TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited December 2010
Janiven smiles at William's question.
"I'm sure Fiosa will be able to heal most of your wounds. She may not be a professional cleric, but she knows her way with a healing spell or so."
As the rest of the group offered no more questions, she moves towards the far end of the northern corridor.
She inspects the stone wall in front of her. All of the stones had a number of cuts to them. But Janiven knew what she was looking for.
"See, a few months ago when we found out about this hidden doorway, we made a number of cuts and gashes on most of the stones on every wall of this corridor, in hopes of confusing would-be troublemakers or spies. For the ignorant or unaware, it looked as though there was a hefty battle in here, but..."
As she stops in midsentence, she pressed on a stone with the smallest cut. As the stone disappears, a rumble starts to occur near her. Within moments, a part of the wall rumbles away, leaving a man-sized hole opening towards another hallway, which in turn ended with a ladder leading upwards.
"For those who do know, such as myself, pressing the stone with the least cuts on it will result in opening a hidden doorway. Come, the doorway won't stay open for long..."
With that, the rest of the group moves towards the ladder. As the last hero moves inside, they hear the door rumbling behind them. As they turned around, they see the once-open wall now closed, with a small symbol of Pelor revealed on one of the stones.
"Press that, and the doorway opens up from this side. But for now, follow me." Janiven answers, as she finishes climbing the ladder.
The heroes each climbed the ladder in turn. Soon, they would arrive at a place they would all least expected for a hideout for the resistance...
End of Chapter 1
Quest Completed:
Main Quest: Finding the Path - Reach the rebel safehouse. [Completed] - Follow the sword symbols on the wall. They will direct you to the safehouse proper. [Completed]
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TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited December 2010
Chapter 2: The Rebel Hideout
Overworld Map:
You soon climb out of the sewers, and exit into the night sky. Looking around you see a number of buildings, temples and shrines that look as if they have not been used in decades.
Alainn, Hertzog:
Passive Perception (DC15): Success
Glancing around you, it appears that most of these buildings are old temples to gods no longer openly worshiped in Cheliax.
Typhor,Grokka:
Passive Streetwise (DC 15): Success
The old temples and shrines lead you to believe you are in Rego Sacero, also known as the priest sector. Beyond temples in disrepair, the Qatada Nessudidia (the largest temple to Asmodeus in Westcrown), as well as Vaneo Arvanxi (The Lord Mayor’s residence and The Imperial Marina) are in this sector.
Shortly after you have exited the sewers you turn to see Janiven, standing in the side doorway of an old temple dedicated to the dead god, Pelor, waving you over.
Typhor:
Special:
Though it may have been years, you can still recognize this place in your dreams. Or in your nightmares, to be exact. Just further on you could spot the open square of the temple. Though the square itself was cleansed long ago, the stench and sight of the blood spilt that day still clouds your mind. Who would have thought that you would return here? After all, it was only a few years ago, when you took part of an extremely short-lived and unsuccessful revolution. The Hellknights were brutal in their supposed ‘justice’ that day, as those who fought in the uprising (man, woman and child) were slaughtered, and those who survived were executed the following week, as a reminder of their supposed obedience to Asmodeus.
“Come quickly, it’s not safe in the streets at night, shadowbeasts and all.”
After you make your way over to the shrine, Janiven hurries towards the nearby door, and knocks on it.
One knock.
Followed by three knocks.
Which is finally completed with two knocks.
A few moments later it’s opened from the opposite side by a nervous looking man with a lantern. Judging by his fine, silver hair, long and pointed ears, and pearly eyes of vibrant blue, this man was an eladrin.
“Bloody Hells, Janiven! Do you know what time it is? There’s a rumour going on about Hellknights storming the sewers. I had feared you might have gotten yourself caught.”
“At ease Ermolos. The rumour regarding the Hellknights is indeed true, but thanks to them...” she points towards the heroes, “... I might have indeed been caught. But for now, we have other matters to discuss, regarding...”
“Areal’s capture?”
Janiven sounds honestly shocked at Ermolos's revelation. “How did you know?”
“Sclavo has told us about his capture. He heard it from one of his superiors at court. We’re discussing what to do right now. What of these five? Are they the ‘help’ Arael promised?”
“Indeed they are Ermolos. But they are in need of some rest, and perhaps a shower.”
“Very well then, Janiven. I’ll lead them to their quarters. The rest of us are waiting for you.”
Janiven turns to the rest of the group. “My apologies, this evening was not supposed to go like that. Follow Ermolos, he’ll take you to a place you can get cleaned up. When you are ready, come back out, get something to eat, and meet the others.”
With that, she respectfully bows to the rest of the group, and walks into the temple. Ermolos closes the door, and soon (after passing two or three corridors) leads you to five separate rooms.
“Here are your quarters. One good thing of these old abandoned temples: They always have lots of empty rooms to change into comfortable accomadations. Janiven even joked once that we could all live under this here roof. No doubt some of you have your own private chambers in the city. However, if you want to lay low or want a place to feel safe, then consider this temple a personal sanctuary of sorts...”
With his duty done, the Eladrin bows, leaves a lantern for the group, and heads off towards the dark corridors of the temple, igniting another spare lantern he was carrying on his belt.
"Don't worry, there are more lanterns within the rooms themselves...", Ermolos trails off, and soon he dissapears entirely as he takes a turn into another corridor.
"I require hot water, a copper tub to soak in, bathing oils and soaps, and a rough scrub brush. I doubt even that will be enough to rid me of this stench. Beyond that.... good night all and I hope you take no offense, but I've had more than my share of your company this eve."
Alainn vanishes into the depths of the temple, unerringly knowing her way to the baths without being told.
!ready
SkyCaptain on
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"Wow, what a day. What a night. I can't believe we're just getting started. We've had enough adventure to fill a tome already."
"I can't believe some of the things I saw, and most of it from my own companions, nonetheless. Alainn's searing beams of light. The whirling cyclone of chains, blade and muscle of Hertzog. Feeling myself compelled to strike and slash by just an utterance from Typhor. And all while colorfully narrated by our own bard, Grokka, who's words, dare I say, cut deeper than anyone's blade."
"What night indeed!"
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get cleaned up, then find myself some place to get a nice, hot snack!"
With that, the young Swordmage turns into the nearest room and quietly closes the door. As the door swings shut, William leans up against the door, his last strength fading. He slowly slides down the door, slumping like a ragdoll. His eyes flutter for a second or two.
"I'm sure no one noticed..." mumbles William before he eyes shut and he finds himself in the deepest sleep of his life.
Hertzog considers Alainn's request and then addresses Ermolos,
"Two tubs."
The half-orc considers the bath carefully as water is drawn and heated, doing his part, even exhausted, to help move and prepare. After a few minutes, with the steaming water before him and all company gone, he sinks awkwardly into the water. It immediately turns oily and brown. Unaware of the filth flowing off of him, Hertzog closes his eyes as his mind wanders back through the day. It turns first to the battle and the mistakes that Hertzog had made, an instinct well beaten into him by this point. From there, it moves onto worry and planning about his pursuit by House Dioso. Finally though, a smile washes over Hertzog's face as he considers his friends, and the bravery and trust they had shown.
Noticing the water as it starts to cool, Hertzog remembers the grime that had brought him here. Though much had been accumulated today, some of the muck had been ground in from years before. Working roughly with his hands, the half-orc picks off pieces of dirt and sweat that he swore had been skin. Moving his attentions from hands to torso to legs, nearly an hour passes before Hertzog gives up on his attempt at cleaning. Draining the now-cold and filthy water from the tub, he moves to consider himself in a nearby mirror. With so much grime gone, the half-orc looks... less green. Hertzog sighs at the sight, and then smiles. Maybe the full-orcs just never got a bath. And the goblins they had met were halflings subject to the same fate.
Moving back to his room, Hertzog enters quietly, and then collapses on the bed, too tired to bother with sheets or covers.
Typhor breathes a sigh of relief as the door closes behind him, shutting out the painful memories of failures past. He decides to forgo the bath that the others are enjoying, instead shifting to watery form for a few moments in an attempt to shed the worst of the sewer's grime. Then, sitting on the edge of his bed, Typhor mulls over each of the day's battles, sketching out various details in the dust coating the floor of the room.
"Hmm... the fight with the undead went quite well, but we really botched the ambush on the Hellknights. And it was careless of us to allow ourselves to be caught off-guard by that first band of goblins."
After a few minutes, Typhor's review of the day's work is complete. Resolving to have a chat with Grokka on tactics for battle coordination when time permits, he stretches out on the bed and closes his eyes.
Grokka eases into a hot, steamy tub with a huge grin on his face. "Now THIS is hero's work here!" he shouts and suddenly cocks his ear to the ceiling as if listening for somtehing. "Did you hear that? This acoustics are wonderful!" The othe bathers draw concerned looks at one another as Grokka clears his throat and begins to sing:
"Sit and soak and hear a tale of heroes gathered here.
Vizio's falls and blows apart and Hellknights all draw near.
As hope, she fades, and fate, she calls, the day looks nearly done.
Yet Janiven shows her smiling face and the heroes set out for fun.
Let me tell you of our heroes true, their wills too strong to bend,
strangers gathered but hours ago, are allies to the end.
Alainn with her powers bright, and ancient as the seas.
She blasts undead and goblins both and tears them apart at the seams.
Typhor, Typhor the watery one let his blade do the singing,
he removes head from Hellnight and fiend with the pain he's bringning.
Master of sword is William the true, his bravery gives foes sorrow
While he slices them from stem to stern, he catches all of their arrows.
Hertzog the fiersome Orc, who's savagery brings the pain,
He dances almost as well as I and swings a deadly chain.
Finally Grokka, your humble bard, who's singing fills the air.
If only Josephine would listen true, they'd make a more useful pair.
Not Hellknight, Sewer or filthy Gob' have stopped us yet this day,
With new allies gathered around we'll make the bastards pay.
Grokka chuckles to himself and finishes up his bath. As he revels in his freshly cleaned skin, he lays in bed and the true horrors of what he's seen over the last few hours begin to wash over him. A grim distance appears in his eyes and with his greatsword clutched tight across his chest he lies awake, staring up at the ceiling long into the night.
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited January 2011
Time passes...
By the time each one of you woke up from your deep slumber, you notice rays of light piercing through every thick veiled curtain that shuts every window in the Chapel, most notably your own chambers. Those daring to take a peek through of the murky capes lining the windows, they noticed that the sun has long since risen, teetering over the city in the aqua coloured sky, it’s position even towering far above the 90-foot tall grand (though sadly still neglected) Pelornama, a soaring monument that once was every Chelaxian’s pride and joy. Now it’s nothing more than the city’s constant reminder of their once living patron’s failure. However, nary a soul could be seen walking the streets.
OOC:
The time is roughly 11:23 AM
Regardless, each of you gather your gear, and prepare yourself for the meeting with Janiven and the other resistance members.
By the time you are all finished, the procedure was the same for each of you: the door opens, and Ermolos (the man from the previous night) comes in to see if you are ready. Satisfied with your preparations, he merely nods and says: “Well then, let’s be off. Last I left the meeting, the rest of the members were arguing amongst themselves again. The same thing, of course: what will we call ourselves? Pfft. As if names ever mattered when fighting for something right. Oh well...”
With that, Ermolos leaves it as it is, and escorts the group towards the Hall.
When you arrive, you appear to be in what used to be a small congregation hall. You see Janiven in a spirited debate with a number of other individuals around a makeshift round table. Ermolos was correct after all: It seems the debate is over what they should call themselves.
“I say we should call ourselves the The Knights of Westcrown. It’s obvious we fight for a just cause!”
“Calling ourselves Knights? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical? Considering that some of us drove away the HellKnights? I mean, we’re not really chivalrous in our tactics to help the common citizen. Since we’re held up in a church of Pelor, why not call ourselves The Scions of Pelor?”
“Scions to a dead god? That perhaps the most stupidest thing I ever heard coming from you, Larko! ‘Sides, we don’t need no gods! There never was, we never needed them, and good riddance, I say!”
“Then what do you propse we call ourselves, Yak? The Guardians of Cheliax?”
“That’s awful as well, you blimy taffer! We’re trying to get the people on our side, not chase them off! Most common folk know the true Guardians of Cheliax are those tin men, the Hellknights, and their puppet master, House Thrune! It’s like we’re calling ourselves the Hellknight replacements. Use your head Larko!” “Why you little, shifty eyed, pink haired little bi...”
“Enough, Larko. I know you mean well, but she is quite right, blunt though she may be. We should be more subtle in our attempts to win the people’s heart. I still think Janiven’s proposal sounds much better. The Children of Westcrown. Why not use that?”
“Because, it sounds rather silly. Makes us sound like one of those absurd groups that makes things up as they go. We need to sound professional. You know, for street cred.”
OOC:
If you wish to throw a suggestion into the mix, go right ahead.
As you enter the room, Janiven smiles, and tries to silence the arguing group. “Good morning, my allies. I thought the ordeal from last night was quite... a tribulation. So I tasked Ermolos to keep an eye on you, and inform me once you woke up. But right now, on to the task at hand. This is our ‘little circle’, so to speak, of resistance members in our group. She makes a point of introducing you all to the other members of the “resistance”, as she puts it.
