Mornings
    
  Central Varisia, The Churlwood
Greenwold Village Outskirts
Winter AR 4703, 12th of Kuthona, Toilday, 2:13 AM  
    "Wake up!"    The Varisian man’s voice was a sharp and alarmed whisper. Louder this time, he spoke again.    "Wake up!"    This time a handful of cold wet slush came with it, wetting the ranger’s clawed face. Mablung was startled awake. Not from the chill, but the strange and unsettling dream. He could only be thankful to be freed of the dark vision of the faceless woman fleeing out into the woods, illuminated amid the fire her fallen lantern had left in her panicked wake.

The noise startled the others from their brief rest. Zouni dimmed the light from the hooded lantern hanging from its post at his side at the coachman's seat, but the urgency in his voice was noted. Al’ram’s keen gaze could make out the man’s alarm behind the dark circles of his beleaguered face. The elf and the rest of the company had managed an hour or two of sleep, but Zouni himself had not slept at all over the twenty hours or so it had been since crossing into the Churlwood.

They had rode with Zouni Ilta many times in days past, and though he was now retired, he was still respected as the best guide and coach-driver the Auburn Company had ever seen; perhaps even the best in the Inner Sea. Though he had refocused his life on his family, he remained a professional. When the letter from Glemphree’el came, they knew there was no man who could get them to the Churlwood during the first frost. No man other than Zouni. At first he had refused. His wife was expecting the new child to come by next season, but after showing him the letter he reluctantly agreed. Together they had traveled, fifteen days and a stop for winter supplies to be delivered to Greenwold. It was faster than they had any right to expect, but their breakneck speed was slowed to a crawl by the coming snowfall and a bandit ambush which left their vehicle’s damaged by clever traps. Hasty repairs had been enough to bring them this far, but they certainly could not manage another escape should an enemy come to accost them; and the winter Churlwood was a terribly dangerous place, choked with thieves and banditry.

All of them were rough and haggard from the long journey north into central Varisia. At times they would rotate guards, but Zouni never slept. He was constant and dogged in his push forward; ever forward. He meaned to return home as soon as he could, despite knowing the Churlwood was near-impassable during the thick of the winter frostfall. The party doubted any driver could have remained conscious and seated for so long, but he had a deep stamina and vigor. They doubly doubted any coachman was capable of riding out of rime-choked roads of the wood; but if it was him,  there was a chance. 
   "Wolves. Dire maybe. They’ve been following since before the last turn. They’re too bold. We have to drive them away, the left wheel won’t survive any quicker than this."    Ronarr could tell the man was right. It was impressive enough he had managed to refit both their vehicle and Lucius’s own so quickly, but those repairs had been temporary and they had rode long and hard. The iron bands fixing the splinted wood together were weakened, so much so, he could only credit the preservation of the carriage to skilled driving. Lucius’s vehicle had been significantly beaten, but the broken rungs of his wheel were mostly repaired. Now he kept the carriage leashed on a lead to Zouni’s. Both so he could rest, and avoid any drastic actions which might stress the damages done to his drawn car.

Though the fox was tucked next to the large barrel of supplies in the back of the wagon, Niofume could see Al’ram and Ronarr riding their horses on either side. The dream which had shook her from whatever brief rest she found had plagued them each. It was easy to pass unnoticed in the back, but it was strange to see Zouni in this way. He had not spoken much since they departed. Sometimes he hummed to himself to keep himself awake, whereas he had once always sought any chance to sing. They, and his friends, called him ‘Shou’ as a nickname on account of how his name when pronounced properly sounded like “shou-ni”. That man seemed so far away now, and replaced by a man possessed to press forward despite his every wish being to turn around. The weary wrinkles on his face made him look older, and the gray streaks in his hair hinted at his true age despite having always seemed so young. It was an unsettling notion, reminding her just how much time had past since the Company had been shattered. They were chasing the light from a bygone day for a man they had not seen in some years now. Perhaps they were haunted by those moments they had come to treasure, or the shadows of their own failures. Shou had lived past it and made a life for himself, claiming something beyond the Auburn Company; something all his own.

The coachman didn’t look back, but his finger knowingly shot out behind him to point at the darkness as she shouted back over his shoulder.    "Mablung! Fifty, maybe sixty feet that way. Behind the tree. Shoot there, scare off the lead hound."    Mablung shrugged off the dreams plastered to his thoughts and looked out to where the man's finger pointed. He couldn't see anything, but he believed him.  He could feel it.  The Varisian man had once been one of the most trusted among the Company for a reason. 
 
 Spoiler: Mablung - Targeting A Space 
  How To Target A Space  - A location may be chosen as a target regardless if it is occupied. When this is done an action (such as an attack) may be made against the targeted square. A 5-ft space has an AC of 5 unless stated otherwise. Targeting a square does not necessarily harm a creature which might be occupying it.

○ Creatures you cannot see or that are invisible have 'Total Concealment' (Total Concealment: If you have line of effect to a target but not line of sight, he is considered to have total concealment from you. You can’t attack an opponent that has total concealment, though you can attack into a square that you think he occupies. There is a 50% chance you miss.)

○ When using items such as splash weapons, (Splash weapons Vs Square: you can instead target a specific grid intersection. Treat this as a ranged attack against AC 5. However, if you target a grid intersection, creatures in all adjacent squares are dealt the splash damage, and the direct hit damage is not dealt to any creature.)
 

 
 Spoiler: Party Status 

●  Sleep Deprived:  All members of the party are fatigued due to lack of sleep. This may be cured via 1 hour of rest or any means which a creature might benefit from rest.
●  Slowed Carriage:  Vehicle speed has been reduced to 10 ft. due to severe damage. The carriage's speed may be increased to 20 ft by succeeding a DC 15 ride check and all ride checks have their DC increased by +2 for 1 round.
●  Damaged Vehicle:  Due to how damaged the wheels are a DC 15 ride check is required each round to drive the carriage without damaging it further. On failure the carriage suffers an additional 1d6 points of damage. While Lucius' wagon is tethered to follow, he need not make these ride checks. Untethering the carriage is a full round action, or standard action if the lead is cut with a slashing or piercing weapon.

Zouni Ride Check (1d20+18) [26]  vs DC 15
 

  
   
Triskavanski
      
     Niofume Haru    
   AC:  18  | HP:  8  | Current:  8
 Fortitude:  +2  | Reflex:  +7 | Will:  +4  | Perception:  +8
 Active Effects:   None.
 Conditions:   None.
   
 
  


The Fox sat in the back of the wagon, cursing her luck slightly as they shammered down the way of the path with the wolves following from behind. She had spells that would have helped to have at least one of them get a good rest in but for one reason or another that didn't seem to be in the harrow cards for them. For the time being, she decided to rest the back of the wagon, ready to cast her defensive spell if danger approached too closely.
ThisIsPequod
The grizzled ranger Mablung runs his hand across his scarred face and quickly slaps each cheek to rouse himself. Grabbing his war bow and leveling it into a ready position. Thinking to himself  Some ranger I am if I can't clear out a couple wolves , and grinning. He nods to the coachman and fires off an arrow towards the space behind the tree. Immediately after firing the warning shot, he quickly scans the area for any sign of the enemy.

 
 Spoiler: Dice Rolls 

Move Action - Draw Warbow
Ranged Attack Roll   (1d20+7)[ 16 ] 
Ammunition Used: (Glass Arrow)
Perception Check  (1d20+4)[ 8 ] 
 
Chromascope3D
Ronarr scanned the horizon and cursed his blindness. Hearing an arrow whistle past, into the dark, the northman unclasped a knot of belts on his chest, which released the longsword from his back that he hefted over and onto his shoulder. It was still in its sheath, but given that it had been many years since he had last managed to draw it forth, it was unlikely that he would be able to do so now. And, as brave a face he put on now, Ronarr could not mask the unmistakable concern this instilled in him. The sheathe could still prove useful however. Staring at the contours of the leather, he chants a short prayer, and exhales, causing the sword to burst alight in a vivid red corona.

  "How many do y'think there are, Shou?"   he asked, pointing the blade toward the yawning wood.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Ronarr is going to draw his sword and cast Light on it.
 
forg99rules
 
 
 When Lucius received the letter from Glemphree'el, he was initially filled with excitement. Before reading it, he believed he would have the opportunity to collaborate with the ranger once more and break free from his current state of stagnation. However, reading the letter shattered his initial expectations; the ranger had entrusted him with an entirely different task. Although he still harbored some excitement about the assignment, it had been years since he last visited Greenwold. The prospect of reuniting with Mari-Rayssa helped uplift his spirits following the disappointment of not working directly with the ranger. However, a throbbing sensation in his leg reminded him of a new reality – even if the ranger had returned, they might not approve of Lucius's actions and subsequent injury. Folding the letter and tucking it into his jacket pocket, Lucius made a firm decision in that moment: he would fulfill this task no matter what and demonstrate that he still possessed the necessary skills. 
 
 A yawn escaped Lucius's lips as he turned a page in his journal. Decent sleep had eluded him throughout the trip due to various reasons, but it seemed he wasn't the only one lacking in that department. Nevertheless, the journey had been exceptionally challenging for him. His leg constantly ached from the cold weather, battles had damaged his beloved home and horses, and he even bore a fresh scar on his shoulder from a grazing arrow. The lack of sleep remained his primary concern, especially since Zouni, too, was unable to get any rest and seemed constantly on edge. Lucius was unaware of what prevented the others from getting decent sleep. Despite the comfort of his bed inside the carriage, it was the recurring dream in his mind that hindered him from obtaining the much-needed rest. Lucius had resorted to recording the peculiar dream, filling half the pages of the journal he now flipped through.

