Barn's child-like hazel eyes widen as Macha tells her tale. His mouth starts to drop open, but he quickly snaps it shut, realizing he has been speaking more than he had really intended. It's just that her telling them that they weren't supposed to be there had rubbed him the wrong way and...
He too, like pockmarked Jack and Caelen, wants to know what "amends" need to be made to bring this allegedly good man back from being a monster. But he holds his peace for the moment and will go with the group's decision (like Smiling Jack).
What the big man does do, IF the decision is to stay to get a visual on the husband ("Nuada"?), is to step back away from the doorway and pivot, putting himself protectively at the front of the group relative to the approaching stranger, halberd held unthreateningly low yet ready.
Smiling Jack in his concentration of the upcoming danger, hears others speak. His young mind starts trying to process it all. Conflicting actions create confusion. Jack inhales a deep breath, holds it and slowly lets it out, He repeats the breath, and again and fourth time, shakes his head clear and realizes that the confusion is all still there. His earlier confidence is gone.
In a shaking and confused breath, Jacks says "What...whatever...the...the... group decides...I...I...I will...follow. But...but them strangers should...be in...in sight...now."
Jack continues his "9" from a previous rolled vigilance on surveying the surrounding area.
There is a movement on the path through the mist but nothing can be made out just yet........
"Do you know what kind of amends are needed?" asks Jack. "Blood for blood, life for life? If the hag wanted him dead, wouldn't she have just killed him?"
"Maybe we'll wait for him and I can volunteer to take his burden. The hag can have me and lift the curse from your husband."
Sacrificing himself to save a couples' relationship seems just. His whole life hasn't been great, and if he can bring happiness to these people it would be worth it.
" I've no clue and Nuada.....he can no longer speak........but that damn witch would know. I've seen her sometimes...in her cauldron....scudding across the night sky near the river........."
Her eyes suddenly looked past them towards the path they had entered by, trying to peer through the mist, " Its Nuada! GO! GO! If he sees you he will have no choice but to kill you all...."
Caelan had been listening in silence, eyes never leaving the treeline Jack had indicated, body angled so he could watch both the cabin door and the approach down the trail. When Jack returned with the report of the “woodpile,” Caelan’s jaw tightened not in surprise, but in confirmation. The smell, the flies, the warning sign, the fire kept burning too long for comfort…it all settled into a grim shape. When Macha spoke, really spoke, Caelan did not interrupt. He watched her hands as much as her face, the way her fear clung to her words not like a lie, but like a bruise that never healed. When she finished, he exhaled slowly through his nose. “Curses like that,” he said quietly, finally, “don’t come from nothing. And they don’t lift for nothing either.”He shifted then, stepping half a pace forward, not toward the woman, but so he was squarely between the cabin and the direction of the approaching footsteps. His voice stayed low, steady, carrying authority without threat.
“You cut down something that wasn’t meant to be cut,” he went on. “Whether your husband knew it or not doesn’t matter to the old laws. Intent counts less than action.”His eyes flicked briefly to the woodpile behind the cabin before returning to Macha.“But what’s done after the curse does matter. And this…” a small tilt of his head toward the flies and rot, “this isn’t amends. It’s a widening debt.” At Jack’s trembling offer, Caelan turned sharply, one hand lifting at once, not to grab, but to stop. “No,” he said, firm and immediate.“That’s not how this works.”He met Jack’s eyes fully now, storm-grey and unyielding.“You don’t volunteer yourself into a fae bargain you don’t understand. That’s not justice. That’s how they take everything.”
He glanced back down the trail, measuring distance, time. “Whoever’s coming,”he added, “they’re close enough that we don’t get to debate this at length.” Caelan’s attention returned to Macha. “Amends aren’t always blood for blood,” he said. “Sometimes they’re restoration. Sometimes confession. Sometimes returning what was taken, or standing witness before the right power.” A pause. “But they are never paid by an innocent who steps forward out of guilt.”He lowered his voice further, so only those near him would hear. “Your husband may still be in there,”he said, echoing her words back to her. “But every body he adds makes it harder for him to come back.” Then, without waiting for an answer, Caelan shifted his stance again, eyes locking on the path. “They’re nearly in sight,” he said calmly. “We don’t flee blindly. We don’t charge. We hold, long enough to see what is walking up that trail.” His hand went to his bow, not drawing yet, just ready. “And whatever comes,” Caelan added quietly, “we do not make promises on anyone’s soul until we know exactly who is listening.”