She points towards the Eladrin standing right next to you. “Of course, you’ve met Ermolos from last night. He’s a blacksmith here in Westcrown, and an excellent enchanter of fine armour and other trinkets, should you have need of his skills. Since the Hellknights have put him out of business a few weeks ago, he’s since offered to be the custodian of the temple, if only to keep himself busy.”
Ermolos silently nods.
Secondly, Janiven points to a small, young girl. Upon closer inspection, the young girl was actually a Halfling. “This hear is Fiosa, a house servant of House Arvanxi, and she’s a friend with many (if not all) halfling slaves in Westcrown.”
“Bless you well, Janiven, but the only servant I am, is that to me god Erathis. Blessed to all whom worship and follow her.”
The nearby Gnome scoffs at Fiosa’s comment towards Erathis, but is rewarded with a scowl from the Halfling’s side.
The Gnome stays quiet, but still continues to pout.
“Oh yes, I forgot. Fiosa’s also our local cleric. As a follower of Erathis, she knows her way with the healing arts of the Divine. William, if you have some time, perhaps asking for Fiosa’s to help properly heal you from those arrow wounds you received last night might prove favourable.”
“Well, it’s the least I could do for you Janiven, after you and Arael helped smuggle several of me captive Halfling brothers and sisters out of Westcrown (and more importantly, out of a particularly heinous merchant’s home). Because of that, I’ll gladly offer my healing hands for you and the resistance.”
After Fiosa, Janiven points toward a large, bulky looking sea dog. The human male appears to be labourer of some sorts, perhaps even a dock worker.
“This here is Larko. He’s our eyes and ears on the dockside of Westcrown. He keeps tabs on all form of rumour, news and stories people hear on Westcrown’s docks. Through him, we may also keep tabs on what’s going and happening in the outside world. He also has ties to some smugglers on the docks, so if you have need of looking for hard to find items, Larko’s your man.”
Larko raises and waves his hand at the group. "Well met."
Continuing on, Janiven brings you to meet an a soft-spoken male that Janiven introduces as Sclavo.
“It was Sclavo that informed the rest of us about Arael’s capture.”
“Indeed, Janiven. You’d be quite surprised what the hypocritical farces back at the bureaucracy bellow when you keep a sharp ear about.”
“Yes, indeed. Sclavo’s long worked as a scribe for many of Westcrown’s courts. It was his loathing of the current laws of Westcrown that has pushed him into helping us, by keeping up with news in the courts within Westcrown government.”
Finally, Janiven introduces you to Yakopulio, a rather irreverent, mouthy, young gnomish girl with fiery pink hair. “We mostly call her Yak for short.”
“This is the supposed aid you promised us that’ll help us? I must say, I’m a bit... disappointed at this bit of news.” Yak says, as she whistles a mocking tone.
“Don’t mind her; she’s always a bit unpleasant to newcomers. Her ego must be compensating for something.” Larko retorts.
Yak sticks her tongue out at the salty man. “Least my wit’s bigger than that you keep in your head. What did you bother calling it? A brain? I’m surprised you even knew you had one in you.”
"Yak is a bartender at a tavern called the Bruised Eel, one that is quite frequented by many travellers from abroad. If Larko hears what happens at sea, Yak here could hear what happens in faraway lands."
Janiven ends the introductions with; “And obviously, you all have already met Morosino, our eyes and ears in the busy parts of the city, and unfortunately I can’t introduce you to Arael at the moment.”
She smiles and continues. “Well then, now that I’ve introduced you to the rest of our ‘small family’, what say the rest of you introduce yourselves to the rest of the resistance members. I only told them some slight details. No doubt all of them would like to hear from you personally.”
Grokka places a finger on his nose then points at Alainn. "I like it! Grokka Lownote at your service, yes yes, before you as, THAT Grokka Lownote. Singer of songs, spinner of yarns and hefter of a rather finicky blade named Lady Josephine. Ermolos, I wonder, with your considerable skill with an anvil, could you perchance beat the sense into a blade? Mine seems to have lost hers." Grokka deep, honest stare tells Ermolos that he is in no way kidding. "Aside from solving your labeling issue, what other emergencies shall we solve for you?" His gaze meets Yak and his mood sours a bit. "Or did you want to keep bickering about petty names and semantics while our allies lie in chains. We're here to help, like it or not."
William lets the uncomfortable bickering slide away and steps forward.
"William Sherbourne, student of blade and magic. I was taught by old Barrien Galanthil to respect the art and beauty of each, as well as all thing of Corellon. Unfortunately as of this morning, everything I knew and everyone I cared about was either burned, murdered or worse, at the hands of an Inquistor, and I have yet to find a new home. But it's not all a sad story, for I did manage to fall in with a very talented and interesting group of heroes."
William turns to the rest of the group.
"The Wardens of Westcrowne? Sounds like the title of an epic story I should like to read to my kids one day," he adds, with a wink towards his comrades
"Hertzog. I think that House Dioso had excellent odds on me a week ago. Now, I'd imagine they just have an excellent bounty."
Hertzog smiles, showing a little of his orcish fangs to Yak in the process, but trusting his build and scars to convey the rest of his seriousness. Uncomfortable talking about himself, Hertzog closes his eyes briefly, and then opens them to speak,
"Are we safe here with Arael in custody? I have never seen a part of the city be so dead, but I can't imagine it taking long for ... someone to arrive if they knew where we were."
Pausing for a moment, Hertzog shakes his head, thinking that his chances for foolish heroism had long since passed
"Or maybe I should ask, can Arael be safe with us sitting here in abandoned buildings."
Typhor waits for the others to make their introductions, then steps forward, a frown adoring his face.
"Typhor Jett, soldier and master of arms."
From the tone of his voice, it's clear that Typhor isn't pleased. He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues.
"How is it possible that you've decided now is a good time to debate the name of your organization? Do you even have a clue what you've gotten yourselves into?" Typhor glances towards Janvien for a moment, then presses on. "I trust that you're all skilled and loyal to the cause you've chosen, but it seems clear to me that you fail to comprehend the magnitude of the task ahead of us, and of the very real danger we're all in right now."
Looking to Hertzog for support, he adds, "There's no question of whether the Hellknights will be able to extract our location from Arael, it's simply a matter of when; we can't know how much time we have, but we'd best proceed as if they're already on their way here."
Alainn rests easily against a stone wall near one of the veiled windows. A slash of light through a gap in the heavy cloth cutting across her fiery red hair making it glow like cherry-tinged golden sunshine. She gestures to those assembled, bands of silver jewelery and gemstone charms chiming softly with the movement. The sparkle of the gemstones catches the eyes of some of those present for just a moment.
"A name is more than just cause for debate dear Typhor. A name properly disseminated can strike fear into the hearts of the Hellknights and bring courage to the downtrodden. We've given them cause to worry and now we must strike at them again while they are still reeling from this setback. Strike bold, strike hard, and strike fast. Drive their failure into their hearts and let them cower before that they do not understand.
True faith without coercion."
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"Alainn, being a man of the spotlight, I can certainly appreciate the power of publicity. It just seems to this Goliath that or time is better spent cracking heads and getting poor Arael away from those bastards." Grokka pauses, his head cocked to the side "...bastards. I rather like the sound of that actually. Bastards of Westcrowne? No doubt they've called us that more than once already." Grokka shakes his head and laughs slightly. "See? Now you've got me stuck on the name thing again! What's our next step? The less time we spend all collected into a nice juicy target, the better."
"I won't deny the importance of a name and the weight it can carry, but surely we can agree that there is a proper time for that sort of discussion, and that this is not it?"
Typhor turns to Janvien, and asks, "What do you think of our chances to rescue Arael? Or do you have another plan? We need to weigh our options and make a decision, and we need to do it quickly."
Hertzog shifts to stand closer to Typhor. His respect for the gensai in combat buttressed by the warlord's priorities in this situation. Hertzog opens his mouth to protest the discussion, but decides against it. Still, he scowls as the discussion of names continues. He had seen House children filled with the same pomp after flattening a tavern, running through the sewers and having a friend captured.
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited January 2011
The resistance members (including Janiven) listen in on Alainn’s proposal.
"Well, it’s kind of... lacking in said intimidation, but I’d guess it’s a good start."
”Aye. For once we agree on something."
Ermolos nods in approval. "In the ancient times, Wardens were once conscripts from the poor and downtrodden, who would protect the roads and pathways of nations during times of war or crises. I heartily approve of this name."
The rest of them nod in unison.
Janiven raises he hand in the air. “Very well then! From this moment on, we shall henceforth be known as the Wardens of Westcrown. We shall strike fear in the oppressors, become a curse to those who would oppress, protect the guiltless, and become a beacon of hope in a land of none.”
In unison, the resistance members stand at attention, and raise their hands high in the air, as though saluting some spectre above them.
“Aye!” “Aye!” “Aye!” “Aye!” “Aye!”
With that, the rest of the resistance members (barring Ermolos, who was still standing next to Grokka) take their seats once more.
Janiven looks once more at the group now standing in front of her. What was once a mere meagre resistance now blossomed with the inclusion of five brave and bold adventurers. Adventurers who would, from her perspective, act as a figurehead for the times to come.
“Now, on to the matter at hand. First off, Typhor. We all knew the risks we were going to take when forming an organization such as this. Some of us... knew friends from the previous riots... all those years ago. I need not remind you of those... awful times. Ermolos lost his business. Even Sclavo is risking not only his career, but his very life when he signed up for this. I could understand this whole naming fiasco to be childish. But as Alainn so put it, we need a name, or a title, to strike fear into the hearts of the oppressors and bring courage to the downtrodden. But since that is now over, we can come to terms with what is going on.”
“As we all now know, Morosino has informed us that Arael has been captured by the Hellknights. However, it was Sclavo who confirmed that it is the Dottari that now holds him prisoner. Of course, before Sclavo left earlier this morning, he had heard of the news that Hellknights have finally secured control over Arael, the bureaucratic complications of what jurisdiction the prisoner fell into finally having been resolved in the Order of the Rack’s favour. As such, he’s now in the hands of the Hellknights. I personally know Arael, and he won’t betray the resistance. His devotion to do what’s right far exceeds his fear of intimidation. IF he was going to tell the Dottari of our location, reat assured, it would take the Dotarri weeks, if not days to find out, giving us ample time to find a new hideout. With the Hellknights... well, even the most immovable person soon find themselves prey to the Hellknights diabolic magic and other extreme interrogation methods. "
"All is not lost though..." Janiven continues, "... for we have another advantage, or should I say another two advantages, in our favour. You see, since the... riots all those years ago, the bureaucracy had placed a number of ‘restrictions’ on the Hellknights’ operations within the city. Their callousness and brashness all those years ago now ironically hinder them as well, for now they cannot interrogate prisoners within the city walls. Secondly, due to their unauthorized and irresponsible (and thankfully, fruitless) city wide search within the city, the government has decided to ban most Hellknight operations within the city, effectively booting most of them out of the city. Becuase of this, the Hellknights would question Arael in the safety of their Citadel. If they were to do that him, they would have to effectively transfer him from Westcrown to their fortress, Citadel Rivad (the Hellknight Stronghold). Once he’s there, he’s as good as lost; Citadel Rivad had been under siege from over 50 armies... all of whom failed to break the outer walls, let alone the Citadel itself. It's impenetrable, and I doubt we could get him out, even with all of your might, my friends. However, during his transference, he is effectively out of the city, and therefore, beyond their rules and protection. Which means that the best time to break him out would be just outside the city, before they make their way to the Citadel.”
Janiven smiles. “Of course, the reason the city is so quiet, is due to the Hellknights' unauthorized search throughout the city sewers. THe Hellknights seem to have spooked the locals, and Fiosa even confirmed me the rumours of some of the nobility being cooped up in their mansions. Yak and Larko here even heard a number of complaints and rumours flowing in the taverns and at the docks in the City that last night’s actions were looked down upon the government, and that they believe the Hellknights went too far (not that they were fond of the Hellknights, mind you). Now they’re effectively being kicked out of the city. Well... most of them, anyway. As to why the city is so empty. Well, if the citizens aren’t staying indoors, they’re probably at the city gates, hiding away from the Hellknights’ gaze, silently smiling at the newest failed attempt the Hellknights have done. Hellknights (especially the Order of the Rack) don’t make mistakes often, so it’s comes as no surprise some people are actually enjoying this debacle. We have heard rumours of the final convoy of Hellknights that are leaving tomorrow morning. And we believe that a number of prisoners will be escorted in a prison carriage, one we believe to be Arael. As to why they decided on escorting the prisoners in the last convoy? Only the Hellknights would know." Janiven looks up, and stares at WIlliam. "William... it is possible that some of your brothers who were taken from the Monastery might be in that convoy as well.”
With the proverbial apple offered to them, Janiven hoped she piqued their interest. She smirks. “Now, are you all interested in listening in on the rest of my plan? If this works as planned, we’ll not only be able to rescue Arael (and any other prisoners), but also give those Hellknights one more bloody nose before they run off and hide behind their fortress walls.”
As the rest of the current resistance members start to listen in on Janiven’s daring plan, Ermolos moves towards the Goliath, hoping to talk to him in private.
