The Undying Dragons - Campaign Thread

Godrick looks through the mounted riders at Avaria for a moment before kicking his own horse into action and spurs it on to follow his parents as well as Korda and Ethel.

The mounted riders wait a few moments, watching Avaria to make sure she doesn't do anything, and then they disengage and head after Godrick.

The two guards by the stables, looking at Solomona, listen to the suggestion they go on their way. They don't look particularly convinced, nor threatened, but one of them does notice the others leaving and tugs on his companions arm. The two turn from approaching Solomona any further and do indeed go after the loose horses.

At the stable entrance, the final two prison guards trying to defend the doorway fall to the three soldiers there. The black clad soldiers quickly head into the stables.

"That bloody beardless, axe breaking, snotling fondler," Hammerdasher bellows when he realizes Korda has gotten away.

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The party is up.

Godrick and the five mounted soldiers are quickly out to 180' from the prison (120' from Avaria). The rest are out of sight, the blowing snow obscuring them.

Two black clad soldiers chase after two horses in the snow. Another two horses paw at the ground looking to see if there's any grass under the snow.

Soldiers are in the stables and there is still some fighting in the prison, but that seems to be dying down.

"Well fork. Now I guess we have to try and beat them to the vault."

Marrin, looking like Jan, says to Jan, looking like Marta (who Marrin was looking like).

She does shoot one of the soldiers with her crossbow though, because screw those guys.

To hit: 19

Damage: 9

"Worth capturing one to question?" Jan, looking like Marta, who Marrin looked like, asks as she unleashed bolts at soldiers. 

Attack: 18 Damage: Unable to parse dice roll.

Attack: 15 Damage: 8

3 bludgeoning 

Vonth...

     Vonth watches as the fighting thins and then breaks. The black-clad soldiers have accomplished what they came for. Those they meant to free are gone—vanishing into the distance with their leaders and whatever momentum carried them away.

So the good side has lost.
If he chose the side of good at all.

     The danger has not ended. Somewhere nearby steel still rings—stragglers fighting guards who refuse to let them go. And Vonth stands in the open, no longer caged, a blade in his hand, blood on his skin. A prisoner no more in name, but still one in the eyes of many.

     That makes him a problem waiting to be solved.

     His gaze sweeps the area first for guards—any eyes that linger too long, any hands drifting toward weapons. If he draws notice, he will move. Find shadow. Find distance. A corner, a corridor—anything that breaks sight lines.

     If he is ignored, he turns instead to the fallen.

     Guard or soldier, it matters little now. He searches for cloaks to hide his bulk, armor that can be donned quickly, weapons worth keeping, and coin if any still clings to belts or pouches. He has no intention of returning to a cell.

Disguise. Armament. Distance.
Those are the steps forward.

     Even as he scavenges, Vonth watches the others. If they are leaving soon, he may be less noticeable among them.

     He moves in close to Solomona, keeping his voice low.  “You staying,” he asks, “or going?”

_____

It seems like there is more time now to find and don some armor and clothes.  Vonth doesn't care if they are stained or not, matching of not.  His first goal is to cover up.  There is not much he can do about his size but covering his red tattoos would be a priority as they pretty clearly identify him even at a distance.  His long sword is fine and he doesn't expect to find anything obviously better but he would be happy to grab a dagger or three as well as a bow or crossbow from the dead if one is to be found.  

Solomona is looking disapprovingly at the guards and semi-guards who are still firing at the departing soldiers. He doesn't know who these people are, on either side, but the fight was over, and the attempts at further bloodshed were unnecessary and distasteful. His face lights up though as Vonth appears beside him.

Oh, heya Vonth. Well... he looks wistfully at the prison looming up beside them... It is warmer inside, and the people there are good to me, eh. But you don't stay too long where you're only visiting. Bad manners, eh. Feels like time to move on. And change is good for the uho. Bit sad I didn't get to say goodbye to Pungawerewere though... my little web-spinning room-mate. Good listener, that one. Maybe we can tag along with these folk, if they're planning on leaving too.

The big man looks around to see if there are any warm cloaks that might fit him...

