The party makes the necessary preparations of packing supplies, changing into more appropriate attire, checking weapons, etc... After an hour, a handsome mage, in his late 20s, with a moustache and beard and auburn hair and tanned skin, appears next to Lady Carrigan. He is dressed in leather pants and a silk shirt, open at the neck, with a crimson cloak hung over his shoulders. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Morgan Blackstone, at your service, resident mage and advisor to our great King Kalen. I am sure Victoria has briefed you on the situation. I am ready when you are to travel." He bows to the lady present and shakes the hands of the males present.
Victoria sees the party is ready and calls for an attendant, who brings forward a wooden coffer. "Here is the seal of King Kalen. Your authority should not be questioned by any of his subjects." The seal is an golden amulet with an image of 2 soaring eagles emblazoned on it, along with arcane writing. Lady Carrigan passes the seal to Bors. "Ambassador, I am sure you will have no problems within our lands. Please learn what you can of the enemy and defend our lands to the best of your ability. Morgan will teleport you to Grayhame. Make your way to Tatzlford. There, I am sure Mayor Darius will apprise you of the situation. Morgan will remain in Grayhame preparing an evacuation, if needed. Feel free to communicate with me through him. Good luck warriors....and mage!"
When ready, Morgan instructs you to all hold hands, as he intones powerful arcane magic and suddenly, you all disappear, experiencing the nausea and momentum of an overwhelming roller coaster, until you appear again, on a local road in pitch black darkness, the torches of a nearby village illuminating the darkness. After you recover, Morgan leads you, "That is Grayhame. My, how the years have passed. I wish I could be visiting it under much more endearing terms, but alas. Please follow."
"Everyone look alive, people. Our rest break is over," Elisen says to the group, more or less thinking out loud. She couldn't help looking around, trying to be sure that no one was sneaking up on them.
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Stumbling slightly as the world shifted beneath her, Zalana managed to bite back a scream as they steadied once more. By the Gods... That was not pleasant!'
She pulled away from the hands holding hers and took a steadying step down the road, staring around, uncomprehending for a moment. Where were they? She had no idea. She did not much care at the moment either. She had been told after all, it had simply escaped her mind in the transportation.
'If I never have to do that again, I will die happy!'
Following the Teleport, Hrafen exhales slowly, and then breathes deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh air of his new surroundings.
The game is afoot!
He then nods to Elisen.
"Indeed. We are, of necessity, on a war footing, and any hostile forces will be dealt with accordingly. For the moment, however, it will be interesting to see whether the locals have any further light to shed on the situation..."
Hrafen then follows Morgan into Grayhame.
Nikolai closes his eyes, allowing the world to spin around him, he found it helped with such magics to try and imagine oneself temporarily elsewhere. His feet thump on the ground when they arrive a splitsecond later.
Checking his sword at his belt Nikolai grins at his companions. 'Well ladies and gentlemen, lets get this show on the road shall we?'
He sets off at a fast, almost jovial pace towards Grayhame, clearly eager to get down to business.
Laird Blackstone, 'ow far from Grayhame ta Tatzlford? We need ta rouse someone ta gather mounts, someone ta inform us as ta what men can muster 'ere ta serve as a rear guard, someone o' importance what can see ta mustering all this ta'gether under yer assistance, an we kin be off. Laird Vormenghast may well be able ta lead us through the last of night if'n tha vilalge be close 'nuff ta reach by dawn. If'n not, then we hae even more need o' 'aste than I thought.
"Tatzlford be not more than a day's journey from here, if you push the horse. If not, a day and some hours. Are ye planning on riding through the night? Let me speak to our agent in town first and learn what we can."
You reach the torchlit village within minutes. You see five guards posted at the road leading to the village, but they look more like militia, dressed in leather armor and wielding less than threatening short swords. The lot of them look no older than 22-23 years old. They have their weapons out, trying to look intimidating to the six of you, though fear is quite apparent on their faces.
