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Package Handling (GFF D&D Adventure IX)
What Has Gone Before
The Freeport docks are as grimy and unpleasant as ever, and their sheer vastness means it takes the better part of the afternoon to find the Swiftcurrent. It's only thanks to old Captain Catos and his lingering gratitude to Garrmondo that they reach their destination before nightfall. The dwarf has picked up a scar or two in the intervening months, but he's still in better shape than most sailors his age. The Swiftcurrent is a relatively small single-masted sloop, practically dwarfed aside the massive galleons and carracks with which it shared the docks. A crew of about a dozen watersoul and stormsoul genasi lounge idly on the deck, their day's work long since completed. Two watersoul genasi wait patiently aside the boarding ramp; a woman in the loose, unbinding garb of a sailor and a man in crisply starched uniform. The ranking insignia on his chest mark him clearly as a Lieutenant in the Sea Lord's Guard, an extraordinarily high rank for a non-human to reach. As G-Unit approaches the lieutenant delivers a terse summary of the work he's offering, his brusque manner indicating that he's been delivering this same summary all day long. "Greetings. I am Lieutenant Fir-it-ayr. This is Dal-ri-lar, captain of the Swiftcurrent. We have a parcel on board that we suspect will require somewhat more significant protection than the ship's crew alone can provide it. This package must reach our embassy in Veltalar at all costs. I offer significant coin in return for your service, as well as the personal thanks of the Guard. The Swiftcurrent debarks at first light tomorrow morning. Any questions? You're the first group that hasn't turned tail the moment you spotted my stripes." |
Why yes, there is, sir. If the package is that important, might I ask why would it be conveyed in such an unassuming vessel? If your suspicions hold true - that the ship's crew may prove inadequate to protect it, why not use a bigger ship and detail?
Insight check. |
History/military check on this dude.
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"I use this ship because it's what I have", Fir-it-ayr responds. "The entirety of Freeport's fleet has been sent out to the middle of the sea for training exercises. I have access to no ships, and precisely three guards with any marine training whatsoever. The Sea Lord's will is not mine to question. The Swiftcurrent does not fly under our flag, nor is Captain Dal-ri-lar a member of the Guard. She is, however, willing to help — a vanishingly rare attitude these days. Our ships likely won't return for at least two weeks, and this package must leave by tomorrow. The crew will find for itself if they absolutely must, and if Captain Dal-ri-lar hadn't agreed to help I suppose I'd be on my way to Veltalar on a rowboat right now."
Though he finds the situation unusual, Cal can find no sign that Far-it-ayr is deceiving him (though the lieutenant clearly finds the situation intolerable himself). A quick glance around confirms the total absence of any ships flying the black hourglass; Freeport's navy was, indeed, elsewhere. Though Puyet hadn't been in Freeport long enough to learn much about particular individuals in its military, he had put together a fairly good understanding of its general workings. The Sea Lord's Guard was a fairly small outfit, scarcely numbering 150 swords at full strength — and Puyet had picked up enough rumors of the recent catastrophe to know that it wasn't at anywhere near full strength at the moment. The Guard was infamous for its openly racist hiring practices; for a nonhuman to join the Guard at all was an historic event, but to rise to lieutenant? Far-it-ayr was clearly either extraordinarily competent or extraordinarily corrupt. |
While the lieutenant did not seem a legitimate fellow, the task at hand did seem so.
Resisting his old habits of recognizing the lieutenant's rank, so as to derail any notions he might have of ordering them about, Puyet casually waltzed up to the officer while scratching his oversized genitals. "Your job seems to be something we can do. We will do everything you need for 600 per man, including room and board, of course. Once we are there, should we decide to return to Freeport, we will purchase our voyage back." Puyet went on to explain the amount of expertise the group offered and how they were likely his best option at this point. |
Not being a seafaring sort (I can get very very seasick), I am motivated by the coin. But what sort of dangers are anticipated?
Curious, but... we do have to make do with what we have. I won't ask what's in the package, but you say you expect trouble. If we accept this job, I'd like to know what you think might await. Do you expect any pirate attacks, or perhaps some motivated foreign power who might want to take it? I say this while shapeshifting into the form of a pointy-eared elf , in a blatant attempt to gauge his racial tolerance, especially for distrusted races like changelings. |
"Six hundred a head? More than I hoped to pay, but then I'm in no position to haggle. Very well, six hundred it is. Payroll has been running a surplus lately anyway, so it shouldn't be difficult to arrange. I'll have it for you in the morning."
The lieutenant arches an eyebrow as Cal takes elven form, but makes no other reaction or comment on it. "Pirates are a risk for any ship passing through Freeport waters, but that's not really what concerns me. The Swiftcurrent is a small craft, and fast; neither an attractive target for pirates nor an easy one. However, our couriers ran into a great deal of interference just getting the package this far. Our runners were harried en route from the Palace several times, and with much greater persistence and ferocity than you expect from local thugs. We have to assume foreign interference, though of course the sellswords weren't kind enough to name their employers before they were cut down. If that's all, I suggest you spend the rest of the afternoon readying whatever supplies you may think useful, and get a good night's sleep. Again, you depart at dawn tomorrow. Dismi—" Fir-it-ayr cuts himself off mid-word. "Good evening." The lieutenant strides off, his hands clasped behind his back. The captain merely gives the group a curt nod before retreating back aboard her ship and hauling the ramp up behind her. |
So the package is a sought after commodity, is it? Perhaps it won't hurt to have a few decoys to act as bait. I jog after the departing genasi to whisper in his ear.
"Sir, could you provide a few packages by tomorrow, similar to the one being delivered? A few decoys may aid our chances of successful delivery." ___ What might I need for a voyage across the sea? Fretting over my sea nausea, I head off to the marketplace to find some... countermeasures. I doubt I'll need any ammunition as yet, though the Eladrin might want some. Poor guy was gathering up used bolts after the last battle, why... it reminds me of my penniless days! 33 flasks - 0.03 x 33 = 1 GP (wagon) Travel Papers - 0.20 GP 4 Waterskins - 1 x 4 = 4 GP (wagon) 19 pitchers of ale - 0.20 x 19 = 3.80 GP (flasks; wagon) Hempen Rope, 50 feet = 1 GP (wagon) TOTAL SPEND: 10 GP This being the night before a potentially perilous peregrination, I make sure to eat, drink, and be merry, which for me is a good book and some alchemy. Maybe some debauchery next time, since the cleric's gone. Drink 4 flasks of ale. Eat 2x trail rations. Read Complete Idiot's Guide to Fireplaces. Distribute the contents of single poisonous black pudding flask among five flasks of ale, making sure to nick the neck as a sign of danger. Discard used flask. Gonna poison me some enemies! |
I'd kept quiet and watched as the exchange was going on... no matter what I'm currently feeling, I like to keep interactions with my fellow genasi as short as possible. I should have known from the name of the damn ship, though. Still, I'll watch and act rather than talking. At least these men are seafarers. Also, to be honest, I'm glad the ship is run by watersouls... I won't be being constantly asked if I'm able to manifest it, and I do quite feel like continuing to manifest fire for the time being.
I returned to the inn to rest up for the coming job, hoping that the rest of the group knew what it was getting in to. I don't like the fact that the lieutenant wouldn't tell us the contents of the package, and will have to remember to check it out once I see it. |
Glenn wasn't sure how to feel about the changeling's implication of his poverty. He had gathered the bolts from the corpses mostly out of habit. Rose hated wasting anything that could be used again - especially since neither of them could really walk into a shop and just buy things without being noticed. Glenn was the son of a wealthy merchant, and Rose had to avoid showing her face whenever possible to prevent intolerant citizens from finding her family living in the slums.
Glenn wondered who had sold out Rose's family. There were a few other families who knew of their existence in the city, but Glenn trusted those people to keep that secret. Perhaps a black market dealer, looking for a quick coin from the city guard. Either way, it didn't matter now. She was alone now, her parents burned along with their second attempt at a home. Rose would find no solace with her own people, and was likely now wandering the world, just as Glenn did now. These thoughts filling his head, Glenn wanders slowly back to the inn. |
Puyet drank ale with the locals for the last time, and shared war stories. Some guys kept talking about some placed called "Nam", but Puyet didn't know where that was. Another spoke of battling a deceptive race of Hajjis, something else Puyet was unfamiliar with. He chalked it up the the drinks.
He retired to bed and dreamed of what the future might hold. Spoiler:
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The Complete Idiot's Guide To Fireplaces was an amazingly vacuous work, managing somehow to insult even Cal's intellect. After a full 30 pages explaining (in small words) exactly what fire was, the book spends the rest of its 150 pages trying to describe a fireplace and its purpose. For the actual lighting and maintenance of fireplaces, the gentle reader is directed to Volume 2.
Awaking early the next morn, G-Unit promptly wends their way down to the docks in the chill pre-dawn hours. Fir-it-ayr is already waiting when they arrive. They conduct their business in stony silence, the lieutenant ushering them aboard the ship before pressing small paper envelopes into their hands one by one. Each contains six platinum pieces, it being far too dangerous in Freeport to carry thousands of jangling coins on one's person while traveling alone. Fir-it-ayr also carries beneath his arm three copper scroll tubes, which he passes to Cal. "Just old blueprints and pie recipes inside", he mutters. "No time to make proper forgeries." By the time payment in concluded, the captain and her crew are already up and at work — the Swiftcurrent is several hundred yards out to sea. With a quick salute the lieutenant vaults over the starboard side, slicing into the water as smoothly as a dolphin. As the vessel continues to pull away, Fir-it-ayr is soon invisible beneath the waves. Though such a small detail had not caught his notice before, Puyet finds himself intrigued by the brightly-dyed sails of the Swiftcurrent. They were red. For reasons he could not quite explain to himself, this comforted him; he felt certain, now, that the ship would go faster. ————————————————†”——— The first day is more or less uneventful, as Pirate Isle recedes into the distance behind them. It's not long before Dal-ri-lar shoos the mercenaries below deck, their gawking and loitering getting in the way of real sailor's work. Some of them decide to make themselves useful during the 5 day's journey to Veltalar; after all, there was no guarantee of an attack, and some in G-Unit lacked the patience to sit on their hands for so long. Code:
How do you make yourself useful (or useless) aboard the Swiftcurrent? There's |
I hand a scroll each to the half-orc, fighter, and genasi, explaining to them that these are supposed to act as decoys for the real thing, in case of any attack. As the more physically imposing members of our group, any foe would naturally assume they would be protecting the package.
Although the speedy vessel mitigates my seasickness, the occasional choppy wave threatens to overwhelm my self-control. I attempt to make myself less useless by attempting to endure it. Oh well, at least I have seasickness flasks. Alas, after filling three jars with changeling regurgitation, I decide to above-board and spew the contents of my stomach into the ocean. I hope the Sea King won't mind. ___ After spending quite some time above deck, and recalling the previous stormy experience recounted by Garr (seems like "Delic" was present, but strangely I don't recall any of it now), I marshall my nature skills and attempt to discern what the weather will be like for the remainder of our voyage. |
Having agreed with Garrmondo to take this job due to their military preference, he encourages him to study the crew and their morale, perhaps learn their numbers and the extent of their skills or other useful details. Such things were generally of an officer's concern, but a real soldier knows they would be the first to jump ship or abandon post should they find themselves in a sticky situation.
Puyet meanders about the ship, studying the layout and the best visual vantage points as well as available weaponry and supplies. Afterward, he approaches the captain, awkward as it might be, and asks for details that he might have missed in his preparedness. After technical details, he attempts small talk. Not too much, however, but enough to mention the sails that somehow avoided his perception earlier. Not sure if I need a roll for these actions, but just in case. |
Glenn wanders around the ship for the first day, always looking for good places to hide, surprise an enemy, or escape. He had lived his life after leaving home free to go where he wished, and not being able to wander around back alleys and crowded streets for hours felt very strange. He decides to ask the captain for something to do, hoping to learn about the workings of the Swiftcurrent and help out where he could.
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Forced into contact with my racial brethren. Extremely annoying, honestly, but at least we were on a ship. I decided to do the single most practical thing I could: go into the hold and kill some rats to help keep our foodstores as clean as possible.
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Garrmondo adapts swiftly to the demands of bosun's work, his great strength a boon to the vessel's day-to-day maintenance. While he lacks the skills of a professional seaman, he quickly develops a rapport with the crew, which begins to view him as a comrade rather than a burdensome passenger.
