After a night of fleeing over rough terrain and through shadows, rain, and trauma, the party finds a sheltered copse of trees to rest for a moment and decide their next course of action. Their goal is the Friendly Arm Inn, but without knowing quite where it is, or where they are currently, they have some thinking to do...
The Coast Way
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After a night of fleeing over rough terrain and through shadows, rain, and trauma, the party finds a sheltered copse of trees to rest for a moment and decide their next course of action. Their goal is the Friendly Arm Inn, but without knowing quite where it is, or where they are currently, they have some thinking to do...
And he was pretty sure they were lost.
And half of them were going backwards and were probably going to die.
Why did they even form a group if they were just going to split up?
He is tired and hurt and frustrated. Maybe he doesn't want to do this anymore. He shouldn't even be here, right? Maybe it is all just a big mistake and he should find a way to get back home.
He flaps his wings, hovering just about the ground. Of course, he if hadn't come, he wouldn't have gotten the wings. He'd still be home with Mother and Father, and he'd be bored out of his mind while they told the same stories over and over again. The same stories that had made him want to have an adventure in the first place...
Perhaps I should bring his body to his father, he would know what best to do.
Rolls
Survival roll - how to get to the inn - (1d20+3)
(18) + 3 = 21
Speaking to the group,"With us being divided into two groups now we had best stick with Aiwes plan. It sounds like their is an inn close by and possibly a temple." With a glance to dieters body resting on the horse, Dieter does protecting his companions, I didn’t know him well, but that proves his valor Enough for me. I’m only hoping we can honor that sacrifice. I’m not as familiar with what magic that will require, but I assume since it’s some form of reviving that it’s time sensitive. Best to head off quickly and only rest if absolutely necessary." And anything you keep us moving and not dwelling on what just happened.
Looking towards Runeson "Any clues as to where to go now?@
The more difficult way is to continue north until they find the river, and follow it to the northeast until they reach a large forest. Then either going through or around the forest will bring them to the Friendly Arm Inn. With so much wilderness travel and vague landmarks, it may very well be easy to get lost, and travel will be slower. But, should pursuit be coming, it should be easier to evade humanoid enemies.
And so the choice is the easy, fast path, or the slow and difficult one.
Sheemish says this matter of factor, but not in a commanding tone. It’s more out of necessity to keep moving and get farther away from any chance of pursuit.
Looking over the map, gauging the angle of the sun, and doing a few calculations in her head, she settles on a direction and leads the way.
Rolls
Survival (Adv) - (1d20+3, 1d20+3)
1d20+3 : (10) + 3 = 13
1d20+3 : (7) + 3 = 10
With a look at our little party to see if they have any questions I head off in the direction we need to go.
Copses of trees amid rolling hills. It gets hotter under the rising sun, which is only augmented by the humidity. Gnats and other flying pests go for the eyes and mouth, always seeking liquid to drink. Mosquitoes, bugs unknown in Icewind Dale, bite and suck the blood of the travelers and generally make nuisances of themselves. Deer look up and leap away, and squirrels watch group curiously, while birds of all kinds sing their songs.
It is around midday that the group sees something truly awe-inspiring.
Icewind Dale is known in part for its Reghed 'barbarian' tribes that follow the caribou herds across the frozen tundra. What the group sees here is no caribou, for this beast must be five times larger, with broad antlers that spread nearly as wide as it is tall.

Muscled and majestic, with a thick mane of brownish-white hair, this giant deer stands tall as it watches the group. It shows no sign of fear, for what could the party do to harm it? Even large Tulco looks like a small pony next to this creature. There seems to be a spark of intelligence and percipience in its eyes.
And the mosquitos. Not quite so fascinating at the moment.
Stella glances up from her tome and freezes at the sight of the enormous deer, her jaw dropping with shock and wonder.
Beast or fey? Stella wonders. While she's tempted to take some notes, she doubts it would do much to capture the marvelous creature before her.
"Do you...understand common?" she asks tentatively, hoping it's friendly. "Elvish?" she asks in Elvish. "How about Druidic?"
Perhaps Sylvan... She didn't know any Sylvan.
Rolls
History - (1d20+1)
(15) + 1 = 16
While the others try and communicate with the creature, he looks around them, half hoping for a clue or sign that will tell them whether or not they should be running away.
Rolls
Perception check - (1d20+4)
(10) + 4 = 14
In response to Stella's questions the giant stag tosses its head and stamps a cloven hoof. It would seem that it does indeed understand Common and Elvish.
Runeson recalls stories told of lost travelers who were visited by such an animal. In every tale it was a portent of good fortune, or the precursor to some momentous event. But the tales hardly do justice to this creature!
Rolls
Persuasion - (1d20+4)
(18) + 4 = 22
Rolls
Persuasion - Deer, be a dear! - (1d20+4)
(9) + 4 = 13
And arguing.
A strong, dramatic voice rings out. "Montaron, you are so AGGRAVATING! 'Tis disturbing to my demeanor!"
A gruff, heavily-accented voice responds. "Ye already be disturbed; now leave me be. Yer company be toil enough as is."
The stag stops just short of the treeline and turns to the group. Waiting.
Following it seems right, even though he has no idea where they are going. When they finally stop, the voices make Rift nervous again. He tries to peek through the trees, but doesn't want to get too far from his group. If the stag brought them here, it must be for a good reason.
"'Tis a wonder ye've lived as long as long as ye have, ye weasel," the short one shouts.
"Oh, speak no more lest you gorge my sweet tooth!" The skinny one's voice has changed from dramatic to sing-song.
"Ye make no sense!"
"You got us lost!"
"'Twas YOUR incessant chattering what got us lost!"
It seems as though the two might soon come to blows.
Rolls
Persuasion - (1d20+4)
(20) + 4 = 24
The gruff halfling turns to Sheemish once more. "Well? What do ye need? Spit it out!"
Mad perhaps...but a wizard doesn't become one without study, she reasoned. They were a fascinating pair.
"What do you know about this?"
Stella taps the air, leaving stars hanging in the air connected by thin, glowing lines. In moments, the humanoid constellation shimmers and melts into a small-scale illusion of Kregguk's armored killer. (Stella casts Minor Illusion)
"It attacked us, along with er...ogres, archers, aaaand a caster of some kind."
Rolls
Persuasion, if needed - (1d20+1)
(7) + 1 = 8
He waits expectantly and wide-eyed.
The halfling gestures up toward Dieter's corpse laid across Tulco's back. "Ye've come to an awful odd place to drop a body." He ponders that for a long moment, then nods appreciatively. "For sure, we can help each other out. We been to the Friendly Arm Inn. Good rooms. Better drink! Take us back there, and if we get along, we'll let ye in on the Nashkell job."
"We have a deal." I say with a smile. "How did you get so lost yourselves?"
He glances at any "wares" these men may be bringing along- specifically looking to see if any of it appears stolen.
Rolls
Investigation - (1d20+4)
(18) + 4 = 22
He flinches at his own voice, then looks at his hands in confusion. And then he points at Montaron and speaks in monotone: "It was his fault."
And they were looking into the iron crisis, like Little One had talked about at that tavern. Rift wishes that he'd looked more closely at that hat that made Little One so smart. If he had a hat like that, he'd be unstoppable!
He looks at the two strange men, wondering what their story is and if they have anything like the magic hat. But looking at them, it's pretty obvious that if they had anything cool, it would be front and center. And they are definitely exactly what they seem: helpful, but somewhat absurd friends who are lost on their way to an important job.
He smiles at them.
Rolls
Perception check for cool items/info - (1d20+4)
(1) + 4 = 5
Sheemish takes the first shift. It's mostly uneventful, except for the occasional glint of eyes shining out from the dark. From the height, he guesses its the giant stag providing additional guard.
Finally, at the end of Sheemish's shift, he hears the distinct sound of jostled metal. A few minutes later Aiwe, Wirrow, Ossein, and Imoen stumble into camp, and the party is reunited once more.
.........
With that done, Ossein's focus now turns toward his new bearer trying to make a connection, get a feeling for their memories, name, unfinished business, weapon preference, favorite activities, or anything really.
Ossein also takes time to change his form to match that if his bearer's weapon of choice. His form melts down from a small mace, elongating and briefly turning into a javelin before curving back and settling on a shortbow. The shortbow seems oddly worn. A large crack nearly splits the bow like the next pull will certainly snap it. The wood looks sun bleached and splintered. Remnants of blue paint flecks sporadically still cling to parts of the bow, mostly towards the tips. It's hard to imagine this bow is a magical sentient weapon.
Rolls
Investigation for memories - (1d20+4)
(1) + 4 = 5
She pauses, obviously struggling to decide if she should rest, or make the party continue. Finally she relents and lays Keggruk down, her muscles screaming at the effort required to keep the massive armoured man from hitting the ground hard.
"I'll take next watch," she murmurs, and sits by the fire.
Aiwë spends her watch with her eyes on the trees, and her handpan drum on her lap. The lilting murmur of Elvish lullabies and the barest music from the metal drum drifts through camp, soothing stressed minds and muscles alike.
"Let me know if he gets tired," she tells Ossein. "...Does he get tired?"
She turns to the group. Her eyes are dull and her manner placid. Not words anyone would guess could be applied to Aiwë. "Let's eat while we walk. There's a long way to go, get."
She ignores Dieter's corpse, other than to glance at it once and wipe away a tear. She seems determined to have a good time with her friends.
She doesn't argue with any of Aiwe's calls for food or travel, though it is certainly disconcerting to see the girl acting so out of character. Hopefully they'd be able to fix the issue of Keggruk's death sooner rather than later and that would snap her out of it. Wasn't that the Runeson paladin's idea for taking Dieter's body with them? Wirrow can't remember exactly, given that she tends to avoid him.
Wirrow grabs her stuff and is ready to leave and lead, since no one else seems the type to be able to do it. Except Aiwe and Stella, but Aiwe was a bit distracted, and Stella was probably better at night. There was also the benefit that if she spent the whole time guiding, she'd have an excuse to not talk to anyone. The two odd individuals who seemed to have also invited themselves along for the journey... she'd be keeping an eye on them when she could.
Rolls
Survival (Navigation once more) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (12) + 4 = 16
1d20+4 : (17) + 4 = 21
Imoen practically skips along, spending a little bit of time with everyone except Montaron, who keeps her away with venomous glares. The stocky halfling keeps to himself, though he seems to also be keeping a wary eye out for monsters or other threats. And Xzar talks nearly as much as Imoen, sometimes to specific people, but often to nobody in particular.
"The trees move. Do you not see it?!"
"I've never liked the sunlight. 'Tis just too bright."
"Ahh yes, the chatter of friends and compatriots! Does it not warm the cockles?"
It is around midday that Wirrow and Montaron, at the same time, notice smoke from a cooking fire up ahead. "Well? Who's gonna check it out? My blade yearns for its daily dose!"
She was concerned at Imoen's arrival, but her cheer did seem to infect Stella. Normally Aiwë did that, but...she wouldn't be herself for quite some time, Stella feared.
Aiwë turns to Montaron. "You," she growls, orcish accent returning thick, "will be civil and palatable. Care for your own neck before you eye anyone else's."
Rolls
Youre the one thats outnumbered and Im out of patience, buddy (intimidation) - (1d20+5)
(17) + 5 = 22
She then feels a vague bit of magic wash over her, and she gives a nod and a faint smile to Aiwe before continuing on her way.
Rolls
Stealthing once we're away - (1d20+7)
(13) + 7 = 20
Bardic Inspiration for good measure - (1d6)
(1) = 1
He shrugs away from both wizard and bard, but not without muttering to Aiwe:
"Sleep lightly, taskmaster."
Now knowing what to look for, Wirrow notices several more goblins passing through the trees ahead of her. From the jugs they’re carrying, they look to be heading to the river to gather water.
"Hey girl, I know this must be a tough time for you, and this probably isn't the best time, but I figured you need to know. See, back when we were leaving Candlekeep and we were being searched, your father Keggruk gave me this satchel to hide from the guards. Based on the fact that they were searching for magical items I'm certain these vials are filled with very potent, and possibly illegal magical potions. I'm certain they're worth quite a lot of money. Since you're his kin, I'm giving these to you. See?"
The Archer, with two vials in his fist dips the fist into the satchel as if to pull out some vials. Then as his arm swings to give them to Aiwe, the zombie lets go of them. They drop to the floor and klink as they bounce towards the two sketchy guys.
"Oops, clumsy zombie, could to two give those to me?"
The Archer then hands over the satchel to Aiwe.
"Well..." she finally says. "While she's scouting ahead, maybe we could compare notes!" she says, turning to Xzar. "You're a wizard, right? I've only got some scribblings of some rituals down, but I do know a few unique spells," she tries, then throws out some names of spell schools and arcane jargon.
Leaving the lights to continue their mad dance, he pulls out his own spellbook to show to Stella. On the cover is a yet another stylized skull embossed into the green leather. Before Xzar can open the tome, however, Ossein makes his move...
