Across the Universe IC

[ocato]

You have arrived, one by one, to a warehouse in the clerk's district of Sigil, City of Doors. The warehouse is dark and oddly empty, with a lit space set out near the back wall that appears to be your meeting place. Several chairs have been pointed at an easel containing a hand drawn map of what appears to be a tract of land, which sits precariously close to an oil lantern that provides the only sphere of light in the otherwise dark building.

The warehouse itself is older, but not exactly in disrepair, making it all the more odd that it is so empty. Small, dirty windows line where the walls meet the ceiling, and several large loading bays can be found on the western side. You know this warehouse to have recently come to belong to Uba Morcom, though his merchant operation is far too small to require the space. The distant sounds of the Sigil night come muffled through the windows as you are left with no choice but to wait.


http://i.imgur.com/7WkcHcQ.jpg

[PoR]

HP 13/13 AC 11 (currently unarmored, but it takes move action/ full round action to summon up astral armor)
F/R/W 5/1/4 (+3 on each vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 vs stonework/stone-related stuff, free check for traps/hidden doors within 10 feet)
Initiative +1
Currently Psionically Focused

It took Bormass some time to find the right place. Clerk's District wasn't a place the dwarf found himself often - he spent very little time exploring the great and confusing city of Sigil. Until now, he preferred to stay near familiar grounds, afraid to lose the closest thing he had to home. The situation was getting pretty dire, and Bormass was desperate enough to risk it.

He walked into the apparently abandoned building, carefully checking the shadows. Living in the Hive District made him quite cautious, and he made a point of taking his axe with him.

Uba Morcom, huh. Quite rich, by the looks of it. I wonder what kind of work is there to be done? He better be real. I wouldn't want to sell my axe. he thought grimly as he entered the warehouse. Bormass treasured his axe - it was the only thing that really reminded him of home. He's forged it himself in his free time, using the few scant pieces of metal that were on his body when he was torn away from his life as an apprentice in Log's End. It was a uniquely dwarven long axe, and he's even considered naming it.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Fearless: +2 saves vs fear
Perception +7

Hopton grumbled under his breath as he approached the warehouse. "This better be the right place. Stupid useless directions- how does she expect me to find anything like that? Hmmm, dark in here, ain't it?" As he neared the doorway, he hesitates for just a moment. As his hands follow a rhythmically habitual search across his person- reassuring himself that his daggers are all in place, he peers into the darkness beyond the open doorway into the warehouse. "It looks just like all the others, how am I 'sposed to tell which is which?" he mutters to himself. Seeing nothing threatening, he shrugs, and walks through the door.

"Anybody in here?" he calls into the overwhelming darkness. He spots the lamplight, and is drawn towards it- like a moth to flame. As he approaches, he sees a Dwarf standing nearby. "Oh! Hi there!" the Halfling beams up at the other. "You must be one of the 'other folks' Uba was talking about. Pleased to meetcha!" He extends a tiny hand, well above shoulder height, towards the Dwarf. "You know anything about this place we're going?"

[PoR]

Bormass feverishly looked around, noticing the halfling.

"Oh, hullo. I must have missed you coming in." he responded, reaching out for his hand.

"I'm Bormass, and no, I haven't got the slightest idea. Frankly, I'm not sure if I've even got the job." he added, with a sigh.

[LimeSkeleton]

HP 9/9 AC 14
F/R/W 0/4/2
Perception +2 (Plus low-light vision)
Initiative +6

The first thing that struck Ornthalas about the Clerk's District was the smell. As opposed to the myriad (and mostly unpleasant) odors of the Hive, the air here was clean, and almost fresh. The scents of spices, flowers, and parchment clung to the air, prompting a wide smile from the young Elf. "I could really get used to a place like this. " he thinks to himself, his olive-green eyes fixed on a passing, finely dressed human woman. He winks at her and continues on, a bounce in his step.

Before long, he ducks into the prearranged meeting place: a dingy old warehouse, dimly lit and furnished sparsely with a few chairs and an easel. He notes the Dwarf and the Halfling making introductions, and strides over to them immediately, smoothing his green and brown tunic as he walks.

He calls out to them in a clear, delighted voice, smiling wide and offering his hand for shaking. "Aha! I believe I've found my fellow Morcom-ites! Excellent to meet you, both of you." Ornthalas places his hands on his hips, his wide smile resolving into a slight, crooked grin. "The name's Ornthalas Elkhazel, although I suspect you may have already heard of me. I was the one who got chased by a Demon and knocked over Morcom's carriage." He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in false embarrassment. "Must've impressed the guy, since he offered me a job so soon afterwards. Only in Sigil, am I right, friends?" His laughing eyes dart from person to person, looking for some sort of agreement.

"Anyways, do you fellows have any clue what we're up to? I was expecting some sort of cushy manor, not a dusty old warehouse." He squints at the easel, shrugging his shoulders in mild bemusement.

[PoR]

HP 13/13 AC 11 (currently unarmored, but it takes move action/ full round action to summon up astral armor)
F/R/W 5/1/4 (+3 on each vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 vs stonework/stone-related stuff, free check for traps/hidden doors within 10 feet)
Darkvision 60 feet!!
Initiative +1
Currently Psionically Focused


"A demon, huh? That sounds about right. I've seen demons and monsters in the last month here than I've ever knew existed..."

"One time I almost walked into this giant floating lady, I still have nightmares about that." the dwarf added, blushing a little. He allowed himself to relax a little - unless these two were really good at lying, at the very least it seemed that the job opportunity was real and he wasn't about to be jumped by bandits.

Looks like these two are clueless too... By gods, Bormass, what are you getting yourself into? What kind of an employer doesn't tell you anything about a job you're to do?


"Anyways, do you fellows have any clue what we're up to? I was expecting some sort of cushy manor, not a dusty old warehouse."

"We were just talking about that, too" he responded to the elf, "There appears to be a map of sorts, and it's clearly not Sigil. I'm guessing that we're going for a trip, if we're hired. I could definitely go for a nice vacation away from this place."

"I'm Bormass, by the way" the dwarf said, reaching his calloused hand towards Ornthalas.

[Modigar]

A short, somewhat feminine figure wanders over, a slight frown on her face. "Anybody know where I can find a..." she checks a scribble on a scrap of parchment, almost illegible to anybody but herself. "Uba Morcom? I hear there's work to be had somewhere around here." Now that she's closer, a quick glance over her reveals a lot, her unnaturally pinkish skin and crimson eyes hint at some kind of fiendish heritage, an assumption only bolstered by the stubby horns poking out of her thick auburn hair and the thin tail wrapped around her waist. On top of her loose clothing she is covered in mostly empty bandoliers, with less than a dozen phials visible on her person. "This is where I can find him right? I don't want to have wasted my time going to the wrong bloody place again."

[PoR]

"My, that's a lot of people. I hope we won't have to compete for the job!", Bormass exclaimed upon seeing yet another seemingly lost adventurer wander in.

"This seems like the right place, aye. " the dwarf said, smiling. Just wait until the next "applicant" walks in, I bet it's going to be some kind of a messed up planewalking ooze. "And we're just about as clueless about the job as you seem to be."

"You from around here? You certainly look more... local than the rest of the bunch."

[Modigar]

"Who, me? Not everybody who's great great grand-daddy bedded a succubus is a Sigillite y'know. Got here by falling through a portal in Xen'drik. Take my advice, never go to Xen'drik. Awful place, ancient giant civilisation might have had interesting arcane technology, but there's the not-so-little problem of the great brutes that are still there. Not to mention it's a jungle..."

[PoR]

"Didn't mean to pry", Bormass responded with a slight smirk. "I guess you're just visiting this place, like me, and not by choice either."

"Can't say I ever heard of this Xen'Drik. But then again, pounding on an anvil all day is hardly higher learning", he shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I got here by some arcane mishap, too. One moment I'm hitting a horse shoe with a hammer, another moment I'm standing in the middle of the street in this god forsaken place, midswing. You should have seen people's faces..."

"Blaming this on all the goddamned sorcerers." Bormass looked around, making sure that their would-be employer was still missing, and spat on the ground. "One ought not to meddle in things they don't understand. Some idiot gnome waved his hands the wrong way, and now I'm in this messed up place, and the only thing I know about home is that it's on the "Prime Material Plane", whatever that is. At least my great-aunt will have to get off her butt for once and do the work herself now."

He scratched his head, thinking about it. "Unless she ended up here, or some place even stranger. I don't envy whoever's had to deal with her", he shuddered.

[Modigar]

"Probably a different plane then, Xen'Drik is a continent, it's hard to miss. Still, even if half the time they can't find their arses with a map, written instructions, and both hands, sorcerers aren't as bad as wizards can be. Rosen Kralik, who was on the expedition with me, wouldn't shut up about how bloody smart he was and how superior wizards are to everybody else who can use magic in any way. With all the time he had his mouth open about how great he was, he was lucky I never thought to toss a bomb down there."

[PoR]

"A bomb, huh? My ma' was quite a demolitionist herself, back at the old mine. Didn't help when she blew half her limbs away."

He quickly added, "Not that it stopped her from doing what she loved, mind ya. It takes more to stop a Filgrin, and Grun was one of the best. Probably why she suggested I pick a different vocation, though..."

[Modigar]

Lyria chuckles. "If you can keep from blowing your limbs off, explosives can be pretty effective. I might not be able to swing a sword worth a damn, but that doesn't matter when I can hit you between the eyes with an arrow at thirty yards or blow your head off with a grenade, does it? Well... I could make a shot like that with a longbow easily anyway, but first I'd need to find a replacement for the one I lost in Xen'Drik..."

[PoR]

"She was more of a peaceful demolitionist, if that's a thing. Although this one time, when a bugbear wandered into our mine..." Bormass cringed, remembering the mess.

"I bet she's still at it, a pegleg and a metal pick for an arm only made her job easier. I wish I could send 'er a message, tell her I'm okay. Bet she's been tearing at her beard, wishin' I stayed in the family business." he sighed, memories of home flooding his mind.

"But I s'ppose I'm still alive and kicking, could do a lot worse these days. Wonder when our employer will show up?"

Afraid of creating an awkward silence, he added with a wink, "So yer an archer, eh? I'm no archer myself, I'd rather be in the throng of things if I have to. Did figure out a neat trick, though, maybe you'll see it some time."

[Modigar]

"Oh, so you won't share, even though I told you what I can do? A little unfair, don't you think?" She smirks. "Well, now you've hyped it up a bit, I hope it's more interesting than just hitting people with that axe of yours. Speaking of which, it doesn't look much like anything I've seen before, is it your creation?"

[Farmerbink]

"Anyways, do you fellows have any clue what we're up to? I was expecting some sort of cushy manor, not a dusty old warehouse." He squints at the easel, shrugging his shoulders in mild bemusement.

Hopton looks up at the newcomers, confusion and trepidation hidden in the relative darkness. As they begin talking about bombs and axes, he can't help but wonder what exactly he's gotten himself into. He approaches the Elf while the Dwarf and Tiefling discuss.... explosives?

"Evenin', mate!" He doesn't bother to extend his hand, what with the height disparity, but gladly shakes the Elf's if it is extended. "I haven't got much of a clue what the details are, here, but judging by the drawing here, we're on our way out of town. Suits me just fine, I've always wanted to see... err... anywhere else, really. Kinda been stuck here a while, come to think of it..." As he stumbles into uncomfortable ground, the Halfling becomes uncharacteristically quiet for the moment.

[PoR]

"Fair enough, fair 'nuff. I suppose I could give you a little presentation", Bormass said before closing his eyes and focusing for a few seconds. Gleaming armor plates manifested out of thin air, almost shining with ectoplasmic sheen. In mere seconds, he was clad fully in chainmail and metal plates, with a large helmet topping off the construction and almost bringing his height to Lyria's shoulder.

The armor lost much of its sheen as it fully materialized, growing spikes all over the outfacing areas. He smiled at the tiefling, although the robust helmet made it barely noticeable.

"Tha's only a part of it..." he said, dismissing the armor. "Only figured out how to do this recently, a friend 'o mine says it's psionic."

"As far as the axe goes, it's more of a memento. Made it outta' the iron I had with me when I got 'ported to Sigil. Blacksmith hammer, pliers, all that. Ancient dwarven design. My aunt had a whole storeroom of those back home, I had plenty of inspiration."

[Deathkeeper]

A young man enters, taking care to open the door quietly and gently close it behind him. He looks at the gathering warily, and for a brief moment exchanges a look with the raven on his shoulder, which moves its wings as if shrugging. He walks in, though, surveying the room and offering a small wave to those who meet eyes with him.
"Evenin'." he says simply, and starts towards a chair until his eyes settle on the lantern, and he frowns. Without another word, he steps over to it, and moves the lantern a foot or so away from the map.
"Gonna get burned, sitting so close to something burning like that." he mutters before taking a seat.

[PoR]

Turning away from his conversation with Lyria, Bormass notes the newcomer.

"Another applicant, eh? Looks like there's quite a party gathered up here. Before you ask, no, we haven't got the slightest idea about where our would be employer is, and what exactly he wants us to do." he said, waving at the man. "The map is probably involved, somehow."

Noticing the raven on the newcomer's shoulder, Bormass thought Oh great, he's probably a magician. I wonder what flavour? A wizard, or a sorcerer? I suppose at least he's not an extraplanar ooze of some kind. This group looks almost normal considering the circumstances.

"Wonder if there's more people coming. This job is gettin' shadier and shadier by the minute. I'm willin' to give it a try, though, times have gotten desperate enough. Judging by all the armor n' weapons, I bet we're being hired as guards or mercenaries of some kind."

[Modigar]

"Tha's only a part of it..." he said, dismissing the armor. "Only figured out how to do this recently, a friend 'o mine says it's psionic."

"Psionic? I guess I can see that, it's a bit like what the kalashtar soulknives do, from what I hear. Although they tend to favour weapons."

She turns to the newcomer. "Let me guess, somebody else for Uba Morcom? We're building quite the crowd here. So what can you do? You're not looking much more armoured than me, so do you conjure up half-decent weapons to fight properly with, or sling spells instead?"

[PoR]

"I dunno about that, he doesn't look like a fighter. I bet he can sling some fire or ice, though" Bormass noted, grinning at the newcomer.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua looks down at the crossbow slung over his shoulder.
"Uh, no. My magic tends to lean towards the more....subtle." he mutters nervously.

[LimeSkeleton]

To Hopton, Ornthalas offers a nod of agreement, his smile fading fully for the first time since he arrived. "I suppose they call it the Cage for a reason, my friend." His voice is serious, without any of the previous lightheartedness. "Although sometimes I wonder if it's meant to keep us poor berks in or something else out." He frowns and scratches his arm worriedly for a bit, lost in his own thoughts.

Ornthalas, who had been nearly dozing off during the involved discussion of explosives and decidedly non-Bardic magic, perks up at the arrival of Joshua, giving him a smile and a lazy wave. "Hello there! Ornthalas Elkhazel, at your service." He extends a hand, but recoils slightly at the sight of the young man's striking red eyes, then attempts to pass it off as though nothing had happened. After all, a full-fledged Tiefling was standing only a few feet away.

The Elf turns to the accidental immigrant from Xen'drik, pleased that the conversation has begun to drift toward something he can better participate in. "On the subject of magic, I'm somewhat of a practitioner myself. I studied the magic of song under the finest Elven tutors in the land." He flings out an arm dramatically, and his voice grows deeper and more robust. "Ours is the magic of the first words whispered by the mighty oaks, and of the music of the dawn and dusk." He smirks a little before continuing, more than a little pride coloring his words. "Of course, I improved upon it with a little Sigilian influence. There isn't a soul in the Multiverse with talent quite like mine!" He finishes with a flourish, his voice reverberating off the warehouse ceiling and dislodging a small shower of dust.

Sheepishly brushing the dust from his shoulders, he collects himself, a little embarrassed that he carried on so much. He looks over to the Dwarf, wide-eyed at the demonstration of power. "I never heard of Psionic magic before I ended up here in Sigil, but I've still never seen anything quite like that..." He instantly moves to touch the armor, but remembers his manners and stays his hand. "May I? It looks absolutely fascinating." Ornthalas shakes his head in wonderment, his olive-green eyes alight with curiosity.

[Farmerbink]

"Gonna get burned, sitting so close to something burning like that." he mutters before taking a seat.

Hopton raises an eyebrow at the man. "I don't think that's how that works..." he says, concern evident in his features. After a moment, he shrugs and turn's back to the Elf's discussions.


"I suppose they call it the Cage for a reason, my friend." His voice is serious, without any of the previous lightheartedness. "Although sometimes I wonder if it's meant to keep us poor berks in or something else out."

"I never heard of that," Hopton begins. "The cage, you say? Bloody blighters can't just let off with the mean names, can they?" He fails to fully hide his irritation, but doesn't let it get him too off-kilter. After a moment, he follows the discussion back to the Dwarf.

"Hmmm. Bet you an' I are gonna be real good friends, mister Bormass!"

[PoR]

He instantly moves to touch the armor, but remembers his manners and stays his hand. "May I? It looks absolutely fascinating." Ornthalas shakes his head in wonderment, his olive-green eyes alight with curiosity.
"Thought this was a job application, not a petting zoo..." Bormass said grimly, but not without blushing slightly. He wasn't used to being the center of attention.
"But I s'ppose, for novelty's sake. Watch yer fingers, those spikes are wicked sharp." he obliged the elf, summoning the armor back into existence.

Turning back to the halfling, he remarked "I suppose we will, eh?"

[ocato]

Sorry I'm late, booms a voice from the darkness, as a somewhat heavyset, older human male approaches, but let's not waste anymore time. Go ahead and take your seats, boys and girl.

The man, Uba Morcom, speaks with a slight accent somewhere between wealth and poverty. His face is heavily worn with deep lines that seem to cross his face until reaching the vast, smooth desert where hair would sit on a younger man's head. The skin around his eyes droops, giving him an almost concerned look that never leaves despite emotions conveyed almost solely by the tone of his voice. He is dressed in the modest garb of a trader and carries himself with the gait (and slight limp) of a man who has served as a manual laborer for many hard years.

Uba moves towards the easel, standing to face the crowd of chairs and speaks in way that is neither rude nor contemptuous, but decidedly gruff. I'm glad you all could make it. I understand that it can be a little iffy meetin' strangers in a town like this, but I promise, you're gonna wanna hear what I have to say. That bein' said, the job I'm about to offer ya isn't easy and it ain't short. If you don't have a few weeks or so to spare then go ahead then-- this ain't a job for you. You hear somethin' you don't like, or lose interest, then go ahead and get up, no hard feelin's.

