Possibly Giants?
Plenty of jobs come off the Guild of Explorer's notice board, but this one didn't even make it that far. Each of you, for your own reasons, were in the guildhall when a field hand, no older than 15 winters comes in, describing hedge rows stomped, fences knocked over, crops trampled, cattle mangled in the last week. Heavy summer storms in the area and the rocky, hilly terrain masks most of the tracks, but the consensus among the farming village of Brooksmouth is giants, perhaps some advance guard of Dran or Bludgun readying for an invasion! *gasp* The town pooled it's money for a small, but respectable bounty and sent the boy to post the contract.
First come, first serve and now for love of coin, a sense of duty, or hatred of boredom, you all find yourselves in a steam-driven river skiff heading upriver to the giant-plagued village of Brooksmouth. The summer is in full force and fighting the mosquitos and heat, you all find yourselves on deck with the field hand, who goes by the name of Panzra, willing to answer any questions while he sits in a coil of rope and attempts to sew a patch into one of the tears in a spare shirt with a needle and thread.
Stirling does work for the sake of work... and the coins don't hurt either. He sits on the deck with a dismantled deathray, cleaning the parts along with all kinds of shells and small rockets lying next to him that can be loaded into it. He's preparing his inventory of destruction, he won't be without at least 3 ways to blow something up.
Schneider was at the Guild on a whim; he doesn't normally come there, but it was an amazing chance that he /was/ there, and he decided to take the job because it sounded interesting. He's cool enough despite the heat, because he's just wearing the loincloth, and for some reason, the bugs aren't bothering him at all. The breeze blows back his long hair dramatically. "So, a Dranei advance guard?" he asks by way of question. "Has anyone seen then at all? How many? ANd human, giantborn, or what?"
Sounds like it is Hammer Time. So the rather large cleric of Angoron was happy to volunteer. Yngvild nods to those she knows, which is pretty much just Kroth and casts a look up at the Giantborn. Born to colder climes and in her full plate she does not seem to be enjoying the head, sweat beading on her brow as she clanks towards the rail and hopefully a bit of cool breeze.
"Nope, can't say anybody has. Elkram the town drunk said he saw it carried 4 giant swords, one in each arm! ...but he also said he saw a dragon pooping emeralds in the woods once. It only moves around at night and it's been pretty stormy the last few days, just now drying out. But there are big footprints here and there. The Yulgin brothers turnips and barley crop is half ruined, they might have to sell their extra horse, if any of you want to buy one." Panzra answers in a rather long winded manner as he focuses mostly on his needlework, though he spares plenty of curious looks at Scheider's arsenal and Yngvild's hammer given the chance.
Schneider has only the greatsword at his hip for a weapon, and the strange mask he's wearing, but it is a very cool sword. "No one's actually seen these guys? Well, if it leaves tracks, we can track it." He ahems. "Not me, of course. But lots of people can track stuff...."
Stirling screws one of the four barrels onto his deathray and, carefully reassembling and moving every piece as he does so and finally loads the shells and rockets into his bandolier and belt. "Do we know what kind of giant? Helps to know the best way to take it down." he's treating this like a big game hunt.
Yngvild takes a long swallow from a waterskin, then sprinkles some of her face, pale skin already redenning under the sun's glare. She turns her gaze to the lad and offers a smile that does little to soften the hard lines of her face "How big?" she asks simply in a low rumble of a voice.
Panzra throws his arms open "This big!", letting his arms stretch out to their full length, easily 4 feet (or more) in size. "It was muddy though, so the tracks were pretty mushy. It squished one of Gregor's goats flat in one step, like one of the rats that got caught in the millstone at Alonzos! Splat!" The teen fieldhand seems to be excited by the prospect of a rampaging giant. Then again, Brooksmouth sounds like a fairly boring village. The river skiff runs up the tributaries that feed the main river, then finally to the site of the first attack, a field of turnips and barley that is half-trampled. It seems other parties have become interested, as Dire Wolf is here to investigate the disturbance!
