[DnD] Secret Cow Level (GFF D&D Adventure 6)

Shifting into low power mode, Glock sits in a chair and keeps his eye on the surroundings, but stays close enough to his weak, puny biological companions to wake them, should he feel the need.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

2 Dice Rolls Active perception

His curiosity getting the better of his sense, Cal goes on all tiptoe as he gingerly peers around the corner of the... (cramped bedroom?) room north of the dining hall, with all the stealth he can muster.

His heart pounding with excitement, Cal pauses for a minute to detect for any nearby hostile presence.

Stealth Check: 3 + 12 = 15
Active Perception Check: 2 + 19 = 21
What terrible rolls

The stench emanating from his dissection exercise probably negates his attempts to be sneaky.

If Cal detects no enemies, explore the black patches in the map

Am I doing this right? Do I roll for active perception and add the result to passive perception?

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Cal pokes around the rest of the rooms in the fortress; the duergar have all apparently fled the structure. The large room to the north seems to be some kind of trophy room, full of questionable examples of taxidermy. The head of a massive reptile is mounted on the east wall, and a humanoid creature with strange tentacles sprouting from its face stands frozen in the southwest corner. In the southeast corner, what looks like a broken statue of an elven woman lays abandoned in a heap of rubble. Dominating the center of the room is the massive form of an 8-legged lizard. A large four-fingered stone hand is wrapped around the dead beast's neck. All the trophies are heavily weathered and dusty — they've been here a long, long time. Massive barred doors lead north.

In the southeast corner of the fort sits another bunkroom. On a table in the middle of the room sits a small leatherbound book, moderately charred as though it had been rescued from the fireplace more than once.

You never need to add your passive checks to anything; that's what makes them passive. They're for DM use to determine if you notice something passively (ie, not actively looking for it).

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

Cal's exploration uncovers no sign of hostiles, and plenty of gruesome curiosities. The animal skinning seems to have been expertly done, the way the stuffed figures withstood the test of time. He ponders the significance of the depicted choking of the eight-legged lizard, but puts it out of mind.

After all, there might be some meager keepsakes the human thralls left behind. Cowards more like it, without the right to call themselves cooks; the way they shirk from skinning and butchery duties filled Cal with much disappointment.

Making his way into their sleeping quarters adjacent to the kitchen, Cal rummages through the room looking for something of value.

Examine and take Book.
Search premises for discarded thrall clothing. Take female clothing if available, for later use as disguise props.

Certain that the fort contained no further hostiles, Cal exits via the southeast bridge, and puts his ear against the door of the eastern fortress. While the orcish insurrection might have cleared the area of hostiles, who knows what foolhardy duergar might have re-entered since then?

Stop and listen for signs of enemy activity. If no enemy is detected, enter and examine pond at the center of the fort. If there are hostiles, draw longbow and peek inside door.

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

Cal takes a look at the burned book, but while most of the pages are still intact the text itself is in an elaborate script that looks like no language Cal has even seen. Figuring he might track down a translator later, Cal tucks the book in his pack.

Sure enough, one of the kitchen wenches abandoned some of her clothing in her haste to escape. It's just a simple knee-length peasant's smock, but as disguises went Cal wasn't in a position to be picky.

Trekking back through the southeast tunnel, Cal carefully examines the well sunk into the forge room. He might think that there is something to it... But in fact it is just an ordinary well. Cal sees his face upon the clear water. How dirty!

How ya doing, buddy?

Cal freshens up a bit with well water, washing off the more odious bits of duergar viscera that clung still from his earlier dissection.

Feeling cleaner than he has been for days, he heads for the door to the northwest of the forge, presses his ears against it, and listens carefully for enemy activity. Once the cautious changeling is sure of safety, he summons up enough courage to take a quick peek at the room beyond, before finally returning to his fellows.

Carefully look outside northwest door. Return to dining hall and rejoin companions.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

"Oh, nothing to write home about," Cal breathlessly answered the courageous-looking human. Such physique! Such constitution! Such manly vigor that the changeling could only dream about, especially after his close brush with crossbow death.

"I did find this book in the kitchen, but it seems to be filled with nothing but rubbish. Perhaps you can understand the contents. I was never one for formal education. Theory? Sure, that sounds good but rarely does reality conform with tidy theoretical constructs."

Cal takes out the book and hands it over, figuring the rest would be able to decipher its contents better than he could. He unsuccessfully tries to shake a nagging feeling that he's the stupidest of the bunch.

"I suppose I ought to bring you up to speed. Starting with the strange transformation you saw. I was a mercenary, and took on more than what I could handle. I was been hit by a nasty spell that somehow blew a hole through my memories. Why the wizard did that, instead of killing me outright, I don't know.

