Perrato awoke early in the morning, glancing out the window of his little room to see that the dawn mists were already being burned away by the newly-risen sun.  The day promised to be hot.

Perrato cast his mind back to last night's dinner.  He had been delighted that he had encountered his cousin Dominique--another devotee of Vagrani and one of his fellow acolytes back at the Vedian monastery.  Over a simple dinner of roasted quail, spring greens, and a bottle of warm Vedian red, the two clerics had spoken of their travels and experiences in the service of Vagrani.  Dominique had indicated that his path lay westward, where he had felt a divine calling to lend his skills and devotion to the folk of the Leaflock forest.  Cousin Dom had been traveling with a group of adventurers, but their paths were diverging.  Thus, he had elected to return west in the company of a ranger and a bard.

Perrato had then told his own story--a story involving his passing through the hamlet of Gorse on a mission of healing.  Apparently, the orcish activity in the hilly regions along Paldor's marches had been virtually unprecedented this spring--only a few greybeards could recall such virulent raiding and pillaging within the past forty or fifty years.  Perrato had been engaged in healing some of the ravages that had been visited upon the villages and farmers in the region, as well as helping the ragtag units of Paldorian militia take down some of the orcish raiding parties.  During his stay in Gorse, however, the Palonish cleric had been tapped to travel to the Fortress of the Sword, where he was to meet with one of the former commander of the Fortress--a Captain Garlings.  Garlings was to travel to Borderton to reinforce that town, and needed a cleric to deal with some issue involving an escaped prisoner and the potential for arson.  Upon arriving in town with Garlings and his men, however, it seemed that the arsonist had been apprehended and that, with the exception of the loss of the Pilgrims' Rest, no real damage to the town had occurred.  Thus, Garlings had withdrawn his claim on Perrato's Vagranian oath to travel and offer succor to others--essentially leaving Perrato at liberty to do what he chose.

After hearing this story, Dominique poured more wine for both men.  Dinner had been taken in the little room in the rectory that Perrato had been accorded as a Mithran cleric, and the setting sun slanted through the room's windows, spilling its rich ruby light across the simple wooden table that held the plates and glasses.  Dominique smiled, and then requested that his cousin consider traveling with a certain group of adventurers.  "Consider, my cousin.  You are free to wander for now, and I feel a strong pull back to the forests--trees and water figure prominently in my dreams, and I awake with the familiar pull to the west that tells me Mithras and Vagrani desire my presence there.  But you...you have been called eastward, and I think it no coincidence that we have met here, kith and kin to one another, at a crossroads of sort.  I urge you...join with these friends of mine.  They are in need of some guidance, but they are valiant and brave.  They seek the whereabouts of a caravan that has apparently been waylaid.  While much of their motivation stems from the desire for gold, there is a core of honor amongst them."

Perrato had indicated that he would consider this possibility, and the talk turned to friends and family far away in Vedia--memories and stories kindled by another bottle of wine.  Thus the evening had grown into night, and Perrato said goodbye--not without a tinge of sadness--to his cousin.

The Palonish priest now sits, watching the long shadows of morning shorten almost imperceptibly, and considers his decision.

Perrato considers the threats posed by increasing strife and disorder on the eastern reaches of the empire to free flow of travel and trade among the peoples of Arret and lowers his gaze contemplatively to the holy symbol on his pendant.

"I can trust my cousin's judgement perhaps even farther than my own. If Dominique believes they are honorable souls, there is little objection I can make to their company. The path that they are likely to take coincides with that which I'd have to take to serve the interests of our sect. There is nought left but to meet these hardy souls."

After a ritual prayer for safe passage and good judgement Perrato prepares for his journey with determination and a spring in his step.

"Though rumored to be fond of wealth and treasure, I imagine that these men must possess great judgement of their own. I only hope that I have enough mettle to offer them valuable assistance. I go where Vagrani carries me..."

As Perrato ruminates on Dominique's words and continues to gaze out the window after his prayers, a strange entourage meanders into view.  Six mounts, variously ridden by a rather colorful cast, are framed in the windows of Perrato's second-story room.  Dominique's words come back to the priest, as he looks at the new arrivals.

"The human rogue has more honor than most I have met...in a different path, he could well have become a man of the Church.  His is a voice of reason."

"The halfling is fiercely loyal to his family--and now, I believe--to my comrades...although he is a devotee of the old goddess Danu, and is somewhat mistrustful of our faith."

"The sorcerer is often reckless with his safety, but is remarkably adept at extricating himself from harm.  He usually speaks for the party, and is quite persuasive."

"There is a man from the monasteries to the East--Asher is his name.  He seems both very, very competent--he managed to save two lives in a burning building--and, along with the rogue, the most apt to listen to measured reason and discourse."

"A recent, chance-met acquaintance has fallen in with my comrades...to his chagrin, perhaps.  He is a bit brooding, but seems to act with honor and restraint.  He rescued a guardsman in town, and lent his efforts to the defeat of the madman I spoke of earlier.  I believe he is trustworthy, and of a good nature."

A long pause had intervened between the previous comment and Dominique's next.

"The big one...with the orcish blood.  I believe he has little tolerance for our faith, and is quick to ridicule it.  I cannot say that I ever placed trust in him, although I would have given my last Mithran blessing to him and fought next to him until the last."  Dominique had paused, and then smiled.  "But such is the way with our faith and teachings, eh, my cousin?  We are tasked to do and act in accordance with our own conscience and the Mithran faith, even if such efforts draw scorn or opposition."  Dominique had clapped a hand on Perrato's shoulder, and the two had returned to fresh glasses of wine and reminiscences of family.

Perrato considered the group that was congregating in the open area below the rectory, startling a brother who had been tending the medicinal garden.  They fit Dominique's descriptions, and appeared to be the selfsame party that Dominique had urged him to join.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:01, Wed 06 Apr 2005.

Garryn dismounts carefully and then addresses himself to the startled monk "Pardon me, er, brother, we didn't mean to startle you. I was hoping I could speak with one of your order, his name is Perrato, I believe. Would you happen to know if he is about? Or could you direct me as to how I might locate him?"" Garryn asks repectfully though he is unsure if the man should indead be called 'brother' or 'priest' or any other name for that matter.

The brown-robed acolyte straightens up, brushing some earth and leaves from his knees as he does so.  He bows his head in acknowledgement to Garryn's questions, and mutely points to the upper story of the rectory.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:52, Wed 06 Apr 2005.

Totmacher dismounts as well, relieving the strained horse in the process.

Looking upward in the direction the Brother is pointing, "Is that also the way to the trough, priest?  Totmacher needs to be topped off.  Totmacher presumes you had a bountiful harvest this past year and plenty of well fed cattle."

"Vil, you better get that brother of yours under control!" Garryn calls to the mischievious half-elf and continues muttering inaudibly as he rushes to meet Perrato before Totmacher is discovered. I should have come alone and brought him back to the inn, Garryn thinks with regret. If only we didn't need his axe so badly.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Vil dismounts his horse.  Releasing Mal'ach into her standard overwatch position, Vil then moves into the rectory with the rest of the Party..
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Thu 07 Apr 2005.

The brown-robed acolyte shakes his head at Totmacher's queries, clearly puzzled as to the half-orc's meaning.  Another, older man emerges from a small shed nearby, bearing a hoe and little spade and dressed in the same brown robes as the other man.  The older man, thin-framed and with wispy gray hair, bows to the new-comers and hands the hoe to the younger acolyte, smiling at the half-orc in the process, and nodding familiarly to Asher.  Both men maintain silence.

As the rest of the party enters the Rectory, Villhalas pauses momentarily. Feeling the eyes of the Acolyte upon him, Vil allows a brief smile to cross his face before turning to address the man..  After a moment, Vil turns on his heal - offers a slight bow and addresses the Elder Acolyte.

"Good Morning to you Sir.  Please - let me introduce myself.  My name is Villhalas of Cameron"  (if no recognition at the name,  Vil will make a brief reference to their successful capture of the Crazed Thin Man)  "Our party is soon to be departing Borderton - looking to provide aid to those who have been waylaid on the Road in from Deuxchay.  As you may have heard, many of the caravans coming West have been met with brigands - and worse, the Undead - so it sounds.  I seek your aid."  At this, Vil produces a handful of empty vials.  "Could you find it in your grace to offer some Blessed Water - in support of this Mission?"

20:21, Today: Villhalas of Cameron rolled 26 using 1d20+13. Diplomacy check - Acolyte.

Hopefully, this roll should bring the Acolyte to a "Friendly" or better status (given our reputation...)  ???

Jas

PS - please note - this is the abbreviated, to-the-point version of Vil's speech.  In reality, he would take some time to small chat w/the man probably before going into his request...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:20, Thu 07 Apr 2005.

Garryn continues past the older acolyte after speaking to the first and instead moves into the building and up the stairs in the direction he was pointed. He turns briefly to see the rest of the party gathering for a discussion with the monks that seem to be under vows of silence, he shakes his head in wonder and presses onward to find Perrato.

Totmacher will allow his older brother an opportunity to do this his way.  If unsuccessful, Totmacher may use Intimidate to receive the blessing.  For now he waits.

In response to Vil's request, the older man merely shakes his head in the negative, still smiling, and makes an open-handed, shrugging gesture.  The younger acolyte, hoe in hand, turns his attentions back to the medicinal garden, weeding and working around the cultivated plants.

Asher hops down from his mount and offers a deep bow to the elder acolyte and addresses Vil, "These men are devoted to the service of Mairya-Canha, and are thereby sworn to silence."

Asher smiles, again to the elder, in an attempt to break the awkwardness of the situation. Recognizing Totmachers posture behind his half-brother, Asher adds for Tot's benefit, "Mairya-Canha is the Mithran Amentos Spanta of Death. It is with this man that I have trained these past days." Hoping that Tot will understand the statement for what it is, a warning that Tot is probably out-gunned here.

