Bhaakon's Brinewall Legacy IC

[Bhaakon]

"If that's all, I should really get some rest," says Walthus, and reaches for his door. He pauses to thank you once more before disappearing into the house completely, "thank you again for the spell of healing. I really wish I could be of more help with the goblins." Finally he closes the door, then locks it and throws a deadbolt. You're left alone once more, the only sound the constant buzzing of your attendant swarm of insects.

@Kasuka

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The search for a possible culprit proves much easier than you'd hoped.

While the others discuss their next move, you circle the Warden's house and spot a pen out back, set off from the rest of the island by a shoulder-high brick wall. There are a half-dozen snakes in the enclosure, from skinny little adolescents to big fat adult vipers as big around as your arm. They're sunning themselves on flat rocks that almost seem to have been placed there for the very purpose, and a large ceramic bowl of water has been placed on the ground near the back door into Walthus's home.

[Bad Situation]

Kneeling down a safe distance away from the closure, Kasuka hums in thought. "He keeps the snakes as pets. Strange, that he does not carry anti-venom for emergencies then. What a curious halfling. He is not as skilled a naturalist as he seems to think he is..." Eyes lingering on the snakes for a moment, Kasuka returns to the group and points to where he returned from, "Found warden's snake pen. Vipers, as he said. I do not believe he carries antitoxins though. His mannerisms are less than adequate for a naturalist. Information more forthcoming from witch, perhaps."

What kind of man got bitten by the snakes he raised as pets? The kind who lacked the necessary cures for what was probably a regular occurrence. Men like this did not have worthwhile information insofar as goblin extermination was concerned.

Besides, people who failed to invite guests into their homes were rude no matter what.

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

"Most curious indeed", Eirik said, scratching his head as they kept walking. "There's three reasons why a man would wish to spend his life in the woods alone. Either he's touched by the gods, he is a hunter or he is simply off in the head. And this Walthus fellow struck me as neither a follower of the Wind and the Waves nor a ranger. Frankly, I think me might be simply... what's the expression... 'off his rocker'?"

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Still, just in case... Bardic knowledge (1d20+2)[8]

"Anyway, since our meeting with the Warden proved... less than prosperous, perchance we ought to seek out the so-called witch instead?" he suggested as they kept walking. I wonder if she's anything like Greatmother Sigrid? he wondered to himself, remembering his great-grandmother from his mother's side. The Old Norn, some called the statuesque old woman with clothes of grey and green, branches of evergreen spun into her long, grey locks and strange paraphernalia - chicken legs, rodent skulls and small branches of berry-bearing cloudberry and blueberry even in the dead of winter - hanging from her neck. For most Ulfen, she was something to be frightened off. Even his father had stepped carefully around her - a thane who had once punched a giant-blooded huscarl, watching his tongue and manners before a woman who had probably been around when Aroden died.

Yet for Eirik and his mother, she had always been a stern but kind soul. She had little taste for tales of warfare or the commercial exploits of his father, but she always smiled when either her grand-daughter or great grand-son plucked the harp and sang. In fact, when he had proven himself among the singers' circle, she had given him a grand gift: a beautiful harp, crafted with love and care from oak and blackwood, with coiling linnorms and flying birds adorning the veins of pale and dark wood. A harp that Eirik feared lost, burnt to cinders when his brother threw all his precious things into the bonfire. Sighing deeply, the young bard kept walking. Get your head straight, Eirik. And hope this Old Megus proves more helpful to our cause. Who knows? Maybe she is a sister of the Grungir druids? She can't be any worse than that crazy halfling...

[stack]

Lethos shrugs. "I've seen stranger." Been a few decades though.

[Bhaakon]

With a little discussion, the group reaches a consensus to leave Walthus to his eccentricities and seek out Old Megus. The walk back out of the swamp is more pleasant then your walk in. Sweat soaks you clothing in the oppressive atmosphere, and the constant assault of insects is maddening. Why anyone would come here to fish, much less choose to live here, is beyond you.

Under the theory that no one has set up and ambush in the half hour or so since you last passed by, you hurry your pace along the trail. It's not long before you once more reach the rickety bridge near the trail-head.

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I'm going to need a marching order

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

Being more at home in longhouses and tavern commons, Eirik is more than happy to stick to the center of the group, letting the more experienced woodsmen in the group take the vanguard and the rearguard. Nonetheless he once again picked up his bow and arrow in case something would decide to come and have a bite - besides the mosquitoes, that is.