Delic Swagger is not a figment of my imagination. He found me wandering incoherently, and helped to treat the magical damage. As long as I was imprinted on a stable personality - his - the curse could be kept at bay. As you saw, it was not foolproof. Now that I've reverted to form, my memories of life as Delic has faded.

I've no recollection why we're in this underground fortress. I don't know what we're supposed to do, and... and..."

The changeling pauses as he stifles a lump in his throat.

"Anyway, we need to talk. Wake the others. I have something to report."

I guess I'm delaying a bit here. I'm actually waiting for any relevant updates on Cal's exploration before he gives his report. I'm also fishing for some story beats I can incorporate into future role play, based on whatever (mis)information is given - Cal's good at bluffing, but he's also good at getting bluffed. With that said, I think I have a plan on dealing with those so-called artillery. Curses.

While Garrmondo wakes up the more sleep-deprived, Cal nips back into the kitchen. Sounds of splashing were followed by a scritching noise, and Cal momentarily emerges with a piece of parchment dripping with some sort of reddish goo. He presents this to the team.


"Shall we start?"

FELIPE NO

Cal pokes his head out the northwest door in the east fortress, getting a glimpse at the two bridges (one from this fortress, one from the second) leading to a third stronghold, largest by far, on the opposite side of a bottomless ravine. Before he has more than a second or two to get his bearings, crossbow bolts begin to thump into the door. Cal doesn't see where the bolts are coming from, but discretion being the better part of valor decides to simply shut the heavy doors and quick-step it back to his allies via the tunnel.

Reporting his meager findings to Garrmondo, Cal hands over the mysterious book. While Garrmondo did possess a slightly greater command of languages (due to a long, unpleasant stint guarding a fire elemental which had somehow managed to get itself arrested back home), he couldn't make heads or tails of the writing either. While the script itself looked a lot like the singed notes Old Burnsides used to pass him, nothing actually seemed to add up to any words he could recognize.

Shouldering his pack, Garrmondo gently wakes the others with the tip of his boot. The dwarves were only going to get more entrenched as time went by.

How ya doing, buddy?

After a nice nap the halfling awakes to find the changeling has returned. And with something!

"Ooh scribbles!"

Gordok has a look at the book.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"Far as I can tell, there are three fortresses in this so-called 'Horned Hold'. All three are connected to one another through a bridge; otherwise it is likely a fatal drop through a chasm.

"It appears that we've cleared out the southern forts, but the northern fort is much larger than the ones we are currently inside."

Cal now points towards the right arrow.

"There is a bridge leading to the northern fort from this door. I tried to explore the area but it was guarded by artillery. I heard six crossbow bolts, all coming from a trajectory I did not detect, strike the door."

The changeling points towards the left arrow, and clears his throat.

"There is a door in the room north of here. I have not explored beyond this door, but I am sure it leads to a bridge that goes straight to the fort. If I am not mistaken, this is the escape route of the three duergars from our last encounter. This area is likely under heavy guard as well.

"So then, it is unacceptable to simply storm the fort as we are, and hope that our armor will protect us. We must devise a way to go from here to there with minimal injuries."

Gesturing the table the halfling was sleeping on, Cal said, "For the three of us without shields, we can use this as a mobile projectile shield. Furthermore, we can try for a distraction or a diversion to maximize success. I see the human has improvised explosives, and I seem to vaguely recall the halfling magically setting off a display of light. Perhaps either of the two can blind the guards."

"But, I think we need to ascertain where the guards are firing from. We should then assault the bridge farthest from their location - make it awkward to aim. How to do that without getting riddled with bolts, I have scarcely any idea.

"That is, of course, we choose to continue our duergar-cide. I must admit I've no idea why we're here or what we're supposed to do. Is there some sort of hidden treasure here?"

There's nowhere I can't reach.

"My good friend Doorman would not abandon us in our time of need, there is no way we shall turn our back on him now. I would like to see this through, and make sure he gets the daily short breaks for which he is entitled."

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

Gordok puzzled over the book, but understood even less of it than Garrmondo had.

And also there are a couple of windows on either side of the fireplace, which were totally there the whole time.

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

1 Die Roll MAGIC BOOK IS MAGIC? (I hope)

Normally Glock would question why it takes two idiots that long to figure out a simple novel.

But then he remembered correctly. Halflings can't read.

Maybe the book is MAGIC. Sealed by a spell of anti-idiot!

Time for his ROBOT POWERS once again.

Arcana check

I was speaking idiomatically.

