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  #91  
Old Aug 20th, 2014, 09:11 AM
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The group gathered themselves together, Thias made fast the makeshift sling fashioned from his cloak and secured it to Petals. ZAn was dozing in the warmth of the swaddling obviously content and comfortable his healing would progress quickly with such care.
Trent saw to Griff's injury quickly and effectively and they were soon on the move again following Arthos along the old but visible path.




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It was early evening and although still light there were probably only a couple of hours left before darkness descended and it was likely to fall quickly under the tall trees.

The dense trees and thick brush of the forest give way, parting seemingly in respect for the titanic darkwood tree that dominates this clearing. Several times taller than a temple Minaret, in one direction the obviously ancient tree reaches into the sky with branches like a giants arms, while in the other it plumbs the earth with roots thicker than a mans waist.
Its limbs broad and strong, its bark thick and so richly colored as to almost be black, and its leaves the size of bucklers, the giant thing is less a tree and more a cathedral of boughs and branches.

This elder darkwood tree is the most ancient of its kind in Darkmoon Vale. Said to have been carried as a sapling from the Hissing Jungle and planted here in the distant past by Deirzir, the Eagle of The First Way, himself, the druids that once guarded the forest claimed this darkwood to be the root from which all Darkmoon grew.

The clearing is roughly circular, 135 feet from north to south and 140 feet from west to east. The elder darkwood has a trunk 30 feet in diameter, with low, easy to (DC 12 Climb check) When at base of tree of course.climb branches that extend from the trunk in every direction. A persistent character could eventually scale the trees nearly 300-foot height, gaining a commanding view of the entire forest.



 
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  #92  
Old Aug 20th, 2014, 04:29 PM
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Thias saw to the comfort of his new forest friend. It warmed his heart to see each member of the party share his enthusiasm for its newest member.

“Well said Arthos. I find no guilt in saying the world is a much brighter fare without that particular fisherman.”

“Yes Trent, I believe I have. I don’t know what I have done to make fortune smile on me so, but I am truly grateful for it.”

Thias took the remaining body of the razor crow and wrapped in a large leaf. Its flight feathers would make for fine fletching and the meat could be used to feed Z’An. Ironic and appropriate since the carrion bird would surely have feasted on the poor fox’s corpse eventually had they not overcome the hobgoblin.

Thias watched as Trent saw to Griff’s wounds. Gods! That man had a pain threshold that would make an inquisitor cry! He was most impressed with the detail in which the tiefling had tended to the warriors wounds. It was quite impressive. He had a talent that escaped most. Thias made a few suggestions and Heal: 1d20+5(23)additions to the treatments that Trent had administered but it was mostly minor and cosmetic. Thias did wonder about his choice of wrap and nearly asked but decided to leave it be. Perhaps he should impart what he knew of the art to Trent? He surely had more innate skill and ability than Thias did.

“Griff my friend. You will NEVER need to remind me to stay on your good side.” Thias said in passing as they continued on their trek.


Thias looked in awe at the Elder Darkwood Tree. He marveled at its expansive canopy, gnarled roots and ancient trunk. The bark had crags and valleys quite similar to the wrinkles that time left upon a person’s face. Thias wondered what all this tree had seen in its life time.

“Makes one feel quite insignificant doesn’t it.”

Thias ran his eyes up and down the entire structure of the tree Perception Check: 1d20+3(12)searching for the first component of the cure for Falcon’s Hollow. He began to circle the tree looking in the Knowledge Nature: 1d20+5(16)obvious locations that would provide the right amount of shade and dampness.

“We may want to take note of anything that may move or dwell in the roots of this tree as well. We wouldn’t want any surprises that may deviate from our course.”

Thias moved very Stealth Check: 1d20+9(25)cautiously and carefully into the glade waving to his friends to hold fast while he investigates the area for danger.

