It's been one day since the events at the Dead Orchard. The forest, being vastly uninhabited, is the thickest any have seen so far. Beloc has made mention of the impending undergrowth, as he has been in the area before, but further west where the Fyreworm Clan chose to homestead and cause a border dispute. Even armed with this knowledge, the massive bulk of the Badger has managed to get stuck no less than three times in muddy wallows likely rooted out by feral pigs. The pace has been an absolute crawl, and the crew have had nothing but foliage scraping against the view ports for scenery. At times, the sounds could be described as nerve wracking, if any sense of optimism could be applied to the situation.

Rest the previous night in the Badger was uneasy at best, and the humans especially are feeling the effects of fatigue the next morning. Rebort and Kallium are the exceptions to this, with Beloc more sore than tired.

It isn't until just after breakfast the next day that any sort of a break is actually felt. The wood's absurdly tangled floor slacks, and the trees become sparse, making driving considerably easier with the lack of obstacles to weave in and out of. Ahead, the sun shines brightly through the shrinking canopy and the wood itself gives way to the same rolling hills that make up the Argonette Forest, but they are instead covered in thigh high grasses that bow and sway in the crisp mid Autumn winds.

A strange looking and gnarled tree trunk sits some hundred yards in to the forest. It lacks branches, and has had the top cleaved off at about 8 foot up.

On it are carved depictions of men doing battle with large reptilian figures. Interwoven and knotted patterns encircle the artwork. It is very intricate, though time, moisture, and moss has obscured much of the carvings.

Putting hours of frustration into her words, Shiaran appraises the tree.  "Well, that's pretty."

Sypher's only acknowledgment of the troublesome journey is to ask to stop the Badger so he can relieve himself.  His voice is subdued and he is silently contemplative of the tree.

Beloc walks up to what's left of the tree and places a hand upon it. He sighs heavily and looks back at the group. "This tree served as a marker for the Fyreworm clan borders. Seeing it cut down in this fashion serves as both a message and as a sign of what may lie ahead. The humans that live in this area will be on high alert, so be warned, they won't be as friendly as the elves of Argonette."
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:43, Tue 19 Dec 2017.

"What are those reptilian creatures and should we be concerned about them?"

"Dragons." He glances back at the tree. "The color from the carvings have faded a bit, but these were reds. According to them, they cleaned out the last of them when Crasmar himself killed their brood mother some twenty years ago. These carvings are meant to remind all those who pass through their lands of their strength."

Shiaran's eyes go wide.  "Dragons!  I know they exist, but to see such direct evidence of it?"  She shakes her head, visibly shaken.

"Oh yes, they are very much real. Thankfully, they like to keep to themselves though. The reds, they had a nasty temper. I don't think you would have been born yet, but when I was much younger, I can recall it wasn't unheard of for the reds to make their presence known. Snatching cattle, eating people. They had a standing feud with the white dragons of the Shattered Top" he says, as he motions to the massive mountain range looming to the northwest. "Unfortunately though, with Fildegarne Walled City being just the other side, that didn't play out well as you could imagine. In the mean time, the story goes that Crasmar rallied the remainder of the broken tribes under one banner, and set forth beyond his own borders to slay and put down every last one of the reds on Fildegarne. Though, who knows how much of it is truth, and how much of it's tavern lore at this point"

World Lore - Uncommon Knowledge - White dragons rumored to live on Shattered Top. Black dragons rumored in some marshes (unconfirmed stories). Green dragons rumored to live on Green Fang Isle far to the south. Extremely uncommon to see a dragon though, and even less common to hear of a sighting from a reputable source
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Tue 19 Dec 2017.

Sypher returns from his excursion and catches the tail end of the conversation.  He grins at Shiaran.  "Don't worry, Shy, there are few dragons left in Fildegarne.  I imagine with the PCA around, they are seen even less.  Undead don't taste good."

"I'm not worried."  Shiaran's words are said absently as she retreats into her head.  Her face reads in a manner that the rest of the group is beginning to recognize as lost in thought.

Sypher sees it and sighs heavily, likely knowing that whatever Shiaran is thinking, its going to get him into a lot of trouble.

One everyone has had a chance for a break, Shiaran plops back down in the driver's seat.  "Beloc, you recognized this tree.  Did you recognize this specific tree?"

"It's just a tree", Beloc says with a wink. "Aside from being a remarkable work of art, there isn't any significance to it. There are many more like it, but these are used specifically to mark the border of the Fyreworm clan."

"Cute.  What I'm asking is if you know where we are and more importantly, how to get out of here to the road.  A road.  Any road. "

Beloc scans the area for a moment to get his bearings before responding. "I'm no pathfinder, but I have a general idea of where we are. What knowledge of the area I have comes from spotty reconnaissance missions. The Fyreworm keep a tight grip on everything that passes through their lands, so my experiences here are few and far between. Normally, I would stay off the beaten path, but there's no masking our travel with that monster of a vehicle announcing our presence. Given where I believe we are right now, there should be a main road an hour or two west of here. If you don't feel like dealing with the barbarians, you could always just go straight west and take our chances with the dwarves in the mountains."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:11, Tue 19 Dec 2017.

Shiaran makes sure all are aboard and turns the wheel to the left.  With course laid in due west, she punches the gas and roars through the forest with more confidence in their path than she's felt since they entered the trees in what feels like months ago.

The Badger speeds along just outside of the edge of the forest. The grass below is nothing more than a blur, as the terrain is hospitable enough for the armored car to reach near its top speed with only brief slow downs due to rocky outcroppings and hills.

Beloc informs the group they should be getting near to the hamlet that sits on the borders of Argonette and the Clan Lands. No sooner than the words are said, Shiaran spots a few tendrils of hearth smoke curling up around two miles out. She slows the Badger down to a halt behind a large rock.

The winds of the plains are far more robust than the gentle breezes of the forest, and likely have masked the loud rumbles of the diesel engine. The only thing that can be seen in the immediate area are rocks and grass.

On the giant rock the hides the Badger, there are painted runic symbols written around crude pictures of several species of grazing animal. They appear to have been applied with blood quite some time ago, leaving behind a sort of rusty discoloration of the granite.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:54, Thu 21 Dec 2017.

Beloc hops out of the vehicle to inspect the area around the stone then looks over the stone itself but does not progress beyond it. He returns to the others to report. "The stone is a marker for their hunters indicating a game trail nearby. There's been fairly recent activity in the area, a mix of booted and barefoot tracks headed west, so the smoke ahead could be hearth fires or a razed hamlet. It's hard to say judging from this spot."

"So either way, it's safe to proceed into the town driving the Badger?"

"I would take the Badger in a little farther, but it's probably worth scouting ahead to know what we're walking in to."

"Guess I'm up, then.  We'll just leave the Badger here.  I'm sure the villagers don't need any stinking Badgers in their quaint little village.  I'll be back soon.  In fact, if I'm not back within the hour, come rescue me."  She reaches up to Sypher's face as if to caress him.  Instead, she comes away with an errant eyelash.  "Thanks, Sy.  You have them to spare and now I don't have to use mine."

With a wave to the others, she skulks off down the ridge to the village.

"What would you have us do in the mean time, Beloc? What's our plan should we be discovered?" asks Darius.

"I don't want to leave Shiaran too far ahead of us. We ought to be able to get within a mile or so before the noise of this thing will give us away. Let's give her a little lead time, then move out."

He looks over the others for suggestions only to find R.E.B.O.R.T. heads down and hard at work with his golem. "Sypher, if you could keep a lookout while I drive, I'd appreciate it. Should we be discovered, it seems we have three options. If it's the PCA, we put them back in the ground. If it's the elves, then they might be able to give us a better ley of the land. If it's the Fyrmworm clan... we'll need to tread lightly. They may be more receptive to you or Sypher before me."

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks up briefly when mention of a plan comes about but quickly returns his attention to a number of tiny glass vials.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:23, Fri 22 Dec 2017.

Shiaran continues her mission.

Once everyone is loaded, the Badger creeps forward with Beloc being light on the pedals as to not rev the engines too loudly.

Shiaran tries not to get herself in too deep in trouble.

Beloc brings the Badger to a stop about 3/4 of a mile from the hamlet, parking it just off the beaten path as to not draw too much unwanted attention.

He steps outside with Apache and begins to surveil the area.

At that time, R.E.B.O.R.T. corks the last of three vials. He walks over to Sypher and hands him one. "I noticed your strong connection to the divine and thought this would compliment that nicely, should you need a boost in defense."

The other two, he stows away in a compartment.

Sypher, if willing, receives a potion of Shield of Faith (+3). It offers +3 AC deflection for 6 minutes.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:46, Fri 22 Dec 2017.

Shiaran has left a clear path through the tall grasses, which do little to help conceal passers by. At this short distance, the hamlet is in plain view. A multitude of tree stumps, long since rotted are scattered all about the hamlet's perimeter. The area of inhabited land cuts in to the forest's edge a fair distance. Eighr wooden homes are arranged in a semi-circle, with a larger building at the center of the row - it shares the same visual characteristics of the homes, but seems to be some sort of meeting house. The houses are rectangular and elevated on stilts. They seem large enough to fit a family of 6 with plenty of elbow room. The entire row faces easterly, likely to catch the first rays of light in the morning.

A shallow pond sits center of the semi circle. A few women appear to wash children in the cold waters, wrangling them to stay still. Several large wooden racks are set up around 30 feet away, with a plethora of animal hides in various states of a tanning process hanging from them. You cant squarely see the source of the hearth fires, as there are no chimneys on the homes, but you can see smoke rolling up through a central opening in the roof of each house. To the south a short ways, a large wood pile sits, with two younger men - probably late teens - splitting logs into firewood while a young girl takes the pieces and stacks them orderly.


In front of the meeting hall looking building, six armed men stand around the steps, and appear to be speaking to a woman. One of them is peering in the direction of the Badger, with a hand over his forehead shielding his eyes from the sun. He freezes for a moment, and then points in the direction of the vehicle. The woman wears a familiar coat, and Beloc recognizes it's Shiaran.
Three of the men, upon being alerted to the sight of the Badger at a distance, draw swords.

Beloc speaks quietly to the others. "Look lively, gentlemen. Shiaran appears to be speaking with some armed men over there, and it would seem that they are aware of our presence."

Shiaran keeps her hands spread out wide and slowly, calmly sits cross-legged on the ground in front of the men.

"Sypher", he says, motioning for the man to join him outside. "You know her best. Any idea what she's up to?"

Sypher scratches his chin for a moment in thought.  "If I had to guess, she's trying to talk down the locals from killing her and attacking us and inwardly cursing us for getting so close they noticed us before she was done negotiating."  He chuckles.  "Those villagers are safe.  Her hands are out and not up.  If you see her hands go up above her head, that's when people are about to die."

Beloc sighs heavily. "I'm sure we'll hear about that later. Honestly, I didn't expect her to confront the locals. Scouting doesn't usually involve engagement."

Sypher turns to Beloc and raises an eyebrow.  "Oh?  I think maybe that's a difference of opinion.  Many times on the mainland, Shiaran or I would just saunter into an unknown village to scope out the locals while the other waited to see if there was trouble.  I rescued her once or twice."  He pauses, then shakes his head looking down.  "She pulled me out of local trouble more often than that."

He clasps Beloc on the shoulder.  "Just give her a chance.  She's good.  I've come to trust her judgment in these kinds of situations."

"I was never known for my charisma, so needless to say, engagement without a weapon in my hand rarely went well."

Beloc looks on as Sypher reassures him. "Trust. It has to start somewhere."

The man down below who appears to speak to Shiaran motions with his hand, directing her, and the pointing back at the rest of the party. Once he points, the other men turn to look back at the Badger crew.

Shiaran smiles and stands without using her hands.  A small thing, but maybe enough to show them she is fit.  She turns to the others on the hill and waves at them to come on down.

Sypher turns to the others.  "Let's go.  Krem, too.  Darius can stay in the Badger.  We don't want to alarm them with that thing.  If they want to see it, they'll ask for it when we get there.  We'll tell them we left a driver up here. "

The Badger rocks a bit at R.E.B.O.R.T. steps out of the vehicle. He presents Beloc with a small vial, similar to the one give to Sypher, but different in color. "For when you need the extra strength to tip the scales."

Beloc receives a potion of Bull's Strength. Duration 6 minutes.

Beloc thanks the large construct and pockets the vial. "Let's try to look at friendly as possible", he says as he retracts his armor.

"Shall we?"

The four make their way down the gentle slope of the large hill and soon find themselves face to face with Shiaran and the barbarians. The one who has been speaking with Shiaran nods in contempt at the motley crew. He looks back at Shiaran, eyes narrowed.

"You now bring me one scrawny varrior, some sort of unnatural creature, and den.. dose two. An elf, and a green skin" he says, finishing his sentence by spitting on the ground. The other men all spit on the ground as well at the sight of their leader doing so.

Behind where Beloc and company walked down, they see two more barbarian men. Hunters, who were tailing them. Their bodies are covered in grass and dirt as a camouflage. Each carries a long bow, with an arrow nocked but not drawn back.

"I do not know vat your intentions are, voman, but you surely must see dis does not look very good to us. Ve live a life of solitude from de outside vorld. So vhen de outside vorld come to us, we are suspicious as ve should be".

With the appearance of the two scouts behind them, Beloc raises his hands, palms open, to show no hostility.

"I already told you my intentions.  We did not want to try and sneak past and then make your town even more wary of us.  I wanted to let you know we were here, but that we were just passing through and mean no harm to anyone.  We have no intentions towards disturbing your peace.  Please, just allow us to drive around the edge of the village and be on our way."  At this point, Shiaran no longer has her hands out.  She stands in a relaxed stance with her hands together in front of her waist, as diplomatic and non-threatening a pose as she can conceive.

Behind her, Sypher nods in support.

"An elf, who can assure you, knows the strength of the great people that occupy these lands." He motions towards Shiaran. "She tells the truth, we mean you no harm."

The barbarian looks everyone over, contemplating the situation. He silently steps away for a moment to consult the other men. The two scouts at a distance keep their eyes trained on the group. After a minute or so of hushed deliberation, he returns. "Dis is not a madder dat I can give authority on, nor any man in de village. I vould enjoy telling you to move along and pass, but dat has to come from a jarl. And he is not here at dis time. He's attending business at Vaaringard, to de north. Vere exactly are you headed? If it is near to Vaaringard, den dey can escort you" he says, motioning towards the scouts. "If not, den we are back to our problems, and vill odderwise have to turn you avay".

Shiaran taps her chin in thought.  "May I have a few moments to confer with my companions?"

"I vill afford you dis courtesy, yes".

Shiaran steps away a few steps.  She makes no special effort to be out of earshot, but does keep to low tones.  "Look, I know we are trying to complete our main...quest.  However, I these are the living and should this thing come to final confrontation at the end of it all, I believe it would be a good thing to have these guys on good terms.  I'd like your input on whether or not we should meet this jarl or just lock down in the badger and push through."

"What's on the table if we meet with Jarl, is there some sort of arrangement they are trying to make with us? We help them, they help us?"

"The point of meeting with the Jarl is that we get to move through their lands with permission and don't make an unnecessary enemy and potentially gain an ally moving forward in this war.  We have no quarrel with these folks and have nothing to gain by angering them.  I think the expenditure of time is worth it if we can gain their friendship.  Barring that, perhaps we can at least work out a non-aggression agreement and give our word not to come on to their lands again."

Beloc nods in agreement. "We are in desperate need of allies. If there is something we can do to earn their trust, and do quickly, I would say go for it. It may actually make things easier down the line."

"It's a good play, Shy.  Beloc is right.  We need allies, desperately.  If these guys aren't even in the fight yet, it could tip the balance toward the light."

Shiaran nods then turns to Krem and Rebort.  "Gentlemen?"

"I do not object. I have something for you though. It may prove useful in defensive measures."

R.E.B.O.R.T. hands Shiaran the third and final vial.

