[Triboar - A City Ablaze]

The crossroads city has changed much since the War of the Silver Marches, where the bustling trade-city was transformed into a staging point for the war efforts of the Lord's Alliance against the massed orcish hordes from the North. Tall stone walls each over 30ft high surround the the entire city. Watch towers dot the perimeter, guarding the four archways welcoming travelers into the busy trading post, now each sealed behind sets of thick, wooden gates. The tall tower of the Lord Protector in the North-West wing of the city stands as a testament to the military power of the Lord's Alliance, the three-headed boar of the city's namesake flying high and mighty above.

Tonight, it all burns.



Rushing towards the city Moira can see that the massive gates have been shattered open, the discarded remains of an enormous ogre-sized battering ram tossed to a side, broken in two. Warehouses and buildings blaze with uncontrolled flames, thick plumes of smoke blotting out the night sky. Amidst the low tolling of the city bell one can catch the lingering cries of battle - steel on steel, the crack of wood, the low roar of an ogre.

The air smells like burnt flesh.

Triboar's inner fort, the tower and keep of the Lord Protector, seem to be one of the few places not ablaze. U'lin and Moira can catch the faint figures of humanoids in armor launching arrows from the top of the keep. The thick smoke and heavy glare from the flames makes it difficult to make out the activity in the streets of the city- but U'lin does notice small bands of figures breaking into burning houses, or engaging in combat amidst the chaos.

LINK TO MAP

The party is approaching from the West road.

Both Eastern Wings are heavily ablaze, the Western ones only partially.
The fortified location on the North-West wing is the Lord Protector's Keep, and seems to have some surviving defenders.
The streets are populated with an unknown number of what might be looters/soldiers(?).
The outer walls are littered with signs of a pitched battle or siege, one long over by the time the party arrives.

How do you guys wish to proceed?
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:48, Mon 05 Oct 2020.

At some point amid her curses and grumblings, Moira's language turned totally unintelligible to those gathered amid the wagons - she'd shifted back to her native tongue, which was always a clear sign that she was genuinely angry.  She brought the wagon to a halt as they crested the hill to see such chaos before them, only to quickly come to a decision and yank the reins to pull northward.  Not into the fray, but rather along the road of the outer wall that led toward a smaller community of buildings to the northwest.

Moira's going to steer the wagon further northwest toward what I think is a quarry?  Given the whole situation as it stands, we can't really risk driving right into the fray and I doubt the horses would be keen on running right into a blazing battle anyway.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:59, Mon 05 Oct 2020.

The quarry appears abandoned - and for good reason. In the light of the burning city, Moira can see that the houses have been ransacked, their doors and windows smashed open (in one case, the walls as well). Two corpses, bloodied and broken, lie where they were tossed haphardly onto the road, limbs bent at odd angles.

There is an empty stable here, though the doors have been broken in. Some old stacks of hay and a rusty trough are all that's left.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:17, Mon 05 Oct 2020.

A hasty drive amid the already-ransacked buildings was as good as Moira could hope for in the whole mess.  She worked the wagons amid the buildings where they would have some cover amid the far-cast shadows and set the brake, though she'd barely had time to lock it in place before she was already clambering for her crossbow.

It was Nightstone all over again... but this time something could still be done.

"Miss Emma, y'stay in th'wagons.  Keep y'self and Thente safe.  Anythin' comes pokin' 'round like a threat, y'take th'reins and haul outta here, y'understand?" the Halfling barked a sharp order back at Emma as she leaped down from the driver's seat.  As she landed she staggered and stumbled - the immediate surge of adrenaline at the onset of danger wasn't enough to fully overcome her fatigue, but she steadied herself all the same.  She shook her head to try and clear her wits, then waved to her companions.  "Y'three, we're goin' on foot!  Stay close and don't get separated."

The long ride through the night had been draining, but Claire's youth and rural upbringing had gifted her with a robust constitution, allowing her to stay awake and relatively alert. If anything, the scent of smoke and the glow of distant fires prompted rising adrenaline in the young woman. Tireless Glory kept pace the whole way, only halting with a whinny as the burning town came into view.

"Merciful Mother..." she breathed.

Jolted back to reality by Moira's commanding presence, she began preparing for battle. Sword unsheathed, bow slung and arrows sat ready in their quiver. Even were it not for the divine prompting stirring her soul, it was clear what had to be done. She would not fail the Great Mother.

There was to be no rest for the wicked.