+2 to social checks involving the crew Expecting trouble at any moment, Puyet investigates whether the crew or any supplies aboard ship might be useful in a fight. While the Swiftcurrent's small armory contains enough blades for everyone aboard, the ship lacks any cannon; this seemed consistent with the lieutenant's assurance that the vessel was fast enough outsail attacking boats, but if not from enemy craft where the did the fear of attack come from? With the captain's permission, Puyet takes a handful of sailors aside for a few hours of proper combat training. While making small talk with the captain, Puyet notices a Kolter Privateer tucked into her belt. Pistols were clumsy, unwieldy weapons and no real use in a stand-up fight, but at least Dal-ri-lar was preparing for trouble. +2 to initiative. 3 minions available to command in a fight. Glenn searches the ship for suitable hiding places, as many of his skills were all the more useful in an ambush. While belowdecks was full of blind corners and easily-missed nooks, an attempt to repel boarders was already lost once the attackers commanded the maindeck. There were stairs leading down from the forecastle to the maindeck, however, and not much light got beneath them. Glenn's lanky frame could easily hide beneath these stairs if he wanted to catch someone by surprise. Thus prepared, Glenn attempts to make himself useful, but after a few clumsy spills and fumbles the first mate gently relieves him of responsibility. Automatic CA on first attack of battles aboard ship. Utterly uninterested in socializing with the genasi crew, Gra-fa-zut sequesters himself belowdecks and sets to work purging vermin from the cargo hold. Unfortunately the few wharf rats aboard the Swiftcurrent are too wily for him to pin down. Overwhelmed by nausea, Cal does little to make himself useful or endear himself to the crew. He spends the first two days aboard ship desperately trying to keep a meal down, he awakens early on the third morning curious about the weather. The sea has taken on an eerie calm, and as Cal gazes down into the still waters, he sees strange silhouettes moving toward the ship... silhouettes with legs and arms. With a shout, Cal runs to the ship's bell, hurriedly waking G-Unit and the rest of the crew to repel the attackers. Dozens of horrid creatures swarm the boat, looking like nothing so much as a slimy crossbreed between man and fish. Most of them remain in the water, bashing away at the ship's hull with spears and tridents — but 9 of them climb aboard the maindeck, making their way to the forecastle where Cal stands ringing the ship's bell. One carries an odd spear with pincers on the end, one wields a crossbow, and one brandishes a vicious-looking spear. The other six boarders each carry a brace of javelins on their backs, and appear to be following orders from the staff-carrier. While he waits for help, Cal must fight alone. Cal gets a surprise round to attack the fishmen before initiative proper begins. http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/staffuser.png Fishman with staff: AC 25, Fort 23, Ref 22, Will 22 http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/crossbowman.png Fishman with crossbow: AC 25, Fort 22, Ref 22, Will 21 http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/spearman.png Fishman with spear: AC 24, Fort 21, Ref 21, Will 20 http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/javelineer.png Fishmen with javelins: AC 23, Fort 24, Ref 23, Will 23 |
For all the hustle and bustle that made the beautiful blue woman sailor shoo us below deck, the deck is astonishingly deserted. With a sigh, I resign myself to suffering terrible, terrible damage from the ambush. Good help is so hard to find these days.
Twin Strike on L6 Fishman. 3 damage, fft fft. As the second arrow bounces harmlessly off the creature's scaly hide, I marshall up whatever second-hand information I have about fishmen. Traveler knows I haven't met one in person before. Knowledge check |
Cal recognized the slimy creatures immediately; these were the horrible kuo-toa, infamous for their slave raids. Though the kuo-toa usually remained within the Underdark they occasionally appeared in surface seas to harry and destroy merchant ships, dragging the bounty back to their loathesome dens deep beneath the waves. Kuo-toa society is broken into several castes, and at the top are the whips; shaman-priests of the strange gods the kuo-toa worship. Accompanying whips at all times are mobs of warders, frenzied combatants that will gladly die to protect the whip. The bulk of combatants in most kuo-toa slave raids are the marauders, so-called because they are hopelessly mad. Marauders never flee from combat, even if hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched. Holding together the twitching, self destructive culture of the kuo-toa are the monitors, who are kept sequestered from the blasphemous temples of their people. The mind-warping madness of the kuo-toa religion never touches them directly, leaving them with the responsibility of maintaining discipline in groups as small as a war party or as large as an entire settlement. Where monitors and whips are both present, the question of whose will takes precedence is largely a question of sheer physical mass.
23 gets you everything but their resistances/vulnerabilities, and they don't have any. So: Though he can't help but feel a little envious of the kuo-toa and their willingness to freely abduct and dissect whoever they want to, Cal also recognizes that he's a fairly prime candidate for abduction. With a shudder, he sends an arrow flying toward the nearest specimen; it punches through the creature's skull easily and it slumps to the deck with a moist splat. Maybe they were cartilaginous. The kuo-toa monitor coldly levels his crossbow at Cal. The bow in this creature's hand clearly marked him as artillery support; better to kill him now before he can hide behind his fellows. The bolt rips through the left side of Cal's face, tearing off his ear. He reforms it only moments later, but it still stings like a bitch. Good shot. The monitor quickly moves to put a warder between himself and the enemy; they're expendable. Crossbow: +16 vs AC. 19 damage to Cal. :savepoint: Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Dal-ri-lar 10, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Sailors 7, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Monitor 28 Yeah Zerg's turn again. A 20 is a 20, what can I do |
Oh man, Paragon level monsters. Rolls of <7 to hit us, rolls of >12 to hit them. :(
That smug little archer thought he'd shoot me. Too bad, I got him in the face first with my special kruthik tooth arrow. It was enough to disrupt his amateurish aim. Activate Disruptive Strike. 6 damage to Monitor (Crossbow) and 5 penalty to triggering attack. Activate Poisoned Weapon. Monitor is weakened and takes 5 ongoing poison damage (save ends both). Cursing myself for not scouting out the terrain beforehand, I quickly glance around the battlefield. Where would our reinforcements arrive from? Can I take cover somewhere? Is there a choke point on this ship? The patter of heavy footsteps tell me salvation is at hand, but can I at least thin the herd of minions to minimize personal damage? Twin Strike: M2 and N5. Minions killed. Not wanting to risk getting holes poked into my hide via range, I duck out of sight, and crawl away to where the warders can't get to me so quickly. Drop prone. Crawl to G5. |
With a sneer, the monitor rips Cal's poisoned arrow from his jaw. The poison didn't seem to have affected him at all!
And that's why we don't inflict "save ends" conditions during the target's own turn Panicking a little, Cal dispatches two more of the flimsy warders before diving for cover behind the low railing of the fo'c'sle. Incredibly poor cover was better than no cover at all. Low railing between deck levels provides normal cover to prone combatants, stacks with prone bonus vs. ranged The surviving warders charge forward, flinging their javelins at Cal with the force of their momentum. Despite his low profile, 2 javelins find their mark. Though the pain was incredible, Cal's immediate thoughts revolved around the way having javelins stuck in him kind of ruined the whole "hiding" thing. Might as well plant a flag in him. Still, help must be arriving any second now... Javelin: +17 vs AC; 2 hits = 18 total damage to Cal (minions don't roll for damage) :savepoint: Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Dal-ri-lar 10, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Sailors 7, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28 |
Puyet arrives on deck with the Captain trailing him along with the rest of his comrades and the soldiers under his command. The first thing he saw was fish.
....Fffffffffffffffffish. Puyet did NOT like sushi. Start at T3 Phalanx Assault on Whip. 21 dmg! +2 AC and Reflex to all my adjacent allies till end of my next turn. Action Point Ready Everybody Move for whenever best time is. We want that helm to be clear. Also ready shift to U3 if he remains to the starboard side. |
Puyet barrels out onto the deck, lunging up to the stairs to the helm two at a time. Battering the whip with his shield, he drives it away from the ship's wheel.
Staggering backward, the whip smashes his staff downward into the deck. A brilliant bolt of lightning strikes down out of the clear sky, and Puyet experiences a peculiar tingling sensation. The sheer brightness of the electric bolt temporarily blinds him. Lightning Strike: +15 vs Reflex, 12 damage to Puyet (blinded 1 round) The marauder casts about for a target, but the two enemies on deck were too far away to reach before their reinforcements would arrive. Grumbling, he lurks by the sternward stairs and waits for the enemy to appear from belowdecks. Move to Q4, ready Slavering Spear vs. anyone spawning adjacent. Not likely to accomplish much, but. :savepoint: Dal-ri-lar 10, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Sailors 7, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Monitor 28. ROUND 2: Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12, Kuo-toa Marauder 10 |
Dal-ri-lar looks out the window.
"Shit" Discretion is the better part of valor. Delay turn until after Zeph's sailors and before Garr |
Glenn slides out of his hiding place under the stairs and quietly hurries up the stairs to the helm, finding the fishman with the staff distracted by the half-orc. Glenn takes the opportunity and, blade moving almost too fast to see, rearranges a few of the thing's internal organs with a few quick cuts and jabs with his sword. Glenn wasn't practiced in the art of medicine, but it turns out surgery isn't too difficult when everything doesn't need to go back in the same way.
appear at R6, move to T6 Sly Lunge on Kuo-Toa Whip 18+13+2 > 25 hit! 19 damage, fishman is granting Glenn CA until end of Glenn's next turn While we're here, burn AP, use Deft Strike (not moving) 10+13+2 = 25, barely hit 6+6+7+2 = 21 damage Heck with it, let's do this thing right - use Flaying Gloves for 5 ongoing damage Total of 40 damage plus 5 ongoing to fishman, plus granting Glenn combat advantage until end of Glenn's next turn. :cool: |
Disappointed though I was in my inability to find any rats, I felt my blood start pumping as I heard the sounds of battle from above. Drawing my sword, I rushed up the stairs, coming out very close to some fishthing. Chuckling to myself, I felt my aegis settle on the marauder. I stepped close, sweeping my blade at the creature.
Appear at R2, move to R3 Mark marauder with aegis. Booming blade to maurader 18 + 11 = 29 > 24 BOOM damage (something happened on my end, first roll counts right? 10 + 6 = 16) |
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After the fifth straight hour of tapping her foot, Dal-ri-lar once again looked out the window. That stupid green/brown man was standing there. Like an idiot. His loss.
http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__...c/Penguin2.jpg "On land you may command, by sea it is me! waugh, waugh!" "Octopus, Shark, Swordfish. You know what to do!" And with that three minions waddled out the front door. All spawn at R6 in turn as they move to S5, T6, and U5. All three attempt to pick up the Whip together and throw him off the side of the boat. Let's say the flanker was grabbing it so +5 vs Fort is 24 > 23 so successed? |
Alright. No more pussy footing.
ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT. YOU GUYS GET OFF MY BOAT. Dal-ri-lar hulk walks THROUGH the door. Handles and latches are for giant weeping vaginas. The door is annihilated as it splinters into a billion grains of sawdust as she makes her triumphant entrance. Indeed, it was heralded by angels, it seems. Light shines bright as she makes her way up to the deck. Spawn at R6, Move to T4. Did she hear....music? She glances upward. What's that? A....shiny metal man? And a midget? Playing a guitar? RIDING A WYVERN? Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: NO TIME FOR DILLY DALLY. With a triumphant shout, she lets loose her war cry. http://colonelskills.belkanairforce.com/dnd/heis.jpg http://colonelskills.belkanairforce.com/dnd/aman.jpg http://colonelskills.belkanairforce....d/ofthesea.jpg Hard to Starboard Cal Prone in the water! DROWNING. (awesome) Puyet turns a sailor into red mist! One minion in the drink. Everyone else 3 to the right! BUT STILL http://colonelskills.belkanairforce....mes_feu-19.gif Privateer FP vs Marauder Minor Cover penalty -2. Fail miserably. Double fail on reload. All that moonshine seemingly did nothing for her aim, however. She resolves to put one between the eyes of the next motherfucker, though. |
Glenn sets to work mauling the living hell out of the whip. If the changeling's panicky shrieks were at all accurate, taking out this guy might be enough to break the entire assault. Besides, Glenn never passed up an opportunity to put the nobility in its place... even if it happened to be fish nobility.
Gra-fa-zut strides onto the deck, the battle already underway without him. Some squamous thing makes a feeble lunge at him with its spear, and his blade is out in a flash. Seems he's found some vermin after all. The captain waits for the half-orc mercenary to order the sailors she'd put under his command, but perhaps his temporary blindness has left him with more pressing concerns. Tossing aside an empty bottle, she shouts for the crew to "throw them off my boat". They were always a literal bunch. Displaying exemplary teamwork they circle around the kuo-toa whip and hoist him onto their shoulders — and into the drink. With the helm clear, Dal-ri-lar staggers up to take the wheel. With a mighty heave she pulls the vessel hard to starboard, sending bodies and cargo flying. The eladrin and the shapeshifter go over the side along with one of the damned devilfish, but that was alright. They could teleport back on or transform into a raft or something, these things worked themselves out. Gra-fa-zut slashes again at the spear-wielding fish as it tumbles away, but it's only a glancing wound. After a failed potshot at one of the remaining kuo-toa, Dal-rilar's startled as the brawny human lifts her overhead and flings her toward the crow's nest. Sadly, her time in the air is brief; the fighter barely manages to throw her 10 feet. Left dangling one-handed from the rigging, she internally debates the relative usefulness of dropping the pistol. It's technically possible she could reload it one-handed, you can't give up on these things without trying. With his bow-carrying prey floating in the water, the monitor turns his attention to the dangerous... was he on fire? He lunges toward Gra-fa-zut, his fist crackling with natural electricity, but natural reluctance to be ignited wins out. Lightning Fist: +14 vs Ref Dal-ri-lar is dangling from the ropes ABOVE Q7, unable to reach anybody with her cutlass. She might be able to kick heads, though. Some of you may not be where you expect to be, even taking into account the map having rotated 30 degrees. That's because Glenn and a sailor tried to occupy the same space and adjustments had to be made. Scaling the hull to get back aboard is a DC 15 athletics check; the deck is 10 feet from the water and climbers move at half speed, so a successful climb will use 4 squares of movement. Swimming movement is also half speed, make a DC 10 Athletics to not spaz out and sink. Kuo-toa, being naturally aquatic, are exempt from this. (You need to end your turn while underwater to start drowning, sorry Skills) :savepoint: Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Dal-ri-lar 10, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Sailors 7, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 3 |
Help, I'm drowning! Ccccc-an't swim!