“I can enchant a blade as mighty as you want it...” he whispers to Grokka. “But remember, only a bad workman blames his tools, or in this case, an inexperienced soldier blames his weapon. In time, one of such...girth and enthusiasm such as yourself might fell mountains without breaking a sweat one day. But until then, you’d best train hard and well. Perhaps asking Sir William or Master Typhor for some assistance or training might be best for a first step.”
And with that, the seemingly wise (for his age) Eladrin moves and takes his seat on the table with the rest of the group, hoping to add his own piece of advice to Janiven’s plan.
Though he was listening intently to Janiven, William snaps to attention, nearly throwing himself back in his chair.
"And my brothers? My friends? Is it possible? We mustn't miss this opportunity!"
William looks around nervously at the strangers sitting around the table. "And if we do manage to rescue them, I'm sure they'd be a resource for us. While not everyone was a master of sword play, all were a master of knowledge, books, and learning. Surely they'd be able to aid us against this oppression. I mean, we all saw what was around us, but never said a word. We all knew it wasn't right, but what was one to do? We all figured, if they leave us alone, we can leave well enough alone. But the events of the last couple days...this changes everything!"
The young Swordmage, like a child looking towards his mother, turns to Janiven.
Moved by the hope in William's voice, Hertzog adds his voice to the in support,
"This might even earn you that name! I... might yet come to like being called a Warden"
Shifting close in to William as Janiven prepares to speak, Hertzog wraps an arm around the human. Even after the nights rest, he was still impressed by the grace and fortitude shown by the human but seeing such emotion in his friend tapped something in his brotherly instincts. The half-orc smiles in expectation as Janiven starts to lay out her plan, pausing after a moment to ask,
"With so many gone, how many Hellknights did you say would be left in the city?"
Satisfied that the discussion has progressed from trivialities to substance, Typhor remains quiet while Janvien outlines the plan, resolving to speak up only if he notes any details that could benefit from his experience.
After the first few minutes pass without any such opportunities arising, the barest hint of a grin starts to become evident on Typhor's face.
Grokka hums an idle tune to himself while he listens to the plan. Hearing the excitement in William's voice, seeing the savage energy rising in the Orc Hertzog, Alainn's steely, determined gaze and Typhor's knowing grin sends Grokka's soul to soaring. "We are reaching a good harmony, friends. It's nearly time for the band to play again."
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited January 2011
“Not too many Hellknights will be left, I believe. A garrison, perhaps. Enough to act as an embassy of sorts between Westcrown and the Citadel” Janiven replies at the Half-Orc’s question.
With all questions answered, Janiven returns to the task at hand. “Very well then! Here’s what I know.” Janiven pulls out a scroll, opens it, and places it on the table. On the scroll, is a map of Cheliax, with a large red X written on it, on the road between Citadel Rivad and Westcrown.
Overworld Map:
“Citadel Rivad lies northwest of the city of Westcrown. As I said awhile ago, it’s the fortress and training ground for the Order of the Rack Hellknights. The road to the citadel is an offshoot from the main road that winds off to the southwest—the land along the route to the citadel is mostly open plain, with a few scattered groves of trees (some of which are cut back every few years to make it harder for bandits to hide) and one stone bridge crossing a stream. With rare exceptions, the only people who use the road are Hellknights or those providing services for them, such as supplies, messages, and so on, and on a typical day only three or four groups travel the road in either direction.“
“Because of the low traffic and the proximity to the Hellknights, banditry is unheard of on this minor road (Not that anyone could possibly steal anything of worth from a Hellknight, and live mind you.), and while the forces of Citadel Rivad aren’t careless about the possibility of being attacked in this area, they certainly don’t expect it. This all makes the road the best point to attempt a rescue of the imprisoned half-elf. We’re outside Westcrown, so we’re technically not breaking any laws, while at the same time the Hellknight convoy won’t be able to receive reinforcements from either end of the road (save for a passing patrol).”
“Another factor works to our advantage—the Order of the Rack’s arrogance. The Order of the Rack is considered the oldest, and they’ve faced very few failures over their long history. As a result, the escort for Arael’s transport is relatively light. Since the entire operation to capture Arael (and the hunt for the rebels) was, basically, a training exercise, the honour of escorting Arael back to Citadel Rivad has been granted to the group of Armigers most directly responsible for his capture. The remaining forces of Armigers have long since left for Citadel Rivad, since word on the street was that they failed to catch any other supposed “rebels” (such as yourselves). This has resulted in quite a bit of shame and mockery, and much of this current crop of trainees’ remaining pride rests solely on Arael’s imminent transportation and imprisonment at Citadel Rivad. “
With the map now finally serving it's purpose, Janiven picks it up and rolls it back, while Sclavo brings out a scroll of his own. “Something I found in the archives. Good thing it’s a copy, or the Archivist might get suspicious.” he says. The young man quickly opens the scroll, revealing Rack Road with more detail.
Battle Plan:
As though rehashing a play he has memorised a hundred times, Sclavo picks up a lead pencil, draws on the map and points out at a number of places, while carrying on Janiven’s speech. “According to various reports, Arael’s trip to the Citadel will be escorted by a total of 18-19 Hellknight armigers, led by their superior; a young and gifted (but low-ranking) Hellknight Signifier named Shanwen.”
“He is the same Signifer that you crossed paths with at Vizio’s, remember?” Janiven interrupts. “He was in charge of rounding up the rebels, which of course you all managed to completely evade, and humiliate him in the process. Apparently, he’s been given a second chance to atone for his failure to capture us back at Vizio’s. Expect him to fight at his fullest when we get there.”
“Ahem!” Sclavo coughs. It seems he was not used to being interrupted in such a manner back at the City Hall.
“Pardon me, Sclavo. You may continue.”
“Now, let us continue. Even with your unique talents...” Sclavo says as he points towards the heroes, “...this is probably too many foes to handle at once—particularly since Janiven wants to avoid any Hellknight fatalities if possible. The more Hellknight armigers who live, she reasons, the less brutal the Wardens of Westcrown look (and the more humiliation and shame we can inflict on the Order of the Rack’s frail egos).”
“So, Janiven has a plan to even the odds even further. While the heroes (Henceforth known as Team Retriever) make the primary attack on the armoured wagon transporting Arael and mount his rescue, Janiven’s team (Henceforth known as Team Bushwhacker) will feint ambush the Hellknights, hoping to lure at most half of them away from the convoy. Given the absence of bandit attacks on that road, the Hellknights are sure to interpret any attack as an attempt to rescue their prisoner, and the likely response to sighting a group of what appear to be bandits stepping into the road ahead will be to split their forces, sending their mounted troops forward to handle the supposed highwaymen while the prisoner and his guards hang back and perhaps begin to turn around to make a retreat back to Westcrown so they don’t lose their prize. This would give Team Retriever fewer opponents to fight and making it much easier to free Arael—especially if the mounted Hellknights fall for the plan and ride their horses into a section of the road the secondary group prepares with caltrops."
Sclavo points towards a bridge on the map, pointing out the small stone bridge that crosses the swift but relatively narrow stream called the Athua, “We will wait for the convoy to move right on top of the bridge. Once they are on it, we’ll pull out Team Bushwhacker at the front. While some of the Hellknights are busy at the front, Team Retriever will come from behind, hoping to trap the wagon from both sides.” He also indicates a few locations before and after the bridge where there’s much more tree cover to allow a hit-and run attack and to complicate pursuit via horseback. “Of course, Team Bushwhacker isn’t equipped to handle a full on assault on the convoy. We’ll rely on hit-and-run tactics, hoping to force the Hellknights to fight on foot. This plan relies on Team Retriever to succeed. If we fail here, the Wardens of Westcrown is finished.”
With Sclavo having finished his speech, Janiven continues. “Also, we leave for Rack Road early the morrow, before the sun’s first light shines in the sky. The sooner we leave, the more time we have to prepare our ambush. As for transport, Ermolos has a friend that owes him one: a stablemen named Jacovo will lend us all horses, on the condition we return to him in one piece. Until then, we have the rest of the day to prepare ourselves. Ermolos will provide the resistance members with weaponry and armour. If you have any business left in the city, or with resistance members, now’s the time to wrap things up.”
With their plan completely detailed to the rest of the group, both Janiven and Sclavo look back at the rest of the group.
Hertzog's mind flashes to the crossbow bolt, stuck in a falling Gensai back in the Westcrown sewers. A shudder passes through is body as the scene replays itself in his head and then, staring at Janiven, he steels himself and croaks out,
"Be careful, friend"
As the next day's plan is laid before him, the half-orc does his best to follow, paying close attention to the nooks and crannies surrounding the bridge. Memories of the Signifier and the tavern bring with them memories of the explosion and Janiven's knowing face.
"Janiven, If you can bring down a building in an instant, could you have any luck destroying an old bridge? In case the Hellknights decide they want a swim back across..."
As the explanation winds down, Hertzog considers the day given to him to prepare. Though much needs to be done, he pulls Larko aside for a moment and asks,
"Is it safe for us outside today? I would like to have a day to wander as a free man the streets I am to save."
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited January 2011
"I'm afraid not, Hertzog..." Janiven replies to the Half-Orc's question.
"Explosive dust, or 'Moradin's Fury' as the Dwarves call it, is quite rare, especially here in Cheliax. I rigged Vizio's with explosives in case of any event the Warden's meetings were comprimised by outside officials. Yesterday merely proved my suspicions. As for getting more explosives, I'm afraid we're out of luck there."
"Besides, no doubt Arael would not look too kindly on such an act, especially if we're trying to rescue him. The last thing he'd want is the Wardens to turn to terrorism. You must understand."
With that out of the way, Janiven continues on. "Any more questions?"
As Larko was pulled aside for the moment by Hertzog, he eyed the Half-Orc in front of him.
"Wan to live tha normal life for a moment? Aye, I can unnerstand that. Provided yer not goin' to tha gates to see off the Hellknights, keep to yerself, and don't make a scene, then Aye, I guess yer can walk around a free man. Why, yer lookin' for somethin?"
"Just to wander... Actually, if you know of a weapons merchant, I can look for a ... surprise for Shanwen"
...
As Janiven and Sclavo's explanation winds down, Hertzog walks among his new friends, talking with Typhor about strategy for the next day. Watching William and Grokka and Josephine train and looking slightly aghast at the difference between his and Alainn's tub. As the plans for the day settle, Hertzog steps out into the streets of Westcrown, borrowing a robe from Ermolos to cover the hides of his armor and the chain wrapped around his waist. He wouldn't sound like a convincing priest, but hopefully he wouldn't look like an escaped slave.
Once out on the streets, Hertzog moves quickly away from the hideout, looking back once to impress the sight of the building on his memory. After taking the first two turns in uninhabited streets, he slows, hopeful that his origin will remain a secret to other pedestrians. It is only a few more streets then until he manages to find a crowd of people and move along with it.
Hertzog floats down the streets, flowing with the crowds as they move to merchants and bakeries and inns, carried as easily by the stream of people as he would by tides. For hours he winds around the southern roads of Westcrown, far removed from House Dioso's influence and happy to have even a few hours without responsibilites. As he moves through the crowds, Hertzog notices more and more the expressions on people's faces. Obligation and sadness sat on the free folk of Westcrown as plainly as it did on the slaves of house Dioso.
Lost in thought, the setting sun glints off Hertzog's eyes and brings him back to Larko's directions. Having been directed to a merchant in the docks, Hertzog orients himself and begins walking deliberately, not wanting to squander the last bit of the day. A few quick turns brings him to the merchant's shop, Hertzog's short but imposing frame silhouetted against the setting sun, the old man at the front of the shop stammers, wary of priestly robes
"I don't think we have what you're..."
Dropping the hood to reveal his hair and hides and chain, the man jumps, but then smiles knowingly.
"Ahh, Larko sent word that he had a friend coming. You're a lucky man! The spiked chain is not a weapon you see much in this city."
Hobbling to a corner of the room, the merchant grabs a cloth-wrapped bundle and opens it on the table at the front of the room. Inside is a long chain of grey metal links, finished at each end by a handle and sharpened point, nearly a foot in length each. Eerily, the metal makes almost no sounds as the links are moved. Even picking the weapon up, the sound coming from it sounds a hundred feet away. Nodding at the merchant, Hertzog picks up the chain accidentally cutting the cloth it had been wrapped in as he does so. Impressed by the metal and the obvious magic at work in the weapon, Hertzog smiles and puts it back down, then hands a bag of gold over to the merchant. Speaking awkwardly after spending so many hours mute.
"Thank you"
"And thank you!" the old man croaks, as he picks through his payment, "I don't envy whoever Larko has you protecting him from."
Wrapping himself up, Hertzog hurries back toward the abandoned temples and his friends hideout, eyes warily on the lookout for Dottari or Hellknights. As he enters, a sense of relief washes over him. If anything, a day in the crowds of Westcrown did even more to convince him the virtue of Janiven's plans. For now though, the rest of the night was ahead of him and there was important work to be done. Maybe he would start by asking Alainn about those soaps and oils...
