Grishkar notes the odd scene, "Well, I suppose someone was ["FREE FUD"] after falling for that."
Natah glanced away, looked at the sign, then returned her glare to Grishkar. "Then we ssshould definitely ssstop." Not waiting for the cart to stop, she threw open the door and jumped to the ground, inspecting the sign.
Inspecting her surroundings, Natah notes the flat terrain surrounding the sign would make it difficult for any creatures, either large or small, to hide in wait to ambush. Moving closer, she estimates the hole to be fairly recently dug, as most of the dirt surrounding it is recently dug up with little disturbance. It measures a little less than ten feet in diameter, and probably goes about ten to fifteen feet down as well. She can see wooden stakes at the bottom of the hole. Some of them are caked in dried blood, and the leg of an animal lays at the bottom. Veldyn gives the top of the carriage another few quick knocks, indicating to the driver to stop.
Grishkar walks up behind Natah, off her right shoulder, and looks over her and down, "Well, looks like I was right, but that explains why they fell for it..."
Valdyn glances outside, more out of impatience. "Lets hurry this up!" He calls.
Natah crossed her arms over her chest. "Thisss isss a pisss poor ambusssh." She pointed to their surroundings. "Nowhere to hide."
"Well the offer could have been genuine," Veldyn comments from the window. It wasn't hard to miss by any means. As Grishkar approaches, he spots large tracks that head east towards a cluster of hills. The tracks seem to consist of hands nearly two feet in length, and two more round indentations.
Grishkar smiles at Natah and puts a hand high on her shoulder, near her neck, "You've never seen a rodent snare, then. It catches the prey and holds them for the hunter. This is just an improvement to kill the prey first."
Natah swiftly spun, grabbing Grishkar's hand and twisted it, nearly to the point of snapping. She looked him directly in his good eye, then his dead eye, before releasing him. "Ssshall we find out who isss on the other end of the track?" She pushed past him, and began following the trail, pretty sure of what she would find.
Stretching the previously-grabbed hand to Natah, Grishkar smiled, "Let's. And next time, let's go all the way together. I need to make sure someone comes with me if I'm to die this soon."
"Don't be disssgusssting," Natah hissed, as she watched the tracks.
Rivvil gives the others in the carriage a look before saying “Let’s all follow. Maybe a fight with whatever laid this trap will release some of our tension.”(edited)
"Violence as a way of relieving stress? It seems like you're my kind of people," Rose laughed, as both she and Chewie got ready to follow.
Llewyrr exits the carriage to follow. He mumbles something under his breath and a flower blooms in his hand. Offering it to Grishkar, he says, "Say you're sorry."
"For what? I like her. Not my fault she doesn't enjoy my company."
Llewyrr shrugs and walks up to Godiva. He extends the flower toward her.
Rivvil steps up to the tracks and says to the others “I was trained to track. I’m unsure what made these prints so it might be harder but I should be able to find them again if we start to loose the tracks in the hills.”
"Godiva, we stay with the driver," Veldyn calls up above. He looks out one last time before shaking his head. What a waste of time...
"I'm fairly certain what made thessse tracksss," Natah said, amused. Without waiting, she began to follow them.
Godiva smiles down at the druid and accepts the flower, her cheeks turning a rosy red.
“What’s the matter? Scared to get into a fight.” Rivvil teases Veldyn. Without any further communication, Llewyrr turns to follow the group. Veldyn ignores Rivvil, instead leaning back to get more relaxed. Rivvil turns and begins to lead the group mumbling under his breath something about lazy nobles. Pipe smoke is seen exiting through the window as the group gets further away.
Grishkar turns around and yells back, "How would you like to stroll into town, crest shown proudly, with a rampaging monster's head displayed as a slayer of predators?"
"If it isss what I think it isss," Natah said quietly to Grishkar. "I don't plan on killing it."
"Sing a song, yes a travel song, when you've got to go somewhere," Rose strummed. "Cause the fun is getting there..."
While Grishkar found the tracks, it was Llewyrr who was able to distinguish them and follow them. With the wild-boy leading the group, they make off into the wilderness, soon disappearing from the main road and Veldyn's field-of-view.
Llewyrr notes as they travel that the creature's pattern of movement is inconsistent. At times, the right side of the tracks carries on as one large, solid track, as if it was dragging something during those portions, only to pick it back up later. Likewise, during those moments, another track would form in between the set of handprints and "stubs" (as the group believes them to be), similar in appearance to something being dragged along the floor. Specks of blood littered the grass and dirt at those moments, their crimson hue contrasting the bright greens and yellows of the landscape.
The group follows the tracks for about a half hour until the reach the cluster of hills. While the hills were mostly rolling, creating broad passageways between them, large boulders and small cliffs perched themselves at various points, easily providing cover to anyone in need of such. The tracks lead through the most prominent passageway.
"Oh what the heck, I must confess, I love a roadtrip! Sing a song Hit the trail Forget the maps. Forget the guides. Before ya know it, you've made strides with me. And I know all I need - all along Is a path and a pal - and a song, So I'm singin' And I'm pallin' with you See? It makes the time go by faster," Rose sang. Llewyrr looks for a long time at Rose as they walk.
Natah pauses, scanning the hills, listening for anything out of the usual. "Now, thisss isss a good place for an ambusssh."
"Should I go ahead?" Llewyrr asks Natah.
Grishkar fold his hands into his sleeves and begins to touch his thumbs to their respective finger counterparts on each hand. Within the robes, his palms gather an icy blue glow, ready to be released.
"Yesss," Natah hissed. "But remember, if it isss the ogre, I want to try to talk to it firssst." Llewyrr continues following the tracks.
Pressing forward, the group moves as a body into the cluster of hills. Rosiniana singing echoes off stone, reverberating throughout the hills as they move along the bases, winding their way through the twisting maze.
It doesn't take long, as they follow the tracks, to find the source of them. Winding around the bend of one such steep hill, they find the tracks lead to a large clearing, scattered with bones and rotting corpses of various creatures. Scratch marks along the ground reveal the path boulders took as they were pushed to the side to make this clearing larger. On the opposite side stood the mouth of a dark cave...
And in the center of this all sat a large ogre. It's left leg was just a stump, covered in animal hide. In his right hand he firmly clasped the trunk of a tree, it's branches ripped away and the stubs crudely sharpened. His black, beady eyes are transfixed on you as his brutish voice booms, "HAHA! I trap you!"
"It's not really a trap if we were looking for you, now is it?' Rose stopped her song.
"Well, we knew you were here," Natah said, amusement evident in her voice. "I wasss hoping to find you, in fact. I've heard sssuch a wonderful ssstory about you, jussst lassst night."
"HAH! Ugly song stop. Good. Me want that," he boisterously declares. "Story? ME?"
"Bellyfran," Llewyrr says under his breath.
"Bellyfran, yesss?" Natah moved closer, sliding forward smoothly, her empty hands before her. "I heard the ssstory of how you lossst that leg. From the man who took it. Who ssstill hasss it." She stopped, pulling down her mask so only Bellyfran could see her entire face. "And I know exactly where he isss."
He looks down at the stump of his leg and back at Natah with a fury in his eyes. He screams as his fists found the ground around him, "MY LEG!!! WHO LEG MINE HAVE?!"
Natah smiled broadly, pulling the mask back over her face and backed away, rejoining her companions. "We could ssshow you. We could take you there."
He huffs and puffs as he begins a mixed effort of crawling and dragging himself around the clearing. You notice how large his belly is and how, at times, it drags along the ground as calloused flesh. It's clear that he's thinking as he drags himself about. Rivvil’s hand is on his whip. Ready to use it in case things go south. Or maybe if he’s just bored. Rivvil hasn’t decided yet. "You... you see home. You no leave! Must stay. Forever! This secret place." he states as he sits down again.
"We can help you get your leg back. We can help you get your revenge," Natah said, her voice dripping with temptation.
He thumps his head a few times with his empty hand. "But... treasure! Treasure no safe if leave. But then no leg..." he mutters loudly as he thinks. "No tell others treasure? Yes?" he asks Natah.
"Your sssecret isss sssafe with me," Natah promised.
"HAH!" he shouts. "Treasure safe anyway. No know password. Only Bellyfran know password!" The monster bellowed. "Okay. You show leg and me no eat you." he bargains.
"Thisss is an acceptable deal," Natah says, turning to her companions. "Yesss?" Rivvil stays silent. Attempting to repress his desire to to fight this creature and relish in the joys of combat. As Natah coerces the ogre into some scheme of hers, Grishkar notices a pile of corpses... all with their hands still attached. Grishkar releases his spell, opting yo see where this goes. What an interesting prospect: to lure an ogre to its revenge, then kill it to make them look like saviors.
Llewyrr's brow furrows. "But ..." he says quietly to Natah. "The little ones."
The ogre gets up, tree trunk still in one hand, and starts moving for the group, laughing with malicious glee and chanting over and over, "Leg! leg! LEEEEEEEEEEG!" Natah turns away from the group, seemingly not hearing what Llewyrr said, and begins leading the ogre away. His stomach grumbles loudly as he moves forward with the party back to the cart.
Llewyrr pleads with Natah. "Please. They're innocent. Natah shoots a glance at Llewyrr, but says nothing.
Grishkar grabs Llewyrr by the shoulder and pulls him back, hanging behind the shambling brute, "Just play along. When we get to where he wants to go, we give him a good look at the inside of his empty head."
With a last glance, Rivvil scours the area for anything out of place. Besides corpses, overturned stones, skeletal bones, and the mouth the cave on the far side, nothing seems out of place.
"If we going to ... are going to ..." Llewyrr says, pausing to make sure he won't be overheard, "kill it, why not do it here?"
Rivvil continues along with the group. Hoping that eventually they can fight this thing.
Grishkar gives a creepy attempt at a brotherly smile and pats Llewyrr on the shoulder as they walk, "Because perception is reality. The ogre finally catches up to the man who stole its leg and seeks revenge. That's the story we know. What the world sees is a bloodthirsty savage that escaped execution coming back to kill innocents. We rush in, do the deed, then present the Zhentarim as heroes." He releases the druid and continues on, "Like I said, I like Natah."
Llewyrr stops walking for a second, his face contorting in thought. Slowly, his head nods, and then he jogs to catch up. "I have idea ... an idea," Llewyrr says to Grishkar. "I can run before ... ahead and tell Ulfmir that the Ogre is coming. He could come out to meet, and I could ... protect his young."
