Searching their bodies, we collected 5 platinums, 129 golds, 177 silvers, 6 electrums, and 44 coppers. We each took 21 golds, 30 silvers, and 1 electrum. Everyone except for Crystin took 1 platinum. Ulfgar added the coppers to his collection.
We took the wagon back to town to show Ferez, the mayor.
When we arrived at The Palatial, we asked Henry to send for Ferez, and the mayor arrived shortly.
“Greetings!” Ferez greeted us. “You sent for me? How did everything go?”
“Come see for yourself,” I replied, leading him to the back of The Palatial where we left the wagon.
“Well, my, my!” Ferez looked pleased. “You seemed to have dispatched them. Very good.”
Showing him the four ogre heads, I hinted, “These look like more than refugees.”
“Wow, thank you!” Ferez’s eyes widened. “This is wonderful news. Yes, this is more than what we had anticipated, actually. This is wonderful news. Thank you so much!”
“Unfortunately, they had a boat by the river,” I explained, “and they managed to get away, but we think we put at least one of them down, if not two, before they could get beyond our reach.”
“I see,” Fere considered. “Well, maybe now, with this good news, I can get someone to step up and start acting as constable here in town again.”
“So we did have a deal,” Ferez handed over a small sack.
Taking the sack, Cyrus spilled the golds onto the table and started counting them, giving each of us fifty.
“Yeah, good luck,” I said to Ferez. “Hopefully you're able to manage the problem from here.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus added, “we must have put a considerable dent in their forces. Hopefully you and whatever guard is sent by the capital can handle the rest.”
“Yes, thank you,” Ferez replied. “You’re men of your word and I appreciate it.”
When we were done, we stripped the bodies of their possessions and Ferez let us use the wagon to bring the equipment to Travis.
When we arrived, I presented the wagon to Travis. “Look what we found. Does this stuff look familiar?”
“Oh,” Travis looked into the wagon, “These are the suits of armor that they stole from me, or ‘bought from me’,” he made quote gestures. “Thank you.”
“And the swords and shields?” I asked.
“Uh, the swords aren't mine,” Travis acknowledged, examining the shields, “These are mine. The rest of the stuff isn't.”
“How about these crossbows?” I asked.
“I don't know where they got them from,” Travis replied.
“Well, what do you think of taking all this stuff?” I offered. “You can sell it and in exchange, you could resize one of these suits of splint mail for me.”
“Uh, let’s have a look here,” he examined the armor and looked me up and down. Then he began taking measurements.
When he was done, he concluded, “Yeah, I think we could probably work that out.”
Travis explained that refitting the armor was not going to be terribly difficult to do, and would take four days, and agreed to waive his fee in exchange for the recovered armor and weapons.
I offered to help him and he agreed.
While I spent the next two days helping Travis refit the armor, Cyrus spent the time carousing about the town and Ulfgar found a quiet grove to do his Tai Chi training.
No matter how many times I pointed out to Travis what a good deal he was getting, he didn’t seem to appreciate it. In fact, he seemed to appreciate it less and less the more I pointed it out. He also seemed very reluctant to take any pointers in the repair of the armor, in typically stubborn human fashion.
It seemed that our celebrity had grown in the town since we came back with the wagonload of these mean guys who had basically taken over the town, and we were on our guard for retribution.
After two days, I was satisfied that the splint mail armor fit very nicely, as if it was made for me. Travis did seem pleased once we were done with the armor. He agreed to buy my old chain mail from me, offering me 18 golds and 7 silvers. But after I pointed out the fine dwarven craftsmanship and details, including vintage bloodstains, and that he could probably get double the price once he tells people that this belonged to the heroes of Cornerwood, he agreed to give me 25 golds.
On the morning of the third day, we closed out our tab at The Palatial, purchased some additional rations, and headed south.
After an uneventful day of traveling, we reached Brightstaff Commons, a small town on top of a small hill.
The meals were modest, but they offered us use of their hot spring facilities.
The next morning, as we were preparing to leave, I asked the barkeep how they got the name of the inn, The Frozen Unicorn.
“How did you get the name of the frozen Unicorn?” the barkeep repeated before explaining, “The name of the inn was given after a benevolent unicorn supposedly came to town and healed the blight that was amongst the people here. That happened, you know, many years ago, and in honor of the, you know, the unicorns, you know. service to us, and because, you know, it's very cold here, we decided to name this place The Frozen Unicorn.