DC 10 Con save vs exhaustion: 11
14:10, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 11 using 1d20+1.

U'lin staggered, shaken and disturbed as he emerged from the Beetle.  Tears ran ashes down both cheeks, crying for the lost creations and works of quality, the cradles of innovation and bonds of friendship and civilization, creating to protect and defend the world.

He swallowed, echoed Moira's direction for Emma to remain in the Beetle, looking after Thente.
"They have taken it.  They have taken it."  "Yes, they have taken what they sought here, for this scene to remain.  But what did Triboar once hold to warrant such horror, to strive against such strength, to ravage with such vehemence."  With his work on great craftsmanship, his workings on mighty items of power... concern was a clarion trumpet of his feelings.

Gently, gathering himself, he encouraged his fellow Gondite, "Hrmph.  Herrm.  Emma - keep praying.  Gond hear you.  Gond's voice is truly with you."

The firbolg offered another prayer for those remaining behind, then stepped up alongside Moira and Claire, near a pair of haystacks, and readied for trouble.

"You may come out.  That haystack will not provide you cover against the raiders inside.  Come tell us what has occurred - perhaps we can still aid some of the poor folk - I see many heroic guards protecting at least part of the city."

Silence greets U'lins' words for a few seconds. There's a soft hiccup, then a rustle as the haystacks part. From within emerges a human boy, barely seven years of age. Dirty, sodden and covered in straw. His eyes are red from crying, his wild dirt-stained hair still recognizably the same shade of blond as the bodies outside.

The child looks from U'lin to Claire, then bursts into tears once more.

Though Moira had paused in her haste when U'lin spoke up about someone in hiding, part of her wished she hadn't.  Realization painted her with a stricken look that immediately boiled back up into the keen fury her company had so often seen mar her.  Without so much as a word the Halfling turned sharply on her heel and took off at pace for the distant city gates.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:06, Tue 06 Oct 2020.

Moira, if you're rushing for the gates, give me a Perception check (I assume she is looking for targets? What are her goals?)

Same for anyone else immediately following her. Feel free to cast spells, prep buffs...etc.

Anyone can attempt a Charisma check to calm the boy down enough for him to talk. As a human cleric of Chauntea and a familiar sight to most villages and towns, Claire makes this check at advantage.

As mentioned in the OOC, Moira's hoping to get the attention of some Triboar soldiers she can whistle down so they can A) point her in the right direction and B) not shoot her thinking she's a threat in all the confusion.  Otherwise she's just going to identify the first obvious threat she sees attacking the guards or citizens and shoot it.

Perception at Disadvantage from Exhaustion
Moira Ruadh rolled 8 using 1d20+4

Moira's real tired, y'all.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Tue 06 Oct 2020.

"Oh you poor dear..." Maternal instinct stirred within Claire as she set her sword down, gently planting the blade in the dirt beside her. Fighting back tears of pity, she scooped the crying boy up with outstretched arms, embracing him tightly and planting a kiss on his forehead. "There, there, you're safe with us now..."

She quickly brought the child back to the relative safety of the Iron Beetle and Emma's care. Setting him down inside the Gondite sanctuary, she dabbed his face clean and offered him some food and water. "You've been a very brave young man, sweetie. Now, I need you to be even braver, okay? Can you tell us what happened? Everything you remember." The priestess' tone was soothing but urgent, conscious of both the boy's fragile spirit and the need to move quickly.

By Chauntea's mercy, there had been one less tragedy today. But there would be vengeance for the rest.

Persuasion (with advantage): 26
11:33, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 26 using 1d20+6.
11:33, Today: Claire Larkspur rolled 8 using 1d20+6.

OOC: Expend 1 trail rations.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:07, Tue 06 Oct 2020.

The boy simply continues crying, hugging Claire tightly and refusing to let go. He refuses the hard, dry rations but sips the water, blubbering almost incoherently into the priestess's waist;

"Big green men...came on axebirds," he shudders, "mamma said to hide. Papa took the stick. Big green men kept coming, they laughed. Papa shouted. Mama screamed. I kept hiding, I'm-I'm a good boy, mama s-said to hide."

"T-the ground shook. Big green men searched. Took the horses. Took everything. Ground kept shaking. Something r-roared. I smelled s-smoke but I didn't leave. I hid. I was s-scared..."