Morgan addresses them as you approach, "Calm, yourselves young warriors. I am Master Blackstone, archmage of the Realm, here in the King's name. These are my traveling companions. Sheathe your weapons and escort us to Tolliver at once. We are here at his request."
The guards immediately concede to the request, and though they did not request any evidence of your identity, you concede that your lavish gear most likely convinced them to believe whatever you were saying. One of the guards naively asks "By sirs, glad to have you in town. We were told to be on alert, that enemies could be upon us soon. But where may I ask, are your mounts? We did not hear their approach." Morgan smiles and just looks to his hand, where sparkling pyrotechnics appear. "Ahhh..." is the guard's only response. After that, they remain quiet for the rest of the short trip to Tolliver's house. It is the most fancy in the village, built of stone and set on a hill, overlooking the village. The guards knock on the door and a heavy set middle-aged man, with a widow's peak, dressed in an old black robe opens the door. Almost immediately, he and Morgan smile and they embrace. "Morgan, by the gods, you rascal! That was fast....and you brought help with you. Great, great, please come in. Tolliver Stokes, resident prophet, at your service."
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Having shaken off the after effects of the Teleport, Zalana moves to catch up, falling in beside Nikolai as they head towards the village.
'Next time I would much rather use my own two legs or a horses four!' Shaking her head softly, reaching up to brush her hair from out of her eyes, Zalana watches interestedly as Morgan deals with the 'guards'.
Not much younger than her, truth be told, but lacking so much experience, they were little more than city youths with armor. Leaning in, she whispered softly, her voice tailored only for Nikolai's ears.
"They appear to be little more than children playing at Soldier!" She frowned at that. Yes, the comparison fit. And that was bad. "If this is the best defense this town has to offer, they will not survive long!"
Sighing softly she followed the rest of the group in to the house, looking around interestedly at anything and everything. 'So this is our contact? Interesting...'
Hrafen frowns as he spots the town's militia.
I sincerely hope that this place is never attacked; they appear to be quite unprepared for any serious action...
However, he keeps his thoughts to himself, and passes without comment, following Morgan to Tolliver's residence.
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Upon being introduced, Hrafen bows, before introducing himself:
"It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Hrafen Vormenghast, and I am a battle-mage of Kyonin, contracted to assist the kingdom in a time of... difficulty... Tell me, what light can you shed upon the current situation?"
'They do indeed,' Nikolai whispers back. I hope Tatzlford's residents have a little more grit in them. Gods their frontier towns, how do they survive witout some toughness to their men.
When they are introduced to Tolliver Stokes Nikolai shaes his hand firmly before asking. 'Prophet you say? How so?'
Elisen smiled reassuringly at the young guards, almost trying to will them to automatically become older, experienced, and more grizzled to assist them in their duties, to no avail.
She listened quietly during the trip to Tolliver's abode. Prophet, eh? Now this is getting interesting..."
Bors looks around as he and the others are invited into Stokes' home. Particularly, he looks for an area large enough to accomodate the assemblage, then hopefully steers the group in that direction. Once formal introductions are made alround, he speaks. Laird Stokes, we be sorry ta visit under such times as these. An' please, thank ye fer tha hospitality o' yer abode. Tell us o' tha threat Mayor Darius' fears, as plain an can be made. 'Ow kin Laird Morgan an ourselves be o' service.
"Pleased to make yer acquaintance all, make yourselves at home." Tolliver apparently ignores your other questions and leads you in and immediately you notice, he walks very slowly and awkwardly with some pain. He finally plops down on a chair in his living room. There are papers strewn throughout the room, open books laying on chairs, and a map covering what you imagine is the dining table. Morgan moves some of the paperwork and books, as he offers you seats, "How's the leg, Tolliver? Doesn't look too good!" The middle-aged man pats his left leg,"Lame as ever, Morgan, but I've gotten used to it. Small price to pay for me gift, eh?" He and Morgan smile, as if they share a secret. Morgan then introduces each of you by name to Tolliver.
