[DnD] All In The Same Boat (GFF D&D Adventure 4)

Delic thinks very hard. Not surprisingly, its the same look on his face when he's constipated.

Insight Check

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

4 Dice Rolls delic - insight

Motsognir and Bob discuss their collective knowledge of arcana obscura, being the only two members of the party which would be especially likely to know anything about spells — let alone jamming them. The word itself sounds only vaguely familiar, and after much discussion Bob finally recalls where he had heard the term before.

Long, long ago, before Bob's parents had got themselves expelled from the village (on the pretense that an elf running a logging enterprise was a fairly obvious case of insanity), little Bob was wandering through the woods one evening. In those days no one thought twice about such a child meandering alone in the dark, for the village snipers were everywhere.

And so it was in his twilight wandering that little Bob encountered, quite on accident, a group of strange, tall people with long, bony hands and squids where their heads were supposed to be. All at once, the squid-head people panicked at the sight of him, dropping the flowers and plants they had been gathering and rushing into a strange boat that seemed to drop out of the very sky to collect them. But in their haste they left someone behind!

A few days later, young Bob was languishing under one of his father's frequent punishments (for he had stole the village archmage's wand of fireballs for the third time that month, and Bob's father grew tired of re-thatching the roof). And so it was that Bob was confined to his own bedroom, and was intolerably bored. But then! A tiny squid-head, shorter even than an elfchild (which are very short indeed) clambered into the window, and in its strange rasping tongue told Bob of the arcane apparatus needed to recall the sky-ship to him that he may be collected and return to his own people.

And so Bob set out, and pilfered the various shopkeeps and mage-halls of his village, and assembled by trial and error the strange gadget that would send out the call of distress. Oh, what an adventure that was! It was only after weeks of intense interrogation by the village council that he overheard the word "spelljammer" as a synonym for those strange, flying boats that soared so high as to seemingly disappear among the very stars.

Later it turned out that the illithids didn't even possess a juvenile form and he had probably been dealing with some weird midget the entire time. This would be less insulting if the little bastard hadn't eaten all his imported candies.

Bob considers relating this story to Motsognir, but in the interest of time just claims to have learned about sky-ships at the University. Still, a faint memory of having summoned one doesn't quite qualify him for repair work. Couldn't hurt to try, though. Worst comes to worst things would just come to blows, which was more or less par for the course regardless.

Bob then experimentally jabs at the lead armor with his staff, which produces nothing much more than a low grumble and an insistence that Bob "stop poking" him. Still, the glimpse Bob takes of the armor's insides before being gently shoved away is quite fascinating. It's all full of pointy metal bits and little gears and glass tubes full of goo, all of it whirring and humming away. Why would anyone take a perfectly good suit of animated armor and just cram it full of noisy rubbish like that?

While this conference is going on, Garrmondo takes a good look around to see if he can reckon who's really in charge here. The big lummox was clearly deferential to the green-eyed fella, who in turn was apparently taking orders from somebody up atop the lighthouse. With the two still blocking the gate, however, there's no way of getting up there and seeing who it might be.

Delic scowls about suspiciously. Though he innately distrusts the armored men, he has far too little comprehension of what they might be talking about to determine whether or not they were being honest.

Before Adam can stop him, Gordok has clambered up onto the metal man's shoulders and begins peering about. A low chuckle echoes around in Adam's helmet, and he reaches up and gently pats Gordok on the head in much the way one would a friendly dog.

Gordok gawks around curiously, but doesn't see much of anything he couldn't see before. The big iron men, the lighthouse, the big fireball on top of the lighthouse, the big oval shadow being cast on the east side of the lighthouse despite the clear and cloudless night, the—

wait a dang minute!

FELIPE NO

1 Die Roll Perception Check

Gordok gives the dwarf a look of confused disgust, ponders for a moment, shrugs, and follows the bunch on up the boring path. Might as well stick with the group for now. They didn't really look like climbers.