 

Last edited by LWAGNER; Aug 20th, 2014 at 04:55 PM.
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  #93  
Old Aug 20th, 2014, 07:39 PM
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As the group reached the grove of the Elder Tree, all Trent could do is stare in awe. It was a massive thing that made all things beneath it's canopy look insignificant by comparison. Trent began to wander how many things lived in it's shadow. While the other trees seemed to shrink away for it, almost as though they were afraid, he imagined all manner of creatures would look to the Elder Tree as a source of food and shelter. Only now did Trent realize that he didn't know what kind of creatures that might be. They had already encountered undead and goblins in this forest. Who knows what could be waiting in the shadows here.

Thias began to move closer to the tree, cautiously trying to keep himself hidden, despite the lack of cover to hide himself. "Keep your eyes peeled here boys. A tree like this doesn't grow so large without something protecting it. Be weary of what may lurk in the shadows." To solidify his point, Trent began casting a spell. A new gesture of his fingers that seemed to encapsulate himself. He uttered some slow arcane words and as he did, a white glow formed around him and became a suit of armor that rivaled the metal Griff was wearing. After the spell was complete, Trent was more confident of his protection against the forest. He Perception = 7looked towards the outer edges of the brush for anything hostile as he moved closer to the Elder Tree.

 
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  #94  
Old Aug 20th, 2014, 10:20 PM
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The trees didn't show any signs of thinning the further the party moved into the Darkmoon; quite the opposite, in fact. The faint path that they had been traveling seemed to fade away until it eventually simply no longer existed. If they had stopped and looked about them, they could have quite easily lost their bearings. But they carried on, continuously pushing forward despite the woods insistence that they turn back.

Eventually the darkness of evening began to creep into the air above them, casting a dim and eerie glow high in the canopy above. Arthos was walking a little bit ahead of the rest of the group, even though the Tiefling, Trent, had the better vision of the four of them. He stayed near the back with Petals, watching for danger from the rear so they wouldn't be ambushed from behind as they sank deeper into the forest. As Arthos marched forward, the forest floor crunched and gave way beneath his boots. He was constantly stepping on branches and brush, the sound softly echoing through the quiet wood. Crunch, crunch, snap, crunch, the floor complained as he tread onward. Suddenly the sound ceased altogether and Arthos found himself not among the trees anymore, but in an enormous clearing, the edges of which were too far for him to see clearly. His foot stepped down nearly silently on soft grass and the abused foliage ceased its complaints.

He could make out the massive trunk of the Elder Tree before them. It rose like an ancient behemoth and its roots were tangled serpents beneath its bough. Arthos was awestruck; he had never seen the likes of it before. The oldest tree in the Darkmoon was also quite possibly the oldest tree in all of Golarion.

The boughs hung low near the base of the ancient monstrosity and Arthos estimated it wouldn't take much for someone to climb its base in search for the moss they required. If the adventurers could scale its facade so easily, however, then so too could any manner of forest creature; they would have to handle this situation very delicately.

Arthos nodded to his friends and motioned with one hand at the Great Tree in the distance. He then moved forward about 30 feet, walking as Stealth: (12)+6= 18gingerly as possible Perception: (15)+8= 23scanning the tree and its low branches carefully. As he searched the area for signs of trouble, he slowly slid his rapier from its sheath and held it aloft before him. Just in case... he thought, trying to ward off any doubts from taking hold of him. The air seemed to still and the Tree watched patiently as the minuscule half-elf approached...


 

Last edited by PercyHux; Aug 20th, 2014 at 10:20 PM.
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  #95  
Old Aug 21st, 2014, 06:19 AM
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The forest is very quiet and the glade quite serene the beautiful green grass surrounding the enormous tree is lush, but there is a sense of something not quite right. It is almost to silent, where are the birds, the small animals, in fact the only sound to be heard is that of the party discussing who is going to get to climb the tree first.

Griff obviously overcome by the beauty of the place is still debating whether to get naked and rush through the knee length pasture to embrace and start climbing the tree when Thias makes a move to the left.
His attempts to determine if there is any elderwood moss on the tree don't yield anything but then standing fifty feet away it would be hard to tell the difference between elderwood moss and an army of mating frogs. He moves stealthily around the left side of the tree drawing his bow and keeping his eyes peeled for moss. Keeping a reasonable distance and moving so quietly is probably the wisest choice he has made thus far.

