Just kind of rolling with the cinematic quality of this one since we never established clear distances or positions, so here we go!

The crash of lightning made Moira reflexively flinch away, though she cast a look swiftly back the way it had come when she recognized the tell-tale crackling line of Thente's javelin.  She could only just make out the charging outlines of U'lin and Claire rushing along in the distance amid all the smoke, though she paid them little mind beyond the reassurance of backup.  The Ogre had turned to run in the face of the odds and she would not abide.

Rather than load in another bolt, Moira hoisted her crossbow over her shoulder onto its latch and took off in a dead sprint for the lumbering menace.  Golden streaks of magic crackled from the Halfling's limbs - enchanted steps carried her swifter than normal and, as she whisked out her blades, the flesh of her arms shone as spiraling lines of divine light ignited in unfurling, daffodil-shaped patterns.  That same golden illumination swiftly enveloped her swords, turning cold steel into gleaming gold even as the Halfling let out an uncharacteristic battle cry; a furious, full-throated shout that carried with her as she leaped and plunged both swords into the Ogre's scorched back.

Action + Bonus Action: Dual Attack vs. Ogre
Main Hand - Moira Ruadh rolled 12 using 1d20+7
Off-Hand - Moira Ruadh rolled 24 using 1d20+7
I believe Ogres don't have more than AC 12 normally, so that should be two hits.

Damage: 21
Main-Hand - Moira Ruadh rolled 7 using 1d8+4
Off-Hand - Moira Ruadh rolled 6 using 1d8+1
Sneak Attack - Moira Ruadh rolled 8 using 3d6

Reaction Set-up: Moira will Uncanny Dodge if the Ogre hits her with an attack.
Uncanny Dodge - When you are hit by an attack you can see, you can use your Reaction to halve the attack's inflicted damage.

As the path before melted clear towards the fleeing ogre, U'lin continued his charge forward, and pulled forth his hammer, spinning it high overhead with intention to launch it to finish off the beast.

Moira's golden form leaping onto the ogre's form - well, that checked U'lin's throw, not wishing to risk striking her.  The Hin was amazing in combat, and U'lin knew her skills far beyond his own even before she began to exhibit the golden magics - had she been holding them back all this time?

Emma's words seemed to echo in U'lin's mind, and he smiled at the memory of seeing her comforted and sharing Gond's word.  Gond's blessing was always with U'lin's tools... but it was very nice again to hear another offer the benediction.

"Great God of creation, ring clear your disfavour at one who brutely destroys works of improvement of the world!"  U'lin's symbol of faith glowed much like Moira's magical tattoos, but a forge-warmed fire-golden glow in comparison to her more pure golden colour.

---

OOC:
Mv closer to ogre
08:04, Today: U'lin rolled 12 using 2d12.  Toll the Dead WS14.

The ogre screams in outrage as Moira's steel sank into the soft flesh in its neck. With brutal strength it tosses and turns, trying to shake the halfling off, golden light trailing through the air. U'lin steps forward, and the mighty gong that seemed to erupt from his symbol was felt, if not heard, by now awe-struck bystanders.

Blood pours from the ogre's eyes, ears and mouth. With a sick squelch and a mighty thud, the creature collapses onto the blood-stained pavement. Hushed whispers erupt from the group of civilians- three men and two woman, all covered in soot and sporting minor injuries.

The thud of hooves causes them to start in alarm and pull together, while the groggy guard jumps to his feet in alarm, spear held frantically at ready.

Claire arrives around the corner upon Glory, carrying Zaiya with her.

"...w-who are you? Are you reinforcements?" the surviving Triboar guard hefts the spear, eyes siding from U'lin to Moira and occasionally to the unconscious body of his fellow guard a few feet away.

Moira rode the fall of the collapsing Ogre as it toppled under the brunt of the various divine strikes and rolled deftly off its shoulder to the ground.  Though it had barely settled with its last breath leaving it than the Halfling did the same thing she did back at Nightstone; a swift thrust of a blade through a soft point within the beast's head to double-tap and ensure it was good and dead.  Even after the immediate battle came to a halt the luminous, subtly shifting trails of divine filigree continued to swirl about the Halfling's arms; vines subtly budding with new flowers yet to blossom across her skin.