Shiaran gets a Potion of Blinking which lasts 6 rounds.

"Oi got no qualms with makin' new friends. Maybe they can poin' us in tha roight direction while they're at it".

"Thanks, Rebort."  She tucks the vial away in a pouch.  She'll have to ask what it does later.  "Alright, so we are all in agreement.  Glad that's settled."

She turns back to the clansmen.  "Please, take us to your Jarl.  And thank you."

The lead barbarian nods. "Very vell den". He motions for the two scouts to enter the hamlet. "Luutvig and Toki vill escort you to Vaaringard. Dat thing der cannot go though" he says, pointing over at the Badger. "It vill cause too much of a ruckus with our kin. Dey vill not like dis. Is der anyvone inside of it?".

"Darius," Shiaran says before anyone else speaks up.  "I will go and get him.  May we gather our supplies for traveling on foot?"

The lead just nods, and turns his back to you as Luutvig and Toki make their way over to join you. Neither of them says a word, but one motions towards the Badger with his bow. As everyone makes their way up, the scouts make it a point to walk ten paces behind the group.

At the Badger, Darius is sitting with the door open. "So, negotiations with the locals went well I presume?"

"Yes.  We're leaving the Badger behind for a while, though.  They are taking us to meet the Jarl.  Looking for new allies or at least non-aggression with them so I am putting on my nice face."  She looks back at the others.  "Alright.  Gear up and let's get moving."

Darius taps his can on the door of the Badger. "We um, we aren't forgetting a tiny detail about me, are we?" he says with a smirk. "I'll stay here with the clans men. Maybe see about working on some sort of relationship. Plus, if they have one of your own, well, they'll probably trust you to mind your P's and Q's a bit better. Sound good?".

"What?  You can't just levitate the whole way?"  Shiaran grins.  "Alright.  Be safe.  And take care of my Badger!"  She gives the old wizard a peck on the cheek and grabs her gear.

Sypher will grab his after everyone else has had a chance.

"D'won will stay behind as well. He is working on something new and he isn't built for adventure."

"Perfectly fine by me Rebort. Though, I'm going to have to do a little work myself to understand him. I'll drive the Badger to just outside of town and park it there so D'won can continue his work while I keep an eye on things. And no worries Shiaran.. I have a few simple spells and wards I'll place on the Badger prior to going down. The last thing I need is one of those kids getting inside and mashing the trigger on a machine fed gun. You all stay safe". At that, Darius hobbles around to the other side of the Badger, out of sight of the scouts, and begins quietly mumbling to himself with a hand touching the passenger side door.

Opting to keep his armor retracted, he steps into the Badger to fetch his weapon and shield. "All set. See you soon, Darius."

"Farewell, my friend.  May the Lord bless you and keep you until we meet again. "  Sypher shakes the old wizard's hand and follows the others.

On the road, he will take point for the group behind whatever clansman leads them.

A few short hours later, the group finds itself out on the open and rolling hills of the plains. Line of sight varies, from all the way to the mountain's base while standing on a hill's crest, to barely 100 feet down in the troughs. At a crest, Luutvig - who hasn't spoken a word the entire trip - places up a hand to halt, and quickly crouches down. "Be still. Der are krûnenberngen on der odder side of de hill. Toki".

Beloc looks over to Shiaran and shrugs.

Toki perks up and nocks an arrow, and moves from his position in the back of the file up to the front with Luutvig. "How many?" he asks.

"I count tventy" replies Luutvig.
"Dey have gotten too brazen as of late. Ve vill deal wit dis now".
"Der are too many fer de two of us".
Toki looks back at the group, and then at Luutvig, who just snorts and frowns.
"Dem? Dey are soft Toki. Look at dem. Dey need de fire belchers just to defend demselves. Vhat vould de gods say to us if we fell among dem? Dey would turn us away. Ve vould be Vaettir, forced to valk de earth until de end of days. Ve vill go around".

Beloc wracks his brain to recall the various types of creatures that roam this area. "They may be referring to bugbears. Sort of a goblin, orc hybrid. Generally, evil in nature and tend to use guerilla tactics and ambushes."

"Sypher and I ran into them a couple of times on the mainland.  Tough guys and cunning.  How do they feel about the PCA?"

"Shy, that's twenty.  We can't take a chance on that many.  Negotiations require leverage and six against is not leverage. "

Shiaran listens to Sypher's analysis and nods.  "I'd still like to know. "  She looks to Beloc and the Firewyrms.

"Pfft. Negotiations. De krûnenberngen here do not talk. Dey only fight, and ve fight back. Dey crawl from de holes of de earth, and ve put dem back in der holes. De time for talking peace wiff dem passed dese lands long ago".

"I suppose we could just go around, but they could still pick up our trail or our scent." Beloc grins and pats his large blade. "Perhaps we ought to just say hello instead."

"Dat's vhat I'm thinking too. If dey figure out ve are here, which dey will, dey'll follow us. De man in the blouse vas correct dough, seex against tventy isn't good odds. Even vith de fire belchers".

"De fire belchers be damned, Toki. I already told you, I'll have no part in dis. Dey'll do someting to anger de gods, you mark my vords. Vignor honors strength, but Rhornur appreciates de mind. He vill speak for me when I reach de gates of Siegendurn".

"And which vone vill speak for you about tucking your tail between your legs, eh?".

Luutvig scowls menacingly at Toki, but Toki ignores any potential retort he may have and addresses Beloc. "You dere, aelfen. Take a peek at dem. Tell me vhat vould an aelfen do".

"No.  Wait.  Beloc.  I need information, first.  Tell me about the krûnenberngen, the bugbears.  How do they view the undead?  The PCA?"  Shiaran's tone is insistent, but not commanding.  It sounds more like she is wresting control from the barbarians than trying to order Beloc around.

"If your talking about dose sniveling dogs dat pull de s'trings of de dead like puppets, it's doubtful. De krûnenberngen have no love for such things. Dey don't ally vit anyvone. Dey eider get made a slave, or dey die. Vich is probably de only ting positive I can say about dem. I hates dem, but dey are varriors true to dere own, and only dere own.".

Shiaran sighs.  "But there are twenty down there."  She curses, which causes Sypher to frown.  "Sypher's right.  That's just too many."  She looks up at Beloc.  "Recon, then, if you please.  But I'd like to avoid a pointless fight."

She turns to the clansmen.  "Not because I'm afraid."  She glares at them, dares them to challenge her on that point.  "Because I don't want the six of us marching down there and slaughtering them all pointlessly.  It may be that they will never ally with us, but even if we can just aim them in the PCA's direction, not killing their party will help us do that."

She turns away to stare in the distance, muttering about ports in storms and allies.  The metaphors are all jumbled up, flowing too fast to make any sense.

Beloc looks over to Toki. "Depends on which elf you asked. My father would have just cut through them. My mother, however, probably would have just passed on by without a trace. You mentioned these bugbears popping up out of holes? There's a network of tunnels that runs all through Argonette and the Fyreworm lands. If they're using them, that rules us using them out. We'd just run into the same problem down there."

He looks back over to Shiaran. "What if I could get some of us past them while the rest try a more diplomatic approach? If all goes well we move along and give them a new target. If it doesn't, at least we'll have a few in flanking position."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:56, Sat 30 Dec 2017.

Luutvig tosses his hands up in the air in exasperation. "Vhat about dhem not being much for de talk didn't you understand aelf? Dhey're bloodtirsty swine. Noting more. De moment dey see us, dhey'll charge, bearing axes and moorning s'tars. Vould you like to vait until before, or after dey strike de first blow to ask dem nicely to leave us be, eh?". He looks over at Toki. "Dis right here, dis is vhy ve should go back to de vay de Niffem said ve should be. No trespassers, no being nice. Cross de border, you die. Simple".
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Sat 30 Dec 2017.

Shiaran spins around and looks hard at Luutvig.  "And these...tresspassers are aware of this?  Aware of your land, your laws, and the penalty for encroachment?"  She glances at Sypher then back at the barbarian.  "They raid your towns, murder your people, steal your property?"

Luutvig steps forward to Shiaran, the scowl on his face growing more intense. "Dey don't haf to be avare of it, voman" he says pointing a finger at her chest. "Dose down dere, aren't people. Dey aren't aelfs. Dey're the scum from de bottom of a pig's hoof. I don't haf to explain dis to you, because you already know dis. Just like you already know dat dhey aren't de only trespassers I speak of. You people come here, wit your god's forsaken guns, your musheens, and your attitudes dat valk all over our people. And in case you forgets dis, you aren't in a land where your laws can safe you. You are in our lands, vhere your very own kings haf given us de right to rule ourselves, as a free peoples. So don't come here, to me, to my people, in our place, and question vhat ve do vit our lifes. Vit our claim. Noting, noting gives you dis right".

Shiaran looks down at the finger and back up at the barbarian with her eyes narrowed.  "I'm going to overlook your attitude this time, chief, because you are right.  We are here without permission, and because we want to include you and your people in not getting overrun by the PCA!  But if any of your fingers gets anywhere near my chest again, I'm going to break them.  Then you can fight bugbears without them for a while."

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at him, not backing down.

"I'd as soon as relieve their heads from their shoulders than talk to them, but that's not what we're here for."

A decision needs to be made. Too much debate and arguing will only draw their attention and force one for us.

All - Roll Perception

Shiaran continues to glare at Luutvig but reaches into a pouch subtly.  "Great.  They heard your ego from a mile away.  Kanina mati den mopey na me Fri na kinetic eh na energeso an den keno kinese enantia den autous."  She winks out of sight.

Sypher takes cue from Shiaran and draws his sword, brandishing it as if threating the barbarian (and hoping bugbears don't understand common well enough to understand through his growling speech).  "They are here.  Arm yourself."

The gem in R.E.B.O.R.T's chest pulses and a familiar British voice can be heard. "It seems they have chosen for us."

With a whirring and clicking of gears, the compartments in his forearms open up and two modified RG-44's pop up and reassemble. Twelve distinct clicks can be heard as ammo is automatically loaded. The weapon on his left arm glows as an infusion is rapidly cast into it.

R.E.B.O.R.T. places the Bane (goblinoid) enchantment on 1 weapon.

Beloc tosses his shield into the air and he begins hovering protectively in front of him. His armor expands outward from the amulet and he reaches for his weapon. "Cut through them, it is."

Sypher steps back from the barbarians and near Rebort.  He keeps his voice low.  "Can you manage without guns?"

R.E.B.O.R.T. shakes his head in the negative. "I was built on the premise of new technology. Firearms were the only weaponry I was outfitted with. I could beat them with the stock of my rifle, but that seems hardly efficient. Survival here seems paramount to offending the locals."

Sypher nods and smiles.  "We'll have to work on that.  Do your best, my friend.  Don't hold back."  He turns to face the bushes and the trees, looking for the targets.

Toki and Luutvig both fan out, traveling in a direction opposite the rustling, bows drawn and arrows nocked. A silence sets in over the plains, and the only sound heard is the wind brushing through the grass. Nothing else moves or stirs. No grunts, no war cries, or calls to arms. Seconds tick by and turn to minutes, with everyone waiting on bated breath for the first blow to be struck.

R.E.B.O.R.T. stands his ground, scanning the area, while Beloc glances at the rest of the group. A little uneasy that nothing popped up over the, he starts to slowly move towards the top of the ridge.

As Beloc reaches the top of the hill, a giant hare comes bounding out of the tall grasses, running left and right, unsure of which way is best for escape. Aside from nearly causing him to cleave the thing in two, Beloc is no worse for the wear.

Down below, he can clearly see a wallowed out spot in the shallow trough between hills, with lots of grass knocked down. Blood, entrails, and several carcasses of some sort of deer species native to the area are strewn around on the ground. The bugbears are nowhere to be found though. The grasses adjoining the site are pressed down, going in a direction that leads away from the group. Several hills over is a larger hill with a rocky outcropping around its base. The tracks look to have lead that direction.

Shiaran remains invisibile.

High overhead Shiaran's raven Leukos, makes for the rocky outcropping.

Luutvig finally takes notice of the raven. "A raven? Out dis far? Dis is a good sign for us. Dey are messengers for de gods".

Sypher struggles to keep a straight face and nods sagely at Luutvig.  He continues to look around, but begins to relax his stance somewhat.  "I that rabbit is the extent of their ambush."

Both Luutvig and Toki make their way to where the hare once was, and look down to see the remains of the bugbear camp below. "De hare was probably cornered between us and dem. I haf to wonder dough.. Surely de krûnenberngen could haf heard us over dis hill. For dem to not even send a scout is troubling. Dats no sort of behavior I'fe ever seen of dem, and I'fe put all my finger an' toes worf of dem down. An I agree Luutvig, de raven is indeed a goot sign of fortune".

Shiaran reaches the group, but remains invisible.  Her voice is clearly heard, though.  "There is a cave not far from here.  This area is empty of predators, too.  Something is not connecting here.  We may be up against something more than a few goblinoids."

Luutvig looks around, bewildered, having already turned away before Shiaran went invisible. "Vhere are you voman?".

Toki, being a bit more perceptive than his counterpart, chuckles. "She is a shaman Luutvig. She passes like de vind".

"I don't like it. It isn't natural".

"It is more dan natural. An' tank you for de update Shee-ran. If deres a cave, den dat's vhere dey fled. Eidder dey knew ve vas here, and dey're baiting us in, or someting else spooked dem. Someting dat ve missed. Vhatever it vas, I'm tinking now vould be a goot time to make our way far from dis place. De behavior of de krûnenberngen is de unnatural ting here, an' I haf no intention of finding out vhy in de present time. Ve can let de Jarl know ve found anodder vone of dier hiding holes. He'll know vhat to do".

"I'm going to appear now.  Nobody try to stab me."  After waiting for the revelation to register, Shiaran wills the spell to end and appears next to Sypher.  Then she calls up the hill just loud enough for him to hear.  "Beloc.  We're leaving."  She turns back to Toki.  Her smile is one indicating friendship and trust.  "Lead on, my friend."

Beloc warily steps back from the ridge. "Something... definitely amiss here." He walks over to Apache and pats him on the shoulder. "Come, boy. Keep your nose to the winds."

He rejoins the others, armor retracting back into the amulet.

Along the walk to Vaaringard, Toki and Luutvig are more talkative than they were along the first leg of the journey. They tell of the proud people they belong to, and of their noble, albeit ageing leader Crasmar, who rallied the broken, disbanded, and shattered tribes of Fildegarne under one banner to rise up slay the red dragon menace. They tell of cultural rites of passage for children in to adulthood. Both boys and girls accompany a hunting party to kill a stag or boar in the eastern woods, to be served as part of the banquet at an annual feast called Kierst-rin, or "Coming of Age". All members of the clan, no matter their age, sex, or race, learn to fight. They prefer isolation from the outside world, because they are a proud people, and believe that if they can't stand on their own, that they don't deserve to stand at all. They don't generally care for the elves, but they don't hate them either. They have a warrior's respect for them, despite their sometimes frequent not seeing eye to eye.

They cherish strength and self reliance above all, and have a disdain for those who wont fight for themselves (which is further explained as not having a disdain for the weak, but a disdain for the lazy).

All Fyreworm men and women are both hunters and farmers. The populous is spread among hamlets and villages with their own governing body, a Jarl, who oversees at least three settlements and reports directly to the Chief (Crasmar) and his adviser Irja Ginnar, a Fyreworm shield maiden who has proven herself in battle many times over. They make it a point of distinction though that she isn't a wife or consort. The chief's wife passed away 24 years prior in childbirth with Crasmar's only child, a son named Sigurd. He has since never remarried, or taken another woman (at least, that anyone knows of).

The Fyreworms are excellent cave explorers, having made a kinship with the dwarves under the Shattered Top, as well as having about a quarter of their people living underground in the cave networks that twist and wind under the pains and beyond. They too are hunters and farmers, living in the light of bio-luminescent mushrooms and molds. They also act as a bulwark against the denizens of the underworld, giving them good reason to stay put rather than try to breach the surface in large numbers.

