Girard followed Desra into the grove. Frantically looking through the grove with her, he spotted an open spot in the grove with clear footprints running out of it. The spot was far too small for him to squeeze through, but with his help, Desra makes her way out of the thickest brush, and moves on.

Desra sees the evidence of the chase clearly ahead of her. A small river lies ahead, with a log lying conveniently across most of it. Francine and the last bandit had apparently forded the river without major issue.

Francine meanwhile edges around the skunk, and, escaping the marsh, finds herself on the edge of a vast poppy field. The seeds lay cracked and broken on the ground, lending a queer scent to the area. At the edge of the field is a high cliff. The last bandit has crossed the field, and is heading the long way up a ridge towards the top of the cliff. He seems to be slogging through heavy rocks from a recent mud slide.

While one bandit remains on the ground, his compatriot heads off doggedly towards Girard and Desra, only to get lost before he even reaches it.

OOC: The Race, Round 6!

Francine Challenge:
Poppy field: Fort DC 10 to full-out sprint through the field as quickly as possible. (Horse can make check instead)
High cliff: Climb DC 15

Girard Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction

Desra Challenge:
Log bridge: Acrobatics DC 10 to use the log to pass most of the river and then walk through the last bit.
Small river: Swim DC 10 (or horse Swim/Jump DC 10/15). Just skip the log and dive right into the river. Or attempt to use the log for most of it and then breast-stroke the last bit (full round double).

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandits 1 and 2 [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Girard [Vines, tracks]
5 Desra [Bridge/river]
6 [Garbage/skunks]
7 Francine [Poppy field/cliff]
8 Bandit 3 [?]
9
10 Finish
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:34, Tue 13 Dec 2011.

Girard suddenly puts both hands firmly on Desra's butt and heaves her through the vines. He cuts her off before she can voice a protest.

"Get going! Chase the last one down and make him hurt.  I'll find my own way through!"

Girard runs back to where he saw a likely path and hacks his way through past, soon seeing a river between him and his quarry.

17:34, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 11 using 1d20+4. survival.

Francine sees the poppy field and pushes her horse forward

"My word, poppies! we could make a tidy profit off that."

22:05, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 16 using 1d20+6. fort the horse.

then she see a tall cliff and see that her horse would be unable to climb.
She jumps off and climbs it.


22:11, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 13 using 1d20. CLIMB FTW...failure.
she fails and gets stuck on the cliff and can't find a way higher.

The harsh shove knocked Desra free of the brambles, and the strong hands she felt on her posterior brought a blush to her cheeks.  Glancing over her shoulders at Girard, she gave him a determined nod.

"Girard, I owe you a pint!"

Clear of the entangling brambles, she drove her steed onward toward the log bridge.  She led her horse at full speed along the bridge before leaping the last bit of it, the horse getting its hooves wet for only the last brief few steps as it reached the far bank.

22:49, Today: Desra rolled 18 using 1d20+6. Acrobatics/Jump(same skill). Success.
22:51, Today: Desra rolled 18 using 1d20+3. Swim. Success.
Desra moves ahead 3 spaces!

Girard learns the hard way that grabbing asses leads to free beer, though it leaves him stuck in the grove. As he ponders the tracks, he sees one of the other bandits doggedly making his way towards the grove...and then the bandit stops and stands in place, scratching his head in confusion.

Desra, meanwhile, rides her horse straight along a log floating in a river, jumps the log, and then speeds straight on. Taking her chances, she rides through the swampy grounds near the midden, and charges past the poppy field without issue. She reaches the cliff at nearly the same time as Francine, who has made it part-way up the cliff through a series of ledges. The rest of the way up is blocked by a massive mud slide down most of the ledge, making passage painfully slow. Part of the cliff is short enough to climb easily...except that many of the rocks alongside the cliff are sharp and jagged, and would likely slice through the strongest of gloves and boots if one attempted to climb them.

Yet one man was foolhardy enough to brave the Glass Cliffs. Leaving bloody handprints in his wake, the last of the bandits scaled the cliff, not even stopping when he slipped and slammed his face into the side of a jagged rock, leaving a bloody wound running straight from his forehead.

OOC: The Race, Round 7!