Trent's fingers weave out another pattern and although nothing is seen a presence seems to surround him, protecting him. He takes Petals by the halter and leads her forwards straight towards the tree in the bravest move he has made since grubbing around in a rotting corpse. Petals is a little reluctant to follow, throwing her head back and pulling on the lead rope but Trent manages to keep control and encourage her towards the foreboding tree.

Meanwhile Arthos swings quietly to the right, keeping communication to hand signals and searching the tree carefully as he moves. Staying further back from the tree and moving stealthily is probably a choice for the better. As he moves round at an angle to the trunk his keen eyes pick out a movement just at its base and in front of the bark covered column, a dark shadowy form. He is just about to raise his arms and halt Trent with a warning when all hell breaks loose.

Branches and twigs are thrown into the air, leaves scattered and there is a loud cracking sound as a large reptile like creature about the size of a full-grown human, with the head of a dragon and a long whipping tail rushes from it's hiding place against the trunk. It's black scales served as excellent camouflage against the dark bark of the giant tree and everyone but Arthos is taken by complete surprise as this ambush predator springs it's trap.

It Attack (Charge (+2) + full round attack including rake attacks)pounces on Trent, raking him with its long 1d20+7sh16 (2)+7 Total = 9 Miss 1st Claw

1d20+7sh16 (15)+7 Total = 22 Hit 2nd Claw
Damage: 1d4+2 (1)+2 Total = {3}
claws and 1d20+7sh16 (9)+7 Total = 16 HIT
Damage: 1d8+3 (5)+3 Total = {8}
biting him with its dagger like teeth. As it bites down it Grapple CMD(+9) vs CMB 1d20+9sh11 (18)+9 Total = 27grabs hold of the Tiefling wizard but Trent passes into unconsciousness with his injuries, which may (it remains to be seen) just be what saves his life for as he goes limp in the wyrms claws it immediately loses interest and tosses him aside.

Petals rears as soon as the dark beast lunges from it's hiding spot, yanking the rope from Trent's hands and throwing the sling holding Z'ani to the ground. In absolute terror she spins on the spot narrowly missing trampling to death the grounded fox. Kicking out with her back legs she whinnies loudly before racing off back the way the party came and disappearing into the forest.
The frantic Z'ani frees himself from the cloth sling and despite his injured paw the adrenelin powering though his system gives him the strength to limp quickly - tail tucked firmly between his hind legs and yelping madly - away towards the nearest bushes where he too disappears into the green foliage.

The monstrous beast stands over the blood covered brown rag that was Trent's cloak raises its head and roars, saliva and blood dripping from its viscous looking teeth. The echo of the spine chilling sound is still rebounding of the dense growth surrounding the glade as it begins to swing its head from side to side trying to Initiative: 1d20+2sh15 (6)+2 Total = 8determine its next victim.



 

Last edited by Zany; Aug 21st, 2014 at 06:25 AM.
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Old Aug 21st, 2014, 09:53 AM
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Trent approached the giant of a tree, leading Petals despite her protests. What has gotten into her, he thought to himself. He found the others keeping a low stance at the outer limits of the tree. Trent looked up at the enormous roots that had gripped the ground and wandered at their might. How he thought they could crush a building should they be given sentience. He noticed that the bark of the tree changed color as he ran his eyes down it's length and wandered if the coloration could reveal the moss. He discovered one spot that seemed much darker then the others. He moved in to see if he could make out any further details and found something quite odd. "They almost look like eyes," he thought.

He didn't have the chance to ponder it much further. Suddenly the bark sprung to life and latched onto Trent's fragile frame, digging into him with vicious claws. He began to fear that the Elder Tree had indeed come to life and had sought to protect itself against an unknown threat. However, despite the quickness of the attack, Trent caught a glimpse of scales and teeth, suggesting it was a creature that had made the roots of the old plant it's home, and now seeks a feast. Trent raised his arms in a feeble attempt to protect himself from his reptilian assailant, but even the armor he had conjured around himself was not enough to prevent the onslaught he had received. Long cuts ran down his chest and deep punctures were given by hungry fangs.

