View source for Yrch You Can't Scratch-Greatwood VP

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== Log Info ==
*Title: Yrch You Can't Scratch
*Emitter: Jinks
*Characters: Pelka, Ravenstongue, Skielstregar, Telamon
*Place: Feypool, the Greatwood
*Time: Sunday, January 16, 2022, 5:30 PM
*Summary: Pelka, Ravenstongue, Skielstregar, and Telamon meet the gnome wizard Kninumpommoeraen and obtain a ride out to the waystation on the Kultari Road. Preparations are confirmed before they are teleported to a Sildanyari digsite in the Greatwood known as 'the Feypool.' There they meet an aloof and unpleasant Llyranesi scholar named Ikshama-of-Hers and a Sylvanori warden named Annae. They situation is explained; fiend-blooded oruch ("yrchtaint") have been spotted near the camp. Ravenstongue and Telamon endure undue condescension but stay on-mission. The two half-Sil as well as Pelka and Skielstregar ask their questions before the quartet heads into the wilderness.

Skielstregar and Pelka locate signs of the oruch, the sith-makar able to track them to the aforementioned "yrchtaint." Ravenstongue and Telamon are distracted by unpleasant supernatural activity in the woods. Pelka observes that most of the oruch and mogareg in the camp are spirits and only half-there. Battle is joined with one fiendish oruch drummer and two of the monstrous mogareg. All three creatures are slain but not before Skielstregar is knocked unconscious. Pelka is only lightly-wounded and the sorcerers come through unscathed. 

A curious late arrival turns out to be a powerful agent of some dark force. It poses as one of the wardens and acts disarmingly friendly... until it devours the souls of the timelost Kosomoth cultists. Then it disappears.

Disturbed, the group returns to the Feypool to debrief their employers and be returned to Alexandria.


*Encounter 1: CR 7 XP3200
**(1) Oruch Bard 4 (CR3, XP800)
**(2) Mogareg (CR4, XP1200 ea)
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<pre>-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Pelka        5'8"     140 Lb     Eaglefolk      Male    Artifice-laden Egalrin, SKREE!                                            
Ravenstongue 5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf       Female  Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.                       
Skielstregar 7'2"     330 Lb     Sith-Makar     Male    A bronze/silver scale with fangs and empty eyes.                           
Telamon      5'6"     140 Lb     Half-Elf       Male    A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes                      
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  As the GM  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 
Jinks        3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=</pre>

You're met at the Phoenix Gate by two guild representatives waiting on the front bench of a flatbed wagon. A Khazadi woman with tightly-braided hair drives the conveyance and a gnome in fantastic blue-and-silver robes rides from the shotgun position. Kninumpommoeraen the Far-Reaching is eager to get everyone loaded up and on the road, making sure you've understood the briefing and are ready for what he promises wiill be a smooth, fantastical, and magical journey to the Greatwood-- only a few-score miles from Khazad Duin! 

He speaks non-stop, riding backwards perched on the driver's bench and holding what should be the back support. The Veil has fallen. Times are troubled. The Llyranesi need our help and they're fellow devoted of the White Magician-- the Dreaming Goddess, Ni'essa Sky-Singer, or just-plain Eluna if you're not a Rune survivor, Sildanyari, or general fan of regional deity gnomenclature! 

The blustery and bitter-cold wind is a non-stop affair and the gnome somehow manages to be louder and more long-winded. It's a long trip out to the waystation on the Kultari Road. 

The square and simple building has become something of a hub with extraplanar activities shut down within the city. A few tents sit arrayed around the station and an elaborate circle has been etched into the flat earth near the firepit between the road and the roadside rest stop. The wagon pulls up alongside the runic circle and the gnome jumps down, waving you all forward. 

"Oh, I do envy you!" Kninumpommoeraen bubbles, searching through his robes for the proper material components. "To see the amazing wilderness of Llyranost! Just be careful about the oruch!" 

The Khazadi driver doesn't speak. She just holds the reins and waits for the return trip to Alexandria. Her bulbous nose has gone a near-on-glowing red in the cold.

Telamon slides down off the wagon, before helping Raven down in turn. "This is going to be tense. I have a bad feeling about some of the stories we've heard about these oruch." He looks over the runic circle, before stepping cautiously into it. "Master Knin, try to make sure things don't go haywire out here. If Llyranost is in peril it may fall to others to carry the torch."

With the group is that of a two-scaled, large markai man. Silver and tarnished bronze scales fight against the other, silver juuust starting to win out on his fanged face and dead silver eyes. He's armed to the teeth. A bunch of spears, handaxes, daggers, a flail, and a polearm nestled in the crook of his arm against his breastplate.