Toki explains that now that he has thought on the matter, the bugbears from earlier would have been a foraging party, but that also meant a bugbear camp or even larger settlement wouldn't have been too far down the cave that was spotted.

Magic user are rare among the Fyreworms, and are called shaman. The women of the clan seem to have more of an affinity for spell work than the men.

They worship two gods that are twin brothers, Vignor and Rhornur. Vignor is associated with strength and battle, while Rhornur is associated with cunning and magic. The men mostly pay homage to Vignor, while the women mostly to Rhornur, but both men and women honor both for fear of making the other jealous and being turned away at the gates to the afterlife, which they call Siegendurn.


Several hours since the trek resumed, the party now stands in sight of a large city a few miles out. Its high walls extend out from a natural recess in the side of the mountain, and stretch outward in a half circle. Watch towers line the wall, and the shapes of men standing guard can be faintly made out atop the parapets. Behind the walls, numerous building tops can be seen, with a large central castle tucked further back, presumably butting up against the stone face of the mountain. Wood and stone from this distance are all the civilization seems to be made of, and in many way, it feels like stepping back through time by looking at it.

"Vell, dere it is. Vaaringard, de city of Varriors".

"Thank you for bringing us here.  Please, take us to the Jarl."

Along the trip, Sypher will have exchanged stories of his childhood growing up as an orphan in the monastery not too far from there in Mirn.  He leaves out the reason for his orphanage and fails to mention that Shiaran is his sister, though he does talk about them growing up together.  He does all that he can to engender a bond with these men, both out of genuine camaraderie and to help further their petition before the Jarl.

Part of this is relaying tales of his and Shiaran's exploits the last two years before the fateful return home on the airship.  The normally reticent monk has a loquacious side when he gets going.  He tells of bandits and goblins, a bugbear who fancied himself a chieftain over a motley crew of kobolds, and a local wizard who turned out to be more than he seemed, poisoning the town and blaming it on the local apothecary out of anger at being spurned by her.  They had saved her from being burned at the stake as a witch just in time, though the wizard had fled before they could catch him.

Once they arrive at the town, Sypher returns to his more quieted self and allows Shiaran to take the lead as was her wont.

Beloc doesn't talk much along the way. He nods along with the things he already knew and takes in the things he didn't. His past encounters with Crasmar were brief, even though to him, it was merely days ago. Mentioning it seemed futile given more than 11 years had passed for everyone else. Instead, he inquires more about the tunnel systems.

"Provided your Jarl allows us, would these tunnels and caves be able to get us through the region faster than above ground?"

The mention of shaman piques R.E.B.O.R.T's attention. "I would like to know about your shaman. What sort of magic do they perform?"

The pair explain that traversing the caves below isn't wise, and definitely wouldn't allow for faster travel. Too many things other than human live under the earth in this region for travel to be smooth.

Next they explain to Rebort about the shaman. They primarily fill the role of healer, though some are adept at reading the bones (fortune telling), and a few know how to cast offensive spells (though Rebort can surmise from the descriptions that none of the shaman would be grossly powerful sorcerers, at least not in terms of the potential damage they could inflict).

The group closes in on the main gates of Vaaringard, and four men armed to the teeth step out from a gate house to "challenge" the group. Luutvig steps forward, and upon being recognized, the lead guard places a heavy hand on Luutvig's shoulder. Luutvig returns the gesture, equally heavy handed.

"So, Luutvig, prisoners? Or new bed chamber toys?"
The other three men roar with laughter at the crude humor.
Luutvig laughs as well.
"Neidder, you goat scrotum. Dey are varriors, from de souf. Dey are vith de militr'y, and are seeking passage. Joern sent us to ferry dem to ask audience vith Jarl Vindfor".
"Is dat so? Dey give you any trouble".
Luutivg looks back at Shiaran. "No. Dey've been decent mannered".
"Vell, even still, I'm going t' need more information dan "seeking passage". Vhere exactly do you people intend to go? Gate vill not open wit out answers, unfortunately".
Toki candidly leans in to whisper something to Shiaran.

Shiaran steps forward.  As she speaks, she looks up as if trying to recall a long list, and taps her fingers one by one as she calls them off.  Her speech is rapid, clearly enunciated, and said in as few breaths as possible.  "We are trying to pass from the Argonette Forest through your lands by the fastest route possible with our vehicle.  I didn't want to waste time going around, but I didn't want to pass through without permission first, so we spoke to these good people who said we had to come here to speak to the Jarl.  I also would like to talk to him and to this leader of yours, Crasmar, about the PCA and how the clans view them, deal with them, and potentially would like to ally with you against them as friends.  Once through your lands, granting that you give us passage, it will be on to Shattertop.  I have a message for the dwarves there from the dwarf, Gurnfir - to his wife and kids to be exact - that he still lives.  I met Gunrnfir in Argonette city where he was the last survivor of his group passing out of Shattertop through the cave systems below because of your no passage policy.  After I deliver the message, I'd like to stop in Mirn and see what's become of the town and the monastery where I grew up with Sypher," she nods her head back toward the monk.  "I'd like to see if they need any help against the PCA.  After that, we'll find a way to do what we can as best we can against the undead army.  Anything in particular you need to know about all that?"

Beloc remains silent and intently watches the barbarians reactions as Shiaran quickly blasts through her talking points.

The lead guard scratches his chin, clearly being lost on at least three quarters of what Shiaran says. He looks back at Luutvig. "Right.. uh, sounds like jarl business to me as vell". He turns back to the gate and looks up on the wall, and gives a signal. The massive wooden gate with bands of iron holding fast across it starts to swing open. "Just.. don't cause any troubles, right? An' don't forget our laws are vhats followed here. You king's crown doesn't reach dis far".

He and his men step aside, allowing the group passage. Toki snickers quietly to himself while gently elbowing Shiaran.

Ahead is a long main road, made of nothing more than hard packed soil, with rows of long houses and shops on either side.

Shiaran waits till she is past the guards then gives Toki a private small.

Sypher just shakes his head.

R.E.B.O.R.T. follows the group past the guards. "It appears an overabundance of words can be just as disarming as a blade. Well done."

Beloc brings up the rear if Toki or Luutvig doesn't. He keeps a watchful eye on his surroundings as they make their way to the Jarl.

The party makes their way down the wide, dirt main road. Citizens, both men and woman, along with children stop to gawk and stare at the motley crew passing through their home stretch. Beloc and Rebort get the most obvious sideways glances, however it doesn't take long to notice that no one actively calls out angry or jeering words. There is no mockery, no looks of disdain or anger on their faces. It is a mixture of wonder and curiosity, coupled with a potential hint of respect. After all, the group travels in the open company of Fyreworm warriors, unbound or shackled, as free people. Merchants hawking wares even cease their boisterous chatter back and forth across the streets. At one point, a grizzled and disheveled old barbarian still carrying a tankard in his hand from the night before - which appears to have not ended for him yet - stumbles near the group. Upon seeing the elf and warforged, he pauses, looks down at his tankard, and pours the remaining content out on to the dirt below, shambling off while shaking his head.

Luutvig leads the party through a few side streets to a large hall. As two men at the doors open them, the warm glow of a hearth central to the large one room building gives off an inviting glow. The smells of cooked meats wafts lazily through the open wood framed portal, and gives the space a very inviting feel. As Luutvig walks up the steps and beckons the rest inside, the chill of the crisp air outside quickly starts to melt away from everyone.

"Feel free to make yourselfs comfortable. I vill go and fetch de jarl, and ve can get down to de business of discussing your passage. Jarl Vindfor vill also be de vun who decides if you can see de Chief. In de mean time, help yourselfs to some food and varmth". He looks over at Shiaran. "An' to you... perhaps ve got off on de wrong foot, ya? Had I known der vas a shaman vith us.. vell, it's a good type of person to haf around is all". Luutvig fumbles over his words, trying to express some semblance of an apology, and it's clear it isn't something he's done often in life.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:47, Sat 06 Jan 2018.

Shiaran gives him a disarming smile.  "Think nothing if it.  You defend your people well and these are times to be suspicious.  I hold no grudge, Luutvig.  Friends?"  She holds out a slender arm inviting him to shake.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:54, Sun 07 Jan 2018.

Beloc and Apache walk over to the hearth and warm themselves while they wait.

R.E.B.O.R.T, not really noticing the cold, takes note of the hall and their surroundings.

Luutvig looks at Shiaran's hand with a puzzled expression, and clasps it. The exchange takes entirely too long and is completely awkward. Luutvig simply nods, letting his actions try to show the goodwill his words wouldn't, and departs, leaving behind Toki with the party.


"So I heard you make mention of seeing de dwarves earlier. Dis is new" says Toki, once Luutvig is gone.

Sypher enters and finds an unobtrusive corner where he can see the whole room and perhaps be dismissed at the same time.  He sits and relaxes if there is space to do so, making himself appear as non-threatening as possible.  From there, the monk takes in the room and those within it.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:11, Wed 10 Jan 2018.

Shiaran considers Toki for a moment then decides to answer candidly.  Her tone carries with it a mild reprimand.  "All that I said was true.  I met a dwarf in the elfin city.  He is all that is left of his expeditionary force after they had to take the tunnels below your lands since there is a nearly complete restriction on passing through.  We exchanged goods and words and he asked that if I was ever up this way, could I deliver a message to his family and let them know he was alive and well, and hoping to come home once the mountain opened back up."

Shiaran expends a small portion of her attention to look around the room for a place similar to Sypher's while she speaks.  She also looks for food or some kind of serving staff in lieu of that.

"A dorf, passing tru de tunnels underneaf? Unheard of. He vould have passed right tru de keep. Ve gave dem an honor guard escort right tru our lands to de forest's edge. De dwarves are de only vuns de Chief has given unrestricted permission for de passing tru de lands. Eider you heard him wrong - no offense - or he only told you de half truths. It doesn't matter dough. Vhat matters is dat you are in de right place if you are vanting to speak to de dorfs. Dat is, if de Chief can be persuaded. An' assuming dat you're vith de militr'y, and de Feel-ta-garn is vhere de capitol is, it vorks out even better. Dey say de dorfs haf tunnels dat run all de way tru de mountains. Right under Feel-ta-garn. Dat is vhere you are vanting to go, is it not? Forgif me for prying, but de details only make sense in de direction de vinds blow dem". Toki stops himself for a moment. "I don't tink I vas supposed to tell anyvone about de Dorf kingdom entrance at de keep" he says, as he glances back at the door nervously. "It isn't someting dey vant just anyvone knowing about. Ah, how about ve forget I said dat, ya?".

"Of course.  And I was definitely in my own head at the time of our conversation.  It is quite possible I heard him wrong.  No offense taken."  She stores the information away for later use and turns more of her attention toward finding food.  "Toki, is there anything I could eat while we wait?  I'm starving?"

"Of course, over dere on de table. Everyone help yourselfs".

On the table is a selection of roasted meats, fire grilled greens, and loaves of bread.

After around a half hour of waiting, eating, and small talk, the door swings open. Luutvig steps in first, and then stands to the side of the door. He crosses his arm across his chest, with his fist balled tight in a salute. Toki immediately drops a crust of bread he's holding, and makes the salute as well. In walks an imposing man, dressed in dark furs and leather. He stands nearly as tall as Rebort, who clear six foot. A large scar runs the length of his neck, across his throat.

"Presenting Jarl Vindfor, Overseer of de Souf Lands".

Jarl Vindfor nods to both Toki and Luutvig, and then looks everyone over. His gaze isn't harsh, but he definitely looks both surprised and curious. When he speaks, his voice is raspy.

"Luutvig tells me you vish to pass tru our lands? He tells me you came up tru de Souf Lands, and dat you are varriors. Dat you even haf a shaman among you. He also tells me dat you vish to speak to de Chief. I can arrange for dis, if you'll come vith me to de keep. Ve can seek audience vith Chief Crasmar der, and arrange for a sit down vith him. My only request is dat vhen dey ask you who you vish to be in your circle, you do not send me avay. I'd much like to hear your tale, but it is our custum dat dose seeking audience haf a right to select de audience, if any, when speaking to de Chief. Dis is our vay of hafing vhat you vould call an "open door policy"".

When the Jarl enters, Beloc stands and bows out of respect.

R.E.B.OR.T, who had remained standing throughout their wait, keeps his focus locked on Vindfor but remains otherwise motionless.

Sypher stands quietly but does nothing else.

Shiaran finishes chewing a large bite as she stands.  She finds something to wipe her hands and face on, though she is such a clean eater, there is little mess to begin with, despite her voracious appetite.  She moves with precision and efficiency, but not hurried.  After a drink to wash it down she approaches the Jarl.  "I'm the...shaman, Shiaran Whiteraven.  I would be happy to include you in the discussion.  This concerns all of our peoples."

Something seems to catch Beloc's attention and he raises an eyebrow as he looks over to Shiaran. He looks as if he was about to say something, but he holds himself back.

"Vell den, I am tankful for dat. Der are many here among our people who do not vish to mingle vith de outside vorld. I for one see de benefits, if done vith caution and care. Come, ve vill talk on de way".

Vindfor exits the building, beckoning everyone to join him. As you walk down the side roads, he continues to explain his position.

"As you can imagine, I am a man of great influences. My people, dey are content vith der sealed avay lifes. I do not fault dem for dis, and I do not tink dey are rong. However, de vorld is changing around us. If we are not careful, I fear dat ve vill fade avay. No man acting as vun of de leaders of his peoples vants dis. I am not suggesting ve trow out our way of life avay, and modernize. But our lands are rich vith minerals. Our grounds are fertile. And my people, dey are noble. And no, before you ask, I don't intend to do someting to shame myself vith de likes of money. Vun of de stipulations dat novun considers, is dat de travel ban ve have here goes both way. Our people do not leave our lands, because it is forbidden. I vill say, dat dis above all, I do not like. I feel as if it vill cause us to stagnate, like some musty and forgotten pond".

By this point, the group, Vindfor, Toki, and Luutvig are traversing up the granite steps carved into the rock, likely dwarvish by design, that leads to the main doors of the keep. The keep is comprised of various woods, stones, and metals, all polished to a brilliant luster. The same intertwining motif of patterns and imagery found on the boundary markers from earlier adorn all three materials, giving the overall structure a textured look.

Directly above the door, mounted to the structure, is the sun bleaches skull of a massive dragon. Looking at the horn structure, coupled with the stories, you all guess it to be a red dragon. Judging from the size, it could very well have been the fabled brood mother that Crasmar is claimed to have slew.

Four men-at-arms, clad in full battle armor salute the Jarl as he ascends from the top step, and swing the wide and heavy doors open. A grand entrance hall, long and rectangular spans before everyone. Large braziers with their own small bonfires burn brightly, giving the space a similar cozy and homely feel like the last building.

A man dressed in fine furs and leathers, approaches and salutes the Jarl.

"Ve vish to speak to Crasmar".

"Of course my Jarl. He is currently meeting vith another party, but I vill see to it your request is relayed to him in the mean time".

The man gives a hastey salute and turns on his heels, setting off to wherever he goes at a quick pace.

"Come" says Vindfor, taking the group further into the room, and hanging a right into a large chamber.

The next room is square, roughly 25" x 25", with a stone floor. Several wooden pillars span up to the ceiling which by anyone's guess, clears at least 20 feet high. Thick wooden beams run cross ways, creating hefty rafters. In the center of the ceiling is a massive chandelier of dozens and dozens of stag horns. Glowing amber orbs are affixed all over it, bathing the room in a soft brown and yellow glow. A large rectangular table sits directly underneath the light fixture, with a runner down the center of stretched and tanned red dragon's hide. Twelve high backed chairs surround the table, each with a drape of the same tanned dragons hide flowing freely down the back. The room by all accounts is opulent by barbarian standards. Vindfor stands next to the chair with its back facing the doorway, motioning for everyone to take seats at their leisure, and only asking that no one sits in the chair at the head of the table. It is slightly larger and has wider arm rests.

