Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer Creatures
Frozen Sick
D&D Beyond Basic Rules
Basic Rules (2014)
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Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer CreaturesFrozen SickD&D Beyond Basic RulesBasic Rules (2014)Sign in to view your library & saved favorites.
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Serak: The sound of hooves sends Serak immediately into action. Producing a bag of ball bearings from his pack, he empties the pouch across the road in front of Syna, metallic spheres rolling everywhere. He answers Beetle, saying, "Yes, we must hold the bridge so they can't flank us. These will slow their charge, should they be hostile."
The bard then sprints to the southern side of the bridge, hiding underneath in hopes of gaining the element of surprise.
Stealth: 23
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
OOC: is the Ring of Protection attuned to me now?
OOC: Yes Zyltris. I’ve updated it on your character sheet for you as well
Syna motions to J to move north, as he moves into cover in the trees to the south.
"ALWAYS GIVE A MONSTER AN EVEN BREAK!"
1st Edition DMG
Taking cover in various spots around the southern side of the bridge, Syna, Serak, Brots and Jelenneth look out for signs of attack. Across the ravine, Beetle and Zyltris move north alone, ready to meet the approaching horsemen head on. A few minutes drag on, into what feels like an eternity. The hooves gradually becoming louder with every passing second. Sending Lucas upwards with a quick whistle, Brots watches the scene from the cover of the northern hedgerow. The blood hawk shrieks again in the distance, circling slowly, getting ever closer.
A coloured banner, chequered with red and gold squares emblazoned with a shining white crown in the fore, flickers in the wind, held aloft by a single horseman galloping forwards on an ebony horse. As the rider spots the two men with swords drawn before him, he yanks sharply at the reigns, calling out in surprise, "Heyyyy, hold up there Bramble." As he pulls the horse to a halt, Beetle and Zyltris finally make out his features. Clad in a chain shirt and helmet, with a longsword and shield resting at his side, the man is no more than thirty years old. His steel shines brightly in the sunlight, apparently untested in combat. Bramble plods to a stop, and snorts loudly as his rider eyes up the equally well armoured men before him.
Before either party has chance to speak, several other horses round the corner. A stunning white horse leads the pack, covered in bright red barding. It's rider wears a steel breastplate, with a pristine horned helmet. A thick bushy beard threatens to burst out from his gorget. One by one the horses gather around the flag bearer until no more than fifteen mounted men fill the trail. In all Beetle counts eleven men armed with swords, including the horned helmed men and flag bearer. At the rear, three mounted archers and another unarmoured man, cloaked in black, surround a wooden cart which resembles some kind of makeshift jail cell. The horses all whinny and trumpet amongst themselves, stomping around, restless to keep moving.
The white war horse stomps forwards purposefully, pushing past the first rider. Step by step the beasts hooves shake the ground, until coming to rest a mere foot from Beetle and Zyltris. The rider shows no fear as he addresses them arrogantly, "Move aside lads. You are vastly outnumbered here and I have no time for messing with bandits. Move aside or suffer the justice of Lord Neverember"
Serak: Stowing his weapons, Serak emerges cautiously from beneath the bridge. Wearing his best smile, he climbs the embankment and bows graciously, saying, "Serak The Skald, at your service, m'lord. Despite our ragtag appearance, I assure you we're not bandits. We are adventures, come to rid Wyvern Tor of the Orcs and Ogre that were plaguing this area."
Casually, the Shadow Thief examines the rest of the convoy, paying special attention to the prisoner. Idly kicking a ball bearing, he continues, "Must be a dangerous criminal indeed to require such an escort. What was his crime, if I may ask?"
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Beetle moves to flank Serak, not worried about trouble but curious what these men have to say..."Yes gentlemen, good day..." Beetle says, "As my friend her stated we are not bandits nor do we have any desire to be, if there were bandits we would be bringing justice to them just as we did with the Redbrand bandits in Phandalan."
The white stallion scrapes a hoof heavily through the dirt as his rider snorts, “Awful strange behaviour for those claiming innocence. Hmm... this bridge would make a handy bottleneck.... and what’s this? Ball bearings as well? Seems like a trap to me? Wouldn’t you agree? Or do you have an excuse for this as well?”
