”Damned flies,” Gregar curses. He seats at them a few more times, then closes his eyes. Reaching to the divine spirit, he says a few whispered words in an ancient tongue. From his belt pouch he retrieved a small silver mirror and traced a symbol on its surface, over and over again. Soon, a bubble of divine protection expands around him, at least keeping the worst assaults from the flies.

Refocusing his attention on the room Gregar begins searching again.

22:33, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 18 using 1d20.  Search +3 = 21
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Fri 03 July 2020.

 Nashford approaches the more successful searchers and pitches an idea. "We could offer the deceased some dignity by cleaning them up a little bit before sending the news off to the relevant authorities, concerned parties or what have you. Should be easy enough with with my magic. Although, before we do anything like that are either of you skilled at crime scene investigations? " 

Sefira joins the rest of the party in the field, as Nashford begins speaking.

Inside the house Gregar's search proves in vain finding nothing of value, except that once again in this location as Reyshanel's house, anything of any real monetary value is absent. Indicating that not only was the farmer's family murdered but all their valuables had been stolen as well.

"I've never seen this many dead people." Brock explains to the new friends who are now walking this field of corpses with him. "The circus lost a lot of people today, and to what end? I feel like we're trying to solve a puzzle that has 100 bits to it but we only have 5 bits of it sitting in front of us. We know it should go together somehow but we're missing an awful lot the things that would make it fit."

He shook his head in the negative. "I've never had to turn my wits to studying something like this. What are you thinking that we could figure out besides the immediate way that these folk died?"

09:18, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 12 using 1d20+4.  Investigate.

  "Hmm, there has to be something we aren't seeing. Like a clue or something. " Nashford answers Brock's question. His brow then furrows and he begins to look around. " I'll admit that I'm not really the murder mystery type. But we can't let the trail run cold if we're going to find these monsters before they hurt anyone else. "

 <OOC> Okay, what should we roll for this?

<O.O.C.>An investigation is not needed, the group has a faint idea of which way they have gone. The disturbed and flattened grass behind the house is the most obvious clue the group has found.

"We should go where this goes." Brock suggested pointing towards the big stretch of flat grass. "There's nothing else we can do here for these people. And as I was reminded, we told the circus folks we'd look for the people that did this to them."

If everyone was in agreement he was ready to start walking that way.

Gregar came out of the house and filled a cupped hand with water. He splashed it on his face, then took a big mouthful, swishing it around and spitting it on the ground.
He was sweaty and his mouth tasted of bile. All for naught as he had found nothing.

"They stripped the entire house of anything of value and left no clues. Somewhat hard to believe, but I gave the house a thorough search, despite the stench."

He nodded in agreement at Fineanvil's suggestion of following the trail.

Garrett made no move initially to start moving or cleaning up the corpses as Nashford seemed to suggest. He didn't want to monkey around with dead people he wasn't responsible for killing. Then everyone else rejoined them as well.

He gave a nod. "Sure. Aye. Let's keep on this trail. Maybe there yet be someone we can save."

4:45

Even the most inexperienced tracker could follow the trail left in the trampled grass. It is wide and travels for a long way.

About twenty minutes into the trail the grass begins to thin and opens up to a magnificent view of rolling hills littered with bleached white boulders of all different sizes dotted among rolling waves of vibrant green knee high grass and the occasional herd of grazing goats or sheep. Further into the distance an amazing view of the Cloud Peaks mountain range can be seen in a blue haze due to it's distance from you.

However beautiful the vista may be, there is a view of more importance to your characters than nature. Off in the distance maybe half a mile or so in a depression between two hills is a wagon that seems to have broken a wheel on one of the many boulders.

Your characters have a nice height advantage from this distance being at the top of a hill looking down on them. There are at least six of them mulling about the wagon one working on the wheel while the others are arrayed seemingly in an guard perimeter. You feel that by keeping low at this distance you will not be seen, but to advance while standing will leave you exposed for a great distance, perhaps crawling closer might keep you in the knee high grass and keep you obscured as you get closer.

O.O.C. Any further detail about the people at the wagon, or the wagon it's self, will require a perception check.

If you choose to advance with stealth I will need stealth rolls. However if you choose to advance by crawling through the knee high grass you will do so with advantage.

Gregar crouches down and whispers, ”I’ll slither down there and get a closer look.” He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. They were probably too far away to hear anything.

Getting down on his belly, he got closer to the encampment to get a better look.


16:21, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 7 using 1d20.
16:21, Today: Gregar Gergundi rolled 18 using 1d20.  Stealth with advantage. So with my +2 that’s a 20!

Garrett walked along the 'trail' with the others, keeping his eyes and ear peeled for any danger or ambush. Mostly because it just seemed too easy. Things weren't adding up in his mind, and he was struggling not to focus too much on it. Either these....whoever these people were...were not concerned about anyone following them or it was a trap.

He halted when he saw the wagon. Could this really be who they were after. He got down and peered down at them. He glanced at Gregar, "Only you? Why not sneak up on them through the tall grass?"