He ponders the thought for a moment, "It may be a good thought. Would be suspicious if you met, left, then just returned just on a hunch to kill the brute that this man crippled long ago."
Back at the cart, Veldyn waits both bored and patient. A minute turns to five, which turns to ten, which turns to a half hour. While not genuinely concerned with the fate of most of his new companions, he is curious to know of where they are. He looks to his right and sees them.... and something else, trailing behind them.
Natah strides toward the cart, obviously very proud of herself. Veldyn knocks hard at the roof of the cart. "Make sure he makes it to town," he orders Godiva. He then exits the cart and orders the driver to not look back while pointing down the road.
He hears a loud scream. "HORSES!!! ME LOVE HORSES!!" Bellyfran starts into a full crawling sprint, barreling towards the now moving cart and the horses.
"Well it was good until this point..." Grishkar mutters under his breath.
Natah makes her way quickly to Veldyn, speaking quickly before their newfound friend catches up. "Need to decide quick. Kill him now, or lead him to hisss missssing foot, and become heroesss." Veldyn stands firm, unslinging his shield and drawing his longsword, positioning himself to intercept the charging ogre.
Natah shouts Bellyfran. "No horsesss! Your leg, and revenge are in thisss direction," she yells, pointing down the path, toward the direction they came from.
Rivvil sees the human noble grab out his long sword and grins. Now is the time Rivvil thinks as he takes out his whip.
"Sing a song," Rosie strums, remembering how much the ogre hated her song. The words are laced with magic. A psychic surge lashes out at Bellyfran during his frenzied charge, causing him to cry out in pain (dissonant whispers; Bellyfran saves; 3 psychic damage].
Llewyrr mumbles under his breath and makes a strange maneuver with his hand and a fog cloud grows out of nowhere between the Ogre and the carriage, enveloping the giant [fog cloud].
Veldyn keeps pace with the carriage as it tries to flee the charging ogre. He makes sure to keep himself between the horses and the giant brute. As Veldyn moves into the fog, he realizes just how heavily it obscures his vision... he can barely see his hands and feet placed out in front of him. He places himself up by what seems to be a large boulder, briefly remembering the terrain before the fog descended. (Moves to F4, Prepares attack for first Ogre that nears him, attack)
Seeing the situation going badly, Natah hastily runs for the nearest tree, and hides herself.
Grishkar will swing wide, waiting for an opportunity to strike the ogre down from a distance. (Move to F10, Ready Ray of Sickness to trigger when the ogre is in clear line-of-sight)
Rivvil still able to see the creature first uses his teeth to bite his lip hard enough to bleed. He then takes his bloodied thumb and runs it along his whip saying “Oury” and his whip ignites. (Bonus Action Blood Rite Of Flames) Rivvil then moves (to K7) to where he remembers the ogre being and strikes at it with his flaming whip. The strike lashes into the fog, completely missing Bellyfran (10 to-hit). And his whiff Rivvil says aloud “I’m just trying to clear this fog away!”
Bellyfran's frenzied rush comes to a halt as the fog descends all around him. The group quickly gets into position, either hiding, getting ready to strike, or a combination of both. Pain wracks his brain as he cries out from Rose's spell, and then all is silent from within the cloud. A few seconds pass and everyone can hear him say, "Hey. Where'd horsies go?" Bellyfran then wanders out of the fog on the east side, looking very confused and staring intently at Rivvil's flaming whip.
Seeing Bellyfran's object of interest, Grishkar releases a crackling bolt of green energy that crashes into the ogre's shoulder and spreads toxins through his veins (11 to-hit; 8 poison damage; Bellyfran is poisoned).
Rivvil, now seeing the ogre, smiles and says to him “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a bit.” As he moves forward (M7), a smile on his lips, and slashes at him with his burning whip. Rivvil leaves a big red line across the ogres stomach as the whip first teared into his stomach but the flames quickly cauterized the wound. The cauterization causing almost as much pain as the whip itself. Rivvil stands in the same spot grinning ear to ear at the pain he is causing.
//Natural 20 to Hit. 8 Fire Damage and 9 Slashing Damage for a total of 17 Damage.//
The fog is nearly overwhelming. Veldyn traces the path back over and around, ever weary of the charging ogre. If he hears the slightest indication that the ogre is coming, he'll be ready (Moves to F1, readies an attack for the first ogre that nears him).
In this short time Veldyn's mind is reeling. What in the hells are they trying to accomplish by bringing the brute here!?
As Bellyfran moves out of the fog, Grishkar releases a crackling bolt of green energy that crashes into the ogre's shoulder and spreads toxins through his veins.
(Ray of Sickness, 6 damage, failed CON save, so Bellyfran is poisoned until end of my next turn, which is very soon :/)
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Natah frowned as she watched people start attacking the ogre for no reason. This is the level of trust I can expect, she thought, as she withdrew her daggers. Staying in the shadows, she continued to watch.
Bellyfran roars at Rivvil and his whip. "YOU NO HIT ME! ME HIT YOU!" As Bellyfran swings his tree trunk, he gets a sickening feel in his stomach and almost vomits, causing his tree trunk to swing wide.
//13 to hit with disadvantage due to Grishkar's Ray of Sickness against Rivvil's AC fails.//
Rivvil, a smile still on his face, taunts the ogre "Come on now. Hitting something isn't that hard. It's all in the flick of the wrist." As Rivvil uses his whip against the ogre; a bright red 'X' now adorning the ogre's stomach.
//Another natural 20 to hit for 3 Fire Damage and 8 slashing damage for a total of 11 Damage.//
"Get out of sight and wait for us," Veldyn commands of the chariot as it speeds away. Seeing Godiva's confirmation he begins skirting the outskirts of the unnatural fog to get a clearer look at what the Ogre is up to. Seeing it entangled in a deadly melee with Rivvil, he sets himself to join the action by closing the distance between himself and the brute. (Move to L1, dash to O3)
Grishkar traces this thumb across the fingertips of a hand and sends a glowing, blue claw of ice at Bellyfran. However, the claw hits his shoulder superficially and puffs into mist.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
“Belly-Fran, more like smelly-fran. Amiright?” Rose tried to taunt again, but apparently the ogre didn’t hear her. “Fine, ignore me. Veldyn!” She set her sights on the knight that had been nicer to her the evening before. “Kill this gross ogre, run it through with that cool sword, then we loot his corpse.”
(Failed vicious mockery, inspiration die to Veldyn.)
As the tree trunk swings past Rivvil, Llewyrr jumps. He runs to within 10 feet of the Ogre, pulling a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket. He mutters something under his breath and then blows a deep breath around the mistletoe, which he is holding close to his lips. The breath transforms into a yellow green mist aimed at Bellyfran's head. (10 Poison Damage)
In a panic, the Ogre swings his club at Rivvil again. Rivvil is easily able to side-step it as it comes crashing down into the ground. Wracked with pain from the various poisons in its body and the still burning lines from Rivvil's flaming whip, the ogre turns to flee. (Ogre miss,)
Rivvil whips out his whip one last time, "Get back here!" It cracks in the air as the ogre makes its way out of Rivvil's reach. (Rivvil miss)
Inspired by the gnome, Veldyn rushes over behind the ogre and stabs upward with his longsword. The strike digs deep into the ogre's leg-stump and it howls in pain. Losing its balance, it crashes hard into the ground and splits its thick skull on a nearby boulder. After twitching a few times, it goes still (4 damage).
“Why’d you kill him? We were just beginning to have fun.” Rivvil says annoyed that the noble does nothing the entire fight and then kills Rivvil’s new toy.
"You can keep the next ogre we find," Veldyn replies. "Why'd you bring him here?"
"I was hoping to use him," Natah said sliding out from behind a tree. "So much for that plan." She voice was even and more amused than disappointed.
"It was reckless," Veldyn says simply. He lets out a loud whistle, looking in the direction the carriage went off in.
"It would have been the perfect plan," Natah responded.
"Agreed," Grishkar strolls up to those gathered around the corpse, hands folded behind, "We must salvage what we can from the situation, though. Take the head and distinctive parts so we can collect reward. Knight, remove its hands, if you please."
"You want the ogre's hands?" Veldyn asks, looking down at the corpse.
"Yes. I'm guessing this ogre's reputation is less than sterling, so please," he offers a hand, gesturing to the corpse, "The head, hands, and identifying limbs or apparel, if you please."
"Very well," Veldyn says with a shrug. He takes to searching and butchering the ogre after removing his tunic and setting it aside.
"Have fun with that," Natah said, spinning on her heels, and began to walk back to the ogres cave.
Grishkar will place the hands on top of the carriage, "With some time to recouperate, I'll be able to make use of these. If not, we'll turn them in with the brute's head and stump(s)."
Rivvil seeing Natah leave he says over his shoulder to the others “I’ll go with Natah. We’ll be back shortly why you take care of this.” Rivvil says looking for something else to fight. The thrill of the last battle still in him.
Llewyrr began to follow as well but Rivvil shook his head no at him at the human decided to stay and help Godiva.
Following the tracks from earlier, Natah and Rivvil cautiously return to the ogre's lair, intrigued by the prospectives of treasure. They reach the clearing, noting that nothing seems to have changed: rocks are still thrown to the sides against the hills, and corpses and bones litter the ground with varying degrees of wholeness. The cave entrance still stands, almost peering at the group menacingly.
Advancing to the cave entrance, they find the mouth is both very wide, and the cave to not be too deep. It goes back from about another thirty feet or so before tapering off and merging with the floor.
“Let’s.” Rivvil replies to her still holding onto his flaming whip.
Tucked into the corner, amidst more rotting corpses, they spot the gleam of something metallic.
Rivvil’s bodyguard training come into play as he looks for any traps. (Investigation: 20)
Rivvil don't spot any traps as you look around the cave. He does find, however, a piece of paper seemingly hidden amidst some small rocks.
“No traps but this might be interesting.” Rivvil says as he picks up the paper and reads it aloud.
“Dear note-finder,
If you've found this cleverly placed note amongst some rocks, then that means either Bellyfran is dead or he's told you the "password" to his lair. In perhaps one of my greatest schemes to date, I, Pettilaen Brookebrewer, famed rogue and wizard, have scammed Bellyfran out of all of his treasure by placing a "magical" ward around the mouth of his cave. In a cunning and daring attempt, I persuaded the ogre that I was a powerful wizard--which I am obviously--and that I could secure all of his wealth behind an impenetrable field of magic that only he knew the password to get by. He took the bait, but only after I'd stolen nearly all of his treasure the night before.
