It is the morning of your trip to the southern coast of Low'verok, and Master Deyna has assembled her dozen wagons near the gates of Redhaven.  Her own personal wagon is the largest of the lot, painted in green and blue and yellow.  Sturdy horses with rough coats and heads like blocks of granite stand in pairs in the traces of each wagon, with relief mounts in a small herd behind.  The ten cargo wagons are tall, windowless, and sturdily built, with locks on the doors, while the chuck wagon has hatches and windows (with shutters) is nearly the size of Master Deyna's wagon.  Most of the drivers are fellow halflings, as is the cook, Reetha.  The two drovers who tend to the mounts and keep the relief herd going are human, an older married couple from Crosston called Gav and Maris.  There are also two porters to tend to any heavy lifting, a dwarf with a short beard named Luth and a half-orc named Keevak with two broken tusks.  Curiously, they seem to be the best of friends.

The group can add their pack animals to Gav and Maris' herd.  "They won't be any trouble at all.  I'll get them introduced to the rest of the children, and they should be all right," Maris says.

Any personal gear they don't want to keep with the packhorses, their riding horses, or on their person can go with the rest of the caravan crew's gear in Reetha's chuck wagon.  Each of the caravan staff do have weapons: everyone sports a light crossbow or a sling, as well as a club or dagger.  Keevak has an oversized woodaxe and Luth has a large hammer - In meeting them you learn that Keevak and Luth are both well able to take care of themselves and are not half-bad fighters, but the caravan is larger than they can protect, and neither knows much about magic or healing.

Reetha is, not surprisingly, the caravan's herbalist and sawbones in addition to its cook.  The older halfling woman can make poultices and take care of most common injuries, she brews up unguents, and tinctures, and washes to help with the usual small injuries and illnesses that can befall a caravan during a long trip, but she has no divine power to heal.

With everything squared away and all introductions made, the caravan gets underway by mid-morning, heading west on the southern trade road from Redhaven.  You travel until noon under warm and sunny skies, pause briefly for water and a meal of travel cakes, and then Master Deyna will guide the caravan to a smaller road that turns off to the southwest.  It's marked by stone posts every few miles, each one with a coat of arms of what baron's land you're riding upon.  In this case, the arms is of a rampant stag with a crescent moon, horns up, upon its head.  The road is a little narrower here, and a little less smooth, but soon you reach the treeline and so at least you're able to ride in the shade.

You break once more for water and food before sunset, and then continue to travel at a steady pace, keeping watch for trouble as you go.  When the light begins to fade, Master Deyna calls to set up camp.  Half the caravan goes on one side of the road and half parallels it on the other, then the drivers pull out chains to connect one wagon to the next, creating an impromptu corral for the horses.  The drivers, Gav, and Maris tend to the beasts as Reetha starts cooking a warm meal, while Keevak and Luth make a few fires for people to warm up a beverage of their choice (and sleep beside after).  The meal is a filling stew of beans with fresh herbs and seasonings, with toasted sausages for those who want them, and hot flatbread to shovel it all up.

Those not on watch can bed down in their tents or under the stars as they prefer, whilst those on watch can take their posts.

This first night goes smoothly and quietly, just usual nighttime noises from animals.  In the morning, Reetha has oatmeal, with honey, chopped nuts, and berries, along with more flatbread, and then it's back on the road again.  The pattern of travel holds, and by your noon break you've hit a new part of the road, this one marked with arms of a fish biting a snake.  An hour past noon, the caravan comes to a halt.  Those in front see the problem immediately, those behind get the news passed on quickly.

"We've got a muckin' great tree in the middle of the bloody road!  Hellfire, what a mess," Master Deyna says, shaking her head.  The tree is a large oak, a good five feet in diameter, and blocking the road completely.

OOC:  What do you guys do?
Could I also get a typical watch rotation?  Sir Aberlayne and Farian would prefer to be on 3rd watch.

Narthian shows up without his heavy hide armor. In its place is lighter leather armor. Much of his gear is with the pack animals. He retains only his armor, bow and quiver, a dagger, the pouch with his religious and spell components, and a waterskin. Both the waterskin and quiver are tied down so as to not bounce around while running. The proximity to Redhaven making the roads safer, Narthian has not put too much effort into his scouting just yet. But still, every so often he takes off at a run - at a 5-ish minute mile pace - down the road, Thunder loping along beside him. between half- and a mile or so in front of the caravan, he ducks into the weeds, fields, or wood on one side of the road or another, appearing some time later before (or occasional after) the caravan. This will be his standard traveling action, scouting for signs of trouble ahead (sometimes behind), and taking advantage of Thunder's Scent ability to note "weird things".

Narthian has just started his post lunch run forward when he spots the tree and halts. "It may or may not be a tree," Narthian replies to Master Deyna when the caravan catches up. "Stay here, I'll check it out." He signals his companions to spread out and keep eyeballs on the sides of the road. Narthian approaches to about 150', circles 45 degrees to the right (relative to the tree) and 45 degrees to the left as he studies the tree.

Knowledge Nature: 11:27, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 20 using 1d20+9 ((11)).

Narthian will take the last watch, in the darkness before dawn.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Tue 18 July 2017.

Haazheel shows up looking glad to be on his way; it's been a taxing few days...learning the Art is hard work. He volunteers to be a cook's helper even to serving ad cleaning up.

As for the watch, he suggests that, as possible, one who can see well in the dark be teamed with one less able. He'll want either the first or last watch since its best for him to have an uninterrupted eight hours.

Dellas was chewing on some honeyed biscuits he had purchased back in town and left honeybee tied to one of the wagons where he spent most of his time. "Looks like a tree... probably a trap to surprise, kill and rob us.. not necessarily in that order."
Dellas' familiar is not with him, he left Vish near his stored gear and honeybee together where he saw Luth and Keevak, he had spend most of the last day talking to this strange pair.
The Halfling takes a few steps forward and watches the left side of the caravan.

Vish is watching the equipment wagon, Dellas is watching the left side and leaves wood chopping to others.

Dellas would prefer to sleep... but takes the last watch
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Wed 19 July 2017.

"There's munchkin's and green trees in the middle of a bloody road and sumthin's burnin!" shouted one of the halfling teamsters as he turned in his seat to relay the message to the back of the caravan.  The man didn't seem overly concerned as he faced forward and began repacking his long pipe.

Lantamori couldn't see smoke up ahead or hear any shouts of alarm to back up the sincerity of the message.  Perhaps something had been lost along the way.

Whatever the reason, she turned Cloud about to watch behind them.  She wondered about the most recent coat of arms.  Why would a fish bite a snake?


OOC  How many watches and for how long is Aberlayne proposing?  Lantamori will volunteer for 2nd watch.

Lantamori will generally trail the caravan with Cloud.

Haazheel finds cover but looks out in one direction.

Averdante ranges along the middle of the caravan as they travel, letting Preet roam in the trees off the shoulder of the road, or ride on his shoulders as it prefers. When word goes out about the tree across the road, he nocks and arrow to his bow.

Since others guard the front, he leaves the obstacle for them to investigate, but in case it is a deliberate tactic done to delay the caravan, he reins his horse off the road and nearer to the trees on the side where Preet is. Riding slowly toward the back of the caravan, watching and listening for any hint of ambushers, he silently queries Preet to learn if the stone cat can see anyone hiding, or if it's noticed evidence of any ambushers.


OOC: Averdante will be on first watch.

Reetha is happy to have additional hands that want to do something to food other than eat it, though Haazheel does have to bend and stoop, as her kitchen wagon is made to her proportions.



Thunder will let Narthian know that there is a "bad smell" near the tree, even before Master Deyna's wagon gets to it.  "Bad smells" are those of known enemies or threats, not "hunters", so this smell is no animal.  When Narthian gets up closer to examine the tree, he can see that the tree was healthy, so it did not fall from rot or disease.  It was not struck by lightning (certainly there has been no evidence of a storm recently).  It looks more like it was partially chopped down, then pushed over.  That would take a being, or beings, of tremendous physical strength.

The smell here is obvious even to Narthian, like something rank and unwashed, of untanned hides, poor hygiene, rotting meat, and body odor.



"Probably not wrong," Sir Aberalyne said, moving up near him.  She had her axe out and moves Valiant a few steps ahead of her brother.



Wheeling Cloud about, Lantamori doesn't see any immediate threat.  Farian will join her, standing in his stirrups to see if he can spy anything.



Shifting his mount off the road, Haazheel covers to the right as Lantamori and Dellas cover to the left.



Going off the right side of the road, Averdante listens carefully, peering into the underbrush.

He can see two hulking forms further into the woods, and from Preet a moment later, an image of two humanoid figures nearly level with the lower tree branches Preet is hiding in.  And they stink.

Volsh and Bruenor move up closer to the front as the extent of the blockage (and possible danger) become clear.

Suddenly, from the woods, a loud voice thunders out, "LEAVE HORSES, AND RUN AWAY!  OR WE KILL YOU ALL!"

The voice seems to echo all around, making its exact place difficult to pinpoint.  But a moment later there are some thudding footfalls.  The huge tree trunk shudders and the branches shiver as a towering figure appears.  Stinking horribly and clan in badly-tanned hides, the creature is ten feet tall, massively muscled, with scarred greenish skin, dark stringy hair, and huge malformed teeth protruding from a drooling mouth.  It carries a huge club that is little more than a freshly ripped-off tree limb, and bumps it against the tree trunk, leaving behind a fresh scar.

The ogre roars at all of you, and then grins horribly.

Ogres, Narthian is thinking, ... or trolls. As he looks around for them, he's mildly shocked that they chose to reveal themselves. "[Language unknown: Pl earratnot haalpo! Ectverrea ladin out cetollweta setin!]" he intones, taking advantage of their mistake. "The forest is angry with you, ogre, feel its wrath!" he replies to the ogre.

Cast Entangle, range 520 feet, area 40' radius. Putting the ogres in the center.

"That doesn't sound good," Lantamori said to Farian as she pulled her bow and knocked an arrow.  Now that the thundering voice had focused her attention, she looked around, ready to fire at any charging figures.  It seemed as though they were about to earn their keep.

"Easy Cloud," she said soothingly as she felt the young warhorse stomping it's feet nervously, "everything is going to be all right."

Dellas looks at that... thing with open mouth and slowly reaches for his crossbow, loading it. "Holy bookshelf! Just look at this thing! I mean the undead are smelly and Goblins are weird but this thing! How can the gods make such a creature!" Still staring he lifts his weapon, waiting for something to happen before he shoots.

Haazheel aims his light crossbow at the nearest foe and pulls the trigger. Sid foe probably now has on bolt in her/him/it.

15:25, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 10 using 1d8+3.  Damage. 7 Damage

15:25, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 16 using 1d20+3.  To Hit.

"There are more hiding in the trees," Averdante calls out, loosing his arrow at one of them.

The lone ogre gives a grunt of surprise as the grass and branches around him grow swiftly and clutch around his body, binding his arms to his sides and his legs firmly to the ground.



Dellas lifts his crossbow and fires off a shot that zings off into the foliage, murdering a hapless leaf along the way.



Haazheel is far more successful, a bolt thudding into the ogre's chest squarely, making him bellow in pain.




Averdante launches his arrow at the distant target.  It's a difficult shot, but it finds its mark, drawing another shout of pain out of the woodlands.

Sir Aberlayne looks at the thrashing plants, then back at Narthian and Thunder.  "Well, at least he's tied up.  I'll help with the others Averdante's yelling about.  Volsh, Bruenor, with me, charge!!!"

With Valiant and the other mounts charging into the woodlands, Aberlayne, Volsh, and Bruenor bring axe, spear, and sword into play as they charge to meet the ogre Averdante wounded.  Aberlayne misses, nearly dropping her axe as Valiant has to dodge around a low-handing branch.  But Volsh charges in with Widowmaker like an unstoppable avalanche, thrusting so hard and so accurately that the spear goes clean through the ogre.  The massive creature has time for a single surprised gasp before dropping like a stone, dead.

Bruenor nearly can't believe his eyes, but spurs his mount on to the slightly more distant ogre.  However, this ogre seems a bit speedier, and dodges Bruenor's swing with ease.


OOC: 09:59, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 29 using 3d8+12.  Critical spear damage.
09:58, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 20 using 1d20+7.  Confirm critial.
09:58, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 27 using 1d20+7.  Attack with spear.

10:01, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Bruenor Sedricson, rolled 8 using 1d20+6.  Attack with longsword.



Farian looks around as well, and with Lantamori's keen senses, she's able to detect a sudden increase in stench.  So neither are entirely surprised when a fourth ogre, this one with a massive cloak decorated with bits of feathers, skins, and bones, fades into being in front of them.  Startled, definitely.  But not entirely surprised.  Even so, the ogre is able to make a few gestures, shouting out, "[Language unknown: Ent ticonsect, at is ekic]," as darts of light fly from his fingertips to strike them unerringly, causing burning wounds.

OOC: Farian takes 5 damage, Lantamori takes 10.

Lantamori whips out her bow and fires off an arrow, but doesn't hit the cloaked ogre.  Farian takes a quick step back and raises his holy symbol, calling upon Pelor to bless him and his companions as they fight against evil.

OOC: Casting bless on the party.

"There's one back here!" Lantamori shouted, nocking another arrow.  She held this one ready, hoping to interfere with the next foul spell.  She couldn't stand another onslaught as the last and needed her arrow to fly true.

Readied shot to disrupt any casting or if it closes on them.
Lantamori rolled 18 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 11.  Composite Longbow Attack #2 w/bless.
Lantamori rolled 8 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 7.  Composite Longbow Damage #2.

Arrow nocked, Averdante takes a moment to turn Mask around and canter toward the back of the caravan. With Sir Aberlayne and the others in the trees, getting a clear shot at the remaining ogre there would be difficult, and he has little doubt the warriors can finish it off without his help.


Once he's close enough to have a clear shot at the gaudily bedecked ogre, he stops his mount and does so.

Haazheel reloads his crossbow in caressing fashion while intoning

Bolt and crossbow
strike a true blow!

Once set, he aims at the spellcasting ogre. The bolt strikes, sinking deep.

15:14, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 10 using 1d8+3.  Damage.

15:12, Today: Haazheel Thorn rolled 24 using 1d20+20.  +3 for 24
This message was last edited by the player at 22:17, Fri 28 July 2017.

Dellas curses under his breath and drops his crossbow "I'm a wizard, not a soldier." That's when several things happen at once, actually several more Ogres arrive. His new target is the magical Ogre, running over to the giant opponent he smiles  and extends both hands, with the fingers pointing towards the Ogre...  flames erupt from Dellas' fingertips, almost engulfing the opponent with fiery death. You can hear Dellas laugh and see Dellas' new bracelet lifting its dragon like head and eyes shining red.

Thunder growls, eager to join the fight, but Narthian signals to the wolf to stay. He nocks an arrow and looses it in the direction of the ogre mage.

19:35, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 17,5 using d20+5,d8 ((12,5)).

Hearing the sounds of magic behind him, Narthain turns around to find another target.  But between the length of the caravan and the slight curve of the road, his arrow can't find a good target, instead sailing off into the trees.

The entangled ogre roars its fury and flexes its mighty frame, bursting the plants holding it to the ground.  It glares at Narthain with is small eyes, clearly ready to vent its anger on the elf!



The magic ogre is far, far distant towards the back of the caravan, the ogre in front of you is within a forty-foot tangle of magically-animate foliage, and the other ogres are off in the woods where your fighter-types just charged in.

But with Lantamori and Farian in the back, Bruenor, Volsh, and Abby off in the woods (plus that ogre's bellow of pain a moment ago), it seems that the ogres to the back and the sides are already well-engaged.  You instead wait for the ogre who recently freed himself to step into your range, ready to toast him when he does!




Haazheel casts his spell upon his crossbow, ready to fire true in the next moment! 



Averdante sends Mask into a charge towards the back of the caravan.  It's a fair distance away, but his bow has a good range.  Sighting carefully, he looses his arrow.  It's a difficult shot, but this one just hits the ogre magician, digging a furrow in his side.


Sir Aberlayne is so distracted from Volsh's stunning lone kill of the first ogre that she misses her strike on the second entirely, and curses under her breath.  Volsh wastes no time, and plunges ahead with her, striking high with Widowmaker as she had tried to strike low, hitting the ogre hard.


OOC:  22:25, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 9 using 1d8+4.  Spear damage.
22:25, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 17 using 1d20+8.  Attack with spear.

Bruenor comes in right on their heels, landing a solid strike on the ogre's other side, besieging the murderous brute.


