PrP: Cargonia Requires Your Aid

Log Info

• Title: Cargonia Requires Your Aid
• Emitter: Aodh
• Characters: Yokai, Orenthal, Albion, Dubtle, Zant, Sasha, Ollinthial
• Place: Route #56; Alexandria
• Time: Feb 24, 2017
• Summary: The local trade Caravans that come in and out of Alexandria have been experiencing some trouble as of late on one of the more little-used routes that permit wagons from becoming congested. There has been an official complaint lodged about Ogres. As every good adventurer knows, Ogres are no good. As any good merchant knows, Ogres are awful for trade. So, a common agreement has been made. Adventurers get rid of Ogres. Merchants give Adventurers gold in return for getting rid of Ogres. Jolly good time had by all.

Signed up: Signed up: Yokai (Mnk3) Dubtle (Wtc3) Albion (Cav2)* Orenthal (Rog3) Ollithial (Ftr4) Zant (Mnk4) Sasha (Clr4)

• APL: 3
• Encounter: 8 Ogres (CR 2 Each)

-DM----

You have been given the glorious task of defending great Cargonia from its enemies. Well. By 'glorious task', we mean 'Adventurer's guild has given you the job', and by 'defending great Cargonia', it means that you've been taken out to the rather less-than-glorious and more wet-and-muddy route number 56. Also known as 'Ogre Valley'. Primarily because a small group of Ogres has figured out that if they wait around here long enough, someone's going to try to get into Alexandria through this Route. Then they kill them and eat them, and everything they have. A few have survived this rather perilous route, which is the primary reason you've all been sent out here today.

The weather is awful. The sun, that glorious beacon of warmth and light, is now sitting under a comfortable blanket of grey clouds and wet rain. It's not cold, which probably makes it worse due to the muggy heat that makes clothing stick and insects buzz.. But the pay is good. Your group has been sent in on a 'decoy' Caravan - that is, you're either walking alongside a giant wagon that has tarping pulled over it, or you're sitting in the wagon itself, shielded from the elements, but stuck in with a few empty crates that have been sliding about and knocking into toes and shins with reckless abandon. As your cart wobbles down the way through Route 56...

Out of the interior of the wagon comes the voice of Ollithial, "I hear thumping noises coming from the east and west, getting closer," and the sounds of his bow being readied can be heard as he draws it up and then lifts the cover slightly so that he can try to spot the source of the sound. "Heads up."

Orenthal walks next to the wagon, using his staff as a walking stick, and to keep his balance when the track gets a little too muddy. He's used to riding in wagons, but not as cargo, so declined that honor. Anyhow, it was looking pretty crowded there. So here he is, walking along in the crummy weather. The Explorers had better be paying well. He could have been drunk in the Fernwood....

The clopping of the white horse known as Luminous is the main way people are finding Albion in this weather. Leaning forward, the war golem gives a pat to the large steed's neck. "Easy, Luminous..." He looks up at someone's call as he says, "I don't see a blasted thing... this weather's hell on my eyes."

Sasha stays near the wagon as well, using her staff as a walking stick. She shakes her head when she remembers the news, but when it gets too muddy, she hops into the wagon. "At least the mud didn't eat my boot." She then chuckles a bit.

Sitting in the back of the wagon is Yokai, unmoving in the fray of boxes, legs crossed beneath her as the lanterns that hang from long poles at her shoulders wave back and forth with the motion of the carrier she's inhabited. That great jade head is bowed, and from this poised figure comes a low, droning 'Om' that has, by this point, become little more than white noise amidst the rattling of wheel and cargo, clopping of hooves or any conversation that's kicked up between where the party is now, and Alexandria from which they had departed.

There's a tiny jingle as one of her numerous bells shudders as though with a will of its own, pitch pits where eyes should be in that oni mask lighting up with a dim flicker of gold as a spectral beast, strange by any account, springs from nowhere to circle about with a snickering chirping noise. Her head turns, tilting a fraction to one side, that continuously rumbling note drifting to a silence that becomes ominous in its absence as she's drawn from that reverie into a more hectic reality.