"...w-who are you? Are you reinforcements?"

"No, but we are here t'help." Moira didn't waste a moment as she snatched up the enchanted javelin and lobbed it back over to U'lin.  She bounced a look briefly around the scattered alleyways where the flitting shadows of looters and who-knew-what-else darted about.  Too many, too chaotic to pin down.  Instead her eyes swept to the gathered group of citizens and then up to the distant Keep.  As quickly as ever, Moira's military presence and decisiveness kicked into gear, though it was obvious she was still anxious to act and barely contained herself all the same.

She gestured quickly to the guard who was laid bleeding out with a swing of her sword, having swiftly turned it about in an underarm hold to point with the pommel instead.  "Claire, see if y'can get that'n back on his feet.  U'lin, Zaiya, watch th'surroundin's for any more threats comin'.  We need t'move fast and be ready t'overwhelm anythin' that tries gettin' in our way." Back to the surviving guard.  "Soldier!  Gather these folk and lead th'way - we'll escort y'where y'need t'be.  Outta town t'th'Quarry or t'th'Keep, wherever's safe."

"T-the Keep!" stammers the guard, as he lowers his spear to check on his comrade, "the Lord Protector will need- Triboar desperately needs help! Please!"

I'll need at least one Perception check as the group is moving. The fallen guard can be stabilized with a DC 10 heal check or any being spell. He is just concussed.

Prompted by Moira, Claire immediately got from her steed, swiping her trusty medicinal kit to see to the fallen guard. Sensing a regular, if weak pulse, she pulled out a strip of cloth, swiftly cutting it down to size and wrapping around the man's head wound. It was fortunate that they had gotten here when they did. "He got beat up good, but he'll be alright," she assured the guardsman's compatriot.


"To the Keep it is then," allowing Zaiya to continue on foot, Claire clambered back up on Glory. She walked her steed to the front of the motley convoy of refugees and guards - mounted on the mighty warhorse, she would draw attention away from any threats from the vulnerable civilians, and allow Moira and Zaiya to unleash bolt and magick unmolested from the rear.

"Stay behind us, and stay together!" She called out to the unarmed townsfolk behind, before riding out a short distance ahead of the main body, far enough that those on foot would have time and space to react to an ambush, but near enough to hear her companions' shouts. With the remaining able guard on foot beside her, she prompts him to begin leading the way. "Let my companions and I handle any danger, guardsman. Your main responsibility," Claire points back to the fearful civilians, "is seeing to them." She does her best to emulate Moira's firm but reassuring tone. Perhaps she was even getting better at it.

Medicine: 17
20:42, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Medicine.

Perception: 6
20:57, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 6 using 1d20.

OOC: If no one can carry the stabilized guard and it seems necessary to get him up on his feet, expend 3 charges of Lay on Hands (17 charges remaining).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:17, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

U'lin gestured for Claire to check at the fallen guardsman, while he gave a check to the townsfolk - he nodded that they all seemed fine - and moved to check the orcs and ogre for clues about the military forces and their plans... and to make certain they were not simply shamming or unconscious.

"Thanks be to Gond, no injuries here among the folk.  Not much  found on the orcs...

"Moira, I'll run back and grab the wagons - we may need to transfer wounded, and we don't want to be leaving Emma and Thente and the boy out of response range.  Or did you want to do that while Claire and I guard the group?"

---

OOC:
19:04, Today: U'lin rolled 15,11,3 using d20+6,d20+6,d4.  Perception.
So 15, or 18 if guidance can be applied (watching for trouble/survivors)

"Emma'll be fine guardin' th'rest, U'lin - she's got th'horses, her crossbow, and y'armored wagon.  Trust her and y'own craftsmanship t'handle it.  There's bound t'be fightin' outside th'Keep what needs breakin' through and these folk'll need all of us t'get 'em t'safety."  Moira sheathed both her swords at either hip and unlatched her crossbow once more; every motion in swapping, loading, and readying a smooth, practiced gesture of second nature to her.