The wind continues to howl, and the sun now looks to be setting. While it never got that high in the sky in the first place, it’s definitely getting darker.

The two soldiers out in the snow trying to catch two of the horses almost succeed in each getting a hold of the reins. One grabs hold of the pommel of a saddle, but then shouts in pain as Marrin’s crossbow bolt pierces his hand.

The other dives for the reins dragging behind another horse. However, as soon as he wraps his hand around the leather, two bolts of crackling energy leap across the stark landscape and slam into his back.

Both soldiers look worse for wear but still functional.

Vonth and Solomona find themselves together at the entrance to the stables. Looking inside, they see three more soldiers saddling three horses. The trio look up when they hear Vonth and Solomona, but once they note they’re not prison guards, they go back to getting their horses ready to leave.

Another dozen horses move about restlessly in their stalls.

Hanging on one wall are a collection of cold weather cloaks, hats, and gear. Vonth manages to find a fur lined cloak, its steel grey colouring almost mirroring the goliath’s natural skin colour. It’s large enough to hide much of his torso.

There’s plenty for Solomona to choose from as well (enough that he can put together a serviceable ‘cold’ weather set of clothing). .

Dead soldiers and guards lie on the straw covered floor. One soldier, larger than the others, as well as a heavy set guard, draws Vonth’s attention. If he piecemeals their armour, Vonth is sure he can put together something akin to splintmail that would fit his size.

Amongst the dead, there are two longswords, three daggers, and a light crossbow (with 20 bolts).

Behind Marrin and Jan, Soren sighs deeply. “That was messy. But like you said, we know where they’re headed. Though, if we want horses we may want to think about going now. The warden may not be inclined to be too helpful after the smoke clears.”

Hammerdasher, Geffroi, and Ula make their way to the south entrance way to join Marrin, Jan and Soren.

They look out to where Avaria is, out in the snow.

“Get back here lass before it gets too dark,” Hammerdasher says. 

The injured soldiers finally get hold of the two horses. They pull themselves up, and decide to leave rather than face more from Jan and Marrin. The horses trot out in the general direction of where the others headed.

"Well, I think I need to speak with the warden before we go. You too Hammerdasher. The rest of you can get moving and we'll catch up."

She looks around for Ula,

"And you could probably do some good."

To Jan, looking like Marta,

"You can drop the look, I'll take it back. Leave your grime gremlin here to help us find you, if you would."

She'll step inside and around a corner, resuming Marta's appearance before waving Hammerdasher and Ula after her.

She'll listen for the sound of the warden shouting orders and head that direction, shooting any remaining soldiers that are engaged with guards or are threatening her, otherwise she just lets them run. If she sees any critically injured guards she will cast a healing word on them too.

((Let me know how many slots she uses up on that/bolts fired))

Avaria stands there for awhile, looking to where Ethel and Korda rode off, the surprise of it all still stinging.  She isn't sure how long she would have stood out there in the frigid cold if Hammerdasher hadn't called out to her.

With her head hanging low, she joins the group.  "The warden?  It's best I not meet with that one, I'm not sure I'd let them live after this." her voice is almost a growl as she speaks, the rage inside barely contained.  She then walks over to the stable and starts getting horses and warm clothes put together for the group.  Keeping busy.. that's what she needs to do.

After this failure.

Jan (who looks like Marta) reaches out and grabs Marrin (who still looks like Jan) by the arm.

"I have the ledger.", she mutters, raising her ringed hand to indicate its location. "Can't return it until tomorrow at the earliest..."

She looks around to Ava, Soren and Geffroi before turning back to Marrin. "What's the play with regard to us 'guards'? I'd rather not have a bounty on my head as a deserter... or worse, get lumped in with the Hargroves. How honest and truthful you planning on being?"

Vonth...

     What Vonth ends up wearing is not a suit so much as an argument made of steel and leather.

     Over his shoulders sit mismatched pauldrons—one a battered guard’s piece with a prison sigil half-chipped away, the other taken from a black-armored soldier, darker and heavier, its emblem gouged until it no longer claims meaning. They do not match, but they are serviceable.