"Oogh! Blah!"

Dubtle is busy whining about the weather, of course, moving along with the others. "This is awful!"

The raven perhed on his shoulder makes raven noises that are just so raven.

And at the very front of the wagon - as in standing on the raised wall of it that seperates the cargo from the driver - is Zant, in that precarious-looking balance that he, himself, is holding surprisingly well and without any apparent worry of falling over. His arms are even crossed together casually, and the only real movement on his part is the occasional whip of the two - yes, two - scarves getting their loose ends floated within the wind every now and then.

But then, the darker-skinned man's attention eventually is caught by something, and by virtue of him not having moved previously, his head twitches to the side, and his eyes squint.

"Something's coming," he declares, and he promptly hops off of the wagon to the ground besides. "Both sides. Somehow I doubt it's just wandering animals."

-DM----

Ah. Thump. It's a sound that can generally only mean one thing. Something heavy is falling and landing. Thump thump thump thump, however, in a constant drumbeat, is a noise that's obviously generally unpleasant to anyone who is hearing the thumping, but is generally unused to said thumping noise - or when said thumping is coming from a massive group of Ogres that have somehow learned how to pincer attack a caravan. You know. Thump thump thump thump.

"GIT DEM. BREAK DER BONES!" bellows one of the Ogres, having apparently decided it was the leader of this masterful stealth attack raid. From the Ogres maw comes spittal that's visible even in this foul weather, splattering a nearby Ogre. The bellow echoes, as two Ogres from each side come to a stop, reaching behind them for something that looks vaguely like a Javelin, but, you know.. Ogre sized. The rest simply start thumping in, bellowing and roaring with all the happy abandon that an Ogre might have, when presented with the prospect of glorious carnage and food!

Rising out of the cart like a triumphant deadly wind, Ollithial releases two swift arrows in to the oncoming ogres. Aiming for the first one to come within thirty feet, he puts two vibrating shots in to the creature's chest, and surveys the scene. "Ogres!" he yells out, in case anyone was daydreaming, and begins to pull another arrow for his next round of attacks.

There is a creeking noise as Yokai stands to her feet, shifting her massive weight as she turns to regard the now-charging masses of ogres that seek to make this caravan their next hapless victim. The orange-glowing lantern that swings to the left of her gutters and goes out, only for the one on her right to spring to life with a haunting, cold blue light that paints one half of her stoic form in tones that might rival that of the moon. With softly cracking splintering, those broad bandage-wrapped feet take her to the edge of the wagon with such a leisurely pace to it that one might think she were unaware of the dangers that were building in the tide of battle that rages toward them all.

She steps off to land with a muffled thump, the wagon rocking back with a clatter when her weight leaves it, the bells attached to her sashes giving a plaintiff jingling that changes tone like the tubular bells of a windchime with every sure-footed step. There is a wind that picks up, ruffling the crimson cloth that clings to jade frame as that chittering, snickering spectral thing drifts with it, yapping the whole while. Suddenly, there's movement -- a thundering roar tears from the vocal transmitters within, and she charges with startling alacrity toward the ogre with the arrows sticking from its thick hide, deft movement taking her between the defenses of the beast only for one of her hands to raise in firm-fingered poise to jab its carved-claw tips into the very base of its throat with a focused strike that brings it to its knees, before it falls forward onto its face.

Her head turns just a touch to the side, both fists now raised to regard the next of her would-be victims, only to have a javelin hurtle toward her with a whistling spin of sharpened metal. It finds purchase, impacting with one of her thighs, the fracture of the polished stone audible and strange as she stares down toward it in soundless contemplation.

Sasha, seeing the ogres set upon them, bows her head. She then stamps her staff on the ground and a pulse of energy waves out to let everyone know that their attacks are being guided.....slightly.

"Uh..." Zant lets out when the ogres begin their charge, and for a moment he actually looks genuinely worried. "That's... a lot," he observes acutely with an audible swallow following after the words.