Several hammered metal pitchers and brought in, along with jeweled goblets. The finery looks to be dwarvish in nature as well. Water, wine, milk, and mead are all provided, along with a few loaves of the bread served at the other meeting house.

"I do not know how long Crasmar vill be, but-". Vindfor is interrupted by the shuffling of feet and the tapping of a cane on the stone floor behind him. An elderly woman enters the room. She is gaunt, haggard, wild haired and hunched over as she walks. She makes her way to his side, and places a hand on his shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is raspy, and strained.

"I did not expect to see you here again so soon Vindfor. Vhat troubles you?". The elderly woman's tone is sincere.

"I bring varriors to meet vith Crasmar. Dey seek passage, but also have a message for him. Do you know how long he vill be?".

Her tone changes. There is a slight tremble in her voice. "Mmmm. Dis I do not know. He meets vith de shadow dat valks in de day's light. De devil of a man himself".

Vindfor's composure stiffens slightly. "He is here? But vhy?".

"I do not know. Only dat he comes here on business dat only de Chief is audience to. Not even Sigurd vas allowed to stay in de room".

"Dat man.. ting... is noting but trouble vhere he goes".

"Yes, I agree. But it is not for us to question Crasmar. Never has been". The old woman glances up and gets a look at the rest of the group now. She gazes at each, studying you. When she gets to Beloc and Rebort, her expressions doesn't change. No mask of wonder, curiosity, or contempt. Just quiet study.

She silently rights herself, and hobbles closer to the group.

"You have de stink of death about you. Especially you" she says, pointing a gnarled finger at Sypher.

Sypher bows slightly at her, acknowledging her statement, but says nothing.  Since he has been singled out by the woman, he does not move from where he stands.  His stance is relaxed though, his arms crossed and his face contemplative.

Shiaran circles the room as the old woman speaks, listening, but also getting the lay of the place.  When the old woman addresses Sypher, she finds her way back over to the table and finds a spot near the large chair, a single chair between hers and it.  "Sy is especially good at putting the dead back to rest, Mother."  Shiaran wracked her brain for anything she knew of these people, but came up woefully short.  She hoped the honorific did not offend some obscure, backwards custom.

She pours herself a glass of milk and butters some bread to snack on, but doesn't bite yet.  "Jarl Vindfor, could you tell us more about this day-devil thing?"  Her question out, she takes a large bite and sits back to hear the answer.

R.E.B.O.R.T. cocks his head to the side, curious about the old woman's observation. "Stink of death? What do you mean exactly?"

He peers closely at Sypher.

"I vill not utter his name here. Only dat his actions, dey are reckless. His motives are unknown, and for some reason Crasmar tolerates his presence. You are free to ask de Chief about him, should you feel inclined, but I vill not speak of it. You have my apologies".

She nods and smiles at Shiaran, then turns her attention back to Sypher. "You have seen death. Not just dat, but seen de dead valk. Put dem down, and yet, you have given care to does dat needed it. Dis one's life has had much death in it. And de shaman too I see. But de man, he is no ordinary. He has touched death, and lived. I do not know vhat to make of dis, armored vun". She says "armored one", referring to Rebort. It isn't quite clear, but she may think Rebort is in a suit of armor.

Shiaran nods, expecting the answer.  She focuses on the food and drink, eating with less decorum than in the military cafeteria.

"My proper designation is Riddick & Ewe's Bio-organic Recon...."

Beloc cuts the construct off mid-sentence. "We just call him Rebort."

R.E.B.O.R.T. sharply glances over at Beloc then back to the old woman. "Yes, you may call me Rebort. I was born of a magic once thought to be long forgotten. I am different from others like myself. My will is my own."

Sypher smiles and politely addresses the old woman in a soft tone.  "I am a servant of Iehova, the Lord of Hosts.  His will guides me and His hand protects me.  In this world, I act as a sword and shield as I need be, and spread the good news of salvation to all who will hear.  The undead cannot hear and so I put their bodies to rest and their spirits back where they belong."

The Old Crone nods to Rebort, still showing no surprise. Whether it's senility or experience, no one can quite be sure.

She looks over to Sypher as he responds. "Vell dat is an honorable ting to do. I vill speak vith you more on dis Iehova, should ve haf time later".

She next turns to Beloc. "You are very quiet, herra aelf. Tell me, vhat brings you here to dese lands vith such company?".


DM's Note - the word "herra" which the crone addresses Beloc with, is an actual old world Norse word [pronounced hair-ra, with the "r" sound being rolled], that can mean noble, venerable, or lord, all in the sense of respect

Beloc nods in recognition. "As I'm sure you already know, most elves inherently strive to maintain a natural balance of things within their spheres of influence." Beloc glance ever so slightly at R.E.B.O.R.T. "I can think of little else that is more disturbing to that balance than the sickness the PCA is spreading and that sickness must be cleansed."

The Old Crone's face scrunches up at the acronym. "I do not know of dis pee-seeay you speak of, but if you are talking about de men who valk vith de dead in dere company, ve haf no love for dem eider. Once dey came to parlay. Talk of a kinship. Ve told dem quickly dere could be no friendships between us. Dey den sent a force of dere drougr to us, led by a few of dere shaman. Fifty vas dere number vhen dey came. None vas dere number by de passing of de hour. The village of de Souf Land took de bodies and burned dem, placing de heads on stakes furder to de Souf on our border. Ve haven't seen dem since, and dat vas two Vinters ago".

Shiaran washes down another bite with a long swallow of milk.  "Your people are strong, Mother.  The PCA needed to take out the military and the weak.  Then, when no one is left, they will have the resources to concentrate solely on you.  This is why your isolation works against you."

Vindfor gestures his hand towards Shiaran. "Dis, dis is exactly de kind of ting I fear, and exactly de kind of reason vhy I don't vish to be isolated. Ve can know de outside vorld and still keep our vay of life, and-". Vindfor cuts himself off at the sounds of footsteps behind him.

In walks a hulking man standing 6'8", clad in a finely tailored soft leather tunic, and cloth pants. He doesn't wear shoes, and one would pity the cobbler who had to make the giant things.

A small cadre of people follow behind him, and stop short at the door save for a few:

A young barbarian, who carries much of the stature and build of Crasmar, but lacks the size and age. He favors the old barbarian in the face as well.

A man in a long flowing black cloak, his hood pulled low over his face.

A beautiful dark haired woman, who's fashion sense parallels Shiaran's, save for a breastplate protecting her torso. The darkly dyed leathers underneath practically creak as she walks.

Vindfor takes to his feet and turns around, joining Toki and Luutvig in saluting. Even the Crone takes to her feet, and salutes as well. "Hail, Fyrevurm" says Vindfor, loud enough that his raspy voice sounds more like a croak. The other three echo the sentiment.

Crasmar doesn't wait for the "outlanders" to render tribute, and returns the salute while still walking. He doesn't appear to care though either way, and doesn't even make eye contact with Vindfor as he enters the room. He takes his seat, along with his small entourage, and motions for the rest to be seated. When he speaks, his voice is deep and booming.

"What do you want, why are you here, and when are you leaving?" he asks in rapid succession. In striking contrast to everyone else here that you've met, his accent is nothing like the rest of the clan. Shiaran, Sypher, and Beloc would recognize it from mainland Faerûn; somewhere around Balder's Gate or Waterdeep.

Once the others are seated and Crasmar is finished speaking, Shiaran speaks from her relaxed state.  Her words are crisp and clear and her pace is measured, unlike at the gate. The importance of this conversation rested on clear communication as much as anything.  "I am Shiaran Whiteraven of Mirn.  These are my companions, Sypher, Beloc, and Rebort.  We are attached currently to the military, but not actually part of it.  Recently, we encountered the Palm-Calim-Alliance troops in the Argonette.  After we engaged and took out a number of their troops, we made it to the elfin city of Arborea.  There I met a dwarf named Gurnfir who was the only survivor of his group.  He said they had to take underground tunnels to pass your lands since you had a ban on travel, but one of your guards indicated that only the dwarves are free to pass through unhindered.  I am a bit confused on that point, but it's not pertinent the main reason we are here."

"Gurnfir asked me to bring a message back to his family in the mountain that he was still alive.  I also wanted to head back to the monastery and take a look.  We haven't been there since the war started.  Currently, we are moving about in a vehicle because one of our number is a bit older and has trouble getting around.  It also serves as a bit of a mobile base.  Instead of presuming, I wanted to ask permission to pass through.  We don't want conflict with you or your people.  In fact, I wanted to talk to you about being allies."

"The Alliance is coming for all of Fildgarne and right now, they are succeeding.  The main army is engaged and barely holding ground while the PCA gains in power daily.  You and your people are strong and so they leave you alone, but when there is nothing left to fight against, and all who did have joined their ranks as the undead, then they will come for you.  Can you stand against that alone?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Mon 15 Jan 2018.

The man in the black cloak pulls back his hood, revealing his face. He bears a few bruises and scabbed over cuts on his cheek and forehead, just below his horns. "I'd hoped that you all survived our fall. Though it seems Sylas got in your head a bit with all the military ordeals. Crasmar knows everything that happened, as does Sigurd and Irja here. You are among friends. What does that dog Sylas really have you doing?". Oro motions a hand, and the retinue at the door steps back, closing the thick wooden doors tight from prying eyes and ears.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:14, Mon 15 Jan 2018.

"Oro!"  Shiaran jumps up out of her chair and walks briskly around the table.  As she reaches their old shipmate, she doesn't stop.  Instead, she wraps him up in her best bear hug and attempts to sway him back and forth.  It's totally awkward and more than a little comical as she is unable to move him.  His complete lack of reciprocation makes it worse.

Not frustrated in the least, Shiaran pulls back a little, stands on her toes, and plants a quick peck on his cheek.

Sypher grins and approaches as well.  When Shiaran steps back, Sypher holds out a hand for a handshake.  "Glad to see you made it.  What happened to your companion, Gazra?"

"Uncle Gazra is around. Apparently, our pantries and larders needed an Autumn clearing" says the grinning young barbarian, his voice carrying a similar accent to Crasmars, but with slight inflections of the natives here. "Sigurd Fyreworm, son of Crasmar" he says, nodding.

The corner or Oro's mouth twitches, giving off the slightest hint of a smile. He shakes Sypher's hand while Sigurd speaks.

Beloc stands and bows at the sight of an old 'friend'. "I'm glad to hear that we weren't the only ones to make it out of that death trap. I hope that your waking moments were less eventful than ours."

He turns and gives an even deeper bow to Sigurd. "Sigurd, a pleasure to see you again as well."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:10, Mon 15 Jan 2018.

Feeling a little out of place, R.E.B.O.R.T. shuffles in the corner as everyone else commences with their reunions. He salutes awkwardly, not really sure if it's even the correct one.

Sigurd nods to Beloc, though it isn't immediately clear or not if he actually recognizes Beloc from 10 years prior. He would have been far younger then, in his late teens.

Crasmar sits patiently, letting his chin rest in his hand as his arm is propped on the table. "This is all fine and well, and I hear your points and concerns young lady, but getting me to open the gates to the Undermountain to pass word that a dwarf still lives is hardly a valid reason. Care to try again? And you aren't getting to Mirn by going under the mountain anyway, it leads directly to Fildegarne Walled City. You'd have to pass the north face of the mountain, and that's likely a terrible idea given all the inhospitable people and things occupying the roads. As Oro said, he's told me most everything going on with the outside world. The only thing he isn't keen on, is what you four are doing on my lands. So help me to help you, I have enough on my plate as it is with war preparations".

Shiaran looks first to Sypher, who looks at Oro, then turns back to her and nods.  Next, the young mage turns to Beloc, seeking similar feedback without saying a word.

Beloc looks away for a moment, mentally calculating risk. He looks over to Oro then back to Shiaran. With a slight nod, he silently agrees.

Not knowing if the sentient construct would understand the gesture, she at last turns to Rebort.  Whether or not he would acknowledge her gesture, he was part of the team and she did not want to leave him out.

R.E.B.O.R.T. watches with curiosity as all the glances fly about the room. As all eyes eventually turn in his direction, he looks behind himself but finds no one standing there. Certain now that everyone was looking at him, he takes the hint and begins walking toward the door. The metallic clank of his footfalls echoes throughout the otherwise silent room.

Shiaran sighs heavily.  "Rebort, please return to your previous position.  I will explain later."  She turns to Crasmar.  "He's still learning...things."

She glances again at Oro, then at Vindfor.  "What I have to say next is of utmost secrecy and importance.  It can turn the tide of this war, or damn us all.  Do you trust everyone in this room who is not part of my party to hear such information and deal with it by giving it the respect it deserves?"

"I've known Crasmar since the day Gazra and I abducted him from an accounting firm and his last name was still Billingsby. I helped deliver Sigurd's birth. And Irja is Crasmar's most trusted adviser to the ranks of the shaman warrior women of the tribe. Gazra smashed in the head of the man who gave Vindfor his scars. The Crone has told my fortune with 100 percent accuracy numerous times. The only two of whom I can't vouch for are your escorts - no offense gentlemen, but I don't know you".

Shiaran waves away Oro's concerns over Lute and Toki.  "Very well.  Our quest is to close the spectral faults around Fildegarne.  It's what's granting the PCA so much power right now.  We've already closed one in Argonette.  If we can close the others, the PCA will have a real tough time signing on new recruits.  We can actually start reducing their ranks rather than filling them with our own dead."

She stares at Crasmar for a moment before adding.  "And that is the only thing I left out.  The rest is still true."

"Spectral faults?".

"They are a gateway to the afterlife.  Spirits are meant to pass through them after a person dies and move on from this world.  They aren't working properly.  The last one was sealed off so that no one could pass through after a botched attempt at sealing it the first time."

"And so... The Palm is using these spirits then?".

Sypher and Shiaran both nod.

"They are perverting the power of these faults. Almost like they're reversing the flow of the energy to fuel their own campaign. Binding these faults cuts them off from their power source and restores balance to the natural flow of spiritual energy to the great beyond."

Crasmar wipes a massive hand across his face. "And I'm betting Gheevorah is at the helm of it all, acting in Klorohs Dragun's stead". He sighs heavily. "I really wish you had of killed her, ya know Oro?". He turns his attention back to the party. "Alright then, I know enough that letting you through is a done deal. We'll need time to gather everyone up for a suitable defense, namely getting the under dwellers up to the surface and getting them up to speed as well. Old Mother, what do you say"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:19, Tue 16 Jan 2018.

"Mmmm, yes, yes. De spirits in de room tell me much"


A slight chill settles over the room. A few of the orbs in the antler chandelier above seem to dim, but only for a second. The Crone produces what looks like a sort of herb pouch, and promptly dumps the contents on the table, allowing an assortment of bones, pebbles, and small rune carvings to tumble out.


The Crone stands on her feet, and slams her hands down on the table. She sways to and fro, chanting and mumbling incoherently to herself. She glances down from time to time at the "bones" as she calls them collectively, and continues to sway. After about a minute's time, her head snaps back. A familiar, glowing teal light emits softly from her eyes and mouth. When she speaks, her voice sounds like two sets of vocal chords working together, high and low. Her accent almost completely gone in this state.

"The Dragon is besieged by a tempest of evil. It will fall. From the ruins, wings of midnight will rise...

At an unlikely place, in a city where one of you were born, an unlikely ally awaits...

The least of you shall stand as the best of you...

One who is not like the rest will betray you, and one who will be among you shall die from this...

One who's light was covered early shall find no rest..."

The Crone's swaying comes to a halt, and the glow fades. She looks around the room, breathing heavily.


"Seven is your number, and it is wrong. Eleven. Eleven vill be de number of your counting. To ignore dis spells ruin for all".
This message was last edited by the player at 20:54, Fri 19 Jan 2018.

