Butterskull Ranch

You feel almost as though you've forgotten something, traveling along the Triboar Trail without Winnefred or the cart. You try to put out of your minds the unpleasant conversation with Wynn that awaits you upon your eventual return to Leilon, instead focusing on getting to Butterskull Ranch as quickly as possible. You've been side-tracked longer than expected - you can only hope that you'll find survivors upon your arrival.

You know that the ranch lies a little east of the ruined town of Conyberry. Late afternoon turns to early evening as you reach the outskirts of the abandoned place, well-known to have been ransacked by Barbarians many years ago. Which makes it all the more jarring when some movement catches your eyes amidst the rubble north of the trail. It appears that three muscular, healthy riding horses are grazing on grass which has grown between the crumbling structures.

2d20kh1 (7, 7) + 6 = 13
Using his keen eye and knowledge of Orcs, the firbolg studies the terrain for prints and other signs.

Cain whispers, "Could be bandits ...? If there's no orcs in sight, I say we skirt this ruin since we're already late for the ranch as is."

"Do orcs even ride horses?"

Storm shuffles up to the group.

"If these horses belong to bandits or orcs, we should take them. If anything we could bring one back for Wynn to replace his dead ox. A healthy horse like that would fetch a good price to pay for a replacement."

1d20 (12) + 5 = 17
Storm tried to see if the horses are tied down or grazing feely. Are they saddled for a short ride or ladened with travel packs.

"We need a look at the owners before we make any decisions like that, mate. Fer all we know these are Lord's Alliance horses. No sense makin' ourselves outlaws."

"That's why this one suggested if they belonged to bandits or orcs. Then we would be doing the world a favor."

Ruggo spends some time examining the ground and surrounding area for any sign of orcs. The rain would make it difficult for the average searcher, but this is his area of expertise. Nonetheless, no sign of orcs is discovered. In fact, no sign of any humanoid seems present - but you are able to ascertain, from faint hoof prints almost entirely washed away, that the horses came here from the east.

The horses do not appear to be tied down or saddled. However, as Storm observes them, he notices some kind of marking on their haunches, too difficult to make out at a distance.

"Look, the horses don't appear to be tied off or saddled. Maybe they ran away from Butterskull Ranch when the orcs attacked. There is some markings on them...perhaps wounds, or perhaps a tattoo branding. It's hard to tell from here."

"I'm gonna try talkin' to em, let em know we mean no harm."

1d20 (16) + 5 = 21
Ruggo slowly makes his way as close to the horses as he can without them noticing.

Using speech of beast and leaf he calmly in quiet low tones breaks the silence saying,

"Easy there friends, good veg right here eh?"

The horses start a bit at the sudden words from a source they had not noticed approaching, but they seem well-tempered and don't bolt. The nearest of the three tilts its head and gives a subtle movement that you can only interpret as a nod.

Now that you're close, you examine the marking on the creature's haunch. There, branded into the skin, are the letters BAK

Ruggo reaches out to stroke the horse's mane and gives its sturdy flank a hard pat.

"Well lookee here! Who'd go'n do a thing like this to yeh? Someone big an' green, with tusks?"

The horse lets loose a quiet whinny that you register as sadness, though not about the branding itself. Something about your describing the orcs seems to have dampened its spirits.

"They recognize the description of orcs, an' they don't like em."

Sure enough, as you examine each, all have the same brand.

"Seems likely these horses escaped the ranch when it was attacked. It also does not bode well if no one has yet to come find the horses."

Govath says after meeting up with Ruggo by the horses.

Storm watches Ruggo inspecting and whispering to the horses.

"We should take them and ride them to the ranch. At least we will have a speedy getaway if the orcs show up."

"I agree. Let's wait for Rowan to finish up before making out move."

Turning back to the first horse he befriended, "Yeh mind helpin' is out a bit, mate? We'd like to use yer strength'n swiftness to carry us a ways. I bet yer the fastest outta the three of yeh!"

The horse stamps it's front hooves gently in a signal of hesitation, but seems to sense that you want to help. It makes no move away from you.

Turning to the others with a nod and a wink, "Righto, this one's mine."

The firbolg easily mounts the horse he had been talking to and pats its sturdy neck.

"I will join one of you on the back of a horse. Riding is not exactly something I excel at."

"Now where is a box or tree stump."

Govath looks around for an object to help him climb up on the back of the horse.

Among the rubble of fallen houses nearby, you find some large cut stones which you can stack to help you get atop one of the horses. You do so, and the horse doesn't seem to have any complaints.

Cain sheaths his daggers and heads to the nearest unoccupied horse. "Alright then, finally something positive. Though, let's be sure to dismount a little distance away from the ranch so as to not alert any orcs which may still be there."

Cain grabs onto the mane of the horse, and hoists himself up onto the bareback.

"Shuffle back Govath."

Storm leaps up on the third horse infront of Govath

"This one won't be writing a song about this..."

1d20 (18) + 4 = 22

Storm gently nudged the horse to the other two before they set off.

"... however. If one of you were to make a fool of themselves on the way to the ranch, there might be a tavern tune about you. So hold on tight!"

You use a bonus action to grant 1d6 Bardic Inspiration die to Cain. Once within the next 10 minutes, Cain can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw they make. Once the Bardic Inspiration die is rolled, it is lost. A creature can have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time.

You use a bonus action to grant 1d6 Bardic Inspiration die to Govath. Once within the next 10 minutes, Govath can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw they make. Once the Bardic Inspiration die is rolled, it is lost. A creature can have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time.

You use a bonus action to grant 1d6 Bardic Inspiration die to Ruggo. Once within the next 10 minutes, Ruggo can roll the die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll, or saving throw they make. Once the Bardic Inspiration die is rolled, it is lost. A creature can have only one Bardic Inspiration die at a time.

1d20 (19) + 2 = 21

1d20 (2) + 1 = 3

1d20 (6) + 2 = 8

With a confident kick of his legs against the sides of his steed, Ruggo leads the group back onto the trail, keeping expert balance and a gentle grip on the creature's mane. Cain, attempting to emulate, but not quite sure how to make do without reins or stirrups, finds his horse running in circles for a moment, sending him leaning so far to one side that he nearly falls off. With a determined push, he gets himself centred on the horse's back once more and manages to the get the horse walking straight. It's a little awkward and shaky, but Cain eventually falls into line behind Ruggo.

Storm has ridden various jungle beasts in his lifetime, and is confident he can adapt his skills to a simple horse. With his usual agility, he hops atop the horse and takes up a confident grip, prepared to chase after Ruggo - until he feels the shifting, shaking, tilting, jolting weight of Govath behind him. As the horse begins moving forward, it feels a bit like being in a canoe with someone trying to cross from one end to the other, and the horse zigzags all over the place. Storm has to reach back an arm from time to time to prevent Govath from falling off the horse entirely, but he manages to keep it roughly on the correct course, following Ruggo and Cain at a significant distance.

You continue galloping eastward through the rain, lighter now than before, the setting sun beginning to peek out in short intervals at your back. Everyone begins getting the hang of riding bareback - even Govath sits a little steadier after fifteen minutes or so of Storm grumbling instructions to him. Suddenly, Ruggo calls his horse to a full stop, giving everyone a chance to catch up and see what the problem is.

Standing squarely in the middle of the trail, damp from the rain and staring contentedly into the distance at absolutely nothing, is a massive spotted cow. It seems completely unfazed by your sudden approach.

Cain slows his horse to a stop.

"That must be from the ranch, so we must be close. Should we dismount here and go on foot? Also, can you do your animal speaking with it Rowan? Maybe get some insight on what we can expect."

Ruggo dismounts, stroking the horses nose. "Thankee, yeh should be safe here. If yeh like us we'll return and ask for your services again. We'd like to be back in a town quickly, and I can assure you that you'll be well fed there."

The horse barely seems to register your words as it looks toward the cow with a sense of familiarity. You follow its gaze and notice that it, too, has the same three-letter branding on its haunch.

It continues to ignore you all, slowly chewing cud and staring off into the distance.

"Well there won't be any shortage of replacement for Wynn if things have turned for the worst over at Butterskull Ranch. And if these animals are all loose, than it seems we shouldn't be too optimistic..."

Govath attempts to dismount the horse in the same manner as Ruggo. After struggling for some time eventually he gets his feet back on the solid ground.

