"Small Town" Chapter 1

[boldfont]

The World According to Small Town

Welcome Adventurers! Behold ye small town of Small Town. A quaint little hamlet tucked far away from the empire and the concerns of stuffy city folk. The people of Small Town are a simple and friendly sort. They are accepting of others regardless of their differences, and they enjoy their freedoms and respect the freedom of others in kind. These are a good people, and you are among them.

The world map is here (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/02/small-town-world-map-2/)

The Northwest end of Small Town, where our adventure begins, is here (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/07/north-west-of-small-town/).

The Character Repository tread is here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=270052).

Take a moment... Breathe it all in... And finish making your characters so we can get started.

[boldfont]

Chapter One
Immigration

Capin Murika and Ferran join their friends, Ivellios, Pock and Harrazd at their usual spot in the Munster Burger Bar and Grill. Mr. Fiss doesn't wait for them to order before bringing them their food and drinks. It has been a long day of chopping trees for Murika. It has been a long dy protesting the chopping of tree for Ferran. But the day is over and it is time to rest.

The Great Harrazd had to put down one if his animals today. The others listen to his troubles with a sympathetic ear. As he does, the owner drops off the drink and victuals for the late comers. He offers Pock another drink. Pock has already had several while waiting for Murika and Ferran to arrive. He probably shouldn't as he has several windows to clean tomorrow early in the morning. Apparently Dusty Pymm, from the Southwest side of town, tried his hand at hunting a goose just outside his restaurant. He hit his mark but in startling the rest of the flock... well, let's just say that Pock has a lot of work to do tomorrow, and that he's about at his limit. One more drink will probably push him from that nebulous zone of merely buzzed to the murky territory of getting drunk.

Come on then! Wots one mahr beer to ya? I ken put eet in a smalla glass far ya if ya please. 'Haps a lill' saucer will do tha trick? I gots one round somewheres.

He's attempting to put the pressure on Pock. Mr. Fiss has been working him all night.

Just then Busby Sheep Farmer bursts into the bar. He looks as if he's been running. The gleen of sweat enhances the wide-eyed look of desperation on his face.

ORCS! he gasps.
The Orcs are coming! Busby puntuates his warning with more heavy breathing. He's making quite the show of it actually. We must defend the town. An army of Orcs! The Orcs are here! Just outside my farm. For real!!! I saw them! Kill them! Please kill them!

Now, when it comes to Busby, the unanimous town opinion, including your own, is that the man is best described as an utter spastic. He is a vacuous moron of the highest caliber. No human being alive has even been so incredibly stupid without actually having some sort of physical brain damage or excusable mental retardation. He once tried to give the ground a bath because he thought it looked dirty. Another time he was convinced that back taxes were taxes for having a back. Truly, Busby is a paragon of mortal idiocy.

Small Town has always had a good relationship with the gobliniod races of the north hills. They trade together frequently, and when the Orcs get a hankering for violence, as an orc is wont to do, they fight amongst themselves. It seems nigh impossible that an army of Orcs has come late in the evening to take over its long standing trading partner and friend. Yet, Busby looks genuinely terrified.

Could this be a legitimate threat?

[theduck]

Pock Merrymock

Cider, Pock had just decided, had to be one the greatest inventions - light, dry, and crisp, with just enough sweetness to make it go down smooth. And Mr. Fiss, that blessed dwarf (or human, Pock had forgotten, and was too embarrassed to ask) and been quite diligent at keeping his mug full. Pock was fairly sure he had a good reason to not want it refilled again, but he couldn't remember why. On the other hand, cider was made from apples, the same thing he had for dinner, and apples were good for you, so it stood to reason that cider was good for you too... right?

It took Pock a couple seconds to process what... whathisname was saying.

"Wait... are you saying the orcs are killing things, or you want us to kill the orcs? I'm not a big fan of killing folk who aren't killing people themselves"

[Barsoom]

Upon hearing of the Orcs, Harrazd smiled and pushed his chair backwards. He didn't believe for a moment that was a hostile army, of course. Busby simply has burned one too many sheep dung bonfires at his farm, and the smoke was getting to his brain. But he was looking forward to a chance to his his cousins, the twins Mork and Gork, and collect the ten silver they owed him on a bet (no, cows do not jump higher nor give more milk when the moon is full). Better step out and see if they're out there with the so-alleged-horde. Mr. Fiss, keep my mug full. I'll be right back. The half-orc stretched all 6'2" of his muscular frame and stepped toward the door.

[Batpope Scott]

O-orcs? Why now? Ivellios wanders out behind Harrazd stumbling slightly. What on earth could they possibly want now of all times? The elf collects himself and readies a bow and quiver for a fight. We should see if these claims hold any ground before we suggest staying in the bar.

[boldfont]

Pock is drinking cider, not beer. Stupid narrator.

Sorry, oh mighty Dungeon Master. It won't happen again.

See that it doesn't! Now, continue with the story.

Ahem! Yes. Of course.
Pock felt the mug of delicious cider going to his head.

Pock has -2 Wis, -2 Int, -1 Dex, -1 to attk, and +5hp. All temporary.

As Harrazd and Ivellios rise to exit the bar and slate their curiosity, Busby recoils in horror, falling backwards and tripping oven a chair resting behind him. He points to Harrazd stuttering, O-o-ORC!!! Kill it! Kill it good!

Calm yerself bleedin' ijiot! That's Harrazd. You only known tha man all yer life. Don't you recognize him? He safed yer farm that tim ye decided to plant shriekers. Twit! shouted Mr. Fiss.

Harrazd and Ivellios step outside. The sun has set, but the sky stil has a ruddy orange tint to it. Then it occurs to them. These are camp fires. Sure enough, right where the Busby farm would be, is the glow of a few hundred camp fires. But why would orcs (if they are indeed orcs) stop at the Busby farm instead of force marching to the invasion? The town would have been taken completely by surprise. None of this adds up.

It would be a significant half hour hike to reach the farm. Another hour to go home to dawn armour and arm themselves properly. Nevertheless, it might be prudent. Or the S.W.A.G. crew could grab the "light" arms they keep with them. Mr. Fiss keeps a collection of small martial weapons from his old adventuring days on the wall. Harrazd would look ridiculous weilding a pint sized axe, but in a pinch... Ivellios reaches for his bow, but remembers that he left it at the grove. He doesn't ordinarily take it to the bar. Fortunately, Mr. Fiss has an appropriately sized short bow on the wall. It would do. Murika at least would be able to grab his razor shield and lend someone a handaxe.

The situation was troubling. How urgent were they needed? Would the Orcs be hostile? Would the Orcs be Orcs?

[distant quasar]

Ferran sighs animatedly at Busby's "warning." After the fool had mistaken the mooing of a cow for a bellowing demon in the night and run through the sleeping town panicked, Ferran wasn't at all inclined to believe in any Orcs. Still, his friends seemed curious, so he might as well head out with them. He regretfully put down his glass of fine elven wine, taking one last sip before doing so, then heading out after Harrazd and Ivellios.

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios slaps his forehead in his absent mindedness and then sighs I can't believe I thought I'd brought my bow with me. Something must be getting to my head... Ivellios stares incredulously at busbys reaction to his companion before shaking his head and continuing after Harrazd. Do you think we'll actually need weapons, my friend?

[theduck]

Pock shakes his head, having a strange feeling of deja vu, before carefully getting up and following his friends.

Don't think we will need them, but it might not hurt to have sometime... unless you all wanted to trek around town, gathering our stuff, with... burp him yelling about the orc army

[Barsoom]

Harrazd not parlicularty worried about Orcs. If push comes to shove, can make club or staff out of branches. Harrazd spends the next quarter of an hour wondering why would a push ever want to come to shove.

[boldfont]

After some musing and gallamucking, the party decides to go straight to the Busby Farm. The five S.W.A.G. members swaggger (see what I did there) on down the road. Just a short quarter hour into their journey the camp fire glow has become a visible series of bon fires. The stench of sweat and sour booze hangs in the air.

Roughly a thousand head of Orc are camped at the Busby farm. They are celebrating. Some of them chant and stomp wildly around the fires. An Orcish bard hammers away at a massive set of drums and skillfully wails away a dirge of his people.

(Roughly Translated)
I like pork but I look like a pig
what does that say about I?
I like to pork but my wife is a pig
what does that say about I?
but the RED KING give her to somebody else!!!
Oh what does that say about I???

Knowledge: Local (Harrazd unskilled, Ivellios, and Murika to assist) DC 15/20
*I messed the thread roll up. Derp! Anyways, you passed.


Harrazd and Ivellios recognize a multitude of different clans. The Gruuk Clan. Harrazd's birth clan. The M'UukGraowl Clan. The Wu Tang Clan. Even the Blood warts Clan. As many of these groups are mortal enemies, this has become a very strange gathering indeed. Moreover, they do not appear amassed for battle. There are Orc young and nursing Orc ladies. The warriors of the group are busy drinking and butting heads. Anything to kill a brain cell apparently.

The party makes their way through the camp to the largest of the bon fires. This one is fueled with sheep. A terrified little bald man known as Sips Brewer is cuddled into a ball against his over turned wagon. No doubt his product was appropriated for the occasion. Harrazd's cousin Mork plops himself next to Sips.

This swill isn't bad human! Once you get used to the foam and the sweetness of it. YOU isn't bad. I like you! Let's be friends. Best friends.

Okay... Sips manages to croak out.

Mork spots Harrazd and lifts his mug in good cheer. Cousin! he says. I've come to live with you. Isn't that great?

[Morbis Meh]

With his faithful beaver, Skippy, Capin surveyed the scene before him whilst picking a stray piece of bacon from his teeth. His plaid breastplate gleaming it the firelight, Capin struts over to the orcs and flexes his mighty beard "Ho there, stenchy denziens of the plains, why have you accosted this half man and his delicious brew? It is not proper to celebrate in the middle of farmer's field without copius amounts of Bacon and Maple syrup! I demand that a group of you comes with me to the local forest to bring said syrup and another group slaughter some said pigs so that we may truly get this shindig started!" Capin strikes a manly pose trying his best to have his back to the sun to make it more potent. Skippy cheers at the suggestion of maple syrup and imitates his master's pose to make it look more dynamic!

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios is now staring at Capin in confusion You're.... you're encouraging the ransacking of the farms now?

[Morbis Meh]

Capin looks back with an incredulous look "Heavens no, I will cover the cost for the livestock, I just feel it would be a shame to waste an opportunity for a party. Besides I would rather have a massive horde of orcs well fed and content instead of drunk and angry."

[Barsoom]

Mork spots Harrazd and lifts his mug in good cheer. Cousin! he says. I've come to live with you. Isn't that great?

No, cuz, 'tis not great at all. Here among the humans, we have what is called private purperty. You can't just step on someone's land and decide yous lives theres. Yous have to ask permissions and pays rents and stuff. You lot could be in big troubles for tresspassing like that.

Having completed this speech, Harrazd braces himself for accusations that he has become too 'humanized'.

[boldfont]

A few nearby Orc ears perk at the mention of maple syrup and bacon. They know not of these things, but anything that can make their party better is clearly of interest.

Morbis may grab a group of Orcs and teach them of the mystery of bacon and maple goodness if he so chooses.

As for Mork, he too is baffled by human culture.

Privat Puberty? Rentz? These words appear to have upset him, as he tosses his new "best friend" aside like yesterday's trash. What you mean we cant lives heres?!? I comes all this ways and you no butt heads with me even cousin! We comes to live in human town and you judges and rejects us? So much for humans compression... Or did you think I did'n know wat compression iz? You thinks I am too stoopid to undastand the human way of caring bout others? Hmm?

Roll Sense Motive for insight (all; Harrazd +2 culture insight bonus. Add Int bonus. Skilled only, except Harrazd. DC 20) Next post at 8pm. Buddy system applies.

[Barsoom]

Mork, I know all 'bout caring 'bout others. Me and mah friends here, we care 'bout town just 'bout all the time between drinkin' binges. Also care 'bout yours, if yous just tells us 'bout what's happen. How come a big horde of big orcs like yous needs caring?

[distant quasar]

Ferran winces slightly at the mangled Common. While his companions hardly spoke gracefully either, the Orcs mangled the language until it was almost unrecognizable.

"I'm curious about that as well," Ferran said, eyeing the Orcs cautiously.

[Morbis Meh]

Noticing the curiousity in the eyes of the orcs as the holy word Bacon is mention "Aha! Come fellow beings, it is time to learn in the holy rite of bacon! First we need to find the propering offering to the Almighty Bacon Lord, Maple Syrup thus we must venture into the realm of the Demi Goddess Aunt Jemima and if we are found wanting the wrath of this goddess is limitless. So those bold and brave enough to endure this quest come with me, valiant SKIPPY lead the way!" Shouting in an overly dramatic voice, Capin points toward the forest as his dire beaver sidekick takes the lead.

[boldfont]

Four posts already. I'll post now. Needless to say, Harrazd fails his sense motive check horribly. I also rolled for Ivellios (13+11=24) and he passes. React accordingly if you please.

Pock is either with Murika or Harrazd. I shall work him in as he indicates.

Mork hears his cousin entreat him to come forward and tell the truth of their coming to Small Town. Surrounded by the scrutinizing eyes of Harrazd, Ferran and Ivellios, Mork breaks down in tears. Very un-Orc like!

Okay! Okay! I can no hide anyting from you cousin. We run from our clans. We run to escapes...

Dramatic pause

THE RED KING!!!

Anticlimatic pause

You no know the Red King then? A deep RED Orc from the Nort. He start by joining the Blood Boil Clan. He kilt the chief they say wit ONE BLOW of his axe. They sayz he's ten feet tall! An that he be fastr than the wind. He rides a hairless worg and bites the heads offa chickens whole. He'sa savage merciless monsta that kill you in a blink offa eye!"

So of course we tink "We gotta pretty good leader here."
An then all the clan-es starts to join inna one BIG clan! An he starts a callin' himselfa KING! And soma old Orc chiefs starta say "He notta king" But then he proof them wrongs by Killinum dead.

Mork has become quite animated at this point. His story telling was never very good, but this story has him fully engaged. Some of the other Orcs begin to gather. A bard could hardly have held more attention.

BUT THEN he startsa tellin' us ALLS whata do. He takesa Head Head Hunter title from me an Gork an makesa that son of a K'Thalkt Raktos a "General". He says Orcs dont hunt anymohr. We inna army now! But we donna want to be in no army. We like to go where we wants!

Mork's speech is now being punctuated with cries from the small Orc gathering around him. Cries of "YEAH!" and "Thats right!"

We likes to fights who we wants!
"YEAH!"
We likes to partay when we wants!
"Hells YEAH!"
An Listen to musaks that we wants!
YEAH!!!!!
We likes to keeps our wives to ourselfs!
"THATS MY SWEET HONEY POT!"
"cept when nother orc killz the husband an takes her properly"
"Oh yeah thats okay"
"Cept that. He's right."
Well, of COURSE thats okay... But not just to give as prize to new generals!
"YEAAAAAHHHHH!!!!"