"Pehaps we should join Garryn in inviting Dom's cousin to join us."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:44, Thu 07 Apr 2005.

OOC:  LOL - Whoops.  I'm claiming the haze of pain here (pinched a nerve in my back).  I should have recognized that for what it was before going into my [wasted] ploy at diplomacy..

Vil nods in response to Asher's explanation.

"Ah hah.  I see - a Mute..  Very well.  Let's attend to the original meeting then."   Vil offers a brief nod to the Acolytes "Good Day to you Gentlemen..."

Vil then looks to Tot w/a brief shrug of his shoulders as if to say - "Ceist La Vie"

V
This message was last edited by the player at 09:32, Thu 07 Apr 2005.

Totmacher addresses Asher, "Just show Totmacher the way to the kitchen, Monk.  Totmacher is not selective--provisions can be either dead or alive, as long as it is enough to fill the gut."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Thu 07 Apr 2005.

Asher replies, "I believe you would be more comfortable in the stable. And I am not the stable boy."

With this he turns on his heel and follows Garryn into the rectory.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:59, Thu 07 Apr 2005.

"Come on guys - let's head inside.  Tot - Once we're done here, I'll buy you, well - I would say 'breakfast'.  However, considering we just had breakfast less than an hour ago, I guess we'll have to settle for a mid-morning snack..  Fair Enough??"

"Besides - I'll want your take on this new Recruit of ours..."

V

Placing the last of his worldly belongings in the saddlebags he has been preparing for his mount, Perrato shakes the cobwebs out of his absent-minded head and heads down the stairs to meet with the group congregated outside the rectory.

The rectory is not a large structure, and Garryn is faced with a small, flag-stoned kitchen as he enters through what is clearly the back door of the building.  Dried herbs hang in abundance from the heavy rafters of the kitchen, and the savory smell of a broth or stew emanates from a large, covered cauldron sitting upon the kitchen's hearth, as it simmers upon a banked but active fire.  Although the windows are open to allow the morning air in to cool the room, it is still quite warm due to the fire.

A doorway opens from the kitchen into a hallway, and a narrow wooden staircase climbs steeply upwards from the kitchen, as well.  Footsteps are heard descending the stairs--sounding a bit burdened--and a man emerges, carrying some traveling gear and a set saddlebags slung over his shoulder.  He has a certain familial resemblence, in Garryn's eyes, to Dominique.

Villhalas and the others are arriving at the outer door to the kitchen.  Caylin remains outside, and contents himself with reloading his pipe, lighting it, and watching the older man and acolyte work the garden.

Perrato looks up beneath the burden of his travel gear and approaches to meet the rogue with the serious mien. "Hola, amigo. You seem to be the man described to me as Garryn, no?" The cleric glances at the rear entrance to the kitchen, observing the other assembled members of the party on the threshold. "Ah, si, and the others whom my cousin mentioned. Dominique has spoken...," speaks Perrato as he audibly gulps and pauses to catch his breath at the sight of the hulking half-orc,"...ah, has spoken...well...ah, of you. Sino...quiero decir, ah, rather he has spoken well of you. Indeed, quite so, quite so." With a half-stumble he sets his gear noisily to the floor, and steps forward with his head slightly lowered and hands folded. "I am Perrato Viatomagne...Dominique's cousin, yes? Perhaps there is some way I can be of service to such intrepid travelers as yourselves...," stammers the priest as he extends his hand to greet the group.

"I am  Garryn, for a fact, and you have a sharp eye. Dominique, has spoken very highly of you, Perrato. Dom's departure has left a void and we would be very pleased if you would join us on our path. We are seeking the whereabouts of a caravan due some days ago that we believe was waylaid by bandits. We offer you an equal share of all booty acquired during our travels together and perhaps in finding and retrieving the caravan we will be aiding Bordertown with its bandit problem," Garryn introduces himself to the cleric and reaches to help him with his gear. "Our horses are right out back and we plan to depart immediately if that is amenable to you? Come let us step outside and I will introduce you to the other members of our intrepid band."

Eyeing the Kitchen, Totmacher addresses Perrato.

"Dominique, Totmacher will require fuel before we begin our journey.  We have strength in numbers, that is, the number that equates to the diameter of Totmacher's arms."

The cleric opens his mouth to speak, blinks, and pauses to wonder how the barbarian is unable to distinguish him from his cousin and yet still able to make complex, self-aggrandizing witticisms involving geometrical terms. "Ah, si, if you are in need of nourishment, it can be found here. It is the pleasure and duty of those who adhere to the sect of Vagrani to provide for the well-being of travelers."

Perrato then turns to Garryn and says, "I am pleased to meet you, sir, and I look forward to meeting your comrades. Please, if you will, number me among them, as well. As Dominique advised, I wish to join your band."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Fri 08 Apr 2005.

"Perrato.."  Villhalas states with some enunciation - while giving Totmacher a sideways look  "Dominique has spoken very highly of you.  I trust he has also provided you some background on our Party..  I am Villhalas - and this" Vil nods in the way of the white, small-eared owl taking perch on his shoulder "is Mal'ach.  Pleasure to make your acquaintance.."

V
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Fri 08 Apr 2005.

Asher nods respectfully to the priest and addresses him, "You are prepared to travel," in an open ended tone that leaves some question as to whether the utterance was a inquiry or a declaration.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:26, Fri 08 Apr 2005.

Perrato clasps his hands and nods respectfully at Villhalas and Asher in turn. "Very pleased to make your acquaintances," he says as he glances in Mal'ach's direction,"and a very fine bird you have, as well."

The cleric reaches for his gear, stops for a moment, staring at the kitchen wall as he draws a breath before saying,"Do not think me too daft, but while I am clearly prepared and committed to travel I am unsure exactly where it is that we are headed. Might someone illuminate our situation for me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:20, Sat 09 Apr 2005.

"I will explain that as soon as you have met everyone. This diminuitive smokestake is Caylin Direbrook, he is our marksmen. Hau'dn is a new member, and I judge him fair with both blade and spell but his singing is astounding, and beside him is Asher Willbourne another newcomer, who perhaps you have met already? He is a stalwart combatant and possessed of great athletic abilities. Now you have met all of our number and so I shall answer your question. Totmacher met an individual 5 days ago that claimed to have been with a caravan that we were hired to meet here in Bordertown. The caravan is three days late and according to the man's story that is because bandits intercepted it and have been blocking trade to Bordertown," Garryn paused for a moment to let the story sink in then continued, "We are going to find the caravan, which in all likelihood means the bandits. Hopefully, this will lead to a substantial return and make travel safer for this area at the same time."

Perrato's eyes widen as he considers Garryn's words. "Que lastima...ay...yes, we should aid these unfortunate traders. Yes, yes..." The priest lifts his gear and says,"I shall collect my horse, Eco, immediately. Safe passage...very important, si, very important." He starts for the door nodding to Caylin and Hau'dn as he makes his way. "Mucho gusto, amigos. I do look forward to the trip."

This message was deleted by the player at 15:33, Sat 09 Apr 2005.

Asher will extend a parting bow to the elder acolyte as he crosses back to his mount. After a brief check of his gear, he swings up and takes a second to steady himself in the saddle.

Practicing with the reigns, he turns his mount to face the rest of the party, and waits; eager to be on the road.

Totmacher proceeds to raid the rectory's kitchen for comestibles, turning up a ham and several cold, roasted prairie hens.  Grabbing a loaf of crusty, still-warm potato bread and a bottle of wine, the half-orc has the makings of a reasonable snack.  During his foraging, the elder man walks in, smiles and nods to the party, and proceeds upstairs.  Asher, preparing to depart, bows to the man, and the older man responds in kind.

Perrato makes a beeline for the Caravanaserai, where his mount is stabled.  Paying the handful of Spokes and Drakes for feed and stabling, the Palonish priest is soon leading his mount back towards the rectory.  Upon arriving, he finds his newly-met comrades mounted and ready to ride--an extra horse in tow.  Mounting up, Perrato joins the party as they set out for Borderton's town gates.  The older man, having reemerged from the rectory, lifts his hand in a silent farewell and benediction.

The guards at the gate wave the party through, although their eyes linger on the big half-orc.  The town watchmen are guarding the gate, but two others--armored and with surcoats bearing the Imperial Pegasus--are present as well.  One nods to Caylin, saying simply, "Fortune's favors, Bellitor."  The halfling nods back, replying, "Strong walls, Bellitor."

The mounted companions swing towards the east, and are faced with a long, dusty trail that winds its way along the shoulders of the Blackthorn Hills in a roughly northeasterly direction.  Other than a couple of shepherds grazing their flocks on the nearby hillsides, no signs of habitations or civilization lie ahead.  To the west and behind them, the ramparts of the Perrinth Wall loom--Paldor's border and defense against the tribes, monsters, and brigands of the Central Wilds.

To the east, the sun continues to rise in the sky, already blazing down on the dusty caravan trail.  Cicadas thrum a monotonous counterpoint to the hot silence of the sun's glare, and the wheeling choreography of the cliff swallows over the shrubby meadows near the trail provide the only observable movement.  The party begins to follow the ancient caravan route eastward, cantering their horses along this fabled path.  Small explosions of dust arise from every animal's hoof as it strikes the trail.  Distantly and faintly, the tolling of nine chimes from the Caravanaserai and Mithran shrine back in Borderton reach some of the sharper-eared party memebers.

In the hot, sleepy sunshine of the beginning of Yearscusp, the companions have left the imperial lands of Paldor for the wilds.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:49, Mon 11 Apr 2005.

Looking back on the protected walls of Borderton, Vil is somewhat surprised at the unEase-iness welling up in him.  As much time as was spent there - Borderton became like a second Home to him.  As a result, much of his recent training was oriented to the corruption and related exploits of urban life - as opposed to the raw survival skills that seem to be needed for the road ahead of them..

