(PF) maggie's Rise of the Runelords: Hook Mountain Massacre IC

[maggie_mcknife]

Day 47: Neth 8, 4707

Seven days. That was how long you'd waited for Lord-Mayor Grobaras to send for you. Seven days of worried head-scratching, as you'd gazed in frustration down at thick tomes or stalked the cobblestone streets of the famed City of Monuments, wondering about what was really going on in Fort Rannick. Or who on earth Xanesha's mysterious correspondent had been. Or if you'd ever find a way to turn Sirus back to flesh from stone.

Seven days was far too long to wait when there was someone out there out to murder folks and steal their souls. Someone powerful enough to draw upon the dregs of what little remaining Sin Magic remained in the world. Someone whose poisonous reach had snaked all the way into the justice courts and the sewers of Magnimar, summoning the powerful and the lowly alike in a clandestine mass assassination scheme that had very nearly claimed even the life the man you were now to meet. A scheme that was but one of many.

Whoever it was, this being would have to be stopped. And be made to pay. With interest, if possible.

(The more courteous of you might have perhaps also wondered if seven more days was overstaying your welcome at Verala's abode. But if the sagely elf scholar has thought so, she certainly hasn't made her displeasure obvious enough to notice. Your morning coffee still tastes as fine as ever, at any rate.)

The letter had been a formal invitation for all five of you to dine at the Lord-Mayor's own estate, Defiant's Garden, nestled in the lavish Naos district. The paper had been gilt-edged, with dried rose petals pressed into the fibre and a pleasant floral smell. The words penned in a flowing, almost dainty cursive of black ink. It'd put you immediately in mind of perfume and puffery, of gems and jewels, of expensive and gaudy clothing. There was no question of the expected fashion in which you should arrive.

Nevertheless, even those of you who did deign to spruce up your travel-worn clothing find yourselves feeling slightly awkward and out of place as you step through the curved arches of the gate to Defiant's Garden, torches flickering from the alabaster walls on either side and the Lord-Mayor's herald bellowing out your names from somewhere behind you. For Defiant's Garden is a veritable palace, all gleaming glass and marble, with vistas of silk-draped tapestries and room after room adorned with plush furniture, costly Tien vases and gold filigreed artwork. The place has clearly been built to impress. Yet there is little time to gape as you are solemnly ushered down the corridor, the lustre of hundreds of candles reflecting off the polished oaken floors beneath your feet, the foliage of exotic plants in some conservatory just visible through the windows...

Lord-Mayor Haldmeer Gorbaras is easily the fattest man any of you have ever seen, nearly as wide as he is tall and with three chins jiggling beneath his bristly mutton-chop sideburns. The reason for this is readily apparent, for the meal that awaits you more than makes up for the indignity (if not the urgency) of having waited so long. The flavour and decadence of his table is unquestionable - cold capons with orange relish, hams studded with cloves and drenched in honey, cider-splashed roasted vegetables, goat roasted with fire-peppers and garlic, cheese and onion pies, creamy soup with wild mushrooms and buttered snails, mead-marinated venison steaks wrapped in boar fatback - never mind the lemon cakes, raisin pudding, and stewed plums that the Lord-Mayor primly tucks into for dessert with no sign of indigestion nor slowing down.

Dinner is served in the Galtic style with each guest helping themselves to as much as they please. The Lord-Mayor appears to be in no hurry to begin, leaning back in his chair as he helps himself to yet another slice of soft cheese with his bare hands, chewing slowly with his mouth partway open as he casually observes the five of you from the other end of the table with his piggy little eyes.

[Bhaakon]

While she's utterly out of place in a frou-frou get together like this, Brin enjoys three significant advantages. First, as a theoretical member of the Church of Pharasma, it's perfectly acceptable for her to wear clerical vestments in just about any setting, from the sewage-stained cobbles of Underbridge to...will...here. The lavengerds, violets, and grey of the order were a safe fashion choice in any setting.