The Orc crowd has now reached critical mass. In no time at all it has turned quickly into a drunken angry mob!

So dear cousin! We come to liff here. Wit you... So we can do whats we wants again. I hope you donna haff a problem with that.

"What a load of garbage" thinks Harrazd. "What is he really doing here?"

Fortunately, Ivellios has more insight into the situation. Mork is serious about this. One way or another, 1000 refugee orcs have come to live with the humans.

[boldfont]

- MEANWHILE -

Capin MURIKA follows his stalwart dire beaver companion to the Mill where he keeps an ample supply of salted bacon and maple syrup. Approximately 1 Orc(s) (with a standard deviation of 1) follow him to bacon and syrup heaven.

Based on Murika's Charisma and circumstance bonus.

[theduck]

Fearing his buzz may be waning, Pock pantomimes the universal sign of drinking to whichever orc looks most in charge on the brew, and listens to Harrazard's cousin.

Y'all got yourselves an army of sorts here already... why don't you just go beat the snot out of the red king - then you can be free and don't need to be here?

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios makes no attempt to hide the great concern on his face. He's dead serious Harrazd. Whether or not you believe that story of the Red King, they seem genuinely distressed. Something has made them refugees and this is where they thought to come. On another note, this sounds like the start of an orc crusade if that story is worth it's salt and history tells us that never ends well for small towns like.... small town.
After saying this Ivellios looks over the drunken mob and offers You know, if these guys are going to become a drunken angry mob we might have to distract them.

[Morbis Meh]

Capin began instructing he disciple in the holy ways of bacon and how its marriage with Maple Syrup was the holiest of unions. When they had finished with their communion Capin, his new disciple Bubz and Skippy set forth to spread the holy scripture of smoky delight, bringing back every last slab of bacon he had, a total of nine massive slabs.

[boldfont]

When Capin, Skip, and "Bubz" (who has to continually remind the Capin that his name is G'rakth) return to the camp with their nine massive slabs of maple bacon, the Orc's noses begin to sniff. The bacon is quickly distributed and fried. It's a huge success! At least at the edge of the camp, the party begins to pick up again. The celebratory bacon munching is making its way towards Mork's yurt.

In the meanwhile, the angry mob in the centre of camp is coalescing and some Orc is distributing pitchforks and torches.

However, the Capin can't help but feel a tinge of jealously when young G'rakth is hoisted on the shoulders of other orcs and paraded around the camp as the messiah of the maple bacon. Capin Murika is left alone, forgotten, at the edge of camp.

[distant quasar]

Ferran shakes his head in disapproval at the meat-eating barbarians.

[Barsoom]

After listening to Ivellios, the gravity of the situation finally sinks into Harrazd's skull. This land can't support 1,000 orcses. They need to get back to their homes. But ... what we do with dis Red King who killz with one blow? None wishes to become casualty. Maybe we can talk them into staying the night, not doin' nutting stoopid, morning will bring better decision-mekking.

[boldfont]

Mork controls the mob of angry Orcs and commands a moment of silence. With deadly seriousness he answers Pock's suggestion, and Harrazd's inner monologue.

WE CANNA GO BACK LILL HALF MAN! The Red King is too powers. If yous thinks it so easy, then you kills hims.

Snickering at Pock's expense ensues.

Imma ask you one times lill cousin. We needs a homes and new clan. We comes alls this ways to join yous clan of Small Town. Maybe we calls it Big Town now. Or Orcs Town. But we long been friends wit a humans. Will you helps us? Can we joins you Small Town clan?

Mork leans into whisper into his cousin's ear.
Pleeze Cousin. I promiss'd them a new homes. I do anyting. The Red King... He... He kilt a Gork an took a my wife Mindy... Pleezes!

[Morbis Meh]

Capin struts up to the conversation between cousins and strikes a dashing pose "Why yes my good Orc we certainly could merge into a new town... SMORC TOWN! War is hell, there's no need to actively search it, but now is not the time to discuss such things. You and your people have travelled a great and perilous distance, I say that my companions and I head straight away to the town council to begin the formation of a town meeting. HAha!"

blarg too many characters with purple font... also is it just mean or does this orc sound like a stereotypical Italian? Why did it put edit when I typed blue???

[Batpope Scott]

It seems our best interests lie in dethroning this red king so the orcs can go home. Easier said than done, I'm sure. Why is it that we can never be threatened by something simple like a bread shortage?

[theduck]

Grumbling at his lack of drink and the way the orcs (cowardly, in his opinion) dismissed his suggestion, Pock turns towards Ivellios.

Well, I reckon if this lot stays here, we'll get us a bread shortage... and a pig shortage and a drink shortage thrown in the mix for free. If these folk won't solve their own problems, I suppose we will have to solve it for 'em. Would be nice if less of our solutions required stabbing folk, though.

[distant quasar]

"Undoubtedly true," Ferran says, still eyeing with distaste the abhorrent consumption of animals taking place around him. "Hopefully they are deluded regarding the threat this Red King poses."

[boldfont]

Having received an answer he liked from Murika, Mork faces his mob and cries We can stay! A cheer follows.
People hear what they want to hear, of course. An Orc is no different.

That night the party satiates the Orc's distress with bacon and beer. For those that participated, it was a wild kegger. The farm grounds are more or less destroyed overnight. The Orc Bard SWAG saw earlier keeps the party going long into the night and until the sun rises. The heads of the participants ache with sour boozey regret. At some point in the night an Orcish mistress sets her eyes on Pock. In her own feminine way she throws herself at him, claiming to admire his earlier display of bravery.

You can decide what to do with that one Pock. ;P SWAG members may write their exploits, or lack thereof into the narrative.

It is past noon when Mork and the others are ready to meet as agreed. They congregate in the Town Hall. One by one, Mork, Mr. Fuss, Busby, and the SWAG members enter the Hall chambers. Before he even speaks, it is clear from the smile on his face that Mork considers the matter settled.

Its mah undastandin' tha the Orc's are refugees. This meetin' is called with three objectives in mind. Farst, ta detarmin reparations for tha damage ta the Busby Farm. Second, ta find a liffen accomedations fa the refugee Orcs. We're all in agreement tha we canno abandon them to tha wildaness ah prasume? An Tird, wha we mus do bout tha Red King, if anythin. Ah will act as mediator. Ah'll now open tha floor to suggestions.

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios is going to do his best to escape the ruckus and go back to his books for sign of any history of similar orcs like the one Mork described.


At the meeting, Ivellios is going to stay in the back of the group thumbing through a book on orc crusades.

[theduck]

That night the drink flowed freely, the music was pumpin', and Pock was pleasantly surprised to find the orcs much friendlier than he expected. As the night went on, things became less clear, though Pock did recall a very nice conversation about his prowess...

Upon awakening, Pock realized he had acquired three things the prior night:

1) A nearly unnatural headache

2) A new, begrudging appreciation for orcish... eh... charms

and 3) the vague notion that he had made a huge mistake (http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ev-3FfmadM/T_rcqgd-RkI/AAAAAAAABr8/pIlHwd7sgRo/s1600/huge-mistake.gif&imgrefurl=http://gif-central.blogspot.com/2012/03/ive-made-huge-mistake.html&h=141&w=250&sz=487&tbnid=Fn9VX-nHhn8tmM:&tbnh=90&tbnw=160&zoom=1&usg=__-36T8cTuiSJQ814-yTgbXHjaKu0=&docid=cQQ4MT6car4cFM&hl=en&sa=X&ei=JwIbUYPFEoiy8ATV6oHICA&sqi=2&ved=0CDgQ9QEwAQ&dur=196)

After a long bath and a few rather pathetic window cleanings, Puck stumbled into the Town Hall. Trying to not look anyone in the eye and, frankly, not look at anything illuminated by natural light, Pock raised his hand in response to Mork's question.

Reckon it isn't my place to talk 'bout reparations for things that ain't mine, or land that I can't offer, but there is a question that occurs to me about this Red King. You say he is killing off orcs and forcing the clans to join him, right? So, if y'all stay here, won't he come, inflict violence on us and ours, and try to make you join up with him?

[Morbis Meh]

Capin stayed amongst his new flock and stayed with them through the night, extolling the virtues of bacon to anyone who would listen. He introduced to them wonders such as the BLT, bacon pancakes and other various bacon wrapped delights. He, unlinke poor Pock, abstained from liquor for he had a more important mission on hand. Once the party had died down to the point when no one was really listening, Capin retired with skippy to his log cabin. The morning was crisp and the air sweet, Capin spent the morning grooming his beard for the meeting with the help of Skippy of course. He patiently listened to the Mayor's words before speaking "Well sir I doubt the orcs will have little in payment for the farm, they are refugee's after all. I can only suggest they work it off, being that we teach them the way of the lumber jack so they can cut down trees for their own homes. It will save the town the costs of extra labour and provide the materials for new homes. The Red king issue... well good luck mediating with a blood thirsty orc warlord sir, I will back you 100%"

[Barsoom]

Harrazd spent the evening cavorting and drinking with his clansmen. The rest of the night was hazy in his recollections, but there may have been a wrestling contest involved. Possibly a weightlifting contest too, with beer kegs for weights. Stoopid, next time lift with legs, not back, he chided himself upon waking up, finding his muscles all cramped.

Upon the arrival at the town meeting, he was silent until the topic of the Red King was brought up. Orcs no like organizashun. Only fear and promise of booty can keep them in check. If Red King is not stoopid, he will have horde march soon.

[boldfont]

Mr. Fuss takes in the comments of the SWAG members.

Very well than. The town shall reimburse tha Busby farm with gold, an tha Orcs shall work off thar debt by workin' for tha town.

Mork agrees to this, and is made to understand that the Orcs stay might be temporary. The Orcs will build a series of huts in the North East part of town. The lumber and raw materials will have to be taken from there as well. Ferran's objections are heard, but quashed. The Orc need a place to live. Mork agrees to this, but only on the condition that the red king be removed from power.

Tha takes care o' tha farst an second problem. Now, what about this red king?

Ivellios thumbs through his book on Orc crusades.

Knowledge: History DC 20 check. Rolled a 15 (+2 Int and +2 Librarian synergy bonus, but unskilled = 19... close enough)

Ivellios flips to a page with a colourful illustration depicting the Massacre of Turner's Pass. There straddling a hairless worg is a red skinned Orc brandishing an axe with lightning shooting from the blades in all directions. But that battle was over 400 years ago...

[theduck]

Realizing that the sooner the meeting is done, the sooner he can hide in some dark, cool, quiet hole and die, Pock pipes up again.

He sounds like a less than savory orc. 'less he is some immortal orc, though, a good stabbing should do him like any other fella.

[distant quasar]

Brooding over the plight of the trees, Ferran finds it hard to spare much thought about this "Red King". Why can't these orcs just live in the forest? hmmph

Still, he agrees that killing this orc is the best way to avenge the trees the Red King is now indirectly responsible for killing. Ferran does his best not to consider who is directly directly responsible for the despoiling of nature's beauty.

[Batpope Scott]

Huh. An orc just like the description was in my book..... You fine fellows don't believe in reincarnation do you? Because I don't much like the alternative that Pock unwittingly may have suggested.

Ivellios goes pale as the thought sinks in He can't really be immortal can he?

[Morbis Meh]

Capin's face turns serious and he moves into a bold imposing pose "Immortal or not we can still find out if he bleeds! Then crush him under the weight of a bulky heathcare plan that will rob him blind after we have established that he is indeed vulnerable and we all can retire to our respective Villa's in Swank Town down the river!"

[boldfont]

Mr. Fuss concludes the meeting.

Than its agreed! The membas o SWAG ll go an kill tha Red King.

Mork grins. An inna meen times, Yous gonta haffa let us Orces live in Small Town. It is clearly evident that Mork does not expect you to survive the weather, let alone the Red King.

Busby, who had been following a fly intently with his eyes throughout the whole meeting, now sets his sights on Harrazd and his cousin Mork. He falls backwards out of his chair in surprise and begins shouting
ORCS!!! St Cuthbert help us! ORCS!!! It's an INVASION! Kill them!

Everyone stares in disbelief.

idiot...



The adventurers go off to collect their things for the trip. Ferran and Murika go together to the Mill first. Then they head to Grove. After Ferran and Murika have gathered all their things, Ferran hears the sound of chopping and fire crackling coming from the inner sanctum of his sacred grove. Naturally they investigate. There, in the centre of the holy grounds are four misinformed orcs in the midst of chopping down a 1000 year old oak. They've already begun burning the branches and they appear to be roasting the golden deer that used to frolick gaily in these parts.

Hullo neighbour!


- Meanwhile -

Pock steps into his humble abode. Something smells exceptionally good! Like... turnips, lamb and parsley. He is surprised to see a scantilly clad woman in his kitchen. His eyes scan down from her delicate green toes upwards. She is obviously an orc. Memories of last night are settling on the surface of his mind. Her legs and thighs are muscular, yet feminine. The bottom is... ahem... acceptable. She is tall, but this isn't the worst mistake a gnome could make. The small of her back is appealing. And the breasts are delightful. Alright Pock! Not Bad! he thinks to himself.

And then the face...

Roll a Fort save DC 15 or suffer nausea.

Her face is absolutely horrifying. Like the half bred demon spawn of a Carrot Top and a Snookie, (upon seeing her face Pock knows these two modern horrors as if they were of his own time) her face is the embodiment of evil. Her skin has a wavy, bubbling moving quality to it. Her neck hairs bristle like a wire brush on a frying pan. And her brow extends so far out as to provide shade for her chin sores.

Hello my love! she says.


- Also Meanwhile -

Harrazd and Ivellios collect their belongings for the long journey ahead of them. Ivellios can't shake the feeling that there must be more he could learn about this "Red King". Harrazd also feels like there must be some clue in the oral history of his people. They are in the library packing when he remembers another book by the same author. "The Wicked deeds of Kings" by L'vellion Tellis Elf of the High Town. But he and Harrazd are already running behind. They said they would meet the group in the hour. The sound of crashing pins makes it difficult to concentrate.

[theduck]

Pock had not been aware it was possible to scream and vomit at the same time, and a small, detached part of his mind wondered if there was a term for such a phenomena... something like... scromit? That same part of his mind was also amazed that he had anything left in his stomach to void.

There was a moment, maybe two, before some primal instinct kicked him into gear, and he disappeared. Moving as quickly, but quietly, as he could, he grabbed his dagger, and, after a moments hesitation, tried to gather his leather jacket and other gear

She had seemed like a nice enough person, but he was in a hurry now, and would talk to her about this when he got back.

Although maybe, just maybe, if he just always sneaked in and out, she would leave.

It might not have been brave, but he had seen bravery kill more men (or humanoids) than cowardice.