"Feels good to have my own feet under me again. Should we tie the horses to a nearby tree? Then we might find them again if we make it out alive."

"Let's leave em free to wander and graze. If we don't survive at least they will."
and turning to the horse he was riding, "We're gonna come back, stay here if it's safe yeh hear me?"

The horse lets out another whinny, and all three wander a little off the trail and settle into grazing once more. The cow continues ignoring you.

Making your way around her hefty form, you continue down the trail until the relatively flat plains become rolling hills. A mere sprinkling of rain still falls, and gaps in the clouds reveal the sun behind you rapidly approaching the horizon. Ahead of you, the path curves to the north and then back east as it winds around a large hill. Just as you round this curve, you see it - a large ranch, on the north side of the trail, occupying a plot of land nestled between two hills. A ramshackle wooden fence surrounds corn fields, and apple orchard, gardens and pastures. A path breaks off from the Triboar Trail which leads toward a two-story farmhouse next to a pond. West of the farmhouse, you can make out the charred remains of a barn and smithy that have been burned to the ground.

"I was expecting the fate of the farm to be more dire. Seems the orcs left the farm in a relatively functional state."

Cain dismounts the horse, "Yeah, it doesn't seem razed, so maybe they're hope. But maybe we shouldn't walk head first into this one, just in case they're still around. Maybe we can head up to that nearby hill to get a look from above and make our decision from there?"

Ruggo gazes in the direction they came from at the rapidly setting sun.

"We could wait fer nightfall, sneak up to the farmhouse in cover of darkness, get a peak in the windows'n see if any orcs are takin' up residence. I work best at night now anyways..." he says as he points to his one dark eye.

"That would give us the advantage maybe, but we don't know if anyone is alive now that won't be then. We're already very late to this party as is. Regardless, I think we should observe from the hill and make a decisions about when we approach based on what we see?"

"Alternatively, we could pretend teh simply be travellers passing through, knock on the door to see if anyone would hole us up fer the night. Hide our weapons an' all that."

"This one thinks Cain has the right idea. Let's get up on this hill and have a look. If anyone is alive, they will most likely be at the farmhouse. Our best bet to reaching that is through the cover of the cornfields.

From the hill top we can see if there is any orc presence moving through the fields and that orchard over there. That what we can plot the safest path through.

We can either head up the west side and check those ruined buildings or take the east straight to the farmhouse. Either way, let's get up there and check for orc positions."

Turning off the trail, the four of you begin ascending the large hill to better survey the scene. As you reach the top, you see by last light of day that several farm animals - pigs and chickens, mostly - are scattered around the fields, spread out and wandering freely. Closer to the farmhouse, you see a large bonfire with a couple of humanoid figures sitting by it.

The barn and smithy seem to be where most of the conflict unfolded. Both lie in complete ruins and are blackened from a fire which has long since gone out.

"Not long to wait now for the sun to set."

Govath says while glancing to the west.

"Now, do we act sooner if those humans start being prepared for the orcs dinner?"

"I'm nervous about waiting too long ... that's an awfully large bonfire. Let's wait a few minutes to see if anything is on patrol, but otherwise I think we should approach from the cornfields like Storm suggested."

1d20 (7) + 5 = 12

You see the occasional movement near the edges of the fields, but have difficulty making out exactly what's causing it. It could just as easily be a stray farm animal as anything dangerous.

"Hmm, some movement at the edges of the fields, but this one can't spot much within it. Could be a safe approach. Should we hit them fast and hard? Sneak in close to the farmhouse and kill them before they notice us? Might give us a better chance to defend from inside the farmhouse rather than the open."

"Or perhaps a distraction to draw them away to this hill. A beacon of light for then to investigate on this hill while we slip past them."

"A distraction is a smart idea, maybe a small campfire to make it a little more innocent. We can quickly descend into the east side of the cornfield and make our way to the farmhouse. If there are any orcs there, we can try picking them off one by one. I'm all for this plan, anyone else?"

"Sounds good teh me,mate"

When the last of daylight leaves and you feel you've observed as much as you can from this distance, you spend half an hour or so in search of enough wood to build a decent-sized fire. You light it up, hoping that it will serve as sufficient distraction and lure some of your adversaries away, and then swiftly make your way back down the hill and into the tall fields of corn along the east side of the ranch.

1d20 (20) + 6 = 26

1d20 (12) + 5 = 17

1d20 (1) + 6 = 7

1d20 (1) + 7 = 8

It's difficult to move quietly through tall stalks of corn. Cain and Ruggo do an admirable job, but the occasional sound of rustling from Govath and Storm pushing through is putting you all on edge. In addition, it's difficult to see - Cain can't see much of anything, relying on the proximity of his companions to guide him, but even darkvision doesn't help seeing through row after row of grain.

Not long after entering the field, you hear the sound of heavy footfalls and clanging metal on the path to your left, causing all of you to stop in your tracks. Two large creatures appear to be running in the direction that you came from, and you hear one of them grunt in low tones:

"Gbv jzwi gw tfgtvi 'tuw cz lw cbw zowi gbz ayii jyoowq? Xqz'fv okeeyo cz gzqqv 'lzkc tovgtv."

Within a minute, the footsteps are far enough away that you feel safe continuing forward.

About three-quarters of the way to the farmhouse, those of you with sight notice an area off to your side where the corn has been flattened out. Slowly moving in to investigate, you find an orc lying face-up on the ground, eyes wide open in shock. It's dead.

"There's more'n jus' us here to kill some orcs. Mayhaps we have an ally." Ruggo whispers. He kneels down to try and discern the cause of death.

1d20 (9) + 1 = 10

There's no wound to suggest a blade or bow caused this creature's demise, but you look around the orc's throat and find heavy bruising. Near as you can tell, somebody strangled it to death with their bare hands.

1d20 (3) - 1 = 2

Patting down the orc's body doesn't reveal anything of interest or value, and it's difficult to see if anything was dropped nearby.

"He has nothing on him." Govath whispers to the group. "Let us continue on to determine the fate of those by the fire."

He whispers as he steps over the dead orc body. "Well maybe someone else has saved these poor folk already. If someone has, then let's hope that this Alfonse Kalazorn is dead so we can return with proof of his death for the contract payment otherwise this might be a dead end job."

He pauses for a brief moment and follows that up; "This one is just joking..."

Ruggo studies the orc's appearance trying to memorize its face and clothes. "Let's try'n be a tad quieter here on out. Those others were sent to look for some kinda disturbance, but it didn't sound like they knew what."

"And the moment they don't find anything, they'll likely return quickly. So let's get to the bonfire as soon as possible."

"Yeh, they did mention they were missing dinner, so it'll be a rush job forsure."

Leaving with more questions than answers, you continue through the corn until you catch the first glimpses of the bonfire ahead of you between the stalks. From what you can make out, five orcs are hanging out around it. The fire itself seems to be fueled by a pile of old wood furniture, presumably looted from the farmhouse not far behind it.

As you pause to take in the scene, you see one of the orcs pick up a nearby pig that had been wandering aimlessly, skewer it with a javelin in one swift motion, and toss it onto the fire before addressing the others.

"Iozd toj Tldbtc wo'c lwwo iwwo tff jtv. Y lwc 'w dzc 'wa. Cbyi 'kato yi atpyod ezzfi ze ki."

Another responds, "Gw'ff htchb 'ya, Rbkqx. Mkic't atccwq z' cyaw. Toj gbwo gw jz, gw'ff qyx 'ya fyal eqza fyal."

And then, all hell breaks loose. Storm feels something brush against the back of his legs which causes him to yelp in surprise. The rest of you, startled and fearing the worst, turn to see what the deal is and begin drawing your weapons, which in turn frightens the young pig who had been grazing nearby and came over to greet you. It responds by running, squealing at the top of its lungs, directly toward the orcs.

"Gbtc cbw 'wffi gti cbtc?" one of the orcs shouts. "Yc'i dzcct lw 'ya! Fwc'i qko 'ya cbqzkdb!" another shouts, and all five grab their weapons and begin running toward the edge of the field.

Suddenly, you hear an unexpected shout to your right as a man comes running at full speed out of the corn field a little further north, directly toward the orcs. No less than seven feet tall, you see his eyes glint in the light of the fire with an almost childlike delight as his long hair and leather jacket flow behind him.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW!!!"