Francine Challenge:
Mud: DC 10 Escape Artist to wade through the mud in good time without getting entirely mired.
Climb through sharp rocks: 2d4 damage. The climb is simple enough for adventurers such as yourselves - but the rocks are obsidian, and easily draw blood. The last stretch is especially painful, as it requires pulling yourself up on dagger-sharp rocks. You can attempt both by wading through mud part-way to reach a higher starting point on the cliff.

Girard Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction

Desra Challenge:
Mud: DC 10 Escape Artist to wade through the mud in good time without getting entirely mired.
Climb through sharp rocks: 2d4 damage. The climb is simple enough for adventurers such as yourselves - but the rocks are obsidian, and easily draw blood. The last stretch is especially painful, as it requires pulling yourself up on dagger-sharp rocks. You can attempt both by wading through mud part-way to reach a higher starting point on the cliff.

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandits 1 and 2 [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Girard [Vines, tracks]
5 [Bridge/river]
6 [Garbage/skunks]
7 [Poppy field/cliff]
8 Francine, Desra [Obsidian/mud slide]
9 Bandit 3
10 Finish

Francine sighs as she see the next obstacle. Mud not just any mud deep mud.
"This just isn't my day"

22:01, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 4 using 1d20+2. MUD.

About half way through the mud she tires out and just can't continue on. backs out and attempts the rocks.

"Really Really not my day"
She painfully climbs up the cliff. scratching herself up some as she continues onward after the other bandit.

22:03, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 3 using 2d4.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Wed 14 Dec 2011.

Girard makes his way over to the other bandit, blocking off the route forward, making no attempt at stealth.  He slowly draws his blade with deliberate emphasis.

"You are lucky as something nice just happened, so I am feeling particularly generous tonight, and am going to give you One... Last... Chance...  Surrender or become the rust upon this blade.  Make your choice, for as ever, my sword hungers."

If the bandit surrenders, I make my survival check to keep moving. If he does not, then keep reading and enjoy my second critical hit.
19:26, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 24 using 1d20+4. Survival if the bandit surrenders.

As the bandit turns to flee, Girard spurs his horse into a gallop. Right before reaching the bandit, he stands up in his stirrups, his blade swings down vertically but too early.  But when the blade reaches level with the bandit's head, it suddenly changes direction, like a swallow in flight.  Before the bandit knew what happened, Girard was already riding past, slowing down, bring his sword into a resting position.  The bandit turns to look at Girard, thinking that he had missed, but as he turns his head it slides from his shoulders.

"Do not begrudge me, your fate was in YOUR hands, YOU had a choice.  Therefore, blame no one but yourself."

19:13, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 28 using 2d10+18. damage. Dead... Sooo Dead
19:07, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 19 using 1d20+8. Confirm crit. Confirmed!
19:06, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 26 using 1d20+8. Charge. Potential Crit!

Desra's gaze narrowed as she stared at the bandit attempting to make his assent, and she tried to maneuver the mud pit on her steed over to the wall to make her ascent.

21:40, Today: Desra rolled 16 using 1d20+4. Escape Artist. Success.

Her horse brought her right up to the obsidian rocks, and Desra jumped from the saddle and began to climb up the sharp rocks, scrambling up on her hands and feet with surprising grace--though her ascent was costly, ever few feet up causing another cut along her fingers and arms as she scrambled to overtake the bandit.

21:42, Today: Desra rolled 7 using 2d4. Damage taken.
Desra wins!

Bloody but grinning, and standing atop the heap of obsidian, the elf drew her elven blade and readied it at the throat of the foremost bandit, raising a brow as she lifted his chin with the blade.

"Ah-ah.  You led us on a merry chase, but the chase is over now." 

Sadly, the bandit facing Girard lacks the gift of foresight. He moves to draw his blade, and nearly pulls it out of its sheath before Girard's blade severs his head from his body. Girard is riding off around the grove before the bandit's head even hits the ground.

At the cliffs, Desra maneuvers through the mud and pulls herself straight up razor-sharp rocks, arriving moments before the bandit would have finished scaling it. Her blade pricks blood as he raises his hands wearily in surrender.  Francine arrives a few moments later, climbing up the painfully sharp rocks as her horse watches placidly below. Giard arrives about five minutes later.