"Oops, clumsy zombie, could you two give those to me?"
He rests a hand over where the liver should be. "Now this would be good with a nice Chianti and some fava beans..."
Rolls
Insight - diffuse the situation building up - (1d20+1)
(16) + 1 = 17
He kicks a rock, hard. "And now here we be."
And why are people insisiting on hauling around dead bodies? That's just weird. Lay them to rest, burn their bodies, eat them, anything but drag them around. Yuck.
While the others are talking, Rift goes through his pack, looking for something to occupy himself. He packed the bag himself, so he should know exactly what is in it, but maybe he left himself a surprise. He certainly didn't remember packing his daggers, after all.
Digging around, he uncovers a couple new weapons, several changes of clean clothes, a decent sized bag of coins, and nicely wrapped packages of food. He opens one and the heavenly smell overwhelms him for a moment. He looks back and forth between the bag and the food. It's almost as if someone packed this bag for his exact situation... but that would be an amazing coincidence.
He looks up at the rest of the group and whispers to himself, "I don't even know where this cherry pie came from."
Rolls
Persuasion - less gruff = more helpful - (1d20+4)
(16) + 4 = 20
The look Aiwë gives Wirrow is not a comforting one. Eyes wide and eyebrows low, with sudden shocking understanding.
"Let's go around the goblins," Aiwë says, looking Wirrow in the eye with thoughts elsewhere. A number of things she hadn't thought much of make sudden sense. "Hard to know how many there will be if this is their camp. More walking is better than stopping to tend wounds."
"While we walk," Aiwë tells Wirrow in low Orcish, "we can talk." She dumps the rest of the rancid bloody vials onto the ground, before prestidigitating the mess clean.
Rolls
Investigation - (1d20)
(20) = 20
The dour fellow stomps up to Rift to make small talk. "I hate the woods," he remarks. "Prey be so much easier to find in the city." Apparently satisfied at his efforts, Montaron concludes: "Now give me some of yer pie."
It's about midafternoon when they reach the edge of a forest. Looking at her map and notes, Wirrow thinks it's only about 10 miles through the dense trees to get to the Friendly Arm Inn. A short distance to the west should be the main road, which is supposed to curve around the edge of this forest. Sticking to their previous plan of avoiding the road, they enter the thick forest.
Rolls
Nav (You think I would fail one of these times) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (13) + 4 = 17
1d20+4 : (14) + 4 = 18
Stella sees Aiwë murmur to Wirrow and subtly pour some dark liquid out of vials. It was difficult to identify with the uncertain light filtering through the trees. What was that? Had it gone bad, or was it dangerous? What were they hiding...and why?
Feeling awfully alone despite the company around her, Stella clutches her tome to her chest and trails her way to the back of the group, where she sees Kay following along quietly. Save maybe Imoen and Xzar, it seemed hardly anyone was having much of a good time.
"Hi, Kay," Stella gives a weak smile. "How are you feeling? Did you get much sleep?"
With the attack, the deaths of Dieter and Kregguk, the arduous night-long trek, and everything still soaking from the rain, well...she would be surprised if the answer was anything but "no". Still, the conversation might help them both get their mind off things while they walked.
Xzar squints into the darkness and remarks quietly, "I wanted darkvision like the elves, but 'tis more than just taking their eyes..."
Imoen, who has been chatting happily with the wizard up until this point, gives him a sidelong look and chuckles awkwardly, unsure of exactly what the man means. Before she can ask, however, the screeching begins.
"blarkblarkblarkblark SKREEEEEEEEGLURKLGLURKL!!!"
Runeson recognizes the mad call of gibberlings, as do Xzar and Montaron, who immediately draw weapons. The noise seems to come from all around them, and Runeson can't help but remember the last time he fought the strange monsters.
Unwilling to face gibberlings in such darkness, Xzar conjures his dancing skull-lights, which bathe the immediate scenery green. Dozens of eyes peer back at the party from the darkness all around, and then the gibberlings attack!
As for how they enemies are grouped, they share a hit point total. So if you happen to do 15 damage to a group, you kill all 3 gibberlings in that group (each gibberling has 5 hp). Make sense? Feel free to ask questions in the Discord!
I FORGOT TO ADD: Attack rolls against these guys ALL HAVE ADVANTAGE. Cuz reasons.

Stella's frightened eyes soon flare a fierce orange. They were not going to lose any more.
She knocks an arrow and blows an icy druidic word onto it. The arrow becomes encased in frost, then she draws and sends it into one of the groups of approaching creatures before it explodes into a sphere of icy shards.
(Stella casts Ice Knife. North Front takes 2 damage and two of them must succeed on DEX saves or each take 11 damage, or however the mobs work.)
AC: 13
Middle
Rolls
NO. BAD. Ice Knife vs North Front (Adv) - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (3) + 5 = 8
1d20+5 : (7) + 5 = 12
Attack Damage - (1d10)
(2) = 2
AoE Damage - (2d6)
(65) = 11
Stella's arrow is far more impressive, and Wirrow gives it an appreciative glance and smile.
(Wirrow casts Looming Shadow. East Front takes 12 piercing damage, and one of them takes an additional 1d10 psychic damage on its next turn if it takes any hostile action towards Aiwe.)
HP: 20/20
AC: 14
Middle
Rolls
Longbow vs East Front (Adv) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (10) + 7 = 17
1d20+7 : (9) + 7 = 16
Damage (Longbow, Favored Foe) - (1d8+3, 1d4)
1d8+3 : (8) + 3 = 11
1d4 : (1) = 1
Without Ossein's help, the Zombie Archer plucks a crooked arrow from the air, looses it, and blasts the group of chitterlings apart.
"Lucky Shot, you cheated, it doesn't count."
Group to the south takes 15 damage
AC: 13? I think
HP: ∞
Loc: middle
Rolls
Arrow'd - (1d20+5)
(20) + 5 = 25
Damage with crit - (1d6+9)
(6) + 9 = 15
He slashes out at the gibberlings. The tip slashes out and hits first one gibberling, and then another, with almost no effort.
(10 damage to West)
AC 14
HP 17/17
West, front
Rolls
Rapier attack! - (1d20+5)
(12) + 5 = 17
Again, bc advantage - (1d20+5)
(15) + 5 = 20
Damage - (1d8+3)
(1) + 3 = 4
Sneak attack! - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Whip deals 9 damage along with any damage Stella does.
HP 19
AC 17
Rolls
Whip vs North - (1d20+6)
(9) + 6 = 15
W Adv - (1d20+6)
(20) + 6 = 26
whip crit damage - (1d6+6)
(3) + 6 = 9
Be careful! They will try to separate and drag us away!" I yell, thinking of the poor guards from last time.
I swing at the closest gibberling within range."Justice smite you!"
6 damage to western gibberlings
AC: 18
Health: 20/20
Front: West
Rolls
Attack western gibberlings - (1d20+5)
(13) + 5 = 18
Advantage- western gibberlings attack - (1d20+5)
(17) + 5 = 22
Damage - western gibberlings - (1d8+3)
(3) + 3 = 6
16 dmg to East group, killing all three there.
Rolls
Shortsword vs east group (adv) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (13) + 7 = 20
1d20+7 : (3) + 7 = 10
dmg to east (piercing, sneak attack) - (1d6+4, 4d6)
1d6+4 : (4) + 4 = 8
4d6 : (1232) = 8
Dmg is as follows…
Sheemish takes 14
Montaron takes 16
Aiwe expends her thingy and is at 1 hp
Rift takes 10
Fortunately, these beasties also fall easily. In just seconds the first wave of enemies are cut down, though more feral screams and insane chatterings signal the arrival of the rest of the gibberlings. What's worse, a handful of them are climbing up nearby trees (Climbing Groups 1 and 2).
Rolls
North group vs Sheemish (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (20) + 4 = 24
1d20+4 : (11) + 4 = 15
attacks vs Sheemish (4, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (1216) + 4 = 32
2d20+4 : (22) + 4 = 8
2d20+4 : (1017) + 4 = 31
2d20+4 : (1412) + 4 = 30
dmg to Sheemish (piercing) - (3d4+6)
(413) + 6 = 14
East group vs Montaron (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (20) + 4 = 24
1d20+4 : (3) + 4 = 7
Attacks vs Montaron (4, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (511) + 4 = 20
2d20+4 : (717) + 4 = 28
2d20+4 : (139) + 4 = 26
2d20+4 : (616) + 4 = 26
dmg to Montaron - (4d4+8)
(2114) + 8 = 16
South group vs Aiwe (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (16) + 4 = 20
1d20+4 : (4) + 4 = 8
Attacks vs Aiwe (4, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (1420) + 4 = 38
2d20+4 : (1119) + 4 = 34
2d20+4 : (314) + 4 = 21
2d20+4 : (1914) + 4 = 37
dmg to Aiwe - (4d4+12)
(3324) + 12 = 24
West group vs runeson (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (5) + 4 = 9
1d20+4 : (12) + 4 = 16
West group vs Rift (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (6) + 4 = 10
1d20+4 : (17) + 4 = 21
Attacks vs Rift (4 attacks, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (184) + 4 = 26
2d20+4 : (96) + 4 = 19
2d20+4 : (517) + 4 = 26
2d20+4 : (73) + 4 = 14
dmg to Rift - (2d4+4)
(24) + 4 = 10
North group dex saves vs ice knife (3 saves) - (3d20+2)
(41110) + 2 = 27
As a clarification, still adv on all attacks against these moops!
Good news is, this should be the last of them.

10 dmg to the climbing group 1
Middle
Rolls
Imoen vs climbing group 1 - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (6) + 5 = 11
1d20+5 : (12) + 5 = 17
dmg to climbing group 1 (sneak attack) - (2d6+3)
(25) + 3 = 10
21 dmg to East group
East
Rolls
Montaron vs East (adv) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (13) + 7 = 20
1d20+7 : (8) + 7 = 15
dmg to east - (2d6+4)
(43) + 4 = 11
REAL damage roll (piercing, sneak attack) - (1d6+4, 4d6)
1d6+4 : (1) + 4 = 5
4d6 : (5335) = 16
Hopefully
dex 14 save Vs catapult or death
hp 5
Ac 17
Rolls
Decapitated catipult - (3d8)
(584) = 17
Dex save - (1d20+2)
(17) + 2 = 19
Dex 14 save next group - (1d20+2)
(12) + 2 = 14
Maybe?!?! - (1d20+2)
(19) + 2 = 21
10 damage to south side.
AC: 13
HP: ∞
Loc: middle
Rolls
Arrow'd advantage - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (19) + 5 = 24
1d20+5 : (1) + 5 = 6
Damage - (1d6+4)
(6) + 4 = 10
He swings again and watches several of the monsters fall. "Take that, you nasty things!"
(13 damage to West side)
AC 14
HP 7/17
Front, west side
Rolls
Rapier attack again - (1d20+5)
(3) + 5 = 8
Advantage - (1d20+5)
(19) + 5 = 24
Rapier damage - (1d8+3)
(4) + 3 = 7
Sneak attack - (1d6)
(5) = 5
"With that great blow her vision fades
She sinks beneath the waves
Is this where the story ends?"
"KIO-RAAAAA!" Aiwë's shout echoes far more than it did in the Hearth, her voice ripping into the gibberlings and blowing them away. She draws her sword as the resonance works through her, filling her with strength.
"This will not be her grave!"
Aiwë casts Thunderwave on then North side, destroying the gibberlings. She then casts Cure Wounds on herself and gains 9 hp.
HP: 10
AC: 14
Rolls
Cure wounds on self - (1d8+3)
(6) + 3 = 9
Thunderwave saves - (1d20, 1d20, 1d20)
1d20 : (13) = 13
1d20 : (8) = 8
1d20 : (13) = 13
Thunderwave damage - (2d8)
(85) = 13
"Freeze," she whispers to her next arrow, encasing it with ice.
She aims up at the climbing creatures and fires the missile like an icy comet, a misty frost trailing behind it. It shatters, tearing through gibberlings and tree branches and showing mist and flakes of ice down on the party. (Somewhere between 12 and 22 damage to Climbing Group 2.)
HP: 12/12
AC: 13
Middle
Rolls
Ice Knife vs Climbing Group 2 (Adv) - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (20) + 5 = 25
1d20+5 : (2) + 5 = 7
Attack Damage - (1d10)
(2) = 2
AoE Damage - (2d6)
(14) = 5
Climbing Group 2 Dex Saves - (1d20+2, 1d20+2, 1d20+2)
1d20+2 : (8) + 2 = 10
1d20+2 : (14) + 2 = 16
1d20+2 : (10) + 2 = 12
HP: 20/20
AC: 14
North (or wherever Aiwe is)
Rolls
Longbow vs Climbing Group 1 (adv) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (5) + 7 = 12
1d20+7 : (7) + 7 = 14
Longbow Damage - (1d8+3)
(4) + 3 = 7
Magic Missile! Two bolts on South group (10 dmg), one bolt on West (5 dmg).