He looks over to Kninumpopmmoraen, shaking his head lightly. "Thisss one will make sssure to take care."

He'd heard of this kind of oruch kind before. "Jussst be careful, thisss one was told by other oruch tribesss about the dangerssss of this kind of tribe."

He steps out, and rises to tower over everyone. To the two he's yet to meet. "Thisss one is Ssskielssstregar. Ssskiel worksss, if that isss a mouthful." He tries to smile. It's full of wicked teeth and unnatural fangs. He's doing his best.

Pelka hops off of the wagon with a feather-ruffling drop. "Pelka," he intoduces himself absently. His attention is on the circle. "I envy us too!" he practically chirps. "Should we be preparing for a fight already? Or...or diplomacy?" It's hard to tell which one he considers more dangerous.

Ravenstongue is less enthused about it compared to Kninumpommoeraen, if her distant gazes out of the wagon combined with a listless expression suggest anything. She's been staying close to Telamon the whole wagon ride over, her hand wrapped around his. As Telamon helps her out of the wagon, she nods and smiles to him briefly before the expression disappears again, her eyes settling on the runic circles. "I'm ready to do what has to be done," she says. "At least it'll be nice to see the land where I was born for the first time with lucid eyes."

She nods to Skielstregar, the smile returning. "Skielstregar, please meet Telamon, my significant other. And," she says, casting a look to the only person she doesn't know, "you can call me Ravenstongue or Cor'lana. Whichever you prefer--they mostly mean the same thing." 

"Snacks," the white raven on her shoulder says. He's given snacks--Ravenstongue pulls a handful of dried fruits from her pocket and holds them out for him to eat. 

"This little empty stomach is Apotheosis, or Pothy for short," Ravenstongue explains. She gives him a pat.

"Oh, of course. The Academy will continue to cooperate as needed to make sure Alexandria stays safe!" The gnome grins at Telamon, twirling his curly beard and returning to a little book he's produced. He stops playing with his facial hair long enough to trace the details of an image and then looks to make sure everyone is within the circle. "Yes. Good. Entirely within the circle, please. How unpleasant would it be to leave a bit of your rump behind? What would you sit on!?" 

"I send you to our friends way the Feypool. If the camp has not been overrun you will be welcomed by friendly faces!" 

He giggles and begins a powerful incantation, speaking into being the words of power that cause the circle to glow beneath your feet. His blue-green eyes dart between your persons and the book time and again, doing his best to keep both you and your destination in his mind. "Good luck!" He calls, finally, before snapping his fingers. 

The world skips. 

Everything is silver and blinding. 

Your stomach lags behind in Alexandros and the light fades to reveal a clearing bordered by thick forest blanketed in white before your insides cease to be hollow. 

Fantastic crystal architecture-- ancient and ruined-- juts up from the ground. A half-dozen tents are in two neat rows of three to one site. A marvelous buidling has been formed from trees bent to the will of wilderness magic and it overlooks a circular ravine hosting more of the glittering crystal. Everything is bathed in a mystical silver light. 

A cloud of dust and rising steam expands in a circle around from you. Already you've earned notice from the camp and someone approaches: a regal Llyranesi woman in silver robes. Her pale skin is decorated with countless circular tattooes in blue, overlapping and cocentric, expanding or arrayed in a serial fashion. A smaller figure in a dark green cloak steps out of the shadow and takes up a position behind her, bow in hand.

Telamon shudders a bit. "That was... unpleasant," he grumbles, shaking his head to clear it. It feels like someone tossed him a good long way, which is... more or less what happened, after all. As his eyes focus, he realizes people are approaching, and he slaps on his charming smile, making a deep bow to the Llyranesi woman before addressing her in Sildanyari. "Greetings, my lady. The trees of Mythwood still grow, but it is good even in this time to stand in Llyranost."

"Diplomacy," Pelka murmurs with just a hint of despair. Then he raises a taloned hand. "Greetings!" he says more loudly. "We're from Alexandria!"

Ravenstongue holds her hands up to indicate she is of no trouble once she's recovered from the lurch of teleportation. "Good day and tidings from Alexandria," she says. Her command of her father's language is quite good--not flawless, but quite good. "We were sent here to help. I am..." 

She pauses for a moment. "I am called Cor'lana Lúpecyll." A sylvanori family name. <Sildanyari>

Skiel nods in greeting to those he has yet to meet. "Thisss one would ssshake your hand, but, ah, talonssss..." he explains, showing his too long talons that'd certainly scrape something. He blinks, a bit surprised that they would be transported there in such a manner. Before he could say anything more, he's been transported and is wavering a bit on the spot.

