It has now been four days since the party departed Bard's Gate, traveling by foot westward, toward the village of Fairhill. Rain and cloudy weather have marred the journey, forcing the party to keep off the road and travel under the eaves of the light woods to the north of the Tradeway.

Those with any knowledge of local weather might find it a bit uncharacteristic for this time of year, as though a dark cloud has been following the group from the City of Tales, City of A Thousand Gods, the City of the Liar, and any number of other names the trade city of Bard's Gate is known by across the land.

This adventure began much as many others have, predictably, in a tavern. Corian, a young wizard, posted a simple notice, "Seeking Fellow Adventurers! Companions to share in glory, gold, and adventures unnumbered! Inquire at the Starving Stirge on Whetting Way."

Corian's offer turned out to be simple:

Trek to a ruined wizard's tower. Delve the tower. Find hidden treasure. Equal shares for all.

When asked what made Corian so certain they would find treasure in the ruins, the wizard discretely produced an amulet he claimed belonged to the tower's original occupant--Eralion. Corian claimed the amulet would grant access to hidden chambers that had thus far escaped scrutiny in the 20 years since Eralion's disappearance.

When pressed for more details, Corian relayed the following:

In the intervening years, vermin, orcs, goblins, and bandits have occupied the tower, but the Duke's Army laid siege to the keep and routed its last occupants. Since that time, the site has remained forlorn and desolate. As to the nature of Eralion's disappearance, Corian claimed all his research into the matter pointed to the wizard coming to his end through what is commonly known in wizarding circles as a magical mishap. Wizardry is not without its own perils.

In any event, Corian was no fool and never claimed the ruins would not contain any danger, which was precisely why he wished to join a fellowship for this venture. "Equal shares, all! Join me, friends. Let us discover fame and fortune!" Corian implored; his eyes filled with zeal.

That was four days ago...

Glancing down at muddy boots, feeling the cloying dampness throughout, and knowing another four days of travel lies ahead, it is understandable if any member of this fellowship might begin to have second thoughts about this expedition's prospects. Eight days' journey is an awful long way to go with naught to show for it but a young wizard's zeal.

One can only hope the weather turns for the better. More to the point, that tower better have treasure!

Fortunately, save for the gloomy weather that marked much of the first four days, the journey has been uneventful. Finally, late on the fourth day, the rain subsides, and the party manages to find a nice, dry campsite before darkness falls.

The waystation has seen frequent and recent use and appears to have serviced countless caravans and travelers over the years. A patchy but serviceable wooden palisade surround the waystation. Inside, the party finds a stone well with a good supply of clean water, several banked fire pits, and a small shrine dedicated to Avandra.

"I'm going to dry my gear out over here if anyone wants to lay theirs out as well," Zeric proposed as he found a convenient fire pit to designate.

He really needed to get his chain dried out properly and hoped it hadn't already started to rust.  It hadn't been brand new to start with.

He expected they'd use the standard watch schedule they'd been using.  As always, alphabetical order made him the last watch, but it wasn't a bad deal in this case.

Scraping the mud of his boots, the flamboyant Dwarf known as Folly muttered something foul under his breath in a language neither human nor Dwarven, but certainly well suited for sounding nasty.

Finding a place to sit, he removed his broad brimmed and sent a dirty glance in the direction of their patron, Corion.

"A foul day indeed, an omen most foul Master Corian. Plus you have a travel with one of the..." he holds his tongue, but it is clear he is referencing Sharn.

Folly had made it clear he didn't much like the green folk, nor the idea of relying on a woman for his safety. The grave-rat covered a lot of bases for the bard. His lute had been destroyed during his last arrest, and he seemed bound and determined to take his unhappiness out on those around him.

Rather than continue his diatribe, however, he struggled to remove his boots, after which he spent a good amount of time scraping the mud off the bottoms, sides, and even some of the top.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:27, Tue 12 Oct 2021.

A sodden and muddy Clatsi Clatterstones weighed nearly twice what a dry one did, and the horrid weather had weighed heavily on him in other ways, so the little gnome was quick to join Zeric at the fire pit. Quick, but deliberate, so as not to drip excessively or muddy up the relatively dry and clean waystation. He carefully spread out his cloak and boots and pack, and even more carefully pulled out from his pack the bundle of waxed, waterproof canvas that held his book.

From somewhere he drew forth a clean, dry cloth which he used to clean and dry his spectacles. Without them, Clatterstones' eyes looked small, and he kept glancing at his well-wrapped tome. "It's dry and undamaged," he explained to no one in particular. "I know it is. But I want to look anyway. Isn't that strange? Quite irrational. Unpacking it now, you see, before the wrapping cloth dries, would only put the book at risk." He gave it a deep stare before finally looking away and setting his spectacles back into place and making an unsettled noise deep in his throat.

The little gnome very, very carefully ignored Folly's grumblings and made a point not to look at the half-orc. Since his peripheral vision was poor, it was easy to pretend she wasn't there.

"You still have the amulet, don't you, Corian? I know apprentice wizards can be sometimes absent-minded and mis-place important things, so perhaps you'd best check on it." Clatsi had made the same suggestion three or four times each day thus far on this journey, and it seemed he had no intention of stopping now.

Dropping his pack, Zeric set out to collect firewood to start a fire.

Corian attends to Folly's complaints with the slightest of shrugs and struggles to find any words at his immediate disposal to assuage the dwarf. In the end he decides to say nothing and immediately attends Clatsi's intrusion.



"Of course I do," he says with a slight measure of exasperation in his voice.

During previous queries, Corian made it a point to pat just below his left breast, but this time, he doesn't. He merely tilts his head to the side and sighs.

"It is safe and accounted for, as it has been each and every time you have asked, rest assure on this."

Sensing his response perhaps came out more agitated than he intended, he adds in, "But, I do appreciate your concern. It would be rather silly to walk all this way for naught."

Intuitive party members may have noticed Corian has seemed more on edge as the days have gone. Some folk don't travel well. Perhaps it could be attributed to travel fatigue. Perhaps not. Whatever the case, it's obvious to Folly and Zeric something appears to be weighing on Corian's mind.

OOC: I interpret intuitive party members to be Folly and Zeric, based on above average Wisdom scores.

Sharn rides along without complaints.  Her hair at times hangs in her face like wet strands of seaweed, but she doesn't seem to notice mostly.  She doesn't engage in conversations, but will answer if assigned a task.  She keeps her shoulders back, and might appear rather aloof, but if others are talking, she is often caught watching them, and listening.

As they break camp on the fourth Day, Sharn approaches Corian so directly, others distrustful of her might tense.  She stands staring at him a moment before saying quietly,

"You look so much like my younger brother, funny the fates, eh?" before heading over to help build the fire.

Finishing cleaning the mud off his his boots, the Dwarf glances around the shelter. The wooden palisades seemed stout enough, though of course stone would be better. Slipping his new cleaner boots back on, he heads over to Avandra's shrine, and send up a prayer of gratitude for another days safe travels.

She wasn't his deity, but it never hurt to be respectful. If he wasn't dead broke, he might have left a coin.

He really hoped this venture was as profitable as Corian's enthusiasm suggested. Heck, even half that would put him in ale and wenches for a good while. And if anything interesting happened, he would hopefully be able to make a decent tune out of things.

From Corian's demeanor, Zeric was getting the feeling their journey was becoming more dangerous the closer they got to the tower.  That didn't stop him from leaving his shield and battle axe with his pack while looking for wood outside the wooden walls.

How dangerous could it be?

Sharn and Zeric see to the campfire. Due to the fact there is a ready supply of cut firewood stacked within the waystation, perhaps enough wood to last a month or more, they get the fire going in short order.

Meanwhile, Folly visits the shrine to pay respect to Avandra, Goddess of Fortune and Travel. The shrine is like most others throughout the land, a single standing stone roughly four foot tall and one foot in diameter. The side facing the Tradeway has the symbol of Avandra, three green waves, etched on it. A simple earthen offering plate rests atop the standing stone. A single gold coin, a seashell, and a brittle dandelion flower are placed on the plate.

Clatsi, Corian, and Ullie unload their gear and presumably prepare the campsite for their stay.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:11, Thu 14 Oct 2021.

He needs to plan ahead better, it bothers him that he has nothing to put in the donation plate.

He decides to offer that he can, and opens his mouth, a rich, deep basso profondo emanating from his mouth, his throat, his heart.

"A grin, and a word, are my trade;
From these, my profit is made.
Though my body's not tall
My courage ain't small;
And my fame will take decades to fade."*

He donates these words to the goddess, with a nod of his head and heart felt gratitude for her watching over their travel, thus far, and in the future.




*Loosely paraphrased from Michael Moorcock.

Ullian whistles as he does what he can to help set up the camp.  From his perspective, this trek has not proved unpleasant.

It took some time for Clatterstones to come to a decision. His hand reached to his pouch three, four, maybe five times before plucking out a gold coin. While Folly sang, the little gnome scurried forward to drop it onto Avandra's plate. "For luck," he explained. "Probably only for the luck of the next wayfarers to stop here, of course -- those disreputable enough to pillage a humble shrine, the miscreants! -- but luck is luck and fortune tends to come around."

When the time came and the others were settling down, Clatterstones knew what was expected. Watch in the order of the alphabet put him first up, so he checked out the defenses and found a place from which to play sentry.

"I've not heard of this practice of setting the watch order alphabetically," in tone that suggests he is not displeased, as he stretches his arms and yawns.

"'Twas Zeric's idea," Clatsi told Ullian.

"It makes it easier to remember who to wake up for the next watch," Zeric replied to Ullian.

"If we want, we could start with someone different to change things up and then go alphabetically from there."

He shrugged, it made no difference to him.

Ullian looks relieved.

"So: it isn't some grand tradition of which I was unaware?  I'm glad to know that I hadn't missed such a thing."

A pleasant breeze whisks through the air as Folly sings his tune and Clatsi sacrifices a gold coin the Goddess of Fortune. The fragrant scent of gardenia wafts into the waystation and fills all with pleasant thoughts.

Eventually, the party settles into their campsite, establishes watch rotations based on alphabetical order, and hunkers down for the night.

Darkness falls and the fire begins to die down to glowing coals. About an hour into Sharn's watch, she hears a young child's voice in the distance, crying in the darkness, somewhere beyond the wooden palisade, south of the road.

Peering through the gaps between the wooden stakes, even with the benefit of infravision, Sharn does not see any evidence of a child in the wooded area south of the road. Perhaps the child is further afield?

OOC: Clatsi and Folly both gain a +1 fortune bonus to be used on one future die roll of their choice. They may choose to use this bonus before or after the die is rolled.

Sensing the goddess has accepted his offering, Folly bows, and backs away.

Once with the others, he only has one thing to say about the watch. "All I ask is that spell-casters get uninterrupted sleep. It is rather important to our effectiveness."

He wondered which alphabet Zeric would be using. Probably the human tongue (ugh) that race was ego-centric enough to call their language 'basic' even though it was one of the youngest (and least attractive) of the languages.

If they were to use Elvish, he would get an early watch, in Dwarvish a very late one. In the human tongue, he would never get enough sleep to cast a spell on anyone.

Typical.

Sharn grips her bardiche tighter but does not go out to investigate the sounds.  She will keep watch, as she was assigned to do, but will only be extra watchful if the noise gets closer to the camp.  Many animals and even some ill meaning fey known to sound like children in the night.  Either by their nature, or with an ill intent to drawing someone out into the darkness alone.

The unseen child's cry becomes a mournful wail interspersed with plaintive pleas.

"Mama....mama...help...help..."

The sounds of choking are then heard, again, the origin somewhere outside of Sharn's view.

"PLEASE MAMA!!!" the child cries out loud enough to stir light sleepers.

Zeric is not a light sleeper and enjoying being dry and warm.  He really should buy a bedroll, though.

The life of a bard often required one to sleep lightly, and Folly was  no exception. Stirring, glances around, trying to find the source of the sound. Obviously he doesn't, it nit being inside the shelter.

Rising, he wakes Corian to see what he wants done.

It turns out Corian is either a light sleeper or wasn't sleeping very heavily tonight, because he is already awake, though somewhat rattled, when Folly approaches.

"What...what is going on?" he says while bolting upright from his bedroll. The young man instinctively goes for the dagger he had at the ready under his rolled-up cloak, but doesn't readily find it. He frantically rifles in the folds of his cloak and eventually retrieves the dagger.

Hearing the child's cry he hastily asks, "What's that?!" while looking to the south, toward the palisade.

Presumably he sees Sharn there, peering through its gaps.

Corian kicks out of the bedroll and is on his feet, dagger at the ready.

"Sharn!" he hisses. "Who is outside?"

Folly heads back to his bedroll, and starts tugging on his boots.

"Might be someone trying to get us to leave the shelter. That'd be my guess."

Still, the cries were pretty heart-wrenching.

"No idea, it started just as a whining or crying, I thought it a wild animal.  Now with the words, it could be a trap, but as you are now awake and won't be caught unawares, let me go investigate..?"

Ullian's watch was to follow Sharn's -- and elves are light sleepers anyhow.

"I could check it out," he offers.  "Be sneaky-like, hiding, and such."

Clatsi rolled over and sat up awkwardly while reaching for his spectacles. "What? What's ... . No one should go alone." He was half-asleep and not volunteering for the duty.

Ullian checks to make sure he has what he needs and turns to Sharn.