With that, Moira quickly cast a look about to double-check for any possible threats but her vision suddenly swam with the motion.  She didn't even realize she'd staggered and rebalanced on reflex with a quick step to catch herself with - while she didn't necessarily register her own fatigue, it was obvious her body did.  The Halfling shook it off, then pulled down her bandana across the lower half of her face and Nightvision Goggles over her eyes, both to help fend off the ash-laden air and hide her exhausted expression.  Stubborn to the bitter end.  She gave a sharp whistle for attention and a "get moving" gesture pointed up toward the Keep for them all to get a move-on.

Perception at Disadvantage from Exhaustion
Moira Ruadh rolled 9 using 1d20+4
This message was last edited by the player at 03:29, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

With practiced hands, Claire swiftly bandages the unconscious guard's wounds, much to the gratitude of his companion. The civilians line up behind Glory is an odd shuffling position, muttering to themselves or shooting an odd word of prayer to Tymora or Waukeen. One of them, a middle-aged, hawk-nosed woman, seems to have taken note of the little magical display by Moira, and is feverently (though quietly) giving thanks to the Coinmaiden.

The orcs and the ogres were carrying sacks, the contents of which were unfortunately partly mangled by the lightning. The orc's sack apparently contained a mix of silver and other baubles - now all melted and fused together from the magical lightning passing through it. The ogre's sack is filled with food - mostly meat - though the pouches around his waist contain several pieces of expensive (for a commoner) silverware (OOC: the party can claim this as loot if they wish, though if they ask its clear that the some of the owners are in the civilian group in front of you).

"T-this way! Quick!" shouts the remaining guard, pointing down one alleyway. Though a bit of a squeeze for Glory's uh, glorious frame, the ragtag group eventually makes it towards the keep. Though alert, U'lins' senses detect no other orcs or hostile groups around- none following them at least.

The outskirts of the inner keep are surprisingly open, with a large cobblestone courtyard surrounding the tall stone walls. Sandbags have been stacked around the courtyard in a rough perimeter, each "fort" manned by a pair of soldiers. The bodies of several orcs, axebeaks and two ogres have been stacked in a corner of the keep, still riddled with arrows. Small squadrons of guards, about 3-4 strong, move in and out of the keep. Some seem to also be escorting civilians, while others are carrying buckets of sand, water and other firefighting equipment. The rest are carrying injured - both military and not.

"Halt!" calls one of the sentries, "state your-"

"Corporal Greene, callsign Hawk-Four, passphrase is Lonely Salmon!" the guard quickly jabbers out, "I brought reinforcements! And the civilians! Let us in quickly, the Lord Protector will want to meet them!"

There is a brief pause from the sentry, who turns to look up at the battlements. A few of the archers then stare back at the group, before a thickly-bearded dwarf gives a thumbs-up.

"Acknowledged. Enter!"

---

The inside of the Keep is somehow even more chaotic. One corner of the inner courtyard is lined with rough bedding, upon which dozens of injured have been placed. Most of them appear have severe burns, attended by a mere two healers. Officers exchange orders with squads, receive reports from returning scouts, or direct civilians to one of several holding areas in the back.

"...got two more injured! Heavy burns, need immediate-"
"Looters still in sector SW-A3, two fled, one tried to fight back-"
"...thing in the flames. Water just pisses it off, sand doesn't work, its spreading worse-"
"Bird from Platoon Red-O-One, ETA one hour..."
"-lost two men to those blasted gargoyles already, where are our mages!"

In the middle of the chaos is a heavily bandaged woman still partly clad in armor, right arm clutching a longspear for support.  Her left arm is gone, the bandaged stump jutting out of the shoulder of her breastplate. Yet, she exudes an undeniable commanding presence, a pillar in the storm of activity around the Keep. Tall, dark-haired and in possession of an almost bear-like frame, even with one arm the Lord Protector Daratha Shendrel of Triboar remains an imposing sight. To every panicked question comes a swift, yet measured reply. Frantic scout reports are met with a nod and a gesture to update the sprawling map laid upon the nearby table. Confused orders are quickly straightened out, guards reorganized, plans made clear.

"Ma'am! Lord Commander! I brought reinforcements! Casters, too! They offered to help!"

