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#316
Oct 10th, 2014, 07:16 PM
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Perhaps I wont be seeing the beast rounding the corner any time soon. Thias moved back in the room quickly pausing only to spit on the wargs remains. He threw his bow down as he slid in next to Trent. He rummaged threw his pack and began pulling his medical supplies. “Griff I need you to get into Arthos’ pack and pull any potions or berries he has left. Look over his wounds and call them out to me.” Thias began frantically patching and bandaging Trent. Gods, his pulse was so weak. He wrapped the wounds tight and stabilized the tiefling as best he could. Griff had shouted out the various injuries the grey man had received and Thias had walked him through what needed to be done. “Give him a berry if you have any remaining.” The giant fighter had dosed Arthos first with the healing potion and then brought Thias the remains. He gave the mad mage a dose of the elixir and prayed to the Gods to watch over his friends. They made them as comfortable as possible then he and Griff harvested the iron bloom. “Let them rest for a moment. I believe I may have stabilized Trent enough to get him to the hollow. We will probably need to fashion a stretcher. After this, I say we bolt for the water. It is a straightshot to the hollow across the waves. We can fashion something sturdy enough to get all of us across, including petals.” 
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#317
Oct 10th, 2014, 08:46 PM
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The Monastery of the Four Hero's
 Thias tends the wounds and offers healing to the fallen pair stabilizing them and bringing them back to consciousness. There were likely to be some aches and pains for a few days and perhaps even a couple of scars. The attacks had be vicious and the damage considerable but both of the hero's were strong and resilient they would most certainly live to fight another day. For now though getting to their feet and walking was enough of a fight for either. They must manage however, people were still dying back in the Hollow and time was becoming more critical by the minute. Having tended the two the best he could Thias went into Greypelts lair to search for the mushrooms, realizing that the clock was ticking and the sooner they got them back to the Hollow the better. Approaching the small pile of musky earth where he could see the mushrooms growing by the light of the glowmold he nearly tripped over a small bag. He opened it briefly and examined its contents before throwing it over his shoulder to focus on the more important Ironblooms. Searching in the earth he managed to find six Ironbloom, they now had more than enough for Laurel to make her brew. He stowed them carefully away with the eldermoss he already carried. Rising to his feet he turned his thoughts to the return journey. Last edited by Zany; Oct 10th, 2014 at 08:52 PM. Reason: Spelling, grammar.
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#318
Oct 11th, 2014, 01:59 AM
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"There must be another option." The dour looking man grumbled as he sat down in an overstuffed leather chair. The cushion made a wheezing sound as he settled and crossed his legs.
"We have gone over this, Tavil, do try and keep up. The workers are growing too accustomed and dependent on outside goods. We are feeling the pressure of our trade partners; they are threatening to pull support from the region. We cannot afford the loss of thousands of platinum in taxes collected on those goods. The only option is to send a harsh message." The second man was tall and thin, his skin had the pallor of an unripe gourd and his face was gaunt. He passed in front of the crackling fireplace and moved to the crystal clear window at the eastern edge of the room. The moon was full, castings its ghostly light across the burgeoning forest beyond the confines of the stately manor. "We run the lumber camps and the city, Janys. Wouldn't creating a law forbidding outside trade merchants from practicing within the district be much easier, not to mention more effective? Your notion is no guarantee that foreign caravans would cease their business with Falcon's Hollow. They make too much money bringing in dwarven tools and elven trinkets. The lumbermen cannot get enough of the stuff. They mistake its exotic nature for quality. Just cut the head of the beast clean off and make it illegal to trade with anyone but our associates." Tavil was quite pleased with himself as he finished his thought. He leaned back in the chair and stroked his chin. The man known as Janys was not impressed, however. He was staring out the window seemingly ignoring his partner's input. Janys turned back to the fire that was raging within the hearth, its light flickering across the small room and casting a myriad of dancing shadows. "The illusion of choice is often more important than the having of choice, dear friend." He continued to gaze into the roaring flames as he spoke, "It is true that we could ban these travelling caravans and peddlers, but we would be seen as niggardly amongst the citizens and workers. The spark of unrest may will itself into existence, and fanned by the winds of hard labor and unfulfillment, that spark may grow into the torrential flames of rebellion. We see the 'smoke' of dissent kindling in Bellis, it is only a matter of time before it happens here. No, we must maintain the illusion of freedom. We can only hope that by striking at one of these prominent caravans, we can send pause to the others. To say 'Darkmoon Vale is not safe', perhaps other merchants will avoid the risk of travelling to this little backwater village and losing their precious goods or their lives. We will, of course, assure our associates that their goods will continue to flow to the area unmolested." Janys pulled his cheeks back into a snarl, the leathery pale skin looking like mummified flesh in the dim light. Tavil was clearly troubled by the plan. He had been on the Lumber Consortium's Board of Directors for two years now, and though he was complacent in most of their dealings, however "under-the-table" they had seemed, he couldn't feel good about the wanton taking of life that Janys was suggesting. The Board had voted, however, to allow Janys to spearhead the developing conflict amongst the Consortium's many in-pocket trade partners. He had a mandate to solve the problem, and he had seniority over Tavil Goodspeed. "Very well. What is the next step then?" Tavil sighed in defeat. Janys turned his gaze to the seated man, his eyes flashed yellow in the firelight, "We strike a prominent merchant; leave no survivors, but send a patrol to investigate. The tale will be told, and the corpses paraded through the streets for all to see. The people will talk, with the help of some carefully spread rumours of bandits on the outskirts of the Vale. Or maybe even the Fey, up to their old tricks. The rumour-mill will be in full swing before long, and word will escape to other would-be tradesmen. 