He keeps his bacon down.

The man blinks, and he gives a small, bashful wave. "... ah... hello. Your, uh, ssskin colorsss look nice."

The woman arrives and considers you each in turn. Her argent robes are loose and comfortable and she shows a surprising amount of bare skin considering the weather; it's even colder further north and inland. One arm is crooked and bears the folds of her garment, the other raises to hold back her guard. 

"Ni'essa sing down to you from on high." She greets, blinking her eyelids in the slightest of nods. "We are grateful for your aid." There's a whisper of a smile on her thin lips painted the same blue as her tattoos. "You may speak the common tongue, I see there are no Sildanyari among you," she tells Ravenstongue. 

"I am Ikshama-of-Hers and this is my camp. We have come to know these ruins at the Feypool and you are here to defend them. The yrchtaint is to the west. What do you need before you leave?" She's, uh... direct it would seem.

There's a faint thread of something in Ravenstongue's eyes for a moment as Ikshama tells her there are no sildanyari in her group. It's gone too quickly to identify. "How many of the mogareg have you seen?" she asks, switching to tradespeak. 

"I am Ikshama-of-Hers," Pothy mimics. It sounds identical, but one could interpret it to be a mocking tone or merely an imitation. Either way, Ravenstongue quiets Pothy by patting him on the head.

Direct and to the point. "We came equipped on short notice. Do we have any knowledge of their numbers?" Telamon switches to Tradespeak at this point. "If we face what I think we do, this will neither be easy nor painless -- but then, war rarely is either." He flicks his eyes to Skiel and Pelka; he doesn't know them as well as he does Raven, but expects they're probably as competent.

Pelka reaches into a bag at his belt. "What do we need? I suppose nothing other than information. Has anyone -seen- these things? Are they an army or just a horde of monsters?"

Skielstregar didn't know the intricacies of half-sil and sildanyari, he just bobs his head lightly and straightens up some. "Yesss... sssuch information would be good."

"A year come the Gathering we have been here without incident. Since the Veil has fallen the taint appeared." Ikshama explains without so much as looking to Pothy in response to the raven's antics. The woman tilts her head and makes a vague gesture with two fingers of the hand holding her robes. 

The cloaked figure steps forward, pulling a black scarf to reveal tanned features. The Sylvanori has grey eyes and short, blonde hair tucked beneath their hood. "Annae," they introduce themself, fingertips to sternum. "There have been multiple sightings of the demon-oruch. At least two of the large ones spotted at the same time with smaller, red-skinned orcs traveling alongside. 

"We Wardens have killed a half-dozen of the smaller but they continue to probe the perimeter to the west. They have one who makes battle-chants and another that moves under the banner of the missing god, Kosomoth." 

"Ni'essa brought Llyranesi and Sylvanori here to dream together. A year since Gathering-last. This place is important; tied to our past." Ikshama adds, blinking a nod again. "It cannot fall to the yrchtaint."

Telamon nods. "Then it will not fall," he states flatly. "We kill them, and we keep killing them until they either stop, or they are all dead. I wish we could work this out, but I'm not so stupid as to assume they want to talk if they are invoking the lost one." He sighs, and looks to Annae. "Shall we instruct the tainted that this place is not for them?"

"I understand," Ravenstongue replies, acknowledging the sylvanori person with a nod. "I will not let it fall." 

She looks back to the group. "Anything else that we need to ask? Otherwise, I think we are ready." Judging by her stance, she seems ready to go, a sort of anxious instinct to move in her limbs.

Pothy continues to nuzzle into Ravenstongue's hand as she pets him. He seems to have no care for what's about to happen, so long as he receives snacks and headpats.

Now this, Skielstregar could do. War. He nods to the other elf introducing themselves. "It won't," he agrees. "Thisss one isssn't sure how thisss tainted oruch's traditions are. But thiss one can fight them if need be." 

<pre>GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (10)+6: 16 (whisper check)</pre>

<pre>(Casting buffs for the journey.)

GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15

GAME: Pelka casts Greater Magic Weapon. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17

GAME: Pelka casts Magic Vestment. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16</pre>

<pre><OOC> Jinks says, "Arlight. Gimme Perception checks."

GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (9)+8: 17

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (3)+4: 7

GAME: Skielstregar rolls survival: (6)+8: 14

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (1)+8: 9 (EPIC FAIL)

GAME: Pelka rolls perception: (20)+20: 40</pre>

Pelka begins withdrawing bits of artifice from his bag. He attaches plates over his elbows, a tiny glowy cylinder over his forearm. Once he's ready he spreads his wings. It takes a few flaps before he lifts off. Then he leans forward and flies off towards the west, scanning the terrain below.

You're not far beyond the silvery light of the Feypool digsite when you hear the drums. The beat is pounding. Driving. Inexorable. 

They echo through the icy wilderness seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. 

The egalrin and sith-makar find the tracks. Some large and some small. Skielstregar sorts them out and reveals that there are surprisingly-few for a war party. He's surprised, in fact, that the Wardens have killed a half-dozen and more yet remain, but he can point the group towards the camp. 

Telamon does his best to focus... but the drums... the drums. The world seems to grow darker as the stars above retreat. The space between the stars grows and deepens. Kosomoth comes. Cor'lana is distracted by the other sorcerer's distress. 

Pelka surges a head, taking to the air and leading in the direction indicated by the sith-makar tracker. He moves above the brush and snow. Between the trees. He spots the fires of the camp first. He spots the ghosts. 

Three huge, red-skinned oruch revel amongst their smaller kin, feral, veiny, and bulging in their rough and blood-spattered leather armors. Their weapons are taller than a human, jagged and keen. One of the smaller oruch dances around a fire, cavorting and jumping through the flames. Kicking up embers as she beats on her drum. 

The biting wind surges through the war party's camp and the image shifts. The figures grow tenuous. Most are half-formed shadows of remembered fury but three... three are very real.

The drummer roars and slams her instrument. Two of the mogareg turn...

<pre><OOC> Jinks says, "Doing some perception checks for the orcs"

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6: (8)+6: 14

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6: (11)+6: 17

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6: (15)+6: 21</pre>

<pre>=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ATTENTION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Jinks has dropped a TIMESTOP!

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-</pre>

<pre><OOC> Jinks says, "So only the two big, red orcs and the red drum are active combatants. The rest are after-images of the timelost warparty."

<OOC> Jinks says, "Pelka observes this with his monster Perception check."</pre>

<pre>GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+3: (16)+3: 19 (oruch save, success)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18 (oruch save, success)</pre>

"Alright. Let's go." Ravenstongue looks deadly serious as she takes aim and makes a throwing motion with the utterance of an arcane chant. Sparkly dust lands on the large tainted oruch and on the tainted oruch drummer to the southern part of the disgusting scene. "That'll make them hard to miss."

<pre>GAME: Pelka rolls ranged: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL)</pre>

Pelka stops flapping his wings and glides. His path takes him over one of the larger Orcs. A large utilitarian looking deathray appears in his hand, but Pelka immediately grasps a secondary handle with his other hand. hmmmMMM-BZZT! CRACK! the weapon hums, crackles with electric discharge and finally emits a bolt of energy. Unfortunately it misses completely, blasting a small crater into the ground instead.

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 (oruch throws javelin at Pelka, misses)

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10+2-2: (7)+10+2+-2: 17 (oruch charges at Skielstregar, misses attack)</pre>

The massive, red-skinned and demon-tainted oruch spring into action at the sight of the interlopers. The first draws a massive log of a javelin at the flying egalrin but the weapon flies wide. The other brute charges ahead, his feet slamming furiously into the ground before he cuts a wide sweep that cleaves through the nearby brush.

<pre>GAME: Skielstregar RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 8 temporary HP

GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12: (6)+12: 18 (power attack negated by furious focus, tar: large oruch; hits)

GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 1d10+9+6: (6)+9+6: 21</pre>

Skielstregar's eyes go wide at the sight of the large oruch. He turns back to the half-sils. "You will ssstay behind thisss one..." he growls, bring his weapon to bear as they start to charge at him. Black miasma starts to leak from between his scales, another set of fangs growing out from his maw as his eyes gleam red.

"NO MATTER WHAT!" he roars, ducking under the weapon and crashing the axe end of his halberd into the oruch's side.

The dark, the empty spaces... NOT TODAY.

<pre>GAME: Telamon casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 18

GAME: Telamon rolls ranged: (4)+4: 8 (fail, free reroll)

GAME: Telamon rolls ranged: (14)+4: 18 (free reroll, success)

GAME: Telamon rolls 4d6: (14): 14 (fire damage)</pre>

It's like something splashed water on his brain. Telamon seems to surface from the trance with a gasp, shaking his head and then his eyes flaring with angry starlight. He snarls in Dran-accented Oruch, "You came to the wrong forest, defiled ones," before sidling to the left as Skiel and the giant Mogareg clash. As the two bounce off each other, with Skiel getting the better of the exchange, lines of orange and yellow race up and down his body, and he thrusts out his hand. "Ganzer agida!" he shouts, and a lance of flame stabs deep into the Mogareg's flank.