"Let's go; I'll shadow you, so you may not see me, but I'll be there and near."

Folly simply stares out into the darkness, uncertain as to the best course of action.

Sharn, who was on watch, is ready, and merely nods at the elf's offer to shadow her.

Weapon in hand, she will step outside and look around.  If she still can't see anything and the voice continues, she'll move cautiously towards it, no more than 20 feet.

If it is still calling out, she will respond. "Who calls out?"

Watching Sharn step out into the darkness, Folly's first instinct is that she is in on am ambush of some sort. He closes the gate behind her, but hesitates before deciding not to throw the bar. Instead he opens it enough to poke his head out.

Peering outside, he will strive to determine where the cry is coming from.

[Private to GM: OOC The range for Light is 12" which I believe is 120 yards. If we can hear it, is is closer than that. If he thinks he has the location pinpointed, he will cast that spell. It generates a twenty foot radius globe.

light (Alteration) Reversible
Level: I Components: V, S
Range: 12”
Duration 6 turns + 1 turn/level
Area of Effect: 2” radius globe
Explanation/Description: This spell causes excitation of molecules so as to
make them brightly luminous. The light thus caused is equal to torch light
in brightness, but its sphere is limited to 4” in diameter. It lasts for the
duration indicated (7 turns at 1st experience level)
or until the caster utters a word to extinguish the light.]

Ullian slips out when Sharn does and does his best to both keep to the shadows and to keep Sharn in sight.

Sharn and Ullie open the palisade door and slip out into the darkness while the rest of the party peers through the gaps between the palisade's walls.

It grows very quiet as the two emerge from the waystation, even the buzzing insects cease their incessant racket for the moment. Folly turns his ear in an effort to locate the source of crying, which has also ceased.

Sharn edges out from the waystation about 20 feet, while Ullie remains closer to the wall, cloaked in deep shadow.

A few moments pass while Sharn scans the area, perhaps thinking of calling out again, when the sound of fast-beating hooves approaches.

Folly begins chanting as soon as he hears this and casts light in that direction.

Though obscured by brush, trees, and the shadows caused by them, the the party briefly catches a glimpse of some sort of horrific patchwork animal, about the size of a very large bull mastiff, charging at Sharn with great speed!

Its head, low-slung and wedge shaped, appears vaguely badger-like, if badger's had glowing red eyes! The beast's body is a strange cross between a stag and a hyena. Its cloven hooves tear up the ground as the monster races out of the darkness into the light, its tufted tail waving energetically behind it.

The beast laughs excitedly, its laughter sharing human and hyena-like qualities. As it bounds toward Sharn, its drooling maw open and baring jagged bony ridges in place of teeth, the air becomes thick with the noxious stench of carrion and filth.

OOC: PCs win initiative and will have an opportunity to take actions before the beast reaches Sharn. It is quite fast and able to close 180 feet in one round!

The area is illuminated and everyone can see, thanks to Folly's spell.

Horrid Mimic Beast of the Night
AC 5
HP: ??/??


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10  05/05  1  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Folly    7  07/07  2  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 |
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  07/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  11/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 |



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

PCs ARE UP!

Wishing he had grabbed his crossbow, Folly instead casts Bless on as many of the party members as he can, while still including those already outside. He will then run for his gear and grab his crossbow and some bolts. Not sure how long that will take.

[Private to GM: Wow, very cool! A new one on me. Love the picture. ]

Ullian lacks a long range weapon.  He draws two daggers, and waits.

If Sharn holds her ground (as Ullian suspects she will), he will throw them at the beast when it gets within range (hopefully with surprise, although the elf has no idea if the creature knows he's there).

If Sharn does not hold her ground, Ullian will hold his fire and sneak his way back to the compound.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:05, Sat 16 Oct 2021.

Sharn, straining her night vision into the darkness, is suddenly blinded by the sudden light. She staggers back a step, raises her arm to shield her eyes while they adjust.  She hears the rushing hooves, the strange human/animal noises, and lowers her arm and sees a creature she's never heard tell of before streaking towards her.  She braces her legs for impact, and raises the bardiche, and as it comes near, brings it to strike.


20:06, Today: Sharn Thanatol rolled 6 using 2d4+1.  damage.

20:05, Today: Sharn Thanatol rolled 18 using 1d20+1.  attack.

Curiousity did not allow Clasti to cower under his blankets. He had moved carefully toward the pallisade to peer through a gap. With his spectacles, his vision was keen in the darkness, but Folly's light helped immensely. He let out a little squeal as the Horrid Mimic galloped into plain view.

There was little he could do. To use magic risked Sharn and Ullian as much as the beast.

Clatsi's brain spun like the clattering animatronic card catalogue at the Grand Repository of Knowledge and Opinions where he had studied some years before. Was this a unique beast, or did some lore of it reside in Clatsi's capacious memory?

17:11, Today: Clatsi Clatterstones rolled 13 using 1d20.  intelligence check for lore re: horrid mimic.

---

[Private to GM: Zeric, heavy sleeper that he is, is blissfully unaware of what transpires.  He dreams of running through the woods with a friendly bear.  He can somehow tell that it's a girl bear, and she likes him.

It's a weird dream.]

As planned, Ullian throws his daggers at the beast as it runs toward Sharn.

Contrary to plan, he misses both times.

19:49, Today: Ullian Greyheart rolled 15,2 using d20+3,d4.  Dagger 1.
19:50, Today: Ullian Greyheart rolled 10,3 using d20+3,d4.  Dagger 2.

Sharn slashes down and strikes the strange beast with her heavy bardiche. The blade rips through the beast's hide, slices open an angry bleeding wound on its left flank, causing the monster to yelp out in distress.

The beast scurries away from Sharn, obviously in a great amount of pain and limps away toward the cover of nearby brush, before darting out into the darkness again.

A moment later, the party sees a second pair of glowing red eyes in the distance, these much larger. Then, the second beast turns away and disappears into the night.

Several tense moments pass, but it appears the beasts have been driven off.

OOC: we're out of combat.

Ullian emerges and without comment retrieves his daggers.

"I guess I may as well start my watch," he says thereafter.

Corian watches from the safety afforded behind the palisade and is visibly shaken by the brief encounter, despite the fact the party emerged uninjured. He had already been on edge. Strange beasts crying in the night set him over it.

"If we should hear another crying child in the night, let them cry," he says to anyone within earshot.

A moment later he adds, "If it is a child, it serves them right for being out alone at night!"

Corian likely wouldn't be getting any quality sleep tonight. There was too much on his mind, encounters with strange predatory beasts the least of the them.
This message was last updated by the player at 13:07, Sun 17 Oct 2021.

"Oh, well done ... Sharon." The little gnome had to pause to get the half-orc's name. He really had barely spoken to her during their days on the road, but the adrenaline of the fight made him conversationally bold. "The mimicry of the voice is quite disconcerting. Linius' Natural History attributes such mimicry to the leucrotta - a chimera, truly, of stag, lion, and badger, and a swift runner despite the bodily incongruities. Did you see its mouth? Ridges of bone in place of teeth? If you noted oral ridges, that would reasonably confirm the identity of the beast."


By this time, Clatsi had settled back in under his blanket and removed his spectacles, which he held loosely in one hand in case of further interruptions of rest. He continued talking, but only to himself now. "The mimicry is quite horrid. I do hope we hear it no more tonight!"

Waiting for everyone to return to the safety of the shelter, Folly slams the gate shut and throws the bolt.

"Well that was unsettling."

As Ullian settles in to start his shift, the Dwarf turns to him.

"I can leave that light up, it should last about an hour, or I and terminate it now, do you have a preference?"

Once that had been determined and dealt with, the Dwarf returns to his bedroll.

---

[Private to GM: The bear was now smaller now, more like a badger, but still brown like a bear.  It was wearing a green scarf and leather boots on all four feet.  It made it difficult to eat the apple pie they were sharing.

He always had the weirdest dreams.]

Zeric manages to sleep through the entire ordeal, perhaps learning of the encounter when Ullie nudges him awake for his watch rotation. Then again, perhaps not.

In any event, Ullie and Zeric's watch pass uneventfully. A new day dawns. With it, four more days of travel before the party reaches its destination.

Corian is quite eager to set out with due haste and will not-so-subtly press for others to be quick about their morning rituals.

"We still have a ways to go yet and I would just as soon put as many miles between us and those beasts as we are able," he says.

Fortunately, there have been waystations conveniently placed along the road the entire way and there has yet to be an issue finding shelter. By all accounts, such waystations are located along the entire Tradeway, from Reme to Freegate.

The sky is blanketed in dark clouds indicating a high likelihood of rain at some point today.

"I can't believe you guys didn't wake me for that," Zeric said as he shouldered his pack.  Although, it hadn't sounded like it was more than they could handle.  The waystations made travel a lot easier.

"Just keep me in mind next time if you need a hand."

"Twas unusual, mightily. Clatsi seemed to know something about the beast. It's methods are very unsettling, I imagine it's child's cry has gotten more than a few unwary victims."

Folly had finished his ablutions with haste, and was breaking fast similarly.

"I fear it may have succeeded in some odd fashion last night however, Zeric. It made no serious attempt to engage, and after if fled there was a second set of red glowing eyes, watching us. I fear we are expected, and those we are approaching our scouting our mettle."

This statement visibly rattles Corian and he responds with a short outburst. "Can we please just get a move on? We've delayed too long already!"

Sensing the awkwardness of his outburst, he attempts to take off its edge by adding, "I'm sorry...I didn't sleep well last night and just want to get to Fairhill as quickly as we might."

Clatsi collected his things, well-dried now but infused with a campfire smell. He looked around carefully. "One moment, Corian. It pays to triple-check to ensure we leave nothing behind. We don't want to misplace ... anything important." He gave the young wizard a meaningful look.

As they got started, Clatsi was happy enough to share with Zeric all he knew of the horrid mimics. For a few moments, that at least took his mind off the impending weather.

Corian clenches his jaw, exhales through his nose, and shakes his head slowly from left to right. The gnome was something else.

"Yes. Yes. Right," he replies while shouldering his meager pack in preparation to hit the road. "Already done," and he pats the folds of his robes for emphasis and assurance to his persistent travel companion.

After the quick encounter, Sharn had stood quite still as the creature turned and disappeared into the darkness.  Slowly, she wiped the blade into the earth, to clear most of the blood from it before returning and sleeping the rest of the night.

Though she had almost no experience in real fighting, her training had worked.  What she felt in those moments before and after that brief encounter, she could hardly process.  Fear battling with confidence, but something more, something she did not expect.

The party sets out from the waystation and is on the road yet again.
The hours pass on as they make steady progress toward their destination. Fortunately, the skies remain grey and overcast but outside of a few light showers throughout the day, it is a much drier travel day than the preceding days.

***

In any event, the adventurers complete another day’s travel and settle into their waystation campsite for the night.
As the sun drops below the horizon and the fire dims, Corian asks the party to gather. Before tonight, the young wizard has always rebuffed questions, saying he will speak further when they were far from prying eyes and ears in Bard’s Gate. It appears that time has come.

“As I told you all in the Starving Stirge, I am to explore Eralion’s Tower, or whatever’s left of it, but,” he sighs, “I have not been entirely forthcoming about how I came to find the wizard’s amulet.
Corian proceeds to weave a tale covering the following points:

• During the final days of his tutelage as wizard’s apprentice, Corian and his master traveled to the library of Feriblan the Mad in the city of Bard’s Gate

• Corian was never pleased to go on these trips due to his distaste for Feriblan’s apprentice, Vortigern, and his loathsome raven familiar, Talon

• Feriblan’s library is quite large, and he usually managed to avoid encounters with Vortigern and Talon by keeping a low profile

• On one such occasion, Corian found a hidden corner of the library where he perused mundane documents while waiting for his master to conclude his business with Feriblan

• While waiting, Corian absent-mindedly fiddled with a clasp on he back of a small reading stand, causing a secret compartment to open

• Inside the secret compartment, Corian found a bound piece of parchment and an item wrapped in silk cloth

• Compelled to do so, Corian looked about to see if anyone was looking, and when convinced none had, he slipped both into the folds of his robe.

“Later that day, in the secrecy of my inn room, I opened both,” he says while retrieving a rolled-up parchment and the wizard’s amulet he previously allowed the party to briefly glimpse.

”If you would indulge me, perhaps our purpose shall become clear,” he says before reading the letter for the benefit of those unlearned in their letters.

My Dear Feriblan –
I must confess to you—my closest friend—that I was not entirely truthful with you at our last meeting. I feel compelled now to tell you of it, as this may be the last time I write with mortal hands. Do you recall our discussion some months past regarding liches and how users of the arcane arts might achieve that state? I must admit to you that the topic for me was not entirely scholarly, as I led you to believe. And for that I am sorry.

I know that you, my friend, have gazed into darkness in the name of knowledge. That is why I sought your learned counsel. For I too have gazed into darkness. And like you, I found knowledge— knowledge beyond imagining. From the demon-lord Orcus I have wrested the secret to lichdom, and I plan to move beyond scholarly talk and bring myself immortality. Imagine it, my friend! An eternity to study the arts, to master arcane power!

As I pen these words I have arrayed before me unguents and phials, instruments, and tomes, all necessary for my transformation, save only one—an arcane phylactery of elaborate design. The ingredients for that item will bring me once again to your city. By the time you read this letter, I shall have retrieved the necessary items and shall be on my way back to my keep.