Shiaran waits for a moment while silence fills the air after the Crone's pronouncements.  Then she lightly swipes the table with a fist and chuckles sardonically.  "Them good ol'e spirits, always giving it to us straight.  You know, that's what I like about spirits.  They are never unnecessarily vague, never couch things in riddles for no other reason than to amuse themselves."  She stands as if to leave.  "Well, our path is clearly laid out in front of us, thanks to the spirits.  We don't even have to think, just kind of let our bodies act on their own accord as the spirits plainly directed.  Yay for us!"

Her face grows sour, she frowns, rolls her eyes, and crosses her arms as she steps back from the table.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:32, Tue 16 Jan 2018.

Sypher sighs heavily.  "Shiaran, you may not put much faith in these spirits, but that is no call for you to disrespect the beliefs of others.  You won't convince anyone of your position or garner much help that way."  His voice is soft and even, but there is an edge to it.

Shiaran whirls on him, her face full of thunder, and her mouth open to speak.  Before she utters a word, she slams it shut with an audible 'clack' and drops into a chair sitting against the back wall.  She tilts it back so only two legs are on the ground and the back is leaning against the wall for support.

The girl looks positively furious.

The Old Crone speaks directly to Shiaran. Her tone is soft, and motherly. "Dey don't tell me vords, little girl, dey show me tings. Fragments. Pieces. But you do not offend me. Crasmar, he said de same tings. Oro, he say de same tings too. Even de Fyrevorms, sometimes day de tings. But der is vone odder ting dey all eventually say. "Old Mother, you do not lie". And vhy should I lie. As a shaman, you vould do vell to listen more and speak less sometimes. I vas de same vay in my youth, and it is indeed a bitter tonic to svallow.".

Shiaran sighs and relaxes a bit, but does not uncross her arms.

Or speak.

Sypher turns to the crone.  "Can you make any sense of what you've seen?  You've done this long enough to have a knack for understanding the images they give you?"

Beloc's posture deflates a little bit as he shakes his head silently at another emotional outburst. After Sypher reigns Shiaran in a little, he decides to help steer the conversation in a more positive direction. "Yes, I'm curious to know what you make of these prophecies. While cryptic, I'm sure there is much we can learn from their message. You said these come to you as visions, can you describe anything else surrounding those visions? The terrain, the sounds, the smells?"

"I don't hev de slightest idea. Half of it is de spirits speaking tru me, de odder half is people and places I've never seen. You have to know, I've not been outside dese city valls in 20 some odds years vhen dey first vent up, and places in de vorld change. Faces age. No sounds, no smells. I'm sorry, but beyond vhat I've said, I cannot help you furder".

"Far be it for me to speak out of turn, but I've never much cared for de bones eidder. I like my information straight and to de point. But.. I too can vouch for our old modder here. Her prophecies are vhat lead Crasmar to rally de broken clans in de first place. It's vhat lead him to Draakensong, his blade. And many, many night ago, she foretold of your coming here. "People of de past, valking in de future, vill pay calling to de stones of de mountain". A bit of a stretch to be just coincidence".

Shiaran snorts.  "Somebody better write all that down.  That way, when it comes to pass, we can look back in hindsight and check it off the list.  Put one next to people of the past walking in the future, not that doesn't describe every person ever in the history of time."

She stands and walks over to the table where she plants both palms, arms locked, and turns to Crasmar.  "You know our mission.  You said we could pass through.  No conditions?  No caveats?  Just like that?  I'm waiting for the other boot to fall here."

R.E.B.O.R.T. speaks up for the first time in what seems like all day. He taps a finger to his temple, "It has been recorded."

Crasmar's face wrinkles in to a snarl. "You know exactly what she means, and everyone in this room knows what decade you come from, what your "mission" is now, and where you intend to go. I'm just trying to figure out the part of where the monks of Mirn taught you piss poor manners in the gracious home of another, girl. And a Whiteraven no less? This isn't how I recall the Whiteraven's behaving at all. In fact, I recall being on very good terms with your Uncle Callion, heavens preserve him. You may want to consider your next words carefully, because I can just as easily". He snaps a look over at Oro who is holding up a hand "No, Oro. She needs to hear this. I can just as easily send you packing, not just for insulting my people, but for insulting the very pride of your own family name". He sits back in his massive chair, causing the legs of it to make an ear piercing screech as it slides back a few inches on the stone floor below. He looks over at Toki. "You, fetch some mead".

Shiaran opens her mouth to speak, but Sypher is faster.  "She has no more words to speak and she no longer commands this mission."  Sypher looks sadly at Shiaran - who sits back down to sulk in silence - then back to Crasmar.  "And she does not remember much at all about our family.  She was a small child when our House was wiped out.  Thus, the fault lies with me.  I thought she was ready to lead, but I was mistaken.  Please forgive me."

The monk bows low and holds the position until given leave to rise by Crasmar.

Crasmar's face is stern, but his demeanor softens slightly at Sypher's apologies. "Well it's good to see at least one of you knows how to conduct yourselves. Take your seat. Everyone, take a seat". He rests his massive forearms on the table top, folding his hands together. "We have on our hands a common enemy. For 10 short years, I've kept things isolated to try and buy time, to prevent the unnecessary loss of life with my people, and to give the Fildegarians time to sort out this mess. I see now that it was a mistake. However thanks to Oro and Gazra, as well as the four of you delivering all this news, I'm left with no choice but to prepare us for war. Jarl Vindfor, I want you to rally the rest of the jarls, and pass the word. Make sure Krumstraang has the manpower he needs to vacate the Under Prarie and get all of our supplies above ground. Once you have that delegated, I want you to undertake personally an envoy down to Arborea in Argonette to bury the hatchet with our elf neighbors. We need an alliance as will they. If they gripe about the failed Southlands deal, offer them a parcel of land equal in size somewhere else along the border. Right now losing a few acres is the least of our concerns. Old Mother, you said something about a number with our guests being wrong. Do you mean to say they require more bodies?".

The Old Crone nods silently.

"I was afraid that's what you meant. Tomorrow then, we'll gather up the warriors and take volunteers. No man will be barred from offering".
This message was last edited by the player at 20:55, Fri 19 Jan 2018.

"If it's all fine and well with you, I'll be taking Gazra along with our friends here. There's nothing I enjoy more than absolutely gutting the Palm's efforts, and it seems they've stumbled upon a way to do just that and then some".

Crasmar hold up his hands in a gesture imitating them being bound together. "Like I could tell you otherwise?".

Oro smirks. "No, not really".

"Father, I want to go with them" says Sigurd.

A frown spreads back over Crasmar's face. "Absolutely not. Your duty is to your people. And as my Underchief, I need you here".

Sigurd returns the frown, but doesn't make eye contact with his father. His silence speaks volumes for how absolute Crasmar's word is in his own lands.

Addressing the core group, Crasmar asks "Do any of you oppose to my hospitality for the night? It will take some time to get in contact with the dwarves and unlock the gates. Even more still, there's the matter of that infernal machine you drove on to my lands. It can't manage through the gate here, but we have a hidden service entrance just outside of the city walls. The dwarves used to drive their own machines out of it, as well as merchant carts. It should be large enough to accommodate your transport, and I can have you escorted to the service entrance hopefully by some time tomorrow morning".

Beloc bows out of respect. "A most gracious offer, Chieftain. It would be an honor."

He rises to address some other logistical concerns. "About that vehicle, I'm afraid it doesn't quite support a fellowship of eleven. Would you suggest a more traditional means of travel for those less agreeable to more modern conventions? Perhaps a few horses?"

"Hmm. Yeah, we can arrange for whatever you need, be it a few horses, a drawn cart, or what have you. The dwarves, if they're feeling charitable enough, might even sell you their services to modify what you have. I'm not entirely sure what they can and can't do, so you'll just have to see for yourself".

Mention of the dwarves services piques R.E.B.O.R.T's interest. "Modifications? A notable suggestion, I will investigate."

"A most gracious offer indeed, Crasmar.  Thank you.  And thank you for the horses as well.  We resupplied with food in Argonette, but I would imagine topping that off would, at the very least, provide some variety.  Also, though we are only intending to enter the mountain kingdom, it would do us well to be prepared for the possibility of needing to climb the mountain.  If you had gear of that nature, that might come in handy.  Beloc, Oro, is there anything we are missing?  Anything your experience and relationships tell you we might need?"

"I know a dwarf or two under the mountain, and still remember much of the straight forward tunnels. I will also say the odds of "needing" to go over the mountain are astronomically slim -  it's borderline suicide to the elements if not attempted in the hotter months, and even then it's a miserable climb. Within the tunnels below however, most of the way is unlit beyond the dwarven stronghold, so we'll need plenty of illumination. It's quite cold as well. I have to ask though.. by needing to pass into the realm of the dwarves, I assume it'll be on to the capitol from there?".

"I don't suppose you've got Wally and Iro hiding around here somewhere, then the gang really would be all back together."

"Sadly, I do not. The last I spoke to Wally, Iro hasn't been recovered yet. He thinks Iro's pod may have slipped down into a deep ocean trench. I do hope for his sake he's found at some point, rather than spending who knows how long in a crystal coffin"

Crasmar nods and calls the meeting to an end, informing everyone he still has the head of farms to meet with, the supply quartermasters, and many others before the day is through. A runner is dispatched to inform Darius he is clear to drive the Badger to the cities gates, where it can remain overnight just inside the walls for safe keeping. Many of the younger members of the clan have never seen such, and marvel at the steel beast. Kallium remains out of sight, while Darius and Krem are escorted along up to the keep. Krem sports an impish grin from ear to ear upon being reunited with the rest of the party, exclaiming that not in all his years has he been treated with this kind of dignity; no jeers, sneers, or leers as he puts it.

The evening comes quickly, and soon a feast is laid out in the great hall in honor of the guests. Large braziers burn brightly, giving off the familiar warmth that you all have come to associate Vaaringard and the Fyreworms with. Mead, roasted meats, and songs in unfamiliar languages are sung. Drums are pounded, and horns sound to announce the arrival and departure of Jarls and their families as the evening goes on. Gazra finally shows himself, and nearly crushes everyone as he passes out bear hugs and talks excited of how he and Oro were being held as "persons of interest" by the military, but managed to slip off a few days ago after one of their guards got complacent.

In the mean time...

Darius is treated to several of the women keeping him company and feeding him drinks after he reluctantly shows off the scars of his leg - which in turn has him hailed as a warrior among the rest. Krem hastily shows off scars across his gut from various blade wounds in response, though who knows where it lands him as the roar of the crowd and the clanking of mugs and steins fill the night with a celebratory chorus.

Oro sits quietly off to the side in the company of Irja, enjoying the revelries in his own way by observing, sipping on mead, smoking a pipe, and having a quiet conversation. Gazra manages to get in to a drinking contest with Sigurd, nearly putting the young barbarian under the table. This goes on for two more would-be barbarian victors, until the Old Crone sits at the table across from him, subsequently ending his reign. Gazra slumps with the side of his face down on the table, and soon after begins snoring loudly, much to the amusement of everyone around him. One of the younger barbarians smudges his thumb in soot, and gives Gazra a drawing of something.. phallic.. on his forehead. Laughter erupts in an absolute roar at this point, with the Crone rolling her eyes and shuffling off while chuckling.

The next morning the great hall is full of snoring and potentially hung over barbarians. Those of you who managed to slip off to the rooms they were offered are met by the smell of freshly cooked pork belly and a polite attendee knocking at their doors. Food and refreshment is served in the small rooms, followed by a summons to the courtyards once everyone is ready.

Shiaran does not drink alcohol.  Instead, she sticks with whatever milk is available, preferring cow to goat.  Her voracious appetite has not diminished, but she eats in sullen silence.  Any man who even glances her way, she glares daggers at.  It is clear she does not wish to be bothered.

The moment she finishes eating and the situation allows for it, she turns in.  Thus, when she awakens, she is refreshed and no longer sullen, though she remains quiet - speaking with artificial politeness and minimal words when spoken to.

Sypher spends the evening eating his fill.  His fare is similar to Shiaran's, but he stretches it over the course of the evening, also avoiding alcohol.  Unlike the sullen 'shaman', he engages easily in conversation with any still capable of it.  Though he does not laugh at crude or crass jokes, he does at those of good humor and especially self-deprecation.  For his part, he likes these people and their uncomplicated ways, adherence to traditions, and balance with the land.  He could see himself here at peace should the world allow for it, though the thicker leathers and all that fur wasn't him.

When Gazra shows up, the monk will reconnect with him and spend significant time speaking with him and catching up with both the barbarian and Oro.  Though they have little more in common than the defense of the airship, Sypher finds that he likes both men.  Oro especially draws him as a point of curiosity and hope.  The spawn of demons - a word that is more generic for Sypher than for others - Oro acted on his own moral volition, and his choices so far, were for the good.  Sypher truly wanted to know Oro, to know how those so intimately connected to demons could be morally free.  In his faith, the demons believed in Iehovah and trembled.

Tonight was not the night to broach such a sensitive topic, though.  For Oro, the opportunity would have to be obvious...or created through the bonds of friendship.

Sypher occasionally steers conversations with others to matters of faith when the river of conversation allows for it.  He is not one to belittle the beliefs of others, but seeks to find common ground on which to build the talk towards his own faith and Iehovah.

When the feast reaches a point where there is little more than drunken stupor, Sypher politely excuses himself to his chambers.  There, he spends an hour reading his book and in prayer and meditation before entering a restful sleep.

In the morning, he too is refreshed and ready to go after a hearty breakfast.  He needed to find Oro and Gazra.

R.E.B.O.R.T. doesn't eat or drink, but he partakes in any conversation that others initiate. He spends most of his time observing and absorbing the social interactions of this foreign culture.

Once the other members of the party begin to retire, he leaves as well but doesn't seek the room provided by Crasmar. Instead, he heads back to the badger to continue work on his newest creation. By morning, a small mass of scales, hair, and feathers begins to resemble the tiny frame of winged creature.

Beloc spends a little time in the hall catching up with Gazra and Oro. He eats and drinks until he is comfortable, but leaves early to enjoy the night air before retiring to his room. There is no telling how long they'll be underground, so he walks with Apache outside as long as he can.

In the morning, he meets up with others to enjoy an early meal before the ceremony of volunteers begins.

A few hours later, around 200 of the Fyreworm tribe are gathered in a massive courtyard. At the head of the courtyard, is an entry way to the side of the keep where Crasmar resides. Being the guests of honor, everyone including Krem and Darius are asked to stand up on the top of the steps where Crasmar addresses his people. Jarls and their families, along with Old Mother also stand atop the steps.

"People of the Fyreworm Nation... war is upon us". He booming voice carries across the crowd without the need for magical aid. "The very forces I once fought, the Bleeding Palm who have formed an alliance with a nation across the sea, now threaten our own domain. I've kept you all separate from them, from the atrocities they commit. But it seems that I can no more hold back the flood. At this moment, I declare war".

A mighty and thunderous roar erupts from the crowd, with swords, axes, and shield being held high in the air.

"Ve'll show dem a flood! A flood of deir own blood!" yells one of the onlookers.
"Dey vill only know fear!" yells another.

Crasmar holds up a hand and the crowd immediately goes silent again. "Our Old Mother has read the bones, and these people you see next to me, they carry out a battle at the heart of this war. But their number has been foretold as wrong. Four. Four more they will need, to act according to the will of the bones. Seven are among them, and eleven are needed. Who among you will be willing? Old Mother says that those who would volunteer, are absolute. To back down is to defy the bones entirely".

The crowd stirs, but no one volunteers just yet. There is a certain tension in the air that's almost tangible. "Is there none among you? The road will be hard, and the chance of death will be great. Vignor and Rorhnor look upon you, and the gates of Siegendurn call".

At that moment, Oro steps forward from the sidelines. He doesn't speak, but nods. Following him is Gazra, his breast plate gleaming in the morning sun, and helmet sitting in his trademark fashion of half cocked up on the top of his head.

"Two more" he says in his commanding tone.

Two figures emerge from the front of the crowd. One appears to be a man, while the other has a more slender figure. They each wear heavy cloaks with hoods pulled over their eyes. The man takes a bold step forward.

