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Once More Into The Depths (GFF D&D Adventure 8)
What Has Gone Before
Spoiler:
Life in Lamid isn't glamorous, but it's easy enough; retaining the status of "hero" in a town of a couple thousand isn't a tall order. Gheth knits a broken leg, Garrmondo gets a cat out of a tree, and the gifts roll in. Until, of course, the excavation of the Lamid Amphitheatre is complete. Discovering beneath the rubble none of the horrible hordes they anticipated, but a mere three foulspawn corpses, the high esteem in which G-Unit is held soon begins to dissipate. While certainly fighting off three monsters was still an act of bravery, it was nothing the guard could not have eventually handled. Making things worse, news of Freeport's fate eventually wends its way to Lamid — and from there, it doesn't take the Lamidans long to put two and two together. They begin to hatch a scheme to get these freeloading foreigners out of their town without a confrontation. One chilly day, Radcliff (still favoring his injured hand) comes to G-Unit's room in the barracks with terrible news. "Friends! We must hurry! The mayor's staff of office has been stolen by some vile hoodlum! We must hurry to retrieve it, ere his insipid half-brother Gary seeks to reinstate his claim!" The group quickly gathers their supplies and sets out with Radcliff into the woods. Along the way they stop at a small boarding house on the outskirts of town, inducting two more into their search party. An eladrin and a half-orc had arrived in Lamid a week or two after G-Unit's own momentous arrival, and were largely subsisting on odd jobs in the same way. A mere ten minute's jog into the surrounding woodlands, Cal spots a sinister silhouette atop a nearby hill. The newly-assembled team of five quickly dash to the top of the rise. The mayor's staff of office lay abandoned on the hilltop when they reached the summit, with the culprit sprinting away into the dark forest. Considering the job done, Cal reaches down to scoop up the staff — only to find it quite stuck to the rocks surrounding it. Shoving Cal aside impatiently, the half-orc grabs hold of the staff and gives it a mighty pull — and the hilltop collapses beneath them. T'was not so long ago that Lamid was a town under constant seige by the ogres and giants that prowled the land, and massive deadfall traps like this dotted the woods. It had been discovered not long after Lamid's founding that a massive labyrinth was buried in the earth beneath the forests there, and dumping such dangerous monsters into the depths seemed the best way to deal with them. What happened to them down there was unknown, and the Lamidans were quite happy to remain ignorant on this point. Anything that went into the pits never bothered any Lamidan ever again; that was the important thing. The five of them fell for what seemed like hours before smashing one-by-one into a conveniently-placed bed at the bottom of the seemingly-endless chasm. The dusty old mattress does little to absorb the shock of the fall, but at least any broken bones or other major wounds are avoided. Coughing violently from the dust kicked into the air from their erstwhile landing, G-Unit and their new acquaintances take stock of their surroundings. The top of the pit is still visible as a twinkling light far above them, but even between the five of them they didn't have a tenth of the rope they'd need to scale such a height. They seem to have fallen down an impossibly deep well, though there's no sign that any water ever flowed here. Evidently they'd landed in some ancient oversized bedchamber; aside from the moldering bed they'd fallen on, a rotting desk stands against the opposite wall. A cold, long-abandoned fireplace squats on the south wall, with a narrow chimney that promptly merges with the stone ceiling and vanishes. Wooden doors are accessible on the north and south walls, and there looks to be a third door on the east wall, if some skinny individual can squeeze past the hearth. On the other side of the south wall a high-pitched voice can be heard babbling away; none of them understand the language Enough light filters down from above to make all these things visible, but not in any significant detail; it's quite gloomy down in the pit. Come nightfall it'll be black as pitch. |
This place looks rather dreary. A little bit of illumination would be most helpful!
Stuff dusty bedsheet into fireplace, pour oil into it, and set it on fire with flint and steel. I hear voices coming from the South. Even if I can't place the language (hopefully it's goblinoid and not deep speech), I wonder if it's possible to identify the age or gender of the speaker. I try this by quietly tiptoeing to the door and pressing my ear against it. |
Glenn tries not to panic when he comes to the realization that he is trapped in a hole with four complete strangers. Closing his eyes, he remembers the most important lesson he learned while growing up. He needed to give them a chance, at least.
Glenn rolls his eyes as the halfling almost trips trying to move quietly toward the south door. He could tell that it knew what it was doing, but clearly it had forgotten which foot was its right foot and which foot was its left. Knowing that his eyes are better attuned to the dim light than most, Glenn takes a quick glance around the room, looking for anything which might betray the existence of a secret door or the like. These sorts of labrynths often had those sorts of things, at least in his experience. Glenn suddenly felt a pang of homesickness in his gut. She had always been better at this sort of thing. |
Cal stuffs a dusty old sheet into the fireplace and quickly ignites it. The ancient bedsheet catches alight instantly, merrily burning away — and swiftly filling the room with billows of filthy grey smoke. Coughing his lungs out, Cal still attempts to stealthily listen at the south door. With his ear pressed to the door, Cal can hear a second lower-pitched voice as well as the initial shrieking that initially attracted his curiosity. Though he can't speak Elven, Cal's encountered enough elves in his time to recognize the low, dulcet tones of their men. This one sounds somewhat angry, although it's impossible for Cal to guess what the elf might be upset about. The nature of the first speaker remains a mystery — judging from the exceedingly high pitch and general excitability, Cal guesses it might be a small child. The door feels a little colder to the touch than the rest of the room, but not enough to cause discomfort. Luckily, the two strangers in the next room seemed too busy arguing with each other to notice his wheezing or general incompetence.
The bedsheets burn away quite swiftly indeed, leaving the fireplace empty of anything but soot — wait, what was that? Searching around the room for anything less than obvious, Glenn squints against the harsh smoke. In the thick haze, the changeling almost looked half his height somehow. Still, Glenn was sure he spotted something glinting in the fireplace. Looking closer, he makes a discovery — the sudden heat after such a long rest had cracked open some of the old chimney stones, and whomever dwelt in this room long ago had hidden some of their precious wealth in those very stones! Tearing apart the entire chimney might reveal more treasure, but Glenn questioned if it was worth their time. For the moment, nothing more than a simple fire had added a fine amethyst and a lovely statuette to their collective coffers. Further, the back wall of the fireplace now looked fairly brittle — Glenn could see some faint light passing through from the room on the opposite side. This might be a more cunning way to get the drop on whomever might be in there, if such a thing was warranted. Glenn discovers an amethyst (value 100GP) and an ivory statuette depicting a centaur (value 100 GP), as well a secret door (of sorts). |
Elven eh? Well, language isn't one of my strong suits. Ironic for a changeling that can shapeshift into virtually any race, and whose people spend more time in other 'skins' than their own. I guess I should have paid attention during school.
In any case, I motioned to the Eladrin to listen at the door. "Friend Eladrin." I whispered. "Might you be able to determine by accent alone whether we might be facing elves, eladrin, or drow? Might be useful for how we choose to approach them." I have grown extremely curious about the staff yanked out by the half-orc, so I give it a thorough examination. After which, I pour a pint of oil into my empty flask, and take 30 arrows from the little wagon to put into my quiver. I watch with dismay as the brash warlord pushes the door open. I take a deep breath, and stepped back behind the smokescreen to obscure my presence. That way, if hostilities break out I should have immediate combat advantage from concealment. Stealth Check to hide: 13 + 1 + 8 = 22 vs. each (potential) enemy's passive perception |
Puyet rubs his head, shaking away the impact of the fall, and begins to blame himself for the whole situation. After a small consideration, though, he is bright enough to realize this whole was meant for them to fall into, and the ill will was definitely not directed toward him. Whatever resentment was held against the others he might soon be harboring as well.
Brashly, the small man approaches him and attempts to take the staff from him in order to examine it. Puyet pushes him back. If he wanted to look it over, at this moment, he would have to do so hanging gutted from the end of it. Briefly examine staff Not in the mood to sit any longer in the smoky room, Puyet enters the door to the south. Somebody must know the way out of here. |
Gheth shrugs off the fall after finding no injuries but he takes a quick inventory of the desk, wondering if perhaps anything on it or in it might be a clue to the room's inhabitants-- including who might be in the next room.
As he speaks in low tones to the rest of the party, he takes surreptitious glances at the two newcomers, taking stock and wondering how well they'll all stand up to hardened enemies. "First priority for us should be information. Let's see if we can get these other fellas to tell us where we should be headed next. We'll get things done much better if we have a goal in mind." After searching the desk, Gheth goes to the door to test if it is locked or not. If something of note found in desk, stop and read If not, test door |
Puyet takes a look at the supposedly-valuable staff that got him into this mess. While it had looked nice enough half-buried in the twigs concealing the trap above, the ruse didn't stand up to close inspection. All the "gems" set into the staff were just cut glass, roughly hammered into what otherwise looked to be a hastily modified shepherd's crook. Of course, it's not like he was in a position to call the Lamidans out on their poor craftsmanship — as if he wouldn't have much more visceral concepts to discuss the next time he met them anyway. Might as well let the changeling have the worthless thing, if it weren't so much fun to watch him pout.
Gheth pokes around the brittle old desk, seeing if anything of worth might be left behind. There's an open ledger on top, but the book is practically a fossil — trying to turn the pages would probably only get Gheth a handful of dust. It's not like he could read with all this smoke in his eyes anyway. The open pages look to have a little diagram of the fireplace and some tepid poetry. Gheth sets the book aside — he doubts the fireplace holds any more secrets than they've already found. Other than more crumbling papers, Gheth finds nothing else in the desk aside from a handsome set of old ivory knucklebones. Garrmondo takes position at the fireplace, and Gheth cautiously tests the door for locks; the handle turns smoothly. Puyet strides forward, throwing open the door to confront whomever lies beyond. The room to the south has no obvious function; four battered pillars stand in the corners of the room but no furnishings or decoration remain if ever they existed. The chamber is dusted here and there with what look to be snowdrifts. An unusually burly elf squats next to what looks like a goblin with bluish skin, both of them hungrily tearing chunks from the bodies of two unfortunate gnolls. Puyet spots another exit to the south, and takes special notice of the room's ceiling: the columns supporting it were clearly failing at their job. The ceiling was bowing in toward the floor, and a smattering of rubble was already strewn around from an apparent previous partial collapse. The elf immediately notices Puyet's intrusion, and nudges the goblin with an elbow. The blue goblin looks up from his meal in alarm, screeching something incomprehensible at Puyet in his strange tongue. The elf takes it upon himself to translate, his command of Common dulled either by underground living or simple idiocy. "Freeze!" The elf's hand hovers over a handaxe tied at his waist. "We don't want to have to put you on ice. Be cool." |
"While the premise of chilled orc brains seems appealing, I'm afraid I wouldn't have enough of them to satisy either of you. Perhaps if you could just inform us of a route to the surface, we can apologize for interrupting your.........*akward glance at gnolls* meal and be out of your way. We wouldn't want to melt your pretty snow, that would be awful."
In case of combat, ready Battlefront Shift for myself, shifting two south, Flattening Charge and Furious Assault @ elf. Umm...also fuck this staff where's my hamma?! |
I relax after seeing no particularly vicious enemy in the next room.
Moving to the door to my left, I cautiously try the knob for a quick look-see. |
Glenn comes out of his melancholic trance for long enough to realize that while the two in the other room, while not an immediate threat, were not necessarily going to remain so long after their current... meal was finished. Quietly picking up the amethyst from the fireplace and slipping it into his pocket, Glenn moves to the south door to translate anything of interest for the rest, while trying to remain inconspicuous. Glenn would rather avoid a fight if it was possible, but he makes ready anyway.
Hopefully someone else would take the initiative and talk to the other strangers. Glenn was never good with words. Move next to Gheth, hand over crossbow |
The elf attempts to confer with his goblin friend, and Glenn listens in.
"You ever hear of something called a 'surface'?" "I went to the surface once. It's a horrible place, I was hungry all the time. Down here they just throw food down the hole and it walks in to meet you. I only met one guy who ever went back to the surface on purpose, and he had magical flying shoes. Why would you want shoes with wings on, we asked him, and now look. He's on the surface, where nobody feeds you. Serves him right." The elf makes a few other inquiries but the goblin shrugs him off, gnawing on a leg bone. The beefy elf looks helplessly at Puyet and shrugs. "He won't tell me where your surface is. But you definitely can't go up from here, so it must be down. Or east, or west, or something. Maybe you ate the surface. I usually find if you wait a couple days that takes care of itself." The pair don't seem particularly hostile, provided one doesn't interrupt their meal — but neither are they especially helpful. Glenn considers giving his crossbow to the dragonborn for no obvious reason but then reconsiders, since some of his best tricks rely on it. The smoke was making him woozy. With the duo in the south room dismissed as any kind of immediate threat, Cal squeezes past the fireplace to try the east door. Sadly, he doesn't learn much — the door is hinged to swing into the fireplace room, not out, and with the fireplace in the way he can't even open it far enough for a peek inside. Standing near the door, Cal can hear quiet footsteps moving around in the next room, like someone pacing back and forth. Someone pretty small, judging by the volume. |
All my attempts at diplomacy thus far have failed spectacularly. Although I briefly entertain the notion of befriending the odd couple by offering to cook the gnolls for them (I have lots of oil), or offer them a smoke, or some good wine, I decide to let the warlord handle diplomacy.
After stuffing the centaur statue into my pack, I shadow the human fighter and wait and see what happens. He is, after all, the senior adventurer and de facto leader of the group. Move to 1sq behind Garr. Keep staying 1 square behind Garr. Pang, I think you may have misread what Hawkeye wrote. He means "hand" as a noun (put his hand over his crossbow, readying it). |
Gheth inhales sharply with the idea of saying something heroic, and fully expecting that bloody, vicious combat would come of it. The warlord seems to have solved the problem before it started, however, so Gheth pretends to yawn instead. Noting a few stares from the newcomers, he takes it up a notch.
"OH MAN," he proclaims a little louder than necessary. "These dungeons make me SO sleepy." Nailed it, he thinks. "Anyways, we'll just be passing through to the other side if you guys are okay with that. Not that your kobold doesn't look delicious." Gheth makes some preliminary shuffles towards the opposite end of the room. Diplomacy check |
I remain attached to the fighter, shadowing him 5 feet behind.
As we pass through the cold room, I gave it a critical look, looking up, down, left, and right. How is it possible for ice to form here? Is it emanating from that little goblin? |
Not at all interested in the diversions these characters are involving themselves in, and still supremely irritated at the lousy mess they managed to suck himself and the other fellow into, Puyet advances through the room to southern door. He'd heard of underground dungeons before, but never been to one. It was obviously not meant to exited with ease, so he would have to venture about until a means of escape was found, and the only escape the two jokesters in this room provided was of the mental kind.
South door, go. Regard for caution, no go |
Gheth announces their intent to pass through to the south, and the elf seems to shrug it off.
"You go where you want. Could probably eat you, but not need more food now. Come back later, eat you then maybe." All of the party save Glenn move for the south door. Cal gives the room a cautious once-over, curious about the origin of the frost and snow. Indeed, the snow seems heaviest near the little goblin, and is gradually melting in the areas of the room furthest from him. No wonder he survives so well down here; he has a built-in method of preserving his food. Who ever heard of a goblin with elemental abilities, though? Whatever force created the genasi, Cal supposed, was not especially picky. Despite Cal's caution, he's too busy thinking about the goblin to examine the area around the south door. The impetuous half-orc shoves the rest of the group aside, making for the door at top speed. The rest hurry to follow him, and all four are caught unawares when the "flagstones" in front of the door swing open underneath their weight. Luckily, all four of them are quick enough on their feet to quickly dodge back to steadier footing before they fall into the pit below. That was a close one! Puyet sidles around the pit, walking around the southeast pillar to reach the door. With the pit dodged, the door gives him no trouble and opens into a corridor which continues about 15 feet to the south before diverging to the east and west. |
"WHO IN THE BLOODY WORLD WOULD PUT A TRAP DOOR THERE!?!" He would have cursed his god if he had any one religion in particular worth blaspheming at the moment, but alas, the life of the barracks was nothing but one foul syllable after another. One couldn't tell a prayer from a fart.
The architect of this place was mad, that is for sure. Puyet considers returning to the room to bash in the skull of that elf who failed to mention this, but it was clear he was barely aware of his own being, let alone his surroundings. If they came across them again, Puyet would be sure to stuff his gut full of iron. With that said, Puyet waited for the rest of the crowd. Now knowing this dungeon to be as unpredictable as it had just shown itself to be, expendables should definitely be leading the way. Puyet also ruminated on the local history, wondering if he knew anything about this particular dungeon. |
Glenn picks up the ivory statue, then moves silently through through the room, giving the two cannibals plenty of space. He moves next to Puyet, looking around the next room.
Two more days of no internet, then i should be back |
The trap was certainly a sinister, close call! Traveler be praised for my high reflexes! Note to self: procure a ten-foot pole for future use in this dungeon.
I seemed to have forgotten my little wagon, so I returned to the fireplace room to get it. In the process, I picked up a set of beautiful ivory jackstones by the desk - now all I need is a bouncy ball! I also espied a dirty but potentially valuable antique book. Both are added to the wagon. I returned to my colleagues, steering a wide berth around the pit trap. I press myself against the right wall of the 15-foot corridor, looking cautiously to the left and to the right. |
Puyet grumbles at the seemingly arbitrary and unfair placement of the dungeon defenses, pondering what kind of mad bastard would bother to trap a door that apparently led nowhere important. Still, this sort of thing was typical of the tales he used to hear back at the garrison; the arch-mages and dragons who made these filthy pits their homes seemed more concerned with petty cruelty than mounting any organized defense against invaders. Maybe once he'd seen more of the place he can begin to narrow down whether this was one of the land's more infamous dungeons or just another dwarf mine gone wrong. You'd think they'd stop digging so deep after so many incidents, but no.
History check: 17. Puyet doesn't remember anything relevant, at least not yet. Cal cautiously inches to the split in the corridor, looking east and west. To the east, the hallway travels another 30 feet before turning back to the north. To the west, the corridor dead-ends in a small circular chamber. A massive strongbox, nearly ten feet square, dominates the little room. A ring of white powder surrounds the oversized box. |
Ooh, a nice treasure box! I retreat by five feet, and check the floor I'm standing on, the ceiling directly above me, and the walls on both sides of me for signs of any traps.
If I am satisfied that everything is in order, I tell the half-orc of my discovery. Surely he is interested in opening it! |
Gheth also moves into the south corridor and walks to the eastern corner, scouting for other possible dangers. He had to admit, he was enticed by the thought of the strongbox, though. A large box could hold a very large treasure.
Or a predatory gelatinous cube. But really, who did that anymore? Cubes were so last autumn. |
Glenn rounds the corner and spots the oversized box. While usually such a thing would be sorely tempting, it really didn't make any sense. Why here? Usually one kept treasures close at hand, where, even if one had no intention of using them, one could still get at them in case of an emergency. Perhaps they'd fallen into an ancient castle, buried hundreds of years ago by the ground around it, and abandoned hundreds of years before then. If so, then the strongbox would likely hold quite a considerable fortune if it hadn't been opened by thieves before their arrival.
Glenn proceeds to check for traps in the hallway. He knew that the changeling had just finished doing so, but if his eyes were as good as his stealth then Glenn knew that he should probably double check. |
Our fearless leader attempts to trick a frost goblin. It doesn't seem like the goblin's going to fall for it. :(
No matter. The strongbox needs punishing, and I'm the changeling for the job. From my position right next to where the fighter was, I load up my longbow and shoot at the evil chest. Twin Strike on chest with Kruthik Teeth arrows. Both have ropes tied to their shafts. This is so exciting! I wonder what happens next! I haven't been to many dungeons before, but I try to recall the stories I heard to ascertain the purpose of this strangely well-built fortress. Dungeoneering: 12 + 5 = 17 Care to give it a shot, Skex? |
Cal and Glenn both give the corridor a careful examination, but find nothing particularly suspicious other than the unlikely box itself.
Gheth wanders over the east, curious about what lies around the bend. Around the corner, the corridor travels about 15 feet further to the north before terminating at a wooden door. Some flickering light is visible under the door, and Gheth hears... music? Lute with harp accompaniment, sounds like; a man and a woman singing something about "the baddest man in the whole damned town". The elf looks up from his meal, staring blankly at Garrmondo. "Box is not food. I try to eat once, only hurt teeth. Clank clank crunch." Cal fires two arrows into the strongbox, with the predictable result that the box doesn't really care. Cal then attempts to hide from the box, and is successful: the box doesn't appear to notice him. Cal doesn't actually have any rope in his inventory. Having fallen through a hole in the ceiling before nearly plummeting into another pit, Cal declares the dungeon to be "well-built". But so far it doesn't have any apparent purpose other than the unfortunate use the Lamidans have put it to. A crazy goblin and a giant box don't compose enough information for Cal to do much in the way of cross-referencing. Lunatics and treasure chests were the norm for this sort of thing, or so he'd heard. Perhaps once he'd run into something less generic he can begin to whittle down the possibilities. |
Naturally I had appropriated the fighter's rope before firing my arrows. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. That's odd though, if I don't have any rope, then why does my Standard Adventurer's kit weigh so much? Oh well, probably my imagination.
If a kruthik arrow tied to a rope can support the weight of a huge natural beast like a roc, think how much weight two of these can support! I tug at the ropes experimentally, and hand some lengths over to the rest of the party. The chalk outline looks suspiciously suspicious; if we can't go to the strong box, then strong box will come over to us. That outline. I can't stop thinking about it. I wonder if it means anything significant. If it is supposed to be a death trap. My abilities come from a purely martial source, and I have barely any feel for the arcane. But... but... I swear I have seen one of these before. Think, Cal, think! Arcana check: 20 (woohoo!) + 2 = 22 All this thinking has swollen my bladder. Excusing myself, I go into a secluded corner and let everything go into an empty flask. As my experience in Hallowfield showed, bodily fluids are effective against magical effects; perhaps I can bottle it up and throw it at the chalk outline, dissolving it. |
Cal calls to mind every single scrap of arcane knowledge he has accumulated over his travels, and determines that the box probably isn't magical at all; he doesn't sense any magical energies in the vicinity, nor is the box emitting glowing lights or hovering or anything like that. Still, he's sure he's seen a box before. It's suspicious. Boxes are inherently suspicious. Why weren't they spheres, instead? Or pyramids? It's a legitimate question.
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Glenn is growing tired of all this standing and not moving. He decides to walk over to the box knock on it to try to determine if it is full or hollow, doing so without stepping inside the white chalk circle.
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I stand by and wait as the rogue bravely examines the strong box. I grip my urine flask bomb tightly. Maybe if he moves away, I can throw this into the chalk outline and negate any magic it might be doing.
But, if the team wishes for a less messy solution, there is always the rope which we could use to reel in the strong box towards us, bypassing the suspicious circle entirely. I am not strong enough, but maybe Puyet, Gheth, and Garr are. |
Puyet grumbles at the group. "What IS so fascinating about this box? There cannot possibly be anything useful in it. If there ever was, it's long gone. This is the rule about public commodities, men. Haven't any of you ever wondered why there's never any corn husk to wipe your sweaty shitholes with when you go to the outhouse? 'Tis nature. Let us go. If we don't, I'll demand double salary from you buffoons. And when you don't pay, I'll just sell you for frozen steaks to the fat elf."
Go to new door. Everybody......follows me >=( |
The half-orc mutters something about outhouses and salaries (I didn't know we get paid), but I'm much more fascinated at the box.
Reasoning that rogues have better thievery skills than rangers, I lend Glenn my thieves' tools for use in disarming or opening the box. |
Glenn carefully leans over the circle of powder and gives the box a sharp rap with his knuckles. It produces a dull thump like a full cask of ale. The box definitely isn't hollow.
While the Cal and Garrmondo look on Glenn's investigation with bated breath, Puyet grows tired of this charade. Piling on his contempt, he stalks away down the corridor to open the door with the musicians lurking beyond. The door swings open to reveal a cramped throne room. A heavily armored figure in a crimson cloak reclines on an obsidian throne, flanked by a pair of halflings in peasant garb. The halfling bards continue to play as Puyet brashly throws open the door, but grow visibly nervous, throwing glances at the armored figure on the throne, whose ornate helmet is so concealing that no facial features can be seen. Eight lanky goblins stand at attention along the room's east and west walls, carrying shields much too large for their small frames and a motley assortment of mismatched weapons. A fine red carpet leads from the doorway to the throne, and lit torches are mounted on the walls — making this the first well-lit room Puyet's seen since he landed down here. The goblin nearest Puyet on the east wall raises a rusty pickaxe in his direction, visibly shaking in fear. "Y-you there! How dare you invade the sanctum of the Invincible Overlord?! And without an invitation!" The halfling bards finish up their previous ballad, leaving the room in awkward silence. The "Overlord" leans forward in his throne expectantly. A goblin on the far end of the room nudges the male halfling with the lute, whispering. "Oy, play that one with the bird that don't cost nuffin on account of you can't tame it. It's bleedin' inspirational, it is." Meanwhile, the rest of the party remains transfixed by that amazing box. It's majestic. Think about it! There might be a dead cat inside. But then, there might not be. It's kind of mindblowing. |
Glenn decides to open the strongbox. This was taking too long. Using the tools the changeling had given him, he goes to work on the lock. If something went horribly wrong, then he would deal with it when it happened.