Examining the book cautiously, Glock determines that it is, indeed, in some way magical.

He can't read it either, though.

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"Aha, see? Totally had this shit pegged, boys."

"It's fucking useless though. Written in some odd language. Back page says I must speak something called "français", whatever the fuck that is."

So not as to appear stupid, however, Glock's gotta cover his ass.

"You are in LUCK though. My massive robot brain knows everything there is to know about this language. It used to be spoken by a long dead tribe of smelly hairy men who were, unfortunately, as tall as elves, and as stinky as these dead grey dwarves. Foul langauge for an even fouler people."

"For the safety of all concerned, we must destroy it."

And with that, Glock takes the book and throws it out the nearest window, which he could have sworn wasn't there just a moment ago.

FELIPE NO

Book + Robot = Windows?

Cal's mind has become more boggled than ever before. Might as well get started on siege preparations while the rest are standing around baffled at some book. Though He was admittedly impressed at how the intelligent robot deciphered the gobbledygook, he scoffed at book learning of all kinds.

Plunder Delic's remaining 12 trail rations, 2 sunrods, waterskin, and 2 torches. Loop a length of (Delic's) rope around Gordok's table and make secure knots. That should make it easier to carry.

Delic's light shield may come in handy, but kleptomaniac Cal is reasonably sure he is close to his encumbrance limit. Maybe the unshielded Halfling can use that.

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

A window! Gordok knew what to do. Off his pants went and with a great backwards flying leap with his posterior leading the charge he greets the sharpshooters with two squishy targets sitting neatly on the windowsill. His buttocks firmly in place he grabs the sides of his rump and begins to speak nonsense.

"Hello over yonder! My name's Frank and today I will sing you a song of the sparrow and the delicious strawberry jam. But first I will need to tell you how I got here! You see one day a cloud rained down on the land of pumpkins locusts of unusual sizes. But the locusts did not enjoy pumpkins so they flew south until they found something more to their liking. Baked ham! The fuzzy eldergillies of the pinetree kingdom were having a great crop of pigs, pigs, and more pigs so they all decided to go on a pic-nic. That's when the locusts struck first. But they forgot their napkins back at the land of pumpkins. Baked ham can be a troublesome affair. Always have napkins. So once they had retrieved their napkins they returned to find that all the baked ham and eldergillies had fled down the rapids with old riverboat captain Uncle Russelpants-McGee. Saddened by the disappearance of baked ham the locusts turned twice and died on the spot. Hundreds of years later that spot became the location of a famous city full of casinos and whorehouses and all kinds of fun stuff. But all who enter this city begin to crave baked ham if they stay for more than a week. As a result the eldergillies always had a steady demand for pigs, pigs, and more pigs. Now what you have to understand about eldergillies is that to most people they are invisible and require the use of a portal in order to communicate. Unfortunately, the portal isn't exactly a pleasant one and come a prude age later most of the eldergillies were wiped out. I am the last of the eldergillies. My voice now reaches you through this halfling's anus, and now that you know my story I will sing my song. Right after I clear my throat.

Gordok releases something evil out the side of the building. This is very unpleasant for everyone.

How ya doing, buddy?

2 Dice Rolls Look closer

Getting antsy about his comrades' apparent willingness to just stand around and release flatulence at kitchen windows that face nothing but rocks, Cal drags the table to the trophy room, stands behind a window he swore he never saw before, and carefully studies the terrain beyond.

"Will one of you either toss a duergar corpse on the bridge, or poke the door open with a 20-foot stick, or otherwise do anything loud and/or offensive so I can tell where these bolts are coming from?"

Cal tries to see where the sharpshooters are coming from while one of the G-Men do something to trigger a response. Pay special attention to any monsters that may be skulking beside the totally illuminated windows on the other side of the ravine.

Perception Check:
First minute: 4 + 9 = 13
Second minute: 18 + 9 = 27

Map pliss?

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Glock obliges the shapeshifter and throws random useless shit out the door.

Some of the spare meat from the food closet, Rundarr's feet (sans shoes), the dead guard, a chair, a doorknob, and an ale keg are all tossed out onto the bridge in attempts to elicit a response from the other side.

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

Cal assembles the team at the trophy room, and briefs the troops.

"Very well, everyone. Fortune favors the bold. Let's get into formation. The enemy is located [straight ahead / at three o'clock ]. We'll rush the bridge. If momentum can't carry us past the door, the human should be able to break it with his strength."

"If you want to make any preparatory blinding attacks, now's the time."