Using Cloak of Deception for improved invisibility til end of turn. Hide at +31, Move Silently at + 25 (w/o cloak)

Edit - and by cloak, I mean boots

[boldfont]

My Father wants to discuss the wedding details with you tonight.Pock wiped the vomit from his chin and bundled his dagger and armour in his arms. Snookums? she called, but he was out the door already. Unfortunately some of his gear was left behind. Screw it! I can replace that stuff he thought. All of his most valuable items were bundled in his arms.

The little Gnome bolted out the door, but now she was following him!

She's fast! he thought. Pock quickly took refuge in a bush outside of his house (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/14/escape-from-the-orc-bride/).

Hello my love gnome! So you want to play "hide and seek? You must not have had enough of that game last night. Okay. Come out, come out, where ever you are. *Giggles*

Pock's heart was racing. He sank against the wall of his neighbour's house with his gear cradled in his hands. He'd take the Red King over this hell any day.

She craned her hideous head every which way. She was revolting from the neck up! (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/14/flack-klaghhh/) Fortunately, she didn't seem to know exactly where he was. Wedding? Dear god! What would the kids look like? Pock feels another wave of nausea come on, but he pushes it down. Now what?

[distant quasar]

Ferran stares at them for a moment, too shocked to say or even think anything. Then The silence breaks, and he begins yelling furiously in Druidic, switching to common only after his stream of curses has abated enough that he realizes noone save himself understood any of it. Nonetheless, the Orcs can clearly tell he is very, very mad.

"THIS IS A HOLY PLACE! YOU HAVE DEFILED IT! LEAVE NOW AND NEVER RETURN, OR SUFFER THE RIGHTEOUS WRATH OF NATURE!!!!!" he screams, still far from his usual, polite, soft-spoken self. Also, as he begins speaking in common, he decides to let loose his glowing aura of light, to better impress upon the orcs the graveness of their mistake (and the fact that he is just and righteous).

Activate Holy Radiance; unless they are secretly undead it won't hurt them, but it may give a circumstance bonus to this Intimidate check?

[roll0]

EDIT: darn. They may think I'm crazy, but now they are likely going to laugh instead of fleeing :smallyuk:

[theduck]

Ohmigodohmigodohmigod thought Pock, as quietly as he could.

Shifting his gear to one arm, Pock stared in horror at his would-be-bride, noting her tracking skill with dread and begrudging respect (mostly dread). Taking advantage of the fact she seemed to be looking away from his, he crept as quietly as he could, hugging the wall behind him. Then, call on all his experience as a window washer, he shifted his stance slightly and scurried up the wall, throwing himself flat on the roof.
swift action to shift to Dance of the Spider, move silently to t 22, climb to u 21 (15 feet, move silently at -5)

Move Silently 1: [roll0] assuming -2 for sick
Move Silently 2: [roll1]
Hide: [roll2] + 31 -2 + 15(roof)

[theduck]

That's what I get for making sure I formatted correctly

[SPOILER]
MS1 [roll0] + 25 - 2
MS2 [roll1] + 20 -2
H [roll2] +31 - 2 + 15
[/SPOILER

[boldfont]

Grove Encounter

The four Orcs are not impressed by treestrider's light show. Little known fact: Orcs dislike the light.

It's the truth! Consult your Monster's Manual I. These Orcs are "Dazzled" which translates to a -1 attk and -1 to certain skills.

The Orc are about forty to fifty feet away. They have nearly chopped through the great oak. The fire crackles, emphasizing the tension. A brief moment of uncomfortable silence passes.

Zub zub.

Derp.

Neither Murika nor Ferran spoke the guttral slop that was the Orcish language. Unfortunately, the Orcs in question spoke piss poor common. Had Murika and Ferran understood Orc, they would have realized the full significance of those three syllables. In common, it would have sounded something like this:

Tut tut, Grok my dear fellow. I do believe this luddite is trying to enforce his autocratic version of ecology upon us. The sudden employment of illumination is most distressing.

I say Gork! I think you may be on to something here. These upstarts intend to infringe upon our natural god-given lockean rights. They have no respect for liberty. Let us beat them soundly.

The Orcs toss aside their axes and march towards the adventures. They look upset at being ordered to leave, but they seem to be accepting Ferran's authority.

Roll Sense Motive DC 15 both of you. Then roll iniative. I have to draw up your combat map.

[boldfont]

Pock scurries up the wall like a gecko. The leather armour drops from his shoulder, but Pock stretches out his foot to catch it by the straps. He dangles there for a moment straining his muscels. Then with a file of the toes the armour flies up ahead of his and lands with a thud on the roof. The vile Orc Bride's keen ears cause her to whip around to the house Pock was hanging from, but by then Pock is sprawlled flat on his back doing his best to control his breathing. Who is this beast? How the hell can she be on to him? No one finds Pock! Pock is the shadows! Pock is a whisper! Holy crap!

I hear you Pookie...

Pigeons scuttle about on the opposite side of the roof. Fortunately none of them were startled by Pock's sudden appearance.

[Morbis Meh]

Sense motive [roll0]

[Batpope Scott]

I think they'll forgive me for being a liiittle late today. If they leave without me I don't have to go, so i'm not going to lose anything am I? Ivellios suddenly ponders why he thinks out loud when nobody but the bowlers are around to hear him. Deciding it would be better not to question his decreasing sanity, he sets off to find the book before meeting up with his teammates.

[theduck]

Taking one last calming breath, Pock realizes this is not going to be as easy as he intitially thought, and he was going to need to adapt to the situation at hand.

Realized I actually hand't picked out skills, will use adaptive style
Picked Cloak of Shadows, Shadow Jump, Sudden Leap, Distracting Embers, Burning Blades, and Clinging Shadow Strike.

[distant quasar]

Ferran glares at the Orcs as they come nearer to him.

Sense Motive: [roll0]
Initiative: [roll1]

At least I won't be surprised :smallbiggrin:

[boldfont]

As the Orcs approach, Ferran clues in. They were not leaving as instructed. These Orcs are looking for a fight! Ferran was ready

Murika on the other hand was taken by surprise. He found himself thinking that Ferran sure told those Orcs what was what. Oh dear...

[distant quasar]

Indignation flickers across Ferran's face as he realizes what is up with these Orcs, and then rage breaks loose. The tree, the deer, and now this... THAT DID IT! :smallfurious:

Now he intends to really show those Orcs what's what!

He moves his arms and chants to nature, then yells "EAT THEM!" at the top of his lungs, pointing wildly at the Orcs. Murika wonders if Ferran might have snapped...

as a small pack of wolves leaps on the Orcs.

Cast Summon Nature's Ally III, summoning [roll[1d4+1[/roll] wolves
+4 str and con to them from augment summoning

[distant quasar]

:smallredface: [roll0]

EDIT: Woot! Do you control the actions or do I?

[theduck]

While the roof was relatively comfortable, and the sun pleasantly warm, Pock realized it was a just a matter of time before that she-beast (who, truthfully, had only shown him kindness and an... enjoyable time) figured out where he was hiding.

Crawling as quietly as he could to the edge of the roof, praying the pigeons wouldn't give him away. He considered the distance between where he was and the next house, and, thinking he didn't really trust his ability jump it from prone, allowed himself to fall into the shadows. With a poof of smoke, he found himself on the other roof.

If I get out of all this single, I reckon I may need to drink til I can't remember that face no more Pock thought quietly.

Move Silently to V-17, Shadow Jaunt to Y-8, hide

ms: [roll0] + 25 - 2
hide: [roll1] + 31 - 2 + 15

[boldfont]

Pock is out of trouble... for now. The Orc bride did hear him earlier, but Pock is quick. Pock is the wind.

Pookie? she says with a bit more concern in her voice. As if some part of her brain were doubting for a moment, Maybe he doesn't love me...

Pock watches from the roof as Ms Barrellis and Ms Farsight wish each other well and part ways. Ms Barrellis turns the corner and meets eye to eye with the Orc Bride. A terrified shriek escapes her lips and tear run down the young virgin's cheeks. And then, realizing that it probably isn't polite to scream bloody murder in reaction to someone's face no matter how ugly they might be, she apologizes.

S-s-sorry, You startled me is all.

The Orc bride thinks nothing of it. She continues her hunt in the wrong direction by ripping the door off of a neighbouring house.

Pookie? Are you in here?

He's free! Pock can escape if he so chooses,

[boldfont]

The Book of Wicked Kings (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/book-of-wicked-kings-the-red-king/)

Harrazd thumbed through a Elven picture book and Ivellios searched the library frantically. Although by no means a stupid Orc, Harrazf was not well versed in the Elvish language. He thought he might understand a story of a child's caliber. Unfortunately, the illustrations were quite offensive, depicting the brutal death of orcs at elvish hands. Happy, smiling elves shooting arrows into the hearts of grumpy orcs.

I found it! Ivellios called from the top of the ladder. Carefully he climbed down with a tomb entitled "The wicked deeds of kings". (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/book-of-wicked-kings-the-red-king/)The edges crumbled even as his hands ran over it. Harrazd could read the common tongue, which this book was in (albeit an older manner of words) and so Ivellios urged Harrazd to join him at his side. Together they gingerly turned each page, until they found one of interest. It was about the Red King.

The book was in decent condition for its age, and for having survived underground for so long. Some of the page had dulled, however, making it difficult to follow the narrative. Ivellious felt strongly that there was some significance to this page, if they could only make out the words. The two of them hunched over the brittle paper and set about completing the historical account, knowing that it held a crucial piece of the puzzle.

[distant quasar]

The pack of wolves appears In a loose line in front of Ferran, immmediately running towards and leaping at the nearest Orcs, tearing at them with their jaws.

The wolves appear in A14, B15, C14, D15, and F14.

One charges the orc in J13 another, the one in I17. One charges the Orc in H22. One each moves to and attacks the Orcs in J13 and I17. The wolves are now in I13, I12, H15, H16, and H21.

Bite (J13): [roll0] (+3, +2 from extra str, +2 from charge)
Damage: [roll1]
trip if hits: [roll2]

Bite (J13):[roll3]
Damage: [roll4]
trip if hits: [roll5]

Bite (I17):[roll6]
Damage: [roll7]
trip if hits: [roll8]

Bite (I17):[roll9]
Damage: [roll10]
trip if hits: [roll11]

Bite (H22):[roll12]
Damage: [roll13]
trip if hits: [roll14]

[Batpope Scott]

Violence, slaughter, prophecy and cyclic reincarnation. Not only that but he seems quite the nasty fellow. Let's see if I can clear up a bit of those unclear points....

Decipher Script roll
[roll0]

[boldfont]

The Orcs were told they could cut trees to make homes for themselves, but mistakenly confused the building site with the sacred grove. Very mistaken indeed! What began as a misunderstanding became a brawl, and from there a bloodbath.

Five wolves spring into existance from under the dry leaves on the ground. They snarl and leap at the throats of their enemies as commanded by the furious druid. Two take on one Orc, and two more take on another. Both are by the bon fire. They snap at the Orcs arms and connect. In avoiding the first, both orcs are bitten by the second. They pull at the flesh between their teeth and shake their head vigorously, dragging the Orcs to the ground.

One of the Orcs twists his body as he falls, wolf still attached, and lands with the full force of his body on the wolf. This quickly loosens the animal from his arm, but leaves the Orc prone on top of the wolf.

8 dmg to I13 Worf and grappled.

The fifth wolf, furthest away bites but misses the mark. Likewise, the Orc takes a swing with his ham like fist, but misses. They eye each other warily.

Suddenly, the other Orc strikes out with his foot at just the right moment, propelling one of the wolves into the fire. The summoned animal dissapates into nothing more than burning leaves.

CRIT and Death

The fourth Orc realizes that the level of seriousness of situation has risen considerably. He picks up the axe that he prematurely cast aside and runs forward to join the battle.

Here is the updated battle map (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/15/grove-encounter/).

[boldfont]

Treating the Book

Ivellios has some success treating the aged paper. He brought out some dyes he kept on hand for just such a purpose, and with a delicate hand brushed a blue solution over the page. Harrazd assisted his friend by covering all sources of natural light. After a minute in the dark the page began to glow (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/book-of-wicked-kings-the-red-king/).

It was better certainly, but still difficult to make out. They had a choice. They could either make do with the puzzling page as it was, or they could employ a risky technique known as "soft firing" in which they ran the page over a flame without buring the paper to bring out traces of ink that were long since lost. This would certainly make the page legible, but it could also destroy the paper as well, along with whatever mysteries it held.

Decipher Script DC 25

[Batpope Scott]

My friend I can't believe I am saying this but, I am going to risk the book as this may be our only way of truly knowing what it means to tell us.

Before attempting to risk the information, Ivellios copies what he can see of the writing into his journal.

A short elven prayer for good luck is made as Ivellios attempts to clear away this mystery.

[roll0] Decipher Script

[boldfont]

My friend I can't believe I am saying this but, I am going to risk the book as this may be our only way of truly knowing what it means to tell us.

Before attempting to risk the information, Ivellios copies what he can see of the writing into his journal.

A short elven prayer for good luck is made as Ivellios attempts to clear away this mystery.

[roll0] Decipher Script

The Soft Flame

Ivellios copies what he can decipher onto a separate page. With skill and care he cuts the page from rest of the book and lofts it over a candle flame. The words do indeed darken (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/16/book-of-wicked-kings-the-red-king/)and the writing that was once hidden by age is now revealed.

Pock may join these two in the library or visit some other location in the interim. I figure enough time has passed so the Pock's, Harrazd's, and Ivellios' experiences are now in sync. It looks like the grove encounter will take longer, and so I invite you find some trouble independant of Murika and Ferran or to role play.

[Batpope Scott]

So much for the mystery. He's the son of a dragon, no wonder he could show up in a 200 year old battle. We may have our work cut out for us...

Ivellios copies down the text into his journal for later and does his best to preserve the original page for the library.

Shall we get going then? We've apparently got a dragon to slay.

[Morbis Meh]

Capin looks at the crazed hippy and the orcs and simply shrugs "Have fun guys, I am going back to town, didn't start this and I am not getting involved check you later." He turns around and walks away in the opposite direction of the fight.

[distant quasar]

Ferran stares incredulously as his friend walks away. "They are tree killers!" he cries. "Despoliers of nature! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

shaking his head, Ferran turns back to the Orcs. Still, Murika's unexpected withdrawal forces him to think... if he does have these orcs eaten, as he should, where will that leave him? The mayor would probably be more inclined to side with the Orcs, after all.

"Don't kill them!" he calls, somewhat resignedly, even as he casts a spell to help his wolves do precisely that.

cast Mass Snakes Swiftness, giving an extra attack to wolf I12, I13, and H16

I12[roll0]
[roll1]
I13[roll2]
[roll3]
H16[roll4]
[roll5]


If any of those Orcs fall below 0 hp because of those attacks, the wolves disengage them and charge the Orc in K17; I'll let you roll for that if it happens :smalltongue:

The wolves then snap at the orcs they are already next to.