As is my right to brag and wish to spread my fame... well, now you know.
- Pettilaen”
Natah chuckles at the note as Rivvil reads it out loud. As he continues, she moves forward and began to inspect the metal thing she'd spotted.
Moving closer, she notices a small, wooden chest nestled into the rotting corpses in a piss-poor attempt to hide it. Natah kicks the corpse aside and takes a closer look at the chest.
Meanwhile, Rivvil crumpled up the note and then pockets it. Perhaps one day he’ll find this Pettilaen. He then joins Natah.
The chest's wood has long soaked in the blood of the corpses, dying the wood to a deep red hue. A smashed lock keeps the lid from opening.
“Well, what’s in the chest?” Rivvil asks.
Natah pulls the lock free, tossing it over her shoulder at Rivvil. She slowly cracks the chest open so only she can see the various coins inside.
Natah decides to pocket some of the coins before opening the chest the rest of the way. (Natah’s Sleigh Of Hand: 7 VS Rivvil’s Perception: 3)
As Natah tries to secretly pocket some of the currency for herself, one of the corpses in the pile falls off, heavily distracting both Rivvil and her. Fortunately, Rivvil appeared more distracted for it as he immediately turned and went for his whip, expecting some zombie to rise.
Natah pockets some of the coin, then runs her hands through it, quite obviously. "Thisss will help usss on our journey, I think."
“Or. We don’t have to tell the others.” Rivvil offers. “We did all the work on that ogre. You lured it away and I practically killed it myself. You take half and I take half.” Rivvil offers.
Natah gave Rivvil a hard look, thinking. *I need to fit in. I can't be caught,* she thought to herself. "No, it would be wrong of usss. Besssidesss, if we are to sssucceed asss a group, we ssshould *all* put thisss to ussse."
Rivvil sighs. *I was hoping this would be easy.* “Fine. Have it your way. Just don’t be surprised when they spend there money on themselves and don’t give you any credit for what you did.”
"I'm not here for credit," Natah said, closing the chest. "I don't even care about the coin. Sssome of usss have more important thingsss that need doing. I *need* thisss group. I can't do thisss alone, and need them to trussst me. Sssurely you can underssstand?"
“Well some of us have ambitions that require a lot of coin. Puppies are expensive.” Rivvil says
Natah sighed. "This ssstays between usss," she said, digging her hand into the coin and placing a pile into Rivvil's hand, before picking up the chest and tucking it under an arm. "Ready to head back?"
Eventually Godiva joins, her eyes go wide, and she turns to let out her morning breakfast. "Godiva, get a couple sacks from the cart!" Veldyn says. His arms, and many sections of his armor, are covered in ogre blood. "Ya need the dong too?" He ask Grishkar. "I don't pretend to know the arcane arts and the tinctures you all make, but I imagine ogre dong is a hearty ingredient."
“If Grishkar doesn’t want the dick, I’ll take it!” Rose piped up.
Grishkar shrugs, "Take it if you like. I have no use for it, but some enterprising con artist might."
Veldyn finishes the job, tossing the dong to Rose and leaving the butchered corpse where it sits. The head is packed into a sack and tied tight, strapped to the back of the carriage. Another sack contains the other various parts the Wizard requested and hangs from the cart to let the blood drain onto the road. Triumphant, Veldyn wipes his hands in the dirt and dons his tunic once more.
Once the deed is done and Grishkar is satisfied at the treatment of the massive meathooks of hands, he will look around to see if the others have left for the cave yet. If they are already gone, he simply lounges near the carriage, reading diligently through a strangely-hued leather-and-iron-bound tome.
Nearly an hour after leaving, Natah and Rivvil caught up to the others. "Found sssomething for everyone," she called out. Once she was near everyone, she dropped the chest that was tucked under her arm to the ground. Stepping away, she grinned proudly, under her mask.
"Oh, very nice. The Ogre was guarding treasure, was he? Have ya opened it?" Veldyn asks.
"It wasss open. Jussst a bunch of coin," Natah said, very proud of herself.
Grishkar does not look up from his reading; the clinking of coins is all he needs to hear, "Some sow seeds of grain and fruit, others sow seeds of goods and services."
Veldyn hops down from the cart. "I think these coin would be best spent currying favor with the locals. If we need to grease palms to get this deal done, the funds will help."
"Just remember the wolf's share: 10% of all income." Grishkar comments.
"That... isss an interesssting idea, indeed," Natah said, thinking. "Yesss, thisss might help greatly."
Seeing nobody else do it Rivvil puts his whole away, ending the blood rite, and begins counting the coins. As Rivvil dumps the coins out to begin counting, he immediately notices a blood-red ruby, perhaps an inch in diameter, covered in strange, eldritch runes. A curious necklace, made from brass with multiple parts that twirl and spin, also deposits, hidden amongst the coins.
"The fun has just begun," Veldyn says. "Lets head back on the road when your done counting."
“By Wolf I hope you mean Chewie, in which chase 10% sounds very fair. And then split evenly amongst the rest of us?” Rose says.
"Not at all," Grishkar seems bored with the conversation, "The Zhentarim demand 10% of earnings."
“So 10% to the snakes, 10% to Chewie, and the other 80 for the six of us,” Rose nodded. “Got it.”
Rivvil picks up the ruby and begins to look at the eldritch ruins. Rivvil examines the runes, trying to find the meaning behind their nature. After a few minutes, he's able to learn that these runes allow the ruby to act as a spellcasting focus for casters... and that the ruby can be pressed against a weapon, treating the whole weapon as if it was some spellcasting focus.
"I'm not interested in the money," Natah said, repeating what she told Rivvil. She wandered off and sat under a tree.
“This is interesting. I’ll explain what it does on the way to Hannock. Now let’s see if this necklace is anything.” Rivvil says before examining the necklace as well.
Grishkar glances at the gem momentarily, "An interesting trinket. You can consider that Chewie's 10%"
Looking over the necklace, Rivvil finds a name engraved on the back: Saborn Rendel. He can hear faint ticking and whirring noises coming from within, but isn't able to decipher just what it all means.
“I think Chewie would prefer the necklace over the gem,” Rose haggled. “Red really isn’t his color.”
“Hmmmm....this necklace seemed to belong to someone. It might do something but I’m not sure. Anyways, if we’re all done here we can continue on and I’ll explain why the puppy shouldn’t get the ruby.” Rivvil says standing up and putting all the coins back into the chest, then the necklace on top and finally holding the gem in his hand.
Once everyone is back in the carriage, Veldyn gives it a couple knocks to get the vehicle moving. "That was quite the detour," he says.
The chaos of the scene having died down, the group piles back into the caravan, many caked in dried blood and sweat, bringing with them the smells of iron and rancid body-odor. Godiva wrinkles her nose and manages to keep the contents of her stomach down as the bloodied party, complete with their "trophies" of ogre, continue down the High Road towards Hannock.
The evening quickly comes as some of the group realizes just how long their detour with Bellyfran took. Pulling off to the side of the road, they find another flat clearing next to a fair-sized stream and set up camp. Conversations are quick to come and go, and, after the group sets up an order for the watch, they fall asleep.
Once again, another night passes without incident or injury, as they wake up one by one to set out again for another day a traveling. Veldyn predicts that they'll reach the cairn which marks the road to Hannock that night if they push forward a bit later into the day, needing to make up for lost time.
Morning comes and Rivvil opens his eyes blearily. He finds himself face to face with... the ogre dick, so close it is touching my nose. Rivvil pulls away, and inspect it to find that it has a smiley face drawn on it. Rivvil, at first, is shocked at this and grabs his whip but, when he sees it is just the dick he smiles. And then hearing the giggling. Rivvil just laughs as well.
“Yer face!” Rosie laughs. “Ah, can I have that back? I’ve got more plans.” "Go ahead little one." Rivvil responds. “That’s racist,” the gnome says happily, walking over and grabbing the ogre dick.
“That’s racist,” the gnome says happily, walking over and grabbing the ogre dick. “G’morning Godiva!” Rose waves, forgetting what is in her hand. “How are you doing this morning?” She lowers her head to continue her task, trying not to look at the object in question.
Grishkar is working to the side with the ogre's hands, working some strange magic on them. Something goes wrong. The hands remain inanimate and Grishkar goes into a seldom seen frenzy, stabbing and cursing the hands before kicking them into a nearby stream.
When Veldyn wakes, he first goes to check the remains of the Ogre. Leaving them out is risky, but he tied them high in a tree to prevent predators from getting to the good bits. While checking on them, he notices the hands have been discarded. "I take it your experiment was a failure," he says to Grishkar as he passes by. "A shame... I was curious how powerful your magic is compared to Hoar's."
Grishkar seems to find some amusement in the blackguard, "Your god exists because of mine. When someone's life is exchanged for gold, who does the family call to? When is a ruler deposed by his trusted advisors, who hears the prayers in exile? MyMaster works in grander schemes and machinations than you can imagine." Grishkar holds a hand to the river, "My frustration with my Lord's forbearance of power is not some child's tantrum. Even now, I serve his will in whatever way I can." He steps closer, "The head was kept away from vermin and elements while the hands were left out. This meant that they were likely unreceptive to the magic now. I don't see this as a failure as much as a consolatory endeavor. The rot from these hands may yet taint some life down the way. Maybe a child gathering water will poison the family?"
Veldyn blinks a few times, regretting saying anything at all. He clears his throat before saying, "Uh, better luck next time, I guess." Any passing conversation seems useless with those that don't have all of their wits about them. He'd have to make sure to keep this one away from any 'civil' folk.
Rivvil finally bites and approaches and asks Grishkar “So, which Demon Lord gives you power?”
Grishkar outright laughs at Rivvil, "My ignorant friend, you must learn your history. I serve the former patron of the Zhentarim, the Lord of Murder, God of Shadow and Intrigue, Lord of Strife, and Prince of Lies: Cyric." With a bit of a flourish, he bows low and a skull emblazoned against a black sunburst appears on the back of his robes, only to fade again when he stands upright again.
“The Lord of Lies?” Rivvil repeats back confused. Is that a personification of Lloth? Rivvil questions in his head as well. Rivvil continues to think for a moment before saying “Are you sure it’s not Fraz-Urb’luu?”