OOC: Ching, who are you bribing at RPol for those insane rolls?

Anyhow, the chase is now complete! The two surviving bandits are thoroughly beaten and demoralized, and will answer any question as if they were Helpful to the party.

Through the chase's progress, you have also found some notable landmarks that you might wish to return to at a later time, such as the bear's cave, the hermit/beekeeper, an abandoned cabin next to the trash heap, and the Glass Cliffs, which have an excellent vantage point of the area near Oleg's trading post.

Francine paces in front of the two captured bandits.

"You two are guilty of banditry. The crime as by Chelaxian law punishable by..."

She pulls out the charter and reads it out loud, while making sure to place emphasis on each word.

"Execution by sword or rope."


"but we are very negotiable people. Should you answer truthfully to our questions. You will live and be prisoners with chance at freedom should you conform your ways. However, silence and lies will be met with agonizing retribution from the man you have scorned and the this lady."

she point to a very angry Oleg and the very Bloody Desra.

"Both are not to fond of your escapades and given by their temperament that they would enjoy ending their frustrations on you"

"Now then, Where is your camp? How many people are in your group of bandits excluding the deceased? What are your bandits plans? What path did you take to reach this trading post?"

00:29, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 12 using 1d20. Diplomacy.

The bandit who surrendered at the beekeeper's is too ill to respond to interrogation, and so it falls to the last of the bandits, who volunteers that his name is Juno, of Saveros. Juno is a tall, dusky-skinned man with large black eyes and a slight Eastern (Qadiran) accent.

"On horseback, our camp is about thirteen hours away if you cut through the forest. We usually go around it though, it takes about sixteen hours but we don't risk upsetting the fey. There's usually fourteen of us in the camp, or eleven leaving out the three you killed, though one or two groups of us are usually out hunting or...practicing, how do you say, banditry...so there's only four or five of us in the camp at any given time, yes?"

At her last question, Juno scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"Well, my own plan is to get enough money to sail back home someday, yes? Most of the boys just want to enjoy the easy life out here. I guess the boss wants to get herself made second in command over at the castle. And the Stag Lord? Kezno's Flames, these days it looks like his "big plan" is finding the bottom of a whiskey keg."

Girard, who was spending the whole sitting in the corner sharpening his blade, then lifts it up, examining its gleaming edge.  Without looking away from his blade, he speaks, his voice oddly introspective.

"The sane man is not ready to die, and these bandits are no exception, they wish the easy life.  This fact makes it easier for us.  While they have steeled themselves for the prospect of dying which allows them to fight, it is only because the Specter of Death is shadowy, vague in their imagination.  Solidify this image of mortality. In their minds, make the risk of fighting go from possible death, to certain death, and their will to fight will be sapped.  Have them think of death, of what could, will, happen to them, at all times. Give them a choice and they will take the easy way out, the safe way, the sane way."

Girard whips the blade over his head, testing it's heft, then brings it down towards the bound bandit, stopping it before cutting.

"Now then... How do we instill the dreadful fact of their mortality into the minds of our enemies that yet remain?  It would need to be a sign, a symbol that we can display.  Something that when they see it, it will conjure an irrational fear in them... hmmm... Make it so that if they face us, they don't think they're facing mortals, but un-slay-able demons. Demons that have been giving them nightmares for the past fortnight."

Girard ponders for a bit, walking away from the bandit, sheathing his blade, then stopping.

"Does anyone here have a skinning knife?"

Victorious, Desra didn't seem to have much to say with the job done.  With the bandits disarmed, she merely followed and looked smugly content.  If she had an opinion, she didn't voice it, though she remained cursorily interested in her companion's actions.

At Girard's question, she blinked, and then reached to her boot to pull out a short, sharpened blade.  She used it for her wood carvings, and she looked at Girard curiously, as if to ask if it would suffice.

Francine looks in confusion at Girard.
"Why the cryptic words Girard. They have agreed to talk to spare their lives. I don't not see the point of scaring them more. In any case, we should try to ambush the bandits as they leave for for their pillaging"

Girard takes the knife from Desra.

"The ones here are safe, of course, but what I'm worried about are the others we've yet to encounter.  They are going to be on alert now that this party failed to return.  If we fight them head on, it will be a hard fight. So yes, ambushing them is a good plan.  What I'm suggesting is that we also rattle them up a bit first."