“Now, the more interesting story,” the barkeep continued, “might be why we call our town Brightstaff. So, as it goes, we used to have some dwarven clerics that lived here, that guarded a powerful artifact; a powerful healing object called the bright staff, and a red dragon came down, and demanded tribute to not burn our town to the ground. We didn't have the means to defend ourselves so the dwarven clerics came to offer Vorax-Hûl—that's the name of the red dragon—the tribute of the bright staff, the healing object. Vorax-Hûl was an evil, awful dragon and not only did he take the staff, but he also took the clerics that were presenting it, and flew off and took them away, and they sacrificed themselves for the better of the town. And so, in honor of that event we call our town Brightstaff.”
“Wow,” Cyrus responded. “How long ago was that?”
“Ten years ago,” the barkeep answered.
“Not that long ago,” Cyrus pondered. “What was the town’s name before Brightstaff?”
“It was the town of Reading before that,” the barkeep replied, “but Brightstaff seems a bit more appropriate now.”
“Yes, dwarven clerics will do that,” I commented. “I've known quite a few dwarven clerics in my time. All good people.”
“This lands pretty unlucky for dwarves,” Cyrus noted.
“Do you know the names of any of the dwarves?” I asked.
“I do not,” the barkeep replied. “I didn't have the pleasure of meeting them.”
“Is there anyone here that would know who they were?” I probed.
“Uh, probably the mayor of the town is my guess,” the barkeep shared.
“I gotta go speak to the mayor,” I stated.
“Yeah,” Cyrus agreed. “Maybe we're gonna have to go kill a red dragon.”
“It's only ten years ago,” Ulfgar noted, “it wasn't too long.”
“We can get Angradin a dwarven artifact,” Cyrus smiled.
“You know some people used to confuse my pappy as a dwarven cleric,” I commented. “Some people confuse me as a dwarven cleric. They don't realize I'm a paladin. Where can I find the mayor?”
The barkeep pointed us to the town hall.
The town hall, a building slightly larger than most, had steps leading up to a set of double doors. Guards dressed in chain armor with purple bands around their upper right biceps circled the building.
I led the way in.
Towards the back we found a door to Mayor Antonio Reymundo's office.
Opening the door, we found a young lady sitting behind the desk.
“Greetings,” I stated. “Are you the mayor of this town?”
“Oh no,” she replied, “no, sorry. I'm not. I am the mayor's assistant.”
“We are here to see your mayor,” I stated.
“Okay,” she replied, “and do you have an appointment?”
“I do not,” I replied. “Please tell him that The Ambassadors of the Blue Sky seek and audience. Heroes of Cornerwood. Extinguishers of the Innenotdar Forest. Passers of Gate Pass.”
“Okay,” she replied meekly, “and what is this about?”
“We just have some questions about this town's history,” I explained. “No cause for alarm.”
“I see,” she indicated, “just a moment please.” She rose from the desk and went through a door in the back of the room.
Returning, she replied, “He's kind of busy right now. His schedule is just rather full. Is there anything I can help you with? Do you want—”
“Mam. Mam. Man,” I interjected. “We don't have a lot of time. My questions will be very brief, just about the history—”
“Maybe she knows the answers,” Cyrus whispered. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“Maybe you could help me,” I tried, nodding to Cyrus. “I just have a few questions.” She nodded. “This town, Brightstaff, so named for the artifact stolen by the dragon. Are you familiar with the history?”
“Ah, yes,” she replied. “That's how our town was named.”
“I'm looking for information about the dwarven…clerics that gave their lives,” I explained.
“Okay,” she replied. “What do you wanna know?”
“Who were they?” I asked.
“What do you want to know exactly?” she replied, perplexed.
“Dwarven clerics,” I reiterated slowly, “sacrificed their honorable lives to save this town when it was being threatened by the dragon.”
“Dwarven clerics?” she pondered. “There were dwarven clerics?”
“This is why I asked to speak to the mayor,” I stated.
“Is there someone in town that knows the local history?” Cyrus asked. “You know, some old wise person, a librarian, or somebody like that in this town?”
“Well, we have a small school for the children,” she answered. “There might be some children's books over there that you can read if you wanna become more—”
“Mam,” I interjected, “I may be short, but I assure you, I'm not a child. I seek an audience with your mayor.”
“I, I, I understand that,” she stammered. “He's just not available right now, but I can take an appointment and try and fit you in maybe next week…”
“I don't have time for that,” I pressed. “I assure you, we will not take up much of his time, but my questions are very important. Are you familiar with Cornerwood?”
