Death from Above
After quite a lot of errand-running and illicit entertainment, our merry band headed off to cause yet more mayhem for the army that’s trying to take over the world. Our first order of business was to try and negotiate with the Ghost Lord for his neutrality in the upcoming conflict. Given that “we’ve got his soul in our luggage,” as Mal put it, we’re not totally suicidal in undertaking this mission.
Bugs in one’s teeth aside, travel by giant owl is definitely the way to go. We covered days’ worth of road in mere hours. We also had a superb view of the landscape, which allowed us to spot both the fires of the approaching army and a smaller skirmish n the road below. As we can’t seem to resist an opportunity for destruction and looting, we circled down for a closer look.
We saw a couple of carts with a deceased military escort from Brindl, surrounded by what appeared to be a group of enemy skirmishers comprised of three ettins (and if ever there was proof that two heads are not better than one…) and a half-dozen goblins. Anja is never one to waste an opportunity, and took her owl into a headlong dive at the individuals who were careless enough to stand in a line on the road, sword at the ready. She’s made for this sort of thing.
GM: This is going to be a scream.
Mal’s Constance’s Player: This is going to be a stain.
One of our mages handily dropped a web on most of the goblins, keeping them nicely contained and nearly unable to aim their arrows at us while we dealt with the ettins. Constance jumped off of his owl from about thrity feet up, landing squarely on another ettin, and proceeding to create the aforementioned stain. (And the smell…ugh!!) The mages kept ettin #3 busy, while Darya and the gnomish scout peppered the other two from air and ground respectively, between Anja’s fly-by swordwork.
The goblins, finding themselves unable to either shoot or escape the web, torched themselves out of it just in time to acquire our full attention, the ettins having given up their repsective ghosts. (Is that three ghosts, or six?) Mal toasted half of the me with a well-placed fireball; Anja took care of most of the rest, and the last one died trying to escape from Constance’s grip.
Medrin the Mage, to Anja the Warrior: You’ve had a big day, little Valkyrie.
It turned out that the carts were carrying orders and payment to a mercenary company of dwarves a way to the south. It wasn’t too far out of our way, and as we were the only game in town at that point, we made a detour in order to deliver the necessaries. Needless to say, our group was hardly what the dwarves were expecting, but we explained that the original escort is now rejoicing with the Happy Butterfly God. It got us some strange looks, but it also got us in the door undamaged, which is good enough for me.
Anja took the opportunity to pick out a couple of lances for our next skirmish. After all, if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. The rest of us took advantage of the opportunity for a meal and a bath. Pity the dwarves don’t normally have manicurists around; Darya’s cuticles are a complete disaster.
Onward and upward, as they say, to the Ghost Lord’s lair.
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