Book 3: Act 1 - The Stuff of Legends

[Vardaen]

You continue the search, and moves back toward the river so not to leave any unexplored buildings at your back. You find the tailors, by the look of it, but its as looted and ruined as the potters. Bolts of cloth and tools of the trade are cut up, ruined or smashed, similar prints are found here as well. You move then to the largest of the buildings on this side of the main road other than the fort up on the hill.

This long, low building partially surrounds a yard encompassed by a split-rail fence. A sign above a wide, barn-like entrance shows harness for a horse and a blacksmith’s anvil. Despite the abandonment of the village, it appears that many mounts and a great deal of livestock were left behind, trapped in the livery and yard. A half-dozen horse carcasses, decomposing and ravaged by the crows that continue to pick at them, lie sprawled in the yard.

Map

[Graven]

Examining the scene, Arenhal sighs, "This gets better an better, I suppose we should check inside. Who leaves all the livestock though?"

[Othniel]

"I don't know; it makes little sense. I would think that if it was centaurs that they would at least set the animals free."

[ManWithDoor]

The city boy coughs and gags a little, pulling his shirt up as a sort of mask to filter out some of the smell. "Oh that's foul." He backs up to take a few deep breaths of fresher air. "I guess the centaurs didn't get here in time to let them out, or didn't care." He tries coming back closer, but not too close. "I'll cover you from outside if you want to search. If I try to get closer I'm more likely to puke up all over the place than be useful."

[Vardaen]

Arent remains outside, the smell is too much for him. As the ravens circle overhead or peck and pick at the carcasses the other two head inside. The blacksmith's forge is cold, but all the signs of someone in the middle of work remain. An iron is in the forge, a hammer on the anvil. Nimiriel bumps into a stack of iron rods used to forge shoe horses and they bang and clatter to the ground in a terrible noise. That noise causes the murder of crows outside to upset, and the dozens of birds take flight rather loudly. Cawing and screaming they swoop through the air and encircle poor Arent. Already weak in the stomach is unable to shield himself from the flock. They peck and scratch, claw and swipe at him. He's hit in the eyes several times, and screams out, "I'm blind!" as those inside come running out to see the cloud of black feathers flying off into the distance.

Roll

Just sort of pushing through so we can get on the move.

Murder of Crows Attacks Arent: 8 Dmg
Ref Save: "1" Ooops - Blinded

The blindness lasts 1d4 days (rolled: 4) or until healed with remove blindness

[Graven]

Arenhal tears out of the smithy and sees Arent's bloody eyes, "Damn," he hisses, "Don't touch them," unsure what to do next, he steps away, clearly frustrated.

[Othniel]

Silently cursing her clumsiness, Nimiriel reaches out with a spell attempting to twist the bones of the crows.

OOC

Cast Boneshaker on the murder of crows. Guessing it'sa swarm. Not sure if it works on a swarm of crows.

[ManWithDoor]

Arent desperately tries to protect his face, pulling his cloak over his head, anything he can think of. He fails spectacularly, being struck on all sides and getting stuck in his own clothes flailing about, not protecting anything. He falls to the ground, trying to huddle into a ball to keep the crows out.

OOC

Remove Blindness/Deafness isn't a Bard spell. Lol. Sucks to be me!

[Vardaen]

The group inside rushes outside to see the flock of crows wheeling and flying off. Nimiriel prepares to cast a spell on them, but they are up and away, and make no show of swooping back at you.

OOC

Its more of a trap than a battle, they attacked once and are gone. Don't waste the spell.

[ManWithDoor]

Arent weeps quietly on the ground, his face puffing up with all the deep gouges and scratches. He eventually manages to push himself up and stagger upright. His eyelids are shut tight by the blood and growing inflammation. His normally graceful step is hesitant and unsure, his arms outstretched to find something solid to steady himself.