Yet, as I begin to prepare my mind for my wondrous fate, my thoughts turn to you, my oldest friend. Accompanying this missive there is a small silk pouch. In that pouch is an amulet—an amulet I have created for you. I know of your thirst for knowledge. With this amulet, you will have access to my keep where I shall reside in immortality. If you wish to learn that which I have learned, you may visit me.

Long have others of our kind called you “mad.” It is I whom they will now call mad. But I do not care for their appellations. Let them say what they will. I have won something far greater than words— I have won immortality, and with it, power. I shall share that knowledge with you, my friend. Visit me soon. Gaze into the darkness again.
— Eralion

Corian pauses a moment to allow any questions, before relaying the following additional information:

• On a later visit to Feriblan, after he had finished his apprenticeship, Corian asked about the mad wizard about Eralion

• Feriblan insisted Eralion was nowhere near powerful enough to become a lich and the fool had likely perished while pursuing mastery of dark arts

• Feriblan claimed Eralion once possessed a powerful staff and failed to return valuable magical tracts and spell books he had borrowed

“I was reluctant to speak of these things, not out of lack of trust in you, but because on several occasions before we departed Bard’s Gate, I could have sworn I saw that damned bird, Talon, following my movements throughout the city!”

He explains he wanted to put as much distance from Bard’s Gate, and Vortigern, as possible and fears Talon may have observed his actions in the library. He last saw Talon the night before the party departed Bard’s Gate, but believe he gave the bird the slip.

“There you have it,” he says, relieved to have the secret out in the open, even if it means angering his companions.

"Gad, a Lich? You might as well have hired as us food for such a creature, for that is all we shall become if we enter the tower and he had indeed succeeded in his efforts."

"Are Liches bad?" Zeric asked, unphased by the revelations of their journey's architect.

It still seemed like the same plan as they'd been following.  They just needed to keep an eye out for a big black bird.

"Yes, quite bad," Clatterstones confirmed. "Fortunately, we have it on the good authority of Feriblan the Mad that Eralion lacked the power to achieve his ill-advised descent!" He removed his spectacles and polished the lenses thoughtfully. "It's the staff and the purloined arcane tracts that we seek. Is it not so, Corian? 'Twould be folly to launch an escapade against a lich. I surmise the worst that we will face is the reviled apprentice, Vortigern, and his reviled bird. Creatures such as they would be not above trailing us and, when we have completed our chosen task, attempting to despoil us of our spoils."

Clatsi put back on his cleaned spectacles. Through a cracked lens his eye appeared strange and bulbous. He gave the gathered company a serious look. "We must be wary and watchful. Above all, we must safeguard the amulet. After all, it does have a history of changing hands without consent of the owner."

Clatsi Clatterstones was a reasonably young gnome, not much more than a century on this earth, and he had several such centuries before him, if no ill-fate awaited him. The thought of an eternity to explore dark, arcane Truths carried little appeal for him. To one so young, the difference between five centuries and eternity was negligible.

It had crossed his mind, though, that his view might change as he reached the other end of his long life.

"You know," Ullian says thoughtfully. "It could be professional jealousy that caused Feriblan to discount Eralion.  And it could be that even if he failed on what he attempted Aralion accomplished something just as bad."

A standard class A(1.7)b Dwarfish Grunt of Disdain^TM emanated from Master Stonethroat.

"The Greyheart has a point, and I too hesitate to consider the opinion of one known as The Mad as evidence that our destination is automatically Lich-Free, Master Clatterstones."

He pulled his cloak tight, and gather warmth from the fire as best he could, though not all the shivers he felt were from the impending fall of night.

"Whatever was watching on as your "Leucrtia' beast, or whatever you called it, lured us out in the night, implies that there is some intelligence attending to our approach. While the Orc's blow no doubt drew blood, it did not, in and of itself save the day I must suspect. Whatever this is, be it full Lich, or Ullian's something-almost-as-bad, it is hoping to lure us closer. "
This message was last edited by the player at 21:39, Tue 19 Oct 2021.

Corian is quick to defray any talk suggesting Eralion may have been successful in his quest to transform into a lich.

"Feriblan may be eccentric and exercise poor judgment when choosing apprentices, but he most certainly would know a fellow wizard's power," he reasons.

"If Eralion had been successful, does it make sense his tower would have most recently occupied by the Iron Circle and before that, orcs of all things?" he asks rhetorically.

Turning toward Clatsi, "He has the right of it. I am most concerned about Vortigern at this point. If he knows, or even suspects, I found something that might allow me to recover Eralion's magical treasure, he will seek to oppose me. A very petty man, that one."

He glances back in the direction of Bard's Gate before turning his attention to his companions.

"So that amulet is Feriblan's stolen property?  I can see where he might have a problem with that, not sure his apprentice has any claim on it though.  I think if a Lich exists there, it would known."

"I didn't steal it. I found it. Besides, it's more like than not Feriblan doesn't even know it existed, or at the very least, has long since forgotten about it," Corian quickly deflects Sharn's comment

"And...Eralion has been dead for a long time..." he adds in an attempt to further reinforce his claim, though he even he realizes it's dubious at best.

Zeric isn't sure how wizard apprentices worked.  Did they inherit everything from their master if they died?  Were apprentices like their children?

He wasn't a magistrate or knew how it worked so unless someone showed up to explain it, he wasn't going to worry about a borrowed amulet.  It could all be fake, anyway.

The amulet was clearly stolen, but Folly didn't much care, everything was stolen from someone, sometime, somewhere, seemed to him.

He wished there was some sound of a treasure he would find useful, other than simple coin, though coin was pretty nice, he had to admit.

Clatsi slung his pack over one shoulder. “Whatever lies ahead, I for one am eager to find it!”

On the road, the little gnome stuck near Zeric, who seemed an agreeable sort, and in recognition of Corian’s obvious stress he refrained from asking about the amulet except maybe once or twice.

"I too am eager to find..." Corian echoes Clatsi's sentiment and at this precise moment, Folly notices the largest raven he has ever seen perched atop a palisade post, about 30 feet distant. The raven's eyes glow with red fire as it seemingly eavesdrops on the party's conversation.

The raven alights as soon as Folly locks eyes on it. The huge bird leaps away to the south, flies quickly to the west, and disappears into the darkness.

"There goes your Raven, Corain. I wonder if his big red eyes were the ones from the other night?" Could a birds eyes have been so wide? "I wonder what sort of fools errand you have sent us on. If I  could turn back now, I probably would. Any mischief that comes from this is on your head."

Folly was clearly unhappy with Corian and his deceit.

"You could turn back," Clatsi said to Stoneheart, staring after the raven. "You could sing for  your suppers in Bard's Gate. You could sing about a week of rainy travel that led you to naught. But one might think that a song of the perils of plundering the secret vaults of a would-be lich would draw more coin."

Such sudden bravery from the Gnome seemed uncharacteristic. It mattered not, Folly wasn't going back alone.

Corian is visibly embarrassed and concerned about how this has turned out, but there is nothing to be done for it. "Well, there you have it," he chimes in. "If anyone should wish to turn back, now is the chance."

Of course, it was now dark and the likelihood of anyone trudging off during the evening was low. At least that's Corian's line of thinking.

"However," he continues, "the offer stands. Equal shares for all and a chance to improve our fortunes in life and to achieve deeds worth singing about."

Corian then suggests Vortigern would be a fool to attempt anything when the odds were clearly in the party's favor, given their numbers.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:43, Thu 21 Oct 2021.

"Unless the man was already on the road," Zeric pointed out, "we're well ahead of him when he gets word from his bird.

"We'll just have to watch out for him in ambush on the way back."

He'd given up on figuring out who should own the amulet.  As they'd pointed out, the keep was now fair game and had been for a while.

"Corian's right; everyone's gotta make a call.  Regardless, what we can't do is dawdle and jaw.  Beware paralysis by analysis, some say.

I, for one, am in."

He pauses a moment, then grins.

"Besides, once we're done the greatest risk will be to Corian; he's gotta make his way in the wizarding world, and he's the one who Vortigern'll be after."

The thought that Corian might fall for having brought them to this junction was comforting to Folly.

"We have no choice but the be in, do we?"

The Dwarf turned away from the conversation, and began to cook his supper. He wanted to go to sleep early that night.

With the cat, err, raven out of the bag, and no party member electing to quit the expedition on account of Corian's calculated omission, the adventurers turn to the business of setting watches and the like.

Several shifts pass uneventfully; however, just before dawn Zeric hears then dimly sees three figures aside horses. The riders do not pause for the waystation and ride on through at a pretty vigorous pace. They continue down the road, heading westward, eventually slipping out of sight.

Zeric let the others sleep as the riders seemed to have business of their own.  They wouldn't be the only ones using the road, but they must have ridden through the night to pass by so early.

"There were three riders headed west early this morning," Zeric told the others once they were up and about.  "Moving at a good pace and no wagon."

Clasti rubbed his eyes and tried to find some breakfast. "I'm not concerned. If they are heading to Eralion's castle, they lack the amulet that we have." Was there a question mark at the end of that sentence? Perhaps.

Three riders, in the morning fog. Sounded lyrical, even poetic to Folly, but he stays quiet as he heated up some breakfast, and a large mug of tea.

If they were hired bounty hunters chasing the stolen amulet, they certainly would have checked the station. He wondered where else the road might go.

Would he know? It would be different if the road dead ends in the tower, than if it goes onward to other towns.

The Tradeway continues westward and will eventually traverse through the Stoneheart Forest, before veering west-northwestward toward Fairhill. The village of Fairhill is a few miles north of the Tradeway, accessible via a smaller road, but still visible from the road itself.

OOC: The party is now nearing the eastern edge of this regional map.

Link back to this game

"Tempting though it may be, I don't suggest that we go to Fairhill.  Too many eyes, and we shouldn't spare the time."

Ullian pauses a moment.

"Unless, of course, you think I should sneak into town and see if there are any rumors about goings-on at the tower that we might want to know about."

"Knowledge is power Ullian, that might be worth doing. My own concern is that long stretch of road that goes nowhere else. Perhaps we should cut thru the forest? That would not be expected, seems to me."

Corian considers Ullie's suggestion to avoid Fairhill and finds some merit in it. However, the prospect of enjoying a nice meal, a tankard of ale, and a nice mattress after spending an entire week sleeping under the stars is too tempting to pass up.

"I do think we should acquire as much information as we can before heading straight to the tower. Best place to do that is Fairhill. Besides, an inn would serve well after eight days on the road," he reasons.

Corian encourages others to share their counsel on the matter.

"We could...but have you not heard the tales of the Wicked Witch of the Wood?" he asks.

Of course he was referring to tales claiming an evil witch dwelled deep within Stoneheart Forest and had brought the woodland creatures under her sway. There were also stories of vampires prowling the deep of the forest at night, among other such creepy folktales that were commonly spun in taphouses and taverns.

With a groan of frustration, Folly clearly is considering slicing Corian's throat in his sleep, next time he is on guard duty.

"Witches, and Vampires? Why on earth didn't you recruit a band of powerful heroes? Or did you bring us here to feed us to your master?"

What the heck is wrong with this bastard? Folly hadn't done so much as face a goblin in his life, and the rest of the party didn't seem the type to have tangled with Vampires and Witches either. This was clearly shaping up to be a suicide mission.

Sigh...

"The waystations seem to be working well," Zeric pointed out.  "Sticking with the road to Fairhill sounds like a good idea.

"All we know for sure right now is that the bird saw us.  There's nothing we can do about it, so we just keep going."

"Farhill is past the turn-off, do we want to go past, then come back?"

Folly examined the map, wondering if he misunderstood things.

Sharn yawns at all the talk.

"People waste a lot of energy on fear of the possible. They are all just stories until they aren't, why waste time worrying about them.  Likely, it'll be ordinary stuff that kills us".

"Let's get going," Zeric said, shouldering his pack and leading the way west after the riders.

Not everything was a trap or someone out to get you.  Sometimes they just wanted to kill you for no reason.

With a grumble about the innocents of babes being fed to the were-wolves, Folly followed along, no doubt to his doom.

Ullian isn't terribly concerned about the possibility of vampires.  And as the group seems intent on going to Fairhill, he joins in.

He's not sure it's the best idea, but it isn't the worst.  Probably.

The party eventually decides to continue to Fairhill using the most direct route--the Tradeway--and sets out shortly after dawn.

Mile after mile rolls on with no unusual occurrences along the way. The party travels two days and nights since they last spotted demonic bird skulking about their camp.

During these past two days they have seen no sign of Talon, or Vortigern for that matter. Two days of travel remain before the party expects to arrive in Fairhill, where they hope to begin their expedition of the tower in earnest.

By the middle of the second day, the road begins to cut through Stoneheart Forest. A dense forest of towering oak, elm, and ash leans over the Tradeway and casts the road in shadow. The forest beyond the road is dark and oppressive.

Curiously, the surrounding forest is devoid of bird calls or even the occasional sighting of small game. Perhaps spies of the Wicked Witch of the Wood were silently watching, reporting on the party’s every movement? Maybe the woodland animals were frightened of slumbering vampires who soon would wake to feast?

In any event, presumably the party has no intention of checking the veracity of either rumor or is merely looking forward to finding the next waystation before it becomes too dark to see.

About an hour before sunset, the party comes around a bend in the road and sees a disheartening sight—a burned-out waystation. The waystation’s palisade is burned to the ground, all interior shelters have collapsed, and the well is choked with debris. Judging by their last few days’ travel, the next waystation is likely a full days' walk away. The party has already been walking the entire day and is quite tired.

