Ryvauld game (Melody)

[Arbuthnott]

1st Thodas, 3rd of the Season of Growth

The forest is alive. The trees grow tall, their thick green awning laying a backdrop to the many vibrant colours littered below. Droplets of water refuse to evaporate in the humid air, their sparkling reflections a constant reminder of the frequent rainfall. The air is filled with sounds of the native wildlife: birds singing, insects chirping, the occasional hungry roar. The smell of wet dew and overturned soil overwhelm the scent of anyone unaccustomed to such an environment.

Somewhere within the forest’s vast expanse, within a clearing alongside a well-worn game trail, is a troupe of people lounging around in a vague camp. Four of them are sat around a fresh fire, drinking bowls of hot soup: A bald man in armour talking to a younger, goatee-bearing man in fine robes; A badly scarred man with a deep ridge across his brow; and a long-haired man with a bird perched upon his shoulder. A couple lay asleep not far away, spilled tankards littering the floor around them, their bodies covered by a well-tussled blanket.

A seventh, well-armed man stands on the far side of the sleeping couple, tossing food to a group of three people chained together; two of them human, one woodelf. Only the woodelf appears injured, sitting in a strange posture and sporting a black eye and a busted lip.

With a loud chirp from the brightly coloured bird, its human perch turns to look at the trail. Putting down his soup, he stands and begins to walk towards an eclectic group winding their way towards them. The first of these newcomers appears to be a male elf with long black hair, dressed in a colourful garb of forest hues. He has a sword at his hip and a crossbow carelessly slung over one shoulder. Behind him are a female elf with a large sword on her back, a short-haired elf with a spear and a heavy pack, and a small goblinoid creature with a similar spear and pack.

[Arbuthnott]

The man with the bird stops on the outer edge of the camp, watching the group’s approach with crossed arms. By the time the long-haired elf brings the group to a stop roughly ten feet from him, the other three figures around the fire have noticed the group’s arrival.

Edrahil sweeps into a shallow bow, a smile adorning his features. “Truly, Landrin, it has been too long. You wandered quite some way.”

The man clears his throat. “Yeah, well, Morvin’s did a runner. Wasn’t like you couldn’t find us, no how.” Looking the group over, he scowls when he sees Goldthorn. “What’s he supposed to be, anyway? Runty little orc or something?”

Afrax looks like he wants to say something foul, but Edrahil motions him back. “Honestly, how long have you been In these woods? She’s a Tasloi; the elves of Cyr Dannog keep them as pets.” Stepping to the side, he bows once again. “These are my esteemed companions, Melody and Afrax. And this, my friends, is Landrin, the lovely fellow who hired me to find you.”

[Lord Foul]

Melody gives Landrin a pleasant smile, and says:

"Very pleased to finally meet you. Perhaps you could start by explaining exactly what you want us for. Edrahil has gone to a lot of trouble to get us here, and it would be nice to know what we are being recruited into."

She gestures in the direction of the prisoners.

"Are those other 'recruits' or is that how you generally treat elves?"

[Arbuthnott]

Landrin smirks at Edrahil. “He has, has he? Well we’re paying him well enough for it, so if he’s been complaining any he can shut his trap. Speaking of..” He reaches into his breast pocket and retrieves two slightly bulging purses, which he tosses to Edrahil carelessly. “300 each, as promised, but I’m not paying you for the pet.”

Edrahil catches the bags fluidly, deftly slipping them out of sight. “I want another 200 for Melody here. She took down a full grown ogre all by herself while we were looking for you.”

Grunting again, Landren looks you over consideringly. “Did she now? Know how to use that sword then, do you? Good, you’ll be needing it. You’re going to be doing us a pretty favour, you see? Myself and my fellows here happen to be rather respected recruiters; the Colosseum at Fendlelope pays handsomely for new gladiators, and exotic breeds net double.”

After you gesture to the prisoners: “Aye, but you’ll only go in irons if you kick up a fuss. The elf ran for it, so you shouldn’t have to worry about going through what she did, am I clear?”

[Discord for: LF; K]

[Lord Foul]

Melody quickly appraises the situation:

We're clearly outnumbered, but they have prisoners to mind as well as handling the three of us. They'll have to leave at least one or two here to stop them escaping, and if we split up they'll only be able to send a couple after each of us. Out in the forest that gives us a decent fighting chance. Anyone who can outrun me won't be wearing much in the way of armour...

"Run, Afrax, split up and make them divide!" she says, as she suddenly bolts for the trees, running full speed away into the forest.

If she makes it into the forest she intends to keep running full speed for a while, to put some distance between her and the clearing, then look for a place where she can wait in ambush, preferably another clearing where she can take cover behind a large tree and have a good line of sight on any pursuers for at least a couple of hundred feet, to give her time for two or three bow shots while they close. If she hears the sounds of obvious pursuit closing on her, she'll switch to plan B.