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Glenn ignores Puyet's insistent demand that he ignore the box. After all, if it were empty why would it still have a lock on it. Standing on tiptoe so as not to scuff the powdered circle, Glenn handles the picks somewhat awkwardly but still manages to pop the lock without much trouble. Triumphantly, the rogue flings the lid open.
Immediately, a thick tarry fluid begins to pour out of the chest, bubbling forth like a pot boiling over. Glenn nimbly steps back from the torrent of goop before it engulfs him, and the mass of black sludge splatters onto the floor in a heap. Even as the slime touches the stones underneath it, a quiet sizzling sound begins to issue from the floor and thin wisps of gray vapor waft up from beneath the slime. Was it burning away the rock? No wonder it'd been kept locked up. Glenn has no time to ponder the finer details of the slime's function, however. In a swift movement the bulk of the ooze seems to pick itself up off the floor and lunge at him! Surprise round. Black Pudding attacks with Slam; +9 vs Fortitude. 18 acid damage to Glenn, and 5 ongoing acid damage (save ends). Glenn issues an involuntary yelp, and the goblins all simultaneously turn their heads in that direction. "They've released the Great Devourer!" "Even though we put that circle there?" The circle doesn't actually do anything, though." "Yes, but it looks very suspicious!" The Overlord heaves himself up from his obsidian throne and, saying nothing, merely points toward the doorway before freeing a massive axe from straps on his back. The goblins all brandish their weapons, eyeing Puyet with a mixture of fear and courage. Enemy Defenses Black Pudding: AC 20, Fort 22, Ref 20, Will 18 Overlord: AC 22, Fort 19, Ref 15, Will 18 Goblin Minions: AC 16, Fort 12, Reflex 14, Will 11 :savepoint: Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Goblins 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Cal 9, Overlord 7, Garrmondo 7 |
Despite being a bad diplomat, it was obvious that whatever insolence the other adventurers had performed made this armored man very angry. Being a good tactician, Puyet knew that sometimes it was good to retreat. Besides, why should he take all the grief? Hit and run was a viable tactic in today's world.
Beat goblin's face in, retreat back to Gheth. |
What the hell is that pudding all about? I rack my brain for any scrap of knowledge that can be used for saving my fellow martial practitioner.
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Puyet draws his hammer and makes for the safety of the group, but not before taking a moment to smash the nearest goblin between the door and the wall. It was a stupid place to stand anyways, it was only a matter of time.
"He's dashed Ig's small, primitive brains all over the wall!" "Yes, but we're all getting throttled to death by the Overlord later on anyway, so it's really a bit of a blessing when you think on it." Puyet kills that goblin, and all his gobliny hopes and dreams. The black pudding, in contrast, lacks much of a personality and concerns itself primarily with trying to burn Glenn's face off. Glenn manages to twist out of the way just in time, letting his enchanted armor take the brunt of the blow. Magic leather was acid-proof, as it turned out. Handy. "Always the pessimist. Come on now, let's do this thing. Revenge! Revenge for Ig!" "Revenge? You're fucking daft, you know. I'm literally armed with a rusty spoon. Hold still there, you orcish bastard. You'll get such a welt." Both the pudding and the goblins accomplish nothing. Glenn takes 5 acid damage at the start of his turn. Cal relays the breadth of his knowledge regarding black puddings to the party. Here's what he knows:
Cal delivers this information while holding a jar full of his own piss, of course, which slightly undermines his aura of wisdom. :savepoint: Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Cal 9, Overlord 7, Garrmondo 7, Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Goblins 21 |
Glenn more or less rolls his eyes as he drops into a fighting stance. He was never good at diplomacy. Monsters, on the other hand, he knew how to deal with them. Taking a cautious step back from the goop, Glenn turns and fires a crossbow bolt through the goblin unfortunate enough to be at the front of the group.
shift to Z4 4 to hit with deft strike as part of deft strike, move to Y5 hit! 3+6=9 damage save vs. acid successful |
A quick salute with Gheth's spear seems to give heart back to the belabored rogue. He has to focus attention on his current problems for the time being, however.
Gheth had spent time in the inner city. He knew how the dockside thieves' guild worked, and that a lot of good goblins could go bad that way. He decides to take pity on the goblins. It feels almost criminal, he reasons, wiping out a bunch of reluctant combatants just because they happen to be brandishing tableware in your direction. Goblins are people too, after all! He calls out from behind his shield. "You all seem to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. That's understandable. We have our own problems, too! Like, for instance, this ooze that eats people! But we have a strict no-throttling policy in our camp, so maybe we can work something out!" He sees the beginning of a puddle forming around the one they called Ig. "Uh...we're really sorry for braining your frie-" A whizzing crossbow bolt interrupts him, plugging one of the goblins in the throat. "-nds. I'm sure they were both very good at....whatever it is you do." Bastion of Health on Glenn Diplomacy check as minor Ready action: Dragon's Breath so as to hit all goblins if hostile action |
The cleric means to parlay with the goblins. I wait and see how his attempt unfolds before acting. After all, I have all the intention to twin strike all goblins in sight, and it is simply impolite to do so while claiming friendship and apologizing for our newcomers' actions.
Delay until diplomacy attempt resolves. |
Staggering away from the pudding, Glenn casually puts a bolt through the head of one of the goblins menacing his new companions — only to wince when he realizes the dragonborn is trying to parley. He hides his crossbow behind his back at best he can and tries to look innocent, glancing about suspiciously for the "real shooter".
Gheth makes an extremely persuasive argument. "Wait, what? We can be not throttled?" "I hadn't considered that possibility, tell you the truth." "It's like a whole new world. A new, fantastic point of view." "Down with the Overlord! Up with... with... this guy we just met!" The goblin clumsily turn on their heels, brandishing their salad tongs and gardening trowels in the direction of the Overlord. The 6'5", fully armored Overlord. This will end well. Congratulations, Skex: enjoy your troupe of The Overlord says nothing, lunging into the corridor and leveling his axe at the nearest available goblin neck. The poor little bastard sprays blood all over the floor, and the remaining five goblins are only reassured of their cause. "Now you see the violence inherent in the system!" :savepoint: Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Goblins 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Overlord 7 |
Bravo! I do not know how he managed to do it, but the dragonborn managed to turn delicate enemies into fragile friends!
Knowing that the pudding has no eyes, I tiptoe my way next to my allies, moving very very stealthily indeed. Perhaps it can't see me if i move quietly! Now, to eliminate the Overlord preferably before he annihilates all our meatshields. I cock four arrows, two of them kruthik teeth and two of them ringed with poisonous duergar beard hair, and shoot them at him. Alas, one kruthik teeth arrow and one duergar arrow miss its mark, clattering off the creature's armor into the ground. Tiptoe to Z9 very quietly. Stealth roll = [13 + 1 (footpads) + 18 =] 32. Mark Overlord as Quarry. Two Fanged Strike vs. Overlord. Action Point: Twin Strike vs. Overlord. Overlord takes [ 6 + 10 + 7 + 7 + 6 = ] 36 HP damage. |
Cal fires a barrage of arrows at the Overlord, scoring a lucky strike with a quill arrow into the Overlord's face. He rips it out reflexively, noting the poisonous quill with a contemptuous grunt.
Overlord takes 2 ongoing poison damage, -2 to attacks (save ends) After contemplating the unlikelihood of retrieving, pouring, and igniting three flasks of oil from his pack without being interrupted, Garrmondo simply rushes past the friendly goblins to hack into their former leader. The sprint leaves his aim a little wobbly, alas, and his sword bounces harmlessly off the Overlord's chest. Zeph asked me for an update before taking his turn, hell if I know. :savepoint: Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Goblins 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Overlord 7, Cal 9, Garrmondo 7 |
Seeing the goblins were much less a threat than he might have supposed, and their now being slightly aligned toward our business, gave Puyet a bit more confidence. He muddled his way through the muck of overgrown rodents and decided to give the large man a wallop worth remembering as he was busy pulling elongated objects from the mouthpiece of his helmet. If he incited his rage enough, perhaps he'd let his guard down.
"Your mother's an ogre!!!" Attempt to provoke Overlord. Brash Assault w/ Furious Assault. Ready Vengeance is Mine if hit, closest ally makes basic attacks, should be Garrmondo |
Puyet charges in, shouting the most vile insult he can conjure — but the Overlord just shrugs and issues a small nod. Huh. Well, he was a pretty big guy. A swift series of parries and counter-maneuvers ensues, until the Overlord's axe bites deeply into Puyet's ribs. While the hulking foe pries his weapon free, Garrmondo spots an opening and scores a wound on the Overlord's lightly-protected neck.
Brash Assault: miss Overlord's counter-attack; Greataxe, +11 vs AC. 21 damage to Puyet Garrmondo's counter-counter-attack: 8 damage to Overlord; bloodied. The Pudding flings itself at Glenn in a perfunctory way, not really even getting close. Being locked in a box can really drain you of your enthusiasm for life. This pudding really needs to be more zesty. :savepoint: Gheth's Goblin Guerrillas 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Overlord 7, Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Puyet 25, Pudding 24 |
Feeling spirited after convincing the goblins to join them, Gheth gives a surly shout.
"Oi! Listen up, you rots! Let's keep that pudding back. And the next one of youse wot brings me the ear o' that warlord gets a silver farthing!" This seems to land with a cool reception among the goblins. Some just shake their heads disappointedly. One of them gives him a sidelong grimace before turning back to his kin. "Now you see wot we're dealing with? Prejudice from all sides, is what it is." A flurry of knowing nods follows. Even the pudding and the warlord look momentarily less menacing in their embarassment for the cleric. Gheth looks sheepish for a moment, and then adds "I'd, uh...really appreciate it?" W10 Goblin squeezes to U11 X10 Goblin moves to W10 and attacks Y10, Y11 Goblins move to Z5, X5 respectively |
Glenn, preoccupied with the pudding, was starting to wonder where the rest of his group had disappeared to. He understood from the shouting that there was some big guy in armor or something that they were fighting, but still. Glenn may be good, but he fights a lot better when there's someone else to distract whatever it is he's attacking.
At this point in his thoughts, two goblins run up on either side of him and confront the pudding. Predicting that this might get awkward fast, Glenn quickly puts away his crossbow. Nodding to the two goblins, Glenn draws his sword and hits the pudding while it's still distracted by the new arrival of the goblins. If it was even possible to distract a pudding. Fast hands - stow hand crossbow as free action draw sword Clever Strike, +13 to hit, +2 from combat advantage, need 5 to hit hit! 6 + 7 + 8 = 21 damage to pudding. Shift back one square |
Gheth was unsure if he wanted to hack the blob into smaller pieces just yet, but they could all do with a little more oomph, in his mind.
Move to Z10 Shield of Faith on all allies (+2 AC) |
Making a bold but ultimately flawed attempt to rally his troops, Gheth nevertheless sends them back into battle. One of them tries to slip through the doorway and get behind his former lord, but the Overlord is too quick for that — the goblin reaches his destination, but gets there without his head still attached. Another goblin's attempt to stab the Overlord with a broken broom handle is also a failure, also a somewhat less catastrophic one.
Seeing the goblin revolt basically stopped before it could really begin, the bards return to playing the Overlord's favorites. Scrambling through a jumbled heap of instruments scattered around the throne, the harpist switches to a drum while the lutanist fetches a battered brass horn. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: Glenn draws his sword, dealing a serious wound to the pudding. Unfortunately the pudding copes with serious wounds by expelling the injured parts of itself so that they can operate independently. With Glenn and the goblins blocking any forward progress, the puddingspawn is forced to manifest to the west of the larger pudding. It's not much of a threat for now. While the Overlord's armor is looking a little dented, Gheth decide it might be worthwhile having some of his new employees actually survive the battle. A glowing nimbus of energy covers Gheth and his allies, granting them flawless defense. Well, some of the time. Avandra was unpredictable at best. While Puyet had not really insulted the Overlord as much as accurately described his ancestry, the Overlord decides that a half-orc who goes around trying to make light of other people's parentage is probably too dumb to live. Despite Puyet's heavy armor and Gheth's blessing, the Overlord's mighty arms are strong enough to cleave into the half-orc's flesh. The Overlord laughs a hateful laugh and seems to stand a little straighter, as though his wounds no longer pain him. Worse, the poison from Cal's arrow seems not to bother him at all. Overlord has Resist 10 to poison. Warrior's Surge: Overlord makes a basic greataxe attack and spends a healing surge for 21 HP. 16 damage to Puyet (bloodied). Save vs. Stupid Useless Arrow: Success. Watchful Eye: Anyone beginning their turn adjacent to the Overlord is marked by him. Puddingspawn Defenses: AC 22, Fort 24, Ref 22, Will 20 (Minion) :savepoint: Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Gheth's Goblin Guerrillas 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Puddingspawn 11, Overlord 7 |
Whilst the big man in a metal hat seemed to shrug more at Puyet's comment than take it to heart, the reaction he was hoping for was delivered. Unfortunately, that reaction came right into his ribcage. Puyet grimaces, but takes the opportunity to show his fervor.
Puyet had never been in a province that had been at war, but had patrolled enough border skirmishes to cleave a few heads. With a quick nod to his ally, Puyet and Garr promptly double team the silly S&M amateur. Vengeance is Mine Both hit for 30 dmg +1 necrotic by Garr |
Healing surge value of 21 means HP value of 84 to 87. 36 + 8 + 30 - 21 = 53. So 31-34 HP left.
What a stubborn armored man. I shoot at him when he wasn't paying attention to me, willing him to keel over due to a bad case of unlife. :savepoint: Shadow Wasp strike on Overlord. 21 damage = Max 13 HP left! |
Nothing like mob mentality. Puyet breathed heavy with delight. Obviously one of his orcish traits. That feeling, invigorating him anew, inspired a bit of jealousy in him. He pushed Garrmondo aside and swung a harsh blow towards the enemy. Afterwards, he circled him to assess the damage he had inflicted.
Inspiring word on self. Regain 17 hp to 29 + 5 additional HP Wolf pack tactics, Garrmondo moves to X10 8 dmg to Overlord Shift to U11 |
Roaring in fury, Puyet swings his massive hammer. With a sickening crunch, the Overlord's chestplate is smashed in, leaving a dent the size of an ogre's fist in his armored torso. The armored man begins to shake violently, and impossibly bright light begins to issue from every tiny gap in his armor. The Overlord issues one final shout of impotent rage, and then — he's gone. The Overlord's heavy armor collapses in a heap on the floor, issuing streamers of foul-smelling steam. The jagged black helmet rolls aside; there's nobody in there. The few remaining goblins are clearly overjoyed to see their former tormentor so thoroughly annihilated.
Puyet strides past the ruined heap into the throne room (which has conveniently just gone up on the open market). The bards are obviously frustrated to see the situation change so rapidly, but they quickly switch gears to something which the half-orc might find more pleasing. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: Overlord killed. Surviving goblins rally; +1 to their attack rolls. The pudding doesn't even seem to consider the goblins as a speed bump. Easily smashing one aside with its bulk, it lunges forward and begins to engulf Glenn into its mass. Glenn struggles against the sticky goop. Slam: Z5 goblin killed. Action Point! Engulf: +9 vs Fortitude; 13 acid damage to Glenn (grabbed). :savepoint: Gheth's Goblin Guerrillas 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Puddingspawn 11, Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Puyet 25, Pudding 24 |
With a series of authoritative barks, Gheth orders the Goblins to move in, hopefully leaving room for his friends to wreak havoc of their own.
W10 Goblin to X5 Goblin Attack (miss) X11 Goblin to Y9 |
The goop rushes toward Glenn, but as it starts to seize him, something happens which the goop wasn't expecting. Glenn instantly disappears, reappearing not far from where he had been before, yet far enough that he was no longer standing in the way of the flood of black ooze. This may or may not have confused the pudding, but Glenn doubted that the pudding would remain clueless as to his location for long. Sticking sharp objects into things was usually a surefire way to give away one's position.
Fey escape in response to being grabbed (might this prevent the damage as well?), Fey step to X6 Clever Strike, need 5 to hit again 7 + 2 + 15 = 24 damage to pudding. |
That settled it. Rudest pudding he ever saw.
Daunting Light on main pudding (16 damage) Healing Word on Glenn (surge +11) Hmm. Main Pudding. That's a good name for a band. |
Every blow with a weapon seemed to split the pudding into more enemies to deal with, but Gheth's divine intercession seemed to wound the thing without any unpleasant side-effects. Unfortunately, his allies have few options to fall back other than swinging metal around.
Pudding bloodied by Gheth Whoever attacks the main pudding next gets Combat Advantage, as Skex didn't specify anyone. Glenn and the goblin, however, had both divided the pudding. The smaller oozes rush forward. The goblin who had wounded the larger pudding was swiftly crushed, but another micropudding's attempt to enact revenge on Glenn fails as he slashes it apart mid-lunge. A third tiny ooze flings itself down the hall, assaulting Cal to no productive end. Z6 goblin, Y7 pudding killed Z8 pudding granting advantage due to running :savepoint: Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Gheth's Goblin Guerrillas 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Puddingspawn 11 |
I had been very quiet, not attacking the pudding at all, when its infernal spawn assaulted me. How annoying. Especially for a supposedly sightless creature.
It must be sensing me somehow. I smell at my clothing, and decide that I need to take a bath at the next opportunity. I take aim at the little black pudding that attacked me. It clearly didn't like the arrow pointed at it, and slammed itself against me. The impact sent the arrow flying into the more distant puddingspawn instead. My second arrow was used to poke holes at the very rude spawn next to me. I wonder if these things are edible once cooked. In any case, I now want to kill the mother pudding. Twin Strike. +11 to hit, needs 11+ vs. AC 22 of puddingspawn. Opportunity Attack vs. Cal: 11. First Twin Strike vs. Y6 pudding: 19 HIT. Second Twin Strike vs. adjacent pudding: 10 + 2 (combat advantage) + 1 (prime shot) = 13 HIT. All puddingspawns killed. Designate pudding as quarry. Looking around, I note that only two goblins remain alive. They were not very good meatshields, I surmise. I whisper to the dragonborn that perhaps it might be prudent to keep one of them alive by ordering him out of harm's way. He might be able to provide us information about the lay of the land after the pudding dies. |
Puyet scratches himself.
Half-orc only slightly smarter than full orc. But he know when genitals itch. He announce this to rest of crew. "ME KNOW WHEN GENITALS ITCH". They acknowledge this begrudgingly. Between this bastion of intelligence and a man knowledgeable in Jarate, shit is likely to get real weird real quick. Puyet KNOW blob is bad though. Very bad. Alas, there not much half-orc do from half-orc standing spot! Move to Y9 Blob still so far away. Puyet frown for orc moment until he realize orc part of him have big muscles. He reaches down and grabs tiny Goblin friend by hard tiny head. Grab Goblin Y10 Puyet once see man toss ball at second man. Fond memories of ball bases sports come flooding back at him like ants eating corpse; as fast as tiny half-orc brain can handle. With all mastery technique he muster, he toss goblinoid at blob! Toss friend at pudding Improvised heavy (???) thrown. +8 vs AC. Need 12. 18. The little one soars majestically through the air and impacts the pudding full on in the....chest? It instantly disappears inside while screaming a most blood curdling noise. Puyet not sure if impact do any damage. |
The notion of delicious pudding immediately perks up the elf's ears.
"I want some pudding. But how good can pudding be if it's been sitting in a box for at least..." The elf counts on his fingers. He runs out of fingers to count on. "10...More than 10 years." "Could it be significantly worse than frozen dog corpse?" "Point conceded." Bluff successful on both counts. Puyet flings the hapless little goblin into the black goo, watching as it vanishes almost instantaneously. A roughly goblin-sized blob of slime splatters out the other end, but it's probably not related. 8 damage to Pudding, friendly goblin who trusted you, you monster killed. The weakened pudding fails to recover from the goblin's (ahem) airborne insertion, and its attempt to strike at Garrmondo is pathetic to say the least. The pudding begins to slowly retreat back toward the box, perhaps deciding it best to run and fight another day. The last surviving goblin rebel stands by fearlessly, ready to fight to the end. Another 20 damage to the Pudding from AoOs as it flees. On the other hand, two more puddingspawn. :savepoint: Gary the Gallant Goblin 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Ice Goblin 17, Puddingspawn 11, Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Elf Berserker 5, Puyet 25, Pudding 24 |
Glenn could feel the blood flowing through his veins. He was in his element. Swapping out his sword for his crossbow once again, Glenn decides to try out the aspects of it that he didn't think the villagers would have appreciated much if he'd tried it out on their cattle. He'd just acquired it from the shopkeep, who had promised him that the simple looking weapon would deal much more of a punch than they expected.
Glenn aims the bolt at the nearest black blob and fires. Fast Hands switch back to crossbow deft strike vs. Y5 puddingspawn. 10 to hit. hit! damage doesn't matter since they're minions, 1hp last i checked activate lightning hand crossbow, zap all four puddingspawn to their untimely deaths The instant the bolt hits home, lightning jumps from the first puddingspawn to its counterparts next to it, and actually arcs to the last puddingspawn down the hallway. All four stop moving and melt away immediately, giving the rest of the group an open invitation to finish off the wounded main blob. Glenn lets the slightest hint of a grin creep across his face. Yes, this new toy was going to be fun. |
It would be too much for any one goblin. Warlords, puddings, seeing his best friend get hurled like a warty javelin...And frankly he wasn't sure he wouldn't get electrocuted if he stuck around too long.
Triple G flees back to S6 Gheth, meanwhile, notes the effectiveness of holy attacks and decides to send another care package. Of doom. Or hope. It was hard to tell which. Move to Z7 Lance of Faith on main pudding with bonus to Garrmondo (miss) |
Smirking, Glenn wipes out all the smaller puddings with one swift strike. Not much use duplicating yourself if the copies die in a strong breeze. Sadly the remains of the engulfed goblin are nowhere to be seen as the little puddings melt away. He must have been dissolved entirely.
The ice goblin charges down from the battered chamber where he makes his lair, the rumors of delicious pudding having become impossible to ignore. Skidding to a halt just behind Glenn, he propels a blast of icy wind from his palms — but the pudding seems to take no notice of his wintry freshness. "It's getting away! Do something, don't just stand there cooling your heels!" The blue goblin looks at G-Unit expectantly, but they show no appreciation for his cold-based puns. "Philistines." :savepoint: Cal 9, Garrmondo 7, Elf Berserker 5, Puyet 25, Pudding 24, Gary the Gallant Goblin 21, Glenn 19, Gheth 17, Ice Goblin 17, Puddingspawn 11 |
I coolly cock an arrow from my quiver, and icily taunt the pudding.
"Hey pudding! FREEZE!!!" Careful attack on Black Pudding. 7 + 13 vs AC20 = barely hit. Pudding takes 5+7+3 = 15 HP damage. |
With an appropriate quip at hand, Garrmondo casually slices what's left of the pudding to ribbons. The ice goblin (somewhat miffed to see his enthusiasm for puns picked up by all and sundry) quickly makes for the immobile heap of pudding. Sadly even a dead black pudding is still violently acidic, and while the goblin eats his fill the pudding is eating him just as quickly — from the inside out. He keels over, coughing up a spray of blue blood.
'It was... ice to meet you, anyway... keep it frosty." Victory! 1691 XP (338 each) |
Our ice goblin ally swoons after eating a black pudding. Not wanting to see unnecessary NPC death if I can help it, I pour the contents of my potion down his throat. Live, dammit, live!
Spend 1 healing surge ___ Still, anything that could make a magical creature faint after a swig might prove useful in the future. After gently laying the ice goblin on the ground, I go over to the immobile sludge and carefully scoop up a half-dozen flaskfuls of pudding. After stoppering all six flasks, I store them on my wagon. Experimentally, I drip a bit of gibbering mouther jelly on the dead pudding, and see what happens. Stopping to retrieve my thieves' tools from the rogue, I walk over to the empty pieces of armor which comprise the Overlord's corpse, and examine them for anything salvageable. |
Glenn leaned back against the wall, satisfied with how the fight had gone. He hadn't had a decent workout in a long time, and he could feel it. Glenn knew full well that it was usually possible to avoid a fight, and that this was almost always a better way of doing things, but sometimes he just felt like he had to hit something. This decision had usually earned him either an eye roll and a smirk, or a smack upside the head and a glare, depending on how his old partner had been feeling at the time.
