Kaelthor eased his pace, circling wide so he did not come straight at them. His staff stayed low, his shoulders turned, every step slow enough that the horses could follow it. He kept his gaze just off them, not fixing his eyes to theirs.
A breath later, he brushed two fingers along the wood of his staff and let Druidcraft whisper from him—the quiet, throaty nicker of a mare calling her young. The sound folded into the air as though it belonged there.
When he saw where their muzzles had torn at turf and brush, he crouched, laying his palm flat against the earth. A coil of green shimmered out as he worked Mend Plants, coaxing the trampled shoots to rise again, leaves fresh with dew. He stepped back from it, leaving the forage unclaimed, letting the horses see there was plenty—and that his hands brought no harm.
After helping with the horse, a thought enters the tinker's head and he fetches the tack discarded by Kealthor. He retrieves it from the woods and fidgets with it, seeing is he can figure out a way to fix it. "Perhaps some metal staples...reinforced points here...double the stitching here...if I add some extra leather at this location." After a few minute, the tack appears in better shape (Casting Mending unbeknownst to himself). "As I mentioned, I am not an animal person, but might this still help in some way?"
The paladin nods at Levna's request, moving next to the wounded horse quietly and laying a faintly glowing hand on its back. "You've made it this far. Don't give up," he murmurs, focusing what little divinity he is blessed with to heal the creature's injuries further (Lay on Hands, +5 HP or purify poison if that is a factor).
Levna rubs her hand along the draft horses back. Now you feel better? Walk with us, they'll be no pulling for you today. Once we are out of this clearing we'll find another place for breakfast and you can eat your fill. She turns away to look for Kaelthor to see if he had found the warhorses. They wouldn't have run far, it was in their training, nor were they scared by the scent of blood.
Levna took the tackle from Salty and nodded, good job. Can you alter the other one in the same was as well? The warhorses are slightly smaller than the draft horses these are made for.
She called to Artock. Can you check these wheels to see if they are fit for use?
He walks over deliberately Theylooksolid.Mustmovethecarttosee.WhataboutyouSalty,seeanythingwrong?
(I'm taking this as free license to narrate how Kaelthor returns the horses. Please, if you had planned to involve a check or something, do let me know.)
Kaelthor
Kaelthor lingered at the treeline, his presence quiet and unthreatening, until the horses’ ears turned toward him instead of away. He extended a hand, palm open, and let them scent the air around him before moving closer. Planting his staff in the earth, he pressed both palms to the polished wood and began the slow cadence of the ritual that would allow him to Speak with Animals. For ten long minutes he whispered in the old tongue, fingers brushing their manes when they allowed it, until the barrier between thought and word thinned. When at last the spell’s breath settled, he spoke low and even: “The fight is ended. No more blades, no more fire. Your riders are gone, but their kin will honor them. Come with me now, walk with the others, and we will see you safe again. There will be feed and rest.”
He gave them time—time to nose at the regrown grass, to test the air for danger, to settle their shivers—before gently turning back toward the clearing. Staff in one hand, reins in the other, he led the warhorses back to the waiting company.
Levna took the tackle from Salty and nodded, good job. Can you alter the other one in the same was as well? The warhorses are slightly smaller than the draft horses these are made for.
She called to Artock. Can you check these wheels to see if they are fit for use?
He walks over deliberately Theylooksolid.Mustmovethecarttosee.WhataboutyouSalty,seeanythingwrong?
The gnome took the other tackle from the knight. "I will try. But to me, all these horses look the same size...big." He fiddles with the leather for several minutes and tries to adjust it to a smaller size. He tries to add an adjustment strap in the appropriate locations with bits of twine, rope, and cloth. He doesn't cut the leather but rather adds to it to make it capable of a smaller girth, like the equivalent of elastic or rubber cording. " It's a Rudimentary Reduction Rig, let's hope it doesn't restrict the required respirations too much."