     Across his chest and ribs he straps narrow metal plates riveted to cracked leather backing, scavenged from different bodies and forced to cooperate. Some plates are polished smooth by years of wear; others remain sharp-edged and brutal. They do not flex like proper mail, but they will catch blades all the same.

     His forearms are wrapped in bracers never meant for a goliath—tight, uncomfortable, but solid. Leather cords and replacement straps bind them in place. His greaves are similarly improvised, one taller than the other, both scarred and dented, guarding shins that have known worse.

     Beneath it all, leather padding and torn cloth fill the gaps, stuffed and cinched until the armor no longer rattles when he moves. It is awkward. But it holds.

     There is no uniformity to it. No heraldry. No claim of allegiance.
     Only function.

     On Vonth it looks less like armor and more like proof—proof that he has survived long enough to take what he needs and keep moving.

     Over it all a fur lined cloak, it’s steel grey coloring almost mirroring the Goliath’s own.

     He examines the blades scattered among the dead. Several swords are serviceable, but none surpass the one he took from Culver. He keeps the guard’s blade and leaves the rest.

     He does claim two daggers. One is standard issue—plain, balanced, built to last. The other is a curiosity: a curved blade, its hilt etched in knotwork. Perhaps a souvenir, perhaps stolen. Less sturdy than the first, but more than sufficient to slip between a foe’s ribs.

     He adds a light crossbow, a backpack, and several empty sacks and pouches. The future may yet provide things worth carrying.

     As he scavenges, Vonth keeps Solomona in mind, tossing aside any weapons or clothing that might suit the other man, letting him choose without words. When the dead offer no more and both men seem satisfied, Vonth turns his attention to the horses still waiting in their stalls.

     “We move,” he says to the wide one—part statement, part question. They have lingered long enough.

     Around them, the others are reaching their own conclusions. One begins readying horses. Another speaks of returning to the warden.

     Vonth wants no part of that.

     He favors the version where they go on ahead.  

Marrin, either looking like Jan or Marta depending on when you look, gives Ava a sad look before answering Jan who looks like she does most of time,

"We keep it for now. I doubt it will be worth much."

She glances at the guards,

"I will let her know that, last I saw, you were chasing after escapees after saving us in the kitchen from guards. So far as the rest, well I plan to tell her what the Hargroves got when they took Korda and that we," she gestures at Hammerdasher and herself, "are going to get it back. Preferably over their dead bodies."

She raises her brows,

"How's that sound? Maybe she can even provide some help. She was honestly fair enough, and clearly wasn't on their side "

A truce of sorts appears to have occurred in the stables. The three soldiers quietly finish saddling their horses while Avaria begins gathering saddles and tack for enough horses for the group. She also sees the two prisoners that helped in the fight rummaging through armour, weapons and cold weather gear. Are they part of the group now? Something still to be decided.

The work of gathering everything at least keeps her from thinking about what has just happened. Though stepping around the dead bodies challenges her calm.

Ula and Hammerdasher nod at Marrin’s suggestion. “Makes sense, lass,” Hammerdasher says. “The warden is going to have a lot of questions to answer when the other lords hear of what’s happened here.”

He looks back out over the ice and then into the prison. 

“And if all the prisoners have escaped, well, they’re going to hear about it sooner than later.” Hammerdasher says then adds “At least the Hargroves will lose their prison privileges after this.”

From inside the prison there is now only the sound of orders being given. All sounds of fighting has stopped.

Looking into the hall, Marrin and Jan can see that eight black clad soldiers are having their hands manacled together as they rest on their knees against one wall. Five prison guards keep watch while another secures the chains.

"Well... if we're going, we best go before order is restored. Yula... she probably knows I'm a better bounty hunter than prison guard anyway."

"K'oshash, stay with Marrin please, and stay hidden. If she needs to send word to me, she'll write you a letter to bring, okay?" Jan requests aloud for Marrin's benefit, conveying the meaning of her words through her bond to her familiar. Marrin feels an invisible weight settle onto her back which suddenly lightens as K changes their form to something easier to hid in the folds of her clothing. 