“Uh,” she thought, “yeah—”
“We are the heroes of Cornerwood!” I insisted. “We saved that town from eventual destruction from within!”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What do you mean destruction? What happened?”
“I will explain it to your mayor,” I insisted.
“Okay, but you can explain to him next week,” she insisted, “when we make the appointment. I'm sorry, sir, he's not available. What would you like me to do?”
“I would like you to go speak to him,” I insisted, “and let him know that The Ambassadors of the Blue Sky have just come from Ferez in Cornerwood and seek a very brief audience with him.”
“Uhm—” she began
“Ulfgar, calm down,” I placed a hand on Ulfgar’s shoulder. “My friend gets very anxious.”
She rose again and left through the door behind her.
“She’s like one of your minions over here, Xireas,” I teased.
After a couple of minutes she returned with a well dressed and groomed human male.
“What's the meaning of this?” the man demanded. “Why are you all harassing my secretary here? Did she tell you I was busy? What is your business here?”
“Greetings,” I replied. “I assume that you are the mayor.”
“You assume correctly,” he objected. “I'm rather busy and you're harassing my secretary.”
“I'm not here harassing your secretary,” I insisted. “I just have a few very brief questions. I'll make this quick. We’re The Ambassadors of the Blue Sky, Heroes of Cornerwood, Extinguishers of the Forest Fire of Innenotdar, and Passers of Gate Pass. The dwarves who, ten years ago, sacrificed their lives for this town when it was being assaulted by a dragon; I'm looking to find out who those dwarves were. What were their names?”
“Mr. Mayor,” Ulfgar added, “we don't wish to take any more of your time. We have but a few questions that possibly you could help us with. Give us a straight answer and we will gladly be our way after we get the information we need.”
“Yeah it's right simple bloke,” Cyrus muttered. “Just don't be a cunt.”
“Alright,” the mayor replied, “so you want to know the story of how we became Brightstaff Commons?”
“Specifically, who were the dwarves?” I clarified. “But anything else that you want to tell us, we're happy to hear.”
“So there were four dwarves that lived in the Tunda Mountains, east of here,” the mayor began. “And we had a pretty good relationship with them. They would come down. They would trade. They particularly liked to use the hot spring facilities here. They're quite rejuvenating, if you haven't tried them yet.”
I looked toward Xireas, who nodded in agreement.
“...and one day, ten years ago,” the mayor continued, “seemingly out of the blue—'cause we've never really had such a problem before—a big ugly dragon came down. I don't know if you've heard the name: Vorax-Hûl. And he threatened to burn our town to the ground, as dragons can do. We negotiated with him and at that time he demanded a tribute from us. Now we're, you know, not a particularly wealthy town and we don't have anything worthy of a dragon to give to them. So word went out to our dwarven friends. They were: Nekuck Flatmaker, Thumraed Trollforge, his brother Nurazzeal Trollforge, and Gilgoir Chainheart.
“As it goes, the four of them were trying to establish some type of outpost, so to speak, perhaps establishing a new community in those areas. In any event, we sent a messenger out to see if there was something they could do to help us, and they quickly answered the call and came down with this healing item that they had, called the Brightstaff. And they came to assist in negotiating with the dragon. They went out to the town square where it was wide open in hopes that if he would breathe, it would be clear of the buildings and they very bravely presented the staff. Well the dragon got irate, because that's all we had to provide. We don't have much gold. We don't have a lot here. We lived a very meager existence. And so he got irate. He blew fire around the buildings that were in the area, which, if you go down to that section of town, there are a few buildings that are more recent than the rest. And then, he not only took the staff, he took the four dwarves in his claws, and he flew off…gods know where, into the mountains or something, I don't know where these things live. I don't know where it came from and I don't know where he went, but in honor of that sacrifice, we changed the name of the town from Redding to Brightstaff Commons, so we’ll always remember that noble sacrifice that those four priests made for us.”
“And was that the last of the dwarves,” Ulfgar inquired, “or are there others in their colony left behind?”
“I don't know,” the mayor responded. Those are the four that—this is only a guess—”
“Do any other dwarves visit your hot springs to this day,” Ulfgar pressed, “or was that the last?”
“No,” the mayor replied. “Those are the only four priests that would come down periodically to visit us and after they left, no one else came, so we just assumed they had just started trying to build something. I don't know where it was or what happened, or if there were more of them. I never had the opportunity to visit there.”
“Alright, I appreciate your help Mayor Antonio Reymundo,” I thanked. “I was hoping that you may have heard of Danvidin Hammerforged, but it seems that that is not the case.”