But, he really doesn't get to worry about all too much. There's a golem already making a charge for the grouping of ogres on one side, so... The best thing he can come up with at that moment is to scramble his way around the wagon and make to meet the ogres stomping their towards the caravan from the opposing side. "Okay here goes nothing!" He does not seem particularly enthusiastic about this whole matter, really. Either way, with him speeding his way across the muddy ground, he finds himself face to face with the og-

Hey what's a massive length of wood doing there?

The answer: Smacking Zant senseless.

The ogre's massive club smacks straight into the man's side, damn nearly knocking the air out of him and threatening to snap ribs. He certainly can taste blood in his mouth. He doesn't get knocked away by the thing, though, no-- rather, after sucking up the impact, he ends up rolling up and around the circumference of the weapon (it's possibly that it's completely by accident), and then promptly shoves himself further along the air from it. And while still in the air, he stamps his foot forward, into the ogre's solar plexus with a loud "ORA!" as it sinks into the mass of flesh before bouncing away again. On account of the hit he just ate, he damn nearly loses track of his center of gravity on the way down, and only *barely* manages to get his feet on the ground first instead of, say, his head. It's still very visible in the way he wobbles there in place after the landing.

"...hey! Hey! Don't go too far, big fella!"

Dubttle is keeping hmself fairly close to Yokai at this point but trying to stay out from under the ogres, perhaps counting on the dwarven legends of ogre-fighting to protect him... even if he doesn't exactly look like the spitting image of the warrior khazadi.

All the same, he's started to chant, chant, and chant.

"I hate ogres, I hate ogres, I hate ogres, I hate ogres.."

-DM---

Oh, Ogre 4. Ogre 4. You came, you saw, you tried.. And then you got shot twice by a pair of arrows, and then a giant guardian statue charged towards you. You were ready to eat some delicious horse, and maybe some manflesh. You thought you were ready. The impact of arrows shocked you, and then the added impact of a pair clawed fingertips to the throat waas the final straw. If only because it killed you. So endth the story of Ogre 4, he leaves behind no children. Cause he ate them.

Ogre 3 was a bit too busy, considering he just watched his long-time companion be shot repeatedly then punched in the throat to notice the very sly Orenthal move on up.

The rest of it is a bit of a mess, by intelligent standards. By Ogre standards, this is probably considered a very orderly and assembled assault. Ogre 7 gets it mouth shut by the FIST OF ZANT, who hits it so hard that it's currently reeling like Rocky Balboa, trying to focus its vision enough so that it can club Zant with it's greatclub a second ti--Wait. Why did it drop it's Club?! Dats no gud..

And there goes Ogre 8, charging on past Zant, missing by a mile - until he comes to a complete stop and turns on his heel, beginning to quickly lumber after the man once more in an attempt to get to grips with the man.

While this is going on, some Ogres are staying back, following the organized battle-tactics to lob Javelins! One of which thumps firmly into Yokai! Then two more Javelins come soaring from the sky - one barely missing Dubtle, while the other scores a clean hit into Ollithial. Apparently even Ogres get lucky every once in a while!

Turning from the one they'd dropped, Ollithial switches his attention towards the one who'd just hit him with a thrown javelin. Buckling slightly under the hit, he yells out, "Kill -that- one," he tells his nearest companions, not that they can just switch on the fly. His arrow hits with stunning force, but not the second, which glances off the ogre's hide.

A jerked, harsh movement of fists brings the war golem into a fighting pose that has the lantern that hangs above her light up with all the more vibrancy, bathing those beneath it in that glorious moon-kissed pallour; in the case of Yokai, at this angle, a ghostly hue comes to that polished jade, cloudy but visible like looking through a cloudy water-filled glass at the sunlit sky. There is another shift as her weight moves to the fore to bring her momentum into the picture in her new approach, though apparently that momentum was just beyond that which she could control. Her taloned fist fires past the massive beast in a rare miscalculation, appearing beyond the thing's flank in Orenthal's visual range.