His focus was fixed on the book and the dream, attempting to decipher its meaning. However, Zouni's sudden alarmed whisper redirected his attention to the present moment. His pulse quickened as his senses expanded, scanning the surrounding area for the wolves Zouni had spotted. Instinctively trusting the man, Lucius knew that even in a sleep-deprived state, Zouni wouldn't raise a false alarm and possessed keener senses than himself. Closing the book and setting it aside, Lucius peered into the darkness, trying to detect any signs of movement and preparing himself for a possible attack. 

 

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Perception:  (1d20+10)[ 24 ]  - Trying to see or hear any of these wolves

AC: 11 | HP: 8 | Current: 8
Fortitude: +2 | Reflex: +1| Will: +6 | Perception: +10
Active Effects: None.
Conditions: None.
 
flat_footed
Al'ram notes the movements of his companions and tries to catch a glimpse of the wolves through the trees and low light. He draws his own bow, but holds his shot, twisting in the saddle until he catches a glimpse of movement through the darkness.   If the wolves are acting out of character, they may be desperate. The winter is cruel to man and beast alike, and this pack may be difficult to turn away if starvation has fed their boldness.   Turning in his saddle again, he strained his ears for any sound of the animals. With so many eyes and ears to their left, Al'ram focuses his attention to the right.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
  Knowledge: Nature  - (1d20+5)[ 11 ] 
  Perception: Wolves  - (1d20+9)[ 14 ] 
  Perception: I5  - (1d20+9)[ 26 ] 
  Attack  - (1d20+3)[ 4 ] 
  Damage  - (1d8)[ 2 ] 
 
Mornings
    
  Central Varisia, The Churlwood
Greenwold Village Outskirts
Winter AR 4703, 12th of Kuthona, Toilday, 2:14 AM  
 The whole of the company of travelers had been roused by the commotion, yet the dim light from Shou’s lantern did little to reveal what might lurk beneath the forest’s boughs. The ranger’s firm hand slapped himself out from his stupor. The haze of weariness thinned from the sharp pain, but the mind-fog clung to him still. His hand moved almost with an autonomous motion, drilled into his subconscious from a thousand-thousand repetitions. His elbow stayed close to his body as his hand slid up and two fingers secured a hold on the nock of his desired munition. Though the quiver’s magic did assist him, he could tell immediately which bolt came to his hand by touch alone.

The dimensional pocket extruded a missile far too long to fit into a more mundane container of equal dimensions. The arrow was as long as a halfling was tall, fletched with trimmed cockatrice plumes and bound in a reel of Katheerite silks through the feathers and half down the arrow’s length. The head of the ammunition glinted eerily in the twitching lantern-light. Hues of translucent color danced within its knapped and polished glassy surface. With a smooth fluid motion, nock met string and he drew down on his target.  Slow.  The massive six-foot warbow groaned under his strength and the serving twine bit into his gloves from the immense weight. The colossal weapon slowly curled back upon itself, shrinking neatly to nearly half its size. Mablung’s back tightened and the shoulder of his drawing arm flexed as his body felt the rhythm of the wagon’s motions, steadying his aim. Then, with an exhale.  SNAP. 

The bolt cracked off into the darkness, weaving between branches, but blasting them off from the trunk where they were once fixed regardless. The terrible force ripped a melon-sized hole through the growth. Mablung was still, maintaining his form from the release as he listened. The ranger heard a distant yelp from the dark, but the sound was brief… likely from his mark being torn asunder beneath his bolt.   [Mablung: Perception Check - Partial]  

Shou glanced over at Ronnar as the Inquisitor released his weapon from his back. Though the Effulgent Flame was still sealed within its sheath, the artifact was still a near-indestructible weapon. As his magic filled its scabbarded blade with halo of crimson light pushing back the creeping darkness.    "More… But I’m not sure… Something isn’t right here."    Beneath the gleam of his spell, Ronnar could see the distant shadows shift on both sides of the road. A subtle vibration echoed in his palm.  A warning from the sword.  A sense of wrongness began to shift over him as well. An unsettling feeling crawling over his skin like static, and he knew;  They should not be here. 

Lucius had found an easier time reading in the dark than trying to peer out into the gloom. As the flash of red from Ronnar’s sword cut a swathe out from night’s shadows his eyes carefully picked the underbrush apart.  Three. Four… Six.  There were certainly many of them, whatever  they  were. How Zouni had managed to break the encirclement and keep them behind might have been largely due to his caution, and delaying the call to alarm for so long. Lucius could not be so sure the shapes before him were wolves at all. Shou’s uncertainty was well founded. Too large to be mangy animals, perhaps closer to dire wolves, yet their silhouettes were slightly strange and misshapen… Some twitched in an unnatural fashion, as if from a spasm, or something had burrowed deep into the flesh. The scholar could feel himself tense as the uncertainty lingered and the gravity of their situation suddenly felt dire.   [Lucius: Perception Check - Success]  

Al’ram had not been caught unawares even despite his fatigue from the long journey. Slowly he retrieved his bow from his back as his eyes scanned the earth and leaves. He was not like Zouni who was aided by his unnatural luck and the whispers of his ghastly patron who guided them. His elvish senses were more than adequate to deal with a forest excursion, snow or not.

Sudden and resounding alarm began to hammer into his mind as his steely gaze shifted from tubers to flowers. The trees were rotted and frothing a foamy black ickor from their roots. Dark fluid shifted through the veins of the leaves and wilted the flowers in grossly twisted forms. The snow had masked much of it. The change had been so subtle he had not even noticed. The blight grew more severe the further they moved towards the town. The land was befouled by some unnatural curse. It was a corruption unlike anything the elf had seen before. Between the crunch of snow with each cloven foot of his steed, a black dampness rose up from the soil.   [Al’ram: Knowledge (Nature) Check - Success]  

They had crept up to the entrance of the village outskirts. The flickering lights from the gathering hall and houses danced in the windows. As they approached, Al’ram could look inside and see the buildings were empty.  All of them.  It was unsettling, as if walking into a town populated by nothing more than ghosts. He had never come to Greenwold during the winter, It was nearly impossible to reach during the cold months. Yet, he had heard that Rayssa’s hirelings worked the town and kept it in order after the students had left in the fall season.    "Come on… Almost there."    Zouni muttered to himself as he ushered the caravan forward and rolled past the first houses.

The elf kept his bow at the ready, knowing well they still had some ways to go before they would cross the conservatoire outer-gate and enter the Faust Estate. Movement caught his attention and he twisted about in his saddle, drawing down on his target but holding his fire. There was a long pause, a stillness whose silence was only broken by the creak of Shou’s lantern dangling from his wagon and the rhythmic crunch of wet snow. Al’ram was perfectly still, frozen in his aim behind them while steering his steed blindly with his knees.  There.  Shou stood up in his seat as if something compelled him to do so. He slowly turned about to look at the thing behind,    "Inheritor, protect us…"   

It was then his target suddenly revealed itself as it lurched forward to follow the train of carriages. With an emaciated gnarled paw of tought tendons and bone, the creature stepped out into the revealing red light. The elf’s eyes narrowed at the abomination. Its fur was little more than a fleshy sack thrown over a broken frame. One eye hung loosely from rotting cranial tendrils while the other was an empty pit from where dark fluid spilled out with each jerking motion; like a foul cup overflowing with malice. Each drop of the black filth hissed upon the ground. Repulsive bulges twisted and shifted beneath the loosely hanging fur coat. The beast jerked horribly and moved in unnatural motions as it was twisted to one side then the other.    "No… WAIT-"     He loosed. 

The bolt struck the wretched wolf-creature and deflected harmlessly off of its skeletal face. It paused for a moment, its head shifting to the side pouring out a stream of hissing black ink. A silence choked the air as they each stared at one another. A sudden downpour of frozen rain descended upon them like a sheet frost. Shou’s stupor was finally broken as his horse voice broke the silence then, his tone filled with fear    " Ride….   RIDE!  RIDE NOW!"    Al’ram was frozen as his eyes met the gaze of the greater beast beyond.  Great frozen orbs, each larger than a stallion’s head.  The massive lupine creature slithered forward from out behind the tree’s shadows, towering over them all.



   
With unnatural grace Zouni expertly exchanged the carriage leads, his hands were a blur as the motion was complete in less than a second. The sharp  CRACK  of his linnorm leather reins bolted the wagon forward dangerously and nearly tossed Lucius from his seat, as his home was sent hurtling forward.   [Chase: Lucius - Reflex Save (DC 11) Vs Knocked Prone - Requires DC 11 Strength Check to Recover]  
   "Black Blood! An Orvian Curse has corrupted them!"    Quickly Zouni shifted and dug out a dragon pistol from behind the coach seat. With one hand to the sky he pulled the trigger and fired a red flare into the night sky. Its light shone brilliantly in the moonless night, like a pulsing bloody star. He tossed the smoking gun behind him into the carriage-hold, firmly grasping the reins and cracking them again.

A rocking explosion or fir and maple shook the earth as a great towering beast burst forth from the treeline with a single bounding leap. The massive hound was choked in ickor and rime, its dead sapphire eyes glinted like magic stones in the crimson light. Skeletal and twisted, coils of freezing mist roiled out from its rotted black maw. Once living flesh was dark and necrotic and patches of calcified skin were cracked and shattered like slabs of granite, revealing the slithering tendrils within. The monstrous horror easily stood ten-feet from paw to shoulder and was reminiscent of a winter wolf, but far larger and twisted into some corruption of itself. It landed with a thundering jolt then crashed after them with frightfully powerful steps. The quake of the earth jarred Ronnar and Al’ram. The crashing felt like the world was toppling around them and made their teeth rattle in their skulls, as the horror quickly moved to bear down upon them. It took all the skill they could muster to drive their steeds forward through the storm.   [Chase: Al’ram/Ronnar - Ride Check (DC 10) Vs Dismounted - Requires DC 11 Reflex Save to Prevent Being Thrown From The Mount]  

Suddenly, far in the distance an golden flare race up into the night sky, answering their call.    "There! A watchman man’s the Outer Conservatoire gate! Hold on!"    Another crack of his reins brought the vehicles up to nearly uncontrollable speeds.   [Chase: Niofume/Mablung - Strength Check (DC 10) Vs Concussed - Inflicts 1d4+1 Points of Nonlethal Damage, DC 11 Fortitude Save or Suffer a -1 Penalty to Checks During the Chase]   
 
 Spoiler: Rules: About Chase Scenes 
  Chases:  While chases are a signature action scene in countless stories, they present a singular challenge in this game, thanks to static movement rates. Since every creature in the game has a set movement rate, it might seem like you’d either automatically (or never) catch up to a fleeing foe! Obviously, this isn’t the case, because there’s more to catching a foe or avoiding being caught than simple speed.