<pre>GAME: Pelka rolls will: (2)+6: 8 (failure against oruch's Hold Person spell)

GAME: Pelka rolls will: (16)+6: 22 (free reroll, success)</pre>

The oruch woman moves forward, her scarred bald pate glistening in the fire- and starlight. One hand beats on the drum hanging from the sling across her thick trunk as she dashes through the snow in furred boots and narrows her dark eyes at the sky. She raises red, taloned fingers and closes them as she growls something in yrchspeak. The egalrin can feel his form gripped for a split second before pushing through the magical attack.

<pre>GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15 (targeting large oruch)

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 2d4+2: (6)+2: 8</pre>

Ravenstongue grinds her teeth together as the oruch comes forward--but at least Skielstregar is handling him. She lifts her hands and murmurs another incantation, arcane darts flying from her hand and sinking into the oruch's flesh. She doesn't watch her handiwork in action and instead turns to run to a slightly safer distance. "Be careful, Tel!" she yells over to him. Not that she doesn't trust him, but he is too close for her comfort.

<pre>GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2: (3)+9+2: 14 (tar: drummer oruch; miss)</pre>

Pelka feels the magic trying to hold him in place. His keen eyes quickly scan the battlefield. He's looking for the source of the magic targeting him. Clearly the oruch woman still glaring up at him. Deciding the skies are no longer safe, Pelka drops to the snowy ground next to her. He quickly exchanges his deathray for an equally large and industrial looking weaponized wrench. His swing goes wide. And he questions his choice of dropping within reach - she looked so much shorter (and smaller) from in the air.

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10+2-2: (6)+10+2+-2: 16 (large oruch attack tar: Pelka; miss)

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2: (1)+10+-2: 9 (large oruch chop attack tar: Skielstregar) (EPIC FAIL)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-5: (2)+10+-5: 7 (large oruch chop attack tar: Skielstregar; miss)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-5-2: (10)+10+-5+-2: 13 (large oruch bite attack tar: Skielstregar; miss)</pre>

The mogareg press the attack, roaring and chopping as they loom over their opponents. They chop through snowbanks and trees and brush. Hopefully none of these plants are holy to the elves or someone is going to be upset.

<pre>GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12: (7)+12: 19 (tar: large oruch, hits)

GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 1d10+9+6: (4)+9+6: 19

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (4)+4: 8 (large oruch's orc ferocity: success)</pre>

Skielstregar snarls back at the mogareg swings for mortal wounds, only to meet the haft of the halberd and a shoulder check to keep the worst off off him. "Sit DOWN you insssurable, demon consssorter!" he yells, rearing his polearm back and jabbing it forward, spear tip plunging into the lumbering one's chest. Right into the heart.

The raging silver/bronze sacle blinks. "... how in the scales are you still..." Skiel snarls.

<pre>GAME: Telamon casts Snapdragon Fireworks. Caster Level: 4 DC: 17 (tar: large oruch)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (4)+4: 8 (oruch reflex save; fails)

GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (4): 4</pre>

Telamon doesn't react initially, but glancing over he sees Pelka fending off the other large oruch. "Dammit..." His hands move in those practiced patterns, and he calmly says, "Izigi'edena zanzana," as a blue and silver tiny dragon appears in his hand. Flinging it at the huge oruch as Skiel skewers the stubborn creature, there's a blue-white explosion in its face, causing it to topple to the ground. "We need to help Pelka," he says grimly.

<pre>GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2: (19)+9+2: 30 (drummer oruch AoO; hits)

GAME: Pelka rolls 2d6+5: (5)+5: 10

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7+2: (14)+7+2: 23 (drummer oruch attack, tar: Pelka, hits)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+3: (5)+3: 8</pre>

The drummer snarls something at Pelka, trying to push her way past the egalrin as she draws a jagged, curved black from her back. She takes a smack across the face from the artificer for her efforts but manages to return the blow, cutting and drawing blood. She shows teeth filed down to wicked fangs filling the space between her tusks.

<pre>GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15 (tar: large oruch)

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 2d4+2: (3)+2: 5</pre>

Ravenstongue pokes the large oruch with a magic missile.