There is that chime again, filtering through the air as the wind calms, leaving behind a trailing tail of mystical petals of light that dim and disappear before they meet the ground.

Her hand retracts then, her stance shifting to lower her in preparation for retalitory strikes as a voice intones, "A storm comes on the horizon, threatening the land," It is nearly melodic, feminine, in utter contradiction of the fierce-faced statue that stands at the ready. "The sky darkens, and thunder roars. It is up to us," She leans just enough to spy the man on the other side of the Ogre, "To roar louder."

Orenthal is on the offensive now, with someone to distract the ogre while he attacks it from behind. There's a joke in there someplace. However, he's unable to make it, his skills with the staff not quite up to actually hitting an ogre hard enough to make it care.

"Guh..." Zant coughs out while his system re-settles from the hit he ate up from the giant club-- but he smiles faintly over the realization that the ogre who dealt him that hit is needing to catch his breath just as much too when the offending club falls down to caltter along the ground. "Heh... I won that one the--" he starts, but then he instinctively brings him down to ducking low with a "WHOA!" as another ogre comes along to join the fray and flail a club of his own past him.

"Okay, you wait over there for a sec then!" he calls over to the first ogre with his finger pointing almost accusingly at the thing before he twists from the ducking posture into a spinning motion that traverses him closer to the second one with a flutter of gold and white scarves-- and the spin carries a fist into the ogre, too, with another "ORA!", the motion brought to an end with a stomp of a foot to the ground, and the man shifts to leaning further towards his opponent, carrying both his fists to pummeling along the giant's lower torso in rapid succession.

"TO ARMS!" The violet armored war golem calls. Spinning his halberd into a grip, the horse under him takes off quickly as he charges straight at them with abandon.

Despite the swift horse, the ogre manages to swipe at him as he gets closer and brings his halberd back before twisting to nail the ogre across the chest with the swift moving double edged weapon. "C'mon, ugly! Let's dance!" Spinning the halberd in hand, he holds it ready as he glares at the ogre he just wounded.

The horse, meanwhile, gives off a whine as it prepares to move and avoid the ogre's next blow. A snort is given as it neighs at the ogre in response to it's rider's threat.

Luminious the horse rises up and kicks at the nearby ogre, missing unfortunately, but showing it's dangerous.

-DM--- Ollinthial, what are the Ogres going to do with you? Primarily Ogre 6. Who currently is looking more like an archery practice target than an actual Ogre, what with the arrows sticking out of his frame. He roars in dislike and lobs a Javelin anyway. It, rather predictably, misses. Although it does thunk into the ground close to Ogre 1, who is rapidly advancing on Ollithial with all the fury it can muster. Ogre 3 on the other hand is swinging its greatclub around like it's going out of style - but all it's leaving is great thumping gaps in the ground as it swings at Orenthal, but the dasdardly fellow is just a bit too stylishly hard to hit to be cool!

Ogre 7 is still staggering around and trying to get its barings as Zant moves up and apparently unleashes the mighty fury of a Monk on Ogre 8, leaving it reeling before retorting with a mighty slam of its greatclub. It begins grinning at the impact, but gives a boggled look at the monk somehow still being up, and begins looking around, perhaps for a place to fle--Nope. Here comes Albion, promptly slashing a great wound in it's flank. It's roar of pain causes it to stagger away from the hooves of the War-Golem's mount, but now a newfound desperation is in its features.

Another two arrows from Ollithial's bow and the second one hits with all the fury he can possibly muster, piercing the ogre through the head and causing the back of the ogre's skull to fly away from the arrow. "Gonna need help with this one!" he yells out, directing his companions to help defend against Ogre 1 that is even now closing on him. He needs melee assistance.

Orenthal ducks the ogre, and then someone else kills him. Well, he distracted it, at least. He'll take credit for that. It's about all he can take credit for. ANother ogre has zipped by, so he'll sneak up behind him and whallop him with the staff. He moves in under the ogres guard and ... well, maybe the ogre just didn't care, because his hit is pretty anemic. The ogre remains unhurt. By him, anyhow.