Second was the late Lord Foxglove's magical hat. Seeing as Brin didn't actually own any 'proper' vestments, it was quite handy. Particularly since she had not intention of wearing 'proper' vestments, and commissioning the flowing silk skirt that trailed several feet in her wake, the tightly fitted top with the plunging neckline the cloth of silver embellishments, and the black ermine scarf would have cost her a goodly portion of her savings otherwise. Only the complicated plaiting of her auburn hair is real--and rather pricey, as hairstyles go--though the opal-embellished silver fillet holding it together was the enchanted hat itself. In actual fact, Brin is wearing little more than a clean tunic and well-patched leggings.

The ever so slight stumble in Brin's gait as she's lead down the corridor to the party reveals her third advantage. A quarter bottle of absinthe goes a long way towards calming the nerves. Though it can be a dangerous strategy on an empty stomach--especially for someone how has been fasting for a day in anticipation of the Lord-Mayor's spread.

Brin digs into the array of delicacies with a gusto that contrasts with fat Lord Gorby's restraint. The ham she favors with special attention, it being the king of all meats, and she piles a triple serving onto her plate before moving on to build upon that foundation with at least one of everything else. Given the abandon with which Brin shovels food into her maw, it's quite fortunate that illusory clothing doesn't stain, and that there's no actual corset to burst under the pressure of her repast.

Well, perhaps there is a fourth advantage: a complete lack of shame.

[jamieth]

Naya had no such easy out for dealing with her outfit, not being a member of organized faith of any kind (even though she did pay tribute service to The Great Dreamer).

The outfit she was wearing for the last week was out of the question anyway, being pretty much opposite of "fancy", and the geneerosity of Lady Verala, while couldn't be overstated, didn't help much here. Granted, with the Mayor's generous reward, she could easily afford almost any dress she would want... but spending money on clothes seemed so pointless. Lamenting the impossibility of adopting the customs of her new philosophy, the sylph considered her options again. Chelaxian formal dresses were out of the question; she couldn't imagine how people managed to breath in them. On the other hand... formal - perhaps even noble - dresses of her homeland... she spent long decades dreaming of owning something similar one day, and to this day never did. (At first, she didn't have hearly enough money; and Naya didn't get reach until after meeting Kaylee... at which point it became moot)

But, if one think of it, at the formal meeting, a formal dress was a necessity, just like armor was on a battlefield. The question was in finding a clothier able to sew one quickly enough, but Naya could compromise on quality, as long as it didn't affect the look. She wasn't expecting to wear the dress often after tonight, after all.

In the end, she ended up wearing a relatively simple white dress with blue trim, simplicity and strictness of the design themselves indicating higher class - Naya's enchanted necklace, bracelets, tiara and belt serving nicely as accessories one was supposed to wear with it. As an added bonus, the dress was light, sewn from a thin cloth, and allowed the wind to reach her skin somewhat at least. (Naya toyed with the idea of copying Lady Hathor's favorite dress as depicted in the scrolls found in Akhentepi's tomb, but decided not to press her luck after all)

As for the feast itself... what kind of adventurer ever refused a good meal? The fact that she was no threat to Major's vine cellars just meant she had to redouble the efforts on food.

[Desril]

Setsuna

While the tiefling had had the better part of a week to become accustomed to the rather shameless outfit that they'd taken from Xanesha's still warm body, even she had the sense to try to obtain something formal for the feast. Unfortunately, contacting Rynshinn in Sandpoint to have her make something that would be viable in a week's time was out of the question, so the tiefling had to make do with a rush job to have a simple, formal kimono sewn by a local tailor. In truth, it was actually almost as good as anything she'd worn before she'd run away from home, though it lacked the sentimental value of gifts from her father, it still reminded her of a time she didn't like thinking back on.