[Arbuthnott]

[Surprise Round]
Melody’s sudden cry takes almost everyone by surprise, although by the leer Landrin gives her he was expecting such a reaction. As she turns to run at full speed, she catches a glimpse of his hands weaving through the air in an intricate pattern. Any words he might be uttering are drowned out by Edrahil’s laughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that both Afrax and Goldthorn have followed her instructions; although Afrax has run in a separate direction, Goldthorn lags some 20 ft. behind Melody.

As she gets roughly 40 ft. away, the grass and undergrowth beneath her begin to writhe, growing and grasping at her with an unnatural fervour. She manages to wrench her feet out of the entangling flora, but each step becomes a struggle to avoid being routed to the spot. Fortunately for her, the spell was spread wide to catch everyone, and she is only 10 ft. from its borders. Afrax and Goldthorn are deeper in its depths, however.

[Lord Foul]

"Hah!" she thinks, dragging herself towards the edge of the entanglement. "If I can only get out of this he's just put up an extra obstacle for them to get around. That should give me a bit of a head start."

And she continues with the plan as noted previously. As she runs, she'll also keep a look out for that blasted hawk. If Pretty Polly gets careless it'll get an arrow in the feathers and find itself on a spit for supper.

[Arbuthnott]

[Round 1]

With escape within her grasp, Melody takes one step too close to a nearby berry-bush and finds her left leg fully ensnared by the grasping foliage. However, with a deft twist of her body, she manages to escape the creeping tendrils and roll beyond the border of the spell (Successful DC 20 escape artist check).

There is a flurry of activity from within the camp as the three men around the fire lurch to their feet. The scarred one shouts out “Wake up, you cads! We’ve got Runners!!” and throws his tankard at the sleeping couple, who promptly begin untangling themselves from their blankets. Meanwhile, the hawk leaps from Landrin’s shoulders with a screech, flying up into the canopy above.

As soon as she realises what is happening, Goldthorn drops her pack and takes a running leap onto a nearby tree. Despite the danger this initially puts her in, she rockets up the side of a tree with a deft ease found only by forest-dwelling denizens like herself. Afrax is less fortunate, finding himself wrapped up in the writhing mass of flora. Instead, he pivots in place and shouts “Stop!” with a voice laced with power. Whatever he intended to do remains unapparent, however, as Landrin swiftly collapses into himself; his flesh ripples and tears as he doubles over, long brown feathers push themselves out of gaping wounds as in his place now stands a proud eagle owl. With a short hop and a flap of his new wings, he joins his hawk up in the canopy.

The man with the goatee reaches into a pocket and palms something small, his small beady eyes fixed on Melody as she makes her escape. Instantly, a wave of something washes through her mind, a soothing calmness that tugs at her eyelids even as it attempts to relax her muscles. However, the spell was not designed for the complexion of elves, and it slides off her like oil on water. The bald man runs from the camp to the edge of the entangle spell, rooting through his pocket as he does so.

The well-armoured man with the prisoners pulls out his sword and brandishes it warningly at his captives even as he moves to where their chains are secured, seeking to enfix them in some way. He mutters quietly to them as he does so, softly enough to escape anyone else’s notice.

[Lord Foul]

Melody runs like the wind, seeking to get out of sight of as many of the slavers as possible.

If she makes it into cover she'll continue running at full speed for a few rounds, then she'll slow a little to give herself a better chance to spot or hear any pursuit, and she'll slip her bow off her back so she's ready to fire at any targets that present themselves. Still looking for a decent place for an ambush, but if nothing good appears she'll settle into a sustainable pace and just go for distance.

[Arbuthnott]

[Round 2]

Finishing her roll on her feet, Melody sprints through the trees, dodging and weaving pasts trunks and briars as she gets further and further away from the camp.

From within the camp, the couple rush to their feet, barely equipped for the fight and yet both sporting near-identical grins of anticipation. The female breaks into a run, diving through the air and hitting the ground just as she passes through the scarred man’s shadow cast by the dancing fire, whereupon she vanishes from sight. The male stops at a pile of equipment as he begins to hastily equip himself, retrieving a set of thick leather armour and a small buckler-shield.

The scarred man himself rushes from the camp, moving with a swiftness not commonly seen from someone his size. In barely six seconds he covers 160 ft. as he veers left of the entangle, coming to within 60 ft. of Melody in a blur of motion.

The bald man reaches the edge of the entangle spell and lobs a small vial at a struggling Afrax, which promptly shatters and splashes him with a dark blue liquid. Afrax immediately stops struggling, his eyes grown wide and fixed on his assaulter as he falls stiffly to the ground. The bald man then turns left and begins circling the entangle towards Melody.

The man with the goatee wheezes a thick breath as he turns to the prisoners. “Go on, Casper, I’ll watch them. Go fetch the lad they’ve wrapped up over there.” He sits back down at the camp, facing away from the entangle to face the prisoners, while Casper finishes up and walks towards the entangle spell.

There is a sharp sound of pain and a great deal of rustling leaves from the canopy above, although the foliage is thick enough to obscure everyone’s vision. Edrahil himself walks towards the camp, his eyes set upon the abandoned pot of soup.