There is no mockery.

No pomp, no flair, no goading nor taunting to be had.

As the ogre continues to swing away at Orenthal like he's a man-sized Pinata, Yokai stands there for long contemplative moments; the light in her eyes dims and dances, the lanterns above her rattling as her form begins to shudder violently before, like the Grinch's heart, she grows three sizes this day. What was once a devestating, spiderwebbing crack in her thigh is little more than a knick in the deep jade, her form rivalling that of the ogre that she had been attempting to still, that howling mad mask that comprises her expression all the more daunting as it tilts downward to glare toward the victim that presents itself.

"Like earth, my fists tremble with the terrible rage of nations." She intones, still as calm as ever.

"When the grounds below us break and crumble away, the seas will wait, ready to swallow you whole."

Jeez. Enough with the talking, already.

With that, her massive fists are a flurry of action, pounding into the ogres ribs and back with such ferocity that they rupture the organs so precariously close to the surface, punctured through in some cases by the ribs that break beneath the power the Dragon bestows. As the ogre's eyes roll back, and it falls to its knees, blood spews from its slackjawed maw in a speckling that blesses Orenthal that stood before, marking him in the victory of a battle well fought before he's away to find another target. Her fists release momentarily, one hand lifted with palm facing inward with her fingers extended, allowing for the press of the knuckles of the opposing hand to press in as she lowers her head in a shallow bow toward the defeated.

Her attentions shift then, her body turning to face one of the other ogres, sashes flicking about in the breeze that remains with that delicate chiming, as though in an announcement to the others:

Tonight... you.

More healing comes from Sasha as she continues to try and keep Albion Ollinthial and Zant standing......

Zant is not having a very great time right now. The club that comes down upon him hits even harder than this time, and the CRACK of breaking bone is even audible as his ribs shatter under the force. Ow. Ow. Ow.

But still-- he doesn't fall. He wobbles, but he doesn't fall, certainly. Battered and broken, the man bundled up in furs and scarves just stares up at the ogre-- and then leaps into motion. IT carries him out of the way of the club coming from behind jsut in time for it to smash into the ground instead of him, and he... leaps up at the ogre. His feet rapidly shuffle along the front of the ogre to carr him further upwards, high enough that he can suddenly bring a foot swinging high up, smacking into the ogre's chin with a loud "HA--!", only to be followed immediately after by his *other* foot stamping at the ogre's chest to break at ribs and send him flying backwards into a somersault and down to the ground again.

And the ogre? He's the one to fall, now, toppling over backwards from the two force of the two kicks into chin and chest alike, with a mighty *TWOOOMP* as the giant's weight hits the dirt.

Albion plants the butt of his halberd down quickly to the ground, twisting to flip and spin to land on his feet as he spins the halberd to being back in hand. "Watch your flanks! Stay together! Let none of them move freely!" He calls out from his position, even as his horse moves on it's own.

The horse meanwhile bites first, then spins and misses with one hoof. The other, meanwhile, shoves the ogre's jaw straight up hard enough that it's head goes backwards with a nice, large hoof imprint in it.

Albion looks to see how the rest are doing while he holds the weapon ready. "Nice kick, Luminious. Easy, partner." He says towards the horse as it gives a neigh and kicks the ogre once more just for good measure. Albion says towards the horse, "Time to go help our comrades!"

"Zant!"

Dubtle is familiar enough with the monk to call his name, seeing him in the rather grievously injured state he's in. He hurries his stubby, unathletic legs over to him and skitters to a halt, grabbing onto the back of his short for purchase as he slides to a halt. Panting, he says, "Navos! Undo what has been wrought upon this one!"

And, indeed, it's like the injuries are just sort of...erasied. Like they didn't happen in the first place. Dubtle pushes his spectacles up and looks very relieved.

"Oh, goodness."

-DM--- Things aren't going too well for the Ogres and their masterful plan. Ogre 1, the one who had decided to be the leader, is now regretting his decision to 'show the lads how it's done', considering he's currently facing up against Ollinthial, while Orenthal is attacking him from behind, and there's a giant Temple Guardian currently too nearby for comfort.