The brutality of the attack was too much for Trent. He tried his best to fight back, but as he had already feared, he lacked the physical fortitude of his companion Griff. Before he could fully realize the terror of the situation, Trent fell back and went limp, unable to control his fall from the monster's grip. The last thing he saw before blackness enveloped him was the lizard like creature producing a horrifying roar at his friends.



 
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  #97  
Old Aug 21st, 2014, 10:06 AM
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When they broke into the grove of the Eldertree and all words escaped Griff. He simply hadnt seen anything like it before, had never even contemplated something so gigantic even existing in the natural world. The training that Roald had drilled into him had kicked in though. The grove that the Eldertree occupied was as large to match the magnificent tree and if any creature was going to attack them, it was going to have to come to them as they entered the grove. The quiet eeriness that filled the grove was a little disturbing. With caution on his mind, Griff drew one of the Javelins he carried and prepared to make his way into the grove with his companions.




That was when the unexpected not only happened, but came bearing teeth and claws and an attitude to match. Before Griff could even react, Trent was down, Griff presumed dead. Whatever in the hell this creature was, it was certainly worse than the hobgoblin and the zombie they had previously face potentially even combined. It grabbed Trent in its claws, noticed that it had probably killed him, then roared at the rest of their party.

It was at this point Griff hefted his javelin, his tongue slightly slipping out the corner of his mouth as he did so. Then he Attack roll: 1d20(20)+3 = 23
Damage: 1d6(3)+4 = 7
Critical Threat roll: 1d20(12)+3 = 15
Damage: 1d6(3)+4 = 7
hurled the javelin with all of his might towards their new assailant. No sooner had the javelin left his hand was Griff backpedalling the way they came into the grove. All he wanted to do was put as much distance between himself and the monster, hoping for another chance to hit it before it engaged him. As he saw the javelin sink past the scales and into the flesh of the monster, Griff let out a roar of satisfaction of his own towards the wyrm.

 
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Old Aug 21st, 2014, 12:01 PM
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Thias was looking amongst the trees when the reptilian nightmare exploded from the tree’s foliage and thus was caught completely unaware when it launched its attack. He watched in horror as it grappled, bit and thrashed on his tiefling friend. His heart sank as Trent collapsed in its wicked embrace. Unconscious or worse.

“TRENT!!!” Sheer red, seething, inexplicable rage overtook the ranger. Anger that he was unable to see any sign of the ambush, anger he could not protect his friend, anger that his inaction, incompetence and inadequacy might have Trent and quite possibly all of their lives.
Thankfully Griff had scored a savage hit on the beast and Arthos rushed in for assistance.

Thias had moved away from the initial attack in a blind reaction but found enough of his bearings to run in a northerly direction, providing some distance from the creature and attempt to flank its blind side. Perhaps he could get an uninterrupted shot and cause additional damage. That is, as long as the creature didn't share its residence.

Thias launched his Attack: 1d20+4(9)arrow, but he was too agitated and panicked to lock on his target. The arrow sailed harmlessly by the creature. He could do nothing more than let loose a manic primal scream in frustration.

 

Last edited by LWAGNER; Aug 21st, 2014 at 05:26 PM.
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Old Aug 21st, 2014, 09:23 PM
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The Elder Tree watched silently as the dragon-like demon ripped the life out of the hooded Tiefling. There was no judgement in its imagined visage, only complacency. Its enormous branches swayed gently above the scene, rocking to and fro in a silent dance. Would the tree have warned the new creatures that approached it so cautiously, if it could speak? Or is one fleshy meat-sack the same as the next, usually seeking to tear down the thousands of green children around it? The question would go unanswered. For now the Tree simply watched, silently.

Arthos shrieked in surprise as the Tatzlwyrm latched onto Trent and shook its jaws violently. After it was content with its "kill", it opened its maw and released its prey. Trent's body dropped limply to the ground and the creature's head turned to find its next victim. Griff's javelin found its way into the Tatzylwyrm's torso, tearing violently at the scaled flesh and causing the thing to stumble. Its rage only grew, however, and it locked eyes with the wall of man that was Griff. The man seemed surprised that his aim had been true, so he paused for half-a-second before the realization of his deed dawned on him. Griff scurried backward to distance himself further from the beast whose ire he had now drawn, attempting to pull out his bow in the process.

