Tides of Fate [Private] (In Character)

[Chaelos]

Cathadas Docks, Northern Illion
4th Ramshak 7010 AE

The letter burns in your mind, twisted by the dark passions of your soul. Since receiving it a week ago, you haven't been able to put it out of your thoughts for an instant—as if someone had shoved a burning poker into the deepest recesses of your brain and twisted until only fire remained. It was, you felt, as if the letter's anonymous author—"A Friend"—had met you before, but perhaps in a dream; he might as well have been watching you your entire life, for his words spoke to the desires you'd kept hidden away within the secret places in your innermost being.

Whatever his true nature, his words compelled you to come here, now, to the docks of the great city of Cathadas. The docks are teeming with activity, as yardhands and sailors load and unload all manner cargo from all manner of ship. You worry for a moment that you might miss your appointment, but then the words of the letter come back to you—Ask for Murlow at the noon hour—and you begin to make the appropriate inquiries.

A short time later, you stand before an enormous, dark-skinned man dressed in the sturdy, coarse clothes of a professional sailor. He nods as you approach, and you can just make out the letters M-U-R-L-O-W tattooed on his exposed forearms. A number of other individuals are gathered around the big man, their dress standing in stark contrast to the great majority of others present on the docks. They all seem to be waiting for the same thing—an explanation—but as the big man is not forthcoming, mostly they seem to be examining one another and making small talk.

The exact words of the letter will vary from character to character, so pardon me for not writing them all out. The gist, though, is that your characters were told that a great opportunity/key to achieving their secret desires would be made available if they showed up at the docks at noon today and asked for Murlow. I'm presuming they showed up.

Now would be a perfect time for everyone to describe their characters and make introductions. When the time presents itself, we’ll start with the show.

Get to it!

[Dragonscale]

So uhh whadda yous got for us chief? I dont gots all day to standz around you kna? the wild-looking and unkempt human asked. Annoyed, he began fiddling with the hilt of a strange, beautifully crafted blade that hung from his left side; one of a pair of swords whose scabbards bore the an epithet written in an unfamiliar elven script. His pet wolf yawned and made an audible whine before investigating and promptly laying down upon an empty potato sack discarded along the dock.

[younghan]

Doctor Rosebud's twisted frame slides easily across the docks, his feet twisting out of the way of debris and obstacles without breaking stride. His bloated and misshapen head bobs lightly and steadily, unperturbed by the delicate chaos of his toes. He regards the movements of the teeming life on the docks with the passionate scrutiny of an anthropologist serial killer. He smiles at the savage fellow with the pet dog. "Have somewhere better to be, do we?"

[Dragonscale]

Leering while noticeably licking the plaque film from his yellowing teeth, Sylvester sizes up the bulbuos-headed . . . what the hell is that thing he thinks to himself. Noting the clearly Fey origin of the strange denizen, he is only slightly less unsettled by its twisted, gruesome figure. Looking past the diminutive dweeb, Sylvester evaluates the situation on the docks.

Listen:1d20+13
Spot: 1d20+10

(ok i give up on getting the die roller to work. have tried like 15 times)

[Chaelos]

You can't hit preview or edit the roll. You must make a new post once the die roller fails the first time. The thing was designed to prevent cheating, and it can be a pain, but all you can do is make a new post with new rolls.

However, I'll just tell you the most you could possibly see:

The docks are very busy today. There doesn't appear to be anyone following you, though frankly it would be impossible to pick any individual out in the crowd. Murlow looks at all of you with something very close to contempt, but his fishing boat looks ready to sail. Murlow seems to be waiting for something.

The only other thing of note is the other party members.

[ClaytonP]

Heb joins the gathering. He is a slim man, wearing the very basic garments of a peasant or pilgrim. His hair is cut into a shaggy monk style haircut extending longer than normal partially down his face and covering his ears. He looks at the two other travelers who have made themselves known. Heb begins to extend a hand towards them to shake, but thinks better of it and simply nods "Greetings"

[Azila]

A tall figure cloaked in loose charcoal-colored robes stands amongst the crowd. At the ends of the robe's noticeably long sleeves, two clawed hands of sunny sandstone fold together at the creature's waist, which is decorated with an orange sash. You don't seem to recall her being there a moment ago.

[Chaelos]

Murlow's eyes scan each of you, his brow furrowing even more deeply. He holds up his left hand, extending all of his fingers but the thumb as if to say, "Only four of you?" without actually speaking the words. He then shrugs, turns, and steps aboard an unremarkable fishing vessel moored nearby. He gestures, as if urging you to follow.

I will be posting again later tonight, with the assumption that you step aboard the ship as well; much more will be revealed then. If that is not your action, please post before 5 PM, or text me of your intention to do so.

[Chaelos]

Murlow has finished untying the mooring lines from the dockside by the time you've stepped aboard the boat. As you find seats around the small deck, he shoves off from the dock; after a moment of fiddling with the single, small sail, he takes a seat beside the rudder.

The wind favors your boat, and it speeds out of the harbor more quickly than you might have supposed. Once free of the land, Murlow rises from his place at the tiller. Though his face is as implacable as ever, his hands move feverishly to pull aside the rags that cover his torso. As you stare at his bare chest, wondering why he's decided to treat you with an impromptu striptease, the flesh abruptly churns, shudders, and twists into a crude mouth. The mouth smiles.

Open if you have 5+ ranks in Spellcraft:
You realize that this is some kind of Magic Mouth (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/magicmouth.htm) spell, albeit somewhat modified. It poses no danger to you, but you can't help but wonder why it's functioning so far out in the middle of nowhere (without another spellcaster in sight).

When the mouth opens, you can see nothing but darkness inside.

"My apologies, friends, for the lack of explanation; thus far, I have merely wished to test the limits of your curiosity. I am now most satisfied with your fidelity, and am prepared to initiate the next phase of your examination."