But now wasn't the time for dwelling on a past she couldn't get back. This was supposed to be a feast, and while there was certainly far too much food here it was nice to eat something with meat in it again. Taladron's aunt was the perfect hostess, but Setsuna hadn't ever really enjoyed elvish dining even if she did find it perfectly edible. Though she certainly held back more than Brin did, it was more because she wasn't quite as voracious than because she had more shame. The wine on the other hand, she took to heartily, her recent drinking habit a result of Rico's hasty, alcoholic solution to all their recent troubles. It wasn't long into the meal that the tiefling's marble cheeks were flushed pinkish and the usual decorum that she'd show at events like this one quickly fades into her more natural excitable and emotional state.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

There was food. So much food. More food than she'd ever seen in her life on one table.

Red's knees had almost gone weak upon beholding the feast, all worries about the criminal brand on her hand going clean out of her head. So much. It was the sort of thing she had dreamed of as a child, hollow-eyed and bone-thin. No way that six people could finish this. Groby could probably feed a whole village with this spread and still have leftovers for the dogs and pigs and the rats. Was this was it was like to be rich? How could one person have so much food when there were poor people on the other side of the city? Children like how she'd been back then, when she was weak.

Feeling sorry for hungry people who weren't here wasn't going to get them fed though. Rathi had always said to be thankful for whatever you got. To not let anything go to waste. So that sweat of those who had toiled and and the blood of those that given their life for her meal, their sacrifice might live on in her strength.

This food, it was delicious. But she couldn't eat of this. Not all of it. Not even if she ate until she burst.

She would just have to do the best she could then.

Red sits a little apart from the others, slightly abashed by their hearty eating, visibly tense as she doggedly studies her plate, trying to decide just how much more venison and bacon she could stand before her stomach rebelled. Though her armour shines bright and her tunic is freshly washed, her hair is still wild and tousled, a small tear already rent in her tunic sleeve from playfully wrestling with Rico on the way here, the tips of her boots scuffed from where she'd kicked pebbles into the drain. And she'd chosen to remain in her travelling clothes - a poor choice, she'd guessed, based on the twitching eyebrow of the herald at the door. (A pretty dress, she knew, would have been more proper. But she hadn't worn a dress since she'd left her father's house at all of ten years old, and there was no power on earth that would make her willingly wear one again. Nor would she spend on something to be worn but once.)

*****

GM post

From his end of the table, the Lord-Mayor pops the cheese into his mouth, chewing with mild relish before waving at an aide to clear his plate. Porcine-like as his visage might be, the more perceptive of you would have noticed by now that the gleam in the man's eyes has likely little to do with his excellent Ustalavian vintages. Indeed, Grobaras is reputed by even his bar-room detractors to have a mind like a sharpened bear trap, making it a decision most unwise to underestimate him.

"My friends," announces the Lord-Mayor as he genteelly settles back into his high-backed chair, one outstretched hand accepting a goblet of warm brandy from a liveried butler. His voice is uncharacteristically deep and mellow for a man of his size. "I believe there is the matter for which I invited you here to discuss. As regards our mutual concern over Magnimar's communications with our holding at Turtleback Ferry. If you would be as kind as to join me at this side of the table?"

[Bhaakon]

Brin is only too happy to pick up her plates and join the Lord Mayor on his end of the massive feasting table. The platters withing easy reach of her original seat had been well picked-over by that point. She makes her way over, and only the fact that her hand are already full prevents her from reaching over shoulder and between elbows to grab choice tidbits during the trip.

"That's right." She says, plopping down in the proffered spot. "...er, Lord Mayor." Clearly the man was trying to be oblique about it for some reason. There was no way he didn't know about all the information that had been gathered--bought in blood and worse--but here we was yammering about communication problems.