"Fight or flight" was a term that Arthos had heard before, but he had never quite understood the conundrum that it suggested. When faced with a normal man, be him human, elf, half-elf, dwarf, or even tiefling, Arthos knew that the obvious option to the proverbial choice was "fight". In his line of work, fleeing never accomplished the task at hand, and it definitely didn't get you paid. Sure, there had been plenty of situations in which he would have been better off getting the hell out, but in the end, what were a few bruises and broken bones when. They would eventually heal and the coin would still spend. Arthos could handle himself man-to-man, even man-to-kobold-zombie, but this was a new dilemma altogether. He had only enough knowledge of the Tatzylwyrm to recognize its dark scales, serpentine neck and tail, and dragon-like appearance as it stood tall above the lifeless red body of his new friend, but the sight of the wyrm for the first time was awe-inspiring and utterly terrifying. Fight or flight, he heard himself whisper, as if the words would help inform the choice he now had to make.
Uninstructed, his legs moved to turn and propel him in the other direction. My body seems to have made the choice for me, Self-preservation is a wonderful trait, Arthos decided as he sprinted thirty feet toward the glade's edge. He knew that his instinct to fight may very well have been the death of him; and though his body's initiative had pushed him toward a relative safety, the night was still very young, indeed.

He ran back toward the edge of the clearing as fast as his legs would carry him, not looking back at the horrible scene he had just abandoned. As soon as he reached what he perceived to be a safe distance, he dropped his rapier to the ground and pulled out his short bow. His hands were shaking as he to tried to notch an arrow. He wasn't sure if the demon had seen him yet, so he stood as still as his terrified body would allow, his breath escaping haltingly through his nostrils and clenched teeth.

The Elder Tree still saw him, though, and it watched quietly. This time Arthos could feel the weight of its omniscient gaze upon him. "Do not falter, or death awaits you. Anya awaits you" it seemed to say as a cold breeze kicked up around him. "Do not falter, or death awaits you ALL!" the imagined voice continued, and Arthos believed every word.

 
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Old Aug 21st, 2014, 11:31 PM
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The savage beast screams in agony as Griff's javelin impales it, shaking its head vigorously and thrashing its tail about wildly, it is a truly terrifying sight to behold. Blood is pouring from its side as the javelin swings back and forth. It's obviously badly injured but this only incites its fury. Raising its head to the sky to roar once more its eyes are glassed over and bulging with rage as it scans the glade seeking its next prey.

Thias races to gain some distance between him and it, hoping to make use of the range of his bow to harry the beast and weaken it before moving in for the kill. He lets fly an arrow but it sails past the writhing reptile which doesn’t even seem to notice it.
Griff also has taken the opportunity to put himself out of range of the frenzied creatures next charge by moving back toward the entrance to the glade.

Arthos who is closest to the raging lizard, drops his rapier and begins to slowly sneak around the wyrm moving as quietly as he can to avoid detection. The creature is very alert though, it has the scent of blood in its nostrils and a lust for more and it Perception vs Stealth (Arthos -5 for moving more than half speed (20ft as opposed to 15ft)) 1d20+8sh16 (8)+8 Total = 16detects the slender rogue by the stench of his fear.

With three choices for its next meal the thing looks confused for a few seconds as it tries to determine which would make the easier Dice Target Selection: Arthos = 1-5 / Griff = 6-9 / Thias = 10-12:1d12 result 4 Arthostarget. It must have reached some kind of decision because with frightening speed it launches itself across the grass in a full charge against Arthos dragging the javelin as it goes. Striking at him with those razor sharp Dice Rake claw 1:1d20+7sh14 (16)+7 Total = 23 → Damage: 1d4+2g (3)+2 Total = {5}
Dice Rake claw 2:1d20+7sh14 (16)+7 Total = 23 → Damage: 1d4+2g (4)+2 Total = {6}
claws, it swings its head around to Dice Bite:1d20+7sh14 (6)+7 Total = 13rip the rogues throat out but Arthos falls back out of its path, covered in blood and unconscious.
It pushes at his collapsed body with its head as if a little disappointed that there were not more fight in the tasty looking morsel.
Turning round and round the rogues broken body in frustration it snarls before looking around for something else to satisfy its bloodlust.




