Sharpened Sticks: Not Just for Heads Anymore

A week and a half later, mere days from the next session, allow me to bring you up to speed.

In attendance:
James/Grendal, CG Human Fighter
Jim/Glenn, ?G Half-Elf Ranger
Lacey/Verdessa, NG Elf Druid
Travis/Dunk, LG Dwarf Paladin
Will/Telvin, NG Dwarf Ranger
Brian/GM

Of the two captured bandits from the highly successful ambush of the previous session, the PCs chose the one with cleaner undershorts to be their grudging guide back to the den of thievery whence he came.  The party traveled across the open grasslands south and west of Oleg's trading post.  On their way to the woods in question, an encounter did occur.  Noise and rustles out of view halted the party, curious of what vile threat lay beyond.  OK, it was a just couple of boar, but the tension was palpable, before they realized they were making a pig stop.  The druid played with her magical friend-making abilities on the lead boar, and then left the Will Save-failing sow to trail in the party's dust, ending with a heart-breaking "Don't go, Shane" moment that may never truly heal.

Soon enough, the river marking the path to the bandit camp came into view and the party proceeded on foot, but not before restraining their prisoner, lest he trick them or somehow warn his comrades of their approach, or think the PCs were the coddling sort that would never tie each of a man's limbs to a separate horse.  They did instruct him to the contrary.

Some ways in, on a boulder near the river's bank, they found another hapless thief, fishing and paying little dear attention to his surroundings.  With the rest of the group spreading out in a half circle formation in the woods around the man, the druid had yet another brilliant plan not quite half-formed before she embarked upon it.  Verdessa came out, addressed the filching fisherman, and attempted to bluff her way into his trust.  She claimed to represent a neighboring criminal element wishing to establish connections with his own group, specifically mentioning his feared leader Kressle.

It would have worked, too, if it wasn't for those meddling dice rolls.  Granted the bad rolls weren't universal, but they were key in the unraveling of the encounter.  First, the druid lost her sway over the bandit, his meager intellect overriding her suggestion that he bring her directly to the camp.  Instead, he would bring his fellows back to the fishing hole, where the Druid would wait.

What happened next should invoke a general rule: Low-level, armor-clad characters with no bonus to Stealth shall not decide to follow the enemy all on their lonesome.  Not only did Grendal alert the bandit to his presence, he also rolled a 1 on his Perception, which led to a gut full of arrows from a source he could no longer locate.  Completely evading the PCs in his escape, the bandit is sure to rouse the camp into defensive mode.

Perhaps disappointed in the turn of events, possibly recognizing the depleted utility of their prisoner, but probably mostly being reminded by the GM of his character's assumed disposition toward an evil entity, the Paladin's first action upon reaching their horses was to dispense some justice on their poor bandit.  That might be putting it lightly.  When you roll a natural 20 to angrily attack a prone character, let alone a man that's been dragged around by a huddle of horses held together only by the ropes attached to each of his limbs, you wind up with a fantastic effect of blood and gore that would seem to belong in some other more nausea-inducing campaign.

By player will alone, this series of nation-building adventures may yet devolve into something akin to a Rob Zombie production.  Not content to let headless thieves lie, the now healed fighter thought it would be good to send a warning to their bandit foes, should the brigands make their way past the old fishing hole at some point.  So, he fashioned a spiked pole, arranged to raise it near that place on the river, and hoisted it up and through the corpses' "anus."  His words, not mine.

Coming up: Rainbows and Kittens!