Well, Brin could be subtle if she tried, hadn't overindulged. Which she might have. The only way to judge was to plow forward and see if she wound up gnawing on her foot. "We're as interested in answers....er...a timely reply as anyone. I'd been considering a trip out that way regardless, and wouldn't mind offering my service as courier."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Grobaras beams at Brin, his ruddy cheeks nearly hiding his keen eyes as he breaks into a wide smile and gives a deep nod in her direction. "Yes. And your services as courier - Lady Zafira, was it? - are precisely what we are interested in. Things down here in the city are rather... shall we say excitable at the moment, and leave our beloved Watch most busy indeed. But we have not heard from Commander Bayden. It has been nearly six weeks since his latest missive should have arrived, and we cannot delay any longer in investigating the reasons behind this- most unwonted silence."

The Lord-Mayor's gaze roves across the table as he speaks, fearlessly meeting each of yours in turn. The faintest indent appears between his brows as he beholds Red's scruffy form, but vanishes just as quickly as he glances at Naya, inclining his head solemnly in her direction. "I understand that it is the five of you who are responsible for foiling the plans of that no-good beast holed up in the Shadow Clock. You have my thanks and my deep gratitude. And that is why the Council has finally acceded to my humble suggestion that we employ a band proved so capable. We need a reliable task force. Not just any tangle of riff-raff, to travel to Turtleback Ferry. From what Captian Uriana tells me, all of you are exceedingly well-suited for the job, just positively raring to go, as she tells me."

"Magnimar would, of course, provide for your expenses on a trip of official purpose. May we rely upon the five of you then? As well as your discretion and a swift departure, should you agree?"

[jamieth]

"I can't really talk for anyone but myself..." Naya says nodding, "since I only joined this group recently, and by pure luck - or misfortune, as I thought at first... but it appears the Great Dreamer knows better... eh, that is..." she suddenly realises where she is, and stops herself, "I mean, I, personally, would gladly accept that mission, Your Lordship"

[Bhaakon]

Having exploited the Lord Mayor's natural loquaciousness to take a long draw off her goblet, Brin nearly chokes when she hears that, indeed, all her requests had been granted. Plus expenses!

She coughs into her napkin--well, probably her napkin. It was a handy napkin, at least, and wasn't anyone's sleeve, which is the important part--before echoing Naya's sentiments. "Yes! I'd be...uh...honored to accept the mission! We can leave in the morning!"

Hopefully not too early in the morning, though. Proper digestion requires time, after all.

[Desril]

Setsuna

She'd taken a little too happily to the wine to be as solemn as she probably should've been...but at the same time, there were people in potential danger and they'd been stuck doing nothing to help them for over a week now. Not to say the week hadn't been a productive one, sure she'd had to endure something embarrassing, but it was fun too, and they'd managed to decipher her contract, something she hadn't truly looked at in detail in over a year and found a loophole that she could exploit, though she wasn't quite sure yet what it meant, but that wasn't the point, Turtleback Ferry was in danger, and apparently there was also trouble at Fort Rannick, which meant that they had a very obvious goal.

So when the Lord-Mayor finally brought it up, Setsuna nodded her head perhaps too thoroughly, causing the room to continue shaking for her even after her head stopped, "We have been trying to get permission to leave for a week, of course you can count on us. We will stop whatever is happening and make sure that both the fort and Ferry are safe from any thing that might want to harm them, you have my word."

Luckily she still was aware enough to know that she shouldn't try to use the Lord-Mayor's name in her current condition lest she make an insultingly slurred mispronunciation of it.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red / GM post

Red doesn't take a seat but lurks in Rico's shadow, listening as she slowly picks apart a seed bun with her fingers, heedless of the stray crumbs that fall to the carpet below. It was easy to tell that none of the others had done sellsword work before. There were certain questions that you had to always ask. Red hadn't known back then, when she'd first left the monastery. But she'd learned. Oh yes, she had. Because when you'd gotten yourself a hundred miles from the nearest town in orc bandit-land, with no food or money and hungry wolves on your trail, there were some things you never ever forgot to ask about again.