Grishkar settles back into his normal demeanor, "Demon Lords are too....chaotic. They live to kill and torment, but that's about it. Give a dog a bone and you have the same effect. Cyric sets his sights across the hold world as a master strategist would see beyond a battle to war on a grand scale."
"That's an opinion," Rivvil says. "I still don't know who you're talking about though."
"One day, I'll have to give you some history. For now, suffice it to say, Cyric is a full-fledged god and more than amiable to our cause." Grishkar gives a pat on Rivvil's shoulder.
Rivvil just shrugs and makes his way to the carriage. "Well, let's get to Hannock." he says to everyone.
Packing up their sleeping arrangements, the group tears down their camp, finishes any morning rituals, and sets off on their cart once again. The morning dawned clear and cool, with only sparse clouds that seemed to cling to the horizon. A flock of geese flew overhead, heading south in what would appear to be their migratory pattern for the winter.
Like any day of travel, it drags on as the group finds ways to pass it by. Some sleep, some think, and others read as if trying to avoid conversation with each other. A few scant people pass by, some as solo travelers and others with a caravan like yours, but besides that, not much exciting happens during the day.
Until the late afternoon, when a herald on horseback, wearing the Neverwintan soldier's tabard, emblazoned with the head of a roaring lion, trots down the road, ordering all travelers to move to the side of the road so that the army's wounded can pass through. Veldyn signals for the driver to obey, who pulls the cart off to the side of the road. A few minutes pass, and then a slow-moving caravan winds its way around a hill down the road, coming into view. Soldiers, dressed in their navy-blue tabards, wearily march alongside the carts of the more heavily wounded. The sea of blue is speckled with the whites of bandages, the reds of dried blood, and the dirt of a foreign land. On several of the carts, you see many with limbs missing, their appendages ending in blood-soaked white bandages. Many more have their heads encased in cloth. Other carts just have bodies stacked on top of each other, their inventory now counted amongst the dead.
Grishkar will call for a momentary halt as the carriage is passed by the walking wounded. He asks around until someone in charge he found, "Good day, sir. I am a servant of Torm, patron of valiant warriors. Would you allow me to give blessings to the fallen?" The holy emblem is conspicuously missing from the elf's robes.
The caravan does not stop, but he is able to find someone in charge. A human male on horseback, heavily scarred and bearing much scruff, looks down at him from the horse, looking over his overall appearance. "You're a priest of Torm?"
Grishkar gives a low bow, "I was a warrior in my time, but battle against a wizard scarred me, as you can see," He pulls his hood aside to show his ruined face. "Now I serve in a more humble fashion."
A foul stench seems to catch his nose, causing him to grimace. "You smell of rotting flesh and decay, like the Luskan necromantic-freaks which roam the battlefield at night, forcing us to take out dead back to Neverwinter." He drives his stirrups into the horse, causing it to gallop forward and away from the group's cart.
Grishkar stammers to explain, "There was an ogre...and its head...the hands....other parts...." But it's too late. Grishkar watches the procession carefully, sullen when he discovers that the caravan is well-attended too. Returning himself to the carriage, he buries himself in his book. There'll be time for all this later.
The spectacle takes about twenty minutes to pass through, and soon the road is clear again, allowing the group to move forward. The sky is painted in shades of reds, yellow, and oranges, indicating that evening has soon fallen on the group as they contemplate the war effort against Luskan. Still, in order to make up for lost time, the cart presses on into the night, eagerly searching for the cairn which marks the road to Hannock.
The cairn comes quickly enough, settled at the base of a series of small hills coated with thick, low-lying trees and bushes. The path to Hannock would be wilder than that of the High Road if the cairn's placement was any indication of that. The road split, following the base of two hills closely nestled together. Off in the distance, the constantly-fuming volcano of Mount Hotenow fumed, billowing smoke into the surrounding region.
The group travels for just a few minutes on the road to Hannock, looking for a safe place to rest. The border of the Neverwinter Wood was less than a day's travel, maybe fifteen or so miles east of their position, and the group didn't want to risk being attacked by some roving monster which wandered too far from the woods to find itself a late-night snack. Llewyrr is able to guide them to a good, easily fortified location nestled in the crack of a few hills, surrounded by low-lying trees and bushes. Rosiniana spends the early parts of the night setting down tripwire to indicate the presence of something heading their direction. Doubling down on watch, they take their turns sleeping and observing the blackened landscape as the smoke from Mount Hotenow blots out the light of Selune and the stars.
Fortunately, the group awakes to find their heads all intact and no signs of beasts or other creatures disturbing their encampment. Packing up, they quickly set out, eager to hear the sound of Hannock's bell ringing. The morning and afternoon fade away into the past, becoming a fog of slow, tense memories as their cart draws closer, bumping along the rough road amidst the slowly encroaching foliage and trees.
The foliage gives way to a dark old oak, marking a fork in the roadway. From its branches hangs a rusted iron cage, topped with an ebony raven. Disturbed by your approach, the raven caws and beats its wings, soaring off into the air and out of sight behind the trees. Suspended inside the gibbet is a pair of decayed corpses. Their skeletal arms and legs hang between the bars, their lips rotted away in unending grins beneath the sunken holes of their eyes. Their leathers are tattered and worn, riddled with holes made by a carrion's beak or the head of an arrow, emblazoned with the same lion's roaring head you've seen pass you nearly every day.
"Hmmm... possibly deserters," Veldyn comments, staring up at the cages. "Else I'm sure the troops we passed would have lowered them. Best to leave them be."
Rivvil is just reading Dizvar’s book when he looks up and sees the dead bodies. Hmmmm, I wonder, what gets rid of the dead on the surface? Puppies maybe? He then gives a curious look at Chewie. Chewie pants happily in the cart.
"Do you want that, puppy?" Rivvil says closing the book and pointing at the skeletal hand.
“He prefers meat,” Rosie answers for the dog. “The fresher the better, of course. But a bone is like... a stick with yummier smells? Seriously, Chews? Alright, he says it’s a stick with yummier smells.”
"So....yes?" Rivvil asks getting his whip ready. Rosie shrugs.
Rivvil uses his whip in an attempt to break off, and attempt to grab, the biggest bone of the skeleton he can find. His whip cracks through the old bone and dried flesh, wrapping around the skeleton's right femur. Unfortunately, he can't seem to wiggle it out of the cage suspending in the bows of the oak.
Grishkar taps Rivvil on the shoulder and waves him to the side. Tracing his thumbs across the fingers of each hand, he sends a pair of icy, skeletal claws at the chains suspending the cages. The brittle chain shatters as the cold claws of death lung for it, causing the cage to come crashing down to the ground. "Well, that's one way to get a bone." Rivvil comments at Grishkars display.
Suddenly, the screams of a woman and the shouts of several men carry with the wind to the group's ears. The commotion seems to come from the right path. Grishkar smiles at his success and the screams, "I believe I hear opportunity calling." He will move down the right path at a quick stroll, not caring if anyone follows behind.
Rivvil lets out a sigh. "Should we follow?" he asks the others.
“If only to make sure Grishkar doesn’t scare ‘em all away,” Rose hopped down.
"I'm not sure he's right in the head..." Veldyn follows.
"All right. I'll get you that bone later my future spider killer." Rivvil says as he pets Chewy's head before following.
“I’m not sure any of y’all are right in the head,” Rose muttered under her breath.
Leaving the cart at its location, the group follows the path as it winds around a bend of thick trees which sprout from the base of a hill. Rounding the trees, the group sees the road passes through a clearing, blocked by the ruins of an ox cart with one axle shattered. Iron ingots have spilled out into the dust and fallen leaves of the road. Pinned to the side of the cart is a man, his face a mask of blood from being hit, his hands nailed to the cart with iron spikes.
The woman screams again. She is in the dirt of the roadway, her clothes are torn, and she is cursing and spitting at the three men around her. A gaunt-looking man with a beaky nose throws a kick at her with a heavy boot as a squash-nosed boy next to him laughs. A third man, bald, with a pockmarked face, idly shifts tough the contents of the ruined cart with his spearpoint. The men wear the blue of Neverwintan soldiers. None of them seem to have noticed you.
Rivvil, at seeing this display of bullying, breaks out his whip (which has a nice Ruby in it now) and says loudly for those three to hear, "You know. I love pain as much as the next guy but, why don't you pick on someone who is a bit more of a challenge."
The soldier searching through the contents of the cart immediately stands with him hand on a sword, staring daggers down at Rivvil. The other two lose interest in the woman as well and look towards him.
The pockmarked-face soldier calls out, "These two are thieves who've stolen a shipment of goods. Get lost or I'll arrest you for interfering with the Neverwinter militia," he looks at the whip, "Indiana Jones."
Rivvil weighs their words, looking at the situation. They seem like they're telling the truth.
The woman's pleading doesn't stop, however. "Please..." she says with tears in her eyes, "they're lying! Don't bel..." A loud slap as the backhand of the squash-nosed boy connects with the woman's check rings through the cool air.
"That's enough out of you, thief. You'll hang for this." he threatens.
"We passed a contingent of soldiers earlier on the road," Veldyn says. "They mentioned deserters..." He gives them a sly smile, wondering if they will call his bluff.
Anyone well-versed in the minute peculiarities of conversation and body language would recognize the crack in the gaunt-faced man's appearance. He scowls, drawing his blade. "And just what are you saying...."
"I'm pretty sure the penalty is a painful death," he replies. "The cages can fit quite a few more. Where's the rest of your contingent, I wonder." Veldyn places his hand on the hilt of his longsword, readying himself.
With the others hanging back, leaving only Rivvil and Veldyn revealed, the gaunt-faced man snorts. "Well well... looks like our cat is out of the bag."
"And Tymora must be smiling on us boys!" he shouts. "She just sent two souls our way to send 'em to their makers." All three draw their swords, uninterested in the husband and wife as they advance on Veldyn and Rivvil.
Grishkar notes the odd scene, "Well, I suppose someone was ["FREE FUD"] after falling for that."
Natah glanced away, looked at the sign, then returned her glare to Grishkar. "Then we ssshould definitely ssstop." Not waiting for the cart to stop, she threw open the door and jumped to the ground, inspecting the sign.