Macha slammed the door shut in their faces and busied herself within the cabin, singing an old nursery rhyme ' The Mad Puck Goat' at high volume.
Barn's child-like hazel eyes widen as Macha tells her tale. His mouth starts to drop open, but he quickly snaps it shut, realizing he has been speaking more than he had really intended. It's just that her telling them that they weren't supposed to be there had rubbed him the wrong way and...
He too, like pockmarked Jack and Caelen, wants to know what "amends" need to be made to bring this allegedly good man back from being a monster. But he holds his peace for the moment and will go with the group's decision (like Smiling Jack).
What the big man does do, IF the decision is to stay to get a visual on the husband ("Nuada"?), is to step back away from the doorway and pivot, putting himself protectively at the front of the group relative to the approaching stranger, halberd held unthreateningly low yet ready.
Looking to the mist the group begins to make out a huge misshapen form taller than Barn by almost half again shambling through the fog a hewing axe clutched in one massive clawed hand.
A mane of hair spilled down over a swollen hunched back and shoulders, framing a slack jawed bestial countenance, heavy brow and bloodshot, furious eyes................it was likely mere moments before he raised his head and regarded who was within his home.......
Reg had been aware of all the conversations, his initial goal still foremost in his mind, fetch the girl. Perhaps he had been edging his way around the other side of the house (away from the wood pike), definitely out of direct line between the path they had come (the one now blocked by the fae cursed creature) and the cabin.
The stocky man reaches into a pouch and pulls out a small pinecone. He prepares to toss the object to the other side of the clearing. He is hoping to create a small distracting bonfire that might allow the group to get away without a confrontation. He is not looking to attack the creature, but draw its attention away from them, perhaps just long enough to escape. (OOC: while Bonfire doesn’t require a spell component, Reg uses as many natural occurring ingredients to ‘activate’ spell effects as I can come up with.)
To the group in a rushed hushed voice, “We can’t redeem him if we aren’t alive folks.”
Jack isn't completely convinced that his sacrifice would be in vain. However the "man" coming towards them is the most frightening thin he has ever seen.
Smiling Jack sees the other prepare, understands that Reg is doing a distraction.
Jack thinks, a pinecone will probably not distract this monster. Without know who he is talking to states out loud to all,
"I will wait for your ok before letting this arrow fly."
Jack gets his body into position to fire, ensuring his feet are spaced properly and the shoulder is at the proper angle to were the monster will be, not were he is now.
Jacks hand begins to pull the string into a ready position, but the arrow is still facing/pointed to the ground in a safety like position. Jack takes a large intake of breath, filling his lungs to allow the to exhale in a steady rhythm so he can concentrate on the actual release when given the command.
Ardwynn looks at her companions and the approaching hillock of a person. "We may not have a wise course of action to keep everyone hale and healthy in this coming encounter."
A terrified voice inside Barn's head is screaming for him to run. And run he certainly would, but only as the last one to flee.
The big man will not leave any of his companions behind, the way many of his erstwhile "brothers" in arms in Duke Darian's levy surely would have left him.
As he stands, poised to either fight or turn tail, Barn swallows and reaches out with the... sense he has felt growing within him. The connection to the woods all around, as strange as they are, which alerts him to the presence of anything unnatural. As he had done with the leper.