Chases come in a variety of forms and dictate how a creature can escape, catch up to, or reach a destination before an adversary. These often cinematic sequences may offer various options, but standard actions using the conventional action economy may not be taken during a chase scene. Success is based on a series of checks and saves taken during events called “Chase Obstacles”. More details can be found below from an excerpt taken from the Gamemastering rules for this rule system.

  Chase Obstacles  
 For GMs building a chase, you should tailor your chase’s obstacles to match the location where the chase takes place. A rooftop chase might include things like crumbling rooftops, narrow gaps to leap across, tightropes to run along, or steep roofs to clamber up. A chase through a crumbling ruin in a swamp might involve crumbling walkways, narrow passageways, grasping vines, leaps over quicksand, or stinking clouds of nauseating miasma. Try to mix up the flavor of the obstacles as well as the types of checks and DCs needed to navigate them. Assign each obstacle a DC to successfully navigate or overcome. A trivial obstacle is DC 10, a simple obstacle is DC 15, a standard obstacle is DC 20, a difficult obstacle is DC 25, and a very difficult obstacle is DC 30. For high level chases, feel free to assign correspondingly high level DCs. When assigning obstacles, it’s best to have the DCs of both obstacles on a card be within 5 points of each other, but never identical—this forces participants to make tactical choices.

As a general rule, obstacles should be overcome by physical skill checks, such as Acrobatics, Climb, Escape Artist, Ride, or Swim. Perception can be used for obstacles like short cuts, Stealth can be rolled for obstacles requiring someone to move through a square quietly, or Bluff might be required to navigate a square by convincing a city guard you should be allowed to pass. You can even use saving throws to resolve obstacles (a Fortitude save to avoid being sickened by passing through a pool of filth, for example, or a Will save to evade the strange wailing spirits haunting that area). Be creative! It’s okay to reuse obstacles, but try to vary them between cards and remember not to get bogged down with repetitive DCs or certain types of checks! 
 

 
 Spoiler: Party Status 

 Reminder: Fatigue imparts a -2 penalty to strength and dexterity. 

○  Chase: Slowed Carriage:  Vehicle speed has been reduced to 10 ft. due to severe damage. The carriage's speed may be increased to 20 ft by succeeding a DC 15 ride check and all ride checks have their DC increased by +2 for 1 round.

○  Chase: Dangerous Driving:  The driver may increase her carriage speed even further after accelerating with a DC 15 ride check, however this check and all subsequent ride checks during this round have their DC increased by +2 (this stacks with the previous penalty). Success allows the driver to move his vehicle into the next Chase Event (or Chase Card). Failure inflicts 2d4 points of damage to the vehicle and impacts a -2 penalty to all occupants in the next Chase Obstacle.

●   Sleep Deprived:  All members of the party are fatigued due to lack of sleep. This may be cured via 1 hour of rest or any means which a creature might benefit from rest. 

●   Damaged Vehicle:  Due to how damaged the wheels are a DC 15 ride check is required each round to drive the carriage without damaging it further. On failure the carriage suffers an additional 1d6 points of damage. While Lucius' wagon is tethered to follow, he need not make these ride checks. Untethering the carriage is a full round action, or standard action if the lead is cut with a slashing or piercing weapon. 

Zouni Ride Check (1d20+17) [22]  vs DC 15
Zouni Ride Check (1d20+17) [25]  vs DC 17
Zouni Ride Check (1d20+17) [32]  vs DC 19
 

 
 
   
Triskavanski
      
     Niofume Haru    
   AC:  18  | HP:  16  | Current:  16
 Fortitude:  +2  | Reflex:  +7 | Will:  +4  | Perception:  +8
 Active Effects:   None.
 Conditions:   None.
   
 
  

Niofume blinks as she sees the thing coming at them before being tossed around the wagon like a rag doll before she had any ability to attempt the slightest spell. Even fatigued, she extrudes massive amounts of grace and poise. However that didn't matter as the cart man handled her tiny form bouncing it all over everything that is in the cart. This prevented her of thinking of the danger chasing them and more about the pain of being wacked about.

 
 Spoiler: mechanics 

 (1d20-4)[ 1 ]  str check for a fatigued tiny sized spell caster.

 (1d4+1)[ 2 ]  non lethal damage

 (1d20+2)[ 18 ]  fort save
 
flat_footed
   
A drop cold sweat beaded on Al'ram's neck as he finally recognized the corruption surrounding them. The darkness had disguised it, even from his elven gaze, but it was painfully obvious now that he knew what he was looking at.   Curse this blighted land and damn my sight.   He felt better with an arrow nocked and ready in his hands, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that stabbed at his heart since Lucius's warning first rang out. That unease quickly dissolved into fear as the abomination pursuing them drew close enough to be seen clearly. Al'ram's mind blanked, shooting the arrow more from a spasm of his finger than a conscious decision. Predictably, the ill-aimed shaft bounced harmlessly off of the creature.   Black blood.. and Orvian curses? Where have I head that before?  

The elf's thoughts were whipped back into the present as he frantically clung to the reins while the earth shook beneath him. Al'ram had never been the strongest rider, and he was grateful to feel the powerful muscles of Ára beneath him tense and flow with the quaking. Over their years together, elf and steed had both grown accustomed to the other's movements. Making up for Al'ram's lack of ability was second nature for her.   I'd be on the ground now if not for your training and strength.   Al'ram breathed a word of thanks to Magdh as Ára raced forward towards the golden beacon in the distance, desperate to extend the gap between them and the monstrous form pursuing the group.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
  Knowledge: Arcana  - (1d20+9)[ 19 ]   Inspiration  - (1d6)[ 5 ] 
 
Chromascope3D
  "Fertile Flame!"   Ronarr Redhand cursed as his horse bucked, his breath turned to heavy clouds of steam in the frigid air,   "Steady Brigid, hold fast!"
  
He could understand how the mare felt, his own heart having sank deep as the monster bounded forth from the undergrowth, a horrid creature of damned unlife, made all the more hellish and frightening when bathed in his own crimson light. Ronarr kicked the stirrup, coaxing the mare into a full gallop. His red braids trailing in the air behind him, he cupped his open palm heavenward, and whispered,   "Caustus."
  
Palm filled with viscous gold, he attempted to form it into a ball and fling it back at the oncoming maw, but could only curse as it spilled out from his hand onto the snow below, and cried out over the rattling crash of broken wheels and pounding hooves,   "Al'ram! What is this thing!?"
  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
 Ronarr's gonna cast Acid Splash while fleeing.
 (1d20+3)[ 10 ]  DC 5 Ride check to guide the horse with his knees

 (1d20+4)[ 12 ]  DC 13 Concentration to not lose the spell to vigorous motion
 (1d20+3)[ 8 ]  Attack
 (1d3)[ 2 ]  Acid Damage 
 (1d20+5)[ 16 ]  Perception
 (1d20+5)[ 24 ]  Religion
 (1d20+2)[ 8 ]  History
 
forg99rules
 
 The sudden jolt of the carriage surging forward almost caused Lucius to slip off. Lucius, with heightened instincts and prepared for an encounter, managed to maintain his position gracefully. His gaze swept back across the woods and buildings, seeking better insight into the necessary actions. Unlike the others in the group, Lucius lagged behind, positioned in the rear, and would likely be among the first to confront the pursuing creatures. With a tighter grip on the railing beside him, Lucius allowed his thoughts to wander briefly, attempting to recall any knowledge he possessed about Black Blood and the Orvian Curse. As a red flare illuminated the night sky, offering him a clearer view of the creatures chasing them, a shiver ran down his spine. Lucius cautiously slid open the wooden panel that concealed an ioun stone, blinking a few times to readjust his vision as the stone emitted its radiance, illuminating the surroundings. If he were to face these creatures, he intended to do so with at least some semblance of light. Redirecting his attention to the front, Lucius let out a sigh of slight relief upon witnessing the golden flare responding to their call. Although his blood still ran cold, he now harbored hope that someone might offer them assistance. 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Using Memorandum Dice #1: (1d20)[12] for a total of 13 on the Reflex Save to not get knocked off.

Perception:  (1d20+10)[ 14 ]  - Looking around at the homes and forest to gauge if I see more creatures or what the environment looks like incase I somehow end up on the ground.