The crowd around the Lord Protector parts at the guardman's words (but also because a pure-bred Amphail warhorse is a very imposing sight), as Daratha looks up from the map. Her brows furrow as she takes in U'lin, Moira, Claire and Zaiya in turn- going up as she notes how well-armed and magically-proficient your group appears to be.

"Excellent job Greene," Daratha Shendrel's voice is deep, especially for a woman, with a slight raspiness at the edge, "I see you have secured the civilians as well. Hand them off to Sergeant Marks, then see to yours and Corporal Rickson's injuries. Dismissed."

Corporal Greene snaps off a quick salute, lifts his friend in a fireman carry, then heads off to the tents - the civilians trailing quietly behind him. As he does so, Lord Protector Daratha Shendrel turns her attention back to the four adventurers before her;

"Now. You are here to help? Good," the woman nods curtly at Moira and Claire, apparently recognizing their military training, "I am Commander Daratha Shendrel, Lord Protector of Triboar. State your name, rank or profession and any magic you can use. Triboar is burning, our primary wizard is dead. Any aid you can offer, we will accept."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:34, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

While she'd been ready to have to fight their way into the Keep, it was a boon to find that the forces had already been fended off when they arrived.  Good - that meant there was opportunity to mount a counterattack instead.  Though when they all got into the crowded halls Moira looked furtively about the injured laid along the walls with so keen a gaze it was clear she hoped - or perhaps feared - to spot someone specific amid the numbers.  It was only the Lord Protector's introduction that snapped her attention back to the fore and she quickly tugged down both bandana and goggles to show her face properly.

"Moira Ruadh - Waukeenar, Fourth Captain of th'People's Army of Thentia."  A curt salute was offered, albeit a different gesture than the one the Triboar soldiers gave.  She waited long enough for the others to announce themselves as they would, then continued with all due haste.  "We've come up from th'south through Westbridge, found th'body of a Triboar scout carryin' some sorta orders or figures from th'Orc bands.  Sorry t'see whatever he was hopin' t'warn of came too late."  She couldn't help a moment's distraction pull her weary gaze aside as a soldier hustled by with an injured civilian in tow, but returned her focus once again all the same.  "We ain't a proper company, so I won't volunteer m'companions without their say-so, but we've been fendin' off all manner of threats up th'coast from Nightstone.  At th'least, y'have m'swords and service as y'please."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:31, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

Though Claire had never served in a fighting hierarchy more formal than a village militia, she knew enough to show some respect to a Lord Protector who not only seemed to be doing some real protecting, but had clearly paid the price too. Fortunately, she could always count on Moira to deal with these military types, dismounting and taking the opportunity to introduce herself when the halfling paused.

"Claire Larkspur, devoted of the Great Mother. I'm no soldier, ma'am, but I reckon I've got a decent sword arm," the plight of the wounded drew her eye, as it always did, "and some familiarity with the healing arts." Her manner was modest, but as her mighty warhorse and formidably-sized claymore testified, her small frame belied the martial skill the young woman had honed on their journey.

It had been a long way in a short time, from farmgirl to heavy cavalrywoman.

One eyebrow rises;

"...Thentia? I see. Officially, I know nothing about the People's Army," the woman nods, with all the air of someone who thinks politics should be left to bleed out and dry, "But a good sword-arm is welcome. Hand me the orders- there might still be useful intelligence. Do you have the scout's body? Or a name?"



"Magical or mudane healing?" Daratha Shendrel's voice is clipped, "divine or arcane? Single or mass? Is that horse summoned, or a druid morphed into a steed? Will it charge into the flames?"

The firbolg's head popped up disapprovingly from a parchment of repair suggestions, "Wouldn't hold against a feather pillow," and he nodded politely to the Lord Protector, appreciating her military abruptness, and the pressures upon her, but also not overly impressed with the capabilities in defence, nor the courtesy in welcoming and accepting allies to a desperate cause.

Still, now was not the time to quibble or wander.

"Well met, Lord Protector Shendrel," U'lin addressed gravely, but with a gentle strength instead of weary shortness.  Between Emma's support, the party's protection of the guards and townsfolk, and seeing efforts to hold together the city, U'lin's spirits, so crushed at the devastation, had recovered themselves and rebuilt for action.

