Elf-Help Section

Log Info

• Title: Elf-Help Section
• Emitter: Jinks, Ashes
• Characters: Ravenstongue, Skielstregar, Vaera, Wu
• Place: Soldier's Defense then western Alexandros
• Time: Saturday, February 12, 2022, 6:00 PM
• Summary: Boti has gone missing! A quartet of mercenaries arrive at the Soldier's Defense just as the Luckbringer Saoirse is speaking to the Watch about her missing charge. The young half-Sil went into the wilds escorted by a visiting Vanguard and has not returned. The four resolve to go look for the boy to make sure he's not lost in the cruel winter storm.

Stopping off briefly to purchase alchemical items, the group ventures into the wilderness to look for the missing elves. They find a host of undead circling a large evergreen glowing in the middle of the winter winds. Battle is joined. A risen gobber and three worgs are fought before Boti and Omondi can be rescued.

It is revealed that the half-Sil plans to leave Alexandria for the Mythwood. Good-byes are exchanged.

Encounters

• CR7, XP3200: (1) Gobber Barbarian 4, Skeletal Champion (CR3, XP800), (3) Worg, Skeletal Champion (CR3, XP800 ea)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  At a glance around PrP Room: Two  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ravenstongue Half-Elf     Female     Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.                       
Skielstregar Sith-Makar   Male       A silver/bronze scale with fangs and empty eyes.                           
Vaera        Sith-Makar   Female     A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg.                               
Wu           Human        Male       Elderly Xian male with a drifting eye and cataracts                             
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  As the GM  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ashes        Hobgoblin    Female     A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face.
Jinks        Gnome        Male       A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.                                
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Soldier's Defense is hushed at this time of night, the sounds of quiet work being done omnipresent but unobtrusive. The worst of the recent bubonic plague outbreak in the threatre district has been dealt with but one of the larger rooms is still set aside for those recovering from that particular affliction. Cautious optmism has replaced the lingering dread and the tired Altheans near a point where the can exhale and relax before the next disaster.

Standing in the foyer, speaking up to an armored watchman in a heavy coat, an ancient Lucht luckbringer wrings a small handtowel worriedly in conflict with her expression of forced calm and only mild concern.

"I'm sure it's nothing but they were supposed to return before supper," she explains, turning her head to glance at the large doorway into the Defense as if speaking of them might make them manifest. She smiles faintly and her twight grey curls bob ever-so-subtly about her rosy cheeks. "I just saw how hard it's begun to snow outside and, well, two-dozen grandbabies and I never stopped being a worrier..."

The watch member nods, his quill scratching notes down. "Through Phoenix Gate, you say? It's right by the constables; should be no problem keeping an eye out." He has a curled mustache and a thick Gustavian accent.

A half-elf comes into the Soldier's Defense, but it's not the one that they were hoping to find. Ravenstongue walks in with another cake box in her hands and a smile on her face, dressed for the winter cold (and also dressed for some mild sleep deprivation, judging by the dark circles under her eyes). "Hello," she says in greeting to the luckbringer and the watch member. "Is Boti around? I wanted to give him this."

"Boti!" echoes the white raven, Pothy, on her shoulder. His talons tap excitedly on the wool of Ravenstongue's long-sleeved dress.

The large, almost fully silverscale makai man steps out of one of the smaller rooms, sighing in relief as, yes, this was the last time he'd needed to be checked over for the bubonic plague. He has his things under an arm, armor somewhat put on and most of his equipment slung over a shoulder.

Skielstregar slows as he overhears the worrying Lucht. He wasn't aware of who was missing, but by the sounds of it, it was a child. And that wouldn't do any good to just pass on by and say nothing.

He dips his chin to Ravenstongue and Pothy as they enter, him rubbing at his tired eyes. "Peasssse on your nessst," he greets to her before rolling his shoulders.

"Erm, if.. it isss not too much of an intrusion, thisss one could go look? Thisss one isssn't affected by the chill very much..." he offers to the watchman and the caretaker.

Vaera was not as curious to the doctors and alchemists of the soldier's defence, but she still spent enough time in a plague ridden profane temple to require a few check ups, to make sure they had not contracted anything. This time Skielstregar was joined by the red makari, who was off to the side, hoping to get this dealt with quickly. Though she does stop to turn and look at the offer of help, and converned mutterings. "If someone is missing, this is not weather for them to be out." Vaera notes. "If they are not prepared, they should be found quickly."

"A boy--" begins the watchman before he's bodily shoved to one side by the surprisingly energetic old halfling.

"Young lady! Yes, you're one of Boti's little friends." Little? An odd descriptor coming from the tiny mature Tarienite as she steps towards Ravenstongue. "He's out later than he's supposed to be and it's really starting to come down out there..." She tucks the towel into her belt to free up her hands, waving Skielstregar over. "Yes, yes. You, too, young man. Good. We'll get this done properly."

"I am feeling of chopped liver," mumbles the mustachioed guard with a sigh. He scribbles down a few more notes while the cleric wrangles her missionaries.