When Artock asks for the tinker's observations on the wagon, he again goes over the wagon. He was more accustomed to water craft, but wheel were still round even if they didn't have cogs of a gear on them. Speaking with his fellow gnome, he falls into the same pattern of speech, "Wellthecartwheelslookfinetome,asyousaiditwillhavetobemovedtoensurenothingfallsoff. Butlookhereatthetongue,ithasacrack. Thatwillhavetobesandedandreinforcedoritmightbreak,ifthathappenedthehorsesmightbeinjured,orifonahillitcouldrollaway.Thatwouldn'tdo." In short order Salty has his tools out and sanded down the splinters of the crack. Then added two short staves and bound them with rope as if splinting a bone. Remarkably as he toiled, the magical Mending inherent in his efforts worked their way into the fibers of the wood and strengthened it to prevent its failure. "Good as it's going to get I recon."
Indeed, he came from Solamnia but these dead knights pull no cord of emotion within him besides fear of sharing their fate. He knew of them and that is as far as his experience went with Solamnic knights. He is glad that the horses were returned, and the injured horse mended. The draconians were another matter altogether. Why were they here and did they chance upon the knights or did they come here to intercept them. It also begs the question why they turn to stone upon death.
He will take out a blank piece of parchment and scoop up some of what remains of the draconian. Then he will fold it tightly before stowing it away for further study elsewhere.
He maintains concentration of detect magic for the next few minutes in case that draconian spellcaster returns. As time pass and no new danger presenting itself, he lets the spell expire and just keeps a wary eye out.
Kaelthor
Kaelthor eased his pace, circling wide so he did not come straight at them. His staff stayed low, his shoulders turned, every step slow enough that the horses could follow it. He kept his gaze just off them, not fixing his eyes to theirs.
A breath later, he brushed two fingers along the wood of his staff and let Druidcraft whisper from him—the quiet, throaty nicker of a mare calling her young. The sound folded into the air as though it belonged there.
When he saw where their muzzles had torn at turf and brush, he crouched, laying his palm flat against the earth. A coil of green shimmered out as he worked Mend Plants, coaxing the trampled shoots to rise again, leaves fresh with dew. He stepped back from it, leaving the forage unclaimed, letting the horses see there was plenty—and that his hands brought no harm.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Yawning Portal || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan Shi - Liquid Swords || Syed - Drakkenheim || Kaelthor - Dragonlance ||
Salty
After helping with the horse, a thought enters the tinker's head and he fetches the tack discarded by Kealthor. He retrieves it from the woods and fidgets with it, seeing is he can figure out a way to fix it. "Perhaps some metal staples...reinforced points here...double the stitching here...if I add some extra leather at this location." After a few minute, the tack appears in better shape (Casting Mending unbeknownst to himself). "As I mentioned, I am not an animal person, but might this still help in some way?"
Cassian
The paladin nods at Levna's request, moving next to the wounded horse quietly and laying a faintly glowing hand on its back. "You've made it this far. Don't give up," he murmurs, focusing what little divinity he is blessed with to heal the creature's injuries further (Lay on Hands, +5 HP or purify poison if that is a factor).
| Joy - Hexblood Open Sea Paladin - Netherdeep | Kaelen - Shadar-kai Gloom Stalker Ranger - Old Keep | Lira - Half-elf Thief Rogue/Druid - Allansia | Teryn - High Elf Archfey Warlock - Runewarren | Zoveldra - Kalashtar Open Hand Monk - Eberron | Mavilius - Tiefling Eloquence Bard - Golden Vault | Vannithos - Shadar-kai Astral Self Monk - Von Nichts | Cassian - Human Paladin - Dragonlance | Yua - Human Wizard - Carrion Crown |
DM
Levna rubs her hand along the draft horses back. Now you feel better? Walk with us, they'll be no pulling for you today. Once we are out of this clearing we'll find another place for breakfast and you can eat your fill. She turns away to look for Kaelthor to see if he had found the warhorses. They wouldn't have run far, it was in their training, nor were they scared by the scent of blood.
