BangoSkank

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

In a moment they had been set upon by rats damn near the size of dogs. Gorosk hadn't even seen them coming, they were fast little bastards and well suited to these wilds. Without the watch of the giant they may well have been caught completely unawares, even so in an instant four of the vermin in their midst and one lay at their feet disemboweled and nearly bisected by the massive glaive of Vah'Lux. Gorosk moves to aid his party, for whatever reason the vermin had targeted others, but only Renault had drawn the attention of two of them.

Gorosk made two attacks in a flurry of blows, relying on his practice as a monk to attack swiftly, but his time in isolation passing the hours in silent contemplation must have made him rusty. Twice the Half-Orc stomped down at the vile beast that had drawn his companion's blood. The first hit had struck true and he felt the fetid bend and snap, in response it must have moved in some unexpected way for Gorosk's second strike missed the rat dog thing entirely disturbing nothing more than the earth around them. The rat moved no more, killed by the first stomp, yet still the other three beasts were there, angry and amidst the party.

Gorosk drew his quarterstaff under his right armpit, pointing it as one might point a spear, and roared at the creatures trying to orient himself towards the next threat as the three remaining rat things snarled and bit.

Rolls

Attack One To Hit roleplayerguild.com/rolls/18541 for 18 - 2 for Flurry of Blows = 16 (which hits)
Attack Two To Hit roleplayerguild.com/rolls/18542 for 12 - 2 for Flurry of Blows = 10 (which misses)
Attack One Damage roleplayerguild.com/rolls/18543 for 8

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk was relieved as the three boars turned and fled. They were animals that only a fool underestimated. They were heavy, fast, and aggressive; with thick hides and two large bone knives growing out of their faces. The boars likely would have all died had they not turned and fled, but at least one of the party would all but certainly have been injured and that injury may well have been fatal. It was easy to see how the settlers of Reddenbarrow might have been frightened off form attempts to retake this stead.

The Half-Orc moved slowly closer to the stead holding his quarterstaff out before him, the boars may well not be the only danger here and perhaps a closer look at the remains of the stead might tell them something about how it had come to be in it's current state. It was a bit eerie, the ruined state of the only civilization out here in contrast to the blossoming vivacious nature of the foliage and the only eyes that had been on it until just now were the beady porcine eyes of those three boars. Ugly, frightening creatures. What a horrible way to die that would be, but were there more of them out here and were they what had killed the settlers?

Certainly they could have, but could they destroyed the stead? And would they have? It seemed unlikely to Gorosk.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk had walked along with the others, not particularly concerned with who maintains the map or the potions. Despite the burden of this task he was for the most part free again and walking through nature. The breeze on his neck and face, plants waving in the air, bones sticking up through the dirt. As had the others Gorosk felt a chill through his spine. Something here was amiss. The bones of all manner of animal littered the ground, in numbers that obliterated any notion of natural random splay.

Man would pile them up with a central dumping location, or perhaps in a fire pit, or placed in to the earth to aide in agriculture. However they did it it would have some degree of order. Or, if they were slovenly, they might cast them out from one central location. They might take their meal beside the fire and cast the bones out toward the tree line. This was none of that. And the bones were not only of animal, there were plenty of man bones as well. Now was not the time to check, the hairs on his neck still stood at stark attention, but Gorosk was confident that were they to take the time to inspect these lands they would several human bones and many of them would have been cracked or gnawed away at.

Gorosk shared the feelings of the party, as they voiced them one by one. The priest's warnings had been well deserved there was something out there. He prepared himself, holding his quarter staff in a mixed overhand / underhand grip and waited for the situation to develop. Gorosk thought to himself perhaps in another life he might make such a place a home. Close to the wilds, independent, quiet, but then his gaze fell upon a bone which was unmistakably human in nature. Perhaps it was good he was a wanderer after all.

Roll for Initiative

roleplayerguild.com/rolls/18244
11

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk was altogether rather happy with this assignment. Falsely imprisoned, declared innocent in the eyes of the Gods yet still beholden to whatever sins these men decided he had probably maybe committed, he had worried the task they were to be held to might be some unspeakable sin itself. Some sort of political assassination, some manner of act no man or woman would do without the spectre of a return to those miserable prisons cells perhaps this time for life. Instead, the charge proved rather reasonable at least at first glance. To clear out the encroaching wilds here at the border. It was downright fitting for a follower of Aeridun.