Shaking off his angst, Vil turns his attention Round to more immediate matters - and calls over his shoulder to Hau'dn: "Well Ranger... What do you think - will you be able to pick up Mahatmer's trail??  Or at least - a fresh set of tracks leading into the hills..?"

Fishing for his Freshly Filled Flask, Villhalas takes a long pull - and then tosses it back into the cool confines of one of his saddle Bags.

After a moment of humming an age-old travel song to himself - to calm his nerves perhaps - Vil raises a free hand to his shoulder where Mal'ach patiently waits..

V

OOC:  I gotta Bad feelin' about Traveling East you guys.  Who in the hell's idea was this anyway??
This message was last edited by the player at 04:01, Tue 12 Apr 2005.

Garryn looks back from his position in the lead to the rising cloud of dust behind them and shakes his head. I guess we aren't sneaking up on anybody, he thinks to himself as he turns his attention forward to make sure that nobody is sneaking up on them.

Life as a Public hero, and the Image the party gained from it, had a Limited appeal to the young monk. Wandering the roads seemed more in tune with the search for truth. Asher drew a deep breath, filled with the dust raised by the hoofs in front of him, as his fingers drummed a traveling rhythm on the saddle horn.

He was glad to leave behind the political Power, the merchant Corruption, And the Lies of the brothels (Asher strongly doubted that the girls that lurked about outside these places were of the Age Of Consent). Outside of the mithran rectory, the city offered Asher nothing but Confusion regarding the essence of man; there had to be more than the lure of commerce that drew people to live in a place like Borderton.

Travelling offered Asher the chance to indulge his Love of meditation and perhaps a chance for the party to act as Vigilantes; exacting their own frontier justice on the bandits who jumped the missing caravan. And for him, that was reason enough to be here.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Tue 12 Apr 2005.

"So Cay, you spend your training with those fellows?" Garryn calls back to his small friend. All things considered he was glad to be out of the town. As the city faded in the background so to did Garryn's worries. He needed a break from the constant concern that Totmacher would do something stupid again, at least on the road his opportunities to foul up the works were significantly diminished. Besides out here the big muscle-head could not only take care of himself but he'd make up for being such a fantastic pain in the ass in bordertown. Garryn could already feel the tension in his shoulders easing, it was good to be on the road again.

Wobbling and jostling a bit awkwardly atop his mount, Perrato nonetheless grins at the prospect of seeing new places as he lurches forth on his journey.  "Villhalas, you speak of a Mahatmer. I imagine that this person has something to do with our current trek, no? Is he either among the bandits and the victims we will be encountering? Also, por favor, what do we know of these bandits and the recent distress they have caused?"

"Aye - he does indeed Perrato.  My apologies for not explaining this earlier.  Mahatmer is - we believe - the sole survivor of the Caravan we were to rendevous with in Borderton.  The rest of his party was apparently slaughtered enroute from Deuxchay.  From the information I was able to gather in town, it sounds as though a number of other caravans have met with similiar fate - in effect choking off the trading routes from the Perinth East."

Vil clears his throat of the rising dust and continues -

"Totmacher had the opportunity to meet up with Mahatmer before he left town.  He had mentioned that he was headed for the foothills.  Our intent is to see if we can't pick up his track - find him - and get some additional information as to what awaits us ahead."    Here Vil looks over to Hau'dn - to see if he can get a sense of how the Ranger is coming along with his initial attempts at Tracking.  "It's a long shot, I must admit.  If we're unable to locate him, We're on to Plan B.."    At this, Villhalas offers the newly arrived Cleric an enigmatic smile..

V

Totmacher sits upright, mammoth shoulders gently rocking up and down to the rhythm of his steed.  His experience at riding is quite apparent.

He reflects on the Central Wilds before he was enslaved for a second time--running with a small band of mentally unbalanced humanoids.  The bloody engagements with those that dared to challenge him--the pillaging of tribes that were deserving of Totmacher's vengeance...sounds now radiate through Totmacher's head...echoes of the soon-to-be-dead calling and yelling in utter fear and confusion, the crackling of fire, bones splintering and skulls shattering--unbridled chaos...the Wilds will have him face his past again, a past plagued with violence and pain...his mouth begins to sweat with anticipation...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:52, Wed 13 Apr 2005.

This last line catches Ashers ear. This is the second time the one called Villhalas has hinted at a stop in the Central Wilds. The thought of meeting the nescient clan of Totmacher brings with it an involuntary grimace and shudder. Asher would rather stable with the horses than share a meal with his kind. Their inchoate Wills being more akin to common instinct, and less evolved than that of a domesticated dog.

Asher finds himself hoping that the party will be set upon by brigands so that they may avoid the "family reunion".
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Wed 13 Apr 2005.

"This Plan B of which you speak, what might that entail?" asks Perrato, hoping with an suprising intensity that the ranger can pick up the trail.

"Ah yes -- Plan B..."  Villhalas begins to summarize the planning sessions the group had discussed prior to departing the Sparrow & Briar..

V

OOC:  have to run to work. sorry for the short post.  We're thinking of paying a visit to Totmacher's Clan in the Central Wilds Tom(enroute to Deuxchay).  Sounds like fun, no??  =)

I believe this is the origin of plan "B", as quoted from Villhalas in the OOC thread:

"Or... we could make for the Road to Deuxchay (recall Vil's desires to make for Rimsedge).  And perhaps, along the way, we could make a brief layover in the Central Wilds - Home to Totmacher.  Experience a bit of Half-Orc Hospitality (Appalacian Syle)..  Now *that* sounds entertaining to me."


OOC: While Asher's racial/intellectual predjudices leave him opposed to the idea, I think it would be great fun to meet Tot's mother; if for nothing else, just to get a better feel for the man who knocked up an elf and an orc.

Who's up for the sound of "dueling banjos"?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Wed 13 Apr 2005.

Caylin nods in response to Garryn's question, replying, "Aye, rogue.  Th' imperial boyos are a far sight better'n th' locals fer equipment, an' fer th' skills t' use it.  Th' fella at yon gate backaways showed me a turn or two wi' settin' arrows on th' string...quick-like."

The halfling draws his pony closer to Hau'dn's horse, noticing that the ranger-bard has slowed down and is intently scanning the ground.

Hau'dn has remained silent throughout the party's introduction to Perrato and their subsequent departure from Borderton.  Since leaving the town, the ranger-bard has scanned the ground that flanks the caravan trail--occasionally dismounting to get a closer look.  The ground is hard and dusty, and more than once Hau'dn shakes his head slightly, his face morose.  Finally, the ranger-bard heaves a sigh as the party nears the one-mile mark from town.

"Too much time has passed.  I can't locate the trail for this Mahatmer.  Too many sheep on the road, too many other signs of traffic."  Hau'dn pauses.  "So I guess we go with Plan B, whatever that is."
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:22, Thu 14 Apr 2005.

"I suggest that we don't turn from our current task, let us continue along the caravan's intended course and hopefully two days ride from here we will find some sign of the caravan and can track the bandits. Is this course agreeable?" Garryn asks looking around at his companions.

"Agreed. I know little of tracking, but I know that we will find what we are meant to find. So it is Willed, so shall it be done." and with this Asher nods somewhat smugly, and falls into silent contemplation.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:23, Thu 14 Apr 2005.

Vil nods in agreement.  "Aye - sounds good Garryn.."

Jas

Perrato fourths Garryn's notion. "Ah, yes. It is best that we take the path of those afflicted and see what it is they suffer."

Noting the hazards of the terrain ahead, Vil adds sarcastically:

"Hard to imagine anyone actually getting ambushed out here, huh?..  I'll have Mal'ach sweep through the thickets of trees and gulleys along the roadside as we move forward.."

V

http://www.geocities.com/semynys/dirtroad1.jpg
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Fri 15 Apr 2005.

The day wears on--brightly sunny and increasingly hot.  The play of cool morning shadows interspersed with warm, open stretches of road later gives way to a sun that mercilessly beats from a cloudless sky.  The dust of the road bakes in the heat, stirred up by the hooves of the party's horses, only to hang in the windless air after their passage.  The cicadas steadily increase their cadence, tracking the rising temperatures.  Early summer...and the season's first truly scorching day is upon the countryside.

The caravan trail differs from the Imperial highways within Paldor.  There, small cottages could be seen in the distance as one traveled the roads, sometimes huddled together in tiny hamlets.  Flocks of goats and sheep would occasionally dot the landscape, attended by shepherds and goatherds likewise made miniscule by distance.  Travelers were not infrequent on the Imperial roads--peasants and farmers hauling produce in wagons, armed contingents of Imperial troops, the occasional noble and his retinue, and the miscellaneous wandering and itinerant were all sights that might be had within a couple of days of travel on Paldorian roads.  Not so here...here, in the wide lands east of the last Paldorian town.  The hillsides are without the worn tracks of animals led to pasture, the lowlands are without the tended fields and orchards of settled cultivation.  The ancient caravan trail is empty of movement, save for the companions and their mounts.

The mountains of Turgrad rise, snow-clad and far-off, to the north.  Mile upon mile of scrubby hill lands and shadowy ravines lie between the mountains and the party.  The dirt caravan trail, occasionally encroached upon by young hickory saplings or tough, shrubby growths of Phanarian Broom or black thornberry, winds its way through this lonely land.  The route initially follows the shoulders of the Blackthorn Hills, but eventually veers away towards the long plains lying between the Hills and the massive forests of Emnia.  At the party's pace, however, they will be within the shadow of the Blackthorn Hills for some two or three days.

Midday arrives, and the heat of the day forces the party off the road to water the horses at a small, nearby stream.  Some cottonwood trees along the stream provide shade and a welcome respite from the sun, and the party elects to rest and partake of a meal.  Talk turns to the evening, and the subject of camping, supplies, and watches.  The party looks to the guidance of Totmacher and Hau'dn for ideas about potential foes in the area, and examines their gear--hoping that their food, water, and other supplies will suffice.  The midday meal eaten and the horses watered and rested, the party sets out again on the afternoon leg of the day's journey.

