Crooked Yew and crocked bees.

[Karaunios]

Dougal

Dougal descends from the tree once the danger has passed. He will help with skinning the fallen foes that might still lie around and then will do a little scouting around the party's position for security.

[Quonundrum]

Moriartus

Moriartus climbs back into the wagon's passenger seat and lights another cigar while Dougal and the others skin the alpha owlwolf. He periodically gazes in the direction of the slithering trail into the moor left by the transformed loggers, a pensive expression etched on his face.

[Spearmint]

April 29th 1066

Blackened Forest, westward of Helix. Duchy of Aerik.

Continuing west to Crooked Yew Hives.

3.00pm.
Weather: sunshine but cloudy, light breeze.
Conditions: Ben -4hp, Jake -1hp, Dougal -3hp.

After the delay at the logging camp, the wagon wheels roll and the party trek out again.

you have travelled west in a straight line from Helix for one hex then turned SW following that line one hex. The logging camp at the end. You now turn direct west again, once more following a thin trail on a raised Dutch which seperated the Barrow Moor from the Blackened Forest.

After just over an hour of trekking, the trail continues directly west through the forest and not traversing the perimeter of the Moor. Crabtree is happy, the wagon wheels creaking but not cracking under the weight and coping with the deep ruts of the trail surface. You may continue to go west, about five miles and a couple of hours from your destination or investigate the flurry of activity about a quarter of a mile away on the fringe of the Moor further SW.

There, spotted against the dimming sky are a number of circling vultures. They seem to harass some prey caught in the rushes though what it is remains unseen. Certainly the vultures squawk and tussle for titbit morsels. Faint wispy balls of light emanate through the thin veil of mist that shrouds the Moor. There is no sound of battle or cries, except the shrill noise of the birds.

what would you like to do?

Crabtree wagon vs 15% [1d100]=78 [1d100]=57
Crooked Yew random encounters [1d6]=6 [1d6]=4

[Quonundrum]

Moriartus

Moriartus gazes silently at the circling flock of vultures, occasionally puffing a drag from his cigar. "Mr. Dougal ...", he says after a couple minutes of observation, "What do you make of that?" He gestures with his cigar hand at the disturbance near the edge of the misty Moor. "One of the loggers, perhaps? If we investigate, the wagon will need to remain on the trail, and guarded."

[Jedion357]

Friar John: Dougal, how are your wounds? I can make a prayer of healing for you.

RE: Vultures

If we investigate the vultures, one cleric should go and the other stay with the wagon. I'm good with doing either. Friar John nods to his compent collegue of Silvanus.

[Quonundrum]

Moriartus

"I agree, Friar John. Mr. Ben and Mr. Jake can remain with the wagon along with Miss Two-Birds."

[Jedion357]

OOC: if Dougal needs healing
Cast Cure Light Wounds

[Karaunios]

Dougal

Are the wisps 'everywhere' or just around the area where the vultures fly?

I actually don't recall how many hp Dougal lost. He might around 7/11.

[Jedion357]

Friar John

Then you might want to take the cure light wounds the five points should do you.

[Karaunios]

Done. Thanks.

[Quonundrum]

Moriartus

Moriartus carefully steps down from the wagon, using his staff for stability on the uneven, rutted trail. He looks up at the driver and points to the disturbance with the head of the staff. "Mr. Crabtree, please wait here with Ben, Jake, and Miss Two-Birds. The rest of us will investigate what has those vultures so interested. It may be the poor fool who was sent for help from the logger's camp."

[Jedion357]

Friar John preps his sling with a sling bullet and positions himself near Moriartus allowing Dougal to take point. He's prepared his prayer of Command as well and will rush forward to support his companions if serious trouble errupts.

[Gomezthebarbarian]

Barba waits until they are on their way to where the vultures are circling above, sword out and ready, shield on her arm. "We should be doubly careful. There could be a predator eating its prey and the vultures are waiting for their turn." The half-orc follows behind and off to one side of Dougal, her eyes sweeping the ground around her for sign of trouble.

[Jedion357]

Friar John nods at Barba's comment and falls in behind Dougal and Barba.