A bit later upon reaching the light house there appear some giant metallic creatures. Gordok is fascinated with their size and the way they move and their odd voices and well just everything really. The elf takes a few prods to examine one of the creatures and Gordok takes this as a sign to investigate them himself so up up up he goes clambering on top happily clinging to the back of the closest mountain of metal. It is very cool to the touch. Gordok is reminded of Great Aunty Eatongruf - just with less spikes. "I love you Mr. Bestest-Thing-in-the-Whole-World."

While he's up on this nice place Gordy takes in the view and the general layout of the place.

Perception Check

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

"Ah", I remembered out loud, as much to myself as anyone else "Spelljammers, I remember those. Funny floaty things no, require a devillish amount of stuff to summon up and then when you do finally get hold of one it turns out that little Inky was actually old farmer Patterson's son, the one that was also his brother. I never did get those sweets back". Feeling slightly dejected at the memory of my lost sweets, I decided that having another look at one of those floaty things would probably be just thing to brighten up my day.

I rapped my knuckles on big suit of armour again and peered intently into the eye slit. "I say, hello, hello, HEEELLLLLOOOOOOOO IN THERE". I wasn't getting much of a response so fell back on old faithful, talking slowly and loudly always makes foreigners understand you.

"MY NAME IS BOB. ME BIGUM SCARY WIZZARD YES? ME GO LOOKY LOOKY AT SPELLJAMMER. YOU TAKE ME AND THE HORDE" I gestured expansively at the rest of our motley crew "UP SEE BOSS MAN IN TOWER WITH FLOATY BOAT. YOU TAKEY BOB AND HORDE UP THERE NOW THEN?".

And so as not to be impolite, I pressed a gold piece into the armour's gauntletted hand. "And treat yourself to something nice, take the missus out for a meal or something. Run along now!".

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Noticing the elf woman giving away cash to his new robo-friends, Garr misunderstood the purpose of the gesture, assuming it was time to pay a gate toll. Even on the off chance that it wasn't, he thought that the single GP wouldn't buy much, and it made a shitty bribe.

Grabbing one (and only one, for he was also a cheap ass) of his own coins to match Bob's donation, Garrmondo stuck it in what he thought was a coin slot on the robot.

Tilting his head to the side slightly, putting his hands out and folding some of his fingers back, he looked his steel pal straight in the face and yelled "HOLLA HOLLA GET DOLLA"

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Adam looks down impassively at the elf.

"It's quite impossible to get atop the lighthouse, I'm afraid. The stairs were destroyed in the... disagreement we had with the lighthouse keeper. Poor Quill's been stuck up there ever since, trying to get the boat working again. I told him he might as well just jump and we'd put him back together again once he got down here, but he's irrational about the whole thing. I suppose if you had some climbing gear you could scale the tower, but why? Still, if you'd like a look at the 'jammer, help yourself. Forgive us, we keep it cloaked most of the time to avoid unwelcome attention — although I suppose we may as well not bother at this rate."

"Quill!" he shouts. "Drop the cloak!"

A third metal man leans over the edge of the lighthouse, and seems to grab a lever that isn't there. He wrenches it down, and a massive floating contraption materializes into view. A huge leather bag floats unaided in the air, and a metal box the size of a peasant cottage dangles beneath. A door in the box flies open, and one of the metal men tosses down a rope ladder.

"Behold, my meaty acquaintances. The Mutineer."

A note of pride rings through even Adam's mechanical voice.

"Crews 9, runs on your basic caged-elemental engine. Now, the issue, as Quill explains it to me, is that— what are you — oh. I appreciate your generosity, but I don't see how gold will do us any good."

Garrmondo mischievously jams a coin of his own into an inviting gap in Adam's back, and a panel in the metal man's torso slides open, dispensing a refreshing beverage.



"Please don't do that again."

Bam! Night-time!

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Well this was certainly a turn up for the books. We had been engaged in conversation with strangers fro almost three minutes without getting into a fight. I made a mental note to mark this day down in the calendar as an auspicious one.