Going through his mind to figure out what he knows about Black Blood
Knowledge Arcana:  (1d20+7)[ 10 ] 
Knowledge History:  (1d20+7)[ 15 ] 
Knowledge Dungeoneering:  (1d20+7)[ 24 ] 

Going through his mind to figure out what he knows about Orvian Curse's
Knowledge Arcana:  (1d20+7)[ 9 ] 
Knowledge History:  (1d20+7)[ 22 ] 
Knowledge Dungeoneering:  (1d20+7)[ 10 ] 
 
ThisIsPequod
As the horrid beast violently ripped through the undergrowth and sped towards the wagon, Mablung shouted in fear and surprise   "What in the nine hells is that thing!"  . The rotting beast's slavering maw opening and closing as foul black liquid dripped in streams across the snowy ground. No sooner had he said this than the wagon began to shake and tumble violently as the driver whipped the horses into a frenzy to escape the nightmare behind them. Mablung struggles to keep a solid grip on the wagons side as he is thrown into the back of the wagon violently bashing his head against a barrel of supplies. He groans in pain and shock as his face is split open across the forehead and upper nose, blood leaking profusely in rivulets down his face. He gives a quick stream of obscenities as he righted himself and wiped the blood from his face, preparing to take stock of the situation. He glances down the road ignoring the throbbing pain of the smack he endured, attempting to ascertain the nature of the beast pursuing them. Upon seeing the beast he realizes that he has no idea what he is looking at, only that a great fear and anxiety were welling within him. Mablung clears his mind of all distractions, retreating into the sanctity of his mind. He thinks back to his days as a child in the Temple, to the lessons and discipline the monks instilled in him. Serenity spreads across his body and he tries to remember any lessons that may help him against the repulsive abomination relentlessly chasing his companions. He seems to vaguely remember teachings about dark beasts and corruption. KREEEEEEEEE! The salivating beast screeches in a terrifying keening fashion as it gives chase with a seemingly unabating fury. Mablung pays the beast no heed as he raises his head to look over the meagre remaining cargo in an attempt to locate a quicker path to safety.   "There has to be a better path through this accursed place!"  , he thought to himself.

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 

Strength Check: (1d20+1)[9]
Non-lethal damage: (1d4+1)[4]
Fortitude saving throw: (1d20+4)[19]
Looking for a faster path to escape-Knowledge (Geography): (1d20+5)[21]
Thinking back on religious training at the Temple as a child-Knowledge (Religon): (1d20+6)[23]
 
Mornings
   
  
  Central Varisia, The Churlwood
Greenwold Village Outskirts
Winter AR 4703, 12th of Kuthona, Toilday, 2:15 AM  
    "NO!"    The coachman cried out as he recoiled, clutching the side of his head. The outburst wasn’t directed at them, but something else they could not see. The small fox was sent bounding in the back of the carriage-hold as the vehicle smashed through the snow-embanked road passing through Greenwold village; Zouni had lost control. Sharply her small face smashed into the side of the barrel, before the heavy crate rolled back crushing her tail. He shook off whatever had dulled his senses, regaining control of the speeding car.    "We’re not going to make it like this!"   
   "Change of plan, boys!"    Zouni’s voice called out above the crashing din of the great beast and the harsh wind which drove down sheets of sleet upon them. The man was suddenly filled with renewed vigor, the uncertainty from mere moments ago was washed away. It was a complete transformation they had seen many times before. In the face of perilous odds and certain death, sometimes Shou had a revelation from his mysterious patron, and could piece together a spontaneous, oft-impossible, master-plan to even the odds.  ( Instant Plan:  Chosen allies within 30 ft. may be granted a +2 morale bonus on saving throws against fear effects and are immune to being demoralized. They also gain a +1 morale bonus on skill checks or combat maneuver checks of Zouni’s choice.) 

A finger snapped out to Al’ram and gestured right, then to Ronarr moving left.    "Peel off, boys! Al’ram, left! Ronarr, right! Circle around the houses and wait for its frost-magics! Then come-about and catch it in a pincer! An arrow high, and a blow low. We’ll make your opening!"    It was a counter-offensive. The Varisian man meant to strike back against the wretched thing. The thundering crashing behind them sounded like the world’s ending. A deafening roar echoed like a wordless retort to the madness of his proposition. The thought made them shudder. It was time to choose just how much they believed in the wild coachman. They had seen such madness unfold from the safety of the rear, as the veterans of the Auburn Company had grasped the impossible and wrestled it out from the mouth of defeat in moments like this. But they weren’t those brave men and women, they had never faced a foe such as this. The shadows cast by the backs of those champions were long indeed, and they had forever lived under it. It was as if they were reliving a moment from the past, but this time they were in the seat, and the thought was terrifying.   [Chase Options: Al’ran/Ronarr]  
 
 Spoiler: Chase Options 

Al’ram and Ronarr must choose which action they will take. Either continuing to flee or begin to position themselves to counter-attack the black blooded abomination pursuing them.

 ◇ OPTION 1 - COUNTER-ATTACK (Requires a DC 11 Will Save vs Fear) 
Move forward to the next Chase Scene to initiate a Counter-Attack. Participants must succeed a will save vs fear to initiate this action and benefit from the Instant Plan ability for this save and all subsequent skill checks for the remainder of this Chase. Failing this save forces the character to take Option 2 and suffer a -2 penalty to their next skill check or save due to being demoralized.

 ◇ OPTION 2 - FLEE (Requires a DC 15 Ride Check) 
Opting to flee instead has the character follow the original plan, following the road and riding as quickly as possible. The character does not benefit from the Instant Plan ability and suffers a -2 penalty to fear effects for the duration of the Chase.
 


Al’ram managed to steady himself, feeling his mare compensate for his own minor skill in the saddle. He didn’t know exactly what stalked their backs, but he knew-well its magical nature. Unscrupulous magicians had long attempted to harness the power of black blood. The sorcerous fluid was as mysterious as it was dangerous and powerful. Mishandling the stuff had allowed for the spread of corruption to other creatures and could shape nature in unnatural ways. The idea that such a taint could be allowed to seep so deep into the roots and water was revolting. It was far too much to simply be called carelessness. Even the trees wept in the throes of contorted agony. It was almost more than he could bear. The voice of the forest was so quiet now, no more than a deathly whisper. This was no mistake, someone had meant to bring this curse and now it likely spread through the soil, passing to those creatures and men which sought nature’s bounty. Only a spellcaster moved by the most heinous of machinations could have done this. The scars it would leave even if purged would take many human lifetimes to heal.  [Al’ram: Knowledge (Arcane) - Success] 

Ronarr could see some recognition on the elf’s face in the haunting red light as he steered his mount skillfully with his knees. A great bellowing sounded from behind as his magics sizzled and popped with an effervescent hiss in the frost. The great beast bounded forward unimpeded by the desperate gesture; soon it would have them…  but not before it had Lucius.  He pushed those thoughts from his mind.  He was beginning to panic.  The prickling of fear began to creep up the back of his neck with each passing moment as he weighed his options. His eyes darted about as his mare came up to speed. Silver eyes. Movement cresting the shadow’s precipice at the forest’s edge.  There were many of them.  A pack of these smaller beasts. They did not move like wolves, their legs were broken and dragged behind limply like some manner of vestigial growth. Instead they slithered hastily across the ground, like fur thrown over a snake. A knot began to tighten in his stomach. Within his memories, only those bright moments with the Company shined within him. The days he had shared with Glemphree and the other veteran warriors. He had seen frightful things before. They had always turned the odds in their favor, but the ranger was thousands of miles away now. No one was coming to save them and he could only question if that same light inside his heart would shine for them too.  [Ronarr: Perception - Success] 

The Inquisitor had heard musing of the supposed origins of black-blood. Something about it the stuff having originated within  ‘The World-Below-The-World’ . Some manner of nightmarish realm beneath the earth where the Great Destroyer, the Unmaker, the Worldbreaker, the horrible god Rovagug was sealed away. He didn’t know if he put any trust in those fantastical notions, but it was all he knew of such matters.   [Ronarr: Knowledge (History) - Failed]  

On the other hand, he was acutely aware of black blood’s capacity to reveal itself in the presence of mage’s and cultist’s foul work. Often coming to light in the presence of necromancy and any magical work relating to the undead. Had he not seen the beast with his own eyes, he would have struggled to believe such a powerful necromancer would find their way to the Churlwood. They were far from Ustalav and the more prolific cult-teachings of The Whispering Tyrant. At the very least, he felt some comfort in that no such undead god-sorcerer frequented these parts. Iomedae’s sword likely wouldn’t come to lead the Knights of Ozem to strike down another lich. Certainly though, this was a precursor to such cataclysmic events. The Inquisitors of Vigil were committed to purging any signs of black blood taint or its use. The unnatural fluid was a catalyst for evil magics that could threaten the mortal world. A freezing admixture, potentially lethal to the touch. Harmful even in the most favorable of circumstances. Some men could even inherit such blood and posed a dire threat to mankind. It was the profession of some man-hunters to cull their ilk and kin, that their blood might be kept out of the hands of those who might misuse it. Beats corrupted by such blight could be transformed into abominations beyond recognition and were too dangerous to be left alive.  [Ronarr: Knowledge (Religion) - Success] 

The scholar rocked hard in his perch at the head of his wagon, the wet sleet slapped upon his skin and the wind whipped his hair to wild angles. They were going fast,  much too fast.  A sure foot and white-knuckled grip kept him fixed in place for now, but the precariousness of his predicament was not lost upon him… He was in the rear, and the cacophonous song of thunder shook him so viciously, he could feel his stomach being lifted and slammed into his seat with each of the abomination’s bounding steps.  He was the last man.  Certainly the first to die if nothing could be done. He racked his brain, flipping through the countless memorized pages of his precious books.  There was always an answer. He just needed to find it. 

Black blood was a product of the Darklands, an entire world below the surface of their own. He remembered from a translated elvish manuscripts that the blight had been mostly contained below the elvish realm of Kyonin. Far below, within the deepest chambers of the dark world lay the Vault of Orv. A subterranean realm of nightmarish horrors, and Orvian corruption from before the Age of Darkness. Before men were men and words had meaning.

Long ago small traces of this blight had escaped the realms of Orv and cursed those denizens which were exposed to it. A grimoire he had read mentioned that the foul liquid stole the life force of living creatures and froze material exposed to it. The effects of natural black blood could only last for an hour outside of its host, but there existed rituals to preserve it. In the hands of a powerful magician, world-ending terrors could be ushered forth. Though it was only mentioned in an obscure journal, he could recall the writer mentioning that the importance of the Vault was so significant that the demon lords Abraxas and Camazotz had waged a war with one another to win control of the realm. Now some such horror spawned from that legacy was about to rip him limb from limb… He didn’t know exactly how he could use any of the odd tid-bits he remembered, but it was a start.