Afternoon arrives and passes with a golden, burning slowness--measured out by the muffled hoof falls of the horses on the dusty caravan trail.  The landscape drowses in the heat of the sun.  Tawny hillsides with their darker copses of trees flank the trail, the occasional stream leaping down from the hills.  Birds are abundant and varied:  swallows skim through the air, hunting hawks and eagles circle lazily at higher altitudes, and sage grouse, killdeer, and quail forage through the grasses and scrublands.  Hau'dn and Totmacher both attempt to pick up some game while the party travels, but the birds and rabbits elude both men.  Perrato, watching the two, joins in and is more successful.  Two or three crossbow bolts, judiciously fired, yield a pair of rabbits and a fat pheasant.  Humming to himself, the priest sets about cleaning and dressing the game during a short pause to rest and water the horses.  Finishing, the Palonish man wraps the cleaned rabbits and pheasant in cottonwood leaves and slings them across his saddle--fresh food for the evening.

The party continues treking towards the northeast.  Near sundown, a tiny, distant winged silhouette in the sky presents itself.  The winged thing is incredibly far away, as the party strains to see what it might be.  Asher, Garryn, and Perrato exchange uneasy looks, while the rest of the party cannot make out what this thing might be.  Whatever it is, however, it is very far away.


As the sun descends, the party begins to search for an appropriate camp site.  Hau'dn almost immediately locates a nearly perfect spot some half-mile off of the caravan trail.  A stream with riparian cottonwood cover provides water and a place (and fuel) for cookfires, while a hilltop relatively close by offers a campsite with visibility and yet still has a small copse of trees that afford some cover.

Villhalas - noting the winged creature off in the distance recalls a rather ominous bit of information he was able to gather back at the Giant's Head Tavern..

Pyribrotos the Red--or another red dragon--has been seen, high in the sky near the caravan routes passing through the plains northeast of the Emnian forests...

".. Uh - guys.  Recall that bit about Pyribrotos the Red I told you about - back in Borderton..."

"It is definately a Dragon, but it appears more copperish in color than pure red." Asher notes rather nonchalantly.

Hearing Asher's seeming disinterest at witnessing the flight of a live Dragon, Vil raises an eyebrow with dubious curiosity.

"A common siting where you come from then is it Asher??"

"Ojala que no sea rojo! Asher, I am placing much faith in your eyesight. De todos modos...ah, we should find some prudent precuations to take," sputters the cleric, as he searches his brain for approaches to the least noticeable campsite possible.

"No more common than parties of adventures looking for lost caravans. I don't sense that he means us any harm. Yet."

OOC: Let's not confuse Ashers tone with any actual knowledge of dragons.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:18, Mon 18 Apr 2005.

The party pauses on the trail.  The sun is westering behind them, and far-off, veiled in the hazy distance, the tiny silhouette of the dragon dwindles from sight, apparently flying eastward.

The long afternoon shadows of trees and hills stretch over the land, throwing the sun-soaked shrubs and grasses into golden relief.  The air remains still--hot, sultry and redolent with the smells of warm grass and early summer blossoms.  The party begins to eye the hills surrounding the caravan trail, searching for a likely spot to halt and camp for the night.  Hau'dn almost immediately locates a nearly perfect site some half-mile off of the caravan trail.  A stream with riparian cottonwood cover provides water and a place (and fuel) for cookfires, while a hilltop relatively close by offers a campsite with visibility and yet still has a small copse of trees that afford some cover.

Camp is struck on the hill, and a small fire is kindled beneath the shelter of the trees below.  Perrato sets up a small spit to roast the pheasant, and the rabbits are quickly disjointed and cut up into stew-sized pieces.  Wild onions, parsnips, and potatoes are grubbed from the ground nearby, and soon a passable trail stew is simmering near the fire as the roasting pheasant is carefully turned.  A quick but satisfying meal is had by all--and darkness has well and truly fallen by the time the camp is set up and the meal finished.

The party members begin the tasks of settling in for the night.  Horses are loosely tethered to trees, and bedrolls are spread out on the ground.  Caylin does not bother to unpack his tent, as the warm, star-washed night shows little sign of rain.  A quarter moon, waxing, hangs low on the eastern horizon.  One by one, the companions bed themselves down.  Villhalas takes the first watch, as a silence begins to descend over the hill and surrounding countryside--punctuated by the typical night noises of crickets, Paldorian chorus frogs, and the whirling sounds of nightjars hunting for aerial insects.  In all, a typical summer's night in the countryside.

Villhalas watches as the moon treks across the sky.  The day had been long, and the sorcerer was tired.  Once or twice, his chin dropped to his chest, and the half-elf awoke with a start and a shake of his head.  It was with relief that he woke Caylin for the second shift, moving to his own bedroll for some well-earned rest.

Caylin spent his time slipping quietly along the hillside, bow in hand.  The presence of Villhalas' owl in the tree, unseen but awake, was reassuring.  Estimating that a suitable amount of time had passed, the halfling awoke Totmacher for the third shift.  The half-orc proceeded to climb the tree above Caylin's bedroll, raining down leaves and other debris.  The halfling sighed, and moved his sleeping gear into the open and away from the barbarian perched in the tree.

Totmacher, axe in hand and javelin cradled in the branches within easy reach, watched the night around him as the stars wheeled through the sky.  The darkness was hot--the earth had given up some of her heat, garnered during the day, to the night sky, but the air was still hot.  The night wore on.  Frog choruses faded, and cricket song gradually became quieter.  Suddenly, however, the barbarian's hackles are raised, as he notes movement through the leaves of the tree--movement in the sky.

OOC:  Initiative, please, Scott.  Your initial Spot check allowed you to get this info--please roll another one for me, too (more info).

20:49, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 14 using 1d20+5. Spot.
20:48, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 18 using 1d20+4. Initiative.


Ok, where does Tot see the movement?

22:06, Today: Mal'ach rolled 34 using 1d20+14.

OOC:  Spot Roll for Mal'ach should you need it Kevin.  Now if only Vil could score some of those rolls..

Jas

A rustling sound, small but significant, emanates from the branches where the short-eared owl is perched.  Clearly, she is disturbed, but voices no sound or call...

Something is streaking downward.  Something...something that resolves itself as a winged amalgam of lion and eagle.  Something...Totmacher has seen these things.  Something...something with a name.  Griffon.  Normally not a beast that the orcs feared or came into contact with--but one that the horse-riding humans were beset by in the Wilds.

The horses, drowsing in the hot night, become aware of the descending beast too late--beginning to pull at their traces.  Unfortunately, Totmacher can see two more of the things stooping through the air in low, viscious dives.  Events are moving so swiftly, yet the half-orc's perception is one of a slow, ballet-like unfolding of activity.

OOC:  Scott, you have the initiative.  Your position in the tree limits your capacity to do stuff--especially use a missile weapon against the onrushing griffon.  Updated map on the site.

This message was deleted by the player at 00:17, Fri 22 Apr 2005.

Kev, does it appear that the Griffon's are possibly protecting a nest?  (OOC possibly, but worth a shot).

Depending on how high up the tree Tot is, he will jump down from the tree and call out.

"Awaken!  There are three Griffons threatening our position from the north east!"

"Vil, Dominique, Garryn, Caylin, Monk, Bard--get into position!"

Then Totmacher will roll his eyes up into his head and bring forth a most wretched, pained, voice from the depths of gut.  A voice of perhaps some bastard man-demon calling out as it is being ripped from it's laboring human mother's womb.

Tot will occupy the position just to the north east of Caylins horse and Rage Hard...

Asher snaps awake and tries to get his bearings.

OOC: I'm assuming the Griffons and Vil are up this round before Asher enters the initative order?

12:49, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 22 using 1d20+4. initi.
12:50, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 17 using 1d20+7. Spot.
12:50, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 20 using 1d20+6. listen.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:16, Wed 20 Apr 2005.

Upon waking Perrato scowls and mutters something in Palonish, "Senor orque tonto...es un payaso grande...ay, caray...no parezco como Dominique...," and prepares to cast Summon Monster II.

16:06, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 7 using 1d20+2. Initiative.

(18)
Totmacher leaps down from his perch in the chestnut tree, calling out to his companions as he does so.  The big half-orc then produces a painful, blood-curdling yell of rage and begins his transformation into a creature of sheer bloodlust.  Gripping his greataxe, the barbarian takes up a position next to Caylin's pony--the animal pulling frantically at its traces as the griffon continues its dive.

(12)
Disdaining to approach the half-orc, the griffon continues along its diving trajectory--straight towards the largest horse in the group.  Like some feral, winged comet, the creature slams into Totmacher's mount, beak tearing and claws shredding.  The horse, big as it is, is completely overwhelmed and brought down as a rear claw rake eviscerates the animal.  A gory flood fountains up from the corpse of the horse, and the smell of blood and ordure is wetly immediate in the hot, pre-dawn air.

DM's OOC:  We are into a new round.

(23)
Garryn jumps to his feet (move action), examines his surroundings quickly and draws his rapier (standard action) he then moves to C3 (5' move). Still unable to see anything he defends his horse and waits for a spellcaster to provide some lighting.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:56, Sun 24 Apr 2005.

The air is filled with the screaming of horses, as the tethered animals attempt to tear free of their traces and flee the scene of carnage and the predators responsible for it.  So far, the traces are holding, and the horses are not able to flee...

Asher stands up and activates the sunrod he was sleeping with (see OOC thread). His mind races with anticipation, but he is nagged by the thought that the sunrod lights him up like a beacon.

16:44, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 26 using 1d20+7. illuminated Spot roll.

OOC: Kev, will Asher receive "soft cover" from Vill's horses?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:03, Mon 25 Apr 2005.

