. They bear their vicious-looking teeth and as they step into the light, their bodies reveal that they are emaciated.
Initiative!
Raven initiative:
Sarenae initiative:
Wolves initiative:
Abbrathil leaps up with a start at Sarenae's call and squeaks, Canis lupis! He looks around frantically before taking a few halting steps backwards while stammering, I'll have you know that I am not nearly as delicious as other gnomes!
Hennon glares at the wolves through the waves of heat radiating from the top of the deer carcass. His eyes lose their dreamy gloss and harden into small steely dots and his countenance sours considerably. He growls through clenched teeth and his stomach responds in kind - louder. He rises grumpily to his feet, wrapping his fist around the leather bound handle of Chopper and muttering to himself: All Hennon am for wanting is for eating venison. First Hennon am have to wear this itchy cloak. Next we get Hennon lost. Now wolves am wanting Hennon's venison. No! Hennon am killing these wolves and then Hennon am eating his venison and then Hennon am skinning wolves and making a new cloak!
Combat Order
Wolves - 19
Raven - 16
Sarenae - 14
Abbrathil - 13
Hennon - 4
The wolves paw closer to the party as they continue to growl and bear their yellow and black stained teeth which stretch out from their gums.
One of the wolves charges straight towards Raven, it's jaws open wide as it springs up to attack.
Attack roll:
Raven spins around as the wolf juts its head forward and attempts to close down on his thigh. He quickly dodges to his right as the wolf looks up at him and then poises to strike once again.
Another wolf charges up next to his attacking pack mate and hops up to try and grab Raven's arm.
Attack roll:
Raven deftly pulls his arm out of the way just as the wolf springs up on it's hind legs and snaps its mouth shut.
The third wolf charges towards Sarenae and leaps out at her with open jaws.
Attack roll:
The wolf successfully grabs hold of her cloak and bites down on it as it hits the ground and then begins pulling it. A small chunk of the material rips off from her cloak and hangs out of the wolf's mouth which it quickly lets drop to the dirt below.
Raven strings an arrow to his bow from his loose-hanging quiver and looses it at the wolf directly to his left.
Attack roll: Damage:
Unfortunately Raven stumbles a bit after having pulled his arm away from the leaping wolf and his shot lands in the dirt. He steps back a few feet from the wolves and prepares to shoot again.
Raven shouts at the wolves, I understand you are hungry, friends, but you will not find a meal here!
Sarenae is able to reach out for her quarterstaff as she continues to lie on the ground right below the snapping jaws of the wolf.
Attack roll:
Sarenae weakly and awkwardly swings her quarterstaff at the wolf, but the animal steps back far from the wooden staff.
Ifrit! Help! Sarenae yells to the eidolon standing nearby poised to strike. The creature quickly maneuvers next to Sarenae and swipes it's two claws directly at the wolf's body.
Attack roll: ;
Damage: ; Damage:
Ifrit takes two viscious swipes at the wolf attacking Sarenae and digs the claws of both paws into the animal's bony torso. The wolf yelps in agony as blood spills out onto its fur. It weakly backs off and immediately ceases growling.
Abbrathil squeaks in surprise as the wolves set upon Raven and Sarenae. After a moment of wide-eyed panic, his brow furrows and his mouth turns down in a determined frown.
He scurries forward, throws his hands outward, and a scintillating and coruscating bands of color flashes forth.
Range: 15 ft.
Area: cone-shaped burst
Duration: instantaneous; see text
Saving Throw: Will negates (DC 15); Spell Resistance yes
A vivid cone of clashing colors springs forth from your hand, causing creatures to become stunned, perhaps also blinded, and possibly knocking them unconscious. Each creature within the cone is affected according to its HD.
2 HD or less: The creature is unconscious, blinded, and stunned for 2d4 rounds, then blinded and stunned for 1d4 rounds, and then stunned for 1 round. (Only living creatures are knocked unconscious.)
3 or 4 HD: The creature is blinded and stunned for 1d4 rounds, then stunned for 1 round.
5 or more HD: The creature is stunned for 1 round.
Sightless creatures are not affected by color spray.
Abbrathil speedily maneuvers around the fire and waves his hands sending a blinding array of colors in a blast of light towards the two wolves attacking Raven.
Wolf Will Saves: ;
The two wolves eyes shoot wide and then squint closed as the light seems to absorb straight into their eye sockets. Immediately after, they slump over on the ground, breathing heavily but unconscious.
Blinded, unconscious, and stunned for: rounds
Blinded and stunned for an additional: rounds
After that, stunned for another round.
A stunned creature drops everything held, can't take actions, takes a –2 penalty to AC, and loses its Dexterity bonus to AC (if any).