As she and Marrin (looking like her, but soon to start looking like Marta again), Jan changes to look like Jan again and moves to join Ava and the boys in readying their horses (she'd be looking to saddle her own R'iyatka, if she's available and not one that was taken by soldiers.

She eyes the two large fellows who until recently were behind bars, making sure to address them from a comfortable distance in case either of them were to draw a weapon and lunge at her.

"You pitched in against those Hargrove bastards. Much appreciated." Jan furrows her brow, considering, but gives a sigh. "I've been a bounty hunter long before putting on a guard uniform. I'd happily l deputize every bounty I ever brought in if the were to help bring down Godrick Hargrove and his parents. If you care to help in that regard, I'll vouch for you as far as my word will carry, and help see you off to a new life after the job is done. If you've a mind to slow us down or get in our way, you would have been better off staying in your bunks when the gates were sprung."

She pauses, hand ready and crooked if either offers violence.

Marrin, looking like Marta now, waits until her party leave before turning to Hammerdasher,

"Shall we?"

She'll have Ula along for healing to save guards as they go, which she helps out on (but keeps one slot).

She'll work her way to the warden, grim faced, and waits to be acknowledged.

Vonth...

     Vonth begins readying a horse, but he does it slowly. Carefully. He is no rider by upbringing, and he treats the animal the way he would approach unfamiliar terrain—steady, deliberate, respectful. Calm hands. Measured movement. He hopes his own quiet will pass from himself to the beast.

     He also watches Solomona closely, noting each buckle, each strap, each adjustment before repeating it himself. Whether the other man is truly skilled with horses or simply more familiar than he is hardly matters. It is enough.

     As saddles and reins receive their final checks, Vonth’s attention shifts to one of those on the hunt for Godrick and Korda. He knows little of her cause, less of her history—but he knows the taste of Godrick’s magic in his flesh, and that is sufficient to sour any sympathy.

     He listens without interruption. Measures tone more than words. Her closing threat earns a slight narrowing of his eyes. It irritates—but only slightly. Words are wind. Only action carries weight.

     He mounts with controlled effort, hoping to make the movement look smoother than it feels. Vonth is not graceful but manages. Those watching can tell he was not raised in a saddle, he sits securely but not comfortably.

     Once seated, he glances to Solomona, guaging his reaction in a heartbeat. Then he looks back to the woman.

     “I’ve a mind to leave this place,” Vonth says simply. “Everything after that is after that.”

     No challenge. No apology. Just truth.

     He nudges the horse hoping it moves forward to in fact carry him away from the jail...

IN THE STABLES:

While the angry looking shifter keeps saddling horses, and the two escaped prisoners talk to a self-proclaimed bounty hunter, the three soldiers quietly walk their horses outside, not making any more eye contact with the trio than is absolutely necessary.

Once they are outside, Avaria, Solomona, Vonth and Jan hear Soren telling the soldiers “You’d better enjoy your freedom while you can. Your whole order is going to be hunted to the edges of Faerun.”

One of the soldiers says something in reply but those inside can’t quite make out what was said.

IN THE PRISON:

Marrin doesn’t need to go far to find the warden. Her voice can clearly be heard through the guardroom and into the mess hall.

The guardroom smells of ash, but there doesn’t appear to be any actual fire damage and somehow most of the smoke has already dissipated.

Two prison guards drag cloaks over the bodies of four dead guards. Six dead soldiers on the other hand have just been pushed out of the way and against one wall.

A table lies knocked over, playing cards scattered across the floor at its side.

Marrin’s boot kicks a whetstone as she walks through the guardroom. It skits across the floor and hits the wall.

Continuing through the guardroom, Marrin, followed by Ula and Hammerdasher, make their way into the mess hall; or at least what’s left of the mess hall.

The lights on the walls have returned to their normal daylight colouration and the alarm has stopped. Black fire marks cover most of the walls, the support timber beams running across the ceiling have been badly burned, but none look ready to collapse yet. The tables and chairs though are another story. They’re all broken, burned, and are in the process of being pushed into one corner by two prison guards.

Four rows of dead prison guards and soldiers are being arranged in one half of the mess hall.