(22)
Asher leaps to his feet, striking the sunrod he holds against the trunk of the small rowan tree under which he was sleeping.  Immediately a golden light floods the area, clearly illuminating the small camp area and extending some distance beyond, as well.  The bloody remains of Totmacher's horse and the griffon in the midst of the carnage are quite visible.  The rest of the party's horses, already panicked, go into a frenzy at the sudden light and what it reveals.

OOC:  Revised map up on the website.

Kev, what is the altitude of the Griffon in D-E/8?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:06, Mon 25 Apr 2005.

(20)
With a piercing shriek, another griffon dives into the party's encampment--straight towards Garryn's horse.  The winged griffon collides with the horse, and the hapless animal goes down amidst a flurry of raking claws and tearing beak.  Garryn, from his position nearby, is afforded an opportunity to use his rapier on the griffon, but his horse is killed by the aerial predator.

Garryn strikes out at the griffon shredding his horse, he'd already failed to protect it but the attack came to fast and his response was ill-timed, the flapping wings and the ferocity of the griffon's attack had caught him off-guard.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:39, Thu 28 Apr 2005.

The smells of the fallen horses only heighten Totmacher's senses.

Determined and single minded, Tot will move to D8 through D7 and attack the Griffon with his Great Axe.

14:40, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 14 using 1d20+10. Attack w/ Great Axe.

OOC:  Someone better get Tot's six...
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Mon 25 Apr 2005.

(18)
Totmacher leaps forward with a roar, whirling his great axe over his head.  The griffon, crouched over its prey, rears back and the barbarian's axe whistles by--missing the griffon by scant inches.

(13)
Another griffon (#2) is diving towards the lit encampment, but circled to approach from the south first.  Thus, the predator is diving towards Asher's horse from the southeast, but is still some 30' away at the end of its turn.

(12)
Caylin rolls out of his blanket, springing to his feet and moving away from Garryn's dead horse and the griffon.  The halfling draws his bow as he does so, positioning himself to fire at one of the griffon's the following round.

(12)
Totmacher swung his axe at the big predator, and the animal responds in kind.  With a snake-like lunge of its beaked head, the griffon tears a long wound down the barbarian's arm.  Totmacher ducks a swift claw strike by the beast, but a second clawing attack scores a shallow wound across the half-orc's face.

OOC:  Vil is up on 10, followed by Perrato on 7.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:23, Mon 25 Apr 2005.

Focusing in on the Griffon just Soutwest of his Position (I3), Vil brings the Wand of Suggestion up above his head - directed at the beast - and invokes its Magic...

"Keep High Aloft Beast - Attack any Threatening Gnolls you See."

V

OOC:  I was going to say Orcs..  And then I remembered Totmacher..  LOL.  That could have been ugly.


DM correction:   The wand is a Suggestion wand, caster level 5, DC 14, with 6 charges.  Remember, its the maker of the magic item and not the user that determines the DC.  And Suggestion is a third table spell.  Cheers, K.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:05, Tue 26 Apr 2005.

(10)
Awakened both by his familiar and Totmacher's cry, Villhalas retrieves the wand of suggestion from his pack, and points it at one of the incoming griffons.  The command word spoken, the sorcerer--still lying on the ground--calls out his injuction for the griffon to keep aloft and attack any gnolls it sees.  With a shriek of acquiescence, the griffon alters its course from diving towards Asher's horse to a long banking turn back up into the air.

(7)
Perrato is up.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:52, Mon 25 Apr 2005.

Perrato rises to his feet and, speaking in a slightly guttural ancient Palonish, casts a spell for Greater Divine Assistance from Agents Primeval (Summon Monster II).
"Potesta Vagrani devoco scarabeum caelestem praegrandem!"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:14, Wed 27 Apr 2005.

(7)
Perrato rolls out of his bedding and to his feet, beginning the low incantatory chant that accompanies the Prayer for Dvine Assistance from Agents Primeval.  The priest gestures to the northeast, intending the summoned creature to appear there.  The Palonish man's words can barely be heard above the screaming of the panicked horses.


(6)
Maddened beyond endurance, the party's horses tear at their tethers--ripping free from the leather bridles.  Lips drawn back from their teeth and ears flattened, the animals leap downhill towards the south, intent upon fleeing the scene of carnage and the terror of the griffons.

(4)
Hau'dn springs to his feet and moves to aid Garryn, taking up a flanking position and drawing a dagger and a light mace as he moves into position.

IGA:  Perrato's spell requires a full round to cast, and goes into effect next round.  All of the horses pulled free of their traces, and have taken a move action this round to flee the campsite.  Hau'dn--NPCed--has acted accordingly.  We are onto the next round, beginning with Garryn on segment 23.

Garryn strikes again, this time less hurriedly and off-balance. His patience pays off as his rapier pierces the the griffons defenses and draws blood. Having struck the creature Garryn moves away, tumbling acrobatically to the other side of the near tree. (from C3 to D3 to E3 to end up in E2)

OOC: I tumbled because I was unsure if Griffon's had any reach attacks and I didn't want to take a 5' step then get hit with an AOO when I tried to move normally from there. Has Garryn had time to determine if the griffon's have a reach attack?

Asher hurries over to help the barbarian. While slipping past Perrato, he draws a small bag from his sash. Once within range, Asher lobs the bag at the Griffon and shouts to Tot, "Take the flank!"

15:40, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 11 using 1d20+7. RTA tanglefoot bag.


OOC: Asher ends his move in E-6. While not a stellar roll, I'm hoping that it will cut it as a ranged touch attack.

(23)
Garryn strikes again, this time less hurriedly and off-balance. His patience pays off as his rapier pierces the the griffons defenses and draws blood. Having struck the creature Garryn moves away, tumbling acrobatically to the other side of the near tree.

(22)
Asher hurries over to help the barbarian. While slipping past Perrato, he draws a small bag from his sash. Once within range, Asher lobs the bag at the Griffon and shouts to Tot, "Take the flank!"

Unfortunately, the monk must pull his throw a bit to the right to ensure that he does not hit the big barbarian.  The tanglefoot bag sails over the hindquarters of the griffon, impacting the ground beyond and spilling its sticky contents.


(20)
Having been wounded, the griffon that had killed Garryn's horse shrieks its rage--its yellow, glittering eye rolling towards its attackers.  Its hindquarters bunch into muscular springs, and it leaps at the nearest creature to threaten it...Hau'dn.  Beak gaping, the griffon attempts to impale Hau'dn, but the ranger-bard manages to deflect the incoming blow with his mace, turning aside the murderous strike.  Rearing up, the griffon swipes twice at Hau'dn with its front paws, scoring long cuts across the man's arm and leg.

(18)
Totmacher is up.

Totmacher's rage slows time--with his visual framerate turned up--sounds from the real world more too sluggish to be heard.  Only bells and whistles from Hades echo in his head.  Tot turns and with two hands swings his mighty Axe into the Griffon.

17:10, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 30 using 1d20+12. Attack w/ Great Axe.

19:56, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 21 using 1d12+12. Damage roll w/ Great Axe.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:56, Sat 30 Apr 2005.

(18)
The half-orc's great axe, swung with barbaric force, sheers through the thickly muscled shoulder of the griffon.  The animal screams in pain.

(13)
The griffon sent aloft by Villhalas shrieks in answer to its fellow griffon's scream of pain, but remains circling high in the air--unseen by all but Villhalas.

(12)
Caylin quickly steps to another position, and fires two arrows at the griffon engaged in combat with Hau'dn.  The first is high, flying away into the darkness beyond the griffon, but the second strikes true, thudding home into the hindquarters of the griffon.

(12)
Wounded and enraged, the griffon shrieks again and lunges at the creature responsible for its pain.  The griffon's beak takes Totmacher high on the leg, and a claw tears painfully across his chest.

(10)
Vilhallas is up.

While maintaining the cover and concealment that the tree [in G4] affords him, Vil stands up & casts Silent Image...

XXOO,
Vil
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Sat 30 Apr 2005.

As the summoned beetle materializes to his northwest in close proximity to the griffon engaged with Hau'dn, Caylin, and Garryn the Grey, Perrato is aware that the summoned beetle should attack the threatening foe immediately in front of it (griffon in B1,C1) as revealed to him by his elders who taught him the prayer for Divine Assistance from Agents Primeval (see Monster Summoning II).

He then utters a prayer for Compulsory Submission to Divine Will (Command) directed toward that same griffon (in B1, C1), urging it to fall prone at its current position. "Decide terra per auctoritam Vagrani!"

(10)
Villhalas stands up from his prone position, still keeping the wand of suggestion in one hand as he does so.  The sorcerer gestures with his other hand, strange whispered words spilling from his lips.  A hulking figure emerges from the long grasses near the monk and barbarian--a furious and ugly half-orc with a mind-bending similarity to Totmacher.  Armed with a wicked-looking spiked- and barbed-net, the figure prepares to cast it over the griffon...whom, after a cursory glance and sniff, proceeds to ignore the image.

IGA:  Tot and Asher, please make Will saves.

(7)
Perrato speaks the words of the Mithran injunction, urging the griffon to collapse to the ground in the name of Vagrani.  The animal shakes its head, as if bothered by the attentions of some small, biting insect, and does not comply.  Meanwhile, the summoned beetle attacks the griffon...and Hau'dn, incidentally.  Releasing a fiery, acidic spray from the tip of its abdomen, both the griffon and ranger are caught within its area of effect.  The potent stuff discharges from the beetle with an audible and noisy series of pops, coating both the griffon and Hau'dn, both of whom sustain some burning damage as a result.

(4)
Realizing that his life is in jeapordy, the ranger-bard elects to fight on, grimly determined not to sell his life cheaply.  A stabbing lunge with his dagger meets only air, but the follow-through overhand swing with his mace makes a solid connection, smashing into one of the griffon's pinions.

OOC:  We are into a new round.  Garryn is up, followed by Asher.  Please post as soon as you can, and I'll move us along.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:14, Mon 02 May 2005.

21:43, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 12 using 1d20+5. Will Save.