Barn uses Divine Sense (again): The presence of strong evil registers on your senses like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. As an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity. Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
Caelan felt the weight of the moment settle into his bones as the shape resolved in the mist. He did not recoil. He did not shout. He shifted, just enough, to put himself squarely between the cabin and the others, boots finding firm purchase on the damp earth. His eyes traced the creature’s outline with a hunter’s precision: the overlong arms, the clawed grip on the axe, the way the bulk of it moved with a terrible inevitability rather than speed. Not a charge. Not yet. A claiming of ground. “Easy,”he breathed, barely louder than the mist itself. His gaze flicked once to Reg as the pinecone appeared in the man’s hand. The intent was clear, and Caelan gave the slightest nod, acknowledgment, not approval, not refusal. Time was thinning too quickly for long debate. “Distraction may buy us seconds,” he murmured, voice low and controlled. “Use them to move, not to hesitate.” He turned his head just enough to catch Jack in his peripheral vision, seeing the careful discipline in the boy’s stance, the arrow held low, the breath measured. That steadiness mattered. “Hold,” Caelan said quietly. Not yet. Not until it chose.
The creature was wrong…wrong in a way Caelan recognized, though he could not name it cleanly. He had heard stories of men twisted by old curses, of woods that punished bloodshed with bloodshed returned tenfold. This felt like one of those tales given weight and muscle. Not fae. Not beast. A man reshaped by something that did not care if he survived the lesson. Caelan’s hand slid to his bow at last, fingers resting against the wood without drawing. His stance widened, ready to give ground or hold it, depending on what the next heartbeat demanded. “Barn,” he said softly, without looking back. “Tell me what your sense says.” His eyes never left the towering form as it shambled closer, mist curling around its legs like breath around a grave. “Whatever he is,” Caelan added under his breath, more promise than fear, “we don’t meet him on his terms.”
Smiling Jack, hears “Hold,”and regulates breathing as he knows that 1st shot matters. Jack focuses on breathing to calm himself as his nerves are realizing that a walking, thinking, moving target is so different from what he practiced on. Even different from small game he has shot.
Jack splits, nee prioritizes his concentration. On the command word, the target, his next position after the arrow is released. It has been drilled into Jack's head that it is not cowardly to use a person with a sword or Barn's spear thingy to use them as a shield as you fire your arrows.
Jack is counting the range as the creature moves. Is aware of the reach of Barn's fancy looking long spear, and is aware his next position is a bit on Barn's flank to allow another shot without impeding that spear thingy.
Reg had been aware of all the conversations, his initial goal still foremost in his mind, fetch the girl. Perhaps he had been edging his way around the other side of the house (away from the wood pike), definitely out of direct line between the path they had come (the one now blocked by the fae cursed creature) and the cabin.
The stocky man reaches into a pouch and pulls out a small pinecone. He prepares to toss the object to the other side of the clearing. He is hoping to create a small distracting bonfire that might allow the group to get away without a confrontation. He is not looking to attack the creature, but draw its attention away from them, perhaps just long enough to escape. (OOC: while Bonfire doesn’t require a spell component, Reg uses as many natural occurring ingredients to ‘activate’ spell effects as I can come up with.)
To the group in a rushed hushed voice, “We can’t redeem him if we aren’t alive folks.”
Reg readies himself to cast his dewormer if things go sideways.....
Jack isn't completely convinced that his sacrifice would be in vain. However the "man" coming towards them is the most frightening thin he has ever seen.
Smiling Jack sees the other prepare, understands that Reg is doing a distraction.
Jack thinks, a pinecone will probably not distract this monster. Without know who he is talking to states out loud to all,
"I will wait for your ok before letting this arrow fly."
Jack gets his body into position to fire, ensuring his feet are spaced properly and the shoulder is at the proper angle to were the monster will be, not were he is now.
Jacks hand begins to pull the string into a ready position, but the arrow is still facing/pointed to the ground in a safety like position. Jack takes a large intake of breath, filling his lungs to allow the to exhale in a steady rhythm so he can concentrate on the actual release when given the command.
Ardwynn looks at her companions and the approaching hillock of a person. "We may not have a wise course of action to keep everyone hale and healthy in this coming encounter."
She prepares as best she can.
An almost palpable aura of menace seems to emanate from the hulking form....
A terrified voice inside Barn's head is screaming for him to run. And run he certainly would, but only as the last one to flee.
The big man will not leave any of his companions behind, the way many of his erstwhile "brothers" in arms in Duke Darian's levy surely would have left him.