'The Hollow is not safe, you should move on.' I've heard of this fellow that comes through once a year. Apparently he's very well liked for the interesting things he delivers, finely crafted tools, Avistani wine, and things of the like. It's said that he recently took a wife...what was his name?" Janys's eyes rolled up in their sunken sockets as he searched for the name of the soon-to-be-unfortunate merchant. -------------------------------***------------------------------------ "Arthos! Arthoooos!" someone cried out in the darkness that was swimming around him. Small eddies of black smoke swirled around a sea of midnight blue stars. Arthos couldn't quite tell who was calling for him, but it wasn't a woman this time, he could tell that for a certainty. It was a familiar voice, but still unfamiliar enough to be identified. A pain like he had felt before was coursing through his veins. He remembered the Tatzlwyrm that had attacked Trent, I must remember to eat more of that delicious jerky, he thought apropos of nothing. He could suddenly taste a bitter yet sweet flavor in his mouth. He still couldn't see anything through the fog of darkness and pain, but the taste was clear and inviting. Not the jerky, darn. The dark smoke kicked up into a furious flurry and smeared the field of stars at the edge of his vision. They stretched and blurred in a continuous white line that grew thicker and thicker as the bittersweet taste continued to invade his tastebuds. Eventually, the white line began to spread vertically until it filled his view completely. Only when the blob of white completely blotted out the starfield did he realize that his eyes were open, and the bright light of day was beating down onto his aching and broken body. I'm alive. Again. Gods... he allowed himself to thank whichever God was watching over him, despite the atheist philosophy he normally employed. Anya had not visited him this time. At least, he didn't remember her in the blackness. ...thank you. It would seem he had more lives than a cat, and just in case it wasn't luck and one of the myriad deities was actually keeping him alive, he said the words. He laughed aloud, choking on blood and goodberry that had congealed in his throat. Thias rushed over and poured water from his leather skin down the Grey Man's gullet. "I thought...we agreed not to get ourselves into...these situations again." He laughed again, spitting up water that had turned a rose color. "I hope to hell that you found the rest of the...mushrooms. And that's not what you were...feeding me." The ranger grinned at the wily rogue, clearly grateful that he was still breathing on his own. "Now, before we're off...make sure and grab my damned...crossbow; and can we put...some of this junk on ol' Petals? It's pretty heavy..." His eyes fluttered as he took a deep, painful breath. Thias moved to interrupt him, but Arthos continued, "Did you get the pelt off of that...overgrown coyote, dear friend?"
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Info: Pathfinder Combat Cheatsheet | Helpful Formatting Guide | Dice Rolling - A Layman's Guide | Characters: Ariawyn | Arthos | 7D-3X3-GE3 Last edited by PercyHux; Oct 11th, 2014 at 02:01 AM. Reason: Added Character Table
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#319
Oct 11th, 2014, 01:02 PM
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Thias and Griff tended to their injured friends and had let them rest. Griff said he would return momentarily with a wide smile on his face. Thias urged caution for they knew not what other horrors still lay in the monastery.
But he knew that Griff was more than capable in handling any threat that may rear its ugly head. With that thought Thias turned his attention to the remains of Greypelt and smiled. Griff had had made a run to the desecrated chapel and returned with long pieces of the pews they could convert into makeshift stretchers for their companions. He found Thias draping two sections of the now perfectly skinned hide over their friends. "Of course Arthos. I did promise you a new cloak. Did I not?" Thias threw what resembled some sort of necklace at Griff. On closer examination he realized that Thias had fashioned the prize out of some strips of leather and Greypelts tooth. "A trophy to wear with pride my friend." Last edited by LWAGNER; Oct 11th, 2014 at 01:04 PM.
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#320
Oct 11th, 2014, 06:09 PM
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Trent was more comfortable in the darkness. He could hide from anyone and everyone there. None could see him. He sought out the darkness wherever he went. The dark alleyways, the back of Laurel's shop, even the shadow of a willow tree was enough. But now he had found the perfect hiding spot. Darkness had completely enveloped him. Nothing could be seen and nothing could see him. There was silence too. Not a sound could be heard. What other place could a person want? Trent though he might stay here. This place was bliss.
Trent began violently coughing. There was a sharp pain in his side, but he was unsure why. He could open his eyes, so he looked to his torso to reveal his shirt was torn to shreds, blood soaking the cloth that remained. Despite the pain, Trent could not see a wound. He saw Thias kneeling above him with an empty vial in his hand and a relived look on his face. The tiefling took a look around the room and saw blood and gore covering every corner of the room. "What happened to me? Did I die?" Trent could not believe he had lost that much blood. He spotted Griff who was similarly kneeling over Arthos. Perhaps some of the blood belonged to him. But there was still too much. "We were attacked by a worg," Thias told him. "It took us all by surprise." Trent looked around confused. Where did the worg come from? And where were they? "A worg? Was it with the two wolves?" Thias nodded and seemed relived that his friend was ok. "Where are we? Did you drag me into the monastery? It may not be safe in here. We barred the doors for a reason. Perhaps we should find a safe place to rest outside before we start looking for the mushrooms. We don't want any nasty surprises." Thias had a strangely confused look on his face. He presented a bag that held seven mushrooms. "Oh, you've already found some. Well that was easier then I thought. Perhaps we should look to head back then. Many people are waiting on us you know." Trent stood up gingerly and gathered his things. He looked around awkwardly for the exit. "Um... which way is out?"
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I have taken the Oath of Sangus. Will you?
Last edited by Solid Minotaur; Oct 11th, 2014 at 06:10 PM.
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with Z's permission Trent and Arthos get a nifty warg pelt/blanket/cloak and Griff gets a cool necklace 