I12[roll6]
[roll7]
I13[roll8]
[roll9]
H16[roll10]
[roll11]
H21[roll12]
[roll13]
trip [roll14]

[theduck]

Pock skittered a house a couple blocks from his abode, and dons this sneakin' boots and leather jacket. As he slides his dagger into it's small sheath, he hears the orcish women call his name one last time, and he feels a slight pang of regret at the hurt he hears.

Reckon I coulda handled that better... but that is future me's problem now. he mutters to himself, as he turns to walk towards the Munster Burger Bar. He loiters for a bit, but when no one else seems forthcoming, the awkwardness of just sitting at a resturant by himself drives him out. He recalled that a Capin and Ferran where planning on heading to the grove, but did not really feel like heading out of town (he had had enough of whole orcs for the day), so he heads to the library. Making his way in, he calls out.

We'll about ready to head on... we got us an orc to kill.

[boldfont]

Blood in the leaves

The wolves gain a sudden uniform boost in speed. They chomp at once like a machine. The words don't kill them.. ring hollowly in their ears. A wolf puntures the skin of the orc that felled his companion multiple times as he flails his arms on the ground helplessly. The others miss.

Again the wolves launch a volley of attacks. This time not in a magically induced unison. The Orc that was just bitten is bitten again, this time on the throat. Skin and blood spray in the air and the fallen Orc gurgles out a feeble cry. And then no more. He twitches as his blood begins to pool in the leaves.

Meh! thinks the wolf Technically it's the loss of blood that'll kill him.

Then yet another Orc is dragged to the ground. The Orc looks over to his fallen friend even as he himself is dragged down. He lets out a terrified cry and thinks briefly of his children at home. As tears rolls down his cheek he wonders if this is the day he dies... at eighteen years old and two babies as orphans.

That Orc's older brother, who earlier grabbed an axe, charges the wolf that just dragged his young brother down. In a murderous rage he screams bloody murder and revenge as the great axe falls and splits the wold in twain. But it is only a flurry of dry leaves from a conjured beast and this gives him no satisfaction for the very real blood his friends and family have shed.

As the fallen Orc begins to lose consciousness and quickly bleed out he envisions the young Orc lady from the Broken Tooth Clan that he never had the courage to talk to. He feels the deepest regret of a life not fully lived. If I survive this he thinks I'm going to marry that girl. And I will dedicate my life to the poor and the needy. And then he stops twitching. Is he dead? Or dying? There sure is a lot of blood...

Here (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/15/grove-encounter/)is the updated map.

[distant quasar]

Ferran heads over to the dying Orc and casts a spell on him, at the same time requesting that Silver tell the Orcs to give it up.

casting cure minor wounds. Mainly to stablize him.

Silver swoops down through the treetops, hovering remaining around 20ft above the ground. She speaks to the Orcs through their minds, requesting that they cease and desist their futile struggles.

"Attention feeble-minded, unsanitary despoilers of nature! Give it up! You lose! Leave this place and never return! The death of your friend returns in kind the death of the golden deer, and your wounds repays the harm you caused to the mighty oak. Justice has been served, so leave or die!"

roll Intimidate? Diplomacy? Circumstance bonus?

The wolves move close to the Orcs, ready to attack them should they attempt anything funny.

to H19, H20, I19

ready actions attack the first Orc to attempt an attack on a wolf, Ferran, or Silver.

[boldfont]

A failed diplomacy check in the Grove...

The Orcs hear the druid's words and understand their meaning through his animal companion's freak deaky telepathic power. It totally trips them out man!

Can you take this a little more seriously Narrator? I think he really wanted to make that diplomacy check.

Sorry Dungeon Master.

As I was saying, the Orcs find the telepathic message of peace deeply disturbing. The words You have been beatin particular wound their collective Orcish pride. With a unified roar and new vigour (from the Druid's healing attempt) the Orcs begin to regroup for the next attack.

You have used your turn, but in the circumstances and the spirit of the moment the Orcs will also use their turn non-violently.

One of the Orcs drags their recently fallen friend back behind the Fray. They back up cautiously and form rank around their wounded friend. They do not appear to be willing to leave the Grove, but neither are they on the offensive.

You may not make another diplomacy check. They have heard your message, understood it, and rejected it. They feel strongly that they have a right to cut these trees down without your blessing. Any further diplomacy checks must be negotiations in nature, not demands. Depending on the offer, you may get a circumstance bonus.

Here is the updated map. (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/15/grove-encounter/)

[distant quasar]

Ferran shakes his head sadly at the Orcs.

"We warned you," Silver says.
"Now you must die. Nothing personal."

Ferran moves back from the battle again, prepared to step in should the Orcs survive the next onslaught of the wolves and now Silver as well.

move to G9

The wolves move in close to the orcs and attack, and silver swoops down to hit an orc with her hooves before flying back up again.



move to H19, I19, J19

attack: [roll0]
damage: [roll1]
trip: [roll2]

attack: [roll3]
damage: [roll4]
trip: [roll5]

attack: [roll6]
damage: [roll7]
trip: [roll8]

Silver uses flyby attack on the Orc in H20.

attack: [roll9]
damage: [roll10]

attack: [roll11]
damage: [roll12]

[boldfont]

The Journey to the Orc Clans Begins

Murika, Ivellios, Harrazd, and Pock meet at Munster Burger's with gear in hand.

Actually, we are doing this anacronistically.

What do you mean oh mighty DM?

We are assuming Ferran Treestrider joins the party later and we are playing out the journey with him there, while concurrently resolving his battle in the grove.

Well that doesn't make my job any easier! What a load of crap!

Just do it!

Fine, but I'm not happy about it (lousy DM... How am I supposed to do my job?)

At last the whole SWAG team, including Ferran Treestrider, march off together from Munster Burger. The day is getting late, but they know that any delay could lead to an unstoppable force of Orcs decending on their beloved Small Town. They have to defeat this Red King before he becomes a problem. They discuss their strategy...

According to a map on a placemat from Munster Burger (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/21/the-road-to-munster-burger-placemat/), the nearest safe resting point is a full 2 day march from town. That is if they keep a continuous pace. Resting has two major drawbacks: (i) it causes greater delay, and (ii) once the SWAG team reaches the edge of town there won't be any resting points that are safe. Bandits and wild beasts roam the road, and most merchants travel without resting for fear of being eaten or robbed. There may be no rest to be had. On the otherhand, a forced march is unpleasant and if the party is weak they may find themselves in real danger.

There is also the issue of which road to take. The West road is longer and leads through Butterfly Lane and The Gopher Warrens. The East road follows the river through Broken Bone Pass. The pass is narrow and it follows along a cliffside.

One player may be nominated to make a Knowledge: Geography Check with a +2 bonus for ranks in Knowledge: Local. I say only one because your characters would have no way to dissern who was correct among dissenting opinions. The DC is on a sliding scale ranging from 15-30.

[distant quasar]

lol that wolf got a natural twenty and then a natural one his trip attempt...

confirm crit: [roll0]

Ferran arrives a little late, appearing very, very, ticked off about something, which is rather unusual.

After looking at the map, he proclaims "I don't know much about either road, but that butterfly lane sounds nicer than broken bones pass..."

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios looks up from his reading material to comment on the direction to be taken.

Is anyone of us versed in geography? I am an educated man, but my knowledge of maps is lacking. Personally I would think that a name as obvious as butterfly lane would be misleading. Though I could be paranoid.

[theduck]

Pock gives a small shrug as he looks at the map.

Well, Ivellios, an educated guess might be all we have to go off of, and I reckon we'll get the best guess out of the most educated one of us.

Amateurishly, he traces his finger along the two different paths.

I suppose the names could be misleadin', but it seems awfully unlikely that a path named after butterflies and gophers will give us more trouble than cliff side path named after broken bones.

[boldfont]

Angry Orc SMASH Wolfs!

The wolve are up to their old tactics. The crew, and growl and chop the Orcs - one for one. One the Wolves manages to pull down the Orc with the greataxe. Another hits an arterial soft spot on her opposite's leg. That wound looks nasty and will continue to bleed if it is not treated.

Silver swoops from the sky, raking the prone Orc's face with each talon Hooves.

AHHgggg!

Which is Orc for My Beautiful Face!!!

But then retaliation comes in spades. The prone Orc with his axe knows better than to take this kind of abuse lying down. He leaps to his feet, allowing the wolves to take a bite out of him if they can. Alas, not a single one is able to before he is on his feet and also on his guard.

The Muscular Orcs are all engraged. They curse! They Spit! They stomp their feet like tottlers! Each of them strikes the wolf in front of them with impossible strength and speed, and slays their target. Ferran feels a lump swelling in his throat. They look as if they could charge over to him and tear his arms off in three seconds if he gave them the chance.

The updated map is here (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/15/grove-encounter/).

Hint: These raging barbarian Orcs are no walk in the park (so to speak). You want to make sure none of them actually gets the chance to hit or grapple you. Now that they have raging STR and CON bonuses they can pretty much hit and hit big an lightly armoured target every time. Just looking out for you buddy.

The "W" stands for wounded (from the crit - x2 and wound - DMs prorogative).

The "P" stands for prone.

[distant quasar]

Ferran swallows, looking at the Orcs.

"Well. Huh. That ain't good..."

As he looks at the Orcs, pondering what spell he might cast to destroy them once and for all, it occurs to him that Orcs can't fly. Looking up at Silver, he signals her to act. She swoops down to where Ferran stands ready, leaping on her, and then rises above the ground again, taunting the Orcs: "Naaa na-na-na - Can't touch this!"

Ferran readies an action to mount silver when she lands adjacent to him. Silver moves down, Ferran mounts, then Silver takes off, ending up 15ft above the spot Ferran stood.

From his new vantage point, Ferran smiles, dreaming of the sweet, sweet revenge that is lightning.

[Batpope Scott]

You may be right Pock. The cliffside pass sounds like the more dangerous one. My suggestion would be that we do not take the name of a place lightly. I was once convinced that a place named "Mary's Flower Field" was going to be safe. That was the day I learned about a particular flower that acts more as a predatory animal.

Ivellios lets his eyes drift as he loses himself in the memory and then shakes slightly as if coming back awake.

My apologies, I digress.

[boldfont]

There is an encyclopedic series by Wendle Buttercup that is known among scholars the world over. It is The Encyclopedia Prime Materialis and it so happens that Ivellios, Ferran's friend and Small Town's resident librarian, has the entire series in first edition. The Encyclopedia Prime Materialis contains information on science, literature, art, major historical events, and all manner of natural and unnatural phenomenon. Simply put, it is the single most comprehensive collection of facts available.

The following is an excerpt from that marvolous collection:


The Encyclopedia Prime Materialis

Flying and Falling

There is a sub-school of flight theory that postulates that there is no actual difference between flying, hurlting, and falling. This school of thought has come to be know as the "flying and falling" theory.
The preeminent scholar on the flying and falling theory is Dak J'Rok of the Bearclaw Clan. This surprisingly well read and educated Orc Chief is most famous for his "Flying off the Cliffs of Broken Bone Pass" experiments in which Orcs were catapulted off of the cliffs to their doom in an attempt to selectively breed flying Orcs. Naturally, the experiment was a failure. Clearly Orcs are not capable of flight. The interesting and compelling theory is what followed. In order to save face as leader of his clan, Dak J'Rok brilliantly came up with a theory to explain his findings. In his theory, the sacrificed Orcs did fly, because there is no actual difference between flying, being hurtled, and falling. This is because, he explains, "even the clouds cannot stay in the sky indefinitely". Thus began a second series of experiments involving birds, wizards, and large rocks, all of which did return to the ground eventually. This, he argues, proved his theory as correct, and therefore no Orcs were needlessly sacrificed under his leadership.
This theory has been the subject of horrified elven scholars and passionate orcs scholars for years. The elves have contended that Orcs, and certainly rocks, cannot fly. The rebuttal usually takes the form of Orcish "flying rocks".

End of excerpt


If Ferran had read his passage he might not have been so self assured about the non-existance of flying Orcs. As it so happens, he has not read the Encyclopedia Prime Materialis, and was largely unprepared for the two massive boulders and the greataxe that came "flying" at him. The Axe and one boulder each flew wide of Ferran and Silver. The second rock hits him squarely in the chest...

8 damage and Ride DC 5 (I know you have +11, but a natural 1 is a fail in this case.) or fall 15 ft.

[distant quasar]

"Ungh! Stupid Orcs..."

I now have 42 hp, and am thus invincible.
[roll0] succeed unless a one

[distant quasar]

Managing to keep his mount on Serran, Ferran has her fly off further away from the orcs, even as he has her fly off away from the orcs.

Serran flies 60ft directly up (run action)

Ferran casts Call Lightning, hitting the wounded orc in J20 for [roll0] electricity damage.

"Eat lightning!" he yells at them from his new height, secretly hoping they can't throw rocks this high at least...

[boldfont]

In a Storm, Never Stand Next to A Tree
(Grove Encounter)

It was somewhat of a surprise when, despite there being not a cloud in the sky, lightning shot down on Gork. He was just about to pick up another rock when he felt the primal wrath of three million volts running through his body.

Ferran looked down on them, both figuratively and literally, from his frosy mount. They seemed so small from his airey perch. He watched as they scurried like field mice in fear. From sixty-five feet in the air it was difficult to see where they had gone. He hadn't quite cleared the canopy, but all he could see were tree branches. They had taken. His eyes scanned the clearing for sign of his foe, but he only spotted two. The first was the sizzling Orc he had just zapped, still in the clearing. The second was standing next to the tree the Orcs were chopping when Ferran discovered them. He was holding a burning branch. Ferran could faintly hear the grunts of the others, and knew that they hadn't given up.

Updated Map (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/15/grove-encounter/). The Orc by the tree has 20% Concealment. The Wounded Orc in the Centre is a sitting duck. The others are hidden.

[distant quasar]

Ferran scowls. Filthy nature despoiling cowards he thinks.
I'll save the wounded for last

He points down at the one huddled by the once mighty tree. How dare it attempt to use the great tree it harmed to defend its own hideous self!

The Concealment doesn't affect the Lightning, since the lightning targets the square itself (and 30ft above it as well), automatically affecting any creatures/objects that happen to be there. At least that's my interpretation, if you see differently here is a roll:
[roll0] 21 or above lightning strike for [roll1] damage

Ferran and Silver also keep an eye and ear out for signs of the other orcs.
Silver spot: [roll2]
listen: [roll3]

Ferran spot: [roll4]
listen: [roll5]

[boldfont]

Which Way?