1 healing surge to full hp Now really wasn't the time for reflection on the past, however - the changeling had come over immediately following the battle and started going through his pockets, looking for something. Glenn figured it out and handed the changeling his tools back. He thought to himself that he should get himself a set of those the next time he saw civilization - presuming he ever did again. Glenn decided to check the treasure chest that the black ooze had... oozed out of. If anything was in there, it would certainly be worth the effort of the battle. Perhaps the creature was a security measure. Perhaps the strongbox was simply the most convenient thing around at the time of the pudding's capture. No way to tell until one checked. |
Knowing the usefulness of a good guide dog, Puyet breaks off a piece of rope from his pack long enough to subdue the remaining goblin minion like a mongrel.
"Good boy! Sit! Good! Now heel!" Puyet gives him a Scooby Snack from his ration pack. He is not sure what a Scooby Snack is, but the merchant he bought his rations from a week ago said they were certain to energize even the most timid of cowards. "Now show me the way out and you get another one." Spend healing surge. See where this dumbass goblin leads me. |
Cal decides to save the life of the strange blue goblin, despite his general uselessness and penchant for bad puns. Perhaps the grim consequences of the events at the amphitheater had softened the changeling's heart somewhat. A significant amount of the magic tonic seemed to pour uselessly out of the gaping hole in the goblin's abdomen, but the fighter was standing by with another dose. It seemed that Cal wouldn't be harvesting any rare goblin parts today.
Cal carefully gathers up several flasks full of the pudding — as expected, the glass flasks held the toxic mess without any trouble. Judging by the goop still remaining on the floor, however, the pudding wouldn't retain its acidic properties long after death; the acrid vapors produced by the pudding eating away at the floor were already fading away to barely-detectable wisps. Still, it might have some use even if it couldn't serve as a universal solvent. Even dead the pudding was bound to be poisonous as all hell. Cal cautiously drips a few drops of the rapidly-liquefying remains of the gibbering mouthers onto the pudding heap. The effect is as immediate as it is unpleasant: a tiny fanged mouth sprouts on the surface of the ooze and begins muttering vile curses. Cal listens carefully, but the gibbering pudding doesn't seem to say anything useful: just an endless stream of vile insinuations regarding his parentage, the circumstances of his birth, and his choice of bedfellows. A significant amount of these insinuations are fairly accurate, but Cal maintains his poker face. The screeching peters out after a minute or two,, and the mouth fades back into the shapeless blob as if it was never there. The Overlord's former armor looks to be of a very high quality, but the heavy iron plate is far too bulky for any of the company to wear comfortably. Cal could probably stow it in his wagon, but there wouldn't be much room left to add anything more afterward. http://www.ddwiki.saxypunch.com/imag...kironarmor.png Glenn investigates the massive chest that had held the pudding, thinking it likely that the ooze had been placed there as a form of active defense. The entire interior surface of the box is coated with smooth glass, but lying at the bottom is a small pane of polished glass, perhaps 2 feet square. Glancing on it, Glenn experiences a moment of strange vertigo; he's looking down into the chest, but the glass pane seems to be a window into an entirely horizontal scene. Glenn stares through the window into a raucous tavern, and though no sound comes through he still hears the music in his memory: he's seen this before. The tavern, the mug in front of him, and her — her! — passing coins to the barmaid for another round... Glenn reaches out toward the window instinctively, and raps his knuckles on the glass. The tavern scene vanishes in a twinkling, leaving behind nothing but the bare glass. Glenn takes a step back. It was just an illusion, surely... like the faint tang of ale he could feel on his tongue. Just the same, Glenn averts his gaze from the chest until he decided what to do about the window it housed. http://www.ddwiki.saxypunch.com/imag...fdeception.png Puyet bribes the last of the goblins Gheth had rallied to his cause with an iron ration. The dry wafers and salted beef were hardly gourmet fare, but the little goblin tears into them with enthusiasm. Sadly Puyet's attempt at bartering with the fellow doesn't get him anywhere. "With all due respect, Mister... if I knew how to get out of here, why would I have stayed? The constant thread of strangulation wasn't exactly wine and roses for me, you know. Plenty of chances for us to run, I grant you, but nowhere to run to really. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your generosity and if I can do anything else to help I — please don't kill me please don't kill me please don't kill me." Gary collapses into a simpering heap of tears and cowardice, huddling into the corner and trying to make himself look as small as possible. Garrmondo pours another potion down the ice goblin's throat, and the little blue guy seems to stabilize. In no condition to go anywhere or stand for interrogation, certainly, but he'd live. His elf companion peers around the corner curiously, and after seeing his partner neither dead nor embroiled in any immediate danger he just returns to his meal. The halfling bards are no more helpful than Gary had been in ascertaining an escape route. The woman with the drums adopts a grim expression and passes on the bad news. "Surface? By Yondalla's bountiful horn, are we underground? Friend, I know no more than you do, or likely even less. Those bastards in Lamid got the drop on us while we were celebrating our anniversary, and while we struggled there were too many for us. Harald and I were both clubbed over the head, and when we came to — why, we were as you see us now. The goblins had no special loyalty to him, and we were able to question them as he slumbered on his throne, but they knew nothing more than we did. Few of them seemed to survive under his employment for more than a day or two, but every day new goblins seemed to arrive to replace the dead — and they didn't know where they'd come from either. This has been going on for... well, weeks, probably. Can't say I've kept proper track of the time." The halflings painfully rise to their feet, scattering a small mountain of musical instruments across the room. "He just had all these things already, I guess," Harald volunteers. "I woke up with a xylophone digging into my ribs, and he just stares at me for a minute solid and says 'Play'. We're not even musicians by trade, you know, but we learn quick. Monsters in iron suits don't have a lot of use for fresh scones, so at least we got to keep what little food we had in our purses. I can't imagine we'd have lived much longer than the goblins without it." He heaves a sigh, realizing that his rescuers haven't really brought him any closer to resuming his normal life. "Not what you wanted to hear, I'm sure. Still, we've got some scones left if you like. They're only a little bit stale." Other than the heap of musical doodads, the only other obvious thing of value in the throne room was — well, the throne. But Garrmondo didn't see any way to fit it through the doorway assuming he could drag it out of its place. How'd it even get there in the first place? |
Puyet pats his new pet goblin on the head a few times to console him, then drags him along as he heads back towards the throne room. After a brief discussion with the human, concluded everybody was as clueless as the next.
He decided, before heading further into the dungeon, to investigate the throne itself. There was something nagging about it, and Garrmondo himself seemed to be fascinated with it's magnificence. |
Glenn stopped and sat in the corner of the throne room to think. That scene... it had been so vivid. The last time he had seen Rose just over a year ago, in that tavern. Their usual place after they had finished a job. It had been raining that night, so they had been forced to take their rest inside the tavern, instead of their usual place on the roof.
Glenn fingered the bright sapphire he wore on a bracelet on his arm. It had been a parting gift, of sorts. It was half of a jewel that he and Rose had stolen. Their last one. It had appeared on his window sill one morning, sitting on top of a tiny scrap of parchment, bearing only one word. goodbye. Glenn and Rose had never been romantically inclined, but they had become close friends over the few years they had know each other. They worked together to steal from the nobility of Valentia, each for their own reasons. Rose to support her family, Glenn for the excitement, and both to keep the nobility informed that they weren’t, in fact, invincible. Glenn may have been the son of a rich and prosperous merchant, but that didn’t mean he had ever liked it. Glenn stood up with new resolve. The trick mirror had been eerie, but it had also reminded him of why he had disowned his family in the first place. Rose’s home may have been burned, but she had escaped. The sapphire was proof of that. Glenn had made his decision to try to find her. But first he had to get out of this hole. |
The two potions appear to have an effect on the ice goblin's well-being. I check to see if he's all right, and ask him for his name. Surely, any NPCs who receive names survive longer than their unnamed counterparts! I read it somewhere, anyway.
------------------ The vile pudding that almost killed the ice goblin must be punished. I pour the contents of the flask that contained my urine on the dead acidic beast as payback. ------------------ The armor left by the Overlord is much too heavy for me to wear, or drag around for that matter. But my fighter friend - surely he has enough strength to wear Plate armor! Plus, it comes with a defensive upgrade. Eyeing Mr. and Mrs. Harald Halfling, I ask them if they know, or have any "Transfer Enchantment" ritual scrolls lying around. If Garrmondo can't wear plate, then we can at least transfer it over to his current scale armor. ------------------ There is a pile of musical instruments unearthed by the uncouth half-orc, whose utter disregard for the welfare of NPCs I find reprehensible. I wonder for a moment if the cleric shares my feelings, but I digress. As an aspiring musician, i wonder if there are any violins in the pile. Or any wondrous intruments, for that matter. |
The ice goblin remains unconscious despite the healing tonics, and no amount of poking seems to rouse him. Undeterred, Cal carefully checks the goblin's pockets for any sign of his identity and finds a single wadded-up sheet of parchment. The document is a little stained and the ink is smeared, but it's still mostly legible.
http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/isee.png Reading over the tattered note, Cal casually pours his flask o' urine over the pudding's remains. No interesting chemical results occur, but it's still aesthetically pleasing. Puyet pokes curiously at the throne, clumsily prodding at it with his thick fingers. Finding nothing, he slams his fist down on the throne's armrest. With a soft hum, the seat of the throne recedes into the back of the chair and reveals a dark vertical tunnel leading down to parts unknown. The tunnel is perhaps a foot and a half wide, far too narrow for anyone in G-Unit to descend even if they wanted to. Harald and his wife are startled by the discovery, and then slowly begin to back away. Puyet had already made it clear that we was willing to throw people into danger for the sake of his own curiosity. Passing Garrmondo a small waxed-paper packet, Harald looks at the changeling with a dumbfounded expression. "If Sheila or I had a bunch of magic scrolls, why would we be sitting around down here in the first place? Think, man." A lute and a violin are indeed found within the heap of instruments, and Garrmondo begins to idly play a dissonant, nerve-jangling tune. Cal picks through the rest of the pile, finding examples of most instruments he'd heard of and a few he hadn't — but nothing magical-seeming. "We appreciate your help, but we can't very well just sit here and wait to be rescued any longer," Sheila replies. "As long as we don't open every box we see or pick fights we don't need to, I think we'll get along all right by ourselves from here out. We'll just keep an eye on your blue friend here until he wakes up, and then we'll be on our way. Tell you what — why don't I keep one of these horns, and one of you lot keep one. Then we can split up and look for a way out much faster, and send out the alert when we do find something." |
Ooh, ooh! A violin! I hope it's a valuable Stradivarius! I take this valuable instrument and stow it in my pack.
Glenn looked a bit rattled after looking in the locked chest. Intrigued, I poke inside and look at the window. It's a beautiful window, it will make a nice decoration to my little wagon if the rogue doesn't want it. The half-orc apparently uncovered a water closet built into the throne. Just in time too - my intestines have started to rumble. I sit on the throne, and void the contents of my bowels into the marvelous indoor toilet. |
Supremely irritated at the stench the little man had created, Puyet picked up one of the instruments left and heaved it towards his head. That should be enough to inform the man of his disdain for his action. Puyet was standing right there. What could he have been thinking?
Afterward, Puyet plugged his nose and offered another Scooby Snack to his goblin friend. He tied the longest remaining rope he had to the goblin and enticed him down the hole, using intimidation if necessary. "There must be something dandy down there, monsieur. Perhaps some wine and cheese. Perhaps a way out of this hellish hole, in which case I will share with you the joy of brothels. Either way, you're going through there. Be positive. If you find something or need to come back up, just give a shout or a yank on the rope." Puyet sweet talked the goblin to the best of his ignorant capability. |
Glenn nodded his agreement to the packrat changeling's request to toss the eerie window into his wagon. If it turned out to be useless, they could always sell it in town and split the gold amongst the group. Magical objects were all well and good, but if you couldn't carry them in a pocket Glenn didn't usually find the effort of hauling them around to be worth it.
He proceeded to join the fighter at the door, just in case anything happened. |
Harald nods in assent as Garrmondo lays out some details for the horn-based alert system, and he and Sheila carefully carry I.C.'s prone form into the throne room. It'd be a little more secure there, should they have to deal with the curiosity of his elvish friend.
Garrmondo finds the Overlord's former armor a little cumbersome, but the price is right. The sheer weight of the black iron is enough to slow down his sword arm and hamper his reflexes, but he reckons the tradeoff is worthwhile. Since Glenn has dismissed the window as too cumbersome to bother with, Cal gladly takes it for himself. As soon as he lays hands on it, however, the glass shows him a lovely meadow. Several ponies are trotting around within, nibbling on clover and frolicking in the sun. The pastoral scene is ruined when a haggard, burnt ruin of a horse staggers into frame. Tatters of smoldering flesh dangle from the pony's decaying frame, and the head has nearly been reduced to bone by swarms of maggots. The rotting horse turns to look directly at Cal, and a horrid voice booms out of the skeletal jaws. "YOUR FAU—" Cal quickly turns his face away from the window and carefully packs it at the bottom of the wagon, where he won't look at it accidentally. Nauseated by the sight and half-insensible, the ranger carelessly uses the throne to void his bowels despite the immediate presence of his companions. Disgusted, Puyet beans Cal in the forehead with an errant tambourine before carefully binding up Gary for his first rappelling experience. No need for threats; Gary is all too eager to keep his distance from the half-orc. The throne itself is more than secure enough , so with a sturdy knot tied round the back little Gary is sent plummeting into the depths. "Don't see anything," Gary shouts up the tunnel after a few quiet moments. "Awfully dark down here. Pitch black. Do feel something, though. Kind of damp and squishy. Stepped on it. Starting to feel vaguely uncomfortable." Doing his best to ignore the monologue from below, Garrmondo swings open the door on the east wall. An older-looking goblin in leather armor peers over a truly massive counter, such that he struggles to be seen behind it. With a grunt he rearranges some objects around himself and is soon sufficiently elevated to be seen from the neck up. Four other goblins putter around the room, seeming both purposeless and entirely content with their purposelessness. "Welcome, friends!" shouts the older goblin. "Welcome one and all to P.Q. Skunkwhistle's Quality Goblin Goods. All of our merchandise is hand-made by the finest goblin artisans, and 60% of proceeds go back to those same artisans and their communities. When you buy a Skunkwhistle hammer, you're not just buying a weapon — you're buying a clean conscience. And everything you see here costs at least 10% less than you'd pay anywhere else. That's the Skunkwhistle guarantee. Bearing in mind, of course, that the marks of goblin craftsmanship tend to hurt the resale value anywhere else you may go. People are bigots that way." Skunkwhistle shrugs at the small-mindedness of folks, heaving a variety of objects onto the countertop. Stag Helm: 900 GP Flaying Gloves: 756 GP Jester Shoes: 468 GP Phylactery of Action: 612 GP Belt of Resilience: 324 GP Potion of Clarity: 45 GP (3 in stock) Inferno Oil: 45 GP (5 in stock) Onslaught Arrow: 23 GP (6 in stock) A door leads out of Skunkwhistle's to the north, assuming one could reach it without tripping over the goblins inbetween. |
D-D-Denny....! No... after all this time, to be reminded of you again is too much to bear. I will the magic window to show a pasture with happy frolicking ponies, Denny in his living glory wagging his horsey tail. It won't fool me, but at least it won't affect my mental well-being!
The little goblin, apparently a plumber of sorts, needs illumination. To aid him, I ignite a sunrod. Hovering over the toilet, I shout: Gary! Here's a sunrod, coming your way! Then I drop the sunrod into the goblin's outstretched hand. Better now? _________ We seem to have stumbled upon a goblin store. I give the goblins a critical evaluation, trying to gauge their toughness. If they're as weak as the previous goblins, what's to stop us from doing a little murderous armed robbery? Certainly not I, who have already fulfillied his daily quota of being kind to NPCs. Perception check. |
"Better in the sense that getting a clear, unobstructed view of filth is 'better', yes. Nothin' down here but some fresh dung and a lot of rocks. Looks like some kind of cave down here. You got your... whatchacallit, stag-mites and stack-tights, you got your basic luminous fungal growths, you got your 8 angry gnomes advancing with pickaxes...
PULL UP! PULL UP!" Cal gazes cynically upon Skunkwhistle and his entourage. While most of the goblins wandering the confines of the shop seem as dim and hapless as the fragile fellows Cal had encountered a few minutes earlier, Skunkwhistle himself seemed a different matter. In addition to wearing actual armor instead of the pilfered rags and pelts that goblins were wont to clothe themselves in, Skunkwhistle bore several visible scars. At the very least, this was a goblin that had been in a fight and lived — making him more fearsome than 95% of goblins as a race. While Cal studies the goblin, he notices Skunkwhistle studying him just as closely. Maybe he wasn't the first customer to think he could rob ol' Skunky and get away clean. |
Reluctantly, Puyet pulls his goblin out of the damp hole.
|
Drop the sunrod, Gary. I want a clear view of the gnomes!
I hover by the throne, ready to drop a flask of pudding on any gnome who tries to climb up. Time appears to compress however, and everyone suddenly freezes in mid-air. I take the time to leisurely return to the fireplace room, carefully dodging the insidious trap, of course. Once there, I proceed to dismantle what's left of the fireplace, in a greedy hunt for treasure. After my exertions, I stroll back into the throne room, and resume my position of dropping a flask of pudding on any gnome who tries to pursue poor Gary. |
Glenn watches the changeling run back and forth, trying to do far too many things at the same time. He didn't much appreciate the idea of their small group being led around by one who seemed to be so easily distracted, but wasn't about to take charge anytime soon. Glenn still didn't really trust the other adventurers he had been lumped together with.
Glenn walks over to the shopkeep, silently hands the goblin some gold, and picks up the gloves off the table, putting them on. He then headed back into the throne room to see what the ruckus was all about. |
Mr. Skunkwhistle! My pockets are rather empty for the moment. Would you agree to a little barter trade? I have here an absolutely vicious little shortsword that I would love to trade for that there phylactery of action!
Whaddayasay? I'll even throw in this bottle of raisinjack. Lamid vintage. Town's completely destroyed, so it's a true rarity. Bluff to gain 'discount' - 14 + 13 = 27. |
Much of the group engages in trade and barter, with Garrmondo picking up a fine new belt and Glenn slipping on a pair of gloves likely to aid in his swordsmanship. After dismantling much of the remaining fireplace in a search for additional loot, Cal comes up empty and attempts to fast-talk his way into a real bargain. In his enthusiasm, he confuses the facts. Skunkwhistle squints across the counter, and issues a short scornful laugh.
"Lamid destroyed? Not likely, by my reckoning, unless you lot want to claim to have thrown yourselves down the pit. More's the pity, but I expect the Lamidans are doing just as well for themselves as they were when you arrived. Besides, the bottle's got 'Hallowfeld' stamped right on it. I'm not sure when I was born, surfacer, but it wasn't yesterday. As for your sword, well. If I wanted a blade that would hurt anyone who tried to swing it I imagine that goblin craftsmanship is more than up to that task. Much as I'd like to close a deal with you, I'd be losin' money any way you tilt it." Puyet hauls Gary out of the throne-pit, the terrified little goblin clinging to the rope for dear life. No gnomes seem to have pursued him upward, and when Cal leans over the throne and peers down he sees nothing below but the sunrod Gary dropped in terror. It looks to be only about 30 feet down, but Gary seems awfully unlikely to be willing to go and fetch it. |
My face reddening with shame at my failure to bluff, I squeezed my way past Skunkwhistle's goblins, and test the door to the north.
|
Cal swings open the north door. In the room beyond stands a magnificent pedestal, nearly 8 feet high from top to bottom. Atop this great pedestal stands a breathtaking staff of the highest quality: finely polished rosewood inlaid with elaborate patterns of gold and festooned with precious gems. Based purely on the market value of the gems he can see, Cal estimates the staff to be worth at least 20,000 in gold coin — even presuming the faint white glow around the staff isn't evidence of some magical property, which seems unlikely. Between the impressive length of the staff and the height of the pedestal itself, the staff reaches from the top of the pedestal to the very ceiling.
A fine red rug is laid beneath the pedestal, and a small sign is posted just to the south of the rug. The sign reads: "INDESTRUCTIBLE STAFF OF THE AVALANCHE! FREE TO GOOD HOME." A broad pair of double doors lead west, and a stairwell leading downward is hewn roughly out of the north wall. |
"Indestructible Staff" my :deadhorse:. The Universe has always conspired to keep me in the poorhouse - the seeming appearance of such free wealth is certainly illusory, if not a trap.
I shoot a couple of arrows into the wood, fully expecting it to splinter in half. I also study all six sides of the room, looking out for traps, both mundane and supernatural, of any kind. |
The arrows splinter harmlessly against the staff, the arrowheads failing to gain the slightest purchase. Evidently it's quite sturdy after all.
Glowering about the room suspiciously, Cal spots a pair of poorly-concealed holes in the wall next to the western doorway — just about the right size for a spearhead to come lunging out at an inconvenient moment. |
Obvious trap is obvious! Anyone got something strong to block the spear holes? Like a shield maybe?
|
"I have a goblin," Puyet says straddling the quirky man in the doorway, glancing at the staff upon the pedestal. His goblin did not seem to appreciate the comment, and was on its last nerve, so he gave it a good pat on the head and encouraged it that he was kidding.
He abandoned the thought of the hole behind the throne. It was much too much trouble for any of them to scale down it into a sewer, where Dwarves dwelt. Strange pairing, he thought. Putting aside all naughty jokes about feces, he handed over the goblin to Cal and meandered through the room to explore it, taking care not to align himself between any two spearslots. He cruised toward door on the adjacent wall, as a staircase leading down did not entice him one bit. Puyet yelled back to Cal to inquire the shopkeep as to the purpose of the room. |
Glenn was cooking up his own idea for getting the staff out of the room, but the rest of the group would need to decide which direction they wanted to go, as Glenn doubted that the "avalanche" powers of the staff would wait until called upon to unleash themselves. The small piece of wood looked to be the only thing holding the ceiling up.
Glenn also considers asking the merchant where he got the food and supplies for his shop, but then decided that the goblin wouldn't be likely to tell anyone if he knew anyway. Perhaps one of the others could talk it out of him. |
"Purpose? Purpose? It's just your general magic staff display room, isn't it? I've been in a few of your fancier surface houses, you lot are always wasting perfectly good bedroom space for showing off some painting of a half-dressed elf. Don't look at me, it was like that when I got here. Not that I haven't been tempted mind you, but 'behind my counter' scarcely counts as a good home, and not a single customer has ever rolled through that could afford to take it off my hands anyway. So what use is it to me?"
|
Making sure not to step on any hidden pressure pads or anything that remotely looks like a trap door, I shuffle my way beside a spear slot. With thieves' tools in hand, I try to disable the trap.
Thievery: 14 + 8 + 2 = 24. |
Cal successfully disables the trap!
:shrug: |
Well, that was anticlimactic. Who knew the trap was so simple that it doesn't count towards adventuring experience?
The half-orc wishes to head west, while the rest of my team is apparently conflicted on whether to follow him or go deeper into the dungeon. I'm inclined to go west myself, not wishing to go deeper underground than I have to. But, perhaps the cleric can shed some holy insight on things. He's been very quiet as of late. My cartographic skill tells me that westwards most likely connects to the first room - where there is a north door we have not tried yet. We can go there next, probably. Quote:
______________ I am very tempted to take the staff, but the rogue has a valid concern. "Avalanche" in this case may simply turn out to be the roof caving in on our heads, should we remove the staff. I wonder if Gary, perched suitably on my shoulders, might be able to reach it. Oh, if only I have some rope, so we can quickly yank away the staff while in the relative safety of the next room! |
Puyet considers giving the repelling rope to Cal, but then considers they may need to reenter this room at another given time, and discourages him from potentially collapsing the entire thing.
He also decides that investigating the rest of this level is best and tries to convince the rest of the group that going down should be reserved till they've exhausted all efforts to go up. |
I nod at the warlord's sage words. He must have surely felt the whiff of evil emanating from the staircase.
Yes, evil staircase, I'm wise to your tricks! Staircase is my quarry. Twin strike @ Evil Staircase |
Cal fires a volley down the suspicious stairs, certainly that something sinister must be lurking. Maybe the gnomes were approaching. Maybe a terrible shadow demon lurked in the darkness. Maybe... maybe...
