|
Gordok puzzled over the book, but understood even less of it than Garrmondo had.
And also there are a couple of windows on either side of the fireplace, which were totally there the whole time. |
Normally Glock would question why it takes two idiots that long to figure out a simple novel.
But then he remembered correctly. Halflings can't read. Maybe the book is MAGIC. Sealed by a spell of anti-idiot! Time for his ROBOT POWERS once again. Arcana check |
Examining the book cautiously, Glock determines that it is, indeed, in some way magical.
He can't read it either, though. |
"Aha, see? Totally had this shit pegged, boys."
"It's fucking useless though. Written in some odd language. Back page says I must speak something called "français", whatever the fuck that is." So not as to appear stupid, however, Glock's gotta cover his ass. "You are in LUCK though. My massive robot brain knows everything there is to know about this language. It used to be spoken by a long dead tribe of smelly hairy men who were, unfortunately, as tall as elves, and as stinky as these dead grey dwarves. Foul langauge for an even fouler people." "For the safety of all concerned, we must destroy it." And with that, Glock takes the book and throws it out the nearest window, which he could have sworn wasn't there just a moment ago. |
Book + Robot = Windows?
Cal's mind has become more boggled than ever before. Might as well get started on siege preparations while the rest are standing around baffled at some book. Though He was admittedly impressed at how the intelligent robot deciphered the gobbledygook, he scoffed at book learning of all kinds. Plunder Delic's remaining 12 trail rations, 2 sunrods, waterskin, and 2 torches. Loop a length of (Delic's) rope around Gordok's table and make secure knots. That should make it easier to carry. Delic's light shield may come in handy, but kleptomaniac Cal is reasonably sure he is close to his encumbrance limit. Maybe the unshielded Halfling can use that. |
A window! Gordok knew what to do. Off his pants went and with a great backwards flying leap with his posterior leading the charge he greets the sharpshooters with two squishy targets sitting neatly on the windowsill. His buttocks firmly in place he grabs the sides of his rump and begins to speak nonsense.
"Hello over yonder! My name's Frank and today I will sing you a song of the sparrow and the delicious strawberry jam. But first I will need to tell you how I got here! You see one day a cloud rained down on the land of pumpkins locusts of unusual sizes. But the locusts did not enjoy pumpkins so they flew south until they found something more to their liking. Baked ham! The fuzzy eldergillies of the pinetree kingdom were having a great crop of pigs, pigs, and more pigs so they all decided to go on a pic-nic. That's when the locusts struck first. But they forgot their napkins back at the land of pumpkins. Baked ham can be a troublesome affair. Always have napkins. So once they had retrieved their napkins they returned to find that all the baked ham and eldergillies had fled down the rapids with old riverboat captain Uncle Russelpants-McGee. Saddened by the disappearance of baked ham the locusts turned twice and died on the spot. Hundreds of years later that spot became the location of a famous city full of casinos and whorehouses and all kinds of fun stuff. But all who enter this city begin to crave baked ham if they stay for more than a week. As a result the eldergillies always had a steady demand for pigs, pigs, and more pigs. Now what you have to understand about eldergillies is that to most people they are invisible and require the use of a portal in order to communicate. Unfortunately, the portal isn't exactly a pleasant one and come a prude age later most of the eldergillies were wiped out. I am the last of the eldergillies. My voice now reaches you through this halfling's anus, and now that you know my story I will sing my song. Right after I clear my throat. Gordok releases something evil out the side of the building. This is very unpleasant for everyone. |
Getting antsy about his comrades' apparent willingness to just stand around and release flatulence at kitchen windows that face nothing but rocks, Cal drags the table to the trophy room, stands behind a window he swore he never saw before, and carefully studies the terrain beyond.
"Will one of you either toss a duergar corpse on the bridge, or poke the door open with a 20-foot stick, or otherwise do anything loud and/or offensive so I can tell where these bolts are coming from?" Cal tries to see where the sharpshooters are coming from while one of the G-Men do something to trigger a response. Pay special attention to any monsters that may be skulking beside the totally illuminated windows on the other side of the ravine. Perception Check: First minute: 4 + 9 = 13 Second minute: 18 + 9 = 27 Map pliss? |
Glock obliges the shapeshifter and throws random useless shit out the door.
Some of the spare meat from the food closet, Rundarr's feet (sans shoes), the dead guard, a chair, a doorknob, and an ale keg are all tossed out onto the bridge in attempts to elicit a response from the other side. |
Cal assembles the team at the trophy room, and briefs the troops.