When you all sit, Tolliver continues, "Yes, Nikolai, I am a prophet of sorts. At a young age, I began hearing voices in my dreams. My parents told me I had an active imagination. Then as I matured, I began to hear them during the waking hours. I never mentioned them to anyone for fear I would be institutionalized. I moved to Restov to attend the University, where I met Morgan. Eventually, I came to discover that the voices I heard were not of my own imagination nor from the present. They were the voices of my spiritual ancestors, instructing and guiding me! I know it sounds crazy, but their guidance has given me somewhat of a unique sight into the future. And that is why I contacted you, Morgan, I had a dream 2 nights ago that an army was on the outskirts of Kalendor planning an invasion, beginning with Tatzlford." Tolliver pauses, as he sees the party's faces. "Look, I am for real. Scouts have been sent into the woods and the invasion has been confirmed." The prophet seems very eager for you to believe him.
"As to how many men, remember, it was a dream...how many details can you remember from a dream once you wake up?" He closes his eyes and concentrates, as he speaks: "I know there were 50+, a mixture of soldiers and barbarians and they had about 5-6 large humanoids with them in the shadows, but I couldn't see them clearly. More than the villagers in Tatzlford can handle, most definitely. Whatever the danger is, it comes directed from the west. I know that doesn't help much, but the visions come and go. Trust me, if I could see the future, I wouldn't be living in this hick town." Morgan laughs, "You've done well, Tolliver, and the kingdom thanks you."
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Zalana frowned softly before standing up and beginning to pace slowly. "Really the number of assailants is not all that important. What really matters, what numbers we should look over, is those of the defenses!" Nodding softly, she chewed her lip thoughtfully.
"How many citizens in the town? How long to evacuate them to safety? How many combatants can we field? All the questions we need answered!" Nodding softly she moved to stare in to the fireplace.
'Irori guide me. Give me the strength and knowledge necessary to see this task through. Then, hopefully, give me the deed I need for my Academy!'
'Fifty or so, huh? That's not too bad. We can handle the big un's and let the troops slow down the soldiers, then when we polish them off we can hit the troops with some wide spreads of evocation magic. Both myself and Hrafen can provide that, and that should break the back of them. So really, we need enough men to hold a wall for a few minutes while we take out the big guns.'
"In my travels, I have never seen an army with only roughly 50 members. Either they are supremely powerful, and we are in a lot of trouble, or they are merely a precursor to the real army, who will not be terribly far behind them. Either way, I'm not sure how much the villagers will be able to help us in this skirmish."
Bors mulls over the comments of his newest companions, remembering many of the new, and quickly deceased, troopers that arrived at the Wound. Battle ne'er flows as tha river bends, eh Cap'n.
I agree wit' Lady Renard, most likely tis an advanced group, 'oping ta take out a soft target quick an' quiet like. Nay be large 'nough ta pacify a village, nor occupy it long fer others ta' arrive, no I think they plan ta simply slaughter e'eryone an' prevent nae word spreading o' tha larger force following ta tha rear.
He pauses momentarily to look to Tolliver, to see if the man with the visions seems to disagree with his thoughts.
We need ta be thinking along tha same lines as they be. If'n they reach tha walls of Tatzlford, so to speak, afore'n we hae hurt 'em, we hae already lost. We be tha right kinda group ta 'it 'em 'ard an fast from tha co'er o tha terrain between 'em an tha village. 'It, fall back, 'it agin. Take out tha big guys as far from Tatzlford as we kin, jump, looking to Hrafen and Elisen, 'It tha leaders next, jump, then 'it tha last from behind, as they approach tha village. It should slow 'em some, expectin' us ta 'it on tha last march inta town. Make 'em nervous, jumpy, sloppy. Then we pinch 'em between us an' let not a one survive ta warn their fellows. Mayhaps we e'en buy time ta get tha old an' yound outta Tatzlford while they reel from our strikes.
Looking to Nikolai and Zalana, Either o' you hae much experience trainin' up recruits in formation, or aidin' buildin' barricades an' defenses. 'Ow bout runnin' archers from crow's nest ta widow perches?
