Package Handling (GFF D&D Adventure IX)
 

What Has Gone Before

Adventure 1: The Dungeon Of Doom

In which the newly-formed Horde is cast into a subterranean prison, and fights their way to freedom through a host of vicious goblins, selfish kobolds, suspicious dwarves, and a dragon entrapped by its own machinations. After overcoming many hurdles (and losing Fescue, the party rogue, to an accursed jewel), the Horde blasts a hole through the dungeon walls and escapes to freedom — dragging along with them an old halfling woman who really only seemed to want to take a nap.

Adventure 2: Crusader

In which the Horde, having formed a small mercenary company for lack of any better prospects, takes on the responsibility of retrieving a magical sword for an unfortunate paladin. To their dismay the Horde discovers that the sword (the eponymous Crusader) is not only hidden in the abandoned home of a most paranoid mage but is greatly sought after by agents of evil who wish to keep it from the paladin's hands. In the end their client is dead, and the blade is sold to a halfling crimelord in exchange for a future favor — a favor that (of this writing) has not yet been called on.

Adventure 3: The Haunting Of Hargast

A desperate plea for help from a distant village leads the Horde to the tiny farming community of Hargast, where a terrible curse has taken root: Hargast's dead are rising from their graves. Worse yet, they always come out at night and the Horde is unlucky enough to have arrived at dusk. After a grim battle to defend the local tavern until dawn, the Horde descends into the ancient catacombs beneath the village to discover the restless spirits of more than a few dead adventurers not unlike themselves. Even as they close in on the source of the disturbances, a terrible miscalculation on the part of the party's warlord leads to an onslaught of venomous spiders and the tragic death of Brigid Conmara, cleric of Melora. Only by making a grim pact with a demon do the rest escape with their lives. In the end the terrors seem to stem from a supposed "vampire lord" who is nothing more than an unusually persuasive gnome. The fortuitous arrival of a human mercenary following up on the same lead helped to shore up the flagging morale of the Horde, but even so the battle against the gnome and his servants was only barely survived. Harrowed by the experience, the party's burly fighter (Argumentus) retires in Hargast to live the rest of his life as a peaceful farmer.

Adventure 4: All In The Same Boat

Seeking fresh air and freedom after second excursion underground, the Horde signs up for simple guard work aboard a merchant ship — and an enthusiastic nobleman with a flair for the dramatic invites himself along with them. Alas, not only is the craft beset by pirates but by a terrible storm that dashes the craft into the rocks and beaches it on a barren island. The lighthouse meant to help guide ships through the vicious local reefs has gone dark, and the Horde is asked to investigate while the ship's regular crew works to repair the damage. As they climb the dizzying heights to reach the lighthouse, the Horde's dwarven paladin succumbs to the common dwarven curse of agoraphobia. Driven mad by the great heights and the open sea, Gabriel Sledgehammer casts aside his worldly goods and flings himself into the icy waters below. Soon after, the ragged band encounters a sickly bear. Though they prepare to fight the beast, it merely vomits on them — expelling a small, confused halfling druid in the form of a badger. He promptly invites himself to join their company. It is discovered that the lighthouse's magical fire is doused by the intense power needs of a damaged magical spacecraft — one which the Horde is able to help repair. After a brief joyride, the spacemen deposit the Horde back on the ship in which they'd arrived just in time to finish their originally intended deliveries.

Adventure 5: Delicious and Moist

Tired of even the simplest jobs ending in some bizarre twist, the Horde takes the simplest assignment they can find: retrieve a cake from a thieving orc. Despite the orc having fled into the Freeport sewers, the inexplicably heavy pastry is retrieved quickly and without complication despite the group's great paranoia.

Adventure 6: Secret Cow Level

A sage requests that the Horde descend into an ancient labyrinth beneath a mountain to recover artifacts from a long-ago minotaur civilization. Things quickly take a turn for the bizarre as both the party's warlord and the elven mage disappear without a trace in a single night. Still, a bustling settlement thrives in the corridors beneath the mountain, and a mechanical bard and his long-suffering cleric friend are invited into the fold for a share of the rewards. After some missteps, the newly formed "G-Unit" frees a clutch of slaves almost entirely by accident before smashing the nearest ancient artifact and fleeing back to the surface — discovering along the way that their noble companion was nothing more than a terribly confused shapeshifter the entire time. A shapeshifter with... unpleasant hobbies.

Adventure 7: Magnum Innominandum

At the request of a genasi barista, G-Unit travels to the remote village of Hallowfeld seeking a play. However, their search for theatrical treasures soon pit them against a traveling company of actors who have something truly remarkable in store for their audiences: an irreversible transformation into horrors from the Far Realm. G-Unit moves quickly enough to save the larger town of Lamid, but exhaustion prevents them catching up to the players at their next destination: mighty Freeport! Glock and Gordok take advantage of a gift from the Lamidans to flee the planet before anyone learns of their momentous failure. Little do the rest of the team know their base of operations is in a panic, as they are unwillingly escorted to their next adventure...

Adventure 8: Once More Into The Depths

After several weeks of peaceful life in a grateful Lamid, G-Unit's failure at the theatre is discovered. A treacherous trap laid by the Lamidans sends the three remaining members of G-Unit into a subterranean maze — along with two other mercenaries who were in town for their own reasons. Though mistrust rules the day, the assembled group eventually escapes back to ravaged Freeport — but not before hacking their way through a truly strange assortment of underground obstacles and taking a brief voyage to a stranger world even than their own. Garrmondo narrowly avoids becoming King of the Goblins, and Gheth remains behind in the strange world, his fate unknown to his companions...

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.

"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!

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.

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.

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.

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