"Any trolls under there, you reckon?" he asked Caliban with a chuckle as they got back to the bridge.

[Thattaman]

"If there is, then you're safe with me." Theodric says, grinning at Erik. He too gets his bow out cautiously. "Let's get there soon. And hope old Megus is helpful. We might run into some goblins on the way there, if we have any luck."

[Bad Situation]

Kasuka does not make his preferences audible but falls in behind the more imposing fighters, and at the same time staying well within range to spring into combat.

[Bhaakon]

The brave Taldan tracker leads the way, crossing the bridge safely with token protest from the half-rotten supports. Caleban and Eirik follow suit, waiting on the other side for the remaining two.

Lethos head out next, making it hallway before a rotten plank gives way under his left foot. The nimble elf catches himself immediately, not even getting his boot wet.

With everyone focused on Lethos's near-dousing, no one notices the strange humanoid creature explode from the brush behind Kasuka. It springs forth on backward-bent knees, like the rear legs of a huge wolf, and attempts to wrap its enormous vertically-arranged maw around the back of the young Tian man's head.

Some obscure bit of training drilled into the Kasuka's unconscious by years of hard practice takes command of his body. The young man suddenly bends forward at the waist as the creature's split mandible snaps shut, escaping a neck-crushing bite by a hair's breadth.

Know(dungeoneering) DC 12

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This twisted humanoid is a wrathspawn, an aberration birthed from foul magic and the collected psychic wrath of the dead. Aside from the physical theat of its long claws and enormous maw, it's bite is known to dredge up powerfully sinful urges which sicken its victims.

Map

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1st full round, everyone is up.



1/2 movement speed in squares w/o path (anything outside columns C-F, except, obviously, the water)

You've only walked over the bridge carefully and singly. What might happen if more than one of you tries to cross in a round, or cross too quickly, is anyone's guess.

[Bad Situation]

Turning fast enough to knock the wind out of him, Kasuka lands a distance away brandishes his blade in preparation for the fight. The others would move in to assist soon enough so it was vital that he land the first blow. Snapping his eyes toward the aberrant creature, Kasuka puts on a burst of speed, and slips in underneath its guard for a flurry of sword swipes.

"Not a troll..."

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Status
Hit Points: 11/11
Ki Pool: 0/0
Armour Class: 16
Ongoing Effects: None

Actions
Move Action~!
Five foot step south. Provokes no AoO.

Attack Action~!
Attack Roll: (1d20+4)[23]
Damage Roll: (1d6)[1]

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban seems unmindful of the oppressive heat and the insects. He was back on the road, and that was its own rewards. He shares jokes with Eirik and even amicably tries to engage the dour Lethos.

"Even if there a troll here, let us hope it is female. Then Eirik will try to woo it."

At just that point, the creature comes out and snaps at Kasuka. Caleban lets out an explosive curse.

Idiots! We are marching around like it is a picnic. Leaving someone on the flanks like that!

Caleban considers just wading into the water.

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Waiting for the answer in the OOC thread!

[Thattaman]

Theodric lets fly an arrow and has another one notched straight away. "I've got this." He tells the others, a look of determination etched on his face.

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Attack roll: (1d20+3)[20] Damage (1d8+1)[8]

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

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HP: 9/9
AC: 14/14
Bardic Performance rounds: 13/13 (Took the Extra Perfomance feat, just in case)

Spells remaining:
0-level: Detect Magic, Read Magic, Prestidigitation, Ghost Sound
1st-level: II Cure Light Wounds, Grease

Eirik's face grew pale when he saw the monstrosity barge out of the woods and almost takes Kasuka's head off. He recognized the creature from the tales of old, tales about the Thassilonian wizard-kings and their heinous creations.

"Wrathspawn! It's a wrathspawn! Kasuka, don't let it bite you, it'll infect you with its evil!" the bard as he nocked an arrow. No... The monster was too close to Kasuka; he'd risk hitting the pale man if he tried to shoot it. Better he bolster the strength of his comrades-at-arms. As the fletchings of the arrow grazed his cheek, the young Ulfen began to sing. The song of Ulvass, the Linnorm King who fought and destroyed the giants who used the magic of Thassilon against the brave northmen. Ulvass whose courage and strength was so great that he brought down the giants' magical city on top of their sorceress-queen with a single hit of his axe.