This massive human runs full-tilt up to the nearest orc, throwing all of his momentum into a wild punch. The blow lands full-force into the surprised orc's jaw, sending it reeling back as the man follows up with left hook. The second strike doesn't quite hit its mark, but the man seems undeterred anyway. He shouts in your direction over the sudden commotion. "I don't suppose one'a you fine folks has a spare sword t'throw my way?"

Ruggo leaps into action, running in a wide arc to the side and firing two shots at the orc the stranger punched. One hits its mark and the orc goes down. Govath and Cain rush into the fray as two of the orcs chase after Ruggo, dealing a couple of heavy blows. The last orc focuses on the stranger, eager to get revenge for its fallen brothers.

As the skirmish continues, Storm casts Bane on a couple of the orcs to hinder their ferocious attacks. Ruggo casts Cure Wounds on himself and vanishes from view, reappearing near Cain as he helps dispatch the orc that is particularly determined to kill your new ally. Govath rushes to take on the two very confused orcs that had pursued Ruggo.

"En't none of you boys got a blade t'spare for Big Al? Well then, I suppose a man's gotta make do" the stranger, whom you now know as Big Al, laments before punching an orc in the gut. Storm hands over his rapier while casting Vicious Mockery on one of the orcs engaged with Govath, and continues hurling insults to hinder their attacks.

Eventually, the last of the orcs falls, and Big Al turns to address you all.

"Well, seems we got a mighty capable band of adventurers here! Name's Alfonso Kalazorn, but most folks call me Big Al. I assume yeh were sent on account of my request fer help a while back? I gotta admit, boys, I wasn't expectin' to be waitin' quite so long. Ended up takin' matters int'a my own hands - but I sure do appreciate that distraction you whipped up with that there hog! Fine bit'a work, that was - we got the jump on 'em real good, hah!"

The man's stained grin peeks out from beneath a wild beard that you can now see has the tell-tale white streaks of age. Nonetheless, Big Al seems full of a youthful energy, and his eyes continue showing that same childlike gleam from when he first ran out from the corn field.

"Nice to meet you, Alfonso, the name's Cain. And yes, we're here on behalf of the Lance's to help deal with the Orc problem the ranch has been having, though it seems you did quite a good job without us. Apologies for the late arrival though, we ran into some issues without another contract we had to complete on the way here."

Remembering their bait, he turns and points to the hill, "Though, I suspect the two that went to investigate our distraction might be coming back soon. Should we wait in ambush before completing these formalities?"

"This one is also glad you liked our pig plan. It's a classic trick we like to use to confuse our enemies. A true plan that wasn't an accident of course."

1d20 (13) + 6 = 19

"The pig routine worked perfectly. Giving you a chance to get in and deliver the first blow."

"And I agree with Cain, we should make sure those two over there are well, and prepare maybe a scouting party to ambush the orcs."

Big Al starts as Cain begins talking, and you hear him mutter under his breath.

"Sakes alive, I fergot yeh were standin' there..."

He listens to Cain's explanation and Storm and Govath's extolling of the pig distraction, then nods.

"Sure, I've been doin' alright pickin' off a handful o' the critters here and there, but this sneakin' around don't suit me all that well. I much prefer teh fight a feller face t'face, with some dignity. Now I got quite a few years'a sheriffin' under my belt, but I ain't about to face down dozens of orcs single-handed. So I've had to resort teh keepin' a sharp eye out fer the ones what go off on their own. I ain't proud of it, but I ain't about to hand over my ranch to a bunch'a slobberin' tusk-faces either.

But now I reckon we got enough fightin' power between us t'send these knuckle-walkers packin'. So if yeh don't mind lendin' me this here blade a while longer, there're some green-skinned bastards I'd love t'introduce it to."

Storm bows gracefully to Alfonso.

"Please, use it for how ever long necessary. This one can stay back and use some spells to assist. Tell us, you are the ranch owner yes? Give a quick lay of the land and what you know of the orc forces. Are there any other people here that need rescuing?"

"That's right, pardner! Butterskull Ranch is my little slice'a paradise this side'a the Great Beyond. Though when I retired fer the quiet life, I weren't expectin' teh be fendin' off any tribes o' pea-brained raiders any more.

The poor excuses fer intelligent life came rushin' my door from the hills just under two weeks ago. I reckon there were between forty er fifty of 'em in all. Judgin' from their complexion and attire, my guess is they were driven down from the mountains by somethin' that spooked 'em somethin' fierce.

Anyway, my ranch hands'n I took a stand at first and managed teh cut a handful down and let loose the animals b'fore they torched the barn, but it were clear pretty fast that we were fightin' a losin' battle. So I sent the survivors off on some'a the ridin' horses teh find some help, and I suppose it worked, else yeh wouldn't be standin' here.

As fer me, I stuck 'round and picked off a handful of 'em where I could. In my estimation, there're probably another twenty er so infestin' my land, and I'm chompin' at the bit to get teh exterminatin', so what say we get started!"

"That's what we're here for.", Cain replies as he jogs over and retrieves his dagger from the back of the dead Orc.

"Let's start with the two that'll probably be on their way back now?"

"Al, do you have an idea where we might best find our next target? Or do we have to search for them."

"Well I can tell you where the bulk of 'em are - makin' a mess of my godsdamned house!"

He points over to the farmhouse on the other side of the bonfire, and sure enough, you see flickering light from inside. Your attention quickly shifts, however, as Ruggo spots the two orc scouts returning from their fruitless search. They seem to be grumbling to each other, no doubt about the unfairness of missing fresh dinner again, and have yet to take any notice of the group of you standing at the end of the path.

"Alphonso, let us show you how efficient the pig routine can really be."

He nudges Govath. "Okay Govath, get down and start oinking, just like we practiced. We'll get in position to strike those two swiftly."

Storm sneaks away to prepares a few simple cantrips in preparation of the ambush.

Govath scratches his beard and thinks for a moment. Then pulling out his short bow.

"Based on the scenario, this time it will be best if you cause the distraction while Ruggo, Cain and I attack from a distance."

Govath says with a slight smirk forming.

"That sounds like a plan to me", Cain says cheerfully as he joins Rowan at a distance with his throwing daggers out.

Big Al watches as all of you train bow, dagger, and cantrip toward the oncoming creatures. Just as they get within range, one of the grumbling orcs catches sight of the five of you silhouetted against the large bonfire behind you. He hesitates and nudges his companion, and both their faces turn rapidly from surprise to acceptance of their fate as they look forward again to see blade, arrows and spells flying toward them all at once.

Big Al lets out a quiet, impressed whistle as the bodies hit the ground with a thump.

"Whoooo-eeeee, this'll be a cakewalk. Let's git int'a the farmhouse and give the rest of 'em the same treatment!"

And with a wide grin on his face, he immediately turns and runs off toward the farmhouse.

Cain retrieves his dagger, and jogs off after Big Al. "Finally, something is going right for once.", he says to the others.

"It is a nice change."

Seeing Al run off toward the farmhouse, Govath knocks another arrow.

"Best we not let Al have all the fun."

Eyes darting in every direction to spot any stragglers in the darkness, Ruggo keeps pace with the group.

"Oi mate, I have an idea," He says to Al but loud enough for the others to hear. "If yeh want them all outside the house to pick em off, I could uh... call them out. I speak their tongue, and can also make m'self look like one of their dead mates. Whatdya reckon? "

Big Al stops just a few strides away from the small porch outside of the front door, and seems to give the idea some thought.

"Yeh don't say? Well, I suppose splittin' up the bulk of 'em is likely teh make it a fairer fight anyhow, though if they're spread 'round the farmhouse they might not all hear yeh. But let's give'r a try and see what comes!"

To his group he whispers, "Two of yeh hide on one side of the house, the other two on the other side. I'll stand a good distance away from the front door and call them to come help or somethin'. If they all come towards me you flank 'em. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan to me.", Cain whispers in reply and proceeds to the right side of the house.

Big Al lets out a small sigh.

"Ah, yeh still plan teh do it all sneaky-like. Well, alright then I guess..."

He begins heading toward the left corner of the house.

Govath moves over beside Cain and whispers to him. "Depending on how many exit, we let Ruggo take out the first while we each deal with the last two out of the house."