"Oh, shush, you. You're doing a fine job; many hands make for light work and mercenary hands keep yours clean." The Lucht tut-tuts the watchman. She offers the larger fellow a 'thank you but be quiet now' smile perfected by all grandparents and sizes up the mercenaries. "Boti wanted to go and visit his father's gravesite. He's been helping that nice young Omondi with the plague victims and the Vanguard offered to take him as a treat."

A older human male makes his way through the weather, bundled up in a coat and gloves as well as cloak. Breath steaming he seems to be returning from some travel somewhrere. Gear on his back as well as weapons pronounce him a adventurer of some sort.

And yet, he's odd. Or at least his behavior is. Matching a few steps only to pause and look about for something or someone. Then stooping over to peer hard at the ground. His latest pause just near where the building is near the road.

Hearing voices of the group he turns that direction.

Slipping aling the path the older man knocks and then enters the foyer to the Soldier's defense. "Ah! Greetings. There still room left in the inn? Been on my feet all day. Starting to get nasty out there."

"Boti wanted to visit his father's grave?" Ravenstongue asks of the lucht, her brow quirking up. "I... Hmm. I thought his father's grave was outside of Alexandria--"

She bites her lip and sighs. "We need to go looking for both of them immediately."

The white raven on her shoulder whistles to her. Ravenstongue turns her violet eyes to the bird and pats him on the head. "Yes, we have to leave the cake behind here. I'm not bringing it with me if we're going to try and find Boti. Besides, if I bring it along, you might eat all of it and Boti wouldn't get to have any."

If ravens could pout, Pothy would be.

Skielstregar blinks at the older woman's vigor, but he gives a soft sigh and nods slowly as he starts to put his armor on properly. "A young boy visiting a grave. It isss nice of him to help Omondi, erm, Ssshaman Ravensssstongue, could you tell thisss one what they look like?" he inquires.

"And do you know where the gravesssite is?" he asks of anyone, giving an apologetic smile to the guard. "Hopefully no handsss need to be cleaned at all."

He blinks at the old softskin. "... thiss isss a hossspital..?" he mumbles, bewildered.

"Yes, it is too cold out for most people to be wandering, especially outside of the city." Vaera nods, her attention much more focused. "If we are to find them, then it is best done sooner rather than later."

"This one is sorry Skielstregar, but it seems you will need to make another trip out here, it seems." She adds with a quiet chuckle to hide any concern. "You may need someone to help track them down Ravenstongue, I will do what I can."

Then she turns to the newcomer, and nods. "Yes, this is the soldier's defence, in the lower gardens district of Alexandria."

The old man pulls back the hood of his cloak and reviels his wandering eye as he looks around again and back at the closed door. "Is it?" He snaps his fingers in consternation. "Drat. Hospital, hmm. The Soldier's Defense then. Thought it looked odd to be an inn." He's about to head back outside. "Err.. whats this about going out to look for someone? Something something..er-other? You know it's dang cold out there, right? Willin' to assist if need be."

The guard just shrugs, sliding the quill into a protective cylinder and the cylinder into his coat along with the rolled parchment. He takes the short bill of his cap in hand and jerks a stiff bow, clicking his heels together. "Am wishing you luck. The watch will keep eyes peeled for boy and cleric." Then he pivots smartly and heads out into the cold his muttered "(leave home to flee devil's cold!)" half-lost in the momentary howling of the wind.

"Yes, good girl," the Luckbringer agrees, reaching up to relieve Ravenstongue of her boxed confectionery. She finds a chair to set the goodies in where they will surely keep for later. She doesn't quite push people out into the cold by their rumps but the energy begins to fill the foyer as she stands there with her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrow at Wu, wondering if she's found a new charge or another arrow for her quiver.

"Boti said his father was north of the Kultari road waystation a ways," she answers, deciding the myopic Xian fellow isn't in immediate need of soup and a warm blanket. "Silly boy said it wasn't far but they left right after the morning meal, oooh," she frowns and gives a quick 'hmph!' as she wills her attention to the here-and-now.

"Finding anything in this storm is going to be hard, hard as finding an honest husband in the Welcoming Caverns on Patron's Thrust," she advises with another long look at Wu.

Ravenstongue frowns with the new information. "Kultari? We need to go right away," she says.

She turns to the old man and says, "Yes, there's a teenage boy missing, as well as a guard. Boti's the name of the boy--he's a half-elf, like me. Not too tall, shaggy brown hair. He has scars on his arm from when he was infected with the pox months ago, but he's gotten better."

She looks to Skielstregar. "Does that description help? He's only a few years younger than I am, so... I look at him like a little brother. I really care about him." The concern is clearly evident in her voice.

Skielstregar chuffs, nudging Vaera as he finishes clasping his breastplate on and slings his weapons over his back, buckling them into place. "Sorry for thisss one? Thisss one feelsss sorry for you!" he snickers. "Very well. We will get ssstarted sssearching."

He waves to the guard as they go, and he bows his head to the Lucht aide. "Thank you."

Listening to Ravenstongue, rubbing his chin and giving a slow nod. "... yesss, that helpsss. Let usss get going, time wasssted in thisss weather isss bad for thossse that aren't of silver or whitessscale."