OOC
Subtle Spiked Chain +1
Price: 680 gp (20 party gold remains) Weapon: Any melee Enhancement: +1 attack rolls and damage rolls Critical: +1d6 damage Property: Whenever you make a damage roll with this weapon against an enemy granting combat advantage to you, you gain an item bonus to the damage roll against that enemy. The item bonus equals this weapon’s enhancement bonus
Grokka sees Hertzog re-enter the temple out of the corner of his eye, but continues with his training. Typhor has proven to be an extremely wise, if not slightly damp, tutor. After the training of the day has completed, Grokka retires to his regular area, forever scratching down lyrics and humming notes to himself. If these days were to be his last, he would leave such an opus, such a score as to never be forgotten. Wounds heal and scars fade, but music in the hearts and minds will live forever.
After an apparent lull hit the training session and everyone began to mill about, Grokka approached Hertzog and inquired about the busier areas he may have visited in his shopping trip. With a set of general directions the bard set out for the streets, clad in a similar cloak, and began wading through the crowd.
A being of his massive stature was already a bit of a stand-out, but when the cloak was shed and Grokka broke out into song the crowd drew almost immediatly. He heaved himself up onto a nearby empty horsecart, taking note of a fairly non-descript alley to his rear. The goliath began regaling the crowd with jokes and stories, drawing not only smiles and applause but the occasional coin flipped through the air and landed at his feet. Grokka resisted the urge to sing songs of their recent exploits as to not draw a passing patrol, but he dropped subtle phrases here and there that no doubt were lost on the crowd, but made himself smile none the less.
As the crowd began to dwindle a bit, and the local guards were drawing longer glances at the entertainer, Grokka decided now would be a good time for a hasty retreat to their sanctuary. "Thank you Westcrowne, you've been wonderful. Your smiles, laughs and most importantly your coins are appreciated. Keep your hearts light in these times. The Wardens stand with you." and with a whirl of his cloak he snatched up the coins, covered himself and ducked into the alley to lose his audience. Laughing to himself, he thumbed through the coins he'd gathered and thought to himself "Even with all this hero work, Grokka hasn't lost his touch with a crowd. Not bad for a couple hour's work"
Grokka opened up the massive doors to the temple and tossed the moneypouch on the central table. "It's not a fortune, but it'll buy a potion or two. For what it's worth, we're winning the war of hearts and minds." he said, smiling proudly.
Streetwise check: 19
Streetwise / 5: 3.8 = 3
Shinies Roll: 46G added to the war effort
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
edited January 2011
After lying down for the night plenty, you are each awakened by Janiven sometime the morrow during what most would call the twilight of the dawn. As you exit the temple (via the secret entrance, as using the front door might attract suspicion) you notice very few stars still cling onto the sky, as each one slowly disappears as the sky itself starts turning into a crimson hue. No doubt in less than an hour the first rays of the sun will shine, and greet the coming of the dawn.
As you reach for the front entrance of the temple, you spot Ermolos (who was decked in rather elegant-looking armour, as well as brandishing a longsword and heavy shield on his back) with ten horses in tow. When asked where he got the armour, he merely smiles and says: “You think I was an armourer my whole life? Heh. I used to be quite the young adventurer back in the day. Just surprised it still fits after all these decades.” Soon, the others resistance members make their way to the temple courtyard. Fiosa, dressed in simple leather armour, follows closely behind Yakopulio, who was wearing the same armor,as well as what appeared to be goggles on top of her pink hair. “Something I won off a bet back at the inn a few months ago. Allows me to accurately hit any sorry blighter who’s in my crosshair,” the gnome says, as she points to her crossbow she carries on her back. Fiosa, a little less aggressive than her peers, reveals a small knife she had sheathed on her belt. “Not that I’d fight at close, mind you. But I’d rather support me friends on the field with me mighty prayers of Erathis.”
Larko and Sclavo were the last to arrive. Larko wore what appeared to be hide armour, and wielded what appeared to be two longswords (one in each hand). The attire made him look more like a ranger of the forest than that of a (supposedly) honest dock worker. “Aye, it’s all I have to work with. But it’ll do tha trick!” the burly man says, and gives an annoyed look at the giggling Gnome nearby. Yak merely took it as a challenge, and both started staring at each other with serious, crossed looks.
Sclavo on the other hand, wore heavy armor, as well as wielded what appeared to be a great sword. Based on his appearance, he looks actually much more younger than without the armour. “My father’s father used to be a Paladin to Erathis, back in the day,” he says. “When my father passed of old age, he gave me this armour. Looks like I was glad that I didn’t sell it, otherwise I’d be the only one out of the fight. Gods! If this armour wasn’t so heavy to wear and the sword not so heavy and troublesome, I’d have join some holy order by now. Guess I’d have to blame the simple profession of a scribe for that.”
OOC: Here’s some pics to get a general idea of how they all look. Janiven is pretty much the same as you met her at Vizio’s.
Ermolos: Larko: Sclavo:
Just without the shield.
Fiosa: Yak:
Just without the weird furry things on her neck.
As each person got onto their offered horse (except of course for Fiosa and Yak; they had to hitch a ride with the others, with Yak unfortunately paired with the equally unfortunate Larko) they set off, towards the outer city gate that opens to Rack Road.
On their way towards the city gate, they could spot strange, shadowy forms moving about in alleys, inside sewer grates, and even on the rooftops. Their darkness makes it difficult to divulge their true forms, although some of them managed to spot what appeared to be tentacles on one form, and a strange, elongated beak on another. With the glint of the sun’s first rays though, these shadowy forms start to dissapate into the remaining static shadows. The creatures were gone, and by the time the Dottari would start their patrols, the Wardens would be long gone from Westcrown. As they continue with their trek to the gate though, they could not help but feel a strange, eerie sensation on the back of their necks, as though they were still being watched...
End of Chapter 2
Chapter 3: A Dramatic Rescue
Once they were out of Westcrown though, things started to feel much less tense. The journey proved uneventful (though still calm, thankfully) as the heroes made their way towards the bridge that crosses the Sedna River. Once they got there, everyone climbed off their horses.
Janiven surveys the area. Satisfied that there were no Hellknight patrols, she quickly orders Larko, Sclavo, and Ermolos to start spreading out the caltrops in front of the bridge, as well as try to disguise the caltrops by throwing sand on top of them. She tasks Fiosa and Yak to hide the horses, preferring that they conceal them in the nearby forest. Satisfied the resistance members were busy preparing the ambush, she walks over to the heroes.
“Judging by the sun’s height, and our speed, the Hellknight convoy should appear in less than an hour,” Janiven answers. “That should give us time to prepare ourselves. Hide in the bushes if you must, but remember, the important thing is not to be seen. My team will distract them, and once you see the signal, you’ll jump out (and hopefully surprise the remaining Hellknights). One last thing: remember that we are NOT to KILL any Hellknights in this fight! Other than that, any more questions?”
OOC: Here’s the battle map for Team Retriever (ie. You guys). If you guys have anything more to ask Janiven or the others, now’s the last time. Afterwards, pick a spot on the map (within the bushes, of course) and show me your !Readies.
Shuddering at the shadowy forms as they slink away from the light, Hertzog tries to focus on Janiven's plan for the morning. Whatever it was that lurked in the Westcrown streets would have to wait; one battle at a time. Finish that and then worry about the next. It was a mantra that still sounded in his head.
As they leave the city, a sense of apprehension leaves Hertzog. It is much harder to imagine Hellknights and Dottari around each corner with open fields rolling out in every direction. So comforted, he turns to Sclavo, speaking just above a whisper,
"You look good friend. I half expected to see you here in noble's purple and jewels. This, i think, suits you better."
As they reach their destination, Hertzog looks back to the city walls, increasingly aware of the battle that would soon descend on the heroes. Picking one of the bushes next to the road, Hertzog plants himself inside, green and brown from his skin and armor matching the tones of the plant around him. Though he does his best to settle into a comfortable position, the out-doors are clearly not an environment he is used to.
Grokka could feel the group's mood rise as they began moving out with purpose. The poor quarterhorse whined under Grokka's immense form but by all accounts he held up just fine. A small pat and a gentle tune hummed under the breath seemed to give the horse a little boost as they started out of town. Shifting forms in the periphery of his vision caused Grokka's heartrate to peak a bit, but as he began to rub the lucky paw strung around his neck he began to calm. After they'd been full clear of town he began with the traveler's chant, seemingly speeding the horses along and bringing cheer to the group.
Upon nearing the bridge Grokka drew silent and set about hiding himself in the largest growth of bushes...
... after settling into his spot he realized that he very well may have planted himself directly in a grove of poisonous shrubs. He made a mental note to describe the leaves to someone should he develop a rash. Strange shrub notwithstanding, Grokka managed to hunker in and cover himself fairly well. He steeled his mind for a potentially long wait and an assuredly difficult fight by whispering a battle hymn to himself, lightly tapping on his hip to keep time.
William is too caught up in the thought of rescuing some of his brothers and sisters from the monastery to say even a single word in the morning. He quietly rides to the ambush point, and inserts himself in one of the nearby bushes, crouch low, sword drawn.
The others around him can feel the air vibrate slightly, sensing a rising storm welling up within the young Swordmage.
Typhor watches as the others conceal themselves in the vegetation near the crossing. Though the bush they've chosen is large, and his comrades have done a fairly good job of concealing themselves, Typhor decides he'd probably not press his luck trying to squeeze into the remaining space.
Striding into the stream without hesitation, Typhor positions himself beneath the arch of the bridge, bracing himself against the current with one hand against the underside of the bridge. Although he's not being particularly quiet, the roar of the stream fortunately covers most of the noise.
Having staked out his position, Typhor mentally readies himself for combat as he patiently awaits the arrival of the Hellknights, and considers the various battle orders he may need to issue.
I'll be using Spur to Action, so when you roll initiative, you can go ahead and roll again if you're not happy with the first one. Please note that if you do roll twice, you must use the second result.
!ready
FunkyWaltDogg on
0
TiamatZGhost punsThe Banette of my existenceRegistered Userregular
With preparations finally over, the two teams go into hiding. Team Retriever hides in the bush closest to the bridge (with the exception of Typhor, as he hides under the bridge). Team Bushwhacker hides in the nearby trees, hoping the shade to hide their numbers.
What felt like an eternity (which was actually one whole hour); the heroes soon heard the creaking of what sounded like a wooden wheel grinding on the road. Indeed, in the distance came the Hellknight convoy, with ten Armigers on horseback, and the remaining nine on foot, protecting a large black carriage in the middle. As the carriage came ever so closer, the heroes could also spot what appeared to be a large heavy crossbow (essentially a small ballista) mounted on top of the carriage roof. They could also spot the superior of this convoy sitting on a bench driving the carriage. Though he didn’t wear the same helmet, his build and posture was indeed familiar: the Signifer of yesterday, that attacked Vizio’s when the heroes met up for the first time.
Image of Signifer:
As the convoy starts crawling over the bridge, Janiven knew the time was right. As she starts shouting at the Hellknights, she (along with a few others) comes rushing out of the tree cover a few hundred yards west of the ambush site towards the Hellknights, weapons drawn. As they do so, the Hellknights immediately stop; mocking laughter and shouts of delighted challenge coming from the Hellknights’ side, revealing once more their arrogance. That was, until a crossbow bolt came flying through the air (no doubt from Yak’s own crossbow), hitting one of the mounted Hellknight’s on the shoulder. The smiles and laughter abruptly end, and faces of anger start to form on their visages. The ten mounted horsemen soon gallop forward, unaware of the trap laid for them. As the riders hit the caltrops, two things happen at once: the horses shriek in pain and stagger, breaking the charge and bucking their unskilled riders from their saddles, knocking all of the riders off completely. As the riders start standing up, they notice the ‘bandits’ backing off, chiding them to fight them. The Signifer, disgusted at this cowardly act, shouts at the soldiers.
“After them! Hunt those bastards down! We’ll show them what happens to would-be-highwaymen what it is to mess with the Hellknights on their own road! To Arms!”
With that, the forward Hellknights rush forward towards the Wardens of Westcrown, unaware of the nearby heroes just waiting to let loose their own trap.
Highest Enemy Perception Check: 18
One of the nearby stationary soldiers spots what appear to be rocks shaking in a nearby bush. Grokka immediately remains still, hoping that his large bulk don’t get them caught.
Grokka’s stealth check: Failed [1/2 failures]
The soldier immediately shakes his head. “Must be seeing things...” he reasons.
Though the Hellknights remain tense, they haven’t spotted our heroes. Now was the time for the heroes to strike...
Picture of the Prison Wagon (as well as someone being badass in the process): Surprise Round!
Map (Surprise Round):
Yeah, I know horses are technically Large creatures, but I made this map before realizing it. So just think of them as Large (2X2) creatures for now. It'll be fixed once Round 1 starts.