Girard walks to where the dead bodies have been piled and picks up the severed heads.

"During my stay in the arena, I made friends with a Grundi barbarian.  Before he died on the sands, he told me much of his culture and tribe, also of the warfare between other tribes.  In particular pertinence to this situation, are the intimidation tactics his tribe employed on their enemies.  Pardon me ladies, but this might get a bit gruesome. You all might want to return inside."

Girard then starts skinning the severed head.  When done, he will toss the bloody skull into the fire, so all the flesh on it chars.  When it's properly charred, he polishes the teeth white again, then sews the skin back over the skull, so that it hangs loosely from the blackened bones, but the teeth are still white and strongly contrast. The person would be unrecognizable until closer inspection. Girard will do the same for the other dead bandits.

"And now we just need to find a nice spot where they will see it.  Take the cloths from them, I don't need the bodies. I'm going to lay out their cloths by the heads.  Make them wonder what happened, and that wonder will turn to fear. Oh! almost forgot, we need a message, I say leave it in their mouths. Though I know what to leave for this one."

Girard cuts off a sliver of soap from his pack, and puts it in Happs' mouth.

"One shouldn't use such language."

Francine looks away in disgust.
"you would desecrate the dead? I do not see the point to this. Do as you wish but I will not have a part in this barbarism."

She talks with Oleg

"We need an area such that we can imprison these two. I can make it more reinforced so that there will be no escape. We will be civil to the bandits."

She walks off to the designated place and gets to work to build a prison.

Girard looks at Francine, a hidden eyebrow raised under his helmet.

"Desecrate the dead? Why, Miss Marlin, you are absolutely correct.  I am, 'desecrating' the dead.  The only difference is, you see this as a man, a person, someone with a family. Father, mother, hopes, dreams, aspirations."

He holds up the headless body for emphasis.

"He thought about things, he cried, laughed, sang, that is what you see.  But me?  No, save your honor and respect for the living.  Those that still live and breath deserve your thoughts.  But see this? This was a man, but now... this is a thing. This is an object, nothing to hold sentimental value for.  What ever this was, is no longer of any matter, it is nothing but a lump of meat and bone, no more important than a slab of beef.  Actually, you can eat a slab of beef, so it's actually less important.  All that I need is that the bandits still think of it as a person."

Girard drops the corpse.

"All we can do to give it 'honor' is to give it purpose.  What purpose can it serve other than feeding worms or scaring our enemies?"

Girard mounts up on a horse with the heads and clothing in a sack.

"Honor the living but also the dead. Is not one who fights for their life deserving of honor? or does one need to be alive for it to matter? We preserve the dead in the best possible shape so as to ensure that the dead may rest and such that they will going to the Gods waiting arms. Are not ghost or spirits or undead but a disturbed soul with a grudge? A corpse holds the soul and its journey to the afterlife should be unhindered."


Francine points to the Sky
"We are being judged by the gods. Your actions now will reflect the afterlife when it is your time. I follow my Gods teachings and they do not condone this action. You may do as you will, but you should know many gods frown upon your action."

Synopsis

The dead bandits are buried with their hands and feet separated from them in a small, unmarked grave about a mile from Oleg's trading post.

The party then rested at Oleg's trading post, and after a few days encountered Kesten Garess and his three rosy-cheeked guardsmen, who agreed to guard the Trading Post and keep a watch over the surviving two bandits, who are hard at work repairing the post's walls. Apparently Garess had some lady troubles back in Brestov and was disinherited as a result. His band will work for 5g a week, with the first two months paid for in advance. While they rested, Francine crafted an explosive flamethrower shell for her gun, and started working on one of the post's catapults.

The trio then left to map out the surrounding area. Scaring off a wild thylacine, they then encountered several kobolds gorging themselves on wild moon radishes. The kobolds were slain and the radishes brought back for a hefty reward and a delicious bitter soup.

The band then traveled to the plains south of Oleg's, where they discovered a large plains, filled with holes. The holes hide vicious trapdoor spiders as big as a man. One hole in particular held the corpse of a bandit and a crude map with a distinctive forked tree and an 'X' marked under the tree.

