Completely unphased by the sexually charged story he just heard, Glock wondered why some of his companions seem disgusted.

The shapeshifter winked at Glock, though. Perhaps he was a much dirtier man(?) than he let on.

Glock, though, was all about this shit. Oh yeah. Oh yeah.

Playing a seductive tune on his flute, he walked into the doorway, leaned against the wall and folded his arms, striking a tall mysterious (and sexy) stranger pose. Most of the rest of the group takes this opportunity to not be so bunched up.

Get the Flash Player to play this audio file:
Flute of the Dancing Satyr
Glock to saunter up AC-5
Cal to Z-5
Gordy to AA-4

Tipping up the brim of his hat, he looks at the woman and raises an eyebrow.

Words of Friendship

"Baby, you don't know the half of it. You sound like my kinda gal."

"You think those organics can treat you right? Nothing has the staying power of solid steel. You and me, we can make beautiful music together. Everything you've just told me doesn't even compare to my conquests. But together, together we can be the stuff of legends."

"What do you say baby? You and me? You want a piece of this steely man meat? You won't be disappointed. You know you want it. You help us make these guys see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I'll make you see stars."

Diplomacy Check
Try to make her side with us in exchange for robosex.
13 + 5 + 12 = 30

How you gonna act

Helga seems to consider Glock's offer for a moment, then looks around the battle skeptically.

"Y'already got us both outnumbered and outmaneuvered, and now you reckon you need even more help? All hat and no cattle, I think. Take your beatin' like a man, mister. Next time you decide you want to negotiate with somebody I recommend you do it before you start throwing the dismembered limbs of their friends around like so much laundry. Your fancy hat'll only take you so far.

Erik, you're no use in the shape you're in. Go take Gorg off his leash before you have a fainting spell."

Seemingly alarmed by the suggestion, Scout B nonetheless staggers toward the double doors at the north of the room and shoves them open before painfully limping down the hall.

"May you die before he gnaws on you overmuch, brother!", Scout A shouts, moving to block the corridor and buy Erik enough time for his task.

:savepoint:Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Duergar Scouts 13

Being a man of few words, Gheth takes Helga's last proclamation as his cue.

Lance of Faith on Helga with bonus to Garrmondo (8 damage)
Block door/sit on hands :(

The theurge's sordid tale didn't faze Cal in the very least. Why, when he was an unruly teenaged changeling, he used to hang around with a crowd of equally unruly shapeshifters. Every Friday night was a mad orgy of drunkenness and debauchery, the likes of which would have burned Gordok and Garrmondo's ears clean off. Most of the time they recruited easy pickings from the local tavern, but sometimes it was more fun to wait under a lightly-trafficked bridge and ambush a couple of sweet things.

Cal wasn't picky about gender or species. Having the ability to change forms in the blink of an eye pretty much means copulation can be experienced in all of its myriad forms, and with all possible combinations, phalluses, and orifices of every size and shape. But he's never done it with a sentient machine... yet.

The robot doesn't seem to be affected by the wench's recollections in the very least, and Cal can tell the bard is quite the experienced Lothario (but do machines have gender?). He turns to the robot and winks.

From the corner of his eye, Cal catches the wounded Scout attempt to run to safety. He would normally sympathize, having done it countless times before. This time? He isn't eager to face any reinforcements, and this "Gorg" sounds quite like an unruly pet troll or orc. Cal casually strolls past the fleeing Scout's friend (who, like him, was wielding a ranged weapon that can't take advantage of attacks of opportunity), designates him as his latest quarry, and gives him a new nose piercing via an arrowhead.

Careful attack on Derik (Scout A). 12 + 12 + 1 (prime shot) = 25 vs 18, HIT.
Derik is damaged for 10+2+4 = 16 HP.

Strolling past the wounded scout, Cal cooly lets another attack loose on the fleeing duergar. Cal spares his life and hits him in a non-vital (if you don't wish to procreate, that is) spot, but the duergar drops down as if he was dead anyway. Insurance, Cal thinks, in case his more savage companions kill Helga in their enthusiasm. They could always kill Erik later.