The mouth's voice is pleasant and refined, but with more than a hint of aristocratic superiority--it's easy to imagine that the voice belongs to some plump baron sitting beside a fire, twirling about a snifter of brandy whilst simultaneously polishing a monocle and rambling about the economic difficulties of northwestern Illion.

"You see, gentlemen, I extended you your invitations because I believe you each can fulfill a particularly challenging employment position I'm in need of filling; however, I do not take on new people lightly, and thus is is necessary to rigorously examine those I do.

I have watched each of you from afar, and you have shown me that you are resourceful and clever in the extreme. Your actions today have furthermore proven your dedication to satisfying the unknowable fire of your own curiosity, which pleases me as well. Curiosity is an asset I value most highly in my employees--yet it is but one of many I require.

Here is my proposal, then: pass this test, and you shall be extended an invitation to my employment. Refuse to take it, and you shall find yourself back in Cathadas with no memory of this entire chain of events."

The voice pauses, and then--

"Oh, one other thing I may have forgotten to mention--age, you know--is that I require the four of you together. Should any one of you refuse to take my final test--which I will speak no more of save to say that your lives will most certainly be in jeopardy--all four of you will be sent back home, without your letters, and without any recollection of this. Talk it over amongst yourselves if you like; tell Murlow what you'd like to do, and he will make the appropriate arrangements.

Good luck, and I sincerely hope to be working with you soon."

The mouth fades into nothingness, the flesh over Murlow's torso reshaping itself until it once again looks like a chest. He pulls his ragged shirt back on, crossing his arms in front of him. He seems to be waiting for your answer.

[younghan]

Something flickers past Dr. Rosebud's eyes- perhaps a moment of apprehension, though if so he hides it well. His voice is surprisingly smooth, sophisticated, even. "Of course, you can't expect us to agree to a task without knowing its parameters. Surely you wouldn't wish to employ the sorts of folk who would make commitments without prior investigation."

[Chaelos]

Murlow remains stoic; the voice does not return.


Players:
Make a Sense Motive or Wisdom check, whichever you're better at.

[Azila]

Sense Motive: [roll0]

[younghan]

Sense Motive: 1d20-1

[younghan]

Trying that again! [roll0]

[younghan]

OOC Note: When I tried the first time, it said I had too few characters and then I accidentally rolled a 1d29 (which does not exist) for a result of 9. Feel free to use that instead of the result of the 1d20 roll, since that was higher and I didn't want a second chance, but rather was having difficulty with the rolling system.

[Dragonscale]

Sense Motive: [roll0]

[Chaelos]

In the future, if a player doesn't post within 24 hours, I'm going to either assume they're not doing anything or, if such occurs in combat, I will roll for that player based on a reasonable guess about their next action.

I'll also be making all sense motive, spot and listen checks for you guys from here on out, to expedite the process and try to move us along a little.

If anyone objects to this, let me know, but otherwise these play-by-post games take forever to get anywhere.

Clayton's roll (Wisdom check):
[roll0]

[Chaelos]

Deacon:

You have no idea what these strange men want with you. Their purposes are a mystery to you. All you know is that he seems to want to test you, and he definitely wants either all of you or none of you.


Young Han and Clayton:

Based what you've seen and heard, you can surmise a few things (of which you are reasonably certain):

1) He is very, very interested in testing you.

2) He has likely contacted you, in addition to your general competence, because he wishes you to agree to perform the task without knowing the particulars. He did, after all, expect you to come this far with little to no explanation; it is likely that, whatever employment he's hiring you for, you will be "in the dark" for at least a good portion of it.

3) He definitely wants all of you together, or none of you at all.



Patrick:

Based on the subtle inflections of the voice, the word choice of the letter, and the way your mysterious would-be "employer" has thus far treated you, you can surmise a few things (of which you are fairly certain):

1) He is very, very interested in testing you.

2) He has likely contacted you, in addition to your general competence, because he wishes you to agree to perform the task without knowing the particulars. He did, after all, expect you to come this far with little to no explanation; it is likely that, whatever employment he's hiring you for, you will be "in the dark" for at least a good portion of it.

3) He definitely wants all of you together, or none of you at all.

4) Given your other deductions, it is not unreasonable to surmise that, whatever your test is, you will almost certainly be required to work together to pass it.

5) Most importantly of all, you do not detect malice in his words. You can't tell if he's evil or insane, but he definitely wants you for a purpose--and that purpose, as far as you can tell, is not merely your death.

[Azila]

Azila stands, pulling back her hood to reveal her elongated head, shaved and mottled with brick-red spots. She speaks methodically.

I do also wish to know all the terms I am accepting. I am confident that we will face certain dangers. Nonetheless, I fear no ill from our employer. He wishes to test us? Very well. I submit myself.

Now, as for you... Azila trails off, producing a small jar from somewhere inside her robe and dumping a cricket onto the floor, I think you've had enough time to listen, and that polymorph spell won't last much longer anyway.

The cricket bulges and writhes on the floor, its shiny black carapace beginning to take on a man's shape. As the shape becomes more refined, you note that this is no man - pointed ears pop from its head, and its skin sprouts a thick layer of sleek slate-colored fur striped with black.

When the movement settles, the cat-man stands about 5'5" and bears a considerable paunch. He sticks a claw in his waistband, pulls his trousers out in front of him, and looks inside. Good! Everything's still there! he roars, giving way to a wheezy guffaw that ends in coughing and hyperventilation.

[Dragonscale]

Chough, ughhh...wheeze huh, the fat cat leans against the ship's rail for support.

A red streak blurs its way across the deck of the ship towards the cat-man. Only too late does Sylvester realize his wolf is no longer at his side. Roan! he shouts as the two go tumbling overboard in a furious furry-ious ball of screams and barks . . .