Schneider blinks as they see the dire wolf. "Well, there is your monster right there," he calls out. "They eat horses and farmers," he says knowledgebly as he draws his greatsword. Flame licks up and down the blade as he prepares to cast a spell.
Rampaging creatures in her domain are always a concern to the large wolf. Most carnivores prefer to hunt, to chase. Domesticated livestock offer no challenge. Only the sick or wounded would attack such. Humanoids, however, are another matter entirely. She pads slowly about the area of the attack, nose low to the ground in attempt to catch scents.
Stirling hops off of the ship with his deathray in hand, fully loaded for whatever trouble may come. "Well I take it you can track it then?" he says to Dire wolf "Lets hunt this thing down, think we can keep some of its bones or such to mount on my wall?"
"We think that's a druid. It showed up and started sniffing around this morning, but we aren't going to chance it. I saw it work magic around one of the giant's footprints!" Hulvin the turnip farmer says of the gigantic wolf padding around his crops, his wheelbarrow out to salvage what mangled crops he can for pig feed.
Schneider does a double-take as Stirling addresses the dire wolf. "What is going on here?" he asks sourly as he disembarks. He's watching the wolf warily, still, unsure of its purpose here, even as Hulvin speaks up for it.
GAME: Dire Wolf rolls survival: (10)+16: 26
GAME: Stirling rolls knowledge/arcana: (11)+15: 26
GAME: Schneider rolls knowledge/arcana: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
Dire Wolf lifts her nose to regard Stirling, a familiar face, and others who are not. "I did not do this. It was a humanoid." The words are growled, but intelligible. The speech may also be a reason that the villagers suspected her to be more than she appeared.
You paged Dire Wolf with 'The tracks are big and deep, but the mud has muddled them. You can get the faint scent of barley, tar, and goat's blood. The tracks head toward the river, and you can see the stream bed is muddied up and river stones are shifted, but the scent is gone. It's a matter of up or down stream until you pick the scent up again.'
Schneider nods slowly now to Hulvin. "Yeah, I guess it -is- a druid. They shapeshift, I think...." He has no idea. But. "Anyhow, did you guys find anything?"
You paged Stirling with 'These look too circular to be anything natural. Perhaps some sort of construct or a golem?'
Stirling grumbles as he looks at the track "Looks more like a golem or something... edges are awfully regular." he notes with a grunt. "Either way, it should go down all the same."
Dire Wolf lowers her nose again, and moves to follow the tracks through the mud. She travels to the nearby riverbank where she stops. After peering out over the water for a time, she snorts and looks back to the others. "The creature crossed the river. It reeks of pitch, grains, and the blood of the goats. I can find its trail again on the far bank."
Schneider shrugs as Stirling and the wolf reveal their findings. He gets back in the boat, presumably to cross the river.
A sniff check of the far bank doesn't pick the trail up. It must have walked along the river as a guide or a means to hide it's scent, if it's that smart. So reduced to up or downstream, it looks like upstream it is, since there were no other signs on the way up the river. The river skiff can't go anyther further into the shallow stream, so it's on foot (Though it was unlikely the large lupine would ride in such an artifice driven contraption anyway). The brook is winding, and the scent is picked up, only to fall back to the trail. The smell of goats and grain is accounted for at least, after stopping by a goat ranch with a smashed in fence that is being repaired by the time you gether, plus a barley field that is partially trampled, the thick hedgerow just kicked over like it was a random weed in a person's path.
Dusk approaches, and the scent grows cold at the river, but the last place is to check is Alonzo's mills, a watermill by the river and a windmill up the steep hill nearby. The watermill is churning along just fine, with Alonzo the nearly deaf, stuped old man greeting you at the door after
Panzra fetches him, Given his squinting, his eyesight can't be much better. "Eh? what can I do for you?" Probably best the elderly miller doesn't see the gigantic wolf at his doorstep.