Crazy women captains, not knowing their ports from their starboards. Why, if that blasted genasi woman ordered a hard left, it'd be three enemies in the drink instead of two allies. She'll get hers for this. Right after I take my revenge on Lamid. Survival takes precedent over anthing else; I involuntarily imprinted into one of the fish-men, and attempt a mad dash to clamber aboard. After my first two attempts fail, I decide to try again at a less slippery location. Miraculously, my improvised dog paddle works! Minor: Shapeshift to kuo-ta warder. Move: Athletics to climb, need 12+. Failed. Standard to Move: Athletics to climb. Failed. Action Point to swim, need 7+. Dog paddle 3 squares north. |
The warders recover quickly from the ship's sudden movement, charging toward the helm to (futilely) attack Gra-fa-zut. The warder in the water easily climbs back aboard.
Though the water around the Swiftcurrent is practically swarming with kuo-toa peons, none of them give Glenn or Cal more than a passing glance. They seem more interested in destroying the ship then in eliminating the passengers. Just to be sure, Cal assumes a friendly form... and does his best to ignore the suddenly obvious pheromones issuing from the whip. Cal was an adventurous sort of guy, but the kuo-toa had some ideas that made him rather uncomfortable. How would you even fit an anchor that size inside — well, there were more important matters afoot. :savepoint: Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Sailors 7, Dal-ri-lar 10,, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 3, Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28 |
Puyet was a little buzzed. Perhaps the Captain had spiked his morning coffee. Perhaps it was the lightning bolt that landed in his asshole. Whatever it was, he needed another drink.
Drink potion of clarity. Spend one surge. Stumble to T6 Total Defense. |
The kuo-toa whip easily climbs back up onto the ship, but makes the mistake of ignoring Glenn bobbing in the water beside him. Though the eladrin's shortsword deals him a massive wound, he shrugs it off and continues his climb.
Glenn's AoO vs Whip: 23 damage Did you know? With the release of Essentials, Rogues may now deal their Sneak Attack damage once a turn rather than once a round. Raising his staff in triumph, the whip summons a vile torrent of sea slime out of the depths. It splatters down upon the deck like a hammer, throwing mercenary and crewman alike away from the impact. Puyet, Garrmondo, and Gra-fa-zut are flung into the water; the pressure of the slime oozing back into the sea pushes Glenn even further away from the ship. Though many of the sailors are far away from the blast, the captain and Puyet's combat-trained retinue are not so lucky. Thrown unconscious into the sea, the stormsoul genasi sailors rapidly sink beneath the surface and drown. Dal-ri-lar is pushed down from the ropes, and slammed forcefully into the surface of the bridge deck — head first. Her neck snaps, killing her instantly. Slime Vortex: Burst 4 centered on S7, +15 vs Fort. 35 damage to every friendly except Cal. Dal, Sailors killed outright. Everyone else bloodied and prone, and slid 3 spaces. Once again the Marauder is left without any practical targets; he decides to bide his time. The drylanders wouldn't give up their prize as easily as this. Delay until after Garrmondo :savepoint: Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 3, Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12 |
All that I had time to register as I was flung from the ship was a single thought: Ow, dammit. Upon hitting the water, I quickly swam close and tried to climb up the side of the ship.
Climb up at N1. Athletics Check passed. I was mad as hell, and these guys would find themselves on the pointy end of a flying blade if I had anything to say about it. As I climbed over the railing, I summoned my sword into my hand and threw it at the fishmen. Minor action: swordbond call (I'm guessing is what I need after having gone ass-over-teakettle). Whirling Blade at Monitor (P7). 14 + 11 = 25 HIT / 16 Damage (unless I'm reading 2[W] wrong) |
Glenn shakes his head and recovers from the wave that the slime had created. He rights himself, irritated for not having gotten out of the way in time. Getting up on deck would be too difficult for now, so he instead decided to shoot the fish. Glenn was getting irritated, but at least his target had kindly stayed close enough to the edge of the boat to allow for an easy shot.
Won't bother rolling to avoid drowning - Glenn would need a -1 to fail, so. Move action to return to being vertical. swap weapons to hand crossbow. switch hand crossbow to deal lightning damage. Deft Strike vs. Whip. need 10 to hit (unless Pang decides the fish has cover or something) 15 should be plenty, 21 damage. |
G-Unit gradually begins to climb back aboard, dripping and aggravated. With the enemy temporarily out of reach, Gra-fa-zut hurls his sword at the kuo-toa monitor — and scores a minor wound on the fishman, largely due to the monitor's being distracted by a premature victory dance on the part of the warders.
Glenn chooses to remain in the water for now. Firing from the water, the whip made an easy target as he stood carelessly by the rail. Between that and the bleeding wound Glenn had made with his gloves, the whip couldn't possibly endure much longer. The marauder issues a guttural shout as Gra-fa-zut climbs back onto the ship. With an angry gurgle he charges with his filthy-looking spear — and slams it into the port railing. Gra-fa-zut raises a blazing eyebrow. The monitor just stands back and casually fires his crossbow at Garrmondo. He's cool like that. He misses. That is also cool. Nothing shakes the unflappable cool of a Kuo-toa Monitor. Nothing. Not even getting hit in the face with a flying sword. He's just like "Nice sword, buddy. What did that run you, about 5 bucks? Heh." Of course, it's all in a fishy fish language that Gra-fa-zut can't possibly understand, but that's beside the point. The monitor gives a whistle, and three more warders climb up onto the bridge to help secure the ship. http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/this_is_such_shit.png :savepoint: Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12 (as good as dead), Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Garrmondo 5, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 4 |
The pheromones issuing from the almost-dead whip is almost too tantalizing to resist. I am especially enthused about her plans for the ship's anchor.
Alas, I cannot be near my beloved - my honor as a mercenary demands I fulfill my mission to the best of my capability. It would be foolhardy to engage the enemy without reinforcement, so I bide my time, treading water and waiting for the right time to climb up. Swim to E14. Need 7+. Ready Move Action to climb ship, ending at F14. Trigger: Glenn takes an action. |
Forming into crude firing lines, the warders pelt Garrmondo with javelins until sheer system shock renders him unconscious. Then they keep pelting him, just to be a bunch of dicks. "Be a bunch of dicks" is Rule #2 in the Official Kuo-toa Combat Strategy Manual. (Rule #1 is "Don't eat potential slaves", but this rule is ignored more often than it should be.)
45 damage to Garrmondo, KOed Made an unnecessary damage roll there, ignore it. The whip will be killed by ongoing damage at the start of its turn so just skip over it. :savepoint: Puyet 15, Kuo-toa Whip 12 (as good as dead), Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Garrmondo 5 (KO), Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 4 Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, |
Puyet felt like a soaking wet piece of jerky. He scaled back up the side of the boat and ducked for cover amongst the barrels and such that were close to the edge of the deck.
Move to upright. Inspiring word to self. Regain 18 hp. Also, is my temp HP from being bloodied shown? Climb up hull. Take cover at V8. |
Thunderclap strike on Monitor at O5 and Maurader
Monitor 18 + 9 = 27 > 22 HIT 9 DMG & prone Marauder 16 + 9 = 25 > 21 HIT 9 DMG & prone ready firepulse for first hit |
Glenn steps out of the world, reappearing aboard the Swiftcurrent. As he does so, he sees yet another of the fish-things climbing aboard on the far side of the boat. Glenn starts to feel concerned - he had been able to take care of what seemed like their leader, but the assault showed no signs of slowing. Glenn clears his mind for what is clearly going to be a long and painful fight still to come, firing a bolt at the group of fish to his left while he does so.
Fey Step to U9 Second Wind Snap Shot vs minion at U5, need 11+ hit! use lightning crossbow daily to wipe out that group of minions. |
Puyet climbs back aboard, grumbling under his breath and attempting to take cover amongst the jumble of battered crates and barrels along the starboard rail. An angry, dripping-wet half orc wasn't hard to spot in the best circumstances, but he just needed a moment to catch his breath.
The ragged wound Glenn had scored finally gets the best of the whip; the kuo-toa priest's eyes roll up in his head as he loses a little more blood than he can afford to. He collapses, dead, at the top of the stairs. Rather than bother with swimming and climbing, Glenn simply manifests himself aboard the deck. Without a moment's hesitation, he releases the electric charge built up in his crossbow and sends a crackling bolt flying toward the new reinforcements. The deck is soon awash in the delicious odor of fried catfish. For whatever reason, Cal takes Glenn's reappearance aboard ship as the cue for him to climb aboard as well. Having done so, he promptly stands there doing fuck-all. Finding himself hemmed in by foes, Gra-fa-zut smashes the kuo-toa with a wall of thunderous sound. The warder to his south cannot bear the noise; he falls in a heap, ears bleeding. Garrmondo continues to lie immobile on the deck, more pincushion than man. He seems not to be getting any worse, a small blessing with the unlikelihood of aid coming to him any time soon. The marauder pursues his single-minded obsession to slay Gra-fa-zut, skewering the genasi with his barnacle-encrusted spear. The fiery retribution that swiftly blasts him in the face does not seem to discourage him overmuch. Slavering Spear: 18 damage to Gra-fa-zut & 5 ongoing untyped damage (save ends) Firepulse: 5 damage to Marauder Smirking a fishy smirk, the monitor coolly turns his crossbow toward Garrmondo's unconscious form. The bolt thumps into the fighter's body with a cold finality, and his breathing shudders to a halt. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: :savepoint: Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28, Puyet 15, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 5 |
Garrmondo... dead?
No, you can't be dead. You... just... can't. http://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pu...nooo_7675.jpeg The murderers. I'll have their heads for this. Revenge is a dish best served cold. I bottle up my righteous fury, and silently manuever into position to snipe at the evil archer who took Garr away from us. Tiptoe to H13, hopefully taking cover thanks to barrels. P10 is my quarry. Make stealth check to hide: 13+11+1=25 > Highest passive perception 12+10=22. Success. Claws of the Manticore with Duergar Beard Arrows against P10. With combat advantage, needs 12+ to hit. First attack deals 17+7 damage. Critical hit on second attack deals 10+7+8, +1 poison damage. Total: 50 damage. Concealment bonus lost due to attacking. Enemy Stats before Cal Marauder (AC 24, Fort 21, Ref 21, Will 20): 74/110 HP (67%) Warder (AC 23, Fort 24, Ref 23, Will 23): minion. |
Some guys with spears are all like "we will stab you with our spears" and then Gra-fa-zut is all "oh no do not please kind sirs" but they do anyway and he gets hurt and falls down and it is sad. The bad men laugh because they are evil and their hearts are as black as the bottomless depths of the sea, it is a chilling sound indeed. Waka-waka.
18 damage to Gra-fa-zut; unconscious :savepoint: Puyet 15, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9 (KO), Kuo-toa Marauder 10, Kuo-toa Monitor 28, ROUND 5, Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warders 28 |
A little bird came along and whispered into Puyet's ear. Puyet swatted it dead with a backhand. It didn't look very compelling flopping around on the deck, so he smeared it a little with his boots just to make sure.
Charge to Q9. Flattening charge on Moniter? Reroll with Potion of Clarity ability. Furious Assault. 13 DMG total =( Inspiring word on GFZ. Regains 18 HP If Moniter is dead, Move to N7 |
Glenn is quickly losing hope. His companions are falling left and right, the fishmen just keep coming, and without the support of the Dragonborn cleric things are swiftly taking a turn for the worse. Glenn can't stand the thought of dying now. Not after having come so far. He debates trying to escape, but there is nowhere to run. Glenn decides to try to take as many of the fish down with him as he can. He wasn't dead yet.