[Chaelos]

Murlow makes no attempt to help them, merely rolling his eyes. He seems to be waiting to let the rest of you take the initiative to help the overboard Ranger and his pet, while still waiting for an answer from the rest of you.

[Azila]

Hard to starboard! Azila snaps, pulling on the sails to help bring the boat around.

I'm gonna call this one a Survival (Wisdom, basically) check with my +2 bonus for anything having to do with ships!
[roll0]

[Chaelos]

You skillfully turn the ship just enough that it matches Sylvester's drifting. You could easily reach out and grab his hand, or throw him a rope if you're worried about being pulled in yourself.

[Kebanaz]

Moobi surfaces, obviously stunned that he's fallen into the water. Gasping for air he searches around for the ship. Having a terrible time swimming as he's... a fat cat, he reaches for Azila's outstretched staff.

Swim Check [roll0]

[Chaelos]

The waters are fairly calm today, so you're able to get back to the ship (relatively) easily. You successfully grasp the end of the staff and are (presumably) hauled onboard--dripping wet and looking hilariously undignified, but otherwise unharmed.

[Dragonscale]

Affixing a net to the rail of the cog before letting it down, Sylvester climbs down to the water and grabs a very soggy Roan. Once aboard, she immediately begins to shake her coat dry, much to the chagrin of those nearby. Sylvester, who's clothes were soaked in the rescue effort, is unfazed and turn towards Murlow.

Sense Motive vs Murlow to see if he is uncomfortable from Roan's shower: 1d20 + 5

Aright, I thind wed had enough games. Lez do it, thads how comes wes here. You don wanna tells us nonething, then we do it anyswayz. . . Begin!

[ClaytonP]

Heb appears to be in a deep internal monologue during this time, explaining his lack of any reaction to the cats and dogs and what not. He turns towards Murlow, exclaiming "The good Lawd will protect the righteous among us, I am ready for your challenge! Heb then pulls out a decent sized mace, which is also flaming, and stands at the ready.

[Kebanaz]

Moobi tries to compose himself and starts to say something to Sylvester but pauses, apparently thinking better of it and turns towards Murlow. Speaking in a hoarse, wheezy voice he makes an effort to sound unshaken by the cold he chuckles aloud This'll be a fun trip. Moobi's grin widens as he turns to study Sylvester, revealing a set of pointed yellowing teeth, one covered with a gold cap. He pauses, taking a deep breath, turning away from the rest of the men and adds I'll join these... individuals on this test, but keep that mutt away from me from now on!

Moobi removes a small slightly shiny trinket from his pocket and stares at it for a long moment, studying it intensely. He then produces a vial from his pocket, it's clear and containing a small amount of an orange liquid.
Feeling these objects are safe, he places them back inside his pockets and begins walking away, keeping his ears turned slightly backward, listening for the rustle of footsteps. After walking 10 paces he stops, sits down and groans loudly as he stretches his arms, falling back to the floor with a loud thud, his body still shaking slightly from the cold.

Moobi smiles again, yelling to Murlow. So chief, where're we headed?

[younghan]

Dr. Rosebud grinned. These folks seemed "courageous" enough to provide proper support in his studies, keeping him from having to be clawed to death or hit with thunderbolts or subjected to other experiences unbecoming of a man of letters. He nodded warmly, his misshapen head bobbing smoothly. "A fine lot we seem to have! I think I should be inclined to participate, if only to see such... colorful folk in action."

[Chaelos]

Murlow abruptly claps his hands together with a sigh of relief, as if he'd been waiting for your assent for much longer than he'd have liked. You feel the air, the boat, and finally your own body physically disappear around you. There is, briefly, a great sensation of air rushing past you, and you can feel your consciousness speeding through the ether like some kind of hell-bent shooting star.

Finally you slow, your weightlessness gradually fading as your own physical bulk reforms around the spark of your awareness. When you open your eyes, Murlow is nowhere to be seen; only your companions surround you, most of them looking fairly baffled.

You do not immediately recognize your surroundings, but the presence of steep canyons, high mountains and rocks everywhere give you the hint that you're deep in mountain country.

A neatly folded peace of paper, embossed with gold lettering ("Open Me") and a wax seal you do not recognize (it resembles a triangle with rays lancing out in all directions). There appear to be no enchantments upon it of any sort.

If you open the letter:
Written in dark ink, in an elegant script:

"Congratulations! You're almost there!

Well, no, actually, you aren't. But if you can get to the town of Sandhold within three days' time, then you'll be almost there.

Watch out for cave trolls and fire giants; they're always hungry this time of year.

Oh, and one more thing: you're being watched. Closely, I might add. Speak to anyone else requesting aid, or mentioning this errand at all, and you will be summarily dismissed.

It is my dearest hope that I shall see you in Sandhold by midnight on the 7th of Ramshak. All--or more, anyway--will be revealed by then.

But be cautioned, my dear friends: for knowledge, once gained, cannot be unlearned... and may trouble the sleep of the just.

I wish you best of luck,

-A Friend"

If you don't open the letter:
Nothing happens. You stand around for awhile. Pretty exciting, huh?


Do not open me:
Survival to know where you are, from Deacon: [roll0]

[Chaelos]

Deacon, and anyone who wants to know how this system is going to work:
You are located in southeast G8 on the overland map (http://tides-of-fate.wikispaces.com/file/view/Illion_Map_%28post_this%29.png/145097617/Illion_Map_%28post_this%29.png), deep in the midst of the mountain region known as the Bones of the Ancients. Sandhold is a small port and base for the West Illion Company, located roughly 45 miles to the north in mid-east G4.

Your overland speed is 36 miles per day. However, square G8 is classified as extremely difficult terrain; while traveling through it, you can only cover 9 miles per day. Squares G7, G6 and G5 are difficult terrain, and you can only cover 18 miles per day when traveling through these. If you travel due north, you can make it to Sandhold just after 3 days of hard trekking, assuming nobody gets severely hurt or killed by monsters on the way.