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Standard action: initiate bardic performance, inspire courage. Everyone in the group who can hear Eirik sing get a +1 morale bonus against fear and charm effects, and a +1 competence bonus to attack and damage rolls.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

"Wrathspawn, is it? Let 's how it bleeds..."

Caleban takes out his axe and wades into the river with his considerable bulk. The stream is almost a welcome relief in the heat, despite being muddy and slimy. He pushes in through the silt and comes out on the other side like the fist of a swamp god, going straight for the monster.

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It takes a double move to get to the thing and since Caleban cannot charge through difficult terrain, his attack will have to wait next turn. In either case, his roles are

Atk with Power Attack (1d20+4)[19] Dmg (1d12+9)[15]

[stack]

Lethos allows himself a slightly chuckle after he catches himself going through the bridge. He was about to sheath his blade to cross more carefully when he heard the cry go up.

Spinning around, He immediately moves back to engage the creature. A gleam shoots up his blade as he raises it to strike. A worthy foe, perhaps? Let us dance.

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move to C7, swift to enchant blade to +1 using arcane pool, attacking

(1d20+6)[22] (includes +1 from arcane pool & +1 bard song)
damage (1d6+3)[7] (includes +1 from arcane pool & +1 bard song)

[Bhaakon]

Kasuka sidesteps to make room for his allies and whips out his wakizashi. He dips and dodges, looking for and finding an opening. His sword arm uncoiled like a striking viper, shaving of a flap of skin from the wrathspawn's abdomen.

Eirik bellows his warning and immediately dives into an inspiring epic of strength and valor against long odds. The Taldane won't admit it, but the oddly calming beat of the song helps steady his aim as he buries an arrow to the creature's in the thing's corded hamstring. Caleban, also on the wrong side of the sluice, tightens his fists around his big ax's handle and charges into the murky water.

Lethos spins and hastily picks his way back across the rickety bridge, drawing his sabre as he advances. He pulls back his arm for a powerful slash, imbuing the blade with a share of his magical powers as it dives deep into the wrathspawn's bicep.

The creature shrieks and wheels around to face the elf. With a strength fuelled by pain and rage, it blasts through Lethos's subtle parries to land a pair of punishing blows with raking claw, digging the same three parallel slices that you saw but an hour ago on the fleeing pig.

@Lethos

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6 damage

As the elf retreats from the desperate assault, Caleban splashes out of the muddy waterway with weapon ready. The half orc throws his entire weight behind one mighty blow, driving the broad head of his greataxe through the wrathspawn's ribcage and into its vitals. This time the creature can't even gather the breath to scream, it just slowly crumples to the ground.

XP!

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120 each

[stack]

Lethos gasps and clutches his side as he stumbles through a turn to swing again, but his foe is already fallen. He grits his teeth over shallow breaths, but maintains his composure. Too slow. Too many years and too much drink have made you slow, clumsy. How will you cross the world fighting like that. More More combat. Perfection or death.

He looks to the others, embarrassed, "If anyone has any enchantments to tend wounds, I would be most grateful."

[Bad Situation]

In a flourish that can only be described as 'artistic,' Kasuka sheds the blood staining the wakizashi's blade and sheathes it in one smooth motion. Out of the corner of his eye, the albino watches the elf stumble from his wounds and silently crosses the distance to push a roll of bandages into Lethos' hands before wordlessly returning to the path. There were undoubtedly more enemies out in the sticky marshes and they needed to be prepared in case of another ambush.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban tugs the axe from the thing and stands watching it die.

"So you bled after all".

With obvious discomfort at his state -his axe dirty, his clothes wet- he approaches Lethos and gives his wound an appraising look, letting out a small whistle. He then places his hands around it and stares intently, the way old man Velisarius taught him. Caleban lets his soul drift up, to the stars now unseen.

Desna, lady of the night, lend me your voice to sing your song. I walk your paths.

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CLW (1d8+1)[2]

EDIT: Damn. Sorry Stack. Desna feels flighty today.

Caleban sighs, the sigh of coming back to this world.

'Make the best of it. There are no more from where this came'

He then proceeds to wipe his axe clean from the tainted blood, and clean up his armor as best as he can. The various layers protected his inner clothes, so he will not have to change here, in the middle of the swamp.