Inspecting her surroundings, Natah notes the flat terrain surrounding the sign would make it difficult for any creatures, either large or small, to hide in wait to ambush. Moving closer, she estimates the hole to be fairly recently dug, as most of the dirt surrounding it is recently dug up with little disturbance. It measures a little less than ten feet in diameter, and probably goes about ten to fifteen feet down as well. She can see wooden stakes at the bottom of the hole. Some of them are caked in dried blood, and the leg of an animal lays at the bottom. Veldyn gives the top of the carriage another few quick knocks, indicating to the driver to stop.
Grishkar walks up behind Natah, off her right shoulder, and looks over her and down, "Well, looks like I was right, but that explains why they fell for it..."
Valdyn glances outside, more out of impatience. "Lets hurry this up!" He calls.
Natah crossed her arms over her chest. "Thisss isss a pisss poor ambusssh." She pointed to their surroundings. "Nowhere to hide."
"Well the offer could have been genuine," Veldyn comments from the window. It wasn't hard to miss by any means. As Grishkar approaches, he spots large tracks that head east towards a cluster of hills. The tracks seem to consist of hands nearly two feet in length, and two more round indentations.
Grishkar smiles at Natah and puts a hand high on her shoulder, near her neck, "You've never seen a rodent snare, then. It catches the prey and holds them for the hunter. This is just an improvement to kill the prey first."
Natah swiftly spun, grabbing Grishkar's hand and twisted it, nearly to the point of snapping. She looked him directly in his good eye, then his dead eye, before releasing him. "Ssshall we find out who isss on the other end of the track?" She pushed past him, and began following the trail, pretty sure of what she would find.
Stretching the previously-grabbed hand to Natah, Grishkar smiled, "Let's. And next time, let's go all the way together. I need to make sure someone comes with me if I'm to die this soon."
"Don't be disssgusssting," Natah hissed, as she watched the tracks.
Rivvil gives the others in the carriage a look before saying “Let’s all follow. Maybe a fight with whatever laid this trap will release some of our tension.”(edited)
"Violence as a way of relieving stress? It seems like you're my kind of people," Rose laughed, as both she and Chewie got ready to follow.
Llewyrr exits the carriage to follow. He mumbles something under his breath and a flower blooms in his hand. Offering it to Grishkar, he says, "Say you're sorry."
"For what? I like her. Not my fault she doesn't enjoy my company."
Llewyrr shrugs and walks up to Godiva. He extends the flower toward her.
Rivvil steps up to the tracks and says to the others “I was trained to track. I’m unsure what made these prints so it might be harder but I should be able to find them again if we start to loose the tracks in the hills.”
"Godiva, we stay with the driver," Veldyn calls up above. He looks out one last time before shaking his head. What a waste of time...
"I'm fairly certain what made thessse tracksss," Natah said, amused. Without waiting, she began to follow them.
Godiva smiles down at the druid and accepts the flower, her cheeks turning a rosy red.
“What’s the matter? Scared to get into a fight.” Rivvil teases Veldyn. Without any further communication, Llewyrr turns to follow the group. Veldyn ignores Rivvil, instead leaning back to get more relaxed. Rivvil turns and begins to lead the group mumbling under his breath something about lazy nobles. Pipe smoke is seen exiting through the window as the group gets further away.
Grishkar turns around and yells back, "How would you like to stroll into town, crest shown proudly, with a rampaging monster's head displayed as a slayer of predators?"
"If it isss what I think it isss," Natah said quietly to Grishkar. "I don't plan on killing it."
"Sing a song, yes a travel song, when you've got to go somewhere," Rose strummed. "Cause the fun is getting there..."
While Grishkar found the tracks, it was Llewyrr who was able to distinguish them and follow them. With the wild-boy leading the group, they make off into the wilderness, soon disappearing from the main road and Veldyn's field-of-view.
Llewyrr notes as they travel that the creature's pattern of movement is inconsistent. At times, the right side of the tracks carries on as one large, solid track, as if it was dragging something during those portions, only to pick it back up later. Likewise, during those moments, another track would form in between the set of handprints and "stubs" (as the group believes them to be), similar in appearance to something being dragged along the floor. Specks of blood littered the grass and dirt at those moments, their crimson hue contrasting the bright greens and yellows of the landscape.
The group follows the tracks for about a half hour until the reach the cluster of hills. While the hills were mostly rolling, creating broad passageways between them, large boulders and small cliffs perched themselves at various points, easily providing cover to anyone in need of such. The tracks lead through the most prominent passageway.
"Oh what the heck, I must confess, I love a roadtrip!
Sing a song
Hit the trail
Forget the maps. Forget the guides.
Before ya know it, you've made strides with me.
And I know all I need - all along
Is a path and a pal - and a song,
So I'm singin'
And I'm pallin' with you
See? It makes the time go by faster," Rose sang. Llewyrr looks for a long time at Rose as they walk.
Natah pauses, scanning the hills, listening for anything out of the usual. "Now, thisss isss a good place for an ambusssh."
"Should I go ahead?" Llewyrr asks Natah.
Grishkar fold his hands into his sleeves and begins to touch his thumbs to their respective finger counterparts on each hand. Within the robes, his palms gather an icy blue glow, ready to be released.
"Yesss," Natah hissed. "But remember, if it isss the ogre, I want to try to talk to it firssst." Llewyrr continues following the tracks.
Pressing forward, the group moves as a body into the cluster of hills. Rosiniana singing echoes off stone, reverberating throughout the hills as they move along the bases, winding their way through the twisting maze.
It doesn't take long, as they follow the tracks, to find the source of them. Winding around the bend of one such steep hill, they find the tracks lead to a large clearing, scattered with bones and rotting corpses of various creatures. Scratch marks along the ground reveal the path boulders took as they were pushed to the side to make this clearing larger. On the opposite side stood the mouth of a dark cave...
And in the center of this all sat a large ogre. It's left leg was just a stump, covered in animal hide. In his right hand he firmly clasped the trunk of a tree, it's branches ripped away and the stubs crudely sharpened. His black, beady eyes are transfixed on you as his brutish voice booms, "HAHA! I trap you!"
"It's not really a trap if we were looking for you, now is it?' Rose stopped her song.
"Well, we knew you were here," Natah said, amusement evident in her voice. "I wasss hoping to find you, in fact. I've heard sssuch a wonderful ssstory about you, jussst lassst night."
"HAH! Ugly song stop. Good. Me want that," he boisterously declares. "Story? ME?"
"Bellyfran," Llewyrr says under his breath.
"Bellyfran, yesss?" Natah moved closer, sliding forward smoothly, her empty hands before her. "I heard the ssstory of how you lossst that leg. From the man who took it. Who ssstill hasss it." She stopped, pulling down her mask so only Bellyfran could see her entire face. "And I know exactly where he isss."
He looks down at the stump of his leg and back at Natah with a fury in his eyes. He screams as his fists found the ground around him, "MY LEG!!! WHO LEG MINE HAVE?!"
Natah smiled broadly, pulling the mask back over her face and backed away, rejoining her companions. "We could ssshow you. We could take you there."
He huffs and puffs as he begins a mixed effort of crawling and dragging himself around the clearing. You notice how large his belly is and how, at times, it drags along the ground as calloused flesh. It's clear that he's thinking as he drags himself about. Rivvil’s hand is on his whip. Ready to use it in case things go south. Or maybe if he’s just bored. Rivvil hasn’t decided yet. "You... you see home. You no leave! Must stay. Forever! This secret place." he states as he sits down again.
"We can help you get your leg back. We can help you get your revenge," Natah said, her voice dripping with temptation.
He thumps his head a few times with his empty hand. "But... treasure! Treasure no safe if leave. But then no leg..." he mutters loudly as he thinks. "No tell others treasure? Yes?" he asks Natah.
"Your sssecret isss sssafe with me," Natah promised.
"HAH!" he shouts. "Treasure safe anyway. No know password. Only Bellyfran know password!" The monster bellowed. "Okay. You show leg and me no eat you." he bargains.
"Thisss is an acceptable deal," Natah says, turning to her companions. "Yesss?" Rivvil stays silent. Attempting to repress his desire to to fight this creature and relish in the joys of combat. As Natah coerces the ogre into some scheme of hers, Grishkar notices a pile of corpses... all with their hands still attached. Grishkar releases his spell, opting yo see where this goes. What an interesting prospect: to lure an ogre to its revenge, then kill it to make them look like saviors.
Llewyrr's brow furrows. "But ..." he says quietly to Natah. "The little ones."
The ogre gets up, tree trunk still in one hand, and starts moving for the group, laughing with malicious glee and chanting over and over, "Leg! leg! LEEEEEEEEEEG!" Natah turns away from the group, seemingly not hearing what Llewyrr said, and begins leading the ogre away. His stomach grumbles loudly as he moves forward with the party back to the cart.
Llewyrr pleads with Natah. "Please. They're innocent. Natah shoots a glance at Llewyrr, but says nothing.
Grishkar grabs Llewyrr by the shoulder and pulls him back, hanging behind the shambling brute, "Just play along. When we get to where he wants to go, we give him a good look at the inside of his empty head."
With a last glance, Rivvil scours the area for anything out of place. Besides corpses, overturned stones, skeletal bones, and the mouth the cave on the far side, nothing seems out of place.
"If we going to ... are going to ..." Llewyrr says, pausing to make sure he won't be overheard, "kill it, why not do it here?"
Rivvil continues along with the group. Hoping that eventually they can fight this thing.
Grishkar gives a creepy attempt at a brotherly smile and pats Llewyrr on the shoulder as they walk, "Because perception is reality. The ogre finally catches up to the man who stole its leg and seeks revenge. That's the story we know. What the world sees is a bloodthirsty savage that escaped execution coming back to kill innocents. We rush in, do the deed, then present the Zhentarim as heroes." He releases the druid and continues on, "Like I said, I like Natah."
Llewyrr stops walking for a second, his face contorting in thought. Slowly, his head nods, and then he jogs to catch up. "I have idea ... an idea," Llewyrr says to Grishkar. "I can run before ... ahead and tell Ulfmir that the Ogre is coming. He could come out to meet, and I could ... protect his young."
He ponders the thought for a moment, "It may be a good thought. Would be suspicious if you met, left, then just returned just on a hunch to kill the brute that this man crippled long ago."
PBP: DM of Titans of Tomorrow
PBP: Lera Zahuv in Whispers of Dissent
PBP: Evaine Brae in Innistrad: Dark Ascension
PBP: Cor'avin in Tomb of Annihilation
Back at the cart, Veldyn waits both bored and patient. A minute turns to five, which turns to ten, which turns to a half hour. While not genuinely concerned with the fate of most of his new companions, he is curious to know of where they are. He looks to his right and sees them.... and something else, trailing behind them.