Uba straightens his tunic, taking a long hard look across the group. If no one objects, he continues. As you all know, commerce in the cage is based on imports. Merchant families and other entrepreneurs go out to the planes, gather valuable things, and then bring 'em here to be sold. What you may not know is that the Trade Princes are particularly picky about how that works. They aren't letting just any Tordek, Regdar, and Jozan wander through the doors and into whatever plane they like. You have to petition for access to a key, and then even with a key they're selective when it comes to what you can send through. They apparently don't want us to upset the planes we visit with weapons or resources they otherwise wouldn't be able to get. Fortunately for us, what they control is the key. Uba trails off for a moment, before turning to the easel.

This here map is of the southern part of Immarat, a backwater little plane mixed in with a hundred others in the prime material sea. Now, I've got it on good authority that a wizard on Immarat spent his entire life workin' on a key that could open any door in the multiverse. If he did it, then this key could open the doors here in Sigil. I shouldn't have to explain why a skeleton key for the City of Doors is valuable. Uba scans the group again, taking in facial expressions as he tries to read his audience's opinions.

Lucky for us, it turns out that this guy, Ao Gao, has recently croaked. Now, we don't know if he ever finished his magic key, but I guarantee that whatever he got done is probably worth quite a lot. If we could get a key like that, we'd be livin' it up with the richest of the merchant families. We, Uba continues, placing significance on the word 'we', is what I mean, too. I ain't lookin' to use and abuse nobody. Doin' this job for me comes with pay, but it also means earnin' my trust. If I'm goin' to the top, I plan to take every last one of ya with me. I don't keep slaves and I ain't interested in lackeys. I want partners, a group I can count on, cuz I guarantee that if anybody gets wind of what we're plannin', they'll be gunnin' for us hard.

Now, with that in mind. If anybody ain't interested or don't want that kind of heat on 'em, go ahead and scoot now. No hard feelins.

Uba pauses, waiting to see if anyone leaves.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton looks up from his seat, where his legs fail to touch the ground, quite intensely at a few moments, and occasionally with his face distinctly marked by confusion. He holds his peace, however, and at the end of the man's spiel, he looks up at him, and clears his throat. "I don' know enough about the rest o' these fine folks to speak for them, but I'm sure interested. 'Ow long did you say we was gonna be gone, again? I got some time ta kill, and I'd be hard pressed to find a better use for it that securing a fortune of options for later.

So... when do we start? Err, how do we start? I don' know nothin' bout going to other plains and stuff...."

[Modigar]

Lyria leans forward in her seat. "Consider me interested, but first I have a few questions. To start with, aren't there going to be problems getting away with using this key even after we obtain it? Also, I presume you've made arrangements for us to get to Immarat?"

[PoR]

Bormass lowered himself on the nearest chair, the poor seat creaking under the weight of the armor. He stared at Uba's mouth as he spoke, his eyes going wide.

"Woah. Tha's a lot more ambitious than I was expecting" the dwarf confessed. "But consider me interested. "

Noticing Lyria and Hopton speaking their concerns, he added "Wondering 'bout that, too."

[LimeSkeleton]

The Elf's eyes widen in surprise at Morcom's proposal, songs and stories of the glorious adventure already filling his mind. At the mention of a "skeleton key" to Sigil's portals, Ornthalas actually claps his hands together in glee, laughing quietly. "Now this...This is the essence of adventure; this may very well be the greatest tale ever told!" He looks straight into Marcom's eyes and maintains his sunny expression. "As if I could say no to such a proposal! Count me in, Mr. Marcom, count me in." He falls silent soon after, carefully contemplating the man's words.

Ornthalas is jolted from his contemplation by Hopton's response, straightening his back and nearly tripping on a chair in surprise. He looks around at his companions as they begin voicing their respective concerns, nodding his head slowly in agreement. Ornthalas' olive-green eyes narrow as Lyria speaks, and he rubs his temples thoughtfully. "The lady has a point, Mr. Marcom. I do hope you have a plan for that, because I really do not want to take the fall for that." He fidgets nervously, glancing at the exit of the warehouse. "I'm sure there's another Lady who would be none too pleased about such an artifact coming into one man's possession."

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua sits forwards, his hands folded out in front of him. Sapesh grins his corvid grin maniacally.
"To start, my questions mirror theirs. But I also wish to know: what authority leaked this information to you, but did not deign to claim this prize for himself? What reason would they have for passing it to you instead of making this exact expedition themselves? Is there danger we know not of?" he asks calmly.

[PoR]

"I reckon the wizzerd will not be willin' to give up the skeleton key. So there's gonna be a wee bit of trouble there, at the least", Bormass remarked.

"The "other lady" prospects worry me as well. I haven't been here for too long, but I bet she won't like anyone getting on her turf. And I've heard the stories of what happens to people who get in her way... ", the dwarf shivered.

[ocato]

Uba smiles as the questions begin to roll in. Good, good. You're takin' this seriously. I like that in my partners. Lemme answer your questions as best I can.

Immarat happens to fall into the purview of a merchant clan run by an ugly sonuva dire wolf by the name of Vooring Ten, who keeps a rather large plantation on this southern island, Alsica. Uba points to the map. They grow food, bring it to the cage and sell it at a tidy profit. Now, Vooring keeps his fingers in many pots and has delegated this particular venture to his sister's boy, Elsam. Elsam ain't bright or capable but he's family, and since he's gotten this job, well, let's just say that momma's baby bought his britches before checking if they fit. He's buyin' up slaves and surroundin' himself with decadence in an effort to show his uncle that he's both cutthroat and classy. Wants to look like the son Vooring never had, I guess.

Thing is, he's contractin' his slavin' out to gangs in our very own Hive ward. He thinks that by givin' jobs to thugs that he can build 'imself a little army and show dear old uncle that he's got what it takes.

That's our way in.

I happen to know that a group of such enterprisin' scumsuckers are keepin' a group of slaves in an old flophouse on Jzeckni street until they're supposed to meet up at the Door to Immarat around midnight. You all need to be part o' the party, one way or another. I leave the how up to you, since that kind of thinkin' and possibly fightin' is your collective forte.

Uba pauses for a moment, aware that he's yet to answer many of their questions. So once you make it to Immarat, you'll make contact with a man in the Ten organization who goes by the name Gil. He may not go by Gil around there, but you can't miss him-- he's the ugliest human bastard you ever saw and has a scar on his neck. You ask him if he knows Gil and he can tell you where to find Gao's key. At this point, Uba pulls a rutty looking sack from his pocket. 6,000gp worth of rubies in a bag of holding. 5,000gp of the rubies are Gil's pay, the rest and the bag seems like it might be useful to you all. If he don't offer to help you, feel free to skimp on Gil's pay. He offered to give directions and to help in your escape but he's a weasel and a cheat, and I wouldn't trust him any further than you could throw him. Uba clears his throat. That bein' said, he's my contact on Immarat-- the one who told me Gao died. To answer your question, he ain't actin' on his knowledge because he's a coward and I offered to pay em. I told em that if he changes his spots, proves helpful and trustworthy, that we'd have a spot for him in our new organization, but I won't hold my breath.

Once yer out of the Ten compound and have Gil's information, you'll make for wherever Gao was holed up when he died. That could take weeks, or months, or Gods' know. I wish I could tell ya.

Uba seems sincerely distraught, I don't like sendin' ya out for somethin' risky like this, but I can't trust nobody else. Yer all unaligned, ain't mixed up with nobody around here yet. I'd love to tell you that's it but there's a little more.

Figurin' you find the key, the way back ain't the way you came. As you probably know, the doors in Sigil have the ability to give you a little control on where you enter the plane. Most people return to Sigil by waiting for someone on this side to open the door for them. What they don't teach in baby school is that each plane has a return door to Sigil. A secret portal somewheres on the plane that allows you to get back, if you have the key. Unfortunately, Sigil is warded against return trips, so you can't pop anywhere in the city on the way back, you have to come back at the door to the plane yer in. So once you got the key, yer gonna have to find out where whatever nexus of magic and spookiness is and get to it, then pop back through the door. Once yer here, high-tail it back to this warehouse to meet back up with me. I bought this warehouse with an assumed name so that no matter what, it should be a safehouse o' sorts.

Uba's face lightens at the prospect of succeeding at their mission. At that point, we're gravy. All the laws in Sigil pertain to the use of the official keys. Turns out there ain't a single statute that says we can't use our own key. Lucky for us, since the lady went quiet, the Trade Princes have been... distracted, so our only real problem is going to be if anyone figures out what we're doin' and decides to try an' kill us fer the key. Since the doors are unguarded, if we keep our collective traps shut, we oughta be able to operate on the quiet long enough to get established. Then, we're kings and queens.

With that, Uba claps his hands together and takes a deep breath, slightly winded by his speech. Them scumsuckers are meetin' the Tens at midnight, so you've got a couple of hours before then. I would've given you more time but they changed their meetin' time from tomorrow to t'night last minute.

Any more questions?

[PoR]

Bormass listens closely as Uba speaks, weighting various potential outcomes in his head. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but he was wandering if he was being duped. Some of the things he heard today were so outlandish, that even his time in Sigil didn't help prepare the dwarf for them.

[roll0] to get a hunch on whether Uba's trustworthy/ has their interests in mind as much as he claims.

"Slavers, huh? I've got a few ideas how we could get into tha' plane, but they ain't something I'd really want to consider unless there is no other way." he posited, looking around the table and expecting to see signs of disagreement at his companions' faces. "But I s'ppose we can discuss it later."

[Farmerbink]

Hopton blatantly bares his teeth at the mention of slaves, making no effort to hide his disgust. He blurts out, interrupting the man's answers, "I ain't actin' like no slave!" he says, as resolutely as his high tenor voice allows. "I dunno what methods you expect us to use ta get in, but I ain't goin' in like that. I'll sneak under a cart or stow away in a tater sack, but I ain't lockin' no chains on me!" As Uba recovers his focus and continues his explanation, Hopton scowls but listens closely.

"So you're sayin' your boy ain't honest? What's to say this magicky chap is actively dead, any'ow? Just Mr. Gil's word? I don't like the sound of a liar for an infor- informa..... bugger it, for a scout, at all! I says we take this trip, and we find out what we can without his help. That way, we got a few cards in our own hand when we meet up with 'im, you know? Say his story matches with what else we 'eard, we know we can trust him- at least that far." He looks to Uba for some sort of confirmation before nodding- having decided his course.

"Whelp, mister, I'll go for it. You got one Halfling who knows how to keep his trap shut when he needs ta. It'll do me some good to breath some air that ain't from here."

I, too, am interested in what he may or may not be telling us: [roll0] (need to invest in sense motive come level 2 :-\)

edit: or not. :smallcool:

[PoR]

Turning back to Uba, Bormass asked, "So tell me if I got this right, these slaver folks in th' Hive, they got their own key back to Immarat? Forgive me for berkin' around, but portals aren't what I'd call my specialty. Does one need to have a key to open th' door, or can someone do it from the other side?"

He continued, "If it's tha former, things seem straightforward 'nuff. All we ought to do is grab the bugger with the key. If it's tha latter, we might have issues."

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua gives a sidelong glance at the halfling.
"He said we had to be part of the group. So you can take your pick: you can dress as a slave, or dress as a slaver. Or keep out of sight and in someone's shadow, if you think you can manage. Let's not ruin a perfectly decent plan for such semantics." he says calmly at his outburst.

[ocato]

You are unable to read into Uba's intentions beyond the words he speaks.

You are able to tell that Uba's interests genuinely match what he is saying. He appears very trustworthy, although you get the feeling that he trusts Gil more than he lets on

Uba quietly listens to the conversation, before correcting Bormass. The thugs don't have the key. Doors open either way, but only with keys, which are kept by special keepers. They're gonnao have to meet a representative of the Ten family at the door to Immarat and a keeper, who will verify the Ten family's right to use the key and then let the slaves and their captors through. The thugs are using these slaves as proof that they aughta be hired my Elsam, but the Tens wouldn't know these thugs from any others who came with a gaggle of fresh meat. So long as more than one group don't show up they won't be the wiser regardless of whether ya'll are playing slave or slaver.

[PoR]

"Thanks for the clarifyin' things for me. If the gatekeeper doesn't know the slavers, I think we might have the job cut out for us. Speakin' of which, do these buggers have a base?"

Turning to the assembled group, Bormass spoke "All we hav' to do is catch the slavers unawares, beat 'em up, and pretend to be them." He scratched his beard noisily, aware of the eyes pointing at him. "Dunno wha' we should do with the slaves. I'd say let 'em free, but we're going ta need a few for the gatekeeper to let us in."

"I s'ppose I could pretend ta be one of the slaves if it came down to it. Don't need anything to get my armor on... Tha's probably not enough, though. If these folks got a whole big operation goin', jus' one dwarf won't cut it."

Just earlier this morning, Bormass would have never believed that this job prospect would take him in such an outlandish direction. He was grimly aware that he'd probably be the muscle of some sorts, an enforcer maybe - he had to bulk to back it up, and his past few months in the Cage have shown him that hardly anyone needed the service of an apprentice blacksmith. But storming a plane?

S'ppose it's better than being homeless in the Hive. Or sellin' tha axe. And the pay's almost too good to believe - it'd take me months jus' to make that much as a smith! the dwarf thought. Surviving Sigil for a few months have got him used to rolling with the punches.

[Modigar]

Lyria glances towards Bormass. "You mightn't need much, but I'm not going to be doing much without my alchemical equipment, am I?" She frowns. "If we're going to do this, most of us are going to need our gear too much for us to go in as slaves, we're going to have to take out the slavers."

[PoR]

Bormass quickly retorted, "I don' think you understand my suggestion. We will replace tha slavers, no question there. But for us to successfully pretend to be slavers, we'd need some slaves, aight? Yer can take the slaves they already have, or half of us can pretend ta be slaves while the other half pretends to be the slavers."

[Farmerbink]

Joshua gives a sidelong glance at the halfling.
"He said we had to be part of the group. So you can take your pick: you can dress as a slave, or dress as a slaver. Or keep out of sight and in someone's shadow, if you think you can manage. Let's not ruin a perfectly decent plan for such semantics." he says calmly at his outburst.

Hopton all-but growls at the affront, but the conversation moves on before he gets a coherent word in.


Bormass quickly retorted, "I don' think you understand my suggestion. We will replace tha slavers, no question there. But for us to successfully pretend to be slavers, we'd need some slaves, aight? Yer can take the slaves they already have, or half of us can pretend ta be slaves while the other half pretends to be the slavers."

Hopton's eyes and demeanor continue to smolder at all the talk about slaves and slavers. After a few long moments of listening, his eyes light up. "I know what we can do! So we deal with the slavers"- the look in his eyes leaves little room for debate regarding exactly how he thinks that would be best accomplished- "And then we either lead the slaves through and release them on the other side, or we stage a coop on this side of the doors, and let them free before we dive through! Everybody wins!"

With a grin that closely resembles a threat, he adds, "except the slavers."

[PoR]

Hopton all-but growls at the affront, but the conversation moves on before he gets a coherent word in.



Hopton's eyes and demeanor continue to smolder at all the talk about slaves and slavers. After a few long moments of listening, his eyes light up. "I know what we can do! So we deal with the slavers"- the look in his eyes leaves little room for debate regarding exactly how he thinks that would be best accomplished- "And then we either lead the slaves through and release them on the other side, or we stage a coop on this side of the doors, and let them free before we dive through! Everybody wins!"

With a grin that closely resembles a threat, he adds, "except the slavers."

Seeing the halfling clue in, Bormass responds with a grin.

"See? This berk knows what I'm sayin'. An' frankly the slavers deserve all they'll get."

[Modigar]

"If we're going to free them, best do it on the other side of the portal. We can always let some come back with us when we return if they want to, but inviting any real rebellion on this side is only going to draw attention we don't need."

[LimeSkeleton]

Ornthalas, who keeps silent as he listens to his new compatriots, makes careful mental notes on each comment and response, filing away all that he learns to avoid raising any hackles in the future. If I'll be spending any amount of time with these people, then I might as well commit myself to making it a pleasant experience, yes? He smiles to himself, and twitches his long, pointed ears as he begins listening intently.


Hopton blatantly bares his teeth at the mention of slaves, making no effort to hide his disgust. He blurts out, interrupting the man's answers, "I ain't actin' like no slave!" he says, as resolutely as his high tenor voice allows. "I dunno what methods you expect us to use ta get in, but I ain't goin' in like that. I'll sneak under a cart or stow away in a tater sack, but I ain't lockin' no chains on me!" As Uba recovers his focus and continues his explanation, Hopton scowls but listens closely.

Ornthalas nods his head in support, giving Hopton a kind smile after he finishes his retort. The poor fellow has clearly had a very bad experience with such people, that much is evident beyond doubt. Somehow, Hopton reminds him of an old friend, from a distant world; one who had long since passed on. For a moment, he feels as though his heart may break for the Halfling, but he quickly reigns the feeling in, burying it deep in his mind. This is no time for getting teary-eyed, you damned fool! The Elf takes a moment to smooth his hair back into a neat ponytail, shifting his focus back to the situation at hand.


Joshua gives a sidelong glance at the halfling.
"He said we had to be part of the group. So you can take your pick: you can dress as a slave, or dress as a slaver. Or keep out of sight and in someone's shadow, if you think you can manage. Let's not ruin a perfectly decent plan for such semantics." he says calmly at his outburst.

Ornthalas raises an eyebrow, working to keep his expression impassive. Well, if the man made me a little uncomfortable before, then that's the straw that breaks the manticore's back. He purses his lips, averting his eyes quickly to avoid being caught staring at Joshua's own, crimson ones. He's pragmatic, that one. I suppose I should be thankful. He'll likely save all our skins because of it. The Elf turns his attention back to the plan at hand, rubbing his temples thoughtfully once more.


Turning to the assembled group, Bormass spoke "All we hav' to do is catch the slavers unawares, beat 'em up, and pretend to be them." He scratched his beard noisily, aware of the eyes pointing at him. "Dunno wha' we should do with the slaves. I'd say let 'em free, but we're going ta need a few for the gatekeeper to let us in."

"I s'ppose I could pretend ta be one of the slaves if it came down to it. Don't need anything to get my armor on... Tha's probably not enough, though. If these folks got a whole big operation goin', jus' one dwarf won't cut it."

