rollohi-ch515-script

 Last episode, the Great Company evacuated level two, and this episode begins with them moving up the ropes and out of level one into the Whisper Wood. And those who have some sympathy for Dorgun, who is constantly getting wounded or trapped or dropped on by green slime, will be delighted to know that he is now being allowed to level up to level 2. Here's his hit point gain. That's a good roll. I roll 14. Dorgan has no con bonus, and so 14 hit points is it. 

The women have been less trouble than they might have, but one of the women is still remarkably weak and has to be carried stretcher style. The other five responded fairly well to  Ingle's healing. There's no question of slitting the weakest one's throat now. Taking responsibility for a soul is something that most of them understand very well. The retainers work with good will. They can see ahead of them a great bounty from the treasure that they're bringing back out. Whereas there are its thick masses of black mail armor, makeshift bags of gold plate, or jingling chests of coin. It's obvious to everyone that this has been a rich haul. And besides, they're all well equipped now. Even the crossbowman can swagger around with a long sword at his hip. 

Behind it, every door that can be pinned shut has been pinned shut, although that is, unfortunately, very few. Umbert did consider taking down the drop ceiling, but the thought that they probably still need to go back and either kill off the orc leadership or pillage it of war supplies, or both, is prominent in the minds of he and Ingle. 

It is night in the Whisper Wood. But since they have had opportunities to rest, the company feels that it must press on. But where? 

"You know, old sports, if I was an orc, and thank heavens I'm not, I suppose I might think something like a greedy halfling," Jack muses, looking guardedly at Cied, who glowers back at him and puts her hands on her hips. 

"I ain't no orc. I just got a healthy respect for money and what it can afford us. Let's not forget. You lot have got all of the best..." "That's - that's enough of that. Don't be saying more about that," Pod cuts her off. It is the constant grievance of the halflings that they have received virtually none of the magical items ever found. 

"Well there might be something in there for you," Ingle says mildly. "Kylie did say none of them are cursed." He glances back at the elf and she nods.

"I sense no evil from the pile" She half sings. It was an opportune Detect Evil while parts of the company were storing up ready for the next move out, and other parts of the company were preparing a proper stretcher for the prone woman. 

I would say Jack has more use for daggers than short swords, and so  Ingle nods here to the short sword, which was retrieved out of the pile of remains, along with a suit of light chain or heavy reinforced armour, and a potion bottle. Cied looks suitably mollified, and  Ingle returns to the urgent need to discuss a direction. Our adventurers have several choices. 

If they head north and west, they can strike back to the fortified manor house above the village that they defended against ogres and orcs. 

If they head due west, they'll eventually, by following the river, strike the tollbooth, which is reasonably fortified, and the buildings that serve it, which are not fortified. The river itself acts as a bastion should the orcs come from the north, and not at all as a help should the orcs come from the south. 

If they are wildly optimistic, they could also strike south, marching the several, it would probably double at least the number of watches that they previously took to reach either the halfling village or the ruinous tower. 

These choices are kicked around amongst them all, and they desperately regret not having horses to hand. Those are safely stabled with the halflings. Fortunately, some among them have reasonably inventive minds and have been exorcised about keeping spears available while still permitting sledges or travois to be used. And those plans are being put into action for they will be needed regardless of which direction is chosen. Even now, the retainers who know their ropes are re-lashing coracles, pavises, and so on into new configurations. Finally, the conference is ended, and Ingle paces among the retainers, asking, "does anyone need any healing at all? And we have made the decision - we're moving along the north bank of the river. Any wounds? We move the north bank of the river."

The news is not received well. Save for the halflings who live due south, the retainers hail from Lake Town. And that is most easily reached by going south of the river. But they are mere employees here to serve their masters. Grumbling there may be, but they still keep moving. 

And then, with a terrible howl, the enemy burst on them. 

Spell declarations. Seeing a group headed fast towards his comrades, Umbert declares Fireball. Kylie declares Haste. 

Initiative. The spearmen make their morale test and arrange themselves in a disciplined formation. There are fewer than there used to be, but eight is still a good formation. Shield up, spear set, imposing disadvantage on anything but something with long tentacles. Behind them, the halflings melt into the undergrowth, and the full-size people stand ready and begin plying missiles. 

