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.