Move to T-5. Spend Action Point, careful attack on Erik (Scout B). 19 + 12 + 1 (prime shot) = 32 vs 18, HIT.
Erik is damaged for 9+2=11 HP.
Shoot to wound.

Cal coolly turns to face Derik, his eyebrows arched in dramatic fashion. "There's yet time to save your life you know. Don't give it up for some lost cause. Why don't you consider dropping your weapon and sitting this one out? It might be mutually beneficial. Once we clear out this fortress of defenders, who's to say anything if we leave quietly and let you take over as lord and master? Why, it might have been you who drove us ruffians off."

"Decide quickly," Cal says as he gestures to the horde. "My lackeys are bloodthirsty. You will not have a second chance."

http://upload.jetsam.org/images//battle09.png

I'd appreciate some melee help on Erik. That way we can block off this escape route and more quickly concentrate on the rest of the combatants.
This chart is now updated after Helga's move.

Darting down the corridor, Cal snaps off two arrows — dropping Erik in his tracks and giving Derek a stern warning not to try the same gambit. Though he's stopped the duergar from opening the northern doors, there's a significant amount of audible noise behind them now that he's closer. Something heavy is stomping around and smashing into the walls — while a guttural voice (for whom Common is clearly a second language at best) evidently tries to reason with the massive thing.

Scout B killed wounded badly and unable to continue fighting

"Gorg, please listen more better! Duergar need you but, see, you not need them! You has nothing to lose but your chains! Gorg, why you eat my sergeant? That not nice. If you hurt one of us you hurt all of us, Gorg! It hurt me when you messily devour us. It hurt me right here."

Judging from the agonized scream that follows, Gorg is not easily persuaded. Briefly relaying the situation behind the door to the rest of the party, Cal makes another attempt to appeal to the scout's rational self-interest.

Derek gives Cal the sort of incredulous stare one reserves for either the amazingly brilliant or the marvelously stupid, yanking the arrow out of his nose and flinging it into the ravine.

"Yes, that's a fascinating proposal you have there. But sadly, I only make business deals on days in which I haven't been shot in the face. I'm sorry, but I cannot budge on this matter, and even if you were to stop shooting me in the face I'm all booked up for the next week."

Erik lets out an agonized howl as Cal introduces him to his new life as a eunuch, and Helga rolls her eyes. "Damned fool can't even get hisself killed right. As for the rest of you, what in the hells do you even—"

Helga's inquiry is cut off by a sudden burp. A horrible smell wafts by Gheth; a mixture of stale beer, old cheese, and... he sniffs, curious. Is that lutefisk?

"Damn, that don't taste as good on the way up. Now, like I was sayin'—"

The rest of the noxious gas in Helga's system pours out in a massive belch: a roiling cloud of stench that seems to curdle the very air it passes. Gheth (suspecting what was to come) shields himself behind the door and avoids the worst of it. Some aren't so lucky. Overloaded with particulates, Glock's visual receptors shut down for temporary maintenance until the blockage can be cleared. The armadillo just issues a pitiful squeak. Garrmondo catches a whiff himself, but he doesn't seem to be much bothered by it; you spend a few long nights guarding the drunk tanks and you get pretty used to the godawful things that'll pour out of a body.

Shift to AB 0, Vile Fumes centered on AB -5

14 damage to Glock and Gordok; both bloodied, both blinded until after Helga's next turn.

:savepoint: Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Duergar Scout 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11

Gordok would have to do something nasty to get all of this odor off him later. For now he'd heal up while staggering about.

Wild Shape - blind halfling
Second Wind
Move to Y -7

Ortak sidles past Gheth's position in the doorway, visibly frustrated. He makes another wild swing at the cleric's head and catches a whole lotta air.

A single tear trickles down his face.

Shift to AA-3
Switch on Infernal Anger again
Swing an' a miss

:savepoint: Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Duergar Scout 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8

With a small whirring noise, a small compartment opened above Glock's visual input devices. Little windshield wipers extended and began to wipe away the burp chunks he just got covered in.