The woods have been cleared away from the road here and the surrounding countryside consists of a narrow strip of farmland on either side. Beyond, about a half mile north and south of the road are dense woods. Nearby, the party sees a solitary farmhouse atop a hill.

"Well this was no coincidence, was it?"

Folly pokes thru the remains looking for the heart of Avandra, the core of the temple that was probably here. It deserved a decent de-consecration until the way-travelers could repair the damage that had been done.

As he did, his thoughts wandered.

"So, stay here, or move on a bit? Seems like whomever did this probably expects us to stay here for the night. Maybe we could even go back a mile or so, I doubt the would have anticipated anything like that."

Clatsi aligned with Sharn's way of thinking. He seemed undaunted by the legends and lore of witches, liches, and vampires. Bandits and orcs, however, were real threats, and the little gnome became increasingly edgy through the dark woodlands.

Seeing the burned out waystation, his heart sank. "Oh. I've been looking forward to a good night's sleep," he said, for about the third time in two hours.

The gnome adjusted his spectacles and began picking through the wreckage, keeping near Folly. How long ago, he wondered, did this happen? Were there victims -- bodies? He eyed the distant farm-house. Was this coincidence? Or did someone -- something -- do this to drive them to the house? Or to the woods? Or -- ??

Ullian joins Clatsi in his investigation because he too was curious how long it appeared since this fire occurred.

"I'll go over to that farmhouse," Zeric volunteered, pointing that direction.  "Ask when this happened and who may have done it."

He couldn't tell at first glance how long ago the destruction had taken place.  Whether the dwarf's gloomy disposition was correct and someone had truly done this just to thwart their travels, or a random attack weeks before from with Witch of the Wood.

Sharn shakes her head and begins pulling wood from the rubble of the waystation and piling it up, large bits, small bits, whatever is still usable for a fire.  She hadn't realized when she signed on the wild importance of the people she'd be travelling with, the whole world and all that happened in it apparently revolved around just them.

"Let's build a bigger fire and double the watch tonight.  If Zeric agrees, he and I will each take half a night so at least one warrior will be awake all night.  I'll catch up on my sleep when we get to town".

The party investigates the burned-out waystation and determines the damage likely occurred a week or so ago, recent, but not within the past few days.

"I think that this clearly had nothing to do with us specifically.  The question is whether it means anything that affects us at all."

If Zeric hasn't departed for the farmhouse, Ullian offers to accompany him.

"Why not see if we can sleep at the farm then?"

Did Folly's attempts at piety have any success?

Folly tidies up the remnants of the waystation's destroyed shrine before the party moves on toward the farmhouse, perhaps to learn more of what happened here.

With that thought in mind, the party makes their way up a well-worn path toward the cottage and barn. As they draw closer to the dwelling and barn they arrive onto a horrific scene.



A farmer, or what's left of him--lies in the front yard, half-eaten and missing one arm. Just inside the cottage's open front door, a woman, perhaps the man's wife, and three small children lie in various contorted positions, the smallest boy completely disemboweled. Blood covers the hay in the yard and a chicken pecks in the ground near the corpse of a young girl lying in front of the barn.

Four pigs, 30 chickens, and a draft horse mill about the cottage, barn, and surrounding fields, though most keep their distance from the dead bodies, which are now buzzing with flies.

Something horrible has happened here.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 10:39, Sun 24 Oct 2021.

"Does anyone want to start digging some graves here?" Folly asked, as he started to move the bodies, lining them up in more respectable positions. He closes their eyes, and puts the children between what he assumes are the parents. He also pulls their clothes in to place, as necessary, to give them some dignity.

He could consecrate the graves, at least a few of them. He had never tried using the spell on a mass grave, but they were a family.

He attempts to gauge how long they have been dead, but his suspicion is that it would be about as long ago as the way station was destroyed.

[Private to GM: Level 1 UA spell Ceremony allows for a burial spell, to consecrate the grave, and protect them for a little while. Do you think it would work for a mass grave, if they are all family?]
This message was last edited by the player at 12:04, Sun 24 Oct 2021.

Zeric dropped his pack and poked around the barn to find a shovel to dig a grave for the family.

Sharn takes in the scene and her eyes tear up, especially seeing the children.  Death seems to be the one constant in her life.

Seeing Folly moving to examine and move the bodies, she joins him. She is moved by his respect and even sentimentally for the dead.  She gets the respect part.  Her estimation of the man goes up, this isn't an easy thing to do.   She also expertly helps piece and place the bodies together, tried to judge the when, and how of the deaths.  She has her suspicious, though she tries not to let them influence her conclusions.

"Folly, try not disturb much more than what we need to for the burials, this is a murder scene.  Predators would have taken the livestock first, whatever this is, came for the people.".

"Thank you, oh great mistress of the obvious, but there is no law that will judge this scene, and hunt down the perpetrators. Unless your sorcery allows you to speak to the dead, I suggest we bury them and let them rest in piece."

He found comfort in finding an outlet for his bitterness over the massacre, her kind were often scapegoats, and the need for one was great in his heart at that moment.

Corian looks on in horror as he realizes what has happened here. This is the first time the young wizard has witnessed such a scene. His stomach suddenly churns and it's all he can do to double-over and heave.

Though it takes a few moments to compose himself, Corian eventually rejoins his companions and helps bury the slain family.

"By the earth and wind and the fire and rain, they are on their way, remember them..." he says while whispering the refrain of a common burial hymn.

Once they are buried, Folly says a few words, and performs the ritual of burial.

Zeric enters the barn and quickly finds shovels. Whatever was responsible for these murders did not appear to take any interest in looting the barn. Several tools still line its walls and the barn's contents appear very much as they likely did while the family were still alive.

Meanwhile, Sharn hauls the bodies to a central location, where she and Folly examine each. Both easily surmise they were slain within the past few days. None are in any advanced state of decay, though a few more days would change that considerably.

The male farmer appears to have put up a fight, likely in defense of his family, unarmed, judging by the swords wounds on his hands and arm. Examination of the bodies reveals they were all killed with swords and axes and it appears the murderers were enthusiastic in their work. Further, Folly discovers that two of the children have dagger-like wounds that drip a strange poison he has never seen before.

Farm animals begin to congregate around the adventurers--4 pigs, 30 chickens, and the draft horse--perhaps eager for them to lay out some food or fresh water. In the distance, Clatsi spots 3 cows foraging in the trees atop a hill.

A cursory examination of the cottage reveals the meager furnishings and dry goods one would expect inside a modest dwelling. There is little of value in the house, but an old short sword hangs above the fireplace, though the sword doesn't seem to have helped the farmer fight off whatever perpetrated this terrible attack.

[Private to Folly Stonethroat: You may use a ceremony spell for the entire family, if you wish. I've never seen the spell used, so would be good to finally see it after all these years.]

Folly mentions the use of poison to the others. Among his people, poison would only be used by the most vile of villains.

He helps dig the graves, once the bodies have been given a little decency.

"Sharn, your family dealt with this sort of thing, do humans have any rituals we should observe? I have heard so put coins on the eyes."

He has no coins of his own, but if they are required he will give Corian a stern look in hopes of getting a few coppers, if need be.

Once the bodies are buried, he does the ritual of burial. It takes awhile, he doesn't expect the others to wait, and will not be offended if the party does other things.

The ceremony might seem odd, as the terminology references stones and the earth a lot, but the peace of his lord can be subtly felt by those sensitive to such things.

When he is done, he asks if the house would serve as shelter for the night, and if anyone felt like slaughtering a few chickens for dinner.

Ullian has been quiet, except for occasional mutterings.  He seems to be talking to himself.

He checks the adults before they are buried, to see if they also show signs of the strange poison.

Clatterstones was not physically suited to assist much during the burials, but he brought 'round water to keep the diggers' thirst at bay. His eyes were wide and he frequently removed his spectacles to rub them -- both his eyes and the lenses -- and his usual quick tongue was still, and his throat was thick.

He wandered through the simple household, looking but not touching. "We can rest here," Clatsi judged. "But I'm uneasy. I feel like an unwelcome ghost. Isn't that strange? An odd thing to feel?"

Zeric returned their implements to the barn and looked around for any animal feed.  The least he could do was to care for the lives the farmer had watched over.

Perhaps if there were a cart for the horse, they could bring them along to the next farm they spotted.  Give them to someone to raise as the farmer's family had.  He knew most would be eaten eventually, but it would be with respect and honor, rather than in fear as some wild animal chased them down.

"We shouldn't leave the animals here when we leave," he said simply.

Perhaps he could get them all into the barn for the night.

Ullie does not find any evidence the adults have been poisoned--only the children.

Sharn dig graves for the murdered family and Folly performs a burial ceremony to help release their souls from fugue and hasten their transition to The After.

Meanwhile, Clatsi keeps watch while Zeric attends to the animals.

Dusk is now settling over the land and dark shadows now well within the forest. Suddenly, the party hears a voice call out from the nearby woods, interrupting their activities.

“Very touching, indeed,” the crier calls out, a young voice dripping with cynicism.

“Now, unless you want to join in the farmers’ sad fate, I suggest you give me the amulet, and now, Corian of Bard’s Gate!” Cynicism and confidence, a potent combination.

Corian hisses the obvious, “Vortigern…”

Glancing in the direction the voice came from, the party sees a young, but platinum-haired human male in fashionable clothing ( Vortigern) holding a scroll at the ready and two large, rough-looking men with crossbows drawn and leveled. Talon, the devil-eyed raven perches atop Vortigern’s shoulder, its eyes burning like hot coals.

Vortigern, Talon, and the two ruffians are located just inside the cover of the surrounding woods, 60 feet away.




This message was last edited by the GM at 04:18, Mon 25 Oct 2021.

Caught by surprise, further away near the barn, Zeric looked regretfully toward his pack leaning up against the farm house with his shield and battle axe.

Ullian sidles in a direction that generally takes him closer to something, anything, that makes him feel like he is not standing in the open.  As he does he whispers:

"I don't think they did this . . . not that it matters with their crossbows aimed at us."

Clatsi's eyes widened -- looking wide indeed behind thick lenses -- and, before he could consider any other option, he boldly called out an arcane syllable and tossed a pinch of rose petals, which swirled like butterflies before him. The spell had been wound up in his mind, like a taut spring, and with that word he loosed the magic, to end this now.

Casting sleep. Range 40 yards, AOE 30' diameter circle.

Quiet and tension hung in the air, Sharn could almost taste it, her mind was racing.  As Clatsi begins his first words, she breaks in a run, towards cover, pulling her bow and arrow. Once she gains separation from the group, she'll stop and fire two arrows, at the raven.

Having already observed the party on multiple occasions and having some measure of their capabilities, Vortigern and his hired men were watching, prepared, and ready to respond to any outward display of non-compliance.

In this case, as soon as Clatsi begins to recite arcane words while gesticulating with his hands, Vortigern sighs and calls out, "Oh well, kill them! Kill them all!"

The two brutes target Clatsi is an effort to take the gnome out before he has a chance to complete his spell.

One bolt whizzes over Clatsi's head, but the second strikes the gnome in the chest, very nearly toppling him, but definitely disrupting his casting.

Vortigern then begins reading from the scroll he already had at the ready in the event it came to blows.

Meanwhile, the raven transforms into a small, devilish winged creature and with a hideous shriek flies off Vortigern's shoulder and darts toward Corian.

Then, Vortigern recites the last arcane word and the ground around the adventurers comes alive as skeletal hands claw through the ground and begin to encircle the party!

OOC: Clatsi takes 4 damage and his spell was disrupted. He can cast attempt to cast it again.

The skeletons are near the adventurers. Vortigern and the two brutes are 60 feet distant. Talon is flying toward Corian.

Vortigern
AC 2 (missile attacks), and 4 (melee attacks)
HP: ??/??

Talon
AC: 2
HP: ??/??

Grenag and Slaaroc
AC: 7
HP: 5/5, 5/5

Skeletons, 5
AC 8
HP: 4, 4, 4, 4, 4


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10  01/05  1  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Folly    7  07/07  2  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 |
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  07/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  11/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 |



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

PCs are UP!

"Well shyte, why didn't we just give him the amulet?"

Ducking for cover, Folly casts a quick spell on himself.

[Private to GM: Sanctuary]

Seeing the immediate danger of a skeleton rising before him, Zeric pulled the hand axe from his belt and attempted to dismantle it through force.

OOC: Zeric rolled 14,2 using d20,d6+1.  Hand axe strike!

His AC should be a 5 without his shield.

Ullian continues to display no skills.

His attempt to move away from danger failed . . . He then confidently drew a long sword and a dagger, hoping to deal with the immediate threat presented by the skeletons.

He missed the slow-moving monster with his sword . . .

Then he promptly dropped his dagger.


07:29, Today: Ullian Greyheart rolled 7,2 using d20+1,d8.  Long Sword (13 to hit).

07:30, Today: Ullian Greyheart rolled -1,4 using d20-2,d4.  Dagger (13 to hit).

You're slow, Clatsi, Clatterstones berated himself in the voice of his uncle in an internal rebuke. It's the fastest spell you know, sure, but you think you're faster than a crossbowyer at the ready? Well, you'll be e'en slower if you don't do something. Slow as in dead!