"Very well, everyone. Fortune favors the bold. Let's get into formation. The enemy is located [straight ahead / at three o'clock ]. We'll rush the bridge. If momentum can't carry us past the door, the human should be able to break it with his strength." "If you want to make any preparatory blinding attacks, now's the time." "On 'Charge'. One... two... " The formation: Garr up front, hoisting right table leg on right shoulder. Right hand covers right flank with his shield. Glock besides Garr, hoisting left table leg on left shoulder. Right hand is covering Garr's head with his shield tilted upwards. Gheth at the back of Garr, hoisting right table leg on right shoulder. Right hand covers right flank with his shield. Cal behind Glock, hoisting left table leg on left shoulder. Right hand is covering Gheth's head with Delic's shield tilted upwards. Gordok is perched on Gheth's shoulder, holding up both shields for stability. Everyone is ducking. Looks kinda like this: http://upload.jetsam.org/images/Chaaarge!.png Rationale We can run seven squares in a move action. Double-move should bring us to the other side within six seconds (the length of a single round) assuming the bridge is no longer than 70 feet (14 squares). |
Glock flings the probably-worthless old book out the totally-there the-whole-time window, while Cal ties harnesses to the dining table for use as an mobile bulwark. Gathering in the trophy room (where there also are some windows, for sure), the group makes last-minute preparations to assault the third fortress.
Gordok, with the sharpest eyes in the group, gazes out the windows to look on the doors at the opposite end of the bridge. The large doors are slightly ajar, and some contraption is parked between them. It looks much like an oversized crossbow resting on a tripod. Maybe this is the "artillery" the fleeing duergar referred to. Filled with contempt for their cowardice, Gordok heaves himself up upon the windowsill and moons the contraption. He is promptly shot in the ass. The artillery may look like crossbows, but the ammunition is large enough to be a spear. Gordok quickly gets down from the window. 8 damage to Gordok Short on patience, Glock flings open the bridge doors and throws a bunch of crap on the bridge — more as an apparent act of provocation that anything else. Soon the first few yards of the bridge are cluttered with garbage. The enemy does fire a spear into the guard's carcass before they realize what they're shooting, but determining their position is sort of redundant after Gordok's recently (ahem) triangulation. Crouching behind the table and hefting Gordok onto their shoulders, the party charges down the bridge. The doors on the opposite end of the bridge are flung open, and two of the massive crossbow-like contraptions open fire on the bridge. The two surviving scouts from the last battle stand behind it, firing with their crossbows as well. At least three guards with hammers stand behind them, waiting for G-Unit to make it across the bridge (if they do). None of them resemble the guard that escaped before, at least from this distance. Putting their shoulders to the table, the party covers most of the bridge in a single extended lunge (slowed slightly by having to step over all the crap Glock threw in their way). A few yards short of the goal, the table suffers a massive crack down the middle — it's a pincushion, and it absorbs one more spearshot before snapping completely in half. G-Unit has a little further to go to fight their way off the bridge. Not much of the interior of the fort ahead can be seen from this vantage, but there's another set of double doors behind the cluster of guards. As the door snaps apart, Glock takes a spear in the chest. This is not quite so lethal for him as it would be for his meatsack companions, but it's a terrible fashion accessory. As he rips it out, he sees the human to his right bleeding from a similar wound. Next time try having better-shielded fluid distribution mechanisms, chump! Glock notices the arbalesters are firing entirely on their own — nobody's actually operating them. Automatons! A pity they seemed less inclined to talk than the orcs had. 10 damage to Glock Critical Hit! 14 damage to Garrmondo The scouts continue firing on the front line with their crossbows, scoring a serious wound on Garrmondo even as he rips the spear from his shoulder. 10 seconds into the battle and the human's not looking so good. In retrospect it might have been better to not let the newcomer do all the battle planning. 12 damage to Garrmondo (bloodied) Stats! Arbalesters AC 16 Fortitude 15 Reflex 17 Will 15 Guards AC 20 Fortitude 17 Reflex 15 Will 15 Scouts AC 18 Fortitude 18 Reflex 16 Will 16 :savepoint: Initiative: Gheth 13, Cal 11, Gordok 10, Duergar Guards 9, Garrmondo 8, Glock 4, Arbalesters 19, Duergar Scouts 13 |
Gheth's nap had been nice. After waking, he found himself daydreaming, studying the underside of the table he was carrying and considering its many mysteries, as well as the possibility of writing a treatise some time in the future on the phosphorescent mushrooms of the Underdark, but he was now interrupted by fluid spray from his compatriots. Well, if that was how they were going to be about it.