Middle
Rolls
Magic Missile - (1d4+1)
(4) + 1 = 5
Tragedy nearly strikes when Sheemish falls under the weight of several of the monsters. With the sudden gap in the party’s defenses, two gibberlings dart in and cut viciously at Stella’s legs, while the third starts pulling Sheemish’s unconscious form out into the darkness. Fortunately, Aiwe’s thunderous spell sends gibberling bodies flying back out of the midst of the group, colliding with the one dragging Sheemish so forcefully that all three are slain.
Dmg!
Sheemish takes 6 and is unconscious
Stella takes 7
Montaron takes 9
Runeson takes only 4 (cuz reasons)
Wirrow takes 9
As the rest of the swarm falls to the companions’ might, the forest seems eerily quiet. Absent the screeching, the only sound they can hear is their own hard breathing.
Rolls
North vs Sheemish (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (20) + 4 = 24
1d20+4 : (20) + 4 = 24
North vs Sheemish (2 attacks, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (618) + 4 = 28
2d20+4 : (102) + 4 = 16
dmg to Sheemish - (1d4+2)
(4) + 2 = 6
North vs Stella (2 attacks, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (611) + 4 = 21
2d20+4 : (1319) + 4 = 36
dmg to Stella - (2d4+4)
(12) + 4 = 7
East vs Montaron (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (5) + 4 = 9
1d20+4 : (1) + 4 = 5
East vs Montaron (2 attacks, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (151) + 4 = 20
2d20+4 : (1615) + 4 = 35
dmg to Montaron - (2d4+4)
(41) + 4 = 9
South vs Runeson (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (19) + 4 = 23
1d20+4 : (7) + 4 = 11
South vs Runeson (4 attacks) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (21) + 4 = 7
2d20+4 : (419) + 4 = 27
2d20+4 : (115) + 4 = 20
2d20+4 : (155) + 4 = 24
dmg to Runeson - (3d4+6)
(221) + 6 = 11
oops. South for reals vs Wirrow (swarm, adv) - (1d20+4, 1d20+4)
1d20+4 : (12) + 4 = 16
1d20+4 : (5) + 4 = 9
South for reals vs Wirrow (4 attacks, adv) - (2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4, 2d20+4)
2d20+4 : (68) + 4 = 18
2d20+4 : (78) + 4 = 19
2d20+4 : (410) + 4 = 18
2d20+4 : (189) + 4 = 31
dmg to Wirrow - (2d4+4)
(14) + 4 = 9
(Sheemish regains 7 HP.)
"Come on, Sheemish! Stay with us!" she splashes water on his face and pries open an eye to see if it reacts normally. "We have to go!"
HP: 5/12
Rolls
Healer's Kit - (1d6+6)
(1) + 6 = 7
Retroative herbalist kit check to regain healer's kit uses - (1d20+5)
(9) + 5 = 14
"We have to put distance between us and all the noise we just made. Move out!" she calls, reminding those who know her that she was raised a soldier.
"We have to be close now," Shelur murmurs to herself. "Please, Torm."
I'll probably add some lore stuff over the next couple of days, as well as things that can be done here, notable NPCs etc, but for now feel free to carry on as you like!
"We made it, Uncle." But her work isn't done yet.
"The temple, or the Inn. Two groups should be fine, but stay together until we're sure it's safe," Shelur tells the group. "Remember, we thought Candlekeep was."
Aiwë walks with Runeson and Tulco to the Temple of Wisdom. At the doors, she helps the paladin tie his horse and retrieve Dieter from his back, then takes Keggruk from hers and holds him in her arms. The two carry their covered loads into the temple.
"Hello?" Aiwë calls as they enter. "Can you help us? Please, we have dead."
She beams up at them in spite of the late hour, until she sees the reason for their coming. "Greetings! I am Gellana Mirroshade, at your service on the behalf of Garl Gli- Oh dear. Please, come this way and I'll see what can be done."
She leads them to a back room with a row of cots, small feet moving quickly to stay ahead of her visitors. "How long ago did they die? Do they still have all their limbs and organs? Is there any reason you can think of that they wouldn't wish to be raised? And last, but not least, do you have payment for them? I'm afraid that I need 500 gold pieces each if I am to do anything to help them."
Or maybe . . .
Rolls
Mystery roll - (1d100)
(19) = 19
"Dieter," she says, the only delay in her voice from the dullness that has taken root in her chest. "Keggruk was trying to save him too. Four hundred more? I have a hundred gold." Her mind scrambles for options. "How much does Dieter have? Wirrow, how much do you have?"
Shelur turns back to Gellana. "Please, my lady. My uncle is a paladin. A hero! I-I'm a bard. I can get the money. How long do I have?"
Then, almost as an afterthought, she remembers, "Oh, I guess I have whatever we got paid a week ago, don't I?" She reaches down and hands over all of her portion of the gold for bringing back Koveras's carriage at the beginning of their stay in Candlekeep. No hesitation (once she remembers she has something), and not a single coin has been spent.
She puts a finger to her lips and thinks for a moment. "My husband, Bentley, minds the Inn. We used to be adventurers ourselves, before establishing ourselves here. To help facilitate jobs for other adventurers, Bentley keeps a notice board. You might consider looking it over for some jobs to be done around these parts. Do a few of those, and I'm sure you'll have enough for your other friend here."
"Thank you. Thank you! I...I--!" Suddenly she seems filled with energy. "I have to go play a song!" She hurries out the door to see if there is a place for a performer at the Inn.
"GAH! I'm burn.....oh, maybe, yes, yes I'm quite alright actually. Whew, that's quite a relief.
Ah! Madam Mirrorshade, excuse my interruption, but you seem to get a lot of dead bodies here. By any chance do you happen to have any extras lying about? I'm willing to trade. The one I have is a bit stubborn, and...NO! YOU SHOVE A MINOTAUR'S LEFT HORN UP YOUR FAIRY Aaaanyway what I mean to say is mine isn't particularly pleased with our current arrangement, and in my considerably professional opinion, a change of arrangements may be in order. I prefer if the deceased are well taken care of. DON'T YOU IMPUNG ON MY MOTHER!. My apologies ma'am my companion is quite crude, and ummm insistent. Bert had his faults, but I will say this about him, he was much better behaved."
As the party crosses the inn’s threshold, one such soldier approaches, holding out a gauntleted arm. He says, "You won’t be needing weapons here. Leave them with me, and I’ll return them upon your departure."
Stella follows Aiwë into the inn and relinquishes her bow and quiver without any protest.
"Would you...like any help?" Stella asks with a warm smile. She wasn't as musically skilled as Aiwë, but she did sing and dance. Mostly, however, she wanted to help however she could. Four hundred gold was nothing to scoff at—it was more than she had ever seen in one place.
Ossein must succeed on a DC 14 Wisdom saving throw or Archer is instantly destroyed.
"Fine sir!" she murmurs quietly, loud enough to be heard by him but not to disrupt his ambience too greatly. "Can I hire your accompaniment for a performance?"
She does not, however, offer to help perform. No instrument here she knows how to use, and even if there was, there's no way she's performing in front of anyone. Still, from everyone else's reactions, four hundred gold must be a lot. There has to be something she can do to get some; to help fix Aiwe, even if the girl seems to be feeling better for the moment.
The cleric lady they'd talked to (Wirrow wishes it could have been some other profession) mentioned a listing of jobs that could work. Getting paid to kill things, like the job at Candlekeep? She could do that! Wirrow wanders around the lantern-lit abode, searching for anything of the kind.
If it occurs to her to ask any of the regulars where it is, she quickly squashes the thought. That was hardly independent, and she just... doesn't feel like talking to anyone she can avoid talking to right now. As usual.
Unshey
Landrin
(Currently taking shelter at the Friendly Arm Inn until brought the boots and proof of the dead spiders)
(Please don't actually burn down my house)
Khalid
But for real, I'd appreciate you not killing my legs unless you got a new pair for me. Oh, and has anyone told you how beautiful you look when smiting nthe undead?"
Rolls
Fried crispy - (1d20+2)
(14) + 2 = 16
Wandering into the inn, he carefully steers away from anyone drinking. Instead, he checks out the board covered in notes. He visibly flinches reading about the gibberlings, his leg still a hing from where he was bitten. The one with the spiders appeals to him... until it specifies that there will be no house burning. Unfortunate, that. He happens to know that spiders burn very well.
He turns away from the board to see a few members of his crew enter. The girls appear to be getting ready to put on a show. He finds an empty table and sits down to watch, carefully keeping his bag very close to his person. Too many people get careless with their things in a place like this.
She directs her next words at Runeson, but is careful to never let Archer out of her sight. "You travel with... whatever this is? Are you not a paladin?"
Archer reluctantly raises Ossein in bow form above his head.
"I was murdered and my soul was bound to this evil vessel by a group of "good" clerics and paladins just because one of them was jealous of my relationship with a girl at the time. So you can either get off your high horse, take off your blinders, and apologize, or I'll bid your ignorant, bias, albeit beautiful butt, Good Day."
Rolls
Persuasion I guess? - (1d20+4)
(7) + 4 = 11
Without waiting for a response, Aiwë pulls a stool onto the dais and sets her handpan on her lap and her drum at her feet. As soon as Stella is settled, she begins a solo entrance.
"Can you hear the mountains gro-uoh-uoh-uoan?"
Her feet hit the drum twice, then she queues in the lutist and begins playing on her handpan.
"I am so very far from hoooooooome.
But the game is hearty, strong and hale,
here in the depths of Icewind Dale."
With those words Ossein and Archer leave.
it seems existence is painful
The room gradually hushes as the patrons realize that a true song is being performed - and a new one at that! Most of these people have likely never even heard of Icewind Dale.
Her feet hit the drum twice, then she queues in the lutist and begins playing on her handpan.
here in the depths of Icewind Dale."
Here in the depths of Icewind Da-aaale."
She blows and four twinkling lights flow out of her mouth. They spread to illuminate the platform, lazily drifting around the performers like cold, quiet stars, watching from a turning sky. (Stella casts dancing lights)
Then, as Aiwë begins the next phrase and with her eyes still closed, Stella begins tapping the air in front of her. The taps create the sound of quiet bells, the pitches alternating between high and low, like snow being whisked about in the wind. (Stella casts minor illusion.)
The room is quieter now and he starts to examine some of the other patrons out of curiosity. One of them might know something that could help them with their quest(s).
Rolls
Perception - (1d20+4)
(8) + 4 = 12
When Aiwe, Stella, and the lutist finish, a fine amount of copper and silver coins make their way to the dais as tips. The old lutist helps himself to his share with a happy nod, and then, his money for the night made, puts his instrument away and leaves. (Aiwe and Stella each gain 2 gold pieces).
Once we get to the inn I look for our other companions and ensure that Dieter is comfortable before going to check on Tulco.
He gestures to himself. "I am Bentley Mirrorshade, owner of the Friendly Arm Inn! I hope you feel welcome for however long you stay here!"
"Stella, that was amazing!" she gushes, brown eyes warm. "When did you learn to do that? Wait, no, tell me when we eat. We have to ride the crowd!" She fixes her drum to her hip and looks back out. Seeing Dieter and Runeson enter the inn she begins a drum roll.
"This one is dedicated to Dieter! Brave soldier, noble man!" she cries, then promptly begins a raucous drinking song about a young boy who becomes a mercenary to see the world.
When the song finishes, Aiwë smiles warmly at the gnome proprietor. "Thank you. Your inn is such a relief after our days on the road. I'll be about doing some work if I can find it, but when I'm back may I play for my keep here?"
Bentley points out the job board on the wall. "If you're looking for work, you might give that a read. There's always someone who needs help in these parts! If any of the jobs strike your fancy, let me know and I'll point you toward the ones who are paying."
"Can you point me to Khalid? How worried he must be about his wife!"
The gnome gestures toward the melancholic half-elf that Rift noticed earlier.
"Th-thank you for joining me! M-my name is Khalid," he stutters. "I wish to hire a group of f-formidable adventurers to aid in the rescue of my wife. She was carried off by gibberlings after our c-camp was overrun less than a tenday ago. It seemed like their horde was traveling towards the Cloakwood—not far from here." He takes a drink from his glass of water. "Gibberlings usually eat their victims, but for some reason, they’ve kept my Jaheira alive." He holds up his hand, where an ornate metal ring wraps around one finger. "Our wedding bands share a magical bond, you see. This will be a dangerous t-task—but I have gold! Will you help me?"
"Hello, Khalid, I'm Aiwë. Yes, we'll help. I think it may be best to leave at first light, when we are rested and most capable. Do you think Jaheira will be alright that long?"
And performing felt amazing, especially with her new spells. No wonder Aiwë enjoyed it so much...