Stats:
(C13) Alainn HP 28/28
(C12) Grokka HP 33/33
(D12) Hertzog HP 34/34
(H17) Typhor HP 35/35
(D13) William HP 40/40
(J13) Hellknight Armiger #1 HP 40/40
(K13) Hellknight Armiger #2 HP 40/40
(G12) Hellknight Armiger #3 HP 40/40
(H11) Hellknight Armiger #4 HP 40/40
(M11) Hellknight Armiger #5 HP 40/40
(N12) Hellknight Armiger #6 HP 40/40
(K14) Armiger Officer #1 HP 37/37
(G10) Armiger Officer #2 HP 37/37
(N10) Armiger Officer #3 HP 37/37
(K17) Signifer Shanwen[Elite] HP 104/104
Monster Details:
Hellknight Armiger: HP 40/40 AC 19; Fort 18, Reflex 14, Will 14, Speed 6; Vision: Normal
Special:
Hellknight Armor (Armiger):
Hellknights are known and feared for their intimidating suits of armor. Armiger ranks gain a +1 bonus to AC (already added).
Armiger Officer: HP 37/37 AC 17; Fort 14, Reflex 14, Will 14, Speed 5; Vision: Normal
Special:
Hellknight Armor (Armiger):
Hellknights are known and feared for their intimidating suits of armor. Armiger ranks gain a +1 bonus to AC (already added).
Combat Advantage:
Armiger Officers deal 1d6 extra damage on melee and ranged attacks against any creature granting combat advantage to it.
Signifer Shanwen [Elite]: HP 104/104 AC 22; Fort 18, Reflex 17, Will 21, Speed 5; Vision: Normal; Saving Throws: +2; Action Points: 1
Special:
Hellknight Armor (Signifer):
Hellknights are known and feared for their intimidating suits of armor. Signifer ranks gain a +2 bonus to AC, as well as a +1 bonus to all other defences (already added).
Ward of Vitality (Aura 2):
Allies who begin their turn within the aura gain 3 Temp HP, as long as the Signifer isn’t bloodied.
Terrible Visage:
After the Signifer becomes bloodied, until the end of the encounter, he gains a +2 bonus on melee damage rolls against the character that bloodied him.
I posted the coordinates of everyone as well, making it easier to plan your attacks (Letter, then number).
Another way to make it easier is to post what monster you hit e.g. Melee Basic attack on Hobgoblin grunt(F5)
River: The stream isn’t particularly cold, but it quickly reaches a depth of 4 feet. The water flows fast; any swimming creature not actively moving against the current travels with it at a rate of 4 squares per round (wading creatures are unaffected). The river is considered difficult terrain (since your wading through). Standing up from lying prone in the stream is a standard action (not a move action).
Bridge: The bridge is made of mortared stone and is a single arc span across the stream, cresting about 2 feet above the water level at its highest point (so basically 6 feet from the river's bottom, so it's possible to stand under it if your less than 6 feet in height). It is quite sturdy and counts as a masonry wall, with the top equivalent to a flagstone floor (which means it's quite resistant to explosive spells like fireball etc.).
Prison Wagon: Arael is being transported in an enclosed carriage built to hold and transport prisoners. The carriage has a locked door (With a Thievery of DC 25 to pick the door’s lock) and is made of iron-reinforced wood (Resist 5 all, 50 hp). It is approximately 7 feet square and 5 feet high, riding about 2 feet off the ground, with a running board on the sides and rear for easy climbing to the roof and interior. A team of two horses (hitched in series) pulls it, and the driver sits on a small bench attached to the front of the roof. Mounted on top of the carriage roof is a Large heavy crossbow (essentially a small ballista); it can turn to fire in all directions, but cannot fire at a target on or adjacent to the wagon. The crossbow deals 3d8 damage on a hit, but its size means that Medium creatures must use two hands to fire it and they have a –2 attack penalty when using it. Reloading the crossbow is a standard action that provokes attacks of opportunity.
Horse: This creature, thanks to Hellknight training, is completely calm under fire. Provided they are not attacked, the horses remain in position. If you want to attack them, they each have 50 HP, with 10 to all defences.
OOC Details:
You guys have a surprise round against your targets.
Remember to roll for initiative as well (or twice, if you’re taking advantage of Typhor’s Spur Into Action ability (see post above).
Posts
"I'm sure Fiosa will be able to heal most of your wounds. She may not be a professional cleric, but she knows her way with a healing spell or so."
As the rest of the group offered no more questions, she moves towards the far end of the northern corridor.
She inspects the stone wall in front of her. All of the stones had a number of cuts to them. But Janiven knew what she was looking for.
"See, a few months ago when we found out about this hidden doorway, we made a number of cuts and gashes on most of the stones on every wall of this corridor, in hopes of confusing would-be troublemakers or spies. For the ignorant or unaware, it looked as though there was a hefty battle in here, but..."
As she stops in midsentence, she pressed on a stone with the smallest cut. As the stone disappears, a rumble starts to occur near her. Within moments, a part of the wall rumbles away, leaving a man-sized hole opening towards another hallway, which in turn ended with a ladder leading upwards.
"For those who do know, such as myself, pressing the stone with the least cuts on it will result in opening a hidden doorway. Come, the doorway won't stay open for long..."
With that, the rest of the group moves towards the ladder. As the last hero moves inside, they hear the door rumbling behind them. As they turned around, they see the once-open wall now closed, with a small symbol of Pelor revealed on one of the stones.
"Press that, and the doorway opens up from this side. But for now, follow me." Janiven answers, as she finishes climbing the ladder.
The heroes each climbed the ladder in turn. Soon, they would arrive at a place they would all least expected for a hideout for the resistance...
Quest Completed:
- Reach the rebel safehouse. [Completed]
- Follow the sword symbols on the wall. They will direct you to the safehouse proper. [Completed]
You soon climb out of the sewers, and exit into the night sky. Looking around you see a number of buildings, temples and shrines that look as if they have not been used in decades.
Alainn, Hertzog:
Glancing around you, it appears that most of these buildings are old temples to gods no longer openly worshiped in Cheliax.
Typhor,Grokka:
The old temples and shrines lead you to believe you are in Rego Sacero, also known as the priest sector. Beyond temples in disrepair, the Qatada Nessudidia (the largest temple to Asmodeus in Westcrown), as well as Vaneo Arvanxi (The Lord Mayor’s residence and The Imperial Marina) are in this sector.
Shortly after you have exited the sewers you turn to see Janiven, standing in the side doorway of an old temple dedicated to the dead god, Pelor, waving you over.
Typhor:
Though it may have been years, you can still recognize this place in your dreams. Or in your nightmares, to be exact. Just further on you could spot the open square of the temple. Though the square itself was cleansed long ago, the stench and sight of the blood spilt that day still clouds your mind. Who would have thought that you would return here? After all, it was only a few years ago, when you took part of an extremely short-lived and unsuccessful revolution. The Hellknights were brutal in their supposed ‘justice’ that day, as those who fought in the uprising (man, woman and child) were slaughtered, and those who survived were executed the following week, as a reminder of their supposed obedience to Asmodeus.
“Come quickly, it’s not safe in the streets at night, shadowbeasts and all.”
After you make your way over to the shrine, Janiven hurries towards the nearby door, and knocks on it.
One knock.
Followed by three knocks.
Which is finally completed with two knocks.
A few moments later it’s opened from the opposite side by a nervous looking man with a lantern. Judging by his fine, silver hair, long and pointed ears, and pearly eyes of vibrant blue, this man was an eladrin.
“Bloody Hells, Janiven! Do you know what time it is? There’s a rumour going on about Hellknights storming the sewers. I had feared you might have gotten yourself caught.”
“At ease Ermolos. The rumour regarding the Hellknights is indeed true, but thanks to them...” she points towards the heroes, “... I might have indeed been caught. But for now, we have other matters to discuss, regarding...”
“Areal’s capture?”
Janiven sounds honestly shocked at Ermolos's revelation. “How did you know?”
“Sclavo has told us about his capture. He heard it from one of his superiors at court. We’re discussing what to do right now. What of these five? Are they the ‘help’ Arael promised?”
“Indeed they are Ermolos. But they are in need of some rest, and perhaps a shower.”
“Very well then, Janiven. I’ll lead them to their quarters. The rest of us are waiting for you.”
Janiven turns to the rest of the group. “My apologies, this evening was not supposed to go like that. Follow Ermolos, he’ll take you to a place you can get cleaned up. When you are ready, come back out, get something to eat, and meet the others.”
With that, she respectfully bows to the rest of the group, and walks into the temple. Ermolos closes the door, and soon (after passing two or three corridors) leads you to five separate rooms.
“Here are your quarters. One good thing of these old abandoned temples: They always have lots of empty rooms to change into comfortable accomadations. Janiven even joked once that we could all live under this here roof. No doubt some of you have your own private chambers in the city. However, if you want to lay low or want a place to feel safe, then consider this temple a personal sanctuary of sorts...”
With his duty done, the Eladrin bows, leaves a lantern for the group, and heads off towards the dark corridors of the temple, igniting another spare lantern he was carrying on his belt.
"Don't worry, there are more lanterns within the rooms themselves...", Ermolos trails off, and soon he dissapears entirely as he takes a turn into another corridor.
Alainn vanishes into the depths of the temple, unerringly knowing her way to the baths without being told.
!ready
"I can't believe some of the things I saw, and most of it from my own companions, nonetheless. Alainn's searing beams of light. The whirling cyclone of chains, blade and muscle of Hertzog. Feeling myself compelled to strike and slash by just an utterance from Typhor. And all while colorfully narrated by our own bard, Grokka, who's words, dare I say, cut deeper than anyone's blade."
"What night indeed!"
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get cleaned up, then find myself some place to get a nice, hot snack!"
With that, the young Swordmage turns into the nearest room and quietly closes the door. As the door swings shut, William leans up against the door, his last strength fading. He slowly slides down the door, slumping like a ragdoll. His eyes flutter for a second or two.
"I'm sure no one noticed..." mumbles William before he eyes shut and he finds himself in the deepest sleep of his life.
!Ready
"Two tubs."
The half-orc considers the bath carefully as water is drawn and heated, doing his part, even exhausted, to help move and prepare. After a few minutes, with the steaming water before him and all company gone, he sinks awkwardly into the water. It immediately turns oily and brown. Unaware of the filth flowing off of him, Hertzog closes his eyes as his mind wanders back through the day. It turns first to the battle and the mistakes that Hertzog had made, an instinct well beaten into him by this point. From there, it moves onto worry and planning about his pursuit by House Dioso. Finally though, a smile washes over Hertzog's face as he considers his friends, and the bravery and trust they had shown.
Noticing the water as it starts to cool, Hertzog remembers the grime that had brought him here. Though much had been accumulated today, some of the muck had been ground in from years before. Working roughly with his hands, the half-orc picks off pieces of dirt and sweat that he swore had been skin. Moving his attentions from hands to torso to legs, nearly an hour passes before Hertzog gives up on his attempt at cleaning. Draining the now-cold and filthy water from the tub, he moves to consider himself in a nearby mirror. With so much grime gone, the half-orc looks... less green. Hertzog sighs at the sight, and then smiles. Maybe the full-orcs just never got a bath. And the goblins they had met were halflings subject to the same fate.
Moving back to his room, Hertzog enters quietly, and then collapses on the bed, too tired to bother with sheets or covers.
!ready
"Hmm... the fight with the undead went quite well, but we really botched the ambush on the Hellknights. And it was careless of us to allow ourselves to be caught off-guard by that first band of goblins."
After a few minutes, Typhor's review of the day's work is complete. Resolving to have a chat with Grokka on tactics for battle coordination when time permits, he stretches out on the bed and closes his eyes.
!Ready
"Sit and soak and hear a tale of heroes gathered here.
Vizio's falls and blows apart and Hellknights all draw near.
As hope, she fades, and fate, she calls, the day looks nearly done.
Yet Janiven shows her smiling face and the heroes set out for fun.
Let me tell you of our heroes true, their wills too strong to bend,
strangers gathered but hours ago, are allies to the end.
Alainn with her powers bright, and ancient as the seas.
She blasts undead and goblins both and tears them apart at the seams.
Typhor, Typhor the watery one let his blade do the singing,
he removes head from Hellnight and fiend with the pain he's bringning.
Master of sword is William the true, his bravery gives foes sorrow
While he slices them from stem to stern, he catches all of their arrows.
Hertzog the fiersome Orc, who's savagery brings the pain,
He dances almost as well as I and swings a deadly chain.
Finally Grokka, your humble bard, who's singing fills the air.
If only Josephine would listen true, they'd make a more useful pair.
Not Hellknight, Sewer or filthy Gob' have stopped us yet this day,
With new allies gathered around we'll make the bastards pay.
Grokka chuckles to himself and finishes up his bath. As he revels in his freshly cleaned skin, he lays in bed and the true horrors of what he's seen over the last few hours begin to wash over him. A grim distance appears in his eyes and with his greatsword clutched tight across his chest he lies awake, staring up at the ceiling long into the night.
!Ready
By the time each one of you woke up from your deep slumber, you notice rays of light piercing through every thick veiled curtain that shuts every window in the Chapel, most notably your own chambers. Those daring to take a peek through of the murky capes lining the windows, they noticed that the sun has long since risen, teetering over the city in the aqua coloured sky, it’s position even towering far above the 90-foot tall grand (though sadly still neglected) Pelornama, a soaring monument that once was every Chelaxian’s pride and joy. Now it’s nothing more than the city’s constant reminder of their once living patron’s failure. However, nary a soul could be seen walking the streets.
OOC:
Regardless, each of you gather your gear, and prepare yourself for the meeting with Janiven and the other resistance members.