Stirling doesn't pay much attention to the old man, looking around the mill for any clues as to the 'giant' they are tracking. He will leave the talking to others, its not his strong suit.
Dire Wolf is not inclined to travel on the craft, and needed to scent the far bank, regardless. She travelled in parallel. Once the river shrank to brook, it was no inconvenience to pad through the shallow far. Except, perhaps, for those who dislike the smell of wet fur.
When they reach the mill, she is far less interested in the structure or the elderly man than in the grounds surrounding it.
Schneider looks around as we march up here. The wind blows back his hair dramatically (and in opposition to the prevailing breeze) as he looks around. "Well, I don't see anything here," he says in a bored tone. "It hasn't gotten here yet, it seems," he notes, not bothering with the fellow, either.
Alonzo doesn't seem that bothered that nobody is interested in him. He hobbles back inside his home in the rather noisy watermill (which explains the hearing loss) after some limited attempts at communication with a large brass hearing horn before Panzra takes him back inside. The search for further clues turns one up pretty quickly in the dying rays of the sun. An almost washed away set of tracks leading up the hill to the windmill. Almost lost from the run off from the storm, it's there and then another. Spotty, but everything leads up the hill.
By the time you three get near the top, there is some shouting from the bottom of the hill. Hard to see as the light finally dies, but Panzra is approaching at a jog, carrying something large and rectangular in his hands. Meanwhile, the dire wolf gets the smell of barley, blood, and pitch, strong and fresh right around the windmill and the loose shingles that are littered nearby, possibly blown off by the storm?
Dire Wolf's nostrils flare as the familiar scent hits strongly. "It is here, now, or was just!" The shouting causes her ears to rotate and her head to subsequently follow to peer at the one running up the hil after them.
Schneider doesn't really do darkness. He holds his hand up, palm open upwards, and shouts out a couple nonsense words, and fire springs from his hand, as bright as a torch.
GAME: Schneider casts Light. Caster Level: 7 DC: 13
Stirling raises his firearm and points it at the windmill "Approach it... carefully." he says with his deathray pointed at it. "See what the miller wants.." he asks Schneider while his weapon is trained on the building.
Dire Wolf's snap snaps back to the windmill and she begins to closer further. Not directly towards it, but at an oblique arc. The darkness is less hinderance to her, and may be none at all with Schneider's flame offering some light.
Well, not entirely darkness. The moon is big and full tonight, and it's light quickly overpowers the last golden rays slipping over the horizon. The wind begins to kick up suddenly in a gust, sending the arms of the windmill rolling quickly with plenty of creaks and groans of the wood. Panzra finally catches up with trio, the object he's holding is a thick leatherbound tome. "Alonzo was reading this, it looks magic!" And it does. Ornate scrollwork and runes are embossed on the cover, surrounding a Coyote's head howling at a full moon. The title reads, "The Man from Lamarka."
Schneider sighs at Stirling. He turns back to see what Panzra is hurrying to tell them, his expression put-upon. "What is it?" he asks once he's close enough. He'll take a look at it, and whisper a few words to the spirits.
Stirling comes up behind Schneider, deathray still aimed at the windmill "What is it? Some kind of magic?" he ventures, since thats sort of the standard for large tomes.
GAME: Schneider casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 7 DC: 13
GAME: Stirling rolls spellcraft: (7)+15: 22
<OOC> Rourn says, "It's magical! Or at least it was. A flip of the pages reveals ink that is faded away to be nearly illegable, indicative of scrolls and magical tomes. Stirling? This is a cursed/malfunctioning Golem Manual."
Schneider shrugs to Stirling. "Dunno," he reports. "Nothing I've seen before." He isn't a big reader in any event, so this is all a fuzzy mystery to him. He'll pass it to Stirling if the fellow wants it; Schneider has no interest in it now.