"I've no issue pretending to be a slave, if it comes to that. Provided that the manacles don't chafe too much, I imagine I'll survive a few hours in chains." He winks and grins wide, glancing around at the group. Then he sets his jaw and his voice grows deeper and more solemn. "I am in agreement about disposing of the slavers, however; such individuals deserve nothing even resembling mercy." He cringes slightly at the last word, remembering his disastrous experience with the Mercykiller woman he'd involved himself with only a few weeks in the past.


"If we're going to free them, best do it on the other side of the portal. We can always let some come back with us when we return if they want to, but inviting any real rebellion on this side is only going to draw attention we don't need."

The Elf turns his olive-green eyes on the Tiefling, making direct, intense eye contact. He responds to her in a sonorous tone, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back. "You're absolutely right on one point, , my fine fiendish friend. A rebellion on this side is not what we need..." He pauses for a moment. "However, a daringly, dashingly heroic rebellion may be exactly what we need once we've infiltrated Elsam's fortress. He's inexperienced, ambitious, and looking to impress somebody; these things will make him sloppy, and easily manipulated. If we play our cards right, I imagine we could return to Sigil with both our prize, and a veritable army of freed slaves!" He draws his rapier suddenly, an audible shing echoing in the drafty warehouse. Pointing it dramatically to the ceiling, he looks about for some sort of agreement, preferably in the form of cheers or applause.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua grins a savage grin at the mention of rebellion.
"We have a bag of holding for all of this, no? Right now I doubt that any of us are exactly swimming in gold, but I'm sure we can afford to supply our future friends with a reasonable enough supply of weapons if there won't be more than ten to twenty. Simple ones that anyone can use. Knives, maces. We can store most of our gear as well in that to make sure they don't get suspicious of what we have on us. It'll be bloody, but it's the best hope they'll have, and the more chaos they make the worse it'll be. Besides, weapons are always easily sold. If we gauge our enemy and decide against that plan, we can find a buyer for our supplies somewhere else and only lose some of the money for our preparedness."

[ocato]

Uba listens quietly to the party's discussion, a thoughtful look on his face. After a moment, he speaks his mind. A massive slave revolt on Ten's plantation is likely to draw attention, though probably towards one of the other merchant clans. Seems like a little inter-commercial head-buttin' will go a long way towards keepin' everyone too busy to care about what we're up to. With that, Uba sets the bag of holding and rubies into Bormass's lap and begins to idly pace as the group continues to discuss their plan.

Don't be pontificatin' too long, mind ya. You've got a few hours to make yer move, make it look convincin', and then make it to the door. I'll hang about here a while longer if you need me, but this old man's body doesn't make it up too late these days anymore. Uba groans softly to himself, finding one of the empty seats to relax in.

In the distance, the sounds of Sigil begin to quiet as the night begins in earnest. The streets have begun to become less traveled, shops close, and the vile underbelly of the Hive begins to show its face.

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 18 (Astral Armor: Half-plate, masterwork; * due to +2 Con from Hardy armor customization)
Move: 20 ft (4 sq)
Initiative +1
F/R/W 6*/1/4 (+3 on each vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 vs stonework/stone-related stuff, free check for traps/hidden doors within 10 feet)

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)

Taking notice of the human spellcaster's devious plan, Bormass responded "Tha's a good plan, human. But why not disarm the slavers an' take their weapons? Seems more straightforward, an' less expensive. Startin' a rebellion on tha other side sounds useful as well - ain' much we can do for these folks, but it should be a distraction an' a boon for all involved. "

"I think tha'll be all. We're cuttin' it close if we don't leave now. " he added, turning back to Uba.

Full of grim determination, Bormass turned to his companions. "I'm going to stake out the neighborhood, ask some questions an' try to put a number to th' slavers. Hopefully tha' won't take too long. Ornthalas, yer wanna come along?"

"We should probably all stick close togetha' regardless. The streets of Sigil are treacherous enough as they are." the dwarf finished, and stood up to leave the warehouse.


[roll0] hours
[roll1] Diplomacy to gather information, mainly by going through the several blocks surrounding the flophouse and asking questions.
edit: +2 to that since Hopton is assisting, apparently.

[ocato]

After about an hour of canvassing the area, you learn that the flophouse had become uninhabited a few months back until a small group of squatters took it over. They are apparently led by a woman in her 30s and her husband, the two of which have decidedly left a bad impression on their neighbors for being loud, unkempt, and generally a bad sort. Upon becoming suspicious that they are slavers, the locals have taken to keeping to themselves, staying behind locked doors, and avoiding contact with the squatters. Despite the precaution, many of the locals have been disappearing lately, as if being snatched from their homes. Outside entrances to the tenement buildings have stayed locked but to no avail, people continue to disappear, up to a dozen so far.

Because of their effort to stay hidden, most of the locals are unable to give you an exact number of people at the flophouse, but their loud carousing suggests that it has to be between 6 and 10, counting the married couple in charge.

[LimeSkeleton]

HP 9/9 AC 14
F/R/W 0/4/2
Perception +2 (Plus low-light vision)
Initiative +6

Ornthalas nods and smiles at Bormass, sheathing his rapier. "I'd be happy to come along, my newfound friend. I might even know somebody who could be willing to give us help with our little slave rebellion." Giving a cheerful wave and a wink to Uba, the elf follows the Dwarf out of the warehouse, helping to steer him away from the dangers of which he is aware.

As he traverses the chaotic mess that is the Hive, he keeps a pointy ear perked up, listening for anything that might denote an individual with a dislike for slavers, or slavery in general. While Bormass makes inquiries, Ornthalas makes his own as well, choosing those who strike him as looking like "good people." (Although their ilk are difficult to find in Sigil, much to his chagrin.)

[roll0] (He's not specifically choosing people who would be attracted to him, so I'm not going to request the +1 bonus from his Charming trait.)

Hours: [roll1]

[ocato]

As Ornthalas wanders the Hive, he notices a strange looking, grey-blue skinned man talking to a crowd of people. By the looks of the shocked man, the group of people arrived rather suddenly and began to pile on to an existing conversation, sharing details and anecdotes about the safety of the area and the sudden disappearance of locals. The man, clearly elemental in nature, seems to be quickly writing down details as fast as they are shouted at him. In the ruckus, you hear that he is called Indep several times.

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 18 (Astral Armor: Half-plate, masterwork; * due to +2 Con from Hardy armor customization)
Move: 20 ft (4 sq)
Initiative +1
F/R/W 6*/1/4 (+3 on each vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 vs stonework/stone-related stuff, free check for traps/hidden doors within 10 feet)

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)
They were out of the warehouse for about an hour now, and the information about the slavers was trickling in. Against all odds, it turned out that the people responsible for snatching locals from the streets - and even their own beds - weren't terribly liked. Turning to his companions, the dwarf spoke, "Looks like we got our work cut out fer us. People like their quiet and by th' sound of it they ain' gonna miss a couple of slavers... Ten of 'em against the five of us, there's been better odds - but I think we'll manage.".

He hefted his axe experimentally, feeling its weight and closely examining the head blade for imperfections. It probably wouldn't hurt to reforge it, eventually, he considered - but today just might be it's first baptism in blood. He sighed, re-sheathing the axe and letting it hang off his back.

The hustle and bustle of the Hive wasn't letting up despite the approaching dusk. The Cage never slept, it seemed. Some inhabitants probably couldn't, even, Bormass considered.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition None
Perception +7

"Looks like we got our work cut out fer us. People like their quiet and by th' sound of it they ain' gonna miss a couple of slavers... Ten of 'em against the five of us, there's been better odds - but I think we'll manage.".

Hopton grins up at the Dwarf. "If you're half as good with that axe as you look you are, I'll give you plenty of good opportunities to make good use of it!" he says with an eager grin, as he fingers the edge of a dagger which seems to have just appeared in his palm. He retrieves and straps on a small shoddy buckler. "You wanna get their attention?" He nods at the front door of the warehouse meaningfully.

[Modigar]

HP 10/10 AC 16
F/R/W 4/6/0
Perception +4 Initiative +4

Lyria draws and loads her light crossbow. "This ought to be interesting. Ready when you are."

[LimeSkeleton]

HP 9/9 AC 14
F/R/W 0/4/2
Perception +2 (Plus low-light vision)
Initiative +6

With a nod and a smile at his companions, Ornthalas strides up to the front door of the flophouse, his slender hand resting casually on his rapier. As he gets closer, he turns back to the group and mouths "Is everybody ready?" Assuming none of the others make a move to stop him, or declare that they're not quite ready yet, the Elf raps on the front door smartly.

"Hello? Anyone home? You've got a special delivery!"

Getting ready to let somebody else make a cool one-liner as Ornthalas moves out of the way and lets everyone unleash hell on the slavers! :smallamused:

[ocato]

The two thugs exchange glances. As one reaches to knock on the front door, the other stops him with a sly grin. They stand, apparently ready to receive whatever ill-gotten gain that they think the bard has for them with no apparent interest in sharing with their fellows.

Setup
Assuming you are facing the front door, THUG A is standing a few steps forward, on the left side of the door. He has a red scarf hanging from his belt, an unshaven face, and a toothless grin. He appears older, at least in his 40s. His club is leaning against the wall behind him as he stands, arms crossed expectantly as he waits for whatever Ornthalas is intending to mistakenly deliver to him.

The (seemingly) younger of the two, THUG B is standing to the right of the door with his club resting on his shoulder. He appears to be a half-elf with softer features and slightly pointed ears. His face seems to mix between expectant and nervous, though not apparently in regard to Ornthalas. He has apparently taken the time to sew several small beads and feathers into his pristine leather vest. It is clearly unlikely that he's seen combat before.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition None
Perception +7

Before the Elf leads the approach to the door, Hopton whispers, "'Ere's a couple more o' em right behind them front windows. It's movin' funny, like somebody's pacin' by it. Probably two somebodies... Gimme about 20 seconds before you walk up there."

He then slips into the darkness of the nearby alleyways. As the elf approaches the thug for the "hand off," Hopton
appears near the corner behind the man, walking casually as if he intends to pass by- his face a mask of disinterest. He uses the elf's boisterous introduction as an effective distraction, to proceed relatively un-accosted. He walks slowly, to approach the thug when Bormass charges from the shadows at this companions. Stepping behind the man (relative to Ornthalas), a blade appears in his hand, with which he strikes out at the thug, before the man catches his balance!

First things first, if there are people to oppose the stealth check: [roll0] to make the 20-ish second move around the building to the house. Edit: blah
Second, [roll1] bluff, again if opposed, to appear nonchalant. Edit: Hopton really doesn't like slavers....

Third, [roll2] attack w/ the dagger (I did not include flanking benefits, though I assume it applies (21)) Edit: good thing he's FF?
[roll3] crit confirm (25+, x2)
[roll4] damage (1st is hit, 2nd is crit bonus)
Finally, [roll5] sneak attack

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 18 ( Mwk Half-plate; Fortification 25%, *+2 con)
Move: 20 ft (4 sq)
Initiative +1
F/R/W 6*/1/4 (9/4/7 vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 total vs stone-work, free check on hidden doors/traps in 10 ft as long as stone is involved )
Darkvision 60 ft

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)

Noticing the two thugs guarding the door practically salivate over Ornthalas' ruse, Bormass figured it was the best opportunity they'd have. He barreled into the younger guard, slamming him against the wall and ripping his pristine jacket with his armor spikes. (Rolls in OOC).

He caught the bleeding limp body before it could slide down to the floor, throwing the half elf directly through the door inside the flophouse. Stopping momentarily for a heavy breath, he spat out "There's yer delivery!" and stepped in.



Did my rolls in OC 5 hours ago, DM ok'd the door throw (although if said door is supposed to be locked, I'm OK with leaving thug B by the door on the floor.)

Assuming that thug B was flatfooted due to surprise round, so no AoO from bullrush.

If all the conditions above are correct, I'm standing in the doorway on the inside of the flophouse, thug B is lying on the floor somewhere in front of me and thug A is likely being shanked by Hopton outdoors.


For next round, on my initiative roll (Leaving that to DM as per OOC thread earlier, probably pretty low, only got +1) I will likely swing my axe at the nearest thug inside (unless they're in melee range, then I'll use spikes again).

If any thugs try to charge and provoke AoO from my axe (reach), I'll swing at the first one.

Rolls:
AoO
[roll0] AoO with axe if it happens, [roll1] damage if it hits.

Attack on my next turn
[roll2] attack, the nearest still on his feet, preferring those with heavier weapons.
[roll3] damage if they're at reach distance on my turn or [roll4] damage if they're in melee with me.

I hope this is clear enough, I'll clean up a bit once I'm on my pc.

[ocato]

As Bormass flings the unconscious thug through the door, Hopton perforates his now agape partner. As all of the surprised enemies are defeated, the surprise round ends.

Standing in the main room of the flop are two humans. The first, RED, is a woman with black hair and a painted face. She wears a leather vest over a red dress and has a wand in one hand and a bandolier with another wand, a dagger, and a few alchemical items. RED stands near a large table, 20 feet from the dwarf, and whistles loudly upon his entrance. The shuffling sounds from upstairs indicate more enemies will join the combat next round.

Standing near the stair case is THUG C, a young man with a garish face tattoo of no apparent meaning.

Making ranged attacks against either enemy will require you to move near the doorway or to break the first story window on the street side of the building.

I'll add their combat actions and some other information when I get home

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua is not in a very good spot as all of this begins. Though really, who can blame him? It's not like he has a lot of experience taking part in raiding buildings. Not really knowing where to take up position, he slings his crossbow out into his hands and runs across the street, pressing his back against the wall besides the doorway.
[Drawing weapon and moving, should be all I can do for now]

[LimeSkeleton]

HP 9/9 AC 14
F/R/W 0/4/2
Perception +2 (Plus low-light vision)
Initiative +6

Currently using Bardic Performance: Inspire Courage (+1 to attack and damage rolls for allies, and +1 to saves against fear and charm effects for allies)

Laughing with glee at Bormass' barreling charge, Ornthalas draws his rapier in one fluid motion, taking care to make the motion as flashy and dramatic as possible. The Elf begins speaking loudly, projecting a playful tone into the flophouse."Oh my, I'm terribly sorry!" He gestures at the first thugs, as they're summarily dispatched. "I do hope we're not interrupting anything." With a few quick steps, Ornthalas places himself in front of the warehouse door, about 20 feet away from the entrance. He clears his throat loudly, then begins to gather his focus into the beginning of an impromptu, yet no less inspirational, oratory concoction.

"Greetings, my finely filigreed young female friend!" He locks eyes with the wand-holding woman, winking jauntily at her. "As I said, I'm terribly sorry that we're intruding like this, but we'd heard tales of your hospitality and decided we'd like to drop by and visit." He pauses to chortle at the woman's whistle. "Well, well, do you hear that, friends? Either she's whistling because she's appreciating the merchandise" (Another wink) "or else she thinks a few more dull lugs will stop us from having the time of our lives!" He grins savagely, feeling the rush of adrenaline combat always brought surging in his veins, moving through his whole body and thundering in his brain, like a great, Elven drum.

[ocato]

The woman in red (RED) sneers at Ornthalas, but is clearly more concerned with the dwarven wrecking ball that just burst into her den. With a motion, she commands her lackey to charge Bormass. She then steps forward, quickdrawing a tanglefoot bag, and lobs it at Bormass.


If you choose to spend your AoO on charging THUG C, he will be killed before making his attack. Otherwise, he will miss his attack.

RED's tanglefoot bag hits you, inflicting you with the entangled condition (-2 attacks, -4 dex). Make a reflex save, DC 15 (this is an alchemical item and not a spell). If you succeed, you are slowed to half speed. If you fail, you are stuck to the ground in your space.

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 17** ( Mwk Half-plate; Fortification 25%, *+2 con)
Str 16 Dex 8** Con 19 Int 12 Wis 14 Cha 10
Initiative -1**
Normal Move Speed: 20 feet
F/R/W 6*/1/4 (9/4/7 vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 total vs stone-work, free check on hidden doors/traps in 10 ft as long as stone is involved )
Darkvision 60 ft

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)

Conditions:
0 AoO's remaining this turn.
**Entangled, Move speed 0; -4 Dex; -2 attack rolls (not factored above, will factor in future rolls)**
+1 Attack/Damage/ save vs fear from Inspire Courage (also not factored above)

Adrenaline surging through his body, Bormass whirled, slamming the head of his axe into the charging thug. The tattooed man, taking the worst of the blow in his side, was taken down immediately, his body sliding a few feet closer through sheer momentum.

Hearing his companions dispatch the other door guard outside, he shuffled a step closer to the woman in red, creating a big enough opening for others behind him. Bormass briefly turned his head, laughing at Ornthalas' jests as some kind of projectile impacted his torso. Bewildered, he tried his best to push the object away and he felt it burst open, covering him in some kind of goop.

"Ach, not the beard!"

Not a single inch of the dwarf's front was spared. Alchemical glue covered him toe to head and left his feet stuck to the floor in a gooey mess. "Blast it! Yer gonna pay for that!", he screamed at his assailant, waving his axe in her direction and falling woefully short of hitting anything or anyone.

Taken Thug C out with my pre-rolled AoO, still standing in the same spot until my initiative comes up - the little step is just fluff (because friendlies can pass through your square unless they're charging, and most people aren't shaped like a square 1.5 by 1.5 meters).

[roll0] reflex save to avoid the worst of the tanglefoot goop, against DC 15

My AoO is used up for the turn, and I'm not going to pre-roll my next turn just yet - I want to find out if I'm glued to the floor and edit the post accordingly.

Edit: welp, cleaning that glue out of the dwarf's beard will be fun...

[Modigar]

HP 10/10 AC 16
F/R/W 4/6/0
Perception +4 Initiative +4

"Traveller's sake, need I deal with this?"
Lyria quickly moves across the street, pulling a strang phial from her bandolier, and hurling it towards the woman as soon as she moves past Bormass, standing to his left and just slightly behind him.

Okay, bombs away! [roll0] [roll1] And if I miss it will scatter in this direction: [roll2] by 1 square. Edit: okay that's a miss, and from my perspective it will fall short and to the left of her, but she's still taking the splash damage I think, which, being minimum roll, is 5 anyway =P.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 23, Touch 18, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size, +2 FD)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Fighting defensively: -4 attack, +2 dodge AC
Perception +7

Hopton dodges through the door, past his entangled comrade, chortling with some kind of perverse glee. "C'mere, you!" he calls at the slavers, as he nimbly approaches the opposition. Careful to place his buckler deliberately, he nonetheless takes a swing with his knife on his target's left knee, after faking to the right.