He's already moving towards the door.

"That is far enough from here. And outside the city walls." Vaera sighs. "So we will go looking for him. Thanks for the information, ma'am."

She looks to the others, and works on sorting out her gear. "Seems we have some travel to do, and not much in the way of time to do it. If you wish to help, and are able to do so, it would not go amiss. More people on the search, the better."

Wu salutes the halfling elder. ...sort of. His aim is off by about ten degrees. "Don't worry. Got eyes like a hawk. We'll find him, husband or no husband." He blinks and then hmms.. "Half elf with scars. Likely anything not white will pop out in the snow. Though this evening is dark. Need lots of light." He starts mumbling to himself and follows out oafter the silver scale.

The moon is likely up there somewhere but it's obscured by the snow carried on the wind. Drifts gather in the streets and against the buildings, fences, lampposts, and anything else stationary and tall enough to serve as backing. Most folks have the sense to stay inside in this weather but you find yourselves on a mission.

"Laughing One's luck," calls the Luckbringer as you head for the door. "You remind that Boti he promised he'd be safe and come back to help me with his chores. Neither one of us want to let Mr. Shinesheen down!"

The streets are black behind a grey-and-white haze. Little patches of orange, blue, and white lights struggle out from windows and street lamps. Thankfully, the way to the Phoenix Gate is familiar enough and the Kultari road stretches out to the west beyond.

Ravenstongue needs relatively little before she ventures out into the cold to find her not-quite-little-brother. She only stops at an alchemist to obtain a potion against the cold, as she's not naturally resistant to the cold like her other half.

"Tel will understand why I'm late," she says, although she certainly looks a bit guilty. Boti needs to be found!

Skielstregar swings by an alchemist's shop as they make their way on out, the makari picking up a couple of potions that some others would need for this kind of weather. As it was only going to get worse once night sets in.

He clasps his cloak closed and pulls out a torch, holding a light for the others to follow. He sticks next to Vaera as they go, the silversacle not harried by the cold really, but he was more worried about the folks with him. And beside him.

Vaera had to convince herself that the potion may be necessary if they were out searching quickly, and they would not have any time with which to make fires. A necessary expense at least, and it was stowed in her bag, for when they exited the city, and had even less protection from the biting wind. Still, she had her coat pulled as tightly as she could manage to stave off as much of the cold as possible for the time being.

Wu stops briefly by the alk. shop and buys not only a potion but a bottle of firewine to sip from and help ward off the cold. He catches up with the others soon enough. Not so many folks out to confuse his sense. He checks his pack as well. Extra dry clothing and fire starting gear. As well as rope and an everburning torch which he brings out to help lightt he way.

The waystation is all-but-quiet for the night, with the light spilling out of its small windows dimmed while the cleric tending it from within rests. The camp surrounding it is still, too, but still busy for all the wagons and tents that have sprung up at the new defacto site for teleportation magics properly outside of Alexandria's wards. There's sounds of snoring, quiet chattering, and a few drunken, raised voices chatting in a large pavilion-style tent that still glows brightly from within.

'North of the Waystation' stretches out as open countryside cloaked by unforgiving weather once you're past the expanded camp. The last mark of civilization a blink that's almost immedlately swallowed up by the darkness, cold, wind, and snow. You have to keep close to one another just to keep from losing your makeshift adventuring party.

Alexandros-in-winter beckons.

<OOC> Jinks says, "So we'll need a Survival to navigate avoiding pitfalls and the like. Then a Perception to try and find stuff. You guys are welcome to roll individually or combine efforts."
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Survival: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (14)+4+2: 20
GAME: Vaera rolls survival: (19)+11: 30
GAME: Wu rolls survival: (14)+8: 22
GAME: Vaera rolls perception: (16)+11: 27

The ground is blanketed in a fresh sheet of white snowfall and the rolling hills of the Alexandros countryside offers little in the way of windbreaks other than the evergreen trees and more resilient brush. The hills don't often drop sharply enough to have a leeward side but there is the occasional exception.

Wu and Ravenstongue attempt to help but the weather makes it impossible. Only Vaera working in tandem with Skielstregar are able to find signs of the two elfkin passing to the north. It's brief and broken but enough to confirm you're on the right trail...

And then there are more tracks that all can find. Three sets of pawprints: large wolves stalking prey. One walking directly behind and two flanking. The prints are deep. Heavy.

You follow them for perhaps a mile north before all notice the oddest thing: daylight glowing from within the branches of an ancient tree. Visible even through the dark, snow-heavy winds.

Ravenstongue downs the potion she purchased and casts magic onto herself, her brows furrowing as the group spots the wolf tracks. She rubs her hands together for warmth. "Boti, please hold on, please be safe... Your big sister is coming to save you..."

She stops short of the ancient with the group and squints at it. "What the...?"

Skielstregar trudges along in the snow and night with the others as they pass by the waystation, him quite used to having to travel here for the expeditions into the Greatwood.

He helps Vaera out as best he can, holding the torch high and back, moving things out of the way if need be. The wind made it rough, and the snow blowing everywhere means tracks don't last for long.

