[DnD] Once More Into The Depths (GFF D&D Adventure 8)

1 Die Roll Throw instrument at Cal's face

Supremely irritated at the stench the little man had created, Puyet picked up one of the instruments left and heaved it towards his head. That should be enough to inform the man of his disdain for his action. Puyet was standing right there. What could he have been thinking?

Afterward, Puyet plugged his nose and offered another Scooby Snack to his goblin friend. He tied the longest remaining rope he had to the goblin and enticed him down the hole, using intimidation if necessary.

"There must be something dandy down there, monsieur. Perhaps some wine and cheese. Perhaps a way out of this hellish hole, in which case I will share with you the joy of brothels. Either way, you're going through there. Be positive. If you find something or need to come back up, just give a shout or a yank on the rope."

Puyet sweet talked the goblin to the best of his ignorant capability.

Most amazing jew boots

Glenn nodded his agreement to the packrat changeling's request to toss the eerie window into his wagon. If it turned out to be useless, they could always sell it in town and split the gold amongst the group. Magical objects were all well and good, but if you couldn't carry them in a pocket Glenn didn't usually find the effort of hauling them around to be worth it.

He proceeded to join the fighter at the door, just in case anything happened.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Harald nods in assent as Garrmondo lays out some details for the horn-based alert system, and he and Sheila carefully carry I.C.'s prone form into the throne room. It'd be a little more secure there, should they have to deal with the curiosity of his elvish friend.

Garrmondo finds the Overlord's former armor a little cumbersome, but the price is right. The sheer weight of the black iron is enough to slow down his sword arm and hamper his reflexes, but he reckons the tradeoff is worthwhile.

Since Glenn has dismissed the window as too cumbersome to bother with, Cal gladly takes it for himself. As soon as he lays hands on it, however, the glass shows him a lovely meadow. Several ponies are trotting around within, nibbling on clover and frolicking in the sun. The pastoral scene is ruined when a haggard, burnt ruin of a horse staggers into frame. Tatters of smoldering flesh dangle from the pony's decaying frame, and the head has nearly been reduced to bone by swarms of maggots. The rotting horse turns to look directly at Cal, and a horrid voice booms out of the skeletal jaws.

"YOUR FAU—"

Cal quickly turns his face away from the window and carefully packs it at the bottom of the wagon, where he won't look at it accidentally. Nauseated by the sight and half-insensible, the ranger carelessly uses the throne to void his bowels despite the immediate presence of his companions.

Disgusted, Puyet beans Cal in the forehead with an errant tambourine before carefully binding up Gary for his first rappelling experience. No need for threats; Gary is all too eager to keep his distance from the half-orc. The throne itself is more than secure enough , so with a sturdy knot tied round the back little Gary is sent plummeting into the depths.

"Don't see anything," Gary shouts up the tunnel after a few quiet moments. "Awfully dark down here. Pitch black. Do feel something, though. Kind of damp and squishy. Stepped on it. Starting to feel vaguely uncomfortable."

Doing his best to ignore the monologue from below, Garrmondo swings open the door on the east wall. An older-looking goblin in leather armor peers over a truly massive counter, such that he struggles to be seen behind it. With a grunt he rearranges some objects around himself and is soon sufficiently elevated to be seen from the neck up. Four other goblins putter around the room, seeming both purposeless and entirely content with their purposelessness.

"Welcome, friends!" shouts the older goblin. "Welcome one and all to P.Q. Skunkwhistle's Quality Goblin Goods. All of our merchandise is hand-made by the finest goblin artisans, and 60% of proceeds go back to those same artisans and their communities. When you buy a Skunkwhistle hammer, you're not just buying a weapon — you're buying a clean conscience. And everything you see here costs at least 10% less than you'd pay anywhere else. That's the Skunkwhistle guarantee. Bearing in mind, of course, that the marks of goblin craftsmanship tend to hurt the resale value anywhere else you may go. People are bigots that way."

Skunkwhistle shrugs at the small-mindedness of folks, heaving a variety of objects onto the countertop.