He stares the three of them down, awaiting an answer. Frustrated, his face reddens. The bearded man nods his head back towards the black cloaked man at the rear. “Well? Fear not about Sauvage there. We have need for his skills and I can assure you he is no prisoner of ours. As you can see however, our cart lies empty, plenty of space for the three of you if an explanation isn’t forthcoming.” Behind him two guards leap from their horses, hands resting on their hilts.
Serak: Nodding his agreement enthusiastically, the bard answers, "Yes... this must look a bit suspicious. Strange times, m'lord. Orcs and goblins along the Triboar Trail, a gang of cutthroats in Phandalin, not to mention the zombies at Old Owl Well and the wolves stalkings us. I assure you, we were just being cautious. The ball bearings we're only dangerous if you'd attempted to charge and trample my friends here. Quite harmless now that you've chosen to stop instead."
Hoping to change the subject, Serak says, "So... what brings you gentleman out this far? If you're in need of a trusty band of adventurers, than look no further!"
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
“Strange times indeed...” Contemplating for a moment, the soldier allows the two of his men to stand behind him. Staring deep into the eyes of Serak, Beetle and Zyltris he judges them each in turn, expecting one of them to suddenly forget their part in this ruse. After a few seconds he seems to give up and answers the bards questions. “I assume you gentlemen aren’t from around here, else you would have recognised the colours we carry with us. I am Sir Turl of the city of Waterdeep, representative of the Lords Alliance, and summoned with haste to bring the Lords justice to Phandalin. I’m afraid we have no need for adventurers such as yourselves Mr Skald. Official business you understand.”
Turl kicks his horse, turning it back towards his men in a wide circle. Without being issued an order the two standing men leap back onto their mounts. “Now, if you gentlemen would be so kind as to step aside as requested. Bandits or no, obstructing the passage of justice is an offence I will not tolerate.”
Serak: Perking his pointed ears at the mention of Phandalin, the bard says, "Lords Alliance, you say? Might you be the reinforcements Sildar Hailwinter sent for? What luck! We just so happen to be very good acquaintances of Sildar. We saved his arse from goblins and captured Iarno the rogue wizard, all in the name of the Alliance. I dare say gentlemen, and with no exaggeration, that we are the reason you are being sent to Phandalin."
Moving to climb into the prison cart uninvited, Serak smirks at Turl, saying, "I think I'll accept your offer and ride in your fine cart after all. You gentlemen will be barracking at our manor house during your stay in Phandalin. We can fill you in on events during the trip. I'm surprised Sildar did not mention Sir Beetlejuice and Zyltris here, nor Brots, Syna and myself. We were quite instrumental in freeing Phandalin from the Redbrands." Waving his hand, he motions the others to join him.
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Beetle, feeling a bit worn lately is more than happy to grab a ride back to town with these soldiers. He moves to the cart but asks first..."You don't mind giving us a ride back?" He only half waits for an answer as he starts to climb in.
16
To say Sir Turl is surprised would be an understatement. As strange as it is for men such as these to resist his demands to move aside, it is even more unusual for them to place themselves in his custody. Nevertheless, something tells him that he should trust these men. With Serak beginning to clamber into the wagon, Turl speaks fast, eager to maintain his image in front of his men. "Yes indeed. If you men insist on joining us then the cart is the best place for you. Gildas and Moryn will ensure you're kept cosy." His white horse turns on the spot once more, as Zyltris and Beetle head past and clamber inside. Before Turl can say anything, Syna and Jelenneth also scamper past and squeeze inside. A silent rage draws heat to the soldiers head, but he keeps his calm. A loud forced laugh fills the air, "More of you I see! Very well! Gildas keep an eye on them til we can ascertain that these men are who they say. Onwards men!"
Stuffed into the jail cart, Serak realises the wagon looked alot bigger from the outside. With the six of them squeezing inside there is barely enough space to move freely. The sound of scraping hooves on the dirt road starts up again as the escort moves off, slowly at first. Beside them, two soldiers, presumably Gildas and Moryn, though they haven't had the decency to introduce themselves. Sauvage, the man in the black cloak rides a short distance behind on a horse of his own.