(Just fluff- I know I can't feint and also attack (though it's sad how useless feinting is).
if I need acrobatics to move in, for some reason: [roll0]

[roll1] attacking defensively
[roll2] CC? (21-22, x2)
[roll3] damage
if something crazy happens, and I get my sneak attack die: [roll4]

Woo, tankin' those rolls along with the rest of you- at least I've got a solid AC :-\

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua glares at the chaos from his safe spot. He sighs. Scraps at least, he's seen before. So time to get scrapping.
Joshua steps out of cover, pointing his crossbow at the woman in command and firing without further pause.
five foot step into the building proper
Fire light crossbow at mystery lady
[roll0]
[roll1]

[ocato]

On the far 'north' wall of the building, the stairwell creaks with the shuffling of two men. The first, presumably the Female leader's aforementioned husband (BEAU), is rail thin with a carefully manicured mustache. He carries a longsword, which he wields in two hands and arrives at the foot of the stairs at the beginning of initiative. His cohort, THUG D, has darker skin and is bald except for a ring of shaggy hair around the side of his head. THUG D stays on the stairs and aims his longbow over the banister.

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 17** ( Mwk Half-plate; Fortification 25%, *+2 con)
Str 16 Dex 8** Con 19 Int 12 Wis 14 Cha 10
Initiative -1**
Normal Move Speed: 20 feet
F/R/W 6*/1/4 (9/4/7 vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 total vs stone-work, free check on hidden doors/traps in 10 ft as long as stone is involved )
Darkvision 60 ft

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)

Conditions:
1 AoO's remaining this turn.
**Entangled, Move speed 0; -4 Dex; -2 attack rolls (not factored above, will factor in future rolls)**
+1 Attack/Damage/ save vs fear from Inspire Courage (also not factored above)

Summoning all his strength, Bormass tried to lift his right leg. The tanglefoot bag held. He tried his left foot, hoping that all the sudden movement would loosen the grip. It didn't, the only reward was a guttural glorp as a packet of air left the mess below. "Bloody alchemists!"

Noticing more slavers flooding in, Bormass refreshed his attempts to get himself unstuck from the floor. His feet were covered in an odd alchemical mixture of tars and gluey goop, and held fast regardless of his attempts. "A lil' help over here? I'm a sitting duck!" he whispered hoarsely to his companions, afraid of attracting more attention from the slavers.


Rolled my Str checks in OOC; First paragraph is my 1st round action (Str check to free; fail; no AoO because nobody provoked - and if they did, it'd probably not hit anyways. It's pre-rolled in OOC as well); Second paragraph is my 2nd round action when I get to it - also rolled in OOC, 16 Str check (fail by 1, heh) and will roll out the AoO if it gets to it.

[ocato]

Projected Enemy Actions, which will follow Lyria's turn.

Assuming she is able, RED will take a five foot step away from Hopton and towards the unconscious THUG C, quick-drawing her Wand of Cure Light Wounds and successfully activating it. This provokes an Attack of Opportunity from Bormass, which misses. THUG C stands and attacks Bormass with his club, missing.

BEAU, worried for his wife's safety, will charge Hopton and thus impose himself between RED and the halfling. He fails to confirm a crit and deals 8 damage to Hopton.

THUG D aims his longbow at Bormass and misses.

[Modigar]

Lyria draws her dagger and starts cutting away at the mess, trying to stop it hindering his mobility quite so much. "You're only making it worse, let me."

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 17** ( Mwk Half-plate; Fortification 25%, *+2 con)
Str 16 Dex 8** Con 19 Int 12 Wis 14 Cha 10
Initiative -1**
Normal Move Speed: 20 feet
F/R/W 6*/1/4 (9/4/7 vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 total vs stone-work, free check on hidden doors/traps in 10 ft as long as stone is involved )
Darkvision 60 ft

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)

Conditions:
1 AoO's remaining this turn.
**Entangled, Move speed 0; -4 Dex; -2 attack rolls (not factored above, will factor in future rolls)**
+1 Attack/Damage/ save vs fear from Inspire Courage (also not factored above)

"Mabbe ya should keep tossin' those bombs instead", Bormass offered as Lyria tried to get him unstuck. Her attempts were doomed from the start, the tanglefoot bag held.

Barely ducking under a swipe of a club from the thug, the dwarf heard an arrow whistle over his head. "Hey LISSEN. Once I get my legs free, tha' bow is goin' straight up yer arse!" he screamed in retaliation.


For my turn 3, I'm going to attempt to do something about thug C. Or whichever thug is swinging at me with his club.
If he's still alive at his turn, I'm going to bullrush him from my stationary position, basically headbutting him and pushing him with both arms. I can't follow him, but hopefully it'll get him out of my face and maybe even take him down with the spikes. Including the attack penalty + Inspire Courage bonuses in the rolls below.

[roll0] bullrush against the thug with the club, provoking AoO.
[roll1] armor spike attack if successful.
[roll2] damage if attack is successful. In the unlikely scenario of this being a crit, I'll roll confirm/ damage in OOC or my turn 3 IC post.

[Modigar]

"Fine, be that way." Having said that, she whips out another bomb and throws it towards the leader.

Attack roll: [roll0], Damage roll: [roll1] . Firstly, last time I forgot my PB shot, and secondly, if I'm wrong in assuming no allies of mine are in squares next to her, could you please provide a rough picture of the current battle map?

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 23, Touch 18, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size, +2 FD)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Fighting defensively: -4 attack, +2 dodge AC
Panache: 2/2
Perception +7

"Ungh!" Hopton grunts as the newcomer strikes him with his sword. "Fine, then!" He steps behind the man, giving Bormass a distinct flanking opportunity. He strikes at the newcomer with his dagger, again cautiously defending himself.

I'm assuming that I'm not moving into being flanked. As I follow, if I move behind BEAU (relative to Bormass), I'll be against a wall, or thereabouts.

[roll0] atk
[roll1] CC (21, x2)
[roll2]
if sneak attack somehow happens, [roll3]

[LimeSkeleton]

HP 9/9 AC 14
F/R/W 0/4/2
Perception +2 (Plus low-light vision)
Initiative +6

Currently using Bardic Performance (Second Round): Inspire Courage (+1 to attack and damage rolls for allies, and +1 to saves against fear and charm effects for allies)

Ornthalas frowns at the goop covering Bormass, but, since the Dwarf seems to be somewhat successful at removing it, he takes the opportunity to close in on the woman in red with quick, precise steps, doing everything he can to stay out of direct danger. Once in position, he again locks eyes with the wand-carrying woman, his smile turning manic, almost crazed. "Would you like to hear something really, really funny, milady?" Keeping his rapier in a somewhat defensive position, the Elf focuses his attention completely on the woman's eyes, blocking out Lyria's frustrated retort, as well as Hopton's irritated exclamation.

He breathes in deeply, then exhales, the fingers on his free hand beginning to glow a glittery teal color. Then, suddenly, he whips his hand in a complicated Elven sigil, and begins speaking in a voice totally unlike his own. He sounds unpleasant, in a scratchy, insane sort of way, and each of his words are projected in a forceful staccato.

"I promise you, milady; you'll die laughing."

Hideous Laughter: Level 1 enchantment spell
Range: 25 feet
Target: one creature (RED)
Duration: 1 round/level
Saving Throw (DC 14): Will negates; Spell Resistance: yes

This spell afflicts the subject with uncontrollable laughter. It collapses into gales of manic laughter, falling prone. The subject can take no actions while laughing, but is not considered helpless. After the spell ends, it can act normally. On the creature's next turn, it may attempt a new saving throw to end the effect. This is a full round action that does not provoke attacks of opportunity. If this save is successful, the effect ends. If not, the creature continues laughing for the entire duration.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua swears loudly, slamming another bolt into the blasted weapon. He has no idea how people so regularly use these things. They're so obnoxiously unwieldy!
He takes aim at the man with the now and fires Move action to reload
Fire at thug D
[roll0]
[roll1]

[ocato]

Lyria's bomb narrowly misses the woman in red, who curses loudly as the mixture explodes in a fiery napalm. While she and her husband suffer only minor burns, their newly healed companion falls to the ground screaming in agony. RED looks up in horror, her eyes catching Ornthalas as he casts his spell. She reaches back to grab her husband's arm, but finds herself laughing uncontrollably over the smoldering body of her minion. Behind her, the thin mustachioed man carefully parries Hopton's dagger, newly distracted by his wife's endless plight.

[PoR]

HP 14/14* AC 17** ( Mwk Half-plate; Fortification 25%, *+2 con)
Str 16 Dex 8** Con 19 Int 12 Wis 14 Cha 10
Initiative -1**
Normal Move Speed: 20 feet
F/R/W 6*/-1**/4 (9/2/7 vs spells, spell-like, poison)
Perception +3 (+5 total vs stone-work, free check on hidden doors/traps in 10 ft as long as stone is involved )
Darkvision 60 ft

Psionically Focused

Weapons:
Melee +5: 1d12+4 reach (long axe); 1d6+3 (armor spikes)
Ranged +2: 1d8 crystal, 30 ft range (armor customization)

Conditions:
1 AoO's remaining this turn.
**Entangled, Move speed 0; -4 Dex; -2 attack rolls (not factored above, will factor in future rolls)**
+1 Attack/Damage/ save vs fear from Inspire Courage (also not factored above)

Having nearly given up on freeing himself from the damned glue, Bormass faced the nearest slaver (Thug C) who took a swing at him with his club. He was taken down by his wild axe swing earlier, only getting up thanks to magical healing. "Haven't had enough yet!?" he screamed, attempting to headbutt the man in the chest. Before the blow connected, the man was taken down by a fiery explosion courtesy of Lyria. "Good shot..." the dwarf said, aware of how close to being set on fire he was. Seeing the bowman fall down from a well aimed crossbow bolt, he took a quick measure of room and found it almost empty of slavers still capable of fighting.

Looks like my pre-rolled stuff from earlier is invalid, thug C got taken down in round 2 again thanks to Lyria's grenade.

Rolling AoO for round 3, just in case.

[roll0] to hit with axe in case someone provokes AoO; Alternatively, use the same result if one of the thugs prone in nearby square gets healed and stands up, provoking AoO (although in that case, it'd be with the spikes and not the axe)
[roll1] damage for axe AoO
[roll2] damage for spike AoO (I've only got 1 AoO per round, so one one of those counts. If for some miraculous reason somebody provokes an AoO at 10 foot range and an AoO at a 5 foot range in the same turn, 10 foot range gets the priority)

[Modigar]

HP 10/10 AC 16
F/R/W 4/6/0
Perception +4 Initiative +4
As of this rounds action, three bombs expended

Lyria pulls out yet another bomb, and tosses it near the guy who just got here.

Okay, she's tossing one at C6 (note: edited this after noticing that Hopton was behind him, I somehow missed the H on the map). To hit: [roll0] damage: [roll1], splash 5, and if I miss, scatter direction [roll2]
Edit: okay, so she takes 5, he takes 5, and I've yet to roll a 2+ on a damage die. C and D also take 5 =P

[ocato]

The splash from Lyria's bomb covers the woman in red in burning liquid. She chokes on her laughter, unable to scream as she collapses to the ground. Seeing his wife crumble, her husband turns toward the doorway with hatred in his eyes. He hefts his longsword with two hands and attempts to charge Lyria, but is caught by Bormass (and Hopton's) attack of opportunity. The dwarf's axe finds a delicate place where the shoulder meets the neck, and BEAU falls into the pile of defeated slavers.

Combat Complete!
Assuming you search their bodies, you find:

Studded leather armor x3
Leather armor x1
Scale Armor x1
Club x 4
Longsword x1
Masterwork Dagger x1
Masterwork Longbow x1
10 Arrows
Acid x2
Thunderstone x2
Golden Necklace (worth 100gp) x1
Wand of Acid Splash, 28 charges
Wand of Cure Light Wounds, 12 charges

[PoR]

Bormass flexed his legs yet again, and was surprised to feel something give way below. The nasty mixture of glue and tar that reliably held him in place for the duration of the combat was slowly drying up and flaking away. "For a few moments there, I thought we might not make it. Glad to be proven otherwise" he laughed. Thanks to a combination of luck and his finally combat-tested battle armor, the dwarf remained virtually without a scratch.

"Hope I won' have to clip off me beard, though..." he added, scratching his chin gently, trying to remove a few tarry splashes from earlier.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton breathes heavily as the combat winds to a creaky, oddly quiet halt. He appears almost sad that there's no one else to fight, and starts suddenly when Bormass breaks the new, uneasy silence.

"Bormass, if you're modular again, can you come help me move this table? There's a trapdoor under it, and I'm pretty sure I know what we'll find." His gaze shifts angrily to the subdued and (at least) unconscious slavers, as he looks around the base of the table more closely.

"Never did get any chances to practice with locks..." he mutters mostly to himself. He turns back to the Dwarf, saying, "You may have to bash it open, also."

Hopton would gladly take the thunderstones and acid, but has no use for medium sized arms and armor.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua begins rummaging through things, pocketing the necklace if no one stops him.
"This wand of acid isn't much use to me. I can already cast that spell. Is anyone here good with healing magic?" he asks, showing the wands.
If given some time, he could probably get the healing wand to activate...

[Modigar]

Lyria glares at him somewhat disapprovingly. "If you want that necklace, it can go with the rest and we can divvy things up later unless you think you've any immediate use for it. As for that healing wand, I could use it as well as anybody, I guess."

Alchemists can use spell trigger items (are there any other than wands?) so long as the spell is on the list, so I can use it effortlessly, as can Ornthalas. On the necklace front, I've no objection (it would be somewhat hypocritical of me to have a problem given that I'm claiming something of greater expense), but IC and OOC I figure anything not of immediate use would be better divided up at the 'end of the day' or something like that.

[PoR]

"Aight. I bet one of these folks have a key stashed away som'where, though." The dwarf responded to Hopton and made his way to the table, akwardly stepping around and sometimes on the large pile of bodies on the floor.

Then, he flipped it with a loud crash. "Heh. I've always wanted to do that."

Noticing his fellows scavenging the bodies, he noted "Don' look they got anythin' I'd want. Unless there's gold."

[LimeSkeleton]

As the frenzied fracas comes to an end, Ornthalas feels the thundering of his blood resolve to a simple heartbeat, and he releases his grasp on the flow of magic that he'd been maintaining. He waggles his fingers, sheathes his rapier, and assists in searching the bodies, and even takes the time to sort the findings neatly on the flophouse floor.

"Lyria, I think your bomb-throwing skills are probably a higher priority than me poking a few holes with this dingy old rapier." He picks up the wand from the floor. "If you wouldn't mind, I would be happy to take custody of it." He frowns as he examines the wand, hesitating before speaking again. "Healing magic will definitely come in handy... We may have just met, but I'd really rather nothing happened to any of you." The Elf blushes ever so slightly, then bustles over to the newfound trapdoor, attempting to hide his show of emotion.

He flinches slightly when Bormass flips the table, but then studies the trapdoor eagerly. "That's a shame we can't pick the lock, since that's much more fun than smashing... However, I agree with you, Bormass: the key must be around someplace. I'll take a bit of a look around."

Ornthalas, with his keen Elven eyesight, begins exploring the immediate area, searching for any sign of a key to the trapdoor's lock.

The Wand of Acid Splash might also be useful for Ornthalas, but I'm not entirely certain, since I'm pretty new to the system. For now, I'd be quite happy to continue providing a support role, and a wand with some healing abilities would be quite helpful in that regard.

Perception Roll (For searching for key): [roll0]

[Modigar]

"If you can use it I'll certainly not object to you keeping the wand, it allows me to press the attack." She sighs. "Still, that was most of the bombs I've prepared, already used up. Another fight like that and I'm out. Still..." She lifts her new longbow and admires it. "Even if we weren't here for a reason, this beauty is definitely worth the effort. A lot better than the one I lost in Xen'drik."

If you prefer you keep the wand, as I mentioned previously either of us can use it just fine. In terms of bombs, I've used three of my five per day, I'll need to be a little tighter with them for the rest of today.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua rolls his eyes visibly.
"Will you relax? I was just putting it there because I need my hands for this. Sheesh. Besides, even if I did go pawn it right now it'd probably just be for emergency explosives for the mission."

Because nothing scares the pants off of someone quite like an unexpected explosion.

[ocato]

Ornthalas searches the flophouse top to bottom, starting with the first floor. After an exhaustive search, he finds no trace of any key. However, Ornthalas does notice a loose floorboard and, upon lifting it, discovers a hidden cache. Inside the compartment, you find a bag of mismatched jewelry filled with wedding bands, earrings, engraved necklaces, lockets, and other seemingly personal items. You also find a few scrolls of parchment that appear to contain family records, several silver engravings of loved ones, and even a jade statuette of some sort of Goddess. The value of the cache is approximately 800gp, though there's no question as to where it came from or to whom it belongs.

Searching the upstairs of the flop, you find several rooms laid out with meager straw mattresses and little personal items. In the largest of the room, you find a real bed with a down mattress and several fine pillows. In this room there is also a desk, where you find a large brass key; as well as a large ivory token about the size of the palm of a human's hand with a few triangles carved in it. It is extremely well made and is notably different from the goods stolen from slaves found downstairs.

You recognize the token as a symbol of the Merchant Family Ten. Oftentimes, tokens like this are bestowed to show authority or friendship to vassals or other servants. It is almost entirely guaranteed that you would be able to pass as the slavers without question so long as you present this token upon arriving at the Door.

[LimeSkeleton]

Grinning widely, Ornthalas swaggers down the steps of the flophouse, his arms laden with newly begotten gains. Without any ceremony, he places the jewelry, scrolls, and the rest of his find upon the floor with the rest, taking care to keep the loot organized. "Well, well, well, my friends: it looks like we've actually turned quite a profit already." He gives Hopton a sidelong glance. "Besides the profit to the world at large we gained by killing those slavers, that is."

Ensuring that he has the attention of his fellows, Ornthalas withdraws the ivory token from his sleeve suddenly, holding it aloft for everyone to see. "However, I think our biggest profit of all might be this little guy." He turns it in his hand, scrutinizing the triangles carved into it. "I've seen this symbol before, I believe. It belongs to the Merchant Family Ten, and it's used to hand over authority, or friendship, or whatever. I think it involves something to do with "vassals." He shrugs in a noncommittal fashion. "The important thing is that this token can let us pass as slavers without any difficulty at all; our plan is essentially foolproof now!" He laughs, nearly dropping the token on the ground with glee.