Finally, he takes a look at the creature and the surrounding area. When did it come from? The first time it was not here.

[Bhaakon]

Caleban has no problem finding the wrathspawn's footprints in the boggy ground, and sets about tracing them to their source. They cut through the course elephant grass besides the path, emerging onto a well-worn game trail after a painful ten yards of pushing through the serrated vegetation.

From there, it's no challenge at all to backtrack to the creature's den: a ten-foot-high mound of branches, logs, and reeds nestled in a narrow, muddy clearing. Flies buzz and swarm around the foul-smelling mound of rotting vegetation, occasionally disappearing through the rough opening in the side of the moldering pile.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban snorts at the bad smells. First the muddy river, now this. Desna was being fickle today. Cutting a large stick from the nearby vegetation, he says to the others

"And help here, neighbors?"

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Perception take 20, with a stick for the very nasty things, in order to search the premises.

[stack]

Lethos bows to Caleban. "My thanks." Seeing the man's discomfort at being wet and dirty, "Let me, in a small way, return the favor." He waves his hand, the dirt and water slowly falling to the ground.

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prestidigitation!

Lethos tries to peer into the lair, then picks up a stone, cupping his hands over it for a moment. He tosses it further up the tunnel. "I would gladly go first, the darkness is nothing to my sight, but I fear I must decline due to my wound. I hope this light will be helpful."

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darkvision 60', light (from lightbringer trait) on the stone, tossed in to let others see

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban sighs beatifically when the mud flows out of him.

I wonder if this is how my Ulfen peacock friend does it.

"That was a neat trick. Thank you. I can see in the dark just fine."

With that, Caleban continues his search.

[Bad Situation]

Mired in the darkness, Kasuka aids the half-orc in his search, his sickly red eyes growing more vibrant by the second. "I too...require no such light..."

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Aid Another (Perception): (1d20+3)[17]

[Thattaman]

"Well that wasn't too hard. If I'd had time to aim, then my arrow would have gone right through it's brain with one shot. Thanks for the song Erik. Nothing like a heroic tale to steady one's arm." He smiles at the Ulfen man, no trace of sarcasm or irony.

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

Letting his song fade away, Eirik smiled and nodded to the ranger. "Pleasure to be of service, master Taldan", he chuckled before crossing the rickety bridge to join his comrades. Walking over to the elven swordsman, he looked at his wounds. "Here... I still have some magic left for today", he spoke as he whispered a small spell, placing his hand on Lethos's shoulder.

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Cure light wounds (1d8+1)[6]

"There... Feeling better now, friend? I wish I could help you more, but after healing the halfling... well, the only magic I still have left are minor tricks and cantrips", the dark-haired Ulfen said apologetically. After that, they followed Caliban and the Taldan to the creature's lair - a sight that made Eirik wrinkle his nose.

"Good gods... and I thought those things only looked bad. How on earth can they make things smell so bad, too?" he muttered as he picked up a long stick to help his friends in looking for anything of value in the wrathspawn's now-vacated abode. Who knows, maybe that thing had brought some trinkets or coin to his lair, like some unnatural magpie...

[North_Ranger]

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Aid another in Perception (1d20+5)[11]

Oh, and let's throw in detect magic, just in case.

[Bhaakon]

You thought the mound had smelled bad on the outside, but you were sadly mistaken. A wall of stench hits you with nearly physical force as you step into the cavern of putrefying plant matter, threatening to turn even the sturdiest stomach. It's a struggle to hold down your gorge as you sweep over through the den.

A wretched nest of filthy, blood-stained rags sits in one corner of the den, the shredded remains of at least two dozen separate articles of clothing. On the opposite side of the mound's cramped interior sits a stack of mud spheres, each about a foot across. The surface of the spheres is dried and cracked, flaking away in large chunks at the slightest touch. One cracks open as you poke at it curiously, a third of the mud shell peeling off in your hands to reveal the blackened, half-rotted face of a young man within.

[stack]

A minor enchantment keeps the worst of the smell from Lethos, who makes a quick scan of the chamber, searching for any magic.

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prestidigitation & detect magic

(Presuming he finds nothing) "It was a foul, unnatural creature that the world is better off without. That said, we ought to press on to see this witch. Perhaps we should consider resting there as well, if our healing abilities are limited. Attacking the village may be unwise without the means to fix wounds."

[Bhaakon]

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There's nothing magical inside