Smiling Jack looks at the ground to see if he can pick up the barrel trail. Jack occasionally looks up at the tower, and wonders...who built it... and...why?
Relocate the barrel trail survival 14
If he locates the trail, he waits for the others to start down it, if there is a discrepancy Jack assumes he screwed up and follows the others.
To look for any other ambush Perception 19
Jack notes the same trail of the barrel that Caelen had seen earlier....
(( OOC: was hoping for at least a 10... so she could talk about what religion says about 'miracles, healing, and saints'... other than BURN THEM AT THE STAKE ))
Ardwynn has only the vaguest of recollections of some things a wandering mendicant priest said as he passed through the village a few years ago before being chased down and arrested by Black Riders.
She does recall something about Gatanades being a fisherman.....or something.....from some far away country....something about teaching loaves to fish....or fish to make bread.....something like that....the old priest was kind of long-winded and mostly seemed to drink and sleep the short time he was in town......
Caelan let the old man go, watching until the trees swallowed his bent figure and the last muttered blessings faded into birdsong and mist. Only then did he turn fully back to the ground, the hunter’s calm settling over him once more like a familiar cloak. “Are we all ready to head back out?”he asked, looking back at the group. “We still have a missing child to find.”
He crouched low, one knee sinking into the damp grass, fingers hovering just above the dew without disturbing it. “All right,”he murmured, mostly to himself. “Let’s see where you ran.” His eyes traced the clearing in a slow arc. The barrel’s passage was still there, flattened frost, crushed stems, a faint groove where wood had scraped stone. But Caelan wasn’t looking only for the obvious. He leaned closer, studying where the trail thinned, bent, and where the dew lay untouched beside it.
OOC: Survival Check to get back on the trail and see if he notices anything else: 21 (rolled in game log)
Ardwynn grabs a blade of grass and places it between her hands. She somehow turns it into a low, moaning whistle to grab Grung Jack's attention that they are moving out.
Barn nods vigorously at the notion of continuing the chase for Clotha, the barrel she is in, and her kidnapper immediately.
Glancing behind to confirm Wynn, the two Jacks, Oengus and the trapper (Reg) are following, he settles into a steady trot two paces behind Caelan, halberd in hand, chain mail armor clanking rather unstealthily with every step he takes along the barrel's trail.
As the group begins to get going again, Reg packs his things up. While he hopes to have finished the casting, but he doesn’t delay the others in the chase for the inn keeper’s daughter. As before, without further direction to change the plan, he maintains a position on the flank.
While he would find the scroll and gem interesting, he would most likely be unaware of them for now. Not having seen the interaction with the leper and being preoccupied with his spell would make him oblivious to their importance for now.
Caelan let the old man go, watching until the trees swallowed his bent figure and the last muttered blessings faded into birdsong and mist. Only then did he turn fully back to the ground, the hunter’s calm settling over him once more like a familiar cloak. “Are we all ready to head back out?”he asked, looking back at the group. “We still have a missing child to find.”
He crouched low, one knee sinking into the damp grass, fingers hovering just above the dew without disturbing it. “All right,”he murmured, mostly to himself. “Let’s see where you ran.” His eyes traced the clearing in a slow arc. The barrel’s passage was still there, flattened frost, crushed stems, a faint groove where wood had scraped stone. But Caelan wasn’t looking only for the obvious. He leaned closer, studying where the trail thinned, bent, and where the dew lay untouched beside it.
OOC: Survival Check to get back on the trail and see if he notices anything else: 21 (rolled in game log)
Caelan easily stayed on the barrels trail, scanning of the surrounds indicated the passage of wildlife such as deer, badgers, hares and foxes......no sign of Neds passage....but with the fay he suspected there rarely was.
Ardwynn grabs a blade of grass and places it between her hands. She somehow turns it into a low, moaning whistle to grab Jack's attention that they are moving out.
Barn nods vigorously at the notion of continuing the chase for Clotha, the barrel she is in, and her kidnapper immediately.
Glancing behind to confirm Wynn, the two Jacks, Oengus and the trapper (Reg) are following, he settles into a steady trot two paces behind Caelan, halberd in hand, chain mail armor clanking rather unstealthily with every step he takes along the barrel's trail.
