Tolantra charged the leader, intending to drop him as quickly as possible. The thought of Branwen taken against her will had been dragging up all sorts of horrible memories from her time in the clanhome, and what she had worried might happen to her. As Haela was her witness, it was not going to happen here.

Racing ahead, she slammed her hammer into the archer's chest, driving him backwards half a step and snarled at him.

((ooc: Attack: 1d20+8 (bonus to damage)
Damage: 1d4+11 = 12))

Taking note of Tol's charge, the Native Woodsman come Wizard pulled his magical bow around, pulled the empty string and watched the arrow appear out of the air before releasing the string and the arrow flying straight towards the location of the would be haranguer. It was going yo be close but never know, either way, that arrow wouldn't have been coming back if it had been a wooden one.

The Arrow hits the Rock and Shatters

Initiative = 8
Plus Bow = +8 = 16
Attack = 9 -5 (Long Range) = 4 -cover
Damage = 15

((ooc: Heluvianal, bows in 2e get 2 attacks per round.

Also, the enemy is 200' away. Short range for a long bow with flight arrows is up to 210 feet. It's 150 feet for a long bow with sheaf arrows or a short bow, so you're at most medium range and possibly short range, depending on what kind of bow and arrows you're using.))

(ooc: It's a magical strength bow, therefore Composite Longbow, arrows are magically created so would be Sheaf. Thank you for reminder of 2 shots per round.)

Attack: Bow = 20 +1 elf bonus =21, at med range -2 = 19 = AC 0 50% cover give -4 to hit.
Total would be hit AC4
Damage: Bow = 14
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Sun 13 Mar 2022.

Strings thrum, men scream, steel scrapes on steel, and the mysterious looming peace of the forest is shattered. It's clear that this rearguard is blooded and experienced.  Two of them successfully launch arrows that land in Edrie's flesh (6hp). Her Magic Missile repays one in kind (6hp), but he is left still fit to fight.

Tol, as ever, plunges straight ahead. The archer grins and looses a shaft that perfectly finds its mark (8hp).  Tol fouls the follow-up shot of the spokesman, and fouls his face besides landing a truly savage blow (2hp remaining).

Heluvianal and his target trade arrows.  The human barely draws blood (1hp), but is forced to draw his last breath as the native power of Heluvianal's bow is revealed. It's seldom that one sees an arrow pass entirely through a human body. He sends another arrow sailing through the flesh of another before the first corpse falls. It's frankly frightening.

Celadhel dances forward seeming to execute forms midstride to make her a harder to target to feather.  Her blade makes quick work of the one who ate Edrie's sorcery.

Olaf returns fire with his sling, but his only the squirrels are bothered by his efforts.

Three archers remain.  One engaged in Melee with Tol, and two who are still free to fire at will. Tol's opponent throws down his weapons and shouts, "Quarter!" The other two flee into the forest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:31, Sun 27 Mar 2022.

Tolantra glanced at Celadhel and Heluvianal, who were probably the best capable of chasing through a forest. "Don't let them get away!"

That taken care of, she leveled her warhammer at the man who had surrendered. "Start talking. Where is your baron going, how far ahead of us he, and how many people does he have with him?"

Celadhel nodded and ran after the archers. She had spells she could use, but if she could manage to catch them that would be so much more efficient.

((ooc: Do elves get a bonus for chasing humans through a forest?))

In reply to Tol (msg # 186):

Running through the woods was how Heluvianal cut his teeth, literally,  as was firing on the run.

The first shot was fired as the enemy turned, for that is what they were, sailing through the air with almost the same precision as the first but with less hiding them, hitting him square in the back, then he moved and drew the string back as he used a low rock to lift into the air like jumping from bough to bough in the trees themselves.

So pleased was he with his first shot and the leap from the rock, that Heluvianal fired straight down at the floor, the magical arrow splitting the rock below instead of the 2nd enemies back. He continued running, berating himself for not paying attention.

initiative 10
Attack1: Bow = 16
Damage1: Bow = 13
Tumbling = 15
Attack2: Bow = 5 (rolled 1)
Damage2: Bow = 15

This message was last edited by the player at 22:58, Tue 05 Apr 2022.

Heluvianal's arrows streak through the air with deadly speed and precision.  One of the fleeing soldier is mortally wounded.  You can hear him sniveling prayers to his god or his mother one.  The other's life ends so suddenly he probably runs several steps in the afterlife before realizing he's there.