The bolt had nearly dropped the little gnome and ruined his spell, and there was pain,but Tymora had been with him. The bolt was stuck in his cloak, not his body, and he was more bruised than bloodied. [Action point spent to heal 4 hit points.]

Defiant, Clatterstones gathered himself, despite his tripping heart, and threw down another spell, the same that had been so rudely interrupted.Then he scrambled away, looking for Zeric or Sharn for protection. Having noticed the skeletons for the first time, he paled.

[Casting sleep again on the thugs and wizard. Range 40 yards, AOE 30' diameter circle.]

Sharn had been just about to break and run, trying to draw the fire of the crossbows and maybe get off an arrow of her own.  The skeletons erupting around the group changed that. Instead, she grips her weapon and swings.  To be honest, given her upbringing, skeletons clawing their way out of the earth is a bit of nightmare for her, and it shows in her poor swing. She misses rather clumsily.

Corian is surprised by Clatsi's reaction and panics as he sees the gnome take a direct bolt hit to the chest. That could have been him!

Then, he cries out in alarm as skeletal arms burst free of the soil and five skeletons converge on the adventurers. This is enough to shake him into action.

An unaccomplished wizard, little more than an apprentice, Corian has few magical resources at his disposal and elects to sidle closer to Sharn for protection. He then throws a magic missile at the closest skeleton. The arcane bolt slams into the monster but not with enough force to slay the undead monster.

OOC: Hit a skeleton for 2 points of damage.

A stir of adrenaline enables Clatsi to concentrate on recasting his spell. This time, he is successful and his spell puts Vortigern and the two crossbowmen to sleep.

Unfortunately, the concentration required to cast the spell leaves Clatsi completely vulnerable to one of the converging skeletons. The skeleton chokes the life right of of the gnome!

Another skeleton comes at Folly, but is held at bay by the divine sanctuary of Ioun! The skeleton tries and tries again, but is forced back each time.

A skeleton swings a rusty blade at Sharn, but she parries the blow away. A few feet away,
Ullie squares off against another skeleton and is struck with a heavy club for his efforts. Likewise, Zeric scores a minor hit, though discovers his axe is not very effective against his foe. In turn, Zeric suffers a minor injury in the process.

Finally, Talon, now in devil-form, wings in and whips its barbed tail at the young wizard,  and strikes him in the neck. The barb punctures deep and delivers its poison. Corian takes a few staggering steps, whispers "No...no...this can't be...", and falls to the ground, where he stirs no more.

The imp briefly cackles with glee, but then senses trouble with his master and vanishes. One moment it was gloating over Corian's dead body, the next it is gone.

OOC: Clatsi was hit for 6 points of damage and is dying. Ullie took 3 points of damage. Zeric took 3 points of damage. Corian was hit for 3 points of damage, failed a save vs poison, and is dead. :(

Vortigern and the two brutes are in the woods, 60 feet distant, sleeping. Talon disappeared. The skeletons are engaged in combat with the PCs.

Vortigern
AC 2 (missile attacks), and 4 (melee attacks)
HP: ??/?? (sleeping)

Talon
AC: 2
HP: ??/?? (invisible)

Grenag and Slaaroc
AC: 7
HP: 5/5 (sleeping), 5/5 (sleeping)

Skeletons, 5
AC 8
HP: 3/4 (Zeric), 2/4 (Sharn), 4 (Folly), 4 (Ullie), 4 (Clatsi)


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10 -01/05  0  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 | Dying
Folly    7  07/07  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | Sanctuary
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  04/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  08/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 5 w/out shield



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

PCs are UP!
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:58, Wed 27 Oct 2021.

Finding the sharp edge less effective against his skeleton, he flipped it around to strike with the back of the hand axe's head.  He could see both of their wizards down and swung wildly with the unbalanced grip as he tried to put down the skeleton before him.

OOC: Zeric rolled 5,2 using d20-2,d6+1.  Hand axe strike! -2 nonproficiency.

Calling upon the powers of Ioun, Folly grasps his holy symbol, a small iron icon in the shape of an open book, and demands the undead depart!

"By that tiny knowledge within you that you are abominations of life, begone!"

His initial effort succeeds, but a momentary lack of courage limits the impact, as only one is turned. Summoning up the courage that separates mortal Dwarves from heroes of legend however, he finds it in him to send out a second pulse of pure holy energy, driving the remaining four away as well.


19:46, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 10 using 1d20.  attempt to turn .

19:49, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 4 using 1d6.  heros luck.

19:48, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 1 using 1d12.  how many are turned.

As all was turned, this seems a moot point, however as turning does no damage, for future reference, I hope it is not considered an attack, for the purposes of the sanctuary?

Darn I hate using an action point so soon, but it seems to have been worth it. How long before we regain them?

Sharn makes sure not all the skeletons are turned, one or more is turned to dust as she lands a crushing blow scattering bones across the field of battle.


ooc: natty 20,  damage max. 9 pts!

Unaware that holy forces are about to descend on the skeletons, Ullian strikes one with his sword.

He also pulls out another dagger . . . and promptly drops it.

As the skeleton shuffles away, Ullian shouts at it: "I have more daggers." But he does pick that one up.


12:42, Today: Ullian Greyhart rolled 14,3 using d20+1,d8.  Long Sword (13 to hit).

12:43, Today: Ullian Greyhart  rolled -1,4 using d20-2,d4.  Dagger (13 to hit).


[Private to DM Pawn: I realize that for some reason I rolled these in a different game.  I'm willing to live with them; they're not consequential either way, but I'll reroll if you want.

I have changed the character name in the text so that it doesn't increase confusion any more than I already have.]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Wed 27 Oct 2021.

Folly channels Ioun's power and turns all of the skeletons.

But not before Sharn slams her bardiche into a skeleton, snaps through bone, and causes her foe to crumple to the ground. Ullie slashes and connects against another skeleton, damaging but not taking it out. The skeletons begin to scatter into the encroaching darkness.

Dusk has now come on in earnest with deep shadows forming over the land.

The imp has not reappeared and there is no telling where it went to and what it might be up to...

OOC: Clatsi is losing 1 hp per round.

Vortigern and the two brutes are in the woods, 60 feet distant. Talon disappeared. The skeletons are fleeing from the PCs. The PC may take opportunity attacks at +4 to hit against the skeletons.

Vortigern
AC 2 (missile attacks), and 4 (melee attacks)
HP: ??/?? (prone, in woods)

Talon
AC: 2
HP: ??/?? (invisible)

Grenag and Slaaroc
AC: 7
HP: 5/5 (sleeping), 5/5 (sleeping)

Skeletons, 5
AC 8
HP: 3/4 (turned), 0/4, 4 (turned), 2/4 (turned), 4 (turned)


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10 -02/05  0  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 | Dying
Folly    7  07/07  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | Sanctuary
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  04/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  08/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 5 w/out shield



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

PCs are UP!

Seeing the skeletons retreating, Zeric charged for where he'd last seen the wizard and his henchmen.  He hadn't seen what had happened to them since the skeletons appeared.

Rushing to Clatsi's side, Folly releases the last of his divine energy into attempting to save the Gnomes life.


04:04, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 1 using 1d8.  CLW.
Crapola.
04:06, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 6 using 1d6.  heroic luck.

Heal seven, I suspect that is more than he has.

That's all my action points. How long before we get them back? I have a horrible feeling it is when we level.

Like Zeric, Sharn is less concerned by, though still creeped out by, the skeletons.  She will rush forward to find and hopefully kill the wizard and his two thugs, and the darn bird monster if it shows itself.

Ulllian isn't feeling too great, having been clubbed in the ribs.  He sheaths his sword and retrieves the first dagger he dropped; armed with the two and follows Sharn on a parallel path in case he sees something he can throw his daggers at.

Folly revives Clatsi with a healing spell, while Sharn, Ullie, and Zeric toward the woods where they last saw their ambushers before the skirmish begun.

Sharn and Ullie and more easily able to locate the three men, due largely to their infravision; Zeric does not have this advantage and it takes him a bit longer.

In any case, they do locate Vortigern and the two mercenaries. The mercenaries are lying on the ground and not moving. Vortigern is also on the ground, but he is moving, and moving much quicker once the adventurers begin closing in on his location.

Vortigern frantically digs in a pouch at his side and retrieves a small cloth sack. The adventurers draw to within 10 feet of him, his eyes widening and heart racing as they close on. Vortigern rips open the sack. A cloud of obscuring dust to bursts into the air. When the dust clears, the wizard is no longer lying on the ground. He's not there at all!

A few feet to either side of where Vortigern just was, the mercenaries are sprawled out, drooling and snoring.

OOC:

Vortigern
AC 2 (missile attacks), and 4 (melee attacks)
HP: ??/?? (disappeared?)

Talon
AC: 2
HP: ??/?? (invisible)

Grenag and Slaaroc
AC: 7
HP: 5/5 (sleeping), 5/5 (sleeping)

Skeletons, 5
AC 8
HP: 3/4 (turned), 0/4, 4 (turned), 2/4 (turned), 4 (turned)


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10  05/05  0  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Folly    7  07/07  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | Sanctuary
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  04/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  08/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 5 w/out shield



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

PCs are UP!

"Keep an eye out for the last one Sharn, while Ullie and I tie these two up," Zeric said.  "I have rope in my pack back at the house if they don't have anything here to use."

He gently searched one of the sleepers for rope or even their own belts.  Killing a man while he slept just wasn't something he was about to do.  Or let someone else do.

Sharn was debating on dispatching the two sleepers, but as she sees the wizard frantically seeking the pouch of dust, she switches to her bow as he's too far away to get to him in time.   As he vanishes, she begins firing arrows at and near where he vanished.

"Yes, Zeric, tie them up, we'll take them to town and they can testify to the wizards treachery...".

ooc: I'll roll some to hits, but since Sharn doesn't know where the target is, a miss might be as good as a hit.

Clatsi Clatterstones, once he realized he was alive and as well as ever thanks to Folly's divine magic, and once he realized that both Vertigern and his fiend were out of sight, made a mad dash for the fallen Corian. The young wizard was stone cold dead. Clatsi rifled though his pockets for the amulet.

Ullian helps Zeric.

Once Clatsi is up, Folly follows him to Corian, in an attempt to bandage the man. He may have been a liar and a thief, but he was still worth saving.

The cleric is a bit shocked upon realizing that Clatsi is not only not helping to bandage their employer, but digging thru his pockets.

After the dust settles and Vortigern is no longer visible, Sharn draws her bow and fires a couple of arrows into the general location she last observed the wizard. One arrows weirdly deflects off some leafy, low-lying brush and another strikes and plants into a nearby tree.

Ullie and Zeric move to the two mercenaries, both half-orcs, and begin to secure them with rope. Neither has any rope on them, but one of the men has a set of manacles, the key of which is attached to a leather cord around the man's neck. In any event, both are gently secured and remain asleep through the task.

Clatsi regains consciousness and races off to check on Corian, more specifically, the amulet. Once there, Clatsi notices Corian's robes appear disheveled, as though somebody (or something, perhaps the imp?) had the same idea. Clatsi quickly searches within the folds of the young wizard's robes, presumably the same location he has often observed Corian touch for reassurance (left breast interior) pocket. In that location, Clatsi finds a small vial, but no amulet! Searching elsewhere, Clatsi discovers a deeper pocket lower down the wizard's robes containing the amulet, Eralion's letter, and a small leather journal.

Folly edges in to assess Corian and discovers a single puncture wound on his neck, the wound strangely discolored and indicative of a fatal poison dose.

Meanwhile, back near the edge of farm, in the woods, Sharn, Ullie, and Zeric hear movement off to the left where Vortigern disappeared and see brush rustling, moving away from the party...

OOC:

Vortigern
AC 2 (missile attacks), and 4 (melee attacks)
HP: ??/?? (disappeared?)

Talon
AC: 2
HP: ??/?? (invisible)

Grenag and Slaaroc
AC: 7
HP: 5/5 (sleeping/bound), 5/5 (sleeping/bound)

Skeletons, 5
AC 8
HP: 3/4 (turned), 0/4, 4 (turned), 2/4 (turned), 4 (turned)


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10  05/05  0  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Folly    7  07/07  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | Sanctuary
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  04/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  08/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 5 w/out shield



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

PCs are UP!

Swiftly dropping a bolt into his light crossbow, Folly fires in the general direction of the disturbed shrubbery, as long as there are none of his traveling companions visible in that direction. He suspects from it's straight and true flight that he failed to connect.

"'Ware, all, poison on the field!"

07:09, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 7 using 1d20.  crossbow.

"I can't see in this light and maybe he can't either," Zeric said, looking in the direction of the moving brush.  "I'll stay here and make sure he doesn't circle back."

He wasn't sure if the other wizard were human or not and the only person that did know, seemed to be not moving.

"Maybe we should grab our captives and move back with the others," Ullian suggests. "I doubt they know anything useful, but I don't like us exposed and separated."

"He's dead. Oh, he's dead," Clatsi muttered quietly, agitated. "Voritgern didn't get his hands on the amulet, but he'll be back. Folly, hold this!" he shoved the amulet and letter toward the dwarf and then scurried through the gathering darkness toward Zeric, Ullian, and the bound up thugs.

[OOC: can I see anything with infravision?]

Taking the amulet, Folly debates finding a place to put it where it will he hardest to retrieve.

Heading int to the house, he finds a place to hide it where he hopes no one is watching.