---

As Moira approaches the western gates she can see that a small battle had been waged between the defenders and the attackers. The dead bodies of orcs and guards litter the broken gates. No one seems to be manning the walls. Burning buildings surround the town square, mostly on the eastern side of town. From her position near the west gate, Moira can hear sounds of fighting echoing down the alleyways to the north- frightened screaming mix with gutteral laughter, though her senses are unable to make out the exact numbers involved.

All the smoke, the choking heat of the fires, and the exhaustion in her body that was fended off only by stubbornness and adrenaline didn't make for especially good conditions or judgment.  Nor did the raw fury that seared through the Halfling's blood which drove her to defy even her own orders to not split up.  Somewhere in the back of her thoughts was a more sensible voice demanding she wait, that she hold place for the others to catch up with her, that she remember what happened at Nightstone and at Hillsfar when going alone would only lead to tragedy.

But that really was the problem; she did remember Nightstone and Hillsfar.  She remembered them all too well.

Full movement and Dash to continue on into town, following the sounds from the north

Bonus Action - Hide for stealth, at Disadvantage from Exhaustion
Moira Ruadh rolled 14 using 1d20+9

Hiding is easy - the chaos and smoke that thickens the air and blots the moon casts long shadows in the alleywaays on the North-West wing. Mostly military buildings, an absent part of Moira's mind notes- built of stone or brick, hence their resistance to the flames.

Fire-proof doesn't mean ogre-proof however. And that is what Moira finds.

A big, gray ogre; sack held over one shoulder, a longspear (more a battering ram really) in the other. A pair of Triboar guards- one already bleeding out on the floor, stand between it and a group of frightened-looking civilians. Circling them are two burly orcs, also carrying sacks, riding what seem to be trained axebeaks mounts.



The raiders laugh mockingly as the ogre takes another lazy swipe at the remaining guard, while the civilians scream in terror.

Is U'lin, Claire and/or Zaiya following Moira? You may assume you are right behind her (though Claire might be delayed, depending on how long Moira waits)
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 00:22, Wed 07 Oct 2020.

In her time at Goldenfields, senior priestesses had wisely advised clerical aspirants that their flocks would look to them as the very face and hands of the Great Mother, especially in times of trial. They were to be serene and stable as the very earth on which they stood. Yet earth unlike stone, was not cold and unmoving, but possessed of the warmth and ardor as the creatures it sustained. It was all Claire could do to keep her composure as the little boy sobbed, telling her of an experience that would likely scar him ever after. Save by some miracle, his parents were probably gone. She hugged him tighter against her waist, that he would not see the tearing anger welling up in her own eyes.

But she could wait no longer, not while there may be lives to be preserved yet. "You did the right thing. Exactly as your parents would have wanted. You're safe with us now, and that's what matters." She gestures to the war wagon around him. "Welcome to the Iron Beetle, blessed by Gond, the god of smiths, himself. Now, I need you to stay here, with big sister Emma, until we return. Do what she tells you to do, okay?"

Difficult though it may have been, Claire eventually pries herself away...only to find Moira missing. "Moira?" she calls out. It was not like the halfling to have gone on ahead alone. Confound it.

There was no time. Picking her sword back up, Claire mounts Glory once again, thundering off toward the western gates with no heed for stealth.

Moira's glaring eyes scanned the scene quickly to assess what could be done.  Her judgment may have been clouded to the point that she was willing to strike out alone, but not so much that she'd be dumb on how to counterattack.  She quickly picked a suitable target and leveled her crossbow, safe behind the cover of an overturned barrel and the drifting plumes of dense smoke.

All things considered, she actually felt like she could handle an Ogre on her own.  But not when there were a pair of riders backing it up.  One on one was its own affair, but numbers needed whittling down.  She leveled a bolt at the back of one of the Orcs and let fly, already on the move to take cover in a new hiding spot before the bolt could even strike its target.


Action: Crossbow vs. Riding Orc 1 w/Advantage from being Hidden
Moira Ruadh rolled 24 using 1d20+6

Damage: 20
Crossbow - Moira Ruadh rolled 11 using 1d8+3
Sneak Attack - Moira Ruadh rolled 9 using 3d6

Bonus Action: Hide - Stealth at Disadvantage from Exhaustion
Moira Ruadh rolled 13 using 1d20+9

Movement: to a new spot within 30' if necessary to maintain hidden status


And here goes Moira, doing the exact thing I always say Rogues should never do.