He sighs in relief, but straightens up at the sight of pawprints, him taking out a flail to hold in his off hand.

"... what in the...?" he comments, squinting at the light ahead. He shakes his head, and readies himself. "Come, let usss pressss on. There may be an issue."

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15

The elderly human blinks and turns his head at odd angles trying to find sign of the missing folks. His face is wind burnt but he's not yet complained. When the others pull up short he grunts. "What? What do you mean what in the the?" He squints and then grunts again. "Looks like someone's got a nice bright bonfire going. May be the folks we're looking for."

Once they were at the gates, Vaera sets off to where the guidance had stated, and she is quick to begin looking around. She stops to take a fallen branch, and strips the twigs off of it, before she is off on the trail, occasionally stopping to prod at some areas that may have been hidden by the snow just in case. This stops in frequency as she comes across the animal tracks as well, and she picks up the pace. Then she comes to a complete halt, as she looks at the strange light. "There is something causing a large amount of unatural light ahead. The cause is unknown, but we need to investigate."

<OOC> Jinks says, "Alright. Roll stealth as normal. I'll back-end the bonus for it being ultra-shitty out."
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Stealth: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Skielstregar rolls stealth: (19)+-1: 18
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (12)+11: 23
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (4)+11: 15
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+11: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+1: (6)+1: 7
GAME: Wu rolls stealth: (2)+2: 4
GAME: Vaera rolls stealth: (3)+12: 15

The group approaches as quietly as possible, staying low and trying to avoid looser-packed snow that might crunch beneath their footfalls. It's slow going in the dark but this is a situation in which the howling wind and the blowing snow can only help.

They get close enough to see it: the great tree glowing with magic halfway up the trunk from in between its needles. Beneath it, cast into harsh shadows by the light, a stalking trio of skeletal wolves draped in rotting flesh and patchwork fur and a slouched, armored skeleton of a gobber holding a wicked, rusty-bladed battleaxe. It shouts something up the tree, leaning back and slamming its axe into the trunk with a resounding crack.

One of the wolves perks up, looking directly at the quartet. A black, shriveled worm of a tongue flops around and it... speaks? The broken, yapping dialect is almost entirely devoured by the wind but the other two wolves look over, too.

<OOC> Ashes rolls perception
GAME: Ashes rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11

Skielstregar squints as they get closer, and his brow knits together in a scowl. Undead. Skeletons too, good thing he has his flail out and ready.

He's about to say something as they're spotted, but then... one speaks?

He glances to the others as he's about to ready himself.

Wu is almost always squinting, or eyes overly wide. Right not he just looks puzzled as the blurry shapes move around in the light speaking goblin. Nerviously he pulls out his weapon. A heavy crossbow... "Somethin' about more meat? Granted them things look awefully thin." He says softly.

Ravenstongue frowns deeply as she stares at the camp. "Do you see Boti?" she asks quietly as she looks over to Skielstregar. Her violet eyes are scanning the group.

Wolves. Wolves. Wolves. But where is Boti?

Her hands ball into fists at her sides as she raises them.

Rage flares in her eyes as she hears the older man's translation. "They're not turning Boti into meat," she hisses.

Vaera was trying to be quiet, but some of the frost accumulated on her leg was making it creak slightly with the movement. She grumbles to herself, stopping to wipe it off when they see the creatures surrounding the tree. "Undead, it seems we may have trouble. I do not know what they are saying, but they're after something in the tree?"

Then she looks at the man, and squints. "It seems we have more to do than just get the child out of the cold. Seems we need to deal with undead as well, before they attempt to butcher anyone else."

Two of the skeletal wolves snarl and yap back and forth between each other, pacing beneath the tree. One hops and puts its forepaws against the trunk, curling back tattered, worm-heavy lips and snapping rotten fangs.

The gobber stops, jerking its axe free of the trunk and looking in direction indicated by his companion. The lopes, lurching beneath and around the tree to stare with empty sockets into the darkness towards the group. Its jawbone flaps, high-pitched, rattling common spilling out into the darkness.

"I smell you there, brother. The Dream has us as we share the Dream. I smelled you on the god-elf. I hoped to carve you out of his tongue while my boys chewed away his warm meats." It sways, twisting a two-handed grip on the axe as it rocks forward and leers into the shadows and the snow. "The Dream hasn't 'Forgotten' you, brother. The Dream never forgets..."

The three undead wolves rear back, howling into the bitter cold.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ATTENTION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Jinks has dropped a TIMESTOP!

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

<OOC> Ashes says, "K/religion to recognize things, and cast spiritual weapon"
GAME: Ashes rolls 1d20+3: (14)+3: 17 (hits)
GAME: Ashes rolls 1d8+1: (2)+1: 3
GAME: Ashes rolls 1d20+2: (16)+2: 18 (knowledge/religion check)

The wind and white snow makes it difficult to see exactly what is causing the light in the tree. The source is equally hampered, but the activity of the party catches their attention, and a familiar voice calls out.

"Skielstregar! Is that you? It's Omondi, I'm in need of aid."