Fast hands weapon swap. Move to Q10 next to Puyet. Clever Strike, need 10+. fail. try Nasty Backswing, same thing. hit, 24 damage should finish off monitor. |
The world swam before my eyes as the creatures attacked me, only to come back into full view hearing Puyet shouting at me. I stood up and spun, lashing out at the three fishthings around me. I then use my sword to get the hell out of there
Stand up Sword burst on Warders and Marauder MISS Warder at O5 Warder at O6 17 + 9 = 26 > 23 HIT (dead) Maurader 16 + 9 = 25 > 21 HIT 5 + 6 = 11 DMG Spend an action point Use Rubicant Broadsword to teleport to S5 |
With the Monitor and Whip both dead, the kuo-toa raiding party seems to be falling apart under its own weight. The trickle of warder reinforcements climbing onto the deck slows to a stop; the Marauder has no direct authority to command them. Desperate to pry some kind of glory out of the hands of a battle which is rapidly going south, the Marauder pursues Gra-fa-zut as he teleports away to the helm. The stairs mean Gra-fa-zut can see the kuo-toa coming well in advance, and he bats the spear aside easily.
:savepoint: Cal 28, Kuo-toa Warder 28, Puyet 15, Glenn 9, Gra-fa-zut 9, Kuo-toa Marauder 10, ROUND 6 |
The marauder thinks to brutalize Garrmondo's corpse, does he? Let's see what my arrows have to say about it. Yet, the mere thought of Garr is too much to bear. Many times has he put himself in harm's way, his chiseled muscles taking attacks that my delicate constitution could not. And now, he's gone. The most senior member of our adventuring party - the glue that bound us together through many arrivals and departures - is gone.
Changing to a form my allies are unlikely to attack, I fire off a couple of arrows to dissuade the fishman from desecrating our friend's corpse. Alas, my aim was blinkered by lacrimal secretions from my eyes. Fortunately, the second arrow hits the murderous warder in her fishy ovaries, and she drops down dead. Shapeshift to Glockenspiel McSteelchest. Move to H10 for a clear shot. Twin Strike (need 12+) against O5. Minion killed. Your turn, guys. Enemy Stats after Puyet Marauder (AC 24, Fort 21, Ref 21, Will 20): 58/110 HP (53%) PRONE (+2 melee -2 ranged attack rolls vs) |
Apparently, everybody was saving the best for last, which in this case belonged to Puyet. It wasn't really the best, but it was the best he had.
Flattening Charge to Marauder at Q4 16 Dmg. Yay! |
Glenn, finding himself incapable of reaching the fishman near the helm with his blade, turns to the fish behind him, only to find... a robot? Damn shapeshifters.
move to U6 (i think that one's clear) Deft Strike vs. fish. need 12. miss |
The crazy fishman just wouldn't stop following me. I quickly swung my blade at the thing, hoping to catch it off guard.
Booming Blade on Marauder 5 + 11 = 16 < 23 Miss I grunted in frustration, feeling my fire erupting down the length of my blade and encircling my body. Free action: Blades of Fiery Wrath on Marauder 3 + 9 = 12 < 23 MISS FUCKING DAMMIT |
The battle's as good as won. Hemmed in and outnumbered, the Marauder backs fearfully toward the edge of the deck — and then leaps into the sea. Bereft of any leadership, the weak and cowardly warders attacking the hull swiftly rout along with him.
Victory! 2700 XP (675 each) The day is won, but it's too soon to relax. The crew has taken heavy losses. Their captain lies dead, and one of G-Unit's own also met his end. Morale is low, to say the least. But there's no time to wallow in sorrows; the Swiftcurrent is badly damaged, practically unseaworthy. The ship sits dead in the sea, slowly taking on water. There's too much damage for the mercenaries to tackle on their own; they'll have to rouse the crew from their mourning malaise while doing what repairs they can. Skill Challenge, fuck yeah! Goals: Repair the ship, improve crew morale Three skill checks each, DC 23 7 total successes for victory, 5 for partial victory, 4 or less for failure Physical/Social challenge. Use physical skills for checks relating to repairs, social skills for checks relating to morale. You may use ONE mental skill check to aid in either goal, but rationalize why it applies! A skill challenge is an encounter just as a battle is. Don't hesitate to use any powers that you think might be useful in this situation. The challenge takes place IMMEDIATELY after combat ends, so you've received no short rest. The physical skills are: Acrobatics, Athletics, Endurance, Heal, Stealth, Thievery The social skills are: Bluff, Diplomacy, Insight, Intimidate, Streetwise The mental skills are: Arcana, Dungeoneering, History, Nature, Perception, Religion |
Glenn feels drained after the battle, but nonetheless feels the need to move quickly. He had survived the battle, but his friend the fighter had not. Glenn had never asked whether Garrmondo had been a religious man, but he did not wish to see the man simply dropped into these accursed waters. After moving Garrmondo's body someplace safe, Glenn racks his brain for some stories. He had listened to many stories those nights in the tavern with Rose, and many sailors had told of their times of woe. There were worse situations to be in, and the crew of the Swiftcurrent were a tougher bunch than those who Glenn had listened to back in Valentia. They could get through this.
Glenn proceeds to lead by example, climbing the mast to replace broken ropes, check the sail for damage, and see whether he could spot any other friendly ships from the crow's nest. He then proceeds downstairs, working to patch the leaks in the hull, moving as quickly as he could with a sense of purpose and urgency. Streetwise check - recall stories of sailors who've made it out of similar situations alive Acrobatics check - Climb the mast, repair etc. Athletics check - work quickly to repair the boat. Use Fast Hands to this end as well. Figures. Glenn can't seem to roll decent numbers to save his life outside of battle. |
Before Glenn attempts to climb the mast, I take my Climber's Kit from the wagon, and dropped it in his hands. "Here. This'll help." I murmured.
+2 to Athletics Checks to climb. Striding over to Dal-ri-lar's corpse, I pocket her Privateer FP. Interesting weapon, though less reliable than a trusty longbow. I load the weapon, and discharge it into the air with a loud crack. I subtly shifted the form of my vocal cords to match the dead captain's. That ought to grab the attention of her mourning crew. Listen up, you scurvy scalawags! We've got some dead friends, and we're going to be joining them if we don't get this place shipshape at once. Either help us, or I'm going to have to shoot you and throw you overboard to keep us afloat! Or give you over to that orc. That works too. Bluffin' you. Natural 20. Result: 34. Some of the sailors are still catatonic, saddened with grief perhaps. I empathize (Oh, Denny!), I truly do. I whip back my hand, and start pistol-whipping them to snap them out of their malaise. Sometimes, you have to exercise a bit of tough love. Heal check. Well, tough love's still love innit? Still, 16 = fail probably. Recruiting a couple of deck hands, I hand them each a tome that I've read (Bombastus' biography, the drow book, and with me bearing that asinine book about fireplaces). Dragging them below deck, I instruct them to tear the books apart, using the loose pages to stem the flow of water from the ocean. I jam my freezing arrow at the largest gap, immediately plugging up the hole with ice. It'll hold, but not forever. Still, water is still gradually filtering into the ship, and it takes all my dexterity and acrobatics skill to seal the leaky points of ingress with easily soaked paper. Accursed fishmen had to bash the hull in many places at once. Acrobatics check. Huh, natural 20. Result: 34. |
Well, the captain was dead. Good riddance. She had rubbed Puyet the wrong way. A woman in charge? The mission at hand was awkward enough without having a lady holler commands about all day. It was hard to differentiate Genasi genders, but you could tell by the frailty in her actions which she was.
Puyet knew what to do, though. At least, he knew WHO knew what to do, and he was about to insure they did exactly that. Ahem... "You fucking maggots. You better unfuck yourselves before I FUCK you! If you don't get your pretty mama dicks moving with a purpose, I will skullfuck you all and add some extra liquid to those watery Genasi brains of yours! I want this ship fixed and moving, otherwise we're all dead like that bitch MILF Captain of yours." Intimidate those motherfuckers. Use Battlefront shift ability in addition. After releasing his aggression on the crew, Puyet cornered the first mate with a different purpose. He didn't underestimate his abilities, but he gave the first mate some pointers on commanding the crew in a tight situation and informed him on the situation above deck. Insight check to advise the first mate. After this, Puyet meandered back aboard the top of the deck. Glenn was misreably attempting to fix the mast. He could see why the first mate shooed him away the day before. There was a sudden burst of pressure from inside of Puyet. He realized he had not had time after being woken this morning to relieve himself. He walked to the edge of the deck and began to pee, favoring the wind which was blowing in Glenn's direction. Take that you dirty elf. Puyet played it off as accident. Obviously he'd never been sailing before. Athletics check to help repair mast. Use rope and shit. There must be plenty of it on deck. |
Well, it was over. But there were dead to tend to. Genasi dead. The orc had done a good job of getting the remaining crewmen's attention, but helping begin the grief process was something best handled by racial kin. Despite my general lack of care about my fellow Genasi, I felt I could help. I switched to primordial and began to sing the last rites for my fallen bretheren (and sisteren).
Diplomacy check assisted by religion check. Getting their attention through racial heritage. When I came out of my trance, I got to work helping with fixing the boat. I grabbed some ropes in an attempt to keep things steady while the crewmen went about lashing the sails. Endurance check. Fucking slippery deck. |
Despite his best intentions, Glenn's nervousness and fatigue work against him as he tries to aid in the repairs. After attempting to hail a passing barge, he nearly falls from the mast. The barge's crew either overlooks Glenn's distress signals entirely, or just willfully ignores him. Attempts to recall old sailing tales that might apply are fruitless as well; Glenn can't recall a single story involving a kuo-toa attack that ended well. At wit's end, he just applies himself furiously to the tedious work of patching the hull. His quick hands (and natural teleportation) come in very handy indeed.
Cal manages to shake the sailors out of their stupor, mostly via the raw attention-grabbing power of waving a gun around. As the Privateer is thoroughly coated in sea slime, it's a small miracle he avoided a misfire that could have blown his hand clean off. He attempts to follow up on this success administering savage beatings to the sailors refusing to work, but no amount of shapeshifting will actually grant Cal adequate muscle mass for anyone to find him threatening. Lastly, Cal's great agility comes in handy as he helps to repair the more difficult-to-reach areas on the exterior hull. Dangling by your toes from a plank isn't the most relaxing work posture, but it gets the job done. Puyet finally gets the rest of the crew in gear by terrifying them within an inch of their lives. Mourning and despair quickly fade into the background as they furiously set to work, desperate to avoid having the half-orc choke them to death. Hoping to restore the chain of command, Puyet then seeks out the first mate... only to find him also among the dead. Continuing down the ranks, he eventually finds a cabin boy to discuss strategy with. The lad seems to find the conversation enlightening, but puts few of Puyet's suggestions into practice. Personnel thus put in order, Puyet then seeks to help with the mast — but maybe it's better if he just supervises, as he lacks what you might call a delicate touch. Gra-fa-zut immediately sets out to help the crew with some impromptu grief counseling. There's no time for a drawn-out discussion of feelings, but Gra-fa-zut's steady manner and his shared heritage do much to persuade them that their shipmates have merely gone on to their just rewards. Then he promptly slips on a puddle of slime and falls on his ass. After the initial panic, steady work begins. It takes about two days for the skeleton crew and the mercenaries to restore the ship to salvageable shape. The genasi dead are all surrendered to the sea, a fitting rest for any sailor. Glenn carries Garrmondo's body to an empty cabin; by luck one of the surviving sailors dabbles in ritual magic, and the ugly process of decay is forestalled until the ship can reach a port — as is the process of swiping Garrmondo's property, as some are surely wont to do. Together, G-Unit and the remaining crew do a decent job of repairing the Swiftcurrent's most alarming problems. None of them are truly skilled in the arts of carpentry or shipwrigting, however, and even their best efforts result in a ramshackle patchwork of slapped-on planks and sloppy cover-ups. The ship will stay afloat long enough to get where it's going, but it'll do so slowly and clumsily. The entire ship lists somewhat to port, making even the simplest stroll on deck a nuisance. 5 successes: Partial Victory. 1200 XP (300 each) Thanks to the kuo-toa attack, the mission is already two days behind schedule. With the ship as damaged as it is, it'll likely take another three days to limp into Veltalar. How do the mercenaries spend this time? If you don't have any specific things you want to do here, don't sweat it, we'll move on in 48 hours regardless of player responses. This is just an optional chance to do whatever before you arrive in Veltalar. :shrug: |
The hectic frenzy of the past hour slowly transitions into the muted humdrum of awkward routine. I indulge myself in what is perhaps my last chance to perform an autopsy - the kuo-toa whip's head is my souvenir now.