Stag Helm: 900 GP
Flaying Gloves: 756 GP
Jester Shoes: 468 GP
Phylactery of Action: 612 GP
Belt of Resilience: 324 GP
Potion of Clarity: 45 GP (3 in stock)
Inferno Oil: 45 GP (5 in stock)
Onslaught Arrow: 23 GP (6 in stock)

A door leads out of Skunkwhistle's to the north, assuming one could reach it without tripping over the goblins inbetween.

How ya doing, buddy?

1 Die Roll Tough guy, huh?

D-D-Denny....! No... after all this time, to be reminded of you again is too much to bear. I will the magic window to show a pasture with happy frolicking ponies, Denny in his living glory wagging his horsey tail. It won't fool me, but at least it won't affect my mental well-being!

The little goblin, apparently a plumber of sorts, needs illumination. To aid him, I ignite a sunrod. Hovering over the toilet, I shout:

Gary! Here's a sunrod, coming your way!

Then I drop the sunrod into the goblin's outstretched hand.

Better now?

_________

We seem to have stumbled upon a goblin store. I give the goblins a critical evaluation, trying to gauge their toughness. If they're as weak as the previous goblins, what's to stop us from doing a little murderous armed robbery? Certainly not I, who have already fulfillied his daily quota of being kind to NPCs.

Perception check.

FELIPE NO

"Better in the sense that getting a clear, unobstructed view of filth is 'better', yes. Nothin' down here but some fresh dung and a lot of rocks. Looks like some kind of cave down here. You got your... whatchacallit, stag-mites and stack-tights, you got your basic luminous fungal growths, you got your 8 angry gnomes advancing with pickaxes...

PULL UP! PULL UP!"

Cal gazes cynically upon Skunkwhistle and his entourage. While most of the goblins wandering the confines of the shop seem as dim and hapless as the fragile fellows Cal had encountered a few minutes earlier, Skunkwhistle himself seemed a different matter. In addition to wearing actual armor instead of the pilfered rags and pelts that goblins were wont to clothe themselves in, Skunkwhistle bore several visible scars. At the very least, this was a goblin that had been in a fight and lived — making him more fearsome than 95% of goblins as a race.

While Cal studies the goblin, he notices Skunkwhistle studying him just as closely. Maybe he wasn't the first customer to think he could rob ol' Skunky and get away clean.

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

Reluctantly, Puyet pulls his goblin out of the damp hole.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Drop the sunrod, Gary. I want a clear view of the gnomes!

I hover by the throne, ready to drop a flask of pudding on any gnome who tries to climb up.

Time appears to compress however, and everyone suddenly freezes in mid-air. I take the time to leisurely return to the fireplace room, carefully dodging the insidious trap, of course. Once there, I proceed to dismantle what's left of the fireplace, in a greedy hunt for treasure.

After my exertions, I stroll back into the throne room, and resume my position of dropping a flask of pudding on any gnome who tries to pursue poor Gary.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Glenn watches the changeling run back and forth, trying to do far too many things at the same time. He didn't much appreciate the idea of their small group being led around by one who seemed to be so easily distracted, but wasn't about to take charge anytime soon. Glenn still didn't really trust the other adventurers he had been lumped together with.

Glenn walks over to the shopkeep, silently hands the goblin some gold, and picks up the gloves off the table, putting them on. He then headed back into the throne room to see what the ruckus was all about.

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

1 Die Roll Bluffin' you

Mr. Skunkwhistle! My pockets are rather empty for the moment. Would you agree to a little barter trade? I have here an absolutely vicious little shortsword that I would love to trade for that there phylactery of action!

Whaddayasay? I'll even throw in this bottle of raisinjack. Lamid vintage. Town's completely destroyed, so it's a true rarity.

Bluff to gain 'discount' - 14 + 13 = 27.

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

Much of the group engages in trade and barter, with Garrmondo picking up a fine new belt and Glenn slipping on a pair of gloves likely to aid in his swordsmanship. After dismantling much of the remaining fireplace in a search for additional loot, Cal comes up empty and attempts to fast-talk his way into a real bargain. In his enthusiasm, he confuses the facts. Skunkwhistle squints across the counter, and issues a short scornful laugh.