OOC:  22:27, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Bruenor Sedricson, rolled 8 using 1d8+4.  Longbow damage.
22:27, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Bruenor Sedricson, rolled 9 using 1d20+7.  Critical confirmation.
22:27, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Bruenor Sedricson, rolled 26 using 1d20+7.  Attack with longsword.

The ogre is armed with javelins, but wastes no time in using them as spears, thrusting down at his three foes.  While he misses Bruenor cleanly, he slams his javelin into Volsh, wounding the barbarian severely.

OOC: Volsh takes 13 points of damage.

From the far side of the road, a huge female ogre bursts from the trees, right at the horse herd, and grabs one of the horses with her enormous hands.  Gav and Maris fire their crossbows at her, but neither hit.

--



Lantamori holds her arrow, silently daring the ogre magician to try again, after having gotten another arrow in him (Averdante's, by the look of it).  To her grim satisfaction he does try to raise his hands for another spell, and she fires, hitting him squarely.  Sparks of red energy dance and die on the ogre's hands, and he growls at her, pulling out a huge club studded with multi-colored stones, thudding it against the ground with murderous intent.

Farian takes the opening and dashes in, thudding into the ogre's side with a hefty swing of his mace!

OOC: 22:21, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 7 using 1d8+2.  Mace damage.
22:21, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Attack with mace.

Haazheel fires his bolt.

PM

Narthian pulls his wand from his belt, points it at Thunder, and says the command word. Natural Armor +2, Thunder's AC is effectively 19 for the next 50 minutes. Narthian retreats slightly, on the balls of his feet, diagonally away from Thunder and the ogre, and towards the caravan while saying "[Language unknown: Nd... hehe... Undanyart!]"

The affect that I'm looking for is to draw the ogre into Thunder's melee range and have Thunder basically Ready his attack until the ogre is near enough. At the same time, Narthian would like to be "fighting defensively" for the +2 to AC while waving his wand at Thunder instead of attacking. For what good it will do, it would make his AC effectively a 17 if you allow it.

Lantamori nocked another arrow as she sat astride the patient Cloud and locked her gaze with that of the ogre.  Should it cast or swing, she would let fly once more.

She was concerned with the screaming of the horses behind her but could do no more than what she could.  She and Farian would have to deal with this one before they could see what had happened.

OOC: Ready another arrow and let fly if it casts or chooses to swing the club at Farian or herself.

May need to subtract 4 if Farian is still in melee when she fires.
Lantamori rolled 14 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 7.  Composite Longbow Attack #3 w/Bless.
Lantamori rolled 5 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 4.  Composite Longbow Damage #3.

Farian turns around and looks at the ogre's side.  He can't see that much has been done, but the look on the ogre's face shows him he struck true.

"Ya won't be eatin' my friends today ya nasty ogre!"

Not wanting to give the ogre a chance to start another enchantment, Farian's feet grab the ground and he runs towards the ogre again, swinging his mace for all he's worth.


23:33, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 18 using 1d20+5.  Attack with Mace (+4, +1 bless).
23:33, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 9 using 1d8+2.  Mace Damage.

The distance was greater than Dellas thought and instead waits for the next Ogre to get closer. He sprints the last few feet to the giant opponent  and smiles, extending both hands, with the fingers pointing towards the Ogre...  flames erupt from Dellas' fingertips, almost engulfing the opponent with fiery death. You can hear Dellas laugh and see Dellas' new bracelet lifting its dragon like head and eyes shining red.

]
This message was last edited by the player at 07:13, Thu 10 Aug 2017.

With several of the others dealing with the spell-casting ogre, Averdante turns his attention to the one near the horses. Drawing another arrow out, he rides Mask over to get a good shot at the ogress.

Once he's able to take aim at the ogre, he lets loose another arrow. She needs to be killed or driven back before she panics the herd, or harms more of them.

Bruenor wheels his warhorse around, easily avoiding the ogre's javelin...but cringing as he sees it make contact with Volsh.  The wild man should be able to shrug it off, but not too many more hits like that.

They need to take this ugly brute down and get back to the caravan.  Gods know what trouble the ogre's friends were causing.

He brings his horse alongside once again, and swings his sword with a bit of extra velocity.

Narthian invokes the power of the wand, and Thunder's fur grows thicker and more shaggy, like that of the bark of a tough hickory tree.  With your empathic bond, your voice, and your hands, you urge him to wait as the ogre stomps free of the last of the entangle spell.  Mastery Deyna whips up her own shortbow, and Reetha aims an overlarge heavy crossbow she has mounted in a window of her wagon.  Both woman hit, Deyna a lot harder than the Reetha.  The arrows are followed fast on the heels with a sheet of flame from Dellas' outstretched hands, backed by the fury of a very tiny piece of dragon jewelry.




The ogre isn't able to dodge, and stumbles right into Thunder's path as the wolf slashes with his fangs.  Thunder likely would have been able to trip the brute, if his last attack hadn't laid open the ogre's thigh, making the punctured, burned, and bleeding beast crash to the ground, dead!

OOC: 11:05, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Thunder, rolled 5 using 1d6+2.  Bite damage.
11:03, Today: Dungeon Master, for the NPC Thunder, rolled 22 using 1d20+6.  Bite Attack.



The ogre at the front of the party is dead, but a new one from the side has charged the center of the caravan.  Switching his aim swiftly, Haazheel fires his spell-aimed bolt right at her, thudding into the ogre's shoulder!



Mask moves willingly, and as the view of the strangely-garbed ogre at the back grows more clear through the tangle of wagon and trees, Averdante can launch off his arrow, this one lodging in the ogre magician's chest!


Out of the woods, from behind the ogre who had just charged the horse herd (and been wounded by Haazheel) a great stone cat lunges at the ogre's back!  It misses striking her with its great claws, but it certain startles her and makes her shout in surprise.

--

On the other side of the road, in the trees, Sir Aberlayne urges Valiant around to flank the ogre with Volsh and Bruenor.  Her own axe and Valiant's hoof strike miss their mark, but now the ogre would be hard-pressed to retreat.

Volsh roars in rage from the ogre's wounding of him, and it is with that rage and the ogre's inability to retreat that lets him sink the spear Widowmaker into the ogre's gut with a savage twist!

OOC:  11:20, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 14 using 1d8+7.  Spear damage.
11:18, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 13 using 1d20+7.  Spear attack.  (Then add +2 for rage and +2 for flanking)



Bruenor's attack misses the ogre cleanly, as the dancing into position made it harder for him to get a solid strike.

The ogre slams his broken javelin into Volsh again with a furious bellow, seeming determined to take Volsh with him to the grave!  The barbarian is covered with blood, but roaring with the warrior spirits of his ancestors, and doesn't seem willing to give up even at the threshold of the Hellgates!

OOC: Volsh takes another 13 points of damage.

On the far side of the caravan, near the horse herd, the female ogre had thought she was going to be able to raid and get some easy meat, but instead found herself arrowed and attacked by a huge stone cat!  Looking this way and that, she concentrates on the stone cat as the greater threat.  Lifting the hapless horse bodily, she uses it to swing it at the big blue stone cat, catching him squarely with the thrashing equine body.

Gav and Maris have their hands full as the horse herd goes berserk, desperately attempting to get the panicking animals at least all running in the same direction.

Four other drivers have managed to get their crossbows and climb to the tops of their wagons.  They fire at the female ogre, but all miss badly.  Perhaps seeing a horse swung about like a club is somewhat unnerving to see...


---



Lantamori holds her arrow as Averdante pulls Mask up even with Cloud, his own arrow already spent.  She hold hers ready in case the ogre magician tries anything.

He takes a step back and brings his hands up again.  She fires, but her arrow misses him by a hair.  His fingers form a familiar shape in front of his body, and you recognize what's about to happen a second before it does, having seen Dellas cast the same spell several times before.  A sheet of flame roars out from the ogre's fingers, and Lantamori, Farian, Averdante, Mask, and Cloud are all in the fire!  Averdante and Mask, recently arrived, are a little less alert, and take the wash of flame squarely, as the Farian, while Cloud and Lantamori sway as one, avoiding the worst of it.

OOC:  Averdante, Mask, and Farian take 3 points of fire damage.
Cloud and Lantamori take 1 point of fire damage.
The ogre magician is sad at his weak damage rolls.  :(



Farian closes the gap and slams his mace into the ogre's side, rattling the tall creature with a solid hit!
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:45, Mon 14 Aug 2017.

"Easy Cloud," Lantamori soothed the skittish horse as it danced to the side in response to the flames.  They'd only been singed but it wasn't pleasant.

She nocked and readied a fourth arrow with the same intent as before.  She'd been successful once in disrupting it's attack and she'd do so again.

OOC: Another readied arrow against spell or if it attacks someone with it's club.
Lantamori rolled 9 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 2.  Composite Longbow Attack #4 w/Bless.

Paying attention toward having due cover, Haazheel runs toward the female ogre...but not closing to her horseclub range.

Dellas seems to have forgotten the battle and has a serene smile on his face, slightly patting his new toy he is pulled back to reality by the horses neighing and quickly runs towards them... well... as fast as he can with his short legs. A little annoyed he admits "I'm a magic user... not an athlete... I shouldn't run."

"Running" towards the female Ogre

With a quiet curse, Averdante immediately turns Mask and rides away from the ogre and off to the side -- the same side Preet is on. He has no intention of closing with the brute, and no desire to group up and be a nice target for another spell.

Only at a safer, more isolated distance does he halt the horse and draw another arrow. He gives his string a cursory glance for damage from the fire as he nocks the arrow. He won't risk it if the string looks damaged, or feels damaged when he draws, but if it seems sound, he'll fire another arrow at the ogre mage.

"[Language unknown: Ver trno, Rithil! Ur iou nt loou!]" Narthian shouts, turning, giving Dellas and the caravaneers a nod of gratitude, and moves towards the ogre in the middle of the caravan (or the next closest opponent, if I'm mistaken on position). He fires an arrow at the monster then sends Thunder to the attack.

Narthian will move up to 30' to get a good angle on his next opponent. If within range, Thunder will charge to the attack, otherwise will move/run to within charging distance.

Arrow: 18:58, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 13,6 using d20+5,D8 ((8,6)).

Thunder's Charge: 18:59, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 22,3 using d20+5,D6+2 ((17,1)). - temporary AC 17 for charge.

Just as Farian's mace connects with the ogre a blast of flame hit him.  Seeing his clothing starting to smoulder he rolls away trying to smother the flames.

As he rolls to a stop on to his feet facing the ogre, his face is stretched in a grimace, eyes narrowed as he tries to stop further damage to his companions.

He stretches out his hand, and with a fearsome voice yells, "HALT!"

---

Using the spell Command to tell the ogre to Halt.

Halt (Save Will DC 14 [10 + 1 CL + 3 Wis)
The subject stands in place for 1 round. It may not take any actions but is not considered helpless.

Bruenor pulls Demon slightly to the side and prepares to attack, but pulls up at the last moment as Volsh takes another javelin thrust.  The barbarian was still standing, but he couldn't fathom how.

He points his longsword at Volsh, and calls out, "Tendro!"

OOC: Cast 'Shield Other' on Volsh, +1 to AC and +1 on saves. Additionally, subject takes half damage from all wounds and attacks (including that dealt by special abilities) that deal hit point damage for 3 hours. The amount of damage not taken by the warded creature is taken by Bruenor.

Thunder growls in agreement and stretches his legs to a flat-out run to get to the distant figure of the female ogre at the middle of the long caravan.  Narthian moves up, sights and fires, but the long distance and the ogres erratic movements means his arrow misses cleanly.




Dellas has quite a distance to go, some two hundred feet between where he was and where the female ogre is, but puts leather to grass and runs. 



Paralleling Dellas on the other side of the road, Haazheel pulls ahead of him somewhat.  The magical pincer maneuver is taking shape...




Taking Mask into the fringes of the trees and moving towards Prreet, Averdante sights on the female ogre and fires his arrow, wounding her lightly.

The stone cat next to the female ogre resets and pounces again, ducking under the horse and raking and biting at the ogre with both claws as well as his teeth, drawing significant blood and making her howl. 

---

In the woods, Sir Aberlayne picks her strike more carefully and delivers a savage blow to the ogre with her battleaxe, Valiant just missing a strike.  The ogre staggers as Volsh does too, both of them unable to connect with their strikes.



Pulling Demon away from a fight is like trying to remove teeth with a fresh blade of grass.  As Bruenor tries to get the snorting horse to pull back, he invokes the power, a golden glow of a shield appearing about both Bruenor and Volsh.  Demon gets in a single attack before he concedes to pulling back, but it's a precise and painful strike, his sharp hoof striking the ogre's head.  The ogre topples like the tree they had felled, quite dead from the harrowing collection of wounds.  But shouts from the road reveal that the caravan had more enemies to fight!

--

The female ogre bellows again and swings the horse at Prreet with fury, the horse squealing pathetically and writhing in the ogre's grip.  "DIE, DINNER!" she roars,and swings the horse again.  The stone cat Prreet takes another hard blow from the writhing beast, and he is slammed against a tree. 

Gav and Maris are running with the horse herd, most of them are going down the road in a southerly direction, directly away from the threat in their midst.



Lantamori waits and watches as the tesnion fills the air between them with consequences.  The ogre magician steps back again and writhes his hands in a complicated gesture, shouting, and Lantamori fires.  However, the ogre seems ready for her arrow this time and ducks out of the way.  A barrage of impossible colors sprays from his hands, washing over Lantamori and Farian, making them see spots.  But both of them are able to shake off the effects!



Farian calls out with ringing tones, and for a moment the ogre magician hesitates, then shakes his head and roars, unaffected!

Her attempts to distract the ogre and it's spells must have been working as it's magic seemed to be having little or no effect on them.  She knocked another arrow and held it ready once more.  All they had to do was to keep this one distracted until the others handled the rest and came to their rescue.

OOC: Ready a 5th arrow against spells or attack.
Lantamori rolled 20 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 13.  Composite Longbow Attack #5 w/Bless.
Lantamori rolled 6 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 5.  Composite Longbow Damage #5.

Haazheel closes and gets set to....

Narthian moves closer (30'), launching another arrow that just misses. He hopes it is close enough to distract the wicked monster and give Thunder a fighting chance. "Master Deyna!" he calls, drawing her attention to the rampaging female ogre.

To hit roll includes range modifier. 20:48, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 12,8 using d20+3,D8 ((9,8)).

"Strong bugger aren't ya!" he yells at the ogre.

Bouncing side to side, Farian runs at the ogre for what will hopefully be the last strike needed. His mace travels through the air aiming for the torso of the ogre.

--

23:38, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 20 using 1d20+4 with rolls of 16.  Attack with Mace.
23:38, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 9 using 1d8+2 with rolls of 7.  Mace Damage.

Dellas huffs and puffs along the caravan "Thrice damned Ogres.... stupid ambush... I shouldn't have had the second lunch."

I move 60ft closer... I should still be 60ft away from my target
This message was last edited by the player at 14:11, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

Dante's highly annoyed that not only has the ogress grabbed one of their horses, but she was using it as a weapon against them -- against Preet. He's felt the damage it's done to his cat.

Taking care, he focuses carefully on the huge female, and looses another arrow. Satisfaction that echoes Preet's fills him as he sees the arrow hit solidly.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:39, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

Satisfied that the ogre before him won't be getting up again, Bruenor gives a quick pat to Demon's neck...a 'well done' to his steed.  If he didn't know better, the dark horse seemed to not just tolerate battle...but to relish it.  He wheels his steed around, quickly takes stock of where the nearest remaining ogre is, and urges the large warhorse on with a shout.

With his sword held at the ready, Bruenor rides Demon back towards the caravan to help.  The horse's nostrils flare, and his lips seem to be peeled back from his gleaming, sharp teeth.

Narthian fires his arrow at the female ogre, missing her cleanly.  Thunder however is able to rush in and slash at her with his fangs, drawing blood.  He tries to throw her off-balance, but she is too large and heavy to be tripped.



Dellas gets himself closer, puffing all the while.



...fire a crossbow bolt at the female ogre, hitting her squarely!




Prreet withdraws, and you get the idea that he's off licking his wounds from the safety of the trees.

Averdante's arrow joins Haazheel's bolt, making the ogre curse in pain.

Sir Aberlayne wheels Valiant and is about to head towards the sound of battle, when she sees how poorly Volsh is faring.  Instead she pulls Valiant over to Volsh and touches him on the back.  Her hands glow, and some of Volsh's wounds shut, though not all.  "Heal and be well, by Yondalla's will," she murmurs.

Volsh, raging for more enemies, tears off back towards the road nearly as fast as a horse can run.  He breaks out of the trees to see their foe, and uses his spear to vault over a pair of frightened, confused horses tethered in place before stabbing the ogre viciously!