Ruggo mutters a spell under his breath and his features morph into that of the dead orc they found in the middle of the cornfield.

"zv! cbw fzc z' vzk! dwc vz' lyd btyqv tiiwi zkc bwqw! gw bte izaw gyccz xwici cz hbwg zo!"

"Govath, seeing Storm without a rapier, recalls he has a second rapier stowed away in his pack. Mumbling quietly he says. "Will have to fix that before the next encounter.""

After a pause, the front door of the farmhouse opens with a loud creek, and out steps one large orc with greasy, long black hair. His greataxe is at the ready, and he takes a few steps down the stairs to make room for a second orc, a female with her red hair shaven into a mohawk, bone piercings all over her tusked face. It's this orc who responds.

"Tldbtc? Gbwqw cbw 'wffi 'tuw vzk lwwo? Qyxetod'i dkoot 'tuw t eyc! Gbwqw cbwiw xwici vzk ixwtp?"

"Dwc qyxetod czz, dwc wuq'vgko ozg! cbwiw lyd xwici, gycb igzqji cbwv bti! tfqwtjv pyffwj cbw kuti! wuqvgko owwji cz hzaw zkciyjw cz bwfx!"

2d20kh1 (7, 10) - 1 = 9

The two orcs look at each other for a moment, then the female one quickly glances over toward the campfire, noticing no sign of the supposed threat. With an expression of suspicion, she nods to the male one, who begins slowly approaching Ruggo, then turns back toward the partially open door behind her, presumably to call in to somebody.

"Cbw kjjwqi tqw tff jwj! gw jwj czz ye wuqvgko jzo'c hzaw bwfx!"

1d20 (5) + 0 = 5

Suddenly, the female orc hesitates, mouth partially open. She turns back toward Ruggo, but rather than looking at him, she begins scanning all around as though looking for somebody else, a confused expression on her face.

Meanwhile, the male orc continues walking some of the way toward Ruggo. He stops about twenty feet away, just gripping his greataxe firmly with both hands and eyeing him intently.

1d20 (9) + 6 = 15

It's not overly difficult given how concentrated the male orc is on Ruggo. You slip out from beside the house and into view of the female orc, who continues to look confused as she sees your gesture, but does, in fact, keep her mouth shut.

Storm guides the female orc away from the group, whispering to her and hoping she speaks Common.

"Su'deni friend, good to see you again. This one comes with other companions that orcs are threatening. Don't want you to get hurt in the commotion so let's keep quiet."

Once away from the other orc he throws in a few questions.

"How many orcs are inside? This one needs to get in but doesn't want to get caught."

Big Al watches these scene unfold with his jaw open in surprise.

"Uhhh..." The female orc hesitates and then starts counting on her fingers. "T-twelve inside?" she finally answers.

Big Al whispers to you as you arrive back at the side of the farmhouse.

"This one'a them charmin' spells? I reckon I've seen somethin' like this before. Let me know when yer done gettin' what you need so I can git to stabbin'."

He holds up the rapier, clearly eager to run it through this dazed orc, who takes no notice of his words.

"Let us hold onto this one for a little longer. But if things turn for the worst, you can end her. For now she is an easy ally. Perhaps we can use her to lure out a few more after we deal with that one over there."

Ruggo spreads his hands wide and mimics an exasperated look of annoyance.

"gkc! gkci vwq xqzlfka? dz zo dwc cbw kjjwqi!"

Rather than responding verbally, the orc takes his eyes off you, briefly looking back to see what has delayed his companion. He's surprised to see that nobody is standing at the door, and tightens his grip on his axe and looking back toward you.

He begins moving closer, eyes narrowed, scanning your person.

The arrow sinks into the orc's side, catching him by surprise. He turns rapidly away from Ruggo to look in the direction that the arrow came from and spotting the dwarf by the side of the farmhouse.

"Wh-...hey!" he lets out, gripping the arrow sticking out of his flesh.

Ruggo draws his bow that was hidden behind his back and let's two arrows fly at the orc.

One hits the orc's heart through his back, and the other sinks into the back of the skull. He falls to the ground immediately.

The charmed female orc does take notice of this sudden exchange.

"Hey, what you do to Korpa?" she says, reaching for the javelin strapped to her back. Then, turning back to Storm, "You friend of Abghat? Why he kill Korpa? What's happening?"

"I told ya, there's pests around killing orcs. Yeh shoulda got the others."

And with that, Big Al drives Storm's rapier straight through the remaining orc's skull. She falls to the ground, a surprised look on her face.

"Sorry if that were earlier than yeh planned, but I didn't much care fer the way she was reachin' fer that javelin.

Besides, I was gettin' restless anyhow. We ready to storm the place er what?"

"Let us not rush into this. Al, you know the layout of the farmhouse. What is our best entry point to catch the orcs by surprise? Any window that we could open from the outside and send some arrows in as a greeting?"

Still in orcs form, Ruggo gestures with his bow, "Yeh I'm not exactly useful in tight spaces."

Storm takes the rapier from Govath with a quick thank you in Tabaxi and examines his dead orc companion.

"Well if we had just a moment longer, this one could have tried to lure more out with just a little convincing. But maybe Alphonso can spearhead the distraction."

"Well now we're talkin'! If it's noise yer lookin' fer, I got yeh covered there. Yeh just want some of 'em teh come out here? I reckon I can manage that right quick!"

Big Al quickly makes his way over to the male orc with several arrows sticking out of it. With surprising strength, he grabs it by its clothes and lifts it up, carrying it toward the window west of the door of the farmhouse.

"Heheh, I been meanin' teh get this window repaired anyhow. You! The big 'un pretendin' teh be a beastie, come here 'n' give me a hand!"

You and Big Al lift up the deceased orc, and it becomes clear pretty quickly what his idea is.

"A-one, a-two, YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWW"

Together, you heave the body toward the window. You hear the loud crash of the window breaking, the thump of the body landing inside the house, and then the chaotic yelling of several orcs inside.

"Git ready boys, here they come!"

Big Al's plan has the expected result, and within seconds, the door of the farmhouse slams open, and two orcs emerge, javelins drawn. You can tell that more aren't far behind.

Eight orcs in total pour out of the farmhouse, the first two to a barrage of attacks that put them down immediately. The next three spread out, one rushing Ruggo, another engaging with Big Al and yet another dealing a severe blow to Storm. Each of these fall quickly, Ruggo sinking an arrow directly into the skull of the one rushing toward him and Cain coming to Storm's defence. Big Al cuts down his foes easily, dodging attacks and hootin' and hollerin' the whole time.

Govath, having little luck with his bow at the side of the farmhouse, comes out to face the third wave with his rapier. It turns out to be the right choice, as the orc which rushes toward him falls with one swift movement of the magical blade - but not before getting a heavy hit in itself.

In time, all the attacking orcs fall, leaving the farmhouse door hanging open. There's a moment of hesitation where all eyes watch to see if more are coming, but none do.

Once Ruggo is in earshot Govath says to the group.

"That was not quite the twenty Al had estimated. We should sweep the house and grounds to make sure no others are hiding in the area."

"Come teh think of it, our charmed beastie said there were twelve of the bastards inside. I don't reckon that these individuals are 'specially good at countin', but I'd be surprised if there ain't at least a few more sittin' pretty inside."

"Well, we've lost the element of surprise at this point. What say we just charge right in there before they get wise and set up an ambush or something?"

"We should try to rest a tad first, I reckon. Lay siege out here till we feel a bit stronger. Govath is lookin' a little worse for wear."

"Despite it seeming like we are on a boat at the moment. We can take the remaining orcs," Govath visibly sways "or at least figure out if they are on the main floor of the house."

"Sounds like'a vote o' two teh one so far. What're you thinkin', my furry friend?"

"This one could use a rest but there's still enough strength to push on. Though we made this mistake before and it almost costed us our lives. Maybe a quick breather is a good idea. And lay ambush out here if they do come out.

Or we set this whole house on fire and smoke them out."

Cain thinks for a second, "Storm does have a point, it's not like those Orcs are going anywhere. We can take a little break, and siege the farmhouse. They'll have to try to come out at some point, everyone gets a little hungry eventually."

"Hold on teh yer horses there, fella. I didn't stick 'round here pickin' off orcs just teh burn my own house down at the end of it all!