22:08, Today: Garrett rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  Perception.

"I'll come along with you to get a closer look. I'm sure I can't really tell much about what is goinig on from here."

Brock wasn't in heavy armor like so many of his family and friends would be. To an extent, he'd feel safer. But none of this was about being overly safe.


Thank goodness for advantage otheriwse ook, I found another super low d20 roll
Stealth Roll 23

13:15, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 23 using 1d20+4.  Stealth Roll 2, Advantage.

13:15, Today: Brock Fineanvil rolled 6 using 1d20+4.  Stealth Roll 1.

After the two begin crawling off to scout ahead Sefira moves forward and gently elbows Garrett, and with a wink says "Don't worry "Good-luck", I will stick back and keep ya safe."

What Garret can see with his perception:

The group gathered around the wagon are all wearing armor, probably leather or hide, can't really tell. But you notice they are all armed with long blades on their hips, probably a scimitar from the shape of the curve.

The wagon is loaded with what looks like burlap sacks one of which can be seen to move from time to time. From the look of the wagon it is likely the farmer's stolen wagon and his two horses.

As Gregar and Brock approach:

Crawling this distance over hard dirt and over rocky spots while trying to keep below the grass line and not cause a noticeable disturbed trail in the grass is not as easy a task as one would expect, and is not a fun exercise; indeed it is a laborious endeavor of fortitude as your muscles begin to scream from strenuous activity they are not used to and the heat of the day begins to take it's toll.

But for all the discomfort and pain; the effort paid off in the form of arriving at the wagon unnoticed. As you approach you are able to make it to within twenty feet of the wagon before stopping.

The group consists of six individuals, five men, and one buxom redhead. One man who is working switching out a damaged wagon axle with a new one, and the other five arrayed in a five pointed defense perimeter about ten feet out from the wagon. All dressed with time worn and well used leather armor, and on each of their hips is a scimitar.

A large man missing his left eye groans. "Ugh... it's hot as hell out here, you done yet?"
Another man balding with some grey in his beard shouts back. "Shut it Havos. This is going to take time, and the more you pester me the longer it is going to take!"

Towards the left side of the camp a scrawny tanned man pipes up. "yeah; shut it Havos, all you had to do today was be a getaway driver, I had to sit in a putrid house for ten hours, with Mr. Personality over there, who used up all my bolts by the way!" he says throwing a thumb up over his shoulder pointing to another man in the formation who stands stoically methodically petting a white rabbit.

A few moments pass and the redheaded woman speaks up. "I think it's obvious that the circus isn't coming Dallon." She says to the man petting the rabbit, and walking to the wagon reaching into the back and pulling out a canteen from it and drinking, watching as one of the burlap sacks moves reflexively away from her briefest of glancing touches.

Without looking back to the woman the man speaks with a voice as though it were gravel. "You will get back in formation Reyshanel..." He says in a tone that implies some sort of authority. Then Reyshanel turns and leans against the wagon throwing both of her arms up on the railing as one might when reclining on a couch, and says "Or what? You're just an initiate like us you don't out rank any of us, and if I recall correctly Cyanwrath gave me this mission to bring him the acrobat for his harem, and it was me who asked Mondrath for you on my team, so if you think about it... I am the one in charge here, not you." She said with a smirk looking about the other members of the group until a loud squealing can be heard before a sick snapping noise and a thud.

The man now known as Dallon callously and without averting his gaze calmly snapped the neck of the rabbit and dropped it to the ground. This action caused the whole group to ready their weapons and turn to face him; for her part Reyshanel's smirk was gone and she was dead serious now hand on her scimitar.

Dallon spoke again. "I will make cultist, Reyshanel. I have spent years trying and have had to work my way up the initiate ladder the hard way..." He says turning around to face Reyshanel. "I was never able to flash a pretty smile and suck a dick to jump to the top of the ladder, and if you cost me my place I will destroy you in ways you have never even imagined."

Just then the older gentleman working on the wagon piped up. "Alright you morons get back in formation and keep an eye out, I don't want anything to keep me from the raid on Greenest, I have had my eye on this cute bar wench for a week now, not to mention her father's coin purse."

Dallon and Reyshanel continued to stare each other down before Reyshanel smirked again and relaxed. "We can settle this later Dallon, preferably in bed. Bishop is right we can't let anything hold us up, the raid will be our time to shine, and besides Bishop there is old, fat, and balding, this raid is his only hope to get with Kalsey." She says as they all begin to laugh, except for the man working on the wagon who chides back, "Fuck you Reyshanel!"

The woman once again takes her place in formation and the group goes back to monitoring their surroundings, and silence falls across the camp save the hammering by Gace on the axle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:50, Mon 13 July 2020.

Garrett didn't like being ignored or left behind, he found. His eyes narrowed and he frowned in thought. Finally, he shook his head. He had given them a good head start, but he started making his own way towards the wagon. If violence broke out, he didn't want to be a long distance away anyway.