OOC: 10:34, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 10 using 1d8+6.  Spear damage.
10:34, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Volsh son of Vor, rolled 26 using 1d20+11.  Spear attack.



Demon dances around the female ogre, avoiding a swing from the hapless horseclub as Bruenor urges him into a flanking position.  Bruenor's sword slashes down hard, and Demon lashes out with his hoof right behind him, cracking bone.  With a pained bellow, the female ogre collapses to her knees, the squirming, wounded horse atop her, before she topples over dead!

--



Seeing that his spells are getting him nowhere, the ogre instead bashes at Farian with his fist.  He misses completely, but Lantamori's arrow doesn't!



Nor does Farian's mace a moment later.  Lantamori's arrow had driven the ogre magician to one knee, and Farian's strike to the ogre's chest finished it off!

Silence descends for a moment, broken by the squealing of the wounded horse, the screams of the frightened ones, and then the shouts of Master Deyna as she gets her caravan crew to help with the loose beasts before they can escape.

Haazheel ducks back and reloads the crossbow.

A new arrow ready on the string, Averdante takes a careful look around, alert for any sign of further threat. The ogres seem to be done for, but he'd rather be safe than unpleasantly surprised.

Once satisfied that things are as safe as they can be out here, he rides over to check on Preet. After the blows the stone cat took, Dante expects he'd like to ride for a while. Then perhaps he'd best ask Sir Aberlayne what needs to be done for Mask's injuries.

"We should track these back to their lair," Narthian says, running up to Thunder and congratulating the wolf with reward ear scritches. "There may be more, or they may have goods stolen from others. Thunder can get the scent of the ogre-mage and lead us." Thunder and Narthian approach the ogre mage for Thunder to get its scent.

"We shouldn't leave the caravan undefended," Lantamori points out to Narthian's suggestion of searching out a lair.

"Perhaps you could scout around while the road is being cleared but we can't depend on the ogres being the only threat.  When the caravan is ready to move again, we have to leave whether you've discovered a lair or not."

Bruenor lets out a shout as the female ogre goes down...perhaps influenced by Demon's 'enthusiasm'.  He reins Demon around as he looks side to side, checking for any additional threats.

Seeing none, he quickly dismounts...wipes his sword on the fallen ogre...and sheathes it; never letting go of the reins.  He hoped they'd get there, but the horse was still a bit too wild to trust completely loose.

He reaches into his pack and pulls out another piece of jerky, offering it up to the black stallion.  Leaning in close, he says, "Well done, Demon, well done.  You're a warrior, aren't you, mate?  We'll be alright, you and I," thumping the horse's thick neck.

Bruenor climbs back into the saddle, listens to the others, and says, "As you say, Lantamori.  Our job is protecting this caravan...not hunting and exterminating ogre clans.  I say we let them go if there are any more.  If they attack us, they're our problem.  If not, they're someone else's."

Dellas grumbles and is rather quiet for some time, he makes his way to Honeybee before mounting her and riding towards the magic Ogre, checking it for anything unusual... for him a magic ogre is unusual enough to warrant a search.

Not sure where everyone is but Dellas has to take a look at this strange ogre

That last hit was a solid one, and he smiled as the ogre fell to the ground.  Slowly the smile fades as he looks around at his companions.  He sees Dellas come closer to the ogre, stands and walks over to him.

"An unusual sight is it not?  One would not have thought they were capable."

He notices Dellas examining the ogre and is also intrigued.  He, too, examines the ogre.

Narthian nods at Lantamori. "Of course. I never intended for us all to go, just a scout or two. I suggest some help clear the tree from the road. I'll likely be back before that chores is done." Once Thunder has the scent, the pair of hunters head out, trying to follow the ogres' trail back to their camp or lair.

Narthian will spend no more than an hour on the ogre trail. If there is no sign of a camp or lair in that time, he will head back to the road to catch up with the caravan.

"Right, then.  Let's get that tree moved off the road.  Who's got some rope?  We can hook the horses up and pull it off."

Bruenor casts a concerned look at Volsh.  "You feeling up to any more work?  I thought you and that ogre were going to pull each other into the abyss."

Haazheel helps round up and organize, following any directions. He yells out When you get to the corpses, I'd like my bolts back, please. Then he helps with the tree.

Lantamori remains on Cloud with her bow out, keeping an eye peeled for threats as she patrols the rear of the caravan.

Haazheel reloads, but it seems that, for the moment, the danger has passed. 



Averdante hears and sees nothing untoward in the forest now.

Prreet is still up in the tree, but when Mask and Averdante ride up, Prreet shrinks back down to housecat size and hops on the back of Mask's saddle.  There are some chips out of Prreet's coat, and he licks them in aggravation. 



It takes every bit of Bruenor's persuasion to get Demon to pack away from his "kill", as he looks like he'd like to take a bite or two out the ogre.  By dint of some jerky, Bruenor can redirect Demon's hunger, and earns himself a through snuffle of his hair.

Further up the caravan, Lantamori and Narthian consider looking for the ogres' lair.  As they discuss, Sir Aberlayne comes thundering out of the woods.  The horse the female ogre had been using as a greatclub is still screaming, her body as bruised and broken as the stone cat's.  Master Deyna, Gav, Maris, Luth, and Keevak, along with half the drivers, are off getting the horse herd under control, but Reetha comes forward to try to calm the thrashing beast.

"Here!" she shouts, tossing a golden potion at the caravan cook, "Use this!"  Reetha pours the potion down the horse's throat, and most of her wounds close over.  The screaming stops, and the horse whickers uneasily as Reetha strokes her mane.  Sir Aberlayne reins up Valiant and drops down to the ground, looking up at the others.

Volsh is letting go of the rage of his kin, leaning on Widowmaker, exhausted and still badly wounded.  Averdante, Mask, Lantamori, and Farian are lightly scorched.

"Farian?  I have a little of Yondalla's strength left within me, so any aid Pelor's rays could give these wounded warriors would be welcome!"

---





The ogre magician was wearing foul-smelling robes and a wild assortment of "talismans", mostly bits of wood and stone, bone and feather that held some personal significance to him.  In a crude beltpouch he carries two dried gourds corked with bone and dried fungus that have some liquid in them.  And from the talismans wrapped around the gourds, it's not liquor.  Likely it's something magical.  Dellas, from carefully examining them, taking a look at a drop, and doing a tiny taste-test, can determine that one will create a temporary armor over one's body, and the other will allow you to jump inhuman distances.  He was also carrying a simple clay manniken, maybe six inches long, that holds small live bluebird trapped inside.



Volsh breathes a few times, as if testing that he still can.  "No cowardly scum like that would be able to take me," he says, a hand over his middle against the dreadful spear wound, barely closed over with Sir Aberlayne's divine blessing.  "Give me a moment's pause, and I will help you."



In about an hour, the horses are brought back under control by Gav and Maris, along with the others in the caravan.  It takes another couple of hours with axes to chop the tree into chunks that even teams of horses can move, but there are plenty of willing hands. 

--



Narthian and Thunder backtrack the ogres' trail, finding that the female ogre had been closest.  A half-mile or so distant in the wood, atop a small rise that gives some glimpses of further up the road, there is a tangle of large boulders "improved" with a few smelly, badly-tanned hides to make a shelter.  A stinking firepit still smokes slightly, and bones from the ogres' meals are scattered about.  Searching the place, Narthian is able to scrape together about 2000gp in various coins and gems, either ground in the dirt, in scattered beltpouches, or even, well, in the midden heap.  It is a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.  You find three small barrels of wine, with a fourth with the head staved in and mostly empty.  There's also a small stone pot of silversheen, a slender metal wand of iron that had been being used as an eating stick (arcane protection from evil, 23 charges), and a red glass goblet so large that it could have been used to bathe an infant.  Or at least a large puppy.

Narthain can return in good time to aid in the log-tying and hauling to get things ready for their continuing journey.

Not really worrying himself with bolts he shakes his head violently after trying the potions... he prefers the strawberry flavor of healing potions. Nonetheless he pockets both and moves on to the clay manniken, taking a closer look at the clay and at the bird he tries to figure out what significance it might have.

Narthian fashions a pair of impromptu travois, one for Thunder and one for himself. He collects the larger items and secures them to the travois. He carries the stone jar, to be sure that it does not spill, and wraps the glass goblet thickly in bits of hide. Then he and Thunder drag the treasure back to the caravan.

The coins are added to the gear on the party's pack horse, along with the goblet if it can be secured. He draws Dellas's and Haazheel's attention to the wand. Then calls out to Sir Aberlayne. "Look at this," he says, showing the paladin the contents of the stone jar. "I think that it is Silversheen, which has me concerned. Whether the ogre's mage made it, or they stole it, the presence of this stuff usually means lycanthropes are near by."

The ogre mage had some interesting potions and items.  As Dellas began to taste potions, Farian heard, "Farian?  I have a little of Yondalla's strength left within me, so any aid Pelor's rays could give these wounded warriors would be welcome!"

"Aye, I'm on my way."

Farian walks amongst the caravan lending the healing rays of Pelor to close wounds and mend bones.  "May the light of Pelor heal you," says Farian as he walks and touches those who need help.  All seem to sit a bit easier after Farian's touch.

Farian looks up as Narthian arrives.  After he shows off the stone jar, Farian looks to Narthian.

"Do you think these are the last from the campsite you found or could there be more?"

Haazheel cleans and stows the bolts; he awaits further orders.

Lantamori was glad to see Narthian had returned with what looked to be a successful hunt.  As she and Cloud ambled around the back of the caravan, she wondered how many other caravans or travelers had been waylaid by the ogres.

Would the ogre bandits have really let them live if they'd given up?

"Yes, Farian, I believe that this was a single gang, far from any tribe that they might be associated with," Narthian replies. "Their camp suggested that they were a raiding party more than a day's travel from any base. It will be several days, if not weeks, before they are missed." Narthian considers his words for a moment. "That is, if any of their kind will miss them. Perhaps I should ask the blue bird - I hope no one freed it yet!"

Dellas overheard the conversation and walks over with the cage "Still here, maybe you can ask it what purpose it had."

Narthian casts his spell and chirps at the blue bird.

Farian looks around at his party, and notices Volsh took a huge brunt of the damage.  He works his way over to Volsh and gently lays his hands on his shoulder.

"May the light of Pelor heal your wounds"

---

21 points of healing

22:09, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 13 using 2d8+4 with rolls of 8,1.
22:09, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 8 using 2d8+4 with rolls of 2,2.  Cure Moderate Wounds

You believe the clay, of a slightly greenish color, and the bluebird inside, may have been a power focus, or a religious totem.  With the earth encircling the a creature of the air, it had probably been meant to kill the bird slowly, showing the domination of the earth over the air.  It's a nasty form of sacrifice, and only done by those with little compassion.



Sir Aberlayne's brow furrows.  "That is not comforting.  I believe... we should keep this near those of us who fight in close quarters.  And, if any of the little villages Master Deyna passes happen to have some, get some more for everyone else."



The bird chips back weakly, until it gets some water, and then much more animatedly. 

--




The warmth of Farian's blessing closes Volsh's wounds, and he looks much more hale, if still tired from his exertions. "I feel much better, friend priest.  You do as good a work as a wise one of my own people."

Lantamori, Averdante, and Mask are lightly wounded, but that could be healed by tending their light scorching tonight with salves.

--

Healed, things looted, and everything gathered up, Master Deyna comes walking back to talk to you, wiping her face down with a rag.  "And you managed to save the mare?  Gav and Maris will be over the moon.  Good work, damn fine work with the ogres.  I'm going to send a messenger to the local lord, telling him he had an ogre invasion.  I ruddy well hope there's no more about, but if there is, he needs to get his own guard out patrolling.  Actually..."  She withdraws a stubby wand that, upon close examination, looks like a stylized woodpecker.  "I learned to use this a while back, but I wager you do it better, Narthian.  It'll put in an animal's mind to go to a person and deliver a message."  She holds up a small scroll that could easily be tied to a small creature.  "What Lord Uxphon does with it after that is his own affair.  I just want to be well away from the corpses before night falls.  The scavengers can be worse, sometimes."

Dellas watches as Narthian starts to talk to the bird "You can free the little guy... this is more of an arcane focus then anything else." He looks down upon his wrist and pats the wrist guard they had found, feeling happy to have it.

Narthian gives the stone jar to Sir Aberlayne. "I whole heartedly agree."

The others see Narthian giving the bird water, which it greedily drinks then chirps back at Narthian. "So it says also," Narthian replies to Dellas after a short time. "In its own manner, of course. It is certainly no familiar, or a prisoner of some shape changing spell, which were my concerns." Narthian fishes some nuts and berries, as are preferred by jays, from his pouch and offers them to the bird as he opens the cage. ""

"You are most welcome, Volsh." Farian is pleased to see the color return to Volsh's face.

Farian gathers his mounts reigns.  Holding them loosely he looks towards the front of the caravan.

"What might we do about that?" Farian gestures to the fallen trees in front of the caravan and starts to move foward to help.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:40, Sat 02 Sept 2017.

Haazheel is among those who look at the trees. He says We have animals that can pull wagons. Surely arrangements can be made for them to shift the trees.

Bruenor nods at Master Deyna's words.  "Yes, let's be gone from here before nightfall.  I'd prefer to camp in a spot that hasn't seen such as this..." remembering the ogre slinging the terrified mare over its head.

"Looks like the road is clear now, or not far off.  Anything left to do before setting off?"

Farian moves around the caravan and to his surprise, the road is cleared.  He was so focused on everything after the encounter with the ogres that he missed the cleaning of the road.  Mounting his horse, Farian readies for the ride.

Farian nods to Bruenor.  "Aye, a good  camp would be welcome at this point."

Lantamori remained ready to move on at the rear of the caravan whenever Master Deyna got it rolling again.

Sitting on his honeybee he again feels small next to his friend's steeds, nonetheless he rides up to them "Are we moving on or does anyone want to kiss the ogres goodbye? I'd prefer to get a move on before more of these things want to eat our horses... or us."

Dante wasn't sure if the type of rock he needed to find mattered, but with any luck he'd find enough of whatever was needed by the time they camped that he could heal his cat. They had a few more hours to go, so he was hopeful they could find what they needed by then.

Haazheel is seated on a wagon. Since he uses a crossbow, he's willing to leave the wand to Dellas.

Everyone ready, spell cast from Master Deyna's wand by Narthian to tell a messenger pigeon to take her message to Lord Uxphon, the caravan pulls out and spends the next few hours traveling until dusk is nearly upon you.  Setting up again, Gav and Maris spend a lot of time brushing the horses and checking them over for injuries, while Reetha dishes up a hearty baked dish of noodles and pork and savory sauce (or just noodles and sauce) for dinner.


The passes uneventfully for you, though you do hear the scuffle and howl of wolves, the caws of crows and ravens, and even the yelp of coyotes off in the distance as they squabble over the bounty provided today.

Rising the next day, you push on along your path, going through two more lords' territory, including one of the ambush spots on Baron Gulamin's land.  Scouting ahead by air and foot shows no danger there, and cautious probing by scouts reveals no hidden bandits, monsters, or beasts, so you are able to pass easily.  You pause briefly at a small village in the afternoon, and Master Deyna does a short, brisk trading session with some fur trappers there who seem to have been waiting for her.  She trades them fine iron tools and weapons, as this village doesn't even have a blacksmith.

  It's on the following day that trouble strikes.  This is Baroness Velthe's land, she who recently had a plague in her house that has caused her to draw back her guards to protect her shrunken assets.  Her land is somewhat more open, with a goodly several miles of road that pass in a wide meadow next to thick forest.  When coming out of the fringe of the forest, and nearly halfway through the meadow you see and hear a huge storm coming up.  The wind picks up and dark storm clouds rush to fill the sky.

There's no need to consult - such a storm would be a disaster to be caught in such a wide open space.  Master Deyna urges the wagon train to the trees, and then up into the treeline itself, not willing to trust open ground with so many horses in such bad weather.  It's a frantic scramble into the green-tinted gloom until you break into a slightly-more-open area, still sheltered with enough tree canopy to keep the caravan fairly save.

Gav, Maris, Luth, Keevak, and the drivers to go tie up the horses near smaller trees or clumps of bushes, once the wagons are circled.  As they go about their tasks, you realize, in a flash of brilliant lightning, that this campsite may be far more interesting than just a place to weather the storm.

Thick vines trail down from the sturdy trees above, leading up to dozens of building built around and between the massive forest giants, connected by wooden bridges that swing in the breeze.  The moss-and-vine covered buildings look ancient, almost as if they had grown from the trees like branches.  Another lightning bolts strikes somewhere else, giving you another bright flash of light, clearly illuminating that there does not seem to be a single soul moving about up there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:03, Sat 14 July 2018.