Veld Agturan, the strongest archer, and Truebrag, the lead crossbowman, both miss completely. But all of the others, and I haven't got to CiedPod yet, manage either a weak hit or a strong hit or a crit. The lead two monsters - looking very like hobgoblins, and had they not been howling and racing in barehanded, they would be taken as hobgoblins - fall, tumbling head over heels to lie prone. A third looks badly weakened. Haste now takes effect. Too late to allow the missile men a second shot. Umbert's Fireball blossoms, inflicting twenty damage. Here are their saves. They need seven or under, and I don't need to roll for the three who are either on zero or a few hit points. Those are burned up many times over. Here are the six rolls. This Fireball has a decisive effect. All but two of the monsters burn screaming horribly. But those two may now take fright and flee, given that they are so damaged as to have only a few hit points left. 

It's the monsters round. Morale. I roll six, well under their morale. Despite being near dead, the final two hobgoblin-looking kind of monsters race to the melee distance. One of the two monsters clearly doesn't know how to handle reaching spears, but the other one makes a nimble leap and claws Mesk's face. Immediately a feeling of ice pervades Mesk's blood. It's Mesk's turn to be hoping for a seven or under as he saves against poison. No, he rolls a ten. The feeling of ice spreads and pervades his entire system, leaving him locked rigid. 

Round two. Spell declarations? None. Initiative. These hideous creatures win initiative. With Mesk brushed aside, the successful creature focuses its claws on Xantu. Contemptuously, the dwarf shrugs off the claw's attack. As for the other one that has not yet managed to get past spear points, it is still struggling. 

It's the characters round. Xantu whips his mace in a quick uppercut that smashes the skull of his opponent, pulverizing him. Eryn steps forward to help Mesk and wicks the head off that struggling creature. "Easy enough," Xantu growls. "What's wrong with Mesk there?"

"What's wrong?" Eryn looks closely at the wounds, steps back to grab one of the cressets burning nearby and holds it close.

"Those were poisoned. These were not regular hobgoblins, obviously." Eryn avers. 

"I'd say there's some kind of foul sorcery. We should pile the bodies. Burn them again," Umbert suggests, his voice harsh. 

"Alright, and it looks as though let me see. We'll have to drag Mesk for now as well." 

"Well, at least we're all moving quite quickly,"  Ingle says, trying to stay cheerful. 

Moving at double pace, the bodies of the two loathsome creatures are dragged back to the original conflagration that Umbert set: wood added, and those two rendered to ash. 

Kylie seems to be communing with trees while this goes on, but shakes her head, as though not convinced she's had any success. Elion walks over to her as though to find out what has been going on, but she ignores him. The two elves take up their positions in the convoy as it sets out. 

Soon, the deep roar of the river as it drops into the chasm fades behind them, and they are left with the more pleasant sound of the running river to their left. Partway through watch one, feeling returns to Mesk's limbs and he announces himself fit to walk. Ingle looks relieved and uses the staff of healing on him. Five back, that was the entire damage that Mesk took, so that's all healed up. 

Watch two. No encounter. 

Watch three. No random encounter, but it is in watch three that the orcs catch up. At first the rearguard is not watching the right angle. These enemy come from not behind them, but from the north and east. Dark of skin, jerky limbed, but untiring. These resurrected orcs, given new unlife by some unholy power, have been tireless in their pursuit. And now they've come out of the chasm and have caught up. Little do the characters know that these are just a delaying force, as were the original wave of thouls. By this time, the party, even though its pace is very slow, is on the fringes of the woodland. And had it been completely clear, I would have to adjudge that it was in clear light. But in the woodland fringes, dawn has not yet bathed the glades in light. Indeed, no. And it is that shadow that has afforded the enemy force to get so close. 

The movement of the undead orcs allows the rearguard to pick up the range at 120 feet. Despite the deep dark of the forest they come from. But well over what most of the bows can manage. 

"Let's keep moving,"  Ingle suggests. "We should be able to find the light of dawn as we clear the last of the trees." 

"They seem to be moving rather slowly," Umbert says hopefully. Kylie looks over at the wizard curiously.

"There is no life in them. These are undead, Umbert."

"Oh if only I 'ad two fireballs..." But Kylie is not listening to the complaining wizard, for whom more fireball is always the right answer. She's listening to Elion, who bursts into an impassioned speech in Elvish. Kylie turns and calls to Ingle and Eryn.

"We must make a stand. Else run, scatter. Farewell to the company."

It's not always easy to process exactly what Kylie's getting at, but this is clear enough. Eryn raises her voice. 

"Spearman! Form rank!" 

"Eryn," Ingle says bravely, "I am going to try and stop them. Then it will be up to you and Xantu - and possibly Kylie - to cut them down."