[Pathfinder] Hewligan's Rise of the Runelords: The Hook Mountain Massacre

[Rhun]

If it now falls under Diplomacy (+13), then Danth's Gather Information is a 26

 

[Friadoc]

While it's obvious that Kael and Mal are for the better being amongst their comrades in arms, it is as obvious that death, more importantly coming back from death, changes a man in many ways. As for Kael, he seems more prone to long periods of contemplation and silent fugues. He'd raise his voice, if something that he objects were to be brought up, however his allies make many of the same choices he would or he has, thus he has kept more silent than usual.

It's the road, the adventure, the making a difference that calls his blood and its power, so little of promises upon completion seemed to matter to him, but the security of the people does matter and for that Kael is concerned. Those who threaten are not one with the better interest of the people, plus Kael likes Varisia without the influence of those outside its borders.

Finally, after only minor quips and replies, Kael seems more in jovial spirits, more prone to talkative natures, of course that may due to him being more in the company of those who knows what he's been through and have accepted it and him.

"The company of fine folk, drink and food of hardy people, and an honorable purpose," says Kael. "By the Gods it's good to be back at it."

"One day I think we'll have to pick a point on the map, between all who need us, and raise up a stronghold there," quips Kael in an off-hand manner. "Hire some folk to keep it, watch it, and stow our trophies."

As unexpected as the comment was, so is Kael's seeming need for saying it, as if thinking of things of the now and things of the later keep the man firmly upon the ground. Or so he thinks.

"It's good that you both have known the folk from here, it should make this easier," says Kael as the others talk of the Fort and its armsman.

 

[Fenris]

"The company of fine folk, drink and food of hardy people, and an honorable purpose," says Kael. "By the Gods it's good to be back at it."

"One day I think we'll have to pick a point on the map, between all who need us, and raise up a stronghold there," quips Kael in an off-hand manner. "Hire some folk to keep it, watch it, and stow our trophies."

"Sounds fine and all Kay, but it's hard to keep my feet under one table anymore, or my head on one pillow." quips Jovik with a smile.

Unless it lay next to Shalelu he added to himself.

"Anyway, yes there is ale and fun to be had here. As Jokad and I know, there will be no more comforts liek this as we leave this place."

 

[Friadoc]

"Sounds fine and all Kay, but it's hard to keep my feet under one table anymore, or my head on one pillow." quips Jovik with a smile.

Unless it lay next to Shalelu he added to himself.

"Anyway, yes there is ale and fun to be had here. As Jokad and I know, there will be no more comforts liek this as we leave this place."

"Same here, with respect to moving feet," replies Kael wry-grin. "That's why I figured put it between all the places we go...sort of a safe crossroads, so to speak."

 

[hewligan]

The drinks flow, and before long the tongues loosen. The townsfolk are nervous. The winter that passed saw more ogre and ogrekin activity than they can remember in many a year. Sure, every winter one or two of the weaker ones tend to grow desperate from hunger and stray into human farms, but this year there were many attacks on outlying farms, and these were more coordinated and more savage than in the past. Three farmsteads were lost over the winter - entire families wiped out. Nothing that bad had happened before.

And then it had gone quiet. The activity had died down. The townsfolk assumed that the new man in control at Fort Rannick had managed to strike a blow against the ogres. Perhaps his rangers had located and wiped out the clan?

Then the blasted floating gambling complex had gone up in flames one night, taking several townspeople with it to the bottom of the lake. A suspicious fire, but investigations had led nowhere ... investigations in this town seldom led anywhere.

And to make things worse, just as the trade season was due to begin, with the slow but steady stream of summer caravans winding their way to trade with the Shoanti and the Dwarves of the Storval Step, contact had been lost with Fort Rannick.

Some people had gone to check, but they hadn't returned. Nobody else was keen to try. There were ogres out there, and if something had happened to Fort Rannick, then the countryside was clearly not a safe place. Only the presence of the Fort and the Black Arrow Rangers with their frequent sweeps along the trade-route made the countryside safe.

People were worried. If the caravans did not come their bellies would grow empty. And if Fort Rannick had fallen ...... then they knew their lives would be at risk too.

 

[Rhun]

"I like not these grim tidings," says Danth to his companions, keeping his voice low enough not to be heard at other tables. He takes a swig of his ale, and looks around at his friends' face. "While ogres are generally dumb brutes, they wouldn't engage a manned fort unless they had some advantage or overwhelming numbers. Either option doesn't bode well for us, since we have to find out what is wrong at Rannick. It sounds as though the place is either under siege, or already fallen."

 

[Fenris]

"The trail in may be waylaid as well. but I agree. Trouble is afoot. Course, Jokad and I have been looking for some trouble." says the young rogue with a wolfish grin to the Shoanti.

"Looks like we may find some after all. I think our blades have been itching to be of use again."

 

[Rhun]

Danth smiles at the rogue over the rim of his mug. "Just make sure it is your blade doing the sticking, my friend. I've been told an ogre can crush a man's skull with a fist, without half trying."

 

[Fenris]

Danth smiles at the rogue over the rim of his mug. "Just make sure it is your blade doing the sticking, my friend. I've been told an ogre can crush a man's skull with a fist, without half trying."

"That may be true Danth, but first the big lummox needs to be quicker than me and actually hit me. And before that fist lands on where my skull used to be, there will be many many holes in his back." says Jovik with a grin raising his mug in return.

"Besides, Jokad here has a thicker skull than a linnorm" laughs Jovik

 

[frostrune]

"Ogres?" Jokad snorts. His words would seem to dismiss them as a threat but his eyes blaze with an inner fire. The ancient foes of his people were the stone and hill giants of the Storval Plateau; Ogres the crude, lesser cousins. Jokad had never tested his blade against the foes of his ancestors. When he would wax melancholy around the campfire at night Jokad would at times recall the old stories of his tribal elders and of his people's battles against the giants. You could tell without words that defeating such foes is what would define Jokad as a hero among his kin.

You all knew Jokad too well to dismiss fire in his eyes. 'Ogres' indeed. Jokad would be spoiling for this fight, perhaps too much so.


OOC: Jokad has had species enemy 'Giants' for about 3-4 level now without a chance to use it. Time to lay the smack.