Haazheel continues to help Reetha.

After the lightning illuminates, Haazheel goes to Master Denya to say, "My teacher one time was discussing elven populations. He mentioned a place, the Greensward. This place might vary well be Greensward, an elven village supposedly abandoned some fifty years ago.  Supposedly this was because the numbers of villagers had grown too low to maintain the village, but others, he said, say there was some other, more sinister reason for the village to be abandoned. I suggest we move so we're not under it... at least the horses."
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:58, Thu 19 Oct 2017.

Lantamori quickly tied Cloud to one of the wagons and began unsaddling.  She wanted to get her gear into the wagon before the rain came down in full force, soaking everything.

It was probably unlikely for anything to be hunting in this weather but they'd need a watch, nonetheless.  It was what they were being paid for but she still wasn't looking forward to the soaking.

Narthian chirps at the blue bird, giving it time to get its fill of food, and chirps again as it flies off. "[Language unknown: Elalun sisti! Atlat ill sonreskor derughoul k weulpowi! Ughkorday!]"

---

Narthian was about to help with the animals, until the lightning revealed the elf village above. "We are further south then my tribe has traveled, I know nothing of the elves here." He shrugs and looks to Averdante and Lantamori. "Still, they would have good watch positions from up there. I, for one, will go up and scout. I would think the place safer after 50 years, but I would not hurry in unhitching the animals. Sir Aberlayne, keep the the silversheen handy. The bluebird did say that the ogres fought a wolf on two legs. We are likely beyond a wolf pack's range, but perhaps not a werewolf pack's." He sets Thunder to guard on the forest side of the ring, under one of the wagons. Then examines the trees to find the most climbable.

Take 20 on the Climb check. Once on a platform, he will cast Light on his lantern and wait for any others.

Huddled up in his blanket he sits close to the campfire he quickly lit and looks at the others "Going up there? Away from the warm fire?" He stands up and starts putting the blanket back in his pack "But I have to admit that I'm curious to why the village is abandoned. Maybe we can find some clues before moving on? Though there's a number of reasons that can cause a village to be abandoned.. outside dangers, internal conflict, weather, disease,..." he starts counting off his fingers while looking for an easy way to get up.

Farian startles slightly at the rolling thunder that followed the lightning.  Watching Narthian climb up and look down expectantly makes him realize that he might be waiting for others.

Looking around at the others apparently getting ready to follow, Farian dismounts, tethers his mount close to the others, and checks his saddle bags for anything he might need up above.

Nodding to himself he looks to the others.  "This is one of the more interesting sights I've seen in my travels.  I am also curious as to what might be up there."

Farian readies himself while looking up the trees for a feasible path up the tree.

The evidently abandoned treehomes above the campsite are indeed temptations, but Averdante has other, more immediate obligations -- one of which may be of crucial benefit with those structures overhead. So he secures Mask, loosening the saddle as he's been taught for a long rest, and leaving the horse cropping grass until he can return to see to him more properly.

Then he collects his stones and healing potion, and heads for the caravan's food wagon to beg a large bowl from the cooks. He'll buy it if he must, since he'll likely need it again, but if not, he's quite willing to use guilt (Preet took considerable damage while keeping the ogress too busy to harm others, after all), or immediate need to scout out the homes above, to get ahold of the bowl.

Once he has it, he fills the bottom with the stones he'd gathered since the battle. Preet jumps in next, with a few soft clunks of rocks knocking together, and looks up expectantly. "I know," Dante tells him with a quiet laugh. "I want you up there, too. Here." Uncapping his healing potion, he carefully tips the contents into the bowl.

He's going to need to get some more of those, first chance he has; normally he can rely on Farian's aid, but that won't work for Preet.

Dismounting, Bruenor looks up with a sense of wonder at the structures hugging the trees.  He ties Demon to a nearby tree, not trusting the horse's wanderlust just yet.

The thought of exploring this abandoned, possibly forgotten place appeals to him, but then he looks around at the camp...the drivers, cooks, and traders.

"Perhaps one or two of us should stay here to protect the camp?" he asks.  "Wouldn't do to have us all off exploring the trees while somethings sets upon the caravan.  I'll stand guard down here."

"No, I will guard, me and her," Volsh says, nodding at Lantamori and her alert stance.  "Go settle what ghosts remain in this place so we can rest without risk of upsetting the ancestors of the elves."

"A fair point... also I'd be worried that one of these old places might fall down on us while we sleep," Master Deyna says.  She waves to Gav and Maris, pointing at a spot a little farther away where they can circle the caravan and make a makeshift paddock for the horses by running chains between the wagons.



While the caravan is circling and everyone is tending to their beasts, Averdante can beard Reetha in her lair, speaking with Haazheel.  With a bit of convincing, she parts with a basin.  With the smooth pebbles in the bowl and Prreet squarely settled down amongst them, Averdante pours in the potion.  Prreet purrs, which sounds like a bunch of rocks rubbing against each other, and curls up to take a nap amongst the stones.



"Maybe so.  Good place to watch, also a good place to hide if anything has decided to move in in the elves' absence.  And if the boards are rotted, then I'm lighter than you, m'lad," Sir Aberlayne says.  "Go on up, I'll knot a rope so the rest of those inclined can get up easier."

Narthian examines the possible ways up: there are some thick vines trailing down, and several of the massive trees have some rough bark.  The vines look sturdy enough, and with some effort, Narthian gets himself up on the walkway outside a mossy building.  Using the vines, he can lower one to Sir Aberlayne, haul up the rope, and fasten it near a trunk to make a relatively easy assent for those inclined.

Dellas, Sir Aberlayne, Farian, Averdante and Bruenor (if they wish), even Haazheel (should he be so inclined) can make the climb up without too much trouble.

Up above, it seems curiously quiet, with little animal sounds.  There's the sound of rain, the boom of thunder, but the thick forest canopy keeps the heavy deluge down to a thick mist and heavy drips, though it's clear anything not under cover will be thoroughly saturated by morning.  Flashes of lightning illuminate the place in stark contrast to the light in Narthian's lantern.  There are homes wrapped around the huge trees, some of them even penetrating into the living wood.  Where you are seems to be smaller buildings that might have been homes, while a bit farther distant are larger structures with broader walkways that were likely communal halls, workspaces, shops, or even churches.  Walkways sway in the gusts of wind that sometimes penetrate the canopy, ruffling the bright blue and purple trumpet flowers that nearly glow against the green moss that covers every surface.

A nearby door opens and slams shut in the wind ceaselessly, until it abruptly stops.  A faint wisp of a fluttering curtain seems to reach out of a house the next tree over, as if grasping after owners long-gone.  Other than that, the Greensward is still... as if waiting.

"There is something... unsettling about this place," Narthian says, barely above a whisper. He doesn't know why, but the thought of the ancient legend of the banshee comes to his mind. He holds the lantern in his left hand, and draws his scimitar with his right, then waits for Sir Aberlayne to take the lead. "The suddenly not banging door is that way," he offers helpfully.

Haazheel frets and worries, but finally takes himself up to the abandoned settlement at a point nearest the camp. He holds his crossbow and waits.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Tue 12 Sept 2017.

Dellas looks almost... bored? In a normal voice which seems to disturb the silence far greater than it normally would he says "Well, what are we waiting for? Someone with some armor and a shield should go first!" He looks half amused half lovingly at his big sister. "Or did we come up here just to have some exercise ?"

"I'll walk the perimeter," Lantamori said to the much bigger man.  "See if there's anything to worry about before the storm hits us like loose branches or dead trees.

"Why don't you go in the other direction and we'll pass one another on the far side and then back to here."

Sir Aberlayne shoots her brother an exasperated glance, grins, and takes out her axe.  Shield forward, she starts off in the direction Narthian indicated.  She tests her footing carefully on the swaying bridge as she crosses over.  She does point to one board as she passes, shaking her head and pointing at the larger members of the party to avoid it.

You reach another tree with a platform around it, this one with the door to the home wedged shut.  There are two windows, and those taking a look inside can spy a lot of vines spilling in a window in the back, a mossy chest, a cupboard, and as another bolt of lightning brightly illuminates the area, a flash of something shiny against the far wall, and something dark staining the floor below it.

Volsh grunts in agreement, gets a lantern from Reetha to illuminate the storm's gloom, and takes off in his direction.  Lantamori scans the ruins of Greensward above, her elven eyes needing far less light than the human barbarian, along with checking for more mundane threats.  She spies no large loose branches, nor any trees about to fall, but as she walks, the lightning lets her spy a curious thing.  A ring of mushrooms is hardly unusual, but a ring of mushrooms that look to be bleeding, and growing around the base of the largest tree in Greensward, that's certainly out of the ordinary.

Volsh finds her on the far side, and holds out what initially appear to be a collection of dark sticks in his hand.  "Found them below one of the trees.  Half-buried, but they look new."

The "sticks" are clearly carved darkwood, about a foot long and pointed at one end.

"Like spikes around the tree?" Lantamori asked, eyeing the sharpened darkwood stick.  "I found some strange mushrooms encircling the largest of the trees.  It looked like they were bleeding.  We can have Narthian take a look when he gets back but you'll see them when you go around.

"Maybe they'll find some clues up there," she said, looking up at the abandoned tree village.  "Until then, I'll meet you back around the other side."

The elf continued her circuit around the perimeter and kept an eye out for the stakes that Volsh had pointed out.

Seeing that Preet intends to nap a while, Averdante takes the bowl and tucks it under the cook wagon, where any rain won't dilute the healing potion. Then he takes a look upwards at the tree homes, and lets his curiosity take over. Yes, the caravan needed to be guarded, but the platforms overhead would offer excellent vantage for shooting anything targeting the caravan. And if the threat is in the trees, well... might as well try to keep it there, right?

It's a convincing argument for him, so he wastes little time in scrambling up into the trees.

Once up there, he stays put and takes a careful look around, rather than immediately following after those already exploring. Tuning their voices out, and the voices from the caravan, he listens for any other sounds which don't belong, or don't fit the patterns and rhythm of the trees and the storm winds.

"I think I'm getting to be paranoid," Narthian says in a hushed voice. "A shiny thing, a chest, and a stain just feels... well... like a trap." Still, he moves to a window and carefully passes the lantern through to put better light on the objects and vines.

Knowledge: Nature (vines): 19:30, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 10 using 1d20+9 ((1)).

"These vines are new to me..."

Dellas quickly moves up to Narthian. "A shiny thing, a chest and a stain? There should be something good! Magic is surprisingly expensive... let me take a look." He moves right next to Narthian and puts Vish down, letting his familiar run around and sniff at things a bit before he stands on his toes, scanning the room carefully.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:18, Mon 18 Sept 2017.

Haazheel probably hears the others moving around.

Having taken some time to let the others go up, Farian also climbs.  He knows he is not good with locks, arcane magic, or nature.  He stays out of the building with the chest.

"I'll keep watch outside as well.  Let us know if you need anything inside the building."

Bruenor nods at Volsh, and turns to join the others.  He waits for Aberlayne and Narthian to secure a rope for easier ascent...better than trying to clamber up a vine in his heavy armor.

Once he reaches the platform, he nears the others and takes a look around.  He gazes up and down the length of the walkway, alter for any threats, while the others investigate the nearby dwelling.

On The Ground



Keeping a careful eye out, Lantamori can find more of the stakes around what is probably the largest tree in Greensward.  They are just like Volsh found, darkwood sticks, a food long and pointed.  More like tent stakes, really.  What's curious is that though they were embedded into the ground with moss growing over them, as if they have been there quite some time.  But when you tug it out of the ground, the moss and dirt fall away easily until they look new.

----

In The Trees



Listening and watching carefully, Averdante takes in the world around him. 



Dellas scans the room carefully from the window as Vish sniffs from the windowsill. 

Narthian doesn't recognize the vines immediately, but the lightning is poor.  Perhaps a closer examination could help.  Haazheel, Farian, and Bruenor don't see anything at the moment, but there are only two windows, and the door is shut.

"Well, either you're boosting me in the window, or you tall folk are going to be shouldering open the door.  What's your pleasure?"Sir Aberlayne says, looking ready to be chucked through the window, if necessary.

Dellas lets himself down and looks clearly worried "I can sense magic.. old dangerous magic. The floor might be trapped and the shiny thing emits an aura of transmutation. There's also the scent of blood.. old and fresh., I believe that the plants have something to do with it."

"My purpose in climbing up was to see if it was safe," Narthian whispers. "But ever since we started looking around, I have been uncomfortable. There is a power here, I am certain. Sir Aberlayne, before we do anything more, is this place evil?"

Sir Aberlayne shakes her head.  "No active evil here, though my sense of it doesn't extend as far as the village.  We could see what's blocking the door here, where the door stopped banging, or head over and check out the rest of the place."

"As you wish. Bruenor, we'll need you." Narthian sets the lantern on the sill, sheathes his scimitar, and readies his bow. He looks at Averdante with a little nod of his head, as if to say "which window do you want to cover?"

"If there's a fresh blood scent, then something's hunted here recently. And I can hear something moving in that house," Averdante warns the others. "And over there," he nods in that direction, rather than be so obvious as to point -- or take his hands from his bow -- "those look like community buildings to me. There's a light over there. It's too steady to be from a fire, but too bright to be merely foxfire."

As far as which window to cover, at Narthian's silent query, Dante moves to the opposite side of where the others are gathered. If he's going to need to shoot through a window, he'd rather not need to do it around a halfling.

Dellas looks from one to another before adding "Well, someone has to go and open it... or we could block the door so that nothing can go out? How about a little fire?" he adds the last part with some excitement. "If there's anything alive inside it will want to run away... if it's dead then fire will help fighting it. If there's nothing then we can use the fire to warm ourselves."

Let us save that for an appropriate danger," Narthian says to Dellas. "Bruenor can boost Sir Aberlayne through a window to investigate here first. Then Bruenor can post by the door, ready to help bash it open if Sir Aberlayne needs to retreat. Averdante and I will cover from the windows. What we learn here will doubtless aid us if we choose to continue our investigation. I would not journey elsewhere in this village without first knowing what danger lurks here." Before Sir Aberlayne goes through, if she goes through, Narthian tells her, "Beware those vines. I do not like the look of them."

Bruenor shrugs, and walks over between the door and the window.  "Aye, I'm happy to provide a boost, but I know not all small folk are comfortable being helped in such fashion.  Aberlayne?" he asks, with a raised eyebrow.

"Or...Perhaps I should try to kick the door in?  I don't fancy throwing our friend through the window into gods know what, with a blocked door.  My 2 coppers, anyway..."

"Do both.  I don't object to being hurled into possible danger if I ask for it.  Two prongs of attack, window and door, always a good strategy," Sir Aberlayne says with a small grin.
This message was last updated by the player at 19:48, Wed 20 Sept 2017.

After Sir Aberlayne gets a boost up through the window, she says quietly, "Some big vine is all the way through the window here... Spit!"

Bruenor can put shoulder to door, and with a tremendous crash, the door splinters inward.  The huge vine spilling into the window is moving with verve and purpose.  The vines that live in the canopy and along the trunk suddenly spring to life, trying to grasp and entangle all of you!  Everyone manages to pull free of the worst of it, though Farian and Narthian find their limbs grappled and held fast.  It'll be tough going through the waving vines, but you could all get close enough to strike at this nasty thing!


OOC: Farian and Narthian, you are grappled.  You'll need to take a full-round action to make a DC 20 Strength check or Escape Artist check to get out.  Everyone else moves at half speed this round (which is enough to get either to the door or in the room - this is a jolly large vine).  Anyone not grappled next round must make a DC 13 Reflex save to avoid being grappled, so everyone give me your Reflex saves preemptively, please.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:43, Tue 26 Sept 2017.

Sir Aberlayne struggles closer to the vine and swings with her axe, the blade finding it hard to get through the plant's thick skin.

Dellas kept outside the little hut yet vines still try to grab him "I knew it! The plants!" He ducks under the first swing and raises both hands [Language unknown: "Larlarset Reussi!"] gouts of flame shoot from his hands, burning the vines in front of him, his bracelet helps his flames to shine brighter yet in this darkness it seems of little help.


Barely did it! Today: Dellas Nump rolled 13 using 1d20+6.  Reflex save
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Thu 21 Sept 2017.

"Ugh!" Narthian grunts as he's grabbed. "This must be Assassin Vine! Help us get free and then retreat! Forty... ugh... feet should be far enough!" Narthian struggles, trying to slink out of the vine's grasp, almost making progress.

Escape Artist: 21:48, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 15 using 1d20+3 ((12)).

Bruenor recovers his balance after smashing the door in, and stops his rush in time to miss the swinging vines.