"I will be the tenth man!" says the shrouded figure, standing in salute with an arm across his chest.

His compatriot steps forward as soon as the words leave his lips, and mimics the salute. A woman's voice calls out "I vill be de eleventh man!".

The crowd erupts in cheers, banging weapons against shields now in a loud and rhythmic fashion.

Crasmar stands stone faced, before addressing the crowd again with a raised hand of silence. "Go now, prepare yourselves. Sharpen your blades. Steel your nerves, for we will not wait for this enemy to come to us and defile our lands. No! We will ride out to meet them. In five days time, we head out".

The crowd erupts again, with every man, woman, and child giving salute to Crasmar, who returns it with pride. Everyone immediately sets off, shuffling out of the courtyard to their appointed place of duty, eagerly awaiting word from their jarl. Crasmar points at the two cloaked figures, his face absolute stone again, and jerks a hand towards himself, beckoning them forward. Once they reach him, he snatches back their hood. His face goes from stone to anger. In front of him, stand Sigurd and Irja. "What do you two think you're doing?!".

Sigurd bows a head to his father. "Father, our new friends will need all the strength and cunning they can get. Who better than Irja an-". Crasmar cuts him off "You are my son. My only son, and my Underchief. Who will lead the people if you are not here when I die? And Irja, I thought better of you".

"He could not be persuaded otherwise Warchief, so I decided to accompany him. Dis vay I can keep and eye on him for you".

"I wont allow it".

At this time, Old Mother steps forward and places a gnarled hand on Crasmar's massive arm. "It is not your choice to make now, and you know dis. Dey are bound to dis quest, or dey risk de shame of being turned away from Siegendurn".

Crasmar starts to speak, but stops himself. Veins bulge in his arms and neck, and a red color washes over his face. Without another word, he turns his back to everyone and goes back inside the keep, slamming the massive wooden doors behind him. The sound echoes off the backs of homes adjacent to the courtyard.

Sigurd grins. "You see, Irja? I told you he'd take it well enough".

Sypher welcomes the four new members to the group and asks each to give him a rundown on their talents.  After those conversations end, he will approach the Old Crone and say his good-byes and thanks for the help.  At last he approaches Crasmar, but waits to be acknowledged before speaking.

Beloc walks over to Sigurd and shakes his hand. "Bold move. Had you done something like that at our negotiations, we might not have walked away with a stalemate. Nonetheless, welcome aboard." He addresses both Sigurd and Irja, "I look forward to matching steel with both of you."

He greets Oro and Gazra as well. "I wasn't sure we'd meet again, but I'd like to say thank you for all your help back on the Burrow. Things would have turned out much worse had the two of you not been there."

Sigurd is adept at hand to hand combat and archery in all forms. He is fearless in battle, and can employ a barbarians rage ability to further his combat prowess. His age and combat style makes him appear reckless, but his fighting spirit is unmatched.

Irja is a shaman of the Fyreworm Clan. She employs a small weasel as a spirit guide, that acts in a similar manner to a wizard or scorer's familiar. Her magic relies heavily on nature and her surroundings, much like a druid's. This gives her the ability to both harm foes and heal allies. [DM's Note: The shaman class is somewhere between a druid and a cleric, with notes of sorceress]

Gazra, as you might remember, is a front line fighter. His primary goal is to get an enemies attention, soaking up hits with his heavy armor, so that a more agile hand can slip in from the side.

Oro is that agile hand. Being a Tiefling, his ability for guile and stealth surpass that of a human's. His ability to channel his inner darkness and harness that as a vessel for good sets him apart from his kin, who are few and far between. This channeling comes with a price though, temporarily morphing him into a horrid and terrifying form, sprouting wings, a tail, and extending the horns on his forehead that he normally keeps filed down. His speed increases, along with his ability to deal out raw damage from clawed hands. While in the form he strains to keep his sanity and focus. Gazra lets slip that on a few occasions, Oro has lost himself, causing the entire former party to flee from him until his metamorphoses subsides.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:45, Sat 03 Feb 2018.

Sigurd gives a mischievous grin while Irja warmly smiles and nods. "Father will be angry with me, for sure. But it isn't his place to deny me this, and he knows it. Old Mother, much less our people wouldn't stand for it. I'll have plenty of time to feel bad for hurting his feelings tonight while I try to sleep. Or not. Who knows? Adventure waits for none after all" he says with a laugh.

Afterwards:

Gazra claps Beloc on the shoulder. "You woulda' done the same for us my friend. But if anyone is to be thanked, it's you. You and your crew followed me over to the belly of the beast, and that freak of nature Ruprict would have chewed me up into hamburger meat if I had of been by myself. You guys could have turned tail and saved your own necks back here, but instead you stuck em' out for a guy you barely knew. If that ain't noble, I don't know what is".
This message was last edited by the player at 06:52, Sat 03 Feb 2018.

Oro nods. "I have to agree with Gazra. You have my eternal thanks for the rescue. If not for you, I'd probably still be held captive. They wouldn't kill me without knowing the location of Kloroh's phylactery, and I have no intentions of letting them have it back. Thankfully, it plays to my favor he's a paranoid old lich. There's a simple solution to his missing phylactery dilemma, but he'll never take that option out of fear of a trap"

The Crone nods and places a hand on Sypher's shoulder. "Never forget dat you are not alone in dis vorld, and in dis fight. Your friends, dey are your shield vall. Witout dem, you vill fall, but together, you form de mightiest of bulwarks".

Afterwards...

Inside the great hall, Crasmar fumes. He slams a meaty fist into one of the support timbers, causing it is pop and groan. He doesn't notice Sypher at first, and seems to be speaking to himself. "Dammit Oro... every time you show up, you somehow bring trouble to my door. Luskan. Baldur's Gate. Fildegarne... I swear you have your own personal rain cloud that follows you everywhere, and you seem to the be only one who doesn't get drenched. I cant lose Sigurd. Not after Khalie. This whole mess is stupid".
This message was last edited by the player at 06:47, Sat 03 Feb 2018.

~~ While speaking with Gazra and Oro

"It was a gesture far more reckless than I usually conduct myself, but it had the highest likelihood that the airships would leave the Badger in peace. Had the Badger met with the bottom of the sea, my mission would have failed and my people would have been without a leader." Realizing his statements might come off as cold, Beloc adds, "Still, it seems clear that we all have a role to play in what's coming. We should celebrate life, while we still have it!"

"I am sorry for your loss."

Oro gives a slight smile "Do our motives truly matter if the outcome is positive for those around us, my elven friend? Though, I do agree. We all get our one life. Or is it two in my case? I can never quite remember all the strings attached to being the way I am"

Gazra snorts. "Doesn't matter. If you squander em' they were pointless, no matter how many you get".

Crasmar turns around to face Sypher. "I wasn't aware anyone had come in behind me.. Look after Sigurd for me. He's my only son, and my only child. I might not fully buy in to the notion of the bones and what my people think, but I respect their traditions and beliefs. Sometimes that means taking my lumps and making the hard choices. The ones that violate my conscience. And.. thank you. It's been quite some time since Khalie left this world. The sting still feels fresh, every day though".

Beloc nods toward Gazra, as if tipping his hat if he wore one. "Truer words have never been spoken. To waste the life you have seems far worse than not having lived in the first place. Motives, however, are one thing. Actions are another. At the end of the day, they are what define us." He says, addressing Oro.

"That kind of thought is why I've always been fond of the elves. Plenty of years to figure out one's place in the world and how to navigate the waters. But now then, on to the task at hand. Might I see this "Badger" I've heard mention of? If its anything like the experimental prototypes they had from years ago, I'm sure it will be a technological marvel".

Sigurd, overhearing the conversation, chimes in. "Yes, I too would like to see this. The men tried to describe the thing to me, but our people lack the verbiage for anything beyond metal and big" he says with a smile.

Sypher pads softly over to Crasmar, silent as a cat.  He places a hand on the man's shoulders.  "My God taught me not to swear oaths for I cannot know the future.  So I will make no promises, Crasmar.  You know the times.  What I can do is give you my word that I will do all that is within my power to see your son and our people home safely."

He pauses to take a deep breath and let it out.  "Know this, though, I cannot take away their choice to sacrifice should they do so on behalf of Fildegarne.  To do so, I believe, would dishonor them according to the beliefs of your people and my own.  Iehovah says, 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'  His Son proved that by dying for everyone to save them from a destiny far worse than mortal death."

He pats the big man's shoulder again and lets his hand drop while taking a step back.

Shiaran will spend her time after breakfast gathering what supplies and spell components she can.  Once she has what she needs, she seeks out Darius Grintome.  "Let's talk about the spell...Identify."

{Her list includes the following:

snakes tongues, up to 10 or more if she can get them
a carvable soft marble or other stone that she can section, carve, and recombine into a clockwork style device (see link)

https://images-na.ssl-images-a...GrCE1PL._SL1500_.jpg}
This message was last edited by the player at 01:58, Wed 07 Feb 2018.

At the mention of interest in the Badger, R.E.B.O.R.T. begins to stir. His minion was still hard at work and he needed to check in on progress. "I must attend to something at the Badger. You may follow me if that is your interest."

Crasmar thanks Sypher, and then politely excuses himself to his private quarters. Despite being a hulking mountain of a man, even he appears to have a soft spot or two that's been rubbed raw.

Back down near the gates, everyone is gathering for their departure. The Badger is loaded for bear at this point, with Oro, Gazra, Irja, and Sigurd taking up the reigns of a pony rather than crowding the Badger. Krem too elects to riding, having turned his donkey loose back at Midway. The little goblin seems to naturally take to being in a saddle. Even more so, his demeanor doesn't give his mount any pause or panic. The final pony is given a light load of excess gear and packs, without overburdening the beast.

Kallium still remains unseen, and probably for the best. While the Crone wouldn't bat an eye at him, people like Toki or Luutvig would likely turn pale.

Darius chats with Shiaran. "Absolutely. I can teach it to you if that's what your angle is".

The Crone shows up to see everyone off, and Toki and Luutvig are there to guide the group to the service entrance of the Dwarven tunnels just outside of town. The tiny ice elemental that Rebort managed to pick up back at Midway is a nonstop ball of chatter, rambling in it's guttural sounding language and pacing back and forth, tossing its little hands in the air as if its having a mock argument with itself. Its overall tone sounds absolutely annoyed.

While certainly not the time to learn a new spell, Shiaran decides instead to see if she can pick up on the elemental's ranting and try to communicate with it {Learn Skill: Language - Elemental?}.  The removal from leadership and the public scolding still gaped as a wound to the vitals and she did not feel like talking to Sypher, Beloc, or any of the barbarians save Irja if she is of a mind to communicate.

Sypher says his thanks and goodbyes efficiently, ending with the Crone.  Once the formalities are taken care of, he turns to the group.  "Load up.  Let's get moving.  Shiaran, you're driving.  Beloc, up top.  Darius, shotgun.  I'm going to ride in back for a bit.  Rebort, wherever you feel most comfortable or effective."  His orders are swift, sure, and without any harshness.  It's a matter of fact tone that comes from experienced leadership or perhaps supreme confidence.

Before leaving, R.E.B.O.R.T. inquires with the Old Crone as to whether or not she or Darius understand the language it's speaking. "My primary function was not meant to be a translator. I was taught to speak in the tongue most common to magic, not elementals. Are either of you able to decipher what it is saying?"

Beloc hops up in the gunners turret while R.E.B.O.R.T. hangs in the back of the vehicle working with D'Won on what is shaping up to be a tiny feathered reptilian looking creature.

The Crone mumbles a few words to herself, then licks her thumb and smears it across Rebort's forehead. "Vhy don't you see for yourself. He doesn't seem to be very happy vith you" she says teasingly.

The Crone casts [Comprehend languages - 2 hour duration] on Rebort

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks over at the ice golem. "No. It would seem not." Addressing the creature once the spell is cast, he tries to speak with it. "You may proceed. What is the matter?"

The tiny elemental stops dead in its tracks, and locks an icy gaze on Rebort.

"Cruuth'thrak byeg gwon thri Chec'qun ji! Ny'et grick vas voost, Chec'qun blyat goer vhet Chec'qun vhwashenn'ick'a, rho kcha!".

R.E.B.O.R.T. sits down at the workbench and lowers his gaze to the little golems.“Chec’qun? I apologize. I know what it means to be without purpose. What was your primary function?”
This message was last edited by the player at 14:10, Wed 07 Feb 2018.

"Chec'qun gruu'tog na wahg dur veelo tak. Chec'qun hrisk geenwa. Chec'qun geenwa cho. Nir Chec'qun buuten'ta. Nir Chec'qun ja rah. Poorg vhwashenn'ick'a twon!".

"I understand." R.E.B.O.R.T. glances over the group for a moment, then continues "This can be corrected. All we need is some simple metal construction, which between D'Won and myself, should be trivial. You and I both have seen what a voracious eater Shiaran can be, I think your expertise would be greatly appreciated."

He starts rummaging through the materials collected thus far. "Are there any specifications you desire?"

If he doesn't manage to find sufficient materials, he'll ask the Fyreworms if they have any scrap metal that will do the job.

"Hey, I heard that!"  Shiaran looks at Rebort with mock anger, then grins.

R.E.B.O.R.T. looks at Shiaran quizzically. "Was your hearing in question?"

He gestures toward Chec'qun, "This is Chec'qun, from the elemental Plane of Ice. He specializes in food preservation, which is why he is so angry with me. It appears our rescue also robbed him of his primary function."

R.E.B.O.R.T. stands a couple 1' x 1' cast iron plates on their ends, forming what looks to be the making of a large metal cube. "We could use these metal plates to create a box where, those who consume food, can store perishables." He pulls the metal metallic tube found alongside Chec'qun from one of his compartments. "Once we mount this inside, it would then serve as a cooling unit and extend the life of any consumable placed inside."

Beloc raises his eyebrow. "An elemental box of ice? I think I'll stick to my Goodberries."

With preparations complete and the mechanical portions of the party hard at work to appease their other worldly compatriot in the back of the Badger, the diesel engines spark to life yet again.

A small procession, like an honor guard, is lead by Toki and Luutvig out of the gates and along the edges of the city's walls until the curved structure dead-ends at the rocky face of the mountain. Luutvig walks another 50 foot away from the wall along the edge of the massive and rocky base.

Luutvig fishes in his pocket for a small talisman, and closely inspecting the rock work, finds what he's looking for. He presses the talisman into a hidden recess, and then quickly steps away from where he stands. Two massive stone doors start to slowly swing open of their own power. They blend in seamlessly with the rock around them and are most definitely not of human or elf craftsmanship.

Once fully open, a squared entryway nearly twenty feet by twenty feet gapes before the procession.

Luutvig walks up to the driver's side of the Badger, and winks at Shiaran through the gun port on the door. "Dis road vill take you straight to Fortress Durm Dural, de last dwarven hold of Fildegarne. Travel safe, my new friends. I vish I could be vith you".
This message was last edited by the player at 17:14, Sat 10 Feb 2018.

Being next to the window the barbarian is talking into, Shiaran takes the initiative to respond.  "Thanks, Luutvig.  You will do enough fighting here, I imagine.  They will need your bravery and prowess as much as we would.  Keep your people safe.  We will fight together another day."  She gives him her best smile. {19 Diplomacy}

Sypher gives Luutvig and the others riding escort a salute from the back of the vehicle.  "May you ride strong to the far fields of fortune, my friends.  Iehovah bless you and keep you."

R.E.B.O.R.T. is reminded that it's looked at as cold not to say a few parting words before moving on. He walks over to Luutvig and Toki. "Should we survive long enough, I am certain we will meet again."

He quickly turns back to the Badger and continues work on the feathered figurine while D'Won continues work on the 'Ice Box'.

Beloc grimaces a little but manages to say his farewells after R.E.B.O.R.T. leaves. "Thank you for your hospitality and guidance. I will be sure to send word of your good will to my people."