"I am U'lin, servant of Gond, smith-crafter.  The upper level blessings given unto me are spent in our travels against giants and werewolves, but I retain steel and divine punishment in defence, and first and second order divine blessings.

"I have skills and art remaining for:
- combat,
- triage and area healing, and
- creation of water.
Longer-term, I can continue with:
- ranged and front-line offence
- defence, and
- repair or construction.  Personal arms and armour, siege-work devices, and so forth - though that is tasks of longer time work.

"With a solid rest -if the matter protracts- I can summon spirits to help defend with radiance against incursion of thirty feet around me,  or potentially address other needs - speaking with the fallen, Sendings, other healings... such manner of things, for instance.

"I expect that you have many needs, but don't know us.  If you wish to outline a few of the more pressing, we can outline what is within our skills confidently, or that we can try.


"We brought the orders with us, as well as a pair of the arrows.  The good scout's body is below -in one of our wagons, under watch of our wagonminder- to permit final resting rites."

"As U'lin has said, our travels have greatly taxed our strength. Where mundane care, supplies and prayers are concerned," she patted her substantial pouch of salves, bandages and tinctures, "I will spare nothing to treat your wounded. But as for divine healing, I cannot presume more of the Great Mother's mercy, not without a lengthy period communing with Her. Neither has she seen fit to gift me with the ability to heal the masses. As for Glory here...she's exactly what she looks like ma'am. A fine Amphail-bred warhorse." Having never attempted such a feat herself, Claire was unsure if Glory would charge willingly through fire, but she trusted the military-trained Lord Protector to have a sense of what Amphail stock was capable of on the battlefield.

For a more meta sense of remaining resources:
10 charges Lay on Hands
1x L1 spell
1x L2 spell
This message was last edited by the player at 17:19, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

"Zaiya Avina, Wizard of some small ability"  Zaiya introduced herself.  "I've done my best to be frugal on the trip up here, and while I'll admit that I'm not perhaps equipped for straight up warfighting, I can still hurl a few Fireballs if it comes to that."

She paused for a moment.

"Or barring that, to neutralize the effects of a hostile spellcaster.  Truthfully, I'll admit that a place like this being under fire came as something of a surprise.

Not sure where the Orc letter ended up since we all took a hand at examining it, so for convenience I'll just say Moira stashed it with the other notes she's been keeping on the Uthgardt and Orcs.

"...Thentia? I see. Officially, I know nothing about the People's Army,"

Moira gave no reply to that aside from a finger tapped gently at the side of her nose.  The request for the procured orders was met promptly as she shuffled the paper - darkened with dried blood as it was - to offer up to the Lord Protector.  "None of us are fluent in this dialect of Dethek, but we puzzled out a bit of it.  Seems like it might be some kinda marchin' orders and timetable countin' th'moon stages.  Given th'Orc tribes' feud with th'Uthgardt war parties, m'best guess is they're keepin' an eye on when th'Uthgardt'll be their most powerful at th'next full moon." she theorized simply and hoped there was someone more linguistically skilled in Triboar's ranks.

"The good scout's body is below -in one of our wagons, under watch of our wagonminder- to permit final resting rites."

"Truthfully, I'll admit that a place like this being under fire came as something of a surprise."

There was no other choice but to nod in agreement on such remarks.  Moira also gave a brief description of the scout's appearance, as it seemed the Lord Protector was well-versed in recognizing her own troops.  "They're right.  Findin' that scout's body was a worry after we'd been hearin' th'roads were bein' patrolled, but I never thought t'see Triboar under siege.  What sparked all this off?  Did somethin' happen, or was it just a bolt outta th'blue?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:18, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

As the Lord Protector flips through the letter, she gives a heavy hiss;

"...you're not entirely wrong. The Uthgardt organize their feuds and warbands by the moon," Daratha sighs, tapping the paper, "which is why we organize our patrols by them as well. These are mobilization orders to attack Triboar. Tonight."

The woman quickly hands the slip of parchment over to a nearby officer, who immediately begins transcribing it onto the map;

"It also mentions possible rendezvous points. Vinderi, see if we can spare the men to look into this. If the bands are reorganizing for a second attack, we can intercept them."