Now I'm not sure that the pests'll need teh leave teh resupply any time soon - I been watchin' 'em haul the dumber animals inside one-by-one over the last week. Way I figure it, that big 'un the female mentioned - Ripjagger or somethin'? - thinks he's got himself a defensible position teh fend me off. N'frankly, he must be a cut above the rest'a these knuckle-walkers teh even have them kind'a brains. But I reckon he's underestimatin' the lot of us together! Hah!

Yeh all understand by now that I got no intention of leavin' 'til the job is done, but some of yeh do look a little worse-fer-wear, so if yeh need a bit teh catch yer breath, I'll keep'n eye out while yer on the mend. Then we'll give these bastards what's comin' to 'em!"

Glancing at the others and around the area. "How about we go and bunker down in the field over there. Give us a bit of cover if more arrive, and also a view of the building."

"As to burning it down, how about we keep that as our last resort."

"Good thinkiing Govath", Cain says as he heads over to the field, "Just shout if anything exciting happens.", he says to Big Al as he passes by.)

Big Al follows you over the field and positions himself along its edge, keeping a wary eye on the open door of the farmhouse. You settle in to tend to your wounds.

At one point over the course of the next hour, Big Al's head perks up. He swiftly holds a finger to his lips, then suddenly goes sneaking off through the tall stalks of corn without another word. There's a tense few moments as you listen for any sign of struggle, but he returns unharmed, and whispers to you all.

"Saw a few of 'em patrollin' a little ways off. Don't seem teh know what's gone on at the farmhouse yet. One of 'ems haulin' 'round a good chunk'a the carcass'a one'a my ridin' horses. Cryin' shame, that is. Must'a not gotten away with the others. What d'yeh think, cut down this little band'a no-goods er clear out the farmhouse first?"

"I'm thinking let them pass and when they're as far as we think they'll get, we quickly enter and clear out the farmhouse, even barricade the door behind us if we have to ... just to slow anyone coming in behind us."

Cain unsheaths his weapons.

"I'm rested and ready to go with whatever choice we go with."

Nearly nodding off Govath hears a blade being drawn, head shooting up, hand going for rapier. "What is happening? Are we under attack?"

Storm waves a paw in indifference.

"Whatever you guys decide, this one is good...will be staying in the back of the lines. Though our chokepoint attack at the farmhouse was effective. But given their numbers, might be best to dwindle them down slowly. Perhaps we ambush the band of Orcs patrolling before they catch us from behind returning to the farmhouse. Get them while they're away from the house. Yes...let's do that."

"I'll agree to that."

Noting that nobody addressed the sleepy dwarf's concern, Big Al places a hand on his shoulder and reiterates the situation.

"Looks like we've two votes one way and one fer another. What's yer stance, shortstuff?"

"It looks like Govath is still a little beat." Feeling refreshed himself, Cain continues, "Why not take a short rest yourself Al? I can take over the watch for the next little bit and then we can figure out how to ambush those patrolling Orcs."

"Me? Ain't nothin' but a couple'a scratches- I'm fit as a fiddle and rarin' teh go! But if yer dwarf friend here needs some extra time, I'm inclined to oblige. Jes' keep an eye on the patrol, 'cause there's no tellin' what they'll do next."

Realizing the group is not under immediate threat. Govath stands up and checks his war hammer is still in place.

"Killing off the roving bands of orcs sounds a solid plan to this dwarf."

Taking the dwarf's agreement as affirmation, Big Al puts a finger to his lips and then sets off through the tall stalks of corn, apparently expecting you all to follow.

He leads you in the direction he went as you rested until you reach another edge of the field, stopping far enough away to not be spotted. Through the stalks you see not four orcs, but one. With one hand, it seems to be holding its left ear. With the other, it holds a lit torch. And after a second, it begins approaching the edge of the field, the arm holding the torch outstretched. Except it doesn't seem to have seen you. Indeed, it's not heading directly for you - just for the edge of the field slightly to your left.

"What happened here...you have friends lurking in the dark Alphonso? The ugly one looks like he took a wound and lost his party."

1d20 (15) + 5 = 20
Storm tries to see if the orc is indeed wounded.

The orc actually lowers the hand from his ear as you peer out to examine it, and it doesn't appear to be wounded in any way. Big Al responds to your question with the shaking of his head and a confused look. Then, realization dawns on his face, and he suddenly shouts.

"We need to move, now!"

The orc, upon reaching the edge of the field to your left, lowers his torch, setting the thick stalks ablaze. Upon hearing the shout, he quickly turns in your direction, throws the still-burning torch deeper into the field and draws his greataxe.

You all rush into action, leaving the field and taking down the first orc swiftly. Three more rush onto the scene, Ruggo launching arrows into one while the rest rush toward the others, taking them out fairly quickly.

Big Al turns to survey the field behind you, flames spreading far too quickly now for anything to be done about it.

"Godsdammit, these pieces'a dung've cost me far too much. C'mon, we're finishin' this right now."

Rapier still drawn, he begins walking determinedly around the edge of the burning field toward the farmhouse.

Storm whispers to the group.

"If the farmhouse catches fire, just let it happen..."

Whispering back "Who claims ownership of the farm should he die during his vendetta? We already have a lighthouse."

"We'll cross that bridge if we get there ... maybe open up a farming business. Anyway, let's kill ourselves some more Orcs. A fight going in our favour is a rare thing, let's keep this momentum going."

"We're going to need a caretaker for this farm. Nigels are hard to come by...maybe we will find a talking pig."

Big Al is uncharacteristically silent as he steps over the corpses in front of the farmhouse's porch and begins ascending the stairs. He walks through the open door, and you follow into a large kitchen. In the far corner sits a large butter churn and a couple of worktables are spread out in the centre. Strewn about the room are partially consumed foodstuffs, empty bottles of ale, and pots and pans knocked from their hooks on the shelves. A small table sits just to the left of the entrance, and on the floor by its side is what appears to be a hand-carved wooden skull. Big Al picks this up and gently places it in the centre of the small table.

"Nice home. This one is glad the fire didn't take it. Since this is your house, tell us how you want to do this. We're good at sneaking but if you want to run in there rapier blazing, we will follow and assist."

Just as Storm finishes speaking, you all hear a loud creak from the ceiling above you. Big Al turns around to address you, pointing toward it.

"'Fraid sneakin's gonna be real difficult this time, boys. Sounds like the critters made 'emselves at home upstairs. Only two ways up there, and both are pretty narrow. I reckon we make whatever preparations and do whatever strategizin' we need teh. They ain't gonna be comin' teh us."

"Do we split and move up both stairways? It will keep whoever is up there from circling back around us."

Storm asks Al for a quick layout.

"If we use the north stair case the big room above might be loaded. Though it would give us the advantage holding the hallway. If we use the south east stair case, we won't funnel blond into the ones in the room above but we might have to tunnel fight that hallway."

"If only we had a tunnel fighter. They are popular fighters in Chult that are extremely effective. One could hold that hallway against anything thrown at him..."

Storm coughs.

"The north stairwell has potential to be disastrous should the orcs be anticipating our arrival."

"Fighting from the east stairwell means we would only need fight one or two at a time, and our range specialists can pick them off from behind."

"I would hate to go against one of those tunnel fighters, they sound deadly in close quarters."

"Hm, maybe we can split up, but only the eastern team makes themselves known. Bring a strong fighter and the rangers can support from the rear. The rest will stay at the bottom of the north staircase to ambush any Orcs which try to flank around. And if neither do, the team can wait a few seconds, run up and flank the Orcs from behind instead."

Cain stretches out his hands ... a very weak spark jumps between a few of his fingers before pathetically fizzling out. "If only I could still do that trick ...", he mutters.

"Sounds to me like we have our desired course of action. Ruggo, Al and Storm, how about you three take the east stairwell. Then Cain and I will wait on any unsuspecting orcs down here."

"Any objections?"

"Sounds good to me!" Cain says while drawing his weapons and finding a suitable hiding spot to ambush any orcs that might come down the stairs.

"Fine with me, mate. I go up last."

"We will take care of it. This one will stay behind Alphonso then."

Big Al nods, then motions for Govath and Cain to follow him. He walks toward the door on the north end of the kitchen, places a finger to his lips, and uses his other hand to quietly open it. It creaks a little, but now that it's open, you hear vague grumbling noises and movement from upstairs that mask the sound.