Of all the things he could recall, the only certainty was his recollection from an excerpt torn from the pages of  "Strange Beasts of the Realm, Vol. 1"  by Gerald P. Faust. An account of the Winter Wolf, and lupine monsters of all manner of breed. Certainly this creature had been a winter wolf once, before becoming...  whatever it was now.  He shuddered. Knowing his luck the wretched horror still retained use of its most terrifying feature... A magical rime breath akin to a frost dragon, capable of killing any man caught in its freezing bellow. His gaze caught sight of the horrible smaller beasts racing under the tree’s shadow at the forest’s edge. Zouni's word's suddenly reiterated themselves again in his mind, and his blood ran cold.  The coachman was well aware of its freezing spells and had the perfect bait.  He was going to be sick.  [Lucius: Perception / Knowledge (Arcane) / (History) / (Dungeoneering) - Partial]    [Chase - Lucius: Fortitude Save (DC 11) Vs Sickened]  

The whistling whirl and light snap of the loose buckle drew Lucius’ attention back out from his internal library. His eyes began to widen in realization the longer he stared at the unraveling knot. Shou glanced over his shoulder, noting the sound of the lead fixing the wagons together fastly becoming undone. He gestured at the fox as the ranger reeled from a fall that brought his head rebounding off the corner of the fallen supply barrel.    "Haru, the lead! Grab the lead!"      [Chase - Niofume: Acrobatics (DC 11) Vs Separated Convoy]  

The ranger groaned and staggered, blinking the colorful spots blotting his vision away. The shallow cut to his head was a welcome alternative to being thrown from the carriage’s car. Using his sleeve he wiped the blood from his face to keep the bleed from his eyes. Sight was a hunter’s most valuable asset next to his aim. In the roil of the winter storm’s gale, he had to preserve what vision he had. Mablung could recall that both similar undead and magical beasts born of the cold were not fond of fire, perhaps a large enough blaze might even deter the beastie, but no such blaze was present or available.

His eyes narrowed and he quieted his mind, truly examining the macabre wretch.  This was not a manufactured monstrosity.  Nor was it some wizard’s pet. The telltale signs of necromancy and corpse-craft were absent. This particular beast had certainly been exposed to black blood and been killed by it, not in a slow fashion either. The traumatic corruption of the wolf’s body was not reminiscent of black blood poisoning, or eating corrupted flesh over time. The pitiful thing had likely been fully submerged at some point…  which meant somewhere, there was a whole pool of the stuff.   [Mablung: Knowledge (Religion) - Success] 

Quickly he turned his attention towards their surroundings. It was difficult to see through the thickening sleet, and soon the morning fog would also roll into the village truly leaving them running blind. Fortunately, Mablung had a solid grasp of Greenwold’s geography, even if he couldn’t exactly  see it.  The conservatoire outer gate which separated the Faust Estate from the rest of the village could be reached if one simply followed the road. But that road was long and if they followed it to its conclusion, they would reach a sharp turn which would eventually bring them to the towering cold-iron gates…

He looked down, noting that Shou had been managing to drive them forward at speed despite the roads being snowed-in. It likely wouldn’t have made much of a difference if he had taken the wagon off the streets and into the frozen fields. It would require he was capable of weaving the convoy through the narrow passages between houses, but they could skip most of the long road and its turns. In that regard, the ride could be completed in a fourth of the time. His only worries were that they could very well be thrown from their ride by the rough ground or break an axle, it would also be more difficult to aim while bouncing through a snowy clearing.    "Mab! Ready a shot! Wait til you smell its foul breath, then put a bolt down its throat!"     [Mablung: Knowledge (Geography) - Success]    [Chase: Mablung - Point-Blank Shot (Succeed an Attack Roll (AC 18) Vs Frost Breath)  ]  
 
 
 Spoiler: Party Status 

 Reminder: Fatigue imparts a -2 penalty to strength and dexterity. 

○  Chase: Slowed Carriage:  Vehicle speed has been reduced to 10 ft. due to severe damage. The carriage's speed may be increased to 20 ft by succeeding a DC 15 ride check and all ride checks have their DC increased by +2 for 1 round.

○  Chase: Dangerous Driving:  The driver may increase her carriage speed even further after accelerating with a DC 15 ride check, however this check and all subsequent ride checks during this round have their DC increased by +2 (this stacks with the previous penalty). Success allows the driver to move his vehicle into the next Chase Event (or Chase Card). Failure inflicts 2d4 points of damage to the vehicle and impacts a -2 penalty to all occupants in the next Chase Obstacle.

●   Sleep Deprived:  All members of the party are fatigued due to lack of sleep. This may be cured via 1 hour of rest or any means which a creature might benefit from rest. 

●   Damaged Vehicle:  Due to how damaged the wheels are a DC 15 ride check is required each round to drive the carriage without damaging it further. On failure the carriage suffers an additional 1d6 points of damage. While Lucius' wagon is tethered to follow, he need not make these ride checks. Untethering the carriage is a full round action, or standard action if the lead is cut with a slashing or piercing weapon. 

Zouni Ride Check (1d20+17) [30]  vs DC 19
 

  
   
Triskavanski
      
     Niofume Haru    
   AC:  18  | HP:  16  | Current:  16
 Fortitude:  +2  | Reflex:  +7 | Will:  +4  | Perception:  +8
 Active Effects:   None.
 Conditions:   None.
   
 
  

Recovering rather quickly from the tumbles and the bumbles, the fox moved back to her paws and was taken aghast at the suggestion that she takes the reigns. She glances this way and that, cursing the limitations of spells she had available to her at the moment. Why couldn't mage hand just simply do things that a single magical hand could do? It took her weeks to study how to make it so she could punch people with it. Using the only bit of her that could grasp something, she jumped up and grasped at the reigns with her mouth.

 
 Spoiler 

 (1d20+9)[ 16 ]  Acrobatics -2 from fatigue. +5 from Dex +2 from Race +1 rank, +3 from trained.
 
ThisIsPequod
Having completed his survey of the land and formulating a plan to hasten their escape, Mablung shouts to Shou:   "If we cut through the fields we might reach the estate faster!"  

Having said this he turned to follow Shou's instructions, reaching into to his magical quiver as he stares down the looming threat growing ever closer. The monstrosity shambling and lurching unnaturally towards the rear of the cart where he is perched. Mablung settles into the firing drills he had practiced with thousands of repetitions over the years, calmly drawing and nocking a masterfully crafted siccatite arrow and nocking it in his great warbow. He thought back to his tutelage under the legendary Glemphree'el, and how masterful his archery was. His own skills a feeble imitation in comparison despite his best efforts, always unable to measure up to his former mentor.

He shakes his head trying to clear the shadow cast over his mind, and focuses on the task at hand. Peering past the rear of the rumbling wagon and preparing to fire, his very life on the line should he fail. His corded muscles rippling under his cloak. The immense pressure the bow emitted as he drew it back was palpable, the mere sound of the creaking bowstring threatening great violence. He draws the bowstring back as only a practiced veteran could, and slowed his breathing, focusing all his remaining willpower and concentration. The fletching of the great arrow resting at the corner of his mouth. Nothing else existed for Mablung in that moment, only that his shot be true. FWIIISH! With a great twang the arrow fired and the cold air rippled as the arrow ripped towards it's target.

 
 Spoiler: Rolls 
Using character trait (Shadow of Marksmanship-roll twice and take best result):
Firing into the Beast's throat (Bulls-Eye and PBS): (1d20+10)[14]
Firing into the Beast's throat (Bulls-Eye and PBS): (1d20+10)[11]

[Chase: Mablung - Point-Blank Shot (Succeed an Attack Roll (AC 18) Vs Frost Breath) ]

Ammunition Used: Masterwork Siccatite Incendiary Arrows (Sharp)

Using Hero point to roll Nat 20
 
flat_footed
He hated to split from the group, but Al'ram saw the logic in Zouni's plan. Their survival depended on cunning and tact, not fleeing in a straight line like dumb beasts.  With the foul magicks at play here, we can't assume anything. For all we know, the source of this corruption is eagerly watching their creation wreak havoc.  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

  Arcana  - (1d20+10)[ 16 ]   Inspiration  - (1d6)[ 2 ]  Trying to glean monster's abilities
  Perception  - (1d20+10)[ 22 ]  Looking for best path through the buildings
  Stealth  - (1d20+13)[ 32 ]  Taking advantage of buildings blocking line of sight
  Bluff  - (1d20+11)[ 30 ]  Disguising intent
  Engineering  - (1d20+6)[ 12 ]  Best way to cut through building development
  Intimidate  - (1d20+10)[ 14 ]  Striking at the head of the snake to keep the lesser evils at bay
 
forg99rules
 
 The information that crossed his mind failed to bring him joy. These creatures carried a plague that should not exist in this place, and the largest creature was even more alarming. The moment Zouni instructed the others to await its frost magic, Lucius's fears began to materialize. A mere misstep in executing Zouni's plan could result in all of them being frozen by the colossal winter wolf's breath. A wave of nausea rose in his throat, aggravated by the jolting road and Zouni's devised plan that grated on his nerves. His gaze shifted to the unraveling knot that connected the two vehicles, causing his heart to skip a beat. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to teleport to the main cart if anything caused his carriage to become detached. 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Fort save:  (1d20+2)[ 22 ] 

Prepared to use my mote of movement to teleport over the main cart incase something happens
 
Chromascope3D
  "Black blood..."   Ronarr muttered, knuckles whitening as he gripped the sword tight. As Lucius sank into despair, the Ulfenman underwent an opposite transformation, a look of determination crossing his face as he steeled his resolve.