Also retrieve Augmenting Whetstone and fake scroll from Garr's pack. In an attempt to bolster our spirit, I take out my fiddle and sang a funeral dirge in my robotic voice for Garr and the other departed sailors. ♫ And as the fish swarmed faster and fiercer. The pain rained down our heads. And Garr, brave Garr. He shielded us. Paid for it with his life. ♪ ♫ Garr, where the fates will you guide? Plane above? Below? Set sail for those lands unknown. ♪ Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: The recent encounter is not so easily brushed aside by a song however. Just when I thought I'd gone past Denny's death, the death of our de-facto leader jars me harder than expected. For sanity's sake, I probably won't be able to do this any longer. Then it occurred to me, why not subcontract mercenary work? The words of financial sage Robertus Kiyosakus came to mind. By hiring out my services, I am an employee who earns wealth from a single source. But, investing in a guild of sell-swords would yield passive income from multiple sources. And as a bonus, it will not require personal risk on my part. True, there is a risk of losing my investment, but it is surely better than losing my life. I slept fitfully that night, knowing full well that my adventuring life may well be drawing into a close. G-unit will be fine without me - that eladrin rogue far surpasses me in striking efficiency. Yes, one way or another, Veltalar will be an ending, as well as a beginning, in the life of Cal Amah of Rhee. |
Glenn, exhausted from the fighting and profusely irritated with himself for not being able to be any use at all when not sticking things with his sword, takes to sulking around the ship. He couldn't stand feeling so useless.
The attack on the ship had also shaken him. If that last fish had turned out to actually be a fish instead of the shapeshifter, Glenn likely would have not survived the encounter. Glenn resolved to take a rest from adventuring once the Swiftcurrent arrives at her destination. He had enough money to eat for quite some time, and it would take a few days to determine whether Rose may have passed this way anyway. Glenn's close brush with death had made him remember why he was adventuring in the first place. Fidgeting with the sapphire around his wrist, Glenn sleeps deeply the first night. Having learned the hard way that he is not a sailor, Glenn spends the next few days wandering the ship, helping where he could, but not straining himself. The condition of the boat reminded Glenn of an old tune, and Glenn proceeded to hum it to himself until he was caught by one of the sailors, who told him to sing aloud so that the rest of the men could hear and sing along. After much goading from the crew, Glenn finally digressed and made a rare exception to his usual silence by leading the crew in the old song. Get the Flash Player to play this audio file: thanks Shin |
Puyet had had enough of this floating, wet coffin. He vowed to stray from seafaring vessels as best he could when they landed back on solid ground. The other were singing sad songs to the crew, but he knew none, nor wanted to. The most music he knew was marching tunes and songs his troops had favored in the past. There was no reason, nor place, to march and sharing his personal melodies with this bunch was not something he wanted to do.
He went about cleaning his gear and attending to some supervisory matters. He didn't converse much with the crew, as he wouldn't know them long enough to make it worthwhile. It would be more beneficial to leave them wary of his temper till they had parted. |
Days later, the battered sloop finally limps its way into the harbor at Veltalar. It's a cool, breezy afternoon in the Aglarondan capital, and the many-colored flags of Aglarond's neighboring nations are fluttering over the various embassies not far from the docks.
The remaining crew of the Swiftcurrent, now effectively unemployed, leap one by one from the decks into the harbor waters after giving the mercenaries their thanks. Their natural aptitude for swimming will get them to the streets much faster than the creaking ruin that was once their home away from home. True, the water genasi aren't likely to remain on dry land for long — but Aglarond always has a need for competent sailors. They'll find their place. As the Swiftcurrent slowly glides in next to the nearest pier, the mercenaries share a weary sigh of relief. It hadn't been such a long trip, all things considered, but all the same they each felt they could do with a rest. It's only as they throw down the ramp to make for the embassy that they recall the package they were bringing with them. It only takes a few minute's searching of the captain's cabin to find the scroll case, a gorgeous thing of mahogany inlaid with gold. The contents, of course, were a mystery, but the subtle workings of international diplomacy were beyond both their comprehension and their interest. Package in hand, they hurry back up to the deck. The tavern was only a few minutes away, now. Cal's the first to reach the ramp, his mind aflutter with visions of the new less-lethal life ahead of him. He doesn't notice the massive shadow passing beneath the hull, but he can't help but notice when the entire ship is shaken by some gigantic thing squeezing between the hull and the sea floor. A massive tentacle, thick as a man, rips out of the surface of the water and easily smashes the boarding ramp to timbers, and a rubbery green head lurches up and stares at the mercenaries with a predatory hatred. Somebody really wants that scroll. Special Considerations: Krakens have a 3-square threatening reach. The lighter-colored areas of the nearby sea floor are shallow enough to walk on, but are difficult terrain. Due to the ship being damaged, it lists to the left and therefore moving from left to right aboard ship is also difficult. Kraken defenses: AC 24, Fort 26, Ref 22, Will 22 Soluzar is currently working on a character; if he finishes it before the battle is complete (quite likely) he'll be joining you midway. :savepoint: Puyet 26, Kraken 25, Cal 19, Glenn 18, Gra-fa-zut 5 |
P-P-Puyet, g-g-give this thing the scroll!
The fake one. I wrack my brain for whatever I can remember about giant octopi. Defenses? |
Puyet takes a few steps back and considers the situation.
Battlefront shift to BE50 "What would an octopus want with a scroll anyways? Cuz, you know, water is wet and all that shit." He thinks for a few more seconds. "This is BULLSHIT!" Puyet pulls out and flashes the false scroll tube. He really doubts the beast wants anything to do with it, but who knows anything at this point. Giant octopi don't exactly make any fucking sense. ...Splash! Secure weapon and draw scroll tube. Ensure Big Ugly can see it. MAN OVERBOARD! Run off edge of boat at BC53 Swim to BA53. |
Cal has heard of the kraken only in old legends and the tall-tales of fishermen. It's said that the horrid things are anathema to the natural creatures of the sea, blasphemous immigrants from the wretched Far Realm.
Gargantuan aberrant magical beast (aquatic) The kraken turns its focus to Puyet with a swiftness unnatural in such a massive creature, and appears to hesitate. It'll have to either squeeze back beneath the hull, or just smash through it. The decision is easy. The kraken heaves a fraction of its mighty bulk onto the deck of the Swiftcurrent, lashing all around with its tentacles. Gra-fa-zut is caught unawares, seized around the waist by one of the kraken's great rubbery coils. It begins to squeeze him. Another tentacle lashes out in Glenn's direction, but the rogue is far too nimble to be caught by such an artless attack. Several other tentacles grasp the ship itself, splintering its timbers and preventing it trying to sail away. Coils of Doom Crushing Tentacles: +15 vs AC Devourer of Ships: +15 vs Fort 13 damage to Gra-fa-zut, and he's grabbed (immobilized) 16 damage to the Swiftcurrent (184 HP) If you're grabbed by the kraken, you can treat it as adjacent for the purpose of melee attacks (attacking the tentacle) Cal is too far away to reach at the moment, but this does not spare him the kraken's wrath. A spray of vile toxins jets out of the nearest tentacle, fouling Cal's eyes and wracking his face with pain. A cold, alien thought worms into his mind unbidden, like a stranger whispering into his ear. No one had spoken. The sudden darkness makes it all the more unnerving. Surrender the key to us, frail thing. All is in readiness. You can still be spared. Venom Bolt: +13 vs Fortitude 9 damage to Cal, blinded (save ends) :savepoint: Cal 19, Glenn 18, Gra-fa-zut 5, Puyet 26, Kraken 25 |
The creature sprays my eyes with a jet of vile venom. Attempting my best to blink away the ooze, I see a tentacle grab our meat shield. I like tentacles in most other pleasurable circumstances, but this one is ridiculous.
Kraken is quarry. Twin Strike against Tentacle to make it drop GFZ. Use duergar quill arrows, and activate Poisoned Weapon if hit. 9 damage? Move to BH52. (Sorry, forgot left > right = difficult) Is that thing attempting to communicate with me? I think back to it. I w-w-would h-h-hand it over if I c-c-c-could. B-b-but the orc's g-g-got it! |
Glenn feels the adrenaline surge through his body as he ducks out of the way of the Kraken's tentacle attack. He just couldn't win. Whose idea had it been to stay on the Swiftcurrent anyway? All of the sailors had simply left the ship to sit in the harbour, and they had left before Glenn or any of his companions were ready to do so, leaving the boat in the care of mercenaries who really had no reason to stay aboard. Glenn didn't recall the boat ever falling into the ownership of himself or any of his allies - why then were they the only ones aboard?
Glenn shakes the feeling of irritation off. He had no time to think about such things right now. He cuts a deep wound into the tentacle holding the Genasi before trying to back up out of the way of the kraken's assault. Clever Strike vs. tentacle grabbing GFZ (assuming CA) +15 vs AC24, need 9+ hit, 16 damage. Use flaying gloves for extra 5 ongoing, for what it's worth. If i can, shift to BH50, otherwise, stand around and whistle or something, i guess. |
Merde. I had been down in the hold for the final portion of the trip (NOT BECAUSE I WAS SEASICK OR ANYTHING, HONEST) and I came up when we reached port, hoping to get me something to settle my stomach and WHAM grabbed by a tentacle. I called my sword to my hand and slammed the grippy thing with the suddenly blackened blade.
Enervating slash on tentacle. How do you miss something holding you. |
Puyet wanted nothing more than to be rid of things trying to drown him, but on his way away from the ship, he felt a little guilty for thinking those thoughts. ...just a little.
At any rate, Puyet vies for the docks and does his best to find a crowd of workers. He finds some people, but the sun in directly in his eyes, in addition to the salt water. He pulls some gold coins that was part of his payment and flashes them. He hollers as loud as he can, "Hey, ye mates. There's a good amount of gold, diplomatic gold! If you should help us bring down this giant octopus, there's a share in it for each person if you keep it from sinking to the bottom of the ocean! Move as far towards the docks and any crowd of people I see that is possible with double move and run. Diplomacy check. They are both the same, anyways. I'm not sure to the size of the crowd I'll find, either. |
Cal and Glenn pepper the colossal cephalopod with wounds, but it barely seems to take notice. Bound in the Kraken's tentacle, Gra-fa-zut makes no attempt to escape; he seems more irritated than genuinely concerned. A vicious slash fails to free him, but the devitalizing magic bound in the strike still travels up to the core up the ugly thing.
Puyet half-swims, half trudges up the beach toward the dockside. Alas, not many folks are down by the piers so late in the afternoon, and many of those that were fled in abject terror the moment the Kraken had made its appearance. A few remain, though — mostly old dock workers, too jaded and bone-tired to really feel frightened of anything. A few more folks wander onto the scene as Puyet slogs his way through the water; excitable young hooligans, attracted by the ruckus. Several of them are carrying weapons, but after getting an eyeful of the aquatic monstrosity none of them seem all that enthused about rushing into battle. Still, Puyet's promise of easy pay is enough to motivate the small crowd into action. None of the Veltalarans are willing to risk their hides by getting anywhere near the beast, but they have a few bows between them and the docks are cluttered with usable improvised missiles. Soon the Kraken is being pelted with rocks, arrows, harpoons, empty barrels, and at least one dead cat. 2d8+5 damage/round to the Kraken, provided you keep it away from the docks Orc? Your cowardly friend is tall for an orc. No matter, he can be reasoned with. Or perhaps threatened. The orcs were never known for their mental acumen; things change quickly in your dry world, but I expect this fact has remained consistent through the centuries. Another example: changelings have an unrealistically high estimation of their own ability to mislead others. This is true of all your kind, and has been since the first of you escaped from the yuan-ti so very long ago. A failed experiment, changelings, but amusing in their own way. Did someone just throw a dinghy at me? Who does that, honestly. The poison Cal has delivered into the Kraken's bloodstream does nothing to shake its cold, impassive tone of (telepathic) voice. It seems entirely detached from the violent, thrashing creature that houses it. The Kraken continues to slowly heave its bulk aboard the deck of the Swiftcurrent. The ship, already battered beyond reason, is badly strained under the tremendous weight of the thing. A jet of toxins sprays in Glenn's direction; luckily, Cal's custom arrow has made the Kraken's aim a bit shaky. A tentacle flung at Glenn fares no better; perhaps all their little poisons were really making a difference! Then, with a mighty shudder, it seems that the beast has thrown off such encumbrances easily. Maybe they should find some more dinghies. 10 damage to Kraken from ongoings 17 damage to kraken from dinghy-in-the-face Sustain Minor: hold the grab vs Gra-fa-zut, 2 damage Ignore the tentacles vs. Cal roll, it's not possible Kraken has saving throws +5, eat it :savepoint: Cal 19, Glenn 18, Gra-fa-zut 5, Puyet 26, Kraken 25 |
You are such a magnificent creature. Powerful. Strong. I only wish we didn't have to stand in opposed circumstance. Did you know I have an affinity for Cephalopods? It's true, my full name is Cal Amah of Rhee. You know? Calamari. Get it?