"Hi Cor'lana!" A second voice calls out, eager with only a little uncertainty, "Vanguard Sanna was taking me out to see my father's grave, except it got really cold and then we were chased, so we..."

"Boti, we'll catch them up later." The Vanguard interrupts, then calls out to the group once more, "They're resistant to channeling and bludgeoning, they're intelligent undead."

He follows with an appeal to Serriel, and a gladius appears beside the tree and takes a swipe at the goblin, landing a solid blow.

GAME: Skielstregar casts Expeditious Retreat. Caster Level: 5 DC: 13

Skielstregar drops his torch as Wu says what was said aloud, him about to rush forward to meet them. But his stops in his tracks.

Blink blink.

"... you... what?!" he snaps suddenly in a brief snarl, black ichor leaking from his scales and coating his legs and weapon. Fast steps bring him straight up to the goblin.

"What isss it that you mean? What Dream?" he hisses threateningly, raising his dripping flail. He glances up to the tree, groans about his choice of weaponry, but has to stick with it for now.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+9: (16)+8: 24 (Worg3 attack, tar: Skiel)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+4: (1)+4: 5
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (1)+8: 9 (EPIC FAIL) (Worg3 trip, tar: Skiel)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (18)+8: 26 (Worg1 full attack, tar: Skiel)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27 (Worg1 full attack, tar: Skiel)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (8)+8: 16 (Worg1 full attack, tar: Skiel)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+4: (6)+4: 10
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4+4: (3)+4: 7 
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22 (trip)

The wolves spill around the tree, bones clattering and teeth chattering in nervous spasms at the abominations lope fully into view under the false sunlight of the Vanguard's spell. The first bites at the sith-makar, drawing blood, and the next rears up, clawing with its forepaws and snapping down before dragging the half-dead berserker to the ground.

The gobber laughs, lowering its axehead to rest on Skielstregar's chest, somehow looming above the prone warrior. "See, brother, the Black Dream. The Dragon of Death. Your Father. The one who rescued you from being Forgotten..."

GAME: Wu rolls ranged-2: (2)+6+-2: 6 (miss)
GAME: Wu rolls ranged-2: (18)+6+-2: 22 (hit)
GAME: Wu rolls 1d10: (8): 8

The old man steps forward as the blur of combat starts. He may not know exactly what's going on but he knows combat when he sees it...and hears it.

His crossbow comes up, already loaded and points at the closest worg. But his head it turned to face the large tree to the right. He takes a split second to aim, somehow, and launches the first bolt. It sails over everyone's head and into the night. The man then ratchets back the bow and has it loaded before he can start cursing his first shot.

The second one smacks home and shatters bone. Yet only a small chunk. "Damn that armor's tough!" He shouts. ..what armor?

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+4: (4)+4: 8 (Goblin Reflex save, fails)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (4)+5: 9 (Worg Reflex save, fails)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19 (Worg Reflex save, succeeds)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22 (Worg Reflex save, succeeds)

The relief in Ravenstongue's eyes come down in the form of tears that make her face bitterly cold. "Boti!" she shouts out to the voice. "I'm here, please don't worry, I'll save you! Don't move!"

It's time to do one of her best tricks. Shimmery magic forms in her hands and she throws it out onto the enemies, the magic raining down onto them with a burst of metallic confetti.

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+4+1-2: (13)+6+4+1+-2: 22 (pbs, deadly aim, precise; hits)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (1)+4+1: 6

Vaera is moving quickly into position as things threaten to break out into a fight. She does see a strange sight with the goblin, and shakes her head.

"You do realize you are saying this after threatening to turn a person into meat? You have no right to talk, and will be sent back to the dirt." The red makari growls, sending a bullet deep into one of the undead beasts, while giving a sharp whistle.

It was time for the training to be put to use! That whistle meant it was okay to start attacking, and that they should move to provide assistance for their allies. The small swiftclaw darts around the snowdrifts, sneaking up behind the undead wolves to snap at its back flank.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27 (Worg2 attack tar: Skielstregar, hits)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+4: (5)+4: 9

GAME: Ashes rolls 1d20+3: (17)+3: 20 (tar: goblin, hits)
GAME: Ashes rolls 1d8+1: (8)+1: 9
GAME: Ashes rolls 2d6: (7): 7

Omondi flicks his hand, and the ghostly gladius takes another swipe at the skeletal goblin. The Vanguard adjusts his position, reaching for his crossbow. However, Skielstregar's situation catches his attention. He touches his breastplate.

"Guiding Star, lend your strength to the defenders of civilization and seal their wounds so they may put down the abominations that surround us." A wave of warmth emanates from the tree, and the sith'makar and companions feel some improvement.

"I know you will Cor'lana! I'm safe in the tree!" Boti calls out.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10 (AoO tar: Skielstregar, miss)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21 (AoO tar: Skielstregar, hits)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+4: (6)+4: 10
GAME: Skielstregar RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 10 temporary HP
GAME: Skielstregar rolls weapon19: (4)+12: 16 (power attack, FF, arcane strike)
GAME: Skielstregar rolls damage19+2+6+2: aliased to 1d8+7+2+6+2: (4)+7+2+6+2: 21

Skielstregar gasps as he's brought onto his back, him kicking and flailing to get the wargs off. Then he freezes as the axe head touches his chest.