“Danvidin Hammerforged” the mayor repeated. “Let me think. That particular name does not ring a bell to me.”
“Alright, let's go,” I suggested. “Maybe if we come back we can try to find the dwarven colony, but I think we need to continue on our way.”
“Do you have hunters or a guide or somebody who knows the wilderness?” Cyrus asked. “Maybe somebody will be able to show us where those dogs came from.”
“Let me see,” the mayor pondered. “Who could help? There is one guide that may be able to take you there and her name is Umara Nemetsk.”
“I say we at least go to the dwarven place,” Cyrus suggested, “right Angradin, because there might be information there about larger dwarven communities that maybe your dad went to after he fled. I think we should at least go check out the dwarven home that got abandoned.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “We can at least go visit this Umara. Let's see if we can find out how far away it is.”
“Oh, by the way, mayor,” Cyrus added, “The ever burning forest is now extinguished.”
“Really?” the mayor’s eyebrows raised. “Now that's news! Now this is interesting. I have to hear this story. How did you extinguish this forest?”
“Oh, we didn't do it,” Cyrus claimed. “We just discovered that it was extinguished.”
“But your friend here,” the mayor questioned, “he just said he was the extinguisher of the—”
“Gods damn it, Angradon!” Cyrus cursed. “You’re going to put a target on our backs. Yeah, alright fine we did it.”
“We’ll tell you but don't tell anybody,” I offered, glancing at his secretary.
“Yes, yes of course,” the mayor promised, waving us into his office. “Come in, come in.”
“Alright, just between us,” I agreed, leading the way into his office.
“Tamara, would you bring us a bottle of wine please?” the mayor instructed. “Rescheduled my appointments. I must hear this tale of The Ambassadors of the Blue Sky.”
“Are you sure?” I chided. “We know you're very, very busy. I don't really want to take up too much of your time. You secretary told us—”
“My calendar is now clear,” the mayor insisted. “I am all ears to hear of these exploits.”
We filed into the backroom, taking seats on the two opposing leather couches on either side of a small table. To the rear of the room was a large desk.
“My friend Cyrus did say that his throat was parched,” I hinted. “So I guess we’ll sit down and—”
“Yes, come,” the mayor invited us. “Sit. Tamara will bring us some nice wine to wet your whistle while you tell me of his glorious tale of these fire extinguishers?”
“As soon as we walked into the forest,” I began, “the heat was unbearable. If it hadn't been for the magic that we have been provided to withstand the heat, it would have incinerated us on the spot, as it did to the husky remains that we saw laying there throughout the forest. Through our travels we were accosted by demons and devils.”
Tamara entered with some glasses and poured us all some wine.
As we drank I continued the boastful tale of the elven village, the unicorn, the Seela, and “the hero Eyvindr, who is a one of the founding members of The Ambassadors of the Blue Sky. But similar to the dwarves who sacrificed their lives for Brightstaff, he sacrificed his or the Seela of the forest and stayed to rebuild.”
“My goodness!” the mayor exclaimed. “I see a very noble cause.”
“More importantly, mayor—” Cyrus interjected.
Tamara returned with another bottle of wine, and placing it on the table, knocked the other bottle off the table. The mayor deftly caught it in midair before it reached the floor.
“Please continue,” the mayor insisted.
“Ragesia was besieging Gate Pass,” Cyrus continued, “and if they take it, they’ll have a clear path down the mountain, because the fire is out, to invade Dassen. So you should inform your king or your superiors or whoever needs to know to defend this pass.”
“Lord Rego should not be caught unawares,” I advised.
“Interesting,” the mayor considered. “Yes, there have been quite a few refugees coming in. We haven't seen very many of them because this is more of the harsher climate in the region and furthest away, so they haven't made it quite this far yet. But there have been many rumors of Ragesian refugees fleeing the oncoming war and flooding the nearby towns. That's not good news, but the Ragesians laying siege to Gate Pass is not.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus summarized, “your back door is open now.”
“Although no one has yet to overrun Gate Pass?” the mayor noted. “So we shall see how successful or not, they are in that space.”
“It did seem like a pretty secure town,” Cyrus concurred, “but you never know.”
“That is true,” the mayor agreed. “That is true.”
The conversation was very friendly and two hours had soon passed.
“We have urgent business,” I announced, “but we’re very grateful for your hospitality and we value your acquaintance.”
Lifting an unopened bottle off the table, he said, “Take this Ambassadors of the Blue Sky. Take this.” And he handed us the bottle.
Cyrus took the bottle.
