[3.5] Answering the Call

[Mark Chance]

Kyl, Menno, and Lars follow Orinar back into the woods proper. Shadows lengthen behind the party, eventually expanding, pooling, until the forest is shrouded in night. Just ahead lies the clearing in which waits the strange cairn, the one whose sealed entrance spoke its cryptic warning to the adventurers. The party has at a few hours walking ahead of them, through the Silent Woods at night. Orinar estimates that they can reach Borderland Keep before midnight.

"Are you sure we won't get lost at night?" Kyl remarks.

Thunk!

An arrow, albeit half the size of a normal clothyard shaft, embeds itself in a tree trunk just to Lars's left.

"Getting lost may be the least of your concerns, strangers!" a slightly high-pitched voice says from the darkness. "Account for yourselves, or face our wrath!"

[sblock=OOC]
Spot checks along with reactions are appropriate at this time.
[/sblock]

 

[Rhun]

Orinar's blade leaps into his hands, even as he scans the trees for the archer. "You'd best watch the threats," he calls back. "You do not want us as enemies."


Spot: 16

 

[Arkhandus]

Lars Crichton, Aasimar Paladin 2 of Heironeous

"Peace!" calls out Lars, holding up a hand. "We merely wish to to return to town and avoid further trouble from the goblinoids over yonder," the paladin says, gesturing behind him. "Also, do you know where we may find some wenches or fine drinks to pass the night?" he adds light-heartedly.

As he speaks, Lars focuses on trying to sense evil in the direction where the voice or arrow came from.

Spot 20
1d20+2=20

 

[Neurotic]

Menno startles and, having his companions speak, cringes at Lars comment. For now, he just watches, holding his hands open and apart.

Spot +2; Listen +2; Diplomacy +2 (as in aid another with body language);

 

[Rhun]

Orinar raises an eyebrow at Lars' comments; still, perhaps it would work to put the unseen archer off guard.

 

[Mark Chance]

"Peace!" calls out Lars, holding up a hand. "We merely wish to to return to town and avoid further trouble from the goblinoids over yonder," the paladin says, gesturing behind him. "Also, do you know where we may find some wenches or fine drinks to pass the night?" he adds light-heartedly.

As he speaks, Lars focuses on trying to sense evil in the direction where the voice or arrow came from.

Spot 20
1d20+2=20

Lars detects no evil, nor does anyone in the party see any creatures lurking in the darkness. Everyone does, however, hear a minor commotion that follows Lars's wenches and drinks quip. Several voices speak from many different directions, indicating rather clearly that the party is surrounded. None of the heroes understands the language. Some of voices seem annoyed. A few seem amused. Chuckles and giggles are heard. After a several seconds, a louder voice rings out, and the hubbub dies down.

Then a small figure steps into a shaft of moonlight. He is a bit smaller than a halfling and quite slender. His baroque armor looks to be carved from wood. In one hand, he holds what for a creature his size is a longbow. The other hand holds an arrow. Instead of eyebrows, he has feathery antennae, like those of a moth, and his features are distinctively elfin.

"An odd accounting, strangers. On one hand, warnings; on the other, jokes. Still, I do not detect the stench of evil on any of you. I am Duhnmair, and we hunt those who attacked our people."

 

[Rhun]

After taking a good look at Duhnmair, Orinar relaxes a bit, lowering his sword. "We are not your quarry. For I have never laid eyes upon one such as yourself. Who is it you seek?"

 

[Mark Chance]

Duhnmair says something in that strange tongue. The party can hear many small creatures rustling through vegetation, but none of them make an appearance.

"A party of adventurers," Duhnmair says. "Reports of their number and composition are vague. Those who were attacked spent most of their efforts in flight rather than noting details."

 

[Neurotic]

"Maybe we can help? We can ask around in town if someone brags about it. Or find out by the looks or number, even if vague, who are those you seek? If you are willing to share the details."

Menno seems for the moment like he will say something else, but then subsides.

 

[Mark Chance]

Duhnmair considers Menno's suggestion.

"We thank you," he says. "Adventurers were not common in these parts until the upswing in activity in and around the keep. Unfortunately, we cannot enter that place, for it is forbidden to us. But nothing in my orders forbids me accepting help from others. The group attacked our people on the northern edge of the great clearing. Many were injured. A few killed. One of those slain was my lord's cousin. He carried a mithril sword, what would likely appear to be a dagger to Big Folk. It was stolen."

Duhnmair speaks again in his native tongue. Another of his kind steps into view and approaches Menno, holding out a small horn.

"Sound this," the other fey says. "Anywhere in the great clearing. We shall hear and come as quick as we can." He speaks to Duhnmair, who nods. "We see that you are all injured. Our search for the day is done. If you wish to rest in the wood, we shall stand guard over you."