[Private to GM: He stuffs it into his right boot, down deep beside his ankle, then ties the top of both boots nice and tight. ]

Sharn looks at the others, some ready to drag the prisoners away, Clatsi who just joined them at the edge of the woods.

"I want to go talk with Vortigorn, parley.  Corian is dead, but he stole the amulet, it wasn't his,  I don't want spend the next weeks looking over my back for an imp with poison and wizard looking to take back what was stolen from him.  I think he only cares about the books the other wizard had he thought could give him eternal life, as a lich.  I just want the gold or other stuff that might be there.  Let me see if I can work a deal with him?".

"He just tried to kill all of us without a second thought," Zeric said of the half-orc's plan.  "He doesn't need us once he has the amulet.

"And don't do anything to wake these two up," Zeric said to Ullie.  "We're safer here with them asleep than anywhere else with them awake."

There was, after all, only one set of manacles and connecting them together by the wrists wasn't that much of a detriment to their ability to cause problems for them.

Folly fires a bolt into the woods but it does not seem to elicit any response.

Meanwhile, Clatsi, Sharn, Ullie, and Zeric gather at the edge of the woods and discuss options. They all hear something (or someone) moving through the brush, gradually becoming more distant with each passing moment, but its simply too dark or far away for any to see.

Clatsi, Sharn, and Ullie scan the surrounding woods for anything their infravision might pick up, but similarly come up with nothing. How could Vortigern have so easily disappeared with what looked like little more than a parlor trick?

Similarly, the imp has not been seen or heard in some time. The murderous little bastard could be lurking anywhere and could just as easily slay any of the adventurers with the slightest prick.

At least the half-orc mercenaries won't be a threat. Both are securely bound and still asleep.

The woods come alive with the sound of buzzing insects as darkness creeps in.

OOC: Sorry...any of the adventurers with the slightest prick is funny to me. :)

Vortigern
AC 2 (missile attacks), and 4 (melee attacks)
HP: ??/?? (disappeared?)

Talon
AC: 2
HP: ??/?? (invisible)

Grenag and Slaaroc
AC: 7
HP: 5/5 (sleeping/bound), 5/5 (sleeping/bound)

Skeletons, 5
AC 8
HP: 3/4 (turned), 0/4, 4 (turned), 2/4 (turned), 4 (turned)


PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10  05/05  0  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Folly    7  07/07  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | Sanctuary
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  04/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  08/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 5 w/out shield



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]

"If no one is going after him, we should get everyone into the farm house," Zeric said as the darkness crept toward them.

"It will take 4 of us to carry these two without waking them up.  Give me a hand with them."

"I agree we should assemble.  I just don't know about a group of us trying to track down two invisible foes in the forest.  It seems like a hazardous ploy."

Ullian does his part to carry the captives.

Clatsi was useless in trying to carry the incapacitated half-orcs and he said as much. "I'm useless carrying such a burden, but my eyes are sharp." He made sure his spectacles were clean and in place and moved alongside Ullian, looking every-which-way for an ambush.

Coming out of the house, Folly started helping to move the bodies in to the house.

The party decides it is not wise to remain in the darkened woods with invisible, poison-wielding foes lurking about and fall back to the farmhouse with the captive mercenaries. The two mercenaries, both half-orcs, wake from their magical slumber as they are hauled to the cottage. They put up a little struggle but soon realize the futility of their effort due to the fact they are securely bound and outnumbered.

Once they are inside the farmhouse, one of the mercenaries leans back against the wall and addresses the party.

"So, what's it goin' to be now?" he asks in a conversational tone. He pauses a few moments and considers a new angle, "That wizard get back what you took from him?"

The other half-orc holds his tongue while slumped over on his side, alert, but quite still.

Ullian laughs incredulously.

"What's it to you?"

"Nothin' to me, but means a lot to the fellar that hired us," he replies. "But, I guess we'll know soon, 'cause he's not like to give up if he aint got it now. He'll be back. On that you can be sure." he says in a neutral, perhaps even helpful tone.

He jerks his head toward the door. "You'll want to keep a good watch through the night."

"That is, if...you still have it..." He looks for any visible indication one way or another.

"We have a tendency to lose things like that," Clatsi said boldly. Well, boldly for Clatsi. To say anything at all in front of the half-orc brigands took all the boldness he could muster, so what came out probably seemed pretty darn meek.

The little gnome was all to aware of the stiffening corpose that had been his travelling companion. The half-orc was right, though. Vortigern didn't seem like the type to just go away. "Say. Did he, uh, have any more of those scrolls?"

The half-orc shrugs, "Don't know. Only been runnin' with 'em for the past couple of days. Well, ridin', but you get the drift."

The more talkative of the two half-orcs and the one with more orc-like physical features, Rock, warms up to the party and introduces his brooding companion as Nog. "Don' mind 'em, he's just sore 'bout losin'"

Rock says Vortigern hired both of them in Bard's Gate a few days back. Vortigern told them a  rival wizard, Corian, had stolen something that belonged to him and he wanted it back. He needed Rock and Nog for armed protection, in case his rival had hired help. They had hoped to get the item back without a fight, but then Clatsi tried to cast a spell and it forced their hand.

"It was nothin' personal, just two guys makin' a livin', y' see," Rock says with the hint of a smile.

"Where did you leave your horses?" Zeric asked as he looked around for something in the farmhouse to light.  He'd dragged in his pack, but didn't want to unpack his lantern if he didn't have to.

Zeric finds a lantern and some oil within the farmhouse.




"About a mile back. Didn' want you to hear us," Rock answers matter of factly. "S'pose that's where the wizard went back to."

"But he'll be back," he says after a short pause. "Maybe not tonight, but on that you can be sure."

Rock remains genial and continues to present himself and companion as hired men and not adversaries.

"He might try to burn the place down," he says while looking around the farmhouse. "Then pick us off as we run..."

"You seem very knowledgeable about this wizard, considering you were a hired as a mercenary a mere two days ago."

Rock shrugs and smiles, "I watch people. Real fidgety one, that."

"Do you know what happened to the family of this farm and the way station?" Zeric asked, lighting the lantern.

Rock had been looking sidelong at Nog when Zeric inquired about the family. His response is delayed a bit, as though distracted with other thoughts, and he asks, "Come again?".

Presumably, the question is repeated, to which he responds,

"Waystation. Was that way when me and Nog here came through a week ago. Probably gnolls, is my guess."

"Maybe gnolls got these folks too?" he says while jerking his head to gesture around the house.

"Real nasty, gnolls are."

Sitting in the corner, Folly watched the others conversing. He didn't much feel like chatting, the thought of the dead family still fresh in his mind.

He wonders though, did the poison that took Corian resemble the poison that took the children? If so, that made these two liars. And murderers. And where he came from, murderers got their heads chopped off. If they were lucky. And child-murderers seldom got lucky.

The poisoned wound that took Corian's life looked similar to the wounds found on the slain children. To be absolutely certain, one would have to examine both, side by side, which is not possible without exhuming the bodies.

Still, they looked fairly similar.

Rising to his sturdy feet, the Dwarf stood over the Half-Orcs, hands on his belt, talking his best 'tough-guy' pose. Using his deep, bardic voice, he called out the pair.

"You two are lying. You not only murdered this family, but your boss poisoned little children. The same poison he used on that snake Corian."

He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to do, but he felt that these two had more to share about what exactly was going on.

"Now as your comrade isn't around, I think that means you two will pay the price for his atrocity. Curious what that might be. Perhaps losing your hands? Or your eyes? Perhaps a little hanging. Or maybe burned at the stake? Perhaps a little of each, before you're drawn and quartered, eh? Variety is the spice, as they say. Unless, of course, we manage to get the actual child-murderer, seems like you two would pay a rather high price, but I'm sure you're loyal and willing to do so, aren't you?"

He let his voice trail off, a smug look on his face.

Sharn has kept her distance from the prisoners since they hauled them. She'd have gagged them but as Rock talks, she listens, staring away.  These are half orcs, heartless sellswords, the kind she's been looked down on her life for, one of the reasons why Folly, and others, have treated as he has.  She wonders if the others think she'll side up with them, if they'd trust her to watch guard. Sigh.

Maybe they'd not be entirely wrong, she has a sympathy for them, just a job, just a paycheck, talking to try to save alive, but yes, probably lying.

When the dwarf starts talking about torturing them, she rises and goes and stands next to him, slightly behind, and stares at the prisoners.

Rock remains calm while Folly lays into him, but his companion, Nog, glares at the dwarf through, a look that leaves no question as to his opinion of Folly.

Once Folly has finished, Rock responds, his voice now a little less cordial. "You and your folk was buryin' 'em when we got here. First we seen of 'em. We been after you.

Don't know anythin' 'bout poison or the like. Never used it. Nog neither. Go 'head, check our things. You won't find any poison. That you can be sure."

Rock and Nog possess the following gear:

• leather armor
• light crossbows
• a case of bolts
• short swords
• daggers
• 40 gold pieces and 46 silver pieces between the two of them

Neither of them have any poison vials and their weapons are not poisoned.

"Can't say what might happen to us, but make no mistake, we know our kind aint goin' to get no benefit of the doubt..." he shoots a knowing look at Sharn, holds it for a few moments, and then returns his attention to Folly.

"I know the poison came from your employer. You might earn some slack if you help us catch him."

He isn't certain how much he can push him companions, so he avoids any more threats at this time.

"Did you have a camp set up near-by?"

"Kinda hard to help when you have us tied up as you do," Rock says while gesturing to his manacled hands. "With my own link, no less." He says with a half-hearted chuckle.

Rock again professes his innocence in anything other than hiring himself to help reclaim stolen property. He admits taking a shot at Clatsi and hoped to kill the gnome before allowing him to cast a spell. "Tough fellow, I will give you that," he says in good-nature.

He claims they did not have a camp nearby and had used waystations since leaving Bard's Gate a couple of days ago, always on the adventurers' heels. Finally, he suggests the best way to protect against Vortigern and Talon is to allow them to help, by pulling watch with the others, with weapons at the ready, so they can help fight off Vortigern, when, not if, he returns.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 02:40, Fri 05 Nov 2021.

"You just told us you were through here a week ago. And that you had only been with Vortigern for a few days. The numbers don't match up. Quick, make up another lie, something to placate the others, because I'm a curly hair short of just slitting your throats, you are too darn loyal and knowledgeable for hirelings only a few days on the job."

And he's not lying, it would be justice done, and in this harsh land a quick painless death is more mercy that these two deserve.

"By the way, those skeletons that ran from the might of Ioun will probably be back soon. Be wary."

"We was through here a week ago. Me and Nog. On the way to Bard's Gate. That's when we was hired," Rock puts in quickly.

"Understand you're upset. I'd be too. Just don't go and do nothin' that can't be undone. Especially when you don't have the facts straight."

Rock shrugs when Folly brings up the skeletons. "Not worried about 'em. Already saw what you can do against 'em. If push came to shove, I like my chances of kickin' 'em down if it comes to that."

"Hopefully it won't and we can come to an agreement...maybe give ourselves a fightin' chance against the wizard...."

Nog continues to watch the parlay, quite still, and offering very little in the way of non-verbals.

Zeric recalled there had been 3 riders that passed them a few days ago.  Perhaps they were these men and the wizard.  They could have been anyone in the darkness, though, and the waystation burned well before that in any case.

Still no proof that the half orcs and wizard had done anything to the family.  It was odd, though, that the farmhouse hadn't been burned, nor the livestock slaughtered or taken.

He let the dwarf continue with his interrogation, hoping for more clarity.

Ullian turns his back on the captors to whisper to the others:

"We haven't looked through the house as of yet, have we?  Perhaps there are more clues that could help tell us what happened here."

The interrogation was making Clastsi nervous, so he was eager enough to act on Ullian's suggestion. He started making a search of the house, being careful to stay out of sight through windows and doors, in case the skeletons returned.

"There's no reason for them to kill the family," Zeric pointed out.  "They could have ambushed us anywhere along the way.

"Unless someone's going after the wizard, we hole up here for the night and decide where to take them in the morning.  We can't kill them just for taking a job where they didn't know what they were getting into."

They'd be killing themselves if they did.  They just happened to be found first by the other wizard.

"Are you forgetting the poison, Zeric? And the skeletons? My spell protected the newly buried from his spell. The one that rose and attacked us were placed there. As an ambush. And killing the family was the bait. And these two stood by and watched while their employed poisoned children to death."

He turned to face the others, his wrath quite plain in his eyes, to see who else would speak in the defense of the vile duo.

"How do you know it was the same poison or if these two even knew about what was going to happen?" Zeric pointed out to the dwarf calmly as he looked around the farmhouse for further clues.

"If it was the same poison, that raven thing could have poisoned the family well before these two ever got here.

"And the dad was killed by more than just swords and bolts.  These two aren't carrying what killed him.  Do you think the wizard uses an axe?  I know what kind of damage an axe does.

"There's no proof these two knew about what happened to this family or had anything to do with it."

He didn't know how the wizard had raised the skeletons, but he hadn't seen any disturbed earth from where the one rose near him.  What he did know was that the dwarf had been paranoid from almost the moment Corian had admitted he'd taken the amulet.

Ullie and Clatsi search the farmhouse while Folly and Zeric discuss what should be done with their prisoners. Sharn stands nearby, watching the situation but keeping out of the discussions for now.

Ullie and Clatsi conclude the farmers were taken by surprise.