Move to AA-7
Warforged Resolve
+5 Temp HP. +5 Real HP.

"Aww, sweetycakes, you don't know what you're missing. You be missin' out on some of this action, yo'"

Although Glock can't really see, he turns in the rough direction of the little lady and starts thrusting his pelvis back and forward fast enough to create some serious motion blur. Anyone looking at him sees a swishy steel crotch moving at near the speed of sound.

"IMAGINE WHAT YOU'RE MISSING. That's what you get for settling for tiny dwarf penis though, I guess."

Vicious Mockery on Helga.
Blinded be damned. Need a 16+. COME ON BIG MONEY BIG MONEY NO WHAMMIES NO WHAMMIES. STOP. LETS DO THIS.
Ahahaha. WHAT
16 + 7 - 5 = 18 = 18. Hit.
5 + 5 = 10 damage.
Helga takes -2 to hit penalty.

Glancing towards the hallway, Glock yells out "Doorman, it me, Secret Orc! That you? What you situation? How many Tango? How many friendly?"

Helga bloodied by Vicious Mockery

Ortak swings wildly as Garrmondo rushes past him, but his aim is no better than before. His head's been swimming for what seems like hours — and, in retrospect, he can't recall how he came to be in Helga's quarters in the first place. He feels violated.

The surviving scout makes a mad rush for the north door, only to have the doors fly open in his face — flung apart by the orcish doorman in an attempted flight from the next room. The doorman's formerly-pristine chainmail hangs off his shoulders in tatters, and he shoves his way past Cal, fleeing to the south. He's bleeding badly.

Shrugging, the scout hits Cal with a hammer. That's what they pay him for.

10 damage to Cal

Beyond the doorway stands a massive greenish-yellow hulk, its skin covered in a smattering of scaly plates. Spotting Cal, the beast issues a terrible roar and throws aside the mangled orc corpse it clutches in its massive fist — discarding it alongside two other similarly-ruined orcs behind it.

Relatively safe for the moment behind the temptingly squishy prey that Cal represents, the doorman spots Glock and takes a moment to relay the situation to the blinded bard.

"They has—"

The doorman pauses for a moment, catching his breath.

"— a cave troll."

Stats!

Troll AC 20 Fort 22 Ref 20 Will 18

:savepoint: Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Gorg 25, Doorman 19, Duergar Scout 13

Cal Elle soars effortlessly through the sky, faster than a speeding arrow, more powerful than any four-horse carriage. Shell-shocked minions below could only gawk. It's a bird! It's a dragon, no! It's —

— a changeling getting smacked on the head by a duergar who apparently wielded a crossbow in one arm, and a rather painful hammer in the other. That was, of course, after said changeling soiled his pants after stuff happened and he laid eyes on Gorg. If Cal didn't know any better, he swore the world was trying to kill them all.

Snapped out of the reverie, Cal instinctively recoils from the danger, and is blasted back ten feet, almost stumbling over Erik's prone form.

Yield ground, shift to V-5

Feeling faint from the prospect of facing two enemies without meatshields, Cal decides that a tactical retreat is in order. Yelling out "TROLLLLLLLL" in an oddly falsetto voice, he breaks into a sprint, narrowly misses hitting the friendly(?) orc that rushed out the door, and carefully avoided the reach of the rather ugly-looking duergar guard engaging with the Dragon. Cal pauses long enough gawk to fire off a shot at an emaciated hag that almost looked familiar. Perhaps she was a looker, but that would have been decades ago. It's probably some wench Cal saw at a local brothel, but never bedded. He's not quite that desperate.

Careful attack on Helga: 3+12-5=10 vs 19-2=17, miss.

He misses wildly. The changeling's eyes briefly flashed a shade of dark crimson as he suppresses an unholy oath that almost left his lips. Fortunately the errant arrow bounces off the wooden door, and gently drops to a stop behind Helga. It's still in one piece. Cal mutters a prayer of thanks to the Traveler.

