(008) The Blockade

[waysoftheearth]

tombowings wrote:
"Lead us to safety," says Flewellen. "I grow weary of this wild. The last watch is mine. It is a ritual for me to study my enchantments as I watch the sun rise."

Flewellen stands over the grave site once more. "I thank you, fair maiden, for what you have given me and for what you have lost. Slumber here, undisturbed in sleepless peace. Think not of war or hunger--those are not the dwellings of the next world. I vow here to be a better man than I once was. How? I do not know. But I have faith the opportunity will present itself before I shuffle off this mortal coil."

[waysoftheearth]

heartless wrote:
Padrig replys to Mads, "Yes indeed my good man, we all need to be careful so we all don't end up the same fate as these knights we laid to rest, and lets hope we have the wisdom to stay alive in these dark times".

"I thank ye all that you cleared the blockage or I would be lying in the ground now instead", declares Padrig. "And a special thanks to Krystin who gave the ultimate sacrifice to clear this blockage to which I Padrig am indebted. I will remember her in song for years to some."

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
Those final words being exchanged, you all head back to the ruined tower as a steady drizzle sets in and the tumult of dark clouds obscure the last hour of daylight.

Within, the tower is drafty and leaky, but better by far than any other shelter you might hope to find here abouts, so you settle in for another chilly night.

It is arranged for Anwyn to take the dusk watch, Mads to take the moon watch, and Flewellen to take the dawn watch.

Victor works at lighting a small fire from the twigs and brambles and a few small logs he has dragged in out of the rain, while the remainder remove their bulky packs and armour, and settle down to unfurl their blankets and bedrolls, and chew thoughtfully on what dried supplies they have remaining. It is a cheerless meal, but soon enough Victor has a hungry little blaze going that at least provides some warmth, and some light as the day ebbs into night...

[waysoftheearth]

heartless wrote:
Padrig Wynne says, "The righteous thing to do for a fallen knight is to try to return a knight's holy items to a temple or knight. You all seem noble people who would do such an act."
Padrig requests, "If I may be so bold, I would be honoured since I knew Krystin, if you would turn over Krystin's spell book and holy items to me to fulfill this righteous mission, and in return I Padrig will use them to benefit us all on our campaign together?" Padrig retrieves the spell book to place in his pack.

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
Roddrick's and Crystin's gear is at the camp site in the tower, along with several large sacks stuffed to overflowing with coins.

Crystin was carrying three great tomes and the time of her demise. One of them Pardrig recognises as The Elysian Mecum, a humble part of the complete Immaculate Testament of Heledd.

It is an 8" tall, 6" wide and 2" thick tome bound in soft white seude containing prayers, remittances and reparations suitable for the penitent Knight during periods away from the Temple.

Crystin's holy symbol, a dagger-sized wooden carving representing the perpetual cycle of life, is also present.

"Iz anyone gonna feed us, or what?" grumbles one of the three bound Hobgoblins.

[waysoftheearth]

tombowings wrote:
Do you eat the flesh of you comrade's, maggot?" spits Flewellen through gritted teeth.

[waysoftheearth]

coffee wrote:
"Feed you?" Dieter asks, a puzzled look on his broad face. "Feed you to what?"

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
The Hobgoblins looked hopeful at Flewellen's suggestion, but then fall silent after Dieter's threat.

Everyone settles down for the cold, rainy night with Anwyn taking the first watch...

(1d6)

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
The rain has all but stopped and the fire burned down to its embers when Anwyn awakes Mads for the second watch.

He pulls himself up with his blanket still over his shoulders and nudges the little fire with his boot. "Have a care of them," whispers Anwyn, nodding her head toward the three prisoners, bound and huddled in the back corner of the tower, before settling herself down for some sleep.

Mads puts a small thatch of damp brambles on to feed the little blaze causing it to crack and crackle angrily for a minute or two before the fire picks up a bit. The weary fighting-man glances over at the captives in the shadowy corner as he pokes at the fire... and sees the orange yellow flames glinting in their huddle of wicked, wakeful eyes in the gloom.

He grunts his displeasure and make a slow circuit of the tower, peering out each shuttered arrow slit in turn, and observing only the pitch darkness outside. This done, he settles down to keep an eye over the slumbering party...

(1d6)

[waysoftheearth]

waysoftheearth wrote:
An hour or so later the night is at it darkest and the fire has once more burned very low. Mads is huddled beneath his blanket, fighting back sleep bought on by the cold and the boredom of his watch... just one more hour, he tells himself with a yawn.

The wind howling about the lonely tower seems to bleed into a never ending babble, and Mads yawns again... and imagines in the back of his mind the shadows growing longer and deeper, and playing up the walls of the tower, and being cast by the horrid arms of his enemies reaching out to choke him and his companions...

Mads suddenly shakes himself to full wakefulness to dispel the uneasy half-dream and realises to his horror that the dream is real!

Questing silently forth from the inky black recess of the stair well are several spear-long, segmented and spiny arms that pull behind them a bulky shadow most foul!

(1d6=4)

Mads can only gasp in surprise and jerk himself to his feet as the monstrosity senses its opportunity and plunges its mule-sized bulk into the room at frightening speed...

(dice for target 1-10 party members, 11 or 12 prisoners; 1d12=12) and spears the fattest of the shrieking Hobgoblins with its vile stinger, and then retreats at lightning speed back down the stairwell with its victim!

It is darkest part of the night. Everyone is awoken, but surprised, by the pair of squealing Hobgoblins.

A hideous, giant sized arachnid is vanishing down the stair with the Boson. Mads is alert, and on his feet, and can act. What to do?