The suit of armour continued to speak and again, I struggled to understand him but the sudden appearance of a large, floating boat high above certainly piqued my curiosity. A rope ladder was tossed down and I made a bee-line for it, keen to see inside the big floaty thing before my companions started taking apart the suits of armour in their own, inimitable way. Thanking the suit of armour for his sterling work as a doorman, I hurried over to the ladder and started to climb up it, leaving the lads to get any more information we might need from the two metal butlers.

How ya doing, buddy?

Garrmondo grabs his fizzy beverage and stores it in his pack. But soon has a concerned look on his face.

Not trusting his rather shady looking new midget compatriot, he brings it out again, and writes "Property of Bakersfield" on the side of the bottle. He then restows it for later.

Jack that shit.

Shortly thereafter noticing the movement of that elf woman's shapely buttocks, Garr started after her. Letting her climb ahead of him, he waited until she was half way up the ladder...

...and....*pinch*



badonkadonk

I was speaking idiomatically.

As I began my ascent of the ladder, I felt a pinch on my buttocks. Slightly startled and yet turned on at the same time, I looked below me, expecting to see my dwarf.

Instead, to my surprise I saw the man in the frilly shirt. I knew he looked like a pirate but up to this point I had been unaware that he actually was one.

Trying to pass off the moment as insignificant, so as not to upset the Dwarf, I resumed climbing. I resolved to investigate this development further soon though. I had to admit to myself that all this male attention was flattering. For most of my life, I had been shunned for my lifestyle choices and never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined that the life of an adventurer would lead me to meet so many like-minded people. Sure, there had been Tarquin and Alloiscious but Tarquin was an insufferable drama queen and as for Alloiscious, even starved of affection as I was I drew the line at Gnomes. If only I had abandoned the stuffy halls of academia in search of a life of freedom on the open road, who knows how things might have turned out!

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

1 Die Roll acrobatics check

Motsognir had seen the human's action. Rushing up the ladder, he heaves himself over the human, planting a boot in his face and securing his position below his woman. The dwarf glares down at Garrmondo then reaches up and firmly slaps the ass above him, looking up to smile politely as she reacts. He scrapes the mud off his boots as he climbs the ladder, letting it fall on whomever it may.

How ya doing, buddy?

Delic does not trust metal men. Its one thing if its a man in armor, another thing when glowing eyes look back at him. Theres something unnatural and... wrong about it.

Delic also REALLY does not trust leather bags saddled with boxes. He'd seen Orcs use those contraptions in old war etchings. They'd drop bags of rotted meat and offal to turn the enemy sick - sometimes even things that created fire when it hit the ground.

But he'll trust the judgements of his team, despite the weird feeling of unease crawling up his neck. He climbs the ladder slowly, mumbling under his breath.

Most amazing jew boots

Gordok trusts the metal man completely. So much so that he has great faith that if tossed at high speeds he could make it safely inside the large metal box surpassing the current game of grab-ass. What a dazzling spectacle it would be! Gordy relays this odd request in a dead whisper into where he assumes ears should be and gears up for his magnificent flight.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

1 Die Roll Perception Check

Garrmondo wonders why his dwarf friend is so protective. Especially when he's not made any moves on her for as long as he can remember. You snooze, you lose. Regardless, lady elves have more than enough holes for two fellows. Why, it's been so long that Garrmondo wouldn't put up a fight either way. He'd take what he could get.

Hell, just the other day, he had seen some old bar keep who must have been at least 65 bend forward and almost spill her giant, saggy....assets out for all to see. He was not proud of the fact that he may have liked that. More so than he let on.

He looked up, past the dwarf, one final time. As the elf woman climbed, her ass shifted, and Garr squinted to get a better look. He raised an eyebrow though when he thought he saw something...else. Something bulgy. Something that, by all accounts, shouldn't be there.

Perception check

So he looked again, but couldn't quite catch it. He wasn't sure what he saw, but at the moment, he figured it was an optical illusion. It wasn't terribly large by any stretch. He'd have to take a gander again later when he got another chance.

Unfortunately, that wasn't now. Just at that moment he got a face full of mud.

How ya doing, buddy?