Seeing Dieter, Stella's heart sinks for a moment. The young man was wonderful, but...most of them knew Kregguk, not Dieter. Who decided that? Aiwë didn't seem to pay any mind, though...so perhaps she shouldn't either. They'd earn enough to pay for the orog's revival soon enough, she hoped.
She joins Aiwë, Dieter, Runeson, Rift and any others with them. Where was Wirrow? Expertly not being seen apparently...or rather...not apparently?
Ossein slides over to speak conspiratorially with Rift.
"Hey kid, how difficult would it be to plant tiny pieces of my bearer all around the temple we were just in. Well, not really the temple, mostly just the priestess's bedroom and in all her pockets, bags, shoes, you know, everywhere. That way she ends up sensing evil all the time. What do you say?"
He shrugs. At least it will pay well, although he has a sneaking suspicion that they will expect him to donate to the dead body fund. Gross. Although the one dead guy is up and walking around, so that's... weird. Just really weird. Dead people shouldn't walk around. It's unnatural. He inconspicuously steps away from Dead Guy while still listening to the conversation.
The strange hobgoblin starts speaking to him and Rift doesn't know what to do. The voice doesn't sound like a goblin. It actually sounds a lot like the strange smelly man who had his head chopped off. Why is he talking about pieces of bears? Maybe it's a hobgoblin thing.
"Um, it doesn't seem like a good idea to make a priestess angry," Rift says slowly. Common sense obviously isn't a hobgoblin thing.
He takes a glance at Stella's map. "If I may?" he asks politely. "Here is the Friendly Arm Inn. H-here is the Cloakwood. And here is where they captured my w-w-wife." The camp sits roughly halfway between the Inn and the Cloakwood.

"Will the gibberlings not attack in the day? What's your plan for avoiding a fight?"
Looking around, he notices their two "stragglers" picked up along the way. Memories of flawed tavern dwellers rising to a challenge to save a town came to his mind. While he did despise these two on principle, they had been helpful to point. Rising from his seat, Sheemish pulls up a chair at their table and sits himself down.
Blunt and straight forward seemed the best tactic here. "While our two groups normally wouldn't have joined up under most circumstances, I will admit I'm grateful that we did. You held your own in that fight and it would have been much worse for us without you. Makes up for somewhat for threatening my friends and eating their pie." Sheemish says with a sigh. He then wraps his knuckles on the table (gauntlets had been confiscated earlier). "So what now? We assisted each other in getting here. What is this next job that you spoke of about the Iron Crisis? Who's the employer and whats the goal?"
The necromancer's voice drops to a deep whisper. "Said employers are always looking for new talent. Should you join our own... lucrative guild, Monty and I will tell you all we know about the Iron Crisis."
He looks at Sheemish and growls. "Besides, this one doesn't have the stomach for what we do."
"It sounds like now is safest. We should hurry!
She takes her tome back and flips to a blank page to start an entry on gibberlings and—it wasn't blank...and neither was the next or the next. She draws her lips to a line, navigating the unwelcome notes and scribbles from her family. Finally, she gives up and snaps the tome shut. She...would just have to remember that.
"If they're heliophobic, I agree, leaving now would probably be best."
Wirrow would probably appreciate traveling at night too. At that thought, she stops and tilts her head, then opens her tome to a page on Wirrow and finds Prone to hyperthermia. Next to the note, she scratches another: Heliophobic?
Should she just ask? Probably...Whatever Wirrow's trouble was, it would be important to know if they were going to be traveling together.
He wipes his sweaty brow, and then urges the party to continue on. "The Cloakwood is perhaps another 8 hours ahead. Their t-trail is rather o-obvious." Indeed, even to untrained eyes, it does look as though hundreds of the mad creatures have passed through the area.
"Onward!"
The party reaches the top of a rise and get their first glimpse of the Cloakwood. The forest is the largest they’ve seen so far on their journey, but the place seems even more imposing than its size would suggest. It’s easy to see how these woods earned their name: though the sun is now fully above the horizon, so little light can pierce the thick canopy that the entire forest floor remains enveloped in shadow. Anything could be hidden in those trees.
"It’s a little more than 50 square miles, I w-w-would think. Not a large forest, by any means. Not c-compared to High Forest, or the F-forest of Tethyr, or e-even the other local woods, the Forest of Sh-sh-sharp Teeth. B-but it is the most m-menacing one I’ve ever seen." Khalid’s face seems even paler than before, and he’s sweating profusely. "Fortunately, the gibberlings’ trail seems to cling to the e-edges of the woods."
As they get closer, the party sees that a dozen mounds of freshly-turned dirt are piled along the forest’s edge. Each is roughly the size of a small goat, except for one very large one at the center. The arrangement of these strange mounds is chaotic and haphazard, with no apparent pattern to their construction. Dieter and Runeson immediately recognize them as buried gibberlings, a fact that Khalid confirms.
"Th-this can’t be the m-main horde. Wh-wh-what do you all think?"
Looking over the mounds, she purses her lips thoughtfully, trying to compare what she knew of gibberling behavior with what she knew of other burrowing and hoarding creatures. If they were anything like ants, for example, where would their spoils be...and was there a queen?
Rolls
Nature - (1d20+2)
(20) + 2 = 22
Retroactive Hit Die (during the short rest at the Inn) - (1d8)
(5) = 5
Looking around the group, his eyes fall on Khalid, the leader of this quest. The man just wanted his wife back, obviously. Rift thought it was a lost cause. Maybe if they had been anything other than gibberlings, she might still be alive. Going after the monsters to probably find her eaten was almost as bad as carrying around her dead body. What kind of man would risk everything, including a significant amount of money, for a woman who was most likely dead anyway?
Rolls
Perception check on Khalid - (1d20+4)
(4) + 4 = 8
Archer slaps his own face a few times.
"Quit hitting yourself Hob, that's no way to act around friends. We must be chipper not dour. You don't see me moping about because I died now do you?"
The Happy torch begins burning brighter with all the talk about being happy. Swaying back and forth and creeping down the handle, a small part of Archer begins to smoulder and smoke.
"Ugh, ignore the poor sod of a bearer I have now. Being happy on the outside is a choice we can all make. Oh! Maybe holding Happy would help make you happier? His Happy emotions literally flow over you. I can almost feel it now."
Jaheira was taken by the gibberlings, and so it stands to reason that other people might have been taken as well. If not eaten, what do the strange creatures do with their captives? The astute scholar realizes that the other gibberlings the party encountered didn't seem to have any sort of reproductive organs. They must have some way of reproducing, especially since there are so many of the little monsters!
She's certain that the key to this mystery will be found within the large mound.
Then, trying to meet the gaze of both men (though it was hard with the eccentric Xzar), "I’m not saying we have to like each other, but if our goals align we may be able to help each other. If they align" He adds with emphasis.
Montaron sighs and stomps on Xzar's foot, causing him to blink back to his normal(?) self. The skinny wizard sifts gently through the iron dust with his fingers. "This is bad for everyone's business. Sure, it might be fun for a while and cause a little chaos - great for pranks - but in the long term..." He shakes his head and flashes a rictus grin. "Nobody wants that. Well, probably someone does. And so Monty and I are going to find that someone, gut them, and use their entrails for garlands. Oh, and revert all the damage done to the economy, of course."
He takes a purposeful step toward the mounds, armor clanking.
Ossein directs Archer to go investigate the mound
Rolls
Investigation / poking the mound with a stick - (1d20+4)
(12) + 4 = 16
"But we need soft feet, remember?" She jerks her head at Wirrow and Rift. "Let us do the work you hired us for." She releases Khalid. She doesn't release Archer.
Wirrow and/or Rift have Bardic Inspiration for a stealth check.
Sheemish rises from the chair. "I’m a blacksmith, the iron trade is my trade and my fathers trade as well as many others. Putting a stop to whoever is causing the crisis is something I would definitely be interested in. Let me know if you need help. Unless the two of you think you can do it alone again."
Sheemish tosses a coin to one of inn staff and says loud enough for the table to hear.
[b]"one more round for the fluffy guy that kisses babies." And walks away.
]
sheemish casts whisper as he leaves the table Hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation. It allows him to only hear Montaron however, as it is only cast on one person.
Remembering the promise he made to Keggruk, Ossein steps between Aiwe and the mound, " On second thought, feel free to use me for cover."
"Um, no." He takes a step back, and then adds a belated, "Thanks." What a strange creature.
Thankfully he is saved by Drum Lady asking him to sneak up to the mounds. His heart begins to race. He likes sneaking. He does not like gibberlings. With all the eyes on him though, he can't back down.
He nods to Drum Lady and takes a moment to focus on himself. He tucks his wings tightly against his back. He should have practiced sneaking more with them, since they could throw off his balance. He takes slow, tentative steps toward the mounds.
Rolls
Sneaky feet - (1d20+7)
(8) + 7 = 15
Sneaky feet advg - (1d20+7)
(6) + 7 = 13
Inspiration - (1d6)
(6) = 6
The halfling hops off his chair and stomps up the stairs to his rented room.
Clearing away the rest of the dirt, Rift finds a dead human merchant bound with rope. His body has several horrible wounds where something was clearly trying to eat its way out of him from the inside. The good news, however, is that Rift finds a small purse with 20 gold pieces tied to the man's waist.
All of this is visible to the rest of the party.
More money is certainly nice, but the dead man was a horrifying find. How long can one survive buried? Probably not long. And those wounds... But Khalid seems certain his wife is alive.
"Where next?" Aiwë urges him.
Rolls
History cueck - (1d20+6)
(8) + 6 = 14
With advantage - (1d20+6)
(7) + 6 = 13
"I am Moop! (Gleeful squeak). I am a servant of the dark lord of chaos and silliness. Trust the blacksmith and watch the fun. (Evil cackle)"
jhermsy might be proud of this one Sheemish thinks with a smile. And with that the short spell ends.
[]
: )
Rolls
Deception - (1d20+2)
(15) + 2 = 17
If only he'd been sneakier with the purse, he could have kept it from the rest of the group. They would just spend it on a different dead body. Next time he'd be more careful. He wiggles his fingers in anticipation. It had been a while since he picked any pockets. Maybe that would have to change soon.
Aiwe. Right. Wirrow looks over at the half-elf girl; golden irises now with a red edge to them. When she'd told Aiwe she would be fine, that was before they'd had to go right back to travelling. They... might have to talk or something. In the meantime, she thinks Aiwe's current reaction is a lot more reasonable than Khalid's. The wounded corpse is disgusting, sure, but it's to be expected. That was what the work of monsters looked like.
The group avoids the remaining mounds and continues on, following the trail that leads north around the edge of the Cloakwood. After a little more than a half hour, they find the rest of the gibberling horde...
Sprawled before the party are hundreds of dirt mounds. Although most of them are small and identical to the ones they came across before, four larger piles can be seen scattered among them. The sheer number of mounds makes it difficult to find a clear path without disturbing the sleeping monsters.
"Quiet, creeping feet!" she encourages her friends. "This will be a story to tell back at the Inn for certain!"
Bardic Inspiration to Wirrow, Rift, and a third sneaky person if they want it.
Seeing how soundly the gibberlings sleep, Aiwë feels confident in her own dexterity. She creeps forward toward the closest mound, her drum silent at her waist.
Going for Mound #1
Rolls
Sneaky sneaky - (1d20+3)
(14) + 3 = 17
Rolls
Perception - Look around for any signs of danger - (1d20+1)
(9) + 1 = 10
Mound 2; might as well be systematic about it all.
Rolls
Stealthing - (1d20+7)
(1) + 7 = 8
Bruh this calls for an inspiration - (1d20+7)
(6) + 7 = 13
So many dead bodies. Why?
Holding in a groan, he carefully maneuvers his way through the mounds until he reaches a large one. This time he turns his body so that he is blocking the view of the watching members of his party. His fingers tingle at the thought of lifting a purse, even though it will probably be from a dead person.
Rift follows the pattern with mound 3.
Rolls
Stealth dragon - (1d20+7)
(11) + 7 = 18
Mound 4
Rolls
Silent as the dead - (1d20+2)
(18) + 2 = 20
Several drunken patrons nearby raise their cups in toast, but beyond that nobody pays much attention to the eccentric wizard.
The latter three each find a merchant, similar to the one found earlier, except these three are alive. As the companions clear dirt away from their faces, each merchant begins to stir, eyes widening with mixtures of horror and hope.
Aiwe finds Jaheira. The woman's armor immediately sets her apart, and her half-elven features complement Khalid's. She manages to stifle a groan, and with Aiwe's help she gets to her feet and takes in her surroundings.
Khalid nearly leaps for joy at seeing his wife alive, but at Jaheira's meaningful glare he quiets down, not wanting to wake the gibberlings.
With Jaheira and the merchants standing, released from their ropes, and hushed, they look to their rescuers to see how to proceed. Each captive looks pale and sickly.