"On 'Charge'. One... two... "

The formation:

Garr up front, hoisting right table leg on right shoulder. Right hand covers right flank with his shield.
Glock besides Garr, hoisting left table leg on left shoulder. Right hand is covering Garr's head with his shield tilted upwards.
Gheth at the back of Garr, hoisting right table leg on right shoulder. Right hand covers right flank with his shield.
Cal behind Glock, hoisting left table leg on left shoulder. Right hand is covering Gheth's head with Delic's shield tilted upwards.
Gordok is perched on Gheth's shoulder, holding up both shields for stability.
Everyone is ducking.

Looks kinda like this:

Rationale

According to Pang's totally legal treatise on plants, crossbows hit vs. AC, so I've placed characters

with the highest AC in locations likely to be hit. I'm assuming their covered positions give them a +2

to hit due to cover. Garrmondo is in front of Gheth, because he has the best chance of breaking the

door down in case it's barricaded. Gordok, the character with the lowest AC, cannot be seen at all

from the attackers' angle, so the +5 to hit due to concealment will help.

Cal and Glock have the same AC, so I just put Cal to the back because I am a coward

his strongest attacks are ranged, while Glock has a nasty melee attack. I'm expecting both to get

+4 hit penalty (2 due to cover, 2 due to no direct line-of-sight to either combatant from the enemy

vantage point.

We can run seven squares in a move action. Double-move should bring us to the other side within six seconds (the length of a single round) assuming the bridge is no longer than 70 feet (14 squares).

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17 Dice Rolls crossbow A dmg

Glock flings the probably-worthless old book out the totally-there the-whole-time window, while Cal ties harnesses to the dining table for use as an mobile bulwark. Gathering in the trophy room (where there also are some windows, for sure), the group makes last-minute preparations to assault the third fortress.

Gordok, with the sharpest eyes in the group, gazes out the windows to look on the doors at the opposite end of the bridge. The large doors are slightly ajar, and some contraption is parked between them. It looks much like an oversized crossbow resting on a tripod. Maybe this is the "artillery" the fleeing duergar referred to. Filled with contempt for their cowardice, Gordok heaves himself up upon the windowsill and moons the contraption.

He is promptly shot in the ass. The artillery may look like crossbows, but the ammunition is large enough to be a spear. Gordok quickly gets down from the window.

8 damage to Gordok

Short on patience, Glock flings open the bridge doors and throws a bunch of crap on the bridge — more as an apparent act of provocation that anything else. Soon the first few yards of the bridge are cluttered with garbage. The enemy does fire a spear into the guard's carcass before they realize what they're shooting, but determining their position is sort of redundant after Gordok's recently (ahem) triangulation.

Crouching behind the table and hefting Gordok onto their shoulders, the party charges down the bridge. The doors on the opposite end of the bridge are flung open, and two of the massive crossbow-like contraptions open fire on the bridge. The two surviving scouts from the last battle stand behind it, firing with their crossbows as well. At least three guards with hammers stand behind them, waiting for G-Unit to make it across the bridge (if they do). None of them resemble the guard that escaped before, at least from this distance. Putting their shoulders to the table, the party covers most of the bridge in a single extended lunge (slowed slightly by having to step over all the crap Glock threw in their way).

A few yards short of the goal, the table suffers a massive crack down the middle — it's a pincushion, and it absorbs one more spearshot before snapping completely in half. G-Unit has a little further to go to fight their way off the bridge. Not much of the interior of the fort ahead can be seen from this vantage, but there's another set of double doors behind the cluster of guards.

As the door snaps apart, Glock takes a spear in the chest. This is not quite so lethal for him as it would be for his meatsack companions, but it's a terrible fashion accessory. As he rips it out, he sees the human to his right bleeding from a similar wound. Next time try having better-shielded fluid distribution mechanisms, chump! Glock notices the arbalesters are firing entirely on their own — nobody's actually operating them. Automatons! A pity they seemed less inclined to talk than the orcs had.

10 damage to Glock
Critical Hit! 14 damage to Garrmondo

The scouts continue firing on the front line with their crossbows, scoring a serious wound on Garrmondo even as he rips the spear from his shoulder. 10 seconds into the battle and the human's not looking so good. In retrospect it might have been better to not let the newcomer do all the battle planning.

12 damage to Garrmondo (bloodied)

Stats!

Arbalesters AC 16 Fortitude 15 Reflex 17 Will 15
Guards AC 20 Fortitude 17 Reflex 15 Will 15
Scouts AC 18 Fortitude 18 Reflex 16 Will 16

Initiative: Gheth 13, Cal 11, Gordok 10, Duergar Guards 9, Garrmondo 8, Glock 4, Arbalesters 19, Duergar Scouts 13

I was speaking idiomatically.