Adam glances skeptically at the strange little meatcreature that sat on his shoulders. In his experience meat had a short lifespan when introduced to high velocities. Still, in the interest of keeping the peace he accepts the little man's request.

"CLEAR THE DOORWAY!", Adam shouts. Lifting the halfling from his shoulders, he holds Gordok in his right hand with an iron grip. Adam's right arm begins to rotate freely about the axis of his shoulder; slowly at first and then accelerating until both the arm and Gordok are little more than a circular blur. Just as Gordok is beginning to become terribly dizzy, the metal man's arm abruptly slams to a stop and Adam releases the halfling from his grip.

Gordok hurtles through the air like a sling stone, easily clearing the distance between the ground and the open door of the the Mutineer and smashing violently into an interior wall. Still, even after Gordok takes the better part of a minute to recover his faculties, the rest of the group is still only halfway up the ladder — they seem engaged in some kind of dispute over the elf girl. Gordok had never quite understood the mating rituals of the so-called "civilized" races — where he came from you just smashed the lucky lady you wanted to court over the head with an ox skull and dragged her back to your cave. If she escaped, well... then it wasn't meant to be.

Another half-dozen of the mechanical men are bustling around inside the cabin, adjusting a multitude of unmarked levers and fiddling with little wheels. One of them finally notices Gordok staggering around.

"At last! Perhaps you are the Intelligent Meat foretold in prophecy. Let me present you, little meatling, with our dilemma."

The metal man throws open a panel in the wall of the cabin, revealing a massive, largely empty chamber. In the center of the room is a whirling black tornado, held in place by a cage seemingly composed entirely out of lightning bolts. In Gordok's experience lightning didn't usually have a lifespan of more than a split second, but the electric beams persist no matter how many times the halfling blinks or rubs his eyes.

"The engine room!" announces the metal man, quite cheerfully. "There's the air elemental, of course, and the containment system. The elemental tries to escape, the cage gives it a shock, it gets angry and thrashes around which of course produces powerful air currents which we use to power the engines. Very standard.

Now, we have two problems. One, we require a persistent heat source to keep the gas balloon warm and gain altitude. Attempts to build a fire via conventional methods have failed — the air is too cold and thin at this altitude for natural fires to persist. The Mutineer has been gradually sinking ever since we stumbled into your unpleasant little planet, and I suspect at the current rate we have less than a local week before we risk collision with the ocean — needless to say, saltwater immersion would cause an endless series of failures in a craft of this make. The fireplace in the corner there channels heat directly into the balloon, so let me know if you think of a solution for that.

Two, the ventilation system for the elemental has become clogged."

He gestures, and Gordok follows him up a short stairway which leads back to the exterior of the craft. Massive metal wheels are affixed to sturdy poles on the roof of the cabin, rotating very slowly in the faint breeze being issued from a panel on the opposite wall.

"And here are the turbines. The wind from the elemental is expelled from the vents, powering the propellers. Now, as you know, the only thing that keeps the elemental angry about its imprisonment — instead of falling into a useless fugue state and dissipating — is a persistent magic field designed expressly for that purpose. In our case, as we have no credible mage on board, we use a system of enchanted artifacts. This worked just fine until a collision jarred the artifacts out of place. Let me show you."



"Obviously, all three artifacts need to be affixed to the mesh here in order to keep the elemental in an active state. However, as you can see, two of the three ventilation fans on the top row of the mesh are blocked, and one fan leaves us with an insignificant level of propulsion. The quandary here is that in order to rearrange the artifacts one needs to remove them from the mesh — and if you remove more than one at a time the elemental immediately begins the process of dissipation. Needless to say that's a worst-case scenario. We need to move all three of these artifacts to positions where they don't block the fans, but at no point may more than one artifact be detached from the mesh. Maybe your strange meat brain can solve this mystery. The runes, of course, must always face outward toward the propellers rather than inward toward the elemental, or the power will be channeled backward and may make the elemental too powerful to contain. The last thing any of us want is a thing like that running around on the loose. If the runes end up being upside down or backwards or something, however, they'll probably still work just fine provided they face the right direction."