"Lamid destroyed? Not likely, by my reckoning, unless you lot want to claim to have thrown yourselves down the pit. More's the pity, but I expect the Lamidans are doing just as well for themselves as they were when you arrived. Besides, the bottle's got 'Hallowfeld' stamped right on it. I'm not sure when I was born, surfacer, but it wasn't yesterday. As for your sword, well. If I wanted a blade that would hurt anyone who tried to swing it I imagine that goblin craftsmanship is more than up to that task. Much as I'd like to close a deal with you, I'd be losin' money any way you tilt it."

Puyet hauls Gary out of the throne-pit, the terrified little goblin clinging to the rope for dear life. No gnomes seem to have pursued him upward, and when Cal leans over the throne and peers down he sees nothing below but the sunrod Gary dropped in terror. It looks to be only about 30 feet down, but Gary seems awfully unlikely to be willing to go and fetch it.

I was speaking idiomatically.

My face reddening with shame at my failure to bluff, I squeezed my way past Skunkwhistle's goblins, and test the door to the north.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Cal swings open the north door. In the room beyond stands a magnificent pedestal, nearly 8 feet high from top to bottom. Atop this great pedestal stands a breathtaking staff of the highest quality: finely polished rosewood inlaid with elaborate patterns of gold and festooned with precious gems. Based purely on the market value of the gems he can see, Cal estimates the staff to be worth at least 20,000 in gold coin — even presuming the faint white glow around the staff isn't evidence of some magical property, which seems unlikely. Between the impressive length of the staff and the height of the pedestal itself, the staff reaches from the top of the pedestal to the very ceiling.

A fine red rug is laid beneath the pedestal, and a small sign is posted just to the south of the rug. The sign reads:

"INDESTRUCTIBLE STAFF OF THE AVALANCHE! FREE TO GOOD HOME."

A broad pair of double doors lead west, and a stairwell leading downward is hewn roughly out of the north wall.

FELIPE NO

1 Die Roll Perception

"Indestructible Staff" my . The Universe has always conspired to keep me in the poorhouse - the seeming appearance of such free wealth is certainly illusory, if not a trap.

I shoot a couple of arrows into the wood, fully expecting it to splinter in half. I also study all six sides of the room, looking out for traps, both mundane and supernatural, of any kind.

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

The arrows splinter harmlessly against the staff, the arrowheads failing to gain the slightest purchase. Evidently it's quite sturdy after all.

Glowering about the room suspiciously, Cal spots a pair of poorly-concealed holes in the wall next to the western doorway — just about the right size for a spearhead to come lunging out at an inconvenient moment.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Obvious trap is obvious! Anyone got something strong to block the spear holes? Like a shield maybe?

There's nowhere I can't reach.

"I have a goblin," Puyet says straddling the quirky man in the doorway, glancing at the staff upon the pedestal. His goblin did not seem to appreciate the comment, and was on its last nerve, so he gave it a good pat on the head and encouraged it that he was kidding.

He abandoned the thought of the hole behind the throne. It was much too much trouble for any of them to scale down it into a sewer, where Dwarves dwelt. Strange pairing, he thought. Putting aside all naughty jokes about feces, he handed over the goblin to Cal and meandered through the room to explore it, taking care not to align himself between any two spearslots. He cruised toward door on the adjacent wall, as a staircase leading down did not entice him one bit. Puyet yelled back to Cal to inquire the shopkeep as to the purpose of the room.

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

Glenn was cooking up his own idea for getting the staff out of the room, but the rest of the group would need to decide which direction they wanted to go, as Glenn doubted that the "avalanche" powers of the staff would wait until called upon to unleash themselves. The small piece of wood looked to be the only thing holding the ceiling up.

Glenn also considers asking the merchant where he got the food and supplies for his shop, but then decided that the goblin wouldn't be likely to tell anyone if he knew anyway. Perhaps one of the others could talk it out of him.