  "Aye, the Serpent's Jaw!"   he called in acknowledgement, nodding to Al'ram and stirring his mount into action. Leading Brigid around would lead the two closer to the waiting direwolves, but perhaps killing the alpha would give the monsters enough pause for his team to escape, assuming that there remained any of the hounds' living instincts. In any case, the Redhand could not allow himself to falter. He had his Flame to light the way, and righteous flame could not be doused by mere cold. He could not allow himself to believe otherwise.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
 (1d20+5)[ 16 ]  Perception
 
Mornings
    
  In those rare moments. Those quiet times where he could quiet the contemplations of his own mind, Mablung could see them; The familiar shadows which shifted and flickered behind reality's veil. Some were memories. Others were things he could not understand. The ones which still haunted him were those perfect motions. The peerless ethereal frames of marksmanship which had once upended everything he had known. The moments which still echoed in his heart and he strived blindly to emulate. A level of mastery which made the impossible, possible. A profound and transcendent degree of skill which he still struggled to aptly describe. He only knew it was something beyond the comprehension of simple men and physical skill.

He doggedly pursued it. Stove to understand it, and the lurid haunts which clouded his vision in those moments of stillness. As he held his aim, the motions of the world slowed. The gentle slant of the snowflake's dance paused with his breath. No more was the plangent crash of monstrous limbs deafening him with each rocking step. No more was the crack of reins and beat of steady hooves. Only the stillness. Only the quiet of a single moment. He exhaled, and slowly the mute motions of his world advanced forward.

He could not hear the wilting crash as the grotesque thing crashed down upon the rear wagon, splitting wooden beams and splintering axles. He couldn't hear Lucius's terrified cries as the blighted wretch's terrible claws raked and ravaged his home; splitting it in twain with a louring assault, bursting the carriage like an over-ripe fruit. His aim didn't quiver even when the scholar blinked out of existence and flickered back to life at his side. There was only this stillness and the dance of the shadows. As the vehicle behind was utterly destroyed underfoot, it came to light. For the briefest of moments, he saw a red flicker. The splitting gleam of the red light. A crimson string. A thread connecting his arrow and the beast. Then it was gone. Vanishing twice as quickly as it had come. It had been a lifetime since his eyes had witnessed it. He could only curse his own inadequacy. He could not take hold of it.

The Couchman was shouting something mutely behind, but the words were only muffled echoes beneath the waves of his mind. As the creature began to reel back, carried on broken wooden planks tied to their car, Al’ram and Ronarr gathered themselves and began to put distance between themselves and the cart. Hastily, the small fox tore at the reinforced leather ties she had just saved. Their lifeline had become their noose. It was far too late. The abominable fiend opened its slavering black maw, and coils of freezing mist slowly roiled forth. He didn’t miss his moment. His hand went limp, loosing his arrow.

With sudden violent motion, the world exploded back to real-time. In an assault on his senses, Mablung was immediately deafened amid the cacophonous din of battle and shattering iron and timber splintered and ground against the cobbled stone. The arrow stuck daftly with a pitiful eructation of silver sparks, lodging itself in the beast’s rotted chest. The wretch did not even know it had been struck. Its response was spoken with azure fire.

A gale of frozen wind drowned them in ice. Running horses twitched and shattered under their own feet. Mablung watched in horror as his own bow fused to his hands and fractured off at his elbows. The bodies of his friends scattered in pieces across the stone ground as he heard the whistle of a great claw hurtling at him- 
 
 He was falling.

Falling through darkness. Not the cold and distant dim stillness of death, but a deeper darkness. A crushing and impenetrable black. An ineffable void beyond measure or description where not even thought and consciousness could abscond.

Within the whirl of his descent, he was pulled, twisted and ripped.

Curved and curled. Coiled and winded. He was stretched and pulled by countless unchristened forces without description or meaning. This form was absent any physical body. A ghost flitting across some caliginous realm far removed from all he knew.

Tumbling. Winding. Dangling. Sinking. The descent was endless. Hours. Days. Weeks, and longer still, until he could not recall a sense of meaningful time. There was only the dark pattern. The fissures of a deeper shade. Lines dividing the featureless black. Then, at last… the umbral veil broke.

Like a troubled sunrise after a night without rest, the first lights which filtered into his being brought no respite. He stood within the churn of gray mist. A world without earth nor physical touch. A ghastly demiplane of fog without substance. Yet, within the stir his eyes found the strong back of a man facing away from him. He knew who he was. Recognition flashed in his mind long before the familiar timber of the stranger’s voice sounded out to him. He had lived behind the sight of that man’s back for as long as he’d drawn a bow…  
    "...This is not the end."   
  
 After the untold ages of his descent through the purgatory of the void, he was left in dazed disbelief. Though he was not entirely material himself, Mablung had been left a prisoner in the dark, trapped within his own consciousness for longer than he had once lived. The vision of the hero standing before him now seemed, so distant; A memory from lifetimes ago. 
 His voice echoed out across the whirl of the infinite expanse.     "Do you remember what I told you so long ago?"     His words seemed to turn about him, sounding from all corners of the colorless gray plane like some god’s decree.     "The bow is not the weapon…"     He’d heard these words a million times before. Once, when he’d yet lived, he had chanted the phrase like a mantra within the stillness of each shot. Yet, he had never heard the words which came after.     "It is the man. Yet, nor is he a warrior. Nor an archer.  He is a minstrel. "     There rang a sense of familiarity in those last words, perhaps he’d been told such once before, but it was so very long ago. He could barely recall the sight of his own hands, or his mother’s face. He had long ago forgotten such things in the timeless lapse of his fall.     "The bow is his instrument, and its string sound his chords. He chases those moments penned by the black hand of fate, in the hope that his songs might change it…"     There was a long pause before the ranger continued. 
   "It is the height of folly. A foolish path from which most men can never hope to achieve. The arrowsong of any man is not loud enough to make gods listen, nor great enough that the world might heed it."     Mablung could not see the ranger’s face, but for the briefest of moments he glanced over his shoulder and he could see he carried something, or someone, in his arms.     "...But you aren’t like them are you, Mab. You are different, because you can  see it,  like I do. The crimson light. The red thread. The Red Chord. The greatest of oracles are now left blind and impotent with Aroden’s death, but those truly gifted by greater powers can see it. For these strings are the Weave. The Destined Fates of all things which can or will be. Our beginnings and endings were determined long before our stories were ever told. They have penned a miserable fate for all of us; You. Me…  Even her.   "     The words were gestured towards the corpse clutched in his arms. 
   "The minstrel’s song denies such endings. He pursues the red line. The Red Chord of Change which would shatter his wretched ending and raze the very pages upon which it was penned…  You were always going to die here.  Murdered meaninglessly by some blight, manipulated by forces you do not understand. Forgotten, like you have forgotten yourself. Swept away beneath black waves…"     His hand snapped out, pointing into the distance, cutting a white hole through the coiling smoke.     "...You were close. Now go back, and try again.  I will show you the way. "   
   
  Central Varisia, The Churlwood
Greenwold Village Outskirts
Winter AR 4703, 12th of Kuthona, Toilday, 2:15 AM  

Mablung opened his eyes.
 He was back. 
Returned to this day. To this hour.
 The moment of his death. 

Ronarr tightened his grip on the reins in-hand, finding the conviction within himself to face the terrible foe behind. One look at Al’ram and he knew the elf had consigned himself to whatever fate would greet them both. If this was to be the hour of their death, then at least it would be the end they had faced with courage and honor. The Inquisitor’s eyes scanned all about him, trying to gather a more complete picture of their situation. He did not miss the small fox’s desperate struggle to keep the buckled leather ties joining the wagons from separating completely. The town around them was built over stone ruins which now mostly only formed the foundations of some residences and the walls encircling the town prior to reaching the large gates which separated the estate and conservatoire from the rest of the village.

Lucius desperately secured himself to his cart’s perch but gathered himself and his things, ready to leap to the lead vehicle; and right he was by such preparations. The gnashing beastie was now upon them. Beneath the eerie light cast by his sword and the dark storm overhead pelting them with wind and sleet, the thing looked like nothing but a yawning wall of fur, fangs and claws. It did not take him less than a moment to realize it. The foe was now too close to merely escape. Shou had been right in his assessment, but that too meant it would be the convoy which would need to survive the first preemptive strike of the caitiff on their heels as he and the elf pulled away. Even still, houses and stone walls funneled them forward along the road for a few more moments until they could scatter to the allies and strike back. The next few moments would weigh everything.  [Ronarr: Perception - Success] 
   "Leave it…"    Mablung could hear the voice resound in his mind. Without a thought, his body moved as if puppeted by some second consciousness, dropping the great warbow to the floor of the carriage’s hold. The massive weapon clattered loosely on the solid wooden interior of the car,    "What are you doing!?"    Al’ram’s vision was not significantly impeded by the darkness, though the weather was certainly trouble. Even still he could see the ranger was not acting himself, nor could he ever recall having ever seen the man put aside his weapon. If nothing else, Mablung had been a man possessed. Striving to match-up to an impossible standard, burdened by the shadows of the greatest ranger there had ever been. Perhaps his weapon was a reminder of that, a physical burden to accompany his spiritual one.  Something had changed. 

Mablung held up the arrow, pointing it skywards.  There.  He could see it. The Red Chord, connecting the arrow and the wretch.    "Not Yet. Higher.."    He stretched, standing on the ends of his toes as tall as he could.  The thread slightly glinted.     "Higher…"    He turned and stepped on the supply barrel, standing on it, stretching up even higher.  The line sparked and flickered. A second string leaping to life, connecting him and the arrow and the arrow to the beast.     "Climb. Higher!"    The ranger climbed over the barrier into the coachman's seat, stepping on the driver’s lap with one foot and the other on the hanging lantern post, lifting the arrow as high as he could over the roof of the carriage.    "Ow, fawk’s sake, Mab!"     A spark. Another line. A red thread connecting him, Zouni, the arrow and the beast.     "Higher!"   

The rocking of the carriage made his position precarious, but he managed to get a hand around the side of the wagon, hanging off the side and half way up to the hard roof of the vehicle. A violent glint of gray flickered with a flash, briefly blinding all of them. Al’ram shielded his eyes from the unexpected flare burning at his sensitive vision. It was as if the tip of the arrow had sparked a magical burst before suddenly flickering out     ”Nine hells…"     Shou cursed under his breath in disbelief.  It was not an unfamiliar light.     "There. Climb."   