He draws his sword, ready to wade into battle against the...plants?...but pulls up at Narthian's warning.  "What is this, Narthian? Can we vanquish it??" he shouts, trying to avoid getting ensnared.  "If it's deadly, we've got to get Aberlayne out of there!"

He takes a swing at the nearest vine, trying to clear the doorway.

Hearing and half-seeing the commotion, and gathering that the danger is some sort of vine; Haazheel hastens to climb down and run to the camp. He yells "There's a deadly vine in the abandoned tee-village. We need fire...torches! Axes, swords! Slash and burn. Try to find the main stem!"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 10:30, Tue 26 Sept 2017.

"Urgh! Maybe..." Narthian replies to Bruenor. "We will talk... ugh... when safely away!"

Lantamori ignored the hysterics of the human wizard and continued her patrol.  There were more than enough of them already to handle an errant weed.

Should Narthian or Averdante need her help, she would then heed their call.

Averdante retreats further, dismayed to discover it's the plant attacking; arrows will not be effective, unless he's shooting at the main stem. Knowing that finding it will be difficult the looming dark, he slings his bow across his back and draws his longsword, then moves forward again to aid Narthian in getting free.

Unfortunately, it proves difficult to make a viable strike on the vine without risking harm to his companion.

Sir Aberlayne's axe doesn't get through the vine's woody stem, and she curses roundly and soundly in frustration.



Dellas's flames lash out, barely missing his sister's head, washing over the plant's vines squarely... and don't seem to do a thing!



Narthian struggles and squirms, but can't quite get loose.



Bruenor's swing doesn't get through the vine's tough skin, and it seems to be writhing even more vigorously now.



Averdante's strike does not fare any better than Bruenor's, to his frustration.



Haazheel can at least get to the edge of the plants the vine was animating, if not get to where the rope was tied, but he can certainly bellow the party's woes to anyone listening below!

Farian flexes his muscles with a roar, ripping himself free of the entangling vines!

OOC:
05:32, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Farian Raymellie, rolled 21 using 1d20+3.  Reflex Saving Throw.  Which I'm going to use for his Strength check, which will still pass.

--



Volsh jogs up to her, scanning the village above, and points out a flash of light above that looks like Dellas' typical favorite spell (fire, fire, and some sort of fire).

"If something is hiding up there, something that made the ones who built this place leave, I will be ready if it shows its face."  He hefts his spear and grins, ready to circle around the place where the fight was occuring

--

Sir Aberlayne and Dellas adroitly avoid the vine's entangling grasp, Averdante also evades their grip, Farian has broken free and Haazheel moved out of the range of them, Narthian unable to get free, but Bruenor feels the plants grasping him firmly now, pinning his sword to his side.

Narthian feels the vine squeezing him harshly, trying to crush muscle, bone, and the very breath out of him. 

The plant lashes out at the next closest target, slamming into Sir Aberlayne with a heavy thud. 


OOC: Everyone but Lantamori, Volsh, Bruenor, and Haazheel (who are all out of range) need to make me a DC 13 Reflex save.  Narthian and Bruenor, I need a DC 20 Strength check or Escape Artist check.

Haazheel continues to try to rouse the camp and procure flaming objects to carry back .

Dellas stands there in shock as the flames wash over the vines without leaving as much as a mark. His mouth and eyes, unable to close, don't notice the second vine, grasping for the little wizard.

The vine continues to hold Narthian firmly. The elf appears near to passing out. "*gasp* Meat... *ergh!*... throw it ... *uh!* ... meat! *Umph*... There!" He nods his head vaguely in the direction of the hut.

Thunder has his hackles up, barking and growling madly as he jumps at the tree, but unable to climb.

Escape Artist: 07:04, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 11 using 1d20+3 ((8)).

"It could be a distraction," Lantamori said, peering out into the forest darkness.  "We need to make sure there is nothing else threatens the caravan.

"Dellas should make short work of a plant with his magics."

Lantamori continued on her perimeter patrol and assured any halflings she met that the human was overreacting and that everything was well in hand.  Their halfling wizard had more than enough fire and no one needed to start burning trees down.

...and convince members of the caravan party to bring things that slice and chop.

With Vines shredding around him as he frees himself, Farian steps back out of the reach of the vines.  Hearing Haazheel shout about the main stem, he looks around to see what he can find.  Not having any luck he holds his mace ready, but not sure if he can do any good, he readies himself to bat the vines away.



"Meat? meat... MEAT!!!" Farian shouts as he understands what Narthian is saying.  The blood on the floor starting to make sense.

He looks through his pack for meat. "Does anyone have meat!!??  I think if we throw it in the hut then we may get a reprieve!!"

Spying his trail rations he starts to open one to find some dried meat that he can toss in the room.  He doesn't think it would be enough, but he has to try.
---

Perception roll for the main stem:
14:06, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 6 using 1d20+3 with rolls of 3.  Looking for main stem.

Bruenor yells out in frustration, ending in a grunt, as the vines wrap around him...his sword pinned to his side and of no use at the moment.  He strains his muscles trying to create some space, finding the vines so very strong.

Throwing the plant meat is a good idea, but not readily implemented; it wasn't something Dante carried regularly, and even if he'd had any, it would have been with his pack, which his packhorse had been carrying since they'd started traveling.

So he avoided the vines swinging his way, and tried again to strike the one tightening its hold on Narthian.

Sir Aberlayne whirls to the closest vine and lays into it with her axe, this time slicing it deeply and sending sap flying!

OOC: 08:17, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 17 using 1d20+6.  Reflex Saving Throw.
08:16, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 6 using 1d6+2.  Axe damage.
08:16, Today: Sir Aberlayne Nump rolled 21 using 1d20+7.  Attack with axe.



Dellas, having never seen his fire magic so utter ineffective, stands there in shock.



Narthian's escape attempt comes to no avail!



Nor are Bruenor's mighty thews.



Averdante fires his bow, and it sticks into the tough skin of the vine, but doesn't seem to hurt it at all.



Haazheel continues his hullabaloo whilst trying to find flammable things.  He notices Thunder at the base of the tree, and sees people moving in the distance on the ground.  From the stature, one is likely Volsh.

With the rain and the moss it would be hard to find something dry, but with a few seconds of looking around, Haazheel spots some wood he can wrench off a nearby walkway that's dry, and some moss that has died and also remained dry.  With his flint and steel, he can get a makeshift torch going fairly easily.



Farian has to stagger back as far as he can through the grasping vines, trying to spy a main trunk as he does.  He doesn't spy one, and is mostly preoccupied with just making sure the vines can't get him again.


---



Volsh's brow furrows.  "Why should Haazheel call for fire if Dellas is there?"

The commotion has caused Master Deyna to sent Keevak and Luth out to see what all the ruckus is.

“Some great vine above, so Haazheel said,” Volsh says in explanation.  Volsh looks back at Lantamori, then back up at Greensward, looking divided. “This might be some hunter’s trick, but Haazheel does not panic.  I will start up the rope.  If all is well, I will be back very soon.  If they need aid, then I will be close.  If someone is seeking to come up upon us, I will have a good view all around, and not be distracted by some vine.”

Keevak and Luth are each sporting a heavy crossbow.  "We'll help you patrol, lass, while Volsh does his climbing" Luth said with a nod of his head.

Volsh starts his climb up the tree, but it will take him a little time, even with the rope, to get up there.

--

The vine lashes out again at Sir Aberlayne, slamming into her, but also bundling her up tightly in a coiling vine.  She desperately tries to evade, and for a moment almost looks as if she had it, but then it slides in under her guard.

Narthian and Bruenor continue to be entangled in the animate vines around the plant monster, Dellas is unable to evade the vines' grasp, but Averdante is able to leap free of their verdant embrace.

While continuing to hullabaloo*, Haazheel fashions an dlights a torch.

*I'm trusting that this is a noun that can be used as a verb.

Seeing the vine has grabbed more of his companions, and that as little luck as he's having cutting just one free, it's obvious to Averdante that they need more help. Nothing's burning, so at a guess, Dellas' is either caught in it, or magical fires don't affect this plant. Or maybe with all the rain, it's just very resistant to fire right now.

Farian is free, though, so as Dante slashes at the vine again, he yells to the priest, "Farian, if you don't have a cold spell to try on this thing, get some raw meat up here!"

"And the others," he adds a moment later, jumping aside to avoid a reaching vine.

Dellas finally getting to his senses stars losing them again and panics, drawing his well made dagger from Redhaven he starts to scratch and stabbing the vine, hoping to loosen its steel grip. "Vish, do something!" He calls out in a rather high pitched voice.

Not able to find any meat of any kind on his person he hears Dante.  Looking for a safe way back down, he stays away from the vines and tries to make his way back down the tree to see if the quartermaster has any fresh meat.

"Aye, I'll see what I can find below."

Lantamori accepts the halfling support and continues with her patrol of the perimeter.  How many people did it take to cut up a vine?

Narthian struggles, a plan forming in his mind if he can only get free!

It's the closest I've been yet. Escape Artist: 17:18, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 16 using 1d20+3 ((13)).

Bruenor strains and flails (or what could best be described as flailing when tightly bound) but to little effect; frustrated that he can't help his companions or fight this thing.

He grunts and curses, "Let...me...go...you overgrown weed! Grrrah!"

Sir Aberlayne struggles mightily in the vine's clutches, but can't break free.  Nor can Narthian, Dellas, or Bruenor.

Vish has scampered off to avoid getting hit in the crossfire of vines and plants, and goes to chitter urgently at Volsh.



Hacking at the vine with his sword, Averdante lands a solid blow on the thing!



Haazheel has a torch now, ready and waiting.  With flint and steel, he set it aflame, and is now armed with the most primal of forces.

Inside the hut, the vine squeezes Sir Aberlayne hard, throttling her unmercifully. 



As Farian goes to go down the rope, he sees Volsh is already halfway up the rope.  The big barbarian is armed to the teeth and climbing fast.  Looking around instead for another solution, Farian spies a hapless squirrel that's within range of his crossbow, and likely to fall onto a platform, if he'd care to gather some fresh meat himself.

Volsh heaves himself up onto the platform, and brings his spear forward.  "Where is everyone?" he demands, looking as if he's ready to go charging in.

--



Lantamori continues her patrol with Keevak and Luth.  Volsh doesn't come back down immediately.  Apparently the answer is eight.  At least eight adventurers are required to cut up a vine.

Haazheel yells "Caravan people, come help!." Even as he does, he approaches the area on the ground to see if the vine is rooted in the area.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 14:28, Sun 08 Oct 2017.

"Not you two," the elf assured her two halfling deputies when they looked in the direction of the overly excited human cry.

"We need to keep an eye on the perimeter.  This commotion would be a good distraction to anyone trailing us or happening by.  They could make off with your goods or cause harm to your equipment if no one kept an eye out."

She continued to lead her patrol in safeguarding the caravan while the others played with the plant.

"No! Haaz *oof* heel! No more! Get free *urgh!* retreat!" Narthian's not even sure if the wizard can hear him. His lungs can barely expand enough to keep himself conscious.

Escape Artist: 15:57, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 8 using 1d20+3 ((5)).

Just 15 more rounds of this and I'll be free. :D

The wretched vine was more dangerous than goblins or undead or even ogres, Averdante thought rather worriedly, and made another attempt to cut the druid free.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:38, Mon 02 Oct 2017.

Trying to use his underdeveloped muscles he finds himself lacking of said things and can barely move "So this... is how... it ends." He presses out between his teeth and wonders where Vish disappeared to and how the world could go on without him.

Dellas Nump rolled 5 using 1d20.  STR check.

Hearing Dellas mutter from nearby, Bruenor calls out, "No wizard...we...unh!...don't end here!"  He musters all his strength and flexes his arms and torso once more within the writhing vines, trying to create enough space to break free.

Stymied at every turn the party is having a terrible time getting away from this vine.  Not seeing any fresh meat in his belt pack, he looks around.

"By Pelor's Light..."  Farian spies a squirrel in the tree.  He carefully pulls his light crossbow from around his back, pulls the string back, loads a bolt.

Raising his crossbow to the squirrel he aims, and just as he pulls the trigger...

---

19:51, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 7 using 1d20 with rolls of 7.  Shooting a squirrel.

Both Numps and Narthian struggle to no avail in the grip of the vine and its animate friends.



Averdante chops another small piece out of their vegetal foe, little by little whittling it down!



Haazheel had jumped on the rope after Volsh had left it, and now looks around frantically on the ground for the root of their problem.  With Mystique looking as well, he finally spies a thick section of vine twining around the trunk that holds the house that has captured his party members. With a desperate hurl, he throws the torch on the vine's base.  It's wet from the rain, but begins to smolder nevertheless!

In the meantime, his frantic calls to Keevak, Luth, and Lantamori (the closest to his shouting), brings Luth stomping over closer (leaving Keevak still on patrol), cradling a heavy crossbow and sporting a cross expression.  "What in Moradin's Beard are you hollerin' about?"  Then he stops dead when he sees Haazheel has set part of the tree on fire.  "Bleedin' hells, kid, thought that was just a brawl in a barrel.  Where be your beastie?" he asks, reaching behind him to put out a waraxe from his back.

--

Above, the vine throttles Sir Aberlayne viciously, and you can hear some terrible pops and squishings as she gasps soundlessly in pain. 



Alas, Pelor's light is not shining this rainy day, and the bolt sails off majestically through the trees.  The squirrel looks at Farian curiously, and skitters closer to sit on a railing next to him.

Volsh goes where the screaming is, and charges in with a bestial roar, adroitly avoiding the entangling vines, spearing the vine with great vigor, causing sap to squirt all over.



Bruenor is free once more, and a good thing too!  Sir Aberlayne is looking very poorly, and the vine is thrashing with renewed vigor, a thin sound like screaming seeming to come from every leafy surface...

---

OOC: Olidamarra's luck, I can't roll for Sir Aberlayne worth beans, but Volsh gets all the damn natural 20s...
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:08, Wed 11 Oct 2017.

Shaking her head at how easily her new deputies were distracted, the elf set off on her patrol.  Perhaps it would be quieter on the other side of the caravan.

On the side away from the dagger, Haazheel begins to strip bark and slice horizontally across the material under it.

Narthian manages to get himself more entangled.

20:53, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 8 using 1d20+3 ((5)).

Unfortunately, the vine's renewed thrashing means Averdante's next swing missed widely. He really did need to put in more practice time with a sword....

Dellas is still struggling and tries to use his dagger, cutting away on the vine but to no avail. "Lo the end is nigh and darkness surrounds me!" he exclaims rather dramatically.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:09, Mon 09 Oct 2017.

Haazheel commences, along with what he's doing, yelling "WE NEED AXES!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:12, Mon 09 Oct 2017.

"ugh".  The wild shot flies hear the squirrel, but it seems to move closer.  Maybe Pelor is still watching over him.

He reloads his crossbow as calmly as possible to not spook the squirrel.  Slowly raising it, he takes aim again at the squirrel...

---

22:50, Today: Jchk rolled 14 using 1d20-1 with rolls of 15.  Jchk's anger over innocent blood takes over.

i swear......

Sir Aberlayne summons all of her strength even as the vine throttles her, and finally manages to break free with a pained gasp!



However, Dellas and Narthian are not quite so successful.



Averdante's swings at a segment of the vine which whips out of the way just as he was about to chop it, robbing him of harming it any further.



Haazheel keeps trying to fan the flames in the damp, but the stem seems to resist any significant burning.  Beside him, the dwarf Luth has his waraxe in hand, just needing a target.  Pointing to the vine in question, Luth takes a swing with his waraxe that slams into the vine dead-center, nearly severing it in one blow!

Beyond the commotion, Keevak and Lantamori continue their patrol.  All is quiet, save the shouting and whatnot from up in the trees and on the ground.

Back up in the tree, the vine thrashes wildly, slamming into Sir Aberlayne again, before wrapping her up in its coils once more.  Blood is running from her nose, and her eyes are fluttering as she drifts in and out of consciousness.



Farian is now one dead squirrel richer!

Volsh pivots and drives his spear into the vine again with another squelch, but then the animate vines get him, wrapping him up like Narthian and Dellas!  But only for a moment, for just as they seem to have him, the vine gives a final violent shudder, and collapses, falling off of everyone like pieces of wet rope.

Bruenor waits, sword at the ready in case this is some sort of ruse, but after a moment it seems that yes, it is truly dead.

Sir Aberlayne keeps lying flat for a moment, then presses her hand to her own chest, warm golden light spilling out.  Her breathing goes from labored to merely pained, and she slowly sits up.  "By Yondalla's favor, I don't want to do that again," she croaks hoarsely.