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

"Purpose? Purpose? It's just your general magic staff display room, isn't it? I've been in a few of your fancier surface houses, you lot are always wasting perfectly good bedroom space for showing off some painting of a half-dressed elf. Don't look at me, it was like that when I got here. Not that I haven't been tempted mind you, but 'behind my counter' scarcely counts as a good home, and not a single customer has ever rolled through that could afford to take it off my hands anyway. So what use is it to me?"

I was speaking idiomatically.

1 Die Roll Thievery

Making sure not to step on any hidden pressure pads or anything that remotely looks like a trap door, I shuffle my way beside a spear slot. With thieves' tools in hand, I try to disable the trap.

Thievery: 14 + 8 + 2 = 24.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Cal successfully disables the trap!



FELIPE NO

Well, that was anticlimactic. Who knew the trap was so simple that it doesn't count towards adventuring experience?

The half-orc wishes to head west, while the rest of my team is apparently conflicted on whether to follow him or go deeper into the dungeon. I'm inclined to go west myself, not wishing to go deeper underground than I have to. But, perhaps the cleric can shed some holy insight on things. He's been very quiet as of late.

My cartographic skill

tells me that westwards most likely connects to the first room - where there is a north door we have not tried yet. We can go there next, probably.

Originally Posted by Grape-Flavored Fun Dip

Standing near the door, Cal can hear quiet footsteps moving around in the next room, like someone pacing back and forth. Someone pretty small, judging by the volume.

I remember hearing some noise while listening at the other side of the unexplored room, and caution the warlord to proceed with care.

______________

I am very tempted to take the staff, but the rogue has a valid concern. "Avalanche" in this case may simply turn out to be the roof caving in on our heads, should we remove the staff. I wonder if Gary, perched suitably on my shoulders, might be able to reach it. Oh, if only I have some rope, so we can quickly yank away the staff while in the relative safety of the next room!

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

Puyet considers giving the repelling rope to Cal, but then considers they may need to reenter this room at another given time, and discourages him from potentially collapsing the entire thing.

He also decides that investigating the rest of this level is best and tries to convince the rest of the group that going down should be reserved till they've exhausted all efforts to go up.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

5 Dice Rolls Lethal Hunter

I nod at the warlord's sage words. He must have surely felt the whiff of evil emanating from the staircase.

Yes, evil staircase, I'm wise to your tricks!

Staircase is my quarry. Twin strike @ Evil Staircase

How ya doing, buddy?

15 Dice Rolls *green damage

Cal fires a volley down the suspicious stairs, certainly that something sinister must be lurking. Maybe the gnomes were approaching. Maybe a terrible shadow demon lurked in the darkness. Maybe... maybe...

Gorillas out of fucking nowhere!

Four angry apes lunge out of the stairwell. The largest among them, a silver-furred hulk, sports two fresh arrows jutting out of his shoulder. He seems kind of upset about it. His ape underlings charge out to attack the party. Puyet catches the worst of it as a meaty gorilla fist smashes right into his pretty face, but Glenn gets the wind knocked out of him when an ape rushes over to try to collapse his ribs. Truly, nonstop monkey mayhem is afoot.

Felling Blow: 15 damage to Puyet
Felling Blow: 10 damage to Glenn
Felling Blow: 2 attacks, +9 vs AC

Enemy defenses:
Silverback Gorilla: AC 17, Fortitude 19, Reflex 15, Will 17
Great Ape: AC 18, Fortitude 18, Reflex 16, Will 16

Garrmondo 19, Puyet 14, Glenn 11, Gheth 8, Silverback 5, Cal 28, Great Apes 23

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

3 Dice Rolls *sneak attack

Glenn really should have been more ready for something like this to happen. He makes a mental note that the changeling's default reaction to something he doesn't understand is to shoot it with arrows, and so Glenn resolves to avoid using big words in his presence. Becoming an impromtpu pincushion wasn't something that appealed to the quiet Eladrin.

Glenn notices the fighter's attempts to give him a little more room to maneuver, and gives a nod of thanks. As it was, the ape was distracted, and that was all Glenn needed.

Clever Strike vs. green ape
4 + 15 + 2(CA) = 19 hit!
7 + 4 + 9 = 20 damage

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