"Maybe one of you should hold onto it though..."

"On a related note, I think we may have a few opportunities to take care of before departing for our mission. First, I think I may have found someone sympathetic to our cause. He seemed to be rallying a crowd not too far from here, and, from what I hear, a slave rebellion should be right up his alley." He pauses, glancing at the pile of weapons and armor. "Secondly, we ought to consider obtaining a little more weaponry, if we want to supply our rebels-to-be with a way to defend themselves."

"Any ideas on that? He looks pointedly at Bormass, thinking about what he's heard about the Dwarf's skill with smithing.

[PoR]

Bormass was flabbergasted, trying to measure up the pile of loot Ornthalas arranged on the floor. A few moments passed in comparable silence as he pointed fingers at various items, muttering "Woah. Looks like a good haul. Tha' could pay my rent for months! Heck, I could probably live somewhere half decen' now... I guess crime does pay."

When Ornthalas brought up smithing, the dwarf looked up, waking up from his daze. "I could probably hammer a lump o' iron into somethin' sharp but tha' would take a long time an' facilities I don't have. I'm more on the manufacturin' side of things, not trading, really... I suppose it wouldna hurt to pick up some more of these weapons - somethin' cheap and simple. Most of the slaves we might find on the other side o' the portal are probably not trained in combat anyways."

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua blinks at the news, but takes it in stride. Don't question good luck.
"This merchant family, what race do most of them belong to? Whoever matches should be the one to claim they're the token's owner. It might not really matter, but it will make the lie more convincing. As for weapons, we shouldn't have trouble finding a supply of simple weapons. Almost anyone can throw something heavy, if it comes down to that. Otherwise, a few knives and spears should be simple enough for anyone." he says simply.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition None
Perception +7Hopton's eyes widen at the sizable sum of treasure unceremoniously dumped on the floor with their previous findings. "That's... that's a lot of money!" Almost instantly, the halfling's world changes forever, as he tries and fails to comprehend the significance of the group's newfound wealth.

After a moment, however, his eyes fall upon the brass key. "Hey! Maybe that fits!" Without announcing his intentions, the halfling nimbly snatches the key and tests it in the padlocked trapdoor. Just before turning the key, his eyes widen in realization. "Hey guys! Guys!" Once he gets their attention, he pantomimes a request for silence, before placing his ear against one of the seams in the trapdoor, attempting to listen beyond.
[roll0]

Assuming I don't hear anything that sounds threatening, I will unlock and open the door, perhaps eliciting another perception check or whatever.

edit: Lol, not with a roll like that!
After straining to catch any perceivable sound, Hopton shrugs. "Huh. Well, let's find out!" He turns the key in the lock, hoping to reveal what hides beneath the trapdoor.

[ocato]

Hopton turns the key and opens the padlock. Opening the trapdoor you find a small cellar underneath the flophouse, where about a dozen various humanoids sit huddled against one wall. The waft of odor from the cellar rises like a fog, indicating that these people have been left in these despicable conditions for some time. You see the crumbs of bread scattered on a plate in the center of the room, and that there are several buckets scattered around for biological purposes, which appear to be a major source of the odor. What little furniture had been left in the cellar, a dresser and a few empty bookshelves, have been all piled on top of each other over a large trapdoor in the corner of the wall opposite the huddled slaves.

If you enter the cellar, the slaves look to you with distrust, but no obvious malice. They may have heard the fight, but have no immediate reason to assume that you come as saviors. Many seem too terrified to cease their vigilant watch of the barricaded trapdoor to pay you any attention. Occasionally, a thumping sound seems to emanate from beneath the piled furniture, eliciting a jump and a wave of frantic murmurs from the slaves.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition None
Perception +7Hopton nimbly slips through the trapdoor. He deliberately makes a show of sheathing his dagger and holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "Come now, we won't hurt you. We're here to offer you a chance at a new life, if you care to take it."

sadly untrained, for now, [roll0]

At the thumps echoing from the far trap door, he jumps along with the slaves, and tenses into a protective stance. "What in the hells is that?!"

[Modigar]

HP 10/10 AC 16
F/R/W 4/6/0
Perception +4 Initiative +4
Three bombs expended, 10 arrows available

At the sudden sound Lyria tenses and loosely knocks an arrow to her new longbow, holding it down towards the floor but spinning around.

[ocato]

The thumping sound begins to slowly recede as the slaves begin to regain their composure. Among the murmuring you can hear a few mention the sewers, which is presumably where the trapdoor leads. A quick investigation of the trapdoor concludes that it isn't locked in any way, and that the barricade of furniture is likely constructed by the slaves themselves, given how easily they could remove it. It seems that whatever was thumping around down there is the only thing keeping them from trying to escape.

Satisfied with their safety, the slaves turn to look to Hopton with a mix of confusion and disbelief. His offer seems like neither the imposing will of a slaver nor the generosity of a savior. Unsure how to proceed, a few of the slaves begin to weakly nod. One slave, a middle aged human male, speaks defiantly. What do you have to offer that is more valuable than our freedom?

[LimeSkeleton]

HP 9/9 AC 14
F/R/W 0/4/2
Perception +2 (Plus low-light vision)
Initiative +6

2 rounds of Bardic Performance used (of 4 per day)
1 first-level spell cast

Ornthalas hands Bormass the end of a rope, then tosses it into the pit of slaves. With one deliberate leap, he slides down the length of the rope into the cramped, unpleasant area below. He keeps his hands far away from his own weapons, but hands the middle-aged man who spoke earlier a club, and looks him directly in the eyes.

"There isn't anything more valuable than freedom, my friend. In that, you are entirely correct. However, I can offer you a chance to use your freedom to ensure that others will never lose their own." The Elf squares his shoulders and sets his jaw, beginning to channel a small amount of his Bardic magic into his voice, making it deeper and stronger. "We would offer you the chance to take vengeance against those who have enslaved you, and stripped you of your rights. We would offer you the chance to free others like yourselves, who may have their own families and friends that need them." He pauses for effect. "We would offer you the chance to abolish this accursed practice for all time, by destroying those who would dare to take part in such an evil act."

He puts his foot up on a nearby piece of furniture, over the trapdoor, striking a dramatic pose. "Who's with me?

[roll0]

Ornthalas flinches slightly at the sudden noise, nearly toppling from his stance. Abashedly, he takes a few steps to the side, giving the trapdoor a worried look. "Either way, I think it's about time we get the lot of you out of here..."

[Farmerbink]

Hopton nods along, enthusiastically, with Ornthalas' speech. "And you can live somewhere safe from all this," he supplies. "No minor slave revolt will end the practice here in Sigil, but we can offer you freedom that comes from not being hunted as well."

His own eager anticipation bleeds into his words. As an afterthought, he reveals enough of his wrists and ankles to show the resultant scars of a childhood spent outgrowing manacles. "Believe me. I know what you're going through."

I'd like to use the first roll as an aid check for Ornthalas, since he's better at diplomacy than me. If you really want another roll for it, [roll0]

edit: and that's why. D:

[ocato]

Seeing Hopton's scars and hearing their speech, the slaves murmur quietly to themselves. Their uncertainty seems to spike when Hopton directly mentions a slave revolt, but the unease subsides as the middle age man speaks. You're asking us to leave our homes and fight slavers, live someplace else entirely and possibly die. Days ago many of us were living a few blocks from here... it's just happening so fast. You say that we can help others like us escape this fate? I suppose that I, for one, can't say no to that...

After some deliberation, several of the slaves join the middle aged man, about 10 in all. The rest, many of whom are infirm, elderly, children, or otherwise unable or unwilling to risk their lives for others, elect to stay. They avoid your gaze with shame in their eyes, but are steadfast in their refusal to play along.

Do not read if you aren't Ornthalas, please Sense Motive:The middle-aged man and many of the slaves that join him seem uneasy and frustrated. Most of them are fighting out of guilt or fear of looking like cowards. Some are ashamed they were so easily captured in the first place. They will fight as good as any other, but their motivations are driven by your words and not their own will

[Farmerbink]

You're asking us to leave our homes and fight slavers, live someplace else entirely and possibly die. Days ago many of us were living a few blocks from here... it's just happening so fast. You say that we can help others like us escape this fate? I suppose that I, for one, can't say no to that...

Hopton's expression turns into a frown. He looks at his party with a pained expression for a few moments before turning back to the slaves. "I... I hadn't thought of that... In any capacity, your slavers are, at least mostly, deceased. If they've lived through the night, they will be turned in for kidnapping. If you leave nearby, for god's sake, go home. I.." He doesn't finish the thought, but instead climbs out of the basement and wanders about the house in a thoughtful daze.

[PoR]

Still standing on top of the trap door with the rope in his hands, Bormass felt a little out of depth.

Overhearing the inspired speech given by the elf below, he surveyed the freed slaves below. Many of them didn't seem to be fighting men - or any kind of fighters, at all. He thought that he could even note a few children among the rest of the group. Not accostomed to slavery in his society, the dwarf felt sick to the stomach at the implications. Sure, a commoner might serve his lord and till his fields - but somehow they were elevated above the status of a mere object, they had pride and worth.


You're asking us to leave our homes and fight slavers, live someplace else entirely and possibly die. Days ago many of us were living a few blocks from here...

Trying to get this rabble to risk and potentially sacrifice their lives would be unfortunate, Bormass thought. On the other hand, it seemed like they'd be their only ticket to the plane they desperately needed to get into - what kind of a slaver has no slaves? Still deep in thought, he remained silent, letting the people below do the talking.

[LimeSkeleton]

Ornthalas frowns and bites his lip, ruefully considering what the look in the slaves' eyes tell him. "These people...They join us not because they wish to restore freedom to others, but because they feel shame at their own perceived cowardice. This is not what true heroic legends are woven from, and their blood may well be on my hands should they fight and perish..." The Elf shakes his head, distracted by his own thoughts. However, he quickly begins paying attention again when he realizes he's still standing dangerously close to a barricaded trapdoor, and busies himself with assisting the slaves in exiting the pit.

Although he isn't really strong enough to lift any but the children out, Ornthalas remains below, offering words of encouragement and the occasional leg-up for those who need it. He ensures that the children are led out first, followed by the infirm. When the last slave has been helped into onto flophouse floor, he climbs out himself, scrambling up the edge without any grace, but managing to reach the top.

He motions for the group to step aside and speak with him away from the ears of the slaves for a moment, and says, in a low whisper. "I fear these men are only joining us because they are ashamed; they fear to appear as though they are not brave, and are so enslaved by my words as surely as they were enslaved by the wretched scum who brought them here." He sighs, his expression regretful. "They'll fight for us, that much is true, but I am uncomfortable with their motives. Perhaps these men would be better suited to looking after the children and infirm here, until such a time as we can provide them asylum." He glances at the others, paying particular attention to Hopton's reaction.

[ocato]

The slaves file up into the main room of the flop, happy to huddle in the corner and give their new owners a moment's respite. Many of them look to the treasure laid out on the flophouse floor, recognizing their jewelry, idols, and other possessions, though none are brave enough to outwardly challenge your new found possessions. As you meet, the middle-aged man seems to be calming the group, trying to sort between those strong enough to fight and those who are exempt from the challenge.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton finds himself wandering down the stairs and is shocked back into reality by the stark presence of the newly-released slaves. Noting their eager eyes, he reaches the bottom of the stairs and approaches them. "Please, if these are yours by right, take them. It is the least we can do for you. If you can and want to fight, we will be happy to have you, and eager to help gain your revenge. If not, you should leave before the authorization shows up and things get more complicated."

He turns to faces his newfound allies, with fiery passion in his eyes. "If this job pays out half of what we expect, these trinkets will be meaningless for us. I'm not doing this to steal from the poor. We'll have plenty of chances to steal from the undeserving wealthy." An odd gleam colors his vision as he envisions the circumstances.

Once the situation with the slaves has been settled, he turns back to Ornthalas. "So, I think you should hold on to the token. Despite what you may look like, you've got the tongue to convince them if the token doesn't suffice."

[Modigar]

Once the situation with the slaves has been settled, he turns back to Ornthalas. "So, I think you should hold on to the token. Despite what you may look like, you've got the tongue to convince them if the token doesn't suffice."

Lyria turns to him. "Quite. Nobody else seems to have quite so talented a tongue."

[PoR]

Having served as an anchor for the rope as the rescued slaves climbed out, Bormass finally got a chance to relax and flex his back.


Lyria turns to him. "Quite. Nobody else seems to have quite so talented a tongue."

"Aye, absolutely. I'd rath'r offer me brawn in place of my tongue."

"B' the way, if we are short on vol'nteers, my offer still stands..."

[ocato]

After deliberation, ten of the slaves stand ready to join your revolt. They seem nervous, though committed, and you can only imagine that slaves on the other side of the Door will be much more excited regarding the prospect of fighting for their freedom. The rest of the slaves, content to leave their personal things with you as reward for their freedom, begin to file out of the flophouse and back into the streets of the Hive. Some are greeted by loved ones immediately, while others simply try to return to the lives they nearly lost.

Token in hand, the party is now faced with their midnight deadline. You have approximately 20 minutes to make it to the Door to Immarat if you intend on being on time for your meeting with the key bearers and the Ten family representatives.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua, who is totally still carrying that necklace since no one actually told him to give it up, gets up from his very comfortable position on the wall he was leaning on and goes back to the main group. He wishes he had a pocketwatch, but Sapesh is good at keeping time. Maybe he'll get a watch when all this is over.
"All right, we got everything in order? Our looks, our man, our 'props?' We should head out now or we'll miss the rendezvous time." he says sternly.

[Farmerbink]

"All right, we got everything in order? Our looks, our man, our 'props?' We should head out now or we'll miss the rendezvous time." he says sternly.

Hopton nods. As they begin walking out, he scoops the valuables into a sack and deposits the sack into the bag of holding. With one last kick for the erstwhile slavers, he steps out the door behind their little army. As they walk towards the door, he fills them in on the details of the plan. "Now remember, folks. As far as these guys know, you're still slaves. You and we know better, but just don't look too excited about givin' 'em what for on the other side of that door, right?." He follows just behind the group- serving as rear guard while staying relatively hidden, himself.

[LimeSkeleton]

In response to the insistence that he hold onto the token--and the implicit praise that it warranted--Ornthalas blushes, smiling earnestly, if only for a moment. Then, his typical confident grin returning to his face, he turns to the group at large, hands on his hips. "Well then, if we are all prepared, then I suppose we should be off!" With a dramatic swivel, the olive-skinned Elf turns and begins striding out the flophouse door, leading the way toward the rendezvous point.

On the way, he makes a point to make the group seem as inconspicuous as possible; no need to draw undue attention to an already unusual gathering. He ensures that he walks next to and converses with as many different members of the group as possible, making his voice sound jovial and relaxed. Making the group seem like a bunch of happy (perhaps slightly intoxicated) associates is much better than making them seem like a bunch of would-be slave traders, if only for a little while.

[roll0]

[ocato]

The party winds throughout the Hive and makes their way toward the Guildhall Ward. After a brief, albeit difficult search, you eventually find yourselves standing before an enormous, monolithic stone tower whose precipice notably does not have a door. There are no posted guards, and the tower itself is windowless and crownless, appearing as a large stone cylinder coming to an abrupt and presumably flat top. Peering within the tower, you see that it's walls are spiraled by an extremely long staircase ascending above and below into what seems like impossible length. It is clear from a gaze that the inside of the tower is somehow extra-dimensional in nature, and clearly contains thousands of small doorsteps perched along the endless staircase, which clearly could not all fit inside the stone building as it appears.

The doors themselves are strange, made of all sorts of woods, metals, ivory, and stones. Each door is marked with a number, with doors at the level you enter on marked in 5 digits. It would not be extreme to guess that there may in fact be millions of doors here. Scrawled on the back of the Ten family token is the number 10135, which is apparently below you by several hundred levels. However, as you descend, you find that the number you seek arrives significantly faster than numerical order would suggest.

Hunched next to the door is a short, rather disinterested looking creature with sickly, hairless grey skin and small wings perched on a humped back. It wears thin spectacles and seems to be perusing through a ledger of some sort before looking up to you with indifference. Seeing the token in your hand, it reaches up and opens door 10135 slightly before firmly ensuring that it is properly shut. This brief glance allows you to plainly see that behind the door is the stone wall of the tower and nothing else.

The creature sits, ignoring you entirely, for several minutes before you become suddenly aware of a creature floating down the stairs. It appears to be humanoid, with yellow-tan skin, goat horns, and a shock of white hair. The creatures exchange significant glances but say nothing as the yellow man begins to draw pictograms in the ledger. Having completed this, the yellow man then produces a small silver key, pressing it into door 10135's lock, and turns it. The door opens to the scene of a bright, sunny day in the middle of a small town with dirt roads and wooden buildings. Waiting to greet you is a small group led by an extravagantly dressed human man with long blonde hair and an impossibly oafish grin. He gestures for you to cross through the portal and into Immarat.

[PoR]

Having taken a quick count of would-be slaves, Bormass quickly decided against pretending to be one. Clad in his heavy armor, he followed the bard to the tower along the procession, playing the role of a bodyguard or enforcer of sorts.

Upon reaching the portal tower, he's been holding himself back not to gawk at the strange situation. Large helmet, manifested to cover much of his face, has certainly helped - especially when the winged clerk has brought down his apparent supervisor.

[Farmerbink]

At the sight of the tower, Hopton's face pales slightly. "That thing is..." he murmurs to himself, before he recovers his composure. Hurrying just a bit to catch up with the group, he takes an overt position as the rear guard. As he follows his companions down the spiral staircase, he finds himself focusing less on the innumerable doors and more on the back of the last "slave's" feet. Trying to fight through a mounting headache at the strain of fitting his vision into his brains ability to parse, he trudges onward.

He almost doesn't notice the two... devils? until his party starts stepping through the open door. Without trying to make sense of it, he somewhat eagerly urges his companions and the slaves through- unintentionally acting the part of the hurried taskmaster. "Come on, get on with it!" Still, he waits until last to pass through the portal himself.

[Deathkeeper]

Sapesh snickers under his breath. Not even a proper book-imp. Look at those wings! For shame. Joshua picks up on his disdain, and dutifully notes it down for later. He wasn't aware his familiar had something against secretaries. Perhaps he just thinks the hump is ugly. He does always focus on aesthetics. Though to be fair, what was he to expect from a crow?