Also, Rift can easily pocket his merchant's money pouch if he wants. There's enough going on that he can have advantage on a Sleight of Hand check, DC 10.
Rolls
Mystery Roll - (1d4)
(1) = 1
Rolls
Death isn't as silent with the living (disadvantage) - (1d20+2, 1d20+2)
1d20+2 : (8) + 2 = 10
1d20+2 : (4) + 2 = 6
Live bodies are definitely more work than dead ones sometimes. But Rift is contributing to the group. Not only that, but he's probably the best at sneaking. Yes, he's definitely the best. And they all knew it now.
Rolls
Stealth - (1d20+7)
(14) + 7 = 21
Disadvantage - (1d20+7)
(10) + 7 = 17
Stealing some money... - (1d20+7)
(8) + 7 = 15
Stealing advantage (🤞🏻20) - (1d20+7)
(4) + 7 = 11
"Stella..." she murmurs. "They don't look so good. Do you think they're safe from... You know." For all they knew, the dirt and burying was just extra.
Rolls
Sneaky sneak (disadvantage) - (1d20+3, 1d20+3)
1d20+3 : (11) + 3 = 14
1d20+3 : (14) + 3 = 17
Rolls
Stealthing return - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (7) + 7 = 14
1d20+7 : (4) + 7 = 11
Looking over the sickly people, Stella grimaces. "I'm...not sure...let's get some distance then I'll take a closer look."
Once the group has distanced themselves from the field of gibberling mounds, Stella asks each victim of the gibberlings to inspect them for wounds and offers to administer aid.
Rolls
Persuasion (Let me take a look please!) - (1d20+1)
(13) + 1 = 14
Medicine (Don't be diseased or infested or whatever please!) - (1d20+3)
(10) + 3 = 13
In spite of her obvious weariness, the half-elven woman stands straight and tall. She has the scars and calluses of a warrior, but around her neck is the holy symbol of Sylvanus, a symbol that Stella recognizes and knows well. Jaheira is a druid.
Her eyes light slightly as she remembers that Runeson is a paladin. Kreguuk and Alalla were immune to disease and had powers to heal it in others; perhaps he had such power? She beckons him forward and whispers. "All five of them are diseased. If not cured soon, they'll die. Can you heal any of them?"
"I have some news." she begins. "If you didn't already suspect it, I believe you have gibberlings growing inside you. If not dealt with soon...you'll likely die. Our friend Runeson, here has informed me that he can heal two of you right now. The third has a choice. Risk waiting for when Jaheira or Runeson have rested and can heal you, or risk some surgery now to stunt the growth until then."
"So. Who's willing to risk the surgery or the wait? You talk first." She points to one and gives them each a turn to speak their mind.
Happy seems to reduce in size a bit, as if it were worried about an immediate attack. Archer takes advantage to put out the burning embers that are what remains of his left sleeve. An odd noise is heard in the distance, and looking around you notice just how many non-combatants there are in the group now. If we were attacked now, they'd likely all be slaughtered.
"Meat pies! Oh wow, now that's a great memory. I'll give my share to whoever describes to me in great detail their last meat pie. It's been too long, and the thing I miss the most about being meat, funny enough, is eating meat. So, how about it? Any takers?"
"A fair morning to you." Jaheira's thick Tethyrian accent almost seems to crack like a whip. Her demeanor is more professional than friendly, and her eyes seem to be constantly weighing and judging. "I thank you again for your rescue. You displayed true bravery."
She glances at Khalid out of the corner of her eye and her expression softens somewhat. "My husband paid you well for your efforts. But I wonder..." The druid looks around at each of the companions. "Would you have helped him had he not offered you recompense?"
"This should be easy, but adapting weak human magic into my own, can be tricky...GUH! Of course! It's HUMAN magic, I need a body. Oh, Archie.." Ossein sings sweetly.
The same sickly magic forms around Archie and this times seems to stick. Adding layer upon layer, Archie transforms into a rather grumpy and alive looking old lady. A tendril swirls around Ossein and his cracked shortbow form straightens into a cracked walking cane. Leathers become a sweater and skirt, and when it finishes, The old ladies mouth moves to Ossein's voice.
Old lady archer pats herself down looking for a pouch of gold.
"Strange, I can't seem to find it... Oh well, I'm sure it's better off wherever it is now."
Turning out a few pockets and even an empty illusory purse, Archie shows that they have nothing on their person other than what you "see".
"Well...I...can't speak for the others," she she begins hesitantly, unable to make eye contact. "But with the conditions we've been traveling in, and the deaths we've already had...it wouldn't have seemed worth the risk."
Stella finally looks up at Jaheira and nods hesitantly, as if she needed to confirm her own words.
Wirrow lacks a plate of her own at the table; she looks unbothered by the fact, probably having eaten before everyone else. It would make sense, given how she's set herself up to be as far from the majority of the tavern crowd as possible.
Rolls
Perception - (1d20+1)
(12) + 1 = 13
Rolls
Also Perception - (1d20+4)
(14) + 4 = 18
Her stomach churns a bit. If they were keeping secrets, it was probably for good reason...right?
Or...did they not trust her? she wonders, glancing back at the two outside.
Maybe it was about Kregguk? Maybe Wirrow really did care for him, and they're just processing things together? But then what were the flasks about?
If it have to do with the assassin or their pursuers, everyone in the group ought to know, so that probably wasn't it...Or they needed time to figure out how to explain it.
She turns away and stares at her feet. Stella did often have a fierce reaction to bad news...they probably thought she might overreact.
Quit it, she tells herself, clenching her jaw and fists. You don't have enough evidence to make conclusions. If you want to know just ask.
But they should just tell her!
"Ugh!" Stella huffs and shakes her fists, blue eye-stars flashing orange.
She'd find out sooner or later, she finally thinks, then strides off further into the inn.
Stella just finished counting the 500 gold pieces spread out across one of the pews in the Temple of Wisdom. She really wanted to recount them, but they would be recounted by Glittergold's clergy, and she didn't want to delay the revival any further, for Aiwë's sake. She starts scooping them all into a pouch—several missing and clattering to the floor.
"Ah, thank you," she says as Aiwë helps pick up some of the dropped coin.
Stella hands the pouch to the musician. It made no difference who handed Miss Mirrorshade the gold, but it still seemed only right that Aiwë got to do it.
"My lady, we have enough." She offers the coin pouch with a slight bow.
She crosses her arms and taps her booted foot as she thinks. After a moment, Khalid puts his hand on her shoulder and offers a smiling nod. Jaheira responds with her own curt nod, then clears her throat.
"Khalid and I would ask for your help again, for a much larger task. One that involves the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of people. We have nothing to pay you, for you already have the funds that were allotted to us. But perhaps, with your uncle back…" She nods at Aiwe before continuing on. "....you may have the inclination to undertake this quest. What’s more, our organization may be able to help you find out more about these assassins you speak of."
She narrows her eyes at the party. "Will you hear of this task?"
"I heard about that for a while let me tell you," Aiwë chuckles fondly. "It worked out though. Stella fixed me up and we tricked Bhagurahk into thinking I was going to lose my arm to the infection. That sure set him straight! Even though Stella felt guilty and told him not long after, he's still the most hygienic person I know. Including Stella!"
The gnomish priestess ushers them into Keggruk's room. "I have everything prepared this time. With such devoted friends and family, I'm sure this fellow will wish to return immediately. We need only this pretty little diamond... a fitting reagent for a spell granted by the Priceless Gem! One of Garl Glittergold's many names..."
She carefully retrieves a glittering diamond from her belt pouch, then takes a deep breath and begins the long spell.
Even with Khalid keeping an eye on things, Jaheira lowers her voice. "Relationships between Baldur's Gate and Amn have always been strained. A crisis such as this as the potential to ignite a war. Khalid and I have been sent to prevent that from happening, and that means learning as much as we can about the Iron Crisis and putting an end to it, if we can."
She pauses to take a breath and once more examine the members of the party. "We ask for you to travel to Nashkell. Though part of Amn, the town's mine there is the primary source of iron for Baldur's Gate. Your task would be to investigate the town and the mine, then inform us of anything strange that might be occurring there."
"Why the hush? Aiwë asks, equally softly. "Is the extent of the crisis unknown to most?"
She opens her tome, but struggles to find an empty page, so she resorts to scratching notes in the margins.
"When you say it could effect Waterdeep and Calimshan," she asks, tilting her head, "are you just referring to trading and supply issues, or that the weakening effect on iron ore is spreading, like a disease?"
The warrior druid folds her arms once more. "Well? Will you go to Nashkell and investigate the iron there?"
Keggruk always tries his best to listen to and serve Alalla. Will he listen to the mixed feelings Alalla bears of her and her husband's resurrection, and the caution she preaches of unknown people and the sources of their power? Or will he think of his wife, child, nieces, and tribe, and the duty he bears to them?
You'll soon see, won't you?
Unable to stand being so close to the motionless Keggruk any longer, Aiwë rises quietly and takes Stella's hand to steady her, the mourning song still drifting through the back of her mind.
"If my uncle returns... then I will investigate in Nashkell."
When Aiwë declares her decision, Stella shakes herself out of her wandering thoughts and nods, taking a small step forward. "I will as well."
Blank-faced and bleary-eyed, Stella looks like she's trying to order pages scattered on the bed, though it looks more like shuffling. She moves them around, then puts them back the way they were before. Then scatters them again. The exhaustion of travel and lack of sleep was clearly catching up to her.
If Wirrow wanted to talk, she'd talk. If she didn't, that was just fine. She crumples a page slightly slightly, then stops and smooths it out before placing it in a seemingly random pile.
"Are you...?" Wirrow half-gestures to the papers, but shakes her head to stop herself. She feels like she should be twitching with nerves, but something seems to be holding it back. The same thing has her looking barely tired to her fellow white-haired adventurer, a stark contrast to Stella's exhaustion.
If Stella wanted to talk about it, she'd talk about it; that's what she always did before.
From her spot against the wall, Wirrow shrugs at the idea, but in an affirmative manner. "Same for me, then," she says, low and quiet around people as usual; there's ever so slightly more self-assuredness present in her this time.
May Silvanus' blessing be upon you all. Farewell!"
With that, Jaheira and Khalid make their way to the door.
Gellana sags with weariness after working such a long and powerful spell, but her face lights up with a beaming smile. "Garl Glitergold's blessing has been accepted."
She hands flask of water to Aiwe. "He will want this."
"I got them out, just like you told me," Shelur sobs. "Wirrow and I went back for your body. I thought it was just your book I was bringing home, and your armour as a relic. Oh, what would I have told the tribe?" Her orcish words are barely intelligible through her heavy tears. "Khanna would have put your armour in the temple and pushed herself too hard every time she saw it until Ada made her stop. The paladins would have been shaken, and the tribe furious. And Auntie Meagan!" Aiwë cries into Keggruk's lap for some time before she calms enough to speak again.
"I dreamt every night of telling her she was alone again," she says quietly in Common. "Of Matty growing up scared and angry, with your book and your axe." She shudders with grief for her family and that dark future. She looks up at Keggruk. The wizened paladin's face is as familiar to her as music, but now it is shadowed in her mind's eye with the bloat of death. A lingering horror of what she experienced, and what was narrowly avoided.
"You have to go home."
The orog takes another drink and looks around the small room. "Stella. I am glad to see you safe as well. I-" He snaps his gaze back to Aiwe, then searches both women's expressions. "Where is Wirrow? Is she... alright?"
He doesn't seem to have acknowledged Aiwe's demand to return home.
She looks around upon Keggruk's question. When had Wirrow slipped out?
"She's fine," she assures Keggruk with a weary smile. "A little exhausted for a while...but so are all of us really."
"Tired, but warm and dry and fed," Aiwë confirms for Keggruk, meeting his eyes, "like the rest of us." Then she frowns. "How much will it cost to pay a wizard to teleport you to the Dale? Will that awful pride-stuffed robe of an archmage do it?" She frowns deeper. "You need another rare book for entry." She brightens. "I'll write down a few ballads and war chants. More a book-let, but they don't have any orcish music in their collection! There's another job or two on the board we can do to get the fee for the spell." She hesitates, looking a Stella.
"Do you think I could make enough? Will you help with my spelling?" Stella was better with math and proper spelling.
He holds up a placating hand for Shelur. "Let me worry about how to get home. If Candlekeep will not help me, I will find someone else who will. There must be a chapter of Torm in Baldur's Gate. Surely they would spare me some resources. I think a few days' rest will see my condition much improved..."
The orog's good eyelid droops and he sags in the bed. "Carry on with your trip. And mind Wirrow..."
"How cruel, for them to mark you like this!" she mutters through clenched teeth. "Who attacked us, Uncle? Why?"
"Yes...I think so." She slides off the bed and kneels down next to her pack. "Did you run out, or just forgot that you stink until now?" she teases with a chuckle and grin. Unlike the state of her notebook, her pack was neat and orderly. She opens one of the pockets and slips out a bar wrapped in waxed paper.