Garryn comes out from the behind the tree and moves to a flanking position his rapier biting deeply into the griffons hide.

Unfooled by the illusion of Totmachers twin, Asher steps up to the Griffon, takes a deep breath to draw the Ki up from his core, through his heart channel, into his arms, and out to his coiled fists.

18:32, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 28 using 1d20+11. Will save.

22:03, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 22 using 1d20+5. stunning fist 1.
22:05, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 17 using 1d20+8. Griffon 1 fort save dc 15.
22:06, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 10 using 1d20+5. stunning fist 2.
22:07, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 9 using 1d8+2. damage stunning fist 1.

(23)
Slipping around the trunk of the scrub oak tree he had taken refuge behind, Garryn moves into position against the griffon, opposite of Hau'dn--although not without some misgivings, as this move puts him in direct proximity to the large and somewhat noxious beetle.  Taking advantage of this position, however, the rogue lunges forward with his rapier, burying its point deep into the flank of the griffon.  Nimbly leaping backwards after his thrust, the rogue surveys the foe in front of him.  His latest attack, his previous attack, Hau'dn's blow, and Caylin's arrow strike had all combined to weaken the creature, but the thing was still very much alive.

(22)
Asher likewise engages his enemy, leaping forward with a combination of hard blows from his fists.  The first blow lands solidly, but the second goes awry as the griffon pulls back.  The monk intended to strike with such force that his foe would be disoriented, but the big griffon shakes off the effects of the monk's attack--but cannot shake off the damage itself.  Examining his foe, the monk notes that, while wounded through the attacks of himself and Totmacher, the griffon was still active and not showing any signs of slowing.

(20)
The wounded griffon lashes out, still focusing its attacks on Hau'dn.  Its beak streaks forward, smashing into the ranger-bard and staggering him.  A slashing claw rakes the shoulder and throat of the man, dropping him.  Spinning on its hindlegs in a truly spectacular display of deadly grace, the griffon slashes another claw across Garryn's arm, drawing a substantial amount of blood.


(18)
Totmacher is up.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:37, Mon 02 May 2005.

Tot catches another brethren in his peripheral.  Insulted that anyone would think that Totmacher requires support and moreso infuriated that this lesser fighter is trying move in on HIS kill, Totmacher insures that he will be the One to finish the beast...

21:31, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 26 using 1d20+10. Attack w/ Great Axe (w/ neg. mod).

And his strike was true to its mark...

21:34, Today: Totmacher of the Wilds rolled 22 using 1d12+12. Damage roll w/ Great Axe.

OOC:  Sorry Kev, first roll was with a 1d20 for damage--so please ignore.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:56, Tue 03 May 2005.

(18)
Another brutal axe swing by the big barbarian slams into the griffon, and the dry ground underfoot begins to muddy with the co-mingled blood of the griffon and the half-orc.

(12)
Caylin sends another two arrows hissing through the air to the griffon confronting Garryn.  The first finds its mark, ripping a shallow cut across the animal's back.  The second misses, slamming into the nearby corpse of Garryn's horse.

(12)
Faced with a seemingly implacable half-orc foe, the griffon launches another assault at the barbarian.  Its razor-sharp beak stabs out again, smashing once more into Totmacher's shoulder and staggering the half-orc.  Two claw strikes follow, although only one manages to connect with the barbarian--and that a glancing blow.  Nonetheless, the barbarian is sorely wounded...as is the griffon.

(10)
Vil is up.

Seeing Totmacher stagger, Vil quickly tears into his rucksack - and produces a small glass vial.  Handing it to Perrato, he adds with some urgency to the Priest -

"Perrato - drink this.  This will provide you Sanctuary while you Heal Totmacher.  Go!!!

V
This message was lightly edited by the player at 14:00, Wed 04 May 2005.

Noticing Vilhallas's offering out of the corner of his eye, Perrato turns his head to the sorcerer and says, "Que? Ah...Surely...Yes." The cleric takes the potion, drinks it down, and heads quickly toward the falling barbarian [to C8, ~25 ft. away] secure in his knowledge that his summoned celestial beetle will continue to attack its foe.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:48, Wed 04 May 2005.

No longer enjoying a flanking position since Hau'dn was felled, Garryn nevertheless strikes again from his current position.  His rapier bites, but only glancingly, and then the rogue moves back to allow the beetle to accept the griffon's next attack. (G moves to F2)
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:50, Wed 04 May 2005.

Asher takes another 2 swings at the beast with moderate success. Disappointed with his inability to stun the beast, Asher takes a defensive step back to position the tree between himself and the Griffon (5' step to F-6).
This message was last edited by the player at 22:18, Wed 04 May 2005.

(10)
Villhalas retrieves a small vial from his pack, passing the little stoppered container over to Perrato.

(7)Accepting the vial, Perrato quickly unstoppers it and drinks the contents.  The Palonish priest proceeds to move as quickly as he can, unslowed by the armor he normally wears.
(7)
The bombadier beetle fires its noxious chemical defense from its abdomen again.  This time, the griffon easily avoids the effects, but a portion of the blast catches the prone and unconscious Hau'dn.

(4)
16:11, Today: Secret Roll: DM, on behalf of Hau'dn Shera rolled 4 using 1d100. 10% to stabilize.
Hau'dn stabilizes at -7 hp.

New round.

(23)
No longer in a position of flanking his foe, Garryn springs backwards and to his left, simultaneously thrusting with his rapier towards the griffon and scoring a long, shallow cut across the left side of the beast's ribcage.  The rogue continues to move, escaping the immediate vicinity of the griffon.

(22)
Asher strikes again, his blows raining down on the griffon.  One fist manages to connect solidly, but the griffon is able to dodge the follow-through snap kick.  The griffon again shrieks in pain, its cries echoed by the one still aloft in the pre-dawn darkness.


(20)
Faced with smallish, mobile foes who seem intent upon taking the griffon's prey from it, the griffon who felled Hau'dn gathers its muscles under it.  Turning its baleful gaze towards the nearby halfling who has been stinging it from afar, the griffon pounces.  The summoned bombadier beetle lashes out as the griffon springs away from it, and its manibular mouthparts tear a small chunk from the griffon.

The result of the griffon's pounce is a tangle of claw, beak, feathered pinions, and halfling archer.  The griffon strikes with beak, claw, and rear claw, but Caylin manages to twist away from the other attacks and avoid some of the worst harm from the attacks that do connect.

(18)
Totmacher is up.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:12, Thu 05 May 2005.

Splashing in the puddles of blood, feathers, and flesh, Totmacher's eyes focus sharply on the wispy starburst showering from the Griffon's pupil.  Totmacher, sweeping his Axe aloft overhead, steps forward and brings the glistening crimson blade firmly down upon the skull and shouts "Shut your eyes now foul bird!"

(18)
Totmacher's axe blow is telling, and the bit of the weapon slams into the forefront of the griffon's head--parting bone with an audible *crunch*.  The griffon forelegs collapse, and the animal slumps to its side like a downed heifer.

(13)
The griffon sent aloft by Villhalas' Suggestion utters a high-pitched, plaintive shriek--sounding as if it is flying away.

(12)
Caylin, tangled in the claws and beak of the griffon, manages to drop his bow and draw his secondary weapon--a smallish but well-honed sword.  His blow, however, glances off of the griffon's tough hide, inflicting no damage.

(10)
Villhalas is up.

Cursing as he hears the 2nd Griffon escaping, Vil focuses in on the remaining Griffon - and begins to cast...

V
This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Thu 05 May 2005.

(10)
Villhalas ceases his concentration on the illusory half-orc, instead electing to focus on the remaining griffon in combat.  Speaking a series of sibilant-sounding words that somehow convey an oily texture in their very pronunciation, the sorcerer fluidly gestures towards the griffon engaged in melee with Caylin.  A grayish smudge appears on the ground upon which the griffon stands, and some of the area nearby appears to be affected, as well.  The claws and paws of the creature slide slightly on the slick goo, but the griffon is able to retain its balance and stance.

(7)
Perrato is up.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:59, Thu 05 May 2005.

Arriving beside the half-orc, Perrato's dyspeptic muttering trails off, and he pauses briefly to look skyward to make direct spiritual contact with Vagrani. Assuming that he will not need to utter the prayer for Emancipation from Arcane Constraint [Remove Paralysis] in the near future, Perrato asks his deity to answer a prayer for Well-Being and Salubrious Mending  [Cure Moderate Wounds] in its stead [per Spontaneous Casting].

Placing his hands on the wounds of the barbarian, the cleric declaims, "O Vagrane, plagas amici mei sanare imploro!"
[14:01, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 10 using 2d8+4. Cure Moderate Wounds-Totmacher. ]

The Palonard then resumes his muttering, "Orque tonto, porque piensas que puedes hacer todo sin ayuda...," produces a potion of Well-Being and Salubrious Mending from his robe, and turns his attention to the fracas directly to his west.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:50, Fri 06 May 2005.

(7)
Perrato chants the words to the Mithran Prayer for Well-Being and Salubrious Mending, healing some of the worst of Totmacher's wounds.  The barbarian is still severely injured, however.

New round.

(23)
Garryn is up.

(22)
Asher is up.

Thanks Bro--

Garryn rushes to the aid of Caylin, his rapier finding its mark in the tangled mass.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Wed 11 May 2005.

(23)
Leaping ahead, Garryn executes a series of twisting somersaults, moving with bewildering grace through the terrain, and within reach of the griffon's beak and claws.  The creature tracks the rogue with its glittering eye, beak poised to strike, but seemingly cannot target the rogue.  Finishing his acrobatic move, Garryn lunges with his rapier, its point driving deep into the belly of the griffon.  The animal screams in pain once again.

(22)
Asher is up.

Seeing the lifeblood drain from the Griffon in front of him, Asher turns on his heel and rushes to join Garryn and Caylin in the fray to the west(ending in D-1). As he reaches the Griffon, Asher plants his left foot and spins 180 degrees in a pair of arcs: his torso spinning on a horizontal axis, and his right foot on a vertical arc high above his head and back down to connect with the beast.