Ogre 6.. Well.. The less said about that one, honestly, the better. Because right now Ogre 5 is currently eyeballing the massive wound that a teeny-tiny arrow caused, and is currently debating this whole 'lets attack Caravans and eat dem' plan. It's starting to look like a very poor plan. He roars, and charges anyway however.. As some Ogres just ain't thinkurs. A grunt and a stagger almost cause it to pause in the charge, as Albion scores a good slash - but it's Greatclub comes crashing down against Zan't sform anyway - just as he puts Ogre 8 into the dirt!

"Still need help with this one," Ollithial notes aside to everyone except for Orenthal, who has actually come over to help. He doesn't want to get hit again by that club. He moves sideways as he shoots, the first arrow missing, but the second hitting with a decisive meaty sound as it hits deep in the thing's thigh. When giant Yokai comes over to help, he looks up at her and says, "Thanks!" even as he continues to backpedal while shooting more arrows, swiftly changing targets.

Orenthal smirks as another ogre is brought down with his help. Keeping it distracted. He takes stock of the situation, and spots another ogre close enough to hit, and he charges, rushing in low. He weaves and doesn't leave an opening for it to clobber him, hauling off with his staff and whipping it around hard. This time, it's hard enough to draw the ogre's attention, smacking it good and hard, and leaving it open for a killing blow.

Sasha looks as the last Ogre runs for the hills. "And don't come back." She says with a sigh. "Well....at least we were able to defend this place from them....."

"Before us unfolds fate, carried by breath and by breeze, swift and silent, sweet yet unkind."

Yokai states this as that almost casual step takes her the five feet she needs to reach the skirmish that's waging on, flickering gaze turned toward Olli in what may have seemed a threatening posture, were it not for the lack of aggression she portrays toward him. "As the sunrise, inevitable," She continues, a few swift gestures made with her hands, different variations of fingers drawing faintly glowing lines through the air, a vivid green in colour, "We are the morning."

With that, another flurry of attacks rains down on the ogre that had sought to assail the archer, one final thrust of palm into the place where its nose connects above its mouth, before shoving upward hard enough to send the thing sprawling back with hopelessly flailing limb, before it skids to a stop somewhere nearby. She holds her striking pose for a second or two, as though calculating the conflict, noting the fleeing ogre with a sort of detachment that can only come with the constructed self. She once again bows before the fallen, even as that bright blue lantern flickers out, and the golden one ignites with the warm orange pulse that bathes those around her in the glory of a morning she had just recently spoken so fondly of.

With that, her hands lower to her sides, and as the magic that had offered her such boon wears down, she steps back onto the wagon that had brought her here, settling back in, head bowing down, legs crossing beneath her and the backs of her hands rested at her knees with middle finger and thumb together. That strange spirit creature that was with her before yips and cackles, bounding about in a spiralling circle before disappearing in a flash. After a moment, that low, droning sound begins; Om, the sound the world makes.

Shooting and shooting, Ollithial finally sees the last of the ogres running off, and sends a few arrows after the departing ogre. He puts a few arrows in to the departing fiend, but whether it dies is entirely questionable. He tucks his bow away and looks to the others, "Well done," he remarks to the others.

-DM--- Two last arrows go sailing on through the air. There's a yelp of pain, but if it killed anything is anyones guess! Most likely whatever got hit is either dead, or never coming back to this awful, awful road. Ever again. Thanks to the arduous struggles of the Adventurers, Route 56 is now officially considered safe in the eyes of the local Merchants and the Adventurer's Guild. Your Caravan - now with bristles from missed Javelins and some blood from Ogres who got too close for their own good - rumbles on into town. The main group of merchants that put in the job were waiting for your return. Cheers rise into the air at the sight of the surviving Caravan and (they hope) tales of the adventure over a few flagons of free (read: Free) ale from the Merchants - as well as the incoming prize from the Guild as it is. All in all, a good days work, and a job well done! -