By the time you are all finished, the procedure was the same for each of you: the door opens, and Ermolos (the man from the previous night) comes in to see if you are ready. Satisfied with your preparations, he merely nods and says: “Well then, let’s be off. Last I left the meeting, the rest of the members were arguing amongst themselves again. The same thing, of course: what will we call ourselves? Pfft. As if names ever mattered when fighting for something right. Oh well...”
With that, Ermolos leaves it as it is, and escorts the group towards the Hall.
When you arrive, you appear to be in what used to be a small congregation hall. You see Janiven in a spirited debate with a number of other individuals around a makeshift round table. Ermolos was correct after all: It seems the debate is over what they should call themselves.
“I say we should call ourselves the The Knights of Westcrown. It’s obvious we fight for a just cause!”
“Calling ourselves Knights? Isn’t that a bit hypocritical? Considering that some of us drove away the HellKnights? I mean, we’re not really chivalrous in our tactics to help the common citizen. Since we’re held up in a church of Pelor, why not call ourselves The Scions of Pelor?”
“Scions to a dead god? That perhaps the most stupidest thing I ever heard coming from you, Larko! ‘Sides, we don’t need no gods! There never was, we never needed them, and good riddance, I say!”
“Then what do you propse we call ourselves, Yak? The Guardians of Cheliax?”
“That’s awful as well, you blimy taffer! We’re trying to get the people on our side, not chase them off! Most common folk know the true Guardians of Cheliax are those tin men, the Hellknights, and their puppet master, House Thrune! It’s like we’re calling ourselves the Hellknight replacements. Use your head Larko!”
“Why you little, shifty eyed, pink haired little bi...”
“Enough, Larko. I know you mean well, but she is quite right, blunt though she may be. We should be more subtle in our attempts to win the people’s heart. I still think Janiven’s proposal sounds much better. The Children of Westcrown. Why not use that?”
“Because, it sounds rather silly. Makes us sound like one of those absurd groups that makes things up as they go. We need to sound professional. You know, for street cred.”
OOC:
As you enter the room, Janiven smiles, and tries to silence the arguing group.
“Good morning, my allies. I thought the ordeal from last night was quite... a tribulation. So I tasked Ermolos to keep an eye on you, and inform me once you woke up. But right now, on to the task at hand. This is our ‘little circle’, so to speak, of resistance members in our group. She makes a point of introducing you all to the other members of the “resistance”, as she puts it.
She points towards the Eladrin standing right next to you. “Of course, you’ve met Ermolos from last night. He’s a blacksmith here in Westcrown, and an excellent enchanter of fine armour and other trinkets, should you have need of his skills. Since the Hellknights have put him out of business a few weeks ago, he’s since offered to be the custodian of the temple, if only to keep himself busy.”
Ermolos silently nods.
Secondly, Janiven points to a small, young girl. Upon closer inspection, the young girl was actually a Halfling.
“This hear is Fiosa, a house servant of House Arvanxi, and she’s a friend with many (if not all) halfling slaves in Westcrown.”
“Bless you well, Janiven, but the only servant I am, is that to me god Erathis. Blessed to all whom worship and follow her.”
The nearby Gnome scoffs at Fiosa’s comment towards Erathis, but is rewarded with a scowl from the Halfling’s side.
The Gnome stays quiet, but still continues to pout.
“Oh yes, I forgot. Fiosa’s also our local cleric. As a follower of Erathis, she knows her way with the healing arts of the Divine. William, if you have some time, perhaps asking for Fiosa’s to help properly heal you from those arrow wounds you received last night might prove favourable.”
“Well, it’s the least I could do for you Janiven, after you and Arael helped smuggle several of me captive Halfling brothers and sisters out of Westcrown (and more importantly, out of a particularly heinous merchant’s home). Because of that, I’ll gladly offer my healing hands for you and the resistance.”
After Fiosa, Janiven points toward a large, bulky looking sea dog. The human male appears to be labourer of some sorts, perhaps even a dock worker.
“This here is Larko. He’s our eyes and ears on the dockside of Westcrown. He keeps tabs on all form of rumour, news and stories people hear on Westcrown’s docks. Through him, we may also keep tabs on what’s going and happening in the outside world. He also has ties to some smugglers on the docks, so if you have need of looking for hard to find items, Larko’s your man.”
Larko raises and waves his hand at the group. "Well met."
Continuing on, Janiven brings you to meet an a soft-spoken male that Janiven introduces as Sclavo.
“It was Sclavo that informed the rest of us about Arael’s capture.”
“Indeed, Janiven. You’d be quite surprised what the hypocritical farces back at the bureaucracy bellow when you keep a sharp ear about.”
“Yes, indeed. Sclavo’s long worked as a scribe for many of Westcrown’s courts. It was his loathing of the current laws of Westcrown that has pushed him into helping us, by keeping up with news in the courts within Westcrown government.”
Finally, Janiven introduces you to Yakopulio, a rather irreverent, mouthy, young gnomish girl with fiery pink hair. “We mostly call her Yak for short.”
“This is the supposed aid you promised us that’ll help us? I must say, I’m a bit... disappointed at this bit of news.” Yak says, as she whistles a mocking tone.
“Don’t mind her; she’s always a bit unpleasant to newcomers. Her ego must be compensating for something.” Larko retorts.
Yak sticks her tongue out at the salty man. “Least my wit’s bigger than that you keep in your head. What did you bother calling it? A brain? I’m surprised you even knew you had one in you.”
"Yak is a bartender at a tavern called the Bruised Eel, one that is quite frequented by many travellers from abroad. If Larko hears what happens at sea, Yak here could hear what happens in faraway lands."
Janiven ends the introductions with; “And obviously, you all have already met Morosino, our eyes and ears in the busy parts of the city, and unfortunately I can’t introduce you to Arael at the moment.”
She smiles and continues. “Well then, now that I’ve introduced you to the rest of our ‘small family’, what say the rest of you introduce yourselves to the rest of the resistance members. I only told them some slight details. No doubt all of them would like to hear from you personally.”
OOC:
Edit: WallofText No Jutsu!
"Wardens of Westcrowne."
"William Sherbourne, student of blade and magic. I was taught by old Barrien Galanthil to respect the art and beauty of each, as well as all thing of Corellon. Unfortunately as of this morning, everything I knew and everyone I cared about was either burned, murdered or worse, at the hands of an Inquistor, and I have yet to find a new home. But it's not all a sad story, for I did manage to fall in with a very talented and interesting group of heroes."
William turns to the rest of the group.
"The Wardens of Westcrowne? Sounds like the title of an epic story I should like to read to my kids one day," he adds, with a wink towards his comrades
Hertzog smiles, showing a little of his orcish fangs to Yak in the process, but trusting his build and scars to convey the rest of his seriousness. Uncomfortable talking about himself, Hertzog closes his eyes briefly, and then opens them to speak,
"Are we safe here with Arael in custody? I have never seen a part of the city be so dead, but I can't imagine it taking long for ... someone to arrive if they knew where we were."
Pausing for a moment, Hertzog shakes his head, thinking that his chances for foolish heroism had long since passed
"Or maybe I should ask, can Arael be safe with us sitting here in abandoned buildings."
"Typhor Jett, soldier and master of arms."
From the tone of his voice, it's clear that Typhor isn't pleased. He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continues.
"How is it possible that you've decided now is a good time to debate the name of your organization? Do you even have a clue what you've gotten yourselves into?" Typhor glances towards Janvien for a moment, then presses on. "I trust that you're all skilled and loyal to the cause you've chosen, but it seems clear to me that you fail to comprehend the magnitude of the task ahead of us, and of the very real danger we're all in right now."
Looking to Hertzog for support, he adds, "There's no question of whether the Hellknights will be able to extract our location from Arael, it's simply a matter of when; we can't know how much time we have, but we'd best proceed as if they're already on their way here."
"A name is more than just cause for debate dear Typhor. A name properly disseminated can strike fear into the hearts of the Hellknights and bring courage to the downtrodden. We've given them cause to worry and now we must strike at them again while they are still reeling from this setback. Strike bold, strike hard, and strike fast. Drive their failure into their hearts and let them cower before that they do not understand.
True faith without coercion."
Typhor turns to Janvien, and asks, "What do you think of our chances to rescue Arael? Or do you have another plan? We need to weigh our options and make a decision, and we need to do it quickly."
"Well, it’s kind of... lacking in said intimidation, but I’d guess it’s a good start."
”Aye. For once we agree on something."
Ermolos nods in approval. "In the ancient times, Wardens were once conscripts from the poor and downtrodden, who would protect the roads and pathways of nations during times of war or crises. I heartily approve of this name."
The rest of them nod in unison.
Janiven raises he hand in the air. “Very well then! From this moment on, we shall henceforth be known as the Wardens of Westcrown. We shall strike fear in the oppressors, become a curse to those who would oppress, protect the guiltless, and become a beacon of hope in a land of none.”
In unison, the resistance members stand at attention, and raise their hands high in the air, as though saluting some spectre above them.
“Aye!”
“Aye!”
“Aye!”
“Aye!”
“Aye!”
With that, the rest of the resistance members (barring Ermolos, who was still standing next to Grokka) take their seats once more.
Janiven looks once more at the group now standing in front of her. What was once a mere meagre resistance now blossomed with the inclusion of five brave and bold adventurers. Adventurers who would, from her perspective, act as a figurehead for the times to come.
“Now, on to the matter at hand. First off, Typhor. We all knew the risks we were going to take when forming an organization such as this. Some of us... knew friends from the previous riots... all those years ago. I need not remind you of those... awful times. Ermolos lost his business. Even Sclavo is risking not only his career, but his very life when he signed up for this. I could understand this whole naming fiasco to be childish. But as Alainn so put it, we need a name, or a title, to strike fear into the hearts of the oppressors and bring courage to the downtrodden. But since that is now over, we can come to terms with what is going on.”
“As we all now know, Morosino has informed us that Arael has been captured by the Hellknights. However, it was Sclavo who confirmed that it is the Dottari that now holds him prisoner. Of course, before Sclavo left earlier this morning, he had heard of the news that Hellknights have finally secured control over Arael, the bureaucratic complications of what jurisdiction the prisoner fell into finally having been resolved in the Order of the Rack’s favour. As such, he’s now in the hands of the Hellknights. I personally know Arael, and he won’t betray the resistance. His devotion to do what’s right far exceeds his fear of intimidation. IF he was going to tell the Dottari of our location, reat assured, it would take the Dotarri weeks, if not days to find out, giving us ample time to find a new hideout. With the Hellknights... well, even the most immovable person soon find themselves prey to the Hellknights diabolic magic and other extreme interrogation methods. "
"All is not lost though..." Janiven continues, "... for we have another advantage, or should I say another two advantages, in our favour. You see, since the... riots all those years ago, the bureaucracy had placed a number of ‘restrictions’ on the Hellknights’ operations within the city. Their callousness and brashness all those years ago now ironically hinder them as well, for now they cannot interrogate prisoners within the city walls. Secondly, due to their unauthorized and irresponsible (and thankfully, fruitless) city wide search within the city, the government has decided to ban most Hellknight operations within the city, effectively booting most of them out of the city. Becuase of this, the Hellknights would question Arael in the safety of their Citadel. If they were to do that him, they would have to effectively transfer him from Westcrown to their fortress, Citadel Rivad (the Hellknight Stronghold). Once he’s there, he’s as good as lost; Citadel Rivad had been under siege from over 50 armies... all of whom failed to break the outer walls, let alone the Citadel itself. It's impenetrable, and I doubt we could get him out, even with all of your might, my friends. However, during his transference, he is effectively out of the city, and therefore, beyond their rules and protection. Which means that the best time to break him out would be just outside the city, before they make their way to the Citadel.”
Janiven smiles. “Of course, the reason the city is so quiet, is due to the Hellknights' unauthorized search throughout the city sewers. THe Hellknights seem to have spooked the locals, and Fiosa even confirmed me the rumours of some of the nobility being cooped up in their mansions. Yak and Larko here even heard a number of complaints and rumours flowing in the taverns and at the docks in the City that last night’s actions were looked down upon the government, and that they believe the Hellknights went too far (not that they were fond of the Hellknights, mind you). Now they’re effectively being kicked out of the city. Well... most of them, anyway. As to why the city is so empty. Well, if the citizens aren’t staying indoors, they’re probably at the city gates, hiding away from the Hellknights’ gaze, silently smiling at the newest failed attempt the Hellknights have done. Hellknights (especially the Order of the Rack) don’t make mistakes often, so it’s comes as no surprise some people are actually enjoying this debacle. We have heard rumours of the final convoy of Hellknights that are leaving tomorrow morning. And we believe that a number of prisoners will be escorted in a prison carriage, one we believe to be Arael. As to why they decided on escorting the prisoners in the last convoy? Only the Hellknights would know." Janiven looks up, and stares at WIlliam. "William... it is possible that some of your brothers who were taken from the Monastery might be in that convoy as well.”
With the proverbial apple offered to them, Janiven hoped she piqued their interest. She smirks. “Now, are you all interested in listening in on the rest of my plan? If this works as planned, we’ll not only be able to rescue Arael (and any other prisoners), but also give those Hellknights one more bloody nose before they run off and hide behind their fortress walls.”