'I'm afraid not. My style of fighting is not easy to pass on, and I'd be a poor teacher of more straight forward combat. I'm best used as a wrecking ball in among the enemy than as a commander in truth. I can fly, and call lightning with magic. I can slow the enemy with wind and driving sleet, disrupting charging lines and wiping out lesser foes. But I'll not be much help to the comman man of Tatzlford beyond the damage I do to the enemy. I'm afraid.'
'Hrafen and I should coordinate our spells perhaps. Get the best use out of them that we can, and position ourselves above the battlefield to better rain destruction on our foes,' Nikolai looks over to the elf. 'Any suggestions, sir elf?'
"How many citizens in the town? How long to evacuate them to safety? How many combatants can we field? All the questions we need answered!" Nodding softly she moved to stare in to the fireplace.
Tolliver scrambles as best he can and peruses some books till he finds a ledger off the floor. "Let's see...at the last census, Tatzlford reported a population of 187 villagers. The mayor is Loy Rezbin, there is a high priestess of Erastil, Latricia Evanore, and Coren Lawry is the Captain of the Guard. From reports I have heard, the women, children, and elderly have begun to evacuate but Coren and his soldiers and some volunteers are willing to fight in defense of the realm. I don't know the exact number. Thus, with your combination of might and magic, and with a good leader to organize them, perhaps you all can aid in the defense of the village."
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Zalana shakes her head softly, before beginning to speak. "I could train them to punch and kick correctly, maybe to exploit weak points in anatomy but when it comes to formations and weaponry, what I know comes from historical accounts. No. I would be of more use on the fringe of things, or as a Stealth Operative. I can hit hard and fast then disappear in to the dark before being seen!"
Nodding softly as her questions were answered, Zalana frowned. "Maybe, with the Clerics help, this won't be as bad as I have feared. Erastil willing that is!"
Thoughts, lairds, ladies. Wit'out much info, tha' be the best I kin muster. Right outta tha' Mendev Manual o' Basic Tactics.
Hrafen nods to Nikolai, and Bors.
"I agree, tactical coordination of the magics that we intend to use, and attempting to target this 'army' before it reaches the town, would be a good idea."
He pauses thoughtfully for a moment.
"I can prepare a number of Fireball spells, which, when coupled with my ability to empower my energy spells, should at least put a dent into those forces. I would also recommend that if Nikolai and myself are to act as artillery, we should be flying, to limit their ability to counter-attack."
"Fine idea Bors. We need to harangue the force to cull as much of it as possible before it reaches the town. By then it might be too late to save any of the village."
Bors paces the floor, as the group discusses their various strengths and skills or abilities to add to the assault's arsenal. He stops, turns to the others, and asks a question.
Do we know fer certain we will arrive in Tatzlford a'ead o' tha enemy? Wat if'n we arrive too late, an tha village already be plundered or occupied? We will need be prepared fer tha as well. It mae be we will be fightin' in tha heart o' tha village agin forces we nae not know, which mae well limit our caster's better weaponry. We nae kin be settin' fire ta tha town if'n their mae be prisoners held there.
Turning to Morgan and Tolliver, Indeed, are we ahead o' tha enemy? Kin either o' ye give us a detail o' tha village, or perhaps is there someone in town wat has been there. I dinnae wanna prepare fer one dance only ta serve me moves upon a different stage. I kinnae dance well ta begin with, so I needs all tha practice an' plannin' I kin get.
Tolliver scrambles through his books again, opens various maps of the region, mumbling.."Temple of Elemental Evil, Dragon Mountain, no, no! Damn it, where is it?" He finally opens another map, "Yes, here it is, Tatzlford. This may help you with your plans." Map of Tatzlford
Morgan steps in, "According to the intelligence reports we received from Tolliver, we have 1-2 days before the army arrives. You can rest in the village till morning and at that time I can summon 5 arcane quasi-real horses that move at incredible speeds, never get tired, and can have you in Tatzlford in 12 hours. Your mages and clerics can better prepare their spells for the upcoming battle, if necessary. I will stay here in town gathering as much information as I can and then I will have to report back to my King. Here are a couple of scrolls, Hrafen, with a sending spell, so we can stay in touch and you can communicate once, hopefully, you have saved the village." Morgan hands the elf 2 Scrolls of Sending.