He bows. "May Obad-Hai watch over you."

With fair wells said, The Badger and pony procession enters the maw of the mountain and the doors seal shut behind them. The group is left bathed in torch light, glow stone, and in front, headlights. Through the gun port of the passenger seat, Darius sends forth an orb of light as well to give Shiaran a better idea of what may lie ahead, though the effects don't last very long. The berth of the tunnel gives enough room for Gazra, Krem, and Oro to ride to the right side of the Badger, while Sigurd and Irja ride to the left.

The overall "road" is hewn stone, polished smooth over the years. Two slight indentations run along the center like rails, presumably worn down from the passing of carts during a time of prosperity that Fildegarne hasn't known for some decades now.

A short ways down the winding road reveals a path that juts off to the right, not big enough for carts. When the Badger slows slightly to investigate, Sigurd remarks over the sounds of the engine.

"It's the entry way to the back door of my father's keep. The dwarves used to use it to come and go and pass information to us, as well as pass their troops through the courtyard where Irja and I volunteered to join you. Father would ensure they passed through with full honors, fanfare and all, as a sign of goodwill to our kin under the mountain".

---

The cluster of travelers continue on in the inky black. The pace is painfully slow, but steady. Four hours of travel lead to the road opening up even wider, and a massive cavern appears to sprawl ahead. The rushing of water can be heard echoing in the distance. Thankfully, many portions of the cavern are illuminated by a dull purple light. Bio-luminescent mushrooms speckle the sides of stalactites and stalagmites. Shelves of igneous rock form lazy looking blobs on top of one another along the outer rim of the cavern, with the road being cut right along the edge of the shelf. Portions of the globular rock formations that are cut give way to geode formations; some as large as the Badger. Those portions that became road are polished smooth like the rock before, laying out a sort of crystal path ahead. At one point, the road cuts directly through a large igneous formation. Inside is like looking in to another world. Green crystalline structures cluster all along the sides and roof of the short tunnel, and the road is a brilliant shade of emerald that dances and shines in the approaching lights.

The pony riders fall back into a column behind the Badger so as to give room and caution to the driver.

Listen checks, All. -4 to Beloc, Sypher, and Shiaran for being enclosed in the Badger and the engine noise. Rebort, -2 for engine noise (as he's in the back of the open bed)

Shiaran pulls the Badger to a stop and idles the engine.  "I know we are pressed for time in the grand scheme of things, but this stuff is too good to pass up.  Mind if we break for a meal and I look around?"  She is speaking to the group, but specifically Sypher, though she keeps her eyes ahead, looking around the cave for potential trouble.

{Perception check take 10 + 12 - 2 = 20}

Sypher looks about the cave as best he can from within the belly of the vehicle.  "Alright, shut it down.  Fifteen minutes.  Stay together and keep your senses sharp."  Speaking over the hum of the vehicle, his usually quiet voice carries the bark of command more often found in other officers.