The spokesman spits on the ground at Tol's feet. "If that's what you call quarter, I've nothing for you."

Tolantra shrugged. "As you wish. Perhaps the next thug will think twice before grabbing a woman who doesn't want you."

She dispatched the thud with a single, precise blow and then walked back towards her horse. "Good shooting, Heluvianal. Olaf, can you see to Edie? We need to get moving. We're on the right track, and I don't want to leave Bronwyn in their clutches."

Heluvianal kept running, found the two bodies, one still with life, the other not, he shoulders his bow then carries a body under each arch.

Lowering the body, This one is no more and this one still breathes, barely but he does.The arrows no longer in the wounds but also no sign of them either.

Let's go, leading the way, the Wood Elf was home, he hadn't been back since before his apprenticeship started but now he was wild and free once more.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:16, Thu 07 Apr 2022.

Uktar 8, 1357--The Year of the Prince Afternoon

The Autumn sun shines with warmth as the party proceeds down the road.  The rich and comforting scent of manure abounds as you pass by the pastures and farms.  Farm folk scratch their heads at the sight of travelers coming from the Laughing Hollow, but then shrug as they see the strange make up of the party.

Before long the walls of Daggerford come into view.  Baron Agwain glowers, but Lady Bronwyn places a calming hand upon his shoulder.

Lady Bronwyn says, "You have been most gracious in escorting me, and dutiful in pursuing me.  I seldom enter the city without my personal guards.  May I ask you to take up this charge today?  We will bypass the line at the Farmer's Gate and proceed down the Duke's Way to the Castle.  Doubtless the Duke will wish to speak with and reward my rescuers.  If you agree, we can pause for a moment for some tidying up.  To be a bit more presentable?

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 191):

Having returned to his usual state of being for travelling as a mouse (a well dressed handsome mouse) once the body had been retrieved. He changes back when the procession stops outside the city.

If I may your Ladyship and Baron, I'll take the lead of the horses and walk you through.  He knew where the Gates were and adjusted himself to look good. Mostly he wanted to do this so nobody talked to him.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Tue 19 July 2022.

Tolantra bowed in the saddle. "Of course, Lady Bronwyn. We would be honored to be your escorts. And while I sympathize with the desire for a bath..." she didn't, but realized that occasionally you needed to be diplomatic, "I think it's probably wisest if we make straight for the castle. We were not the only searchers, and there will be many glad to see you."

Bronwyn sniffs discontentedly, but says nothing.  She does her best to wipe some of the road grime from her hands and face.

The Farmer's Gate bustles as usual during the harvest season.  Militiamen from the town keep order along the road. Interspersed throughout the crowd there are a few daringly attired ladies that seem to be chatting up the farmers and their hired hands.  A farmer makes all of his money at one time of year, and there are always an enterprising souteneurs down from Waterdeep to try to take their fair share. The Dukes of Daggerford have always been austere men, though, and no festhall has ever been allowed to operate openly within the walls.

A few of Olaf's brethren are present accepting tithes on behalf of Chauntea's faithful as farmers bring their harvests to market. They look askance at Olaf's bondage, but given highborn company he rides in, they say nothing directly.  You do note, however, that a younger Chauntean acolyte is sent running back through the gate--presumably to fetch a priest of sufficient bearing to address the Lady of Daggerford.

With a few words the militiamen wave you on to the proper guards.  The guards, in turn offer bows and an escort on foot.  The escort, accordingly draws first eyes, then attention, and finally shouts--for good and ill.  Some are happy to see Bronwyn returned.  Others fling insults and cabbages toward Baron Agwain Delantar.

What do you do?

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 194):

If any cabbages or other catchable food stuffs are flung anywhere near Heluvianal, he will attempt to intercept them and pass on to anyone looking hungry.  Chances are he'll end up with lots of food in no time with nowhere to send it, he'll make a game of it, juggling in an attempt to stop others from throwing stuff at the high born.

((ooc:  Please let me know how many Dex checks you want, he'll even leap a few times too if need be, not too many times though.))

Tolantra kept an eye out for trouble as they rode through the city. She didn't mind the vegetables; to her mind the baron deserved worse. But she didn't want someone to fling daggers instead.

On the Olaf front, she hoped there was a priest powerful enough to break the fey spell. He would probably appreciate being treated "in house," as it were, rather than getting hauled in front of some wizard. But she doubted that he would be living it down any time soon.

((ooc: Aside from keeping an eye out for actual attackers, Tolantra just wants to deliver the pair as quickly as possible.))