As he stands, poised to either fight or turn tail, Barn swallows and reaches out with the... sense he has felt growing within him. The connection to the woods all around, as strange as they are, which alerts him to the presence of anything unnatural. As he had done with the leper.
Barn uses Divine Sense (again): The presence of strong evil registers on your senses like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. As an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity. Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
Barns strange hunches give him nothing at this moment.....
Caelan felt the weight of the moment settle into his bones as the shape resolved in the mist. He did not recoil. He did not shout. He shifted, just enough, to put himself squarely between the cabin and the others, boots finding firm purchase on the damp earth. His eyes traced the creature’s outline with a hunter’s precision: the overlong arms, the clawed grip on the axe, the way the bulk of it moved with a terrible inevitability rather than speed. Not a charge. Not yet. A claiming of ground. “Easy,”he breathed, barely louder than the mist itself. His gaze flicked once to Reg as the pinecone appeared in the man’s hand. The intent was clear, and Caelan gave the slightest nod, acknowledgment, not approval, not refusal. Time was thinning too quickly for long debate. “Distraction may buy us seconds,” he murmured, voice low and controlled. “Use them to move, not to hesitate.” He turned his head just enough to catch Jack in his peripheral vision, seeing the careful discipline in the boy’s stance, the arrow held low, the breath measured. That steadiness mattered. “Hold,” Caelan said quietly. Not yet. Not until it chose.
The creature was wrong…wrong in a way Caelan recognized, though he could not name it cleanly. He had heard stories of men twisted by old curses, of woods that punished bloodshed with bloodshed returned tenfold. This felt like one of those tales given weight and muscle. Not fae. Not beast. A man reshaped by something that did not care if he survived the lesson. Caelan’s hand slid to his bow at last, fingers resting against the wood without drawing. His stance widened, ready to give ground or hold it, depending on what the next heartbeat demanded. “Barn,” he said softly, without looking back. “Tell me what your sense says.” His eyes never left the towering form as it shambled closer, mist curling around its legs like breath around a grave. “Whatever he is,” Caelan added under his breath, more promise than fear, “we don’t meet him on his terms.”
Smiling Jack, hears “Hold,”and regulates breathing as he knows that 1st shot matters. Jack focuses on breathing to calm himself as his nerves are realizing that a walking, thinking, moving target is so different from what he practiced on. Even different from small game he has shot.
Jack splits, nee prioritizes his concentration. On the command word, the target, his next position after the arrow is released. It has been drilled into Jack's head that it is not cowardly to use a person with a sword or Barn's spear thingy to use them as a shield as you fire your arrows.
Jack is counting the range as the creature moves. Is aware of the reach of Barn's fancy looking long spear, and is aware his next position is a bit on Barn's flank to allow another shot without impeding that spear thingy.
Nuada enters the clearing and stops, his nostrils flare as something seems to stir him but he shakes his massive head and continues on toward the cottage, pausing at the door to look around but apparently seeing nothing untoward through the thick mist.....the huge crooked finger almost delicately turned the handle as he bent to enter.....
Reg has held his breath so long, he begins to see stars in his eyes. The spectral trails that float here and there when one is denying the brain of oxygen. In a barely audible whisper to Caelan, “Okay, can we try to find the girl now before she is put into a stew…or married off as an unwilling bride? I’m not saying we don’t visit the curse giver later and see what amends need to be made…but poor Clotha…”
The man has been pressed up against the house and clutching his pack so tight his fingers have grown white and his legs nearly numb.
Keeping one eye on the front door, Jack keeps the bow out and steps to the side as he counts heads to make sure in this mist all are moving out and no one is left behind. After the last person walks past, he gets into line and follows the lead.
Barn remains transfixed for a long moment, halberd poised in hand, chest heaving, staring at the cottage door through which the hulking Nuada had vanished. Both relieved and ashamed not to have fought the apparent man turned murderous monster.
"W-we are safe from him. For n-now. That's good. B-but the next p-person he sees? He's g-going to kill them. I know Macha s-said that he still c-cares for her but... I think he h-hurts her too." Barn's knuckles are white again on his weapon's haft, and there are unshed tears in his eyes.