His blood was up now, and he charged the blob of enemies heedlessly, with a resounding decree shouted across the closing distance. "And not one of you is getting into my thank yous, you ugly bearded bastards!" As he closes the final gap, feet pounding stone and a wild look in his eye, his bloodlust is complicated somewhat by the desire to sneeze. Well, clearly the owners of that table had treated it poorly if it had that much mold in it. And unfortunately for the dwarves, they happen to be in front of him when he has both hands occupied and a preternatural affinity for cold. He'd not stand on manners after they shot his friends with a ballista. "EEEEECHHHH.....CHEEEEEEEWW" Gheth sniffs. "And someone start working on that gods-blasted door! How about you, sleeves?" Move to AC -4 Dragon's Gesundheit so as to hit all but back Guard (damages: 5, 8, X, 4, 6, 3) Divine Fortune on Scout B so as to hit with 16 Healing Word on Garrmondo |
Well that certainly shut Frank up. Yeah, it would be a while until the eldergilly would get a chance to sing again. A failed tank ride later and the halfling is starting to feel a little butthurt about this situation, so Gordok moves up towards the broken table. On his way passing by Glock he whispers something to his metal friend. His eyes light up and a mischievous ghoulish smile appears across his blocky features. This would be most entertaining.
Gordy reaches his destination and then... http://www.thegond.com/gff/dnd/armadillotime.jpg Ready Tundra Wind Move to AE - 4 Wild Shape armadillo |
Oh, the best laid plans of men and changelings! They don't make tables the way they used to, Cal rues.
Cal takes cover behind his robotic meatshield, designates Guard C as his quarry, takes Careful Aim at him, and magically shoots through the tin man. 11 - 2 (no line of fire) + 12 = 21, vs. 20, hit. Damage = 1 + 2 + 7 = Fuck you damage dice _____________ http://upload.jetsam.org/images//battle02.png If there are any errors or anything, do tell me! |
"Look out!" shouts the guard in the rear. "His terrifying dragon's breath shall sear the very flesh from—"
EEEEECHHHH.....CHEEEEEEEWW And so it was that Trenchfoot Bronzeboots, Acting Intermediary Guard Captain of Outpost Thunderspire, immediately abandoned any illusions of a long career as a ranking officer. A scant few hours after his emergency promotion, and already he found himself dripping with a vile slime, cold and clammy to the touch. He stared with dismay as the "dragon's breath" oozed down the front of his chainmail. So this is how it ends, he mused. Like a used kerchief. As he ponders life's many indignities, there is a thwip! from the back of the enemy lines and Trenchfoot finds that he has developed an intriguing new facial piercing. He bites down on the arrow shaft that protrudes through his cheek, spitting the broken ammunition on the floor. Tastes like bile. Somebody tried to poison this thing and failed badly at it. Sighing heavily, he raps on the wall next to him, speaking in an exaggeratedly loud voice as though to get the attention of someone who might be... distracted. "Madam Theurge, we have a situation here with a—" He eyes Gheth with a mixture of wariness and disgust. "a dragon. Whatever help you and your consort can offer would be greatly appreciated, O Mistress Of The Dark Arts. Especially considering your new friend there is supposed to be on duty." Rolling his eyes, Trenchfoot urges his guards forward. "Don't just stand there dripping, idiots! Protect the artillery! You're replaceable, they aren't!" And with that the guards wade into melee, charging past the ranks of scouts and arbalesters. The first guard to charge in seems almost to ignore the obvious threat Gheth represents, staring in bafflement at the little armored ball that had appeared in the middle of the bridge for no obvious reason. Experimentally, he hits it with a hammer. It squeaks. Good enough. 9 damage to Gordok Whipping around Gheth to flank him, the second guard neatly bonks the cleric upside the head. Trenchfoot seems to consider following suit, but elects instead to wipe the back of his hand on Gheth's shiny chainmail. Then he spits on it, for good measure. 7 damage to Gheth :savepoint:Garrmondo 8, Glock 4, Arbalesters 19, Duergar Scouts 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Gordok 10, Duergar Guards 9 |
Cal is getting more dismayed by the minute at the way the defenders dismantled his intricately-devised plan. Not only did his brilliant idea to use Rundarr's guts to poison the arrowheads fail to be effective, but at the way the Duergar commander so nonchalantly destroyed his precious arrow disgusted Cal. Those things aren't cheap, you dirty little gnome. The way you chew through them, you'd think arrow shafts grew on trees!