She groans as she rises to her feet to go hand it to him.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and giggles. "Dieter is certainly a lively one. Reckless, but I guess it takes more than even death to keep him down!"
Rolls
Mystery Roll
Mystery Roll #2
She glances back at the piles of pages, sickened at the sight of them. "Yeah, some fresh air and stars before bed might do me some good. Thanks Sheemish," she smiles wearily at him and starts to follow him out.
Chanting? "...what is that?" she mutters to herself. Intrigued by--and potentially a bit concerned about--the voice outside, but not wanting to have to push past anyone, she tails behind Stella on the way out the door. She also might be able to talk to Stella more outside...
"Ah, Wirrow! I just remembered, there was something I wanted to talk to you about." Sheemish tosses the soap up into the air with one hand and then catches it on the way back down. "Your bow. I think with some adjustments I might be able to make it even more accurate. Not that you need it!" He holds his hands up defensively, soap still clutched in one. "But... you know how things get in the chaos of battle. Do you mind if I have a look at your bow?"
He holds out his free hand expectantly as Stella continues down the hall.
"I guess..." she mumbles, and removes the bow from her back. "Make sure it's ready before we have to use it next, though." After handing it over, she turns away to continue after Stella.
As the magical arrow continues to pump acid into the ranger, Sheemish smirks and takes a step backwards, raising his hands to begin another spell.
Either way, Aiwe can arrive and go immediately after Wirrow's turn.
Rolls
Acid Arrow vs Wirrow (adv) - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (3) + 5 = 8
1d20+5 : (19) + 5 = 24
acid dmg to Wirrow - (4d4)
(2244) = 12
Initiative - (1d20+2)
(13) + 2 = 15
AC: 14
Initiative: 17
Wirrow, to her credit, only spends about a second being surprised before killer instincts kick in once again. Golden eyes turn red and blur along with the rest of her body as she turns to a black fog, supported by black winds. (Wirrow casts Zephyr Strike and then takes the Attack action to enter her wraith state. She does not provoke opportunity attacks and can move through creatures, and gains a momentary fly speed of 40 feet, which is increases to 70 by Zephyr Strike.)
The shadowy mist rushes towards Sheemish (whether it's a ruse or the real one, Wirrow doesn't care) and then into him, where he feels something clamp down and break inside of his neck. No outside marks are apparent, but the pain and internally flowing blood indicate all is not well for him by any means. (Upon hitting, uses Favored Foe. 'Sheemish' takes 7 necrotic damage and 8 force damage (15 total), and Wirrow regains 7 hit points.)
Just as quickly as she burst through him, the spectral Wirrow whirls and flies through her most likely disoriented opponent once more, blurring back down the hallway and then turning to even pass Stella going down the stairs; well, pass through Stella. Even with the vitality sapped from Sheemish, the barely-recognizable wraith stopped in front of the starry girl--and in front of Aiwe ascending the stairs--is obviously bothered by the green acid bubbling in her ghostly chest cavity.
Rolls
Initiative, oh no! - (1d20+3)
(14) + 3 = 17
Wraith Form Bite vs Sheemish (Zephyr Strike adv) - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (18) + 5 = 23
1d20+5 : (1) + 5 = 6
Wraith Bite Damage (Necrotic, Force, Necrotic) - (1d4+3, 1d8, 1d4)
1d4+3 : (3) + 3 = 6
1d8 : (8) = 8
1d4 : (1) = 1
Fake Sheemish's Con Save (DC 10) as instructed by DM - (1d20+0)
(20) = 20
"Sheemish? What's going on?" Shelur doesn't think he would attack Wirrow if he learned... things, but she is apparently wrong. "Put down your weapon. Let's talk things over." She spreads her hands as if in peace, ready to drop her sword. She is equally ready to stop Sheemish from getting past her to Wirrow.
Aiwë readies her action to grapple Sheemish if he tries to get past her.
HP: 18/18
AC: 13
"Are you coming on the walk too?" Stella asks wistfully. Her eyes widen at the sight of the bubbling acid. "What happened?! Come on, you need some fresh air too..." She takes Wirrow's hand and tries to lead her out while drawing a constellation near the acid. "Cleanse.—Don't worry Aiwë! We're just going for a walk."
(Healing Word. Wirrow regains 5 HP.)
Rolls
Healing Word - (1d4+3)
(2) + 3 = 5
The wizard jerks as Wirrow's spectral attack finds purchase, and he gropes at his neck. "What in the Nine?" When Wirrow flees, 'Sheemish' regains his composure and begins casting another spell. Then illusory face turns to a scowl as Aiwe reaches the top of the stairs. He doesn't respond to her offer to talk, but then suddenly there are three more of him in the hallway, each one moving and reacting differently, and the original is quickly lost among the group of clones.
Each time a creature targets you with an attack during the spell's duration, roll a d20 to determine whether the attack instead targets one of your duplicates.
If you have three duplicates, you must roll a 6 or higher to change the attack's target to a duplicate. With two duplicates, you must roll an 8 or higher. With one duplicate, you must roll an 11 or higher.
A duplicate's AC equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier. If an attack hits a duplicate, the duplicate is destroyed. A duplicate can be destroyed only by an attack that hits it. It ignores all other damage and effects. The spell ends when all three duplicates are destroyed.
A creature is unaffected by this spell if it can't see, if it relies on senses other than sight, such as blindsight, or if it can perceive illusions as false, as with truesight.
HP 23/38
AC 15
AC: 14
(Dagger thrown from behind Aiwe. Destroys one Mirror Image copy.)
Rolls
Dagger - (1d20+5)
(16) + 5 = 21
Mirror Image Redirect - (1d20)
(14) = 14
Aiwë casts Earth Tremor at second level but the mage passes his save.
HP: 18/18
AC: 13
Rolls
Earth Tremors Mage Dex Save - (1d20+2)
(16) + 2 = 18
HP 22/38
AC 15
Two mirror images left
Rolls
Acid dmg to Wirrow - (2d4)
(42) = 6
Magic Missile dmg to Aiwe - (3d4+3)
(342) + 3 = 12
AC 14
(Move closer, Attack Fake Sheemish, dual-wielding. 1 copy is destroyed.)
Rolls
Mirror Image Redirect 1 - (1d20)
(9) = 9
Mirror Image Redirect 2 - (1d20)
(12) = 12
Favored Foe Concentration - (1d20+2)
(1) + 2 = 3
Shortsword 1 - (1d20+5)
(13) + 5 = 18
Shortsword 2 - (1d20+5)
(3) + 5 = 8
"Help! Guards!" She grips her sword and throws herself forward. If she goes down next blow, it will hopefully be with aid on their heels and Stella freed. "Runeson! Ossein! We're being attacked!"
Her heart sinks as the mage puffs to smoke beneath her sword.
Aiwë destroys the last copy.
Rolls
Attaaaaaack - (1d20+5)
(16) + 5 = 21
Mirror image redirect - (1d20)
(19) = 19
"Fine, stay here and work it out. I'll be outside if you decide to join me...You're so insufferable, Sheemish!" She heads down the stairs. "Vigil!" she shouts back at Aiwë with a frustrated, yet casual wave of her hand.
(Healing Word. Aiwë regains 5 HP)
Rolls
Healing Word - (1d4+3)
(2) + 3 = 5
Rolls
Magic missile force dmg to Wirrow - (3d4+3)
(123) + 3 = 9
AC: 14
(Ye Olde Duale-Wieldeing. Use Bardic Inspiration to turn the first into a hit, reapply Favored Foe. 'Sheemish' takes 9 damage.)
Rolls
Shortsword 1 - (1d20+5)
(7) + 5 = 12
Shortsword 2 - (1d20+5)
(4) + 5 = 9
Bardic Inspiration on Shortsword 1 - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Shortsword 1 Damage (+Favored Foe) - (1d6+3, 1d4)
1d6+3 : (2) + 3 = 5
1d4 : (4) = 4
Mage takes 11 damage
HP: 11/18
AC: 13
Rolls
Longsword - (1d20+5)
(15) + 5 = 20
Damage - (1d8+3)
(8) + 3 = 11
At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 3rd level or higher, you can target one additional creature for each slot level above 2nd.
(Invisible also means that attacks against him have disadvantage, and you can't make opportunity attacks against him)
Rolls
Concentration saves (both) DC10 - (1d20, 1d20)
1d20 : (7) = 7
1d20 : (5) = 5
Hearing footsteps clomp down the steps behind her, Stella sweeps her hand across her lips, brushing her tongue across her fingers to form a wicked shard of ice in them. She continues the sweeping motion while pivoting on her heel and furiously hurls the ice toward the invisible assassin like a comet. "Hyaaa!!"
The shard embeds itself in the air, then explodes into a dozen razor-sharp fractals.
(Ice Knife. Moop takes takes 9 damage and is probably now dying with 1 death saving throw failure.)
Hunching forward and seething, Stella growls watching for any further resistance with an uncharacteristic fury.
Rolls
ICE KNIFE HOW DARE YOU ATTACK MY FRIENDS AND MIND CONTROL ME (Disadvantage) - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (12) + 5 = 17
1d20+5 : (19) + 5 = 24
Piercing Damage - (1d10)
(9) = 9
Moop DEX Save - (1d20+2)
(11) + 2 = 13
"Stella!" she cries with relief. She looks over the wizard, the ice surrounding him, and the shard in his chest. "...Stella!" she says again, impressed. Then she starts, remembering something.
"Okay what is this," Aiwë demands, gesturing to Wirrow's wraithlike form. "And why are people being paid to try and kill you? This doesn't make any sense! Also, maybe you were already gonna tell Stella what I figured out, but you are officially out of quibbling time, sister-girl." She gestures to the ice shard for emphasis.
She checks to make sure no one else is around. "And people want to kill me, again, probably because," Wirrow looks at Stella a bit warily. "Well, that magic, for one."
"It might be because your dad was a vampire. Don't you have his book or something?"
She looks over the dead wizard, then stares down at her hands. Aiwë says her name a few times then starts talking to Wirrow.
What had come over her? Was that self-defense? Anger? Protectiveness? All of the above? He was trying to flee...but he had still tried to kill them...! Or...Wirrow, specifically. He stopped attacking and was trying to flee, but...others would come either way...so was she really defending?
She suddenly pulls her hands to her chest and turns sharply at Aiwë's words and drumbeats.
"O-kaaaay..." she says, slowly looking towards Wirrow. Her eye-stars still flicker between orange and blue. "That explains...a lot..." She shifts uncomfortably and her eyes finally settle on blue. So not a blood hunter...? Or...
"Wait...what's in his book?"
She gestures freely, showing the magical singe on her clothes and her shaking arms. One more blow like the last, and Keggruk would be bringing her armour home.
Rolls
Persuasion (nothing sketchy from us sir and also where were you?) - (1d20+5)
(15) + 5 = 20
"...He...t-tried to kill—" Stella starts to explain to the men, then struggles to take some deep breaths. She's grateful when Aiwë steps in.
What if there were more assassins? What if these men were in disguise too?!
She turns to the ice-covered mage with a shaky hand and murmurs an arcane spell, opening her eyes to magical energies. (Stella casts detect magic to see if the mage or any of the guards have any magic covering them, specifically looking for illusion.)
The guards, on the other hand, show no signs of magic.
Aiwë thinks out loud for the guards, but after saying it she doesn't think it's true. The target had definitely been Wirrow, and she and Stella simply collateral. Though the part about their parents may still play in. Wirrow had been protected by legendary heroes her whole life. Now she's on her own and far from them, save an aged orog she pushes away. The timing makes sense. But how long had the assassins been waiting? And how did they know she was leaving Icewind Dale?
He looks to the rest of the squad. "Well, let's get this cleaned up. And I suppose someone should file the paperwork. Any volunteers? I can't, I need to go talk to Mirrorshade. Fine. You do it." He points at a random guard. "You know how the Grand Duke likes things square. Hop to it!"
"I don't know about you but I think it's probably time we get on our way." She chips the mage loose from the floor and lays him down before he falls over and becomes any more grisly than he is. "I have a small amount of shopping that needs doing, and Wirrow and I need to say goodbye to Keggruk. Any other last minute errands that need doing?" Starting with his boots, Aiwë searches the mage for valuables and clues.
What could Wirrow or her father have possibly known that could be so...dangerous?
"Does he have...a spellbook on him?" Stella asks hopefully. After Candlekeep, Stella's was filled cover to cover—with many leaflets haphazardly stitched in. "If he doesn't, I'd like to buy some extra paper and ink, if we have the money..."
Starting with the creature that has the lowest current hit points, each creature affected by this spell is blinded until the end of your next turn. Subtract each creature's hit points from the total before moving on to the creature with the next lowest hit points. A creature's hit points must be equal to or less than the remaining total for that creature to be affected.