As the rest of the current resistance members start to listen in on Janiven’s daring plan, Ermolos moves towards the Goliath, hoping to talk to him in private.
“I can enchant a blade as mighty as you want it...” he whispers to Grokka. “But remember, only a bad workman blames his tools, or in this case, an inexperienced soldier blames his weapon. In time, one of such...girth and enthusiasm such as yourself might fell mountains without breaking a sweat one day. But until then, you’d best train hard and well. Perhaps asking Sir William or Master Typhor for some assistance or training might be best for a first step.”
And with that, the seemingly wise (for his age) Eladrin moves and takes his seat on the table with the rest of the group, hoping to add his own piece of advice to Janiven’s plan.
"And my brothers? My friends? Is it possible? We mustn't miss this opportunity!"
William looks around nervously at the strangers sitting around the table. "And if we do manage to rescue them, I'm sure they'd be a resource for us. While not everyone was a master of sword play, all were a master of knowledge, books, and learning. Surely they'd be able to aid us against this oppression. I mean, we all saw what was around us, but never said a word. We all knew it wasn't right, but what was one to do? We all figured, if they leave us alone, we can leave well enough alone. But the events of the last couple days...this changes everything!"
The young Swordmage, like a child looking towards his mother, turns to Janiven.
"What's the plan? Please. My sword is yours."
"This might even earn you that name! I... might yet come to like being called a Warden"
Shifting close in to William as Janiven prepares to speak, Hertzog wraps an arm around the human. Even after the nights rest, he was still impressed by the grace and fortitude shown by the human but seeing such emotion in his friend tapped something in his brotherly instincts. The half-orc smiles in expectation as Janiven starts to lay out her plan, pausing after a moment to ask,
"With so many gone, how many Hellknights did you say would be left in the city?"
Alainn wanders off to speak with the cleric of Erathis and to inquire about her friend and ally, Karrien.
!ready
After the first few minutes pass without any such opportunities arising, the barest hint of a grin starts to become evident on Typhor's face.
With all questions answered, Janiven returns to the task at hand. “Very well then! Here’s what I know.” Janiven pulls out a scroll, opens it, and places it on the table. On the scroll, is a map of Cheliax, with a large red X written on it, on the road between Citadel Rivad and Westcrown.
Overworld Map:
“Citadel Rivad lies northwest of the city of Westcrown. As I said awhile ago, it’s the fortress and training ground for the Order of the Rack Hellknights. The road to the citadel is an offshoot from the main road that winds off to the southwest—the land along the route to the citadel is mostly open plain, with a few scattered groves of trees (some of which are cut back every few years to make it harder for bandits to hide) and one stone bridge crossing a stream. With rare exceptions, the only people who use the road are Hellknights or those providing services for them, such as supplies, messages, and so on, and on a typical day only three or four groups travel the road in either direction.“
“Because of the low traffic and the proximity to the Hellknights, banditry is unheard of on this minor road (Not that anyone could possibly steal anything of worth from a Hellknight, and live mind you.), and while the forces of Citadel Rivad aren’t careless about the possibility of being attacked in this area, they certainly don’t expect it. This all makes the road the best point to attempt a rescue of the imprisoned half-elf. We’re outside Westcrown, so we’re technically not breaking any laws, while at the same time the Hellknight convoy won’t be able to receive reinforcements from either end of the road (save for a passing patrol).”
“Another factor works to our advantage—the Order of the Rack’s arrogance. The Order of the Rack is considered the oldest, and they’ve faced very few failures over their long history. As a result, the escort for Arael’s transport is relatively light. Since the entire operation to capture Arael (and the hunt for the rebels) was, basically, a training exercise, the honour of escorting Arael back to Citadel Rivad has been granted to the group of Armigers most directly responsible for his capture. The remaining forces of Armigers have long since left for Citadel Rivad, since word on the street was that they failed to catch any other supposed “rebels” (such as yourselves). This has resulted in quite a bit of shame and mockery, and much of this current crop of trainees’ remaining pride rests solely on Arael’s imminent transportation and imprisonment at Citadel Rivad. “
With the map now finally serving it's purpose, Janiven picks it up and rolls it back, while Sclavo brings out a scroll of his own. “Something I found in the archives. Good thing it’s a copy, or the Archivist might get suspicious.” he says. The young man quickly opens the scroll, revealing Rack Road with more detail.
Battle Plan:
As though rehashing a play he has memorised a hundred times, Sclavo picks up a lead pencil, draws on the map and points out at a number of places, while carrying on Janiven’s speech. “According to various reports, Arael’s trip to the Citadel will be escorted by a total of 18-19 Hellknight armigers, led by their superior; a young and gifted (but low-ranking) Hellknight Signifier named Shanwen.”
“He is the same Signifer that you crossed paths with at Vizio’s, remember?” Janiven interrupts. “He was in charge of rounding up the rebels, which of course you all managed to completely evade, and humiliate him in the process. Apparently, he’s been given a second chance to atone for his failure to capture us back at Vizio’s. Expect him to fight at his fullest when we get there.”
“Ahem!” Sclavo coughs. It seems he was not used to being interrupted in such a manner back at the City Hall.
“Pardon me, Sclavo. You may continue.”
“Now, let us continue. Even with your unique talents...” Sclavo says as he points towards the heroes, “...this is probably too many foes to handle at once—particularly since Janiven wants to avoid any Hellknight fatalities if possible. The more Hellknight armigers who live, she reasons, the less brutal the Wardens of Westcrown look (and the more humiliation and shame we can inflict on the Order of the Rack’s frail egos).”
“So, Janiven has a plan to even the odds even further. While the heroes (Henceforth known as Team Retriever) make the primary attack on the armoured wagon transporting Arael and mount his rescue, Janiven’s team (Henceforth known as Team Bushwhacker) will feint ambush the Hellknights, hoping to lure at most half of them away from the convoy. Given the absence of bandit attacks on that road, the Hellknights are sure to interpret any attack as an attempt to rescue their prisoner, and the likely response to sighting a group of what appear to be bandits stepping into the road ahead will be to split their forces, sending their mounted troops forward to handle the supposed highwaymen while the prisoner and his guards hang back and perhaps begin to turn around to make a retreat back to Westcrown so they don’t lose their prize. This would give Team Retriever fewer opponents to fight and making it much easier to free Arael—especially if the mounted Hellknights fall for the plan and ride their horses into a section of the road the secondary group prepares with caltrops."
Sclavo points towards a bridge on the map, pointing out the small stone bridge that crosses the swift but relatively narrow stream called the Athua, “We will wait for the convoy to move right on top of the bridge. Once they are on it, we’ll pull out Team Bushwhacker at the front. While some of the Hellknights are busy at the front, Team Retriever will come from behind, hoping to trap the wagon from both sides.” He also indicates a few locations before and after the bridge where there’s much more tree cover to allow a hit-and run attack and to complicate pursuit via horseback. “Of course, Team Bushwhacker isn’t equipped to handle a full on assault on the convoy. We’ll rely on hit-and-run tactics, hoping to force the Hellknights to fight on foot. This plan relies on Team Retriever to succeed. If we fail here, the Wardens of Westcrown is finished.”
With Sclavo having finished his speech, Janiven continues. “Also, we leave for Rack Road early the morrow, before the sun’s first light shines in the sky. The sooner we leave, the more time we have to prepare our ambush. As for transport, Ermolos has a friend that owes him one: a stablemen named Jacovo will lend us all horses, on the condition we return to him in one piece. Until then, we have the rest of the day to prepare ourselves. Ermolos will provide the resistance members with weaponry and armour. If you have any business left in the city, or with resistance members, now’s the time to wrap things up.”
With their plan completely detailed to the rest of the group, both Janiven and Sclavo look back at the rest of the group.
“Any questions?” She asks.
"Be careful, friend"
As the next day's plan is laid before him, the half-orc does his best to follow, paying close attention to the nooks and crannies surrounding the bridge. Memories of the Signifier and the tavern bring with them memories of the explosion and Janiven's knowing face.
"Janiven, If you can bring down a building in an instant, could you have any luck destroying an old bridge? In case the Hellknights decide they want a swim back across..."
As the explanation winds down, Hertzog considers the day given to him to prepare. Though much needs to be done, he pulls Larko aside for a moment and asks,
"Is it safe for us outside today? I would like to have a day to wander as a free man the streets I am to save."
"Explosive dust, or 'Moradin's Fury' as the Dwarves call it, is quite rare, especially here in Cheliax. I rigged Vizio's with explosives in case of any event the Warden's meetings were comprimised by outside officials. Yesterday merely proved my suspicions. As for getting more explosives, I'm afraid we're out of luck there."
"Besides, no doubt Arael would not look too kindly on such an act, especially if we're trying to rescue him. The last thing he'd want is the Wardens to turn to terrorism. You must understand."
With that out of the way, Janiven continues on. "Any more questions?"
As Larko was pulled aside for the moment by Hertzog, he eyed the Half-Orc in front of him.
"Wan to live tha normal life for a moment? Aye, I can unnerstand that. Provided yer not goin' to tha gates to see off the Hellknights, keep to yerself, and don't make a scene, then Aye, I guess yer can walk around a free man. Why, yer lookin' for somethin?"
...
As Janiven and Sclavo's explanation winds down, Hertzog walks among his new friends, talking with Typhor about strategy for the next day. Watching William and Grokka and Josephine train and looking slightly aghast at the difference between his and Alainn's tub. As the plans for the day settle, Hertzog steps out into the streets of Westcrown, borrowing a robe from Ermolos to cover the hides of his armor and the chain wrapped around his waist. He wouldn't sound like a convincing priest, but hopefully he wouldn't look like an escaped slave.
Once out on the streets, Hertzog moves quickly away from the hideout, looking back once to impress the sight of the building on his memory. After taking the first two turns in uninhabited streets, he slows, hopeful that his origin will remain a secret to other pedestrians. It is only a few more streets then until he manages to find a crowd of people and move along with it.
Hertzog floats down the streets, flowing with the crowds as they move to merchants and bakeries and inns, carried as easily by the stream of people as he would by tides. For hours he winds around the southern roads of Westcrown, far removed from House Dioso's influence and happy to have even a few hours without responsibilites. As he moves through the crowds, Hertzog notices more and more the expressions on people's faces. Obligation and sadness sat on the free folk of Westcrown as plainly as it did on the slaves of house Dioso.
Lost in thought, the setting sun glints off Hertzog's eyes and brings him back to Larko's directions. Having been directed to a merchant in the docks, Hertzog orients himself and begins walking deliberately, not wanting to squander the last bit of the day. A few quick turns brings him to the merchant's shop, Hertzog's short but imposing frame silhouetted against the setting sun, the old man at the front of the shop stammers, wary of priestly robes
"I don't think we have what you're..."
Dropping the hood to reveal his hair and hides and chain, the man jumps, but then smiles knowingly.
"Ahh, Larko sent word that he had a friend coming. You're a lucky man! The spiked chain is not a weapon you see much in this city."
Hobbling to a corner of the room, the merchant grabs a cloth-wrapped bundle and opens it on the table at the front of the room. Inside is a long chain of grey metal links, finished at each end by a handle and sharpened point, nearly a foot in length each. Eerily, the metal makes almost no sounds as the links are moved. Even picking the weapon up, the sound coming from it sounds a hundred feet away. Nodding at the merchant, Hertzog picks up the chain accidentally cutting the cloth it had been wrapped in as he does so. Impressed by the metal and the obvious magic at work in the weapon, Hertzog smiles and puts it back down, then hands a bag of gold over to the merchant. Speaking awkwardly after spending so many hours mute.
"Thank you"
"And thank you!" the old man croaks, as he picks through his payment, "I don't envy whoever Larko has you protecting him from."
Wrapping himself up, Hertzog hurries back toward the abandoned temples and his friends hideout, eyes warily on the lookout for Dottari or Hellknights. As he enters, a sense of relief washes over him. If anything, a day in the crowds of Westcrown did even more to convince him the virtue of Janiven's plans. For now though, the rest of the night was ahead of him and there was important work to be done. Maybe he would start by asking Alainn about those soaps and oils...
OOC
Price: 680 gp (20 party gold remains)
Weapon: Any melee
Enhancement: +1 attack rolls and damage rolls
Critical: +1d6 damage
Property: Whenever you make a damage roll with this weapon against an enemy granting combat advantage to you, you gain an item bonus to the damage roll against that enemy. The item bonus equals this weapon’s enhancement bonus
!Ready
A being of his massive stature was already a bit of a stand-out, but when the cloak was shed and Grokka broke out into song the crowd drew almost immediatly. He heaved himself up onto a nearby empty horsecart, taking note of a fairly non-descript alley to his rear. The goliath began regaling the crowd with jokes and stories, drawing not only smiles and applause but the occasional coin flipped through the air and landed at his feet. Grokka resisted the urge to sing songs of their recent exploits as to not draw a passing patrol, but he dropped subtle phrases here and there that no doubt were lost on the crowd, but made himself smile none the less.