Joshua heads through the portal in the middle of the group, beside a few of the slaves.

[ocato]

As the party steps through the portal, the door closes behind you with a click. Behind you remains nothing but the sunny afternoon scene: a large farming compound closed in by tall, stone walls. Far to the east you can make out a large, stone fortress atop an artificial hill. Before you is the small slave town, a series of wooden buildings surrounding a peculiar metal obelisk engraved with several hundred eye symbols of various origin and style.

Among the welcoming party are several armed guards, each bearing the symbol of the House Ten. Welcome, Welcome! calls out the leader of the procession. The man, Elsam Ten, is dressed in the finery of a king and seems almost unbelievably excited by your arrival. Behind him, sighing quietly, is a shorter, ugly man dressed in a long red robe.

I am Elsam Ten, welcome to Immarat! I've been waiting for you! This is quite a haul of slaves you've brought! I hope it wasn't terribly difficult to bring them here. Elsam exclaims with an odd staccato, then turns and gestures to the man behind him. This is my court wizard. His name is Orengil. He'll be making sure that you get settled in and given uniforms and...

Elsam begins to trail off, already losing interest as something apparently catches his attention. He turns, sort of strolling off, and then turns back to the group. Wait, are you still here? Don't you have work to do? He looks confused for a moment, then turns back and gestures towards his wizard who steps forward as the procession begins to encircle Ten's waiting carriage.

Orengil gives you a look somewhere between contempt and pity, Alright then, how many slaves have you brought his excellency?

[LimeSkeleton]

Ornthalas observes the finely dressed man intently, somewhat perturbed by the supposed merchant leader's odd, unfocused demeanor. However, he smooths his features into a look of moderate disinterest as the man's magical advisor approaches, brandishing the ivory symbol of House Ten casually.

"Yes, yes, thank you for meeting us here. We would prefer to get to business as soon as possible, since our merchandise has been somewhat difficult to transport. I speak for my fellows when I say that we would love to finalize payment. Perhaps over dinner, if that would not be too difficult?" The Elf gestures lazily to the group of former slaves behind him, carefully avoiding eye contact. "We bring these slaves you see before you. They are strong, healthy, and will prove obedient to their owner's command. No expense was spared in their transport, I assure you."

If these rolls don't work because I'm using my phone, I would be completely fine with ocato re-rolling them for me. Sorry for any inconvenience!

Bluff: [roll0]

Sense Motive, substituting Perform(Perform: Oratory) (on Ten): [roll1]

[Farmerbink]

Hopton looks uneasily behind him as the door clicks audibly. His eyes widen slightly before he turns to face forward again.

As the well-dressed man departs, he grins. "Oh good, I was afraid he might be likable. No such luck." The grin doesn't reach his eyes. From the rear of the group, he begins calculating- surveying the nearby complex.

[PoR]

That man is a pompous fool who hasn't worked a day in his life, Bormass thought, clenching his calloused hands.

Playing up his role as an enforcer, he remained silent and followed the group, ushering the slaves to follow Ornthalas.

[Modigar]

Lyria walks along with the rest of the group, a hand on her new longbow, the tip of her tail, usually wrapped around her waist entirely, curled slightly around an explosive.

[ocato]

Please, do not look if you aren't Ornthalas Elsam Ten is exactly the dimwitted fool that you were told to expect. He's not playing stupid, if it weren't for nepotism he'd likely be buying a bridge somewhere

Orengil gives the elf a somewhat perplexed look, lasting but a few seconds, Your payment... I assume you mean that you'd like to sign your employment contracts. He pats his chest absent-mindedly for a moment, then reaches into his robe for a few papers before stopping, ...dinner? I don-- A look of understanding then crosses his face. Ah, of course! What kind of host would I be if I didn't show you hospitality. Besides, I'm sure you have other business to attend to. Come now, let's deposit these slaves and then we can meet privately. With that, Orengil turns and begins to lead you into the slave quarters.

Several wood and stone longhouses stand pointing directly at a large orange obelisk in the center of the slave quarters like rays emanating from a hand drawn sun. Each longhouse has several dozen pane-less windows and large, door-less entrances where they face the obelisk. The obelisk itself appears to be made of copper, with an electrum tip and dozens of various eye-like symbols adorning its surface. The simple wooden walls that enclose the compound are lined with sheets of copper that vary in sizes from a man's hand to a small ship's sail.

You know the drill You immediately recognize the structure as a magical Panopticon. A Panopticon is a theoretical prison in which all of the inmates can be observed from one point but cannot tell when they are being observed. The concept is that all of the prisoners will then behave as if being directly observed at all times. This compound if a magically enhanced version, in which an Obelisk is used as a focus for scrying and magically treated alchemical copper plates allow the scryer to see any individual point in the entire compound at any time with no gaps or shadows.

Each corner of the compound is home to a small stone watchtower, all of which seem unused or understaffed. It is clear that, likely for profitability purposes, the compound has an extremely slanted ratio of prisoners to guards.

Once within the compound, whose walls hang open with no gate, Orengil begins to sort the slaves between the various longhouses, seemingly intent on keeping them as separate as possible. He then turns and speaks in a whisper. You are expected to serve as guards for this prison, tonight you will meet me in a small cabin between the flower fields and the east wall. We will conduct our business then.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton wanders at the rear of the group, wide-eyed in amazement at the sprawling copper-encrusted compound. A low whistle emanates from his lips, as they pass through the open gates.

As the prisoners are removed, he makes a mental note where the most hearty of the fighters are sent. If any meet his eye, he nods at them with a hard expression.

You are expected to serve as guards for this prison, tonight you will meet me in a small cabin between the flower fields and the east wall. We will conduct our business then.

The halfling nods at the man, his now usual smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth.

[Deathkeeper]

Watching magic. That can be used to their advantage, but could pose some difficulties. Best to keep it in mind for now and stick to the plan.
Joshua gives the man a nod and a simple "Understood." in a low voice.
Go on and leave you fool so they can get on with it.

[ocato]

Orengil gives a tight, succinct smile and then turns abruptly to leave, behaving as if his being observed were a certainty. A few dozen yards away, Elsam Ten and his entourage have finally completed whatever honorary ceremony was required to put him in his carriage and are preparing to return to the fortress. Orengil hurries to catch up, seemingly forgotten by his master.

The entire procession comes to a halt almost as soon as it begins to finally move as one of the guards calls out, pointing to a distant figure approaching. After a few moments, the image becomes clear: a gnome riding atop a giant ant, with three slaves chained together behind him trying desperately to keep up and a 4th lying slumped over the gnome's lap with several arrows sticking out of his back. The slaves look defeated, exhausted, and many have legs and bodies that lend the appearance that they may have been dragged by the creature at some point. The gnome stops by the procession, and is loudly and flamboyantly praised by Elsam. Once Orengil has slipped into the carriage, Elsam becomes temporarily confused, distracted, then ready to resume his journey. The gnome rides his insectoid mount towards the slave compound, releasing the survivors within.

He turns and looks to you for a moment; dirty, with bulbous nose and squinting eyes. His messy white hair is stringy and likely falling out, barely contained underneath a small, square shaped red hat. His shortbow and spear both look well-used, but as he approaches it becomes difficult to notice much more detail as you are assaulted by the odor of old, wet fungus and sweat. You're the new guards. I'm Conno. You're bunking with me. I keep a hole on the outside of the west wall of the compound. When the sun comes down, you're off duty. His voice is harsh and terse, as if every word were a command. He looks at you a moment, as if uncertain whether you may respond (or whether he cares), slumps the dead slave onto the ground and rides off towards the west wall.

The compound is yours to guard. (or 'guard')

[Farmerbink]

As the last witness employee departs, Hopton turns to his companions. "So..." he begins in a whisper. "It seems to me, we should check around here for anything that might give us away, and barring that, start organizing our troops. Obviously, we should wait until after dinner to make any big moves- free food and all that..."

[Modigar]

Me nods to Hopton. "I like the way you think. Let them pay to fill our stomachs, and then we lose the excess fat at their expense too."

[PoR]

"I wouldn't mind a meal on someone else's money, either", Bormass offered. After a long day of questionable "work", the dwarf was famished and somewhat tired.

[LimeSkeleton]

Ornthalas nods at Hopton's recommendation, adding his voice to the chorus of agreement. "Yes, I wouldn't mind draining some of their ill-gotten gold to fill our stomachs either." His gaze falls over the gnome, and he suppresses the urge to curl his lip up in disgust; it's rare to find someone who is so throughly repugnant as the slavecatcher before him.

Attempting to maintain his charm, he offers a reasonably sincere "Thank you" to the Gnome, before edging away to remove himself from his presence.

[ocato]

As you wander the compound, you see the slaves are settling in for an evening meal. The summer sun will remain in the sky for several more hours but their labor has apparently ended for the day. The slaves apparently take a small yield of their harvest, and are sitting down to a large communal meal of rice porridge and some kind of alcohol that seems like it may have been originally intended to disinfect troglodytes.

The slaves pay you no real attention, instead conversing amongst themselves as they cook and serve their meal. Their tones and faces are almost unnaturally happy despite the sorrow they discuss.

I think I broke something in my foot...

I don't know how much longer I can take this food

I'm going to die here, I know it

Still, the slaves carry on as if perfectly happy regardless of their lamentations, the smiles on their faces betraying the sorrow of their words.

[PoR]

Bormass wandered around the compound with the rest of the party, absorbing the surroundings to the best of his ability. This world, for better or for worse, seemed much closer to his home than Sigil ever was. He considered the slaves' strange behaviour, and wondered - does their masters' control extend further than mere chains and collars? He shivered, overcome with uncomfortable thoughts. At least soon they'd right whatever wrongs were inflicted on these people as they complete their task.


[roll0] Sense Motive about strange slave behaviour

[Farmerbink]

Hopton follows the party about, his temper ever rising. Finally, after several minutes of overhearing the constant complaints, he stands up and storms off to be by himself near the walls. As he goes, he mutters, "I'll be close. Dinner time can't come soon enough!"

Apologies. My family is coming into town for the week. I do most of my communication for these games via another application, so I forgot to warn you. I will try to keep up, but may be a bit awol for the week. Again, sorry :-/

Please feel free to DMPC me if needed.

Also, do we as players know those numbers from the OOC thread? We might not even need the slaves' help to topple this house of cards.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua follows the others, trying to stick to other people enough to mask his movements to some degree. He scans the surrounding area, occasionally using Detect Magic to see if there are any magic effects around the place besides the surveillance devices.
((As far as I know, there is not perception check to use DM))

[LimeSkeleton]

Ornthalas shakes his head ruefully at the slaves, their words cutting his heart like icy knives. He murmurs to the others, his expression stony. "Their voices are cheerful, but they say such terrible things... Are they being affected mentally? I don't understand it at all." He keeps on the lookout, hoping to spot any of the slaves they themselves had brought to the compound. If they too were affected, then the effect would certainly be proven to be unnatural.

The Elf falls into step with the others, nodding at Hopton as he departs. "This place seems absurdly understaffed for such a large group of individuals. Makes me a little suspicious, to be honest." He pauses, looking over his shoulder to ensure that nobody else is within earshot. "Makes me think that they have no fear at all of an uprising, for one reason or another, which could be an asset or a liability, depending on the reason." Ornthalas points to the eye-covered obelisk, furrowing his brow. "Moreover, do any of you have any clue about what that is? Damned thing makes me nervous."

[PoR]

"I fer one think the slaves are lyin' through their teeth. Can't blame them, would probably do th' same in their place.", Bormass noted to his companions.
"No clue wha' the obelisk is all about, though."

Looking around conspiratorially to make sure nobody is listening in, Bormass added, "I don' think there are tha' many guards here - all we're seein' is slaves upon slaves. They might not all fight with us but if we make a good 'nuff impression tha' we can win this fight, I bet they won' help the guards either. So if we goin' ta start th' rebellion, I reckon we should single out a few tough guards and wipe th' floor with 'em in front of as many fightin' worthy slaves as ya can see, and make th' offer to join us."

[ocato]

Joshua only, please There's no perception roll required, and other than the copper plates and the obelisk you see nothing magical

Ornthalas, scanning the crowd, is eventually able to find some of the slaves you came with. They seem just as perplexed as you do by their fellow prisoners and their behavior. When they are able to meet your gaze, many silently look to you for direction or understanding.

Bormass, you look around for guards and find that most of them are up in the towers or patrolling the walls. They believe you to be allies, and would come down at your request (especially if they believed something was happening that required their attention). A gesture or a call is all it would take.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition None
Perception +7As Hopton looks to the recent slaves, he nods encouragingly. If the situation permits it, he whispers a few quick words, "Be patient. We'll let you know."

At the party's confusion regarding the obelisk, he cheerfully says "Let's go check that thing out, eh? It don't mean nothin' to me, but perhaps you guys can make heads er tails of it when we get closer...." He marches over purposefully and investigates the area around the stone column.

Done there, he looks to the parapets appraisingly. "Them guards would probably come down if we faked some sorta sity-ation... Might be a good idea after we get some grub, right?"

Content, for the moment with their plan, Hopton makes it a point to spend the intervening time between the present and dinner "wandering" the slave grounds, but noting the various places to hide and slaves attitudes, as well as any potential exits or entrances other than the obvious.

[ocato]

As the sun descends to the horizon, you are finally relieved of duty by another group of guards arriving from Ten's fortress. One of the guards, presumably their sergeant, informs you that your presence is desired at the keep. The journey by foot takes approximately half an hour along a well trod dirt road.

The keep itself sits atop an artificial hill with a thick, boggy moat that encircles the tall stone walls. It is clear that the stones are not from this area (or perhaps even this plane) and it is not a far cry to assume that this building's cost was astronomical. You are ushered across the draw bridge and into the inner walls, where you meet with a small group of other thugs and slavers who are apparently joining the Ten syndicate. The courtyard is lit by hundreds of lanterns and torches that are decoratively strung along thin cords that criss-cross the air above you. Long tables have been set with lavish trimming and decadent foods from all over the multiverse, with a long table set perpendicular to the others for Ten and his inner circle. Orengil gives you a knowing look from his position at Elsam's left.

The thugs and guards all sit together, mixing fairly well. It isn't hard to assume that many of these guards were once slavers, thugs, and ganglords themselves, all brought under the banner of Elsam Ten. You are seated at the rear of the last table, furthest from the lord of the keep, surrounded by a strange menagerie of cut throats and villains. A handsome young man with a gruesome scar leans over the table and begins to question you on your connections in Sigil, your backgrounds, and begs you to regale him with tales of your past crimes. His crew of hobgoblins sits eagerly forward, each trying to out-do the others' feigned interest in their master's questions. Down the table you can see a coterie of beautiful human women with lavish dresses crassly cheering each other on as they drive a knife into the table between their fingers at an extreme speed. At another table, you can see a few men arguing loudly, but you cannot make out what they are on about through the cacophony.

The walls of the keep are routinely patrolled, and it would appear that the fortress is significantly better guarded than the slave compound. The crowd is lively and Elsam seems content to watch their revelry for the time being.

[Modigar]

Lyra sighs in relief. "Finally. Between the monotony and the exhaustion, I was not cut out to be a guard. Time for food at last."

[PoR]

"Happy ta get some grub meself", Bormass agreed.

During the course of the dinner, he found himself questioned by a handsome yet heavily scarred young man. When asked about his previous misdeeds, Bormass shamelessly lied "See this armor? It's magic, lad. Y'know how I got it? I killed a pow'rfull wizzerd fer it, with me own hands! Choked the basterd in his sleep, looted his lair..."

"But 'nuff about me, wha' about you? How'd you get tha scar?"


Ouch typing all this out on a phone is hard!
Can't look up my skills easily, think I got +4 on diplomacy and 0 on bluff.

[roll0] bluff for the lie
[roll1] diplomacy to try to suck up to the scarred man.

With my luck, gonna fail both rolls...hehe...

[ocato]

The scarred young man narrows his eyes at Bormass for a moment before erupting in laughter. If you're going to sit with the likes of me, you'll need better stories than that friend dwarf! The hobgoblins pause noticeably, then laugh along with their master. Several go so far as to pat him on the shoulder or congratulate him on his boast, calling him Chican.

Chican swells in his seat, causing an eerie quiet to unfold around him as he lifts his fork and draws it in front of his face with a face like he's preparing to tell a ghost story. This scar, you ask, is a very good tale. A very good tale I heard from a very strong man. That man is me and the tale is mine, and if you've got the coin then pay up and the story can be yours to hear and retell. Chican extends his hand, apparently expecting to be paid for his story.

[PoR]

"A good tale is werth a few coins", Bormass uttered, flipping two silver coins into the scarred man's hand.

Bugger.

Not waiting for response, he began shoveling food into his mouth, both because of his hunger and to save him from initial embarrassment.

[ocato]

Chican picks up the coins and sets them into the inner pocket of his vest with a sly grin and looks to Bormass.

I tripped and hit my face on something.

The table hangs silent for a moment, followed by an eruption of laughter from Chican and his hobgoblin friends. The man casts the dwarf's coins back across the table and grins.

You're my kind of sort, friend dwarf. You should ditch these fools and join my crew. We're doing some guard work here for the Tens to drum up some capital for quite the scheme! You'll absolutely love it, especially since you're a dwarf! We're going to... Chican looks in both directions, then lowers his voice, start selling fabricated gemstones. It's so easy, you find a wizard who can create the stones and then sell them to some unsuspecting dope. By time he's realized that you've schemed him, you're loooong gone. The plan is effectively fool proof, but if I had a dirty dwarf with a pickax telling my customers that he just just just mined them, then the bluff would be all the more perfect!

So what do you say, want to ditch them and join up with us or not? Our friendship depends on your answer!

As Chican finishes his speech, Elsam Ten stands, clinking his glass with a fork. The crowd remains indifferent for a moment and continues noisily until Elsam begins to slam his fists into the table and scream in some sort of tantrum. His guests respond quickly and become quiet as Orengil attempts to calm him down by giving him an odd, smooth stone and a glass of wine. The lord of the keep guzzles the wine, rhythmically stroking the stone in his left hand and is quickly pacified. Having averted catastrophe, he resumes his address as if nothing happened.