13:16, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 19 using 1d20+7. Unarmed strike.
13:17, Today: Asher Willbourne rolled 8 using 1d8+2. Unarmed damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:44, Fri 13 May 2005.

(22)
Asher's dash to Garryn and Caylin's aid, and his subsequent spinning, leaping kick results in a deadly coup to the griffon.  The descending heel of the monk, its force augmented by the torque of Asher's spinning body, shatters the cervical vertebrae of the animal with the sound of soggy sticks breaking.  A final exhalation of air coupled with a harsh rattle, and the griffon slumps over heavily.

OOC:  What's next?  This effectively ends combat for the time being.

Caylin emerges, bloodied but still vital, from between the dead griffon's claws.  The halfling nods to both Garryn and Asher.  "Ye've my thanks, lads.  Wasn't too keen on playin' mousie t' this o'ergrown farm cat fer much longer.  Pints on me th' next time we're bound fer a decent pub."  Caylin retrieves his bow, adding, "Th' bard-man took th' worst o' it.  How fare th' others?"

Totmacher, with his spiked gauntlets, will immediately begin to perform a Gynecological exam on the Griffon closest to him searching for any unborn young.

Once he completes the surgery on the first Griffon he will do the same to the other fallen Griffon.

If any eggs are found he will rip them from the womb.  Let me know if you need a dex check to ensure that he does not break them.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Sat 14 May 2005.

Perrato dashes to the fallen bard/ranger and again seeks the assistance of Vagrani to utter a prayer for Well-Being and Salubrious Mending [Cure Light Wounds via Spontaneous Casting] in the stead of a prayer for Faithful Imbuement of Common Projectiles [Magic Stone]. "O Vagrane, plagas amici mei sanare imploro!"

[01:19, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 7 using 1d8+4. Cure Light Wounds--Hau'dn.]

Turning to assess the health of the rest of the group, Perrato says, "Oye, amigos heridos, whom could I assist next? It appears that I have no shortage of work to do. No, no little amount..."

"Half-beast, you have night eyes don't you? Did you mark the direction the last Griffon travelled as he fled?" Asher asks Tot.

Totmacher begins to tear into the abdomen of one of the fallen griffons, using nothing but his spiked gauntlets.  The half-orc manages to rip a jagged incision into the peritoneal cavity of the animal, but midway through suffers from a draining of his heightened physical frenzy.  The barbaric post-mortem surgical technique manages to avoid puncturing the intestinal tissue--barely.  The smell is nonetheless overwhelming, as the intestines pop free of the parietal peritoneum, and peritoneal fluid gushes to the ground.

Caylin, wrinkling his nose, calls out, "Big man!  Are ye rumagin' fer somethin' t' eat, or d'ye have some'at o' a plan?"

Upon closer inspection, somewhat muddled by the gore of Totmacher's activities, it is clear that this griffon was a male.  The same holds true for the other fallen griffon.


Perrato's invocation to Vagrani heals some of the worst damage to Hau'dn, bringing the man back to a semblance of consciousness.  The ranger-bard takes a deep breath and moans, but is clearly better off for Perrato's attentions.

Totmacher completes the examination.  He then uses a generous amount of peritoneal fluid to slick back his dark grey locks and turns to Vil.

"Do you like Totmacher's red highlights?"

"You did a helluva job keeping that tree from falling..."

Then he lets out a somewhat fatigued laugh.

"Hey Monk, nice bit of dancing, now if you only had one of your male partners to join you."

Then he leans hid head forward and snaps it back hard spraying droplets of Griffon plasma into the air, then grunting to himself, "Damn, that felt good."

"Dominique, Totmacher would like some more medicine."

His body glistening in the moonlight, he surveys the carnage.

"No balls on these birds, Caylin--hard to tell gender."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:58, Sat 14 May 2005.

Clapping in mock admiration, Villhalas looks to Totmacher -

"Very nice Big Brother.  A wonderful display of your rather primitive skill sets.."
Smiling now, Vil adds in earnest - "Perrato - please send Vagrani my thanks..  Nice work."  Looking to the rest of the group (Garryn, Cay, Tot and Asher in particular), Vil adds "Nice work to all of you.  I see your recent stint in the Borderton Jail hasn't taken anything away from your Cleaving Abilities Tot.  Those were some nice hits.."

Looking to the sky now, clearly disappointed, the Sorcerer adds Well..  The interaction with the last griffon didn't turn out exactly as I had planned.    Once seeing its peers fall, it apparently lacked the stomach to stay around..  Perhaps it will make it's presence known to us again."    At this Vil shrugs it off - and begins to gather some more kindling - in an effort to bring the camp fire back to life..

V

OOC:  Scott, did I forget to mention that Vil has vowed not to engage in any more direct combat?  He's decided to take Conscientious Objector Status for the duration of the Campaign...  Much more Tree-Leaning to follow...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Sat 14 May 2005.

Rising from the prostrate bard, Perrato's mien expresses deep concern as he strides over to Totmacher, assessing the wounds he incurred in the preceding melee. "Pobrecito...Yes that must hurt terribly, Señor Witzmacher," says the cleric as he frowns sympathetically.

"However, this is all I can offer. I sincerely hope you can find Dominique." The cleric then produces a potion of Well-Being and Salubrious Mending from his robe and hands it to the half-orc. "No la bebas toda en uno lugar, orque." The Palonard turns away, casting his eyes on the injured Caylin, Garryn, and Hau'dn, and says, "Truly, it is a shame that Dominique is not here. Especially for Señor Witzmacher. Now who really needs help?"

Garryn will begin selecting a variety of feathers and claws from griffon he participated in killing. He looks over and sees Tot resting and asks, "So any chance you'll be able to recover the surviving horses big fella?"

Asher looks to the sky in the east and shakes his head, "Can any of you gleen how near to the hour of sunrise we may be?" Secretly, he hopes it is near; he would not be able to sleep now, at least not until the adrenaline runs it's course through his veins.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:27, Sun 15 May 2005.

Totmacher calls out--"Well, Totmacher's watch is up, ladies.  So if you don't mind."

Totmacher then proceeds to fluff up some Griffon down against the tree in F-7, lays down and immediately starts to snore.

Totmacher, wounded, bloodied, and covered in the peritoneal fluid he had used to slick back his hair, lays down to sleep.  The big half-orc smells foul.

Caylin proceeds down to the stream, where he washes away the grime and blood around his own wounds, wincing a bit at the pain.  He nods to Perrato, saying, "Any aid or healin' ye can spare would be much 'ppreciated, man o' Vagrani.  An' th' big man'll need some help...sooner or later.  He's some'at thick in th' head, but I misdoubt 'tis more t' get a wee rise outta folk, an' less a lack o' native cleverness, eh?"

The hot night is ending as sunrise draws near.  A mounting chorus of birdsong heralds the dawn, and the day promises to be another hot one.  Asher paces the campsite, looking to the sky.

The sole remaining horse with the party is Caylin's little pony, too small to tear free of its traces during the griffon's assault.  Totmacher is pretty badly wounded, and Hau'dn can't travel without further healing...as it is, the ranger-bard is lapsing in and out of consciousness.  Without horses, the party is currently about two days' travel outside of Borderton, and about one full day's walking from where the caravan was supposedly ambushed.

OOC:  Actions?  Activities?  Plans?  Let me know...

Any of Tot's gear stored on the horse is accessible, since his horse is, well still here.

What did we lose with the other horses?

How long will it take to get some more Cure Moderate Wounds spells for Haud'n and Tot?

This message was deleted by the player at 05:10, Tue 17 May 2005.

Nodding in the way of his still hidden Familiar, Villhalas adds -
"Let's see if Mal'ach isn't able to spot our Horses...  In the meantime - let's stir up something to eat.  All that Hand-to-Hand combat has made me Hungry."

V
This message was last edited by the player at 05:11, Tue 17 May 2005.

Asher focuses on his breathing while busying himself with the task of packing his gear for travel. His hands vibrate with the mix of adrenaline and Ki that always seem to follow combat; trying to open his focus to the broader issues at hand, he addresses the party members who are awake and or nearby.

"If the bird is successful in finding our horses, how much time are we willing to devote to capturing them? Personally, I will not miss the beast greatly."

Seeing the emerging signs of PTSD in the Monk, Vil offers a look of concern.  Gotta remember to keep an eye out for these young punks..

"Aye, my flanks are still feeling yesterday's ride as well Asher.  However, I think it's a good idea to do what we can to get them back..  Considering the Distance that lies before us.."

V

Totmacher continues to snore...

<quote Villhalas of Cameron> <quote Asher Willbourne>
...His hands vibrate with the mix of adrenaline and Ki that always seem to follow combat..

...with every strike, Asher envisioned the swirling hand gestures of some imaginary sorcerer dancing about his face. It had been so many years since the caster had killed his family, that Asher could no longer remember the face. But the waving hand gestures were burned into his memory like the fluttering of the wings of the angel of death itself. Every foe had become that wicked sorcerer. Every howl of wind through the trees became the sound of his village crying out for mercy.

And the voices... the voices came so much more frequently. Daily now they goaded him on. Egged him into believing that everyone Asher met who had so much as a pouch on his belt, was the villian he sought.

How many nights now had it been, that Asher had stood over the sleeping body of the one called Villhalas; wrestling with himself to see through the illusion, to see the man as a friend and not a faceless, gesturing villian. And how many more nights could he possibly win this battle with the voices, before draining the sorcerers blood into his bedroll...

...What? The horses? Yes, the horses. We should find the horses..."

Sleep tight sorcerer <grin>
This message was last edited by the player at 02:49, Wed 18 May 2005.

OOC - Heavy stuff man...

OOC: too much time on my hands tonight. and messing with my brother is always a worthwhile distraction.