"M-m-" Opening her mouth as she looks up at the Lord-Mayor, Red feels a sudden surge of nervousness that has her stammering and choking on the first syllable. Grimacing, she crushes the bun in her hand and tries again, this time keep her gaze fixed on Groby's belt. "L-lordship. T-the expens-ses. D-d-do you mean-"

"The costs of the trip, yes," rumbles the Lord-Mayor, taking a sip from his glass as he pats his massive paunch. "A spending purse would be provided before you leave. I will have my aides see to that, rest assured."

"It i-is... a l-long way. To the F-ferry. H-how-"

Grobaras sets the brandy glass down delicately on the table before him before he interrupts Red once more, studying the rogue's face a little more closely this time. "Indeed, it is. Nearly two weeks by foot, should you take the road north of the Yondabakari River that goes around the Sanos forest, if I am not mistaken. Miss... Allin." He taps the arm of his chair thoughtfully, giving the thick glove worn on Red's left hand a cursory glance that is curious but not unkind. "Naturally, the purse should prove more than sufficient should you chose to take the river barge route. And I am sure that Captain Uriana would be able to procure mounts as well, if you would like to stick to land. She informs me that the last contingent of recruits - petty criminals from the Hells that'd thought to reform, you understand - they made the journey by horse in just over a week."

Knowledge (local) DC 15
Turtleback Ferry is a small township located on the north shore of the Claybottom Lake, downstream of the Storval Deep. It is a rather isolated place, with the nearest town of Illsurian being a good 80 miles away. Nevertheless, the town has flourished despite its locale, mainly due to the ferry services that it plies to even more remote villages and towns along the many rivers and creeks that draw their source from the Storval Deep. As such, Turtleback Ferry has long since carved out a little niche for itself as the only trading town of any importance in the Hook Mountain region.

Nevertheless, the Hook Mountain region is not without its dangers. The woods thereabout are positively infested with ogres and hill giants, not to mention the wyverns that dwell high in the mountains and the werewolves packs that are rumoured to roam the nearby Ashwood. It is for this reason that Turtleback Ferry offered its allegiance to Magnimar 45 years ago - with a contingent of rangers established at Fort Rannick to protect the town in exchange for nominal rule.

[Miraqariftsky]

Need to stab. Must make sure. He don't bleed green. Blood don't lie. ...Hmph. He seems on the up an' up now, but who knows if this is but another mask over deviltry?

From beneath her wide-brimmed silver-trimmed hat, Rico glares at the corpulent blueblood. Though her mouth waters at the sumptuous feast laid before them, her usual appetite seems absent. She forces herself to eat with martial efficiency and detachment, trying to wrest the paranoia from her mind.

Paranoia? Yer not the one who got most frakked over on the Foxglove case. Ease up...

Formal etiquette might have demanded something else. Something... Vernahs. Or even nicer. Coming here, the most that she'd done was getting her coat cleaned and repaired of mudstains, crapstains, bloodstains. Oh, and replacing the sleeves that had been made into emergency bandages. And spiffing up her armour. But for anybody who might have bothered to check...
...she'd restocked with a bandolier of explosives and elixirs, as well as having forgotten to bind her weapons into their scabbards in peace-bond ties as formal warrior's etiquette might demand.

She'd be damned if she isn't prepared.

...EASE UP?! Somebody needs to keep WATCH, gorrammit.
...how could we ascertain if we don't BLEED HIM? Them. Anyone?
...Do I ask my closest comrades to bleed just for checking's sake? Why the bloody hell isn't Hellgirl getting suspicion-fever?

Every so often, Rico's teeth gnash into a bone to try and bleed off her withdrawal jitters from not having had any heavy liquor at all for over a month now. From beneath her hat's brim, she glares at Setsuna's drinking, partly from envy, partly from concern.

Ever since Xanesha's little... trick... Rico would be deluding herself if she hadn't begun looking at her comrades in a... more than friendly way.