Beyond the door is a simple landing, a staircase immediately to your right and other doors beyond it. Once the two of you pass through, Al returns to the kitchen, motions to the others, and leads them through the other door.

Beyond this one lies a massive dining room, two long wooden tables with benches running parallel down the centre. The walls are decorated with various animal skulls, probably giving a quite cozy feel during the day if the room were lit, but a little unsettling by the flickering light of the fire coming through the windows.

You reach the bottom of the staircase which leads to the upstairs hall, and Big Al pauses and takes a deep breath, turning to Storm and Ruggo.

"I suppose I'll be headin' the charge this time. On yer cue, boys."

"Do it. But if Ruggo can get a few shots off down the hall, make sure to duck."

Big Al makes his way up the stairs, Storm and Ruggo following up behind. At the top, you find yourselves at the end of a hallway, several doors to your left and right. On the far end, you see that it opens up into a common area. You can make out padded chairs and game tables by the glow of the lit hearth on the far side of the room. Cards and various other game pieces lay scattered across the ground.

Standing beside the hearth is a male orc, and it's immediately apparent that he's a cut above the rest. His chainmail and rough shield are bloodstained and have the appearance of being scavenged off of previous victims. A long, hooked blade hangs from his hand. Ruggo recalls the female orc mentioning a "Ripfang", and this appears to be him.

The orc notices Big Al the moment he reaches the top of the staircase, and lets out a short grunt. Immediately, three other orcs stand from their seats around the room and draw their weapons.

"Finally, human shows face." Ripjaw grins as he addresses your companion in common. "Started thinking too afraid to face me."

Big Al walks cautiously down the hall, toward the edge of the common room.

"I've faced scarier things'n you, yeh wart-faced knuckle-walkin' pile'a mongrel vomit."

Ripfang turns and addresses the three other orcs.

"Kill others. Take human alive. I want to give him slow, painful death."

Ruggo immediately drops the first orc in his view while the others rush toward Big Al, taking cover by the walls.

Taking an axe wound from one of the orcs, Big Al attempts to shove it down the stairs, but has no success. Instead, Govath charges up, stabbing the orc from behind and ending its life.

"Throw your weapons aside and run down the stairs," Storm shouts toward Ripfang, casting Suggestion. Sure enough, the giant orc drops his hooked sword and javelins and makes for the stairs. Seeing Govath in the way, he attempts to shove him, but the dwarf proves too quick. The momentum Ripfang barreling down the stairs, where he is met by Cain's blades.

Ruggo runs to the top of the stairs, and he, Cain and Govath deal blow after blow to the fallen orc chief. He gets up and attempts to run up the stairs, but Ruggo blocks his path. Meanwhile, Storm gives spell support to Big Al as he faces off with the remaining lackey.

Ruggo backs up to get a better shot, and Ripfang takes the opening to run for his sword - but it's too late. Immediately after picking it up, an arrow sinks into his skull and he drops to the ground.

"It's time teh end this, once and fer all," Big Al says, and then drives the borrowed rapier straight through the skull of the remaining orc.

Bloodied and breathing heavily, Big Al lets out a sigh of relief.

"It's done. Any stragglers'll no doubt flee with their tails between their legs when they learn the boss is dead. I owe yeh all a great debt."

"Jus' lob off the bigun's head and mount it on a pike in your field, an' they'll be too scared to come back. A scareorc, heh."

"Heh! That's not a bad idea! Although..."

Al looks toward the south window sadly, where the light from the blazing field outside pours in.

"I suppose there en't much of a field left teh put it in, now. I reckon it's gonna take me quite a while teh get things back in order 'round here."

A sudden look of realization crosses his face.

"Speakin'a which, yeh didn't happen teh stumble across Petunia on yer way here, did yeh?"

"Is that a horse, a cow or a pig?"

"Hah, why my prized cow, o'course! Without ol' Petunia, en't no way I can keep producin' my famous butter skulls!

D'yeh mean teh say you came across some of the ridin' horses as well?"

Storm tries to recall all that's happened... "We did see a cow...this one thinks. Didn't we?"

"We did, not far off from here either. And yes, we came riding on some branded horses which we left just outside the farm when we scaled the hill."

Cain walks over to the dead Orc who is obviously their leader and picks up the sword.

Walking over to the window, Govath watches the field burn. "Have you enough grain stores to plant a new crop?"

Big Al strokes his beard with his free hand, thinking for a moment.

"I reckon I'll be able to plant a new crop jus' fine. But Petunia is my real money-maker. Jus' a sec, lemme grab somethin'."

He first returns Storm's rapier to him and then turns back down the hallway, dipping into one of the rooms. When he returns, he has his own sword sheathed on his side, and is carrying what appears to be a weathered piece of chain mail. It glints a blueish silver in the flickering light.

"I'm afraid I en't carryin' much gold on hand teh reward you boys with at the moment, but I imagine this here's the most valuable thing I can offer yeh. This is my armour from back in my sherrifin' days out in Triboar. You'll find it's made o' the finest mithral. Don't let the wear'n tear fool yeh, this armour'll protect yeh as well as the day it was made.

Lookin' at yeh, though, yeh don't seem the lot teh don much heavy armour. So perhaps yeh'll simply get yer reward in gold at the next town. Yer more'n welcome to if it suits yeh. But I may have somethin' more suitable teh offer if yer willin' teh do me one last favour.

Yeh mentioned yeh rode in on some of my ridin' horses. They're as fine'a group o' horses as any you'll find along the Sword Coast. Petunia can be a stubborn ol' gal, and I'll need some help wranglin' her back to the ranch. If yeh'll stick around 'til mornin' and help me bring her back home, yeh can take the horses along with the armour, and I imagine it'll speed up yer journey considerably."

Cain inspects Ripfang's sword and finds it to be little more than a roughly-smithed longsword. The hooked tip and jagged edge make for an intimidating appearance, but the weapon has no special properties.

Cain shrugs and tosses the weapon back onto the body before turning back to Big Al.

"I wouldn't be comfortable taking that from the only person who seems capable of defending this place from any more attacks in the future. As this was our last stop on our work with the Lances, I don't see why we can't spend the night and help wrangle up your cow in the morning.?"

He turns and looks at the others to see what they're thinking.

Big Al jumps a little at the sound of Cain's voice.

"Jumpin' jackals, boy! I keep forgettin' yer here! Yeh sure do have a knack for blendin' in teh the background."

"So I've been told ..."

"Cain is right when you notice him there. That chain mail could have been useful today, and might be again someday...if you wear it of course."

"Let's spend the night here then, this one could use a very peaceful rest for once. In a bed with a roof. Tomorrow we find the cow and then be on our way."

"Having a roof over our head would make for a pleasant change."

"Now what food has not been touched by the orcs for a midnight feast."

1d20 (9) - 1 = 8

"Heh, I certainly wasn't expectin' teh be fendin' off any orc invaders this far from the mountains, so I didn't think teh be wearin' it while goin' about my daily business. Somethin' must'a driven 'em down this way. I reckon I heard some rumours about a white dragon in the area.

But if yeh think the horses are compensation enough for yeh, it's mighty generous."

Govath heads back downstairs in search of food. The orcs have largely picked the place clean, and by the end were feeding on the straggling farm animals. He does find some measly portions in the pantry - grains and nuts, mostly - that can at least satiate you all for the evening.

Big Al also shows you to the water pump outside, where you can fill your skins.

Each party member gets: 1 Ration, 2 Water (up to a max of 4)

Returning back with the scraps of food he found from his search of the main floor.

"The orcs have done a number on any food supplies you may have had. Not much more than what I found missed in the bottom of bags."

Spotting the mithral shirt for the first time, having missed Al's previous statement due to thinking on the fire and prospects of a meal.

"That is some mighty fine armour you have. Was it a gift from your adventuring days?"

"Well, I en't sure I'd've ever called myself an adventurer, but folks in Triboar seemed happy with my sherrifin' and I enjoyed doin' it. As I understand it, a lot of folks in town chipped in teh have this here armour made fer me, in the spirit of helpin' me do my job a li'l safer.

But hell, that en't my job anymore, 'n' despite recent occurrences I don't expect I'll have much use fer this heavy armour while tendin' the ranch."

"I have not spent much time working with mithral."

Stroking his beard.