Barn walked among his.....friends?.....the old beggars words of sainthood and holiness still causing some consternation.....
As the group begins to get going again, Reg packs his things up. While he hopes to have finished the casting, but he doesn’t delay the others in the chase for the inn keeper’s daughter. As before, without further direction to change the plan, he maintains a position on the flank.
While he would find the scroll and gem interesting, he would most likely be unaware of them for now. Not having seen the interaction with the leper and being preoccupied with his spell would make him oblivious to their importance for now.
Reg had just managed to complete his hurried ritual and detected the faint stirrings of illusionary fay energies dissipating along the path of the barrel...
..............................................
After another half-hour of trudging along the path the light amongst the trees has improved slightly, and you can see the pale yellow circle of the autumn sun struggling to dissipate the ghostly mists that wreathe the forest. You enter a small grassy clearing and immediately notice a familiar-looking barrel lying abandoned in the middle of it.
Suddenly you hear a shrill cry of distress coming from a hollow oak tree standing in the middle of the clearing, and you see Clotha’s blonde head poke up from the hollow in the tree. Her cry is stifled instantly and something pulls her down into the trunk again. For a brief second you see the face of her kidnapper. A grey pinched visage peers at you from under puckered, hooded eyes, his sharp yellow teeth sticking out from his lips in a malevolent grin. Then he is gone.
Seeing young Clotha held captive against her will in the tree, and remembering how bullies had treated him growing up, Barn's face starts to turn red with outrage and he begins to call out angrily, but his speech impediment brings the words to a spluttering halt.
The big man grips his halberd in white knuckles and turns hopefully to Wynn and Oengus as companions who might be able to say something useful.
Smiling Jack pulls up the shortbow and is looking at Ned's head down the shaft of his arrow. The shot is lined up and the setup is technically flawless.
In a shaky voice, lacking confidence, and full of immaturity... Jacks asks for permission,
Ardwynn steps up near Smiling Jack... "Be prepared but try to NOT shoot me in the back."
She moves up and halves the distance between Barn and Caelan before stopping to hail the tree.
"Hello the tree! Is it 'Old Ned' I am addressing? We don't wish to harm you; we have come for the young girl you rolled up here. Can you come out and speak with us?"
Smiling Jack, grins a bit hearing Ardwynn's plea about her back. Realizing Ned ducked down, Jack let's out a half breath, inhales a bit and focuses equally on breathing and on shooting Ned when he pops back up...and acquiring him, if given the go sign.
...when or if? Jack just does not think all is well, something is gnawing at his gut. Something is off. Jacks starts looking around as he concentrates on Ned popping up,. Maybe he will pop up in another location?
Perception is rolled on character sheet. It was a 10.
Barn is on the verge of stepping up within his halberd's reach of the tree stump so that he can take a whack at what is apparently Old Ned's head if it pops out again when Wynn advances to make her rather well-spoken offer of parlay. Hearing that, the big man checks himself.
I guess if Wynn's asking him out nicely to talk and all,Barn thinks to himself, a halberd to the face is probably impolite... for now, anyway...
Remaining in place, the big man scans the clearing and the tree-line surrounding it. Much as Smiling Jack is doing, only instead of looking for an alternate place Ned might appear, Barn is starting to become worried that Ned might be a... what had one of his sergeants called it? A 'Stalking Horse'? Some kind of diversion to draw attention away from a larger ambush or encircling force. So he searches for signs of other foes, or for any threats surrounding them.
Barn'sPerception to look for other foes or threats in the clearing and tree-line: 18
Reg was standing a bit off to the side, still following the ‘flanking’ order, but nowhere near at a right angle from the group in relationship to the tree. He watched with bated breath as the young girl named Ardwynn tenderly addressed the Fae. He was impressed by both her boldness and how convincing she was and hoped the other’s actions wouldn’t spook their host.
As he watched the scene unfold, he tried to predict how the Old Hob might get the drop on them with an unworldly trick (Arcana: 10) but was very distracted by the whole situation; unfamiliar friends they all were. Still, he hoped he might pick up anything ‘magical’ with the recently cast ‘Detect Magic’.