Though he didn't ascribe to the new teachings he had some respect for them and through their practice he might move closer to the perfection of the self as was the true purpose of the veneration of Aeridun. The modern Aeridun worshiper sought to bond society, to form literal and figurative foundations for civilization. These were not his concerns, yet they were legitimate concerns. Whatever bit of civilization had been established here had been overrun by nature. In returning it to the hands of man perhaps he might learn something. As the Elf had suggested perhaps there was a solution to this problem that didn't involve simply running off or killing whatever animals had made their den in the stead. It sounded like a more difficult approach to Gorosk, but sometimes one had to do difficult things to grow.

And they may end up beating some wild animals away despite their best efforts. Gorosk looked about the party, now rested, armed, and it seemed to Gorosk more than ready to settle this "Debt" of theirs and regain their freedom.

"I am in agreement with the others, let us be about this business of ours."

Warhammer Fantasy: From Small Beginnings...

Stay safe; scary shit but important work

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk breathed in the smoke and found it helped to settle him. The clean sweet scent provided some small comfort and helped him put aside the unpleasantness of his time in that prison. At least for the moment. He opened his eyes and watched as the Priest spoke and brought out the rest of their belongings.

"You seem more in your element now Priest," he commented as he rose slowly from his seated position and went to go unwrap and familiarize himself with his staff and his throwing axe once more.

Gorosk draped the woolen blanket over his shoulders, slid the axe into the folds of his open shirt and slowly moved the quarter staff in fluid arches around his shoulders, head, and waist. Practiced motions that helped him warm up and required controlled movement.

He ended this little exercise holding his staff parallel to the ground and sat down cross legged once more, resting the staff against his thighs calmly taking long deliberate breaths. Every man had their own methods of prayer and worship, this was the way he had been taught.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk entered the temple quietly. Erithar was not the god he had been raised to revere, Aeridun was yet even there he was taught to revere Aeridun not in a temple or by burning incense or reciting hymns. He had been taught to worship by perfecting himself. A seemingly impossible task for the Half-Orc. So long as their god did not teach them to act counter to Aeridun's will Gorosk had no quarrel with them, or any worshiper.

The Elf seemed less than interested in Erithar. This would be an interesting venture. Whatever their trial was to be it seemed likely to involve these borderlands, perhaps it was good the Elf was among them, perhaps it was good she had not made herself known earlier. Tensions were alive already between himself and the Giant woman. If they had gotten up to discussing the wars between their peoples perhaps they'd be at each other's throats now. That would likely make their "redemption" in the eyes of man more difficult.

"I do not ascribe to this Erithar either, Tracan. I worship Aeridun, but neither is a jealous God. You are, I trust," he said gesturing to Marthan, "free to pray to whatever God you please here so long as your God is a Peaceful one."

Gorosk walked a bit off to the side, cleared a place to sit, then settled in slowing his breath and trying to clear his mind for the journey ahead. Whatever this trial would be it would be an opportunity to develop.

Ravenloft: The Land of Strahd Von Zarovich

Sounds interesting, I'd like to join but know absolutely nothing about this pretty famous module/setting

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

Gorosk was surprised to see another poor soul had been with them. He must have fallen into a deep sleep at some point, to have not noticed another fellow prisoner. The Elf must have kept quite still indeed. Still they were all the better for her presence. None of them seemed likely to head off on their own, to abandon whatever this task might turn out to be. At least not yet. Another body would help. The Elf would bring further diversity to their little band. He guffawed a bit and was unable to restrain a grin when his remark about his weapons went over her head.

“But you don’t have any weapons on you.” She had said.

Gorosk held his hands up before his face, clenched them slowly and tightly into first blades and then fists (knuckles cracking as he did so), and then flexed and stretched them against each other.

"These are my weapons Elf. I am Gorosk. A Half-Orc Monk of Aeridun. What is your name?"