Most amazing jew boots

Scraping the mud from his face and climbing the rest of the way up, Garrmondo joins the greasy midget in the engine room, and overhears the issue at hand. He stood stunned, amazed by the fact that what are essentially living abacuses were unable to solve a simple problem such as this, and yet they could otherwise maintain a ship of this magnitude.

He began to ponder if these tasks presented themselves to him and his friends solely because some God beyond their realm of understanding felt like testing them from time to time in some non-combat scenarios.

"Nah", he thought a moment later. He had read one of the elf with the suspicious crotch's books earlier, and it had a detailed list of every documented God in existance. Surely there was not another. That list was already longer than his forearm.

Recalling the ladder loving dwarf's honey bunny was good at fire and at various other aspects of being flaming, he left that issue well and alone.

Considering sticking his dick into the last fan and seeing if that helps anything (Garrmondo has found his genitals solve most problems in his life rather painlessly), he instead comes to the conclusion to just do the puzzle and be done with it. He felt oddly compelled to.

Maybe he just liked robots.

Looking at it, he declared the brown thing to be "L bracket", the pink one to be "long", and green one to be "stupid thing from Tetris 2".

Sucking in his breath, he yodelled:

L bracket: twist 180 degrees, as left as possible
Long: 90 degree twist, cover all three fans
Stupid Tetris 2: counterclockwise 90, flat end against right wall.
L bracket: 90 degrees counterclockwise, stick against bottom
Long: move into open three space not covering fans.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

As I reached the top and looked into the box, the memories of the last floaty box thing I had seen came flooding back to me. I wandered around briefly, vaguely aware that the pirate was fiddling with something in the corner. As I circled the room, I noticed the empty fireplace in the corner.

"EXCUSE ME MY GOOD MAN". I tapped the nearest suit of armour on the back of the head with my staff "WOULDN'T THIS THING WORK MUCH BETTER IF YOU HAD A NICE FIRE GOING IN THERE?"

Getting little in the way of an intelligible response, I thought a practical demonstration might help. There being little useful flammable material around in the room, I dug out the Delvers Fire ingredients from my pack and set about preparing the ritual in the fireplace.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Completely out of his element, Delic offers the flint and steel in his kit to start the fire.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Motsognir leans against a rail, watching his lady bent over, preparing her magic. He walks up behind her, making just enough of a show to make sure he had Garrmondo's eye. It wasn't too hard to distract him from his puzzle. Placing his hands on his woman's svelt hips, he looks over to the pirate, smirking, and deeply intones, "WOULDN'T THIS THING WORK MUCH BETTER IF YOU HAD A NICE FIRE GOING IN THERE?" and proceeds to sway his hips to and fro.

FELIPE NO

The attention from the pirate had clearly had an effect on the Dwarf. Whilst this overt show of affection was welcome, his timing wasn't ideal and the hip gyrations were slightly distracting me from my work. I gently removed his hands from my hips and used my Ghost Sound magic to whisper softly in his ear "Later, big boy".

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Working quickly, Garrmondo easily solves the issue of the blocked ventilation ducts. Entirely too quickly, in fact. As Bob prepares to set a magical flame alight in the Mutineer's fireplace, the aircraft shudders violently to life. The starjammer hurtles forward under the force of its propellers, but without a fire in its belly the airship can't get enough altitude to clear the Fang's rocky cliffs.

Bob redoubles his efforts as Delic hurries to provide the necessary supplies and Motsognir simply uses his stout legs to keep the elf standing upright in the shaking cabin. Moments before collision with a wall of jagged stones, the ritual fire blazes to life and a gust of hot air rushes up into the Mutineer's balloon.

The airship is quickly buoyed up, but even so the cabin itself scrapes against the rocks, sending both the Horde and the ship's metallic crew alike staggering. The crew moves quickly to get the ship back under control, steering it round to collect Adam and the rest of those on the ground.

"Typical meat", mutters Adam, as he clambers up the ladder. "Never thinking before you act.

On the other hand, at least you didn't try to kill us, which makes the lot of you by far the most intelligent meat I've ever encountered. I guess you deserve a reward for that."