"Essentially, we were betrayed," Daratha says, in the manner of one discussing the time of day, "our resident wizard, Hyuth Kolstagg, apparently allied with the local orc tribes and a pair of Fire Giants. Triboar was designed to fend off the full might of an Orcish horde. It was not prepared for the very geomancer who set up its wards and defences to disable them all before the attack, nor for a pair of Fire Giants to burst through the North-East wall and rampage through the entire wing."

Gesturing for the party to approach, Daratha begins to point at the more detailed map sprawled across the table, various markers and pieces indicating different types of activity across Triboar;

"Hyuth is now dead. My soldiers reported him and his gargoyles arguing, even fighting the Giants. They pulverised the warehouse he owns in the North-East wing, dug up some enormous chunk of metal, then left. The remains of Hyuth's constructs still guard the area, attacking anyone who approaches in a blind frenzy."

MAP OF TRIBOAR

"Orange marks are the worst of the flames. Grey are enemy sightings, green is our forces. Red is epicenter of Hyuth's fight, and the main problem we have right now."

"I need someone to neutralize the remnants of Hyuth's constructs along with whatever wards he might have remaining, so my men can enter the North-East wing to fight the flames there," the commander taps a bright red piece on the map, "Hyuth's miscreations are resistant to all but magical weapons and spells. I cannot spare my remaining spellcasters, they are too depleted and are focused on using their remaining skills to contain the blaze."



"Magical healing would be appreciated, but if you are short on resources, I rather have you focus on neutralizing key targets. Repair works can come later. The main force of the orcs scattered after the giants left and their apparent warchief was slain. All that's left are stragglers and greedy looters. Our focus now is on containment," she nods at each of the party in turn, apparently decided, "I am not your commanding officer, so I cannot order you- but given your unique skillset, I believe the four of you are best suited for dealing with the aftermath of Hyuth's actions. If you have any objections, state them now."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:59, Thu 08 Oct 2020.

Claire glanced over at her companions with raised eyebrow. "A pair of giants wanting a chunk of rock bad enough to stamp all over a town? Sure is mighty fishy..."

"It's unfortunately a story all too familiar to us," she explained somberly to the Lord Protector. "Miss Moira and I are from Nightstone, you see. Headed up this way after the giant attack. As you probably know, it's trouble with giants all the way up the coast."

"Anyway, I've no objections to giving a shot at tackling that problem of yours," she points her thumb at the red marker in the northeast of Triboar. "What kind of 'constructs' are we talking about?"

U'lin coughed discretely at the suggestion of sending the limited forces out of town.
 “Perhaps leeriness about sending patrols out to the locations, Lord Protector.  A Great Hunt has been declared with the death of Greyback-Red-Clawed.  The Grey Wolves of the Three Directions have united to exterminate their Ancient Foe – a pair of members who were the driving force in the attack here, unless my guess is grossly off the calibrated mark.

“She-of-Six Claws, the leader to the south – south of Westbridge and farther south- has sortied against us twice, retreating twice from our full strength, but quick to challenge perceived isolation or weakness.  She and her band of Uthgardt werewolves have been tracking a fire giant that raided one of their holy sites, and looted an ancient giant storage vault of relic pieces too dangerous to be kept together.

“You might have mileage of a message being relayed to them of the giants’ location, if you knew, but they won’t care about orc armies any more than your town or people – I’m given to understand it’s the philosophy of either the hammer or a nail.  Rather poor analogy, of course, as you could melt down and reforge one into the other, but that’s what happens when folk try to philosophize about smithing works without understanding of the process.”

One of U’lin’s long, armoured fingers tapped directly upon the destroyed warehouse/theft of metal.  “I suspect the fire giants made some agreement with your mage for power, with no intent of keeping the agreement – then betrayed him back and simply stole their true goal of another fragment of ancient giant relicwork.  It explains how they moved so directly to their goal, and likely enough why your untrustworthy wizard wanted that particular place over all.  The fragment would have called to the pieces held by the fire giants, especially with their ability to read its signatures.  The mage likely found the magical aura, and concealed it, or was unconsciously drawn to the area – no sense to attribute all to craft what unconscious interest might explain.  Could be relic, could be artifact of giant make - but the fire giants are working hard to regather such for pushing their position in heirarchy.