08:36, Today: Garrett rolled 15 using 2d20+5, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.

Gregar looked at Brock with a questioning look. He pointed to his weapon and shrugged his shoulders. This seemed to be their quarry. Seems like attack was on the menu as there were clearly more of these ruffians. Now was their chance to defeat their enemies and rescue the captives in the bags.

 "Why is everyone moving up? I thought we were waiting for the scouts to get back before acting. I guess I'll see for myself what's got everyone so exited." Nashford mutters as he attempts to sneak up to the others.

 <OOC>Got a nine even with advantage. Unless Sefira wants to stop me. Otherwise hijinks.

Brock seemed to be stuck in a constant state of shock. One new shock after the other. It was one thing to think that one of his neighbors was involved in such terrible things. Even after finding unspeakable things in her home, it was still another thing to see her hear, hear her confirming that yes, indeed, she was involved in making all these hideous things happen.

He did see Gregar point to weapons, like he thought it was a good idea to attack these people. He would much rather run away, back to town. But there were the captives. He took a deep steadying breath and gave a terse and yes nervous nod in the affirmative.

Watching Garrett ignore her and slide into the grass and then Nashford walk into the grass as an obvious distraction Sefira rolls her eyes and herself slips into the grass in a crawl behind Garrett.

----

O.O.C.I will need initiative rolls from everyone. Also keep in mind that if Gregar and Brock initiate combat, your allies are half a mile from you, I doubt they would make it to you in time to help in the combat. Also you can choose to wait until your allies are closer to do anything if you prefer.

"Hey check this out, looks like someone is coming... A halfling I think, or maybe a gnome, can't tell." The man fat man missing his eye now known as Havos comments.

The others begin to move to his side of the perimeter they had made, to see for themselves. "Is it the circus?" Bishop, who is still working on the wagon asks.

"No don't think so, looks like he is alone, but he is making a straight line for us. An adventurer maybe..." Havos responds.

"More like a fool, if he thinks he can take us all on by himself, anyone else out there?" Reyshanel pipes in as she comes to stand next to Havos.

"No just the short man, or woman... again can't tell." Havos says with a shrug.

"Alright well lets wait for the fool to get here, see what's up and if he is unaware of the circus, we act like nothing is up, then stick him up and rob him, maybe kill him. If he is here on behalf of the circus we just kill him and rob him. So everyone spread out a little try and look innocent enough, and we will see what happens." Reyshanel orders, causing everyone but Bishop to move around ten feet apart or so all watching the halfling as he bounds toward the camp.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:33, Sat 18 July 2020.

Garrett kept moving slowly and steathily towards the people with the wagon. He couldn't hear what they were saying just yet.

As Nashford reaches the group he is startled by the fact that they seem to be able to see him. When he hears a woman shout.

"Hey!, you... Yes you Halfling. What are you doing out here, trying to sneak up on us like that?" A red headed woman says stepping forward and pointing a scimitar in Nashford's direction.

By this point the other members of the party have gathered together and had a chance to communicate with one another about what is going on. The party is currently 10ft away from any member of the Bandits.

O.O.C. Sorry for the late post, but it is up today as promised.

Garrett froze when he heard the 'Hey, you' call out. But then relaxed, if only slightly, as the voice continued and it turned out it was Nashford who'd been spotted and not him. He glanced Nashford's way but didn't make eye contact. He didn't want the halfling to be tempted to look his direction.

He glanced at the others near him. He kept his voice quiet but not a whisper since those actually tended to carry farther. "should we see how they react to Nashford a bit more, or just attack now?"

Gregar considered. The inadvertent distraction Nashford was providing could allow them a more opportune attack. Gregar didn’t want to show his hand so soon, but this might be the best time. Plus, if Nashford got much closer he might be engaged anyway, and that would make ranged attacks more difficult.

Making a decision, he nodded to Garrett, then stood and fired his crossbow at the nearest raider.

[OOC: I rolled an 11. Probably a miss. ]

 Acknowledging the group before him as the probable villains in their current escapade, Nashford considers his options. They would most likely assault his outright if he was to approach them alone with no backup. But he knew his  friends were close by if he needed help. Maybe he could get them to talk, buy some time for the group to take up advantageous ambush positions.

 So he decided to approach. "It's alright I'm a traveler. I just want to ask for directions. "

 Then he noticed the crossbow bolt. That would definitely put him in danger of they noticed. Maybe he could play it off long enough to buy him time to escape to saftey. Although in his heart he knew that this was probably one of those times that he had to fight to survive.

 <OOC>Does Nashford know where the rest of the party is hiding?

Garrett shook his head. There was nothing much for it once things started up. He quickly stood and drew his rapier as he darted forward the ten feet to one of the cultists. He stabbed out with the weapon, but his aim wasn't the best after having stood up and run forward in a hurried dash like that.

23:30, Today: Garrett rolled 13,4 using d20+5,d8+3.  Rapier vs nearest non-Reyshanel cultist.