The house is not disheveled and there is no indication a serious struggle occurred inside the house. In fact, cut vegetables are on a table, ready to be placed in the nearby stewpot.

Further, the farmer and his wife were slain near the door, perhaps while answering the door. The children were all poisoned outside the house, all with a single wound, quite similar to the one that took Corian's life.

The evidence suggests the killer(s) struck with no warning and took the farmers by surprise.

With a scowl and a grunt of disgust, Folly stomps away.

"What has this world come to when people defend Necromancers and their minions. Vortigern came as close to confessing as any court would consider when he stated we could, as he put it, join in the farmers fate. But have at them Zeric, I leave them in your tender embrace. The simple fact that they attacked up, murdered Corian, damn near murdered Clatsi, but for the blessings of Ioun. No doubt they would have simply forced us to sit in a comfy chair and demanded that we choose between cake or death, in your imagination?"

Finding a corner far from the murderous half-Orcs, Folly plops to the ground.

"Do none of the rest of you have a lick of common sense, and an urge to live thru this?"

Rock holds his tongue and intently watches the room, his eyes roaming to each party member in an effort to get a read on where sentiment might move. Nog shifts his position while using his shoulder to scratch his left ear, but otherwise appears impassive.

Outside, insects buzz and chirp as night settles over the land. The lantern's light filters through the cottage's window, a beacon in the darkness, while the adventurers discuss the Rock and Nog's fate.

"I'm going to go bring Corian in," Zeric said, headed for the door.  "We can't leave him out there all night."

Ullian reports his suspicions, which are not dissimilar from what the party has suspected: The residents of the farmhouse were surprised, the parents undoubtedly targeted for an ambush upon opening the door.

And while it is possible that Talon killed the children, Vortigern's familiar didn't kill the parents . . .

"The parents were killed with swords and axes, likely surprised when they opened the door; did these two have swords and axes?"

Folly was done arguing, the rest of the party could line up to kiss the men who were so eager to murder them all a short time ago, he would have no part of it. They were all fools.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:39, Mon 08 Nov 2021.

Sharn is standing, very tense, Bardiche in hand during the "questioning".

She speaks, in orcish.

"Nog, what say you about this?  Now is not the time to be quiet, your life hangs on each word.  Guilty men try to talk, I sense something else from you.  Tell me, what really happened here".

If Rock even tries to speak, she moves the tip of her Bardiche to his throat and pushes till he stops or dies.

Nog stares at Sharn with hate-filled eyes and a baleful gaze a few moments before responding.

"Do Gruumsh's bidding..." Nog says in a low orcish growl.

"I am prepared to take up arms on the Infinite Battlefields of Acheron and will tell you nothing you don't already know!"

He finishes by spitting in Sharn's direction and then shooting a quick glance over at Rock.

"See you there..."

Rock panics and begins scooting backwards in an effort to protect himself in the event Nog's response provokes Sharn to take heed...

At Rock's first move, Sharn drives the sharp tip of her Bardiche into his throat.  Wipes the spit from her face.

"Ullian, go with Zeric, I don't think he can see in the dark".

She stares a Nog,  a moment, maybe she's going to kill him too. But steps away.

"He'll be useful in making the wizard look bad..."

As soon as Sharn executes Rock, the veins on Nog's deeply-muscled neck bulge as he fights against his bonds while shouting blood curses at Sharn and everyone else in the room.

The iron chain snaps and Nog breaks free of the manacles. He quickly scrabbles to his feet and picks up a nearby chair as an improvised weapon.

"I'm going to take pleasure killing each and everyone of you, same as I did those farmers!" the half-orc mercenary shouts in a murderous rage.


OOC:
Grenag (Nog)
AC: 7
HP: 5/5



PC      AC   HP   AP  10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1  0 -1 -2  Notes
Clatsi  10  05/05  0  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Folly    7  07/07  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | Sanctuary
Sharn    4  13/13  1  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 3 w/shield
Ullian   4  04/07  3  11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 20 |
Zeric    4  08/11  3  10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 20 | AC 5 w/out shield



[Private to GM:

  HD       9   8   7   6   5   4   3   2   1   0   -1  -2  -3
Up to 1    10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20  20
1+ to 2    9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  20
2+ to 3    8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20
3+ to 4    7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19
4+ to 5    6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18
5+ to 6    5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17
6+ to 7    4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15  16
7+ to 9    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14  15
9+ to 11   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13  14
11+to 13   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12  13
13+to 15   2   2   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10  11  12
]
PCs are UP!

A grim slime crosses the Dwarf's face at the Half-Orc's confession, not that he expected anyone would learn anything from this. His opinion of Sharn certainly ticked a few degrees in the right direction though. Good on ya girl! he thought to himself.

Rising he drew his broadsword. Even though he had gone to the far side of the room, the farmhouse wasn't large enough to keep him from his intended target. With a brutal slash he strove to bleed the murderous scum, slicing him open like a pig, spilling his guts on the ground.


17:33, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 17 using 1d20+1 ((16)).
17:34, Today: Folly Stonethroat rolled 5 using 2d4.  damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:28, Mon 08 Nov 2021.

Ullian had headed for the door and paused to pull out two daggers when Nog broke free.

But then, Folly put an end to that.

"Yeah, I'll just be going and . . . getting Zeric, then.  Yep."

And with that he goes outside to find Zeric.

Clatsi raised his hands with his mouth open, skittered away and fumbled for his spell components, but Folly had settled Nog quite quickly. The little gnome fell backward onto his little gnomish butt and let out a startled yelp and continued scrambling backward until his back hit the wall.

And he sat there for a long time, collecting himself.

The blood of the two mercenaries spills out from their fatal wounds onto the cottage floor, the dilemma over their fates having now been decided. It now seems more likely than not the half-orcs played some part in the farmhouse massacre, despite Rock's attempts to weave a story that suggested otherwise.

In any event, the matter has now been settled and the adventurers presumably deal with the aftermath. Corian is brought inside the farmhouse and the half-orcs likely removed from it.

Using the cloak of one of the slain murderers to clear his sword, Folly shoved the blade into his sheath, the began searching their bodies. Mercenaries tended to work for coin, he intended these two would meet Gruumsh lacking even two coppers for their eyes.

"Well done lass," he said the Sharn. "I'm glad someone here had sense enough to do what needed doing."

After completing a more thorough search of the mercenaries, Folly finds a folded-up handbill tucked into Rock's boot.

The handbill is a Wanted posting, Dead or Alive, for Slaaroc and Grenag. The handbill bears a crude drawing of both, but of sufficient likeness to positively identify both men as one and the same as Rock and Nog.

Both men are wanted for numerous unspeakable offences, with bounties payable by any magister allied to the Duke. Each man has a 100 gold piece bounty on their head.

"Well, I think I know what I want to do next. We should head to Hobb's ferry, if they have Magister allied to the Duke."

He rec kons that to be the closest place on the map, though they might have to go as far as Fairhill.

He scratched his beard, and thought about it.

"We can use the farmer's plow horse to tote the bodies."

Did I find any coin on them? Or other items of value, rings, pendants, the like?



OOC I have know local history, I think it is a class skill? Not sure if there is a roll involved. Where would the nearest place to cash in be, if I know?

Rock and Nog possess the following gear:

leather armor
light crossbows
a case of bolts
short swords
daggers
40 gold pieces and 46 silver pieces between the two of them

The party is two days' walk from their original destination, Fairhill, which certainly has a magister capable of covering the bounty. Hobb's Ferry, a very small hamlet, is about a day and half from the farmhouse and likely has a local magister who may or may not have the funds to cover the Duke's bounty.

"I suggest we camp here for the night, bring the horse in the farmhouse with us if we have too to keep it safe. Get what sleep we can, keeping a guard up, then head for Hobb's Ferry at first light. If we push ourselves, a day can a half is doable. If he doesn't have the cash on hand, I'm sure he can give us scrip we can cash in later."

He glances at Corian's corpse.

"What about him. Should we search him for anything useful?"

He scratches his beard again, then gives his mustache a twist as well.

"Does anyone know if Bard's Gate was his home? we should try and get him home, if he has any kin, they'll want to know what happened to him, I reckon."

"Corian's book is of quite some value," Clatsi piped in quietly, "despite his limited repertoire. It should not be buried with him, but returned to his master. But I know not where he resides. Not in Bard's Gate, for, as you recall, Corian said he travelled there with his master to visit Feriblan the Mad."

In the meantime, Clatsi looked among Corian's things for the tome.

He added even more quietly to Folly, "You did secure the amulet? I don't think Corian's untimely demise affects our overall plan. To Hobb's Ferry, to be sure. And then onward. The secrets of Eralion's keep are no doubt deep and rewarding."

Sharn is surprised, if not shocked at the dwarf's casual nature to killing someone.  Even a mercenary.  She steps outside while talk of the future is discussed, to catch her breath and keep from being sick.  As her head clears, she cleans the blood from her weapon, takes a swig of water before returning to the room.

Zeric remained outside.  No amount of explanation would assuage how he felt about the death of the bound two captives.

"I'll be sleeping in the barn," he said to Sharn as he stalked off in that direction.

Whether they were guilty or not wasn't the point, it was how they took what they believed to be justice into their own hands.  In the morning he'd head back the way they'd come.  The dwarf wasn't the partner he'd thought he'd be.

Ullian shrugs and goes back inside.  "I'm just as happy sleeping under the stars, but if there's room for all of us in non-bloodstained areas . . . "

If no one else wants it, I will take the other case of bolts. How many is that? I would like to eke as much out of their stuff as we can, without toting them in to the law nekked of course.

Zeric retreats to the barn and finds a suitable place to sleep in the loft, while the rest of the party takes shelter in the cottage. It has been a long, troubling day in many ways. The companions have learned much about themselves, each other, and the lengths covetous wizards will go in their search for power.

Vortigern and his cutthroat mercenaries murdered the farmers. Rock almost killed Clatsi. Vortigern's familiar killed Corian. Sharn killed Rock. Folly killed Nog.

Vortigern and Talon disappeared and escaped into the darkened woods. Perhaps they are out there now, watching the farmhouse for weakness?

Despite their differences, the party presumably establishes and maintains watch rotations as protection against not only Vortigern, but anything else that might lurk in the darkness.

The long, tense night passes uneventfully and the party must now make some decisions about their next courses of action.

Corian has yet to be buried and the party does not know much about his background. The party is in possession the wizard's amulet and the stolen journal hinting at treasure beneath Eralion Keep. They have two outlaws worth 100 gold pieces each. Vortigern is still out there, somewhere...

It is six days travel to get back to Bard's Gate, two days travel to reach Fairhill, and a day and a half to reach Hobb's Ferry.

Speaking again for trying to hasten, and make Hobb's Ferry in a day, Folly seems less than interested in Zeric's retreat to the barn.
He only wished he could somehow convince the others that Zeric had the amulet, that would have been a useful ruse.

"Did someone wish to search our former patron, since we have no way of knowing where his home is? We could bury him in the morning, or take him to to the ferry in hopes of giving him a burial in a consecrated graveyard. We need to report the death of this family, as well."

He tugged at his beard as he pondered their business, should they live to see the sunrise.

"We need to set up guard duty as well. I will take the first shift. Does anyone wish to join me, or is one enough? Whom should I wake up in three hours?"

"I'm a bit worried about the mage and his familiar coming back in the night.  Should we have two on duty, just in case?"

"Are you volunteering," Folly says with a chuckle. "We need to be extra careful though, seems very likely that creature who could mimic the cry of children was one of his servants. Who knows what else he has at his beck and call? We can only hope the loss of his two mercenaries caused him to regroup, but he will certainly be back."

Tugging his beard, Folly busted open his pack and pulled out some dry rations to nibble on, then took a drag of ale from a skin.

"To be honest, I would have simply given him back if amulet for the asking if he hadn't murdered this family, and proven himself to be so evil. Regardless of Corian's attempts to justify his actions, he did steal the cursed thing."

Ullian shrugs.

"As far as I'm concerned, we've got it now.  And yes, I'm volunteering."

Sharn sleeps, but has bad dreams.  With the morning, she is up early.

"We should take the dead, Corian for proper burial, the murderers to be identified.  I am sorry I lost my temper, it shames me, but they were proud they'd chopped up the children, even after they were poisoned, I, well, there is more I could say, excuses all and not worthy, I am sorry.  Let us make haste.  For my part, I still wish to explore the ruins if we can get there alive".

"Ye did the right thing Sharn, they were cowards for hiding behind their lies. Their guilt was visible for all by the blind to see."

Quickly plucking a dry tasteless breakfast of dried pork and weevil infested hardtack from his pack, grunted at the chewy, lackluster meal, and sent it down with a mouthful of ale.

His skin was getting frightfully low, and he hoped to find an tavern at the Ferry.

"I agree, Corian needs to come with us, as do the bodies of the Orcs, if for nothing else than to guarantee the bounty."

Hoping the plow-horse survived the night, Folly will strap the bodies across it's broad back.

If possible, he will hang Corian's pack from his own.

"We should take the man's coin, as we have no way to find his kin. At the very least he owes us a meal for dragging us into this mess."

Zeric is up early in the morning with his gear packed and ready to go. He doesn't tarry long and simply states he is returning to Bard's Gate and discusses little else.

His mind resolved to the point, he departs at first light and walks down the hill toward the Tradeway and soon disappears out of sight...