Re: Claire catching up - Moira moved at a Dash to the gates but, once she went into Stealth, would have to move at half-speed, back down to 15' per round beyond that point.  So even with the delay in leaving, Claire should be able to catch up pretty quickly at Glory's full 120' per round Dash speed.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:01, Wed 07 Oct 2020.

U'lin had backed off several feet, positioned between any troubles of the town and the boy, trying to give Claire's warmth and better speaking skills a space to work their magic.  He didn't try to hide here, for a firbolg face was the least of worries in this space, and that little bit of misdirection might be needed later.

He smiled as Claire once again turned a horrible nightmare of a place into a confirmation of safety, and peace.  Even his own mental footing found repurchase, and he wiped away his cheek stripes, and offered a gentle, supportive smile, nodding in agreement to Claire's suggestion of peace in the wagon.

~"Moira?  She's right..." he half-turned to where the halfling had been standing moments before, stopping when she wasn't there.  His head looked both ways, and he half-turned back quizzically.  "Well now.  She was just here.  Do you think she scouted ahead?  She always says to tell people where you're going.  Or was that walking - big feet? Why would sh- oh gods, no!  Moira!"

"EMMA!  Protect the boy inside!"

The firbolg took off running, long legs cutting swathes of distance, spurred by memory flashbacks of the hin archer refusing to back off when the giant had attacked the Amphail feast, and refusing to flee when badly hurt in the second hill giant fight.  And spooked by the hag.  And upset about orcs in the area.  And exhausted, not thinking clearly.  Had U'lin been discussing the catapults or was that just in his head - No!  Focus! Not blaming!  Get to Moira!  Protect his family!

As he charged forward into the unfolding scene, it felt like another's hand reaching for Thente's javelin, waiting a stride or two for one of the circling axebeak riders to circle back in front, and then releasing...

A snaking bolt of hungry white and azure lightning leapt across crates, fallen spars, fallen bodies and bit at the axebeak rider and his mount, continuing on to draw together into the javelin once more, driving deep for the giant's barn-sized meaty back.

U'lin lifted his shield of faith, bellowing for attention as he tried to pull attention away from the halfing - and the huddled, helpless townsfolk.  Part of U'lin's attunement to the world mentally pegged 'Hin archer, mobile, unhurt' to the blur of shadow off to his left, but he was committed.

---

U'lin's passive, even at a -5 for disadvantage here catches a 14, so thanks for thinking of us in your rolls, Moira - always thinking you are :p

Mv to 120' of the giant.

*If it's possible to hit both axebeaks and the giant, U'lin will angle as works - not quite sure about their circling pattern but figured at somepoint at least one rider would be the party's direction.

21:26, Today: U'lin rolled 13,21,6,20 using d20+4,d20+4,d6,4d6.  javelin/adv/dmg/lightning.
Not bad, not bad.
AC 21 on the giant.
26dmg on the giant

DexSv13/half 20(lightning) for axebeak, orc rider.

Another sob from the boy, who simply clutches Claire tighter. Only after careful coaxing from the cleric and Emma herself (and what might be a small bag of sweets the girl had smuggled from her shop) does he nod, settling down inside the wagon as though it was the safest place in the Realms.

Emma simply nods at U'lin as he leaves, continuing her quiet prayer to Gond. Her hands though, unpack a heavy-looking crossbow from her baggage, along with several vials of rather nasty looking acid.

"Gond be with you, U'lin," the alchemist forces a smile as she ratchets the crossbow, "may he bless your tools - in peace and in war."

---

As Moira fires her bolt there is burst of thunder, an almost familiar crack of lightning as U'lin hurls the Javelin from behind her. The sudden explosion of sound catches the entire group by surprise, just as Moira's bolt pierces the nearest orc, killing him instantly. Meanwhile, U'lins' javelin practically disintegrates the remaining orc and her mount before punching a black, fist-sized hole in the ogre's chest.

The orc falls, her mount burnt to crisp. The ogre doesn't. (Both Orcs are dead, one Axebeak mount is panicked and the other dead as well)

The huge, hulking brute roars in pain and agony, flailing wildly with its pole. The standing guard catches the blunt end of the makeshift weapon on his chest and is sent careening into the civilians. Beady eyes fix on U'lin as the source of it's pain- and the creature turns to flee.

Not gonna bother with initiative. U'lin and Moira- go ahead and make your second turns attacks. Claire and Zaiya may assume they arrive the round after.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:42, Wed 07 Oct 2020.