"Still, I bet I would be able to reinforce some leather armour and make a composite armour more suited to our needs."

Big Al nods and hands the armour to Govath.

"It'll be good to know it's still bein' of some use to folks who are out there doin' good."

Govath nods his head in appreciation.

"You can trust we will put it to good use."

Task in hand, Govath pauses and begins to visualize how best to make use the mail.

"Ruggo, Cain, Storm I will need to take some measurements."

Storm strikes a T-pose.

"This one's body is your canvas Govath. Have your way with it."

After a while of observing Storm's feline body, Govath seems satisfied for the night and you all decide it's best to turn in. After all, it won't be long until sunrise.

Big Al guides you to one of the rooms down the hall that contains several beds, presumably where the ranch hands stayed. You all pass out immediately after a long, exhausting day.

14th day of Eleasis (Highsun), 1481

You awake the next day later than usual, sleeping well past your usual time. The smell of eggs cooking wafts up from downstairs, prompting you all to quickly gather your things and discover the source.

You find the kitchen much in the same disarray as the night before, but Al has cleaned it up enough to prepare some eggs for you all for breakfast.

"Managed teh find a couple'a the chickens this mornin', so we can eat up before headin' out teh find ol' Petunia. Enjoy, boys!"

"I ain't one to argue 'bout a home cooked brekkie!" Rowan manages to say in between huge mouthfuls.

"It does feel like it's been a while since we've eaten home cooked food at a table.", he says while joining Rowan.,

"So, what's the plan for rounding up this cow?"

"Well, we en't got any horses left here on the ranch, so I reckon our best bet is teh make our way teh wherever you left the horses yeh found, find where Petunia went a'grazin', and try'n work together teh wrangle her in the right direction."

"Unless, o'course, one of yeh has a better idea? I notice some of yeh are versed in the arcane - don't suppose yeh have a cow summonin' spell up yer sleeves by any chance?"

"Where we passed her by she was stubbornly refusing to move from the middle of the road looking in the direction of the farm."

"It has not been long since then, if we are lucky she found a spot to sleep near the road."

"Ruggo here is good at talking to animals. Once we find her, he can convince her to return without a doubt! There isn't anything to worry about. It'll be as easy as killing a handful of orcs."

Cain laughs a little, "And if she decides to run for it, it may be fun to have a little wager on who can rope her first on horseback ..."

"... but that can be plan be.", he nods in acknowledgement at Rowan.

"Heh, ol' Petunia'd probably rip any one of yeh right off yer horse. Strong and stubborn as a mule, that one - but wouldn't trade her fer any other. Well, if yer just about done yer breakfast, we'll set off teh find the horses."

"Yeh, if we get back to Petunia, I'll convince her teh come back home. Though jus' seein' yer face'll prolly do it."

After finishing your home-cooked breakfast, you all gather your things to set off in search of Petunia the cow. Before leaving, Big Al asks how many of his riding horses you all encountered, and procures three saddles - one of them a double saddle, to accommodate Govath.

As you head out toward the Triboar Trail, a shadow of grief passes over Big Al's face as he glances at the gently-smouldering remains of his corn field, but after letting out a heavy sigh, he seems to return to good spirits. After all, it's a rather beautiful, sunny day. The clouds from yesterday's rain have all dispersed, leaving blue, open sky overhead.

It takes an hour or two before you reach the point on the trail where you had left Petunia and the riding horses. You are thankful to see them all grazing not far from that position.

Big Al breaks into a jog, embracing Petunia's head as he gets to her. She seems unfazed.

"There yeh are, ol' gal. Don't know what I would'a done if yeh'd been killed by the orcs or somethin' out here on the trail.

Saddle up, boys - let's coax her home!"

He tosses you each one of the saddles, and you see the three riding horses scattered around the field.

The four of you saddle and mount the scattered horses, Govath joining Storm upon his steed, as Big Al instructs you on the details of herding. He describes the back-and-forth of applying pressure and releasing to prevent causing the beast too much stress, and the arc-shaped pattern you'll use to keep her going in the right direction.

He also warns you again that she's a real stubborn cow, and this is going to take some time.

Rowan dismounts and approaches the cow, and pets the snout.

"See, we're back an' here teh take you home. Brought someone yeh might recognize too. Jus' cooperate an' we'll have yeh grazin' in greener pastures in no time."

1d20 (20) + 4 = 24

Petunia looks at Ruggo, then at Big Al, and her demeanour does seem to soften a bit.

1d20 (3) + 1 = 4

1d20 (1) + 2 = 3

1d20 (4) + 2 = 6

None of you are exactly experts at this, so it takes some time to get used to the rhythm of your task. You keep arcing too wide or staggering your pace or nearly running into one another. Ruggo seems to have a pretty good handle, but all-in-all, a half hour passes with little progress.

1d20 (2) + 4 = 6

1d20 (18) + 2 = 20

"Do not cause the animal any stress. Govath says just loud enough for Storm to hear. Storm, with your arcane nature, what would it take to make it sound as if a pack of wolves are nearby?"

1d20 (11) + 1 = 12

"An excellent idea Govath. This one thought about casting Suggestion on the beast but it needs to understand me. If any of you can find a way for me to communicate with it, send it my way. But in the meantime..."

Storm casts Minor Illusion to create the sound of a hungry pack of wolves approaching from behind, trying to drive Petunia-poo home.

1d20 (8) + 2 = 10

The sound of the pack of wolves gives Big Al a fright, and he looks for the source for a few seconds before realizing what's going on. Unfortunately, Petunia is unfazed. She just keeps chewin' cud and wandering aimlessly.

1d20 (13) + 1 = 14

1d20 (19) + 2 = 21

1d20 (4) + 4 = 8

1d20 (14) + 2 = 16

You're not sure the rope is doing much, but the promise of special food seems to motivate. Petunia moves forward over the next half-hour, making it about a quarter of the way back to the ranch before seeming to lose motivation and getting distracted by a particularly long patch of grass.

1d20 (10) + 2 = 12

1d20 (20) + 1 = 21

1d20 (2) + 4 = 6

1d20 (1) + 2 = 3

Try as you might, old Petunia is fixated on this grass. Your second hour at this task ends, and you're beginning to realize that this may be an all-day affair.

"At this rate it might be easier to pick up your farm and move it to the cow!"

"Heheh, I told yeh she'd be stubborn, didn't I? Think of it as buildin' a relationship with yer new horses! I reckon yer startin' teh get the hang of handlin' 'em!"

"Al, do you have any treats for Petunia? A favourite food we can coax her along with?"

"Jus' a sec, I have an idea." Ruggo says as he hops off his horse and finds a long straight branch, ties it to the top of the cow so it hangs a few feet in front of its face. He then rips up the grass Petunia was fixated on and ties it hanging from the stick as bait.

1d20 (8) + 2 = 10
Smart thinking, Rowan!

Petunia's eyes narrow in suspicion as Ruggo sets up the bait, but they widen with desire as the grass gets fastened to the end.

"Well, if you boys are really strugglin', I did grab a couple'a apples just'n case she got real ornery. Petunia was always fond of an apple here'n there - yeh let me know when yeh need the extra help."

1d20 (11) + 4 = 15

1d20 (11) + 1 = 12

1d20 (4) + 2 = 6

As you mount your horses and hope that the combination of bait and pressure might get Petunia to move forward, she proves too clever for you. Making her way over to a nearby tree, she pushes her head against it, breaking the branch and causing the grass to fall to the ground for her enjoyment.

Thirty minutes passes with no progress.

"She's a stuboorn one!", Cain pulls out his torch and lights it, "Everyone, light up and let's see if a little smoke and fire can't get her moving away from us."

1d20 (13) + 2 = 15

1d20 (18) + 1 = 19

1d20 (3) + 4 = 7

1d20 (14) + 2 = 16

1d20 (19) + 2 = 21

Petunia's eyes open wide at the sight of the apple, a delicious scent wafting toward her nose. Certainly more attractive than the scent of smoke wafting behind her. You easily coax her to about the half-way point when she suddenly bursts forward with impatience and snags the apple from the stick.

The early afternoon sun is beating down on you all and you begin to wonder if you'll be spending another night at the ranch. You occasionally scan the skies for any sign of a dragon from the south, keenly aware that this is the first time in a while you've been out in the open for this long.