Mr. Kraken, you have to believe me. None of us have the scroll. It's with the orc. Well. Half-orc actually. Don't know what his mum saw in his father. Please let my friends go. Free them, and I promise I'll convince him to hand you the scroll he's carrying. See? I'm heading there right now. And as if to punctuate my earnest feelings, I choose not to attack; instead I head full speed towards dry land, taking a flying leap while right on the boat stem to land on the docks. Move > Run to AZ51. Standard > Run to AR49, long jump originating from AU50. Athletics 3 + 12 = 15 / 5 (running start) = 3 squares cleared horizontally. Minor > Draw rotten dog balls from pack. The one taken from here. Granting combat advantage due to huffin' and puffin' |
Glenn was rapidly running out of allies. The half-orc had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and the shapeshifter had only hung around for a few seconds before running away tail between his legs as well. While Glenn didn't want to hang around any longer than he has to, he also didn't feel inclined to leave the Genasi trapped by the beast. Instead he puts another cut into the tentacle holding Gra-fa-zut and holds his ground, hoping that the Genasi breaks free soon so that they could get to dry land, where the tentacled beast might not have them at such a disadvantage.
let's try something new Clever Riposte vs kraken, need 11+ 9 damage, plus other effects glare at kraken, since i can't move without getting whacked |
I hate tentacles. Slimy squeezy things. I let my anger settle on to the gigantic beast as I thwacked it with a wall of sound.
Aegis on kraken (LET"S GET OUT OF THIS THING< RITE) Thunderclap strike on Kraken I can't hit for shit |
Well, if you can't beat them, join them.
Climb up on dock. Move to AS48 Grab a dinghy. |
While it strikes me as a particularly poor decision, maybe you bipeds are foolish enough to let orc-spawn handle priceless artifacts. Are you sure he even knows what a scroll is? He probably thinks it's some kind of totem to a fertility god. I can only hope he hasn't soiled it.
The baleful red eyes turn to stare at Gra-fa-zut and Glenn for a moment, and the Kraken communicates with them both in unison. I'm going to check this out. Don't go anywhere; in the extremely likely event that the changeling is blatantly lying to me we still have some business to deal with. The Kraken slides back into the water, carelessly releasing its grip on both the ship and Gra-fa-zut alike. The genasi and his rogue ally both slash furiously as the entrapping tentacles slip away, but to no avail. The Kraken darts easily through the water, slithering right up to the pier Puyet's standing over. Terrified by the Kraken's sudden looming presence so near to them, the Veltalarans fire one last volley of debris and flee for their lives. That's the problem with peasant militias: no morale. Hello, half-breed. Your changeling friend has fingered you as the one preventing me from returning to my nap. He is almost certainly just lying to try to save his own hide, but in the absence of any real evidence this diversion amuses me. It's entirely possible that you ate the object I seek, and so consequently I am forced to shake you violently until you relinquish it. You understand. The Kraken easily seizes Puyet in a tentacle, rattling him around to see if anything valuable pops out. Freed from his restraints, Gra-fa-zut teleports to the bow to punish the Kraken with his aegis but the beast's rubbery hide turns his blade aside again. You stay put too, changeling. We will discover the truth of your assertions before you see any freedom today. And when I say 'truth' you should be aware that I'm being massively sarcastic. Dimly aware of the genasi hacking away, the Kraken spritzes a jet of toxins back in the general direction of the boat as it seizes Cal. It doesn't even touch the deck, let alone Gra-fa-zut himself. Crushing Tentacles: 16 damage to Puyet, grabbed Action Point! Crushing Tentacles vs Cal: 17 damage, bloodied, grabbed Ignore that Fatal Plunge roll, ugh Venom Bolt vs. Gra-fa-zut, miss :savepoint: Cal 19, Glenn 18, Gra-fa-zut 5, Puyet 26, Kraken 25 |
You doubt the tenor of my thoughts? It wounds me greatly, oh Kraken. It hurts me! Why, I think I'm going to go away and cry.
I instinctively wriggle out of range of the creature's tentacles, and decide to seek more advantageous terrain. The half-orc is probably going to need his inspiring words for himself. Interrupt: Weave Through the Fray: Shift to AR51. Minor: Apply Augmenting Whetstone to longbow. +1 item bonus to attack and damage rolls Move: Move to AR57. Standard: Move to AS63. You big meanie. Just for hurting my easily hurt feelings, I'm introducing you to my little friend! Satisfied that I am far enough from the creature's tentacles, I loose my special ice arrow into the mean kraken's eye. Not wishing to stay exposed to the creature's wrath, I then duck behind the nearest overhanging tree. Action Point: Guardian Arrow with Freezing Arrow. Puyet designated as ally to protect. 13 + 7 + 1 + 8 + 4 = 33 damage (4 ice). Use Puyet's Bravura Presence to move to AM63. Make Stealth check (20+14-5 = 29) against Kraken's passive perception. :plant: Hawk, feel free to use the "Hide in Plain Sight" if it will help you in your turn. Pang, please activate Disruptive Strike instead of Guardian Arrow's RBA if damage inflicted to any ally exceeds 15 or if the creature hits on a roll of 10 or less. |
Glenn watches as the kraken decides to chase after his other companions, grabbing Puyet and making the changeling run away faster than anyone Glenn had ever seen. (He's going almost as quickly as an olympic runner, and up stairs and around corners no less) Glenn pulls out his crossbow and moves to the far side of the boat, heading for the pier as he fires a lightning bolt at the kraken.
Move to BD50 weapon swap turn normal bolts into thunderbolts hang head in shame for terrible pun Deft Strike, moving to BB50 kraken takes 13 lightning damage |
Now that the thing didn't have me, I felt a need to get the fuck out of there. Teleporting to the dock, I threw my sword back at the beast.
Use sword to move to AT47 Whirling Blade on Kraken / 15 + 11 = 26 > 24 HIT FINALLY / 15 + 6 = 21 Damage |
Having icky, slimy tentacles around him wasn't very appealing. As much as Puyet liked bear hugs, this was pretty fucking far from it.
He didn't have much luck wriggling free. "Listen, Octopus. If I'm going to eat anything, it is going to be you. Tell me, what is the side you go best with?" Escape attempt. Athletics vs. Fort (26) FAIL Drop dinghy. Basic melee against tentacle. Nat 20. 17 Dmg and tentacle is knocked prone...ummm...maybe I can just end the grab instead? Furious Assault. 7 dmg |
The Kraken lashes out at Cal with one of its many tentacles, and its eyes widen in alarm as the changeling suddenly blurs into a white streak, hurtling off to the east at inconceivable speeds even as the tentacle slaps uselessly into the stone of the docks. A split second later an ice-rimed arrow plunges into the Kraken's body almost exactly where it breaks the water, and a thin crust of ice spreads over the water all around the beast.
Do you think to entrap me, small thing? Perhaps you are unaware of your position in the predator-prey relationship. But there will be time to educate you. Glenn charges toward the bow, taking advantage of the Kraken's temporary immobility to plug it with a bolt or two. The Kraken bears the attack stoically, the spasms of electrocution barely apparent under the Kraken's struggles to free its tentacles from the ice. Gra-fa-zut hurls his sword toward the dock, vanishing and reappearing beneath the blade just in time to snatch it from the air. With the tentacles temporarily pinned, the Kraken has to way of interfering with another toss — aimed just above its eyes, perhaps. The swordmage smiles as the weapon flies back to his hand, dripping with the Kraken's oily blood. Puyet struggles to free himself, to no avail. He tosses down the dinghy in frustration, and in a single swift movement he pulls the hammer from his back and brings it smashing down on the tentacle that entangled him. The psuedopod is nearly flattened against the stones of the dock, and the Kraken is overwhelmed with pain, the top half of its body slumping bonelessly atop the crust of ice. The tentacle goes limp, and Puyet easily slips out of it. Now you have upset me. The Kraken flies into another frenzy, rearing up from the ice. Gra-fa-zut is seized, but Puyet manages to avoid recapture for the moment. My business is now with the orc-spawn. Do not interfere. In fact, let me aid you in your egress. The tentacle flings Gra-fa-zut inland; he smashes painfully into the cobblestones. At least he regained his freedom — as Puyet loses his again. Your clumsy bludgeoning will not avail you twice, half— dammit, ouch! An arrow suddenly sprouts right between the Kraken's eyes, and a well-concealed figure up on the cliffs whistles in appreciation of his own lucky shot. Meanwhile, Gra-fa-zut abruptly reappears right next to Puyet, slashing at the tentacle even while sprawled out on his back. Stand up (:tpg:) Coils of Doom: 18 damage vs. Gra-fa-zut, grabbed 25 damage to the Swiftcurrent Fling: 13 damage to Gra-fa-zut; freed from grab, but bloodied and prone Action Point! Tentacles vs Puyet again; 15 damage, grabbed and bloodied Guardian Arrow RBA: 19 damage to Kraken Aegis MBA: 8 damage to Kraken Just another 50 damage to bloody it, guys! :savepoint: Cal 19, Glenn 18, Gra-fa-zut 5, Puyet 26, Kraken 25 |
Do you know what happens to mean squids that don't listen to reason?
Spikes of the Manticore. With Kruthik arrows. Both hit, 19+7+1+7+1+4=39 HP damage. This. This is what happens. And to think we could have been... friends. I mentally send it images of my fondest private memories - such pleasure derived from tentacles that only a willing shape-changing participant can manage. Maybe, with my adventuring days drawing into a close, I can indulge in such carnal joys again. Pat the fake scroll in my pack. Move to AI60, making sure to continue visibly patting the scroll in the pack. If Kraken's attack roll < 11, activate Disruptive Strike instead of ranged basic attack. HEY GUYS, THE PLAN WORKED! IT THINKS PUYET HAS THE SCROLL! JUST HANG ON IN THERE! I'LL TAKE THIS TO THE FREEPORT EMBASSY. BE BACK IN A BIT WITH REINFORCEMENTS! |
Glenn, being the only one left on the ship, decides that a tactical retreat was in order. Tempting though it was to try to defeat the kraken, it isn't strictly necessary and Glenn doesn't see any help coming from the mainland. Breaking into a run, Glenn follows the changeling's example and books it toward the front of the ship, jumping for the pier. As he flies across the gap, Glenn spins and fires another bolt at the kraken, but it flies harmlessly over the beast, hitting the water some distance away and instead electrocuting an unfortunate school of minnows. Ah well, you win some, you lose some.
Run to AV50, long jumping from there based on Zerg's numbers (too lazy to look it up myself right now),10+6 = 16 / 5 so jumped 3 spaces. Deft Strike, moving to AQ52 not a chance |
Ow. Stupid freight carts running me over. I stood up and quickly blasted the tentacle holding Puyet with fire.
Stand from prone. Blazing pursuit on Kraken. 10 + 11 = 21 < 24 I just keep missing. |
Cal was actually running from the fight. What a noble creature. What a champion. What a dick.
"Hey octopus! Know any good fish jokes? Other than you, of course." Inspiring word on self. Spend surge. Gain 19 life. Lead the Attack. 24 dmg Everybody except Cal gets +2 to hit till end of encounter. |
Come down from there, little changeling. First the orc has the scroll, now you have it. Possibly neither. Possibly this is all an elaborate ruse, a waste of my time. No matter. Time is something I have in plenty.
I won't climb the cliffs for you, shapeshifter. Not today or any day. But do you expect to stay on a cliff forever? Do you expect I will forget your insolence? Come here and die, while you still have the option of doing it quickly. Glenn hurriedly escapes the disintegrating boat, making a flying leap for the docks. A quick shot goes wide, but Glenn is beginning to find escape more compelling than victory. Gra-fa-zut can barely get to his feet, let alone wound the Kraken. A kuo-toa necromancer walks into a morgue. Says to the undertaker, "I need to buy a pound of fresh brains." Undertaker says to him "Alright, one pound of human brains, that's 50 gold crowns." Necromancer thinks about it for a minute. "What about dwarf brains, any of those?" Undertaker says "Sure, a pound of dwarf brains. 45 crowns." The necromancer considers it. Money's kind of tight this month, so he decides quality isn't an issue. "How much for orc?" Undertaker says "One pound of orc brains? That'll be 500 platinum pieces, up front." "What?! Why so much?", whines the necromancer. "Do you have any idea how many dead orcs it takes to get a pound of brains?" That was more of an orc joke in retrospect. And now I'm bleeding, which can only mean that your request for comedy was a ruse to distract me. Damn my foolish pride. It was a terrible joke, frankly I'm as angry at myself as I am angry at you. The Kraken's upper body bulges suddenly, shattering the ice around it. The Kraken's huge bulk begins to gradually creep onto the wooden pier. Now stand aside. If I can't reason with you, perhaps the burning one will be more receptive. And with that, Gra-fa-zut is seized up. Puyet is tossed aside like a sack of garbage, narrowly avoiding a collision with Glenn thanks to the eladrin's quick thinking. Struggling against the tentacle, Gra-fa-zut manages to get a weak slash in as the Kraken was momentarily distracted with Puyet. They were wearing down the monster, but it might be wearing them down faster. Was everyone in Veltalar a coward? It couldn't be. Someone would come. Someone would help them. Ideally, someone carrying a heavy-caliber pistol. Kraken bloodied by Lead The Attack Crushing Tentacles: 14 damage to Gra-fa-zut, grabbed Fling: 8 damage to Puyet, prone; freed from grab Aegis MBA: 6 damage to Kraken Don't forget the +2 Zeph's giving you! :savepoint: Cal 19, Glenn 18, Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 27, Puyet 26, Kraken 25 |
There's gotta be some way I can whip up a hysterical mob whose sense of preservation is dwarfed by their moral outrage. Surely there would be some able-bodied parents somewhere around. It'd be sad if only a bunch of midgets would be willing to help.