She growls, damns the etiquette and guzzles into her bowl. Yer a gorram professional, stahp geddin' destrakted!

Spotting Red's reticence, amber eyes squint as she says over a shaking hambone, "Please. Don't. Waste. Make the most. Of what we got now. Dunno when the next storm or lean time be hittin'. Eh, hmm?"

Hmmh! Logistics. Good job, Red. Taking a long draught of goat's milk, Rico's eyes narrow as she listens silently to the crowned jowl-wagger.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Rico coughs at the others then grates, "Boat or horse, then? I votes fer boat."

Ears twitching, she rumbles at The Groby, "Can ye spare some magickal doodad that can enable instant communication, yer lordship?" Turning to the mages of the party, Rico nods at Brin and Naya then asks, "Wossit called? Sendin'? Do y'all GOT that?"

[jamieth]

"Sending, well, I'm sorry, Miss Rico", naya shakes her head, "I heard of that spell, but... it's a pretty advanced magic. There are... simpler analogues, but they are neither instanteous, nor their range is unlimited. And..." she pauses in thought. Boats... Naya doesn't really have the best of experience with boats, to tell the truth. And yet... Riding whole day, from dawn to dusk over a week sounds rather tiring as well... No! that's not the concern here!
"Your Lordship, you said it would be two weeks by foot, week by horse - what about the barge? How long does it take to get to the Turtleneck Ferry? That... would be the main concern, I would suppose."

[Bhaakon]

"Faster would be better, but it can't be the only consideration." Brin cuts in, recalling how the simple day-long ride from Sandpoint to Magnimar had severely chapped her backside. She didn't actually know anything about Turtleback Ferry, but she doubted the ride was likely to be any easier.

"The Constable's right about the boat. It will get us there fresh and ready to face whatever the danger is. And even a simple scroll of sending would let us inform you of the situation there immediately. Surely that's a reasonable expense for use to write off given the import of the mission" Brin smiles at the last part. She could, if she wanted, prepare the spell herself--but it was a legitimate expense, now wasn't it? After all, she could expect to gouge a desperate customer for a couple hundred gold pieces to case that spell, if she was at all inclined to get into the business of peddling the Lady's blessings.

She wasn't, of course. That type of tawdry dealing was entirely the province of temple-bound charlatans.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"The barges, depending on the weather and any stops they make, usually take about six or seven days to reach Turtleback Ferry. I daresay they do sound more comfortable than horses, don't you think so?" The Lord-Mayor taps his stubby fingers lightly on the edge of the table, as if playing an invisible musical instrument, pursing his lips. "As for a spell of the nature that you speak of... given the distance, I'm afraid that even if you were to give us an instant appraisal of what is going on at Fort Rannick, we would hardly be able to send you any help to swiftly deal with a situation. Nor would it be very efficient - nor economical - to keep sending messages back and forth. I trust that you are aware that on a mission such as this, you would be acting as authorised deputies representing the Magnimarian Council? Perhaps some messenger pigeons would suffice to keep us here updated? Half a dozen ought to do the trick, I daresay."

Sense Motive DC 13
Grobaras seems (and understandably so) unwilling to part with any more money than he absolutely needs to without appearing stingy. If you want more money out of him, you're going to need to be a lot more persuasive...

[Desril]

Setsuna

Setsuna, tipsy as she is, if you're being generous with the definition, hadn't been in such a formal setting in years. But still, she was a princess, and her mother had made sure that she'd been taught how to act properly in such situations and the marbled tiefling rarely forgot things like that, even when she'd been distracted by the sound of clashing steel than courtly proceedings. So, she knew how to talk to nobility, royalty, and government officials and how to get them to come around to her way of thinking, she just usually didn't because it required a certain level of deceit that the sober Setsuna couldn't in good conscience manage.

Drunk Setsuna, on the other hand, was much more willing to bend the truth for the greater good, and if her friends thought that such a scroll was for the good of their mission, then they must be right.