Ivellios thinks long and hard about the two paths on the placemat. All he knows for sure is that the merchants usually take Butterfly Lane in the winter, but it is now spring. Butterfly lane is longer, but he has heard that it can be quite lovely this time of year. Lovely means safe. Doesn't it? He's not sure. Almost everyone in the group has been through Broken Bone pass or knows someone who has been through there. The cliffs are steep and the path is narrow. It is also occasionally beset by trolls. It's tough to say... They'll probably have to go with their gut feeling on this one. As the appointed navigator, it is up to Ivellios.

[Batpope Scott]

I.... I have made my decision. We shall go through butterfly lane. I know the dangers of the cliff faces, but I just have my suspicions about the lane.

Ivellios thinks for a moment before adding in, We should probably still be careful as I have said previously.

[boldfont]

Butterfly Lane

Having made his decision, Ivellios and the other members of SWAG strick out on their bold quest to the Orc villages through Butterfly Lane. This route is fairly new. It was cleared by the combined efforts of the Merchant's guild of Small Town and the Orc Clans.

Once the farms and forest area is cleared the party has an uneventful trip. They make good time, stopping only briefly for supper and for a potty break. They reach the fork in the road, just as the map on the Munster Burger placemat said they would. The sun has begun to set.

The road forks in an open field with tall grasses. The smell of wet earth and pollen fills the air. If they were going to sleep tonight, this would be the place and time to do it. Otherwise, they should continue north by northwest, through butterfly lane in the dark. Time is of the essence.

Harrazd made a successful spot check

Harrazd's keen barbarian sense detect the silhouette of a large humanoid to the South, about 1000 meters away on the crest of a hill. The party is being followed.

[theduck]

Pock was slightly saddened by the lack of actual butterflies, though he had to admit he hadn't been as observant as he could have been. Stretching slightly, his belly still full from supper and bowels empty after an emergency break shortly thereafter, he turns to the others.

Not sure how y'all are feeling, but I think I could keep going. Then again, I'm not a spell user.

[Batpope Scott]

As an elf I see well by the light of the moon, but perhaps going in the dark would not be as easy for all of us? That thought aside, knowing spells normally makes you more apt to taking long trips since there are many spells that cure fatigue.

Ivellios stops for a moment to examine the flowers.

This area is truly beautiful. I wish I could remember why people didn't come here in the summer.

[boldfont]

It Knows it has been spotted!
Harrazd can just make out the party's "shadow" if he stares intensely enough, but then no more. The follower stops. It appears to have noticed that the party is no longer moving and that it may be spotted on the road. It then hurls itself into the fields and out of view. Hazzard is left staring into the distance at an empty scene. This valuable information that could benefit the group and save someone's life - his alone.

The sun makes its final decent and all grows dim. A clear night and a full moon lights the path for the naked eye, but only just. Crickets chirp and a field mouse scurries over Murika's foot. To the East the river babbles gently. The air is still a warm spring's kiss on naked skin.

[distant quasar]

"I actually cast an unfortunate amount of spells earlier due to... unfortunate happenings. I rest would be good for me, at least." Ferran says. "However, if no one else feels the same, I'm sure we can press on. I doubt we'll be fighting anything in a place called Butterfly Lane, right?"

...what could possibly go wrong? he thinks

[theduck]

Pock gives a small grimace at hearing all the spells that had been cast.

I suppose time is of the essence, but I would rather have us all at 100 percent, specially if we gonna throw down with a dragon

[boldfont]

Earlier that Day...

Lightning continues to fall from the sky on the same poor orc whose friends and family will surely miss him. Already badly wounded, the Orc in the clean feels the wrath of Ferran Treestrider's summoned lightning course through him a second time. He limps pathetically towards the trees for cover or escape.

They look like ants to Ferran from up in the sky, astride his flying icy death mount. There! Both Ferran and Silver spot one of the cowardly Orcs setting fire to the branches of the largest oak. The third, who was very badly wounded, seems to have run off. The fourth must still be hiding...

No map this round. It is unnecessary. I will make it next round on request though.

The fire was lit last round. It will engulf the tree in the round after next. I am approximating from spell descriptions.

[distant quasar]

"NOOOOOOOO!" Ferran cries.

Dive! he thinks to Silver, and they rush to the ground towards the Orc, even as Ferran blasts him with lightning. As they approach him, they keep an eye out for the other abominations.

"Leave or die!" Silver mentally screams to the Orc that was just blasted with lightning...

As Silver nears the Orc (stopping at 30ft up, 5ft over from his head so they don't get hit by the lightning too) setting fire to the tree,

Lightning:

Silver Spot: [roll1d20+10
Ferran Spot: [roll1d20+9[/roll]

[distant quasar]

Spot1: [roll0]
Spot2: [roll1] :smallredface:

[boldfont]

ORC CAN FLY!

The pitiful and profusely bleeding Orc, who had already been struck by lightning twice in a span of less than a minute, and in the same spot (so much for the old saying "lightning never stikes twice") - anyways, he hobbles away slowly and makes a pathetic attempt to bind his wounds with some deer pellets he found on the ground.

As Ferran and his frozen flying pony of death whinny up to the would be pyro to make mind threats, Gork the Orc waits in the tree branches above. Just as Ferran and silver clear the bough and lower to 35 feet Gork attempts to "get the drop on them" by leaping onwards in a glorious tackle. ORC - CAN - FLY!! Gork shouts, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to Ferran. That's just silly. Ferran and Silver each spot the "flying orc" and they attempt to dodge.

Lightning arcs from the sky to the pyro orc, frying every hair on his body. It is obvious that he is near death, but like a nobel, but thoughtless, wild animal he yanks an axe from the tree trunk and lobs it at Ferran.

Intimidate [roll0]

Flying Orc (jump 15 feet) [roll1]
Grapple [roll2]
Thrown Rock (If not intimidated) [roll3]
Heal Check to stop bleeding [roll4]

Round 9 Map (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/02/15/grove-encounter/)

[boldfont]

ORC CAN FLY (continued)

The flying orc becomes a falling orc quickly. He is unable to clear the distance and lands flat on his face, dead.

At least I'm assuming he's dead. He takes [roll0] damage from a brutal 40 foot fall!

The Orc that threw the axe/rock (apparently I couldn't decide) has more luck. He hits Ferran soundly on the head with the blunt end of the axe and/or rock.

[roll1] and ride DC 5. This will probably be the last round...

As for the Orc that tried to bind his bleeding wound with deer pellets! Well, let us just say that if he survives to see tomorrow he may have bathroom problems.

[boldfont]

Meanwhile in the future that is also the present

Crickets chirp happily as Ferran, Pock and Ivellios happily discuss their travel plans. There has been a change in the majority opinion. It looks as if they will rest tonight to allow Ferran to recharge his arsenal of Orc-murdering spells.

All the while Harrazd and Murika stare out into empty space, doing and saying nothing. The tall grasses just in front on them rustle. Silently an Orcish Barbarian assassin, who had been following them since the Busby farm celebration, rises out of the field. His massive axe is raised above his head, ready to drop and deal bloody death. The other three notice nothing. They could move... They could stab the assassin in the belly as easily as skewering a chicken. Hell, they could politely ask the Orc Barbarian Assassin not to kill them and he would probably listen. BUT whatever they decide to do, one thing is certain. Inaction will result in the Orc Assassin's lofty Battleaxe - an axe that is IN NO WAY a cheap plot device designed to keep the story moving - falling down upon them and spliting them both open in a cacophony of gore.

[Batpope Scott]

If you are truly short spells then perhaps it would be best if made camp after all. I think I'll set up my tent just off the road here.

Ivellios finds a clear and mostly flat area to activate his travelers cloak on, turning it into a tent.

[Morbis Meh]

Capin simply stares off into the distance enjoying the view, he could smell the orc from miles away but he remained still. If it was dumb enough to attack him, Capin would deal with it but right now he wanted to simply enjoy the view.

[distant quasar]

Butterfly Lane
"Thank you," Ferran says graciously.

Forest

Ferran looks down at the "flying orc." He had it coming... he thinks.

On the other hand, this filthy rock/axe (what was is that hit him exactly?) ought to be dealt with...

Lightning blasts, and Silver swoops in to pummel the defiler with her hooves.

Lightning [roll0]
Silver Attack [roll1] and [roll2]
Damage [roll3] and [roll4] ; Flyby attack to swoop back up to former elevation, unless the Orc is knocked unconscious/killed.

[distant quasar]

forgot ride check, hope it doesn't null that post: [roll0] succeed unless a one
EDIT: thank you dice gods. I shall remember that.
Well, actually it'll be the same, it's just I take falling damage.

[distant quasar]

[roll0] falling damage

[boldfont]

And everything in the grove was taken care of...

The carnage was immense. Blood and hair stuck to the bottom of Silver's hooves. The slick of boiled Orc blood infected the forest floor. It was done. Two may have gotten away, but they wouldn't be back any time soon. In a way it was a good thing. They would tell others about the Druid of the grove who gave no quarter and protected this land at all costs. Ferran felt confident that he could leave for the Orc clans without fear of intrusion on this hallowed land.





As Ferran began to head towards Munster Burger, he couldn't quite help feeling that he had forgotten something. What was that delightful ashen maple smell? It was probably nothing.

[distant quasar]

As he heads over to unpack his bags, something occurs to Ferran. That tree...

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" his cry splits the night open...

[boldfont]

Burning Tree Blues

The ancient and beautiful tree is now fully engulfed by fire. The heat radiates from the blackening trunk. It now threatens to alight its neighbours.

[distant quasar]

Ferran turns back toward the tree. It occurs to him he might not reach it in time. There is only one thing to do he thinks. A gust of icy wind proceeds from his hand back towards the tree.

Casting Boreal Wind (http://dndtools.eu/spells/frostburn--68/boreal-wind--1268/)

50% chance to put out the fire; [roll0] - 51 or above it's out, lower, not
EDIT: yay :smallbiggrin:
that makes up for the one, oh dice gods.
EDIT2: That's assuming it's not a forest fire yet, since it hasn't engulfed it's neighbors.

[boldfont]

Ferran the Fireman

The icy wind extinguishes the once great tree. Now it is over. The mighy oak looks so pitiful, bare and charred. Ferran knows that ash and charcoal make for fertile ground, but it will be a long while until this small patch of the grove achieves its former glory. Alas.

[boldfont]

STRIKE OF THE ORC BARBARIAN ASSASSIN!!!

It happens so quickly that no one could have possibly seen it coming. In a matter of seconds, the Orc Barbarian Assassin lept out of the fields and brought his ruthless axe down upon poor Harrazd. That silent warrior bravely stood to face his death (or maybe it was stupidity). The blood! Oh the blood and the gore! It...

This narration has beed removed by the Dungeon Master in order to meet GITP's strict posting standards. Graphic violence and detailed descriptions of gore are explicitly forbidden. Instead, enjoy this video of Las Vegas headliner, Gallager (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbKayY6eD9k).

...and viscous chunks the likes of which may never be seen again.

The dreadful killer Orc before you is a fearsome sight to behold. His face is covered in red warrior paint. His axe is imposing looking. Could this be the Red King? Already?

Which one of you pansy pink folk is next???

It looks like you are going to find out! He brings his axe back for another swing, but this time each of you are ready.


Initiative

Murika [roll0]
Ivellios [roll1]
Ferran [roll2]
Pock [roll3]
Killer Orc [roll4]


Camp (http://smalltowncampaign.wordpress.com/2013/03/04/camping-at-the-edge-of-butterfly-lane/)is officially off the table.

http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/butterfly-lane-camp-round-1.jpg

[boldfont]

That goofed up for some reason. Probably because I previewed it.
Murika [roll0]
Ivellios [roll1]
Ferran [roll2]
Pock [roll3]
Killer Orc [roll4]

[theduck]

At the sight of his dear friends horrific, grisly murder, Pock vomited for the second time that day. His dinner taken care of, rage filled his tiny heart, he screamed NOOO and leapt towards the orc, disappearing in poof of smoke and shadow. A moment later he appeared on the far side of the orc, dagger in hand, a deathly glint in his eye.

Stadanrd Action to Shadow Jaunt to O-10, swift action to switch to assassin's stance, move action to draw dagger and... vomit, I suppose

[boldfont]

Swing!

The Killer Orc launches his second, and third, swing at our shielded hero, Capin Murika. Death in his eyes...


Full Attack
[roll0] if hit [roll1] and [roll2] fire damage
[roll3] if hit [roll4] and [roll5] fire damage


http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/butterfly-lane-camp-round-2.jpg

[distant quasar]

Ferran stares at the spot where Harrazd once stood. His dear friend... this, in a way, was worse even than the death of the trees. But this orc would be dealt with as well.

Ferran begins to grow, his form shifting into a brown mass. A few seconds later, the transformation is complete, and where Ferran once stood, a massive grizzly bear stands and roars in its rage, lumbering toward the murderous Orc, standing over the spot where Harrazd fell. It emits a bright white light, to better demonstrate its righteousness.

Wild shape into brown bear, move to N8. I can just make that with 40ft move speed :smallbiggrin:

wild shape heals me 7 hp, so I'm now at exactly half my normal hp.
Not good.

activating nimbus of light, since I believe that dazzles orcs, no? :smallcool:

[boldfont]

R.I.P. Murika

Murika clutched his throat. The axe cut closer and deeper than expected. Without warning, blood pours out like...

This narration has beed removed by the Dungeon Master in order to meet GITP's strict posting standards. Graphic violence and detailed descriptions of gore are explicitly forbidden. Instead, enjoy this art student's meaningful visualization of youthful innocence lost in modern society. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWe6OAFb3a8)

...soaking the flowers growing out of the ground. But the party has no time to mourn the death of yet another comrade. There is no use crying over that which hast already been spilt.

[Batpope Scott]

No... No! Nononono! Stop!

Ivellios pulls out his bow and fires away to try and stop this monstrous orc.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[theduck]

While Pock shed a single tear at the death of another dear friend, his steely eye's never left his orcish foe. The arrival of Ferran momentarily distracted the orc, as the arrival of a lumbering bear is wont to do. A tendril of shadow wrapped around his dagger as Pock stabbed, aiming for the weak point the orc unwittingly exposed...

I think I should be flanking with Ferran, otherwise I shift to the flanking position.

Clinging Shadow Strike

Attack [roll0] + 15 to hit
Damage: [roll1] + 6 + [roll2] acid + [roll3] sneak attack + [roll4] clinging shadow

Fort save vs 12 or have 20% miss chance on next strike

[Swami Monsoon]

...as the fight continues, a stranger appears around a bend in the road. He is an enormous man, six and half feet tall and 300 pounds or more in weight, with dark brown skin and a striking red beard... He is dressed in traveling clothes of Eastern style and pushing what appears to be a large vendor's cart of some sort ahead of him. Painted in big red letters on each side of the cart is the legend AKBAR'S KEBABS. Two fat orange tabby cats ride on top of it. While the cart looks like it should be quite heavy, the man pushes it along the rutted road as easily as if it were a baby carriage, humming a tune to himself...

