3. Wyvern Tor

Igrem pulls up his hood on his head, as a sign that he is ready to go, and whatever Alex is expecting from Narth, he should get it quickly. "Time is of the essence, now." he simply says.

Boggart readies himself for travel, gathering up his few possessions and offering silent prayer to the Lady while business is concluded with Narth. He has spent a night indoors, and for that he will have to seek atonement, but his thoughts are yet troubled by the tasks before him. He hums, affecting a smile as he kneels to fuss with his boots, dandelion blooms sprouting around him as he fidgets.

"Well, Goodman Tezrin, we are not looking for mundane supplies but for information. Anything that could help up approach the orcish redoubt unseen and unheard, let along infiltrate it, would be of inestimable value. For all we know, there are anywhere between a dozen and a thousand orcs. That would absolutely affect anyone's plans, would it not? As puissant as we may seem, even the four of us would not hope to survive a frontal assault on a few dozen orcish warriors. Strategy, tactics, and cunning will be needed, and forewarned is forarmed."

Narth listens patiently, a faint smile crossing his face at the mention of "a thousand orcs."

He shakes his head.

"I wouldn't lose sleep over that. If there were a thousand orcs in these hills, there wouldn't be a farm left standing between here and Phandalin."

His expression turns thoughtful.

"But the truth is, no one around here has gone looking for them yet. Nobody's scouted their camp and come back to tell the tale. So I'm afraid I can't tell you how many there are, how they keep watch, or even exactly where they make camp. You're likely to be the first people to find that out."

After a moment, he adds, "You can treat my farm as your base while you're in these parts. The cottage can be rented for as long as you need it. If you return from scouting and need a hot meal, a roof over your heads, or simply a safe place to think before making your next move, you'll be welcome here."

Redhawk will nod"Thanks for the use of your farm for our base of operations."He will look to his companions"We should track these three orcs to their camp and spy it out for a bit unnoticed."

Redhawk, you thank Narth for the use of his farm while the group, Igrem and Boggart included, turn their attention to the road ahead, gathering packs, weapons, and whatever supplies you think you may need for a careful reconnaissance.

There is no sense in marching straight into the orcs’ territory blind; better to move quietly, learn what you can, and return with information before committing to anything more dangerous.

Gertrude stands nearby, chewing placidly and flicking her ears as if none of this concerns her in the slightest.

All of you, do you leave Gertrude here with Narth, or bring the mule along?

Redhawk will look at master Narth"May we leave our mule with you good sir? I will give you 2 gps for your trouble."

Alex responds "Thank you. From your perspective, it seems that our best option is to reconnoiter on our own, and seek the counsel of others only when we have specific information on which their counsel may prove valuable. One last question, good sir. Do you have anything resembling a map of the area which we could peruse to our advantage before we must gather our party and venture forth?"

Narth nods at Redhawk’s request. "Of course," he says. "You can leave her here. I’ll see she’s fed and watered, and I’ll keep good care of her until you return."

When Alex asks about a map, Narth gives a small, apologetic shake of his head. "Nothing detailed, I’m afraid."



Wyvern Tor lies four hexes east of the farm, and by the time you finish breakfast, talk through your plans, gather your gear, and make ready to depart, one full shift of the day has already gone by. That leaves you with limited daylight to work with. On a good travel day you might cover three hexes, but today you can safely manage only two hexes before dusk without forcing yourselves into a march. Regardless, even if you had left at dawn, you would still not have been able to reach Wyvern Tor in a single day.

After you leave, but before the light fades and the night settles in, something happens.

Out ahead tracking the orcs a feeling comes over Redhawk that can't quite place.

Alex shudders as if someone walked over his grave.

Boggart is preoccupied with his need to offer obeisance, though his eyes and ears are still sharp and he is easily distracted by new sounds and sights.

Afternoon, 29th of Ches
Redhawk, you follow the tracks and lead the party for a couple of hours.

You are now over a low, rocky rise where the rolling hills give way to broken ground. The land here is harsher than the open grasslands behind you: scattered boulders jut from the earth, thorny shrubs cling to the slopes, and tufts of dry grass ripple beneath the steady afternoon breeze.