A marketplace? Yes, I ought to find some volunteers here. THE SQUID WILL MAKE OFF WITH YOUR CHILDREN! IT'LL COME AFTER THEM IN THE NIGHT! WE'RE NOT SAFE TILL ITS HEAD IS MOUNTED ON MY WALL! I SAY WE KILL THE SQUID! And to punctuate my clarion call, I decide to make the creature bleed some more. Move to AC65 (19 squares away from Kraken for distance calculations). Use Minor to rally up a mob. Dunno which check applies - Bluff, Streetwise, Diplomacy, or just plain Charisma. Two-Fanged Strike with Kruthik arrows against Kraken. 9+1+7+2 = 19 damage. Surely it has contracted Filth Fever by now? Also, Lead the Attack was totally nerfed in the July 2010 errata. But I guess since Mr. Pang didn't update the card, he's gotta honor it :tpg: |
Glenn narrowly avoids Puyet's flying form as it comes toward him. His allies were having issues avoiding the kraken's attacks, but Glenn had yet to be so much as touched by the beast. Hopping over Puyet, Glenn moves in front of the kraken and fires bolt after electrified bolt into the monster, hoping to cover his allies as they regroup.
move to AQ46 Blinding Barrage, need 10+ miss, 7 damage Snap Shot fail total 7 lightning damage plus 5 from the kraken's attack due to clever riposte |
It would be FANTASTIC if this thing would stop grabbing me. Breaking out of its hold, I run toward the beast, leaping up in an attempt to grab on to the thing. As I landed on the beast, I slashed with my blade, smacking it with sound.
Athletics check to see if I get out of its grip. Athletics v. Fortitude; 18 + 10 = 28 > 26. FREE. Minor to move to AS46 followed by a leap onto the thing. Hell yes. Booming Blade on the Kraken. 11 + 11 + 2 + 2 = 26 > 24 HIT 8 + 6 = 14 damage Ready Firepulse for the rest of the fight. |
I awoke with a start to the sound of a symphony playing in my head. Normally I think of myself as a cultured man, but this new band seemed to be all timpani, with a gong kicker. And I didn't go in for that new agey fusion crap. Saying my head ached would be saying a Dragonborn smelled a little off. It just didn't do it justice. My meeting with a new informant hadn't gone the way I wanted. In that I didn't want three half-orcs playing stickball with my melon. I patted my chest, making sure everything was in working order. A few ribs were bruised, but the important things were unbroken. I proved it by pulling the unscathed flask from an inner pocket and taking a long pull. I didn't like facing the world sober on a good day, and this wasn't a good day. I hadn't seen it yet, but the sounds of crashing wood and screaming people outside told me all I needed to know. I was alive. And that meant I needed a drink.
I kicked over the corpse of the half-orc collapsed on the floor next to me. Rifling through his pockets I found the two slugs I kept closest to my heart. One was a gun, I kept it loaded. The other a bottle, it kept me loaded. Another long drink and I felt solid enough to stand on my own. I felt the familiar firmness of my Harper pin against my chest. I hear there are people who don't wake up every day wondering if they're still alive in those first grey moments. I hate those people. With a groggy stagger I made my way towards the window of the small, dock-side shack my body was in. My mind was elsewhere. On a white dress that fit a pair of Eldarin get away sticks so perfectly it made me believe in Selune. Of course she'd betrayed me to a gang of thugs who beat me and took my purse, but really, if you got out of a relationship with a dame who looked like that and physical injury was all you had to sulk about, you'd gotten off easy. She looked like heaven, and as I glanced outside to see a gigantic squid throwing around the townsfolk I thought it made sense. Maybe this is hell. I quickly affixed my arm shield over the hand clutching my repeating crossbow. I don't remember picking it up, but when you see your favourite appetizer rampaging towards you, instinct sometimes kicks in. In my other hand was Gladys. I liked Gladys. She had a big mouth and looked about as pretty as a Minotaur whore, but she always talked her way into the best parties. Hidden from inside the shack, fire at Kraken with Dragon FP (16 + 13 = 29. HIT) Damage (11 + 7) = 18 + Sneak Attack (11) = 29 Gladys kicked like a mule, the numbness in my arm a familiar friend. Just like... well, I didn't really have friends anymore, but if I had them I'm sure I'd feel swell after a nice drink with them. Maybe his name would be Carl, and he'd be a construction worker. With a family. Yeah. I'm sure Carl would be a swell guy. I quickly switched weapons, juggling the two ranged weapons and quickly sent a bolt through the dissipating smoke Gladys had exhaled. Classy broad she was. I bet she even used one of those long filters. Like Kattarain Hep'burn in that play I'd seen. Don't look at me like that. Yes. I've seen a play. I also read a book once. Use Battle Harness ability to swap to crossbow. Use Snapshot. MISS. I couldn't see if the dart hit home. Even if it did, what the hell is a little bolt gonna do to Gojira anyway? I ducked down slightly and slid towards the door, deciding my best defense against a monstrosity like this was to not let it see me. Sometimes my tiny stature came in helpful. Like when fighting giant squids you could hide behind doors easier. Which I really wished I could say came up a lot less often than it actually did. On the plus side, I'd fully intended to spend my morning drunk and belligerent in a bar somewhere, and frankly drunk and fighting for my life was far more interesting. I couldn't help but smile just a little on the inside. But only on the inside. Move to AO42, stealth check (10 + 13 = 23) Use Dragon FP. Must reload. 29 damage to Kraken. Use Snapshot. Miss. Spent for Encounter. Wind up at AO42 with 23 stealth check. TURN OVER. |
The octopus attempted to throw Puyet, but for some reason, he merely floated back down to the ground. Must be all the Low Calorie Mutton and and Diet Mead. Puyet hated cats, but he imitated one anyways and landed on his feet.
"That joke wasn't very funny, octopus. You hurt my feelings. Not that I'm crying or anything. It's just the salt water, I swear." Puyet moved in and took a nasty swing at the sea creature. He systematically guarded with his shield. He didn't want any more fish guts in his hair. "Hey hot stuff! While you're up there, why don't you take a nice, steaming piss in that things eye! Just some advice. That's all." Use Feyleaf Boots. Land at AS48. Prevent fall damage. Shift to AT47. Phalanx Assault. Hit. 22 dmg Inspiring Word for GFZ. Spends one surge and gains 21 HP GFZ gains +2 to AC and Reflex till end of my next turn. |
Despite Cal's exhortations, the Veltalarans are no more inclined to risk their necks than before. The Kraken is making very little progress inland, if any; if it gets past the docks, then it'll be a civil defense issue. Until then, let the adventurers handle it. That's what they're for! Besides, the Kraken hadn't damaged anything except the outsiders and their boat; they must have done something to upset it.
Honestly I ought to ask for a jump check for those two fences Cal vaulted, not to mention the cow. But ehh. Glenn begins to simmer with a mild resentment. He'd taken the risk of carrying the real scroll on his person, only to have the Kraken practically ignore him. It was insulting. What was the point of being brave and foolhardy if nothing dangerous actually happens to you? Sick and tired of being grabbed and tossed around, Gra-fa-zut searches for the Kraken's blind spot. There was only one obvious place the beast wouldn't be able to reach him; directly above itself. Bereft of a ledge or any flight spells, the swordmage gets into position the only way he can. With a flying leap he digs his sword deep into the Kraken's head, using the leverage to maneuver atop the creature. An ear-ringing shot blares out of the old warehouse behind Glenn, loud as a cannonade. The heavy lead shot whistled past his ear, and he whirled around only to see a silhouette in the window sink out of sight. The bullet slammed into the Kraken with a wet splatter like a drunk taking one rooftop stroll too many. Simultaneously struggling with trying to dislodge Gra-fa-zut, locate the shooter, and dig out the bullet, the Kraken is rapidly running out of tentacles to actually apply to combat. This last task isn't going so well; tentacles aren't designed for matters of fine manual dexterity. That bullet's staying put, most likely: none of the aquatic races are known for their surgeons. The Kraken's massive bulk seems to heave in a sigh, and it stares Glenn in the eye. Very well, bipeds. You win. In the space of a few short minutes, you have stabbed, bludgeoned, and shot me. Poisoned. Electrocuted. The changeling shot TEETH at me. This is — I withdraw. You have no idea what it is you carry, but you clearly want it more than I do. There will be other times, other scrolls. The changeling, however, I do not forgive. And with that, the Kraken slowly sinks into the waters of the harbor, drifting out to sea until it's barely visible as a dark shape beneath the waves. Gra-fa-zut clings tenaciously to the beast, hacking away until he can hold his breath no longer. The Kraken seems no closer to death than before, and with regret the swordmage kicks free and makes for the surface. A single tentacle suddenly darts upward, brushing against his ankle and then, seemingly, thinking better of it. The Kraken vanishes into the briny abyss without another word. He breaks the surface, gasping. There's a halfling standing on the docks who wasn't there before, looking out at the ocean with a thousand-yard stare. He mutters something under his breath, but everyone's ears are still ringing. Victory! 2500 XP (500 each) |
Unable to rally anybody to the cause, I cautiously edge closer to the docks, hoping to put another shot between the Kraken's gigantic eye. Imagine my surprise when I saw it withdraw, swearing unforgiveness to my person.
Well, I better stay away from ships and docks from now on. We have done it, we have delivered the scroll to its destination. Well, not quite yet - there's still the actual handover to be done. But I can't wait for it. The old bones have been aching for quite some time - exacerbated by the heavy load I foolishly carried in Thunderspire Mountain. The record sprint I embarked on a few minutes ago? The straw that broke the camel's back. It's time for this changeling to hang up his Adventurer's credentials. And since I am no longer willing to carry what I have been carrying so far, I decide to parcel it to my fellow adventurers. "Oh, hello there, shorty. Didn't see you. Here, have some alcohol for no good reason. My gift to you." "Half-Orc, your breath stinks and you've been stealing funds from the group and lying about it. Still, you've been handy as a meat shield. Take these in remembrance of me." "Gra-fa-zut, your valorous attempt to attack the squid by charging it has touched my heart. Take this pendant with my blessings. May it serve you well as it served my alter-egos." "Glenn, you are by far the braver and better striker. These will make you a bit more effective in your acts of legerdemain. This will help boost your vision, while this will greatly enhance your mobility. Stay well, and I hope you find your drow friend soon." I finally take my true form - all sixty years of it. There was a time when I could shapeshift away a few wrinkles, a gray hair, any and all signs of aging. That time is now past. I will be taking Garr with me. Perhaps someone around here knows how to raise the dead. Every minute counts, and I can't do this while hiring out my services any more. If Garr's spirit is unwilling to return, I plan to bury him as befits such a noble fighter. What happens next? I plan to reinvest my earnings into creating a subcontracting guild for mercenaries, with Veltara as the home base. With it, I can get my revenge on Geoff of Lamid Two names appeal to me - The Society for Quick Ultrapowerful Individuals of Doom, or Fabulous Adventurers' Guild of Sellswords. Which one to choose? Well, there's time. There's always time. ______ And so, Cal Amah of Rhee somberly leaves G-Unit, carting with him his belongings, as well as the corpse of his comrade Garrmondo Alkatraz, still clad in his Black Iron Scale Mail, with his trusty bastard sword and lucky safewing amulet by his side. The rest of the human fighter's belongings were simply too bulky to carry. |
I kicked open the door, drawing my rapier and pressing Gladys into her holster between my shoulder blades. My fingers twitched on the hilt in annoyance as I watched the Calimari sink under the waves, my planned entertainment for the day quickly fleeing the scene. The situation called for swearing.
So I did. Sliding away the pushpin and my peashooter, I took a moment to pick up my hat from the ground, brush it off, adjust my hair and set it on my head. I must have dropped it in my haste to get beaten within an inch of my life last night. Just like me. Always in a rush. Never time to slow down and smell the roses. With a shrug I wandered towards the water's edge to watch one of the corpses bob to the surface. Imagine my surprise as it started swimming. Corpses, in my experience, didn't always just lie there. Maybe this guy was an aquatic zombie. I'd run into a horde of those in a cave outside Luruar once. It was like being mauled to death by a wet dog. The only thing I've ever found that smells worse than a half-orc after a week long bender. At least the zombies were better conversationalists. Some old man insulted my height, but before I could punch him in the face to show my appreciation, he handed me a bottle. Clever bastard. Knew my one weakness. Well one of my weaknesses. The point is I still needed a drink. I took one off my flask as I glanced over my shoulder and noticed another two half-orc corpses collapsed near the shack. That explained why I wasn't dead. I wondered if I was responsible. I'd heard I was pretty impressive when I was beaten unconscious. I smelled the air. It reeked of bloody, rotting fish. But this city always did. Adjusting my hat I looked back up the stairs towards where I knew my office was. I had a long day of sitting in a chair under a slowly rotating fan, drinking myself into a stupor and wondering why that beautiful dame walked into my office ahead of me. Busy busy. |
Glenn breathes a sigh of relief as the kraken retreats into the sea. They had made it through, and not much worse for wear, either. Watching Gra-fa-zut break the surface of the water, Glenn turns around, only to find a bunch of the Changeling's stuff sitting at his feet and the halfling who almost shot him wandering off into the city. Glenn thought about going after him, but remembered that he had other things to be doing. Picking up the equipment left by Cal, Glenn waits for the Genasi to get out of the water. Suddenly curious about what he could be delivering that could be important enough for a kraken to come after it, Glenn takes a closer look at the precious cargo.