"We h-have to find Clotha now. M-maybe double back to the f-first clearing? The one with the stump and fake N-ned? But when we are d-done with that, we have to try to fix this curse that the h-hag or whatever that old lady w-was put on Nuada. Caelen - I tried to use my... l-link? Link to the woods to sense... sense if he is s-some kind of demon or undead z-zombie, but no. M-maybe there's still a good m-man under there. Like Macha s-said."
Gritting his teeth, he turns, ready to fall into his regular position in line, towards the front, whichever way the group chooses.
Caelan did not move until the great shape disappeared fully into the cabin and the door shut behind it. Only then did he let the breath he’d been holding slip out, slow and controlled, as if easing a bowstring back to rest. He raised one hand, two fingers curled inward, signaling the group to move, not forward, but away. His steps were measured, angled, keeping the cottage in view without fixing on it. Distance without flight. Space without noise. “Good,” he murmured, more to Jack than anyone, having clocked the boy’s discipline, the way he’d planned his shot and his escape before either was needed. “That’s how you stay alive.” Reg’s whisper reached him, and Caelan answered without turning his head, eyes still tracking the door, the chimney, the treeline beyond. “Agreed,” he said quietly. “The girl is the thread we pull now. That knot…” a subtle tilt of his head toward the cabin, “…we don’t tighten it yet.” When Barn spoke, voice thick with fear and resolve alike, Caelan finally turned. He stepped closer, not crowding, just present, and placed a steady hand briefly on the big man’s forearm, grounding rather than restraining. His gaze flicked back toward the cabin once more, hard and thoughtful. “That makes this worse. Curses that twist men don’t erase them. They bury them alive.” He straightened, decision settling into place with quiet certainty. “But we don’t fix every wrong in one morning,” he continued as he nods towards the house. “We have to also be willing to accept that if we do that, we may not find her alive again when we come back...are you all okay with that?"
Smiling Jack mentions to Caelan, "assuming Ned just went by, there seems to be a cleared path off to the south into the woods as well as a number of animal trails leading in all directions. I di not actually look for the barrel path or any other tracks to see if it was Ned."
OOC - can my verbiage come before Caelan started marching, we were writing at the same time?
Hearing Caelan speak, “We have to also be willing to accept that if we do that, we may not find her alive again when we come back...are you all okay with that?"
A thin trail snakes off through the trees to the west. It is well established but seems to be seldom used, judging by the untrampled grass and ferns growing in the middle of it. There is another muddy path leading off to the east; some imprints of a boot are noticeable, but they are not the boots Ned was wearing..... the other trails heading off in all directions all appear to be animal trails left by deer or the like, passable but it will be slow going through the thick foliage.
“If I were to offer…” Reg begins, “…we knew Ned and the barrel were in that clearing with the tree and the crows. From there we had two mail ways…and lots of smaller options. We tried to the east and got to the cabin. The Old Hob wasn’t leaving a trail to begin with, but I’d think it best to eliminate the other main path to the west before randomly picking rabbit trails. If he was hauling the girl on his shoulders, perhaps a clue could be found to give us a better option. Just my thoughts and by no means a certain solution. Open to others opinions.”
Smiling Jack - OOC: update on the trail to follow see post #136
"I think the size and weight of the two people mean Ned is on the main path. That is to the south. If he is on an animal trail, to easy to get caught by the brush and trees. The animal trail will leave a clear path to follow." Jack exhales...hearing Caelan's praises has restored his wishy washy confidence.
Jack takes some deep breathes, and continues, "the lack of a trail, indicates that the larger trail is the correct one... but...but...(realizes the leadership he is invoking is beyond him) we can take a minute to confir...r..confirm." he finishes with a bit more confidence then he feels.
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Barn's child-like hazel eyes widen as Macha tells her tale. His mouth starts to drop open, but he quickly snaps it shut, realizing he has been speaking more than he had really intended. It's just that her telling them that they weren't supposed to be there had rubbed him the wrong way and...