Smiling pleasantly at the overweight mayor, the marbled tiefling does her best to sound dignified and not at all lost in a haze of alcoholic bliss, "Lord-Mayor, it will take us many days to reach Fort Rannick, I am sure that the nobility here who have invested in the fort and Turtleback Ferry will be anxious to hear that all is well as quickly as possible. If they are forced to wait for a messenger pigeon, which could be lost since there are many things that are swifter than birds and hungry, some of them may do something rash as a result and they may wrongly blame your lordship should they come to the erroneous conclusion that the information was delayed because of what might appear from outside to be a lack of concern for expediency. And, should there be something wrong, you must be informed immediately so that you can act to protect Magnimar's holdings, if you are unable to even through no fault of your own, it may create concerns, unjustified though they would be, about your ability to rule, especially in light of the recent incident. And even beyond that, you must take steps to protect your own life! Xanesha was targeting you most of all, you recall, if she truly has allies, they may be targeting you as well and it would be best if you were on your guard as quickly as we can confirm that information."


Drunken, eloquent Setsuna, she'll be here as long as there's more booze.

Diplomacy [roll0]

[jamieth]

"Miss Setsuna's right", Naya quickly nods, supporting Setsuna's idea, "It's not about the speed alone, but reliability - pigeons can be lost... or, worse, caught, and the message tempered with... the more direct communication, the better. There is a reason why lashunta prefer to communicate telepathically in fight, even on short distances..."
Aid Another on Setsuna: [roll0], assuming Naya got her tiara back. 1 less otherwise.

[Bhaakon]

"What they said." Brin nods vigorously. "We'd only use the scroll if there's something worth reporting. If we're forced to use it, there's ome great machinations afoot and the cost of the scroll will end up being the least of the city's expenses. If we don't, then it's only a temporary loan and not actually money spent."

Third Diplomacy is the charm?
[roll0]

[maggie_mcknife]

Red / GM post

Red's Diplomacy: (1d20)[11]

At your chorus of resistance, a vein twitches at the Lord-Mayor's blubbery temple, just above his thin brows. Nevertheless, his voice is the same rich, rumbling baritone as before, neither hurried nor agitated. "Undoubtedly so, my lady. We are not lashunta, however, nor do I have any who have placed themselves at my disposal. As I have said, I am grateful - immensely so! - that my life has been whisked free from death's snares, all thanks to you. Yet I do not think that my title is so precarious thus far that it would be risked by a pigeon or two gone astray."

Grobaras pops another slice of cheese into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the implicit irony of his words as he idly surveys the lavish feast set before all of you. "The spell that you ask for, after all, is ever so costly... as a humble servant of the city, it would hardly befit me to bequeath something so expensive for a single use, on a mission whose importance, I must confess, I have not entirely been able to successfully impress on the Council... There are also those who say that a band of mercenaries of dubious background cannot be trusted-"

"T-then don't... s-send me. Use t-the... m-money for me f-for... the sp-pell..." Her voice come out louder and rather more rudely than Red had intended them to sound. Blushing a palpable shade of scarlet under her tanned skin, Red visibly shrinks back in her seat, looking down at her hands balled on her lap.

"Rest assured, Miss Allin, that unlike my fellow compatriots who run this city, your specific past has no bearing on the exceedingly high trust I have placed in you and your friends." There is a faint glimmer of smug amusement in the Lord-Mayor's beady eyes as he chuckles aloud, his entire chair shuddering along with his corpulent bulk. "What I was going to say was that if you all are so insistent, then very well, I shall oblige. You shall have your Sending spell. But only on the condition that I send a deputy of the Council's choosing along with you - to satisfy all parties that the scroll will be returned if unused, and to put the Council at ease of mind. What say you?"