Warhammer Fantasy: From Small Beginnings...

Alvin forgot his original intention, to ask Marguerite if she might have something of the boys to help his faithful steed Woof find the trails, distracted as he was by the looming forest and the rather large rather varied party he had found himself with. His tiny little Halfling brain well and thoroughly inundated with happy chemicals as they plodded on he was in a sort of fog, just enjoying himself, until he felt Woof begin to move differently. He'd ridden the old dog long enough he knew how it felt when Woof was just padding along with a caravan or following Alvin's own subtle directions, but old Woof had something on his mind now. His own purpose.
veered hard away from the well worn road that had taken them this far. They were heading off across a long hill covered in tall grass and the woods beyond at a bounding pace with Woof's snout pressed close to the ground huffing away steadily at whatever spore or smell his sensitive nose had picked up.

"What you got buddy," Alvin whispered to his mount, crouching low and holding tight to maintain his balance and searching the ground ahead of them as Woof moved, hoping to pick up on something yet finding nothing. Whatever it was the dog had a track of it wasn't anything he could appreciate just yet. These hills, as they flew by, were just hills, nothing special about them. No bones, no blood, no grasping skeletal hands, no pulsating runes inscribed in the earth, but Woof had found something interesting enough to break away from the party.

Just before the woods the dog stopped suddenly, splaying out low in the tall grass and whining slightly until Alvin hopped off his back. As Alvin unstrapped his bow and readied an arrow he could feel it too. He couldn't say precisely what it was, but something felt off. He felt watched by unseen eyes. He was grateful to be as small as he was, and grateful too for the tall grass. He scratched old Woof behind the ears and whispered to him again, "What you got buddy."

As the long grass near that edge of the woods waved in the air a keen eye could just make out two small disturbances. Places where the long grass ought to be waving more than it was. One created a path head straight toward the woods while the other followed the first in an elliptical pattern. The first finally reached the woods and stopped until the second passed from the grasslands into the woods some twenty to thirty feet away.

Making his way carefully through the woods near where Woof had stopped Alvin scanned and moved, scanned and moved, looking for what had drawn the dogs attention. The feeling had not gone away in all this time, the feeling of being watched, yet he hadn't seen anything to explain it. The woods were a bit odd perhaps. Not grown as close together here as they seemed to be a bit further in, but that was normal enough. Woods tended to thin out before they gave way to grasslands. He didn't doubt that Woof had a hold of something, but he had found nothing lurking. Though he couldn't shake an unsettled feeling he crept to Woof, who cowered still near the long grass, well expecting to chalk this up to a loss. Still, he'd done a good job. Followed his sniffer, stayed low in the grass, mostly quiet.

Deserved a sausage.

Alvin sat there beside Woof for a moment trying to shake the feeling, scratching Woof on his jaw just like he liked, and looking around. He saw it now. Couldn't help but see it.

The forest thins out as it approaches grasslands sure, but this wasn't natural. It was well disguised, cleared out in natural patterns rather than geometric shapes that would catch the eye. Even so, from this angle and with enough time to appreciate it this was clearly not natural. A thick old tree, a clearing about it, with trees surrounding it in a roughly circular pattern. Odd, but not that odd, until another detail stood out to Alvin. The trees themselves, there were slight depressions carved in to them. Not the thick old tree in the center, but the ones surrounding it. Slight depressions, carved in, and leading upward.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the canopy he could make them out. Well concealed small platforms set up in the trees, many of them. Small, but more than enough to space for a sentry to watch from. They were empty now, but they would not always be so.

As Alvin stood up and walked back into the clearing Woof's whining started again. He soon discovered why. Amid the fallen leaf cover gathered all around this clearing he caught a familiar metallic scent, and as he neared the central tree he saw it. Blood on the leaves. A few more furtive steps toward the central tree and the ground became darker, warmer, less solid, leaves beginning to stick to his feet.

"Shit," Alvin whispered to himself, before backing up to Woof, slipping quietly onto the old dog, and riding back to the hill to look down toward the trail and find the others. Woof attacked the hills with a new vigor, happy to be running away from the danger, at least for the moment.