Reg was standing a bit off to the side, still following the ‘flanking’ order, but nowhere near at a right angle from the group in relationship to the tree. He watched with bated breath as the young girl named Ardwynn tenderly addressed the Fae. He was impressed by both her boldness and how convincing she was and hoped the other’s actions wouldn’t spook their host.
As he watched the scene unfold, he tried to predict how the Old Hob might get the drop on them with an unworldly trick (Arcana: 10) but was very distracted by the whole situation; unfamiliar friends they all were. Still, he hoped he might pick up anything ‘magical’ with the recently cast ‘Detect Magic’.
Reg had followed the faint dissapating traces of illusory dweomer all the way to the now-discarded barrel, and he now saw the same wisps of energy drifting from within the hollow tree....perhaps these emanations followed wherever those of the fay passed....
Caelan slowed the moment the clearing opened before them, boots easing to a stop as his eyes took in the abandoned barrel, the hollow oak, the shifting mist. He lifted a hand, not raised, just enough, to steady the pace behind him without calling attention to it. His focus narrowed, everything else falling away. When Clotha’s cry rang out and was cut short, something cold settled behind his eyes. He did not shout. He did not rush. He watched. That brief glimpse of the face, the pinched grey skin, the hooded eyes, the sharp yellow teeth, burned itself into his mind. Caelan’s breath slowed as memory stirred, unbidden. He searched it quickly, ruthlessly: half-remembered fireside warnings, old hedge-witch mutterings, things seen at the edge of vision in other woods. Creatures that borrowed paths instead of leaving tracks. Tricksters that hid inside trees, barrels, bones. Not Aos Sí, not noble enough. Not goblin either. Something smaller. Meaner. Clever in a way that liked leverage more than blood. Maybe a hob like the old man had said about Ned, he thought grimly. Or something that wears the name when it suits.
He shifted his stance subtly, angling himself so he could see both the oak and the surrounding treeline without turning his head too much. His bow remained lowered, arrow still nocked but not drawn. He noted Jack’s position by sound and movement alone, felt Barn’s presence like a wall of restrained force at his back, registered Ardwynn’s voice as she stepped forward to speak. Caelan did not interrupt her. He let the words hang in the air, watching for how the forest itself reacted, how the mist curled, how the birds went silent again. His fingers brushed the rowan charm at his chest, not in prayer, but in thought. He took one careful step to the side, adjusting his angle, ensuring there was space between each of them, no clustering, no easy sweep or trick. His eyes flicked briefly to Jack, then back to the oak, measuring distance, measuring timing. He leaned slightly toward Barn without looking away. “Hold,”he murmured under his breath. “Not yet, let see where she gets with him.” Caelan stayed where he was, poised between restraint and violence, mind working through old stories and newer instincts, trying to remember not just what such a creature was, but how it liked to survive when cornered.
OOC:
History check for any information he could remember about this creature: 16 (rolled in game log)
Jack notes the same trail of the barrel that Caelen had seen earlier....
Ardwynn has only the vaguest of recollections of some things a wandering mendicant priest said as he passed through the village a few years ago before being chased down and arrested by Black Riders.
She does recall something about Gatanades being a fisherman.....or something.....from some far away country....something about teaching loaves to fish....or fish to make bread.....something like that....the old priest was kind of long-winded and mostly seemed to drink and sleep the short time he was in town......
Caelan let the old man go, watching until the trees swallowed his bent figure and the last muttered blessings faded into birdsong and mist. Only then did he turn fully back to the ground, the hunter’s calm settling over him once more like a familiar cloak. “Are we all ready to head back out?” he asked, looking back at the group. “We still have a missing child to find.”
He crouched low, one knee sinking into the damp grass, fingers hovering just above the dew without disturbing it. “All right,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Let’s see where you ran.” His eyes traced the clearing in a slow arc. The barrel’s passage was still there, flattened frost, crushed stems, a faint groove where wood had scraped stone. But Caelan wasn’t looking only for the obvious. He leaned closer, studying where the trail thinned, bent, and where the dew lay untouched beside it.
OOC:
Survival Check to get back on the trail and see if he notices anything else: 21 (rolled in game log)
Smiling Jack gets back to third or 4th (?) position as the others start down the trail again.