Friends and ...er... coworkers. You have been gathered here to pay homage to me, Elsam Ten. You will all be entered into my service tonight by ritual contract signing. Once that is complete, everyone will be paid and you will be my faithful servants. I look forward to being served by you all, especially... Elsam trails off for a second, but a stiff bump from Orengil sets him back on track. Contracts will be brought to your tables which will magically bind you to my service. If you get food on them, I'll have you killed. If you refuse to sign, you'll wish I had. Questions? No? Let's begin.

With that, guards begin to bring out long scrolls of parchment. Each has a standard contract written at the top, and thousands of signatures beneath. People begin to sign, but the austerity of the moment is interrupted by the sound of someone's wine cup spilling. Quickly, the guards begin to drag the man away who loudly begs for his life. One of the guards is holding the scroll up and even from your position it is plain to see that the wine has soaked a few signatures off the paper. Orengil quickly comes to the scroll and tries to make out the lost names. Bring them here at once. Do not inform them that their signatures are lost, just get them signed again immediately. The guards depart as the sound of the spiller's final death yelp can be heard from a distance.

The scrolls are on their way around to your table, you have a few moments to act (or plan).

[Farmerbink]

Hopton looks around as the contracts are seemingly eagerly signed by the other dinner-goers. He looks to his new companions, unsure what to expect. In a hushed voice, he whispers, "I don't know 'bout you all, but I don' feel like puttin' my name on that paper. Anyone got a good idea?"

His eyes scan the area as he searches for an escape.

[roll0] Bluff to hide his unease
If no one gives a convincing suggestion otherwise, he will wait until a distraction presents itself, and slip beneath the table, hiding in the mass of legs and shaded floorboards: [roll1] stealth

[PoR]

"You an' me both, Hopton." Bormass whispered back, shifting uneasily. "Gonna try signin' m' great grandfather's name an' see if it works. Whatever foul magics these might be, I reck'n he be safe in afterlife..."

Passing on the message, Bormass glared at his companions, asking "How 'bout ya'll?"

[ocato]

The guards bring the scroll to your table without further incident. As Chican and his men sign, you are able to read the wording exactly.

This contract between the Elsam Ten, Lord of the Ten family estate on Immarat and furthermore known as the employer, and you the employed, guarantees employment up to but not limited to your life. Employment is defined as absolute servitude in all manners during which the employed will comply completely with orders given regardless of danger and with reckless disregard for the employed's safety as necessary for the task at hand. Upon failure to complete a task within the natural or unnatural lifespan of the employed, the employer retains the rights to animate or otherwise use the employed's remains in any way.

Failure to comply with a command will result in magical punishment up to and including death, based on the level of the insubordination. Punishment is applied automatically without required action from the employer.

In such a case that the employed is deemed unfit for service, the employer retains the right to terminate the employed and exercise the failure of completion clause regarding the animation of the employed's corpse.

Should the employed seek to terminate their employment, their contract can be bought out for 1,000gp.

The employed shall be paid the sum of 10 silver per week, plus food and lodging.

You can see that Chican, like most of the others, does not seem to be reading the contract at all and signs quickly with a grin. We're going to be rich in no time! He exclaims.

The guards turn to your side of the table, quills in hand. Do you sign?

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua pales. Sapesh caws. It's not a real word, but the emphatic link is enough to tell him.
No.

"That won't work. We have to get out of here. Follow me lead and we can get outside."
He shakes himself a bit, getting into character (most notably to get color back into his face). Then he slams his fist down onto the table.

"Don't yous be laughin' at me! I'm dead serious, I am!" he roars drunkenly, spilling his cup to make sure no one noticed it's not been touched.
"Forty silver a month ain't enough to buy me a nice room at a brothel, let alone annehthin' useful! My neck's worth twice that, and ain't no bloody way some piece of shyte is usin' me corpse as a zombie when his bloody contract gets me killed! And if yous be insinuatin' (he pauses, making sure to look proud at that big word) that I ain't, I'll stick a bolt so hard into yah you'll be coughin' bits of it up for a week!"

Bluff check. Sorry for no spoilers but the button keeps making my phone crash.
[roll0]

[PoR]

Bormass pales as he reads the contract, going over the specific clauses. All that, for only 10 silver a week? Hell no! I ain't becoming no zombie for 10 bloody silver!

Hearing his companion make a commotion, he slams his mailed fists onto the table, spilling food and drink. "Ten bloody silver?! Is tha' a bleedin' joke?". The dwarf then laughed heartily before picking up the biggest plate, still smeared with unfinished food and throwing it at the hobgoblins across the table. "Ye dirty 'gobbers can lick up th' crumbs!"


[roll0] bluff check? Don't know if it's that relevant, but I suppose I might as well. Bormass is pretty serious about money, serious enough to make a commotion, but he was never intending to be in service to Ten.
[roll1] Improvised weapon ranged attack, a thrown plate. Edit, forgot to factor in Dex mod (+1) and BAB from 2nd level in aegis (another +1); should be... 1? Still doesn't hit anyone, but probably make enough of a commotion and maybe hit someone in the crowd.

[ocato]

The guards look befuddled by Joshua's loud complaints as the din of the crowd recedes in favor of watching the unfolding drama. Bormass adds to the confusion, throwing his plate past the hobgoblins, who roar in righteous indignation. The first hobgoblin lunges, but is stopped by the scroll bearing guard. Unable to contain the hobgoblin's rage with one hand, he drops it on the table. The second hobgoblin then tries to flip the enormous, long table, and succeeds in lifting it to a 45 degree angle before giving up. The scroll and most of the food is cast to the ground as the entire scene's madness escalates with a loud, female scream. At the other end of the table, one of the finely dressed young women shrieks in rage at the sight of her now food and wine stained silk dress. She and her comrades begin to fling their knives at the hobgoblins in a furious flurry.

Meanwhile, the plate sails into the crowd at the next table, igniting a shoving match and several thrown punches. In a matter of seconds the entire courtyard erupts in a brawl. Elsam Ten, who now has the power to end the brawl with a word (thanks to his contract), apparently would rather watch the chaos with a bemused grin. Hopton slips under the table unnoticed, where he is able to avoid the melee.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua grabs their table's scroll. They can analyze it later, maybe find out a thing or two about the Mage that created it for the slaver.
"Hopton, the scroll! Destroy the names and he can't stop them!" he says into his friend's ear. He likely could not cross the room without being spotted, and he dare not cast while watched.

[Farmerbink]

"Hopton, the scroll! Destroy the names and he can't stop them!"

Hopton looks up from the floor at the sound of his name. He meets Joshua's eyes and nods. Reaching from beneath the nearest bench, he tries to grab for the scroll, to do exactly that.

Several questions about the situation. Can I reach the scroll? If so, I do, and attempt to rip it in half beneath the table. If I can't, as soon as the scene really gets out of hand, I'll bolt out of cover to grab it, and hopefully slip beneath the next table over- if possible, I'll grab a goblet first, since I've already seen that that works in some capacity.

[ocato]

Hopton darts out beneath the table, grabbing the scroll and scooting back to the safety of the table. He attempts to rip the scroll, but is unable and grabs a goblet of wine to spill onto it. As he does so, a single drop lands on the printed portion of the contract, which begins to run and is quickly erased. It would appear that it is possible to remove names OR to change the wording of the contract, though the chaos of the brawl may make careful consideration difficult.

It seems that, in the confusion, Orengil has left the courtyard.

Instead of running this as a giant combat, I was hoping we could run the brawl in a more abstract way.

If you'd like to increase or join in the chaos, make an appropriate action (skill check, attack roll, cast a spell, etc) to whip the crowd up or add to the carnage. Doing so means you may suffer an attack back, but without help this brawl will eventually die down.

Otherwise, assume that the brawl is background noise and act however you'd like. If you try to take Elsam out, you can expect some guard interaction, but otherwise the guards will be pretty easy to get past if you'd like to explore the fortress, go find Orengil, or just leave entirely. I will roll randomly based on the level of the brawl for errant attacks but otherwise you should be okay

[PoR]

As the raging brawl spreads out around him, Bormass guffaws at the hobgoblin's attempt to flip the table. Eager to keep the brawl going until the party comes to their senses, the dwarf attempts to flip the long table at the hobgoblins. His armor liquifies and reshapes itself to offer better support as he heaves and pushes the dinner table.


I know we're doing this whole combat in a very abstract sense, but these are my actions:
Free action to dismiss armor (was wearing half-plate)
Move action to summon armor (breastplate, because it offers +2 STR instead of +2 CON)
Standard action to make str check vs table. [roll0]

In case of counterattacks, current AC is 17 (+6 armor, +1 dex), DR 2/-

[Deathkeeper]

Sapesh takes off from Joshua's shoulder and out the nearest entrance in an attempt to locate Orengil. (Perception check? I can roll in OOC if necessary)

Joshua, meanwhile, tries to use Mage Hand to pick up one a goblet across the room and dump it on the head of one of the more hesitant members of the group. He has to buy enough time for Hopton to succeed, then he can try to Charm or kill Elsam.

[ocato]

With a mighty heave, Bormass flips the long table onto its side, creating a barricade-like structure between the party and the brawlers. The hobgoblins shriek, (some of whose feet were just crushed) and many begin to climb the table in an ecstatic frenzy. One of the hobgoblins is met with a face full of wine from Joshua's goblet and stumbles back, unable to stand in the increasingly muddy courtyard.

Meanwhile, Sapesh is easily able to track Orengil, who has slipped out of the front gate and seems to be making is way to the cabin where he asked to meet with you later. Whether he is up to something, avoiding the brawl, or just making ready for your meeting is unknown.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Dagger +6 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition None
Perception +7Hopton carefully tucks the contract into his shirt- the parchment in uncomfortable, but not too obvious, and it doesn't fit anywhere else. Satisfied that it's hidden, he crawls beneath a bench towards the door.

[roll0] sleight of hand or [roll1] stealth to stow the parchment- whichever is more applicable.

[PoR]

Trying to keep track of his companions in the increasingly chaotic mess that was unrolling in the courtyard, Bormass began to creep towards to exit. Tha spikes really help when yer need to git ahead in line, he noted as he bodily pushed past and through the increasingly muddy and in some cases bloody mercenaries.


No real rolls to make here, I think. I intend to make it to the nearest door out (or to whatever door others may have used already) and defend it, keeping it open until the rest get out.

[ocato]

Contract now in hand (well, shirt), Hopton and Bormass make their way separately towards the now unguarded front gate. A few guards on the walls take note, but none seem to find it out of the ordinary that someone would choose not to get involved in the riot. Instead. they focus on peppering crossbow bolts at any would-be brawlers who get too close to Elsam Ten, who sits casually at his table sipping wine as though watching a play.

Sapesh is able to observe Orengil's arrival at his small cabin, located on the eastern side of the compound and, if he has no other orders from Joshua, is able to return without incident.

A few brawlers get close to Bormass, but his spiked armor and stern appearance seems to subtly encourage them to leave the halfling and his dwarven protector alone. Meanwhile, Joshua will have to fight the tide of flesh if he intends to approach Elsam. A few stray kicks and punches deal [roll0] non-lethal damage to Joshua.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton breathes for what feels like the first time in a while when he steps through the doorway at Bormass' heels. He whispers, just loud enough for his companion to hear, "I've got the contract. If we can find somewhere safe to pick at it, maybe we can figure out how to get out of all this!"

He looks around, noting the distinct lack of other allies coming through the doors. Looking up at the Dwarf, he muses, "Think we might aughta go help 'em out?"

[Modigar]

Lyria Bloodborn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=234506)
Tiefling Alchemist CG
HP 10 / 10 Speed ft Init 4
AC 16 Fort 5 Ref 7 Will 0
CMB +1 BAB 1
Dagger +2 (1d4+1, 19-20)
Dagger (thrown) +5 (1d4+1, 19-20)
Light Crossbow +5 (1d8, 19-20)
Bomb +6 (1d6+4, x2)
Masterwork Longbow +6 (1d8, x3)
Str 10 (0) Dex 18 (4) Con 14 (2) Wis 10 (0) Int 18 (4) Cha 8 (-1)

Lyria curses under her breath about the commotion, and starts moving towards the exit, bomb reactants in hand.

[PoR]

Bormass nods at the halfling, saying "Aye, might as well. I wasn't expectin' ta be the first at the door..."

Bormass takes another look at the approaching Lyria and tries to clear the way by shooting out a psionic crystal.

[roll0] to provide covering fire with a psionic crystal 30 foot range only

[roll1] damage if hits.

My AC =17, Dr=2/-

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua frowns, but it seems he doesn't have much choice. He runs out towards the rest of the group, trying his best to avoid things.

((Once again, sorry, but the spoiler button makes my phone crash))
Acrobatics check: [roll0]

If he makes it there, he'll approach Hopton.
"What are you doing? Get some wine and wipe the names or he can stop this at any time. Didn't you want to end this operation? You won't do it letting the slaver keep his power. Sapesh found his wizard. We should go for one of the two."

[ocato]

Bormass's covering fire and Joshua's acrobatics ensure that the four party members arrive at the keep's gate unharmed. You have a few minutes to discuss your options, then shortly after reconvening you can hear the frustrated roar of Elsam Ten, who finally realizes his contracts are in the middle of the melee. Even from the gates, you can hear him scream in the courtyard,

FIND THAT SCROOOOOLL

The increasingly close sound of shuffling thugs and slavers, entranced by their master's command, threatens to disrupt your moot with the promise of violence if you dare refuse to surrender the scrolls.


In case anyone is confused
http://i.imgur.com/3m1Xgqz.png

[Farmerbink]

Hopton's eyes widen comically as the angry voice bellows from the building. He turns to his companions, reaching into his vest as he does so. "So, um. I got this... Now what do we do with it?" He holds it out to them to peruse and inspect, seemingly eager to be rid of the paper.

[PoR]

"Run ferst, think after. How's tha' sound?" Bormass offered, looking over his shoulder, concerned.
"Think we should get to tha' wizzerd, tha's what they're payin' us for, aight?"

Stopping for a moment to unsheathe his overly long axe, the dwarf continued his hustle towards the gate.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua grabs Hopton by the shoulders as they go.
What did I tell you literally five seconds ago?!"
How is he this stupid?

[Farmerbink]

What did I tell you literally five seconds ago?!"


Take it, then!! Hopton says in a harsh whisper. He thrusts the contract into the hands that previously held him, as he wriggles free of the man's grasp. "Come on! At any rate, we don't want to get caught with it!"

Following his own advice, he hurries away from the sounds of pursuit.

I don't want to stumble into our meeting with the contract, either, so Hopton will lead the way towards (hopefully) a quasi-secluded part of the compound. Surely they'll check the whole place eventually, but hopefully we can buy a few minutes to do some of the things suggested in OOC, if we duck behind the right buildings.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua sighs and takes the contract. Moron.
"Sapesh went that way before giving me a confirmation. Let's go. And does anyone have any alcohol?" he asks, following after his familiar.

[Modigar]

Joshua sighs and takes the contract. Moron.
"Sapesh went that way before giving me a confirmation. Let's go. And does anyone have any alcohol?" he asks, following after his familiar.

Lyria sighs, but reaches up to the bandolier with her tail and wordlessly throws a flask of whiskey at him. After a second, she speaks up: "That's all I have, so you better use it well. And I'm going to be needing more of that."

[Deathkeeper]

((Well I guess if no one is going to post...))

Still while hurrying about, Joshua uncorks the flask and wets his handkerchief with it, and attempts to use it to erase the entire line of Elsam's name and his titles, up before "hereby known as the employer. Much more economical than wiping off every name.
Soellcraft to see if that worked?
[roll0]

[ocato]

The carefully applied alcohol does wonders on the ink of the parchment. With a shimmer of magical energy, the contract is nullified, leaving it open to abuse. Suddenly aware of their lack of magical compulsion, the din of your pursuers begins to fade. It would seem that several loyal (or enterprising) servants of Ten are still searching, though most of the rest have clearly begun to slack off, preferring to look loyal than to risk a crossbow bolt from one of Ten's more seasoned family servants.

Joshua only, please The contract has been magically nullified. You're aware that it is possible to replace Elsam's name, though it would require some sort of custom abjuration in order to 'notarize' the effect. It's easy to tell that such a spell would likely be relatively high level.

[Deathkeeper]

With a satisfied look, Joshua puts the contract with the other in his pack, and with some empathic focus calls Sapesh back to him. The pair reunited, they continue towards the mage's building.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton follows the sorcerer with a mildly confused expression. He seems somewhat relieved, none the less, to be out of the spotlight, for the moment. As they approach their destination, he carefully slinks off into the slowly deepening shadows of evening- resorting to his old habits for self preservation.

If I can find a place to hide, I will do so, hoping to make good use of it.
[roll0] stealth
[roll1] perception

[ocato]

The sun has finally set, and the deep blanket of night covers Immarat. You trek towards Orengil's cabin, fortunate enough to avoid most of your would-be pursuers. However, it is clear from the excitable voices in the distance and the impressive amount of torchlight coming from the main gate that they seek first to contain you. You pass by the flower fields and can see a small wooden cabin, its fireplace lit.

Some of the 'flowers' in these fields are carefully hidden arcane reagents. You don't notice anything beyond what a normal spell pouch would contain, but it is clear that Orengil hides his magical necessities in plain sight.

As the group heads towards the cabin, you can easily hear the thudding sound of a giant ant, and then smell the distinctly mushroom-esq odor of Conno, the slave hunter you encountered earlier. It would appear that he has been called upon to track you and is doing a fair job of it

As you approach, a face appears in the cabin's window briefly. It is the decidedly unpleasant face of Orengil, who quickly steps up and opens his door, visually dissipating a handful of magical wards and abjurations while doing so. He gestures for you to hurry inside.

I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it. Come in, come in. Tell me how the old man is.

[Farmerbink]

As the others approach the door, Hopton continues trying to stay out of sight of pursuers. "That any-ridin' fella's after U.S. Not far behind."

He waits until last and darts through the doorway only if/when everyone else has already gone through.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua nods and walks into the place.
"Fine, last we saw. No one took a shot at him during the brawl. If you don't mind, it would be best if you could keep our friend from interrupting us." he says to the Mage at Hopton's warning.

[Modigar]

Lyri enters the hut before only Hopton, glancing around for threats the entire time, but her demeanour changes drastically as soon as they're inside. "So... let's get to it then shall we?"

So basically, what happened was I stupidly replied to the wrong thread with a post that did have a roll. As soon as I realised, I removed it from this thread and reposted it. Which still leaves me with no roll. So, just to see if I can get the entirely redundant roll to show and remove the annoying red text: [roll0]

[ocato]

Orengil ushers you into his hut, which is decidedly plain for the lair of a wizard. There is a small, round table with several chairs nestled near the fireplace, a goose-down mattress on the floor in the corner, and a few bookshelves overstuffed with tomes of varying age.