Natah strides toward the cart, obviously very proud of herself. Veldyn knocks hard at the roof of the cart. "Make sure he makes it to town," he orders Godiva. He then exits the cart and orders the driver to not look back while pointing down the road.
He hears a loud scream. "HORSES!!! ME LOVE HORSES!!" Bellyfran starts into a full crawling sprint, barreling towards the now moving cart and the horses.
"Well it was good until this point..." Grishkar mutters under his breath.
Natah makes her way quickly to Veldyn, speaking quickly before their newfound friend catches up. "Need to decide quick. Kill him now, or lead him to hisss missssing foot, and become heroesss." Veldyn stands firm, unslinging his shield and drawing his longsword, positioning himself to intercept the charging ogre.
Natah shouts Bellyfran. "No horsesss! Your leg, and revenge are in thisss direction," she yells, pointing down the path, toward the direction they came from.
Rivvil sees the human noble grab out his long sword and grins. Now is the time Rivvil thinks as he takes out his whip.
"Sing a song," Rosie strums, remembering how much the ogre hated her song. The words are laced with magic. A psychic surge lashes out at Bellyfran during his frenzied charge, causing him to cry out in pain (dissonant whispers; Bellyfran saves; 3 psychic damage].
Llewyrr mumbles under his breath and makes a strange maneuver with his hand and a fog cloud grows out of nowhere between the Ogre and the carriage, enveloping the giant [fog cloud].
Veldyn keeps pace with the carriage as it tries to flee the charging ogre. He makes sure to keep himself between the horses and the giant brute. As Veldyn moves into the fog, he realizes just how heavily it obscures his vision... he can barely see his hands and feet placed out in front of him. He places himself up by what seems to be a large boulder, briefly remembering the terrain before the fog descended. (Moves to F4, Prepares attack for first Ogre that nears him, attack)
Seeing the situation going badly, Natah hastily runs for the nearest tree, and hides herself.
Grishkar will swing wide, waiting for an opportunity to strike the ogre down from a distance. (Move to F10, Ready Ray of Sickness to trigger when the ogre is in clear line-of-sight)
Rivvil still able to see the creature first uses his teeth to bite his lip hard enough to bleed. He then takes his bloodied thumb and runs it along his whip saying “Oury” and his whip ignites. (Bonus Action Blood Rite Of Flames) Rivvil then moves (to K7) to where he remembers the ogre being and strikes at it with his flaming whip. The strike lashes into the fog, completely missing Bellyfran (10 to-hit). And his whiff Rivvil says aloud “I’m just trying to clear this fog away!”
Bellyfran's frenzied rush comes to a halt as the fog descends all around him. The group quickly gets into position, either hiding, getting ready to strike, or a combination of both. Pain wracks his brain as he cries out from Rose's spell, and then all is silent from within the cloud. A few seconds pass and everyone can hear him say, "Hey. Where'd horsies go?" Bellyfran then wanders out of the fog on the east side, looking very confused and staring intently at Rivvil's flaming whip.
Seeing Bellyfran's object of interest, Grishkar releases a crackling bolt of green energy that crashes into the ogre's shoulder and spreads toxins through his veins (11 to-hit; 8 poison damage; Bellyfran is poisoned).
Battle Tracker:
- Bellyfran: 11 damage; poisoned
Map:
Rivvil, now seeing the ogre, smiles and says to him “Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a bit.” As he moves forward (M7), a smile on his lips, and slashes at him with his burning whip. Rivvil leaves a big red line across the ogres stomach as the whip first teared into his stomach but the flames quickly cauterized the wound. The cauterization causing almost as much pain as the whip itself. Rivvil stands in the same spot grinning ear to ear at the pain he is causing.
//Natural 20 to Hit. 8 Fire Damage and 9 Slashing Damage for a total of 17 Damage.//
The fog is nearly overwhelming. Veldyn traces the path back over and around, ever weary of the charging ogre. If he hears the slightest indication that the ogre is coming, he'll be ready (Moves to F1, readies an attack for the first ogre that nears him).
In this short time Veldyn's mind is reeling. What in the hells are they trying to accomplish by bringing the brute here!?
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As Bellyfran moves out of the fog, Grishkar releases a crackling bolt of green energy that crashes into the ogre's shoulder and spreads toxins through his veins.
(Ray of Sickness, 6 damage, failed CON save, so Bellyfran is poisoned until end of my next turn, which is very soon :/)
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
Natah frowned as she watched people start attacking the ogre for no reason. This is the level of trust I can expect, she thought, as she withdrew her daggers. Staying in the shadows, she continued to watch.
A dwarf with a canoe on his back? What could go wrong?
“There once was an ogre called Bellyfran,
Who was quite the pain for my clan,
His tummy was fat,
He screamed like a brat,
So I suppose we’ll make him a deadman,” Rose taunted.
(1 point of damage for vicious mockery.)
PBP: DM of Titans of Tomorrow
PBP: Lera Zahuv in Whispers of Dissent
PBP: Evaine Brae in Innistrad: Dark Ascension
PBP: Cor'avin in Tomb of Annihilation
Llewyrr watches with wide eyes as Rivvil and Grishkar attack the Ogre. He tentatively places his shield in front of his narrow chest and swallows.
// No movement, dodge
Bellyfran roars at Rivvil and his whip. "YOU NO HIT ME! ME HIT YOU!" As Bellyfran swings his tree trunk, he gets a sickening feel in his stomach and almost vomits, causing his tree trunk to swing wide.
//13 to hit with disadvantage due to Grishkar's Ray of Sickness against Rivvil's AC fails.//
Rivvil, a smile still on his face, taunts the ogre "Come on now. Hitting something isn't that hard. It's all in the flick of the wrist." As Rivvil uses his whip against the ogre; a bright red 'X' now adorning the ogre's stomach.
//Another natural 20 to hit for 3 Fire Damage and 8 slashing damage for a total of 11 Damage.//
"Get out of sight and wait for us," Veldyn commands of the chariot as it speeds away. Seeing Godiva's confirmation he begins skirting the outskirts of the unnatural fog to get a clearer look at what the Ogre is up to. Seeing it entangled in a deadly melee with Rivvil, he sets himself to join the action by closing the distance between himself and the brute. (Move to L1, dash to O3)
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Grishkar traces this thumb across the fingertips of a hand and sends a glowing, blue claw of ice at Bellyfran. However, the claw hits his shoulder superficially and puffs into mist.
Characters:
Grishkar Darkmoor, Necromancer of Nerull the Despiser
Kelvin Rabbitfoot, Diviner, con artist, always hunting for a good sale
Bründir Halfshield, Valor Bard, three-time Sheercleft Drinking Competition Champion, Hometown hero
“Belly-Fran, more like smelly-fran. Amiright?” Rose tried to taunt again, but apparently the ogre didn’t hear her. “Fine, ignore me. Veldyn!” She set her sights on the knight that had been nicer to her the evening before. “Kill this gross ogre, run it through with that cool sword, then we loot his corpse.”
(Failed vicious mockery, inspiration die to Veldyn.)
PBP: DM of Titans of Tomorrow
PBP: Lera Zahuv in Whispers of Dissent
PBP: Evaine Brae in Innistrad: Dark Ascension
PBP: Cor'avin in Tomb of Annihilation
As the tree trunk swings past Rivvil, Llewyrr jumps. He runs to within 10 feet of the Ogre, pulling a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket. He mutters something under his breath and then blows a deep breath around the mistletoe, which he is holding close to his lips. The breath transforms into a yellow green mist aimed at Bellyfran's head. (10 Poison Damage)
In a panic, the Ogre swings his club at Rivvil again. Rivvil is easily able to side-step it as it comes crashing down into the ground. Wracked with pain from the various poisons in its body and the still burning lines from Rivvil's flaming whip, the ogre turns to flee. (Ogre miss,)
Rivvil whips out his whip one last time, "Get back here!" It cracks in the air as the ogre makes its way out of Rivvil's reach. (Rivvil miss)
Inspired by the gnome, Veldyn rushes over behind the ogre and stabs upward with his longsword. The strike digs deep into the ogre's leg-stump and it howls in pain. Losing its balance, it crashes hard into the ground and splits its thick skull on a nearby boulder. After twitching a few times, it goes still (4 damage).
"Well... that was easy," Veldyn comments.
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“Why’d you kill him? We were just beginning to have fun.” Rivvil says annoyed that the noble does nothing the entire fight and then kills Rivvil’s new toy.
"You can keep the next ogre we find," Veldyn replies. "Why'd you bring him here?"
"I was hoping to use him," Natah said sliding out from behind a tree. "So much for that plan." She voice was even and more amused than disappointed.
"It was reckless," Veldyn says simply. He lets out a loud whistle, looking in the direction the carriage went off in.
"It would have been the perfect plan," Natah responded.
"Agreed," Grishkar strolls up to those gathered around the corpse, hands folded behind, "We must salvage what we can from the situation, though. Take the head and distinctive parts so we can collect reward. Knight, remove its hands, if you please."
"You want the ogre's hands?" Veldyn asks, looking down at the corpse.
"Yes. I'm guessing this ogre's reputation is less than sterling, so please," he offers a hand, gesturing to the corpse, "The head, hands, and identifying limbs or apparel, if you please."
"Very well," Veldyn says with a shrug. He takes to searching and butchering the ogre after removing his tunic and setting it aside.
"Have fun with that," Natah said, spinning on her heels, and began to walk back to the ogres cave.
Grishkar will place the hands on top of the carriage, "With some time to recouperate, I'll be able to make use of these. If not, we'll turn them in with the brute's head and stump(s)."
Rivvil seeing Natah leave he says over his shoulder to the others “I’ll go with Natah. We’ll be back shortly why you take care of this.” Rivvil says looking for something else to fight. The thrill of the last battle still in him.
Llewyrr began to follow as well but Rivvil shook his head no at him at the human decided to stay and help Godiva.
Following the tracks from earlier, Natah and Rivvil cautiously return to the ogre's lair, intrigued by the prospectives of treasure. They reach the clearing, noting that nothing seems to have changed: rocks are still thrown to the sides against the hills, and corpses and bones litter the ground with varying degrees of wholeness. The cave entrance still stands, almost peering at the group menacingly.