He halts as he comes into view of the fighters. He cries out, in a high-pitched, accented voice that sounds quite odd coming from a man that size...

"Oh, what is this bad business? Tell me, sirs, why is there fighting here? Is Cousin Orc being a naughty boy? Oh, our cousins! Always in such trouble!"

He turns back to the cats...

"Laila! Majnun! Inside now, while I see to this..."

Akbar opens a hutch on one side of the cart, and the cats disappear inside. His hands go to his waist, where he wears a carpenter's toolbelt adorned with various cooking utensils... wicked-looking implements that appear to have uses beyond the merely culinary...

[boldfont]

A new hero conincidentally arrives!

(Map)
http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/butterfly-lane-camp-round-1.jpg

The brilliance emanating from the druid causes the unknown Killer Barbarian Assassin Orc to raise his hand over his eyes and drop his guard. Pock takes advantage of the dazzled orc's distraction. He slips his fine blade between to ribs, piercing a kidney. The orc cries out in pain AAAaaagggghhhh! Which is Orcish for Not my kidney!

In an anticlimatic finish to SWAG's initial assault, Ivellios has great difficulty knocking his arrows. When he does fire, they flop on the groud 10 feet away benignly.

In a furious rage, the Killer Barbarian Assassin Orc does a 180 and lashes out at the source of his pain.


Full attack against Pock
Fort Save DC 12 [roll0]
Miss chance (if necessary) [roll1]
RAGING Attack #1 (if possible) [roll2] for [roll3] plus [roll4]fire.
RAGING Attack #2 (if possible) [roll5] for [roll6] plus [roll7]fire.

Welcome Swami! Get in on this slaughterfest!

[boldfont]

I have no intention of killing anyone else. Pock, put yourself at 0hp and consider yourself unconscious. Pock took a lot out of this guy. He is more than 1/2 gone. Finish him off before things get out of hand.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar trots toward the Orc, surprisingly light on his feet for a man his size.

"That is so not nice! Shame shame!"

He literally vents his anger, breathing out a jet of flame aimed at the villain...

Uses breath weapon (3d6, 30' line, fire, DC 18). I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be on the map, but I'll be firing it from close to maximum range, lined up so that I won't hit any party members.
Damage [roll0]

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear sees his third friend being assaulted by this orc. No more death! Now the orc must be killed! "Rawr!" geos the bear, clawing and biting at the red orc.

Full attack on orc.
Claw1:
damage: [roll1]
Claw2: [roll2]
damage: [roll3]
Bite: [roll1d20+9
damage: [roll4]

weapons considered magic and good, if it matters

also, grapple as free action if either claw hits (no attack of oppurtunity granted): [roll5]

[distant quasar]

grrrr. I do this too often. [roll0] bite.
and dang those claw attack rolls were low, low, low.

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios moves to F9 and casts Deep Slumber on the orc. He'll be affected if he has less than ten hit dice, but shakes it off if he can make a DC15 will save.

Go to sleep and bother us no more!

[boldfont]

Dead Orc is Dead

Pock drops unconscious like a sack of potatoes. The big Orc laughs out of jolly blood lust.

BRahHaHaHaHA!

Which is Orc for, "Look what I did. Aren't I just super?"

But his victory is cut short when a traveling street vendor breathes firey doom upon his in a scorching stream of pain. The stink of burnt hair is overpowering.

Then the wrath of SWAG is visited upon him in the form of powerful claws, closing with a crushing bear hug. The snap of his spine and the splash of his innards is very much audible as...

This narration has beed removed by the Dungeon Master in order to meet GITP's strict posting standards. Graphic violence and detailed descriptions of gore are explicitly forbidden. Instead, enjoy this classic scene from FOX's one time special, "Man vs Beast." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54S2EBoh1Gk)

...nothing but a pile of burning pulpy flesh.

All the while, Ivellios was busy casting a spell to put the deadly killer to sleep. His eyes are closed and he sees none of this while he concentrates intensely on his incantations and hand wavings. When he is done, he opens his eyes and says, Go to sleep and bother us no more! From where he is by the tent, 55 feet away and over the tall grasses, he can see only a lump of green skin. It must have worked! Good job Ivellios!

Please heal poor Pock. Normally I don't (openly) bend the rules, but this would be a really crappy and uncalled for death. I... didn't put enough thought into how deadly a raging barb could be. Sorry Pock!

[Batpope Scott]

Ah.... my spell wasn't supposed to do that...

Ivellios' disbelief is interrupted by Pock's injury.

Hold on, I'll get you right back up.

Casting vigor on him and he'll heal 30 hit points in fifteen rounds.

[theduck]

The feeling of his flesh mending pulled Pock of out the sweet embrace of unconsciousness back into the excruciating pain that was the real world. Grinning his grimace, Pock gives Ivellios a thumbs up.

Thank you sir... next time, I will try to dodge

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear looks at Ivellios quizically, then morphs back into his natural form.

Heal 7 hp from wildshape.

"It was not your spell my friend, but the fire of this newcomer and my bear claws." He turns to said newcomer. "Speaking of which, who are you?" Ferran glances at the cart. "...Akbar the kebab chef?"

[Swami Monsoon]

"Why yes, that would be me, Akbar the Red... I have come to bring tasty treats and spread the good word of Joramy, Mistress of the Grill. Oh, it was such a fine day... but now that bad, bad man has upset my stomach..."

Akbar surveys the carnage around him.

"What was the point of all of this?"


Akbar is a wandering holy man of the Goddess of Cooking. (Joramy is a goddess of fire and volcanoes from the Pathfinder pantheon. I've added cooking to her portfolio.)

[distant quasar]

"Well, this evil orc known as the red king is organizing some sort of army, so we're off to dispose of him. Sadly, this assassin found us somehow, and struck down two of our dear friends." as he says this, it seems to really hit Ferran what happened, and he stops suddenly, his face downcast.
Then his stomach growls. Loudly.
"hmm. I wonder if being a bear for a moment there increased my appetite... Anyway, how much do your kebabs go for?"

[Batpope Scott]

I would appreciate.... not losing any more of you. So, please do dodge in the future.

Ivellios looks over the meat and blood with a scowl

This is what happens when a villian starts on a quest for power over others. Lots of death.

The elf sighs and goes to rest in his tent after casting another cure light wounds on Pock and waving a hand at the newcomer. I'm resident medic. If you get hurt while i'm around, let me know.

[roll0]

[theduck]

A kebab does sound mighty tastey 'bout now

Looking away from the grisly sight, Pock looks out over the over the peaceful fields.

And I reckon we will need to sleep now - I would feel a mite better about facing this orc if I knew we had healing spells to back us up, and we might want to plan a bit, considering one orc just took down two of our mightiest.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar glances at the pile of corpses and raises an eyebrow...

"Your stomachs must be stronger than mine... but I can start up the grill if you insist. No charge today... All I have is some venison and such I picked up on the road. So dry! Not nearly juicy enough... I need to get into town for real supplies. Just let us be thankful that we will be eating kebab instead of being kebab..."

Akbar whistles twice and the cats emerge from their hiding place. He walks back to the cart, opens the lid of the grill and gets to work...

Cooking [roll0]

[boldfont]

The Gold Bar

Someone is the party rifles through the mushy Orc's belongings.

You forgot to search yoy baddies? Rookie mistake. I'll be a nice DM this time

They find a battleaxe (yes, we remember that) and a solid gold bar stamped with an axe and a crown. It is the Red King's sigal. The gold bar is worth it's weight in gold. This is what your finely hone appraisal skills tell you. That would be about 500gp. This is a handsome price. How would the red king know of the party's mission though? How did he know to send an assassin?

The SWAG crew enjoy some of Akbar's kebabs. They are, as he says, a little dry. Still, it isn't bad for street food. Better than anyone would expect out in the middle of nowhere certainly.

The SWAG group enjoy their tasty treats by a cozy fire. The stars twinkle and the night life sings its soft lullaby. Flies begin to feast on their fallen friends. Everyone's stomachs are satisfied. The conversation turns to the mission. SWAG could have use for a fire breathing kebab vendor. The group, being two men down, make Akbar an offer...

I'll rest you all and move you on after (i) Akbar accepts an invitation to join, (ii) you put yourselves to bed, and (iii) you bury Murika and Harrazd (optional) - OR - Wednesday morning rolls around. Whichever comes first.

[distant quasar]

Ferran yawns. "Well, I'll be needing some sleep to prepare my spells for the 'morrow." he says, turning to Ivellios. "Could you hit me up with a little healing before I crash? I still have some nasty bruises from my earlier scuffle with the orcs."

cure light wounds or lesser vigor would be sufficient, since I'll heal another 7hp after resting for the night.

[Batpope Scott]

Yes, I can do that. Ivellios drones absentmindedly

He stutters into attention W-wait, you scuffled with the orcs?

[Swami Monsoon]

"It seems there are some not so nice people making trouble around here... so staying together might keep us from the back stabbing and throat cutting and such. Speaking of which... we should lay these good sirs to rest. And the bad man too... unless you enjoy the aroma of rotting villain..."

[distant quasar]

"Yes," Ferran says morosely, his eyes downcast. "Alas, they were setting fire to my sacred grove, and refused to leave. I had no choice but to force them out."

[boldfont]

Still Dead

As Ferran, Ivellios, Akbar and Pock talk, a pair of racoons scurry up to Murika's fly ridden corpse and begin nibbling on his extremities.

[Batpope Scott]

AH! Shoo! Stop eating that it's no good for you!

Ivellios does his best to get the raccoon party to stop chewing his dead friends.

Does anyone have a shovel? I don't have anything to dig a grave with. Perhaps a cremation would be more appropriate.

[boldfont]

The Cremation

The racoon couple twitch their noses at Ferran which he understands to mean the racoon equivalent of "What's the big deal?" They oblige and head off to make sweet racoon love in the bushes.

No one has a shovel, and so the suggestion of a cremation is taken up. The party gathers wood and dried grasses the make a large funeral pyre. Akbar, being filled with fire, does the honours. The fire grows quickly and the crackling of burning bodies seems to shut out the sounds of wildlife around them. It feels as if someone should say a few words.

Insert the funniest eulogy you can think of here. Tomorrow I "move you along" through butterfly lane.

[theduck]

Had Pock a hat, he would certaintly remove it, as a single tear is shed. He keeps vigil as his friend is reduced to bone and ash.

[distant quasar]

Ferran sighs sadly. Those sweet racoons just don't understand...

His face is downcast. So many good things had been lost today in fire. Tears fall slowly from his face as he prays to nature for the rains to come and wash the orcish abominations from the world.

[theduck]

After the fire, Pock turns and gives Akbar an awkward smile.

So, this might not be the most opportune time, but we do find ourselves two less then we had planned, and we may be planning on fighting the fabled red orc... so would you be up for joining us?

[Swami Monsoon]

"So the Red Orc has made all of this bad business?"

Akbar glances over at the funeral pyre.

"Kebabs can wait. Mother Joramy wants full stomachs and happy faces for all... but there can be no happiness with the bad taste of evil in our mouths. We fill find Mister Red Orc and give him a sound thrashing then! We must make him sorry for all of his foul-tasting deeds..."

[boldfont]

Butterfly Lane

And so Akbar the flaming kebab dealer joined the ranks of SWAG, the protectors of Small Town. Yes, he was now part of that proud membership of guardians, among legends such as Raffy the Crusader, Yow Xim the Impossible Ninja, Spitz the sly, Mishka of the Trade Winds, Jennifer the Cheerleader, Cobb Wendleworth the Mind Humper, Harrazd of the Bear Claw, and Capin Murika the Shield... all horribly killed but not forgotten. Welcome Akbar. Welcome.

They had a good night's rest and in the morning set out on Butterfly Lane. It was a beautiful trail, complete with wild roses, snap dragons, and tiger lillies. The air smelled of nature's purfume.

In a few short hours, and before noon, they found the stand of colossal flowers Akbar has seen of his way in. They were as impossibly tall as her reported them to be. They were like trees, or pillars to hold up the heavens.

There was something Akbar did not mention on the path however. He did not mention it because he did not experience it. There, in the forest of trees, were hundreds of giant butterflies. Let me tell you, those things are freaky looking close up!

http://m43pics.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/butterfly_football.jpg

At this size, the butterflies were no longer a symbol of beauty, but of fearsome insect wrath! They were everywhere! On the flower forest floor. On the stems. On the pedals upside down. They just sat there with their big weirdo eyes staring in all directions. Occasionally one would twitch its wings or move a step or two. It would be hard to navigate through them without bumping into one.


Knowledge: Nature
[roll0] Ivellios
[roll1] Ferran
[roll2] Akbar


Fortunately, Ferran was able to identify the winged terrors by virtue of his druidic insight before the team decided to head onwards. These were the rare and beautiful, but dangerous, Vampire Butterflies of Tarrok Nor! Unfolded they have a wingspan of 10-12 feet and a proboscis that extends 15-20 feet and sucks the nectar out of a man in less than a minute. He would never be able to use his animal empathy to safely walk past all of them. It was mating season, and at least one male would try to challenge him. Pock could probably sneak through, but what of the rest? Ferran also knew that they were especially vulnerable to fire, which was convenient for Akbar if things came to a fight.

Unless the group could think of something better, the only obvious solution was to have Ferran guide the group through the forest and to take down any challengers quickly and without disturbing the other butterflies. One at a time they could handle, but if they were to agitate more it could set off a chain reaction and mean their DOOM! (And who wants to get killed by giant butterflies? That just doesn't look cool on a tombstone.) The other option, of course, was to turn around and take Broken Bone Pass. What a waste of time that would be though. Unless someone had a better idea...

[Batpope Scott]

Oh my. This might be why there is nary a traveler through here.

Ivellios looks to his companions apologetically.

Perhaps they're friendly?

[distant quasar]

"Alas, I regret that they are not. Although these butterflies are rare and precious wonders of nature, they are also predators! They are vampiric, my friend, vampiric! Perhaps ordinarily I could convince them all to give us safe passage, but it is their mating season... there are sure to be several challengers." Ferran looks around the group.

"Still, unless we wish to turn back and brave the Broken Bones Pass, I think our best bet is to go carefully through and deal with the challengers one at a time. If we disturb any more than that, we will surely set all of them off against us, and be DOOMED! *kaff-kaff* However, these delightful beasties are vulnerable to fire, which will nice if it comes to a fight," he looks meaningfully at Akbar.

"Unless someone has a better idea, I'll lead the way though!" he says cheerfully. A part of him looks forward to the chance to see the Vampiric Butterflies of Tarrok Nor! up close.

[Swami Monsoon]

"Mating season? With us? Dirty, dirty bugs! If one tries to touch me there I will smash his face in..." Akbar takes a longer look at the winged horrors... "Uh... at least I will smash whatever he uses for a face..."

[theduck]

I've already dealt enough with monsters in mating seasons to last me for quite a while... do you know of anything we could use to distract them? Do you think a fire would attract them, or drive them away?