While she can read, the dire wolf leaves the study of books to the others. The scent is strong and her hackles are raised in anticipation as she cautiously tries to circle the windmill at as much distance as the hilltop allows.
Stirling turns pages in the tome. "Gollums... has he been doing what it says in here?" he asks the person who brought the book. "Its... concerning."
That revelation comes as a warning just a few moment too late. The gust of wind dies down, but the creaking and groaning from the windmill does not. The arms spin just as quickly as they did before, but the wooden structure begins to buckle and bend. Under the light of the full moon and given life by a cursed Tarienite golem manual, the building shifts its planks and beams, taking on a roughly humanoid form, towering almost thirty feet tall, the windmill blades turning across it's back still. Despite not having a face, it's limited body language seems to indicate it is cranky that people are around and it takes several lumbering steps from it's foundation, toward the village square of Brooksmouth, down the other side of the hill.
GAME: Dire Wolf rolls initiative: Roll: 10 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 12
GAME: Schneider rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 15
GAME: Stirling rolls initiative: Roll: 9 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 12
GAME: You roll initiative for Windmill: Roll: 12 + Bonus: +1 = Total: 13
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name----------------Notes--------------------------------------------
15 Schneider
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13 Windmill
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12 Dire Wolf
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12 Stirling
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GAME: Schneider rolls 1d20+7: (15)+7: 22
Schneider turns around as the windmill comes to life. Sort of. "Well, I think we've found it, anyhow," he says dryly. He pulls his mask off and says, "Well, let's see how this goes." He hurls the mask at the giant thing, but nothing happens. "Well, crap," he says sourly. "I was looking forward to getting some use out of that."
GAME: Rourn rolls 1d20+14: (3)+14: 17
GAME: Rourn rolls 4d6+8: (14)+8: 22
GAME: You damaged Schneider for 22 points. 48 remaining.
While the mask had no effect, it still had some effect. Which was to draw the walking windmill's ire. With ground shaking thuds, the golem turns and gives Schneider a good kick from the stout wooden round legs that propel it. This has about as much effect as you would imagine, cracking ribs and sending the sorcerer sliding back in the mud several feet from the glancing blow.
GAME: Dire Wolf casts Strong Jaw. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18
Dire Wolf's eyes go wide. Whatever she expected, an entire building coming to life, as it were, was not it. But even buildings are not immutable before Ea. The weather, elements, wild life can all batter it down. She growls and snarls, calling upon the latter. As large as her teeth are, they grow larger, more vicious.
GAME: Stirling casts Shield. Caster Level: 8 DC: 15
Stirling looks up at the monstrosity and grimaces, putting his deathray away he attached a clockwork disc to a socket in the chest of his armor and turns it with three loud clicks, a slight shimmer enveloping his form as he steps up to go toe to toe with the thing.
GAME: Schneider rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20
GAME: Schneider rolls 1d6+4: (5)+4: 9
Schneider grumbles about golems and doesn't bother trying the magic thing on it. "Should have known," he grumbles, backpedalling as he fishes for a javelin in the quiver at his hip. He hurls the javelin, with ignites as it leaves his hand. It thunks home solidly, in the shingles, though ... how do you tell if it was effective? Schneider looks puzzled.
GAME: Rourn rolls 1d20+14: (4)+14: 18
GAME: Rourn rolls 1d20+14: (20)+14: 34
GAME: Rourn rolls 1d20+14: (10)+14: 24
GAME: Rourn rolls 4d6+8: (10)+8: 18
GAME: Rourn rolls 4d6+8: (13)+8: 21
GAME: You damaged Schneider for 18 points. 30 remaining.
GAME: You damaged Stirling for 21 points. 63 remaining.
Now that's it's actually damaged, the animated windmill roars and brings both of it's heavy wooden fists down in Schneider and Stirling's general area, clipping them in the shoulder or showering them with clods of mud and rock as it slams into the dirt.