Pick up Cal's old stuff. Equip boots and goggles. |
Drowning isn't fun. Thankfully, I managed to get up topside before that thing was able to grab me one last time. I just wish we had been able to kill this damn thing. Seems like our enemies had been running away quite often, recently. Swimming up would've been easier if I had been manifesting watersoul, but whatever. Finally pulling myself up onto the dock, I watched as the changling left, after showing us his "true" form. Good riddance, I thought. Changlings aren't worth much of anything, to be honest, although this particular bastard was nice enough to give me a dangly thing. I put it on as I joined the eldarin in finally examining the tube with the scroll. Hopefully I would be able to reach the pub soon. I needed a drink.
Equip pendant. Arcana check on scroll. |
I glanced back from my staring at the cityscape long enough to see two of the mutts poring over some sort of tube. I walked up, adjusting my hat to drown out the sun in more hangover friendly shade. I never trust a person who doesn't look like they're in pain when the light hits their eyes. It means they don't drink. And if they don't drink it means they think they're better than me. So they need a good sock in the ol' Rudolph. This is a personal belief that has led to me punching several blind ladies on the schnoz. Small price to pay, I figure.
I glanced from one to the other, stopping to stare at the Genasi for a second. "Hey Pally. Someone gave you a nasty hotfoot. Might want to see to that." That joke never got old. So I laughed. Because it was funny. I'm a funny guy. Not everyone gets that about me at first glance. I looked at the tube, wondering what the hell was in it. So I asked. "What's in the tube?" Eloquent in its brevity. I'm an eloquent guy. Not everyone gets that about me at first glance. I figured if I was on fire, I would probably want a drink. So I tossed my flask at him, aiming for one of the bits not going up like the fireplace on a cold morning. I left it unsaid that if he burned out the alcohol in there, he'd have to refill it with something equally cheap and painful to drink. No one drinks because they like it. You drink because you hate yourself, and goddamnit the booze should be a constant reminder of that. Only dwarves and ladies drank soda pop like Ale. "Samwise ShadowSpade, by the way. You fellas get in boxing matches with fish often, do you?" |
Puyet snorted as the changeling left with not much subtlety. He scooped up the garbage Cal had tried to pass off to him and pocketed it. It would at least be worth a beer and a broad at the tavern, which he was yearning for at the moment.
Looking back toward the boat, Puyet stares at the shambling mess. It would probably cost more to fix it than to buy a new one, and it was the Guard's problem at this point. With all the cracks in the hull, he wouldn't be surprised to see it sunken by the next sunrise. "There's probably still reward to claim concerning that package. There is still daylight left, and I'm betting we could make the embassy by that time. I'd be happy to tell you all about my fish recipes if you give us some directions." |
Glenn looks down at the short fellow who had decided to return. He wasn't sure what to think about the halfling - on one hand, he had helped in the fight against the kraken - on the other, an inch to the side and he would have been on the other side of that fight, and Glenn would never have found Rose. Rolling his eyes as Sam laughed at his own questionably funny joke, Glenn continues to pore over the tube.
"We've certainly had more fish related trouble than I'd like of late. The man the changeling carried off was a good friend. Though if it had simply been a boxing match, he'd still be with us. Are we to assume you'll be joining us for a while? This group seems to have that effect on people. I'm Glenn. The fiery one is Gra-Fa-Zut, and this Half-Orc we call Puyet." Glenn proceeds to fill Sam in on the events leading up to their meeting with the kraken, asking if there was an inn nearby where they could rest their feet once they had decided what to do with the tube. |
"I don't know that I'm planning to go anywhere with anyone here, chum. Not really in the habit of wandering off with strange men."
I adjusted my hat and glanced over at where the dead guy had disappeared with the not-dead guy. "My mom taught me that. And sorry to hear about your friend. Walking out your front door in this world can be a dangerous thing; doubly so in this city." I considered for a long moment before I spoke further. Taking the time to pull out a cigar as wide as my head from inside a pocket. I was relieved to see it hadn't gotten soggy with blood or sea water. I may like my booze cheap, but I loved my cigars expensive. A few quick pats showed my lighter was nowhere to be found. Alchemical lighters were expensive, damnit. Nothing was ever easy. With a shrug, I leaned over and used the Genasi to burn the tip to life. A couple thick billows of smoke later and I finally answered his question. "Plenty of Inns, but not many that won't ask questions of a group that brought a giant squid to the party, if you know what I'm getting at." I glanced over at the man named Puyet. The one who had talked about getting a reward. I liked rewards. Rewards could be goods, or services. Or money I could trade towards goods or services. I liked goods and services. "Me, on the other hand, friend, I have some pull in this little slice of Hell. Including an office the local leos mostly leave alone. Plenty of room for friends of mine to sleep. Friends who cut me in on reward money, especially. They might even get towels. Friends who are down two shares already. Seems to me if they cut someone in, they're still coming out ahead. Whole thing seems to be coming up Roses." I blew a smoke ring, to emphasize my point. Who knows, maybe this day was getting better after all. |
"Look here, little man. In the past few weeks I've had some good practice playing darts with halflings."
Puyet whisked the smoke ring back towards Sam's face. "And you're reminding me how out of practice I am. Either you can point us in the right direction or you can scuttle off." |
Without warning, a small man appeared out of the nearest garbage can.
http://throughanewlens.files.wordpre...ief_quimby.jpg "PLAYING BUM DARTS MAYBE" |
I smirked, more to annoy him than anything. I always liked muscle. Muscle is dumb. Muscle is predictable. You never feel bad when you shoot muscle in the guts and leave it to die in a ditch. I was, however, not in the mood for a public fist fight so I let my hand drift to Gladys. If it was going to escalate, I was going to take this problem out at the knees. With buckshot.
"I'm offering a business deal, pal. If you don't want it, that's no skin off my nose. All I'm sayin' is I had a liquid dinner and no breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat a porcupine with the quills on it. So why don't you just let me help you for a fair share and we can go get a sandwich and then I'll show you around the city." I've taken great pleasure in lying to muscle in the past, and surely would again, but I wasn't about to waste the first lie of the day on this mook. I was on the level. But I also wasn't no sap. You never do something you're good at for free. And I was very good at knowing the right people and the right places. And I got the impression these boys weren't looking to be on the radar. |
Glenn raised an eyebrow in amusement as Puyet and Sam had their silly little duel of manliness. Glenn knew halflings were stubborn, but it had been some time since he'd met one this determined to assert his authority. Glenn spots Sam reaching for his firearm over his rather prolonged examination of the cargo.
"That won't go well for you, Sam. Firstly, I'd really rather not see us killing each other over such base matters as who's 'in charge'. Secondly, you never reloaded that thing after you finished almost killing me with it. Just saying." |
"We'll see what we have to split up when the deed is done. How's that suit you, little pony? Lead out if you will. I'll bring up the rear. Wouldn't want anybody thinking I'm following you."
Puyet didn't like halflings. They couldn't hold their weapons, couldn't march properly, and anytime the army was called to suppress a sizable amount of the twirps, a few good men always lost their knees. But on the bright side, they did make for good ammo when you were out of cannonballs. |
A majestic angel swooped out of the skies as Puyet opened his hands to receive Cal's mysterious string of glass beads. With a horrified scream of "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO", the angel's fiery sword knocked the beads into the air. The greasy things bounced off into a gutter, where they would never ever be seen again.
"YOU'LL THANK ME LATER!" shouted the glorious angel, ascending into the sky. What was that all about? As Cal wanders into the city to begin his new career, Glenn pries upon the much-desired scroll tube and examines the contents. Gra-fa-zut peers over the eladrin's shoulder. At first glance the scroll is just a stultifying jumble of political doubletalk, but Gra-fa-zut's knowledge of the arcane allows him to see through this easily. This is half of a linked portal ritual; the portal it is intended to create will create a stable direct link between the Freeport embassy in Veltalar and the Sea Lord's palace back in Freeport itself. Instructions enclosed with the ritual scroll indicate that the other half of the ritual is already complete; anyone possessing this scroll and a basic competence in ritual magic could find himself in the Sea Lord's Palace within a matter of minutes. |
Wait, that's it? Glenn is even more confused than before. Why would the Freeport embassy in Veltalar need something like this? And why would someone with control over something like a kraken need a portal into the Sea Lord's palace, anyway? Glenn gut tells him that someone isn't telling him the entire story, but there's not much he can do about it at this point. Glenn just wanted to get paid and get some sleep in a proper bed. He decides to try to avoid ships wherever possible in the future - his time aboard the Swiftcurrent had showed him that he wasn't much of a sailor anyway.
Packing up the scroll tube, Glenn silently sets off for the Freeport embassy, trusting that his companions will follow soon enough. |
Stupid jokes aside, I actually enjoyed the company of the little man who had so suddenly appeared to our aid... although he was going to have to stop lighting his cigarettes on my skin if he wanted to keep his. You know, racial defenses and all that.
Telling my Fellow Travelers what I saw in the scroll, I posited the question as to whether we wanted the money or not. I for one wanted to know exactly what had sent that damned waterbeast after us; I'd had misgivings over this job ever since we met my kinsmen back in Freeport, and the fact that other beings wanted this scroll (that seriously seemed rather innocuous) bothered me. But then, that's me. Always wanting to see how much more trouble I could find. The main problem with this? No alcohol unless we finish the job. I doubted the small man had any quantity of Djinn, given the fact that very few creatures could actually handle the stuff. |
So, like, everybody gets along all of a sudden and they all tra-la-la down to the Freeport Embassy because they totally were over their differences and bickering and were super duper excited to see this new portal thingy, jah.
|
So despite the extremely mild temptation of keeping the scroll for themselves, the heroes did proceed to the embassy in the company of the halfling, who had purchased himself a share of the reward with the extremely useful currency that is blackmail. At no point does it occur to them, weary as they are from a week's rough travel, that they had all been paid in advance and as such no reward had been promised to them at their destination.
It is with great joy and surprise that Freeport's ambassador to Aglarond meets them at the door to the embassy. Late in the afternoon as it was, the bureaucrat was already locking up for the night and was himself en route to the nearest tavern. The middle-aged tiefling gladly accepts the scroll, ducking back indoors briefly to put it somewhere safe before returning to thank them properly. It's only when he notices Samwise (lurking several feet behind the rest of the group - inconspicuously, if you will) that his mood sours. "While I appreciate all you've done for me personally and for Freeport in general, let me offer you some advice. Whatever Shadowspade promised you, don't expect to ever see it. He'd sell his own sister into the Underdark before he ever earned an honest copper. If you want to waste your time and money on that trash, I won't stop you... but keep an eye on him." The rest of the discussion is a blur of empty pleasantries and idle chitchat until Gra-fa-zut, short on patience, rubs his thumb and forefinger together and holds out his other palm expectantly. "Wha— they told me they'd pay you up front! This is so... you've gone to all this trouble without any compensation? I'm so sorry. Wait a moment, would you? We don't keep a lot of cash here at the embassy but I think I can find something to pay you for your trouble." At length he trundles back out of the embassy, hefting an unwieldy bundle in both arms. http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/hvf...sference_3.png "Here we are. Had a fellow wander in a few weeks ago, hobgoblin of some local repute. Wanted to apply for Freeport citizenship. As it turned out he was less interested in becoming a citizen of Freeport and more interested in escaping Aglarondan jurisdiction. Things got violent in a hurry but we have excellent security measures here at the embassy, I assure you. He won't be needing this anymore; I hear he's lost an arm in some unfortunate accident at the prison. Shame, really. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the Ruddy Crab for an evening's entertainment — unless you'd care to join me? Ah, good. First round's on me. Yes, Shadowspade. Even yours. You have cheap tastes, after all." So it was that the five of them raised their tankards together that night: For Freeport, whose public servants were both easily duped and indifferent to the news of their own duping. For Garrmondo Alkatraz, who lived without fear and died a hero's death. For the lovely ladies of the Ruddy Crab Gala Revue. And — somewhat grudgingly — for Cal Amah, whose business venture would at the least keep him out of the way. It would be many days before the party returned to Freeport — and just as well, for what awaited them there was far more sinister and deadly than any kraken… |
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