After Zeric is out of sight, Folly says in a rather loud voice, "Glad he's gone, hope that is the last we see of that damn amulet. Now let's hit the road, I'd like to reach the Ferry tonight, if we hurry."

If everyone is ready, he hits the road, holding the lead for the plow horse, with the bodies strapped on the back.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:22, Thu 11 Nov 2021.

Ullian hoists his pack and readies for the trek.

Clatterstones bid his farewell to Zeric. He did nothing to try to convince the young man to stay with the group, for Zeric had made up his mind and for good reason.

Packing and repacking his things and chattering to himself, Clatsi startled when Folly Stoneheart mentioned the amulet as if Zeric carried it. It took a moment to realize what that was all about. After that, he complete his preparations in silence, carefully avoiding even glancing at the dwarf, and then was ready for the road. He looked back in the direction that Zeric had gone, but for once he didn't voice his thoughts.

The party departs the farmhouse and is soon back on the Tradeway, marching west toward Hobb’s Ferry.

Stoneheart Forest looms dark and oppressive on either side of the road. Many of the trees and shrubs on either side of the road are festooned with thick spider webs glistening with dew, resembling some sort of strange gossamer veil. As noted previously, the forest is strangely devoid of birdsong, making for a cheerless and eerie day of travel. However, toward sunset the road emerges from the forest’s confines and enters a verdant open landscape—river plains to the south and the foothills of Stoneheart Mountain to the north.

Ahead, to the west, the party sees a roadside waystation. Unlike the last one, this waystation appears to be in good repair and occupied. The smell of campfire and roasting meat drifts on a warm, westerly wind, a pleasant smell after a long day.
Approaching the waystation, the party sees what appears to be Waymark soldiers encamped within the waystation, judging by their livery and standard—a galloping ivory horse on a green field.

The Waymark patrol consists of eight footman, two knights, and a sheriff, all likely serving a term of service in the Suzerainty of Bard’s Gate, as is often the case in the lands between the City of the Lyre and the Grand Duchy.

A sentry hails the party as they make their approach.

“Hail stranger! Ware! State your business!”

OOC: All PCs would be aware of the fact the Duchy of Westmarch, a grassy plains region located immediately west of Fairhill, is allied with the city state of Bard's Gate and provides the majority of Tradeway patrols in exchange for coin. They essentially act as a limited contract army outside the city's walls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:08, Thu 11 Nov 2021.

"We were naught but weary travelers, but we were attacked, and witnessed atrocities as well. We have a deceased companion with us, and two corpses with prices on their heads."

Folly stops at that, waiting to see how these men would respond. Clearly every effort to make haste had been for naught, and it upset him that they had made such poor time on the road.

Clatsi stayed quiet, as he had, uncharacteristically, for most of the day. All he had said on the road was private to Ullian. "'Twas ill-played, that trick of Folly's. He could well have sent the imp to poison Zeric, who might be dead on the road even now, for all we know. We can only hope that Talon was not listening."

Clatsi had pestered Corian to no end about the amulet, but now, with little regard for the dwarf after that stunt, he had refrained from asking after the amulet. Nor was he happy with Folly as the spokesperson for the company. Who knew what the dwarf would tell the Waymark patrol?

He stayed back and tried to seem innocuous. An easy task for such a little gnome.

Sharn walks forward and points to the dead half orcs, producing the wanted dead or alive papers.

"The next waystation is burned down, we came across it so last night, seeing a nearby farmhouse, we investigated hoping a safe place to sleep...."   Sharn goes on to tell the horrors they found, the poisoned chopped up children, the hacked up parents, how they buried them with respect and then were attacked by the evil wizard and his "raven" which turned into an demon and poisoned Corian, how he raised the dead against them.  She leaves nothing out short of never mentioning the amulet.
When it comes to the killing of prisoners, she says, "One died trying to fight to freedom, the other I killed while he was bound and tied.  the wounds will bear it out.  If there is a price for that, I will pay it but I wish an audience with the Sheriff to explain.".

The sentry allows the adventurers to enter the waystation unimpeded, but the Waymark patrol are obviously wary and keep weapons at the ready.

The troops gather around the party to listen to Folly and Sharn's recounting of events. A comely man with a formal demeanor, obviously the patrol the leader, edges forward when Sharn's produces the wanted poster and gives it a cursory glance before turning his attention to the dead half-orcs, and finally, back to Sharn.

When Sharn relates the details surrounding the farmers' demise, the patrolmen become visibly unsettled and several shake their heads in disgust and offer other verbal cues of their displeasure at hearing this tragic news.

When Sharn finishes her tale, the leader comments, "May the gods have mercy on the family. These were good people--Halas, Bronwyn, Ansley, Ilwyn, Corwyn. They showed us nothing by kindness and deserved better."

The man then introduces himself as Sir Rodegar of Fareme, Oathsworn Sheriff of Bard's Gate.


Sir Rodegar says his patrol has just returned from hunting the gnoll clan who sacked the waystation about a week past. He further relates that Halas and his kin hid in the forest when the gnolls attacked the waystation and the pilgrims within. The gnolls took the pilgrims as slaves and fled to the north. The patrol eventually lost the gnolls' trail and returned back to the Tradeway to continue their patrol.

"These two villains are known to me," Sir Rodegar says while examining the dead half-orcs. "Good riddance and well done," he says as a compliment.

Sir Rodegar dismisses Sharn's concerns with a wave of his hand. "You have been heard," he says.

Sir Rodegar expresses concern about the evil wizard and his demon and asks which way they fled.

"The wizard, one Vortigern by name, became invisible, and vanished into the might, along with his companion, be it his minion or master I know not. He also had as an ally a beast that could mimic the cry of the terrified child. A horrid beast, whose body was a strange cross between a stag and a hyena. I fear it may lure travelers out of the way-stations, it certainly tried to do the same to us."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:37, Fri 12 Nov 2021.

Ullian said nothing during the exchange.

[Private to Clatsi Clatterstones: "He is a bit gabby, isn't he?  Still, I think he's done a decent enough job in addressing the guards.  But maybe, after we get our share of the reward, we just split company from him, eh?"]

"It seems this, Vortigern, is a wizard of some power, to have so many fiendish allies at hand and the ability to reanimate the dead," Sir Rodegar replies. "I will see to it others are warned."

As for the disposition of the outlaws, Sir Rodegar offers to cover the full bounty on the spot and commands four of his footmen to "burn their bodies, downwind, and done with them we'll be."

Four of his men comply and haul mercenaries away from the waystation.

Sir Rodegar says he intends to remain at the waystation until tomorrow morning and then will depart for Fareme to the west.

"My condolences to you all for your lost companion," he says looking at Corian.

OOC: Sir Rodegar gives the party 200 gold pieces, which he retrieves from somewhere within his field tent.

Once Sir Rodegar is out of earshot, Ullian claps his hands together and says: "Excellent! So, from a financial standpoint, this expedition won't be a total loss.  What's that, forty gold apiece?"

Thanking Sir Rodegar for making their task that much easier, Folly joined the others, and gather his own share of the coins.

"Forty more that I have on hand, Ullian, so well pleased with it. The question is, what do we do now? Do we wish to stick together, or go our separate ways?"

Folly counted his coins twice, not out of any doubt or suspicion, simply for the pleasure of the feel of the coins, then he places them in his pouch.

"We might still have to worry about Vortigern, seems to me, there might be safety in numbers. With luck he'll collected a few more wanted fellows to attack us, and we can cash in a second time? Though he is too dangerous to make that a way of life I suspect."

"Sir Rodegar, would there be an interest from Bard's Gate if someone tracked down these gnolls and rescued the pilgrims?"

Sir Rodegar had stepped away from the adventurers to have a private word with one of his knights, but is drawn back into conversation when Sharn asks about the gnolls.

He favors her with the hint of a grin and replies, "Aye. There would. The self-styled Gnoll King, Ga-awoo-tarr, has long been a thorn in the side and the Council of Burghers would undoubtedly pay a handsome ransom to any who could put his reign of terror to an end."


He further explains the pilgrims were Pelorites, traveling to Fairhill to take part in the Midsummer Blessing at the Temple of Pelor, led by High Priestess Shandril.

"Do we have any estimates as to the size of King Ga-awoo-tarr army?" Folly doesn't want to trade a Lich for two-hundred gnolls, if life is an option.

"Farmer Halas claimed to have seen at least a dozen gnolls attacking the waystation, before he and his family hid in the woods," Sir Rodegar replies. "But this was likely a small skirmish party and nothing more," he adds.

The sheriff claims Ga-awoo-tarr likely commands an army of more than 100 gnolls, not to mention his alliances with ettins and trolls and any number of other monstrous beings he can call to service.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:55, Sat 13 Nov 2021.

"Hmmm... seems like dealing with the King might be much, but we could scout out the potential for a hit-and-run rescue of the pilgrims."

Tugging his beard gently, the Dwarf continues.

"Though where there be Gnoll kings, there are usually those who resent their power. Gnolls are a fractious lot. Maybe we could act as a fulcrum on such potential discontent..."

Sir Rodegar visually assesses the party and comments, "Aye. Taking on the entirety of Ga-awoo-tarr's forces would be too much for a small band, but yet, small numbers would serve well for clandestine endeavors."

Sir Rodegar suggests the party seek the counsel, and perhaps support, of Shandril at the Temple of Pelor, in the event they are serious about attempting to recover the pilgrims. "Know this though, there are no guarantees they haven't already been savaged. Many days have passed..." he says.

Sir Rodegar invites the adventurers to camp within the waystation and says his men will cover watch rotations to give the party an opportunity to rest at ease.

Folly wishes to know where the temple at which Shandril resides is. Also when the party is alone he suggests they keep a watch of their own anyway, just in case.

"Shandril may be found at the Temple of Pelor, in Fairhill," Sir Rodegar replies.

The Waymark sheriff relates to the party that Fairhill is one hard days' march northwest of the waystation, but contains several inns and taverns as reward for the effort. In the event the party decides to head to Fairhill, Sir Rodegar recommends the party find accommodations at The Drunken Cockatrice Inn. "Glarian's cooking makes it well worth the expense," he comments. However, he claims the ale at The Tavern of the Three Kegs to be the best in Fairhill, and among the best one might find in a much larger town. Finally, if coin is of concern, one may stay at The Cask and Flagon, though he does not recommend doing so if it can be avoided.

Should the adventurers ask about Hobb's Ferry, Sir Rodegar will inform them it is about a half days' journey from the waystation. There is a small keep there, the abode of a semi-retired knight, Sir Hobb. In addition to the keep, there are a few outlying buildings, to include a small inn, The River's Daughter, which is of acceptable quality. As the name suggests, Sir Hobb operates a ferry for travelers to and from the holding of Byrn, in the mountains south of the Graywash River. Sir Hobb maintains a small militia to protect his holdings, but has been known to hire the services of adventurers from time to time.

"In any event, you will be well attended at Fairhill or Hobb's Ferry, as both often have need of adventurers," Sir Rodegar claims.

The bounty paid, Fairhill seems the destination they should head for.

"Are we all agreed? Do we wish to try Fairhill, and talk to the Priestess there about the pilgrims?"

To be honest, he is very open to any destination anyone should suggest.

"At worst, it's a place to spend our money and have some fun," Ullian agrees.

Clatterstones readily agreed to set Fairhill as the company's destination. It was, after all, nearer than Hobb's Ferry to the ruined keep which drew them here in the first place, but he said nothing of that in earshot of the sheriff and his patrol.

Clatsi measured out the coins from the bounty and hesitantly observed, "The accounting is a shade off kilter, assuming we're using standard arithmetical methods." The little gnome is helpful in counting coins for each to get his or her full share.

He didn't attend the burning of the wanted criminals. Instead, he settled down in the Waystation and, with great care and mounting curiousity, perused Corian's tome of spells.

"I will take first watch, does anyone want to take second?"

 We should only need one guard per shift, given the proximity of the sheriff and his men.

While not flush with cash, Folly was looking forward to spending some of their coin in the town. A hot bath, and maybe a second hand lute would do wonders to cheer him up, and he needed to refill his skins with ale.

The party establishes their own watch rotations and settles in for the night. It is an uneventful night.

Sir Rodegar's patrol wake before dawn and set out before first light. He wishes the adventurers well and departs with little fanfare, his company headed back to their homes in Fareme.

The adventurers have other travel plans. Their path leads north, toward Fairhill. They attend to morning rituals, break camp, and set out a short time later. A full travel day lays ahead and a homecooked meal, a frothy tankard of ale, and a soft bed awaits.

The landscape becomes wide, open rolling hills with the Stoneheart Mountains looming large in the distance. The party traverses numerous small creeks through the course of the day, but their travel is otherwise uneventful. They don't see another soul all day long, though they do spot of a large group of deer bounding away at one point, several birds of prey patrolling the skies (none appear raven-like), and a the remnants of deer carcass at the side of the road a few hours in.

In any event, as dusk approaches, the party spots the village of Fairhill in the distance...

OOC: Please see Fairhill Notice for the broad overview. You may post intentions here, etc. but I intend to open a new in-game thread for Fairhill stuff.

Every step away from the burned out way station and the tomb of the buried family (Gods rest their souls) improves Folly's mood. Life and death go hand in hand, but such a death was a foul blight on the normal rhythm of things, in his mind.

He remains quiet most of the day, nibbling on dry rations on occasion, giving the birds a discerning and sharp eyed glance, he really only speaks at the corpse of the deer, as he wondered what might of killed it, and how long ago.