Staring at the map intenetly, elisen muses aloud: "Well, clearly we need to scout the oncoming army first. If there are more than we can pick off before they approach town from the west, we need to have areas 8 and 11 abandoned. If the army is mostly ground troops, we might need to destroy the bridge at area 5, making it tougher on the troops to cross. I bet Hrafen could do a number on it while the troops were actually crossing, if we wanted to be really devious. I am sure the King wouldn't hesitate to rebuild the bridge for the town as that might keep most of the damage to the village at a minimum."
'If there are workmen or masons in the village they can remove the supports and such, we can conscript them as sappers for the night. Which precipitates us going immediately, setting them to work. Then myself, Hrafen and Elisen will need to rest to gather our magics for the battles ahead.'
Morgan speaks, "Like Hrafen, I must prepare my spells and rest. I do not have my magical steed spell prepared. I suggest we all rest till morning, prepare the appropriate spells, and then, you can leave on my steeds and arrive in roughly 12 hours. Unless, you want to leave now and force march through the night on regular horses from the village? The trip will then take 1 day and a half."
Hrafen shakes his head.
"I would prefer to rest, prepare appropriate, and then arrive at the town refreshed. Force-marching through the night would be foolish."
He then nods to Nikolai.
"I agree, we should try and destabilise the bridge somewhat s that our spells can take it down; however, I have more than simple Fireballs at my command; I can convert them to acid..."
"...or I could Stone Shape the bridge into collapsing.."
The party rests for the night at one of the locals' houses in the village. In the morning, Morgan intones arcane magic and personally summons five steeds, one for each of you,, each with a black head and body, gray mane and tail, and smoke-colored, insubstantial hooves that make no sound. It has what seems to be a saddle, bit, and bridle. Hrafen recognizes the spell: Phantom Steed Many of the villages are in awe and a little fear of the creatures.
Morgan and Tolliver say their farewells, as do much of the villagers who pray for their families in Tatzlford. Morgan sees you off: "There you go, these beautiful creatures will last you about 12 hours. They ride at a speed of about 11+ miles per hour without getting tired. Difficult terrain will not impede them and they can walk over water. You should reach Tatzlford before my spell expires unless you stop to rest for too long. Good luck, my friends, and do not forget to use the Sending scrolls when you have news."
With that, the party rides off on the quasi-real horses!
I suppose ready to go.
0-Create Water, Detect Magic, Light, Read Magic
1-Divine Favor(x2), Entropic Shield, Obscuring Mist (x2), Protection from Evil, Longstrider*
2-Hold Person (DC 19) (x2), Shield Other, Spear of Purity (x2), Spiritual Weapon, Aid*
3-Dispel Magic (x2), Prayer, Searing Light, Protection from Energy*
4-Air Walk, Divine Power, Holy Smite (DC 20) (x2), Freedom of Movement*
5-Breath of Life, Flame Strike (DC 21) (x2), Teleport*
The ride to Tatzlford is unique, as you guide the horses with your knees, and they move at breathtaking speeds, never slowing down. Even more impressive is the fact that their hooves make no noise and grass, mud, and water pose no threats. You stop occasionally to stretch your legs, drink, and rest, but overall the journey and the scenery of the forest and farmlands is idyllic and almost makes you forget that war may soon tear through this region. Animals of the forest tend to shun the horses and no monsters cross your way. You do occasionally see some villagers and their wagons riding from Tatzlford to Grayhame. The caravans consists mostly of women, young children, and the elderly, combined with some young guards for safety. They all pray that you save the village.