Ardwynn grabs a blade of grass and places it between her hands. She somehow turns it into a low, moaning whistle to grab Grung Jack's attention that they are moving out.
Barn nods vigorously at the notion of continuing the chase for Clotha, the barrel she is in, and her kidnapper immediately.
Glancing behind to confirm Wynn, the two Jacks, Oengus and the trapper (Reg) are following, he settles into a steady trot two paces behind Caelan, halberd in hand, chain mail armor clanking rather unstealthily with every step he takes along the barrel's trail.
Tanis (Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Barn (Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra (Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Joren (Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha (Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Quyen (Adept1, ba5ic system): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord)
Xarian (Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map
Jack follows the group thinking that this should be interesting.
"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
As the group begins to get going again, Reg packs his things up. While he hopes to have finished the casting, but he doesn’t delay the others in the chase for the inn keeper’s daughter. As before, without further direction to change the plan, he maintains a position on the flank.
While he would find the scroll and gem interesting, he would most likely be unaware of them for now. Not having seen the interaction with the leper and being preoccupied with his spell would make him oblivious to their importance for now.
Caelan easily stayed on the barrels trail, scanning of the surrounds indicated the passage of wildlife such as deer, badgers, hares and foxes......no sign of Neds passage....but with the fay he suspected there rarely was.
Jack looked around at the others....a somewhat ragtag group....but there was strength there...
Barn walked among his.....friends?.....the old beggars words of sainthood and holiness still causing some consternation.....
Jack had not witnessed the beggars miraculous healing......but he knew something strange had happened.....
Reg had just managed to complete his hurried ritual and detected the faint stirrings of illusionary fay energies dissipating along the path of the barrel...
..............................................
After another half-hour of trudging along the path the light amongst the trees has improved slightly, and you can see the pale yellow circle of the autumn sun struggling to dissipate the ghostly mists that wreathe the forest. You enter a small grassy clearing and immediately notice a familiar-looking barrel lying abandoned in the middle of it.
Suddenly you hear a shrill cry of distress coming from a hollow oak tree standing in the middle of the clearing, and you see Clotha’s blonde head poke up from the hollow in the tree. Her cry is stifled instantly and something pulls her down into the trunk again. For a brief second you see the face of her kidnapper. A grey pinched visage peers at you from under puckered, hooded eyes, his sharp yellow teeth sticking out from his lips in a malevolent grin. Then he is gone.
Seeing young Clotha held captive against her will in the tree, and remembering how bullies had treated him growing up, Barn's face starts to turn red with outrage and he begins to call out angrily, but his speech impediment brings the words to a spluttering halt.
The big man grips his halberd in white knuckles and turns hopefully to Wynn and Oengus as companions who might be able to say something useful.
Tanis (Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Barn (Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra (Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Joren (Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha (Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Quyen (Adept1, ba5ic system): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord)
Xarian (Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map
Smiling Jack pulls up the shortbow and is looking at Ned's head down the shaft of his arrow. The shot is lined up and the setup is technically flawless.
In a shaky voice, lacking confidence, and full of immaturity... Jacks asks for permission,
"Do...do...do I...I...ahh...I... sh...shh...shoot?"
Ardwynn steps up near Smiling Jack... "Be prepared but try to NOT shoot me in the back."
She moves up and halves the distance between Barn and Caelan before stopping to hail the tree.
"Hello the tree! Is it 'Old Ned' I am addressing? We don't wish to harm you; we have come for the young girl you rolled up here. Can you come out and speak with us?"
Persuasion: 17+4 = 21
"Well that IS interesting!" Jack says louder than he expected.
He goes up to the tree stump and looks down.
"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, grins a bit hearing Ardwynn's plea about her back. Realizing Ned ducked down, Jack let's out a half breath, inhales a bit and focuses equally on breathing and on shooting Ned when he pops back up...and acquiring him, if given the go sign.
...when or if? Jack just does not think all is well, something is gnawing at his gut. Something is off. Jacks starts looking around as he concentrates on Ned popping up,. Maybe he will pop up in another location?
Perception is rolled on character sheet. It was a 10.
Óengus will use Bardic Inspiration to add 4 to Ardwynn's persuasion attempt (Extra convincing).
"I cast Fireball."
"Are you sure you want to do that?"
"I cast Fireball."