After returning to the post, the band encountered Jhod Kavken, also known as Old Deadeye, a traveling hunter and priest of Erastil. He told them of his visions of a forgotten temple to Erastil and a crazed or diseased bear that guards the temple, and agreed to provide free clerical services to the party until they locate the temple or his wanderlust leads him to continue his search alone.

Traveling further south, the party stumbles onto riches beyond their imaginings: a vein of almost pure gold, hidden among a dozen near-identical hills. Quickly marking down the spot, the band continues south, where they found an ancient sycamore, over a hundred feet tall, slowly dying at its roots.

Investigating the roots, the party discovered a clan of mites - evil, vermin-loving fey - living inside, slowly torturing the tree to death. They rescued a kobold (Mikmek) from the mites, who revealed that his clan was at war with the fey after their holy statue of Old Sharptooth was stolen. The party further investigated the lair, killing a giant whip-tail centipede that nearly murdered Girard. With Desla scouting, they discovered the leader and his four followers, as well as a massive blood tick the size of a black Labrador. Francine's dragonbreath cartridge unleashed a massive firestorm that killed all five fey instantly, and a bloody melee ensued with the blood tick, which left Girard diseased and barely standing.

Having recovered the statue, the party then returned to Mikmek the kobold at the entrance to the tree, who had promised to take them to the Sootscale lair in the south.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:03, Fri 30 Dec 2011.

"Well then, I think that's enough of a tale for one night!" huffed the old man, who had coincidentally just noticed that his pipe was all out of pipeweed. The girl, who had been staring off into the window dreamily, snapped back to attention.

"Wait! You haven't even talked about the four drakes guarding the medicine for the sick princess!"

"I did so! That was the four kobolds and the turnips!" The old man glared over at the girl's mother. "Just what kind of nonsense have you been filling her head with, woman? You're ruining the historical veracity of this tale!"

The woman simply shook her head, handing him another packet of pipeweed. She was in the middle of cooking dinner, and had only half-paid attention to the story so far. "Oh, father, it's not like I changed the story about the kobold's lair at all..."

"Hrmph. I should think not!" he snorted, filling his pipe once more.

"So, Mikmek was waiting at the entrance to the giant tree...?" prompted the girl hopefully.

"That's right! "Death to Tartuk!" Cheered the kobold, before suddenly clapping his hands over his mouth!" The old man continued...

"Death to Tartuk!" Cheered the kobold, before suddenly clapping his hands over his mouth. He was watching the statue of the scaly devil with a combination of reverence and fear.

"Eek! I mean, Long live Tartuk, revered shaman of the Sootscales!" The kobold said quickly, his tail drooping below his legs in sudden fear.

Francine roll her eyes and gives a stern look at the kobold and draws her gun and points it at the kobold.

"So, You will explain yourself to us or you will die. Why do you want to kill your shaman, Tartuk?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:49, Fri 06 Jan 2012.

Girard, presses on his bloody bandages, swaying a bit in his saddle.

"While I'm all for returning their holy relic and possibly slaying a shaman, I must warn everyone that I don't think I'll be of much help if a fight breaks out.  Also, I seem to be running a fever. But don't let my concerns slow you down.  But if we do head back to Oleg's, I suggest we bring the kobold with us."


OOC: I think I'm at one HP and am in fact diseased. Not sure what it's going to do to me, but if I have to make a fort save to resist con damage, you guys just have to carry my back.

"Eek!" Squeaks Mikmek, dropping his spear as soon as Francine points her gun at him.

"I didn't mean anything by it, really! Tartuk is good and wise! Every Sootscale knows this! Those who don't know it die in painful ways and their scales drop off from Old Sharptooth's curse! And then Tartuk takes their gold and makes it his!"

Mikmek regains a bit of his courage after saying that. "But..but...maybe Tartuk doesn't need to know about Old Sharptooth yet? Maybe give it to Chieftain Sootscale, instead?"

"my word is are in much worse shape then I thought. We must get back to camp at once get you healed"


"Seems there is more to this problem than meets the eye. I agree we shall take the kobold back for now and determine what really is going on here"
She ties up the kobold and place him on her horse.
once ready dresses up Girad's wounds with some bandages

ooc: to the camp good james!