He looks pleadingly at the metal man in front of him, hoping, wishing, praying that he has something brilliant planned. "Please!"' Edit: Situation after Colonel Skills' post, and assuming Garr delays until after Skills plays. We should be expecting a naked Theurge (whatever it is), and one more duergar to join the battle. At the least. http://upload.jetsam.org/images//battle04.png |
this is how it's done kid
Stupid dragon. He's in the way of COMBO ATTACK. WHAT A FOOL. However, he notices one of the guards swing a little wide when aiming at the cleric. Glock whips out a little whistle and blows on it. No one can hear it except dogs and dragons, and the cleric perks up and runs away from the invisible sound a little bit, while making some sort of odd barking noise. The dragon only got a few feet before regaining his civilized demeanor, but that's all that was needed anyway. The guard next to him seems puzzled and follows him as he does this. Virtue of Cunning Gheth shifted to AB-6 Advantage of Cunning Guard C to AC-5 Fuck yeah, a football. Glock loved football, if only because he was some seriously pro shit. The organics he played with didn't like him too much though. Why, he remembered a time when he used to play with some local school children. In particular, he recalled one time where he kicked a ball so hard that when one of the 8 year old kids who "wanted to play the big friendly robot" took it in the face, the force of the impact blew the child apart into hundreds of slimey gibblets. Ok, so he played ONE GAME before getting chased out of town. Bah, technicalities. Regardless, it's time to show the world who's boss. "Fuck you world! I'm RoboPelé" Picking up the oddly scaley ball sitting next to him, Glock punts it... http://colonelskills.belkanairforce....hind-enemy.jpg Shift to AE-5 Punt Acer's round, scaley aerodynamic ass to AA-3 KAPOW As soon as the ball lands, it unfolds into a somewhat flustered armadillo. Turns out it was only flustered beca... Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: ...indigestion. Right. Acer's readied Tundra Wind Hi Pang Blast 3. Aimed at AB-5 through AD-3 15 + 6 = 21 > 17. Guard A hit. 5 + 6 = 11 < 17. Guard B miss. 12 + 6 = 18 > 17. Guard C hit. 14 + 6 = 20 > 15. Arbalester A hit. 20 [CRITICAL BITCHES] + 6 = 26 > 15. Arbalester A MAJOR FUCKED UP. TABLE OF DAMAGE (even though it's useless. Holy shit though some good rolls) GUARD A takes 12 + 4 = 16 damage GUARD C takes 10 + 4 = 14 damage Arbalester A takes 12 + 4 = 16 damage Arbalester B takes BAM 12 + 4 + 2 = 18 damage like a little bitch. TABLE OF SHIFTS Guard A SHIFTED TO AE-3. OFF BRIDGE. DEAD Guard C SHIFTED TO AD-6. OFF BRIDGE. DEAD Arbalester A SHIFTED TO AC-5 --> AD-6. OFF BRIDGE. DEAD Arbalester B SHIFTED TO AC-4 --> AD-3. OFF BRIDGE. DEAD And all the sudden EVERYTHING GOES TO HELL. The force of that thing was massive enough that everyone and their cat in the nearby vicinity went flying. Even the spear chuckers got nothing on this. They may have been on wheels, but they might as well been made of cardboard, as they took off and flew off the bridge, smashing on top of the guards that fell off only moments before. Only one guard withstood the small pig like thing's...emanations. And it only lucked out because it had a broken nose with which it could not smell out of. |
Though the arbalesters fall to their deaths with a quiet dignity, the duergar scream in terror as they plummet into the inky darkness of the ravine.
Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence. Curiously enough, the only thing that goes through the mind of the arbalesters as they fall is "Oh no, not again". Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the arbalesters thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now. Gordok, for his part, has an unfortunate boot-shaped bruise in his side. Totally worth it, though. 4 damage to Gordok from robot kick. The scouts flee to the far end of the room, bereft of their meatshields and terrified of the small gaseous ball that has annihilated their comrades. "Kill it, brother! Before it does the same to us!" The scouts pepper the little armadillo with bolts, but their hands are too shaky to hit much of anything. The door next to Gordok swings open. A haggard and leathery middle-aged duergar woman peers out on the ridiculous scene, still struggling to get her left arm through the sleeve of her robe. "What's all the damn racket out—" She glances at the spattering of blood on the bridge and the total absence of the guards, and immediately assesses the situation. "Well, shit on a platter. I told those boys they oughta put some handrails on there, but noooooo. Ortak, get your damn boots on and get out here, we got ourselves a situation." Stats! Helga (Duergar Theurge): AC 19 Fortitude 16 Reflex 16 Will 18 Ortak: as ordinary Duergar Guard :savepoint: Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Duergar Scouts 13 |
From outnumbered to nigh victorious, and it was all thanks to the druid! And the automaton footballer, but Cal was sure the halfling deserves most of the credit.