The trail is a lot rougher than it appears when travelling on foot. Every bump and turn shakes the wagon violently as they make their way down the trail. A mile later, Turls horse kicks up a cloud of dust as he charges off, promptly followed by a flurry of yells from the horsemen around as their horses pick up speed.
17,1,3,7,
Making camp beside a small lake for the night, the company divide themselves and begin their various duties. Though nowhere to be seen, Turl can be heard barking orders to his men. Several soldiers begin constructing a set of tents all around them, while the archers head off into the nearby treeline. Gildas opens the rear doors of the wagon finally freeing the companions from their temporary confinement. One by one they roll out, able to stretch away the aches and cramps from the days journey. "Here," Gildas says gruffly as he drops an axe between them, "We'll need firewood. We all pitch in. Over there in the centre of the camp. Don't try anything."
"Sure, I would love to help out!" Beetle says as he grabs an axe and goes to chop some wood. "Was getting kinda crampy in that wagon, need to work out this tightness anyhow." With a big smile Beetle cuts more firewood than they can possibly use in 3-4 days.
When finished he finds a quiet spot and offers up his daily prayers to Tyr...
Benevolent Tyr, thank you for helping us find safety and most of all a ride back to town..a little tight quarters in the cart but it definitely beats walking. Watch over us as we continue our journey and impart us with you strength and courage when faced with danger so we may bring justice and vengeance to any wrong doers.
With the wood chopped, Zyltris and Brots make a start on building the campfire, while Syna and Serak help a handful of other soldiers in constructing the tents. Across the clearing, Jelenneth hobbles over to the horses, ensuring that they are fit and healthy for tomorrows journey. Once the duties are complete, the camps thoughts turn to food. Having left several hours ago, the archers have yet to return from their hunt. When Beetle returns from his prayers, he finds the men gathered around the crackling fire, stomachs rumbling.
Two soldiers sit nearby, complaining to each other, "Urgh! I am starving! Where's he got to this time?" "Fools probably fallen asleep again. Remember last time we stopped near Luskan? Damn near left him behind." Taking a seat beside his companions, Beetle hears another frustrated voice yell over the flames, "Oi Turl! Where's our grub?" In an instant, the fabric doorway of the commanders huge tent flings open, revealing his bright red bearded face. "SILENCE OUT HERE! WHICH ONE OF YOU DARED RAISE THEIR VOICE AGAINST THEIR COMMANDER?" Stomping forwards towards the group, Turls face scrunches with rage. "BARDON! IF IT'S YOU, YOU'LL GET THE LASH AGAIN!" He squares up to an innocent solider, who shakes in his boots. Nobody dares breathe, let alone speak. As he grabs the man by the neck with a huge hand, a sudden cry breaks the tension.
"GOBLINS! WE'VE CAUGHT SOME GOBLINS!" Emerging from the trees to the north of the campsite, the hunting party returns. Frog marching before them, four bound and badly beaten goblins. While the lead archer kicks the prisoners forward, his two colleagues emerge from the treeline carrying a stag. Releasing the soldier with a thump, Turl begins bellowing orders once more, "Ewyn, Moryn, put these beasts into the wagon. Sort out the guard duty between you. Cedric, Talisen help them with that deer then get cooking. Everyone else, eyes on the perimeter. Stay alert, there's bound to be more where they came from. Ferghus, come with me. I want you to tell me what happened out there" With that, he returns to his tent followed closely by the lead archer.
Rising slowly from the campfire, Moryn turns to Serak and the others, "Sorry Sirs, guess that means you'll be hoofing it tomorrow. Doubt Turl will shove you in with these guys..." Picking up his scabbard he heads over to the approaching prisoners, grabs one by the neck and shoves him heavily into the cart. Another quickly follows shoved on top of the other. "You never know though! Best keep your heads down!" With a chuckle he helps Ewyn stuff the final goblins behind bars, locking the door firmly.
Serak: Casually, the bard meanders toward the rest of the party and says, "Perhaps these goblins are Cragmaw? Beetle, you speak goblin, yes? They may know the location of Gundren, The Black Spider, or at least their castle."
Pretending to be carrying out some menial task, Serak nonchalantly approaches Turl's tent, hoping to overhear what occurred with the goblins and where.