[Karaunios]

Dougal

Leads the scouting party, relying on his ranger skills. "Barba's right. There could be a predator there. Let's be canny."

[Spearmint]

April 29th 1066

Blackened Forest, westward of Helix. Duchy of Aerik.

Continuing west to Crooked Yew Hives.

4.10pm.
Weather: sunshine but cloudy, light breeze.
Conditions: Ben -4hp, Jake -1hp.

The ranger Dougal heals up under the ministrations of St Ygg's wandering pilgrim, Friar John.

Leaving the hired hands guarding the wagon supplies, the quartet stealthily creep forward to observe whatever has got the vultures in a commotion.

Barba, at home on the wilderness steppes can anticipate the likely scenario so it is no surprise to encroach upon creatures squabbling over morsels. A deer of some kind has been killed, the entrails spilled out, gored by claw marks and savaged by the throat. A beast, dark with beautiful deep black and metallic blue coloured fur rages against the flock of voracious avians. The creature though is difficult to make out, is there one or two of them. So many legs and tangles of limbs seem to flit in and out of your precise vision as to be able to study it closely. The sleek multi limbed panther seems to have tentacle like appendages on each muscled shoulder with which it strikes to fend off the birds from its prize.

The other startling thing is the jewelled collar around the beasts neck, the only thing that twinkles in the fading light as all else is absorbed in the light displacing fur.

With the vultures on the fringe of its striking range, the creature warily eyes this new intrusion upon its mealtime.

As you consider what to do, each roll a [1d6], 1-2 score will also hear something critical.

action and rolls please

[Gomezthebarbarian]

Barba gets a [1d6]=2

[Quonundrum]

Moriartus

[1d6]=5

Moriartus is momentarily paralyzed in awe of the strange, yet magnificent beast. The superfluous, undulating appendages suggesting the creature is a very rarely seen displacer beast. It's sleek, mirage-like hide well known to those studied in magic as a potent ingredient to items conferring stealth and concealment. Another, equally well known fact snapped him from his revery, however ... they are quite aggressive and powerful, definitely not to be underestimated. He squints at the shifting image of the beast. At least, he thinks there is only one.

Moriartus averts his gaze from the stricken animal's corpse and backs away slowly, attempting to show no interest in contesting the creature's prize. It was then that he notices the jewelled collar about its neck, reflecting the afternoon sunlight. He whispers between unmoving lips, "The collar ... could it be tame? If so, where is the master?" He sweeps his gaze about the area while keeping his head still and unmoving, searching for any signs of another humanoid nearby.

[Jedion357]

Friar John whispers By the highest mountain.



Friar John warily looks side to side scanning for other threats.

[Spearmint]

April 29th 1066

Blackened Forest, westward of Helix. Duchy of Aerik.

Continuing west to Crooked Yew Hives.

4.20pm.
Weather: sunshine but cloudy, light breeze.
Conditions: Ben -4hp, Jake -1hp.

I will move this on to give you some response to the listen checks.

The displacer beast, a raw savage specimen with oh-so-sleek fur guards its meal, eventually driving the vultures away who watch on, hoping for some titbit morsels and bones to fight over.

The quartet of adventurers pause to observe and listen. The wispy willowy balls of light seem to emanate from within a cloud of mist a few yards further away. Inside that mist you make out a tall humanoid figure, taller than the twins or Barba. A couple of others seated behind him. The 'person' speaks in a growling common, an orcish-orgrish patois. You cannot be certain but it seems like an ethereal face is shaped in the misty lights, talking to the standing humanoid.

"You have done well Kakta, earning your station as a 'Theurgist'. Your recompense for servitude.'

"Thank you, my Lord. Beware those of Orcus have persuaded trolls to reinforce their ranks."

"Set has nothing to fear from those goatf@#££rs. May that which is Dead never Die."

"May that which is Dead never Die.", the willow-the-wisp type light blink out. The ethereal face gone. The displacer beast drags his prey further into the tangle of brushwood where moor meets forest.

As yet you remain unnoticed by whoever those humanoids are.

I will take next actions and comments please