[distant quasar]

"I'd assume drive them away, as they are so vulnerable to it, but I am not sure. Perhaps if any of us have prepared illusions, we could use them. Or perhaps I could summon some beasties and send them off to make a distraction."

[Batpope Scott]

Wouldn't disturbing them at all send the swarm into fits? Perhaps it would be better to just try and put them to sleep or sneak past?

Ivellios stops for a moment.

Putting them to sleep would be rather difficult and I don't have the power to get them all. Sorry.

[distant quasar]

"We couldn't all sneak past. I can use my druidic connection with nature to convince most of them to leave us a alone, but a few males are sure to challenge us. We would have to deal with them quickly."

[boldfont]

The Vote

In my capacity as DM and mover of things forward, I am writing in a vote. In my experience players can discuss options for hours and it is much more fun to do stuff. :smallwink: With that in mind, voting options are based on what is proposed so far and voting closes on Wednesday or when we have four votes, which ever comes first. You can still introduce new ideas and vote on those.

There were many great and, uh, interesting ideas discussed at the edge of the flower forest, but the day was waning and the vampiric butterflies wre growing more "restless". Of course, "vampiric" referred to their blood sucking nature and not any undead quality, but this was little comfort to Pock when he saw one unroll its 10 foot proboscis. They needed a plan, and it had to be good.

The options so far were:


Drive them away with fire
Attract them with fire (this was actually the same plan as the first with different results)
Use illusions to distract them
Kill them all!
Sneak or charm the party's way past them


They were all fine solutions, but at least one of them was guaranteed to go horribly wrong and get everyone killed. The SWAG crew decided to put these options to a vote.

[theduck]

Well... while I think a couple of us could sneak through, I reckon we all couldn't, and if we fight, it needs to be on our terms. I say we try driving them away with the fire - that ways, we at least have fire at hand, if they decide to attack.

[distant quasar]

"I don't know. I've had some bad experience with fire. Perhaps we could try distracting them with summoned beasties?"

[Batpope Scott]

I say we do both. Fire to set them on edge and then a summoned creature to herd them away from our path.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar frowns in deliberation for a few moments and then speaks up.

"I think what the druid said first... try to calm them down, and then the stubborn ones that still want sexy time... we smash them hard in the face. Make an example, even. If we try to scare them all away they might all run off. Or they might all try to run us over... Mobs are very scary things. Especially mobs with ten foot naughty bits..."

[boldfont]

The Swag crew voted on the best course of action, but the votes split two ways. On one hand there was some kind of burning and herding plan. On the other hand there was a calming/sneaking and bashing plan. The votes being split, the SWAG crew then decided to decide by other means. But should they flip a coin or arm wrestle?


Okay, now I'm totally messing with you. :smallbiggrin:
Write in a solution soon please. My vampire butterfly are getting restless!

[Batpope Scott]

If we are careful, the mob can be directed away from us. They are also flying creatures and I would wager that any immediately fearful of the fire would take flight and move away from the area instead of charging over land like cattle would.

[boldfont]

The discussion was at a grid lock. Ivellios and Pock wanted to clear a path with fire, but Akbar and Ferran were resolved to walk through the herd and deal with trouble makers individually. After the vote split, they SWAG team attempted to break the tie with tiddly-winks, rock/paper/scissors, and volleyball, but the results were continually tied. Could nothing break this split?

Finally, someone suggested flipping a coin. Heads (1) for Fire. Tails (2) for walking through.

Yeah... its clear you guys aren't going to resolve this through debate among yourselves. lol. I see some of you are online now. Would one of you do the honours and flip the coin? a 1d2. Or any silly fun way of making a decision. Dance contest! I dunno.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar reaches inside his cart and pulls out a disc of unleavened bread.

"Back home, when we are sticking on a choice like this, we flip a roti. So..." He holds up the bread and breathes gently on it, just enough to brown one side... "That is 'heads'... for doing the fire thing."

With a flip of the wrist he sends the roti tumbling through the air...

[roll0]

[boldfont]

Tip toe through Butterfly Lane (beginning)

The roti flops crispy side down, meaning the group was going to walk through the flower forest. In single file they march through the butterfly crowd. Some twitch their wings in aggitation, but it looks as if the plan is working. For the most part the ignore the party.


They encounter their first obstacle: a massive male vampiricus speciosus nymphalidae with enflamed gonads. It stretches its colorful wings out in the universal sign for "I'm going to mess you up". It is particularly bad timing. They had just passed another aggravated male that Ferran was barely able to convince to let them through.


This encounter will have three parts: beginning, middle and end with a different challenge at each part.

The green circles are flower stems. The yellow are relatively calm Butterfly Wild Empathy DC 25 to pass under or Move Silently DC 20. Otherwise you may take 10 to go around. The Orange are aggravated and require DC 20 just to approach within 5 ft. You may request a change in marching order before initiative is rolled. Right now, the butterfly in fronth (north) is only showing signs of aggression so there is no need to roll initiative. Assume time is relevant and you can't discuss at length. So instead of being polite to your friends and asking "what if I do x" I'd prefer that you do it and see wht happens. Its your game of course. Remember to use grid coordinates.


Map

Edit: Opps! Looks like I forgot the map. Man, I must be tired.
http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/butterfly-lane-begin-round-1.jpg

[distant quasar]

Ferran keeps a cautious eye on the aggravated vampire butterfly, proceeding around it. "Follow me," he whispers to his friends. He goes carefully so as not to agitate the other, relatively calm butterflies.

Moving up one space into K5, over into K1, then heading straight forward to A1, assuming all goes well.

Taking 10 to go around the yellow spaces.

I won't be passing within 5ft of the agitated male to the north, but just in case:
[roll0] :smallbiggrin: wooooh!

[boldfont]

Ferran keeps a cautious eye on the aggravated vampire butterfly, proceeding around it. "Follow me," he whispers to his friends. He goes carefully so as not to agitate the other, relatively calm butterflies.

Moving up one space into K5, over into K1, then heading straight forward to A1, assuming all goes well.

Taking 10 to go around the yellow spaces.

I won't be passing within 5ft of the agitated male to the north, but just in case:
[roll0] :smallbiggrin: wooooh!

Everything was going smoothly. The Butterfly was very protective of its mate, a drab looking female with wide antennae, but Ferran manages to calm the male down with a soothing lullabye. It would have gone even better if the second male from behind wasn't following them. This second male did not appear to be overly aggravated, but he did have a negative effect on the first. So, now there is one butterfly stalking the party and another that is getting increasingly aggitated (through no fault of Ferran's). Ferran suspects that leading their new stalker any closer will send the other male into a rage. And if not this male, then the next. They have got to do something about their new "friend".

Map

Pink is the one following you.http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/butterfly-lane-begin-round-2.jpg

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios whispers the components to his spell and adds in Sorry for the inconvenience to you.

Ivellios is attempting to cast deep slumber on our follower. DC is 15 will.

[boldfont]

Ivellios whispers the components to his spell and adds in Sorry for the inconvenience to you.

Ivellios is attempting to cast deep slumber on our follower. DC is 15 will.

Will Save [roll0]

The giant vampire butterfly stumbles drowsily for a moment but shakes it off. It seems very intent on following the party.

[distant quasar]

"Just keep going straight ahead. Stay right behind me," Ferran whispers behind him, incanting a spell immediately afterwards. Mist rises up, obscuring the things around them.

Casting obscuring mist. Walking straight forward. Taking 10 on wild empathy with the relatively calm vampire butterflies to move around them.

[theduck]

Pock leans up and whispers to the others.

I suppose if the fog don't get the butterfly off our tail. I can try leading him to another male, then get a them fightin'

[boldfont]

The obscuring mist obscures the team, just as promised in the name of the spell. They manage to shake their curious follower with relative ease. Seven minutes later the effect wears off, but by then the group is far from the condensed cluster of angry butterflies.

Butterfly Lane (the middle part)

The SWAG crew are navigating through the butterflies successfully and it begins to look like they might even make it through without a conflict. The heard begins to thin out and the travel becomes easy. Pock is the first to hear the din of butterfly flight ahead. Then everyone. The sound becomes deafening, despite the buffering effect of the flower forest. Up ahead the group can see a massive crowd of butterfly fleeing. From what, Ferran could not say, but he did know they had their share of predators. The flower forest became eerily silent and empty. An enormous petal floated down and landed behind them. Every fiber in their being told them that something was there in the giant garden with them...


SPOT and LISTEN checks
Knowledge: Nature 15/20/25 Skilled only

Ivellios
S [roll0]
L [roll1]
KN [roll2]

Ferran (Wow!)
S [roll3]
L [roll4]
KN [roll5]

Pock
S [roll6]
L [roll7]

Akbar
S [roll8]
L [roll9]
KN [roll10]

Beastie
H [roll11]
MS [roll12]

[boldfont]

Ivellios is the only one that sees it. An enormous, but fine and silky, spider web. They are surrounded by webs! Whats more, he recognizes the sickly sweet smell of undeath. He has read about this; it can only be "The Giant Spider Zombie Azkabeth!!!" (or "GSZ" for short)

I give Ivellios artistic license to make up facts concerning this gargantuan zombie spider. Needless to say, it is a ridiculous template pairing and it should be a fun encounter.

Ivellios knows with all certainty that the GSZ is nearby, hiding and waiting in its translucent web. It may not wait for the party to get stuck either. It is a common hunting strategy for the GSZ to create a horseshoe or cup shaped web. That way, even if its prey spots the web, it is still trapped by it. It always baffled Ivellios how something so big could be so good at hiding. He didn't want to find out (at least, not like this). They were being hunted!


Grey is web, pink are petals, green are stems, and the dots are you folk.
http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/gz-spider-round-1.jpg

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios' heart sinks at the sight of the web. He speaks in a low tone to his friends. We should come back the way we came. This path is home to Azkabeth; The reek of undeath tells me the webs are the great spider-king's doing. Be wary, he is as crafty as he is malevolent and nobody can ever seem to explain his powers of stealth.

Ivellios looks around for a way back.

We may have already fallen into his trap...

[distant quasar]

Ferran looks sideways at Ivellios. "Azkabeth? Funny... this name sounds oddly familiar." he pauses for a moment.
"Best be prepared."

The druid's form grows and shifts, and within a few moments, Ferranbear stands and roars his defiance.

Wildshape into grizzly. Rawr.

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar had been very glad that he had decided to put rubber tires on the cart. It kept the noise to a minimum... very good for sneaking past giant bugs looking for sexy time. Good for things that were trying to find you, not so good for things that waited for you to find them... such as, GIANT SPIDERS.

"Oh, my. Now it is time for killing with fire. If you have ever wondered about how I look, my funny clothes, my accent, where I come from... you can be reassured of one thing. I hate spiders every bit as much as you..."


Senses Aura currently active

[boldfont]

Hullo Hullo my pretty pretties


says a creepy disembodied voice from everywhere and nowhere at once.


I've not had a tasty people treat is ssssome time now. WWwwwwhich one of you will be noble enough to volunteer...

as my supper?

The question was rhetorical, one would hope.

Food always tastes better when it can think for itself

wouldn't you agree?

Did it? Chicken probably doesn't count as going towards that category.


It's really quite simple actually
I have you trapped
Now I get to eat you
But I detest drawn out combats, so...

Another petal falls to the ground.


If one of you would voluntarily
jump into my web,
then the rest can be on their way.

[theduck]

Well, that is a mighty fine offer there. Sadly, we have already lost too many friends this trip, and can ill afford to lose another. You seem to be a reasonable spider, and I would hate for any us to need to inflict any violence upon you. But, if you force this matter, and insist one of us gives ourselves up, we may very well do harm to you and yours. Now, it may not taste as well, but we could easily attract some of those vampiric moths, who while not as sentient as some, will surely put up less of a struggle then we four. So what say sou?c

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar takes an experimental breath at one of the web strands, checking just how flammable it is...

[boldfont]

Akbar takes an experimental breath at one of the web strands, checking just how flammable it is...

The web burns away quickly, as you might expect, but does not continue burning past the immediate application of flame. Akbar has punched a 5 foot hole in the webbing. He can see more webbing deeper into the flower forest. The drained husks of butterflies hanging from overgrown leaves give the extensive webbing away.


As you can see
I have had my fill of bugs.

The "The Giant Spider Zombie Azkabeth!!!" drops down behind the party from the petals above with surprising grace. His grey rotting exoskeleton is flaking off in the wind. He has a gaping hole in his abdomen with butterfly plasma dripping out of it. No matter how many creatures he sucks dry, he will never be satiated.

Run my pretties!
I'll take the slowest of you
Or stay
And I'll have you all!


Initiative
GZS [roll0]
Pock [roll1]
Akbar [roll2]
Ivellios [roll3]
Ferran [roll4]

http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/gz-spider-round-2.jpg

[Swami Monsoon]

"If you must eat me, sir... be aware that I am very spicy. Much too hot for pale Western palates like yours. Let me demonstrate..."

Akbar steps forward and exhales a jet of searing flame into whatever it is that an undead spider thing uses for a face...

Move to G-7
Fire breath at spider (30' line, DC 18)
[roll0]

[theduck]

Hating his lack of readiness, Pock examines what is going on and try adapting to the situation...

Shadow Garrote, Shadow Jump, Mountain Hammer, Flashing Sun, Cloak of Deception, Distracting Ember

[Batpope Scott]

This probably isn't going to work but.....

Ivellios brandishes his holy symbol against the giant spider.

Begone from this place!

Turning check
[roll0]

Turning Damage
[roll1]

After his attempt to turn, successful or no he moves towards the hole that his companion burned.
Putting myself at D10

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear stands and growls, then hunkers down. For a while it seems nothing is happening...


but then another bear appears next the GZS, clawing and biting at it.

Casting Summon Nature's Ally IV to summon a brown bear in J/I:9/10.

The brown bear (which has +4 str and con, giving it 63hp) takes a full attack on the GSZ:

Claw1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Claw2: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Bite: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]

Grapple (if either claw hits): [roll6]

[distant quasar]

Concentration check [roll0]

[boldfont]

GZS Rumble


Reflex vs Akbar's fire Reflex DC 18 [roll0]
Pock "Shadow Garrote, Shadow Jump, Mountain Hammer, Flashing Sun, Cloak of Deception, Distracting Ember"
(please roll your dice and explain better than listing a bunch of maneuvers. Also, Shadow Garrot isn't going to work on the undead. I'm going to have Pock act as I think he might given the list you made. Mountain Hammer make sense to overcome DR. It's already Flat Footed because you won initiative. I hate moving for players, but this really wasn't clear and the delay was already pretty bad (not your fault, but still). Thanks & Sorry Duck.)
Moves to J9 Mountain Hammer with ember (flank) and racial enemy [roll1] vs 23AC; if hit [roll2] and [roll3] acid, [roll4] hammer power.
Ivellios: Turning check failed. Despite a lower CR, he has high hit dice for being gargantuan and undead. Highly suggest you change tactics.
Ferran: you actually lost initiative. I guess I didn't notice. Same action?