Desperately, he bit down on the arrow-shaft, securing the bolt in his mouth and pulled himself up, climbing on top of the jolting carriage rooftop. There, he lifted the arrow back into the sky.  A red streak raced out like chained lightning. From himself, to Zouni, Al’ram, Ronarr, Haru, Lucius, the arrow and the beast, the line connected them all together.  The bolt burst into a ball of silver flame in his hand and ushered forth a deafening  CRACK. 

Everything was frozen now. Not moving slowly, but perfect stillness. Before him was a shivering fissure. Like a broken line racing across a glass surface. That ‘surface’ was the world before him. On the left of the crack was the dim moments he remembered. The terrible cold and frost as the horror’s claws froze them and its massive claws ripped his head off from his shoulders with a vicious bloody burst. On the right, was the bright world before him.  An alternate story. A different ending.  For the first time, clearly, he could see the shadow of Glemphree as he reached into the dimensional crack, grasping it like the haft of a bow. He mirrored the motion, drawing back its ‘string’, widening the cleft. Splinters raced out from his hands across the material plane as he split the ends apart and the two halves of reality reflected back on themselves, joined only by that thin red string.

With a dazzling roar and roil of gray brilliant energy, reality was set back into motion. Lucius’s eyes blinked in disbelief as Mablung seemed to teleport from his placement hanging from the wagon’s side and crash forth through some temporal hole, appearing atop the carriage, bearing a colossal arc of shimming light. A bow with ten-foot arms of shivering pale cosmic fire, a bolt of pure concentrated light drawn across its length. Ronarr’s red magic light was drowned out by a blaze of colorless daylight laving out from the ranger above. They had all seen such things before, though it had been long ago.  [Mablung: 1 Hero Point Spent - Attack Roll] 

It was the weapon of light spoken of in the legends men still told of the Auburn Company. A divine-bow which could only be wielded by the Company Commander. The bow named after the fairytale-witch who had once taught him to wield magics beyond the control of mere moral men.

 Effal, The Radiant Arc

  
It came without sound. Without movement. A light which slipped through his fingers as he released the bolt. A strike without motion, or force or substance.  A perfect shot.  For the first time, he had glimpsed those heights he strove to emulate. The wave of pale florescence stripped every color from the world. No red light, nor forest greens, or leather browns. Only the monochrome spectrum of the world’s wake upon the reckoning dawn his song had ushered. His enemies blackened and faded, wilting then dissolved before his boundless light. The shadows of wolves and corruption which once lingered beyond his vision were swept away beneath the burning churl.

Black flakes rose from the earth, like dust pulled up from the roots and soil. They danced and faded overhead. The petals of flowers sprung up with vigor from the snow and the rotting bark of trees contorted and knit themselves back into wood and thatch. Like poison being drawn out from a wound, the blight was pulled away and scattered like sediment cast by the current’s course.

The great luminant current curled and arced, twisting like a great storm spanning miles. The luminous bolt raced out into the heavens, a vast pillar of light. It’s force parted the clouds with an eruption of power that tore down the overcast skies across all of Varisia. Pale and colorless sunlight shined down upon all of the Inner Sea, bringing a second morning in the throes of night. From Varisia to Irrisen, Nidal to Nirmathas, Ustalav to Mendev, the River Kingdoms and beyond, the radiant glow washed over them each; until the light dimmed and a flurry of glowing silver snow danced down from the heavens. The wagon’s lay still in their places and the weapon’s form flickered out from Mablung’s hands. It was a light the world had not seen in a very long time.  He was sure it would heed his call. 


Somewhere, far away and across the waves. A child woke from her sleep in the city of Absalom. She looked out the window and watched a pale silver star race up into the heavens and take its place in the distant night sky.  
 
 Spoiler: Party Status 

 CHARACTER EXPERIENCE  - Chase Reward +450exp
MABLUNG ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 22% (450/2,000 EXP)
HARU         ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 22% (450/2,000 EXP)
LUCIUS      ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 22% (450/2,000 EXP)
AL’RAM      ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 22% (450/2,000 EXP)
RONARR    ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 22% (450/2,000 EXP)


 
 Spoiler: On-going Status Effects 
 Reminder: Fatigue imparts a -2 penalty to strength and dexterity. 

●   Sleep Deprived:  All members of the party are fatigued due to lack of sleep. This may be cured via 1 hour of rest or any means which a creature might benefit from rest. 

●   Damaged Vehicle:  Due to how damaged the wheels are a DC 15 ride check is required each round to drive the carriage without damaging it further. On failure the carriage suffers an additional 1d6 points of damage. While Lucius' wagon is tethered to follow, he need not make these ride checks. Untethering the carriage is a full round action, or standard action if the lead is cut with a slashing or piercing weapon. 
 

 

  
   
Chromascope3D
It was bright. So bright that Ronarr had to turn his head lest he drown in the brilliant hue, but from the sounds of screaming dying away, he knew then what had happened. For a moment he thought he had died. He didn't know why, but he knew when he opened his eyes, he would be standing before the great brimstone gates of the Flaming Cradle, to swear eternal fealty to his Lady.  But after a few moments, he still felt cold, still felt the wind against his skin and Brigid beneath him. He still heard the rattling carts and voices of his allies. He opened his eyes, though his vision still swam with stars, he could see that the land around him had changed. For a moment it seemed as though the sun had risen, that all of Golarion awashed with daylight. Night quickly returned, but a night less dark than what had crept upon them before. And before he knew it, he was holding aloft the Effulgent Flame, pumping the air with a wild abandon that was less dignified than Feronia was deserved but no less than her inquisitor felt in his bones.

Grinning at the ranger, from deep within his core, he cheered,   "Yeah! Hell yeah! Brilliant shot, Mab, brilliant shot! Send those ****ers back to the Maelstrom!"

   
 Spoiler: OOC 
Probably not gonna matter but just in case here's some rolls re: the bow of light

 (1d20+2)[ 20 ]  History
 (1d20+5)[ 11 ]  Religion
 (1d20+5)[ 18 ]  Perception
 
ThisIsPequod
Heart still pounding and mind racing, Mablung let out a triumphant shout.   "Back to the Abyss you scum!"  He had finally grasped grasped the thread, and achieved a small step towards the perfection he sought so desperately to emulate for so long. He turns to Ronarr and shouts   "How's everyone doing Ronarr, any more of those beasts scampering about?"  

While saying this he scans the area to take stock of his party's situation. Seeing the trail the great arrow of light left in its wake, melting the snow and burning away the corruption left by the slain monstrosity.

 
 Spoiler: Roll 
Scanning the area- Perception Check: (1d20+4)[21]
 
Mornings
      It was overwhelming. 

A radiant flare which could have washed over the world. Blinded in the illuminating storm, Mablung's eyes found only piercing revelation in the stark white contrast painting over his sight. Somewhere, far away, the shadow of the man lowered his bow.    "Mab... There is a creeping darkness. Something lurking beneath the surface of our world,  something that is changed.  I don't know when, but soon,  very soon,  it will wash over everything we knew. I only wish I could stand there with you, but I must leave now, and I do not believe this journey will see me return. So take this light. May it guide you... after the last lights go out."   
   
 
[MABLUNG] THE LAST LIGHT: KINDLE EMBER (Potential, General) 
  The last light of another world. It's flickering silver flame held back the deepest darkness and threatened the nameless denizens which dwelled within such forgotten spaces. In the hands of one who held a courageous heart, It could become a weapon to protect those who would be consumed by the wretched black.  
 Benefit:  As a standard action the wielder of this potential may conjure forth a spark of silver fire. This small flame floats about its creator like an animated candle without a wick. Despite its tiny size it emits 30 ft. of strong white light. Allies (including the master of the flame, and the flame itself) receive a +20 circumstance bonus to stability checks and a +10 circumstance bonus to saves versus the Black and Blackened entities or creatures. This bonus decreases by 1 each round the fire is active. The wielder of the ember may dismiss the fire whenever he likes as a free action, however the fire's bonuses are decreased by 1, regardless of the duration of its use during any round which it was active. When the fire's bonus provided to saves reaches +0 the flame is extinguished and cannot be used again for 24 hours. This magical fire cannot be easily extinguished. The flame burns underwater, cannot be doused by mundane means, applies its bonus to saves versus magical attempts to dispel it and counts its CR as equal to its bonus to stability checks when resolving against effects related to the Black which might effect it. As a move action the wielder of the flame may spend 1 focus point to increase the bonuses provided by the flame by 1, if the wielder  possesses a focus pool. Focus points may only be spent in this way a number of times each day equal to twice the wielder's HD. Creature's related to the Black may fear the light or become hostile towards the wielder of the flame. Such creatures are always aware of the flame if within 60 ft. and may become wary. Additionally this potential increases the wielder's HD by 1 upon acquisition.   
 

 
 Spoiler: Campaign Powers: Potentials 
Potential's are unique abilities acquired by character's in-game, related to the achievements, actions and development a character experiences. These abilities are special powers unique to "The Primeval Dark" campaign setting reflecting the individual growth and accumulated might of character's. Potential powers are the key features which allow players to surpass their Challenge Rating (CR) and the limited growth of character levels, which is capped at Level 6 in this game. Acquiring Potentials is critical to uncovering the truth and ultimately winning the game. These abilities allow players to acquire levels of power impossible in standard epic and mythic settings; in addition to granting key features critical to surviving the multi-dimensional threats across the cosmos. There are tens of thousands of potentials available, including special options called 'Potential Paths', which function similarly to a 'skill tree' found in popular video games. New Potentials can be unlocked through further play, and specific types of potentials can be targeted by acquiring traits called "Influences". An "Influence" is a theme associated with a character's actions, pursuits, interests, asperations and experiences which might expose him to new things. All of these things are acquired via roleplay throughout play and establishes focal points for the types of abilities which you become eligible to unlock. For example, training regularly with swords might allow you to acquire the "Swordsmanship", "Swords" and "Combat" Influences, which enable you to learn new Potentials related to combat with a sword. Influences can also be lost in a similar fashion which they are acquired. After a prolonged period which related activities are no longer being taken, an Influence may be forgotten. Rare Influences which represent your unique experiences in your travels and actions are never lost in this way, and represent a moment of life experience which will always stay with you. Losing an Influence related to a Potential does not remove the related Potential, even if that Influence was a prerequisite.
 