"It's a 15 by 15 room."
"I said I cast Fireball."
Barn is on the verge of stepping up within his halberd's reach of the tree stump so that he can take a whack at what is apparently Old Ned's head if it pops out again when Wynn advances to make her rather well-spoken offer of parlay. Hearing that, the big man checks himself.
I guess if Wynn's asking him out nicely to talk and all, Barn thinks to himself, a halberd to the face is probably impolite... for now, anyway...
Remaining in place, the big man scans the clearing and the tree-line surrounding it. Much as Smiling Jack is doing, only instead of looking for an alternate place Ned might appear, Barn is starting to become worried that Ned might be a... what had one of his sergeants called it? A 'Stalking Horse'? Some kind of diversion to draw attention away from a larger ambush or encircling force. So he searches for signs of other foes, or for any threats surrounding them.
Barn's Perception to look for other foes or threats in the clearing and tree-line: 18
Tanis (Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Barn (Paladin1): Damian_May's Ereworn Under the Shadow | Lyra (Warlock2/Bard4): VitusW's Silverwood Forest
Joren (Fighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha (Monk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Quyen (Adept1, ba5ic system): ConstancePhokas' Nentir Vale (Discord)
Xarian (Fighter3): Luna_Dust's Marks on the Map
Reg was standing a bit off to the side, still following the ‘flanking’ order, but nowhere near at a right angle from the group in relationship to the tree. He watched with bated breath as the young girl named Ardwynn tenderly addressed the Fae. He was impressed by both her boldness and how convincing she was and hoped the other’s actions wouldn’t spook their host.
As he watched the scene unfold, he tried to predict how the Old Hob might get the drop on them with an unworldly trick (Arcana: 10) but was very distracted by the whole situation; unfamiliar friends they all were. Still, he hoped he might pick up anything ‘magical’ with the recently cast ‘Detect Magic’.
Reg had followed the faint dissapating traces of illusory dweomer all the way to the now-discarded barrel, and he now saw the same wisps of energy drifting from within the hollow tree....perhaps these emanations followed wherever those of the fay passed....
Caelan slowed the moment the clearing opened before them, boots easing to a stop as his eyes took in the abandoned barrel, the hollow oak, the shifting mist. He lifted a hand, not raised, just enough, to steady the pace behind him without calling attention to it. His focus narrowed, everything else falling away. When Clotha’s cry rang out and was cut short, something cold settled behind his eyes. He did not shout. He did not rush. He watched. That brief glimpse of the face, the pinched grey skin, the hooded eyes, the sharp yellow teeth, burned itself into his mind. Caelan’s breath slowed as memory stirred, unbidden. He searched it quickly, ruthlessly: half-remembered fireside warnings, old hedge-witch mutterings, things seen at the edge of vision in other woods. Creatures that borrowed paths instead of leaving tracks. Tricksters that hid inside trees, barrels, bones. Not Aos Sí, not noble enough. Not goblin either. Something smaller. Meaner. Clever in a way that liked leverage more than blood. Maybe a hob like the old man had said about Ned, he thought grimly. Or something that wears the name when it suits.
He shifted his stance subtly, angling himself so he could see both the oak and the surrounding treeline without turning his head too much. His bow remained lowered, arrow still nocked but not drawn. He noted Jack’s position by sound and movement alone, felt Barn’s presence like a wall of restrained force at his back, registered Ardwynn’s voice as she stepped forward to speak. Caelan did not interrupt her. He let the words hang in the air, watching for how the forest itself reacted, how the mist curled, how the birds went silent again. His fingers brushed the rowan charm at his chest, not in prayer, but in thought. He took one careful step to the side, adjusting his angle, ensuring there was space between each of them, no clustering, no easy sweep or trick. His eyes flicked briefly to Jack, then back to the oak, measuring distance, measuring timing. He leaned slightly toward Barn without looking away. “Hold,” he murmured under his breath. “Not yet, let see where she gets with him.” Caelan stayed where he was, poised between restraint and violence, mind working through old stories and newer instincts, trying to remember not just what such a creature was, but how it liked to survive when cornered.
OOC:
History check for any information he could remember about this creature: 16 (rolled in game log)
Jack Perception check 11
"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