Warden Martha Marthannis, her red and gold robe heavily charred, stands talking to two other prison guards in the middle of the hall.

“Get yourselves to the infirmary and get one of the elevator guards to report back here with a status update on what’s happened with the ice skiff.” 

The two guards nod and head out in the direction Marrin and the others just came from. The warden follows their movement and spots the trio of ‘dwarves’ when she does.

“Lord Hammerdasher,” the warden begins. “I’m happy to see you and your companions made it through this mess.”

She looks tired, deeply tired, but determined. 

“I’m sorry to say I fear Korda may have escaped with the other prisoners during the chaos.”

Marta looks at the rows of dead and shakes her head.

"We watched Korda ride off with the Hargroves and a handful of those soldiers. They'd taken our interrogator."

She sighs,

"We tried to stop them. So did a number of your brave guards here. Too many soldiers. Too powerful of magic from that younger Hargrove. We saw a handful of guards, the same that saved our lives from that fire, even pursue them on horses they'd taken from the soldiers. Brave fools."

She rubs her chest where Godrick's bolt struck her before continuing,

"Lady Marthannis, rather than follow behind them immediately we came back to tell you what they got when they took Korda. They want an object of power locked away in the Hammerdasher vaults. This object will let them bring about something terrible, and we're convinced that is exactly what they are aiming to do. As you can see, they'll stop at nothing to do it."

She looks the woman in eyes,

"We are going to do everything in our power to stop them. I don't know that you can help, certainly not now with all of this, but if you could at least get a message to Clan Hammerdasher to warn them what is coming... We'd appreciate it."

Avaria has to use all her concentration to keep her anger at bay so she doesn't spook the horse as she saddles them up.  Once finished she turns and hears Jan talk to the prisoners that fought alongside them.  She sees the remaining soldiers leave with a couple of horses and the fur on skin bristles.  But she doesn't need to fight them, she needs to just... go.

She mounts her horse and glares at them.  She knows her angst is mainly directed towards the warden, the Hargroves and god damn it, Ethel why did you leave?  She shakes her head, she can't think of that right now.  She waits to hear what they have to say.  

When the goliath answers that he wants to leave the jail, she can't hold that against him.  But she can't wait any longer, she starts nudging her horse out to meet up with Soren.

IN THE CHARRED MESS HALL:

The warden takes a deep breath and then nods slowly.

"I'll do what I can. The paired sending stone in Alaghon was stolen recently and that was the closest one to Ironfang Deep. But I'll try Westgate and ask them to send a messenger to your clan," the warden says. She looks at the bodies and the mess and takes another breath. "I cannot spare any of our guards to go with you. We're organizing now to try and round up the ones that escaped. At least the ones that didn't have outside help. They appear to have stolen the ice skiff but there are horses in the stables you can use."

A guard rushes into the mess hall and heads for the warden. When she sees him, she holds up a finger to make him wait a second before saying to the 'dwarves' "Good luck and I hope you catch them."

IN THE STABLES/ON THE ICE:

Soren smiles at Avaria when she appears, though there doesn't appear to be a lot of humor in the smile. He takes the reins from the extra horse Avaria saddled and swings up easily before cantering his horse a few steps to the side to allow for Vonth and his poor horse to make their way out of the stable.

"We don't need to go far," Soren says. "Just out of sight of the prison. Then we can wait for the others to join us."

He looks out over the now dark steppe.

"I don't think we want to move at night out there." Soren says. "They're not going to go through the mountain pass and I very much doubt they'll brave the Rawlinswood. Even if we give them a head start, we'll still get to Uthmere before them."

He pauses and looks at Vonth, his eyes resting on the small bit of a red tattoo sticking out from under his armor and cloak.

"If they're going to Uthmere. They could head further south before picking up a ship."

Jan will aid Ava in readying horses. She can feel her own anger rising to meet that radiating from her friend, but attempts to be a calming presence, ensuring that Geffroi has a mount to use. 

"Might as well make this look good.", she mutters, swinging astride and moving her horse into motion, fitting action to Soren's suggestion.