“These two concentrations – do you have compositions of their forces, Lord Protector?” U’lin inquired, tapping the north and north-east grey group markers.  “Whether one or the other would be a path through to preserve our resources for the constructs?  Numbers on the constructs, and their types – all gargoyles?  Statuary?  Mechanical devices?  Animated blades and so forth?   No golems, I hope?

“Oh, unless you have storm or flood control tunnels below – I notice the two water systems circling the town?  Or sewer system?  A nice tunnel shortcut coming up around the far north-east side would certainly gain us much time, hmm?”
This message was last edited by the player at 00:52, Fri 09 Oct 2020.

A pause.

"That matches our own reports. Uthgardt mobilization was why we had so few forces here- however reinforcements would have arrived within-" the Lord Protector twitches, "was the entire thing a feint? How did- the signals were entirely crafted to mislead us. The Orc tribes, the Uthgardt response, the village attacks...all of it was manipulated? For tonight? That requires a level of tactical coordination far beyond what I expect of Orcs. But if they're working with Fire Giants..."

Daratha slams her longspear into the ground, gritting her teeth as she mutters to herself.

"We have some associates with the Uthgardt - they hate the orcs as well, though if a Great Hunt has been organised, they will likely ignore our requests. Can't send a bird, they don't trust magic...and they might turn on Triboar in our weakened state. No, I'll not be drawing the Uthgardt's attention here, not until the situation is more under control. We can revisit that possibility then."



"There -is- a sewer system," Daratha answers, voice icy, "we sealed the nearby manholes after the first wave of orc assassins burst in, past the disabled wards, and took out the people holding the Western gate. Chances are, even more of the orc stragglers are present there than in town."

"The grey markers are sightings, but most are small squads, no bigger than three or four Orcs mounted on Axebeaks. Maybe an ogre. No spellcasters so far. No further assassins."



"Gargoyles," the commander makes a gesture with her hands, and one of the officers around the table hands her a crude sketch of a bat-winged humanoid made of stone, "about half a dozen lesser ones, medium sized, along with a single large one that functioned as his personal bodyguard. They all look like deformed Dragonborn, if you are familiar with the race. Hyuth claims he created them, but my own sources suggest he found the main dragonoid construct and modeled the lesser gargoyles off it. They can fly, are resistant to non-magical attacks, and have nasty claws and a bite. Good senses too- Hyuth primarily used them as scouts and guardians for his properties, occasionally loaning them out to our patrols."

"The big one also has some sort of dragon's breath- three weeks ago some thieves tried to steal from him and the whole of Triboar got treated to the sight of a flying, fire-breathing dragon-construct chasing a pair of dwarves up into the creek."

In the brief moment U'lin paused for breath somewhere in between his explanation of the Uthgardt behavior recently and moving onto theorizing about the Fire Giants' methods, Moira gently interjected.  "We've become a mite gnarled in th'whole affair plaguin' th'coast as we've traveled up it.  Encounterin' these sites, meetin' leaders from Waterdeep, Amphail, Red Larch... there's a lot goin' on.  We can give y'a broader report of what's been afoot when th'opportunity comes.  Short of it is that th'Giants are th'cause of everythin' goin' amiss of late - seems it starts and ends with 'em." she didn't interrupt U'lin to silence him, but merely to offer the Lord Protector a bit of context as to why he spontaneously seemed to have such in-depth knowledge.  With that, she let the Firbolg continue while she examined the map alongside Claire.

The Lord Protector's continued explanations as to what they would face with the gargoyles ensured a sour look out of Moira.  Despite her initial respectful manner in line with military protocol, she couldn't help but blow a hiss through her teeth at the prospect of such beasts being within a town.  "A nastiness of Gargoyles?  In Triboar?"  Moira resisted the urge to spit. "Ain't never heard of one spewin' dragonfire though.  Hate t'speculate, but sounds more like y'wizard was lyin' and got himself a bunch of genuine Gargoyles and one big... somethin' else.  Whatever it is.