Gorillas out of fucking nowhere! Four angry apes lunge out of the stairwell. The largest among them, a silver-furred hulk, sports two fresh arrows jutting out of his shoulder. He seems kind of upset about it. His ape underlings charge out to attack the party. Puyet catches the worst of it as a meaty gorilla fist smashes right into his pretty face, but Glenn gets the wind knocked out of him when an ape rushes over to try to collapse his ribs. Truly, nonstop monkey mayhem is afoot. Felling Blow: 15 damage to Puyet Felling Blow: 10 damage to Glenn Felling Blow: 2 attacks, +9 vs AC Enemy defenses: Silverback Gorilla: AC 17, Fortitude 19, Reflex 15, Will 17 Great Ape: AC 18, Fortitude 18, Reflex 16, Will 16 :savepoint: Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5, Cal 28, Great Apes 23 |
Glenn really should have been more ready for something like this to happen. He makes a mental note that the changeling's default reaction to something he doesn't understand is to shoot it with arrows, and so Glenn resolves to avoid using big words in his presence. Becoming an impromtpu pincushion wasn't something that appealed to the quiet Eladrin.
Glenn notices the fighter's attempts to give him a little more room to maneuver, and gives a nod of thanks. As it was, the ape was distracted, and that was all Glenn needed. Clever Strike vs. green ape 4 + 15 + 2(CA) = 19 hit! 7 + 4 + 9 = 20 damage |
Quote:
Kylie. Kylie! Run to O-14 Bastion of Health on Puyet |
Puyet had the sudden urge to do the Conga. So he did...very angrily.
After spanking the first monkey, Puyet glares diligently at the other. "How do you like those bananas?" Lead the Attack to I12 Hit w/ FURIOUS ASSAULT 32 dmg suck it you baboon. Inspiring word to self. Spend one surge. Regain 18 life. Intimidate other monkey. |
Garrmondo snaps to attention as the gorilla guerrillas charge into the fray, but when you're wearing 50 pounds of iron snapping to attention is more like "sluggishly rotating to attention." The apes of wrath pay little attention to his fancy footwork. Still, the sheer noise he made moving around was enough to prove a distraction; Glenn's blade gets to thoroughly explore some greasy grimy gorilla guts.
Lost in thought, Gheth hurries into the fray after overhearing the ruckus from a few rooms away. He makes the universal signal for "you've got something on your face," directing Puyet to wipe away a tuft of knuckle fur that had stuck to his nose. Thanks to this helpful depilation, Puyet regains his essential dignity. And dignity, of course, is crucial for hitting people with hammers. Red ape bloodied, Yellow ape intimidated You just barely succeeded at the intimidate, so keep your request fairly simple. He won't surrender until he's bloodied, though. With a furious snarl, the silverback picks up Puyet like a rag doll and hurls him away. Unfortunately, the space between here and "away" is occupied by Cal, who barely maintains his footing as a flying warlord barrels over him. Puyet smashes into the floor at speed with a sickening crunch. Fling: 39 damage to Puyet, thrown to M12. Bloodied and prone. Midair collision with Cal: 7 damage to each. Fling: +6 vs Reflex Somehow the yellow ape still finds him intimidating. MY VERISIMILITUDE Oh, and G-Unit gets +2 to attack rolls until Puyet's next turn. :savepoint: Cal 28, Great Apes 23, Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5 |
Our erstwhile warlord leader is thrown about like he was made of paper. I shudder to think what the oversized ape will do to my delicate constitution if he gets his hairy hands on me.
The throw distracts me sufficiently that my attack loses most of its sting. Thanking the gods that I voided my bowels earlier, I shakily retreated by a smidgen, planting myself unsteadily on top of the fallen warlord. Careful Attack: 13 + 5 + 1 = 19 > 18 AC of Red Ape. Hit for [ 2 + 7 ] = 9 HP damage. Move to M12. If Red Ape still alive, activate Spitting Cobra Stance. |
Nobly risking his own hide by standing protectively over Puyet's prone form, Cal tries to finish off the most badly wounded of the apes. Against all hope and expectation, it continues to Not Die. Determined to keep his new ally at least somewhat safe, Cal readies an arrow for the next gorilla to approach him.
Despite the leader of the troupe so thoroughly trouncing Puyet, the gorilla he glowered at remains temporarily skittish and hides behind the silverback until it gets its nerve back. The more heavily-battered of the trio charges forward, though, realizing its taken too many wounds to survive regardless of the battle's ultimate end. Cal fires off his readied shot, and the ape sprawls into a motionless heap at his feet. The third of the gorillas turns on Garrmondo, who looks like a much bigger threat despite his relative ineffectiveness. The ape's massive hand slaps him on the side of the head, knocking the helm of his new armor crooked and smashing his ear. Slam: 17 damage to Garrmondo (+9 vs AC) :savepoint: Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5, Cal 28, Great Apes 23 |
Glenn notes the fighter's difficulty moving in his new armor and decides to help out a little bit. As Garrmondo's sword whistles through the air, Glenn quickly redirects it ever so slightly with his own blade - and the strike finds a place in the ape's shoulder.
Guided Shot - Garr's 16 (6+8+2 from puyet) is just enough to get through green ape's reflex defense. 18 damage After which Glenn twirls his blade and sticks it into the ape's rib cage. Glenn had forgotten how much he enjoyed fighting alongside others. clever strike 9+13=22 hit 7+6+12= 25 damage |
"Puyet not feel good. Puyet need aspirin tonic. Maybe fortnyquil."
Stand in N12. Inspiring Word to self. Second wind. |
Gheth sees a barely conscious but strangely majestic Puyet fly to the ground after the gorilla swiped him with its massive arm, and a surge of anger goes through him. Apes, out of nowhere. They didn't have the right to be living in a stairwell! Least of all a stairwell sans jungle temple.
Gathering his courage, Gheth charges the two remaining enemies, and adds a roar to his holy rebuke of randomape. "Get your stinking paws off him, you damn dirty apes!" Move to L-12 Daunting Light on Silverback with C.A. to Cal (miss) Healing Word on Puyet (Surge +13) Sorry, it had to be done |
Garrmondo swings wide, his heavy armor still encumbering him. The ape turns his back on the fighter for a split second, and Glenn spots an opening. With a quick apology, the rogue mashes his elbow into the fighter. Already overbalanced, Garrmondo wildly swings his sword arm in a desperate attempt to keep from toppling over. Happily, his blade lodges in the aforementioned ape and he's able to steady himself. With a small grin of satisfaction, Glenn slashes the skewered gorilla's throat. This monkey business was really bringing their teamwork together.
Puyet cautiously gets to his feet, making sure he has all his important organs, only to have the cleric charge past him in a fury. Gheth's indignant shout draws the silverback's attention, but unlike Puyethe's quick enough to dodge the ape's attempt to give him frequent flier miles. Frustrated, the silverback pounds its chest and issues a furious roar. His one surviving ally seems slightly emboldened. Chest Beat: +2 to gorilla attack rolls for one round :savepoint: Cal 28, Great Apes 23, Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5 |
I step back while unleashing a well-aimed lightning arrow at the silverback, and ready another arrow for when it comes closer to me. Should the dragonborn shift back after attacking, to provoke it into barreling forward, it's gonna get it!
Move to N12. Silverback is my Quarry. Shadow Wasp Strike at Silverback. It takes [ 11 + 7 + 1 + 6 = ] 25 HP damage. |
The no-longer-frightened ape comes barreling back down from the north end of the room, suffused with primal rage. With a growl, the ape rearranges the relative locations of the internal organs within Glenn's abdomen. They still work all right but it's kind of disconcerting. And painful. Glenn needs to get some distance between himself and these gorillas, but how will he engineer his Ape Escape?
Silverback bloodied by Cal :savepoint: Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5, Cal 28, Great Apes 23 |
Puyet seemed to shake off the jet lag from his recent flight. In appreciation, he decided to deliver a personal message concerning his thanks. And what better way to show that appreciation than a bludgeon to the face?
Move to L13 Basic Attack. Hit. 17 dmg. |
Glenn takes the ape's charge rather unhappily. His armor seemed to have survived the blow perfectly intact, but his slightly more squishy innards hadn't enjoyed the event. Glenn tries to put a decent sized gash into the ape's abdomen before moving behind the fighter.
Clever strike vs. yellow ape hits 23 damage shift to O15 |
Gheth, being a practical man, saw no reason to let a good spear go to waste.
Healing Strike on Silverback (14 Damage) w/ surge to Glenn (Surge +4) |
Bleeding profusely, the silverback takes a last desperate swing at the cleric. Gheth was too busy trying to pry his spear out of the ape's ribs to deflect the blow. That gorilla had really made a monkey out of him.
Slam: 15 damage to Gheth :savepoint: Cal 28, Great Apes 23, Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5 |
It is past time to bring this monkey business to a close.
TWIN STRIKE! Thwip thwip Geez. What are the odds, rolling out the ones for Pang? ... As soon as I stop shooting like an amateur. I take a step back to gather my thoughts and hopefully distract my allies from seeing that pathetic display of archery. I wonder if this is how the human fighter feels like. Not that it's all him though. He can't help it if enemies increase in strength faster than him... Move to O13. Hang head in shame. |
Puyet couldn't help but notice the shapeshifter shoot two arrows practically at his feet.
"My great great orcmother could shoot better than that. Maybe you could shapeshift yourself a fucking EYEBALL to AIM with." |
The last surviving ape subordinate does its best to pummel Garrmondo with its greasy meat paws, but to no avail. In an apparent act of attempted suicide, the gorilla then slowly advances on Cal — but Cal's readied spitting-cobra arrow also flies wide. The ape can't even kill itself competently.
:savepoint: Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5, Cal 28, Great Apes 23 |
Puyet could feel his training coming back to him, and now that he had a feel for this ragtag group, he felt he could more effectively control the battlefield, although this was a far cry from a battlefield of any kind.
Puyet ordered the Dragonborn to encircle the ape so that they might strike him better. Shift to K13 Wolf Pack Tactics, Gheth shifts to K11 for combat advantage. 5+12+2=hit! 8+7=15 dmg! |
Glenn watches the rest of the group, with the exception of the changeling, beat the apes into submission. Except for the submission part. There wasn't a lot of that. Mostly there was just beating and death. Glenn congratulates the fighter on conquering his new armor as he steps forward to finish off the beast.
move to N14 clever strike 5+13+2 = 19 hit! 7+6+11 = 24 damage |
Gheth is in the middle of business time, and puts all his concentration into totally rockin' the prayer implement.
Alas, he sees something shiny, and it is for naught. Lance of Faith on Grape Ape (miss) |
And so it was that G-Unit mercilessly slew the last apes in all of Faerun, which had been driven beneath the earth by merciless urban expansion and also by drunken idiots who shoot arrows at everything they don't understand.
In fairness, those apes were being of acting like a bunch of dicks. Plus, they don't even have any treasure because they're apes. What a rip. VICTORY! 725 XP (145 each) Extinction Bonus: 3650 XP (730 each) Level Up! ^5 |
Ah, the sweet scent of victory (and blood and ichor)! And although the apes don't carry anything valuable outwardly, an experienced ranger such as myself know the inherent value locked within its body.
Eagerly taking up my improvised twin daggers, I slice the silverback's abdomen open in a search for ritual components and some trophies. Its skin and a paw should suffice. This is the first natural animal I've fought since joining Garrmondo's group, and my excitement surges. Expend 1 healing surge. |
"You lost my Goblin so that you could shoot arrows down a stairwell? I should pummel you. We've been together not one day and you're already testing my nerves," Puyet roared. He kicks the face of the ape, breaking it's neck, while Cal tries to harvest his precious implements.
"The rest of us had better lead ourselves somewhere before you manage to get ahead and dive us into more trouble." Puyet attempts to return to traveling through the west door. |
Lost a goblin? Gary's standing right where he's supposed to be, in the room where Skunkwhistle has set up shop. His goblin? Gary's a convert to the preacher's cause. One gorilla slam too many has apparently addled the half-orc's brains. That is, if he had any worth addling in the first place. In any case, the half-orc seemed impatient to leave, so I decide to ask for a bit of extra help.
"Gary, can you help me with this? Bush meat, it's good eatin'! I got some torches and oil - we can have a barbecue. Oh, and why don't you invite the other goblins in? I'm sure they're hungry for a hot meal." |
Gary responds to the idea of gorilla barbecue with a great deal of skepticism.
"Eat this? Basically looks like a big hairy human. I had some human meat once. No good. Stringy. I'm not interested in putting a big chunk of hairy man-meat in my mouth. If you want to, go ahead. Not that I'm saying you do want to. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Some of my best friends like to chew on a big slab of man from time to time." Cal shrugs, tucking the ape pelt into his pack and setting to work cutting off the silverback's left hand. Surely, nothing ill will come of this monkey's paw. Whatever the reason, Gheth seems a little more restless than usual. He makes no outward demands, but he attends to what is usually a perfunctory post-battle spear cleaning with great intensity. Maybe his goddess had come to him with a specific request. Better not to inquire into such matters. Let the man polish his spear in peace. Puyet grumbles as the changeling gets elbow-deep in ape guts, and impatiently punts open the west door. It's evidently some kind of torture chamber — there's a rack to the north, and what looks like an iron maiden on the opposite wall. Yet another of the small, hapless goblins is trapped within a rusty iron cage on the west side of the room, and judging by the dried blood on the floor he's probably quite familiar with the room's various apparatuses. A wide pit is carved out of the floor of the chamber; a rope ladder descends into parts unknown. A glass orb dangles from a chain on the ceiling, illuminating the room with bright light. Large double doors lead to the north, and a smaller door leads west. Smoke is trickling in underneath the west door. A gnomish woman in chainmail is poking the goblin prisoner with a sharp stick when Puyet kicks in the door. She turns and smiles at him. "Oh, hi there! Don't worry about the greenskin here, we're just discussing a minor supply issue. Mind the drop!" |
"Oye, woman! I'd assume you heard none of the commotion outside your doors. How spectacular. If only I could be so fortunate to be so easy-minded. Since we've never met, I'm sure you're smart enough to know it is not our luck to have arrived in this place. I'd like to ask, just once, if you could tell me the layout of this place. A map would be extra pleasing. If nothing else, some clue as to how to arrive at the surface would be handy."
|
(Business Time continues with vigorous spear cleaning as Gheth follows some of the party into the other room, and listens in on Puyet's conversation)
(Gheth's lot is not an especially tiring one, but he aims to do it well) |
Glenn looks back at the staff sitting in the middle of the room. That's not the sort of thing he wanted to leave behind if he could help it. He makes a mental note to come back if they seem to be on their way out, and keeps up with the rest of the party, staying out of the way of the more affluent types until the party needs someone snuck up on or something stolen.
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"Silly man, of course I heard. I just didn't care. I mean, what's it to me? Gorillas can't use doors. I was perfectly safe.
Now, as for the surface. How are things up there, anyway? I think I can help you out. What you need to do is — well, wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. Can you fly? No, huh. Well then, Plan B. You'll need to go down into the Colossal Caves — you can take the ladder right here if you like. Now, the caves are fairly expansive, so you'll be walking for a while but eventually — if the carnivorous plants and the ghosts of the vengeful dead don't getcha — you'll find yourself in the Doomed Kingdom Of The Cannibal Drow. They're at the very bottom of an old volcano, so... you're sure you can't fly? Oh, dang. Well, if you can awaken the ancient fire spirit that has slumbered there for aeons untold, you can probably coax the volcano into an eruption. Then you just ride the lava up to the surface, and you'll be right smack dab in the middle of the Parched Desert of Endless Thirst. Problem solved! Ooh, you're not fireproof, are you. That is a pickle. Well then, Plan C: Find a friendly wizard. Or an unfriendly wizard which you then torture into cooperation. Probably not a lot of those in the Caves, though. Rumor has it that there's a wizard in the Portal Maze, though! You just take those stairs to the east where the gorillas showed up for no good reason. That gives you an idea of what the Maze is like. One of my cousins says he saw the Tarrasque in there but that seems unlikely. Your call, really. Wish I could help you with your map idea, but any map you might make would be worthless by the time you finished it what with the curse and all. Still, the stairs definitely go to the Maze and the pit here definitely goes to the Caves. At least today. I checked. Oh, one other thing. I recommend you stay out of that room to the north. It asks you annoying questions and then shoots you. Lost a kidney that way." The gnome bends the captive goblin's arm backward until it snaps, as if by way of punctuation. |
Gary must not see what she's doing, or be seen by her. i quietly motion for him to crawl inside the human fighter's pack to hide before venturing into the next room.
Upon gazing on her, I immediately compliment her on her beauty and efficiency. Certainly no shrinking violet, this one. Reasoning that torturing someone must be hard work, I pop open a bottle of raisinjack, and offer her a swig. After taking a sip to prove it wasn't tainted with poison, of course. Perhaps alcohol will serve to loosen her tongue. I couldn't help wonder out loud about the curse she mentioned, why she's doing what she's doing, who she's doing it for, whether she knows what the room to the west is for, and what the staff at the room we came from is all about. Our eladrin friend seems frantic to pry it from the dais, and perhaps she might be able to illuminate us whether such a move is wise or not. I examine her face closely for any nervous tics and microexpressions which might indicate a less-than-forthright response. |
"Why thank you, stranger. I don't usually accept drinks from men covered up to their shoulders in gore, but today is Opposite Day."
Taking a long pull from the raisinjack bottle, she waves in the direction of a handmade calendar on the south wall. Alongside Opposite Day are such important gnomish occasions as Flapjack Week and the High Festival of Adorable Puppies (this last is scratched out, with the notation "Inadequate puppies, maybe next year." "Now, the curse, that's an interesting story. Four hundred years ago — year of the Lazy Scribe, as it happens — legend has it that the tieflings had a massive city here under the ground. They were a great civilization at one time, the horned folk, but by 1079 things had begun to go against them rather badly in their war with the dragonkin and so underground they went. History has lost the name of whoever was in charge of the place, or else his name was just unpronounceable — you run into that with tieflings quite a bit. Lot of apostrophes for no good reason. Anyway, he kept this minotaur as a slave. Minotaurs. as you may know, have a natural talent for mazes; as it happens, the primary defense of the city was an elaborate labyrinth leading from the surface to the city gates. Only way in or out. Dozens of scouts and spies were sent in, and nearly all of them starved to death before they could even so much as report on how the streets were paved. One morning His Grand Generalship P.Q. Apostrophe wakes up and finds his bipedal cow missing. As it turns out, Mister Moo Moo had gone turncoat, and on his way out he memorized the route. Your average dragonborn has more important things to think about — things like 'how do I drink from a glass without getting my tunic wet' — so they just took his directions and made a map rather than committing them to memory. Anyway long story short Apostrophe's whole battalion died messily and with his last breath he cursed the entirety of what was then the city, willing that no one could ever map this place again." She belts down another gulp of raisinjack. "A lot of places in the world defy mapping, of course. You just look away for a second and your parchment's gone blank. Wizards do love their secrets. But here? Things are a little more dramatic. You can keep your map — it's just that the very rocks that form the walls and floors will move around until your map is dead wrong. I'd demonstrate, but anybody standing in the doorway would probably find it unpleasant." As for the rest of Cal's questions, the gnome seems somewhat less inclined to ramble. She begins to get more than a little surly, and Cal notices that his raisinjack bottle is nearly empty. "What does it look like I'm doing." "I'm doin' it for me. 'cuz it's funny." "I wouldn't mess with that if I were you. Less'n you wanted to get your face rearranged by the ceiling. And by 'your face' I mean 'a massive stone cube will flatten you into a creamy meat paste.' "Dunno. Can't open that door, somebody's jammed something in the way on the other side. The smoke only started coming through a little while ago, dunno who did that either. Fuckin' goblins probably. Nothin' but trouble." And with that, she wrenches the prisoner's head around on his neck with a crunch and the goblin slumps to the floor. Garrmondo sticks his head in the door, more-or-less repeating Cal's last question. "I JUST SAID your guess is as good as mine, you overgrown — WHOA WHOA WHOA HOLY CRAP!" The gnome flings the empty bottle at Garrmondo's face and practically leaps into the pit. "The Overlord is on the move! Batten the hatches! Man the torpedoes! Seal the bulkheads! PANIC!" Garrmondo brushes glass shards off his shoulders, his bulky helmet having protected him from laceration. A faint boooooing sounds from the bottom of the hole, and the gnome's voice is audible just once more: "RETRACT THE SAFETY TRAMPOLINE! GET ME SOME COFFEE!" Relieved of any further opportunities for inquiry, Cal reflects on the answers he'd received. Her explanation of the curse seemed honest enough, though it was obvious she was just repeating an old story that had probably been mangled over many years of telling. Her treatment of the poor goblin hadn't been justified at all, and she seemed to resent even being asked — her affable attitude turning to borderline hostility almost in an instant. She'd obviously been hiding something, but Cal wasn't sure whether it was important enough to risk the torpedoes — whatever 'torpedoes' were. As for the staff, she'd only confirmed what was already suspected, and she seemed as honestly ignorant about the west door as she claimed to be. |
What a crazy biddy, I think to myself, as I kick the west door open and jam it into position. And weren't gnomes supposed to be gooder than goblins?
I then amuse myself by examining the iron maiden, rack, the cage containing poor gobby's corpse, and the rest of the torture room. Maybe there are even goodies to plunder in here, incongruous as it may be! |
Cal attempts to dramatically kick the western door in, only to have it only move a couple of inches and come to a complete halt. Something big and heavy was in the way. Like a big pile of stones that used to be a fireplace. Something like that. Cal quietly curses his own lack of tidiness and tries to hide his limp as he checks the torture chamber for any viable goods.
There's really nothing of interest save the goblin he'd just seen executed as well as the skeleton of another goblin inside the iron maiden, and while harvesting goblin bones might normally be an interesting idea there was the question of how Gary would react. |
The western door resists my mighty foot. Let's see how it resists my superb sword arm!
Hack the wooden door into pieces. "Gary, it's safe to come out now! I'm afraid your fellow goblin didn't make it. Do you know him, or his murderer?" I take the breather to reorganize my inventory and do a little mischief. Take 16 arrows from cart to put into quiver. Transfer silverback gorilla pelt to cart. Take flask containing gibbering mouther parts and pour contents down the hole. Cut the rope ladder so nothing can come up. |
Gheth takes a bit of time post-cleaning out to get back to prime condition, and then cautiously advances down the darkened stairwell to see if torches are present. In good spirits now that he's been healed proper, he decides to give their goblin friend a bit of encouragement as he goes.
It probably comes out a little more awkward than he'd planned. Spend 1 surge Advance down stairwell unless unable to see Perception check: traps |
Cal painstakingly carves apart the door, revealing at great length that it does, indeed, lead back to the fireplace room where they first entered the dungeon. That was a worthwhile use of his time; now he won't have to go all the way around in the extremely unlikely event that he needs to go back there! Having secured this extremely useful shortcut, he then eliminates the only possible method the gnomes could have to climb back up. Then he dumps some slime down the hole. Disappointingly, the hole does not begin to writhe around and curse at him.
"BIOLOGICAL WARFARE! WHERE ARE MY ENGINEERS? ASSEMBLE THE ATTACK TRAMPOLINE!" Gary clambers out of his hiding place in Garrmondo's pack, gazing on the macabre scene with apparent disinterest. "What, just because I'm a goblin and he's a goblin we must know each other? I respect you and all but that's kind of bigoted. Just saying. Besides, how would I recognize some stupid gnome? They all look the same." Gheth descends the stairwell into a truly massive chamber. Several torches are mounted high on the walls, but visibly is still somewhat limited by the pale blue mist that fills the room. The blue fog is pouring out of a portal much like the one he'd encountered during the catastrophic events in Lamid, but this particular gate seemed relatively benign. At the very least, nothing had jumped out of it to try to devour him yet. The soothing periwinkle was definitely an improvement on the bright yellow, as well. Broad steps lead up to the portal, which hovered atop a massive altar and was bordered on the top and sides by a steel frame. The portal definitely appeared to be a permanent fixture. Judging by the sheer scale of the chamber and the massive flagstones under his feet, it seemed as though the room must have been carved out by giants. The size of the portal seemed to be consistent with this theory: it was easily wide enough for three grown men to pass through shoulder-to-shoulder. But the clumsy hands of giants could scarcely have assembled the glass-topped display cases lining the walls of the room. The cases on the north and south walls were all at least 20 feet away, and he couldn't really make out the contents through the fog. On the west wall to his left was the largest case in the room, containing what looked like some kind of historical diorama. Six figures were poised in battle; Gheth couldn't make out the individuals on the other end of the case, but nearest to him was a very detailed miniature of a young black dragon. Was this some kind of trophy room? Perhaps a museum? Gheth looks around for any obvious security measures and doesn't spot anything. It was a small miracle that no one had smashed the cases and made off with the contents by now. |
Glenn walks down the stairs to join his dragonborn ally and is instantly fascinated by the diorama. His eyes pick out what appear to be two dwarves, a halfling, an elf, and a human. There was clearly an interesting story behind this piece of art, that much was for sure.