[boldfont]

http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/gz-spider-round-3.jpg
GZS tries to [full attack] bite brave pock
[roll0] vs AC 20 and [roll1] no poison glands.
If it moves it only gets +12 to hit.


First Akbar lets out a mighty line of fire. Though the GZS is quick to shield itself with its legs it still gets burnt. Then pock uses his small size and agility to move under the head of the spider. It goes in to bite, but Pock strikes a mighty blow first, causing it great anguish. Ivellios says BACK! but the GZS clearly isn't listening. It's aura is strong, and Ivellios knows he'll have to resort to more "bashy" methods if he hopes to slay the thing.

The spider doesn't give up. It attacks Pock, its nearest foe, pinching him with its nasty fangs. As much as it hurts, Pock can't help wondering if this guy has ever heard of a breath mint. Yuk.

[distant quasar]

Yeah, same action. Didn't realize I'd lost initiative, sorry.

[theduck]

Sorry about the ambiguity - had never actually changed my maneuvers from when I was running from the orc lady, so was using adaptive style to pick some combat ones - also, did forget about the shadow garrote not working

Pock, when he was at his most honest, had to admit to himself that he wasn't the most wise or intelligent of people - however, even he had to acknowledge that fighting alone, next to the giant intelligent undead spider, was probably not the brightest of ideas. Taking one last jab at the spider, he called up the shadows around him, and tumbled away from the terrible creature.


attack: [roll0] + 13
damage: [roll1] + 6 + [roll2] acid
Swift action: Stance to child of shadows (if I move >= 10 feet, gain concealment against ranged and melee attacks
Move to G9
Tumble: [roll3]+ 17

[Batpope Scott]

I summon thee, sword of my wishes, to destroy my enemy. Hopefully.

Ivellios casts a quick spell to conjure a rapier that floats over to the spider to strike it.

Casting Spiritual Weapon and having it attack the spider (Duh), and as a reminder it's not affected by DR since it's a force effect. Or something.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar draws a wicked looking steel skewer from his toolbelt. Its tip is flickering with flame as he hurls it at the eight-legged horror...

Attack spider with javelin [roll0]
Damage [roll1]

[boldfont]

The GZS feels no pain. Its immense size makes it easy to hit, but its zombie qualities and think hide are difficult to do significant damage to.

Akbars javelin arcs and lands with an ineffective "Poink!" in the GZS's back. Pock swipes at a leg but gets no where. He does not penetrate the armour. With a wise and dexterous "Poof" he slips back into hiding. Ivellios' magical floating sword flies up to the GZS and begins whapping it in the face like feather duster.

OOoooo Hoooo Hooo HA!
That Tickles! it says before bushing the sword aside. This thing is a tank! ... Er... Or something more medieval sounding.

At last Ferran's summoned bear does some damage. Grrr It smacks the GZS with both paws, taking big chunks out of it.

[roll0] Grapple

Alas, its attempt to grapple the gargantuan spider is comically shrugged off.


GZS attacking Tasty new bear treat!
[roll1] if hit [roll2]


Map

http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/gz-spider-round-4.jpg

[theduck]

Pock watches as the abomination attacks the bear, giving another hit that - had it hit the poor halfling - would have felled him. Reading himself to charge back into the fray, he calls out to his allies.

Any healing you could offer would not go amiss

Adaptive Style - replenishing Distracting Ember and and Mountain Hammer, trading shadow garrote for burning blades

Heh... he has 21/40 hitpoints now

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios quickly jogs over to Pock and heals his wounds.

Healing and a little pick me up for you. I think you'll need it.
Moving to F9

Casting Cure Moderate Wounds with Imbued Healing on, giving Pock a +2 Insight Bonus on skill checks and ability checks.

[roll0]

[Swami Monsoon]

Dissatisfied with the results of the previous attack, Akbar draws a wicked looking, many-spiked meat tenderizer from his belt and moves forward, searching for a vulnerable point on the spider's massive body...

Move to O-9 (Should be flanking with bear)
Attack with warhammer
[roll0]
[roll1]

Switch to toughness aura (DR 2/magic) should have done that last round...
Also forgot to check breath weapon recharge [roll2]

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear's bear roars in pain as the GSZ bites into it, but quickly retaliates.

at 40 hp. (51 +12 from augmented summoning - 23 = 40)

The summoned bear:
Claw1: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Claw2: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3]
Bite: [roll4]
Damage: [roll5]
Grapple: [roll6]

Also, Ferran wildshaped into a bear himself before the encounter started.


Ferranbear stands and roars, suddenly emitting a bright light as he lumbers towards the GSZ.



GSZ takes [roll7] damage from the Holy Radiance of Ferranbear :smallcool:

Move to I/J:11/12... just able to make it with 40ft movement speed :smallsmile:
Claw1: [roll8]
Damage: [roll9]
Grapple: [roll10]

[boldfont]

Pock feels Ivellios' healing goodness moving through him. It's like Ivellios is touching him from the inside. Not unpleasant, but still... a bit "personal". He's healed at any rate, and that's good. Right?

Akbar takes a jaunt around the GZS to flank him.


AoO for 10ft step in threat range [roll0] if hit [roll1]


When Akbar is in position he meat tenderizes the GZS's bum. CRaCk! The tenderized breaks right through the exoskeleton. Stinky goo plops out of of the hole. The visual effect (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QdzhC8wVFGs) is... gross.

The summoned bear has another go at the GZS Arrr grroowl rar rar but she isn't able to do much more than paw at the spider's leg.

Ferranabear uses the opportunity to give a bear uppercut. POW! Right in the kisser!

OW! Stop that!

That small floating rapier continues to follow the GZS around. It flips and flaps at the GZS's hard body as best it can. By sheer luck it manages to stick somewhere relevant.


[roll2] if hit [roll3]


The GZS prances around a bit. The first thoughts of doubt begin creeping in his mind. Maybe this was the wrong fight to pick. But the thought is quickly dismissed when the GZS realizes he is a zombie and not an intelligent being. He spews a sticky tangle from his web hole and withdraws to give Akbar his full attention


Spew! Spew!
Escape Artist DC 20; Break Str DC 24; 16 hp/5 ft sq. with DR/5 and fire burns through affected areas like nothing but does 2d4 to anyone covered in web.
Both Escape and Break are standard actions.

AoO for the withdrawal (single attk not full obviously)
Bear [roll4] if hit [roll5]
Ferranabear [roll6] if hit [roll7]
Akbar [roll8] if hit [roll9]


In the process of withdrawing, Akbar and the bear both score significant hits. POW POW!!!

OOwwwie! I don't like this game anymore.

But the maneuver may have been worth it. Akbar feels very alone and singled out. He can probably hit the GZS easily enough (How can he miss something that big, right?) but the retaliation will be all on him, and he took a nasty spider leg to the face in his attempt to flank. The GZS is looking rough... if they can finish him off before he eats spicy Akbar...

Map

http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/gz-spider-round-5.jpg

[distant quasar]

"Rawr!" the bears claw desperately at the web.

Strength check: for summoned
and 1d20+8[/roll] for Ferran

[distant quasar]

:smallredface: [roll0] for Ferran. EDIT: :smalleek: should've left it botched...

The summoned beast breaks free, and heads up to the GSZ.

"Rawr, rooooar, grrr!" - There is no escape! Resistance is futile!"

to N/M:8/9

[theduck]

Now, this dance ain't done, spider

Shadow's consume Pock, who reappears on the far side of the spider. With a savage thrust, Pock tries to drive his tiny dagger deep into the undead monstrosity.

Shadow Jump to N-14
Mountain Hammer Strike: [roll0] + 15 (flanking)
damage: [roll1] + 6 + [roll2] acid +[roll3]

[Batpope Scott]

Ugh.. This is disgusting!

Ivellios begins an incantation to make sure there's at least one person who happens to be "bright".

I hope the shining light of Mercuria can sort you out!

Casting Light of Mercuria and otherwise just standing there. Concentration check to avoid spell fizzle, DC 15 for being entangled. I think. [roll0]

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar takes another mighty swing at the monster...

[roll0]
[roll1]

[boldfont]

Death of a Spider

Whap! Crack! *Shiny*!

The S.W.A.G. crew claw, hammer, and brighten that GZS until it collapses lifelessly.

MAP

http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/gz-spider-round-6.jpg


The gargantuan corpse will torment travelers no more...

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios struggles to try and escape the web.

Escape Artist [roll0] Soooo not passing this...

Could... someone help me?

[distant quasar]

The summoned bear heads over and attempts to claw through to Ivellios, as Ferranbear attempts to break out of the web.

For summoned bear: [roll0]
For Ferranbear: [roll1] :smallsigh:

[Swami Monsoon]

Akbar trades the tenderizer for an over-sized meat cleaver and begins to cut away the strands of web holding his comrades...

"Nasty business, this..."

[boldfont]

Eventually our heroes manage to free themselves from the web. It is slow going out of the maze of spider silk and back into the butterfly infested flower forest. Ahead they can see a sea of giant butterflies, and just beyond that, clear grassy hills. This part of the forest is especially dense with butterflies. It is also the last leg of the accursed over-sized garden. If they have anything to do before they dive back into danger, they had better do it now.


Anything that would take them less than 30 minutes that is. This is not a safe place to rest.

[Batpope Scott]

How injured are all of you? I can heal your wounds. I think.

Ivellios steps out of the webs with a shudder and prepares one of his wands of vigor.

[boldfont]

Butterfly lane (Part Three - The Final Countdown)

From the edge of the spider web maze, our heroes can see a sea of large vampire butterfly. They crawl over each other for want of space. Worse yet, they are ornery. Pockets of butterfly, here and there, are fighting each other. It is only a short 300 feet or so to the edge of the flower forest, but it seems as if any hope of walking through peacefully is hopeless. They need to clear a path, or find another route, or prepare for a long and protracted fight. Beyond this, the team can see the soft light of the sun about to set and the rolling gopher hills that lead to the rowdy and famous "Happy Orc" Bar and Grill.

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios pokes Akbar with his wand of Vigor while it activates. Here. This'll make the wounds feel better.

Ivellios stares down at the large group of buttervamps and sighs. Do we think summoned creatures will drive them off this time?

[distant quasar]

"We could try it, I suppose," Ferran says. "Unless someone else has any ideas?"

[Swami Monsoon]

I can use the healing aura to get anyone below half health to 50% (or 50% +1hp).

[Batpope Scott]

The lesser vigor wand heals 15HP in fifteen rounds, just so ya know.

[distant quasar]

I'm just missing four hp, so it's not worth it on me.

[theduck]

I am only down 6, so I should also be fine. Also, I will be out this weekend, so feel free to control my character if another fight breaks out.

[Batpope Scott]

How long do you think it would take to walk around them? I would prefer to not walk into a swarm if I can.

Ivellios takes a moment to draw his bow, just in case.

[distant quasar]

"Rawr-rrr." *I'm not sure there is any way around them.

[Swami Monsoon]

"The spider... they must have been frightened of it, yes? Could we use its scent to scare them away?"

[Batpope Scott]

That could work, actually. Good thinking.

[distant quasar]

"Urr." *Yes, let's try it.

[boldfont]

GZS Air Freshener
The Swag team heads the short distance back to the fallen Giant Zombie Spider. They begin the grisly work of hacking into its rotten carapace, segmenting its segments, and donning the dead dangley bits. Ferran finds some dried stingy bits inside the legs that have an offensive odor, but will not seep into his garments. Ivellios breaks a bit of shell and wears it as a breastplate (though not truly effective as such). Pock finds a particularly stinky organ of some sort. He discovers that he can avoid most of the mucky gross bits by placing it in a sack and carrying it over his shoulder. Akbar smears an old apron with zombie spider innards.

Having stank themselves up sufficiently, they tentatively head into the throng of moshing vampire butterflies. It appears to have no effect, but neither do the butterflies pay them much mind. Instead, the carry about their business crawling over each other and supplanting a strange goo from one to the other. It is grotesque, and the heroes are not far into the crowd when they realize that the butterflies are all mating! So here they are, covered in zombie spider bits, crawling and ducking under giant vampire butterflies whilst they engage themselves in a mass bug orgy. They can keep crawling through if they wish and they will probably run the course unimpeded, but they run the risk of angering a mating pair or turning an already disgusting experience into something truly... scarring. To complicate matters, the party can hear the screams of humanoid women emanating over the din of insectoid love to the northeast. Someone is in distress!

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios carefully heads northeast. He wants to see if he can help but getting mauled... or worse, would be very unhelpful.

[distant quasar]

Ferranbear heads after Ivellios. What sort of adventurers would they be if they did not heed the call of a damsel in distress?

[boldfont]

Ferranbear and Ivellious move towards the screaming. Ivellios gingerly crawls beneath the mass of butterfly limbs, while Ferranbear barges through like a bouncer trying to reach the other end of a crowded pub. Akbar and Pock follow. Akbar finds his snack wagon to be an ungainly burden, but he manages to push it through. An incidental Volderbein here and a Hinterbein there stamp toes and whack someone's back. A paw is trampled.


If you didn't want to follow, post as if you did not and a simple edit will take care of it.
"mob" damage from being in the butterfly mass. Every 2d4 rounds. Keep in mind that the butterfly mob can still become aggressive like the ones described below.
F [roll0]
I [roll1]
A [roll2]
P [roll3]


No more than fifty feet in they find the source of the muffled cries for help. There, under an over cart and beside a dead horse team, are two cowering halfling women. The boys just catch a glimpse of them before they are again obscured by stamping bug bits, but there they are. Two adorable halfling girls. Sisters most likely, considering their similar high cheek bone structure and identical elegant golden curls. The butterflies swarming over top of the cart are in a much more aggressive mood than the other peaceful love making butterflies surrounding the party. CRACK! One of them blasts its proboscis right through the bottom of the cart and into the dirt, just inches away from the girls. They shriek in response. There are about eight of the aggressively oriented butterflies in an absolute rage trying to get at the halfling sisters.

Map (http://smalltowncampaign.files.wordpress.com/2013/05/butterfly-lane-cart-attack-01.jpg)

[distant quasar]

"Ruh" *hmmm, that's not good

Can we have a map? I'll probably cast something, but what depends on the position of the mean butterfly beasties.

[Swami Monsoon]

"Nasty bugs! Those ladies clearly don't want sexy time... no means no!"

[theduck]

Pock whistles softly.

That... is a lot of butterflies. Think we can distract them?

[Batpope Scott]

Ivellios knocks an arrow in his bow and takes aim at the vampirifly.

We don't have much time to concoct a plan here. I suggest you anger them, then run. Preferably Pock would do so since he can hide within the crowd but I suspect we all will have to fight or flee.