Advancing to the cave entrance, they find the mouth is both very wide, and the cave to not be too deep. It goes back from about another thirty feet or so before tapering off and merging with the floor.
“Let’s.” Rivvil replies to her still holding onto his flaming whip.
Tucked into the corner, amidst more rotting corpses, they spot the gleam of something metallic.
Rivvil’s bodyguard training come into play as he looks for any traps. (Investigation: 20)
Rivvil don't spot any traps as you look around the cave. He does find, however, a piece of paper seemingly hidden amidst some small rocks.
“No traps but this might be interesting.” Rivvil says as he picks up the paper and reads it aloud.
Natah chuckles at the note as Rivvil reads it out loud. As he continues, she moves forward and began to inspect the metal thing she'd spotted.
Moving closer, she notices a small, wooden chest nestled into the rotting corpses in a piss-poor attempt to hide it. Natah kicks the corpse aside and takes a closer look at the chest.
Meanwhile, Rivvil crumpled up the note and then pockets it. Perhaps one day he’ll find this Pettilaen. He then joins Natah.
The chest's wood has long soaked in the blood of the corpses, dying the wood to a deep red hue. A smashed lock keeps the lid from opening.
“Well, what’s in the chest?” Rivvil asks.
Natah pulls the lock free, tossing it over her shoulder at Rivvil. She slowly cracks the chest open so only she can see the various coins inside.
Natah decides to pocket some of the coins before opening the chest the rest of the way. (Natah’s Sleigh Of Hand: 7 VS Rivvil’s Perception: 3)
As Natah tries to secretly pocket some of the currency for herself, one of the corpses in the pile falls off, heavily distracting both Rivvil and her. Fortunately, Rivvil appeared more distracted for it as he immediately turned and went for his whip, expecting some zombie to rise.
Natah pockets some of the coin, then runs her hands through it, quite obviously. "Thisss will help usss on our journey, I think."
“Or. We don’t have to tell the others.” Rivvil offers. “We did all the work on that ogre. You lured it away and I practically killed it myself. You take half and I take half.” Rivvil offers.
Natah gave Rivvil a hard look, thinking. *I need to fit in. I can't be caught,* she thought to herself. "No, it would be wrong of usss. Besssidesss, if we are to sssucceed asss a group, we ssshould *all* put thisss to ussse."
Rivvil sighs. *I was hoping this would be easy.* “Fine. Have it your way. Just don’t be surprised when they spend there money on themselves and don’t give you any credit for what you did.”
"I'm not here for credit," Natah said, closing the chest. "I don't even care about the coin. Sssome of usss have more important thingsss that need doing. I *need* thisss group. I can't do thisss alone, and need them to trussst me. Sssurely you can underssstand?"
“Well some of us have ambitions that require a lot of coin. Puppies are expensive.” Rivvil says
Natah sighed. "This ssstays between usss," she said, digging her hand into the coin and placing a pile into Rivvil's hand, before picking up the chest and tucking it under an arm. "Ready to head back?"
Rivvil nods and follows her back.
Eventually Godiva joins, her eyes go wide, and she turns to let out her morning breakfast. "Godiva, get a couple sacks from the cart!" Veldyn says. His arms, and many sections of his armor, are covered in ogre blood. "Ya need the dong too?" He ask Grishkar. "I don't pretend to know the arcane arts and the tinctures you all make, but I imagine ogre dong is a hearty ingredient."
“If Grishkar doesn’t want the dick, I’ll take it!” Rose piped up.
Grishkar shrugs, "Take it if you like. I have no use for it, but some enterprising con artist might."
Veldyn finishes the job, tossing the dong to Rose and leaving the butchered corpse where it sits. The head is packed into a sack and tied tight, strapped to the back of the carriage. Another sack contains the other various parts the Wizard requested and hangs from the cart to let the blood drain onto the road. Triumphant, Veldyn wipes his hands in the dirt and dons his tunic once more.
Once the deed is done and Grishkar is satisfied at the treatment of the massive meathooks of hands, he will look around to see if the others have left for the cave yet. If they are already gone, he simply lounges near the carriage, reading diligently through a strangely-hued leather-and-iron-bound tome.
Nearly an hour after leaving, Natah and Rivvil caught up to the others. "Found sssomething for everyone," she called out. Once she was near everyone, she dropped the chest that was tucked under her arm to the ground. Stepping away, she grinned proudly, under her mask.
"Oh, very nice. The Ogre was guarding treasure, was he? Have ya opened it?" Veldyn asks.
"It wasss open. Jussst a bunch of coin," Natah said, very proud of herself.
Grishkar does not look up from his reading; the clinking of coins is all he needs to hear, "Some sow seeds of grain and fruit, others sow seeds of goods and services."
Veldyn hops down from the cart. "I think these coin would be best spent currying favor with the locals. If we need to grease palms to get this deal done, the funds will help."
"Just remember the wolf's share: 10% of all income." Grishkar comments.
"That... isss an interesssting idea, indeed," Natah said, thinking. "Yesss, thisss might help greatly."
Seeing nobody else do it Rivvil puts his whole away, ending the blood rite, and begins counting the coins. As Rivvil dumps the coins out to begin counting, he immediately notices a blood-red ruby, perhaps an inch in diameter, covered in strange, eldritch runes. A curious necklace, made from brass with multiple parts that twirl and spin, also deposits, hidden amongst the coins.
"The fun has just begun," Veldyn says. "Lets head back on the road when your done counting."
“By Wolf I hope you mean Chewie, in which chase 10% sounds very fair. And then split evenly amongst the rest of us?” Rose says.
"Not at all," Grishkar seems bored with the conversation, "The Zhentarim demand 10% of earnings."
“So 10% to the snakes, 10% to Chewie, and the other 80 for the six of us,” Rose nodded. “Got it.”
Rivvil picks up the ruby and begins to look at the eldritch ruins. Rivvil examines the runes, trying to find the meaning behind their nature. After a few minutes, he's able to learn that these runes allow the ruby to act as a spellcasting focus for casters... and that the ruby can be pressed against a weapon, treating the whole weapon as if it was some spellcasting focus.
"I'm not interested in the money," Natah said, repeating what she told Rivvil. She wandered off and sat under a tree.
“This is interesting. I’ll explain what it does on the way to Hannock. Now let’s see if this necklace is anything.” Rivvil says before examining the necklace as well.
Grishkar glances at the gem momentarily, "An interesting trinket. You can consider that Chewie's 10%"
Looking over the necklace, Rivvil finds a name engraved on the back: Saborn Rendel. He can hear faint ticking and whirring noises coming from within, but isn't able to decipher just what it all means.
“I think Chewie would prefer the necklace over the gem,” Rose haggled. “Red really isn’t his color.”
“Hmmmm....this necklace seemed to belong to someone. It might do something but I’m not sure. Anyways, if we’re all done here we can continue on and I’ll explain why the puppy shouldn’t get the ruby.” Rivvil says standing up and putting all the coins back into the chest, then the necklace on top and finally holding the gem in his hand.
Once everyone is back in the carriage, Veldyn gives it a couple knocks to get the vehicle moving. "That was quite the detour," he says.
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The chaos of the scene having died down, the group piles back into the caravan, many caked in dried blood and sweat, bringing with them the smells of iron and rancid body-odor. Godiva wrinkles her nose and manages to keep the contents of her stomach down as the bloodied party, complete with their "trophies" of ogre, continue down the High Road towards Hannock.
The evening quickly comes as some of the group realizes just how long their detour with Bellyfran took. Pulling off to the side of the road, they find another flat clearing next to a fair-sized stream and set up camp. Conversations are quick to come and go, and, after the group sets up an order for the watch, they fall asleep.
Once again, another night passes without incident or injury, as they wake up one by one to set out again for another day a traveling. Veldyn predicts that they'll reach the cairn which marks the road to Hannock that night if they push forward a bit later into the day, needing to make up for lost time.
Morning comes and Rivvil opens his eyes blearily. He finds himself face to face with... the ogre dick, so close it is touching my nose. Rivvil pulls away, and inspect it to find that it has a smiley face drawn on it. Rivvil, at first, is shocked at this and grabs his whip but, when he sees it is just the dick he smiles. And then hearing the giggling. Rivvil just laughs as well.
“Yer face!” Rosie laughs. “Ah, can I have that back? I’ve got more plans.” "Go ahead little one." Rivvil responds. “That’s racist,” the gnome says happily, walking over and grabbing the ogre dick.
“That’s racist,” the gnome says happily, walking over and grabbing the ogre dick. “G’morning Godiva!” Rose waves, forgetting what is in her hand. “How are you doing this morning?” She lowers her head to continue her task, trying not to look at the object in question.
Grishkar is working to the side with the ogre's hands, working some strange magic on them. Something goes wrong. The hands remain inanimate and Grishkar goes into a seldom seen frenzy, stabbing and cursing the hands before kicking them into a nearby stream.
When Veldyn wakes, he first goes to check the remains of the Ogre. Leaving them out is risky, but he tied them high in a tree to prevent predators from getting to the good bits. While checking on them, he notices the hands have been discarded. "I take it your experiment was a failure," he says to Grishkar as he passes by. "A shame... I was curious how powerful your magic is compared to Hoar's."
Grishkar seems to find some amusement in the blackguard, "Your god exists because of mine. When someone's life is exchanged for gold, who does the family call to? When is a ruler deposed by his trusted advisors, who hears the prayers in exile? MyMaster works in grander schemes and machinations than you can imagine." Grishkar holds a hand to the river, "My frustration with my Lord's forbearance of power is not some child's tantrum. Even now, I serve his will in whatever way I can." He steps closer, "The head was kept away from vermin and elements while the hands were left out. This meant that they were likely unreceptive to the magic now. I don't see this as a failure as much as a consolatory endeavor. The rot from these hands may yet taint some life down the way. Maybe a child gathering water will poison the family?"
Veldyn blinks a few times, regretting saying anything at all. He clears his throat before saying, "Uh, better luck next time, I guess." Any passing conversation seems useless with those that don't have all of their wits about them. He'd have to make sure to keep this one away from any 'civil' folk.
Rivvil finally bites and approaches and asks Grishkar “So, which Demon Lord gives you power?”
