In reply to Harkmur of the Granite (msg # 42):

Cal adds his voice to the conversation. "I agree with Harkmur. It sounds as if something is driving the monsters south. Cold comfort. Anything powerful enough to frighten away such monsters is powerful indeed."

Ranzarth nodded as he surveyed the damage "Can you repair the gate? Or should we use a few wagons to get things in place?"

Herodian's brow furrows in thought.

"You may be right," he says. "A new predator invading their territory certainly could have driven them here. I'm not sure that explains the unprovoked attack on this stronghold, though. Fear generally only makes beasts aggressive when they're cornered."

“Something so great and terrible that bulettes and other powerful monsters flee from it like frightened rabbits?  We might be in over our heads.”

Wandreck hopes the others appreciate his gift for understatement.

Lumwik lets the others postulate with the Baron.  While the spell that make him a giant still lasts, he starts butchering the bullettes for disposal, and any other heavy works that need done. Idle chatter did not suit his disposition.

Domnall nods solemnly at Azad’s words. ”Thank you. I am certain we will all rest more easily knowing you are present.”

“We would be most appreciative of your aid, Priestess,” the baron tells Salenth. Looking to one of his soldiers, he says, ”See to it that she is accompanied to the tower once the wounded are tended to.”

He looks to the ruined gate, a wearied sigh escaping his throat. “We have the means to barricade the opening until the smiths are able to repair it. I fear my soldiers will be required to set extra watches until the work is complete.”

Addressing the company, he says, ”Come. Follow me to the tower. No doubt you are weary from your journey and from battle. I will see to it that you are well fed and have quarters to rest in. I wish to hear more of your thoughts regarding what might be behind this turmoil.”

That evening, the adventurers find that the Baron’s table is generous, but the fare is simple, evidence of the hardship his holdings have faced in recent weeks. Domnall orders casks of ale and wine brought up from his cellars for the company’s enjoyment. His demeanor is humble, his gratitude for the party’s intervention evident. He listens with solemn interest as the theories of what might be transpiring within the Barrier Peaks are discussed.

As the meal nears its conclusion, the sentries outside call out, heralding the arrival of the elves. Domnall seems relieved at the news of their safe return. After a few moments, a female elf clad in studded leather armor enters the hall, a quiver of arrows cinched to her back, a longsword hanging from her belt. Her left bicep is wrapped in a bandage and she bears a recent cut on her forehead. Domnall rises to meet her and after she greets him formally, the two speak quietly for a moment.

Turning her attention to the gathered adventurers, she says, ”I am called Trisvyre. I am the leader of the scouts that serve the Baron here in northern Geoff. I am glad of your coming.”

“I am to guide you to the cave where we believe these monsters have come from. I and my fellow scouts just traveled here from that place. It remains...dangerous.”

"Are you referring to the monsters attacking the city, or the scarier monsters who are driving them to attack the city?"

Either way, he was preparing himself for a real splatter party.

"I speak of the creatures that have attacked this stronghold and others in the foothills," the scout replies. "We believe we have found where they originate from, but those of our number that have ventured into that place to learn more have not returned. We do not know who, or what, sends these monsters forth."

Speaking softly in elven "How many did your scouts number when you ventured near and around that place? How many souls have been sent to the evergreen forests?" He seemed concerned with those lost.

It’s the quality, not the quantity, Wandreck thinks, but says nothing.

"Six, all told," she answers quietly.

"Beyond leading you to the cave where these creatures have come from, I intend to accompany you within. I desire to see this slaughter ended and to know the fate of my fellow warriors."

Azad bows slightly, again making the sign of the Circle of Eight. "You are welcome to accompany us." He addresses the others. "What is the plan for the day? Help the patrols, secure the gate, aid the wounded? Or press forward and seek the source of the problem?"

"These other creatures you speak of.  Can you describe them?"