 

Last edited by Zany; Aug 22nd, 2014 at 02:21 AM.
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Old Aug 22nd, 2014, 05:27 AM
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Thias watched as yet another friend fell to the nonexistent mercy of the tatzlwyrm. Arthos was beset upn in the same savage manner and collapsed in its deadly clutches like a bloody and battered rag doll. The draconic nightmare was relentless in its cruel and viscous attacks, its screams announcing yet another victory echoing through the vast canopy. How could they overcome this fiend?

In this moment of abject terror and despair, Thias reflected on a reassuring piece of advice that his beloved Nana had imparted on him as a young child. “Success will only come forth with action. It will not wait for indecision. And even with failure, comes knowledge which one can then use in his next action.”

Thias found strength in this and in rapid succession without thinking, aiming or breathing he drew, pulled and 1d20+4(19)fired.. The arrow hit with a sickening thud in the creature’s arm. It thrashed and screamed in anger and pain. Its confident shrieks of superiority melting into a cacophony of confusion and terror. Gnashing its teeth with a sickly spittle flying from its mouth, it turned to search for its next meal. Vengeance burning in its eyes.

Thias smiled, waved and stood his ground under the shadows of the forest.

Now that I have your attention…..

Thias hoped Griff’s aim was true.
 

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Old Aug 22nd, 2014, 07:30 AM
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Once again Griff looked on helpless as another of his companions was brought down by this cursed wyrm. He had hoped the damage his javelin caused would be enough to attract the Tatzlwyrm’s attention, but unfortunately something about Athos caused it to charge in its whirlwind of claws and teeth. Seeing yet another of his companions go down brought forth a deep anger within Griff just as an arrow from Thias found it’s mark in the wyrm’s arm. There was something about the way the arrow pierced its flesh and about the way it reacted from the wound that brought forth a killer instinct within Griff. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew this was his perfect opportunity to move in for the kill. Of course, by no means was it incapacitated and if Griff was unlucky and missed, he could be on the receiving end of either of those claws, or its wicked bite.

But the risk was worth it. A primal yell burst forth from Griff as he drew his father’s falchion and charged forward to meet the wyrm blade to claw. He Attack roll: 1d20(17) + 5 = 22
Damage: 2d4(6) + 6 = 12
swung his falchion, aiming his blade for between its neck and shoulder. Griff noticed with some satisfaction as it sunk into the Tatzlwyrm’s flesh. In fact, his falchion sunk deep and Griff felt a quick thrill of pleasure as its eyes rolled to the back of its head. This time, it was the Tatzlwyrm’s turn to lie at his feet. Better to be safe than sorry Griff thought to himself and he lifted the falchion high above his head and viciously brought it down on the back of the neck of the Tatzlwyrm, removing its wicked head from its shoulders.

Rather than let his guard down at this victory, Griff was instead more wary than ever. He Perception roll: 1d20(11) + 7 = 18scanned their environs, now vigilant in case the Tatzlwyrm had a mate nearby.

"Thias my friend, you are the one skilled with healing here, obviously you should be the one who sees to our companions. Trent seems to be breathing, but I do not know about Arthos."

Griff unslung his backpack and began to take out the few healing items he had acquired on their journey so far. He laid them out so that Thias could see all that was there and popped one of the larger goodberries into his mouth.

"Once you have Arthos stabilised, I think we should all go about healing up as well as we can before we continue on. Help yourself and administer to our friends, whatever we need to get them back on their feet."

 

Last edited by Berzerkersaurus; Aug 22nd, 2014 at 07:43 AM. Reason: A few little typos
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Old Aug 22nd, 2014, 08:27 AM
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The mystical glade was once again quiet, red life drenched the green grass, testimony to the hell that had just taken place.

Griff stood over the Tatzlywyrm holding his lethal sword, blood dripping from its tip, the head of the great wyrm had rolled some short distance from its body and held a snarl which even in death caused a shiver of terror. His body powered by the adrenalin of battle Griff assessed the situation quickly, wisely scanning the tree and glade for any signs of other predators.