Heluvianal does his best to turn the rabble rousing into a charity game by snatching food from the air and redistributing it.  His dexterity--preternatural even among the elves--makes this an easy task. Baron Agwain glowers at the general lack of intervention by his escort for his safety and dignity, a matter made somewhat less intimidating by the remains of an egg sliding down the lobstered steel of his plate mail.

As it happens, the expansive Harvest House Shrine of Chauntea is on the way to the Ducal Castle.  The Patron Priestess--a Druid--Maerovyna interposes on the party to inquire as to Olaf's disposition. She is clothed in a simple white cassock and carries  a walking staff of white wood that features live branches at the top.  Her auburn tresses are wreathed in laurel leaves, and a heavy splash of bright red freckles are prominent across her nose and cheeks. The farmers fall to a hush as the holy woman speaks. "Has he committed some crime?"

Olaf cries, "Is it a crime to love?"

"Apparently," Baron Agwain sneers.

Celadhel rolls her eyes hard.  This is unusual coming from the normally strait laced bladesinger, but its clear she's had enough at this point. "He-of-the-Agricultural-Metaphors is bewitched by Nixies. Lady Bronwyn informs us that a simple Dispel Magic should rectify the situation, but only if it is performed before sundown.  May we release him to your ministrations?" The question is posed both to Tol and Maerovyna.
This message was last updated by the GM at 05:08, Thu 21 July 2022.

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 197):

Heluvianal didn't see the egg until it was too late, at least it didn't hit Lady Bronwyn.  As they arrived at the House of Chauntea, he stopped handing out vegetables unless someone asked for them and passed them on to the Harvest House Shrine attendees to redistribute, keeping an apple for himself after checking it was ok (by Wood Elf standards, this just mean it wasn't visibly rotting or housed any creatures).  Other than this silent passage of goods, he made no move or sound, he felt his place was as it currently was, Escort to the Noble Houses, he felt he had gone up in the world of man.

Tolantra bowed in her saddle. "Our apologies for Olaf's rather embarrassing circumstances. We did not wish to lose him to the nixies for a year, and anything less extreme had him trying to run off and join them. Please, take him with our blessing, and I hope his compulsion is easy to break."

"Guide him in, please," Maerovyna directs some of her acolytes.

"My thanks to you and your party for taking good care of our brother.  We'll see him returned to you once he is well." The druidess bows to Lady Bronwyn, "I am happy to see that you have returned, milady.  I hope you fare well at court."

Lady Bronwyn inclines her head to the druidess and responds, "True hearts have no fear in the court of the Duke of Daggerford. The harvest seems strong, it is the season of the Earthmother and I am gratified to receive your well-wishes in the midst of the harvest."

The druidess bows again, "All seasons belong to the Earthmother. Every season has its own meaning. Spring to grow, Summer to mature, Autumn to harvest the fruits, and winter to recuperate. All are necessary. It is a truth that is helpful to remember in trying times." With that, the priestess returns to her shrine, and the party stirs toward the gates.

Moonglow tower, with its spired dome is the last sight before entering the kill box at the gatehouse of Daggerford Castle. Two story curtained stone walls rise starkly from the top of an escarpment.  The construction has no trick to it aside from its height and thickness.  Tol is reminded that this is a brutal land, and that Daggerford is naught but a remnant of a remnant of a succession of Fallen Kingdoms. Thick wall and tall were all the artifice the doomed survivors could likely muster. Courage and strength saved what remains when grace, beauty, and wisdom had failed them. Trotting beneath the murder holes is an eery feeling for all.

A wide bailey filled with orchards and fruit bearing hedges fills the space between the outer curtain wall and the inner keep wall. The fruit could fill the defenders in a time of siege or give cover to defenders after the walls had been broken. A second gate house and wall stand before the keep--and that wall is studded by a total of six more towers.  The four corner towers are like castles in their own right. The blue and gold standard of the Duke--seldom seen in the town--is present every where here. The Duke's guard, knights, and liveried servants are in evidence everywhere.  It's as if you're on another planet.

One liveried servant with gray hair and a stoop to his shoulders greets you at the steps of the keep. He is flanked by a pair of guards and six more junior servants. "Word has reached my lord of your arrival.  He wishes you all to be washed and fed and brought to him." Upon seeing the corpse tied to the back of Tol's horse, he pauses, "Oh my.  We were not told that you had suffered losses.  Much will be answered for."

