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."