Tell me what squares you plan to travel through, if you plan on traveling at all, and I will consult my notes against your stats to see if you find anything (or if anything finds you). If you have any questions, let me know.

[Dragonscale]

Duh, Huh? Sylvester eyes the paper with all the suspicion due to incomplete sentences despite his complete lack of formal education. Drawing his sword, he pokes the neatly folded slip and investigates it further. Letz open it! he says as he hands the letter to the varicose-veined brain next to him. Suddenly disinterested, Sylvester begins to take stock of the surroundings.

Survival (weather prediction) 1d20+15
Spot 1d20+10
Listen 1d20+13

[younghan]

After reading the letter, Rosebud caresses it with his gloves of object reading, studying it for information about its previous owner.

It's based on the Object Reading Power in the Expanded Psionics Handbook- essentially, after five minutes of studying it, he learns the previous owner's gender, race, alignment, age, and how they lost it. He can learn this about the owner previous to them if he concentrates for another five minutes, but can learn about no more than the two most recent owners. Rosebud will keep concentrating on the letter until he either gets all the information he can or is interrupted.

[Chaelos]

Young Han:
Your divinations reveal that the previous owner of the piece of parchment was a Lawful Neutral male human of about 55 years of age. He was, as far as you can tell, some sort of bookseller; he "lost" the letter when a man entered his shop, purchased the parchment it would be written on, and left. That "man", however--if he even was one--has left no imprint at all on the parchment; it is as if he never existed at all, in fact. Try as you might, you are unable to discern anything more about him, or even if he was actually a man.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more unsure you are in the truth of the memory--as if it is slipping away from you the more you try to pin it down, until you can only remember the bookseller himself.

The next most recent "owner" was the West Illion Company employee responsible for liming and drying the calfskin that the parchment was composed of. The next most recent owner was the calf itself.

You find yourself overcome with a strange sense of deja vu. The more you try to focus on the source of the feeling, however, the more it eludes you.

[Chaelos]

Deacon's rolls:
Survival (weather prediction)
Spot [roll1]
Listen [roll2]

Deacon:
The weather seems fine, as far as you can tell.

You don't see anything out of the ordinary around you. You're currently located at the base of a rather large mountain, and all around you craggy rocks and hills impose formidable natural boundaries. You don't see any immediate threats or points of interest, though.

You do, however, catch the sounds of what sounds like some enormous beast trampling down the mountain a few hundred feet to the south, though. It would likely be advisable to keep moving, and quickly--very few things in this part of the world are likely to be friendly to you, especially when they sound that big.

[Dragonscale]

Uh, letz go. Somthin big movin to uz. Sylvester makes a quick, short whistle and Roan heels to his side as they both begin moving northwards at a brisk pace. The pair carefully pick their way through the shadows and boulders in the valley hoping to conceal their movement. Comes on! he shouts at the lallygags still gathered around the letter.

Sense Motive (how dangerous is this big thing?) [roll0]
Hide [roll1]
Move Silently [roll2]

[Chaelos]

You manage to slip away, though you're unsure of what it was you were slipping away from. Regardless, you lead the party swiftly and silently over the craggy terrain, and before you know it, night has fallen. Given the uncertain ground, you think it would be unwise to continue traveling overland until morning.

Read me:
I'm assuming you'll want to set up some sort of camp procedure, but if nobody really cares to narrate that we can probably skip it for now.

Consult the overland map (http://tides-of-fate.wikispaces.com/file/view/Illion_Map_%28post_this%29.png/145097617/Illion_Map_%28post_this%29.png) and let me know what course you want to take to get to Sandhold, in G4. I'll make the rolls necessary for each day. We'll apply your Hide and Move Silently checks to the first square, G8, and I'll make the checks for the other 3 squares independently to adjudicate your travels.

I'm assuming you'll want to travel straight north, but if you have other plans, let me know. Otherwise, I'm going to make the rolls later tonight.

[Dragonscale]

We camps hur tonite. Sylvester announces to the group as the dusky fingers of night tighten their hold over our heroes. Reaching into his Handy Haversack, Sylvester produces a honey-leather tarpaulin and a bedroll and proceeds to ready his resting place. As Roan sniffs her way around the perimeter of the campsite, he produces enough trail rations for a meal for himself and some dried something for Roan. We take first watch the ranger tells the group as he mounts a size-able boulder with the food under his arm. Sleep good, wez go north in the morn.

Lets camp!
Survival (hidden campsite) 1d20 + 13

which way to go?
Knowledge: Geography (anything interesting between here and there?) 1d20+12
If nothing comes up on this roll and no one else posts, we intend to move North through G7, G6, G5 and then on to G4! (you sunk my battleship?)

[Chaelos]

The Bones of the Ancients, Northern Illion
5th Ramshak 7010 AE


You sleep peacefully through the night without event, your skill in setting up camp providing sufficient protection from the things that lurk in the darkness beyond. In the early morning hours, just as you begin to wake up, a gentle thunderstorm begins to roll into the area, and as you begin your morning march, you find yourself cooled and refreshed by the rain, though the sandy rock beneath your feet has now turned to dirty mud.

Deacon's rolls for moving through G7:

Hide: [roll0]
Move Silently: [roll1]

Listen: [roll2]
Spot: [roll3]

Sense Motive: [roll4]

[Chaelos]

Deacon's other rolls for moving through G7:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Chaelos]

As you march through the mountainous terrain--unnaturally swiftly and silently for travelers along these treacherous paths--the hairs on your neck stand abruptly. Turning around, you catch a glimpse of a large Red Dragon flying high above, as if patrolling his territory. He doesn't seem to notice you, and it remains your choice whether or not to engage him.

At the very least, you are aware that he's got a lair around here, if you wish to return and deal with the dragon at a later date.