As the crowd began to dwindle a bit, and the local guards were drawing longer glances at the entertainer, Grokka decided now would be a good time for a hasty retreat to their sanctuary. "Thank you Westcrowne, you've been wonderful. Your smiles, laughs and most importantly your coins are appreciated. Keep your hearts light in these times. The Wardens stand with you." and with a whirl of his cloak he snatched up the coins, covered himself and ducked into the alley to lose his audience. Laughing to himself, he thumbed through the coins he'd gathered and thought to himself "Even with all this hero work, Grokka hasn't lost his touch with a crowd. Not bad for a couple hour's work"
Grokka opened up the massive doors to the temple and tossed the moneypouch on the central table. "It's not a fortune, but it'll buy a potion or two. For what it's worth, we're winning the war of hearts and minds." he said, smiling proudly.
Streetwise / 5: 3.8 = 3
Shinies Roll: 46G added to the war effort
!Ready
As you reach for the front entrance of the temple, you spot Ermolos (who was decked in rather elegant-looking armour, as well as brandishing a longsword and heavy shield on his back) with ten horses in tow. When asked where he got the armour, he merely smiles and says: “You think I was an armourer my whole life? Heh. I used to be quite the young adventurer back in the day. Just surprised it still fits after all these decades.” Soon, the others resistance members make their way to the temple courtyard. Fiosa, dressed in simple leather armour, follows closely behind Yakopulio, who was wearing the same armor,as well as what appeared to be goggles on top of her pink hair. “Something I won off a bet back at the inn a few months ago. Allows me to accurately hit any sorry blighter who’s in my crosshair,” the gnome says, as she points to her crossbow she carries on her back. Fiosa, a little less aggressive than her peers, reveals a small knife she had sheathed on her belt. “Not that I’d fight at close, mind you. But I’d rather support me friends on the field with me mighty prayers of Erathis.”
Larko and Sclavo were the last to arrive. Larko wore what appeared to be hide armour, and wielded what appeared to be two longswords (one in each hand). The attire made him look more like a ranger of the forest than that of a (supposedly) honest dock worker. “Aye, it’s all I have to work with. But it’ll do tha trick!” the burly man says, and gives an annoyed look at the giggling Gnome nearby. Yak merely took it as a challenge, and both started staring at each other with serious, crossed looks.
Sclavo on the other hand, wore heavy armor, as well as wielded what appeared to be a great sword. Based on his appearance, he looks actually much more younger than without the armour. “My father’s father used to be a Paladin to Erathis, back in the day,” he says. “When my father passed of old age, he gave me this armour. Looks like I was glad that I didn’t sell it, otherwise I’d be the only one out of the fight. Gods! If this armour wasn’t so heavy to wear and the sword not so heavy and troublesome, I’d have join some holy order by now. Guess I’d have to blame the simple profession of a scribe for that.”
OOC: Here’s some pics to get a general idea of how they all look. Janiven is pretty much the same as you met her at Vizio’s.
Larko:
Sclavo:
Just without the shield.
Fiosa:
Yak:
Just without the weird furry things on her neck.
As each person got onto their offered horse (except of course for Fiosa and Yak; they had to hitch a ride with the others, with Yak unfortunately paired with the equally unfortunate Larko) they set off, towards the outer city gate that opens to Rack Road.
On their way towards the city gate, they could spot strange, shadowy forms moving about in alleys, inside sewer grates, and even on the rooftops. Their darkness makes it difficult to divulge their true forms, although some of them managed to spot what appeared to be tentacles on one form, and a strange, elongated beak on another. With the glint of the sun’s first rays though, these shadowy forms start to dissapate into the remaining static shadows. The creatures were gone, and by the time the Dottari would start their patrols, the Wardens would be long gone from Westcrown. As they continue with their trek to the gate though, they could not help but feel a strange, eerie sensation on the back of their necks, as though they were still being watched...
Once they were out of Westcrown though, things started to feel much less tense. The journey proved uneventful (though still calm, thankfully) as the heroes made their way towards the bridge that crosses the Sedna River. Once they got there, everyone climbed off their horses.
Janiven surveys the area. Satisfied that there were no Hellknight patrols, she quickly orders Larko, Sclavo, and Ermolos to start spreading out the caltrops in front of the bridge, as well as try to disguise the caltrops by throwing sand on top of them. She tasks Fiosa and Yak to hide the horses, preferring that they conceal them in the nearby forest. Satisfied the resistance members were busy preparing the ambush, she walks over to the heroes.
“Judging by the sun’s height, and our speed, the Hellknight convoy should appear in less than an hour,” Janiven answers. “That should give us time to prepare ourselves. Hide in the bushes if you must, but remember, the important thing is not to be seen. My team will distract them, and once you see the signal, you’ll jump out (and hopefully surprise the remaining Hellknights). One last thing: remember that we are NOT to KILL any Hellknights in this fight! Other than that, any more questions?”
OOC: Here’s the battle map for Team Retriever (ie. You guys). If you guys have anything more to ask Janiven or the others, now’s the last time. Afterwards, pick a spot on the map (within the bushes, of course) and show me your !Readies.
As they leave the city, a sense of apprehension leaves Hertzog. It is much harder to imagine Hellknights and Dottari around each corner with open fields rolling out in every direction. So comforted, he turns to Sclavo, speaking just above a whisper,
"You look good friend. I half expected to see you here in noble's purple and jewels. This, i think, suits you better."
As they reach their destination, Hertzog looks back to the city walls, increasingly aware of the battle that would soon descend on the heroes. Picking one of the bushes next to the road, Hertzog plants himself inside, green and brown from his skin and armor matching the tones of the plant around him. Though he does his best to settle into a comfortable position, the out-doors are clearly not an environment he is used to.
Hiding in the Bushes:
Nature: 1d20 + 2 = 13
Stealth: 1d20 + 4 = 15
Upon nearing the bridge Grokka drew silent and set about hiding himself in the largest growth of bushes...
!Ready
The others around him can feel the air vibrate slightly, sensing a rising storm welling up within the young Swordmage.
Stealth Check = 20!
!Ready
Striding into the stream without hesitation, Typhor positions himself beneath the arch of the bridge, bracing himself against the current with one hand against the underside of the bridge. Although he's not being particularly quiet, the roar of the stream fortunately covers most of the noise.
Hertzog ‘s Stealth: 15+2 + 2 (due to Nature DC 10) = 19
Grokka’s Stealth: 14+2 = 16
Typhor’s Stealth: 13+10 = 23
William’s Stealth: 20+2 = 22
With preparations finally over, the two teams go into hiding. Team Retriever hides in the bush closest to the bridge (with the exception of Typhor, as he hides under the bridge). Team Bushwhacker hides in the nearby trees, hoping the shade to hide their numbers.
What felt like an eternity (which was actually one whole hour); the heroes soon heard the creaking of what sounded like a wooden wheel grinding on the road. Indeed, in the distance came the Hellknight convoy, with ten Armigers on horseback, and the remaining nine on foot, protecting a large black carriage in the middle. As the carriage came ever so closer, the heroes could also spot what appeared to be a large heavy crossbow (essentially a small ballista) mounted on top of the carriage roof. They could also spot the superior of this convoy sitting on a bench driving the carriage. Though he didn’t wear the same helmet, his build and posture was indeed familiar: the Signifer of yesterday, that attacked Vizio’s when the heroes met up for the first time.
Image of Signifer:
As the convoy starts crawling over the bridge, Janiven knew the time was right. As she starts shouting at the Hellknights, she (along with a few others) comes rushing out of the tree cover a few hundred yards west of the ambush site towards the Hellknights, weapons drawn. As they do so, the Hellknights immediately stop; mocking laughter and shouts of delighted challenge coming from the Hellknights’ side, revealing once more their arrogance. That was, until a crossbow bolt came flying through the air (no doubt from Yak’s own crossbow), hitting one of the mounted Hellknight’s on the shoulder. The smiles and laughter abruptly end, and faces of anger start to form on their visages. The ten mounted horsemen soon gallop forward, unaware of the trap laid for them. As the riders hit the caltrops, two things happen at once: the horses shriek in pain and stagger, breaking the charge and bucking their unskilled riders from their saddles, knocking all of the riders off completely. As the riders start standing up, they notice the ‘bandits’ backing off, chiding them to fight them. The Signifer, disgusted at this cowardly act, shouts at the soldiers.
“After them! Hunt those bastards down! We’ll show them what happens to would-be-highwaymen what it is to mess with the Hellknights on their own road! To Arms!”
With that, the forward Hellknights rush forward towards the Wardens of Westcrown, unaware of the nearby heroes just waiting to let loose their own trap.
Highest Enemy Perception Check: 18
One of the nearby stationary soldiers spots what appear to be rocks shaking in a nearby bush. Grokka immediately remains still, hoping that his large bulk don’t get them caught.
Grokka’s stealth check: Failed [1/2 failures]
The soldier immediately shakes his head. “Must be seeing things...” he reasons.
Though the Hellknights remain tense, they haven’t spotted our heroes. Now was the time for the heroes to strike...
Picture of the Prison Wagon (as well as someone being badass in the process):
Surprise Round!
Map (Surprise Round):
Yeah, I know horses are technically Large creatures, but I made this map before realizing it. So just think of them as Large (2X2) creatures for now. It'll be fixed once Round 1 starts.
Stats:
(C12) Grokka HP 33/33
(D12) Hertzog HP 34/34
(H17) Typhor HP 35/35
(D13) William HP 40/40
(J13) Hellknight Armiger #1 HP 40/40
(K13) Hellknight Armiger #2 HP 40/40
(G12) Hellknight Armiger #3 HP 40/40
(H11) Hellknight Armiger #4 HP 40/40
(M11) Hellknight Armiger #5 HP 40/40
(N12) Hellknight Armiger #6 HP 40/40
(K14) Armiger Officer #1 HP 37/37
(G10) Armiger Officer #2 HP 37/37
(N10) Armiger Officer #3 HP 37/37
(K17) Signifer Shanwen[Elite] HP 104/104
Monster Details:
Hellknight Armiger: HP 40/40 AC 19; Fort 18, Reflex 14, Will 14, Speed 6; Vision: Normal
Special:
Hellknights are known and feared for their intimidating suits of armor. Armiger ranks gain a +1 bonus to AC (already added).
Armiger Officer: HP 37/37 AC 17; Fort 14, Reflex 14, Will 14, Speed 5; Vision: Normal
Special:
Hellknights are known and feared for their intimidating suits of armor. Armiger ranks gain a +1 bonus to AC (already added).
Combat Advantage:
Armiger Officers deal 1d6 extra damage on melee and ranged attacks against any creature granting combat advantage to it.
Signifer Shanwen [Elite]: HP 104/104 AC 22; Fort 18, Reflex 17, Will 21, Speed 5; Vision: Normal; Saving Throws: +2; Action Points: 1
Special:
Hellknights are known and feared for their intimidating suits of armor. Signifer ranks gain a +2 bonus to AC, as well as a +1 bonus to all other defences (already added).
Ward of Vitality (Aura 2):
Allies who begin their turn within the aura gain 3 Temp HP, as long as the Signifer isn’t bloodied.
Terrible Visage:
After the Signifer becomes bloodied, until the end of the encounter, he gains a +2 bonus on melee damage rolls against the character that bloodied him.
I posted the coordinates of everyone as well, making it easier to plan your attacks (Letter, then number).
Another way to make it easier is to post what monster you hit e.g. Melee Basic attack on Hobgoblin grunt(F5)
Features:
River: The stream isn’t particularly cold, but it quickly reaches a depth of 4 feet. The water flows fast; any swimming creature not actively moving against the current travels with it at a rate of 4 squares per round (wading creatures are unaffected). The river is considered difficult terrain (since your wading through). Standing up from lying prone in the stream is a standard action (not a move action).
Bridge: The bridge is made of mortared stone and is a single arc span across the stream, cresting about 2 feet above the water level at its highest point (so basically 6 feet from the river's bottom, so it's possible to stand under it if your less than 6 feet in height). It is quite sturdy and counts as a masonry wall, with the top equivalent to a flagstone floor (which means it's quite resistant to explosive spells like fireball etc.).
Prison Wagon: Arael is being transported in an enclosed carriage built to hold and transport prisoners. The carriage has a locked door (With a Thievery of DC 25 to pick the door’s lock) and is made of iron-reinforced wood (Resist 5 all, 50 hp). It is approximately 7 feet square and 5 feet high, riding about 2 feet off the ground, with a running board on the sides and rear for easy climbing to the roof and interior. A team of two horses (hitched in series) pulls it, and the driver sits on a small bench attached to the front of the roof. Mounted on top of the carriage roof is a Large heavy crossbow (essentially a small ballista); it can turn to fire in all directions, but cannot fire at a target on or adjacent to the wagon. The crossbow deals 3d8 damage on a hit, but its size means that Medium creatures must use two hands to fire it and they have a –2 attack penalty when using it. Reloading the crossbow is a standard action that provokes attacks of opportunity.
Horse: This creature, thanks to Hellknight training, is completely calm under fire. Provided they are not attacked, the horses remain in position. If you want to attack them, they each have 50 HP, with 10 to all defences.
OOC Details:
Remember to roll for initiative as well (or twice, if you’re taking advantage of Typhor’s Spur Into Action ability (see post above).