Levna took the tackle from Salty and nodded, good job. Can you alter the other one in the same was as well? The warhorses are slightly smaller than the draft horses these are made for.
She called to Artock. Can you check these wheels to see if they are fit for use?
He walks over deliberately Theylooksolid.Mustmovethecarttosee.WhataboutyouSalty,seeanythingwrong?
(I'm taking this as free license to narrate how Kaelthor returns the horses. Please, if you had planned to involve a check or something, do let me know.)
Kaelthor
Kaelthor lingered at the treeline, his presence quiet and unthreatening, until the horses’ ears turned toward him instead of away. He extended a hand, palm open, and let them scent the air around him before moving closer. Planting his staff in the earth, he pressed both palms to the polished wood and began the slow cadence of the ritual that would allow him to Speak with Animals. For ten long minutes he whispered in the old tongue, fingers brushing their manes when they allowed it, until the barrier between thought and word thinned. When at last the spell’s breath settled, he spoke low and even: “The fight is ended. No more blades, no more fire. Your riders are gone, but their kin will honor them. Come with me now, walk with the others, and we will see you safe again. There will be feed and rest.”
He gave them time—time to nose at the regrown grass, to test the air for danger, to settle their shivers—before gently turning back toward the clearing. Staff in one hand, reins in the other, he led the warhorses back to the waiting company.
|| Oriace - Halfling Bard - Dragon Heist || Valerian - Elf Rogue - Wildnis || Rowan - Halfling Giant - Runewarren || Khazela - Spiritfarer Dervish - Yawning Portal || Arista - Frost Sorcerer - Old Keep || Marasatra - Blood Mage - Avernus || Lan Shi - Liquid Swords || Syed - Drakkenheim || Kaelthor - Dragonlance ||
The gnome took the other tackle from the knight. "I will try. But to me, all these horses look the same size...big." He fiddles with the leather for several minutes and tries to adjust it to a smaller size. He tries to add an adjustment strap in the appropriate locations with bits of twine, rope, and cloth. He doesn't cut the leather but rather adds to it to make it capable of a smaller girth, like the equivalent of elastic or rubber cording. " It's a Rudimentary Reduction Rig, let's hope it doesn't restrict the required respirations too much."
When Artock asks for the tinker's observations on the wagon, he again goes over the wagon. He was more accustomed to water craft, but wheel were still round even if they didn't have cogs of a gear on them. Speaking with his fellow gnome, he falls into the same pattern of speech, "Wellthecartwheelslookfinetome,asyousaiditwillhavetobemovedtoensurenothingfallsoff. Butlookhereatthetongue,ithasacrack. Thatwillhavetobesandedandreinforcedoritmightbreak,ifthathappenedthehorsesmightbeinjured,orifonahillitcouldrollaway.Thatwouldn'tdo." In short order Salty has his tools out and sanded down the splinters of the crack. Then added two short staves and bound them with rope as if splinting a bone. Remarkably as he toiled, the magical Mending inherent in his efforts worked their way into the fibers of the wood and strengthened it to prevent its failure. "Good as it's going to get I recon."
Liwen
Indeed, he came from Solamnia but these dead knights pull no cord of emotion within him besides fear of sharing their fate. He knew of them and that is as far as his experience went with Solamnic knights. He is glad that the horses were returned, and the injured horse mended. The draconians were another matter altogether. Why were they here and did they chance upon the knights or did they come here to intercept them. It also begs the question why they turn to stone upon death.
He will take out a blank piece of parchment and scoop up some of what remains of the draconian. Then he will fold it tightly before stowing it away for further study elsewhere.
He maintains concentration of detect magic for the next few minutes in case that draconian spellcaster returns. As time pass and no new danger presenting itself, he lets the spell expire and just keeps a wary eye out.