The ranger terminates his ignominious retreat at the bridge, and pauses to catch his breath. With his heart beating wildly in his chest, Cal racks his brain for any important scrap of information he has learned about trolls. There has to be some reason why he was so scared of them.

Take a route that doesn't trigger Ortak's AoO, pausing at AB-5 to attack, and stopping at AD-5.
Nature Check on Gorg. Take 10, for a total check value of 19.

http://upload.jetsam.org/images//battlea14.png

Why am Pang trying to kill us? :(
Anyway, we have Helga's max potential HP (since she's bloodied after taking a 10HP hit at 25 damage, it can go anywhere from 26*2=52 to 35*2=70). I'm assuming the guard has about the same as she does. I don't know Gorg's HP, maybe Skills can scan it?
Pang says four orcs hit Gorg once. Gorg has AC of 20, and orcs have +10 to AC, which means they hit him for rolls of 10 and over. The lowest possible damage roll of 2d4+4 is 6, with critical of 12. Each orc has 10 chances (hit roll of 10 to 19) to produce average damage of 9 [(6+12)/2) and 1 chance to hit critical for 12 HP. So the average damage output per orc is 9.27 {[(9x10)+12]/11} for estimated damage of 37 hp. Damage ranges from 24 (all 1s) to 48 (all crits). I am in great probability overthinking this, aren't I Pang?
This chart is updated to after Glock's turn.

His vision was all a blur but his ears had heard doors open and what was this? A foul yet sweet smell hit Gordok's nose. Could it be? Oh could it?! Answering his pleads the door man drew near to make his proclamation. Gordy's heart began to beat faster at his words. Joy of joys they has a cave troll! Leaning against the wall Gordok smiles brightly as tears begin to form in his eyes. They has a cave troll.

There was a scrabbling sound from around the corner, and one of the orcs from their earlier battle flew into the room breathlessly, gibbering about a troll in the next room.

Gheth's experience with trolls being relatively limited, he wonders why a round belly and pointed, colorful hairstyle could instill so much fear into one being. Shrugging to himself, he continues his diligent spearwork.

Shift to AA -1
Righteous brand on Helga with bonus to Garrmondo (8 damage)
Read up on this whole shifting thing

Grimly, Gheth continues to poke holes in the frumpy woman. If she didn't want to be murdered, she should have led a life which led her to be less objectionable. Good manners are their own reward.

Practically springing into the air as the troll smashes through the doorway, Cal retreats back to the bridge at top speed — trying to recall what he'd learned about trolls in his travels.

Helga backs into the corner, waving her hammer around threateningly. "Jes' figures. I get warmed up and y'all scatter all over the place. Worst guests I ever did have. Well, here's a goin' away present. Never say I didn't give y'nothin."

She flings her hammer toward the west end of the room, and the weapon begins to glow an angry red mid-flight. The weapon smashes into the floor near Glock's feet, sending a shower of red-hot stones into the air as the hammer blasts a crater in the floor. The bard pays it little mind, being vaguely aware of something warm in the vicinity but not quite able to make it out. He will only realize what occurred much later when he discovers the large holes burned through his jaunty hat.

Cal (already in a state of great agitation at the appearance of the troll) flings himself to the ground as he spots the hammer flying in his general direction. Going prone, he reasoned, was the solution to most of life's problems. Only moments later he realized the folly in his plan: the bridge was made of stone, and stone hurts when you throw yourself at it.

Brimstone Hail centered at AB-6
8 fire damage to Cal (knocked prone)

:savepoint:Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Gorg 25, Doorman 19, Duergar Scout 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Helga 11 (but probably dead)

Oh the pungent stench was drifting more steadily. Wiping his tears aside Gordok was able to see! Bless you, cave troll. For you have given the miracle of sight to this halfling. However, basking in such pleasant fumes would have to wait. A witch must die tonight.