If you choose not to engage him, you notice nothing else out of the ordinary during your 9-mile march for the day. You may now rest, make camp, and prepare for tomorrow.

[Dragonscale]

The weary travelers make a quiet camp that night. Sylvester pulls two large map cases from his haversack and leafs through their contents. He carefully marks one of the maps with an "X" and the tag "Here be dragon." After carefully rerolling them and returning them to their case, Sylvester and Roan do what they can to conceal the campsite.

Hide the Camp
[roll0]

Weather prediction
[roll1]

[Chaelos]

The Northern Wastes, Northern Illion
6th Ramshak 7010 AE

You spend an uneventful (if uncomfortable) night sleeping in a rocky outcropping, and in the morning you wake with a stiffness in your bones that is (thankfully) mostly gone by the time you break camp and begin traveling. Before you, the harsh expanse of the Northern Wastes stretches out before you, an endless sea of gray rocks and foothills with little vegetation or animal life in sight.

Near midday, you reach a high point atop one of the hills, and you get a good glimpse of the lands beyond your immediate vicinity. Having taken the easiest (and swiftest) path possible through the Bones of the Ancients and the foothills that followed, you find yourselves roughly equidistant from two massive fortifications: the twin citadels of Baz-Ankhrand (to your west) and Baz-Urkhand (to your east).

Hide: [roll0]
Move Silently: [roll1]

Listen: [roll2]
Spot: [roll3]

Sense Motive: [roll4]

Treasure Rolls:
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]

[Chaelos]

As you walk along the blasted, barren ground, you notice something highly unusual: a few sprigs of blue-green plant matter. You immediately recognize it as a few sprigs of a mature Shakkra plant--which, you think, is very odd in this climate--but, regardless, you expertly harvest the leaves, distill them with water, and come up with enough usable liquid to roughly make 2 Cure Serious Wounds potions.

A short while later, your eye catches something else peculiar--a humanoid arm, severed from its body, lies in the dust. Upon closer inspection, you notice two things very quickly: first, it was definitely ripped off by brute force, probably from some giant being, and second, it appears to be clutching a jewel worth, in your estimation, roughly 1500 gold pieces.

As you investigate, however, you catch wind of a fearsome and unmistakable sound: the grunting, ugly, vaguely porcine laughter of a band of trolls coming your way. They're muttering about something, but it's definitely not in common:

Giant language (if anyone has it):

"Da Boss sez summbody sprung th' trap. C'mon, yew two--let's git us some MEAT."

This is accompanied by many excited grunts, euphemisms you're not familiar with, and, at least twice, a very loud fart.

They're too close to flee effectively, but you probably have at least two rounds to take actions before they get there. If you lack a way to deal fire or acid damage, you're probably going to want to at least try to run.

You have two rounds to confer (meaning two standard actions, two move actions, and two swift actions, plus as few words that are reasonable for 12 seconds of time). After you take said actions, I will roll initiative for everyone.

[Dragonscale]

Sylvester unshoulders his Handy Harversack and reaches far into its depths before withdrawing a quiver of Dragonsbreath Arrows, 2 pints of oil and a couple of tindertwigs. Play time he mutters to himself as he reshoulders the sack, uncorks the flasks, equips the quiver and places the tindertwigs into his pocket for quick access. Drawing his bow and knocking his first arrow, Sylvester exhales and tries to discern the number of trolls headed their direction and their distance.

Spot check (# of Trolls)[roll0]

[younghan]

"Right, I'll offer support from the rear," Rosebud promises, casting invisibility on himself. Next, after locating himself behind the nearest convenient tree, boulder, etc. he readies a Doom spell.

[Azila]

Azila pulls out a strand tied to her neck, on which hang a few rough crystalline disks. She manipulates the disks, causing one of them to glow brightly. The glowing crystal stands out briefly as she blends into the rock outcroppings nearby.


Use Item: Psionatrix of the Chameleon, evoking the chameleon power and gaining +10 to Hide checks.
Hide: [roll0]
Psi-like ability: Inertial Armor
Power: Offensive Precognition
Concentration: Gain psionic focus (25) [roll1]
Ready Action: Sucker-punch the troll at the back of the pack from the back.

[ClaytonP]

Curse these miserable Fey Demon-Folk! Let us send them back to their wretched pits of hell! Heb pulls out his mace, and prepares for battle. Heb then thinks to himself for a moment If anyone gets close to dying I can, ya know, stop that.

[Chaelos]

Initiative:

Deacon: [roll0]
Patrick: [roll1]
Dan: [roll2]
Clayton: [roll3]
Young Han: [roll4]

Troll 1: [roll5]
Troll 2: [roll6]
Troll 3: [roll7]

Based on the average of your rolls, either you or the monsters will go first. I'll have combat order and a small map ready momentarily.

Combat Order:
Trolls
Deacon
Dan (if he's still out of town, would Deacon mind taking his turn for him?)
Young Han
Patrick
Clayton

[Chaelos]

ROUND 1

The trolls move quicker than you imagined through the rocky pass, showing up around the bend before you can snipe them. Grunting, the three brutes chuckle to one another and advance toward you.

Map:
http://img840.imageshack.us/img840/2894/mapround1.png


Spot check: [roll0]
Spot check: [roll1]
Spot check: [roll2]

None of them seem to notice Azila hiding in wait.

It is now Deacon's turn.

[Dragonscale]

Surprised by the fleet-footedness of gnarly denizens, Sylvester lets loose his readied arrows at the first troll to come around the bend.

Fire!
1st Ranged Attack: Dragonsbreath Arrow from Masterwork Composite Longbow (+3 STR) at 15 ft
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] + 1 Fire
Critconfirm: [roll2]

2nd Ranged Attack (same as the first)
Attack: [roll3]
Damage: [roll4] + 1 Fire
Critconfirm: [roll5]

*if hit, target must pass a DC 15 Reflex save or catch on fire


As the two arrows screech towards their target, Sylvester takes a five-foot step to the left (east).