"We should rest and heal up tonight, gather what supplies we need and head out in the morning. I will take a watch on the gates to keep an eye out for any other odd creatures along with your guard." Ranzarth replies as he finishes a small amount of the food on the table

Trisvyre relates to Harkmur the account of the monsters that she has encountered alongside her fellow scouts while searching for the cave where she believes they have originated from. Most mirror what the Baron has described, though she also indicates that the elves did battle with a hideous creature with a large, squat body, an enormous maw, and tentacles that Harkmur and several of his fellow adventurers recognize as an otyugh. The fight is notable because it took place within the forest at midday and otyughs are known to be subterranean scavengers.

"I will make ready for us to depart at first light," the scout tells the company, hearing Ranzarth's suggestion. "We have fresh mounts for any that have need of them."

"I have some additional supplies that may be of help to you," Domnall informs the group, "I will be sure they are ready for you when you depart in the morning."

OOC: Please let me know if anyone has any additional business to see to at Domnall's stronghold prior to me moving the game ahead to the next chapter. Spellcasters, please go ahead and refresh your lists of memorized/prayed for spells for the following day.

Ella nods to the scout, then turns to the Baron. "Please tell me where the wounded are being kept. Before we leave, I would give my goddess's aid to your people as much as I can." She uses her remaining spells after the dinner to aid the injured of the stronghold before making ready to leave the next morning.

Wandreck is glad he’s no mage... he sometimes has trouble remembering the names of members of his own family.

After seeing to the wounded and dying in the immediate aftermath of the battle, Salenth welcomed the dinner. It was a good relief and reprieve from the horrors of war. Now, as she listened to her companions ask the Baron their questions, Salenth couldn't help but wonder how much more the city could take before it crumbled. As it is, their able bodied were falling swiftly as the frequency of battles intensified.

When Trisvyre was introduced, Salenth offered the elf a nod of respect. The elven scout had seen much of the horrors first hand and there was no better guide than her.

"Thank you for your hospitality Baron and nice to meet you Trisvyre. I believe there is still much to do in the infirmary, but I suppose some rest before the journey tomorrow is most welcome," Salenth said. With that, the Priestess of St. Cuthbert retreated back to the quarters assigned to her for the night to pray to her god for His blessings and prepared herself for the coming day.

"Yes," Herodian says when Ella excuses herself to go check on the injured. "I should offer what aid I can to the injured, too. I will see the rest of you in the morning. Sleep well."

With that, he gets up from the table and goes with her to the infirmary. After healing as many of the guards as he can he retires to his room. He takes a sheaf of parchment, a jar of ink, and a quill from his pack and turns the little dining table in the corner of the room into a makeshift writing desk. While the scout's report and the events of the day are still relatively fresh in his mind he commits them to ink and paper. When he is finished writing, he blots the ink and puts his supplies back into his pack, leaving the page he penned on the table to dry. He would be able to add it to the pack safely in the morning.

Finally, he ended his day with the ritual of prayer and study that filled him with the divine and arcane energies that were his to command.

Ranzarth gathers his items and moves to the wall as he takes part in the watch for part of the evening before he retires to the quarters assigned to rest well and prepare for the next day.

Having little interest in tending to the wounded, Wandreck heads to his quarters where he intends to count gem-encrusted sheep until sleep comes like a loyal mistress.  With mead wishes and platinum dreams.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Wed 21 Aug 2019.

Loading himself down heavily with the offerings, Harkmur stays at the table, losing himself in the firelight.  Gently nursing another cup of wine, he tries to make sense of the day.  The appearance of beasts from the north, the strange actions of the Otyugh.

"Something is very wrong.", he mutters to himself.

He winces and reaches towards his right knee as a bolt of pain raises through it.  An old injury he suffered from a fall, it has become his bird of ill-omen, appearing when times ahead are sure to become rough.

The watches pass without incident. Dawn finds Domnall’s stronghold quiet and undisturbed.