At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, roll an additional 2d10 for each slot level above 1st.
Each time a creature targets you with an attack during the spell's duration, roll a d20 to determine whether the attack instead targets one of your duplicates.
If you have three duplicates, you must roll a 6 or higher to change the attack's target to a duplicate. With two duplicates, you must roll an 8 or higher. With one duplicate, you must roll an 11 or higher.
A duplicate's AC equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier. If an attack hits a duplicate, the duplicate is destroyed. A duplicate can be destroyed only by an attack that hits it. It ignores all other damage and effects. The spell ends when all three duplicates are destroyed.
A creature is unaffected by this spell if it can't see, if it relies on senses other than sight, such as blindsight, or if it can perceive illusions as false, as with truesight.
At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, you can target one additional creature for each slot level above 1st. The creatures must be within 30 feet of each other when you target them.
Aiwe
Stella
Wirrow
Sheemish
Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, these persons are to be killed in quick order.
Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than 200 coins of gold for each of these Northerners killed.
As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the targets in their fate.
"So it's all of us then," she murmurs. "Us from Kuldahar, that is. But why?! And who? Also, do self-serving people really refer to themselves as 'of evil intent'?"
Stella gasps suddenly. "Wait, where's Sheemish?" She immediately heads towards Sheemish's room to look for him.
Inquiries to Bentley Mirrorshade are met with frantic apologies. "Pardon, young misses. I've just heard about the happenings upstairs. I am horrified that such trouble befell you in my establishment! Please, let me make it up to you!" He begins searching his own pockets, pulling out an assortment of spell components. "I will find your lost blacksmith right this instant. Do you have anything of his? A lock of hair, a possession of his. Perhaps a portrait of him?"
He puts one hand on the rune while holding up a glass marble, and chants a divination spell. His eyes milk over with purple light as he gazes on some distant scene.
"Hmm... I think I see... Yes. Oh dear. He's tied up. Somewhere outside... Not much light. I'd guess within a copse or forest? I think the young man is unconscious. And... I can hear some faint voices. Ah yes! Definitely Goblin. Don't speak it myself, but I've heard it enough times..."
The little wizard continues peering through his magical sensor for a few more minutes, but garners no more useful information.
"He couldn't be too far..." she says to Wirrow and Aiwë. "Maybe that goblin encampment we passed the other day? But why would he be there and if—well...why are they keeping him alive?" She groans, closing her eyes and dropping her shoulders. "Bait?" she grimaces.
She suddenly trembles and buries her face in her hands, trying to cover the onset of tears.
They shouldn't have stayed the extra day...What were they supposed do? Why were they being hunted?! This wasn't how things were supposed to be!!
The weight of everything bears down on Stella, a toppling bookcase she can't hold up any longer.
She backs up to the wall, slides down to the floor, and pulls her knees to her chest, trembling. Sparkling tears flow from dimmed eyes—eye-stars black between struggling sobs.
At Aiwe's request for a shield, the short wizard beckons over one of the Flaming Fist soldiers. "Give this woman your shield. Come on, man, be quick about it. I'll see that you're compensated!" The soldier hands over his shield to Aiwe. It is made of stout wood and reinforced with metal, the Flaming Fist emblem painted onto its face. There are minor scratches and blemishes, enough to show that it has withstood the test of at least one battle.
Dieter had been through death, yet was not hesitating to keep going, even with how blind they were. It reminded her of the stories of Mama and Papa...
"The foolish fear nothing or everything, and inevitably act accordingly," Grandpa Arannis' words echo in her mind. "The courageous fear what must be feared—and often act contrary."
The thoughts sparked anger inside. Was everything trying to turn her into her parents now?!
She sobs once more, sniffs, then magically cleans her face with a wave of one hand and takes Dieter's with the other. She looks up into his eyes as he pulls her to her feet and sees no judgement. No expectation. Just understanding, and a goal in his sights.
She breaks eye contact and pulls her hand away to hold her arms to her stomach. She gazes to the side, still unnerved as her eyes begin to flick back and forth in agitated thought.
"I'll...get my things..." she says quietly.
Stella has only ever lived in such a place, and was kept secure and safe when visiting the Blacksheafs. It's obvious Stella had expectations of this trip, and it's turning out to be far from the blissful escape from her parents she was hoping it would be.
"She will learn that death is not to be feared, it is living which is most cruel." Aiwë sighs.
"I think she's learning that right now..." Aiwë knocks on the side of her drum. "I better go with her, to be safe. Wirrow is best with tracks, anyway." She nods at the two and hurries off after Stella.
Even so, she keeps an eye out for signs and clues as she goes.
Rolls
Tracking (survival) - (1d20+2)
(6) + 2 = 8
Dearest Stella, I hope . . . courage . . . bow . . . tremendous . . . growing up . . .
Glen's inky handprints.
. . . Halla . . . Arranis . . . Ilmadia . . . watching . . .
An ink spill.
. . . dangerous . . . watchwoman . . . learn . . .
A clean sheet of paper signed Lily.
Stella hesitates, about to read it, then notices Aiwë enter and shoves it in with the rest. She hefts her pack onto her shoulder and scoops up her bow and quiver.
"Ready..." she mumbles.
She picks up her bow from the end of the hallway, and then slips into the room with Aiwe and Stella to get her own things.
As Wirrow does so, blood bubbles up out of one of her hands. It roils around for but a second, glows with a soft light, and then sinks back into her. Wirrow doesn't even bat an eye at it. (Wirrow casts Pacify, and regains 11 hit points.)
Rolls
Healing - (1d10+2)
(9) + 2 = 11
Sheemish Tracking - (1d20+4)
(19) + 4 = 23
Aiwe healing - (1d10+2)
(3) + 2 = 5
The further the party gets from the Inn's gate, the darker the night becomes. Still, Wirrow's eyes are able to pick out the trail, and soon the adventurers arrive upon the scene of a scuffle. Several more boot prints join those of Sheemish, laid out in the dirt in chaotic fashion. There are several dark stains on the ground, and the smell of blood taints the air. What's more, in the close vicinity the party finds several arrows stuck in trees or splayed out on the ground.
The boot tracks of Sheemish's antagonists lead deeper into the woods, with signs that they dragged the unfortunate blacksmith that way. From the state of the scene, this all must have happened within the last couple of hours. The ones who waylaid Sheemish may not have gone far.
She opens her mouth to share a story, to try and strengthen and bolster the druid, but the look in Stella's eyes says she's likely to have deaf ears. Aiwë closes her mouth, and follows in uncomfortable silence.
"He left so confidently," Aiwë muses over the tracks. "A walk in the night air, just like Stella. The wizard must have bespelled him." She peers over the site of the scuffle, trying to glean more information. She sighs with irritation and mutters to herself, "dirt doesn't read nearly so well as snow." She stands and draws her sword.
"Shall we go? Stick near us, Dieter," she smiles, eyes reflecting red under the dim moon, "and we can light the fight for you when it begins."
Rolls
Tracking (survival) - (1d20+2)
(3) + 2 = 5
A warm breeze rustles branches and leaves, making the dark trees sigh as they sway. Every so often a faint ray of moonlight skitters across the forest floor. Crickets and frogs sing their music from all about.
Those adventurers for whom the night's darkness is but a mild inconvenience spy a broad figure just up ahead, nearly hidden beside the trunk of a tree. But just as they notice it, the figure apparently sees them as well, for it shouts out in Goblin and points in the party's direction. Immediately after the cry of alarm shatters the calm night, the stomp of boots and the clatter of metal follow. In a mere moment several more humanoids - hobgoblins all - join the first, weapons at the ready!
Rolls
Mystery Roll
Green diamond means you can engage in melee this round. Red is second rank, so a bit further back and protected by first rank, reachable by ranged attacks and/or exceptional speed. Watch out for opportunity attacks though if you do try to speed your way to them...
Ready steady GO!

AC: 14
Back rank, but within range to move up if needed
While restrained by this spell, the target takes 1d6 piercing damage at the start of each of its turns. A creature restrained by the vines or one that can touch the creature can use its action to make a Strength check against your spell save DC. On a success, the target is freed.
(Cast Ensnaring Strike, Shoot le Hobgoblin Captain. HobCap takes 8 damage, and must make a Strength save or be restrained and stuff (see spell description))
Rolls
Longbow - (1d20+7)
(16) + 7 = 23
Longbow Damage - (1d8+3)
(5) + 3 = 8
Dieter deals 23 damage to the captain and it must make a CD 13 strength check or become disarmed on its main weapon!
hp19/19
Ac 16
Sticking close to Aiwë
Rolls
Attack 1 captain - (1D20+5)
(13) + 5 = 18
Opportunity attack captain - (1D20+5)
(17) + 5 = 22
Disarming attack damage 1 - (1d8, 1d10+3)
1d8 : (1) = 1
1d10+3 : (7) + 3 = 10
Opportunity attack damage - (1d10+3)
(9) + 3 = 12
Pole arm master - (1d20+5, 1d4+3)
1d20+5 : (4) + 5 = 9
1d4+3 : (1) + 3 = 4
And then the hobgoblins attacked.
She instinctively shrugs her bow off her shoulder and retreats behind the others. Anger and adrenaline surge through her, and stars above she communes with them. Her eyes alight with points of light, followed by her neck, shoulders, and sides, then elbows and hips, and knees, and finally feet, hands, and bow. A living constellation.
She gasps at the transformation, mouth letting out a puff of glowing white stardust, reaching for her quiver, she finds that she draws not an arrow of wood, but of light! She takes an archer's stance and fires one, then another, trying to follow Wirrow's lead.
Her arrows streak across the battlefield like shooting stars—and like shooting stars are gone in an instant. They fly harmlessly past, leaving a fading trail of stardust.
HP: 17/17
AC: 13
Back rank
Rolls
Guiding Bolt vs Captain - (4d6)
(2623) = 13
Starry Form Archer Attack - (1d20+5)
(4) + 5 = 9
"Stand fast! They don't know who they're dealing with!" she calls, then continues her singing, a rising melody like the rising of constellations in the sky. Nearby, Stella finds herself bosltered.
Hobgoblin captain takes 10 damage and dies. Stella receives Bardic Inspiration
HP: 18/18
AC: 16
Rolls
longsword Attack v captain - (1d20+5)
(12) + 5 = 17
damage - (1d8+3)
(7) + 3 = 10
Dieter's expertly-set pike deals a far more grievous wound to the captain, but the trio of hobgoblin warriors press forward with tenacity. For all their brutish appearance, these goblinoids show respectable skill with their weapons and tactics; as one swipes at Dieter from the side, the leader thrusts his large blade forward and into the young fighter's gut, dropping him to the ground (Dieter takes 23 dmg and falls unconscious).
Energized by his victory, the leader and his two cronies turn to focus on Aiwe. The lone bard doesn't flinch, but with honed determination waits for her chance to strike.
The forest is lit suddenly by a streak of light fired from Stella's bow. In the sudden clarity of vision, even Dieter with his human eyes can see the bones burst from the earth, clacking together to form a hindering cage about the hobgoblin leader.
And then, in that moment of confusion, Aiwe takes the leader's head from his shoulders with one swing of her longsword, a song of triumph on her lips. The two cronies curse in Goblin and take steps to either side, flanking Aiwe. She doesn't last long under that pressure, and falls with a deep slash to her collarbone (Aiwe takes 26 dmg and falls unconscious).
With the two front defenders of the party down, the remaining four hobgoblins size up their next targets: Wirrow and Stella!
Rolls
HobCap vs Dieter - (1d20+4)
(15) + 4 = 19
Dmg to Dieter (w/ Martial Advantage) - (5d6+2)
(36336) + 2 = 23
HobCap vs Aiwë - (1d20+4)
(1) + 4 = 5
Hob1 vs Aiwë - (1d20+3)
(15) + 3 = 18
Dmg to Aiwë (w/ Martial Advantage) - (1d8+1, 2d6)
1d8+1 : (6) + 1 = 7
2d6 : (52) = 7
Hob2 vs Aiwë - (1d20+3)
(18) + 3 = 21
Dmg to Aiwë (w/ Martial Advantage) - (1d8+1, 2d6)
1d8+1 : (8) + 1 = 9
2d6 : (21) = 3
Arch1 vs Wirrow - (1d20+3)
(17) + 3 = 20
Dmg to Wirrow - (1d8+1)
(4) + 1 = 5
Arch2 vs Stella - (1d20+3)
(11) + 3 = 14
Dmg to Stella - (1d8+1)
(8) + 1 = 9

Aiwë uses Relentless Endurance!! Hobgoblin 1 takes 4 damage. Both hobgoblins pass their dex save vs Level 1 Earth Tremors, but the ground 10 feet around Aiwë is now difficult terrain. Bardic inspiration for Wirrow.