Eventually, as sunset arrives and darkness covers the land, you arrive at the outskirts of Tatzlford, just as Morgan's spell wears off and your horses fade from sight. Three young soldiers guarding the perimeter, dressed in studded leather with long swords and bows on their back, approach the party on the road. One of the young men, apparently the leader, as he wears a medal pinned to his armor, compared to other two who bear no medals, hails you: "Adventurers, I pray, what is you business in town at such a late hour? Have you heard of our troubles and come to help?" The young man, no older than 21, looks hopeful, as he awaits your response.
Aye lad, we come at the behest of tha King. Take us ta yer town's masters, tha we mae make ourselves known and learn tha lay o' things. Ye mae announce tha Ambassador Omanera an tha Heroes o tha Varnhold hae arrived.
More bluster and pomp than he desired, Bors thought it might speed things along to sound 'important.'
Bors is really growing into his position, Elisen smiles as he announces his presence. He will be a tremendous asset to the kingdom with this position, as well as with his swords.
Hrafen raises an eyebrow, but then shrugs.
It is probably best to let the 'Ambassador' handle matters for the moment; the sooner we can establish our credentials, and sort out exactly how we are going to resolve the present situation, the better!
The soldiers escort you through the NE entrance of the village. You see many of the homes with the windows boarded up and the doors closed and barricaded. You see some villagers sitting in front of their homes wielding a handaxe or scythe, a look of resignation on their faces. Other places just look abandoned and empty. Everyone is very somber as you pass by them. There are no children laughing, no people gathering to drink or eat. As you approach structure 9 on the map, from a block away, you can hear a male voice clearly shouting from inside the building, ”I am not running like a scared pig! Damn it, Loy, excuse my disrespect, but you can run and catch up with the caravan heading east if you want to. My men and I are staying and fighting. There are villagers in this town that will stay and protect their homes and I am not abandoning them!” The other voice, more elderly, objects ”Coren, I am not a coward, but I don’t believe in suicide either! The King’s men will never get here in time, they are weeks away, all they will find are our bodies. Let’s retreat and live to fight another day. These villagers are farmers and if they wish to stay, that is their business. Our survival is at stake!” The guards escorting you stand outside the door, pausing awkwardly, waiting for an opportune time to knock. As soon as there is a pause, they knock, ”Captain, excuse our interruption, but there are men and women here, who say they were sent from the King. One of them is an Ambassador.” You hear a reply:”Ambassador? What, more politicians?? Bring them in at once.”
The guards reply ”Yes, sir!” and open the door and wave you on in. You see four men and one woman gathered around a table with a map of the village spread upon it. You notice that the table itself is providing magical light in the room. Two of the men are standing. One of them is in his late 20’s, dressed in chain mail, whereupon are pinned are 5 medals, with a longsword and a short sword at his sides. ”Captain Lowry at your service. Please tell me you bring some good news.” The woman, her half-elf heritage betrayed by her ears, stands, ”I am sure of the good news, Coren, a priestess of Desna walks among them. The blessings of Erastil upon you all.” The woman has flowing blonde hair and blue eyes and is rather handsome. ”Shut up all of you and let’s see what they say” , the other man standing interjects. ”Loy Rezbin, Mayor of Tatzlford.” He is in his early 40s, receding hairline, glasses on the bridge of his nose.
Bors Omanera, Ambassador ta tha Nomen Nation, an' representative o' Kalendor, at yer service. Please be excusin' tha formality o' title, it was necessary ta assure we reached ye quickly. Me associates an' I be far from politicians. We hae been dispatched ta bring tha fight ta yer enemy, ta hold tha line 'til tha King's own arrive ta secure yer village.
Bors pauses a moment to let the assembled take in his words, his nature and manner, as well as those of his companions.
We be no strangers ta battle. Ye mae well find we kin be o' service ta Tatzlford an' those dedicated ta preserving tha place. Tha elders o' Varnhold kin attest ta our accumen in bringin' Kalendor's foes ta heel an' steel.
Moving closer to the table, What more kin ye tell us o' tha situation. Our information be 'ours old, any news would be greatly appreciated.