Attackers receive a +4 bonus on attack rolls to perform combat maneuvers against a stunned opponent.
Unconscious creatures are knocked out and helpless.
A helpless target is treated as having a Dexterity of 0 (–5 modifier). Melee attacks against a helpless target get a +4 bonus (equivalent to attacking a prone target). Ranged attacks get no special bonus against helpless targets. Rogues can sneak attack helpless targets.
As a full-round action, an enemy can use a melee weapon to deliver a coup de grace to a helpless foe. An enemy can also use a bow or crossbow, provided he is adjacent to the target. The attacker automatically hits and scores a critical hit. (A rogue also gets his sneak attack damage bonus against a helpless foe when delivering a coup de grace.) If the defender survives, he must make a Fortitude save (DC 10 + damage dealt) or die. Delivering a coup de grace provokes attacks of opportunity.
Creatures that are immune to critical hits do not take critical damage, nor do they need to make Fortitude saves to avoid being killed by a coup de grace.
The creature cannot see. It takes a –2 penalty to Armor Class, loses its Dexterity bonus to AC (if any), and takes a –4 penalty on most Strength- and Dexterity-based skill checks and on opposed Perception skill checks. All checks and activities that rely on vision (such as reading and Perception checks based on sight) automatically fail. All opponents are considered to have total concealment (50% miss chance) against the blinded character. Blind creatures must make a DC 10 Acrobatics skill check to move faster than half speed. Creatures that fail this check fall prone. Characters who remain blinded for a long time grow accustomed to these drawbacks and can overcome some of them.
Hennon freezes for a brief moment, hand still wrapped around Chopper, which is only half-drawn from its harness on Hennon's back. He stares at the coruscating colors emanating from Abrathil's hand, never having seen anything like it. His jaw is more slack than usual and dangles loosely beneath his head.
The smell of cooking venison and the sounds of Ifrit snarling at the only wolf remaining on its feet bring him crashing back to reality, and with an angry growl he whirls on the injured animal.
He hesitates momentarily, seeing the ribs of the animal even more clearly as they heave in and out with frantic gasps. Fresh blood from its wounds is beginning to drip to the ground, but Hennon is sure that the animal is not mortally wounded.
He marches toward the wolf, pounding his feet into the ground with each step and stops with 5 feet separating the two of them, simultaneously yanking Chopper free. He brandishes the two-headed ax over his head in both hands and brings it hissing down in front of the wolf's face, too far away to hit, but close enough, he hopes, to get his point across. He lets go of the ax with his left hand and follows through with his right, bending forward slightly at the waist so that he is nearly eye-to-eye with the wolf and his arms are slightly back and out, flexed as large and as hard as he can make them. The veins on his arms, shoulders, neck, and forehead are plainly visible as he squints his jaundiced and blood-shot eyes, opens his cavernous mouth wide, and unleashes a thunderous and spit-laden
Raven watches as Hennon stomps towards the wolf cowering after being slashed in the ribcage by Ifrit's powerful claws. His eyes open wide as Hennon's arms bulge, revealing thick corded muscles and the veins to fuel them. He plainly ignores the unconscious wolves at his feet and then squints as Hennon roars at the already intimidated left over wolf. His head flinches slightly to the right and then he opens his eyes to look back at the remains of the wolf... and finds, surprisingly, that it's not a pile of gore.
Sarenae likewise squints as she turns her head away from the spectacle, expecting Hennon to swiftly remove the wolf's head from it's emaciated body.
The wolf dives it's head to the ground and whines loudly as it anticipates the last thing it will ever see---the largest half-orc it has ever seen and the axe which terminated its miserable life. When it suddenly realizes that it's still standing, it immediately darts off limping into the woods as fast as it's skin-and-bone revealed legs will allow it to, the remnants of Hennon's spittle still remaining on its snout.
The two wolves mesmerized by Abbrathil's spell still lie unconscious at Raven's feet---Raven himself mesmerized by Hennon's raw ferociousness.
Abbrathil's eyes are wide in disbelief after the brief encounter with the wolves. He glances around pensively...
Pharasma's Breath! Hill Giant.
Ahhh... heh. Heh.
Abbrathil walks forward slowly, bouncing his pointer fingers together nervously as he does so. He sidles up to Sarenae and clumisily tries to help her up, though he and his robes mostly only get in the way. He glances nervously back and forth from Raven to Hennon and Hennon to Sarenae before loosing another nervous chuckle. Heh. Heh. Aheh-Ahmmmmmm. He clears his throat with a flea-like cough.
Soooo....., he bounces nervously on his toes as he speaks, these mangy beasts won't stay down for very long. Do we.. ahhh... put them out of their starved misery or let them loose? Sparrow? Sarenae? Hillgia-I mean, Hennon?