He too, like pockmarked Jack and Caelen, wants to know what "amends" need to be made to bring this allegedly good man back from being a monster. But he holds his peace for the moment and will go with the group's decision (like Smiling Jack).
What the big man does do, IF the decision is to stay to get a visual on the husband ("Nuada"?), is to step back away from the doorway and pivot, putting himself protectively at the front of the group relative to the approaching stranger, halberd held unthreateningly low yet ready.
Barn(Paladin1):Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4):VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5):Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic system):ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1):Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian (Fighter3):Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia (Sorcerer2):BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1):Culuril's Strixhaven
There is a movement on the path through the mist but nothing can be made out just yet........
" I've no clue and Nuada.....he can no longer speak........but that damn witch would know. I've seen her sometimes...in her cauldron....scudding across the night sky near the river........."
Her eyes suddenly looked past them towards the path they had entered by, trying to peer through the mist, " Its Nuada! GO! GO! If he sees you he will have no choice but to kill you all...."
Macha slammed the door shut in their faces and busied herself within the cabin, singing an old nursery rhyme ' The Mad Puck Goat' at high volume.
Looking to the mist the group begins to make out a huge misshapen form taller than Barn by almost half again shambling through the fog a hewing axe clutched in one massive clawed hand.
A mane of hair spilled down over a swollen hunched back and shoulders, framing a slack jawed bestial countenance, heavy brow and bloodshot, furious eyes................it was likely mere moments before he raised his head and regarded who was within his home.......
Reg had been aware of all the conversations, his initial goal still foremost in his mind, fetch the girl. Perhaps he had been edging his way around the other side of the house (away from the wood pike), definitely out of direct line between the path they had come (the one now blocked by the fae cursed creature) and the cabin.
The stocky man reaches into a pouch and pulls out a small pinecone. He prepares to toss the object to the other side of the clearing. He is hoping to create a small distracting bonfire that might allow the group to get away without a confrontation. He is not looking to attack the creature, but draw its attention away from them, perhaps just long enough to escape.
(OOC: while Bonfire doesn’t require a spell component, Reg uses as many natural occurring ingredients to ‘activate’ spell effects as I can come up with.)
To the group in a rushed hushed voice, “We can’t redeem him if we aren’t alive folks.”
Jack isn't completely convinced that his sacrifice would be in vain. However the "man" coming towards them is the most frightening thin he has ever seen.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
Smiling Jack sees the other prepare, understands that Reg is doing a distraction.
Jack thinks, a pinecone will probably not distract this monster. Without know who he is talking to states out loud to all,
"I will wait for your ok before letting this arrow fly."
Jack gets his body into position to fire, ensuring his feet are spaced properly and the shoulder is at the proper angle to were the monster will be, not were he is now.
Jacks hand begins to pull the string into a ready position, but the arrow is still facing/pointed to the ground in a safety like position. Jack takes a large intake of breath, filling his lungs to allow the to exhale in a steady rhythm so he can concentrate on the actual release when given the command.
Passive Perception: 15 Passive Insight: 13
Ardwynn looks at her companions and the approaching hillock of a person. "We may not have a wise course of action to keep everyone hale and healthy in this coming encounter."
She prepares as best she can.
A terrified voice inside Barn's head is screaming for him to run. And run he certainly would, but only as the last one to flee.
The big man will not leave any of his companions behind, the way many of his erstwhile "brothers" in arms in Duke Darian's levy surely would have left him.
As he stands, poised to either fight or turn tail, Barn swallows and reaches out with the... sense he has felt growing within him. The connection to the woods all around, as strange as they are, which alerts him to the presence of anything unnatural. As he had done with the leper.
Barn uses Divine Sense (again):
The presence of strong evil registers on your senses like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. As an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within 60 feet of you that is not behind total cover. You know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being whose presence you sense, but not its identity. Within the same radius, you also detect the presence of any place or object that has been consecrated or desecrated, as with the hallow spell.