"... thisss one. Wasss going to be consssumed by him! Forget your Dark Dream!" he snarls shoving the axe off, groaning as more wounds dig into him as he gets to his feet. The flail curls back, the healing energy steadying him some. His eyes glint crimson, an extra set of fangs protruding, and his form leaks black ichor. "The Death Singing Dragon saved thisss one from becoming YOU!"

There's a ominous twirling of metal, and the dripping flail careens sideways right into the blinded goblin, crushing them and leaving them unrecognizable. "Thisss one is NOT YOU!"

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22 (Worg3 attack tar: Skiel, misses)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27 (Worg3 attack tar: Skiel, hits)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (20)+8: 28 (Worg3 attack tar: Skiel, hits)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (16)+8: 24 (roll to confirm crit, confirms)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6+4: (2)+4: 6
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4+4: (1)+4: 5
GAME: Jinks rolls 2d4+8: (4)+8: 12
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (12)+8: 20 (trip)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17 (Worg1 attack)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (17)+8: 25 (Worg1 attack)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10 (Worg1 attack)
<OOC> Jinks says, "We'll say low hits."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d100: (58): 58
<OOC> Jinks says, "Whoosh"

The skeletal wolves snap in, yapping between each other as two seem alarmed by the layer of glittering sparkles obscuring their vision. They're clearly sapient-- if not the brightest combatants. One that's still able to see sets into Skielstregar, biting and clawing at the sith-makar and tearing away large chunks of ichor-heavy meat for its efforts. Another lumbers in but can't seem to find the lizardman in spite of the sniffing and snorting noises issuing from its canid skull.

GAME: Wu rolls ranged-2: (8)+6+-2: 12 (tar: worg, miss)
GAME: Wu rolls ranged-2: (1)+6+-2: 5 (EPIC FAIL)

The half blind archer loads the crossbow and has it read in a breaths time. The first shot going going just under the northern most worg in a puff of snow. The second shot is prepped hurredly and there is a missfire as he brings it up before lowering it down to poitn at the worg. The bolt vanishes almost straight up into the night above. He pulls the trigger again anyway and the curses at his second missed shot.

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 3d4+3: (12)+3: 15

Ravenstongue's bolstered on by hearing Boti's voice from the safety of the tree. "Don't you get ANYWHERE near my little brother!" she growls as she forms arcane magic in her hands, the energy forming into darts that she throws hard at one of the skeletal worgs--

Which collapses from impact. Ravenstongue pants as she watches it collapse.

"There's more to be done. I won't stop," she murmurs, her eyes briefly scanning the environment. Boti's safe. She has to believe in that.

GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+4+1-2: (3)+6+4+1+-2: 12 (Wyrmere attacking worg1, hits)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+1+4+1-2: (18)+1+4+1+-2: 22 (Wyrmere attacking worg1, hits)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (11)+4+1: 16
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d12+4+1: (8)+4+1: 13
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+1: (6)+6+1: 13 (Wyrmere attacking worg, hits)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d6+2: (2)+2: 4
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+8: (16)+8: 24 (Worg athletics check)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d20+6+1: (12)+6+1: 19 (Wyrmere AoO, hits)
GAME: Vaera rolls 1d6+2: (6)+2: 8

Vaera was growling as the creatures attacked Skielstregar, and she stepped closer to get a good view of them. There was a moment to decide between healing the sith-makar, or eliminating the threats, but with only one close to him, she elects the latter. Another round is loaded into the thunderbelcher, and fired straight into the undead beast harrying Skielstregar, followed by another fed into the side of the mechanism.

Where the worg's head had been a second ago was now air, and a small spray of bone chips and fur.

Meanwhile, Wyrmere was moving to help! But the first one they were going to attack was no longer active, but there was still one left, and an injured Skielstregar. They move to intercept the undead, taking a large bite out of the hind leg of the worg.

And then they spit it out immediately, realizing the meat was no good. They manage to react in time to the fleeing beast however, and lock their jaw around the rest of the leg, holding tight to keep it in place until the entire leg rips off the undead, leaving the swiftclaw standing there with the leg in their mouth, confused.

The worgs are in retreat. "Boti, let me help you down." Omondi says, adjusting his position in the tree and assisting the boy to the ground. He follows immediately after, and kneels beside Skielstregar.

"Guardian of Civilization," he intones, touching the sith'makar as well as his holy symbol, "he has driven the foes from the gates and needs your succor. Heal him."

A warmth follows again, assurity that he is not a part of the dark dream, not one of the Black Dream. Skielstregar stands in the light.

"Thanks," the Vanguard says, looking at everyone.

There's no worgs, no crazed goblins. They're all not moving anymore. Ravenstongue sees all of this, but her eyes immediately go for Boti.

So do her feet. They break into a run and Ravenstongue goes to him.

"Boti, you are so in trouble! So in trouble!" Ravenstongue says. Then she throws her arms tightly around him, sniffling. "You had me so worried!"