--

Down below, Luth finishes severing the vine, then claps Haazheel on the back.  "That's using the old noodle, lad.  Damn, killer plants.  Haven't seen that since I left home.  Those were walking mushrooms, mind, not these vine things.  Do you think that's all of them?"

Lantamori and Keevak find their patrol to be blissfully uneventful.

"Is everyone well?" Narthian asks, picking himself up from the floor. "This place is not safe, let us get down and move the caravan."

"Gods be merciful," Bruenor exclaims, glancing down at Sir Aberlayne before she heals herself.  He relaxes a bit as her wounds seem to begin healing.

"Have we lost anyone??" he asks, looking around.  Seeing no apparent critical cases, he adds to Dellas, "Alright then.  Well, go get your sparkles then, wizard," nodding at the chest.  Surely the threat was gone from this building.

Dellas lies on the ground, the vine still coiled around him but dead and unmoving. He opens his eyes slowly "Am I dead?" patting down along his body he feels fine and slowly pushes the vine away "Well, I'm gonna have nightmares for the next few days." He stands up and kicks the vine "Ha, not so tough now, are we?" He takes his dagger and kneels over the vine.

Haazheel gives with the blow and says Thank you. He retrieves the torch and blows gently on it if needed so it gives enough light for him to see decently. He wipes and sheathes his dagger.

After that, he yells up, "How are you folks doing?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:59, Thu 12 Oct 2017.

"We are all alive," Narthian calls back to Haazheel. "Let's keep the caravan far form this place, it is not safe."

Averdante backed off when the vines went abruptly limp, suspicious of some new tactic... but no, it appeared that the plant was dead. Not his doing, most certainly. Maybe something Volsh had done?

However it had happened, he was glad of it. He eyed the vegetable juice on his sword and grimaced. He wasn't sleeping near any of these trees tonight --

Dante moved abruptly away from the others, to where he had a better view.


This message was last edited by the player at 01:14, Sat 14 Oct 2017.

A Successful Hit!  Just as Farian runs to grab the squirrel he notices the vines start to cease their movement.  "Well, it looks like we may have some more meat for dinner."  He sighs, grabs the squirrel, and starts to move down the tree, agreeing with the party that they need to find a different place to camp.  But something niggles the back of his mind.

He gets up and cautiously walks to the room where they found the bloodstain.  If something was in here, would there be anything interesting?  Just as he starts to look around he thinks he sees a vine move, and thinks better of it.  He heads back down the tree with only a dead squirrel richer.

"I'm going to investigate the lights," Averdante says as everyone shakes themselves free of the now-inert vines. He points toward the structures that are likely the public buildings at the core of the tree community. "Something, or someone, is over there."

There might be survivors taking shelter... or some new danger. It was even farther away from where the caravan had relocated itself to than where they stood -- but it was still more than close enough to disgorge a threat in the middle of the night. He preferred to discover what it might be now, rather than being awakened to an attack.

It would be good to have someone else along, at least to report back if something did happen to him. Of course, he wanted to try and sneak up on it for a look, first, and not blindly walk into whatever was out there -- assuming it had been deaf to all the yelling and commotion they'd just made, and that was even possible!
This message was last edited by the player at 01:38, Mon 16 Oct 2017.

"I will go with you," Narthian says reluctantly. "But let us be careful of the plants. I think that it is they that are in charge here. And my studies are not up to the task." Narthian first draws a healing gourd from his gear and consumes it. Then retrieves his lantern and follows the archer.

I'd roll for the healing, but I don't have it marked how much they do.

How much time has passed since Lantamori and Volsh took first watch?  I'd like to post this if it's time to rotate the watch.

Lantamori and her stalwart deputy circled back around to see the bedraggled plant wranglers.

"Who's up for the next watch?" she asked.  "Nothing to report and we didn't have any trouble.  It's been pretty quiet down here.

"I think it's going to be a quiet night."

Haazheel stares at Lantamori. "Quiet? When I yelled for help, I wasn't quiet. Did you hear me?"

"Not as well as I had wished," Sir Aberlayne says.  Despite using her own power on herself, she still doesn't look entirely well.  "Farian, if you have any of Pelor's light to spare, I would be grateful."  She'll sit up and take a look around the room.  "As much as I would like to abandon this place, we never did see what the lights were about.  Nor what all was in this room.  I hope a thing of this size had no competition."
This message was last updated by the player at 04:09, Tue 17 Oct 2017.

In addition to the chest, there is also the sparkling thing embedded in the wall.  Without the distraction of having to fight for your life, Bruenor can see it is a heavy, silver-tipped wooden dart.  The wood looks whole and unmarred by moss, rot, or damp.  The stain below the dart does look like dried blood.



The vine looks fine and tough.  Carefully dried and preserved, it should make a very sturdy rope.  Vish comes running up and plops himself on Dellas' shoulder, chittering reassurances.  He points a paw at the chest in the corner of the room and makes an interrogative sound.



Farian can head down the rope, joining Haazheel, Lantamori, Lask, and Keevak on the ground.





Narthian swallows the potion, and feels relieved of some of his pain.  With Averdante in the lead, a ghost in the dim light, Narthian brings up the rear.  The forest is quiet, aside from the dripping of water from the leaves, and the occasional distant call of a night bird.

Averdante reaches the building with the light first.  He can see this place has some faint carvings in it, the curved moon of Corellon Larethian, the chief god of the elves.  From the size of the building, and the quality of it (blurred by time and neglect) this must have been a temple.  Window on either side show there is an altar inside, a living tree bent to shape, bearing an offering bowl and two magical lights.  Inside, the temple looks oddly pristine, compared to the other places outside.

Narthian catches up with Averdante a few moments later.

Hearing his name, Farian turns around and takes a look at Aberlayne Just before he descends.  Nodding to himself and others, Farian looks in to himself and feels like he has a bit more of Pelor's blessing to share.  "Aye, I can help you out a bit.  But I'm afraid this may be all I have to offer on behalf of Pelor.  I'm feeling a need to spend some time in prayer to replenish myself."

Farian, head bowed in reverance, places a hand on Sir Aberlayne's shoulder and says a short prayer. "Pelor, may your light and grace heal this one's pains,"

---

7 points of healing - This, I believe, is the last healing I can do for the day until tomorrow.  Once we rest I'm going to reset all the spells and healing to what I would like to have rather than the last player.

21:20, Today: Farian Raymellie rolled 7 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 6.  Cast Cure Light Wounds.

"Let us proceed with caution," Narthian says to Averdante in a hoarse whisper. He uses his lantern to reveal anything growing outside of the structure, making note of anything unusual. If it looks safe, he gives Averdante a nod to check out the interior more carefully.

Dellas starts cutting off a good length of the vine before following Vish "yes, yes I'm on my way." He cautiosly approaches the chest, picking a long stick from somewhere and pocking it first.
If nothing happens then he'll approach the chest. Trying to remember where he saw the magical charms laid around the hut.

Bruenor steps further into the room, hovering behind Della and peering down at the little wizards activities.  He's curious to see what's in the chest...

While he's waiting for Dellas to open the chest, he reaches out and flicks the end of the dart embedded in the wall.  He then touches a gauntleted finger against the stained wall and pulls it way, looking...not expecting to see anything but glancing instinctively regardless.

Hearing his companions starting to investigate the building and lights, Farian thinks better of descending just now.  He stows his crossbow, and pulls out his mace and stands at the ready; wary for anything else that might show it's head... or vines.

"Be careful in there."

With Pelor's light closing more of her wounds, Sir Aberlayne seems to breathe easier.  "That helps amazingly, Farian, thank you."

It's clear she's not fully healed yet, but no longer so close to death's door.  No longer distracted by immanent death, she takes a look over at Dellas, heaves herself near him, and gets ready with her shield.  "Careful, little brother."

Volsh considers, and follows Narthian and Averdante.  While not as experienced in stealth, the big barbarian waits until they're in place before following to the temple.  Looking inside as Averdate raises his lantern, he mutters, "Their Ancestor House has lasted longer than any other place.  Maybe their spirits linger here too."

Luth raises an eyebrow at Lantamori, but Keevak just shrugs.

"You all handled those ogres pretty easy," Keevak says.  "Figured she was right and you could handle a plant."

"The boy had a face as pale as milk!  'Tis no dishonor in asking for aid when you need it," Luth points out.  Keevak shrugs again.  "We'll get back to our patrols, lad," Luth says to Haazheel.  "You want to go back up and finish making sure that old place doesn't have any more blood-drinking whatsits?  Or was that the only one?"

--



There's no magical charms that you can recall, but taking up a piece of wood and poking the chest yields no result.  Going closer, you find that the chest is latched firm, but not locked.  With some effort, you eventually get it open.  Despite the moss and damp on the outside, the inside remains dry and well-sealed.  Inside is a wealth of beautifully-made silk clothing.  There are five sets of men's robes, and five women's gowns, along with a long shirt made of very expensive cloth-of-gold.



Luckily the dart does not animate the tree, or turn and impale itself in Bruenor's chest, nor anything else that might happen in a bard's sensational story.  The stained wall comes away with a slight discolored mark on Bruenor's gauntlet, but no more than wet, dried blood and rotting wood would be.

--



With care, the interior can be more closely examined.  Inside, there is a faint hint of incense that lingers.  It is warmer and drier than the damp outside, and feels much more welcoming.  Examining the room with care, Averdante notices something odd.  The altar, there is a bigger space between the legs than their should be, and the floor, while well-made, had a wider grain than normal.  Then it hits him - there's a trap door beneath the altar.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 10:48, Thu 19 Oct 2017.

Dellas jumps for joy "Hey, I found something... but will need help carrying it." He calls out, nodding at Vish "Would you mind looking around for a bit? It will probably take the others some time to get here and carry the chest back."

"Hopefully not spirits," Averdante says quietly in response to Volsh. "Some word or sign that most of them escaped whatever happened here would be good, though." Intrigued by the trap door under the floor, Averdante checks around the alter for any traps or hidden trigger mechanisms, before turning his attention to opening the trap door.

As Averdante examines the trap door, Narthian prepares his bow, nocking an arrow and drawing it back. He stands at an angle such that he isn't directly in front of the opening, but also has a clear view of what is beyond.

Not getting an answer as to why help was delayed, Haazheel Bethinks himself of Detect Magic and attempts to "see" any magical aura above.

Vish takes a look around, but other than the dart that Bruenor found, the stain, the chest, and a few shattered bits that might have once been plates or cups, there's not much more here.

--

Averdante and Narthian and Volsh prepare to open the trap door.  Averdante, with care, finds a small, skill-fully hidden trap on the trapdoor.  It was a magical one, the effect of which would be difficult to determine without setting it off, but with careful work with a dagger to deface the runes that power it, he renders it safe.  It is also locked, but his first attempt is far from successful.  It takes him a few more tries to get it, but eventually he gets it unlocked.  With Narthian and Volsh covering the opening, Averdante flips it open.

It reveals a ladder going downward into the heart of the tree, the laddering seemingly grown from the living wood of the tree itself.  There is a bright light, almost like sunlight, coming from down below.

---



Examining the area for magic, Haazheel detects none under the vine's tree.  But walking a little further around the village, he finds that the largest tree has a faint blotch of both conjuration and abjuration some fifteen feet up.  It feels like the aura is not on the surface, but inside the tree.

Sweating just a bit more than the room temperature called for, Dante was relieved when nothing was triggered by opening the trapdoor. It was always hard to be sure, with magic involved. He needed to work more on his lock picking skills, too -- although he had put some effort into that since the tomb. More than into his swordwork, at any rate... still, there was always room for improvement.

Glancing up, Averdante motions for the others to hold silent a little longer, so he could listen for any hint of movement below. There might have been some kind of alarm on the door, to alert those below when it was opened.

Although, the bright light was far from sinister. He suspected most dead things wouldn't like it at all.

Haazheel calls up about the magic; it appears the others have discovered it.

Narthian appears at the edge of the platform, looking down for Haazheel. When he finds him and makes eye contact, he offers a thumbs up. He nervously waits for Averdante to finish inspecting the ladder-way, not wanting to break the silence. But he does hold his hand up, palm out, indicating for the others to wait before exploring down the hole.

Dellas wonders where the others are and leaves the hut for a moment, looking around and hoping to see them. He shakes his head before going back and shrugging his shoulders, taking some of the clothes out and looking deeper inside the chest.

Haazheel doesn't see anything; he also, to his relief, hears quiet...which probably means an absence of trouble.

Averdante listens carefully, and detects some faint sounds below.  It sounds like someone moving around.  But not walking, more like someone thrashing around in bed?


--



When Haazheel shouts up, Sir Aberlayne looks over the edge and waves at him.  "I'll do make sure the boys are getting in too much more trouble.  Thank you Haazheel!  I'll be on the lookout!"

The look Sir Aberlayne shoots Bruenor is fairly clear: anything happening to her brother under Bruenor's watch will be taken out of his hide his triplicate.  With that, she'll take her axe and trot over to where Narthian and Averdante had gone.

--



Volsh mutters, "Not many spirits abide daylight.  Maybe something still good remains in this place.  Perhaps some old priest has stayed behind?  You elves live long."

Sir Aberlayne pauses at the entrance to the temple as Narthain holds up his hand.  She still looks bruised, and her armor is still dented, but she still looks ready to take anything she must.  "Any more fresh hell?  Or more mysteries?" she asks softly.

--



Bruenor is still here, even if everyone else has wandered off.

Examining the chest with the utmost care and Visk's help, Dellas discovers that there is a false bottom in the chest!  Inside, he finds several scrolls tied up in carefully preserved leaves, along with a bottle of slightly glowing water marked with the crescent moon symbol of Corellon Latherian, the chief god of the elves.

Taking a look at the scrolls, Dellas realizes they're in the Elven tongue, and not understandable to him.  The first several look neat and well done, but the last one looks to be slightly sloppier writing, as if done in greater haste.

--

Down on the ground, Farian (if he wished to descend, if not, he can still be up in the village with the others), Lantamori, Haazheel, Luth, Keevak, and Lantamori carry on with their patrol.  The rain continues off and on, though its is less intense here with so many trees breaking up the downpour.  The smells of cooking start to penetrate the area as Reetha gets close to finishing up the hot stew for the evening meal.

Dellas almost jumps again for joy, his inquisitive nature has once again yielded... well something. He turns half to Bruenor “Can you read elvish? I think I found something interesting here... it could explain what happened to this place.”

Averdante glances up at the others, quietly lowering the trap door until it's almost closed again. "It sounds like someone thrashing around down there -- " he starts quietly, but then breaks off as another thought occurs to him. "It sounds rather like what you lot sounded like trying to get free of the vine." He shrugs, then says, "I don't think the undead would take to the light, but it wouldn't likely trouble a plant, so there may be another one down there?"

Which raised the question of just who or what it had captured....

"I can creep down and see," he offers, although the prospect of another of those plants is worrisome. If Narthian and Sir Aberlayne couldn't free themselves, he has no illusions about his own chances, if the thing catches hold him, of course.

But he's curious enough he already knows he'll take that risk. This is -- or was -- a holy site for elves. If anything fell still remains, it should be cleansed away. But despite his impatience to start down, he waits to see if the others are ready for whatever trouble he may stir up down there.

"No. Let me send a scout. A cold blooded one that the vines should ignore." Narthian chants softly, for what seems to be a longer than normal time. When he's done, a medium sized viper appears about 30' down the ladder. He hisses at the snake, "[Language unknown: Cket ma ieen ee ch ateereave.]"

Casting Speak with Animals, then spontaneous casting Soften Earth and Stone as Summon Nature's Ally II.

Having kept an eye on things while the others investigate the room, Farian gets curious when there is mention of a trap door and some sounds below.

He walks over to the room, still keeping watch and an eye out for anything that might come at them from behind.

"These trees, vines, and such are making me nervous.  Not scared, but with the liveliness of the vines, I'm not wanting to encounter that or the likes again.  Be careful investigating the sounds, my friends."

---

Haazheel yells up, "IT'S ABOUT SUPPERTIME! COME AND GET IT! I'M LEAVING TO HELP REETHA." Haazheel goes to perform do some dishing out.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 20:28, Wed 25 Oct 2017.

Bruenor perks up at the mention of Elven scrolls; not often having need or cause to use the language his parents made him learn as a lower noble.

"Let's have a look, then," he offers a hand out to Dellas.

As he begins reading, he nods along, offering a disjointed commentary for Dellas' benefit.  "Hmm...quite mundane...Greensward, this place.  Bit of a community of artists and craftspeople...some rangers, wizards, and such.  Traded with the local human settlements."

He raises an eyebrow as he continues to make his way through the scrolls.  His narration drops off...and he continues reading, no longer skimming, but reading intently.