Glenn also gives the room a glance over for anything unexpected, more out of habit than anything else, and moves to examine the other display cases. |
"My apologies, Gary. To me, all non-human creatures do look alike. I had just assumed you might know him, since you were three rooms from each other in this godforsaken place. I shall be more discerning in the future."
My mission to conquer the door and cut off the murdering gnomes has been accomplished, and I am exceedingly proud of myself. Deciding that it's not worth the risk to explore the dungeon further without support from my colleagues, I join the rogue and cleric in the museum. The displays catch my eye, and I spend some time admiring them. Perception check: 10 + 12 = 22 If we are going to leave this place through a portal, there's no reason why we can't take away the booby-trapped staff of the Avalanche. I take the eladrin aside, and in a conspiratorial tone, ask to borrow some of his rope. After the entire party enters the portal, I plan to tie the rope to the staff, and yank it in when I enter. |
After expressing his interest to try his luck at the portal maze, seeing as luck was the only thing getting them into and out of this mess, Puyet headed that way.
On his way out, he realized that Gary might still come in useful, so he boosted attempted to boost his morale by giving him a piggy back ride. Puyet followed Gheth down the stairs. The numerous displays amazed him, and he wondered if any of them were scenes from his studies, or if, perhaps, he had heard tales of them in the barracks. |
Garrmondo and Glenn examine the battle diorama, finding something about it hauntingly familiar. It hadn't been so long at all since the fighter had sat across a campfire from Gabriel Sledgehammer, and here was the dramatic battle that the paladin had spoken of time and again. In a wondering tone, the fighter passes on the story to the newcomers that they may understand what a strange thing they are seeing. Even if someone else had spied upon the battle and created this strange tribute, why was the case so dusty? The battle had happened less than a year before, hadn't it?
In this rendering, strangely, the battle did not seem to be going all that well. Both dwarves were sporting grievous wounds, and the elf mage stood helplessly with a staff broken in two. An engraved marker on the front of the case reads: "In Memory Of Hamfist's Harriers. Their Sacrifice Shall Never Be Forgotten." Meanwhile, Puyet and Cal move to examine the rest of the cases. In the northwest case, a massive human-shaped form was wrapped entirely in linen. Was this a burial chamber as well? A small silver box sat next to the giant's head, the torchlight glinting off sapphires set in the lid. Neither Cal or Puyet can imagine what sort of creature might be under the wrappings (if any): an ogre or a giant would have greater girth to go along with their height, but the mummy seems only as big around as a normal man despite being 15 feet tall or more. The marker reads: "Only the wealthy and powerful could afford this kind of ceremonial burial, as both precious metals and the preservative spices used in mummification are exceedingly rare in the vast Athasian desert. It was believed that by preserving their bodies, the dead might be able to live again should the gods ever return to their world. Needless to say, no divine resurrections are on record." In the north case lie a small assortment of decrepit-looking books, all of them bound in leather or some other kind of hide. Two tomes lie open to pages near the middle. Inside the left book are an assortment of various diagrams, appearing to detail the internal anatomy of several unrecognizable creatures. On the right, the pages are packed top-to-bottom with an unreadable black scrawl. "Demonomicon of Iggwilv, Volumes 3-7" In the northeast case sit three bulky metal objects that the adventurers can make neither hide nor hair of. The misshapen thing on the far right looks much like the warforged-crewed boat from the stars that Garrmondo once claimed to have encountered, but the other two seem entirely useless for any function. "Transportation for War and Leisure Among the Terrans." In the southwest case are the immobile bodies of seven large beetles, all but one painted in various bright colors. "The Gully Dwarves of Krynn take great delight in the nature of the common fire beetle, and often keep these dangerous insects as pets. Upon the beetle's eventual death their sturdy exoskeletons are often given to children as gifts, much like human children are given dolls to play with." In the south case are more incomprehensible doodads. A tiny black box sits in what looks like a puddle of blank ink, and an oblong grey egg appears to be sprouting several sheets of unusually white parchment. Dozens of other strange things both large and small litter the case, most of them constructed of a strange material that looks unusually smooth but is clearly neither metal nor glass. "Recovered from a Terran government office, function unknown." In the last cast (the southeast) are metal tubes of various sizes, with obvious handles jutting out of each. Why you would want to hold onto the metal tube is unclear. "Typical field armament of X-Com operatives during the First Alien War." Several members of the party scour their memories for anything that might make sense of any of this, but not to much avail. Garrmondo certainly knew plenty about the dragon battle, but the display's understanding of historical events seemed to diverge with his. If this was history, it sure wasn't his history. Puyet spends a great deal of time examining the "armaments" case, but can't imagine any use for the tubes. They looked like little cannon barrels mounted on a crossbow grip. You'd rip your arm off! Cal and Glenn look around bewilderedly for any clue that might make sense of the room. High, high up on the vaulted ceiling Glenn spots a banner dangling down. In large block capitals, it reads: "PRIMITIVE CULTURES" Out of the corner of his eye, Cal spots something moving in the diorama case. He whirls to look, but everything is just as still and quiet as it should be. Just a trick of the light, perhaps. |
The X-Com and Terran exhibits pique my interests, as did a hint of motion from the diorama. But sometimes, a trick of the light is but a trick of the light, and nothing more. Surely there is nothing to worry about here.
More concerned with the consequences of liberating the display cases of their exhibits, I try to recall if there are magical wards that might trigger to our detriment. I covet the rocket launcher, laser rifle, and plasma pistol on display. Arcana Check. The word "Hamfist" seemed familiar to me, although I've never actually met this Argumentus fellow that the human fighter was telling us about. Then it hit me: I very recently read a book about it. Perhaps the volume about Bombastus the barbarian has something about "Hamfist's Harriers". Quickly skim through "The Life Of Bombastus Hamfist, As Told By Himself" for clues about the diorama. |
After hearing the story of the battle against the dragon, Glenn wonders if the diorama might be hiding some secret. Watching the figures in the case carefully, and preparing himself for the worst lest any security systems go off, he tries pushing the glass wall down on top of the dragon. He felt silly, but it was worth a try.
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Cal puts his practically-nil training in matters arcane to use, and stares real hard at the whole room. He doesn't see any magical invisible lines or ghosts or anything. Coast's clear!
Shrugging, Cal takes the brief moment of quiet to read another few pages of The Life Of Bombastus Hamfist, As Told By Himself. Quote:
Taking a long shot, Glenn tries to recreate in miniature Motsognir's triumphant demolition of the stairwell wall. He shoves the side of the case with all his might, but the glass doesn't break — the case just slides smoothly away from his hands, as if rolling on tiny wheels. Before Glenn can react, the massive display recedes completely into the wall. For a moment there's an visible case-sized hole in the floor beneath where the display used to be, then a similar display rises out of the pit. The new case contains another miniature battle. A single man in gleaming platemail stands in the middle of a cemetery, fearless in the face of several zombies. On the other side of a low hill, a small group of brigands — a doppelganger, a bugbear, a duergar, and a halfling — crouch out of sight, as though lying in ambush. The plaque reads: "Thanks to the quick work of the mercenary adventurers called 'The Fist Of Kord', Lord Broden's famous broadsword was returned to him in time to fend off this assassination attempt." |
My kleptomania getting the better of me, I open the display case of the X-Com exhibit and liberates the object marked "Laser Rifle". I have no idea what a "laser" is, certainly no craftsman I know. But a tool that can help me plunder more easily will surely come in handy!
Take http://www.ufopaedia.org/images/f/fc/BIGOBS00.GIF With my new plundering tool in hand, I rifle through the Terran and tome exhibits with the greatest of ease. |
Another diorama, another inconsistency. Glenn had heard news of Lord Broden's disappearance and presumed death when he had passed though Freeport not too long ago, while choosing a target for some minor theft to make enough money to get him to the next town. He never took any heirlooms of any sort - people were entitled to memoirs of their history. In the end he had settled on a particularly corrupt magistrate's gold vault, taking enough to get by, and enough to give to the small resistance movement in the area to stir up a little trouble and uncover a few secrets. If there was one thing Glenn hated, it was rich people thinking that their money made them invincible.
Glenn knew that Broden's broadsword was never returned to his manor, and that if this battle, like the one before it, was one which happened but had a different outcome, then Broden probably wasn't using the sword he held in the case. From what Glenn had heard about the sword, it was a fearsome weapon. Not sure whether this diorama might disappear somewhere as well, Glenn decides to try pushing it back into the wall too. If that didn't work, well, he'd have to find another way. |
Cal tries to figure out a way to get to the artifacts inside the "X-Com" case, but to no avail; there's no latch, no keyhole, nothing. And attempts to smash the glass are futile; Cal brings the hilt of his sword down on the glass cover and gets nothing but a loud thunk for his trouble. Worse, the display instantly responds to the pressure from the attack and begins to recede into the wall. Within seconds, it's been replaced.
The new southeast case contains an assortment of little cards, roughly the size of a standard poker deck. Each of the cards is like a little painting; here a knight charging into battle, there a bright comet streaking down to earth. All in all, 22 cards lie secure inside the case. "The Deck Of Many Things has swayed the destinies of men and nations alike, bringing both treasure and tragedy to those who dared to pick a card. Do you feel lucky?" Next to the plaque is a little slot roughly large enough for a gold coin, and a larger slot roughly wide enough for a playing card. -------- On the west side of the room, Glenn pushes the second diorama into the wall — curious about what will appear next. The third diorama appears promptly A halfling woman stands alone in a narrow hallway, facing a massive carpet of spiders. Behind her, in a pool of blood, lie the bodies of a burly human, a robed elf, and a dwarf in platemail. Suspended from the top of the case on a narrow string is a skeleton in a black robe, floating above the spiders. "St. Brigid's adventures nearly came to an end here, when her second-in-command betrayed her and her companions for a demon's promise of power. She barely escaped with her life, and Hargast remained uninhabitable for more than a century." |
Oh, a vending machine! I know just what to do with it! I see Gary looking at the cards longingly, and decide to give him a break.
Give Gary a coin, tell him to insert it, and take whatever comes out. The Brigid diorama was interesting, to say the least. I know from the human's account that Hargast was where Garrmondo came in. He next got involved in an incident that entailed successful liberation of a heavy cake from an orc, if I recall correctly. I wonder how on Earth the diorama will mangle that. In any case, I find myself drawn to the preserved rich corpse exhibit. Since the glass is indestructible and apparently enchanted to run away, I try various ways to impede the security measure. Chop off the legs of the glass-topped exhibit. If resistant, apply a few drops of black pudding on the legs. Start a small fire under the display with flint and steel, using a few drops of oil as accelerant and a pound of dry alfalfa as kindling. Perhaps it might melt the glass! Stand ready to extinguish said fire should it flare out of control. |
While the changeling mutters about things he couldn't really have known, Glenn decides to see what comes next in the sequence of dioramas, pushing the case back into the wall like the others.
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Puyet takes note of the tales and tragedies told to him and displayed in the cases. He decides not to play or tinker with the cases as a precaution. A good soldier knows not to muddle around with things he doesn't understand or can't control.
Puyet held Garrmondo by his pack as he stuck his head through the portal, ready to pull him back should any unholy force attempt to rip him through it. |
Cal hands Gary a coin from his scant supply of cash, and watches intently as the little goblin drops it in the slot. The display issues a brief snippet of pleasant music as it dispenses Gary's prize from the card slot. Gary holds his hands out to catch the little card, and looks on in amazement as it rapidly folds itself into the shape of a tiny man waving an even tinier staff.
"Behold!" squeaks the origami man. "I am The Sage. I know all things! Ask me one question, and have it answered with total accuracy." For a long moment, Gary seems lost in thought. Then his face lights up with joy as he realizes what question he wants to ask: "Why are they called bugbears, when they aren't bugs or bears?" The origami sage rests his head upon his little fist for a few seconds, and then gestures for Gary to come closer. The goblin brings the little paper man up to his ear, and the sage tells him the answer in secrecy. The only indication either of them gives to the rest of the group is the growing look of nausea on Gary's face. The sage leaps down to the floor, and bursts into flame. "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, lad. Farewell!" Within a few seconds, the origami sage is just a tiny pile of ash. "I kind of wish I hadn't asked, now. Ugh." With all the logic and forethought that Melora gave your average owlbear, Cal sets to work literally setting a fire under a mummy's ass. Even as the first trickles of smoke start to rise off the smoldering alfalfa, a horrifying wail like a screeching harpy starts blaring down from the ceiling. All 7 cases retreat into the walls, and the holes in the floor seal over with steel panels rather than replacing the exhibits. A tiny hatch opens in the ceiling, and water begins to drizzle down onto the group. The torches, evidently made of sterner stuff than most, continue merrily burning away. Quite unable to continue his intended further exploration of the dioramas, Glenn turns his attention to Garrmondo, who's about to literally stick his neck out. -------- Garrmondo leans through the portal, with Puyet keeping a firm grip lest there be danger on the other side. After a moment of disorientation, Garr finds himself looking around a dilapidated old temple. The room is practically cluttered with statuary, but most of them look to be falling apart. There's no torchlight in the room, but the temple is well illuminated by a large glowing orb sitting on a dais. A young human girl wearing a comically oversized crown leans apathetically against the dais, idly plucking on a lute. On the other side of the room a fully-armored knight in a purple cloak paces back and forth, muttering to himself. "I will... I will punch them all out. No, no. I will, I will push them all around. I will rattle all of their cages. Damn it all, what's keeping them?" The knight glances expectantly at a heavy stone door on the opposite end of the room, but it remains closed. The temple side of the portal being in a relatively shadowy corner, Garr's disembodied head goes unnoticed. |
Glenn glowers at the changeling; when Garrmondo had started recognising the people in the dioramas, Glenn had hoped that he might find something interesting within one of the later ones, possibly even including the group they were with now. His opportunity for learning what dangers the group's future held foiled, Glenn debates sneaking into the room on the other side of the portal, but decides to see if any of the others wish to try talking to those in the other room first.
|
I am deeply shamed after having incurred the Eladrin's disfavor. I am also rather upset at my inability to glean any insight from the somewhat inaccurate dioramas. I hurriedly extinguish the flame, hoping the security measure would soon deactivate.
Perhaps if I successfully retrieve the staff, he might forgive me. Borrow length of rope. Taking Gary aside, I asked in a hushed tone. So, why are they called Bugbears? |
Puyet cringed as he felt the water hit the back of his neck. It reminded him of the year he spent posted in the swamps hunting down hordes of trolls with his company commissioned by a neighboring fisherman's port. What a miserable time that was.
First a giant blob that provoked a horde of angry goblins, then a unpredictable swarm of gorrillas, and now this. He had definitely had enough. Puyet yanked back Garrmondo and approached the shapeshifter. Perhaps a good whack could rearrange his brains in a more favorable fashion. |
Glenn dawdles by the portal, hoping someone else will take the plunge. Meanwhile, Cal stealthily steals the rope from his Glenn's pack ('borrowing' from someone without their permission is theft) and interrogated Gary about his discoveries. Gary's in no mood to dish (he looks like he's barely keeping down his gorge), but the conversation comes to an abrupt end when the half-orc starts waving his fists around in Cal's general vicinity. Perhaps it was best he got on with his plan and gave the others some space.
-------- The pacing knight on the other end of the portal doesn't seem too intimidating, so Garrmondo strides back through and draws attention to himself. There's a faint click just behind him, and Garrmondo glances over his shoulder — the portal's gone. The knight in the purple cloak whirls on Garrmondo, reaching for his sword until he beholds an armored figure even more intimidating than himself. "Your plan sounds solid, but I've tried knocking them down before. They get knocked down, but they just get back up again. I'm never going to keep them down. Goddamn pesky halflings." Neither the knight nor the girl seem at all perturbed by Garrmondo's sudden entrance. The girl issues an ostentatiously loud yawn, and resumes the game of tic-tac-toe she's scratched into the dust on the floor. -------- Back in the museum chamber, the drizzle from overhead peters out. There's a faint click in the vicinity of the portal, and the whirling lights of the magic doorway subtly shift from blue to pink. |
Puyet grumbles under his breath and stomps toward the portal to follow Garrmondo.
|
Cal Amah of Rhee may be many things, but he's no thief when it comes to comrades. Seeing as how the rope is likely not recoverable, I secretly drop a gold coin in the rogue's pack. Curiously, he has not noticed the loss of 10 pounds of weight - my sleight of hand is getting better every day.
I expertly tie the now-purchased rope around the massive staff in a bowyer's knot, and rush back into the portal room unraveling the rope all the way. Ushering the cleric, rogue, and gallant Gygax in front of the pink portal, and wagon right next to me, I tell them as I hand each of them a rope to yank... Okay then. On three, we charge into the portal together after the orc, all right? We don't want to split up the party. One... two... |
Tired of trying to make sense of the changeling's determination to not carry things as useful as rope around with it, Glenn just lets it take the rope from his pack without caring. Glenn opts to wait for the portal's inevitable change in color and target location as soon as anyone tries to go through it - as far as he can tell the only trigger has been the fighter's disappearance. Perhaps it will change back and Glenn can join Garrmondo, or perhaps yet another locale will present itself. Either option seemed better to Glenn than having more of his stuff soaked and/or pilfered by the poorly prepared changeling.
|
Gheth watched the scene play out as a probable king's bounty in artifacts slid in and out from the walls. Well, it was obvious someone had set himself up a lovely little trophy room, but Gheth was at a loss as to why.
He made a note of the portal's new color, and decidedly resisted having a rope put on him to follow into areas unknown. Instead, he used a simple knife to cut a foot long length off the rope he was given, and sliced that again into several smaller pieces. "Maybe we should try this first, before we use our body parts?" Experimentally, he throws a piece of the rope into the portal. |
Cal and Puyet charge into the pink portal, dragging hapless Gary with them. The ropes the two are dragging behind them go taut, but there's no indication of the indestructible staff giving way. Oddly, the portal doesn't switch over immediately this time — perhaps the persistence of the ropes on both ends of the doorway prevent it from closing. Gheth tosses a scrap of rope through out of curiosity, but it doesn't seem to provoke anything other than a startled yelp from the changeling on the other side. He shares a raised eyebrow with the eladrin rogue, and they choose to cautiously wait for further developments.
-------- On the other side of the pink portal, Cal and Puyet find themselves in a vast cornfield. It's black as pitch out, and though the full moon shines down from directly overhead the cornstalks are all as tall as a man anyway. Visibility is, to say the least, minimal. A chunk of hempen rope flies out of the portal behind them, smacking Cal in the back of the head. On the upside, the portal continues to merrily hum away behind them, bathing the roughly 10-foot radius of visibility in a soft pink light. -------- The cloaked knight shrugs. "That there is only one way in or out is what makes this such a formidable redoubt, friend! The halfling fiends shall be forced through the chokepoint that the door represents, you see, and then — and then! Still, it's not really safe out there. This whole region is just choked with vicious wolves, goblins, that sort of thing. I brought the princess here specifically in the hopes that forging through such threats would sap their resources. We shall soon see if it is so, eh?" While the knight explains his plans, the massive stone door in the south of the room slowly swings open, admitting four halflings walking two-by-two. A chainmail-clad warrior with a shock of red hair waves a rapier in the knight's general direction before delivering an incoherent demand at the top of his lungs. "SRDR VILN. GIVE PRCS ELSE DSTY." The fellow next to him, clad in piecemeal armor made out of wooden planks, throws in his support. "PRCS SARA HIDE. WILL DEAL WITH GRLD THEN TAKE HOME." Behind them, two halflings in long robes flip idly through their spellbooks, both of which look to be about 3 pages long. The purple-cloaked knight's shoulders sink as he whirls on the intruders. "Ah, yes. Halflings are significantly smaller than a 15-foot-wide stone door. This plan seems to have been fatally flawed." The girl slaps her forehead in exasperation. The redheaded halfling spots Garrmondo loitering in the rear of the chamber, and waves his rapier around excitedly. "LEAV ELSE YOUR DEAD GRLD EVIL SRVT." |
Can't see. But I know Puyet has low-light vision.
Ignite sunrod if he can't see either. |
Muddle through cornstalks.
What can I haz see? |
Cal's practically blind as a bat, but between the moonlight and the glow of the portal Puyet's superior vision allows him to at least bumble through the field without getting too many cobs in the face. As long as Cal's holding on to his rope, the portal should be stable. Hopefully the changeling can be trusted.
At length, Puyet stumbles into a small clearing in the middle of the field. A wide circle of cornstalks have been flattened into a carpet underfoot, and in the center of the clearing an odd little creature sits on a tree stump. Perhaps a little taller than an average halfling, the little grey thing is clad in a simple robe. Its bulbous head seems too large for its body, and iridescent black eyes take up almost half of its face. It seems to be reading some kind of metal book, but it sets the book aside as it sees Puyet approach. "Greetings, native. May I ask you some... probing questions?" |
The half-orc presses on, leaving poor defenseless me standing all alone in a pitch-black corn field in Melora knows where.
Perhaps I can find the human meatshield though. It seems quiet enough to risk shouting. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: === Gary, can you go back through and tell the others about this place? Ask them if they can stick something more stable than a piece of rope through the portal. Say, a mundane item like a staff or rod? |
Puyet realized he was intruding, and with the small man's provocative question, he felt he might want to intrude in return. Puyet gave him a slightly hostile tone to let him know he wasn't up any for shenanigans.
"You can ask them, but ask them from a safe distance." |
Whilst Glenn waits for the changeling and the half-orc to return, he is tempted to go quickly go back up to the room with the avalanche staff and take a closer look at it, but decides against it. Instead he looks around near the portal in the hopes of finding what made the clicking sound when it changed color. Perhaps there's a control mechanism somewhere nearby.
|
Swallowing his pride long enough to walk away from what was surely going to be an ugly fight, Garrmondo sidles past the angry halflings and out the door. It was probably for the best; the spellcasters were getting antsy.
"FIRE. FIRE. FIRE." "SETL DOWN BVIS." "SLEP?" Outside the orb chamber, the rest of the structure is battered and crumbling. Sunlight streams in from massive holes in the walls and ceilings, and Garrmondo sees a dense forest beyond the confines of the temple compound. A bunch of skeletons and goblins are just meandering aimlessly around the temple corridors, occasionally giving Garrmondo a skeptical once-over and then going on their way. Anguished screams ring out behind Garrmondo in the orb room, but he can't really tell if it's the knight or the halflings doing the screaming. They were all fairly high-pitched. -------- "Very well!" cries the little grey man. "Answer me this riddle of the universe, and be rewarded! For your wisdom will be repaid greatly, with this — " The little man rummages around in the hip pockets of his robe before withdrawing some damp-looking green paper. "With this 45 dollars! Tell me, native man: why do you guys have an appendix? We totally cut a bunch of you up and couldn't figure it out." Cal shouts out into the night in hopes that Garrmondo's portal may have led to somewhere nearby, but there's no answer. -------- Against his better judgment, Glenn cautiously prowls around the vicinity of the portal. Indeed, on the far side of the platform (between the portal and the wall) was a small red lever, quite difficult to spot from most angles. The lever was currently pulled all the way to the north-most setting, which a small etching next to the notch identified as "Shuffle." Other possible settings, from north to south, were "Lock", "Reverse", "Emergency Stop" and "Go To", which was accompanied by three tiny stone wheels set vertically into the platform. The edges of the wheels were covered in little etched diagrams: at the top of each wheel at the moment were an owl, a coinpurse, and a question mark. |
Well, this was turning into a fine day. I've just been sitting here, minding my own business and playing some music for myself, and I'm interrupted by screams.
Everyone's a fucking critic. I still felt good, and people liked it before, so what the hell. As I put away my recorder, I see the biggest fucking ponce I've ever seen walking toward me. I raise my voice to greet him: "What are you, some sort of pirate, or does your boyfriend just dress you funny?" |
Puyet wasn't sure what the green paper the wee man was waving around could be, nor did he have any idea what an "appendix" was. He wasn't sure what to make of the offer or the question, so he hollered for Cal to come accompany him. He didn't trust him much, but at the moment he was more trustworthy that this small cretin.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, but perhaps my friend could tell you." |
I am wracked with indecision, frozen in place thanks to my internal monologue
Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: |
The little grey man stuffs the paper back in his pocket, disappointed. "Your friend is either mute or mentally ill, it seems. It's a shame. Now neither of you will ever see this 45 bucks again. Or... or! This season bus pass for the Toledo-Nashville route!"