   
  Central Varisia, The Churlwood
Greenwold Village Outskirts
Winter AR 4703, 12th of Kuthona, Toilday, 3:24 AM  

The Inquisitor's eyes finally adjusted after a time.  Elated . The shapes of the creeping minions and even the mighty beastie itself were gone, like a memory. The only evidence the things had ever been lay in the unsettling marks in the snow. Shadows, like still pictures of rough silhouettes remained. Neither created by fire, nor any physical remains, the shadows were  'burned'  to the surface of the frost, as if there remained some invisible thing were frozen in time and some sightless light cast shades of its shape to the ground. Their foes had been soundly defeated with a single blow. It was a tremendous force which apparently vaporized the creatures, destroying them utterly. The sky above turned in circles. All the clouds were cleared far back for tens of dozens of miles like a hole had been punched into the heavens, or the eye of some unfathomable hurricane. Far, far into the twinkling night sky, the flickering and gleam of new of starlight flared in the darkness; one who shined brighter than any other star. Even as the minutes passed, the new star remained, making the night seem just a little less dark.  [Ronarr: Perception - Success] 

Mablung could feel it on his skin, in the air, in the very soil. His eyes fell to his feet. By starlight he could see the ground was graced with a fresh powdery snow. The filth of the slushy muck was gone. The roots and trees were renewed and the area about them seemed to breath with a newfound life, like a great sigh of relief from nature’s lips. The purifying change was vast, but not all-encompassing. By the moon’s light he could see the dark line traced in the soil where the earth ran rich with dark tainted blood. The healing rays of his bolt had not washed away all the harm inflicted upon Greenwold, but at least its outskirts and much of the forest leading into the village had been made whole again. Even within the empty houses seemed to shift and make themselves right. The windows, less crooked. The foundations, made more firm. Had he not seen the change himself, its past state would have only been described as an ‘eeriness’, or an ‘unsettling feeling’. A corruption had twisted them, warped the wood and filled its hold with the malice of ghosts.  Everything within that circle had been made right.  The silver snow gleamed like gray flakes of fire, or a rain of pale colorless embers. They fluttered and strobed glowing patterns in the air like a squall of fireflies across all he could see. There was great evil afoot, but at least here, that wickedness had been cast out.  [Mablung: Perception - Success] 
    ” Starsong's grace.  I haven't seen that since..."      Caine.  Though Zouni's voice trailed off, Ronarr's thought's finished his sentence. He was right. It had been a long time since he'd seen that light. Most of the conflicts the Auburn Company had fought had been wars waged in the subterranean expanses below the earth and the buried ruins hidden throughout the world. Yet, during the height of their activity, some battles had spilled out into the overworld. When all the lights had gone out, it had been Caine Verlow and Glemphree who had fought to stem the tide of the nameless things which appeared shortly thereafter.  Seven days of night.  Seven restless days without calm. Many new stars had been born in the night sky during that week. It was the only light which greeted them in a starless night they had begun to fear might never end. Yet, end it did and it took with it those new stars the ranger had placed in the heavens. The legends of Glemphree were tall tales, but while exaggerated, most of them were true. They were stories of great accomplishments which they had all collectively achieved together. Despite public sentiment laying the credit for such deeds solely at the feet of the ranger, none of their great deeds would have been possible without Caine. Unofficially, 'Vice-Commander' in many member's eyes. He was a great leader, strategist, visionary and inventor. For what Glemphree held in power, Caine made up for with wit and insight. His preparedness had even readied them for that Long Night far before the lights ever dimmed, and countless lives had been saved for it. It was truly a loss for the world when he met his own tragic end.  [Ronarr: Knowledge (History) - Success] 

Ronarr wasn't overly familiar with the fairytales and folklore surrounding Glemphree from the years before they met, but he'd heard tell of it. When the ranger was still a young man, he had sought out great powers and forgotten magics to turn the undead and purge the unclean. While he did managed to learn some magics to aid him, he refocused his efforts in studying methods to combat necromancy and dark magics under the tutelage of a fallen chivalric order in Lastwall. It was during that time he had wandered across the the Immortal Principality, until he came upon one who would become his nemesis. An evil witch; Effal of Nine Talons. He pursued her over a series of battles spanning years, until eventually besting the corrupt witch. In exchange for her life, Effal gave him the source of her power - a key. Enslaved by the key, the witch taught him the Foredained Hymn. A mythic ballad said to allow the composer to shape destiny itself and command the very fabrics or reality. Supposedly Glemphree also became an immortal, destroyed a Demon Lord and conquered the Test of the Starstone, but Ronarr could hardly remember if that was part of the fairytale, or the rumors. He couldn't piece it all together in his head, but fortunately, he didn't have to. The true history was already penned in detail, albeit with a somewhat artistic flourish by his very own Company Field-Captain. The book, though rare, was named  "The Witch, the Key and the Song"  by Glebriel, 'The Swordsong'.  [Ronarr: Knowledge (Partial) - Success] 


Though the horses struggled, the wagons would not move once settled. The wood groaned but no motion was forthcoming.     ”...Well, I can fix it, but we can't keep going like this. Winter wolves aren't exceptionally rare beasts to find in the deepwood during the height of frostfall. Sometimes they even travel in packs, but if they've all been turned into....  Whatever that thing was,  I think we need to re-evaluate the plan."     The couchman slid out from his seat and begun to examine the damage. After making mental notes of the most pressing concerns, he fetched his kit of tools and begun to go about splinting, drilling and applying new patch-work fixes. This time he untied the wagons.     ”This old girl isn't going to survive another run-in with the charming wildlife. I need some materials for more permeant repairs. I don't know what they're doing to secure the conservatoire, but chances are they barricaded the gate if they have critters like this running around. The road is also ruined..."     The man's work was like magic. The splintering timbers had been patched together with a number of alchemic solutions and a thick cloth impregnated with a binding solution which he managed to wrap and sculpt around weakened areas like a heavy epoxy-clay.

Climbing up into the wagon's hold, he tossed out most of the bags and rolled the large supply barrel off the back and into the snow. He gestured at a nearby house.     ”That one's mine. Or it was, when I was bringing deliveries up here more frequently. I left it to Mrs. Allight, but she insisted I keep a copy of the key. Lets move this crap inside."    

The interior of the sizable cabin was nicely decorated. As Shou turned the lock and opened the door, a handful of dust shifted about as the wind begun to pick up. Their eyes were drawn back to the sky. Like a fog bank, the clouds quickly begun to close and with it came a foul wind.     ”That's going to get bad... We'll bed down here for awhile. We're very close to Ravenmoor, students make the trip on foot in a day and the roads are kept clear. I have friends there who can help me get this back in order and lend us some aid,  because I don't think we'll get another Radiant Arc... "     Of course, none of them had even heard of another human being capable of performing any feat even remotely similar to Glemphree before, but something had certainly changed about the ranger, and it wasn't just the weariness in his eyes. Something about Mablung's aura had changed, as if he had been taxed heavily or he had somehow aged. It was an imperceptible difference, yet something impossible to miss when the change was so immediate and drastic over the course of a few seconds. It was as if those seconds had been far longer; an entire lifetime condensed down into a single moment. Somehow, all of them felt as if Mablung would never be capable of drawing that bow again.

    ”I'll let me reagents set on my repairs. Might as well catch a few hours of sleep in the meantime. Come first light, I'll ride out to Ravenmoor with Mab. You lot stay here and get something to eat. I brought three months of supplies for the Estate, but I doubt they'll need it once we have things in order. The Faust stores should be plenty stocked, but Mari-Rayssa can also simply produce rations with her magics if it really came to that."     The Varisian man retrieved a small hammer from his tools and opened the lid of the barrel, retrieving kindling and cooking supplies. He set the fireplace, warming the interior of the cabin. The house was well stocked with woolen sheets, carpets and comfortable furniture. Despite it not being lived in it was well maintained. After a short time Zouni served some light soup made with tomato's and fresh bread. The foodstuffs contained both fresh and preserved foods, in addition to luxuries like alcohols, sweets, spices and condiments. Most of which was purchased during their last stop before departing into the Churlwood. Finally, they could rest.

Though it was brief, they managed an hour of sleep before Zouni took to his feet.     ”The weather is starting to turn, better to go now than wait."     He dragged Mablung to his feet before gesturing at the rest of them,     ”Get some sleep. We should be back in a few hours depending how repairs go, and how long it takes to rally some reinforcements. Either way, we'll probably arrive by the time you start breakfast."     He grinned tiredly,     ”-So save me something to eat."     With that last word he grabbed his knapsack, a bag of horse-feed and items from the barrel, then gestured where he left the house key on the table before departing with the ranger. The storm had shifted back over them, but the wagon was now functional and it moved with a significantly nimble start without the added weight.     ”We'll see you lot in the morning... Or at least a more reasonable hour."     A sharp snap of his reins brought the vehicle to speed. The carriage vanished into the snowfall along a different road with much more easy than it had coming into the village. Still weary from their travels and now with a secure place to recover their strength, the group returned to their sleep.

  

Morning.
Midday.
Then they woke.
 Zouni was nowhere to be seen. 
The sun had risen, then crested again.
The last lights of day came and left.
Still he did not come.

Hours became days.
 Zouni never returned. 
     