Move to AB -5
Eldritch Blast Helga
Warlock's Curse Ortak

Helga is hit for 13 damage! Ortak is cursed~ and receives 1 damage

Gordok fires a blast of spooky evil at the nasty old woman, and she gratifyingly crumples against the wall like a toppled house of cards. She didn't crumple quite as well as the last house of cards he had toppled, of course, but not every adventure can end with being chased from the Sembian Hobbyists Tourney of Champions by an angry mob. Ah, the salad days. No, wait. That was last month.

Despite his confusion, Ortak reacts badly to the death of his recent paramour. Tucking his hammer into his belt, he lunges at Gordok and grabs the halfling around the neck.

Gordok grabbed and uh I didn't think this through all the way

:savepoint: Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Gorg 25, Doorman 19, Duergar Scout 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8

Glock's pelvis was still shaking. Faster....faster....faster.
It just don't stop, son.

It wasn't long before the guard could hear a high pitched noise emanating from Glock's crotch.

Instead of a whirr though, it was just Glock saying "OH YEAH BABY OH YEAH DON'T STOP" as fast as he could.

The steel blur kept undulating until there was a sudden EXPLOSIVE NOISE.

As it broke the speed barrier, the robo-nether regions came to a sudden halt. The rapidly expanding shockwave flew out and hit Ortak right in the face.

Vicious Mockery on Ortak
13 + 7 = 20 > 15. Hit.
6 + 5 = 11 damage.
Ortak takes the same -2 to hit penalty. You know the drill.

The guard looked a little stunned. He may have the little one by the neck, but the sheer awesomeness he just saw blanked him to the point of forgetting what came next.

As Glock sauntered past the guard, congratulating himself on still havin' it, he could hear Ortak murmer "Helga would have been dead either way. This is probably for the best."

Move to AA-2.

Cal is slowly rethinking his philosophy of going prone as a form of self-defense. Although the witch's hammer missed him by a mile, the introduction of hard stone to his face was ... unpleasant at the very least.

Fortunately, his nose seems to have taken the worst of the impact. Cal may have a glass jaw, but he has an iron nose. A lifetime of getting punched in the face does that to a body.

Still, one more nasty fall like that, and Cal's certain his blood will be on the ground. And his nose will probably need the warhammer treatment just to put back into shape.

Cal is certainly frightened by trolls. The last time he encountered one, it didn't turn out well. While his friend De'h Nikalis survived the encounter, he was never the same after that. Deh's injury was rather injurious for a dwarf - he had to sit to whiz for the rest of his life. The injury was of course for a changeling who could regenerate such an unimportant body part. No, what was truly frightening was the creature's immune system, which seemingly regrows vital limbs and organs every time De'h carves one out. Cal was to learn much later, when safely ensconced in a library, that trolls were vulnerable to either fire or acid.

All this thought about body parts reminded Cal of the delicious Rundarr stew still cooking in the kitchen. Trolls love to eat, don't they? Maybe the prospect of a nice hot meal will cause Gorg to be more hospitable to the team!

Cal can't speak Giant, more's the pity. But maybe his teammates can. Gotta keep up the orc-speak for doorman's sake though. It wouldn't do to have the orc turn on the party, after all.

"Orc orc! I has nice hot meal in kitchen! Anyone has Giant speak? Tell Gorg offer! If he no fight us, we has nice hot yumyums to give him!"

Garrmondo sidles next to the distracted guard, taking careful aim at the troll down the corridor. The difficult trajectory necessitated by guiding the missile past the two dwarves in his way makes a direct hit on Gorg nearly impossible, but after passing through the torch mounted on the wall the bottle arcs down between the troll's legs and smashes on the floor behind him. The little blaze barely seems to harm the troll, but he recoils from it nonetheless.

2 fire damage to Gorg

Doorman looks at Cal with a harried expression: he has no idea where this lunatic has come from or where he got the idea that trolls could be reasoned with. "You crazy. He eat 5 of us already! He not hungry no more! Just mad!"