<pre>GAME: Pelka activates his Titan Armor, gaining: +4 Str

GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2: (10)+11+2: 23 (tar: drummer orc, hits)

GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2-5: (20)+11+2+-5: 28 (tar: drummer orc) (THREAT) 

GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2-5: (2)+11+2+-5: 10 (roll to confirm crit, does not confirm)

GAME: Pelka rolls 2d6+7: (9)+7: 16

GAME: Pelka rolls 2d6+7: (7)+7: 14</pre>

Pelka overhears Telamon. "I'm okay!" he calls as he slams his wrench into the Oruch's side. "--ish!" he adds as the curved blade is drawn. The blade slices into the egalrin, drawing blood and a cry of pain. "I lied! I'm not okay!!" His eyes flash around as he realizes his position. Pelka begins moving to one side. His armor emits a thrumm and a few tiny crystals begin to emit a glow. Pelka swings his weapon again, and this time connects solidly.

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2: (10)+10+-2: 18 (large oruch chop attack, tar: Skielstregar, fails)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2-5: (13)+10+-2+-5: 16 (large oruch chop attack, tar: Skielstregar, fails)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2-5: (2)+10+-2+-5: 5 (large oruch bite attack, tar: Skielstregar, fails)</pre>

The last of the "living" mogareg steps forward and continues to savage the flora, enraged beyond the ability to place his blows correctly.

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2: (4)+10+-2: 12 (large oruch AoO against Skiel, miss)

GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon12+2: (7)+12+2: 21 (tar: large oruch, hit)

GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage12+6: aliased to 1d10+9+6: (6)+9+6: 21</pre>

Skielstregar whips over to Telamon at the magic. The half-sil would start to realize that the makari that went with them, right now, looks exactly like an undead Forgotten. And it's about to charge right at hi- "Goooooood..." he growls, licking his dripping black ichor maw before-

The undead barrels down on all fours, holding his polearm in his maw before ripping it free, leaping into the air, and jamming it deep into the side of the massive oruch. "YOUR QUARRY IS WITH THISSS ONE!"

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22 (reflex save from Telamon's PAF, DC 18; success)

GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (2): 2</pre>

Telamon can't help but be a little impressed as Pelka manages to fend off two foes at once, and the artificer hammer smashes the drummer orc into paste. "Now -that's- neat. I may have to ask how that works..." He rubs his hands together as he paces north, watching Skiel slam into the massive mogareg, and he releases another darting tiny dragon. Sadly, the oruch turns and it detonates off his shoulder, not against his face. "Darnit..."

<pre>GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 4 DC: 15 (tar: large oruch)

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 2d4+2: (5)+2: 7

<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I realized I never posed for my last magic missile so I incorporated it into this pose. Oopsie."</pre>

Ravenstongue keeps at her assault of the oruch. One casting followed by a second on the big one, the only one, left standing. Her mouth presses together into a thin line, her full concentration on killing from afar. "C'mon, just drop already," she complains.

<pre>GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2: (17)+11+2: 30 (tar: large oruch; hits)

GAME: Pelka rolls melee+2-5: (4)+11+2+-5: 12 (tar: large oruch; misses)

GAME: Pelka rolls 2d6+7: (6)+7: 13</pre>

Pelka settles down once he realizes he's not facing the giant Fel Orc on his own. He stops stepping towards the water and possible escape. In fact he now begins to circle around the monstrous enemy and keep it pinned down for Skiel to hopefully finish off.

<pre>GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2-2: (6)+10+-2+-2: 12 (large oruch chop attack, tar: Skielstregar, misses)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2-5: (20)+10+-2+-5: 23 (large oruch chop attack, tar: Skielstregar, CRIT)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2-5: (16)+10+-2+-5: 19 (crit confirm!)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+10-2-5: (19)+10+-2+-5: 22 (large oruch bite attack, tar: Skielstregar, hits)

GAME: Jinks rolls 2d6+7+6: (9)+7+6: 22

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8+2+3: (4)+2+3: 9

GAME: Jinks rolls 2d6+7+6: (10)+7+6: 23</pre>

The mogareg isn't long for this world-- truly, he doesn't belong here in the first place-- but he lets out a blood-choked roar and gives it one last go. The first chop is wide, cleaving through the nearby tree in one blow. It changes grip and brings the weapon back across and down, cleaving deep into the sith-makar's shoulder. Then comes the mouth, fangs tearing into the opposite arm and twisting up and back. 

Skielstregar is launched bodily into the air for a brief moment before falling to crumple back down to the ground.