[Azila]

Azila refocuses her mind to amplify her strikes, and continues to lie in wait for an ambush from behind.

Gain psionic focus (25) [roll0]
Offensive Precognition: Turn 1 of 10

[Dragonscale]

Moobi, sensing Sylvester's movement, moves to the right (5 ft west) as he readies his Eldritch Blasts.

Eldritch Blast, same target as Sylvester
Attack (Ranged, TOUCH):[roll0]
Damage:[roll1]
Critconfirm:[roll2]

2nd Blast
Attack:[roll3]
Damage:[roll4]
Critconfirm:[roll5]

[younghan]

Reciting the Proto-Divinity Postulate in his head, Rosebud unleashes the Doom spell at the nearest troll

[ClaytonP]

Heb unleashes a ferocious roar Roar and turns towards the nearest troll and attempts to smack him with his mace, which is on fire.

Flaming Mace attack 1
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2]
Critconfirm: [roll3]
(I can't seem to get the dice roller to add two different dice rolls together right)

Flaming Mace attack 2
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5] + [roll6]
Critconfirm: [roll7]

[Chaelos]

Round 2

http://img197.imageshack.us/img197/8803/mapround2.png

A volley of attacks slam into the first troll, causing him to stupidly grunt "JEEBZ" and gasp for air as a combination of dark magic, burning arrows and a fiery mace slam into his thick hide. Where the dark magic hits, however, the wounds already begin to close up, through the flesh seared with fire does not.

Daedalus' spell also smashes into the troll, a sickly green-black energy spreading over its head. It screams.

Will save:


The troll lashes out in fury at Heb, as its closest opponent. A second troll closes and attacks Heb as well, while the third moves past Heb and heads for Moobi.

Heb's attack of opportunity:

Attack:
Damage: [roll2] + [roll3]
Critical Confirmation: [roll4]

Troll Attacks:

Troll 1, vs. Heb
Attack:
Claw 1 [roll5] -2 from Doom spell
Claw 2 [roll6] -2 from Doom spell
Bite [roll7] -2 from Doom spell

Damage:
Claw 1 [roll8]
Claw 2 [roll9]
Bite [roll10]

Critical Confirmation:
Claw 1 [roll11]
Claw 2 [roll12]
Bite [roll13]

Troll 2, vs. Heb:
Attack: Claw [roll14]
Damage: Claw [roll15]
Critical Confirmation: 1d20+9

Troll 3, vs. Moobi:
Attack :Claw
Damage: Claw
Critical Confirmation: 1d20+9

[Azila]

As the third troll goes past, Azila leaps from her hiding spot to clobber it from behind. Her fist strikes lightning-quick with the force of her mind bearing down with it.

Psionic Fist
Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1][roll2]
Crit Confirm [roll3]

[Dragonscale]

Sylvester tucks-n-rolls away from the advancing trolls.

Tumble half-speed as part of normal movement to take no attacks of opportunity, DC 17 (15 Base +2 for second enemy)
Troll 2: [roll0]
Troll 3: [roll1]
If failed, take opportunity attacks as normal. Move 10 ft N, 5 ft NE

Standing at the northern end of the pass next to the east wall, he fires another whistling arrow at Troll 2.

Ranged Attack: Dragonsbreath Arrow from Masterwork Composite Longbow (+3 STR) at 15 ft

ATK: [roll2]
DMG: [roll3] + 1 Fire
CC: [roll4]
If successful, target must succeed a DC 15 Reflex save or catch on fire

[ClaytonP]

The trolls' claw attacks further enrage Heb. I will return you to the horrible pit that has birthed you! he yells. He then swings once more with his mace.


Flaming Mace attack 1
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2] flame dmg
Critconfirm: [roll3]
(I can't seem to get the dice roller to add two different dice rolls together right)

Flaming Mace attack 2
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5] + [roll6]
Critconfirm: [roll7]

[younghan]

Hoping to dampen the blows of the doomed troll, Dr. Rosebud prepares a ray of enfeeblement!

[roll0]

[Chaelos]

[ooc: DM posting to speed this along a bit...]

Moobi takes a 5 ft. step away from the trolls, then unleashes an eldritch blast against his original target.


Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Chaelos]

Round 3

http://img685.imageshack.us/img685/6583/round3z.png
(Here's hoping this is correct...)

Though Sylvester's arrow goes astray and Azila's fist misses the mark, the combined efforts of Dr. Rosebud, Heb and Moobi send the first troll down, roaring in agony as fire and dark energy overwhelm his natural healing. His bloated tongue lolls outside his mouth as he hits the dirt, painting a grotesque portrait of mortality for all to see, as thick green blood seeps from his open wounds.

The third troll swipes at Sylvester as he goes past.


Attack (claw): [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Critical Confirmation: [roll2]

The second troll continues its attack on Heb, while the third turns on Azila.


Troll 2 (vs. Heb)
Attack (claw 1): [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
Critical Confirmation: [roll5]

Attack (claw 2): [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Critical Confirmation: [roll8]

Attack (bite): [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Critical Confirmation: [roll11]




Troll 3 (vs. Azila)
Attack (claw 1): [roll12]
Damage: [roll13]
Critical Confirmation: [roll14]

Attack (claw 2): [roll15]
Damage: [roll16]
Critical Confirmation: [roll17]

Attack (bite): [roll18]
Damage: [roll19]
Critical Confirmation: [roll20]

[Dragonscale]

Sylvester takes a 5-foot step north before he looses two flaming arrows at the troll in front of him.