A bright beam of light shoots down out of the sky, illuminating the little man and his stump, and he begins to slowly float upward. He taps the side of his head with a finger, and mutters: "No luck here either. I recommend we move on to Florida; I have heard rumors that they keep their elders sequestered there. Surely those wise ancients will know the answer to our mystery." The little grey man gradually recedes upward into the night, gradually becoming nothing more than a little speck in the beam of light. Then the light beam vanishes, and far up in the sky there is a quiet humming that gradually fades away into the distance. The stump remains, a silent witness to the night's failures. -------- Having greeted each other with insults (as manly men are wont to do), the swordmage and the fighter take in their collective situation. While cagey about how it is that he got here in the first place, the genasi's reason for staying is fairly obvious: he can't get out. The many holes and gaps in the wall are just too high for him to reach, and the massive padlock on the door bears dozens of little nicks from the Gra-Fa-Zut's attempts to hack his way through. Perhaps Garrmondo has resources to bring to the problem that the genasi does not. |
I have finally reached a decision after seeing little gray squat things fly without wings.
Retreat to the portal, screaming. |
Seeing as the Changeling's plan failed, Glenn retrieves his rope from the far room just in time for Cal to run through the portal, screaming like a lunatic. Based on what Glenn knew of the creature from his brief time in its company, it'd probably been startled by a mosquito or something similarly vicious.
Glenn goes back behind the portal and flips the switch to the "reverse" position. Hopefully the group can pick up Puyet and go find Garrmondo before the changeling does anything stupid and surprises more wildlife into attacking them. |
"Hey, new guy. I'm guessing you're part of why I heard those screams a couple minutes ago, so that means I like you. Hoist me up and I'll try to take a look outside."
|
Eladrin, you would not believe what I saw back there! Little gray gnomes, dressed in funny clothes, floating around without wings! Beams of light falling from the sky! Quiet humming sounds that mysteriously come and go!
That has to be a harbinger of the Tarrasque! Wait, where's Garr? And what does this button do? |
Cal flees through the portal, which clicks and turns an unpleasant shade of chartreuse as he tumbles back into the would-be museum. Glenn quickly throws the device into reverse, switching it back to pink before anyone could make any hasty exits (or entrances, Sehanine forbid). With nothing else but corn to see for hundreds of yards in all directions, Puyet grumblingly trudges back through the pink portal as well — and smacks Cal's hands away from the controls before he can do any more damage.
-------- Garrmondo boosts the genasi up to one of the many impressive cracks in the wall, and the blue fella takes a gander at the outdoors. Nothing but trees as far as the eye can see, save for a little stone-lined well a few yards from the treeline. The well is capped, alas. |
As soon as Puyet has returned and the portal has returned to its original color, Glenn flips the switch into the "lock" position. Giving the changeling a glare that says, "don't mess with it", he turns and heads through the portal, hoping the fighter hasn't wandered too far in the time he was away.
|
Hey, a purplish pastel-ly portal. Maybe Garr's in there!
GARRMONDO? ARE YOU THERE?!! HAVE YOU FOUND THE WIZARD WHO CAN GET US OUT??? |
Glenn resets the portal to its initial setting and locks it, and Cal follows him through.
Gheth and Puyet pointedly examine their own fingernails. Gheth overhears some kind of faint growling coming from the top of the stairs. If he had to describe it, he might call it "yeti-like." -------- Glenn is immediately disappointed as he arrives on the other side: Garrmondo is nowhere in sight. Instead, he and the changeling find themselves intruding on a swirling melee. A hulking man in plate armor and a purple cloak is barely fending off a relentless assault bu a group of halflings; though he easily cuts down the halflings in melee with his greatsword, a white-robed halfling in a corner simply mutters "CURE" each time, and the wounded fighters are up and stabbing again. Worse, a fourth halfling in the opposite corner is continually hurling fireballs at the harried man in the cloak. The cloaked man whirls around to face the newcomers as the hum of the portal announces their arrival. "A ha! Now my... reinforcements have arrived at last! You puny things are doomed, now! Doomed!" In an instant, the halflings' attentions are diverted from the cloaked fighter to Glenn and Cal. The man in the purple cloak offers an awkward shrug, as if by way of apology. Screeching poorly-enunciated oaths, the angry halflings converge on Glenn and Cal. The little fellow in the awkward wooden mail lunges at Glenn, jabbing his rapier into the eladrin's ribs before Glenn could even manage to draw his own weapon. Glenn wasn't used to being the one caught flatfooted in a fight. 16 damage to Glenn Defenses! Fighter AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 19 Will 17 Thief AC 21 Fort 18 Ref 21 Will 17 Black Mage AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 White Mage AC 21 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 Out in the corridor, Garr and Gra-Fa-Zut notice as the constant noise from the temple room subsides for a moment. Somebody was giving a speech.. something about doom? Par for the course, really. He's prepared to ignore it until he hears the changeling's familiar voice calling his name. :savepoint: Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Puyet 18, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Thief 26 |
Attack my friend, will you?
Disruptive Strike vs. Thief. Alas, my hastily-prepared snap shot spoiled my otherwise peerless aim. |
Having no real interest in collecting more baboon hides, and trusting Glenn better in having figured the mechanics than the dastardly changeling, Puyet wanders through the portal, only to see Glenn getting his insides renovated. The little man who was intent on this deed then scampered off into a corner. Corners are generally the best places for his enemies to be. Puyet moves in on the wee man and motions for his comrades by the portal to follow him in and make quick work of this high school punk reject with blue hair.
Battlefront shift as close as possible to thief without provoking AoO |
Once again reunited with the party, and hearing the sounds of battle commotion coming from this purpiwinkle portal, Gheth charges in, but the trip is disorienting, and he's unsure of where he has ended up. Nevertheless, he comes through ready to go on the offensive.
Not sure what square I end up on, or how many move squares it took to go through the portal, but if it's possible to get within 10 of White Mage, then Spiritual Weapon on her. If not, then Spiritual Weapon on fighter. |
Following Puyet's lead, Glenn moves in and closes on the thief that just graciously gave him an appendectomy. Apparently a good surgical operation was a bargain deal on this plane. He switches to his blade to return the favor. Where we're from, we show our gratitude.
After sinking a blow towards the thief, Puyet closes the distance and swings a wide double cleave attempting to knock the the gold out of the thief's pockets like a pinata. Hopefully blood comes out instead. Glenn: Move to I112 Clever Strike w/ combat advantage. HIT CRITICAL 13 DMG + 10 Sneak Attack DMG + 8 Crit Bonus DMG Expend Flaying Gloves power for ongoing dmg Puyet: (should be at H111) Wolf Pack Tactics, shifting Glenn to H113 Attack w/ combat advantage. HIT 16 DMG Furious Assault 9 DMG Having made a bloody pulp of the thief, he stood there quite dizzy. Not sure if he was still conscious, Puyet signals for Cal to put an arrow between his brow to make sure he isn't. |
Gheth and Puyet charge through the portal to find quite the fracas on their hands, even setting aside the growling sounds that were getting louder and louder behind them. Even as the cleric tumbles through the blue mists, Avandra's mystic blade was already materializing in his hand. With a grunt he flings the dagger across the room, slicing open the white-robed mage's hood and giving her an interesting new part in her hair. The vicious little knife continues to hover around the mage, poking her in the face and generally irritating her.
10 damage to White Mage Glenn closes in on the halfling thief, his sword ripping through the air to land what would surely be a mighty blow. The thief's rapier slashes into his side once more as he approaches, though this does nothing to slow him down. But the rotten little beggar dodges at the last second, and what should be a serious wound is merely... still a pretty serious wound actually. Dang. Smirking, Glenn backhands the thief as he circles around. 14 damage to Glenn from thief's AoO (bloodied) Thief expends his Second Chance (all halflings have this, don't act surprised) 26 damage to Thief, and 5 ongoing (save ends) With the thief backed into a corner and surrounded, Puyet has no trouble bringing the hammer down. 25 damage to Thief (bloodied) Though it's really no business of his, Gra-fa-zut finds himself drawn inexorably toward the sounds of battle. It's like his feet are moving on their own! On your first combat turn ever I have to do this? Crud, guy. The black mage hurriedly glances from one intruder to the next, finding it hard to pick a target. At length, he flings a pouch of some strange dust in Gheth's direction, muttering fearsome incantations under his breath. The dust explodes up in a cloud, and as Gheth and the allies around him accidentally inhale it they feel their eyelids begin to get very heavy indeed. SLEP: +11 vs Will, Burst 2 centered on Gheth. Gheth, Puyet, Cal Slowed (save ends). If you fail your save vs slow, become unconscious (save ends). :savepoint: Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Thief 26, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Puyet 18, Black Mage 15 |
Can't think... eyelids drooping... I snap out a few arrows against the most grievously wounded targets, and attempt to shake the malaise.
Sequence: Move to I110, Quarry Thief, Two-Fanged Strike (apply quarry damage to first attack), Action Point: Twin Strike, Take Ranged Basic Attack (granted by Puyet's Bravura Presence after attacking with action point) Target(s): Thief (until he drops dead), White Mage (assuming the statue things don't block line of effect) - Warrior otherwise. Damage Calculations: Two-Fanged Strike, first attack: 5+7+7 = 19 Two-Fanged Strike, second attack: 5+7 = 12 Twin Strike, second attack: 9+2 = 11 Ranged Basic Attack: 4+7 = 11 |
Instantly shaking off the cobwebs, Cal reaches into his quiver and sends a whole handful of arrows spraying around the room. The halfling thief, already badly wounded, takes two arrows to the chest and sprawls to the floor. The halfling healer also absorbs a fair share of abuse, but not enough to seriously imperil her.
With a start, Cal realizes he has no idea where Gary is. Perhaps he had been left behind in that cornfield. Well, he was a resourceful sort, for a goblin. He'd manage. Perhaps Gary would even thrive in that strange place. http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/slain.png http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/thdead.gif 22 damage to White Mage The white mage waves around the little iron hammer that seems to serve as both her weapon and her holy symbol, and several of the more egregious wounds on her face and arms seem to fade away. Then she moves closer to the statue for cover; making a few hurried gestures as she fades into translucency, becoming more difficult to distinguish through the mist that's pouring in from the portal. CURE: White Mage spends her healing surge and regains 18 HP FOG: +2 to all of White Mage's defenses until end of her next turn. Yeah, those are both minor actions deal with it :cool: :savepoint: Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Puyet 18, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12 |
The cloaked knight seems to relax for a moment as the halfling thief assumes an extremely awkward death posture. "Why, you've killed him! And he's not getting back up! How... how did you —"
He snarls, whirling on Gra-fa-zut with his blade poised to strike. "I'm being replaced, aren't I! Look at you, you're obviously Kraken-touched. How could I be so blind?! Well, there's only one way to settle this." Shaking with rage, he levels his sword and swings a murderous blow at Gra-fa-zut. "I, Garland, will knock you all down!" With superhuman speed Gra-fa-zut instantly brings his own blade up to parry, deflecting Garland's heavy greatsword with ease. Garland defenses: AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 The halfling fighter ignores the apparent fallout between Garland and his so-called allies, intent on eliminating Gheth and his mage-threatening trickery from the battlefield. He lunges at the cleric, scoring a telling wound on Gheth's shield arm. The fighter takes a step back and smirks, waggling his rapier mockingly. Longsword: 12 damage to Gheth; marked by fighter. The growling coming from the portal was only getting louder. Whatever it was, it would probably follow them through at any second. The girl in the crown takes no special notice of the escalating hostilities, and takes a moment to examine her reflection in the gigantic orb and pluck a few stray eyebrow hairs. :savepoint: Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Puyet 18, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29 |
Gheth takes the full brunt of the halfling's attack on his shield, but it rings through his frame like a church bell, and leaves his fighting muscles stunned. Even through the pain, though, he's unsure if he can fight the urge to lower his eyelids.
With renewed determination, he shakes off the drowsiness and thrusts his spear towards the sky, urging on the ethereal dagger towards the more dangerous of the troupe. Seeing the smirk on the halfling's face, Gheth growls, vowing that he'll wipe it off with his wickedly-barbed spear, if need be. "I may be more about the bandaging than the bloodletting, but you'll leave a perfectly nice stain on the mortar, friend, unless you back up the way you came." Shift to H-108 Sustain Spiritual Weapon Healing Word on Glenn (surge +7) |
Glenn casts about the battle, trying to choose a target. He eventually settles on the halfling with the red hair - he would like to hurt one of the spellcasters, but if the rest of the group works with him, they may be able to knock this jerk down before the brat in the white robes has a chance to say anything about it.
move to K108 (around the fighter) Clever Strike vs fighter hit! 11 damage (figures) AP - Second wind |
Puyet felt drowsy. He couldn't shake the feeling. He needed some cold water to drink. Perhaps he should have Gary bring him some...
Where was Gary? Not again! Puyet could never keep a pet. Something bad always happened. He once had a bunny rabbit. It was lost one night in a drunken game of 'dress the bunny like a Dragonborn'. Where was his bunny rabbit now? Puyet picked up the dead thief and asked him. "WHERE IS MY BUNNY NOW?!?! WHERE IS HE?!?!" There was no response, although the thief did have the audacity to bleed on him. In a fit of rage, Puyet hurled the thief at the fighter and banged his head on his shield to wake himself from his stupor. |
"That was a mistake, motherfucker," I snarl, targeting Garland with a promise of future pain.
Garland marked with Aegis of Assault My blade lashes out, thundering towards the knight. Booming Blade - 19 + 3 + 4 + 11 = 37 Garland HIT - Damage 6 + 6 + 4 = 14 Very nice. Now if only I could make his head explode. |
Gheth cautiously backs away from the halfling fighter, ignoring the little man's jabs and slashes as he concentrates his energies on healing Glenn. His ethereal blade does nothing useful, but he has too much on his hands right now to focus on properly steering the jagged little thing.
A quick gesture from the dragonborn knits the worst of Glenn's wounds. He repays the favor by circling 'round the fighter, driving his blade into the halfling's back. Not his best work, but perhaps he'd drawn away the fighter's attention. 9 damage actually, since Gheth had shifted away by then there's no CA granted. 2 HP either way, but. Gra-fa-zut responds to Garland's angry assault with an equally fervent offense of his own, ripping through the straps of the knight's armor. A steel pauldron goes bouncing off the massive snake statue behind Garland, and the knight's sharp hiss of pain is clearly audible even through his helmet. 12 damage, and Garland marked (well, aegised, but that's not a word now is it). Lot of extra numbers in your combat math, there. Puyet casts about for his loyal goblin manservant, but alas! Gary is missing in action. Perhaps it would behoove Puyet to invest in a leash, or perhaps some kind of fencing. With a furious roar, Puyet heaves up the thief's stiffening corpse and flings it at the fighter. The halfling corpse soars through the misty air, trailing gold coins from the thief's pockets as his body turned over in midair. The dead body slams into the fighter with all the force of Puyet's rage, knocking him ass-over-teakettle onto the mist-covered floor. Critical Hit! 17 damage, fighter knocked prone. Not Second-Chancing that because it's awesome. Achievement Unlocked! To the black mage's great dismay, his sleep spell is entirely ineffective. It was time to intervene in a more direct manner. Arcs of electricity dart from his outstretched hands, striking targets all over the room. Chuckling darkly, the mage retreats behind the nearest statue for safety. 11 damage to Garrmondo, Gra-fa-zut, Glenn; Garrmondo bloodied :savepoint: Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Puyet 18, Black Mage 15 |
Remind me never to get on the half-orc's bad side, I mutter to myself, as I continue our focus fire on the fighter.
ALAS! I have missed him twice. If only he wasn't prone! Yes, it's his fault. It couldn't have been mine - my archery skills are without peer! Quarry Fighter. Twin Strike. AC 22 + 2 prone bonus needs 13+ to hit :( Move to M112. Enemy defenses (so I don't go crazy scrolling up) Fighter AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 19 Will 17 ~ approx 71/71 HP Black Mage AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ HP unknown White Mage AC 21 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ approx 61/75 HP Garland AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 ~ HP unknown (12 damage to date) |
Wielding her wooden mallet, the white mage rushes up to Glenn while his back is turned. Alas, the eladrin had just got his second wind and was far too alert to fall for such a simple ruse, easily deflecting the mage's hammer with the flat of his blade. Desperate to be of some use, the white mage casts a healing spell on her ally the fighter, but not before Glenn had retaliated for her attempted attack.
White Mage CUREs Fighter; surge expended for +17 HP. CURE is a ranged ability because I'm dumb, so Glenn gets in an AoO for 7 damage. Dang. :savepoint: Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Puyet 18, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12 |
Garrmondo tries to reason with the halflings, but with the thief already dead (and his corpse manhandled), his attempt at diplomacy has some hurdles to overcome. Not to mention that the halflings seemed to have a pretty weak grasp on Common in the first place
"YOU!" shouts Garland in anguish. "I trusted you with my extremely cunning plan, and you betray me!" The two heavily-armored warriors awkwardly flail at each other, but only Garrmondo's blade actually finds purchase. Garland's counterattack is far off the mark, his greatsword smashing into the stones at Garrmondo's feet. The ginger halfling springs to his feet, nearly good-as-new thanks to the white mage's aid. With a sneer he turns his attention to Glenn, leaving a nasty slash on the rogue's face. Rapier: 10 damage to Glenn, marked. Mark on Gheth expires. Suddenly, three vicious simian creatures burst through the portal, each sporting a coat of snowy white fur. Yetis! Gheth realizes in retrospect that lingering so close to the portal might not have been the best idea. The one with horns was issuing an ear-piercing wail; Gheth was getting a headache just being near it. Princess Sara continues to absolutely not give a shit. Defenses: Yeti Hunter (G109): AC 22, Fort 19, Ref 18, Will 17 Yeti Howler (G107): AC 20, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 18 Yeti Rampager (G108): AC 20, Fort 21, Ref 17, Will 15 :savepoint: Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29 |
Yetis! What do I know about them? Can I harvest alchemical reagents from their internal organs? Are they weak against Gheth's fiery dragon breath? What do they want? Are they gunning after us? Princess Sarah? Delicious halflings?
Enemy defenses (after Blinding Barrage) Fighter AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 19 Will 17 ~ approx 60/71 HP (55 if Pang lets Blinding Barrage's second damage roll stand) Black Mage AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ HP unknown White Mage AC 21 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ approx 25/61 HP Garland AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 ~ HP unknown (12 damage to date) |
Cal knows precious little about yetis save the obvious (they're medium natural humanoids), and nothing whatsoever about their particular abilities and talents, but he does recall a conversation overheard in a tavern once. It seems that several ranchers in the Lamid area suffered occasional yeti attacks, and one of them discovered a foolproof (and disgusting) countermeasure. One winter night all the goat pens on the outskirts of town were ravaged, save old man Husken's. Seems that one of his old billygoats had passed late the previous afternoon, and the carcass ripened in a hurry. The yeti tracks didn't even come within 20 yards of Husken's pen... maybe the yetis didn't care for the smell of spoiled meat, or were even repulsed by it.
As for the particular motivations of these individual yetis, it's probably a safe guess that they are motivated by being hungry. |
"Hey, guy, keep this asshole busy. I'll be right back," I shout, before sliding past the orbs to see what was up with the other people here.
Swiftcurrent to K109 Sizing up the things on the other side of the room, I landed right next to a little robed magician and some other dude with a sword. "Hey, guys, do you like lightning? I like lightning!" Thunderclap strike on WM and Fighter Fighter - 19 + 11 = 30 HIT; 9+6 =15 damage WM - 16+11 HIT; 12 damage |
Those yetis are causing this fight to snowball...
Puyet yells out loud that it would probably be a good idea for everybody to advance (or retreat, rather) to the castle doors to bottleneck this "chaos". |
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Quote:
Shift to I-107 Move to N-106 so as to only allow AoE from Fighter Sustain Spiritual Weapon (16 damage) (Booyakasha) |
Quick-stepping away from the abominable yetis, Gheth sprints around the statue to relative safety. The halfling fighter gets in a quick swing at him, but the wound is probably nothing compared to what would have happened had he stayed put. Taking cover near one of the snake statues, he manages to score a telling wound on the White Mage while she is otherwise distracted.
Fighter's AoO: 10 damage to Gheth White Mage bloodied Wasn't sure if you would rather sprint all the way around the statue or risk a WM AoO; I guessed sprint The howling yeti takes a few tentative steps forward before noticing Puyet lurking in the corner. Startled, the yeti issues a horrible roar. The sheer force of the yeti's seemingly bottomless lungs throws Puyet backwards into the wall. 17 damage to Puyet Yeti Howler's aura in blue Shit, what else rhymes with Yeti :savepoint: Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22 |
Glenn can tell things aren't going well for the group, and shouts for everyone to make for the door at the far end of the room with all due haste. Seeing the look in the red haired halfling's eyes, Glenn mutters, "here's something you can't do." And vanishes, only to reappear a few meters away next to Gheth.
Fey Step to M105 Glenn quickly switches to his hand crossbow. He then proceeds to fire a whole bunch of bolts at the same time. http://www.collider.com/wp-content/i...y_elwes_01.jpg Yeah. Something like that. Fast hands plus minor switch to crossbow. Blinding Barrage, L106 to J108 hit fighter, missed white mage :( White Mage takes (4+7)/2 = 5.5? 5 or 6, Pang? Fighter takes 9+7 = 16 damage and blinded until end of my next turn. |
Glenn casually sidesteps away from the halfling fighter, vanishing into the air and reappearing safely near Gheth. Right next to the party healer: A Good Place To Be.
Hoping to cover his tracks before the fighter sees where he's gone to, Glenn grabs a fistful of bolts from the case on his belt. With inhuman speed he fires one bolt after another at the fighter, pelting the halfling with a rain of projectiles. Several bolts lodge in the fighter's torso and the last bolt rips a gruesome furrow across his scalp, sending blood pouring down the fighter's face. He won't be a threat to anyone for a while. Always round down, Hawk; except in this case your damage bonus is +6, not +7 so it's kind of a moot point. The rest of you: Blindness has a few effects, but most important is that blinded combatants are granting combat advantage to absolutely everyone. Gra-fa-zut darts past the orb, seeming not to squeeze through the gap so much as pour himself in. With a splash he reforms next to the fighter and the healer halflings, swinging the flat of his blade in a wide arc that smashes them both to the floor. Fighter and White Mage knocked prone; Fighter bloodied. 5 damage to GFZ due to ending turn in howler aura. The center yeti, seeming angry and restless, casts about for an easy meal. It spots Cal studying it thoughtfully from the center of the room, and issues a bloodcurdling howl while staring Cal right in the eyes. Was the yeti issuing some kind of challenge? While Cal had encountered more impressive howls in his time, he couldn't help but be a bit shaken; largely because the howl preceded the yeti barreling down on him at top speed. The yeti's claw tear into him with all the beast's great momentum behind them. 5 psychic damage to Cal from gettin' howled at; 18 damage to Cal from getting scratched all to fuck. ..."Tommy Vercetti"? :savepoint: Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18 |
The yeti I had been studying intently suddenly howled in my face, giving me a tremendous headache. It launches into a charge, as I connect the dots:
Weave through the fray, to O110. If not possible, O111. Cal takes 15 damage instead of 18. 1d8+11 damage? Really?? Enemy defenses (after Zeph) Fighter > AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 19 Will 17 ~ approx 39/71 HP (32 damage to date) Black Mage > AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) White Mage > AC 21 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ approx 14/61 HP (47 damage to date) Garland > AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 ~ HP unknown (12 damage to date) Hunter > AC 22, Fort 19, Ref 18, Will 17 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) Howler > AC 20, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 18 ~ HP unknown (11 damage to date) Rampager > AC 20, Fort 21, Ref 17, Will 15 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) |
Puyet shakes off his dizzy, tries to assess the situation, as bizarre as it is, and suddenly hears a faint voice in his head..."let the bodies his the floor."
Who could argue with that. Puyet charges the fuck out of the yeti that just attacked him, and knocks him prone....very prone. Cal takes a second to inform him to his suspicion about the maiden. She had definitely been out of his mind this entire fight, but now that he thought about it, we were searching for wizard of some sort, and the crazy old lady did mention oddities similar to the gorillas. What was a second ago a retreat was about to turn into a hostage situation. He tells Cal to terminate the white mage, and slow down whatever other threats hadn't already been effectively nullified and call to the rest of the group to cover him. Hopefully they would catch on. Puyet strides boldly toward the maiden, and proceeds to choke that bitch out. "What's a pretty wench like you doing in a place like this?" Inspiring word on self. Healing surge. Return to 50 hp. Flattening charge to I111 attacking Howler 11dmg to Howler Move to M109, avoid AoO's Spend action point. GRAB or whatever is closest to da sleeper hold on princess |
Cal scrambles to get away from the charging yeti, but it unhesitatingly follows him around the snake statue as he tries to hide.