<pre>GAME: Skielstregar rolls constitution-3: (17)+3+-3: 17 (stabilize roll)</pre>

Skielstregar's poise is off as he's coming off a dead sprint. He looks up, crimson eyes growing wide as he's crunched into the ground, then rent skyward. Tarnished bronze, red blood, and black ichor flies into the air as he crumbles to the ground in a heap.

<pre>GAME: Telamon casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 18 (tar: large oruch)

GAME: Telamon rolls ranged: (12)+4: 16

GAME: Telamon rolls 4d6: (17): 17 (fire damage)

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (8)+4: 12 (large oruch reflex save from PAF; fails)

GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (3): 3 (damage)</pre>

Telamon shouts angrily as Skiel is swatted aside by the stubborn, monstrous oruch. "You're going to hell. Allow me to conduct your journey," he snarls, gathering sorcerous energy. "Ganzer agida!" Another fiery lance slams into the mogareg, followed by the blue-white explosion of a firework detonating in its face... the creature falling to its knees before toppling over dead. Swiftly, Tel looks around for any other tangible foes, "Pelka, can you get him back on his feet?"

<pre>GAME: Skielstregar ends his rage.

GAME: Pelka deactivates his Titan Armor.

GAME: Jinks removes the timestop.</pre>

Once the oruch is dead and not coming back up, Ravenstongue walks over briskly to Skielstregar. She pops open a potion of cure light wounds and administers the contents down Skielstregar's maw. "Come on, big guy, you're not going to make Seyardu unhappy by up and dying on her," Ravenstongue says, before she looks over her shoulder at Telamon. "Nice shot, my love."

<pre>GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d8+1: (8)+1: 9 (healing from potion of cure light wounds, tar: Skielstregar)</pre>

Telamon looks rueful. "I think I got a little pissed off. The... drums were bothering me. Making it hard to think. I snapped out of it but it took a moment." He cautiously pokes the mogareg with the tip of his dagger. "Big brutes, aren't they? I'd hate to fight these up close."

Skielstregar blearily awakens with a sickly cough, the potion doing its work as the nasty wound on his collar stitches closed some to be not as deep. He snarls some, but coughs once more, some black miasma coming up. The second set of fangs receed, as do his talons. "Isss.... isss everyone alright...?" is the first thing he tiredly asks, grunting some to sit upright.

"And.. thank you, Sssshaman Ravenssstongue."

The half-there oruch and mogareg cheer in their bloodlust. They snarl and gnash their teeth or draw jagged blades across their own flesh. The massive beast wearing the lost god's banner roars at the heavens and the twinkling stars seem to receed again. Maybe just for a moment. With the drummer dead and the two massive beasts steaming in the snow the sound of the warparty seems distant. 

One can't help but wonder when something else might push through, though... 

And then one of the wardens appear. He drops down from the tree just out of reach from where Skielstregar had fallen. Seemingly appearing from thin air. He wears the same green cloak. Has the same darkwood bow carved with silver runes. 

He wears a full mask beneath the cloak's hood. Solid black with no eyeholes. 

"Now... THIS is interesting," he observes in a surprisingly playful tone.

<pre><OOC> Jinks says, "Perception checks, please!"

GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (16)+8: 24

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (7)+4: 11

GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (10)+8: 18

GAME: Pelka rolls perception: (15)+20: 35</pre>

Pelka had been returning his Titan wrench to its position on his arm. But he gives a start at the sight of the Warden. He leaves the wrench readied. "There were only a few Oruch," he says slowly. "Mostly ghosts. Spirits..."

Ravenstongue stands up and steps forward. Her face has a surprising amount of resolve in it. "We did it. They're gone." It's a rather final statement. She's ready to move on, that much is clear, even as she stares at the warden. 

"Interesting," Pothy mimics. He grooms his lovely pale feathers. Have to look good for a possibly adoring and snack-giving audience, after all.

Skiel watches the camp with a building anxiety, him having to get back up on his feet and scavenge for his weapon. "Thisss... thiss one needs a minute to... to be ready again. They can hit... ghostss and thingsss if need be.." he tiredly explains, already ready to get back into the-

A sudden appearance, and the halberd spear whips over to point at the newcomer, him stumbling a bit to put Ravenstongue behind him. A beat, then it lowers. "... you have only jussst got there..."

"Easy, Skiel. You took a hell of a whack there." Telamon cautiously steps next to Ravenstongue, regarding the warden with a suspicious gaze. "They're more like... bad dreams made manifest, rather than oruch returning to the veneration of Kosomoth, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes. Hello. So sorry, just popped in. (Because it's not Alexandria and nobody is making life complicated here, right?)" The warden turns and offers a flippant salute. The cloth of the mask moves when he talks and the steam of his voice pops out from under his cowl. "Interesting times. Busy, busy, busy." 