Pothy croaks from Ravenstongue's shoulder, too. Just a little hello-merp. He also nuzzles into Boti's frame.

Boti lands nimbly in the snow, crouching low and bouncing a few steps away from the tree trunk under the unfamiliar weight of a traveler's pack. He stumbles down into a four-point crouch, taking a moment to catch his breath and then stand covered in tree sap and pine needles. Bewildered, he considers the scattered bones and remains of the assorted undead creatures.

The half-Sil looks quite a bit different in his traveling cloak and leather armor. His sandy-brown hair is still shaggy but two neat braids hang down before his right-eye. The bracer gifted him by the Daeusite wargolem is strapped to his forearm, obscuring the pox scars.

"... hi, Cor'lana," he mutters, leaning into the hug and returning it.

<OOC> Jinks says, "RT, Skiel, and V can give me Perception checks, please!"
GAME: Skielstregar rolls perception: (13)+9: 22
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception: (14)+4: 18
GAME: Vaera rolls perception: (13)+11: 24

Skielstregar gasps as a plethora of wounds are opening on him, it clear that the healing from Omondi earlier and his necrotic anger keeping him on his feet. His knees wobble as crimson and black stain the snow as magic and gunfire fell the others, but the fleeing one makes him hone in on it. Instincts were telling him to run after it. Fear. Chase. KILL!

He only gets a half step before his leg buckles and he falls to a hand, him heaving and coughing in pain.

He almost lashes out at the cleric, not catching his approach, but the holy energy suffusing through him stunts his advance, his jaw snapping shut as he clenches. "RRrrrrrrrr... Scales that hurtssss," he hisses slowly, the black ichor and Forgotten effects fading, as if they were washed away by the magical healing.

A shudder leaves him, fatigued. "... thanksss," he finally says, nodding to elf, a glance towards Vaera given a thumbs up before he just flops forward onto the snow.

He passes the two potions off to the cleric from his supine position, and then pets Wyrmere. "Good... good swiftie.... <Draconic>

"Ah, that's my fault ma'am." The sylvanori Vanguard says, taking off his helmet and running his hand through his dark blond hair, setting the beads rattling. "A vision came, from Gilead and Serriel, that I would be an instrument in satisfying the boy's needs... and he wished to see his father's grave."

There may have been additional wishes, so far unstated. Two well-provisionned packs suggests more than a day trip was intended. They are equiped for a decent trek, with suitable clothes.

Omondi smiles awkardly, "We were ambushed by the worgs before the visitation was completed, but the boy came to no harm."

Vaera sets the thunderbelcher under one arm as she jogs over to where Skielstregar is, and she pulls him up and out of the snow, over one shoulder. "That was quite a bit to find in the forest. You are alright, Skielstregar?" Vaera asks, checking for any more wounds. "My thanks cleric, for your assistance. I am sorry your visitation was interrupted, if that was your intention. You are quite well prepared for the distance planned, which is not a bad idea in the middle of winter."

Ravenstongue looks between Omondi and Boti for a moment, taking a step away from the half-elf boy. Her violet eyes flash with recognition as she peers at their packs.

"You're packed for more than a grave visitation," she says, her eyes looking at Boti with a swirl of emotions. "I know you told me you planned on running away but..."

Her hands ball into fists. "I would have thought you would have told me when you were going instead of vanishing, Boti." Tears brim in Raven's eyes.

Pothy looks between Boti and Ravenstongue rapidly. "Uh oh," he murmurs, imitating Raven's voice. The bird is aware he's about to have front row seats to a meltdown.

"I left a letter," Boti mumbles, looking at the ground as Cor'lana steps back. He half-turns away and forces his thumbs under the straps of his pack. His little braids-- miniature imitations of the many Omondi wears-- sway in the winds. "I was scared I wouldn't be able to...

"I didn't mean to make the skeletons come after us," he almost-whispers.

Skielstregar tiredly is helped up to a sitting positionm, then a weak stand, there still some bleeding wounds on him that stain the snow crimson, but he leans against the redscale and tiredly lets out a sigh. "Thisss one... is... okay. Tired from... transssformation and losing blood," he answers in a mumble. Thankfully the bleeding ceased from the healing magics infused, but it still hurt quite a bit.

He woozily watches the oncoming meltdown, a bit out of the loop and doing his best to get caught up in said loop.

"... what do you mean you didn't mean... do you know them?" he asks, cautious.

"He needs to return to his people." Omondi explains, standing and facing Cor'lana. He dips his head, "this is what was revealed to me. Alexandria is not his place, and while he has your support there he will have the support of many more brothers and sisters, as well as the love of many mothers in his rightful home. In the Mythwood."

The Vanguard looks at Skielstregar once more, "I have further miracles to share, if you are in need."

"I understand that Alexandria is not his home," Ravenstongue says, looking to Omondi. "I was never against him returning home other than that I have..."

She pauses, closing her eyes and breathing in for a moment. "I have lost my mother. My father is dead to me. All I have is Grandfather, whose mark I wear on my chest. All I have is Telamon, who I might start a family with one day--and all I have left of my mother is Pothy. So... I hoped, in some way, Boti, you wouldn't leave."