He claps twice in quick succession, his metal hands clanging together with an awful noise. One of his armored subordinates hurries into a storage closet, returning quickly with his arms laden in loot.

"There we are. These things used to belong to murderously insane lunatics who tried to kill us for no reason, and now they belong to you. I consider it a kind of positive reinforcement for you meat-people."


(Throwing Hammer)
(Chainmail)

Without Quill attempting to channel the Fang Light's magic fire for the Mutineer's own heating needs, the lighthouse's magnificent blaze rapidly blossoms back to full strength.

"Much as I'd like to take you along, I don't think you lot can go where we're going", Quill opines. "For one, there's no air up there. Meat can't live without air. We tested this very thoroughly."

Even Gordok, with his enthusiasm for danger, is disinclined to suffocate in the inky black void.

And so, after another round of thank-yous and farewells, Adam begins to make a show out of how far off schedule everything is. It's only a few minutes later that the Mutineer buzzes low over the Rosy Dawn, tossing out 5 passengers (and their reward) into the sand before ascending rapidly into the night sky and disappearing among a thousand twinkling stars.

Catos, for his part, asks no questions. That the lighthouse is lit once again is enough. There'll be reports to make once the Rosy Dawn makes landfall in Veltalar, for certain, but for tonight it's enough to finish up repairs and make for a well-earned space in the bunks.

The ship casts off from the rocky beach the next morning, not precisely good-as-new, but at the very least good enough. By evening they've arrived in Veltalar, and Catos is more than happy to pay the Horde for their services.

+50 GP each
Major Quest reward: 1000 XP (200 XP each)
Actually resolving something outside combat for once bonus: 500 XP (100 XP each)

None of the locals in Veltalar's inns and taverns believe a word about the Horde's encounter with the metal men from the sky, but they know what they saw on that snow-covered cliff. Still, dealing in impossibilities is part and parcel of the adventuring trade, and it's not long before the Horde tires of the local color. It's time to find out what the merchants in Veltalar have for sale and what still needs killin'.

As before, distribute your 5 points according to which adventure you most desire to pursue. As far as the shops go, don't hesitate to ask what you're getting for your money. I'm happy to show item stats to anyone who's afraid of wasting their cash.

House of Pain

Albert's Miscellany

Mordenkainen's Magnificent Market

Pay 'n Pray

Notice Board

Arcanist seeks brave individuals to explore rumored location of ancient minotaur city. See Valthrun at the Temple of Ioun in Freeport.

Additional guards wanted for a supply caravan to Spellgard; 30 GP on successful delivery.

An orc has stolen two of my finest cakes! Kill the orc and return my cakes to me! Reward: one cake.

Outsiders needed to resolve a delicate ransom situation in Airspur.

The Flaming Fist seeks new recruits. Present yourself at the headquarters of the Flaming Fist in Baldur's Gate for the tests of initiation.

Mercenaries of discretion needed for a delicate situation at Candlekeep.

REWARD! 850 GP for the head of the dragonborn bandit Gharash Vren. Last seen entering Winterbole Forest with his band of thieves.

The flood is coming! The most radiant vessel which may preserve us all hides within the Theskan village of Phsant! Retrieve it, and together we may float upon the waters that will drown the world! - Jonster Yate, Hall of the Gods, Temple District, Freeport.

Funding an expedition to the Underdark on a special recovery mission. Stop by Crafty Kobold Salvage, Eartheart, East Rift.

My friends and I thought to explore an ancient tomb; only I escaped. I only wish to retrieve their bodies for a proper burial. Ask for Halaskar at the Son Of The Goat Inn in Luruar.

I fear my son has stumbled onto a sinister plot and may be threatened by the cultists of Shar. If you can investigate, seek the shipwright Yazeth Cobb in Hillsfar.