Grishkar outright laughs at Rivvil, "My ignorant friend, you must learn your history. I serve the former patron of the Zhentarim, the Lord of Murder, God of Shadow and Intrigue, Lord of Strife, and Prince of Lies: Cyric." With a bit of a flourish, he bows low and a skull emblazoned against a black sunburst appears on the back of his robes, only to fade again when he stands upright again.
“The Lord of Lies?” Rivvil repeats back confused. Is that a personification of Lloth? Rivvil questions in his head as well. Rivvil continues to think for a moment before saying “Are you sure it’s not Fraz-Urb’luu?”
Grishkar settles back into his normal demeanor, "Demon Lords are too....chaotic. They live to kill and torment, but that's about it. Give a dog a bone and you have the same effect. Cyric sets his sights across the hold world as a master strategist would see beyond a battle to war on a grand scale."
"That's an opinion," Rivvil says. "I still don't know who you're talking about though."
"One day, I'll have to give you some history. For now, suffice it to say, Cyric is a full-fledged god and more than amiable to our cause." Grishkar gives a pat on Rivvil's shoulder.
Rivvil just shrugs and makes his way to the carriage. "Well, let's get to Hannock." he says to everyone.
Packing up their sleeping arrangements, the group tears down their camp, finishes any morning rituals, and sets off on their cart once again. The morning dawned clear and cool, with only sparse clouds that seemed to cling to the horizon. A flock of geese flew overhead, heading south in what would appear to be their migratory pattern for the winter.
Like any day of travel, it drags on as the group finds ways to pass it by. Some sleep, some think, and others read as if trying to avoid conversation with each other. A few scant people pass by, some as solo travelers and others with a caravan like yours, but besides that, not much exciting happens during the day.
Until the late afternoon, when a herald on horseback, wearing the Neverwintan soldier's tabard, emblazoned with the head of a roaring lion, trots down the road, ordering all travelers to move to the side of the road so that the army's wounded can pass through. Veldyn signals for the driver to obey, who pulls the cart off to the side of the road. A few minutes pass, and then a slow-moving caravan winds its way around a hill down the road, coming into view. Soldiers, dressed in their navy-blue tabards, wearily march alongside the carts of the more heavily wounded. The sea of blue is speckled with the whites of bandages, the reds of dried blood, and the dirt of a foreign land. On several of the carts, you see many with limbs missing, their appendages ending in blood-soaked white bandages. Many more have their heads encased in cloth. Other carts just have bodies stacked on top of each other, their inventory now counted amongst the dead.
Grishkar will call for a momentary halt as the carriage is passed by the walking wounded. He asks around until someone in charge he found, "Good day, sir. I am a servant of Torm, patron of valiant warriors. Would you allow me to give blessings to the fallen?" The holy emblem is conspicuously missing from the elf's robes.
The caravan does not stop, but he is able to find someone in charge. A human male on horseback, heavily scarred and bearing much scruff, looks down at him from the horse, looking over his overall appearance. "You're a priest of Torm?"
Grishkar gives a low bow, "I was a warrior in my time, but battle against a wizard scarred me, as you can see," He pulls his hood aside to show his ruined face. "Now I serve in a more humble fashion."
A foul stench seems to catch his nose, causing him to grimace. "You smell of rotting flesh and decay, like the Luskan necromantic-freaks which roam the battlefield at night, forcing us to take out dead back to Neverwinter." He drives his stirrups into the horse, causing it to gallop forward and away from the group's cart.
Grishkar stammers to explain, "There was an ogre...and its head...the hands....other parts...." But it's too late. Grishkar watches the procession carefully, sullen when he discovers that the caravan is well-attended too. Returning himself to the carriage, he buries himself in his book. There'll be time for all this later.
The spectacle takes about twenty minutes to pass through, and soon the road is clear again, allowing the group to move forward. The sky is painted in shades of reds, yellow, and oranges, indicating that evening has soon fallen on the group as they contemplate the war effort against Luskan. Still, in order to make up for lost time, the cart presses on into the night, eagerly searching for the cairn which marks the road to Hannock.
The cairn comes quickly enough, settled at the base of a series of small hills coated with thick, low-lying trees and bushes. The path to Hannock would be wilder than that of the High Road if the cairn's placement was any indication of that. The road split, following the base of two hills closely nestled together. Off in the distance, the constantly-fuming volcano of Mount Hotenow fumed, billowing smoke into the surrounding region.
The group travels for just a few minutes on the road to Hannock, looking for a safe place to rest. The border of the Neverwinter Wood was less than a day's travel, maybe fifteen or so miles east of their position, and the group didn't want to risk being attacked by some roving monster which wandered too far from the woods to find itself a late-night snack. Llewyrr is able to guide them to a good, easily fortified location nestled in the crack of a few hills, surrounded by low-lying trees and bushes. Rosiniana spends the early parts of the night setting down tripwire to indicate the presence of something heading their direction. Doubling down on watch, they take their turns sleeping and observing the blackened landscape as the smoke from Mount Hotenow blots out the light of Selune and the stars.
Fortunately, the group awakes to find their heads all intact and no signs of beasts or other creatures disturbing their encampment. Packing up, they quickly set out, eager to hear the sound of Hannock's bell ringing. The morning and afternoon fade away into the past, becoming a fog of slow, tense memories as their cart draws closer, bumping along the rough road amidst the slowly encroaching foliage and trees.
The foliage gives way to a dark old oak, marking a fork in the roadway. From its branches hangs a rusted iron cage, topped with an ebony raven. Disturbed by your approach, the raven caws and beats its wings, soaring off into the air and out of sight behind the trees. Suspended inside the gibbet is a pair of decayed corpses. Their skeletal arms and legs hang between the bars, their lips rotted away in unending grins beneath the sunken holes of their eyes. Their leathers are tattered and worn, riddled with holes made by a carrion's beak or the head of an arrow, emblazoned with the same lion's roaring head you've seen pass you nearly every day.
"Hmmm... possibly deserters," Veldyn comments, staring up at the cages. "Else I'm sure the troops we passed would have lowered them. Best to leave them be."
Rivvil is just reading Dizvar’s book when he looks up and sees the dead bodies. Hmmmm, I wonder, what gets rid of the dead on the surface? Puppies maybe? He then gives a curious look at Chewie. Chewie pants happily in the cart.
"Do you want that, puppy?" Rivvil says closing the book and pointing at the skeletal hand.
“He prefers meat,” Rosie answers for the dog. “The fresher the better, of course. But a bone is like... a stick with yummier smells? Seriously, Chews? Alright, he says it’s a stick with yummier smells.”
"So....yes?" Rivvil asks getting his whip ready. Rosie shrugs.
Rivvil uses his whip in an attempt to break off, and attempt to grab, the biggest bone of the skeleton he can find. His whip cracks through the old bone and dried flesh, wrapping around the skeleton's right femur. Unfortunately, he can't seem to wiggle it out of the cage suspending in the bows of the oak.
Grishkar taps Rivvil on the shoulder and waves him to the side. Tracing his thumbs across the fingers of each hand, he sends a pair of icy, skeletal claws at the chains suspending the cages. The brittle chain shatters as the cold claws of death lung for it, causing the cage to come crashing down to the ground. "Well, that's one way to get a bone." Rivvil comments at Grishkars display.
Suddenly, the screams of a woman and the shouts of several men carry with the wind to the group's ears. The commotion seems to come from the right path. Grishkar smiles at his success and the screams, "I believe I hear opportunity calling." He will move down the right path at a quick stroll, not caring if anyone follows behind.
Rivvil lets out a sigh. "Should we follow?" he asks the others.
“If only to make sure Grishkar doesn’t scare ‘em all away,” Rose hopped down.
"I'm not sure he's right in the head..." Veldyn follows.
"All right. I'll get you that bone later my future spider killer." Rivvil says as he pets Chewy's head before following.
“I’m not sure any of y’all are right in the head,” Rose muttered under her breath.
Leaving the cart at its location, the group follows the path as it winds around a bend of thick trees which sprout from the base of a hill. Rounding the trees, the group sees the road passes through a clearing, blocked by the ruins of an ox cart with one axle shattered. Iron ingots have spilled out into the dust and fallen leaves of the road. Pinned to the side of the cart is a man, his face a mask of blood from being hit, his hands nailed to the cart with iron spikes.
The woman screams again. She is in the dirt of the roadway, her clothes are torn, and she is cursing and spitting at the three men around her. A gaunt-looking man with a beaky nose throws a kick at her with a heavy boot as a squash-nosed boy next to him laughs. A third man, bald, with a pockmarked face, idly shifts tough the contents of the ruined cart with his spearpoint. The men wear the blue of Neverwintan soldiers. None of them seem to have noticed you.
Rivvil, at seeing this display of bullying, breaks out his whip (which has a nice Ruby in it now) and says loudly for those three to hear, "You know. I love pain as much as the next guy but, why don't you pick on someone who is a bit more of a challenge."
The soldier searching through the contents of the cart immediately stands with him hand on a sword, staring daggers down at Rivvil. The other two lose interest in the woman as well and look towards him.
The pockmarked-face soldier calls out, "These two are thieves who've stolen a shipment of goods. Get lost or I'll arrest you for interfering with the Neverwinter militia," he looks at the whip, "Indiana Jones."
Rivvil weighs their words, looking at the situation. They seem like they're telling the truth.
The woman's pleading doesn't stop, however. "Please..." she says with tears in her eyes, "they're lying! Don't bel..." A loud slap as the backhand of the squash-nosed boy connects with the woman's check rings through the cool air.
"That's enough out of you, thief. You'll hang for this." he threatens.
"We passed a contingent of soldiers earlier on the road," Veldyn says. "They mentioned deserters..." He gives them a sly smile, wondering if they will call his bluff.
Anyone well-versed in the minute peculiarities of conversation and body language would recognize the crack in the gaunt-faced man's appearance. He scowls, drawing his blade. "And just what are you saying...."
"I'm pretty sure the penalty is a painful death," he replies. "The cages can fit quite a few more. Where's the rest of your contingent, I wonder." Veldyn places his hand on the hilt of his longsword, readying himself.
With the others hanging back, leaving only Rivvil and Veldyn revealed, the gaunt-faced man snorts. "Well well... looks like our cat is out of the bag."
"And Tymora must be smiling on us boys!" he shouts. "She just sent two souls our way to send 'em to their makers." All three draw their swords, uninterested in the husband and wife as they advance on Veldyn and Rivvil.
Battle Tracker:
- Initiative Order: Grishkar, Deserters, Everyone else
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Map: