Posted Notice (Part 2)
Log Info
- Title: Posted Notice (Part 2)
- GM: Carver
- Place: &preload=Template:EventLogTemplate
- Summary: The tracking done, it'll be just a short hunt to resolve the trouble in the village... Isn't it?
It is Late evening, after some tracking work, when the party discovers the lair of the Yeth Hound. It is quite the trek from the safety of the village, across red clay fields and grasslands a small copse of trees with a grand withering oak dominating the crown. Tightly packed with heavy growth.
Enough so that much of the light might be suppressed. Enough so that shadows grow long and wicked across the ground. Nighttime is the hunting hours of a Yeth, so if the plan is to catch it slumbering in its den is still on the table. With the power of flight, trying to control it outside would prove far more difficult. The push through the undergrowth does not take long, before the smell of rot wafts out from gnarled grand roots beneath the largest of the trees. Manmade cave, perhaps a bandit's retreat long abandoned and now the home of a devilish outsider. A low, rumbling snore can be heard even from outside.
Something sleeps within.
It was a bit of a surprise that they had managed to find an actually usable trail, but it seemed there was some good fortune today, in spite of how much ill had befallen the town. Schara had sorted her gear out, and was trying not to make too much noise as they approached the rather pungent copse.
Ulthan walks with careful tread of a huntsman as he follows the trail to the copse, his flail carried pinned under arm, but ready to swing into action at once if necessary.
GAME: Schara rolls perception: (12)+13: 25 GAME: Ulthan rolls perception: (18)+8: 26
Both notice that the stink does not just come from the cave, like the hot breath of a devil's hole. It also comes from the right amongst the bushes, even more sickly sweet. A boot sticks out once they give it a closer examination, one well-worn whose sole is nearly flat from use. Sticking 'through' the boot is a stick slathered with something foul that has stained the wood. Dried blood has soaked deeply into the leather.
Taking a look at the boot, Schara flips something around on their helmet, and they step away, raising one hand and somewhat stiffly moving it around in a few odd shapes. "I think that we found the sheriff. Might be dangerous to investigate further and risk waking the beast." the movements read, for those who understood them <handspeech>. The artificer meanwhile had unfolding the strange contraption on their left arm, prepared for said eventuality.
Ulthan headtils at the hand-shapes being made, but takes note of the backing up and getting ready. So he shifts his grip on his flail to be able to swing it into action at moment's notice.
As one does, a pile of cloaks and shadows - and a bit of Crik - slowly sneaks up towards the group. Staring blankly at the hand gestuers, the corvid egalrin responds in kind by making gestures pointing at the sky, the ground, looking at the ground, looking at Schara, then Ulthan, back towards the ground, and then making a rowing motion with his hands.
Then he stares expectantly at the party.
GAME: Crik rolls perception: (16)+11: 27
Nothing changes, but all sense something is amiss.... like something, or someone is watching them. Adventurer's instincts are well-honed and should be listened to... but the danger within the cave still sleeps and they are running out of time.
Suddenly, Crik's black eyes _widen_. Which is pretty hard to tell since, black eyes. Finger point at the pushes - then a quick look is shot at Schara, and Ulthan. Head looks one way, then the other, and then the snap decision is made -
- and soon Crik leaps at the twice as big man and body of Ulthan to try and push him aside out of the way of something. A moment later of the attempted dive, there's a quiet creaking croak. "-duck!"
Just as Crik is pushing into Ulthan, something zips out of the bush and impacts against a nearby tree where he stood. Darting from the growth to the deeper shadows, something tiny and grossly-flesh colored hustles to safety about thirty feet away, high pitched yipping ringing out into the forest.
Schara waves their hand a few more times in no real pattern, and shrugs, before Crik is suddenly trying to shove Ulthan down. Thinking better than to disregard an egalrin's eyeseight, the artificer dives out of the way. "What manner of creature was that, and should we kill it? I'm still more concerned about the sleeping creature." She wonders with the noise likely a lot more than the risk of talking at this point.
GAME: Schara rolls knowledge/nature: (17)+6: 23
Ulthan knows better than to question Crik when they indicate something is dangerous and thus the small egalrin's push gets the huge human stepping back, just in time for that... something... to come screaming from the bushes.
"Oh, never mind, that's a gremlin which comes from the fey, properly referred to as a Pugwampi if the distinction matters." Schara adds on as she's clambering to her feet. "But I thought we were dealing with a demon, is it just here to cause trouble for people and allow that beast to keep causing trouble?"
Ulthan peers at Crik, then mutters... "Gremlins... again."
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20: (6): 6
The deep rythmic breathing stops for a second.... then continues.
Crik, now laying face down in the dirt, slowly croaks more around his beakful. "... most hateful, ugly looking thing..." There is a pause, shake of feathers. "... the hate!"
Another moment passes, there's a sudden flutter of cloaks and wings, and Crik is up and standing again, snotting off the remains of the ground from his beak. "It was waiting on us. Or someone. Are they protecting the yeth?"
As for the Pugwampi, it disappears from view. Cowardice runs in its breed. Seen and no longer without the element of surprise, it has no heart for a battle against a crew of well-armed mortals. It dips, its squall fading from hearing as it lives to fight another day.
Ulthan lowers his stance to prepare for combat as he scans the surroundings, shifting his grip on the flail for quick action. "Crik, remember the workshop... Think they have traps all over?"
"I don't know, but if they have traps all over, so be it. If it escapes while we're out here pondering what to do then we will have just killed more people in town by our inactions." Schara states simply, heading to occupy the entrance of the cave.
GAME: Crik rolls perception+2: (13)+11+2: 26
Crik turns his beak towards Ulthan and stares blankly. Looks at the ground. The earth. The human. Then back down at the dirty cloaks, starts cleaning them. "... I have no idea." He then answers.
The corvid egalrin takes a few steps and starts peeking into the bushes and look around where the creature was, before he returns a bit later. "Few holes. Feels rushed, unfinished." He gives blank look. "No explosives."
Ulthan nods at his egalrin friend, "Time to focus on what we came out here for, then."
GAME: Crik rolls stealth: (11)+13: 24 GAME: Schara rolls stealth: (19)+4: 23 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+2: (6)+2: 8
Inside the cave, the smell of rot mixes with sulphur. It reeks of rotten eggs and more wicked things besides, of lives forgotten or consumed to feed a hellish hunger. The broken remains of a great wolf hound smolders nearby chewed to almost unrecognizable chunks and it is not the only grisly corpse visible within sight.
Pile of rubbish from different sources have piled up in places around the cramped den, and near the rear is an emaciated giant of a devilish beast. Whose stomach is swollen from meals yet whose visible ribs bespoke starvation. Gorged but not content or fed. Its skin is pebbeled with long healed scars, many claw marks and while both eyes are closed, one is clearly forever for the signs that long wicked things ripped it right from the beast's socket.
Its breath holds steady, still asleep despite the odds. Too much food has made it lethargic perhaps...
GAME: Schara refreshes spells. GAME: Schara casts Magic Vestment. Caster Level: 7 DC: 16
Somehow, it seemed the beast was still asleep. Deciding what to do, the artificer deems that keeping those close to the beast safe was the right call. Schara pulls a large glowing vial out of her pack, and unceremoniously dumps it over the Egalrin, dousing most of the layers and layers of robes with the strange concoction that ceases glowing immediately. Thankfully, it would evaporate in time, and for now, his robes seemed a fair bit sturdier.
GAME: Schara rolls perception: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Ulthan rolls perception: (8)+8: 16 GAME: Crik rolls perception: (14)+11: 25 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6
Pugwamp come up from the scattered piles, their filthy blowdarts already in their leering ugly little faces. The first of them fires off its shot at Schara, hoping to surprise her. Even if it does not.
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+4: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Schara activates her Titan Armor, gaining: +4 Dex GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (7)+11+1: 19 GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (18)+11+1: 30 GAME: Schara rolls 3d6+4: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+6: (4)+6: 10
Wompers, whose ears are too big for its mangy head, yips in a terrible pitched noise as it pops out. Covered in entrails, the little creepy bastardized chihuaha shoots a dart at Ulthan that splinters against the cave wall behind the man.
Feet sniffer, the only one who wears clothing, has a hood too big for its head. Half-blind, it too misses, cussing loudly. "NO. KILL."
Schara was not expecting more of the fey creatures to be hiding in the cavern, but the threat of combat had them on edge enough that their ambush was not completely a surprise. The artificer shifts suddenly, the coils on their arm glowing bright hot, shooting a gout of flames that engulf one of the fey, leaving mostly ashes in their wake.
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+19: (20)+19: 39 GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (14)+11+1: 26 GAME: Schara rolls 3d6+4: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (1)+11+1: 13 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Crik rolls stealth: (7)+13: 20
Another moment, and the other creature vanishes. The artificer instead turns their attention to the hound that was waking up, and she fires another beam at it, though this one smacks harmlessly into the cave walls.
"GO AWAY." Feetsniffer yells, "FARTSMELLING LURCHES. SHITSANDWICHES. ILL EAT YOUR BLUEBERRIES AND SHIT ON YOUR MOTHERS." The terrible little creatures rousing intimidation is backed by magic, many small pebbles at Ulthan's feet shattering suddenly into sharp razored pieces but not causing any damage yet.
Crik sees - lasers - tilts head - creatures! - look forward - a demon! - and then all the corpses. The poor egalrin was holding his knife in hand, confused and out of his depth.
Which is why there's a flutter of once cloaks, and the corvid dives into the nearest set of corpses, only momentarily peeking his head out to see if he was noticed. Thankfully he has lost his sense of personal hygiene years ago in those unmentionable places doing things worth not mentioning.
GAME: Crik rolls will: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Schara rolls will: (20)+3: 23 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Crik rolls will: (14)+4: 18 GAME: Schara rolls will: (20)+3: 23 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Ulthan rolls will: (2)+2: 4 GAME: Ulthan rolls will: (5)+2: 7 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20-1: (7)+-1: 6 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20-1: (13)+-1: 12
The coal-like eye, almost as big as a fist, opens and settles on everyone in the room. The low growl echoes in the tight chamber. Shaking itself, the great beast stalks forward a few steps, before taking in a deep breath...
The maw of hell opens and its roar is deafening, testing the heart of even the bravest and finding them shaken. The wash of heat is so intense that any sweat build up dries instantly on the skin.
Ulthan yips as the big monster opens its eyes and roars, somehow, unnaturally, this noise makes it through to the Barbarian and freezes him in place.
The howl does not only effect Ulthan, for both Stinky Breath and Feet Sniffer suddenly retch from their pile of refuse, soiling themselves. Their yipping terror has them scuttling to hide behind the largest barrier they can find...
Who happens to be the frozen Ulthan, the hideous little creatures shivering and holding his ankles while they try to cower.
GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (18)+11+1: 30 GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (7)+11+1: 19 GAME: Schara rolls 3d6+4: (8)+4: 12
"Something does not seem quite right. Crik, this may be a strange thing to ask, but do yeth hounds distort space around them? I am certain that my equipment was calibrated properly today." The artificer asks while aiming another blast at the hound, this one doing it's job however and getting a solid burn on the beast.
GAME: Crik rolls knowledge/the planes: (13)+4: 17 GAME: Crik rolls weapon1: (18)+9: 27 GAME: Crik rolls damage1+3d6: aliased to 1d4+1+3d6: (2)+1+(12): 15 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+9: (4)+9: 13
Crik was lying in find in the muck. He knew what to do when there was an excessively large and terrifying creature stalking around the empty cave. Stand. Still. Flat. Think of daffodils in a clay pot inside a mountain cave.
Then Schara throws the question, and Crik barely resists the urge to start flipping open his notebooks. With a sudden call to action, the rogue -slams- his thick bladed knife into the beast's hide - and just as quickly darts into the furthest dark corner he can find. "-not to my knowledge!" Comes, the distant reply.
The Yeth hound growls as fire burns across its flank, then snaps at Crik when the Egalrin leaps from the refuse and sinks his blade into the flank of the devil's beast. It turns, kicking aside a rotten limb, and pursues the rogue into the corner who manages to avoid its bite by inches, ripping away a few scraps of one of the many many many layers of accoutrements.
GAME: Ulthan rolls weapon13: (4)+8: 12 GAME: Ulthan rolls damage13: aliased to 1d10+5: (2)+5: 7
Ulthan gives an ululating cry as he chases after the hound, swinging his flail as he reaches it, and somehow managing to score a hit, although it does not seem to be that effective.
Stinky breath, their bowels voided, fears no man but risks no evil.
Its high-pitched cowardly yipping as it flees from the cave suggests its had enough.
GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (11)+11+1: 23 GAME: Schara rolls ranged +1: (10)+11+1: 22 GAME: Schara rolls 3d6+4: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Crik rolls weapon1+2: (20)+9+2: 31 (THREAT) GAME: Crik rolls weapon1+2: (15)+9+2: 26 GAME: Crik rolls damage1+3d6: aliased to 1d4+1+3d6: (1)+1+(13): 15 GAME: Crik rolls damage1: aliased to 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4
"It seems quite resistant to your attacks, is it the hide, or the material?" Schara wonders as the others seem to struggle to harm the creature. She wasn't entirely sure how much her fires were doing, but more went the way of the hound, causing even more burns as she ducked to cover the exit of the tunnel.
Crik's eyes are wide and he squishes himself into a smaller and smaller bundle of clothes as the large Yeth starts to approach him. He holds up his wide and flat bladed, really a blunt instrument more than anything, knife up towards the beast as if it would deter it any.
He hears sounds behind and then suddenly, he springs forward, closes his eyes and makes -wild- slashing motions that may or may not be indicative of any amount of skill, or arbitrarily high amounts of panic.
"SHE'S GOING TO KILL US, YOU IDIOTS." Feet sniffer's expansive nose blows rapidly as the howl's magic panic is replaced by something worse. The fear of inevitability. Of impotent anger at a coming doom. "LURCHING IDIOTS WITH YOUR STUPID DROOLING FACES. SHE'LL KILL YOU TOO."
Feet Sniffer runs, but unlike Stinky Breath, seems to have a plan to survive. It slips into the shadows quietly.
GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+19: (18)+19: 37 GAME: Carver rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23 GAME: Carver rolls 3d8+6: (18)+6: 24 GAME: Crik rolls will: (3)+4: 7
Crik's blade cuts wildly. Luck? Skill? Who cares when hot blood splatters on your beak. The Yeth's eye weeps lava as it gouges its one remaining orb out of its head, but this time its jaw latches onto Crik. The large creature shakes and rattles and breaks and rends before tossing the poor rogue to the floor, its steaming saliva mixing with Egalrin bloodsoaked feathers.
GAME: Ulthan RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 8 temporary HP GAME: Ulthan rolls weapon13: (9)+10: 19 GAME: Ulthan rolls damage13: aliased to 1d10+7: (10)+7: 17
Ulthan's ululating warcry raises in volume as he invokes the fury and magic in his blood, entering Rage and then smashing his flail down on the large hound, smashing it down onto its body, quivering. And barely expiring with its body broken.
The Yeth's spine is thick but not so much so that it can resist that blow. It shatters under the flail and it topples, its one burning eye cooling as its breath chokes and spittles and ends with a wheezing growl. Some of Crik's feathers, shaken so roughly loose, continue to drift to the floor.
GAME: Schara casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 7 DC: 15 GAME: Schara rolls 1d8 +5: (6)+5: 11
"Hang on Crik, just one moment!" The artificer shouts over into the cave, just in time for the beast to fall. Schara sprints over to where Crik had been badly injured, where they pull a rather large needle out of a leg pouch, jabbing it quickly into the egalrin where it jolts the rogue and almost instantly closes various wounds while she pulls it free. "You alright there? Both of you?"
In the sudden flash, there was only pain. No, only motion and sense of nothing. No, there was fear. An indomitable terror that overwhelmed everything, sending Crik onto the floor after the beast is done tearing out the chunks of those once beautiful raven feathers.
Then the beast falls and Crik's head is rolling, throat croaking. The jab is barely registered, as the corvid's attention is pulled elsewhere. Shiny. With pilfering fingers, he holds up the piece of jewelry he found. "Now... that, is sad." He drops his hand holding the dog collar down onto the ground.
'Dearest Fluffy, my loyal beast', the collar said.
Ulthan stops screaming when he notices the big hound stopped moving, and seems to shrink visiibly as the rage subsides. He leans on the haft of his flail and looks down at the hound.
The cave is quiet as they help Crik to his feet, to take him to town. To discuss rewards and aid. This job is over but...
Elsewhere...
Three burning eyes glare down at the shivering creature, Stinky Breath, whose crusty little lips quiver in fear. "WE TRIES OUR BEST, MISSUS, WE TRIES OUR BE-URK." The Pugwampi is picked up by its head, held between iron-tipped fingers as a face leans in from the shadows.
Mottled, greenish jaw with iron-hinges. Sharp, needling teeth and warts. The exhale of a sigh blows quiet the Pugwampi's simping. "Fluffy will be missed."
BITE! TEAR!
The Pugwampi's head is spit out as the hunched, powerfully built 'woman' turns to the pack of Yeth. They howl in unison, as the 'woman' settles down onto a wide-brimmed mushroom as thick as a log to ponder.