“It could mean very good trade for us,” the mayor mused, “having that pass open, at some point.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus added, “it could be very lucrative for you if the armies don't come marching down.”
“We hope to make it back this way,” I stated.
“Yes, very good,” the mayor declared. “Good luck!”
On our way out, Tamara explained to us that Umara was a little bit of a loner, and rather than live in the town proper, she had a cabin out in the wilderness, which was generally where she could be found.
She gave us some directions leading out through the back of town to a small trail.
After a short walk, we came to spy a small cabin off of the trail. A little black smoke rose from the chimney.
“Hello, hello,” Cyrus called out while we were still some distance off.
A moment later, the door was opened by a comely half elven woman wearing green studded leather armor, and a dagger at her hip.
“Greetings,” I waved.
“Greeting,” she returned. “Well met.”
“We seek Umara,” I shared.
“I am she,” Umara replied. “And what is your business?”
“We wish to hire you as a guide,” Cyrus offered.
“Guide to?” Umara asked. “What’s your quarry?”
“The dwarven colony in the Tunda Mountains.”
“The dwarven colony?” Umara repeated.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “Mayor Antonio Reymundo sent us.”
“The colony of the four dwarves that had the Brightstaff?” Cyrus clarified. “Ten years ago?”
“We were told you might be able to guide us to the remains or whatever is leftover of the colony,” Ulfgar added.
“Mayor Reymundo is sending you there?” Umara questioned.
“He told us that you were the only person that might be able to take us there,” I clarified.
“Ah, I see. I see,” Umara grasped, “he just referred you to me.”
“Yes,” Cyrus confirmed.
“We are looking for a dwarf named Danvadin Hammerforged,” I specified.
“Danvadin Hammerforged,” Umara pondered. “Let's see. There’s Nekuck, Thumraed, Nurazzeal, and Gilgoir…”
“He bore the same symbol as I wear on my shield,” I added.
“I apologize, my dwarven friend,” Umara shook her hood, “but that particular symbol is foreign to me. I don't recall that particular symbol or the name, but then again, I'm out here most of the time alone. So—”
“Do you know if there's still dwarves in that colony in the mountains?”I asked.
“Ever since the incident happened,” Umara explained, “no one’s come down from there, and quite frankly, I really had no reason to go up there looking for them, so I don't know much.”
“How far away is it?” I enquired.
“Well, I've never been there,” Umara shared, “but my guess is, it's a trek into the mountains somewhere, and probably half a dozen miles into the mountains somewhere.”
“So it shouldn't be more than a day?” I asked. “You know that they used to go back and forth, right?”
“Yes,” Umara acknowledged. “I mean it might be hard to pick up a trail ten years later, so I'm saying about a dozen miles to get into a general vicinity is my guess, right? Because they would come back and forth, and it's probably not that far. Right? 'cause when they called them for the staff they came fairly quickly. Unless they had magical means of transport, obviously.”
“Okay, we'd like to try,” Cyrus sought. “How much would it cost to engage your services?”
“Unless you’d rather have a share of whatever we find,” I proposed.
“Just to guide you there, and nothing dangerous,” Umara stipulated, “just to guide, I’ll have five 5 golds a day, plus expenses.”
“What kind of expenses?” I asked.
“Right,” Umara replied, “we have equipment breaks, rations, you know, whatever comes up.”
“Yeah,” Cyrus agreed, “no problem.”
“Now, if we get into sticky situations and there's fighting involved,” Umara added, “that's a different ball of wax. I’ll need some hazard pay, as it goes.”
“Yeah, we don't expect you to participate in that,” Cyrus clarified. “Just defend yourself and take care. We don't expect you to act as a mercenary.”
“If we leave now and get out there,” Umara noted, “we’re probably going to be camping the night, unless you want to travel back in the dark, which I generally wouldn't recommend.”
“I’m alright with that,” Cyrus agreed, referring to camping overnight.
“Alright, well,” Umara looked around, “I wasn't expecting to go on an expedition just now, so I'll need a little bit of time to gather my supplies and such. So do you guys wanna come inside, sit around the fire and give me a little bit of time to gather my things and then we can go?”
We agreed and spent the next hour resting in her small place near the hearth while she went to a backroom to gather her supplies.
She returned with a full backpack over her armor, a long sword at her waist, a longbow in hand, and a quiver of arrows over her shoulder.
It was already afternoon when Xireas retrieved her zombie minions, which Umara had no problem with, and we headed out into the cold, harsh wind.
After traveling four hours it was time to make camp.