11 Dice Rolls healing roll

Gheth's nap had been nice. After waking, he found himself daydreaming, studying the underside of the table he was carrying and considering its many mysteries, as well as the possibility of writing a treatise some time in the future on the phosphorescent mushrooms of the Underdark, but he was now interrupted by fluid spray from his compatriots. Well, if that was how they were going to be about it.

His blood was up now, and he charged the blob of enemies heedlessly, with a resounding decree shouted across the closing distance.

"And not one of you is getting into my thank yous, you ugly bearded bastards!"

As he closes the final gap, feet pounding stone and a wild look in his eye, his bloodlust is complicated somewhat by the desire to sneeze. Well, clearly the owners of that table had treated it poorly if it had that much mold in it. And unfortunately for the dwarves, they happen to be in front of him when he has both hands occupied and a preternatural affinity for cold. He'd not stand on manners after they shot his friends with a ballista.

"EEEEECHHHH.....CHEEEEEEEWW"

Gheth sniffs.
"And someone start working on that gods-blasted door! How about you, sleeves?"

Move to AC -4
Dragon's Gesundheit so as to hit all but back Guard (damages: 5, 8, X, 4, 6, 3)
Divine Fortune on Scout B so as to hit with 16
Healing Word on Garrmondo

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Well that certainly shut Frank up. Yeah, it would be a while until the eldergilly would get a chance to sing again. A failed tank ride later and the halfling is starting to feel a little butthurt about this situation, so Gordok moves up towards the broken table. On his way passing by Glock he whispers something to his metal friend. His eyes light up and a mischievous ghoulish smile appears across his blocky features. This would be most entertaining.

Gordy reaches his destination and then...



Ready Tundra Wind
Move to AE - 4
Wild Shape armadillo

FELIPE NO

3 Dice Rolls Hunter's Quarry

Oh, the best laid plans of men and changelings! They don't make tables the way they used to, Cal rues.

Cal takes cover behind his robotic meatshield, designates Guard C as his quarry, takes Careful Aim at him, and magically shoots through the tin man.

11 - 2 (no line of fire) + 12 = 21, vs. 20, hit.
Damage = 1 + 2 + 7 = 9 10 hp damage to Guard C. (Ahaha I suck at math, thanks Hawkeye)
Fuck you damage dice

_____________


If there are any errors or anything, do tell me!


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

5 Dice Rolls C's hammer vs Gheth

"Look out!" shouts the guard in the rear. "His terrifying dragon's breath shall sear the very flesh from—"

EEEEECHHHH.....CHEEEEEEEWW

And so it was that Trenchfoot Bronzeboots, Acting Intermediary Guard Captain of Outpost Thunderspire, immediately abandoned any illusions of a long career as a ranking officer. A scant few hours after his emergency promotion, and already he found himself dripping with a vile slime, cold and clammy to the touch. He stared with dismay as the "dragon's breath" oozed down the front of his chainmail.

So this is how it ends, he mused. Like a used kerchief.

As he ponders life's many indignities, there is a thwip! from the back of the enemy lines and Trenchfoot finds that he has developed an intriguing new facial piercing. He bites down on the arrow shaft that protrudes through his cheek, spitting the broken ammunition on the floor. Tastes like bile. Somebody tried to poison this thing and failed badly at it. Sighing heavily, he raps on the wall next to him, speaking in an exaggeratedly loud voice as though to get the attention of someone who might be... distracted.

"Madam Theurge, we have a situation here with a—"

He eyes Gheth with a mixture of wariness and disgust.

"a dragon. Whatever help you and your consort can offer would be greatly appreciated, O Mistress Of The Dark Arts. Especially considering your new friend there is supposed to be on duty."

Rolling his eyes, Trenchfoot urges his guards forward.

"Don't just stand there dripping, idiots! Protect the artillery! You're replaceable, they aren't!"

And with that the guards wade into melee, charging past the ranks of scouts and arbalesters. The first guard to charge in seems almost to ignore the obvious threat Gheth represents, staring in bafflement at the little armored ball that had appeared in the middle of the bridge for no obvious reason. Experimentally, he hits it with a hammer. It squeaks. Good enough.

9 damage to Gordok

Whipping around Gheth to flank him, the second guard neatly bonks the cleric upside the head. Trenchfoot seems to consider following suit, but elects instead to wipe the back of his hand on Gheth's shiny chainmail. Then he spits on it, for good measure.

7 damage to Gheth

Garrmondo 8, Glock 4, Arbalesters 19, Duergar Scouts 13, Gheth 13, Cal 11, Gordok 10, Duergar Guards 9

Jam it back in, in the dark.