He claps his hands twice, and the servants move to each of you to assist you in dismounting.  They politely request your arms and armor, assuring you that it will be cared for--polished and sharpened--but that it cannot be borne in the presence of the Duke of Daggerford. That is a privilege reserved for the Knights of Daggerford and bonded Paladins. Maidens follow shortly thereafter with basins and gauze for cleansing and the binding of wounds.

The two guards move toward Baron Agwain, which he protests.  Lady Bronwyn scolds the men, "Unhand him! He is a Shining Baron of the Council of Man!"

"He's a blackhearted criminal my lady, and we're to take him into custody."

Baron Agwain calls to Tol and the party, "I am under the protection of your escort. Will you allow me to be accosted so? Is this the extent of your honor?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:09, Mon 25 July 2022.

When Heluvianal had returned from mouse form, nobody noticed the lack of bow being held, especially as they got closer to the town and he escorted the nobles through the gates. Nor did anyone wonder how he could hold his bow and spear as he caught vegetables 🤔.


So when entering the keep and asking for weapons, Heluvianal handed over his Dagger and knife and smiled. When the Baron was to be accosted and exclaimed, he felt town Lady, your orders! He knew he could intercede but wasn't sure he should, he was escorting Lady Bronwyn and by extension, Baron Agwain.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Mon 25 July 2022.

Tolantra held up a hand. "The baron is here of his own volition, as an act of good faith to mend this rift." She blinked as she ran out of pompous words. Shrugging, she continued. ""We brought him back because there's more going on here than seems obvious, and the Duke should know before anything permanent happens to anyone. Can we go in?"

The guardsmen seem to take you at your word. Whether this is out of reverence for your deeds, or because of your association with the local clan of dwarves is unclear. "Then you are responsible for his conduct, Tol."

At the doors to the Duke's hall where is court meets to facilitate the business of the duchy you are greeted by a herald.  Your names are taken and you are told that you will be announced.

Your journey from the vibrant south has held many disillusioning experiences.  The bustling cities and cacophony of colors that may be beheld in the great cities slowly faded to a simpler palette.  The great intrigues and nuances of social interactions of the southern courts are legendary.  The Duke of Daggerford's court is a somber and simple affair by contrast.  In his enormous hall, there are few people and the entirety of it has more the feel of a fortress than a seat of authority.

There is an old father with a lustrous white beard attired in the clean white robes of a Moonshae Druid and bearing a white oak staff with green branches sprouting from the top.

The dark eyed Master of the Hunt lingers near the back of the Court with a pair of hunting hounds obediently sitting near him without leashes.  Faintly pointed ears betray his half-elven heritage. From campfire discussions you know that he is some relation to Celadhel and called Kelson Darktreader.

A spritely gnome with a jewel seemingly mounted on his forehead, but with neither chain nor mount. He stands near the druid.

Lastly, in attendance is Lord Llewellyn Longhand, the Duke's Master-of-Arms.  Tall, fair-haired, and lordly in appearance, he is responsible for the maintenance and training of the Duke's personal forces.  If war comes to Daggerford, it is Longhand that would lead the defense.  He stands at the elbow of the Duke of Daggerford himself.

Duke Pwyll "Greatshout" Daggerford, Duke of Calandor, King of Man, Shining Lord of the Sword Hills, and Warden of the Lizard Marsh is a young man, tall of stature and bright of hair and eye.  It is clear that he has not slept easily but is poised on the edge of his seat like a cat ready to pounce.

This, aside from a few servants and knights, is the Ducal Court of Daggerford.

((I'll pause here))

In reply to Dungeon Master (msg # 203):

He had heard of the court from his master but never even got to outside the door although there was that one time...but nobody knows about that time he thinks to himself. He watches and listens intently, watching for motions, emotions and furtive eyes.

It is clear from the beginning that this Court will not stand on ceremony.  The Duke makes no acknowledgement of either the baron or his sister. The bright eyes of the duke burn with fury, but his tone remains composed.

"Loyal militiamen, you are to be congratulated.  You have succeeded where my knights and guards have failed. Your valor and prescience are strong commendations of your worth. I note that neither of your charges are bound and have returned of their own free will, so your former virtues are seasoned with wisdom and eloquence too unless I miss my mark. In the presence of such assembled virtue a wise ruler should listen--" the Druid nods in agreement "--so I would hear from your lips the nature of your investigation and the disposition of your charges when you acquired them."

The assembled court leans in to listen. The silence is deafening.