Ranged Attack: Dragonsbreath Arrow from Masterwork Composite Longbow (+3 STR) at 15 ft

Attack 1
ATK: [roll0]
DMG: [roll1] + 1 Fire
CC: [roll2]
If successful, target must succeed a DC 15 Reflex save or catch on fire

Attack 2
ATK: [roll3]
DMG: [roll4] + 1 Fire
CC: [roll5]
If successful, target must succeed a DC 15 Reflex save or catch on fire

[younghan]

Hoping to retard one of the trolls into oblivion, Dr. Rosebud waggles his fingers and yelps the names of the ancient gods of Ignorance. "Tweetle-dee! Azathoth! Glenbek!" he intones, unleashing a ray of stupidity at the troll menacing Heb, before scampering behind the next closest boulder.

touch attack for the ray of stupidity: [roll0]
intelligence damage from the ray of stupidity: [roll1]

Note: in case I am not able to post in time next round, Rosebud will probably use launch item to scatter caltrops around the Troll he's hopefully just stupefied, and will then start sniping with his wand of Magic Missile for the rest of the fight, unless given reason to do otherwise.

[Azila]

Unfazed by her stumble, Azila launches a flurry of blows at the dodgy troll.


Attack [roll0]
Damage [roll1]+[roll2]
Crit confirm [roll3]

Attack [roll4]
Damage [roll5]+[roll6]
Crit confirm [roll7]

Attack [roll8]
Damage [roll9]+[roll10]
Crit confirm [roll11]

[ClaytonP]

Heb shows no fear. He continues to swing with his mace.


Flaming Mace attack 1
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2] flame dmg
Critconfirm: [roll3]
(I can't seem to get the dice roller to add two different dice rolls together right)

Flaming Mace attack 2
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5] + [roll6]
Critconfirm: [roll7]

[Chaelos]

Moobi repeats his attack.


[roll0]
[roll1]

[Chaelos]

Round 4

http://img685.imageshack.us/img685/6583/round3z.png

The troll to the north bears the brunt of the heroes' assault, cringing as fiery arrows score it, dark magic permeates it, and Heb's burning mace comes down squarely on the mark. Punch drunk from the attacks, unable to regenerate courtesy of the fire, and slightly (even more) stupefied courtesy of Dr. Rosebud, he defecates himself and begins to drool before launching another full attack at Heb in a desperate, last ditch effort to save himself.

Azila's hits strike her target hard enough to crack a human's spine, and the troll grunts briefly before shaking his head (as if to clear it) and assaulting her again.

Reflex saves (troll 2, Sylvester's target)

Reflex 1: [roll0]
Reflex 2: [roll1]

Damage if either fails: [roll2]


Attacks

Troll 2 (vs. Heb)
Attack (claw 1): [roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
Critical Confirmation: [roll5]

Attack (claw 2): [roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
Critical Confirmation: [roll8]

Attack (bite): [roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
Critical Confirmation: [roll11]

Rend (automatic damage if both claw attacks hit): [roll12]



Troll 3 (vs. Azila:
Attack (claw 1): [roll13]
Damage: [roll14]
Critical Confirmation: [roll15]

Attack (claw 2): [roll16]
Damage: [roll17]
Critical Confirmation: [roll18]

Attack (bite): [roll19]
Damage: [roll20]
Critical Confirmation: [roll21]

Rend (automatic damage if both claw attacks hit): [roll22]

[Dragonscale]

Dropping the bow behind him, Sylvester pauses in his movement, awaiting the moment to strike...

Readied actions:

When (if) the northern troll is slain, Sylvester moves something like 20 feet to the south and 5 feet to the east, possibly provoking an opportunity attack from the the southern troll, and drawing both of his Elven Thinblades (see note 4, p.141 PHB). Finding himself a flanker with either Heb or Azila, Sylvester then attacks.

Melee Attack with Elven Thinblade +1
ATK:[roll0]
DMG:[roll1]
CC:[roll2]

[Dragonscale]

Roan, who had run off at the sound of the approaching trolls, returns from the northern end of the pass. Moving 50 feet south, she stands in flanking position with Heb and begins assailing the northern troll by biting at his ankles.

Melee Bite attack (BAB 5 + 2STR + 2Flank)
ATK[roll0]
DMG[roll1]
CC[roll2]

if ATK is successful, make Trip atk as free action with +1 mod (Wolf, p283 MM)
STR check[roll3]
no opposed trip atk if failed

[Kebanaz]

Empowered Eldritch Blast on northrern troll
[roll0]
[roll1] x1.5 mod (empowered)
[roll2]

[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]

[Azila]

Azila continues her barrage against the southward troll.


[roll0]
[roll1]+[roll2]
[roll3]

[roll4]
[roll5]+[roll6]
[roll7]

[roll8]
[roll9]+[roll10]
[roll11]

[ClaytonP]

Heb laughs as the desperation of the troll. Disgusting creature, return to the fires which shall burn you eternally


Flaming Mace attack 1
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1] + [roll2] flame dmg
Critconfirm: [roll3]
(I can't seem to get the dice roller to add two different dice rolls together right)

Flaming Mace attack 2
Attack: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5] + [roll6]
Critconfirm: [roll7]

[Chaelos]

The combined fury of our heroes overcomes the trolls, send the northern one crashing to the ground in a spray of green blood and fire as its head explodes from Moobi's dark energy. Azila neatly puts her fist through the second troll, overpowering the creature's natural regenerative powers. Her hand emerges clutching a sapphire the size of a small egg--along with the better part of the troll's intestines. It slumps to the ground, clutching the gaping hole in its belly, and breathes its last.

The sapphire is worth roughly 1,500 gp.

There are no other sounds for the moment, but you suspect that someone had to have heard the fighting.

[Dragonscale]

Weez should go. Sylvester gathers his gear, the others gather themselves and soon the party is underway once again, continuing their northward trek.

Hide [roll0]
Move Silently [roll1]
Spot [roll2]

Hidden Campsite [roll3]
Weather prediction[roll4]

(They hike until something interesting happens!)