Deception: 9
Perception: 21
"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien
Drawing the map from his satchel, Serak feigns interest in the parchment. Following the Triboar trail as it weaves through the Sword Mountains and back to the High Road, the bard estimates that they are about half a days ride from Phandalin, maybe slightly more.Taking a seat on an old stump beside the commanders large tent, he suddenly becomes very interested in a mountain range north west of Neverwinter.
Serak:
8
Sitting beside the rippling fabric of Turls tent, Serak listens intently to the muffled conversation inside.
"... sort of patrol. At least six of them in all. Odo dispatched one, possibly the leader. Good shot too." The first voice stands close to Serak, clearly heard through the tent wall, confident and clear in his delivery, "I got another. The other four beasts took positions behind the trees infront of us, so naturally we took cover as well. I sent Odo and Adelard round to flank them and provided covering fire as best I could. Worked perfectly and after a short fist fight we subdued them."
"Hmm. North of here you say? Any signs of any others in the area? Any reinforcements likely?" Turls voice is easily distinguishable, though further away.
"Hard to say Sir. We certainly saw none. Though the trees are dense north of here. We saw no evidence of goblins til the ambush. No trails, no tracks. I can lead a small party to investigate at first light if you wish? Give me Odo, Bardon and Sauvage and I'll have the area cleared."
"No no. There is no need. I applaud your courage but this is not our mission here. Unless there is anything else, you're dismissed. Sort out the perimeter guard and then get some rest." Footsteps scuffle towards the tent doorway, followed by the rattle of steel on armour. A sudden scrape as the footsteps stop in their tracks. "Ferghus.... keep an eye on the hitchikers too. Send Sauvage to me if you pass him"
The tent doorway flaps open and Ferghus steps confidently out. By chance he misses Serak sitting a short distance away, heading directly over to the guards standing ready along the treeline. Serak plays his part well. Consulting the map again he sees the forest extends northwards to a depth close to a hundred miles, stretching about seventy five miles across. Not exactly an easy area to search, if the goblins are even hiding within.
Turl mumbles to himself inside, "Bloody fool. What am I to do with four bloody goblins." The tent door bursts open once more with the wind as the commander wraps a sword belt around his middle. "Evening my lord." A creepy voice causes the belt to drop to the floor. "HELLS! Sauvage, how many times?" The voice answers in hushed tones, barely loud enough for Serak to hear, "My humblest apologies. But... t'would seem you have a budding cartographer just outside."
Zyltris walks the perimeter of the camp looking for hiding spots to prepare in case of an attack
Zyltris:
Taking a wide circle around the camp, Zyltris keeps a look out for potential hiding spots. Most of the soldiers busy themselves along the treeline to the north, either keeping watch or sharpening their swords. Few others carry on with the duties given to them by Turl. Zyltris detects a shift in the camps mood. The frivolity and excitement replaced now by a fear of an imminent attack. The fear of being hunted is new to many of these men, but it is a feeling that Zyltris has now grown accustomed to. A snapping twig to his right catches his attention. A badger rustling in the undergrowth.
Aside from the trees, the area around the lake is largely flat and exposed. A small meadow where the horses graze quietly has a few shallow dips but not enough to hide a full grown elf. Under the cart is an option, but he is only likely to draw attention to himself from the prison guards. Resignedly, Zyltris decides that between two tents is probably the best option and heads towards a pair near the outskirts of the camp.
As he arrives, a heavy hand grabs his shoulder. "Come with me elf. We need more bodies along the treeline. You look like you could be useful." A weather beaten face stares into his eyes, the archer that caught the goblins. What was his name.... Ferghal? Fargas? Regardless, the soldier leads Zyltris north, plonking him into a space between two others. "Boys introduce yourselves, there's a long night ahead. I'll have Tali bring you food over when he's done." While Ferghus disappears, one of the two nearby soldiers obeys his orders.
"Hi there. Names Erhart. You seen a goblin before? Awfully exciting all...."
"Give it a rest banner boy. Leave the bloke alone. Ignore him mate, he's as green as they come. He'll shut up if you stop list'nin." Cutting the first, much younger lad off, the second soldier turns back to the treeline, "You know the drill, watch for things trying to kill you. No need for chit chat as well."
Beetle moves in to hear what the goblins are saying...So far they seem to be able to understand and speak common but if needed Beetle is ready to translate.