When he finally gets to the handwritten scroll, his face drops...no trace of a smile on his lips.  "No...  This is not good...  This place was overrun by..."  Reading the last bit, he stops abruptly and drops the scroll, turning to run - as fast as he can in plate mail - towards the others in the 'temple'.  He calls over his shoulder, "Come Dellas!"

As soon as he's within shouting distance, he yells out towards the others, "Hail! Stop where you are!"

All his excitement vanishes when Bruenor just read but doesn't actually says what's wrong. He grabs some of the clothes and puts them into his backpack as quickly as possible and runs after him. "Wait! What's happening?" he calls out before turning to Vish and with a nod telling him to follow.

Deciding that reptiles are the better part of valor, Narthian's serpent slithers down the ladder with enviable speed.  The others abide above, ears tuned to anything from below.  The snake comes back up soon, and Averdante and Volsh are sure they heard the snake hissing before returning.  The serpent hisses at Narthian, and finally vanished back to whence it was summoned from. 

--

With a clatter of armor and a shout of alarm, Bruenor and Dellas arrive on the scene with all the subtlety of an avalanche just as the serpent disappears.

The noises from below get louder.

--

Below, Haazheel, Lantamori, and the rest of the company begin to dine on hot, fresh food.  Out in in the dripping forest, Lantamori (and Haazheel, via Mystique) hear the distant howl of some wolves.  Thunder, still prowling between the camp and the abandoned town, whines a little, but does not call back to them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:30, Thu 26 Oct 2017.

Bruenor visibly relaxes, seeing his companions still on the platform and not descending into the trapdoor.

He catches his breath for a moment, before straightening up and addressing the others, "Greensward..." throwing out his arm as if presenting their surroundings to indicate the subject he mentions..."They were hunted...stalked...by something evil, if the scrolls Dellas found are to be believed.  Residents started disappearing, and returning as undead versions of themselves."

He pauses, then adds, "Some sort of blood-drinking creature.  After much loss, they apparently found a way to ensnare it beneath the temple, and fled this place."  He glances around at the current surroundings, as if trying to validate whether they were, in fact, in the community's temple.  "Theoretically, it's still there...but whether alive or dead...bound or free...I can't say."

"Caution, friends," he adds unnecessarily.

"Something's down there," Averdante agrees, suddenly wary. He stands and takes a judicious step back from the trapdoor as he takes his bow back in hand. "Bound from the sounds below, but perhaps not for much longer -- I disabled some kind of spell before I opened that." He knocks an arrow reflexively, although if it's some kind of powerful undead, mere steel and wood might be of little effect.

Looking over, he questions, "Narthian?" Hopefully whatever the snake had told the druid would be helpful.

"Close the trap door and lock it," Narthian says. "What Bruenor says is true. The snake saw a great plant and some sort of undead." Seeing Dellas, Narthian waves him over. "Take a look at the sigil Averdante scratched out. Can you tell what sort of spell it was?"

Again Dellas is out of breath and takes a minute to catch it. "Well, let me take a look at it." He walks over to Averdante and requests to see the sigil.

Dellas Nump rolled 27 using 1d20+9.  Arcana

At the mention of undead, Farian turns away from the rear guard and focuses on the trap door.  "Nothing ever comes from the undead.  Let's reseal this door, and make our way out of this wretched place."

Farian again takes up the rear guard watching for anything.  Periodically he looks back to the group with dread on his face when he spies the trap door.  "May the light of Pelor protect us." Farian his hand reflexively reaches towards the carven holy symbol hanging around his neck.  After a few seconds of silent prayer, his hand drops and he again takes up a readied position watching the rear and the trap door.

Nodding, Averdante puts his arrow back into the quiver, and shrugs his bow over one shoulder before moving warily back to the trap door. He closes it gently, then fishes out his tools to try and relock it. At Dellas' question, he pauses to point it out. Then he focuses on the lock, recalling how he finally unlocked it -- and strains to hear any sound coming from below that might presage the thing below coming up that shaft.

The ready shifting of the lock is encouraging.

Enjoying her meal, Lantamori wondered where the missing members of their troupe had gotten off to.  Probably off fighting dandelions somewhere.

With Bruenor's warning and everyone else's caution, they stop themselves from going down the ladder into the lit room.  Dellas examines the spell that Averdante had disrupted.  It takes him a moment, because he quickly realizes the spell it not one he could usually cast until a higher level, but it does involve his favorite energy, fire.  It's a druidic fire trap spell, oriented not up at the ceiling, but rather down the ladder.  He also notes there is a second rune on the underside of the lid itself, a powerful heal spell if someone were to touch it.  Such a spell would be terribly problematic if, say, an undead creature were to set it off.

Thusly warned off, Averdante is able to relock the lock with flair, but replacing the fire trap isn't possible without another casting of the spell (which no one in the party currently has).  Farian delivers his blessing as he does, imparting a little more divine attention to the horror below.

The sounds from below are cut off as the trap door closes, and you are are once again left with the dripping sounds of the rain and the echoing sounds of night birds and wildlife.

Sir Aberlayne breathes a sigh of relief.  "I half want to find whoever didn't put up a warning and deliver a stern lecture, but then again I'd also hate a rumor of challenge and potential riches to rile up some party of reckless, headstrong adventurers and get them into more trouble than they can handle."

Volsh nods, but looks thoughtful.  "Is there anything else in this place but wildlife and captured death?  We have only seen a little of this place.  Is there nothing else here to jump on us during our sleep?  I don't wish to lay my head only to wake up with something trying to leap out of the trees and eat me."

--

Down below Lantamori, Haazheel, and the rest of the caravan are enjoying a hot, satisfying meal under canvas awnings, dry and unmolested by vines or undead.  Thunder paces between the trees of Greensward and the caravan site, whining, but doesn't come under cover.  In the distance, the wolves howl again, a lonely sound in the night.

"I agree, Sir Aberlayne," Narthian says, breathing easier now that the trap door is again locked. "We should put a warning up all around this place in the morning. And I shall send a message to my conclave. This was an elven home, so elves should fix this."

AHA! Fire magic... but there's also healing magic cast on it... it's powerful. More powerful than what I can summon. We should be careful..." Dellas exlcaims. "I guess, there isn't much we can do. Though I'm glad that you can call up upon your kin."

Bruenor shrugs and puffs his chest out a bit...there's a part of him that wants to descend the ladder with his companions and test their mettle against whatever was down there.  He didn't like closing the trap again and...what felt like fleeing.  Did they have what it took to slay this thing?  If the elven community couldn't?

He doesn't know; and he supposes it's best to focus on the job they were hired to do...not run off slaying creatures that weren't an immediate threat to the caravan.

The smells from the meal down below finally reach him.  "I suppose we should lock it up tight, and head down for something to eat.  I trust we haven't weakened the seal on that trap door too much?" he asks hesitantly.  Going down after it while on guard was one thing.  Having it come upon them while they slept was another.

Considering the closed trapdoor, Averdante tells Bruenor, "That's the question, isn't it? Because half the spells warding this are gone now -- and whatever's down there knows someone's up here. That is likely to give it extra motivation to fight to get free."

He glances around at the others, adding, "It's not just ourselves we risk by staying, but all the halflings in the caravan, as well. Perhaps it might be best to advise the caravan master that for the safety of all, we need to move on another mile or two."

Some additional discomfort and inconvenience they would all recover from quickly enough. Whatever was thrashing to free itself below could well be fatal to those they guarded. An entire elven community, with the priests of Corellon's temple here, had only managed to contain it, after all.

"We can come back later and try to destroy it, but we're contracted to protect the caravan right now."

When the work of sealing the trap door is complete, Narthian descends with the others. He shares the tale of what they found with all who are willing to listen.

Haazheel expresses interest in the finds. After he eats, he helps clean up and ready things for a morning meal. Then he finds out what watch he's supposed to take.

Seeing that he is that last to start leaving, and wanting, again, to be cautious in this place, Farian watches as the party descends.  Looking up to the trees, and marveling in their beauty, he is utterly amazed that such devastation has taken place in these trees.

"Pelor, I will never understand why you allow some things to happen.  I know you cannot control the other gods.  Or their worshipers.  I trust that you know the way, and I will follow."

Farian reaches in to his pouch and pulls out a small piece of charcoal.  He walks over to the closed and hopefully locked door.  With his back facing his companions as they descend, he begins to move his hand across the door.  After a short time, his right hand moves slowly to rest at his side, his fingers stained black from the charcoal.

"Hopefully this will help to keep others safe from the perils of the trap door."

As he turns to walk away, there is lettering upon the door.

"If you want to die, please enter this room.
Otherwise, if you want to live, run away as fast as you can."

Dellas nods slowly and watches Farian writing on the door. He nods and asks for the charcoal and continues to write similar messages on the walls and door in different languages before following the others

Draconic, Goblin, Gnome
This message was last edited by the player at 05:40, Thu 02 Nov 2017.

Averdante watches as first the priest, then the little fire mage, write their warnings out. He's not sure he likes Corellon's temple being defaced... but at the same time, it would have been nice if the priests once here had left some kind of warning. The place was beside a trade road!

Bow in hand, he waits for them to leave the building. He doesn't have a charcoal stick, but that won't hold up to the elements, anyway. Once the door is closed, though, he uses the arrowhead to score a few words of his own in to the wood: Danger. Death Within. To that, he adds a rough sketch of Ehlonna's symbol.

Eyeing it critically -- he's no artist, but it's recognizable anyway -- Dante lifts his beautiful Moonbow and holds it up next to the door. It's not really a holy symbol, but he's not a priest, either. Nonetheless, he makes a quick, silent prayer to his goddess.

Satisfied then that he's done what he can for now, he quickly descends to the ground to make certain the caravan master is aware of the hazard nearby, and to collect Preet -- bowl and all, if need be. If they're staying, he needs to get Mask tended to, as well.

Although, he'd really rather they didn't stay. Curious as he is about what's inside that tree, he'd rather not find out by waking up with it at his throat.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Thu 02 Nov 2017.

Narthian can, with a bit of looking around and some judicious sprinkling of meat scraps from tonight's stew, attract a young kestrel.  After writing down your plea and attaching it to the bird, you impress upon him the image of your home and where it lies.  He's off like a shot, taking your words with him.  Hopefully he will be able to bring aid.

While Dellas doesn't have a spell handy to re-ward the door, Narthian could re-ward it tomorrow, as the fire trap spell comes more easily to druids.

Dellas and Farian carefully put a warning on the door in all the tongues they share, which will hopefully give any other curiosity seekers a reason to stay away.

Sir Aberlayne nods her approval.  "Well and good.  If Narthian can re-ward that trap door tomorrow, this place will be as protected as it ever was.  I am definitely all for coming back to this place once we are stronger, though, and putting this evil to rest for all time."  She taps her chin.  "I know the Baroness hereabouts is still recovering from a plague on her lands, but this is something she should know.  I remember Master Deyna sending a message to the Baron of the lands where we were attacked by ogres.  Hopefully she can do the same here.  And I will send a message to Yondalla's order when we get to the next town.  I dislike leaving this alone, but we serve no one well by dying today."

Volsh scowls at the door, then looks at the rest of the village, gloomy in the growing dark.  "If we are not to examine the rest of this place now and make sure nothing else lingers, then I shall take the darkest watch.  I trust this place even less now."

Once all are upon the ground and stories are shared, everyone can get a hot meal (wild game or vegetable stew and fresh flatbread) and tend to their beasts.  Averdante finds Prreet basking in his bowl and looking entirely comfortable.  If pressed, Prreet will place a paw upon Averdante's lips, indicating that anything can wait until the morning, as he is doing the very serious business of snoozing.

Thunder is extremely happy to see Narthian, and spends a great deal of time making certain his friend and hunting partner is in once piece, sniffing him all over and licking him to make sure he is all right.

If you speak to Master Deyna (Sir Aberalyne will certainly tell her about the undead in the hidden chamber, though doesn't mention it to anyone else in the caravan), she shudders in relief that the undead is at least contained for now.  "Aye, I'll send a message to the Baroness.  She should know, at least for the sake of her own people."  She'll find a crow to take a quickly-written message to the manor.

You can divide your watches up and pay close attention to the sounds in the night.  There are more wolf howls, some close, some far, though no lupine figure comes close enough to camp to ever be seen.  There are no unnatural sounds from up above, and by mornings' light, no undead have broken loose.

But something unexpected has arrived.  The crow Master Deyna had sent is back in camp, a small scroll bound to his leg, cawing to be noticed.  The scroll, one unbound and read, is thus:



It is sealed with what looks like an impression of a signet ring with the arms of three stars over an oak tree, identical to what you have seen on the marker stones in this Barony.

Upon hearing the missive read aloud, Lantamori realized Master Deyna's dilemma.  She could let them assist the Baroness or press them to move on with the caravan.

It would be irresponsible to her people and those she'd contracted with to leave the caravan unguarded and worse yet to bring it any closer to this new threat.

"How close are we to the next safe haven?" the elven woman asked.  If they could get the caravan into a town or village, Master Deyna might then be willing to hold fast a day for them to return with aid for the Baroness.

"Half a day, no more than that," Master Deyna says quickly, looking very alarmed at the message.  "Empty Horn, no one would dare be able to come back around here, not ever, if those monsters get a stronghold.  Goddess knows what would happen to anyone left alive."

Haazheel does whatever he can to help ready the caravan to move.

Dellas scribbles new notes in his spellbook as he learns of this new development. He closes his book and walks over to the others “Could I see the letter please?” He turns it over several times and reads it, nodding along. “Well, letting these brutes gain hold of a castle would be less desirable. Though we do have our prior arrangement which I’m not fond to leave or put on hold. A most serious conundrum indeed.” He hands the letter back

Narthian assures Thunder that he is alright, though it was a near thing. "[Language unknown: E ofek ushima mennt o ven Nincfi Forprovor arwesi Ro ritost unai hastr protraand whsiul!]" he says to the wolf.

After Narthian sends his messenger bird, he climbs to the temple and sets his Fire Trap by the trap door. He shimmies back down and looks at the "bleeding" mushrooms and the darkwood stakes found near them. "These are valuable, and will make excellent weapons," he says of the darkwood. "We should find a place amongst our gear for them."

Knowledge Nature: 20:49, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 18 using 1d20+10 ((8)). - Although I suspect that the blood was dripped from above.

Another Knowledge Nature: Wolf Calls Unusual? 21:00, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 26 using 1d20+10 ((16)).

When the raven returns with the message, Narthian face-palms. "Aye-ya! Of course, the ogres with the Silver Sheen! I should have been looking for [Language unknown: artichainugh]! Sorry, that is wolfsbane or belladonna in the Common speech." He takes some time to explain to the others what the herb looks like, and asks everyone to keep an eye out for it. "Even if we do not detour, we may be attacked. We should be prepared!"

He asks one of the mounted party members to act as scout, as Narthian plans to roam the scrub on either side of the road searching for wolfsbane. He also looks for some edible berries (Number of Goodberries when I cast the spell: 21:03, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 4 using 2d4 ((2,2)).)

After a restless night, unsettled by the proximity to some kind of powerful undead, Averdante makes short work of repacking his gear and getting Mask saddled and ready. If Preet is done with his rest, any rocks still in the bowl will be stowed in his saddle bags for later use, and the bowl returned to the cook.

As far as the trouble at the fortress goes, when he hears about it and sees Master Deyna's response, Dante follows up on what seems to be Lantamori's half-voiced notion. "If this would be a great hazard best brought to ruin immediately, perhaps we should get the caravan to that place of safety, and then ride to the baroness' aid?" he asks the caravan master. "You didn't hire us for that, and wouldn't pay us for it -- but it sounds as if the baroness offers compensation, anyway. Or do we send word back to Redhaven of their situation, while we try to travel faster and clear this area before these beseigers notice us?"

It sounded to him as if this threat would make Master Deyna's work in the future more dangerous, but he didn't know how far ahead she would look, nor if there were other roads she could turn to as alternates, if this route became too hazardous. They were contracted to her, right now, so she'd have to temporarily release them to aid the baroness, and wait while they did so.

"That's it, then," Bruenor huffs, speaking with an authority he doesn't have.  "We must see the caravan to Empty Horn, and come back to the baroness' lands before her house falls."

"Master Deyna?  Would you see us abandon the baroness and her people to their fate?  We are committed to your service for the moment, but I must admit their pleading pulls at me."

Dellas examines the letter carefully, and sees that the writing is hasty, the seal slightly worn.  The paper looks to be torn from the bottom of an old scroll.  He discerns no hidden message, but this was no carefully-crafted letter, but a desperate plea made in extreme haste.