Umara found a suitable location that she said would probably do us well for the evening. It was a slightly hilly area where there were some natural steps on the side of the hill that led up to a plateau where we set up our campsite.
Once our two tents—one for Xireas, Cryston, and Torrent, and another for the rest of us—were ready, we built a campfire, ate dinner, and agreed on the night’s watch order. Xireas’ zombie minions each stood guard in front of a tent.
That night, I was alerted by the sound of howling wolves close by. Peering over the ledge, I saw two wolves cresting the stairs, followed by three goblins
As I quickly scrambled to wake everybody up, the two wolves ran up to me, the first biting me in the face and knocking me flat on my back.
I rose, hitting the wolf with my hammer and then dropping it with my spiritual weapon, but the goblins were soon upon me, one of them slicing me with its scimitar.
Just as a bugbear appeared at the top of the stairs, Umara emerged from the tent, bow drawn.
The last wolf pounced and I was on my back once again.
“What the hell is going on here? Xireas cursed, peeking out of her tent. “Attack my enemies!” she commanded her minions. As they joined the fray, she cast toll the dead, but it had no effect.
Quickly emerging from the tent, Ulfgar dropped the nearest goblin with his quarterstaff.
A ray of frost came streaking out of the tent from Crystin.
Cyrus, emerged from the tent and hit the nearest goblin with frostbite.
Rising, I hit the last wolf with spiritual weapon, and shouting, “Xireas, keep Crystin inside.” cast spirit guardians, which the wolf and goblins immediately succumbed to.
Mace in hand, Torrent emerged from her tent.
An ogre appeared at the top of the stairs and threw a javelin, hitting the nearest zombie.
Circling around my spirit guardians, the bugbear threw his javelin toward me, but it flew over the tent.
Withdrawing, Umara shot the bugbear with an arrow.
“Protect Umara,” I shouted.
“Kill him!” Xireas instructed one of her zombies, pointing at the ogre. It obeyed, blocking the stairs. Then, pointing to the bugbear, she instructed the other zombie to do the same. It obediently slammed the bugbear. Then she hit the ogre with a ray of enfeeblement.
Ulfgar charged the bugbear with his fist of unbroken air, almost knocking it off the cliff edge.
From within the tent, Crystin hit the bugbear with a ray of frost.
Drawing his sword, Cyrus impaled the bugbear, knocking it over the cliff.
After whacking the ogre with my spiritual weapon, I engaged it from the top of the stairs and hit it with my warhammer. Spotting another ogre, a goblin, and a hobgoblin farther down the stairs, I shouted, “There's a lot more down here!” They were all within my spirit guardians.
Torrent hit the goblin on the stairs with a sacred flame.
The enfeebled ogre on the stairs hit me with its great club as I avoided the javelin thrown by the ogre further down.
“Attack anyone on the stairs!” Xireas instructed her zombies, and they obeyed while she hit the nearest ogre with a ray of sickness.
Cursing, the goblin in the rear turned and began running down the stairs and disappeared in the brush.
Ulfgar jumped off the ledge onto the stairs below and ran into the brush after the fleeing goblin.
Crystin emerged from the tent.
Cyrus jumped off the ledge and cast featherfall, and once on the stairs dropped his sword, and threw his handaxe, hitting the ogre at the bottom of the stairs. Then he summoned the handaxe back into his hand, and threw it again, hitting the ogre again.
I hit the ogre at the top of the stairs with my warhammer, and then with my spiritual weapon, calling out, “Let's see who kills their ogre first, Cyrus.”
The hobgoblin at the top of the stairs slashed the nearest zombie, and was caught in Torrent’s sacred flame.
The enfeebled ogre on the stairs hit me with its great club.
The ogre at the bottom of the stairs barreled toward Cyrus, who held his ground.
“Save your arrows,” I called out to Umara.
Xireas missed the hobgoblin with a chill touch.
In the brush, the fleeing goblin slashed Ulfgar twice with its scimitar.
Dropping his handaxe, Cyrus summoned his longsword back into his hand, and slashed the ogre at the bottom of the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, I hit the ogre with my spiritual weapon, as the hobgoblin and the ogre at the bottom of the stairs fell to my spirit guardians.
Torrent hit the remaining ogre with a sacred flame, who hit me with a great club, before getting hit by Xireas’ fire bolt and falling down the cliff side.
In the brush, the fleeing goblin slashed Ulfgar twice with its scimitar again. The monk retaliated with his fist of unbroken air, killing the goblin.
We gathered the bodies to search them.
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