Yaawwnnnn

V

OOC:  Careful Monk.  Those hand motions of Vil's can quickly morph into a psychologically damaging PING - produced by a simple Flick of his Right Thumb and Middle Finger...  /grins evilly

His Palonish blood brought to a temporary simmer by what could either be the barbarian's stubborn uncouthness or cheerful obliviousness, Perrato meditates for a moment on his broader mission and the greater good of the party. Exhaling gently and slowly, he gathers himself and moves to attend to the group's wounds. With the help of Vagrani, the cleric exhausts his orisons to heal the gravest of the ranger's injuries.

[Via Spontaneous Casting all of Perrato's 0 level spells are converted to Cure Minor Wounds for Hau'dn for 5 HP of healing.]

He then exhausts some more divine energy granted to him by his deity to draw the woodsman further back from the brink.

[01:39, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 9 using 1d8+4. Cure Light Wounds--Hau'dn]

Then turning to the complacently slumbering half-orc, Perrato nudges him, not caring much whether he wakes him or not. "Supongo que hiciste trabajo bueno para todos nosotros, Witzmacher." Again invoking Vagrani, the Palonard exhausts his remaining available divinely-granted energy into healing more of the wounds incurred by Totmacher, wishing that he could hold his nose while he did it.

[01:40, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 14 using 2d8+4. Cure Moderate Wounds--Totmacher.
01:40, Today: Perrato Viatomagne rolled 7 using 1d8+4. Cure Light Wounds--Totmacher. ]

With a blink and a gag, Perrato feels a wave of exhaustion come over him. "Amigos, I too must rest, if I am to be of much service to you before we continue our journey."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 07:07, Wed 18 May 2005.

With a heave of her wings, Malach leaps from her perch in the tree into the pre-dawn air, wings beating silently.  The owl wheels to the south, and is gone.  Villhalas receives the sense of flight over the darkened countryside, but only for a few moments.  Soon, his familiar has passed beyond the range of her mental link with the sorcerer.

Perrato, having brought Hau'dn back from death's door and expended the last of his healing spells on Totmacher, lays down tiredly and prepares to sleep away the last of the darkness.  While the priest had no further divine magicks left, addtional rest would allow him to perform his daily prayer rituals later in the morning, and receive the Mithran blessings for the day.

While Villhalas stands gazing through the darkness to the south, Asher paces, muscles still coiled tightly, willing himself to relax.  Totmacher, stinking and snoring, sleeps obliviously.  Caylin finishes bathing the worst of his wounds, casting a neutral glance at Perrato, and then begins to gather wood to start a fire and breakfast.

The time passes, and the eastern sky pales and begins to show an aurora of red and gold beyond the horizon.  Villhals relaxes as Malach comes back into his mental contact range.  As the rim of the sun sears into view across the eastern plains, the black silhouette of Malach is seen winging her way to the camp from the southeast.  Apparently, the horses had run far and hard, after the terrified manner of their kind, through the last of the hill country and down into the plains.  They had slowed and halted prior to sunrise, and Malach had turned back.  Villhalas' limited ability to communicate with his familiar makes it impossible to know exactly how far away their mounts were, but he gets the sense from Malach that she flew quite some distance in order to return to the camp.

OOC:  Plans?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:23, Sat 21 May 2005.

Villhalas welcomes Mal'ach back by offering his shoulder for her to perch upon.   Well Done little one.  Rest now..

Resigning himself to the fact that their transportation is lost to them now, he adds with some resignation - "Well.  That's that I guess." - and moves off to help Caylin with Breakfast...

V

Villhalas goes to help Caylin with preparing the fire and a morning meal.  Totmacher and Perrato continue to sleep, and Asher sits and engages in a series of calming and strengthening meditations.  Malach flutters into a tree, her eyes growing heavy as the sun continues its climb into the morning sky.

Hau'dn, conscious but still quite wounded, lapses into a light sleep.  As the aromatic smoke from the fire of cottonwood branches rises into the air, Villhalas surveys the campsite.  It was clear to the sorcerer that they would not be moving anytime before nine bells or so...approximately three hours from now.  Caylin, cursing slightly at his wounds, begins to fry thick rashers of bacon in an old iron skillet.  The halfling pulls egg after egg from his rucksack, commenting to Villhalas, "'Tis th' last o' our fresh rations fer this stint, sorcerer--best t' have some'at o' a good breakfast now."  The halfling, on his haunches, looks over at the dead horses.  "We should cut some o' th' meat from yonder beasts--'twill serve well fer th' night's meal."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:28, Sat 21 May 2005.

Nodding in agreement, Vil responds to Caylin's suggesion - "Aye.  Sounds like a good job for Totmacher if you ask me..  Gotta protect the hands you know.." -  Vil adds with a smile as he raises his hands to chest height and deftly wiggles his fingers back and forth..

V

Asher raises his head and opens his eyes, feeling well-gounded and centered. "Let the stinking axe-weilder sleep. The only thing those gauntles are good for is tenderizing. I'll get the meat." With that, Asher crosses to Tot's large mount drawing his Kama.

Gripping the handle high in his right hand, and pinching the point between his left thumb and index finger, Asher weilds the blade like a draw knife, making a deep scooping inscision in the upper rear flank. Idealy this will yeild a large roast. He then lays this hide-side down on the grass and begins to peel away a lightly larger flap of hide which he uses to wrap the exposed meat of the roast.

Totmacher awakens as his senses are aroused by the smell of food...

Totmacher walks over to the Griffon, only the beak and some feathers help to distunguish it from some other mutilated beast.

Picking up what appears to be one of the hind legs.  Sniffing it, "Anyone know what Griffin tastes like?  Totmacher guesses a little bit like Elf!" then lets out a laugh and looks towards Vil.

Totmacher will then walk over to Caylin and Vil.  "Looks like you did not cook enough for the others, Halfling.  Totmacher likes to eat hard after playing hard you know."

Asher announces, rather pointedly, "I'm going to wash up a bit before we eat."

He slips the horse meat into a bag, wraps it tight and stuffs it in his ruksack, then heads for the creek.

Caylin barely looks up at Totmacher's approach and comment.  "This bit is fer all o' us, big man.  An' th' eggs and baccy come fra' me own kip, savvy?  So's unless ye've aught t' contribute, yer horse--or th' griffon-- is yonder, an' th' fire can be stirred up a bit t' roast up wha'e'er ye might be needin'."

The halfling leans back from his position tending the rashers of bacon, and begins to load his pipe.

Casting a devlish smirk in response to Totmacher's culinary comments, Vil simply adds - "Aye - I'll join you Asher.."

Asher has secured a good-sized portion of Totmacher's horse's haunch, storing it against the day that promises to be a hot one.  The chunk of muscle continues to bleed, and the monk realizes that this is likely to make a rather unpleasant mess stored in his backpack.  Perhaps allowing the mass of flesh to drain a bit...?

OOC: Point taken. Asher'll set the hunk o' flesh aside to bleed out.

Tot can take a hint--

Totmacher will break apart some Griffon limbs and wings and pile them up in preparations for travel.

"Anyone for breast meat?" Tot lets out another belly laugh.

Next, Totmacher will bury his head under his left arm and inhales deeply.  "Whew, guess it is about time that river be christened by Totmacher."  He then strips down and with Great Axe strung around his back will carry his Studded Leather down to the river and wash down both himself and his armor.

Asher listens quietly while the others debate whether or not to retrieve the horses. Once it appears that a resolution has been reached, Asher states, "My order has a saying, 'A dunce once searched for a fire with a lighted lantern. Had he known what fire was, he could have cooked his rice much sooner'." That said he nods, despite his doubt that this wisdom would conquer the materialism, or dogged pragmatism of his comrads.

Totmacher strolling up from his swim catches Asher's words of wisdom.

"So what you are saying is that your Order frequently dined on uncooked rice, eh Monk!?"  Totmacher then shakes his head a few times, places his hand against the side of each nose hole and clears his nasal passages.  His gaze then pauses on Asher in anticipation of a response.  "Eh...Monk?"

"Vil, what is the game plan for tracking the horses?  Standard Marching Order?  Are we going to try double time?  Caylin should be able to keep up on his pony."

"Something like that, wise Orc."

"Hmm..  good question Tot.  I like that overland double-diamond formation you had mentioned back in Borderton - maybe we should try that ~"     Vil ponders curiously.  "Also, we should be able to make up some time by double-timing it...  We can use Mal'ach here as our Eyes & Ears.  She should be rested here soon enough.--

At this, Vil looks over to Caylin, smiles and nods his head once briefly - "Hey there Caylin.  Healed up alright??  Think you can forgo some of the medicinal properties of that tobacco of yours while we travel today?  ..Can smell that stuff a mile away.." 

V

OOC:  Kev - can Mal'ach work on 4 hours rest.?? - until we get the horses anyway?  Also - do we still have a 'trained' tracker or no?

Jas

"'Tis travelin' wi' ye miscreants what keeps me bit o' pipeweed dwindlin' so fast.  An' I misremember ye takin' too great an interest in th' fracas wi' th' griffons, sorcerer--if'n we disturbed yer sleep, I'm sorry fer yer troubles," the halfling grumbles as he cleans the cooking gear and begins to stow his own equipment.  Pitching his voice a bit lower, Caylin adds, "How fares th' singin' ranger?  Is he well 'nough t' guide us, d'ye think?"

"hehe - no trouble at all Caylin."  Villhalas adds light-heartedly.

Looking over to the mortally wounded Ranger, Villhalas adds - "Aye... He took quite a beating back there.  I'm not sure he'll have the strength to continue on to be honest.  Perhaps it's best if we have him returned back to Borderton...  Should he make a full recovery down the road, perhaps our Paths may cross again.."

V

"Don't count me out just yet.  I can still travel.  And I can trace the passage of our horses...which may be important, eh? Hau'dn says with emphasis.  The ranger-bard, while wounded, still appears determined to journey with the party.