The mushrooms are of a sort known as Dead Man's Blood, and grow where undead have fallen.  Eaten fresh, they are noxious, and will certainly make you will.  But dried and powdered and used on weapons, they harm undead.

The darkwood stakes looks like they might have been used, the corpses long gone, but the stakes remaining behind.

The wolf calls seem to be the ones a pack uses to identify each other in their hunting territory.  They don't seem to be unnatural, but they are very coordinated.



"If there are werewolves and undead in the wood, it's more than just disrupting my trade route, it's a bloody hazard to everyone around.  Lad, I can't pay you for this, but if you brave souls are willing to risk it, then I can only bless you for your bravery," Master Deyna says.



"Empty Horn isn't the name of the village, lad, 'tis an oath by those in Yondalla's faith," Sir Aberlayne says, unsheathing her axe and testing the edge.  "She represents the Horn of Plenty, and we'd be emptying it by not saving the Baroness and her people."

"Aye, the village's name is Thalkin, and the sooner we get the caravan lodged, the sooner you can come back.  I'm not carrying anything so crucial that we can't abide while you try to free the Baroness.  This is more bloody important than my trading schedule."  Master Deyna looks decisive, and with Haazheel's help, the caravan is soon packed up and ready to go.

You travel at a goodly clip, as fast as the horses and wagons can safely manage, and are in the small village of Thalkin before the sun is even at zenith.

"Will you leave your horses here, or take them?  Gavin and Maris will tend to them if you'll leave them here," Master Deyna asks you as the caravan pulls in.

"If we don't ride back," Lantamori pointed out, "it will be well after dark before we reach the Baroness' stronghold.

"I think it best we arrive before the sun falls.  They may not be able to hold out much longer."

Haazheel agrees. We should make all possible haste, slowing just enough at near the end to have time to assess and quickly plan.

Dellas looks at each of his companion and master Deyna “May the gods bless you for your words today.” He says to her but turns around to the others “Can we leave our animals in a land that’s in enemy’s hand? These creature eat horse and donkey, don’t they?”

Sir Aberlayne considers as she tightens the girth on Valiant's saddle and swings into place.  "Narthian, can you speak to the horses?  Have them stay out of sight?  Or perhaps tell them to come back here to the village?  Or Valiant is used to defending others, so I could have them lead the herd... though I'd rather have him at my side when we go against these werewolves."

Narthian harvests the Dead Man's Blood mushrooms, knowing that they will be useful when properly prepared. He plans for a method of properly drying them as they travel with the caravan (perhaps buying any necessary kit in the next village). Or perhaps selling them to an alchemist. Survival roll, in case it's needed for the harvest, is in the dice roller."

---

"I will have to prepare the proper incantation, Sir Aberlayne, but that should not be a problem," Narthian says. "Provided that we do not set out until morning. Otherwise I can ask Thunder to watch over the horses. He will intervene in any attack to give the animals time to escape. If these are normal wolves, however, I was thinking that he might challenge the Alpha and become the pack leader. How fantastic would that be?" A great grin stretches across Narthian's face at the thought.

"Morning?" Lantamori said in disbelief as she looked at the noontime sun.  Did the man really propose leaving them stranded for another night?  "We have to go now if our goal is to save as many as we can!

"We ride for the keep as fast as we can and break the siege.  If we break through and need to fight afoot, we'll leave the horses within for safety.  If we fail to break through, the horses will let us run and draw them away for some respite to those in the keep.

"I see no sane plan where we leave them in the woods and skip through the grasses to victory."

Done with this waste of time, the elf swung into her saddle and made haste whence they'd just ridden.

Dellas takes a look around and looks towards Lantamori "The nine of us against a force large enough to besiege a keep? Why not... let's all run to our deaths." With this he walks away to get his honeybee, muttering to himself.

They've not overrun the place; I have hope. As the saying goes, "A mustard seed can tip the scales."

"Lantamori is right, to delay now would be to risk more death.  I say we go before they discover the Baroness sent a message for help," Sir Aberlayne says.  "And little brother, it would not take so many to keep them under siege as you think.  With all of this rumor of 'plague', they could have been steadily picking off the Baroness' people for weeks.  If she were wise, she would have consolidated the rest of her people within her walls, but that would be mostly farmers, gatherers, craftspeople, and game hunters, not warriors.  And if this undead that leads them is truly some kind of vampire, even a lesser spawn of one, they are said to be able to charm and dominate minds with a glance.  With that, the Baroness could have been fighting enemies both from without and within."

Sir Aberlayne casts her eyes over the other mounts thoughtfully.  "With Mask, Cloud, and Demon, as well as my Valiant, we have four war-trained mounts, plus Thunder, of course.  Dellas' Honeybee, we might be able to count on her to keep the other horses, those without training, calm and out of the way, if Narthian explains things to them.  We've got a small division of cavalry between us all.  That might make the werewolves pause enough for Narthian to challenge them."

Dellas rides back on Honeybee and listens to his big sis’ lecture, he nods his head slowly and thoughtfully “Yes, that’s a way to do it... though they should have still called for help long ago. Anyway, let’s get going.”

Bruenor sits quietly listening to the banter.  While Lantamori's hasty departure seems a bit abrupt...they were arriving at a plan, even if somewhat slowly...he's certainly ready to ride out at a moment's notice.  Doing so alone just seemed silly, though.

To Sir Aberlayne, he says, "I think Demon would not forgive me if I deprived him of the battle to come."  He rubbed the nose of his midnight steed, and got a good-natured huff and a half-hearted snap of his teeth.  Demon was still a bit wild, but settling nicely into at least a partnership, if not full submission.

Bruenor swings into the saddle, and sits ready.

"I have some skill with good beasts and will do what I can to help them understand," Narthian explains to Sir Aberlayne and the back of Lantamori. "But I have no spell ready to use their speech. I prepared for danger and battle today, following the scare of the Greensward and the wolf voices in the night. Our best hope for the beasts not trained in battle is to set what guard we can, and let them free to flee at need. Should we survive, we can track them down later."

He turns his attention to Master Deyna. "Does this village have an apothecary, or an herbalist? I found no trace of wolfsbane along the road, and fear that we will need it."

Listening to the conversation, Averdante looks at his horse, then shakes his head and sighs. Looking at the others, he points out, "Charging in like cavalry is fine for those of you who are trained in mounted combat. My horse may be trained for that, but I'm not trained to ride him while he fights. What happens when one of us falls off in the midst of them?

"I agree we need to ride to get there quickly, but once close enough, I'm not sure I want to risk attempting to stay on and fight at the same time. I'd be willing to turn Mask loose to find his own way back, though."

As far as Thunder is concerned, he asks, "If these are werewolves, can they control wolves? The ones we heard last night seemed... organized. As if they worked together. Is Thunder protected from falling under that same control?"

His final question is, "How is the silversheen used? Several of you have indicated it's useful against lycanthropes, but how is it used, and how far in advance can we make those preparations?"

"My faith in the loyalty of my companion is undaunted," Narthian replies to Averdante with total commitment. "But we do not know for sure if these are werewolves. I merely encourage us to be prepared for that contingency. Wolf packs are organized by their nature. And it could be just as likely that any pack nearby is perhaps being lead by a dire wolf or warg."

"The silversheen?  You rub it on your blade before battle.  It lasts... perhaps an hour, less if there is heavy fighting.  Once you put it on your blade you can't sheathe it, and it won't last more than an hour exposed to air," Sir Aberlayne says.  "One of my trainers at the temple helped put down a wererat infestation during her youth, and told us about it.

"Once we get there, how shall we proceed?  We'll be getting there near sundown, and while some of us can see in dim light, you humans can't, and under full night in those trees, things will get tricky.  Haazheel, can your Mystique see if he can find the foe before we get there?  For fair, he is the most silent of us all."

Dellas has stopped and listened to the others. He nods along and puts his hand on the talisman he still wears around his neck, the one he got from the princess. A smile is seen on his face but he stays silent.

Farian, unexpectedly, was in a dour mood, and kept silent through the night from the Greensward to the safety of the town.  After listening to everyone's plans, his love for his god helped to revive him.

"We must help these people out as quickly as we can.  However, if we start off ill-prepared and with no plans we might as well not go."

Listening again to the others plans he says, "Whatever works for the group will work for me.  Will that silversheen be able to be spread out amongst all our weapons?"

"For my part, I am prepared," Narthian says. "For a fight, that is."

"It's better I use the silversheen, or something else, on my arrows," Dante points out. Rather wryly, he adds, "As Narthian can attest, I've no particular skill with the sword."

"Demon and I are prepared as we can be, but some silversheen would be welcome on my blade should we be able to acquire some."

Bruenor pats the horse's neck as he leans over from the saddle; and Demon lets out a snort, almost as if on cue.

"Sir Aberlayne raises a valid point, though...as the light wanes, it will become difficult to fight effectively.  I have none of the darkvision that some of you may sport.

If we can arrive before sundown, perhaps we can at least fight our way through to the keep to pass the night, even if we can't wholly dispatch the enemy?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Tue 14 Nov 2017.

Haazheel seems impatient to be off but realizes that the ongoing conversation, which will only take a short time, could be valuable.

"Indeed, I do not think we can plan much without knowing more of the enemy. If we head out now, we can use the cover of night to scout and plan accordingly."

While honeybee eats some of the grass, Dellas puts his elbow on her shoulder "I agree, let's get there first and we'll see more. Attacking as soon as we arrive would be foolish, let's get there and try to gather more intel before planning until these creatures have stormed the keep and then it will truly be tough to get them to leave."

Thusly agreed, the group can ride out.  Volsh reluctantly borrows one of the horses from Gav and Maris so he can keep up, as he had been riding on the wagons.  You ride hard through the rest of the day, and arrive back at Greensward a few hours before twilight.  You've kept alert through the ride, and haven't heard any more howling or seen anything obviously suspicious yet.

Greensward still remains in its eerie silence, but now you know what lies beyond, and that seems to give the abandoned village a bit more menace.

"You said you can keep these beasts not trained for battle here?" Volsh says to Narthian, swinging down from his horse immediately.  "And where is this Baroness' lodge?  If these wolf-men are denning near there, maybe we can catch them before they go on the prowl."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:29, Fri 17 Nov 2017.

Still a bit disgruntled that it had taken the others so long to catch up with her, the elf was concerned at Volsh's question.

"Are you saying that during all that talking, no one asked Master Deyna how to get to the keep?" she asked, hoping the hairy human had just not been paying attention.

Sir Aberlayne turns beet red as Lantamori asks her question.  "Um... no.  I did not.  Did anyone else?" she asks plaintively.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 16:58, Fri 17 Nov 2017.

Haazheel shakes his head. "Nor did I. Let's assume that those who fled the village went to the castle and see if we can tell which road was traveled by many in haste."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 16:59, Fri 17 Nov 2017.

Farian, mounted and following, nods in agreement as they head off towards the keep.

Dante dismounts from Mask as well, and resettles his quiver. He may have been acquiring time in the saddle of late, but has never done any fighting on horseback. Shooting arrows at the ogres yesterday didn't count; he'd simple ridden from one point to another, then stopped to shoot. Not at all the same as trying to shoot from a moving horse -- let alone one trying not to get bitten, or trying to fight back. If he was going to be on the ground with the creatures, he wanted to be there of his own accord.

When Lantamori's question about where they're going is raised, he points out, "If Mystique can't direct us from overhead, I'm sure Thunder can home in on the howls. The things are supposed to be besieging the keep, so where they are is where the keep is."

"The horses may be as safe here as anywhere," Narthian says. "And Master Deyna's raven flew off in that direction carrying the message. Remember the last road intersection? It went off in that general direction as well. The road will be watched, however, if I know anything of military strategy. We should make our way overland." The druid speaks with the animals to be left behind in his strange, druidic tongue. The more intelligent of them seem to take his meaning. "They will wait as long as there is no threat, and flee if they must," he tells the others. "Or such is my hope. If is difficult to be sure without the Gift of Animal Speech. Come, follow me. Quietly if you can, at a distance if you cannot. I will lead the way in the wilderness." When all are ready, he heads off in the direction where the keep is believed to be.


Survival check (DC 15 "to keep from getting lost" i.e. know or guess where the keep is?): 20:23, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 16 using 1d20+10 ((6)).

Handle Animals: 20:25, Today: Narthian Goldleaf rolled 27 using 1d20+9 ((18)).

Dellas was actually half asleep when they arrived on jerked awake “The feather!” He calls out but looks around then and calms down, petting Honeybee “I might have to leave her somewhere with green pastures... she’s too comfortable to ride.” He notices the others getting off their horses and leads his Honeybee to those left behind “Stay with these horses and kick anyone that’s not us and wants to take you.” He then follows Narthian extremely quietly

Dellas Nump rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  Move silently.

Lantamori shook her head as she wondered what all the planning was about if they didn't even know where the keep was.  Still on Cloud, she fell in at the rear of the group.  She wasn't leaving her behind to be eaten or wander off.

It seemed to her that their plan was to arrive after dark when almost half their number wouldn't be able to see and then hope that they could outrun wolves or wolf men while afoot.

The elf had to admit that following the wolf calls was a good idea.  Though she suspected that they wouldn't start up again until after darkness fell.

She pondered if it would be faster to ride back and ask Master Deyna for directions.

Haazheel falls in line with Narthian's suggestions.

Bruenor stays mounted on Demon, and waits for the others to make their preparations with their mounts or themselves.  He was keen to get moving before the sun set.  He still hoped they might somehow reach the keep, and could come out to fight the enemy on his group's own terms.

Dante set out after Narthian, flanking him a short distance away on the opposite side as Thunder. Bow in hand and arrow nocked -- for whatever good an ordinary arrow would do, if they encountered anything lycanthropic without time to prepare weaponry first -- he kept alert for any hint of their prey. Or any other trouble that might have the misfortune to find itself in their path.

Haazheel follows, crossbow ready. He tries to keep an open shooting lane ahead of him.

Narthian spends some time gentling the animals, particularly the trained ones like Mask, reinforcing his "stay" command.  He can tie the animals loosely to some nearby bushes, enough to give them room to graze, not so tight that they couldn't pull free and run if they ended up in danger.  If nothing goes terribly wrong, the horses should stay at least around the area for a day or so.

With Narthian and Thunder in the lead looking for tracks, most of the party on foot, and the few mounted people trailing in the rear (to avoid trampling tracks and to let the scouts be stealthy), the group heads off in the direction of Master Deyna's raven.  Narthian's vision is keen enough that the approaching twilight gloom gives him no trouble, and he examines the ground and forest carefully as he moves, Thunder sniffing for foreign scents.

It takes a couple of hours, and the sun is nearly down by the time Narthian strikes a human-made trail.  From some blazes on the trees, and the remnants of a few snares, he estimates this is likely where huntsmen from the manor would start their rounds.  It takes a little longer to trail back to the manor while keeping as stealthy as possible, but eventually you see the spires of the towers, the crenelations of the walls of the manor just above some short trees.

Averdante, you're also fairly certain that you've heard some wolf sounds off to the north, but they're not within immediate reach.  Perhaps a mile or so away, maybe.

The walls of the manor are lit up with what looks like a combination of torches and magical light, though you see no one on the walls themselves.  The manor also has a moat, and a drawn-up drawbridge, which may be why this manor hasn't get fallen to the depredations of werewolves and undead.

You are perhaps a little under a half-mile away from the manor walls, and the sun is finally going down...

Dellas peeks out from a bush "I hope we're sure of this... how can we enter?" he looks around for Vish and finds him on his shoulder, placing him gently on his head "Keep your eyes and ear open for me, will you?"

Dellas Nump rolled 5 using 1d20+3.  Spot, Vish.

"Bruenor and I could ride for the keep and convince them to open the way while you make haste to catch up with us," Lantamori proposed.

"If we drew out an overwhelming force, you would be closer to the woods for cover.  Though if they are wolves," she added, glancing at Thunder, "they'd have no trouble tracking you down."

"This does not look to be a siege," Narthian says warily. "At least, not in the classic sense. I, for one, prefer not to get trapped inside. Thus, I agree with Lantamori to a point. He and Bruenor should ride to the gate, and get what additional information they can." He gathers his bow and nocks an arrow. "I want to get the lay of the land." He prepares to head out, pausing for now to see if any better plans or adaptations are suggested.

Farian listens as the others discuss what they see and he looks towards the fortress as the sun lowers in the sky.  He also doesn't see anything like a traditional siege occurring at the fortress.

"I would suggest we hold our actions.  We have just only come upon the fortress being attacked, and nothing looks ... well ... out of the ordinary."

He gestures to the north, and the fortress.

"They are ready, and lit for an attack, and we can hear something to the north.  I would like to render aid as I can, but I do not want to be caught by something that I know not what comes."