[Chaelos]

The Northern Wastes, Northern Illion
7th Ramshak 7010 AE

Sylvester leads you skillfully and swiftly over the last hours of the 6th, and you evade any further trolls who might be lurking near the ancient fortresses. At night, you make your camp within the wastes, merely miles away from your destination at Sandhold, and in the morning, you set out confidently.

Near midday, you all sense massive tremors beneath your feet; you think for a moment that you are about to become food for one of the dreaded purple worms of the Wastes, and freeze in place for nearly thirty minutes before you again sense the creature moving away beneath you.

You arrive at Sandhold early in the afternoon. It is a small city, indeed--no more than 5,000 occupants inhabit it at any given time, and most of those are employed by the monopolistic West Illion Company, an Imperial charter corporation. As you approach the town, you can make out a commotion in the wastes to the east, where the majority of the mines near the city are located. No guard challenges you--which is, admittedly, unusual for a civilized outpost in the Wastes. You presently make out the sight of a massive Blue Dragon taking off from the mine site, a pair of struggling workers in its talons as it lifts into the air, disappearing over the desert sands.

You find the streets deserted as you enter the town, with everyone likely being inside due to the heat of the afternoon and the danger of the dragon attack. Without more explicit instructions regarding where you're supposed to be, you are apparently at liberty to do as you like... until contacted.

[Dragonscale]

After staring at one-another for a period of time that seems almost painful, Roan breaks wind. The kind of terrible, beef-kibble fart only a canine could produce avails the nostrils of our heroes.

Sylvester's Fort save to not ralph [roll0]

After much grumbling and hem-hawing about the wretched smell of his pet, the group looks towards Sylvester for direction. Rosebud, youz do two things for uz, huh? Des gems wez found in the desert, they is magics? Then, you and eye go ask folks bout that big blue we sees fly away when we come in. Zee rest of yous, finds us a place to lie low.

If both gems collected in the desert are determined to be mundane, Sylvester asks the others to vend them.

[Dragonscale]

Daedalus casts Detect Magic on the gems and anything else the heroes have picked up so far. If mundane, Sylvester tries to sell them while in town. Appraise: [roll0]

Sylvester, Roan and Rosebud head to the east side of town to ask a few questions about the Big Blue and to check the local rumor mill.

Daedalus's Gather Info: [roll1]
Sylvester's Aid Another in Gather Info:[roll2]

The others try to find a free place to chill.

[Azila]

I'd be glad to accompany you, Dr. Rosebud, and I'd suggest we maintain a low profile around the panicked locals. Azila undoes the elaborate wrappings that make her fists resemble blood-stained meat tenderizers, and then adjusts her robes to conceal her features.


Disguise (Aid prz): [roll0]

OOC: HAY GOYS! I meeess yuz.

[Chaelos]

Daedalus:

The gem is quite ordinary as far as you can tell--beautiful, but nothing special.

Sylvester and Daedalus:
There is, unfortunately, nobody out at the moment, and nobody seems to want to talk to you--the dragon attack has everyone scared. Those people you try to talk to walk quickly away as if you were dusty, shady-looking murderous vagrants, and those shops you knock on do not open their doors.

Azila:
Nobody is looking too hard at you right now, but you feel confident that, if they did, they would merely think you to be a humanoid wrapped in robes. Which you are.

Though your efforts to contact the locals yield little results, you do discover a single tavern that has not locked its doors, near the port district of the town. A sign hanging low over the entrance reads "The Lighthouse", and it looks as if the place has seen better days--there are no customers inside, but merely an ancient, one-eyed Gith bartender who nods at you as you enter. The shop is nestled between two massive warehouses, at least one of which appears to be dedicated wholly to the preservation and processing of fish caught from the company fishing fleet; the reek of salt and fish permeates everything in the tavern, including (you guess) the beer.

"What'll it be, gents?" the Gith growls at you.

[Dragonscale]

Finalsly, somein decent to drank.
Sylvester plops himself down at the middle of the bar, dropping his pack to the floor.
Two grogs, mate. he says as he lays a gold piece on the counter. Raising one to his lips, he pours the other on the floor and Roan quickly begins lapping it up. Consuming the whole flagon without pause, Sylvester slams the foamy mug down on the briny bar, smacks himself on the chest and releases an immense belch.
Compatriots, its excellent sea-brew he's serving. Please, join me at this fine fellow's bar for a bit of a social lubricant? I do say, mucking about like we have been the last few days, its about time someone offered us bit of way to take the edge off. Don't you think so? He pulls out another gold piece and places it on the bar, flashing two fingers at the barkeep.

[Azila]

Buying the bar, are we? Azila walks by Sylvester and alights two seats down, motioning to the barkeep. She quaffs the bilge given her and asks, See dragons around here very often?

[Dragonscale]

Dizzy from the beer, Roan slumps against a bar-stool and begins panting loudly. The troupe of heroes, sitting between Sylvester on the one end and Azila on the other, leans heavily against the bar. Behind them lay a great many smashed, clay beer mugs and in front of them a more than modest stack of gold, reminding the barkeep to be a gracious host. Scratching Roan behind the ears, Sylvester addressed his fellows.

Gentlemen, Lady, uhhh...hmm, Good Feline, I do believe we've been duped. I see no reason why we ought to waste away our precious skills here, in the nothingness of the Wastes amongst such desperate peoples as these. I propose we adjourn to a more seasonable, reasonable, and shall we say more 'civilized' setting than this. The Western Basin comes to mind this time of year. Ah, you know...

Pulling maps from his pack, Sylvester begins laying them out on a clean, dry table..
Sylvester proceeds to babble on incessantly about his knowledge of geography:
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10
1d20+10

[Dragonscale]

Skrewz it, lez gos kill thur Red Dagron wes seed.