He found none, and with the roaring and screeching this dark wyrm had made he was confident that if there were another wyrm it would surely have revealed itself by now and come to the aide of its mate.

The silence that followed the aftermath of battle was a strange thing, one instant the blood was pumping, fear raging, and chaos all encompassing; the next instant there was nothing.

He scanned his fallen comrades, Thias already moving to offer them assistance, one thing was relatively certain, if this wyrm had made it’s nest here then it had probably kept all else at bay. With it now dead, its dark blood still pumping out to nourish the ground, the glade was probably one of the safest places in the Darkmoon, for a while at least. A place like this would attract another fiend within a month or two, perhaps longer; it was a secure and safe lair. Right now it was their safe and secure lair and they could use it at their leisure to heal their friends, regroup and consider their tactics and what they may have learned from this encounter. Certainly they had all come to realise that life was not a certainty and this quest they had undertaken was a serious one. Back in Falcon’s Hollow where their friends and family suffered from the dreadful disease it had seemed simple enough, trek into the forest get some ingredients and bring them back, simple and easy.

Things were looking a little different right now, clearly they were all novices to this kind of danger, clearly they had much to learn, yet they had survived. The act of survival itself made them stronger and they had all learned much from this single encounter, from here on in they would be different, they would take precautions and tread carefully before rushing into this dangerous environment. Their lives were at stake and they should not forget that many lives depended on their survival in this endeavor.

They would press on, they would complete this quest but they would do so with a little more respect for the forest and those who called it home, this was not the Sitting Duck and there was no doubting that.

Looking over the field, blood and bodies littering the otherwise beautiful vista, it was all too clear, they had left the familiarity of the place they called home. This was another world, and a lethal one.



 

Last edited by Zany; Aug 22nd, 2014 at 08:30 AM.
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  #104  
Old Aug 22nd, 2014, 02:33 PM
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LWAGNER LWAGNER is offline
the snake whisperer
 
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The tatzlwyrm had turned to face Thias in its entirety. Every chorded muscle was taught and ready for its now infamous leaping attack. Sheer hatred and malice was to be its fuel and the devastating pain that it would inflict on its attacker would be its reward. His blood would paint every tree in this glade! The tatzlwyrm would tear his still beating heart from his breast and devour it in front of his eyes before he surrendered to oblivion!

It did not occur to the tatzlwyrm to question why Thias stood his ground and did not flee. To him it was naught but a challenge to his dominion and a taunt to his superiority.

Thias actually grimaced and winced a bit at the tatzlwyrm’s final moments.
But he did not look away.

Griff’s approach resembled a swing one would use to put chords to hearth stock, but there was hate behind this strike. The falchion tore through the brackish scales. Its wicked edge slicing through the meat of the shoulder, breaking the clavicle and shattering the scapula like so much kindling. It came to rest at the thick sternum but not before it had made a chip and crack in its wake there as well.
It made little difference to the tatzlwyrm. There was no consciousness left to survey its damage just as there was no one to mourn its passing. Its avaricious and predatory reign over this glade was thankfully at an end.

It was as if a black veil had been lifted from this serene sylvan vale. One could almost hear and feel the great Elderwood tree breathe a sigh of contentment and relief.

Thias ran across the clearing to Arthos to check to see what, if any there was to work with. His wounds were frightening. His pulse was shallow but not erratic. A good sign. He pulled clothing and armor aside for clear access to the wounds and poured water from his skin in an attempt to flush away any contaminates that may remain in wait. He Tore strips from the grey cloak and bound it as best as he could to provide some sort of compression dressing to ebb the flow of blood He then layed the cloak over Arthos to keep him warm.

Thias then ran Trent to evaluate his condition. As with Arthos, he had a handful of major wounds that were deep and concerning, the rest were superficial but needed to be protected from infection. Again Thias cleaned the wounds and bound them the best he was able.

Thias gave a quick loud whistle to see if either petals or Z’Ani responded. Hopefully they had not ran too far for the hills. He would not have blamed them if they did.