Puyet refuses to be intimidated by the tendency of large simian beasts to toss him around, and charges fearlessly into the yeti howler. The furry beast staggers and falls, and Puyet takes advantage of all the enemies in his immediate vicinity being on the floor. He strides carelessly over to the apathetic princess, easily dodging a swipe from the yeti he just bowled over. Dropping his shield, he quickly wraps his forearm around Princess Sara's neck and yanks her to her feet so as to ask her an important question. "Gaaaaah!", she replies. "Gluuhhh acccck gaaaah." Perhaps a revised hold with less choking might be in order. Seeing the princess seized, the third yeti lunges toward Puyet in alarm. Alas, Gra-fa-zut blocks the way. Frustrated, the yeti issues a blood-curdling yowl of dismay right into Gra's face, filling him with the urge to murder it before it can make any more annoying noise. Gra-fa-zut's whole day had been going downhill since breakfast, tell you the truth. 8 psychic damage to G-f-z, who is rapidly running out of bubblegum. G-f-z is marked by the Yeti Hunter (save ends). Alarmed by the sound of the princess struggling for air, the Black Mage runs out from behind cover and quickly pelts a fireball at Puyet in attempts to break his grip. The fire blast slams into the half-orc's back, and he's suddenly much too occupied with snuffing out the fire on his clothes to be able to maintain his chokehold. Sara falls to her knees, coughing. 9 damage to Puyet, dazed (save ends); immediately drops hold as consequence of being dazed. Puyet triggers Endure Pain; fireball damage reduced by 6 :savepoint: Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15 Estelle Getty? Lori Petty? I took Betty to the jetty but the jetty was dry. :( |
Trying to buy myself a bit of breathing room for archery work, I shift south and decide to eliminate some halflings once and for all.
Shift to P110. Twin Strike on White Mage. First arrow misses; second arrow is a critical hit. White Mage takes 1d10+2 + 2 = 14 hp damage but probably Second Chances this. Our party cannot last long in a protracted battle against three different groups. I decide to use a trophy that I've acquired long ago, from a gnoll who almost slaughtered us. And would have done so if the clever halfling didn't save us all. A gnoll whose gonads I had turned into augmenting whetstones, and had weeks to mature in my vacuum flask. Gnasc, I haven't forgotten you. May your orbs of augmentation help me in this fight. Draw Phew, the meat has rotted severely. Only the 75gp enchantment prevented it from completely withering away. Enemy defenses (after GFZ) Fighter > AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 19 Will 17 ~ approx -1/71 HP (72 damage to date) Black Mage > AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) Garland > AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 ~ approx 38/76 HP (38 damage to date) Hunter > AC 22, Fort 19, Ref 18, Will 17 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) Howler > AC 20, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 18 ~ HP unknown (28 damage to date) Rampager > AC 20, Fort 21, Ref 17, Will 15 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) |
Alas, the white mage rolls out of the way of both of Cal's shots (albeit just barely). Standing up and batting Gheth's floating dagger away from her face, she takes a long look at the situation and makes a command decision.
"We're boned. Let's get the fuck out of here." "Shhhh!" hisses the black mage, holding his hand to his forehead. "Stay in character, Betty!" "Shut up, Fred. Eddie, grab Theo's carcass and get ready to run. This is getting way, way too complicated for us to deal with." Betty flips her spellbook to the right page on the first try; it looks like she's got a bookmark on the spell she has in mind. Muttering ancient words of power under her breath, she draws the outline of a doorway in the air with her free hand. "and.... EXIT! Let's... aw, shit." In the south end of the temple, a glowing white vortex opens up on the floor only a few yards from Garrmondo and Garland's clumsy duel. For Betty, however, it might as well be miles away; both Garland and the vast majority of G-Unit stand between her and her escape. Issuing a constant stream of curses, Betty begins to slowly inch away from Puyet and past the princess, hoping to gradually slip away unnoticed amidst the larger fracas. :savepoint: Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12 Bam-ba-lam |
"You didn't let me answer, you crazy bastard! Take this!"
Garland's swordsmanship is no better than usual, though, and he merely puts a new gouge in the battered snake statues. A deep sigh reverberates from within his heavy helmet, and he attempts to back toward the vortex to the south. Garrmondo isn't content to let him get away, though; he hacks away even as the knight tries to retreat. Garland bloodied by Cleave, then 9 damage to Garland from AoO The halfling fighter unsteadily wobbles to his feet, blood still pouring down his face. "Where'd that weird elf go? I can't see a thing." He cautiously steps backward away from the large, threatening silhouette of Gra-fa-zut, backing into a statue. He moans. :savepoint: Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, White Mage 12, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29 |
I'm on fire!!!!!!! I'm on fire!!!!!! Puyet really needs to find a less flammable oil for his armor. =(
Noticing the tide possibly turning in their favor, Puyet holds his ground nonetheless. Even after having slain the Overlord, having choked out the princess is surprisingly motivational. Endure Pain |
Uttering a string of curses he wasn't aware he had learned, Gheth found himself nearing his wits' end. Who was this ringleader woman, anyway? Coming in here and thinking she could try to murder them all and then skip away through a field of gilly flowers? Gheth's eyes narrowed down to gleaming hot coals within his brow. His entire focus was on her, now, and he didn't mean to let her escape so easily. With a fierce step towards her, Gheth feints quickly to one side, and as she dodges, he smiles grimly, his following thrust already on its way to a vulnerable spot in her armor. His strike finds bone, and he wrenches it free with a dark satisfaction.
Oath of Enmity on White Mage (take roll 2) Healing Strike on White Mage w/bonus to Garrmondo (Crit! 21 damage) (Surge + 4 to Garrmondo) Sustain Spiritual Weapon on White Mage (10 damage, total of 31) |
Gheth rips his spear free, already sending his spiritual dagger to cut the woman's throat as she tumbles over.
"We will... return, Garland. Though Kraken and Tiamat send their swords against us, we persevere. We shall... always... we paid at the inn! Thirty coins... well worth it." http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/slain.pnghttp://www.saxypunch.com/missile/wmdead.gif "Tried to tell her", the black mage mutters. "You can't run away from a fight with no thief! It never works." The Yeti Howler leaps to its feet, ripping chunks of stone right out of the temple floor. What terrible strength! With a snarl, the yeti flings the flooring stones in Gheth's direction. Gheth is smashed in the face, scattering heavy stone bricks all around his general vicinity. 14 damage to Gheth (bloodied) Defenses for new page: Fighter AC 22 Fort 20 Ref 19 Will 17 Black Mage AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 White Mage AC 21 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 Garland AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 Hunter AC 22, Fort 19, Ref 18, Will 17 Howler AC 20, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 18 Rampager AC 20, Fort 21, Ref 17, Will 15 :savepoint: Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Fighter 29, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22 |
Seeing the fighter distracted with wiping the last of the blood from his eyes, Glenn launches a shot or two at the halfling, hoping to remove the threat permanently.
Deft Strike, moving to M106 critical hit! apparently sneak attack is max damage too, so 30 damage if fighter is dead, move to O106, attack Garland with Snap Shot whoever Glenn shot takes 10 damage |
That yeti thing... it was calling to me. I felt I had to do something... special and go hit it. Against my better judgment, I felt my feet moving around the aggravating creature.
Swordmage's Decree on Howler and Hunter. Marked with Aegis of Assault. Move to G110 Oh, there are two of them? I had this mist obscuring my vision... the only thing I could really see clearly was the Hunter. Whatever. That was more for my hungry blade to devour. Sword burst on howler and hunter Howler - 17 + 9 = 26 > 17 HIT / 3 + 6 = 9 Damage Hunter - 1 + 9 = 10 < 18 MISS "You motherfucker!" I was irritated, at having only hit one of my quarry, and not even the one that was fucking up my Christmas. I'd show them. I'd show them BOTH. Mwa ha ha. Spend an action point. Sword burst on howler and hunter. Howler - 16 + 9 = 25 > 17 HIT / 2 + 6 = 8 Damage Hunter - 7 + 9 = 16 < 18 MISS AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER FUCK YOU YETI. |
Glenn quickly eliminates the cocky halfling fighter before he can reenter the melee. A carefully-aimed bolt to the forehead puts the arrogant little bastard down but good. Without a moment's hesitation, Glenn turns on his heel and fires from the hip; his second bolt punches though the gap in Garland's armor at the waist, burying itself in the small of his back. The screaming is impressive.
http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/fidead.gifhttp://www.saxypunch.com/missile/slain.png Gra-fa-zut heedlessly throws himself into battle with the yetis, his blades whirling about him with such speed that the mists about him seem to clear for a moment. But when he takes a moment to breathe, only one of the beasts is showing any wounds. Well, he's got more stab where that came from. No worries. 5 damage from ending turn in aura The yeti rampager pulls in a huge lungful of air, its chest swelling like the canopy of a gnomish air-sloop. Then it exhales, an immense blast of air roaring forth from its jaws; a stentorian roar that shakes the temple's very walls. The force of the blast makes it impossible for those nearby to keep their footing; everyone goes flying backward away from the yeti (save Garland, whose armor seems to be heavy enough to withstand a hurricane, and Sara, who remains crouched in safety on the floor with her hands clapped primly over her ears). Garrmondo and Puyet and both ripped off their feet and hurled into nearby statuary, and Cal just goes skidding away, nearly falling into the EXIT vortex. Puyet shrugs off the pain of smashing into the statue. He'd had worse. 18 damage to Cal, bloodied 22 damage to Garrmondo, bloodied 15 damage to Puyet (Endure Pain) :savepoint: Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18 |
The Yeti breaks wind; the stench alone would certainly deal grievous damage to my delicate person. Let's hope my gambler's suit functions just as well as it did during the Framarth/Gnasc battle.
Glancing over the battlefield, I note that among the non-Yeti enemies, only the black robed halfling and the stranger in black mail remain alive. The human has already tried (and failed) to negotiate his cooperation. However, none of us have laid a hand on the halfling. Perhaps he can be persuaded by my fellows to aid us against the yeti. In exchange, we will allow him to leave unmolested. All the glory from slaying the knight will have gone over to him, for he did what the white mage, fighter, and thief failed to do. If a roll of 8 still hits, it's a critical hit and so nothing changes (18 damage to Cal as before). |
Puyet's ears are blistered and ringing. He can't hear a thing and his head is pounding. It's like living in his mother's house again. HOW AWFUL!
Puyet fumblefucks about trying to regain his stature. Move to N105 Saved against daze. |
Bracing for the worst, Cal flattens himself against the statue as best he can. By some small miracle the yeti's destructive belch passes him by, leaving him with nothing worse than mussed hair and a lingering odor of half-digested goat meat.
Smoldering and discombobulated, Puyet stumbles southward toward the bulk of the party. He'd make himself useful in a second or two, once the room stops being so wobbly. The yeti hunter grunts out a halting, guttural chuckle, amused by Gra-fa-zut's constant inability to harm him. Heedless of the swordmage's evidently-useless weapons, the yeti ignores the aegis placed upon it and trundles away to roar at the group amassed at the western snake statue. Much like his fellow yeti, the hunter roars an ear-splitting roar. Glenn is sent skidding backward, only arresting a tumble into the vortex via great strain on his calves. Puyet is merely thrown headlong into Garland, both parties suffering from the collision. In an instant, Gra-fa-zut appears at the yeti's side, but even the strike of vengeance his aegis affords him seems harmless against the yeti's thick hide. 8 damage to Hunter from an AoO, whoopsy-daisy Last Fearsome Howl of the battle, promise. 8 damage to Puyet, 6 damage to Glenn (bloodied), 2 damage to Garland The yetis are easily beating the interlopers back to the south exit, and the black mage allows himself a tiny fist-pump. Maybe this could work out for him after all! With any luck they'd continue to ignore him while beating the snot out of each other, and he could just mop up the ragged remnants. And then — then! Solo XPs, baby. Circling around his statue, the mage tries to hurry the process along by lighting Cal on fire; alas, Cal is too dampened with Yeti saliva to properly ignite. :savepoint: Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15 |
We're getting slaughtered by Yeti screams, and yonder Black Mage seems intent on killing everyone! What was his name again? Freddy, right? You'll get yours, Freddy. I'll dissect you real good when the battle is over!
First though, I have to take care of these annoying creatures. Gnasc's orb of procreation glistens with enchantment (and rancid odor) as I rub it thoroughly on my longbow. The 75gp enchantment does not last long, and the gonad soon degenerates into fine paste. The aroma of rotting gnoll flesh fills up the room, giving me a distinct advantage in my attacks. We will see if the old wives' tales I heard about yeti and their aversion to rotten meat is any accurate. Use augmenting whetstone on longbow. Gain +2 attack and damage bonus until end of encounter. My weapon already has a +1/+1 enchantment, so net +1/+1 gain. The strange looking blue guy, apparently a new friend of Garrmondo's, looks like he needs help - being too distracted to attack opportunistically when the yeti brazenly moved away from him. I move to draw a bead on the yeti, carefully avoiding the knight's melee range. Move to R105. 3+1+11-2=14 MISS / 17+1+11-2=27 HIT Activate Poisoned Longbow. Hunter takes 7 damage. He also takes 5 ongoing poison and is weakened until save ends both. Unfortunately, the statue fully obstructs my view, and I could not attack him. So I chose to open negotiations with the mage. Freddy, right? You strike me as a very capable mage. Certainly you outlasted your compatriots. But still, you're all by yourself now. Help us beat these Yeti, and we'll overlook the fact that you attacked us without provocation. As you can see, we're fighting the man who wants to knock you down, and he's almost dead. Aid us, and you can leave with the girl. You'll be a great hero. What do you say? Enemy defenses (after Cal) Black Mage > AC 19 Fort 18 Ref 18 Will 20 ~ HP unknown (0 damage to date) Garland > AC 21, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 17 = 8/50 HP (42 damage to date) Hunter > AC 22, Fort 19, Ref 18, Will 17 ~ HP unknown (8 damage to date) Howler > AC 20, Fort 18, Ref 17, Will 18 ~ HP unknown (62 damage to date) Rampager > AC 20, Fort 21, Ref 17, Will 15 ~ HP unknown (no damage to date) |
The yetis immediately begin to moan in disgust as soon as Cal starts rubbing rotten dog balls all over his stuff. It appears the tales were true. With his hands still coated in a fine film of corpse nut goo, he lines up a shot. The arrow carries the horrid odor across the room, assaulting the yeti hunter's nostrils directly.
1d6 damage bonus to yetis from any rotten-smelling weapon; 6 damage in this case. 16 damage to Cal, bloodied and marked by Garland Fairly exhausted from the sheer weight of his armor and his massive sword, Garland fares no better at wounding Garrmondo than Garrmondo had fared at wounding him. It wouldn't take much to finish him off at this point, surely. :savepoint: Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30 |
They had stemmed the tide somewhat, but their enemies were relentless in their attacks. Gheth leaned heavily against the statue, forcing himself through the motions of intoning prayers to the goddess.
He'd have to work quickly, but hopefully he could aid his nearby friends without exhausting himself completely. Dragonborn Fury Activated Sustain Spiritual Weapon Move Weapon to I-110 and attack (howler? rampager?) (14 damage) Daunting Light on I-110 (20 damage) (total of 34 damage) Action Point Second Wind |
But Cal had not shot the yeti at all for some reason! It just completely looked as though he had done that but actually he was talking to a halfling on the opposite side of the room! It is easy to get these things confused. And the halfling said:
"Well, alright, just as long as I get all the credit afterward." Cal forfeits 13 damage and two status effects on the yeti in order to persuade a wizard with no encounter powers left to play nice. A nat. 20 is a nat. 20! Also, removed Garr's mark from Garland since marks overwrite each other ugh what a mess Gheth's ethereal dagger twirls away from the white mage's corpse, doing a few midair flips before hurling itself at the yeti howler. Gheth is just doing some absolutely furious praying, it's just crazy. A sunbeam streams in through a crack in the ceiling and boom! Punches the yeti upside the head with a big fist made of sunlight. Everybody's like "whoa". Howler bloodied, everyone has CA against it. Hoody-hoo. Sensing its impending doom, the yeti howler rushes into the melee and issues an ear-piercing shriek. With his hearing slightly damaged by his time in the military (volunteering for the cannon brigade was a mistake), Puyet couldn't even hear such a high-pitched noise. Everyone near him seemed to be wracked by agony, though. Huh. Wimps. Piercing Shriek; Close Burst 3, +10 v. Will (I need to remember to provide you with this info more) 13 damage to Gheth, Garrmondo, Gra-fa-zut; all three bloodied (well, Garr already was) If wounded by Piercing Shriek end your next turn more than 5 squares away from Howler or take 5 thunder damage, so just kill it first okay yeah. :savepoint: Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Garland 30, Gheth 23, Yeti Howler 22 |
Seeing the Dragonborn's dagger fly over and start harassing the particularly loud yeti, Glenn takes the opportunity and runs across the room, firing a bolt into the yeti's back. He was feeling tired. Glenn hadn't even wanted to fight the halflings until the one jerk had stabbed him. And then the yetis came out of nowhere, and things had just gone from bad to worse. It had been a rough day.
move to P103 Deft Strike vs Howler - need 6 to hit 4+6+7+2 (i've been forgetting to add 2 to my sneak attack for brutal scoundrel) = 19 damage |
Puyet was revolted by the apparent weakness displayed by his comrades. The yeti was just whining a little.
"Suck it up, you damned bunch of animal crackers. :mad: Especially you, you should be healing people! Get to your job!" Use Cold Iron Shield's ability to boost Gheth's vs. Will DEF. The attack misses him. After aiding the cleric, Puyet glares at the yeti. ..."Laugh it up, fuzzball." |
"FUCKING OW," I shouted... I was hurt, but I felt the mist that had covered my eyes starting to clear. All I knew is that I wanted to get the fuck away from that damn yeti. Maybe I could fuck up the asshole that started this shit with me.
Move to O108 The guy was hurting, I had to give my new (apparent) comrades that. Maybe I could just give him that last push. I swung my blade as hard as I could. Booming Blade on Garland 14 + 9 = 23 > 21 HIT / 7 + 6 = 13 DAMAGE As my sword sank into the fuckhead's flesh, I felt a rush. ..... dammit it's happening again..... the fog, the fog the fog the fog the fog the fog WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME WHY WHYWHY WHY WHY. My sword arm struck again and again, and tears rolled down my face. I started to laugh as his blood spurted onto me with each hit. Saving roll successful, mark removed |
Puyet quickly reacts to block the... painful... sound waves from reaching Gheth's delicate ears, but he finds that he's not holding his shield and consequently can block nothing much at all. It was still on the floor next to the princess! If only someone, some cosmic overseer, had mentioned this. Several times. Mentioned it several times. That would have been very useful information for Puyet, had that happened.
Out of the immediate threat range of the yeti's awful caterwauling, Glenn easily sends a bolt flying into its open mouth. The bolt sails in cleanly, puncturing through the yeti's palate and stabbing it in the brain. The shrieking cuts off abruptly as the hairy beast collapses face-first onto the stones. Howler dead Gra-fa-zut heedlessly strides away from the yeti hunter, ignoring the beast's feeble claws as he walked away. The knight had to be dealt with. Putting all his strength behind the swing, the genasi's broadsword cleanly cleaves Garland's head from his shoulders. But that's not enough; Gra-fa-zut keeps hacking away. You have to be sure. Unwilling to actually get anywhere near the infuriated swordmage, the black mage nonetheless does his best to talk him down. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: Claw: +13 vs AC, 1d8+3 (4) damage to Gra-fa-zut Garland dead Seeing many of its enemies bunched together, the yeti rampager decides to simply bum-rush the lot of them. With a growl the yeti puts his head down and hurtles around the statue with a vicious shoulder charge, bowling our heroes down as he passes. Trample: +9 vs Reflex, 1d8+4 (9) damage to Gra-fa-zut, Gheth, Puyet; all three knocked prone. :savepoint: Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15, Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18 7 vs 2, guys. Wrap it up. |
Puyet was just realizing his shield was amiss, probably due to the damned fireball that landed on him, when a fucking yeti knocked him down. He was sick of these antics, and decided to just plain break some skulls.
First off, GET THE FUCK UP BCUZ I APPARENTLY LOVE SLEEPING ON STONE FLOORS Everybody move! Back up you fucking overgrown sheep. Rampager to N104. Flattening Charge on Rampager. Have a taste of your own medicine, dickhead. Charge to O105. Action point! Because sometimes, I amaze even myself! Lead the Attack! For brutal overkill! Puyet almost misses but Glenn notices how pissed off he is and decides it'd be best for him to keep his anger directed at the yeti. Glenn uses guided shot, poor yeti! :sad: 7+7 from charge. 21+7 from Lead the Attack 42 damage total. IF IF IF he's not dead, everybody had +2 to attack rolls against him AND combat advantage cuz he just got KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT@! Overall, Puyet is satisfied with the pretty red patterns he made all over the stone floor. |
Puyet leaps to his feet, tearing into the yeti rampager with a fury. He becomes a whirlwind of angry shouts and swinging hammers, and it's all Glenn can do just to point out that Puyet should, maybe, aim for center mass. The warlord doesn't stop until the yeti is bleeding on the floor. Surely someone else can finish off what's left of it.
Yeti Rampager prone, bloodied, granting +4 to hit it (unless you're attacking at range) The Yeti Hunter shambles forward, attempting to envelop Gheth in a great big hug. But Gheth rejects Hug Time, as it is kind of warm in the temple, and furthermore the yeti smells really bad. Claw: 11 damage to Gheth Through sprawled out on his back, Gra-fa-zut teleports to Gheth's aid. Sadly his furious attempt to hack the hunter off at the ankles meets with no success. :savepoint: Black Mage 15, Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16 |
Captain Pointy-Hat is confused. Some sort of change...thing made a good point.
Oh well, his new friends seem to have shit under control. This gives Pointy-Hat a chance to pursue his other passion, SCIENCE! HYPOTHESIS: PURPLE BALL HAS REASON FOR EXISTING EXPERIMENT: PURPLE BALL DISLIKES SMOKE Move to K113 Shoot two fireballs at big purple orb thing |
Freddy decides to see what he can do with the big giant orb in the middle of the room which everyone else has been studiously ignoring. Quickly hurling two fireballs at the orb, he's startled as the sphere is easily knocked free of its raised dais. The force of Freddy's fireballs sends the orb flying into a statue just to the southwest, where it knocks Garrmondo aside and ricochets off to the northwest. Rolling past Gheth, Puyet and the downed Rampager, it strikes another statue and ricochets northeast — plowing through Gra-fa-zut and the Yeti Hunter. It bounces off a third statue, sending it back to the southeast; it hurtles past Sara and bounces over its original dais. A fourth ricochet sends it southwest, nearly falling into the vortex but missing by a few scant inches. Bouncing off the south wall, momentum carries it into a southwestern corner where it bounces past Cal and yet another statue before falling, at last, into the vortex. But the massive orb doesn't seem to fit into the halfling-sized portal in the floor; it just falls in with a ploonk and finally comes to rest, gently rattling around as the portal futilely tries to pull it through. A cacophony of agonized groans and pained whimpering echoes through the room, and Freddy can do little but stand there with his jaw hanging open in shock.
Pinball Wizard: +10 vs Reflex 17 damage to Garr (unconscious), Rampager, Gheth (unconscious), Sara (splattered like so much raspberry jam) 21 damage to Cal (critical hit, bloodied) :savepoint: Cal 14, Garrmondo 6, Gheth 23, Glenn 20, GFZ 19, Yeti Rampager 18, Puyet 18, Yeti Hunter 16, Black Mage 15 |
Wrap it up, he says.
Of all the stupid.... With allies like Freddy, who needs enemies? Oh well, there's time to dissect him later. Move to Q103 and quarry nearest yeti I can see. Spikes of the Manticore against it, +3 power bonus against -2 prone penalty. First attack hits, second probably misses. Critical hit! Yeti takes 45 damage, 5 of which is poison. Uhhh, ignore the quarry roll. Completely forgot it maxes on a crit. Let's just pretend it was the crit roll. |
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Glenn glances across the room to the little man in the corner. He feels something odd. A strange connection with him. Almost like they share the same mind. They have the same dreams and desires. They are soul mates.
Alas, he has no time to mull it over. Suddenly, his body and soul are filled with beautiful music.
Awesome costumes aside, it's time to GET DOWN TO BIZZNIZZ. Glenn briefly considers shooting Cal in the face but remembers that the powers that be might be angry with such a notion. Too bad. Fast switch to stow sword. Draw dat crossbow. Load dat crossbow Press dat lightning button on dat crossbow Shoot dat crossbow at dat yeti. Don't think I have CA but I haven't been paying attention, so 10 damage from the looks of it |
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Ugh. I hate it when that happens. First I space out and come to with gobs of flesh all over my body and THEN I get slammed across the damn room by some retarded mage. Whatever. I see a yeti, and that motherfucker's gonna get it. I stand up, screaming some syllables while I do so, turning my sword blacker than the inside of that thing's gullet.
Stand Up Enervating Slash on Yeti Hunter 9 + 11 > 17 HIT / 6 + 6 = 12 Damage |
AND SO, being gravely wounded and most repulsed with the growing stench of the dead filling the room, the yeti hunter did retreat back into the portal whence it came, all the while crying like as a little bitch does, all "Wah, Wah." Such is the nature of the yeti when sorely pressed.