{Perception take 10 + 8 - 2 = 16}

~~~

R.E.B.O.R.T. and D'Won toil over their creations during the initial part of the trip. As the Badger slows to a stop, D'Won approach R.E.B.O.R.T. with the completed box. R.E.B.O.R.T. nods in approval and call Chec'qun over.  The little ice golem seems to approve

He opens the lid and asks where he'd like the tube installed "Can you point to where you would like this attached?"

Chec'qun climbs inside and points to the back left corner. "Very well." He slides the reptilian figurine over to D'Won to put the final touches on it while he locks the icy tube into place.

Ears still ringing from the engine of the Badge, Beloc takes the downtime to stretch his legs and relieve himself off to the side.

Shortly after the group breaks to have lunch, the patter of heavy feet and noises like that of insects are heard echoing through the cavern. They don't sound close, but it's unlikely that the Badger managed to go unnoticed.

Shiaran ignores the food, but stays near to the group.  She collects various samples in the area around the Badger, asking for escort to move even ten feet from the vehicle.  She will not go outside the radius of the light sources.  Once she has gathered the samples, she then snarfs down a quick meal.

{Phosphorescent shrooms x2 vials
samples of the igneous rocks, hand sized if possible, dust as well
samples of the geodesic rocks, hand sized if possible, dust as well}

"Alright.  That means our stay is at an end.  Load up.  Let's get moving."  Sypher will watch as everyone else get's aboard their respective transportation.  He hops in the bed of the Badger.  "Those outside the vehicle need to keep your eyes open.  Up as much as anywhere.  Have a knife out and be ready to cut rope, web, or anything else that might grab on and try to pull you up into the darkness."

A high pitched squeal emits from somewhere in the dimly lit cavern, followed by echoes of the same call from all around.

A panicked look washes over Beloc's face at the sound that echoes. "Everyone, buckle up. NOW!"

He looks over to Shiaran. "We need to get this thing moving, and fast!"

The sense of urgency in his voice in rather unprecedented based on how long they've traveled with the elf. "That's the sound of a rust monsters dinner call, and as far as they're concerned, we're a mobile buffet."

"Stop."  Sypher's voice is calm.  "Everyone calm down.  Shiaran, do not start the Badger, yet.  Beloc, quickly and succinctly tell us what we need to know.  What are these?  How many can we expect?  What do they do that has you so concerned?"

{Diplomacy [Commander] - Take 10 + 10 = 20
Sypher is using Diplomacy to keep the group calm and to get them to follow his orders without having to resort to Intimidation.}

"In nature, a rust monster isn't any more dangerous than any other creature you might encounter. It's their diet that is most concerning to us right now. They consume only metal and have an innate ability to sense it nearby. I don't have an exact number, but I hear multiple coming from all around us, and only one would be sufficient to consume the entire Badger within minutes."

Beloc removes his weapon, as it is primarily composed of metal, and props it up within the interior of the Badger. "They aren't overly difficult to kill, but even using metal weapons against them would erode them on contact."

"Unless you're capable of fighting with your hands, or have something wooden you can fight with, I suggest you keep them at range and don't let them near anything metallic. That includes you Rebort." Strange, but Beloc appears to show some concern for even R.E.B.O.R.T.

"Everyone out but Rebort.  Shiaran, see to him, please.  Leave any metal you don't want eaten in the Badger.  Use only non-metal weapons, spells, and so on.  Two half circles in front and behind the Badger at about 30 feet out.  Until we get a better understanding of their number and direction of attack, we need to be ready.  Keep an eye on the ceiling as well.  We don't need surprise.  Move!"  The calm voice barks at the end to energize the group.

"Darius, can you stand at the back of the Badger with Beloc, and the Fyrewyrms.  Shiaran, Oro, and I will take the front.  Better to take them out fast and furious than let them get close and chance them slipping past."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:16, Wed 14 Feb 2018.

Shiaran moves over to Beloc within the Badger.  She pulls out a bottle with a smokey gas in it and a bit of gause.  "Rebort, I'm going to make it where they can't touch you, but you won't be able to do anything physical to them."  She opens the bottle and twirls a bit of the smoke around her finger, then grasps the cloth with the same finger and opposing thumb.  She draws quick, precise figures in the air, then pushes them onto Rebort's chest plate.

The warforged turns transluscent and wispy.

"Sypher, you're next, outside."

{Shiaran casts Gaseous Form on Rebort.  Duration = 12 minutes}

Beloc nods in agreement. "The surrounding caves echo their calls too much, and I can't identify a specific angle of attack. My experience with humans has taught me that they can't see well in the dark, so I would volunteer myself as the spotter, but that would leave me far too open to attack. My place should be clearing the incoming assault. Perhaps Rebort can keep a lookout since he's going to be confined to the Badger."

R.E.B.O.R.T. takes a moment to look at his new form. He waves his articulated hand in front of him and marvels at the fact he can see right through it. "I will add this to my research. Quite impressive, Ms. Shiaran."

He climbs his way up to the turret in response to Beloc's suggestion. "My eyesight is more like that of a human, but I have a solution to adapt for that. I can watch the ceilings."

The insectoid noises grow louder. Then at both ends of the tunnel, Rust Monsters appears from the darkness, scurrying forward as their anttenae taste the air around them for metals. 3 approach close from the rear, while 3 more enter from further down the tunnel. They won't make it as quick as their counterparts, but they still pose a threat a they rapidly close in.

None of them moves in a uniform pattern, with some clinging to the sides of walls, and two further on the west side of the tunnel running across the ceiling.

Roll for initiative

Shiaran and Sypher stand near each other just beyond 30 feet from the Badger.  Shiaran begins a spell, while Sypher steps into a relaxed stance, ready to act, but waiting for Shiaran to finish her spell.

{Sypher Initiative Take 10 + 8 = 18
Shiaran Initiative Take 10 +5 = 15}

A flaming blade erupts from Beloc's hand as he releases his darkwood shield into the air with his other. He readies himself to attack the first one fool enough to approach.

A low, threatening growl rumbles in Apache's throat. He spreads out wide, about 15 feet from Beloc, to cover more ground between them and the Badger.

07:53, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 10 using 1d20+3.  Initiative .

This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Thu 15 Feb 2018.

R.E.B.O.R.T's plated exterior begins to shimmer as it takes on a slightly different hue and texture. It almost looks chitinous in nature. His eyes briefly glow with a deep purple. "Six targets incoming. Three from the front, three from the rear."

R.E.B.O.R.T. enchants his body with the "Deep" enhancement, giving him 60 feet of dark vision.
07:53, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Initiative .

RM1
RM2
RM3
Sigurd 22
Sypher 18
Oro 16
Shiaran 15
Darius 14
Rebort 12
Gazra 12
Irja 12
Beloc 10
Krem 9
RM4
Kallium 6
RM5
RM6

DM Note: RM1-3 are the trio to the east portion of the map, while 4-6 are west

Rust Monsters one through three close the gap towards the backs of the ponies, ignoring the riders. With Beloc's orders to leave, and Sypher's orders to fight, a mild confusion has caused everyone to be slow dismounting for combat, with Krem outright falling from his saddle. His armor make a heavy clang and he let's out an "Oof!" as he lands prone. Sigurd lands on his feet, leaving his twin axes sheathed, and takes a low stance to ready himself.

All three pass by Beloc, completely oblivious to the ironwood clad elf.

Beloc - AoO's within the limits of the rule set for multiple attacks
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:50, Sat 17 Feb 2018.

Krem's rattling of metal catches Beloc's attention and with both hands, he readies himself for the incoming rush. Somewhat to his surprise, all three try to skirt around him. With the grace of his elven reflexes, he quickly lashes out at one of the two passing on his left [30 fire dmg]. The flaming strike is so quick that the rust monster doesn't realize its dead until the front half of it has walked another five feet while the back half slumped over at the point of impact.

Using his forward momentum, Beloc lunges at the second one nearly skewering it against the wall and halting its attempt to pass by.

"Apache, ground the other one!"


Cleave from monster 1 into monster 2
Using feat Stand Still to halt monster 2's forward progress

20:40, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 26 using 2d8+18.  Damage for Stand Still DC vs. rust monster 2.
20:39, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 28 using 1d20+10.  Critical threat check 2.
20:37, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 30 using 2d8+18.  Damage vs. rust monster 1.
20:31, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 25 using 1d20+10.  Critical threat check.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:37, Sat 17 Feb 2018.

At Beloc's command, Apache barrels into the third rust monster. He sinks his teeth into its hindquarters and rolls it to the ground. The rust monster squirms in vain to get back up.

20:55, Today: Apache rolled 22 using 1d20+11.  Grapple check on monster 3.
20:54, Today: Apache rolled 18 using 1d20+7.  Touch attack to initiate grapple.

Sypher closes his eyes and clenches his fists.  "Father in Heaven, by the name of your Son, I ask for your favor to take out mine enemies that we may stand against the tide of darkness sweeping our home."

{Sypher casts Divine Favor.  +2 Attack and Damage.}

Oro dismounts by leaping backwards from his pony and spinning. He rushes forward to the rust monster that Apache is holding firm from behind, and swings the torch he's holding as a modified club at the rust monster's head. It connects with a crunch for [6 DMG (5 bludgeoning 1 fire)], singeing the aberation's antennae and causing it to shriek horribly.

Shiaran pulls out bit of some kind of root from a pouch and mumbles a word before touching Sypher.  Suddenly, Sypher's movements seem to blur as he moves faster than normal.  He is still graceful and in control.

Once the spell is cast, she turns and climbs to the roof of the Badger.

{Action: Shiaran casts Haste on Sypher.
Movement: Climb to top of Badger.}

Darius sticks a hand up out of the gun port of the Badger as Shiaran climbs, brushing his fingers across her boot. The same blur affecting Sypher converges on to Shiaran as she gets in to position. A muffled voice comes from within the Badger "Stay clear of the muzzle, I'm going to take a few shots at them".

R.E.B.O.R.T. reaches for the turret and is quickly reminded of his current state as his hand passes through. He also realizes traditional movement doesn't work either, instead, he begins to rise up out of the vehicle and slow starts flying toward the ceiling.

"Targets from the east appear to be under control. Targets from the west are incoming fast. Two on the ceiling are mostly likely to reach the Badger within the next few seconds."

Gazra plops down off his pony, and draws the massive wooden club he carries on his back.

Irja wheels her pony around to face the incoming rust monsters, and makes a gesture with her hand. A pale and semi transparent handaxe materializes next to the rust monster that Beloc halted against the wall, and begins to hack at it [5 DMG].

Using his forelegs, Apache rolls the rust monster over on its back in an attempt to pin it. He plants his muzzle firmly in its abdomen, locking it in place.

10:16, Today: Apache rolled 28 using 1d20+11.  Grapple check on monster 3 (pinning).

Beloc pulls his blade back, releasing the creature from its pinned state and follows up with a massive overhead swing. The flaming blade passes through the rust monsters neck, relieving it of its head [37 fire damage].

He takes a step back, whirling his blade around, and positions himself for a downward thrust. The now immobile rust monster makes for an easy target. The smell of burning flesh starts to lazily fill the air as the fiery scimitar impales the monster to the ground [44 fire damage].


Beloc uses a 5 foot step to move from RM2 to RM3
10:25, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 44 using 2d8+30.  Damage vs. rust monster 3 (1d8 + 12 + 3) * 2.
10:24, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 25 using 1d20+10.  Critical threat check 2.
10:11, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 37 using 2d8+30.  Damage vs. rust monster 2 (1d8 + 12 + 3) * 2.
10:09, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 29 using 1d20+10.  Critical threat check.

With the three easternly rust monsters dead, the western most continue to advance. Kallium appears from the engine block and floats forward and meets the foremost rust monster on the ceiling and attacks it with a ghostly scimitar. However, the attack passes harmlessly through the lead rust monster, leading Kallium to let loose a string of curses in elvish.

The rust monsters end their turn a mere 5 foot from the Badger's current position

More shrieks from rust monsters are heard on both sides of the tunnel, with the bulk of the noises coming from the West on Beloc's end.

RM1 [DEAD]
RM2 [DEAD]
RM3 [DEAD]
Sigurd 22
Sypher 18
Oro 16
Shiaran 15
Darius 14
Rebort 12
Gazra 12
Irja 12
Beloc 10
Krem 9
RM4
Kallium 6
RM5
RM6

Sigurd finished his advance and stands next to Beloc. He brandishes a long bow, equipped with wooden arrows tipped with stone arrow heads. "Let them come!" he say defiantly, ready to snuff short the life of any monstrosity or aberration that comes his way.

The shrieks grow louder and closer on the West end.

Sypher gauges the two on the ceiling, then looks over at the wall.  With the enhanced speed from Shiaran's spell, he rockets toward the wall, then up it.  Just before reaching the ceiling, he leaps perfectly horizontal at his top speed and slams his body into the nearest bug, which in turn hits the second, knocking them both off the ceiling and slams them into the wall on the other side before they hit the ground.

The shock of ramming into them at that speed causes Sypher some pain [4 dmg], but he ignores it and uses the wall to slow his own fall to the ground.

Oro silently moves beyond Sigurd and Beloc to stand at the tunnel mouth and peer out using his torch. "I can hear even more. One of them sounds particularly large" he says, barely raising his voice to audible levels. He lays the torch on the ground behind him, so the light isn't in his eyes. "I will signal when I see them".

Shiaran steps in between the third Rust Monster and the Badger, barring its way with her body.  She takes a drop of molasses from a vial and slams her palms together around it, then splays out her hands in front of her, catching both the active rust monster and the two reeling from Sypher's activity.

The two on the ground slow their wriggling to a comical pace, but the one charging right at Shiaran shrugs off the spell and keeps coming.  Shiaran tenses up for impact just before it gets to her.

{Shiaran casts Slow on all three Rust Monsters.  Will Save DC 17.}

Darius attempts a spell on the charging Rust Monster but it shrugs off the effects just as it did with Shiaran's spell work, and continues to barrel forward.

The ghostly form of R.E.B.O.R.T. continues to hover above the Badger. "Four more targets incoming from the west, just beyond the tunnel opening."

Noticing the immediate threat down below, he willingly releases the gaseous form Shiaran placed on him and immediately descends back down. The Badger rocks back and forth as he lands on the hood and his modified RG-1442's pop out in the blink of an eye.

"You will not harm her", he mutters as a hail of bullets issues forth. Six individual shots hit their mark with varying degrees of deadly precision. The first two spin it around, presenting a broadside target, while the last four strike various vitals. The creature is dead before it hits the ground, oozing blood from multiple entry and exit wounds [46 dmg total].

21:10, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 7,8,11,5,15,5 using 4d4,4d4,4d4,2d4,4d4,2d4.  Damage vs. rust monster 4.
21:04, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 26,25,28,10,21,6 using d20+9,d20+9,d20+9,d20+9,d20+4,d20+4.  Crit checks.

Gazra moves back towards the tail of the Badger, to stand as a final wall for any more creatures to pass through. "Oro, get over here will ya. They've got the tunnel mouth covered".

Irja maintains her hold of her summoned weapon, and silently waits.

Oro tosses back a dismissive hand at Gazra, not bothering to turn around as he continues a few more steps out of the mouth of the tunnel.

"Apache, guard." He says as he motions to one side of the tunnel opening. Beloc positions himself on the other side opposite apache.

"Sigurd, you pick off anything that gets by us."

Beloc reaches into a pouch and pulls out a small blob of what looks like a tacky, tar-like substance. With one free hand, he scoops up a spider from the ground and pops it into his mouth, along with a bite of the black substance. He makes a weird gagging face as he quickly spits out a few magic words. "Ugh, I never get used to that", he mutters under his breath.

He stands ready, waiting for the next wave.

Beloc casts Spider Climb on himself.

Apache moves into position, opposite of Beloc, and stands guard... ready to pounce on the first hostile creature to approach the tunnel.

Krem noisily and hastily shrugs off a few pieces of his heavy iron armor, attempting to stow it in saddlebags hidden away from potential hostiles. He doesn't have the luxury of getting it completely off, but some of the bulk is stripped away. He huffs and grunts as he works, clearly trying to get to a point that he can help out where needed.

Meanwhile, the ponies stomp the polished crystal flooring underneath them, agitated by the excitement.

Krem's actions will consume his turn this round and the next

With the two remaining rust monsters to the west slowed, Kallium gracefully floats down to the foremost one [RM5]. He lands right in front of the beast and locks eyes with it, causing a brief flash of sickly green light. "Let's see how you like this then" he says. The Rust Monster shrieks in protest, as the light blasts towards it and washes over its carapace [5 DMG]

The two slowed Rust Monsters continue forward in a comically sluggish frenzy, unable to shake off the effects of being slowed, and continuing to ignore anything in their way towards the Badger.

The next four Rust Monsters arrive at the western end of the tunnel, skittering along.

Oro signals "5" with his hand to Beloc and Sigurd. In the dim light, Beloc can make out the shapes skulking up the road. One is particularly large.

RM1 [DEAD]
RM2 [DEAD]
RM3 [DEAD]
Sigurd 22
Sypher 18 [4 DMG]
Oro 16
Shiaran 15
Darius 14
Rebort 12
Gazra 12
Irja 12
Beloc 10
Krem 9
RM4 [DEAD]
Kallium 6
RM5 [9 DMG]
RM6 [9 DMG]
RM7
RM8
RM9
RM10
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:26, Mon 19 Feb 2018.

Sigurd holds his position, arrow knocked and ready to fire when he catches movement.

Sypher unloads with a blur of blows against one of the slowed monsters.  He kicks it up into the air [8 DMG] then punches one-two [2, 1 DMG] before kicking it toward the wall with a light side kick [3 DMG]

"Shiaran.  I have this one."

{Sypher takes 10 on flurry of blows hasted vs RM 6.  19/19/19/19
16:42, Today: Sypher Whiteraven rolled 14 using 4d8 ((8,2,1,3)).}
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Mon 19 Feb 2018.

Oro turns on his heels and makes his way back to the tunnel. "There are four standard sized ones, and a large one; likely the brood mother. She won't go down as easily" he says, brandishing his makeshift beat stick again.

Shiaran stands her ground in the face of the last bug and whips out her SMP-12.  She rapidly fires of three shots at a distance just out of reach of the bug's appendages.  [Shiaran does not know what causes the rusting effect yet.]  Two of the bullets turn the creature's face into bug splat while two more tear deep trenches into the side of its thorax.  The rest strip away flesh from all over, with cumulative damage sufficient to take the thing down.

"This one's down!"

{Shiaran attacks RM 5 three times with SMP - 12 which requires 5 rolls per attack.  Total of 15 rolls.  Shiaran takes 10 on each roll at a total of +9 for a total of 19 vs. DC 17 (Slowed).
17:05, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven sucked at rolling a 28 using 15d4 ((2,2,2,4,4,3,1,1,1,3,1,1,1,1,1)).}
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Mon 19 Feb 2018.

Darius again reaches a hand out of the gun port, electing not to fire, but instead send a pale blue ray at the SMP-12 Shiaran holds. It adopts the bluish glow. Holding it, Shiaran feels a strange sense of confidence in the weapon, even more so with it's stellar inaugural debut.

Darius casts Greater Magic Weapon. +2 weapon enhancement for 1 hour

A small crystal lens pops out of a compartment near his right temple and rests over his eye. "Four targets, incoming rapidly."

More shots ring out, this time they appear more controlled and fire sequentially. One after another, they fly out into the darkness. The sound of six impacts is all that can be heard.

"Three targets."

19:24, Today: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 8,11,13,8,5,13 using 4d4,4d4,4d4,4d4,2d4,4d4.  Sequential damage vs. rust monsters. RM7 dead, RM8 wounded.

This message was last edited by the player at 12:25, Tue 20 Feb 2018.

Gazra and Irja both hold steady for now, trying to give room to those already fighting.

Beloc pokes his head around the edge of the tunnel entrance to see all five targets barreling in. He looks back to the others. "They'll be here any second. I'll try to keep the big one's attention, but some of the little ones might slip through."

He starts to beat on his chest plate rhythmically and recites a druidic battle cry.

"Nothing gets past our line!"


Beloc triggers So That Others May Live. +1 AC and saves vs. the affected enemies. Up to 6 enemies taunted.
He will charge at the brood mother as soon as it's within 10-15 feet.

This message was last edited by the player at 14:14, Tue 20 Feb 2018.

Krem continues with his armor, while Kallium intercepts the wounded Rust Monster [RM6] that Sypher managed to pummel, and finishes it off with his gaze attack.

RM1 [DEAD]
RM2 [DEAD]
RM3 [DEAD]
Sigurd 22
Sypher 18 [4 DMG]
Oro 16
Shiaran 15
Darius 14
Rebort 12
Gazra 12
Irja 12
Beloc 10
Krem 9
RM4 [DEAD]
Kallium 6
RM5 [DEAD]
RM6 [DEAD]
RM7 [DEAD]
RM8 [26 DMG] [WEST]
RM9   [WEST]
RM10 [WEST]
RM11 [EAST]
RM12 [EAST]
RM13 [EAST]
RM14 [EAST]
RM Brood Mother [EAST]

Sigurd let's loose an arrow. It sails into the dim light at the silhouette of a rust monster, and the shriek that follows let's him know he's hit his mark [RM11 7 DMG]. He retrieves another arrow and nocks it.

Sypher races down the tunnel toward the end, but does not leave.  He ignores the one bug that is limping along and nearly dead.  Instead, he focuses on one of the two who are unharmed.  Running a couple of steps up the wall, he leaps off with a spinning overhead kick then follows up with two weakly managed punches to the side.

"Three coming your way.  Rebort, a little help."

{Sypher takes 10 again vs. RM 9.  19/19/19
16:59, Today: Sypher Whiteraven rolled 7 using 3d8 ((5,1,1)).}

Oro looks up at the incoming wave on the east end, and pulls a wrapping from his hand, revealing pointed nails and horrible scars with what appears to be bite marks healed over. He sighs, and takes one more look in the direction of his foes before swiftly sinking his teeth into the flesh just below his thumb. A small spray of blood spurts forth, and an amulet on his necks flashes a bright purple light. Black flames envelop him almost immediately, and completely obscure his body from view as they burn.

"Oh for crying out loud.." exclaims Gazra, not really lending any context to what his old friend is doing.

Shiaran moves part of the way down the tunnel with her SMP and - keeping out of touch range of the monsters - unloads a second round of shells into the face of an oncoming bug [RM 10].  When the spray of blood clears, the front half of the creature is gone.

"One down!"

{Shiaran attacks RM 10 three times with SMP - 12 which requires 5 rolls per attack.  Total of 15 rolls.  Shiaran takes 10 on each roll at a total of +9 for a total of 19 vs. DC 18.
07:25, Today: Shiaran Whiteraven rolled 45 using 15d4 ((3,3,2,3,2,3,4,3,3,1,3,3,4,4,4)).}

There is no sign of Darius from within the Badger at the moment.

R.E.B.O.R.T. focuses his attention on the two remaining rust monsters approaching from the west. Multiple whirs and clicks can be heard as his pistols automatically reload themselves. He takes aim and fires.

The first shot rings out and carves a deep trench in what remains of the most wounded rust monster (RM8) [14 dmg].

The next two shots whiz by Sypher, striking the creature he was engaged with. The impacts knock the bug back a few feet and it skitters to the ground dead (RM9) [21 dmg].

"Western targets neutralized."

For his last three shots, he swings his arm around to face the opposite direction and begins targeting the creatures coming in from the east. The sudden change in vector for his shots throws off the accuracy a bit but still does significant damage to one of them (RM11)[21 dmg].


13:51, Today: Secret Roll: R.E.B.O.R.T. rolled 14,8,13,11,8,2 using 4d4,4d4,4d4,4d4,4d4,2d4.  Sequential damage vs. rust monsters.

Again, Gazra and Irja hold fast at the aft of the Badger and ponies to create a last line of defense.

As the inevitable approach of the rust monster swarm draws closer, Beloc seizes the opportunity to engage. He pivots hard and rounds the corner of the tunnel opening and dashes toward the incoming rust monsters. With a short hop, he uses the severely wounded rust monster (RM11) as a springboard to launch himself up and over the other enemy assailants and put himself right in the path of the brood mother.

Multiple swipes from surrounding antennae attack to no avail as Beloc gains altitude for a leaping power attack. The ground in the immediate area trembles as a massive overhead strike comes crashing down on the brood mother for an overwhelming amount of damage. The flaming blade cuts a grievous wound across the monsters upper thorax region [62 dmg].

With the full attention of all the enemies in the area, all forward progress towards the Badger stops.


Beloc uses Power Attack (6)
21:29, Today: Beloc S'Viscus rolled 62 using 2d8+54.  Leaping Power Attack Damage vs. brood mother (1d8 + 24 + 3) * 2.

With their attention diverted, Apache runs up and attacks the injured bug from behind. His teeth manage to find some soft tissue between the carapace and segments, doing minor damage to its backend [8 dmg]. The rust monster limps forward after Beloc, but slumps over dead before it gets close enough to engage.


21:40, Today: Apache rolled 16 using 1d20+9.  Attack on RM11. (+2 for flanking)
21:55, Today: Apache rolled 8 using 1d6+3.  Damage vs. RM11.

This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Fri 23 Feb 2018.

Krem puts the finishing touches on lightening his load, and then picks up a fist sized rock, brandishing it as a makeshift weapon.

Kallium whips around with the last of the west side Rust Monsters dealt with. "I'm going to scout ahead while the rest clean up the rear flank" and floats off to the west and out the tunnel entrance.

The Rust Monster wave to the east is hard focused on Beloc. Two of the 3 brush him with antennae, prodding for anything metal, with the third opening its small mandibles to nip at him. Beloc being deft on his feet easily sidesteps the thing. The large brood mother takes this opportunity to lunge forward at her attacker with a headbutt, and connects hard [16 DMG], which slides Beloc back 5 foot. Despite taking the full brunt of the hit, Beloc stays on his feet, determined to face down his foe.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:54, Sat 24 Feb 2018.

Sigurd 22
Sypher 18 [4 DMG]
Oro 16
Shiaran 15
Darius 14
Rebort 12
Gazra 12
Irja 12
Beloc 10 [16 DMG]
Krem 9
RM12 [EAST]
RM13 [EAST]
RM14 [EAST]
RM Brood Mother [EAST] [62 DMG]


RM1 [DEAD]
RM2 [DEAD]
RM3 [DEAD]
RM4 [DEAD]
RM5 [DEAD]
RM6 [DEAD]
RM7 [DEAD]
RM8 [DEAD]
RM9 [DEAD]
RM10 [DEAD]
RM11 [DEAD]

Removed From Battle
Kallium 6

Sigurd lets loose another arrow at his closest target, connecting. RM12 [8 DMG]

Sypher brings himself to a relaxed stance.  He keeps his eyes on the west end of the tunnel.  "Shiaran, go help them.  I will watch here."  He sits cross-legged, eyes closed, but other senses aware.  He uses the few seconds to focus his spirit to mend his body with meditation.

{Sypher uses lay on hands on himself - 4 HP}

The black flames around Oro peel away, revealing a figure that only looks faintly like the tiefling. His normally short horns now jut out and curve back and around, forming points that run parallel to his jaw line. His eyes glow a bright red, which contrasts starkly against his now coal black skin. His fingers and toes end in wicked claws. A thick patch of bleach white fur sits in a clump on his chest, while a long beard protrudes from his face. More white hair sits atop his head, running along like a thick white mane down to the small of his back.

He twists and contorts for a brief moment, looking as if he's in pain, before sprinting forward with inhuman speed. As he passes one of the rust monsters, he rakes his clawed hand down its side, balling it up shrieking as it dies. Black flames burn from within the wounds on the overgrown insect RM 14 [31 DMG]. He rushes off into the darkness to the east, leaving only  tracer lines of red in the air from his eyes. As they fade, shrieks and howls from more unseen rust monsters are heard, along with the sickly sounds of crunches and slices.

Shiaran gives Sypher a once over to make sure he's okay then glances at the tunnel end to make sure there are no bug's peeking around.  Then she makes her way around the Badger with her enhanced speed only to hold off doing anything until such time as action is needed.  Instead, she takes stock of those still near the vehicle.

{Move to East side of Badger.
Hold action.}

Darius opens a hatch just above the gun port and pops his head out to look around. Seeing Sypher sitting patiently, he adjusts himself in his own seat, and nods. As Shiaran runs past, he remarks "Save some bugs for the rest of them"

Shiaran gives him a dismissive wave, but also quirks a smile.

R.E.B.O.R.T. hops off the front end and lands soundly on the ground. The Badger creaks and whines as his weight is finally relieved from its hood. The sound of bullets reloading into the pistols is mostly masked by the sound of them retracting back into his forearms.

He pulls the large sniper rifle from his back, kneels and begins loading a painfully large round into the back of it.

Gazra and Irja continue with holding their actions.