Barn(Paladin1):Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4):VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5):Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic system):ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1):Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian (Fighter3):Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia (Sorcerer2):BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1):Culuril's Strixhaven
Caelan felt the weight of the moment settle into his bones as the shape resolved in the mist. He did not recoil. He did not shout. He shifted, just enough, to put himself squarely between the cabin and the others, boots finding firm purchase on the damp earth. His eyes traced the creature’s outline with a hunter’s precision: the overlong arms, the clawed grip on the axe, the way the bulk of it moved with a terrible inevitability rather than speed. Not a charge. Not yet. A claiming of ground. “Easy,” he breathed, barely louder than the mist itself. His gaze flicked once to Reg as the pinecone appeared in the man’s hand. The intent was clear, and Caelan gave the slightest nod, acknowledgment, not approval, not refusal. Time was thinning too quickly for long debate. “Distraction may buy us seconds,” he murmured, voice low and controlled. “Use them to move, not to hesitate.” He turned his head just enough to catch Jack in his peripheral vision, seeing the careful discipline in the boy’s stance, the arrow held low, the breath measured. That steadiness mattered. “Hold,” Caelan said quietly. Not yet. Not until it chose.
The creature was wrong…wrong in a way Caelan recognized, though he could not name it cleanly. He had heard stories of men twisted by old curses, of woods that punished bloodshed with bloodshed returned tenfold. This felt like one of those tales given weight and muscle. Not fae. Not beast. A man reshaped by something that did not care if he survived the lesson. Caelan’s hand slid to his bow at last, fingers resting against the wood without drawing. His stance widened, ready to give ground or hold it, depending on what the next heartbeat demanded. “Barn,” he said softly, without looking back. “Tell me what your sense says.” His eyes never left the towering form as it shambled closer, mist curling around its legs like breath around a grave. “Whatever he is,” Caelan added under his breath, more promise than fear, “we don’t meet him on his terms.”
Smiling Jack, hears “Hold,” and regulates breathing as he knows that 1st shot matters. Jack focuses on breathing to calm himself as his nerves are realizing that a walking, thinking, moving target is so different from what he practiced on. Even different from small game he has shot.
Jack splits, nee prioritizes his concentration. On the command word, the target, his next position after the arrow is released. It has been drilled into Jack's head that it is not cowardly to use a person with a sword or Barn's spear thingy to use them as a shield as you fire your arrows.
Jack is counting the range as the creature moves. Is aware of the reach of Barn's fancy looking long spear, and is aware his next position is a bit on Barn's flank to allow another shot without impeding that spear thingy.
Nuada Perception-17
Nuada Investigation- 16
Nuada Wisdom Save- 19
Reg readies himself to cast his dewormer if things go sideways.....
An almost palpable aura of menace seems to emanate from the hulking form....
Barns strange hunches give him nothing at this moment.....
Nuada enters the clearing and stops, his nostrils flare as something seems to stir him but he shakes his massive head and continues on toward the cottage, pausing at the door to look around but apparently seeing nothing untoward through the thick mist.....the huge crooked finger almost delicately turned the handle as he bent to enter.....
( Very low rolls on his part.)
Reg has held his breath so long, he begins to see stars in his eyes. The spectral trails that float here and there when one is denying the brain of oxygen.
In a barely audible whisper to Caelan, “Okay, can we try to find the girl now before she is put into a stew…or married off as an unwilling bride? I’m not saying we don’t visit the curse giver later and see what amends need to be made…but poor Clotha…”
The man has been pressed up against the house and clutching his pack so tight his fingers have grown white and his legs nearly numb.
Smiling Jack
Keeping one eye on the front door, Jack keeps the bow out and steps to the side as he counts heads to make sure in this mist all are moving out and no one is left behind. After the last person walks past, he gets into line and follows the lead.
Barn remains transfixed for a long moment, halberd poised in hand, chest heaving, staring at the cottage door through which the hulking Nuada had vanished. Both relieved and ashamed not to have fought the apparent man turned murderous monster.
"W-we are safe from him. For n-now. That's good. B-but the next p-person he sees? He's g-going to kill them. I know Macha s-said that he still c-cares for her but... I think he h-hurts her too." Barn's knuckles are white again on his weapon's haft, and there are unshed tears in his eyes.
