Age of Ice and Blood: A Pathfinder System Heroic Fantasy Quest

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Welp this looks to be a divided vote, but at the same time it is not the middle of a battle so I think I will close off today with an interlude to give you guys time to debate and vote
 
@DragonParadox, is there anyone else among Marcella's crew who can use a bow or crossbow, assuming the weapons are available?

By my count, we have Antonio with his crosssbow, Roland with his bow, two archers, and the two magical auto-crossbows we recently looted. That's not exactly overwhelming firepower, but it does allow for a decent bit of ranged attacking before we ever get close enough to board one of the pirate ships.

Do we have an idea of how large the Anwari ships are, and about how many each would normally carry?

EDIT: Also, has Zaia cooked up any Alchemist's Fire yet?
 
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@DragonParadox, is there anyone else among Marcella's crew who can use a bow or crossbow, assuming the weapons are available?

By my count, we have Antonio with his crosssbow, Roland with his bow, two archers, and the two magical auto-crossbows we recently looted. That's not exactly overwhelming firepower, but it does allow for a decent bit of ranged attacking before we ever get close enough to board one of the pirate ships.

Do we have an idea of how large the Anwari ships are, and about how many each would normally carry?

EDIT: Also, has Zaia cooked up any Alchemist's Fire yet?
*rolls*

There are eight sailors who can shoot bows all of the newly hired locals.
 
[X] Yes, agree with Antonio's plan and sail to interfere on the side of the Orinilu Galley

- i really hope one of our NPC crew volunteers to take up the duties of a chaplain in case one of our men dies like in the earlier update, where at least one of them tried to give our dead armsman the last rites.
 
[X] Yes, agree with Antonio's plan and sail to interfere on the side of the Orinilu Galley

Cue Andre the Giant in The Princess Bride, "There will be... no... survivors!"
 
Arc 6 Interlude 2: Elder's Counsel
Elder's Counsel

Thirty Third of Olweje-hamba (Olweje Descending) 1348 A. L. (After Landfall)

Inge had never once considered for herself the life of a raider, one of those who cast bones with Ikomi in search of silver and glory yet here she was the sun in her eyes, the captain clearly pondering it even as the old man was more hesitant. The gulls were squabbling overhead for the scraps of fish guts she had paid them in, blind for the squabbles of humankind. Is that how the Gods see us? The girl wondered with a twist of unease in her stomach she could not name.

Not since the island had Inge feared her own passage Beyond. She had kept a knife on her so that she could go to the goddess rather than be taken by the dead. Yet Death was not without fear to Her young servant. She feared would not be able to help those who had taken her in, that she would not be fast enough to heal or strong enough to fight, that she would not be clever enough to unravel some misery or spot some new foe.

"Most do not die by the blade you know," the words are soft, too soft, an echo of a thousand faded voices made almost as one. She cannot change what she was born to, Inge told herself almost a a reflex now.

"Most die to plague and pestilence, to hunger," the sorceress continued. "Petty deaths for petty folk. We here shall not die of those scourges of the world, for behold do we not have skills of healing sorcerous and skillful. If we do go down into death it will be with a fine tale of our passage, perhaps even with a song to keep us upon the lips of singers down through the long ages."

"I fear parting, I fear loss," Inge admitted shamefaced. The others were speaking in the tongue of the other world, too loud to pay attention to what was whispered in a corner of the cabin

"So do we all, in time even the mountains wear away and the seas dry out, perhaps in time even the sun will gutter to an ember and die and this world shall go the way of those which had come before, fear is not a a lapse, it is a tool, a knife in the hand. If you grip it wrong it may cut you and the wound in time poison you, but if you grip it aright it can serve as well as any trusted blade"

"I can stab people with my fear?" Inge felt a smile grow on her lips almost in spite of herself.

"It is more shield than weapon, you will pardon the clumsy simile..." Noticing that the girl did not know the word she corrected. "Likeness I meant. Tell me have you ever heard of being battle drunk, or battle mad, the warriors that drink the mead of Olweje on the day of blood?"

"Yes, but what has that got to do with..."

"Most of that is fear, the pounding in your chest, the way the world seems to slow, movements swift and thoughts swifter still..." The sorceress shakes her head. "You can hate the person in front of you enough to get all of that from rage, I would know. Folk go to war for the ideas in their heads, but it is fear that keeps them alive in war, and fear that keeps those around them safe, as long as you do not let it rule you."

"Why are you being so..." Inge cut herself off aware that the next word would not come off very well, but knowing no other way to ask it. "Nice"

"Well you are the healer and I am made of flesh and blood, same as the rest," came the glib reply.

Somehow Inge did not think that was it.

OOC: Inspired by the question of how Inge was feeling about the battle above. I fired off an answer with the specifics right away, but the more I thought about it the more I came up with how Inge feels about 'battle' in general and that was worth exploring in an interlude so here we are.
 