“Griff I am going to need your assistance here. See if you can find petals. Check amongst the packs and items and see if there is anything we can use as clean bandages. My healing pack is in there as well. Some more water to clean their wounds would be fantastic. We need to keep them warm and comfortable while we try to stabilize their wounds before we see what help the berries can offer.”

Thias worked diligently on both of his friends with Griff ever present at his side. Once they had given both a proper Healing kit: 1d20+7(20) and Healing kit: 1d20+7(23) field dressing
and accompanying stitches for each of their lacerations, contusions and punctures they began to feed them small bits of the berries and water and waited to see how they responded.

 

Last edited by LWAGNER; Aug 22nd, 2014 at 02:34 PM.
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  #105  
Old Aug 22nd, 2014, 06:35 PM
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PercyHux PercyHux is offline
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A miscalculation of distance predicated the last thing Arthos ever saw. Was it 15 feet, or 20 feet? He wondered absentmindedly as the world went black, then red, then black again. A light buzzing started suddenly somewhere off in the distance, soft and even. It slowly rose to a purr, then a grinding noise that thrummed in his ears and the back of his skull. Its cadence rose at a steady pace until it droned on in one solid note: an orgy of sound that made his stomach turn.

Perhaps it was 20 feet after all. He mused above the deafening cacophony.

"It doesn't matter anymore, my dear, my love" the voice seeped through the wall of sound, unmistakably familiar. "Your path has come to its end, dear Arthos. Follow me to the eternal shore where you can finally be at peace." He recognized the lilt in the woman's voice, but the owner's name was escaping him; it was a fleeting word in his memory. A, A....A.... He almost took hold of it, but the word slipped from his mental grasp as the droning sound once again rose in volume.

Blackness existed in his vision for an eternity; no shape, no color, no light. Then suddenly the drone subsided and was replaced by the grinding purr from before. The thrum in his skull doubled in intensity and a searing pain shot through what must have been his body. He wasn't quite sure of the location because he had no sense of self. He felt no arms, no legs, no fingers, no toes; only a ghostly black shadow remained where his flesh had been.

The pain leveled out to a manageable seven, on a scale of ten, and the blackness before him became less opaque. It swirled and rolled in his vision, mingling with dark greys and a pulsing crimson. Eventually, the black and grey were overtaken by the flood of red and like a concerto of misery, the two senses exploded in his body.

Arthos gasped for air, but only swallowed the pool of warm blood that had collected in his throat. He coughed intensly as a plume of dark plasma sprayed into the twilight of the glade. After he expelled most of the fluid from his lungs, he tried to sit upright. He had been covered with his cloak, which was now torn in several places and soaked in blood. All was not lost, then. He could see his body, battered, but relatively intact. He attempted to raise his arm, but a sharp pain coursed through his chest as the muscle worked to do his bidding. Talon... he remembered suddenly. He looked around slowly into the growing darkness of the clearing searching for answers. He could see Griff and Thias tending to Trent, who had apparently fallen victim to the wyrm they had encountered. The memory of the ambush was fuzzy; he remembered seeing the trunk of the Elder Tree spring to life before them, then there was a flash of light...then nothing. The evidence of a horrible battle was all around him: a fresh, wet claret stain covered the green carpet of grass beneath him and another splotch of crimson lay approximately fifty feet away under Trent and the others.

Talon was resting in a pile of torn clothes beside him. Arthos' shirt had become a victim as well, as it lay mangled and bloody underneath his trusty rapier, which was still gleaming silver and untouched by battle. I guess I never got a chance to use you, old friend. he thought with a hint of sadness. The pain at his chest pulsed with pain again. He looked down and noticed that he had been bandaged with scraps of grey cloth that must have once been part of his cloak. The patch job had all the earmarks of Thias' handiwork; the ranger would be skilled at first-aid, and his knots were the delicate work of a half-elf. Thank the gods he had survived. Arthos was also quite sure that they were all still alive because of the fighter, Griff, and his brute strength. This was a formidable group, indeed. Well, at least the half uninjured.

A fresh bout of coughing erupted and a few straggling droplets of blood misted into the air. "Hhh...Helllp." he managed to whisper before the canopy above him began to spin wildly, and consciousness abandoned him once more.

 
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