Gloved fingers waggle playfully and then pointer fingers are drummed towards the ghostly camp. Interestingly, the spirits there seem to have lost their interest in cheering. They've quieted and taken defense posters, falling back into a tighter group. "See. THEY know they're not supposed to be here." 

"Father gobbled their tasty little patron up quite some time ago... and..." His voice takes on a sing-song lilt as he dances closer towards the camp, "Their souls are forfeeee'it!" 

The oruch and mogareg spirits look near to panic now. Some try to move but their feet seem to be rooted to the ground within the ethereal camp.

"Father?" Ravenstongue asks, raising a brow. She looks passively at the oruch and mogareg spirits panicking, but her interest returns to the warden, her violet eyes locking onto the odd figure. "Is there anything else we can do here to help?"

Telamon narrows his eyes slightly, but he reaches out to take Raven's hand. "I don't think so," Tel murmurs, his dark gaze on the panicking spirits. "As one of my old teachers said, sometimes the warnings come -after- the ritual instructions. I think... they're in deep shit."

Skiel heeds the warning from Telamon, him resting against the haft of his weapon as he pants. "Just... need to make ssssure that... all are ssafe..."

He glances to the explanation, then back to the camp. "Sssoo.... they need to be released?"

He hefts his weapon.

Pelka steps closer to the camp. He lets the Warden stay in front though. Partly because he seems to have an idea what is going on. And partly because the thought of having him at his back makes Pelka feel like shuddering.

"You might wish to turn away, miss." The warden suggests, lifting a hand to point a finger down before spinning it in a circle. "All of you, in fact..." He claps his hands together in excitement. "Who needs the nightmares, right?" 

He turns away and trots into the camp, showing the back of cowl and cloak as he reaches up beneath to peel away the mask. There's an awful, hungry noise and the sound of cavernous wet lips smacking together. Something lurks in the air around the 'warden' is he reaches the thinning border between this world and whence the timelost came. 

"I am but one of five!" His voice booms, terrible in its report. "Hunger of the Forbidden! Voice of the Unutterable!" The red-skinned oruch fall, clutching at their heads and screaming silently. Bone pops beneath the cowl and flesh tears as a mouth grows impossibly large. 

"The contract is due," the creature snarls, inhaling with his elbows braced against his hips. The spirits tumble, weightless and unanchored into an inhuman maw you're likely grateful you cannot see. 

Almost instantly they're gone. 

The 'warden' smacks wet lips in satisfaction. "Just... wonderful." 

And then he, too, blinks away.

Ravenstongue slowly turns to the group after a long moment of trying to figure out what just happened and says, "Well, that's a wonderful sign we should go home. Please." She squeezes Tel's hand and turns around. 

"Snacks," Pothy says thoughtfully. 

"Pothy, please, no, you can't have souls for snacks." Ravenstongue says this in a tone that suggests she can't believe she has to say this.

Telamon stiffens. "Damn it, that's what I was afraid of." He averts his eyes from the display -- the sound is bad enough. "Yeah, let's... fall back for now. Get Skiel patched up, see if they need more help. Try to get some sleep too -- if we can."

Pelka is no longer moving towards the camp. His feet seem rooted to the ground. But he leans subtly away as if to keep just a bit more of distance. "That...is one way to deal with spirits." Pelka finally manages. Then he glances at Raven and then the rest of the party. "Yes. Yes, we should go back to the outpost, and report on what happened."

Skielstregar raises a brow as he's told to turn. He complies, and...

Weird noises. Strangeness. Unsettling ones. Horrid ones. He only glances over his shoulder just as he catches the last two words.

They're all gone. "... wasss that... a fiend...?" he tiredly growls, a scowl on his features. "We will need to tell the elvesss thisss-"

He blinks at Pothy. "... thisss one preferred when you tried to eat jellied people. One of thessse daysss your sssnack dessssires is going to get you eaten."

The silver/bronze scale shakes his head, and starts to drag his feet back the way they came.

==OOC==
Map: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mem16poaz1y
<pre> ===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
 ---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
     22   Ravenstongue     1  Flat-footed (0 rnds active)                  
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     18   Pelka            1  
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     14   Mog1             1  
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     11   Mog2             1  
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  >> 9    Skielstregar     1  Raging (2 rnd active)                         <<
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     7    Telamon          1  Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)               
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     2    Drummorc            
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 ==============================================================================</pre>