As you crest the ridge, something catches your attention. The earth ahead is gouged by deep claw marks, each furrow cut cleanly through the dry soil and loose stones. Following them with your eyes, you spot something else.

Half-hidden beneath a tangle of brush lies the torn carcass of a young bull moose. One side of its body has been ripped open, exposing flesh and shattered ribs. Its hide is bloodied, and one hind leg lies twisted at an impossible angle. The surrounding brush has been crushed flat, while the ground nearby is churned with the signs of a violent struggle. Whatever brought the animal down was immensely strong, and heavy enough to leave deep impressions wherever it planted its feet.

The kill is fresh. The blood has only just begun to darken, and not even the first flies have gathered. Apart from the grass stirred by the wind, the hillside is utterly still.

---

Alex, you are the first (and, so far, the only one) to sense exactly what is wrong. Your eyes lift from the carcass to the rocky outcrop overlooking the kill.

There, standing motionless among the weathered stones, is a large owlbear. Nearly eight feet tall at the shoulder, the creature's massive, feathered body blends surprisingly well with the gray rocks and scrub. Its hooked beak is stained dark with fresh blood, and its amber eyes remain fixed upon the moose... and now upon your party.

Alex slows down as he senses a uneasily familiar scent on the air. Smells like the days before feast back in Amphail, he thinks. My folks would slaughter sheep, goats, and bullocks in preparation for Highcoin. The horses were always spooked by the smell of blood.

Alex held out his hand waist high and palm down, and made pushing motions—the universal symbol for "stop and be quiet". Hoping the party understood, he crept forward and beheld in the brush the torn carcass of a young moose. Not only was the moose rent; so was the ground around it—replete with talonesque gouges. Whatever did this was huge. No raptors around here reach that size; I think flashed through Alex's mind. Perhaps it was the grave-feeling he felt before. Perhaps it was the thought of raptors and rocs. Perhaps it was the slightest touch of grace from his patron Tymora, but for some reason, Alex glanced up at the hill overlooking the carcass, and looked right into the red-rimmed eyes of the largest and most vicious creature he had ever seen in the wild. Stealth was out the window the way the beast was staring in naked hostility at the party. He could not help but shudder at the monster's talons and beak, dripping the red, red lifeblood of the the young moose.

He screamed OWLBEAR! as he dropped everything but his sling, his stones, and the various blades around his body. Adrenalin flooded his young body as his mind raced calculating angles of attack and defensive positions.

Edit: Cheat Ability
(1/combat) If you roll less than 10 on Initiative, you may change it to 10 instead.

Redhawk sees the moose torn asunder and wonders What the hell did that? He grips his bow a bit tighter then his head snaps up as he hears Alex yell. He is in awe of the sight. He has heard of these creatures but has fortunately has never seen one until now.

Alex loads his sling and sets it awhirl. He doesn't know much about owlbears; all he knows is that they are insane killers. They must bring this beast down as quickly as they can. Looking at the prodigious claws and knife-sharp beak, he figures he'll move into melee range as late as possible, or if he sees an advantage such as flanking or the beast's distraction. Whispering a prayer to Tymora, he lets fly [Action 1: Ranged Attack - 9 squares away & sling range 12]. Hoping that the beast cannot close the distance in one fell bound, Alex assesses the beast's posture and gait to look for the slightest edge in his next attack [Action 2: Assess - Create an Opening: Finesse].

Results:
The shock and adrenalin coursing through Alex's system has put him well off balance. Used to calm, stealth, and charismatic repartee in the urban environments of Amphail and Waterdeep, the figure of seven or so feet of crazed monster has rattled him. The shot veers widely off target. Moreover, between his gasping breaths and suddenly bone-dry eyes and mouth, he cannot gain even a scintilla of an understanding of the beast's movements.

Redhawk eyeing the beast with bow in hand will mark the beast then nock, inhale with the draw, aim, exhale, release he will quickly follow that up with a second shot.