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"I can stab people with my fear?" Inge felt a smile grow on her lips almost in spite of herself.
Of course you can, Inge. There is a spell for everything, you just have to learn it first. 🤓

I wish there was a good way, or maybe the realization that it even needs to be said, to assure Inge that she doesn't need to be strong or to fight alongside us. She's done more than enough, and continues to be immensely helpful. We'll do right by her.
Yes, it's the easiest way to make a magic weapon, you first have to make it better at being a weapon.
Awesome. Glad to have a bit more magic in our arsenal.
 
Next time we face a ghost and still don't have any magic weapons we can just run to the ship, dramatically through ourselves to the ground and watch the ship-armaments tear it to spectral pieces.
 
Of course you can, Inge. There is a spell for everything, you just have to learn it first. 🤓

I wish there was a good way, or maybe the realization that it even needs to be said, to assure Inge that she doesn't need to be strong or to fight alongside us. She's done more than enough, and continues to be immensely helpful. We'll do right by her.

I mean you guys could try to tell Inge that she does not need to fight, but as shown above, you are the only family and the only she has, not fighting would be very hard given those feelings.
 
[X] Yes, agree with Antonio's plan and sail to interfere on the side of the Orinilu Galley

Screw it, I want to fight. Dammit, I hope that no one dies. I'll vote to have Inge running right and left to make sure everyone makes it.
 
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[X] Yes, agree with Antonio's plan and sail to interfere on the side of the Orinilu Galley

Screw it, I want to fight. Dammit, I hope that no one dies. I'll vote to have Inge running right and left to make sure everyone makes it.
Inge should be able to stay well out of the fighting unless Marcella is boarded. She can heal injured people who are dragged to wherever she is taking cover, preferably below deck somewhere. She's also been brewing CLW potions for the past several days, so at a rate of up to 4 per day, our healing potion stockpile should be in a good place right now, enough so that we can afford to have several distributed among the men, especially important people.
 
Arc 6 Post 6: A Song for Slaughter
A Song for Slaughter

Thirty Third of Olweje-hamba (Olweje Descending) 1348 A. L. (After Landfall)

Oars beat and sails fill, timbers groan and steel in scabbards rattles. Upon the ship's deck Ipsit's plundered weapons shine brazen in the afternoon sum and crew and men at arms both cheer promises of plunder spoken with a silver tongue. For once you have no hesitation in adding your own voice to theirs, for if there are any on land of sea who merit to be paid in blood it is brigands, whatever banner they fly and whatever name they take.

Soon the scene of battle is unveiled to the eye that is not perched high. Two longships, alike to the ones you had seen in port all across the Sunset Islands surrounding one of the large wide beamed galleys that ply the inner sea. The wind picks up in gusts that carry with them the sound of distant fighting, shouts of rage and screams of pain, sharp with the death's nearness and drums, wild and unleashed, like the heart of war itself baying for blood. Potions are passed from hand to hand, no longer Zaia's alone to deal in, but fit for every drinking skin, at least a gulp or two to give out in desperate need. Antonio may love his gold, but he loves more the means by which he makes it, his ship, his crew and all of them are sailing into battle now.

Antonio loses 750 Gold; Gain 30 Potions of Cure Light Wounds

Speaking of battle... You try your best in those last moments to sway Inge to retreat into the cabin or even below decks, but the girl will not be swayed, she can heal far more than all the potions put together she claims and that you do not doubt. She does not fear death, and that too you have no reason to doubt, much to your sorrow.

"Keep an eye on her, Tom," you tell your sworn man, who gives a nod and knowing look.

"Look at the sons of bitches," Antonio sounds almost admiring of the carnage on the galley. Anwa warriors garbed in leather and fur, crafted into the likeness of savage beasts or else with their chests bare to the foes jumped from ship to ship, bringing axe and hammer, sword and mace shining bright as forge fire in the sun to the beleaguered defenders, bringing only death. Often as not they do not even try to kill their foes, but simply cast them into the churning waters or else drive them into the blades of their fellows rushing forth from the other side, like the jaws of a trap being closed.

"Watch the drummer!" Esha shouts over the gathering din of death, battle and the crashing of the wages. "There is magic in his song!"

You catch a glimpse of him then; red haired, a rarity among his kin, and red the blood that covers his chest and arms, none if it his. In both hands he bears a great man-killer of an axe forged of black bronze and strapped to his waist with a heavy belt a pair of drums still carrying their mad tempo without any hand upon them.

"They will not last long," Zaia barely raises his voice, speaking more to himself than to the rest of you, but still you catch his meaning, you would have to be blind not to. The pirates are winning and not by a small margin, the question now is how much are you willing to risk for the lives of men you know nothing of save that they are the victims of such scum.

How do you fight?

[] Keep your distance and rake the attackers with bolt and arrow, safest for you, but most likely to see the Orinilu galley entirely overwhelmed before the pirates turn to fight you

[] Give one volley then board the nearest longship and charge out into melee to try and save as many of the Orinilu sailors as you can, at the cost of greater risk to your crew

[] Write in


OOC: If you guys want to do something fancy with the battle plan now is the time for that as well.
 
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Too bad no handy alchemist's fire on hand to throw onto boats and light them up. Anything else special we got we can use?
 
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