The troll turns his dim gaze on the discussion, trying to spot the chattering pair amongst the crowd of bodies in the area. Raising one of his massive clawed hands, he points a gnarled finger in Cal's general direction and speaks one of the dozen or so words of Common his handlers have been able to teach him.

"NOISY!"

Gorg stomps down the hall, shoving the duergar scout aside and scooping up the terrified doorman. Gordok can't entirely make out the angry roars Gorg is shouting in the orc's face (Giant is a complex language at the best of times), but the troll seems to be slightly more coherent when conversing in his native tongue.

"—FAULT THINGS ARE SO NOISY! GORG MAKE EXAMPLE OF YOU!"

11 damage to Doorman; grabbed

Gorg squeezes the doorman in his fist, eliciting an agonized wail, and waves the injured orc as though brandishing a club.

"THIS IS NEW WEAPON."

:savepoint: Doorman 19, Duergar Scout 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Gordok 10, Ortak 8, Glock 4, Garrmondo 3, Gorg 25

Amid struggle with Ortak Gordok relays a translation to his beloved troll in Giant.

"Hey Gorg! Changething over here has nice hot meal for you in kitchen if Gorg choose not fight us. Gordok no trust changething though. His cooking terrible. Gordok have better idea and what Gordok heard about changething you just love Gordok idea lots. Gordok let you have Gorg way with this changething that can turn into anything and anyone, oh, and Gorg continue being awesome, yeah? Yeah! Give Gordok nod if Gorg like Gordok idea."

The troll stares dimly at Gordok chattering away, his sour features softening slightly as his fanged maw turns up into a little smile. He makes no reply to Gordok's proposal, but the halfling's very presence seems to amuse him.

"YOU ARE SO SMALL. IS FUNNY TO ME."

Exchange Major for second Move, and try escape twice.
And fail twice

Doorman struggles against the troll, annoyed that he's pretty much instant fucked with zero options immediately.

"ME UNLUCKY" he thinks.

Despite the fact that he can't do much unless people stop talking and start helping him, Doorman senses he's pretty screwed and begins to tell Glock as much information as he's got regarding this place, including enemy and friendly numbers, what sort of resistance they might be further up against, if there's any sort of back door (where he came from in the first place), and any other relevant information that passes through his orc brain.

He also tries to relay the name of his orc-wife so that should Glock have a chance, he can tell her he died in glorious battle, fighting the good fight.

"SECRET ORC. ME NOT LONG FOR CRUEL WORLD. ME TELL YOU STUFF SO YOU CONTINUE BRAVE CAUSE. LET ME TELL YOU STORY...."

"NOW, THIS STORY ABOUT HOW
ME ORC LIFE GOT FLIP UPSIDE DOWN
ME TAKE MINUTE, YOU JUST SIT IN MIRE
ME TELL YOU HOW ME DOORMAN FOR PLACE THUNDERSPIRE

WEST ORCOVANIA BORN, RAISED
ON KILLING FIELD WHERE ME SPEND MOST OF DAYS
KILLIN' STABBIN' STEALIN' ALL COOL
PILLAGE SOME STUFF NEAR BLOOD POOL
WHEN FEW ELF WHO NO GOOD
START KILLIN ORC IN NEIGHBOURHOOD
KILLED MANY ELF, AFTER FILLED WITH IRE
COMMANDER GRINNED, SAID PROMOTED TO THUNDERSPIRE

ME WALK FOR WEEK, MOUNTAIN SOON NEAR
CAVE SIGN SAID ORC AND THERE HEAD ON SPEAR
ME ASSUME WORKPLACE MAY BE DIRE
BUT ME FORGOT IT, ME START WORK AT THUNDERSPIRE

ME WALK UP TO BOSS IN CAVE REAL LATE
SAID "NEW BOSS WHAT ME FATE?"
HE POINTED TO BIG DOOR
NEXT TO DIM FIRE
THAT HOW ME START WORK AT THUNDERSPIRE"

Story time!~ This was Gordok's most favorite~ time~ of day.

"Gorg! Look orc say it story time! That Gordok most favorite time of day!"