From what I know of th'talk and supplyin' trade for mages past?  Gargoyles ain't constructed critters but sorta like Elementals - genuine livin' stone.  Mages like harvestin' their horns as potion ingredients, and they're vicious guards on account of 'em bein' tougher than Ogres and only just smart 'nuff t'be cruel.  Damn things are pure evil and delight in torture.  Roads are full of tales of those beasts draggin' travelers into old ruins they guard and havin' a party rippin' 'em t'shreds.  Don't even eat 'em - they just like hearin' th'screams."  There was clear, outright disdain in the Halfling's manner, galled by the very notion of such monsters being among people.  "Never should've been allowed within a hundred miles of civilization.  They might be confused now, but they're gonna get bored and bloodthirsty real damn quick."

Arcana/History, to see if Moira has any folklore knowledge about Gargoyles
Moira Ruadh rolled 18 using 1d20
This message was last edited by the player at 02:21, Fri 09 Oct 2020.

"Possible. We were skeptical at first, but the ones 'loaned' to us behaved more like constructs than living creatures," Daratha explains, "Hyuth claimed he had them fully under his control, and while I had my doubts about the man's character his contributions were too useful to turn away. If these gargoyles were...enslaved rather than created, that would explain why they are going berserk now instead of merely shutting down."

"Either way, they must be stopped."

"This shit right here's exactly why I don't trust mortal magic." the Halfling cursed, only partially under her breath.  It most certainly wasn't the time to throw insults or accusations about, but the compromise in principle - that the Lord Protector would permit such dangerous monstrosities, to actually indulge their use herself - because of a mage's assurances and because they merely seemed useful?  It disgusted her.  But her own feelings on the topic were irrelevant for the moment; what mattered then was addressing the threat for the sake of the survivors.

"Are th'Gargoyles stickin' close at th'mage's estate or d'ya figure they can be lured away?  If we can get 'em up near th'north gate, our builder here's got a set of half-pint catapults mounted on our wagons.  Bet they'd do a great service in this sorta fight.  Mundane shot won't hurt 'em, but it'll knock 'em outta th'sky sure as any." she gave a look U'lin's way, knowing how eager he'd been to put his creations to the test.  And in a fight against such foulness, she could think of no better application of Gond's designs.  "Too much a risk t'use 'em inside th'walls though, what with survivors scattered 'bout who knows where."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Fri 09 Oct 2020.

"The gargoyles refuse to move more than a hundred feet from the area- we tried that tactic and nearly paid for it," the Lord Protector explains, "you can try setting up nearby, but the entire area is thick with smoke and there might still be orc stragglers wandering around. I can spare a squad of three men to help arm your catapults, assuming you can clear a staging area..."

"Kolstagg's actual estate is in the South-West wing actually. No one's investigated it yet- too heavily warded. The gargoyles are all concentrated around the warehouse he built recently- a cover for whatever artifact he was digging up, based on the information from your friend here," she nods at U'lin, "its possible that something important remains there, or that they are simply protecting his corpse."

"The presence of the gargoyles have made it difficult for my men to evacuate the area- many survivors likely remain trapped in the North-East wing, especially since the Giants basically cut a straight path through the wall to the warehouse and all buildings in between," Daratha rumages through the documents, and pulls out a sketch of what appears to be a very old and very surly looking dwarf, "among the missing civilians is one Gheryn Foehammer, a master dwarven smith who retired in Triboar long before it was turned into the encampment it is today. His shop was in the path of the Fire Giants, and may contain magical weapons that could aid you against the gargoyles. If Gheryn is still alive, I would ask that you rescue him as well - though he refuses to smith for the Guard, his skill will be essential for rebuilding Triboar."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:32, Fri 09 Oct 2020.

U'lin stiffened at Moira's jab towards his catapults.  The Hin had been ever difficult in acceptance when it came to the Iron Beetle, but didn't she know that now was _not_ the time to throw insults about?

"They are most decidedly _not_ half-pint catapults.  They are quite excellently paired and balanced light catapults, with superior range, and an automatic rewinding mechanism, with offset triggering pulls, so you can manage both catapults even at a full gallop of the pulling horses...

"Ahem.  Yes, they are equipped for assistance.  They were designed for clearing a path of obstruction, but would work suitably for reach support."