Cal gains a new respect for the little guy, but worries for his welfare. The creature, disgusting as he might be with his bodily function attacks, is a tactical genius who must be preserved. Cal's not quite ready to take on the duergar wench who seems to be having a post-orgasmic glow, and the panting duergar guard right behind her. Let the dragon handle the hag, he could belch in her face or something. At the least slam the door in her face. (Or both, incidentally). Cal contents himself with providing a bit of cover from the other direction for the halfling. It's the least a cowardly chameleon could do, right? Cal elbows past the human, and rushes right next to the battered and almost-bloodied armadillo. Quickly marking a nearby Scout, he lets loose upon the duergar. Cal hopes the evil dwarf doesn't chew up the ammunition this time. Run to AA-4, Hunter's Quarry on Scout B. Shadow Wasp Strike. 18 + 10 = 28 vs 20 (hit) 8 + 7 + 8 = 23 damage Accursed damage dice. Pang, can you provide defense stats on Helga and Ortak? Can we assume Ortak has regular Duergar guard stats of AC:20 Fort:17 Ref:15 Will:15? http://upload.jetsam.org/images//battle07.png Updated to after Acerbandit's move. |
In a spectacular display, a whole squad of defenders was blown out over the abyss, screaming doom as they tumbled free. Were Gheth not a cleric, he might revel in the sudden explosive carnage. But they were committed now to this fight, and as it was, he could only think one thing:
Woe betide any malcontents that would dare to face Team Gas Problems. Move to AA -2 Healing Strike on Helga with surge to Gordy Pray for the souls of the belch-ridden |
"My goodness, Derek. I have been shot."
"So you have, Erik. How dreadful this is." "Indeed, Derek. As it is in our nature to shoot others, it is quite grim that we ourselves should be shot to death." "Quite so, Erik. Ironic, don't you think?" "Brother, it is not unlike being offered a free ride — for example, in one of Menzoberranzan's famous drider carriages — when one has already bartered one's firstborn into servitude for the privilege of said ride." "The important thing, Erik, is that my son forgave me once we had burned down the carriage house and slain all within." "Quite." Scout B bloodied Not being a terribly selective man, Gheth spots the first arguably female creature he's seen in some time and hastily darts over to get his spear wet. She doesn't much seem to appreciate his ministrations. Story of his life. "My goodness, last time I saw so many men lookin' to play with little old me, must have been a good 15 years ago. Me an' my best friend Lurleen — she was a blonde, don'tcha know, not a lick of sense in her head — and we was just out carousing one night when wouldn't you know it but we run right into a band of doppelgangers livin' under Dead Owl Bridge. That was one hell of a time right there, I tell you what. It all started gettin' real weird when —" Helga goes on and on at great length, telling a repulsive tale of epic debauchery that crosses every line of morality, common sense, and species distinction. When at long last she reaches the conclusion of her tale (which concludes with her being left for dead by an exhausted incubus who'd run out of patience), much of G-Unit is almost paralyzed by a sense of horrified disgust. Wave of Despair centered on AC-4 9 damage to Gordok & Garrmondo; both are slowed & dazed (single save ends both) While Gheth is still trying to process the several anatomical impossibilities he's just heard about, Helga squeezes past him into the corridor. :savepoint: Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Duergar Scouts 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11 |
It had been a while since Gordok had felt this ill. He'd certainly heard worse but he had come off a bit dizzy after his landing and that must have made him more susceptible to words.
Although nauseated this armadillo didn't appreciate being turned into a hedgehog and exacted a volley of its own. Eldritch Blast Scout B Saving throw 19 damage to Scout B and successful saving throw~ |
Scout B pulls a small monogrammed handkerchief from his breast pocket, coughing up a spray of blood.
"Derek, it seems that the tiny animal has surely doomed me. My life is nearly at an end." "Erik, my brother, when you have gone, might I be granted possession of your most extensive collection of rare portraiture from the far east?" "You refer, Derek, to the erotic woodcuts I had imported from Kara-Tur." "Yes, precisely that." "Alas, dear brother, I have already willed those items to a nephew of mine." "How unfortunate." Ortak finishes fastening his trousers and sets about trying to dislodge the dragon from the doorway. Gheth scarcely notices the duergar thwacking away at him. Trigger Infernal Anger Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Duergar Scouts 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8 |
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