1d20 (5) + 2 = 7

"Storm move the horse up beside Petunia, we are going to find out if she likes to be scratched behind the ear. Also, feed her the next apple, but cut it into quarters and we can feed her slowly over the next leg of our journey."

1d20 (12) + 1 = 13

1d20 (6) + 4 = 10

1d20 (3) + 2 = 5

Petunia doesn't seem to particularly enjoy being scratched behind the ears, but tolerates it for the sake of the apple slices being fed to her at the same time. Ruggo continues speaking coaxing words, but it takes the whole apple just to get her to move more than a few feet. You make little progress this half-hour.

Even Big Al seems to be losing his patience a bit. He approaches Petunia and speaks to her.

"Now listen, ol' gal, I know yeh en't a fan of bein' told what teh do, but these fine folk went out'a their way teh make the ranch safe again and yeh en't showin' the proper appreciation. What say yeh give 'em a break, eh girl? There'll be plenty'a apples fer yeh when we get back home."

You can't see quite clearly from atop your horses, but you could swear you see Petunia roll her eyes and give a bit of a sigh.

1d20 (3) + 1 = 4

1d20 (12) + 2 = 14

1d20 (5) + 4 = 9

"Ruggo, Cain why do not one of you try riding Petunia and urging her on?"

1d20 (1) + 2 = 3

Al's speech seems to work, at first. Petunia begins moving up the Triboar Trail, when suddenly Govath and Storm lose control of their horse. It begins circling and stomping around in front of the cow, startling and causing it to run backward down the trail. Big Al manages to calm the horse down while Cain and Ruggo chase down Petunia to get her to stop.

After being at this for four hours, you decide that it's time to take a lunch break under the warm summer sun.

Cain amounts and stretches his legs with a sigh. Finding a nearby branch to hitch his horse, he sits against the trunk and starts rummaging through his bag for something to eat.

"Whew, this is quite the work, but a nice change of pace from near death experience."

He looks out over the horizon to the south, towards where they had saw the dragon last.

"So, what happens after Leilon?"

"The job does seem easier though when you have no issues dispatching what is posing a problem." Govath says giving a slight glance towards petunia.

"Those gnomes are working on some form of defence for Leilon, would be an easy trip seeing as we already know the way there. But both sides seemed rather indifferent, so I have no reason to return."

Govath seeks out a fallen log or rock to sit on, and enjoy some rations from his pack.

Storm takes out his Lute and begins to play a soft, summer's tune. He's heard animals like music and watches to see if Petunia is drawn to the sweet sound.

"A dragon is no simple foe. But once it is driven away or slain, this one plans to make a home of the lighthouse. A home away from home. A fitting place since the ship taken here sleeps a watery grave at the lighthouse's feet."

1d20 (14) + 8 = 22

As Storm begins playing, Petunia's ears pop up. She doesn't make any move initially, but as you relax and eat your lunch by the sound of the relaxing tune, she eventually wanders over and plops down beside Storm, her ears moving around with the rhythm.

"Looks like ol' Petunia's really taken a shine teh that there melody, my feline friend! Never really thought teh try soothin' her with music b'fore - mind you, I'm not sure any music I tried to create could be described as soothin' anyway!"

"Music is a universal language. If this one cannot speak the cow tongue, then perhaps the lure of music will entice."

*Storm remounts but keeps the Lute out, keeping the playful tunes going.

You all finish eating your rations, then reluctantly mount your horses again in hopes that you can get this cow home before dusk.

1d20 (3) + 1 = 4

1d20 (6) + 4 = 10

1d20 (4) + 2 = 6

1d20 (4) + 2 = 6

With Storm playing his lute, much of the control of the horse is left in Govath's less-than-capable hands. Many circles are ridden in before Govath gets the horse straightened out.

Cain is ready for an afternoon nap, and ends up doing little to help the situation, instead just enjoying the late afternoon sun from atop his new steed.

Ruggo puts in a valiant effort, but herding the stubborn beast alone is a difficult task.

No noticeable progress is made.

Cain speaks up to the others, "This is going to take all day at this rate ...".

Riding up alongside Al, he says, "Here, take the reigns, I'm going to try something.", as he dismounts the horse.

Walking over to Petunia, he pets her gently and offers some soothing words. Waiting for her to be semi distracted by whatever she finds interesting, he attempts to jump onto her back.

Petunia is definitely not a fan of this arrangement, and immediately begins attempting to buck Cain off.

1d20 (17) + 2 = 19

1d20 (7) + 1 = 8

1d20 (6) + 2 = 8

1d20 (13) + 4 = 17

Petunia bolts forward, darting this way and that, attempting to shake Cain off with no success. Big Al and the rest of you are careful to block the path backward, so that the cow can only run toward the ranch. You make good progress over the half-hour, making it back to the half-way mark.

1d20 (12) + 2 = 14

1d20 (12) + 1 = 13

1d20 (1) + 4 = 5

1d20 (5) + 2 = 7

The next half hour goes decidedly less smoothly. Ruggo begins nodding off in the late afternoon sun, his riding becoming sloppy and occasionally pushing Petunia off the trail. Storm is preoccupied with his lute-playing, but Govath manages to keep the horse relatively on track. Cain manages to continue holding on to the protesting cow, and Big Al manages to prevent it from getting too far off course. Another half-hour passes, and you find yourselves three-quarters of the way to the ranch. Only the home stretch remains.

Urging the horse up beside Petunia. "You are almost home Petunia, Al has more of those apple waiting for you, and this crazy human will get off your back" gesturing to Cain.

1d20 (14) + 1 = 15

1d20 (19) + 2 = 21

1d20 (16) + 4 = 20

1d20 (11) + 2 = 13

The thought of finally being finished with this task emboldens you all, and you strike forward with renewed confidence. Ruggo perks up and focuses. Cain holds on for dear life. Storm and Govath take firm control of their horse, and Big Al ensures everyone stays coordinated.

At long last, around dinner time, you arrive back at the ranch, guiding Petunia to a fenced-off field at Big Al's instructions. Everyone dismounts their respective animals, and Big Al removes his hat to wipe some sweat from his brow.

"Phew-wee, that sure took some doin', but she's home at last. And yeh've more than earned yer ridin' horses! I reckon they're pretty comfortable with yeh now, too.

Now what say I see what the orcs neglected in the cold cellar and try'n whip up a celebratory dinner? Yeh can rest at the farmhouse as long as yeh like, before makin' yer trip back to Leilon."

Cain stretches after dismounting from Petunia. "Now I can say I've tried almost anything.", he laughs while petting the cow.

"Food sounds great and I think we should spend another night here so we're fresh in the morning for the ride back."

The four of you head into the farmhouse, stretching and unwinding from a long, tedious day. Big Al returns from the cellar shortly with a couple of skinned and salted rabbits in one hand and a pouch in the other. He puts the pouch on a table in front of you, then goes about preparing your dinner.

"Thought since yeh came all the way teh Butterskull Ranch, yeh shouldn't leave without a little souvenir! One for each of yeh!"

Out of the pouch fall four small skulls - a little alarming at first, until you realize that each is intricately shaped out of butter. A thin layer of protective wax preserves their shape, and you realize that the wooden mold you saw Big Al pick up earlier must be used to fashion these.

These must be how Butterskull Ranch got its name.

Storm picks up one of the skulls and curiously inspects it.

"Where this one is from, butter is used to calm upset babies. There is a saying that goes something like "If the baby cries a river, rub butter on its teeth." ...or something along those lines."

He ponders on the words for a moment. "Though it does sound strange when translated to Common."

Storm puts one of the skulls in his pack. "You are lucky to have so much butter if you ever create offspring Alphonse. You will have a happy baby."

"Heh! I don't know 'bout offspring, but these turn a tidy profit for the ranch, n'gives me enough to enjoy my comfortable retirement. Lot'a the shops in nearby towns like teh get shipments of these'n sell 'em as novelty items."

In good time, your dinner is prepared, and the five of you sit down to a satisfying meal. Big Al affirms that you can stay in the ranch as long as you like, using the ranch hands' quarters, since it'll take him a few days to get some new ones hired.

After exchanging pleasantries, the four of you part ways with your gracious host and make your way to an early bed. You're conscious of the long journey that awaits you the next day, but grateful that you now have swift horses to make that journey upon.