Don't worry about bug-boy, even if he could smell his way in here, he wouldn't be able to shoot his way out. Orengil then pauses a moment, a look of vague concern growing on his face. No no no, he says to Joshua, The old man, Morcom. He's the one who sent you, right?

Orengil pauses for a moment, looking to each of you with a vague twinge of desperate confusion. You're here about Ao Gao's death, you do have my money, right?

He mutters to himself, beginning to pace in the small hut. His exact words are difficult to glean, but 'we had a deal' and 'What am I going to do' seem to be the gist of it.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton looks back and forth between the obviously uncomfortable man and the door of his home several times- clearly ill at ease, himself. With a meaningful look, he nudges Lyri. "This is the guy, right?" he whispers, not wanting to draw attention to himself. "So now what?"

I can't speak for everyone, but I'm still interested in playing this game and this character. However, as the fingers behind the face and brain, I feel odd pushing things forward in a social (or even sort-of-social) setting. Anyone else still here and still interested?

[Modigar]

"You'll wear down the floor if you don't cut that out. We have the money. You'll have it if you hold up your end of the bargain, so by the Traveller, stop panicking already."
She pauses a second. "What's got you so riled up anyway? Racked up nasty debts or something?"

Lyria has many talents. She'd make a great street magician. She can disarm a trap, or brew you up an affordable hangover cure. Social interaction though? You probably want somebody else =P. That said, nobody else seemed to be talking, and it's a bit like her to, so I figured I'd see about getting things moving again.

[ocato]

The tiefling's words send a visable cascade of relief across the wizard's face. I've taken a considerable risk in aiding you, I'm just glad I'll be rewarded. You have the scroll, correct?

Orengil stands in the flickering light of the fireplace, his eyes seeming to burn with the same intensity as the fire.

As the only member of the party with sense motive trained In this light, it seems obvious that Orengil and Uba are likely related, possibly even father (Uba) and son (Orengil)

That contract has a lot of value to me, but I doubt you have the means to use it. I'll take it in lieu of 1,000gp worth of rubies. Then, I'll give you every scrap of information regarding Immarat and Ao Gao that you could possibly need. I assure you that my possession of the contract will include your ability to freely leave this compound without issue.

Orengil offers a handshake to signify agreement.

I'm glad people want to continue the game, but if you want to signify your intent to do so then vote with your posts, so to speak. If no one is posting, the game will die. If others aren't posting then they'll likely fall by the wayside. That doesn't mean you can't keep posting. I'll run this game for 1-2 people if that's what keeps it going. The 1-2 people posting routinely are what will sway my decision away from 'scrap the game' and to 'find a few more players to keep it going'.

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua nods, taking out one of two rolled up scrolls from his bag- the unsigned one.
"Very well. Here you are." he says impassively. After all, it's not like he was specific.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton looks at the man with undisguised suspicion, but finds himself without any justifiable claim to make.

He remains silent as the sorcerer hands their contact a scroll.

Couldn't have said it better, myself.

[ocato]

Orengil smiles, scroll in hand. Excellent, I'm glad we could do business. You also have some rubies for me, correct?

Assuming that there is no debate over the rest of his payment, Orengil continues. Ao Gao was last known to have been taking up residence in an abandoned dwarven watchtower north of Gulo, in the Riverlands to the Northeast. Once you leave the compound, head north on this island to the city-state of Saldere, one of the Five Cities of Sibbicci. From there, you can obtain passage on a ship. You may find it difficult to find a ship heading to Cenaport these days, but Denkalla is a fine city and you should have a fairly easy time crossing the southern part of the Cauraha desert. I must advise you, however, to stay away from the Spire. It's not safe near there, regardless of how much faster you may think you can reach Gulo.

Orengil pauses a moment, You are welcome to stay here for the time being. Once I've used the scrolls to obtain control of this compound, I will force the guards to allow you to leave. My only request is that you do not attempt to destabilize my new holding--- you will leave and have no reason to return. If your master asks, you may tell him that I have upheld my end of the bargain and that there is no more cause for us to have contact. If you have a difficult time discovering the portal home, you have my permission to contact me via sending.

In addit-- The sound of shouting cuts Orengil off as a handful of men outside begin to pelt the cabin with stones. Their cacophony is rimmed with the syncopated scuttling of large, insectoid legs.

Outside, a half dozen of Ten's rabble stand ready to fight, with the odd ant-rider keeping vigil over their attempt, bow in his lap.

[Farmerbink]

Hopton jumps halfway to the ceiling as the sudden noises interrupt the man. "You best get on that contract, mister!" He cries out, as he dashes to the wall. From a position relatively safely in cover, he calls to his allies, "Find someplace to hide! Hey, Dwarf guy! I could use a hand over here!" Nodding to the wall across the door from himself, Hopton nears the door, hoping to take the first person able to cross the threshold by surprise.

Hopefully hiding out of sight by the door. If Bormass takes up position across the door, I'll have a readied action to shank/flank the first guy to walk through.

[roll0] stealth

[roll1] initiative?

[roll2] (not counting flanking) attack
[roll3] (still) (27-28, x2) crit confirmation
[roll4] (not counting dirty fighter +1) damage
[roll5] (still) crit bonus
[roll6] sneak attack (assuming applicability)

[Modigar]

Lyria moves a little further from the door, slightly out of sight, holding a bomb in one hand and a flask of acid in the other. "Can you deal with them, or should I just blow them up and save us the trouble?"

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua, who I suppose has the bag of holding, promptly brings out the remainder of the pay.
"Yes, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to not have to deal with any more of these people for the rest of the day if we're already handing you their leash." he says. The way Orengil whispered into his "boss' " ear doesn't make him think he ever didn't have the leash, but as it stands not trusting him and trusting him and being backstabbed wouldn't result in any fewer goons to get through, so does it really matter?

[ocato]

Bormass stands in the doorway as instructed, his aegis forming around his body in a psionic flare of energy. The dwarf braces himself against the door, attempting bar entry from any of the increasing mass of angry thugs outside. The group outside seems oddly clustered, and a broken window would allow Lyria easy pickings with an explosive.

Orengil, happily paid, nods to Joshua and begins his work.


Bormass is effectively an inert barrier, he'll pose a static DC to get through the door way. Attempting to pass Bormass will provoke AoOs from enemies, allowing Hopton to shank with impunity.

It will take Orengil 5 rounds to finish his magical notations on the scroll, during which he cannot be distracted (attacked or forced to move from where he is). It will be your goal to protect the wizard until he is able to subdue your attackers.

http://i.imgur.com/5kktL7z.png

INITIATIVE
Joshua
Hopton
Lyria
Enemies

ROUND 1 Begins now

[Modigar]

Lyria Bloodborn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=234506)
Tiefling Alchemist CG
HP 10 / 10 Speed ft Init 4
AC 16 Fort 5 Ref 7 Will 0
CMB +1 BAB 1
Dagger +2 (1d4+1, 19-20)
Dagger (thrown) +5 (1d4+1, 19-20)
Light Crossbow +5 (1d8, 19-20)
Bomb +6 (1d6+4, x2)
Masterwork Longbow +6 (1d8, x3)
Str 10 (0) Dex 18 (4) Con 14 (2) Wis 10 (0) Int 18 (4) Cha 8 (-1)

From her position by the window Lyria tosses a frost bomb at the crowd outside, stowing the acid and drawing her bow afterwards.

First thing is first, initiative: [roll0]. Bomb at G2 unless I lose initiative and the group spreads out dramatically, in which case I'll be taking a pot-shot at G2. Assuming the group stays as is, [roll1] On a hit, that will deal [roll2] cold damage to G2, and 5 to G1, G3, G4 and G5, and G2 must fort save vs DC15 or be staggered. If the group spreads out so that I can't hit at least three, I'll take a pot shot with the same attack roll, for [roll3] damage

[Farmerbink]

Hopton hides by the door, hoping that the thugs outside don't know he's there. "Tell me, if you see them coming," he whispers.

As mentioned, throwing daggers for 1d3 damage isn't likely to be effective. Here's hoping our bomb-chucker can pick up my slack. :-/

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua swears. He was sincerely hoping that this would be solved in less than well, more time than they had. He draws his crossbow as he moves to square B1 to get cover from attacks, and fires his crossbow at the enemy directly in front of him.

Move action to move to B1 and draw crossbow. Directing an attack to the enemy due East of Joshua.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[ocato]

ROUND 1
Joshua moves behind Orengil's table and shoots, landing his crossbow bolt squarely in the shoulder of Guard #1, who then charges the door and is unable to overpower Bormass and get the door open. Guards 2-6 die screaming in the wake of Lyria's alchemical monstrosity, as Guard 7 charges past his allies, grabbing the window frame and kicking his way into the hut. There, Hopton's prepared double sneak attack action finds both daggers in either of the guard's kidneys midway through his acrobatic entrance. His lifeless body is carried by the inertia of his stunt halfway across the room. Guards 8, 9, and 10 crowd around the southern windows, taking their full turns to climb through carefully.

Guard 1: Wounded
Guards 2-7: KO
Guards 8-10: unharmed
Orengil's Progress 20%

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 1
MW Dagger +8 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Panache: 1/2
Perception +7

The Halfling steps forward, his dagger held in front of himself menacingly. "Come on, ya big ugly pansies! I bet you can't even hit me!"

He takes up a defensive posture, and attacks the nearest guard tentatively.

5'foot step, if required, to be in melee with the guard nearest to Orengil. Attack defensively for +2 dodge bonus to AC, and -4 to attack.

[roll0] attack
[roll1] crit confirm (27+, x2)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

[roll4] sneak attack- just in case someone manages to flank or make him flat-footed.

If they attack me in melee and miss, I will use my 1 point of panache to move into the front-runner's square. From there I can AoO (for all it matters) if anyone threatens- and I threaten him if he moves away from me.

Possible AoO:
[roll5] attack
[roll6] crit confirm (27+, x2)
[roll7] damage
[roll8] crit bonus
[roll9] sneak attack

[Modigar]

Lyria mutters something foul under her breath as she pulls her last bomb from her bandolier and tosses it towards the pair of intruders at the same window, angling the throw to avoid splashing Hopton with the icy mixture.

I'm working on the assumption that I can catch both 9 and 10 by throwing at 9, while not being able to catch all three with splash if I aim for E3 instead, because 10 being in F4 suggests to me that he's outside and therefore would have full cover against it. If I misunderstand and could catch them all by aiming for E3, I'm aiming for E3, otherwise, targeting 9 so long as I can hit both of them. Sorry for the rambling way of saying this. Anyway, to hit: [roll0] damage [roll1] or 5 splash damage for everyone not directly hit. If it scatters [roll2]

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua gives a small smile. This is going well, for once. Not like he can really complain as long as he's not getting shot with any bolts or sliced at with blades. He points at Guard 1 and barks a caustic arcane word.
Casting Acid Splash at Guard 1
[roll0]
[roll1]

[ocato]

ROUND 2
Joshua attempts to blast Guard 1 with an acid spray but is unsuccessful. The door between the guard and Bormass remains closed despite the guard's attempt to force his way in. Guards 9 and 10 are consumed by another alchemical device from Lyria. Guard 8 breaches the hut and lumbers towards Hopton who strikes without connecting. The guard strikes back, but Hopton parries the blow easily and steps under his attacker's feet, failing to make his counter attack successful. At the end of the round, 3 more heavily armed/armored guards approach the hut and will act next round.

Guard 1: Wounded
Guard 8: Unharmed
Guards 2-7, 9-10: KO
Heavies 1-3: Unharmed
Orengil: 40% complete


http://i.imgur.com/e0rEX60.png
EDIT: I forgot to move Joshua to his new position on the other side of the table. I am aware that is where he is and will make the next map reflect that

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 1
MW Dagger +8 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Panache: 0/2
Perception +7

Hopton taunts his quarry, slipping beneath the man's legs repeatedly to disorient him. "Hah! Told you you'd miss! Come on, you're not even trying!

No significance to the taunts. If anyone else closes to melee with this guy, we count as flanking. In addition, he gets -4 to attack anyone but me.

[roll0] attack
[roll1] crit confirm (27+, x2)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

[roll4] sneak attack- in case someone manages to flank

Possible AoO, if he moves away or casts a spell or something :-P:
[roll5] attack
[roll6] crit confirm (27+, x2)
[roll7] damage
[roll8] crit bonus

[roll9] sneak attack- in case someone manages to flank

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua sighs, slamming a bolt into his crossbow and aims another spell at the guard G1.
Joshua reloads crossbow, takes a five foot step to A3, and casts Acid Splash at G1. I am going to assume I'm taking -4 for shooting into melee.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Modigar]

Lyria pulls out her bow and takes a shot at the closest of the newcomers that she can see from the window.

Draw bow, pot-shot at H1. [roll0] [roll1]

[ocato]

Please remember to post your relevant combat stats while we're in a fight like Bink is doing

ROUND 3

Lyria draws her bow and fires at one of the heavy guards, but cannot pierce his armor. The guard at the door finally overpowers Bormass, casting the dwarf to the floor with a heavy thud. He steps into the hut and calls to Orengil.

Wizard! We've come to rescue you! Orengil does not respond, and the guards appear suspicious.

Joshua fails to connect with Acid Splash. Hopton deals minor damage to guard 8.

Heavies 1 and 2 approach the hut. #2 holds his action in case Hopton or Lyria try to move past the door. Heavy #1 attacks Lyria with his halberd through the window, dealing 9 damage.

Heavy #3 pulls a war horn from his belt and blows on it to attract more enemies.

Guard 8 attacks Hopton and misses.

Guards 1 & 8: Wounded
Heavies: Unharmed
Orengil: 60% complete

http://i.imgur.com/KoIzaS7.png

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 1
MW Dagger +8 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Panache: 0/2
Perception +7

Hopton looks confused, by the guard's call, but can't find the time to get a word in, edgewise. He sees an opportunity, and slips out from beneath the guard to take it. While [G1] is distracted by Bormass and Lyria, Hopton moves behind him to attack his blind side!

5-foot step to D/5 (from G8's space), to flank G1

[roll0] attack
[roll1] crit confirm (29+, x2)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus
[roll4] sneak attack

Above rolls include flanking bonuses.

AOO? [roll5] attack
[roll6] crit confirm (27+, x2)
[roll7] damage
[roll8] crit bonus
[roll9] sneak attack
AOO rolls do NOT include flanking bonuses (+2 hit, +1 damage)

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua sighs. He really needs to get more used to firing into brawls. For now, he can avoid the issue.
Firing crossbow at H3
[roll0]
[roll1]

[ocato]

As Hopton slices through the tendons of G1's legs, Lyria steps back, knocks an arrow and lets it fly over the halfling's head. His target collapses just in time for the arrow to miss him and strike G8 directly in the neck, a spurt of crimson heralding his demise.

Heavy 1 attacks Lyria through the window with his halberd, catching the tiefling in the gun for 10 damage. H3 moves to square B7 and draws his crossbow.

H2 passes by Hopton, suffering an AoO on his way to B3 where he can menace Joshua and Lyria properly with his halberd. He calls to Orengil again, and upon getting no response assumes the wizard is entranced or otherwise unable to answer and smacks him with the back of his spiked gauntlet for 2 damage, distracting him for the turn.

In the distance, Conno the gnome arrives on the back of his trusty ant mount to survey the field.

Guards: defeated
H2: wounded
H1 and 3: unharmed
Conno and Ant: unharmed
Orengil: 60% (still)

http://i.imgur.com/slvGJYj.png

[Farmerbink]

Hopton Tinnershcick (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=179723)
Small CG Halfling Rogue (unchained/variant multiclass fighter), Level 1, Init 7, HP 11/11, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 16, Flat-footed 16, CMD 14, Fort 3, Ref 8, Will 2, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 1
MW Dagger +8 (1d3, 19-20, x2) (Sneak attack, Dirty Fighter)
[B]Buckler (+4 Armor, +1 Shield, +5 Dex, +1 Size)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 14, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14
Condition Panache: 0/2
Perception +7

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Hopton calls out a challenge and a warning as he darts up behind (H2). "I said! leave him alone! He's doing stuff!"

move to C/3 to flank H2
[roll0] attack
[roll1] crit confirm (29+, x2)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus
[roll4] sneak attack

Above rolls include flanking bonuses.

AOO? [roll5] attack
[roll6] crit confirm (29+, x2) D:
[roll7] damage
[roll8] crit bonus
[roll9] sneak attack

[Deathkeeper]

Joshua (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=233183)
Human Sorcerer LN
HP 14 / Speed ft Init 6
AC 13 Fort 2 Ref 2 Will 3
CMB +0 BAB 1
Light Crossbow +3 (1d8, 19-20)
Str 8 (-1) Dex 14 (2) Con 12 (1) Wis 10 (0) Int 13 (1) Cha 20 (5)


Well, at least with a man charging at him, Joshua can finally cast the big guns! No more looking around and trying not to hit his own teammates! At last-
at last Hopton can get in the way. Again.
No, Joshua has had enough. He has had just about enough of plinking uselessly against these men. He is dropping these fools. The halfling is collateral; rather he get hit than the mage. Well, either mage, but he wasn't referring to himself.
Joshua eyes the man's weapon before him, and gathers his energy into his right hand before releasing it.
Joshua casts Color Spray defensively straight "down", which should hit the guard directly in front of him, and Hopton.
Concentration check for Cast Defensively: [roll0]

[ocato]

Seeing the spell begin, guard H2 swings at Joshua, missing entirely. Joshua's color spray erupts in a dazzling cone, rendering H2 completely incapacitated just as Hopton delivers the killing blow. It would appear that the mass of the guard served to shield the halfling from the effects of the spell to some extent. Lyria fires her bow at H1 and misses.

H1 and 3 move into the hut and attack Lyria, dealing 6 and 4 damage respectively with their halberds. Conno dismounts from his ant and moves to F/4 whereas his ant moves through the doorway to C/4. Conno's shortbow shot goes wide, and the ant bites Hopton, dealing 4 damage and grabbing him. The Ant's jagged mandibles cause Hopton to take 1 bleed damage per round until he receives some sort of healing (check or magical).

Hopton didn't actually get any bonus, I rolled his save and got a nat 20.

http://i.imgur.com/35EDQ6R.png