She puts her hand to her heart and opens her eyes. "But ravens don't stick around in the nest with their brothers and sisters, Saboti. I also... I also know that."

Raven wipes a falling tear from her eyes. "Doesn't mean it stops hurting. But Telamon's family is in the Mythwood, too. So... We'll come visit."

Boti stands there for a moment, hands holding the straps of his pack. He gives a little sniffle and the nods. "OK. Bye," he says and then goes and stands next to Omondi, back turned to the group.

"You will need rest, Skielstregar." Vaera chuffs, reaching for some of her bandages to tend to the wounds. Though she does keep her eyes on the others, and sighs. "You should not leave without saying anything, even if you are free to go where you wish. You cause needless hurt on friends and family, related or not, in doing so." She states.

Skielstregar waves off the offer. "No.. no thank you, sssave your strength, thisss one will endure," he sighs. "Thisss one needs a moment is all. And... Firebrand can tend to thisss one."

He blinks at Ravenstongue's impassioned speech, him tired gaze sliding from her, to the boy.

He shifts some to hold out a bare arm to Vaera, used to this wound tending after a fight. "... leasssst you can do isss share wordsss when we bled for you."

Omondi steps closer to Cor'lana, an emphathetic and saddened expression crosses his face, "I would have told you on my return. I believe there was a wish to spare injured feelings, his own and others. Still, we are grateful you arrived when you did."

There's a glance at Vaera, "He's not free to go where he wishes, but this is a calling from a higher power and I will face the Magistrate for my decision and assistance."

Finally the Vanguard addresses Skielstregar, "he is not a glib boy. His people will be able to impress polite behaviour upon him. You have my thanks, very much so."

"Boti..." Ravenstongue frowns.

Pothy looks at Ravenstongue for a moment. Then he looks back at Boti and flies onto his shoulder. He nuzzles into the boy's face, fluffy as ever, and he whispers softly into Boti's ear...

"Snacks."

It's not profound. It's not even slightly relevant. But it is Pothy's way of speaking when words fail.

This results in the smallest snicker from Ravenstongue. "It's not goodbye, Boti. It's see you later. Okay? Get there safe with Omondi."

Finally, she looks to the fellow sylvanori--as that is her elven lineage--and nods. "Just make sure he's safe. That's... That's all I want."

"Then you are not free to go elsewhere, but have already accepted that. So be it." Vaera chuffs. "If it is truly as important as you say to go elsewhere. If it truly is a calling from a higher power."

Vaera busies herself dressing the arm, and keeping an ey on the others. "You should have more food to go to the mythwood. You need to be prepared in case you need to take shelter for an extended period of time."

Boti flinches and freezes, holding for just a moment before he carefully works Pothy off his shoulder and wraps him up in both arms, tucking the raven's head under his chin. "Good-bye Apoppyotis," he lowers his face and snuggles the bird.

There's another, quiet mumble, and then he bends to lower the raven to the snowy ground and hustles, crunching off further to the north.

Skielstregar winces a bit as his arm is tended to, but he just sighs at this whole ordeal. "Very well."

A bird is hugged, better words are shared, and his gaze falls to the blood soaked snow, not bothering watching them head off. A tired, taloned hand pats the elf on the shoulder carefully. "Bessst catch up with him. Ssssafe travelsss."

"I have no doubts of my vision," Omondi tells Vaera, as confident as a cleric in regular contact with the divine can be. "It must be done, and Serriel will provide."

The Vanguard bows again, and turns to follow after Boti, "May her light guide you, and safe return. I will be back in Alexandria a few days hence." With this said, the lancer moves on.

"Then you have a goal, and it should be seen through if you are prepared." Vaera sighs. "It is unfortunate it has to break up people here, but go with it, and peace on your nest. And do not try to force Boti to be someone they do not wish to be. They may learn manners, but it is their choice how to move forward."

Pothy merps after Boti, the raven returning to Ravenstongue's shoulder.

The half-elf sorceress watches Boti and Omondi walk away. Pothy whistles something into her ear and the tears fall down her face again. But she doesn't sob, doesn't wail. Hardly a sound leaves her.

Until she speaks, that is.

"I always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. To have someone like me that could understand me. To not feel all alone in this world."

Ravenstongue wipes her eyes, her shoulders heaving as she takes a deep breath to ward off the sounds of deeper emotional tremors.

"I got to know what it was like for a little while. But even now as you fly away, Saleh Saboti, I will always be your big sister. I promise."

Another deep breath. "I promise," she says in the words of her father. <Sildanyari>

"I promise," she says in the words of her Grandfather. <Sylvan>

Cor'lana dries her eyes and turns to the rest of the group, smiling. "Let's go home."

OOC

Map: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=m95ktn0pddy

===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
24   SkeWorg2         1  
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20   Omondi           1  
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17   Skielstregar     1  
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>> 14   SkeWorg3         1   <<
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14   SkeWorg1            
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12   SkelGob             
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8    Wu               1  Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)               
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8    Ravenstongue     1  Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)               
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6    Vaera            1  Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)               
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==============================================================================