"We h-have to find Clotha now. M-maybe double back to the f-first clearing? The one with the stump and fake N-ned? But when we are d-done with that, we have to try to fix this curse that the h-hag or whatever that old lady w-was put on Nuada. Caelen - I tried to use my... l-link? Link to the woods to sense... sense if he is s-some kind of demon or undead z-zombie, but no. M-maybe there's still a good m-man under there. Like Macha s-said."
Gritting his teeth, he turns, ready to fall into his regular position in line, towards the front, whichever way the group chooses.
Barn(Paladin1):Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra(Warlock2/Bard4):VitusW's Silverwood Forest | Nivi(Rogue5):Erik_Soong's Netherdeep
Joren(Fighter6):NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Quyen(Adept1, ba5ic system):ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord) | Seri(Druid1):Hunter_Orien's Saltmarsh
Xarian (Fighter3):Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map | Ophelia (Sorcerer2):BillM's Icewind Dale | Shin(Wizard1):Culuril's Strixhaven
Caelan did not move until the great shape disappeared fully into the cabin and the door shut behind it. Only then did he let the breath he’d been holding slip out, slow and controlled, as if easing a bowstring back to rest. He raised one hand, two fingers curled inward, signaling the group to move, not forward, but away. His steps were measured, angled, keeping the cottage in view without fixing on it. Distance without flight. Space without noise. “Good,” he murmured, more to Jack than anyone, having clocked the boy’s discipline, the way he’d planned his shot and his escape before either was needed. “That’s how you stay alive.” Reg’s whisper reached him, and Caelan answered without turning his head, eyes still tracking the door, the chimney, the treeline beyond. “Agreed,” he said quietly. “The girl is the thread we pull now. That knot…” a subtle tilt of his head toward the cabin, “…we don’t tighten it yet.” When Barn spoke, voice thick with fear and resolve alike, Caelan finally turned. He stepped closer, not crowding, just present, and placed a steady hand briefly on the big man’s forearm, grounding rather than restraining. His gaze flicked back toward the cabin once more, hard and thoughtful. “That makes this worse. Curses that twist men don’t erase them. They bury them alive.” He straightened, decision settling into place with quiet certainty. “But we don’t fix every wrong in one morning,” he continued as he nods towards the house. “We have to also be willing to accept that if we do that, we may not find her alive again when we come back...are you all okay with that?"
Smiling Jack mentions to Caelan, "assuming Ned just went by, there seems to be a cleared path off to the south into the woods as well as a number of animal trails leading in all directions. I di not actually look for the barrel path or any other tracks to see if it was Ned."
OOC - can my verbiage come before Caelan started marching, we were writing at the same time?
Hearing Caelan speak, “We have to also be willing to accept that if we do that, we may not find her alive again when we come back...are you all okay with that?"
"Well...Could Clotha have been dragged down an animal trail or a regular trail?"
Regular trail seems more likely to Jack but he's not a tracker.
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
From Post #109 as the other trails were being discussed from the Tree Stump Illusionary trap.
“If I were to offer…” Reg begins, “…we knew Ned and the barrel were in that clearing with the tree and the crows. From there we had two mail ways…and lots of smaller options. We tried to the east and got to the cabin. The Old Hob wasn’t leaving a trail to begin with, but I’d think it best to eliminate the other main path to the west before randomly picking rabbit trails. If he was hauling the girl on his shoulders, perhaps a clue could be found to give us a better option. Just my thoughts and by no means a certain solution. Open to others opinions.”
Smiling Jack - OOC: update on the trail to follow see post #136
"I think the size and weight of the two people mean Ned is on the main path. That is to the south. If he is on an animal trail, to easy to get caught by the brush and trees. The animal trail will leave a clear path to follow." Jack exhales...hearing Caelan's praises has restored his wishy washy confidence.
Jack takes some deep breathes, and continues, "the lack of a trail, indicates that the larger trail is the correct one... but...but...(realizes the leadership he is invoking is beyond him) we can take a minute to confir...r..confirm." he finishes with a bit more confidence then he feels.