A valuable sextant has been stolen from my patrons, and I fear their fortunes may soon vanish with it. Seek Geth Stormlight at the Dagger's Rest Inn, Waterdeep. The bloodthirsty and stupid need not apply.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Assuming nobody else would have much use for it, I helped myself to the staff we had been given as a reward by the metal people. It was with some regret and a tear in my eye that I waved goodbye to our new metal chums. Whilst I had enjoyed our boat trip, a floaty airship thing would be an even cooler way to get about and I hoped that one day I might own my own.

I felt strangely more powerful after our recent excursion, as if some really awesome spells I had once learned had come back into the forefront of my memory. I amused myself on the remainder of our boat trip trying them out although try though I might I couldn't build up the energy required to cast them both in the same day.

Once we reached land, I set about consolidating my gear, selling my old staff, the wand I had found and the gold bracelet I had for a total of 258 gold. Now that I was a proper sailor, I did quite fancy getting a nifty tattoo but the prices been asked were ridiculous. I wondered exactly who could afford to shop in any of the stores in this village and not for the first time, bemoaned the lack of any decently paying work. Begrudgingly I forked over a king's ransome to replenish my stock of ritual components and picked up an inquisitive's kit and a glass cutter, it having occured to me that nobody in our particular band was particularly cut out for any work more delicate than smashing people's faces in. I also bought a clockwork bomb, because blowing things up is funny.

I perused the handy situations vacant board in the inn, deciding what looked like the most interesting job to do next. My primary goal was the acquisition of a large sum of money. I was tired of having to scrape together enough coin to pay for dinner each night and wanted to be able to actually buy stuff in the local shops. Sadly, even the best reward offered of 850gp wouldn't go far split five ways so it looked like I was destined for the time being to continue my current life of poverty.

I figured that a ruined minotaur city might have some decent loot lying around and I did miss Steak, it'd be nice to see the kind of place he might have grown up in. I was also tempted by the guard job on the caravan to Spellgard. A place with a name like that was inevitably a seat of great magic learning or something and even though the job paid a pittance, the cargo might well be worth a great deal and we could always kill the other guards and keep the cargo once we were out of sight of the village. Finally I figured there was decent money to be made by joining a paramilitary organisation and there were always such good poems written about freedom fighters so joining the Flaming Fist people seemed like it might be fun.

I couldn't really decide so I figured I'd let the others choose.

Sell Staff of Expansion, Gold Bracelet and Wand of Magic Missile, replace used ritual components, buy Inquisitive's Kit, Glass Cutter and Clockwork Bomb.

Vote 1 point each for Minotaur city, Spellgard caravan, Flaming Fist, Candlekeep and Dragonborn bandit.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Motsognir was increasingly interested in the arcane. Swinging by the Pay n' Pray, he asks the shopkeep for a closer look at Mammon's Symbol of Vengeance.

oh and he takes that throwing hammer

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

"You don't really strike me as a prayin' man, but—"

The shopkeep shrugs and slides a gold medallion emblazoned with a clawed hand across the counter for Soggy's perusal.



I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Looking at the shopkeeper questioningly, the dwarf replies, "840GP for this? No, I guess I'm not the praying type." Instead, he finds a nice place to have a nap.

don't buy or sell anything
all five points go towards cake rescuing

I was speaking idiomatically.

Having a bit of a premonition, thinking it may be useful for a person he has not yet met, Garrmondo grabs the fancy chainmail his flying robofriends left there.

Grab Skald's Armour

Looking at the notice board, his eyes are immediately drawn to the word cake. The fact that it appeared more than once in the classified has him sold on the idea. Jumping about excitedly, he says to his companions "OH YIPPEE YIPPEE LET'S DO THIS ONE".

All 5 points into the cake rescue

Contemplating doing some wheelin' and dealin', he approaches this building labeled HOUSE OF PAIN.

Walking in, Garrmondo is saddened to see no interesting leather "toys" or suggestively shaped implements. Making a mental note to ask the shopkeeper where he can go for his kinky needs, he instead spies something glowing a bit that's sharp and pointy. Unfortunately it's far too sharp or pointy to use for his initial pirating purpose, but it might serve some use with the other bit of his job description.

"Yo, shopkeep, what's up with this thing you have here labeled 'Sunblade Double Sword'".

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?