HP: 1/18
Ac: 16
Rolls
Opportunity attack v H1 - (1d20+5)
(18) + 5 = 23
Hobgoblin Dex saves 1, 2 - (1d20+1, 1d20+1)
1d20+1 : (12) + 1 = 13
1d20+1 : (16) + 1 = 17
Opportunity attack damage - (1d8+3)
(1) + 3 = 4
AC: 14
Ended next to the archers
Wirrow growls in turn; not as guttural and fearsome as Aiwe, but a threat in its own right. She vanishes into a red-eyed mist once again, and rips at the one, two, three of the hobgoblins, an attack only one of them manages to dodge away from. Wirrow comes to halt next to the pair of archers, glaring them down, almost daring them to fight her over her emotionally-damaged Stella and physically-damaged Aiwe.
(Wraith form time again! (immune to opportunity attacks, once again) Wirrow flies through both melee attackers nearby, and into one of the archers, where she reforms. Hobgoblin 1 takes 6 necrotic damage, and Archer 1 takes 5 necrotic damage, both of which heal Wirrow.)
Rolls
Wraith Bites vs Hobgoblin 1, 2, and Archer 1 - (1d20+5, 1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (19) + 5 = 24
1d20+5 : (3) + 5 = 8
1d20+5 : (12) + 5 = 17
Damage against Hobgoblin 1, Archer 1 - (1d4+3, 1d4+3)
1d4+3 : (3) + 3 = 6
1d4+3 : (2) + 3 = 5
She sees Dieter and Aiwë take lethal wounds. While Aiwë somehow manages to stay standing, Dieter begins to collapse. Stella hurries forward and catches him from behind.
Grunting under the weight of him and his armor, she quickly taps out the five stars of the Sleepless Knights. It flashes as she pushes the warrior upright, his wounds shining and leaking stardust as they seal, letting him back into the fray.
(Healer Feat. Dieter regains 13 HP)
HP: 8/17
AC: 13
Just behind Dieter (half cover?)
Rolls
Healer - (1d6+8)
(6) + 8 = 14
Starry Form Archer Attack vs Hobgoblin 1 - (1d20+5)
(7) + 5 = 12
Dieter regains consciousness he gets up and spits on the captain’s corpse at his feet "You can’t kill me! You can’t kill ME!" he shouts in rage he grasps a hand axe from his waist and throws it center mass at one of the despicable warriors before lashing out at the other
Action SUUUUUUUURGE imma firing my laser! Dieter kills hob 1 and misses second
AC 16
Hp 13/19
By Aiwe
Rolls
Hob goblin 1 throwing axe - (1D20+5, 1D6+3)
1D20+5 : (18) + 5 = 23
1D6+3 : (2) + 3 = 5
Hob goblin 2 pike to the face! - (1D20+5, 1D10+3)
1D20+5 : (10) + 5 = 15
1D10+3 : (7) + 3 = 10
The two nearest hobgoblins step over the fallen bodies of Dieter and Aiwe and advance on the party's back row with toothy grins. But Aiwe, somehow clinging to consciousness, manages to slice one of them across its hamstring from behind, then magically causes the ground quake and tear at itself.
The injured hobgoblin, crooked curses streaming from its mouth, stumbles away from the spell and slashes at Stella just as she attempts to loose her shining arrow. Stella manages to duck away from the monstrous soldier's swing, but in so doing abandons any hope of loosing her arrow cleanly. The magical bolt flies into the sky like a shooting star. Moving quickly, Stella slips past her adversary and pours healing starlight into Dieter.
The young warrior rises just in time to protect Stella as the two hobgoblins - legs still shaking from Aiwe's spell - turn in pursuit. One falls with a handaxe hurled deeply into its chest, and then a with the pike gets the other's attention.
The surviving hobgoblin raises its shield and peers over the rim at the adventurers before it. Two elvish women, one who can barely keep her feet and another who can't shoot straight. The true threat is the man with the pike, who has already proven himself a capable fighter. Surely with help from the archers these three will be made short work of... The hobgoblin strikes out at Dieter, but even as it feels its sword sinks into flesh (Dieter takes 2 dmg), it pauses as an alarming thought occurs to it:
Wait, but weren't there four adventurers?
The hobgoblin glances around quickly for Wirrow, then flinches in disbelief as it sees a murky, wraithlike form shrouded over one of the dead hobgoblins. The specter looks up with crimson eyes, blood somehow dripping from its ethereal mouth, then blips forward in a series of terrifying reappearances. The hobgoblin falls away from Wirrow's horrible form, just barely avoiding the bloodstained fangs that look all too solid - and sharp.
Wirrow flickers past that hobgoblin and on to the two archers, one of whom screams as the nightmarish ranger sinks her teeth into his neck. When she reforms between them, the two archers (one of them aghast and bleeding) drop their bows and whip out swords, slashing at her. She easily dodges away from the strikes, even her corporeal self as difficult to hit as a flickering shadow.
Rolls
Hgob1 vs Stella - (1d20+3)
(8) + 3 = 11
Hgob2 vs Dieter - (1d20+3)
(14) + 3 = 17
Dmg to Dieter - (1d8+1)
(1) + 1 = 2
Arch1 vs Wirrow (longsword) - (1d20+3)
(9) + 3 = 12
Arch2 vs Wirrow (longsword) - (1d20+3)
(10) + 3 = 13

"Dang it! I was aiming for its eye."
Imoen steps out of the trees, nocking another arrow. "You guys are really good at finding trouble."
Rolls
Imoen vs Arch1 - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (12) + 5 = 17
1d20+5 : (11) + 5 = 16
dmg to arch1 (sneak attack) - (3d6+3)
(536) + 3 = 17
She draws her bowstring a few times, layering arrow upon arrow, then fires, the arrows exploding around their foe in a spray of stardust.
(Sacred Flame. Hobgoblin must make a DC 13 DEX save or take 6 radiant damage. If Aiwë has Magical Inspiration, and the hobgoblin fails, it takes an extra 1d6)
HP 8/13
AC 13
Next to Dieter and hobgoblin
Rolls
Sacred Flame Damage vs Hobgoblin - (1d8)
(6) = 6
Starry Form Archer Attack (Dis) - (1d20+5, 1d20+5)
1d20+5 : (1) + 5 = 6
1d20+5 : (7) + 5 = 12
AC: 14
By the Archers (which would make a great curse, really)
Wirrow feels more alive than she ever has. The whirl of death and blood on the battlefield, the fear of the enemy and their inability to hit her. She gives a bloody smile, and none of it is her own. Almost casually with how easy it looks, Wirrow rams a shortsword through the heart of one of the fearful archers as she recoalesces into flesh. Just as decisively, she then rips it back out, turning away to set her sights on the hobgoblin closest to her friends.
If these were the ones who took Sheemish... yes, she was on the right track to helping Stella not cry. One step closer at a time.
(Double shortsword versus Archer 2. Archer 2 takes 16 damage and dies.)
Rolls
Shortsword A - (1d20+5)
(20) + 5 = 25
Shortsword B (oofhand) - (1d20+5)
(10) + 5 = 15
Shortsword A damage - (1d6+9)
(1) + 9 = 10
Shortsword A Bardic Inspiration damage - (1d6)
(6) = 6
Rolls
Atttaaaaaaack hobgoblin 2 - (1D20+5, 2D6+3)
1D20+5 : (8) + 5 = 13
2D6+3 : (35) + 3 = 11
HP: 1/18
AC: 16
Rolls
Attack hobgoblin 2 - (1d20+5)
(8) + 5 = 13
The remaining hobgoblin pumps its legs and charges at Dieter, longsword sweeping for his head. The young warrior blocks with his own serpentine greatsword, then slams that weapon into the hobgoblin's shield, jarring it momentarily. Aiwe's attack nearly gets through the lone goblinoid soldier's armor, and a stream of curses fly from the hobgoblin's mouth. Beset upon as it is, it has no defense against the burning radiance of Stella's starfall of arrows.
The hobgoblin, badly wounded and aware of the five enemies surrounding it, pulls a hunting knife from its belt and slashes its own throat. It falls with a gurgle.
Rolls
Hgob2 vs Dieter - (1d20+3)
(10) + 3 = 13
Arch1 vs Wirrow - (1d20+3)
(7) + 3 = 10
Arch2 vs Wirrow - (1d20+3)
(15) + 3 = 18
Dmg to Wirrow (longsword, martial advantage) - (1d8+1, 2d6)
1d8+1 : (1) + 1 = 2
2d6 : (65) = 11
Hgob2 dex save vs sacred flame - (1d20+1)
(8) + 1 = 9
extra dmg to Hgob - (1d6)
(3) = 3
The young girl wrinkles her nose and kicks at the nearby body of the last hobgoblin, making sure it's dead. It's not, quite. "Okay, ew. Is anybody going to put that thing out of its misery?"
"Let's go."
Before her thoughts can berate her any further, and heedless of her own wounds, Stella notices her companions' wounds and rushes to Aiwë with a slight limp.
She draws out a bandage and bundle of herbs. "We have to move, but first...this'll hurt..." she warns, parting the wound at her collarbone to quickly wipe away blood and apply a salve and bandages. (Healer. Aiwë regains 12 HP)
There wasn't much more she could do for Dieter at the moment—so Stella moved on to Wirrow. She steps back with wide eyes, startled as she realizes the girl's mouth was dripping with blood. She bites her lip and steps forward with a dwindling supply of herbs and bandages. "Here..." (Healer. Wirrow regains 8 HP)
8/17 HP
Rolls
Healing Aiwë, Wirrow - (1d6+7, 1d6+7)
1d6+7 : (5) + 7 = 12
1d6+7 : (1) + 7 = 8
Checking everything one last time, Wirrow follows Aiwe's order to move out alongside Stella. "We did good, right?" The whispered question to her best friend is rhetorical, mixed with lingering excitement from battle. She, and Stella especially, had both had wonderful displays of magic. Wirrow either didn't notice or doesn't care that Stella never landed a single one of her heavenly arrows.
Rolls
Pacify - (1d10+2)
(4) + 2 = 6
The girl hugs her arms around herself, though the night is hardly cold. "Where's Sheemish, anyway?"
"Captured..." Stella murmurs to Imoen. "Probably in their camp. We're going to rescue him."
Stella wracks her brain, trying to recall what she knows about hobgoblins and why they might be organized here.
Rolls
History - (1d20+2)
(19) + 2 = 21
Rolls
Survival - (1d20+1)
(10) + 1 = 11
She bursts out suddenly at the adventurers, hands like claws and a snarl on her face. "Blah!" But the twinkle never leaves her eyes. The young girl erupts with laughter, sagging low with her arms wrapped around herself. "Oh, I swear! I'm sure nobody would visit the Friendly Arm Inn if there were a vampire nearby. Surely the Mirrorshades would put the vile thing down right quick!"
But perhaps a smaller, organized force, such as a band of mercenaries? That would likely be closer to the truth.
Meanwhile, Aiwe searches around for clues as to their missing blacksmith's whereabouts. She easily finds the hobgoblins' camp just a little further into the woods. There are but a handful of sleeping bags around the ashes of a firepit, all of them empty. And just far enough away so as to keep an eye on, she finds Sheemish, bound and unconscious.
"Five bedrolls..." she whispers. "I think that was all of them."
She waits hesitantly, trusting Aiwë or Wirrow to look for dangers such as traps before approaching.
Rolls
Investigation, if needed - (1d20+4)
(18) + 4 = 22
Satisfied there aren't further enemies lying in wait, Aiwë gestures for Stella to help Sheemish, and sets to rooting through the mercs' belongings.
Actually mean perception, but same bonus. Or else investigation for a flat roll.
Rolls
Survival - (1d20+1)
(14) + 1 = 15
She only had one dose of prepared herbs left, and was getting more comfortable with her druidic powers...though only slightly it seemed. (Sheemish regains 4 HP)
Rolls
Healing Word - (1d4+3)
(1) + 3 = 4
Rolls
Guld peesez - (7d20)
(141041651516) = 80
While Stella makes her sketch, Aiwë checks to make sure they have everything she recognizes as Sheemish's, then lifts the burly blacksmith over her shoulders.
"I'm ready to go."
"If a legion is operating in the area that can be very bad news, do these look like deserters or scouts?"
The girl skips past Dieter. "I know a good way to tell! Just check and see if they have anything that might be stolen. If they're deserters, they'd probably take a few things on the way out." She absently fingers a pocket inside her coat, where likely rests that one wand she stole from Candlekeep.
It doesn't seem as though the hobgoblins have stolen anything, if they are indeed deserters. But it's very unlikely that these soldiers were part of an army. If there were an army of hobgoblins anywhere nearby, it would be the talk of the century.
"Oh! Thank you..." she thanks Aiwë for the coin. She magically copies the symbol onto the page with a temporary prestidigitation and begins tracing it with actual writing.
After they start moving again, Stella walks aside Imoen. "Um...I just wanted to say, I'm glad you're here. You're pretty good with that bow," she smiles. Certainly better than me... "How'd you learn?"