G-Unit stands battered but victorious over the squalor, with bodies strewn from hell to breakfast and an extremely sheepish black mage cowering in the corner. Well, some of them aren't so much standing as... lounging. Horizontally. But they'll feel better soon enough. Victoly! 1700 XP (283 each) |
So then, Mr. Freddy. As agreed upon, you're free to go! Take all the credit you want. You totally knocked that knight down!
I... uh... assume you'll be taking (what's left of) your lady friend? The human and dragonborn were splayed most embarassingly after getting floored by a huge ball, so I massage them until they regain consciousness. Heal checks to stabilize Garrmondo and Gheth. Use 3 surges. Ally buffing thus complete, I move on to other less pressing concerns. Like conducting an inventory of war spoils. Loot time! What do we get from the Thief, Fighter, White Mage, Garland, and the yetis? Slice open yeti stomachs to see if they ate anything good. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that blue-faced genasi looking at me. Apparently he's squeamish with blood and gore. A pity - he's quite a striking fellow too. But why on Faerun did he let the yeti escape without even trying to smack it? What's he doing here, anyway, and how did he know Garr? Well, let's get to know him better. Having one more defender on my side won't hurt. Those were some wicked moves you pulled off right there. You a teleporter, right? I'm Cal A'mah, changeling of indeterminate gender from the illusory town of Rhee. Agnostic; worships Traveler as afterlife insurance. How'd you know friend Garr, and what are you doing here? Come to think about it, do you know where we are? |
Puyet peels the chunk of yeti hide from his hammer and retrieves his shield. He then notices the putzy black mages trying to make his exit.
"I think not. You're going to give us some information before you leave, you are." Puyet shakes his hammer right under the halfling's nonexistent chin. "First thing you're going to tell me is how you shave in the morning. Then you're going to tell me where the hell we are and where you came from......etc. etc." Puyet also makes a mental note to scope out the goods left on Garland and the fighter. Oh, and to pick up those gold coins that fell out of the thief's fanny pack. Double surge. Intimidate in case mage no talky Get gold and check out gear from dead dudes after extracting all the useful info from mage. |
Glenn shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He had clearly been quite delirious for a while there, and he needed a break. Glenn retrieves his crossbow bolts the various corpses spread around the room, and sits down in a corner to rest. He was ready for a proper rest, but he thought he'd best see what his companions thought of the matter before making any executive decisions.
expend surge x2 Talk to the rest of the group regarding an extended rest. |
Freddy contemplates his further existence. What options does he have? Chill out with these annoying idiots? With...with...Cal?
Nay, that is not living. Freddy sighs. Cast Fire on self repeatedly until death http://www.vietnammemorial.com/vietn...immolation.jpg |
Well, I can't believe that yeti ran away ... whatever. The changeling was looking at me and speaking in the most annoying voice. "Could you just shut your damn mouth for a moment? I have no clue what's going on, and the ponce just ran into me. Let me rest and take a look around. Sorry. I really don't have an issue with you things, but for fuck's sake, you're annoying with the questions right after I nearly got my ass handed to me." I liked the eldarin's idea about taking a break, but I had more immediate things to worry about. First things first, I wanted to clean up. I slid sideways, shuddering with liquid and shedding the gobbets of flesh sticking to my skin. Next, I took a good look at the orb that had been so irritating.
Healing surge to full. Arcana checks on the orb and statues. Loot the fighter. |
Quote:
Let's get the hell out of Dodge |
Cal goes through his usual practice of gathering the spoils, being significantly less finicky about looting the dead than were his companions. Aside from the ridiculous quantity of gold the thief had been hauling around, that spellbook the white mage had been holding might be useful. Despite his arrogance in battle, the fighter's rapier and chainmail were entirely mundane and unremarkable. There is a small waxed-paper packet tied to his belt, however; it's sealed with twine, and a small ink stamp on it reads simply "TENT". The little package is significantly heavier than its size would seem to indicate.
Cal flips through the late Betty's spellbook, but most of the pages are unreadable chicken-scratch or else unflattering doodles of her companions. He does find one interesting spell, and tears out the page for safekeeping. Might come in handy later. Cal also finds a rat's tail in the mage's pockets, and feels a brief twinge of regret that he and the mage had never been able to discuss their evident shared hobby in more peaceful circumstances. It takes some time to pry Garland's headless carcass out of his armor to search him for valuables. Beneath his platemail he was wearing a set of scale, and a set of chainmail beneath that. Under all the steel Garland was perhaps half the size of the imposing figure he had appeared. No wonder he could barely lift that sword of his... The sword itself is significantly more intriguing. Indeed, it had such a heft that had Garland actually hit anyone they would surely have been knocked down. Perhaps someone with the common sense to wear well-fitted armor could make more use of it. With bloody enthusiasm, Cal slices open the yeti carcasses. But alas, they'd eaten nothing interesting lately; Cal finds only some unidentifiable half-digested meat and the usual yeti spaghetti. Last but not least was the princess' crown, which had been knocked clear when the giant orb ricocheted into her and flattened her like a pancake. Loot Report: 1 Staggering Greatsword +2 500 GP (Cash) 1 golden crown (200 GP value) 1 ritual scroll: Comrades' Succor 1 tent After doing a once-over of the room himself (and being sure Cal hadn't pocketed anything), Puyet decides to interrogate the surviving mage before he can escape. The mage tells Puyet his location (though the warlord had never heard of any such place as "Coneria") and explains that they'd arrived to rescue Princess Sara, which was a mission that had obviously gone a bit pear-shaped. Attempting to daze Puyet with another fireball so he can escape, Freddy instead manages to ignite his own ridiculous straw hat. He takes his subsequent cremation very stoically, all things considered. Glenn recovers what bolts he can; some have snapped in two as a consequence of falling bodies crushing them. Rightfully suspicious of the massive orb, Gra-fa-zut examines it for any sign of arcane influences. His suspicions are confirmed immediately; when examined more than casually, the crystal sphere is practically humming with magic. Peering into the purple orb, Gra-fa-zut spies upon such strange and baffling visions... A flying ship, half-buried beneath desert sands A terrifying machine of war, tramping about restlessly within a floating citadel A many-armed demon sulking in the lowest recesses of a volcanic cavern A flaming meteor, falling from the sky toward a decrepit old temple surrounded by forests This last image struck the genasi as particularly relevant to his own fortunes, somehow. Gra-fa-zut also examines the room's many statues for any sign of magecraft, but they seem more or less mundane. Of the six humanoid statues, 4 of them closely resembled what the halfling attackers might have looked like had they been human or elven (some of the statues bore the tapered ears of the fey folk, but some did not) instead. How peculiar. The other two statues depict a stocky human monk and an elf clad in great finery — his cloak and ostentatious hat must have taken more time to carve than all the crude snakes and gargoyles around the room put together. Garrmondo struggles to his feet, and as Glenn yanks the last salvageable bolt free of a yeti skull his sharp ears overhear a faint roaring sound — not like the roar of a beast, but something much like the sound of a great bonfire merrily crackling away. The sound is gradually getting louder, though no one but Glenn seems to notice it yet. Perhaps Cal would have heard it first — the changeling's senses also seem fairly sharp — but he was currently up to his shoulders into a yeti torso. With a cry of joy, Cal's gore-soaked arm snakes free of the carcass and holds up his trophy: he'd found the wishbone. Skex I'm assuming you haven't changed your mind in the last month; if so let me know |
The half-orc does not seem to trust me. This wounds me a bit - have I not followed every single one of the warlord's orders during battle? When he told me to finish the thief, I finished him. When he ordered the white mage's death, only the halfling's preternatural luck saved her from my arrows. Yes, his distrust is misplaced, for Cal A'mah is the most trustworthy changeling who ever adventured!
Take: 100 GP, Tent (cart), Rat tail, Yeti wishbone Harvest: 1x Yeti Howler head (cart), 1x Yeti Rampager foot (cart) Transfer from cart: 18 arrows, 1 flask containing black pudding After doing what I normally do after a battle, I join the genasi in staring at the orb. It must be quite fascinating to behold. "What do you see?" I asked the Genasi, who appears to have turned a shade of crimson after viewing the ball. |
While Cal is busy with his absurdities, Puyet grabs the cash the thief had been carrying about for his group. It could be evenly distributed later.
The crown could be left. It was not good fortune to carry a crown that did not belong to you. Puyet had learned this on an escort mission years ago, when he lead a force to secure the new lord who had overthrown the previous ruler of the tribal lands he grew up in. While the military of the land was part of a larger kingdom, the lower territories could commission its use. Needless to say, there was a number of encounters with rebels who would have liked to take the crown back, along with the head it was on. Puyet now also felt compelled to stare into the large orb and drool. |
Glenn had a hunch that something was amiss. Burning things did not usually move. Glenn had no idea what the sound was, but he didn't intend to hang around too long to find out. Quickly picking up the remainder of the stuff Cal had found, Glenn moves toward the exit portal.
"We'll figure the rest of this out later, but for now, i have a feeling we should get out of here." Presuming the portal goes somewhere safe, as "Betty" called it as an means of escape, Glenn moves through the portal. |
"Guys, guys," I shout, considerably worried after the revelation in the orb. "I'd put away your Eduardo/Jakobus slashfics and pack up your Barbara sleeping packs because we need to get the fuck out of here RIGHT NOW." I shuffle around in my pack, producing my own sleeping bag. I mean to take the orb with me if I can (it could come in handy), and I'm not touching it with my bare hands if I can help it. Bad things can happen if you touch things like that without testing it first...
Cover orb with sleeping bag, pick up orb if it's not too heavy, and place the bundle in my pack. Whatever the result of that action, follow Glenn through the portal, thereby getting the fuck out of there. |
With the sound of fire getting too close to be ignored any longer, Gra-fa-zut carefully scoops up the orb and urges his companions through the exit portal before following through himself. Whatever was coming wasn't good news.
Gheth, however, remains behind. Possessed of a certain suspicion, he pries the exterior door open with his spearpoint and strides outdoors to stare curiously into the sky. Indeed, a roiling fireball was descending through the atmosphere. Squinting against the bright sunshine and the unearthly brightness of the meteor itself, Gheth identifies the object at the core of the fireball: some kind of leather satchel, inexplicably intact despite the white-hot flames all around it. With a start, Gheth realizes just where it is that he last saw such an unusual bag. Could it be? Could it really be? With a wan smile inching onto his face, Gheth attempts to estimate where exactly the satchel would be landing. The contents might be... valuable. Unfortunately for Gheth, his triangulations put the satchel's impact point at roughly the exact place he happened to be standing. There was no time to run. With an earthshaking kaboom, the satchel from space slammed into the Conerian forest clearing. The shockwave alone was enough to kill small birds within half a mile, and as for our poor dragonborn friend, well. Nothing remained of him. It would be kinder, perhaps, to speculate that Avandra spirited him away at the last moment: who can truly say? A pair of truly remarkable space travelers clamber out of their unusual craft, both of them seemingly too large to fit within its cramped confines. The halfling and his warforged friend struggle out of the massive crater, gawking at the strange new world on which they've arrived. "Look, Glock! What is that?" "Some kind of giant centipede, I suppose." "Are they full of candy?" The warforged in the fabulous hat strokes his metal chin for a moment, ruminating over the matter. "Let's find out." ———————————— Cursing and disoriented, the survivors tumble out of the portal on the other side — Cal's little wagon having escaped his clutch in transit, it follows through a moment later and clouts him in the back of the head. The group finds themselves on a large balcony several stories above a city street. It seems to be either near dawn or near twilight, judging from the sky. The portal soundlessly vanishes behind them. Two others are on the balcony as G-Unit arrive; a pair of handsome gentlemen with brick-red skin and jutting horns sit at a small patio table, sharing a meal. They look superficially similar to tieflings, but their huge leathery wings put that idea to bed. Puyet immediately recognizes the creatures: half-devils. Cambions. He immediately moves to unsling the hammer from his back, but the infernal creatures sitting near him make no hostile moves. They seem awfully friendly, all things considered. "Look, Virgil. Guests." "Have you come to join us for breakfast, boys? Mortai's lamb chili is just divine." Stammering excuses, the group politely refuses and makes its way down to street level. Why, this is Freeport (though the city seems in somewhat worse shape than they had left it). Whether Betty somehow intended to go to Freeport herself or whether the portal merely transported travelers to their own homes was, perhaps, unknowable. It was hardly as if the entire group hailed from the City of Pirates, but Garrmondo had been first through the portal: maybe he took priority somehow. Only having escaped the strangeness of the cambion breakfast nook does the group realize that Gheth is not among them. Taking a few moments to mourn his loss, Garrmondo leads the group back to G-Unit's rented rooms at the Diving Fin. It had been a long, strange day. Curious if the crystal orb had survived the rough trip, Gra-fa-zut cautiously unwraps his bedroll to find a globe much smaller than the one he had swiped; the orb that had barely fit in his pack was now scarcely larger than his clenched fist. Maybe things in Coneria just had odd proportions. Still, it seemed undamaged. This post is long enough as it is, so I'll post the adventure hooks later. All of you should have the Character Builder installed, so I'm not doing the store inventories this time. If you can afford it, buy it (and tell me what you bought). |
Freeport? What are we doing here? We've unfinished business in Lamid! I make a mental note that whenever I find myself in the area again, I am going to throttle old man Geoff.
Glad to reach a (relatively) safe haven, I go to the market in an attempt to hawk some unwanted wares. Attempt to haggle a good price for Bloodclaw Short Sword and Ivory Centaur Statuette. |
Too aggravated by his delayed revenge to rest, Cal immediately strikes out for the shops of the Merchant District. It's high time he pawned off this spiky old sword, and he knows just who to foist it off on.
Soon enough Cal is weaving an epic tale of swashbuckling adventure, telling of the beasts he slew and the challenges he overcame with this magnificent — no, this incomparable weapon. Surely 'tis the finest blade he'd ever laid hands on, and if it weren't for his poor sick ma and her expensive tonics, why, he'd never let it go. Urian Firehand of Urian's Forge is sufficiently moved (or sufficiently motivated to get Cal out of his shop) to offer 50% over what he'd normally pay for such an item, paying out 156 gold in exchange for the Bloodclaw Short Sword. |
My purchasing expedition was interrupted by the shocking news that our cleric of Avandra was nowhere to be found. As the night wore on, Gheth still did not show. The dawning of the next day brought a growing realization that he was not coming.
As much as I'd hate to admit it, we've lost another comrade. Looking wistfully at the polished window I grabbed from the black pudding box, I will it to show our dear departed friends together in paradise. In a pastoral meadow, Gheth sits happily astride Denny, with the clever halfling and his robotic bard servant playing catch with Gnasc the dog. Freddy is chucking fireballs at a very prone plate-scale-chainclad knight, cheered on by Betty, Eddie, and Theo. Under a tree by the stream lay Helga, the female duergar entertaining Murkelmor, Rundarr and Framarth all at once, while Trenchfoot, Ortak, Derek, and Erik wait impatiently. Four large figures seem to be having fun splashing in the water: orc Voshnak Brang, his troll playmate Gorg the Gigantic Gigas, and the goblin duo Gallant Gary and Gurgling Gru. All was well. Change is the only constant, as my patron deity was wont to pontificate, and one must roll will whatever punches the cosmos inflicts on you. Would further adventure dull the sharp pangs of pain and regret on what could have been? I have no idea, but I'm willing to try to move on. Shopping usually cheers me up, so I hit the market again. Sell Ivory Centaur Statuette (100 gp). Buy 50 feet of hempen rope (1 gp), 1 set of identification papers with portrait (5 gp), and 1 crowbar (2 gp). Convert 336 drams of alchemical reagents back to 336 gp. Attempt to buy Acrobatic Boots (520 gp) at a discount. My comrades will need time to sift through their accouterments, although I expect the human would attempt to transfer the enchantment from his bulky plate armor to a more manageable scale, as well as from his magic greatsword to an non-enchanted bastard sword. Hey, maybe I can watch the transfer take place, and learn the transfer enchantment ritual for free! I while away the tedium by digging into the Poore Xandowel's Almanack, having finished the Hamfist autobiography early on. |
Glenn remembers passing through Freeport once, but it is certainly not home by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, Glenn wanders around, heading to the shops to sell off some of his less useful belongings.
sell crown and amethyst, and get 100gp from Puyet (unless he doesn't want to share, in which case :shrug:) see if anyone else (including the incoming character) can make use of the sweet broadsword, if not, no point in lugging it around, so sell it. |
Freeport. Puyet had not passed this way before, but was aware of the region and should know well enough to manage.
Geography and history check, plz Puyet passed off at his discretion 150 gp each to Glenn and Garrmondo, and assures them he'll take care of Cal, which in actuality he won't. Cal already lugged enough junk around as it was. Any more money and he'd probably need to buy another wagon. Not to mention he was seriously agitated with the man-thing after its antics in the dungeon. He also gave nothing to the newcomer. Nobody knew him, nor why he was with us. He could replace the dragonborn left behind, but he'd have to earn his share. Puyet noticed his boots were covered in yeti blood. This was no way for a soldier to present himself. He set out to the market for a couple of hours to find new boots and restock his supplies. Buy Feyleaf Refill adventurer's kit. Add extra silk rope and two extra sunrods in possible. Puyet also makes mental note that they've lost their cleric, which probably means they're fucked. Buy Potion of Gravespawn, Potion of Clarity, and Potion of Healing. Put in Belt Pouch. Afterwards, Puyet settles himself to the inn, tosses back a few ales, and retires for the evening. |
Freeport. It's been a while, especially considering how I have no clue exactly how I left last time. I don't remember waking up with blood all over me. Odd. No matter, I needed a break. I also don't feel like shopping much, despite my new possession whispering at me. I went to the inn to relax and calm my mind. There, I sat in the corner of the common room and took out my recorder; this always seemed to help.
As I played people stopped and looked; I was used to this and ignored it. The only thing that stuck out was the one git who told me that he really enjoyed my "masterful hobo." Idiot. As I played, I felt the fire manifestation leaking out and taking over. Good. I waited to see the rest of my new companions... the 3 surviving gentlemen and the thing. I dislike changlings. Everyone else is fine, but hopefully the thing stays out of my way. Change manifestation to firesoul |
Glenn wanders through town, picking up a fairly useful set of vambraces with the money which he acquired from the treasures in the dungeon. He then proceeds to wander back to the inn in the hopes of a half decent rest and some peace and quiet for a change.
purchase Feyleaf Vambraces go to inn and wait for the rest |
Finshing up his shopping early (and successfully talking the specialty cordwainer into a discount as well), Cal attempts to relax with his battered almanac. Alas, the tome is written entirely in Elvish, and Cal can make no sense of it at all. After much prodding Glenn eventually agrees to examine the book, but finds it composed primarily of Drow proverbs regarding moral conduct — and Drow "virtues" being what they are, Glenn finds it best not to act as translator in this case. Cal hardly needs the encouragement. Out of curiosity, they flip to the weather predictions toward the end of the book; today's weather in the Underdark is expected to be "Cold, damp and unpleasant with a chance of derro uprising. Don't go out without your crossbow!"
Puyet trudges into the inn as the readers skim over the roll of recent historical events (mostly assassinations). His new boots look mighty fine indeed, though it took him hours to find the magic he'd wanted in the right style of shoe. Every outfitter he visited kept trying to put sandals on him. At last, in a particularly grimy corner of the market bazaar down by the docks, Puyet had found what he was searching for: heavy leather boots, inexplicably fused with the delicate magics of the eladrin. As he handed over his coin, Puyet snorted at the label on the crate: "Things Which Should Not Be". The whole excursion takes longer than it should due to his unfamiliarity with the city, but a few inquiries only result in urchins offering to guide him "for a small fee". Still, Freeport is infamous enough in the region that Puyet gets his bearings fairly easily. The City of Adventure, so-called; mostly because it was a thrice-damned adventure trying to walk more than a block or two without getting your coinpurse cut. Freeport was a city of pirates and thieves, a den of black-market goods, a cesspool full of drugs, prostitutes and gamblers. In short, a nice place to spend the occasional weekend. Garrmondo strolls in last, raising an eyebrow as his blue acquaintance turns orange and sprouts a head of — is that hair, or fire? Gra-fa-zut doesn't seem to particularly mind that his head's burst into flame, so Garrmondo elects to mind his own business. If it turns out to be a sign of trouble, well... at least he can swing a sword without dislocating his shoulder now. The enchanters had been quite expensive, but all in all it was worth it. ———————————— The next few days are spent in relative calm as the five adventurers give their wounds time to mend and help the Diving Fin with the urgent problem of an excessive overstock of the house ale. Without any pressing business elsewhere, Gra-fa-zut decides he might as well throw in his lot with the group for the time being. They could handle themselves decently in a scrape, and the majority of them seemed like fairly decent sorts — though the changeling bore watching. But then, what changeling doesn't? Better that an eye be kept on him rather than having him run around on his own. As for Puyet and Glenn, they'd been doing mercenary work for a while; it was nice to have a few extra bodies watching your back (and a few extra hands to help you carry the loot). Between the five of them, they had more than enough ready cash to forestall leaving the city for months. But day by day they pass by the cluster of notes nailed to the public board outside the inn, and they can't help but notice that requests were going up a lot faster than they were coming down. The mere implication of so many folks going unaided starts to wear on their consciences (well, for those in the party that possess them). Scarcely two weeks have passed before the group can hardly stand to remain so idle. Garrmondo goes to examine the work on offer, and his four companions gradually coalesce around him, as though they were all silently sharing the same thought. Even after discussing their options and passing on the opportunities that were either small-time or entirely out of their league, there were still quite a few jobs available. http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/job_board_thumb.png (Click for huge. As ever, 5-point vote system; distribute your 5 points as you wish among the adventure or adventures you find interesting. Most points wins, with a coin flip in the unlikely event of a tie.) |
I have lots of experience in killing gnolls. Why, I had one by the balls once. Surely they'd be as easy to kill as last time!
And yet... and yet the prospect getting into a sex tent calls incessantly to my carnal urges! Oh, decisions, decisions. 3 points towards Kill Gnolls Get Paid. 2 points towards Sex Tent Stolen. An acute pang of pain shoots up the small of my back as I craned my head to take a better look at the poster. Seems like I'm carrying too many things on my person again. Discard: 14 pounds dry alfalfa (cart), pillowcase Dissect: Yeti head, salvaging only teeth, brain, and vocal cords. Put hard and squishy in separate flasks. Transfer to cart: 1 violin, yeti wishbone, climber's kit Turning to my eladrin comrade, I suddenly remember that he wanted to buy a set of thieves' tools. Did he buy them, I wonder? All I can see from his shopping expedition was a lime green pair of armbands. |
Glenn decides not to buy the tools - after all, the group already had a perfectly good set and he didn't need one right now. Looking at the job board, Glenn immediately feels drawn to the bill posted by "Candlekeep." They clearly were not telling the whole truth, but perhaps Glenn could show them that the common people weren't as stupid as they thought. He was also intrigued by the notice about hobos going missing.
3 points to Discreet Investigators 2 points to Disappearing Beggars. |
Well, the current postings seemed promising. I particularly liked the idea of a guy who doesn't know what a sextant is. There was also the matter of the hobos, which resonated with the man who spoke to me while I was playing.
3 points to Sex Tent 2 points to Disappearing Beggars |
Puyet glanced past all the salvage and underwater ads. If he'd wanted to play in the sea, he would've joined the navy. And, well, the booty that gets plundered is never what you expect.
There were a few jobs that seems in his area of expertise, however. 3 for Seasoned Fighters 2 for Some Pig Also, knowledge check on Swiftcurrent and Aglarond. |
After much dispute, the group settles down to handful of choices. G-Unit's military minds argue forcefully in favor of a ocean voyage, and in the end everyone seems to get on board with the notion (so to speak).
Gra-fa-zut could hardly argue against a return to the sea that had once been his home, and he expected his history of marine work would come in handy there. Cal wasn't hard to persuade; he had no aquatic creatures at all in his revolting collection, and relished the opportunity to harvest a squid or two. With great reluctance the two of them bid farewell to the intriguing mystery of the Sex Tent; perhaps another time. Glenn had no compelling reason to get aboard the Swiftcurrent, but no compelling reason not to, either. After all, she could be anywhere — and a sailor's life is a compelling choice for someone trying to keep a low profile. With a shrug, he acquiesces. It was a shame about those beggars, but truth be told they disappeared all the time. Likely they were all curled up under a bridge somewhere, or hiding down in the sewers. It was a pity, yes, but — Glenn dismissed the thoughts from his mind. If you tried to save every lost soul in Freeport, you'd not even have time for a hot meal. The matter thus resolved, G-Unit sets out for the docks. |
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