Sense Motive DC 15
Given how quickly he arrived at an offer of compromise, it's unlikely that Grobaras had actually come up with this on the fly. He's likely had a person in mind that he would have sent along with you either way, and this is just his way of turning an increasingly expensive situation to his advantage.

[jamieth]

"But, Your Lordship", Naya protests, completely missing the implication of Major's words, "Would it be possible to find a person the Council would trust and convince them to join our group in this journey quick enough so as not to delay us leaving? I thought time was of essence?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

Shaking her head at Naya, the drunken tiefling smiles, and puts a comforting hand on Red's shoulder when she tries to sacrifice her own position, not that she'd ever let the rogue make that sacrifice if she could prevent it but still she tries to show support for her. But as Naya speaks up she notices the ever so subtle look of cunning hidden in the mayor's beady eyes, "I am sure he already has someone in mind to send with us, he did not just think of this. But it should not be too much trouble to take one more person along with us. Who did you plan to send?"

[Bhaakon]

There was something about the greasy twinge of a smirk on the Lord Mayor's face as he acquiesced that Brin didn't like. Somehow she knew that the bloated aristocrat had managed to trap them all in orbit about his center of gravitas, and the thought was as appetizing as a pit in a plum pastry.

She tries to hide her sour pucker as she asks echoes Setsuna's question, "Yes, who? I hope they're prepared for the rigors of travel. I charge extra for babysitting courtiers."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Grobaras gives a dainty little clap of his hands, a pleased grin stretched across his pasty face as he nods at Setsuna. "How very astute of you. Yes. As it so happens, only this morning, a certain ranger had seen fit to seek an audience - to petition for a grant of safe passage to Fort Rannick. It seems she has some unfinished business with one of the Black Arrows there, and wanted guarantee that she would be let past the gates - you know how rangers can be - so secretive, they are. This one was no different - what her unfinished business was, alas, she would not say." Leaning forward with a motion that makes his prodigious belly jiggle and flop over his bejewelled belt, the Lord-Mayor continues, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Well. A solo ranger on her own would hardly be a suitable emissary, not when she has her own aims in mind. She might be, hm-hrm- even waylaid by scoundrels. Perhaps those same scoundrels you have in mind that would catch a messenger pigeon! I was about to send word to her on the morrow that her petition was not to be granted, but that if she pleased, she might leave a missive with you to take to the Fort. Yet now, it seems that her services may be be required after all. Travelling with your group would suffice as the grant that she requires. And in return, she will serve as the Council's representative."

Plucking up yet another slice of cheese, the Lord-Mayor pauses and looks over at Setsuna and Rico. "I believe you know who this ranger is? Captain Uriana reported that she was a part of that little rumble with the Sandpoint goblins last month. Shalelu is the name she has taken to wander the lands of men with."

Knowledge (local) DC 20 (only if your PC was not part of the Burnt Offerings chapter)
The name is of elvish origin and sounds familiar, though you've never had the chance to meet its owner. Perhaps it was in a small seedy tavern, or when you were deep in your cups gossiping with fellow travelers, that you heard tales of a mysterious elven ranger who roams the wilds of southwest Varisia, as beautiful as she is fierce - slayer of goblins, bane of bugbears, able to hit the eye of a hare from four hundred paces away.

[Bhaakon]

"Who?" Brin bites her lip as she thinks hard, muttering a low prayer to help jog her memory. It's hard to say whether it's actually Pharasma whispering in ehr ear, or just the calming influence of the ritual, but she does finally recall a few scraps of information about that name.

"Oh, the archer?" She says, trying to hide the touch of jealousy in her voice. The rumors of her skill with the bow had to be exaggerated, clearly. Hitting a rabbit's eye at that range was just a matter of luck. Brin could totally do it if she had enough rabbits. Probably. "Never met her."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Just as long as this damn bugger doesn't object to..." Rico says with a glare. "...a bleed test."

Or rather, she but opens her mouth to say it and then the world around her swims out of focus.

Smoke chokes the evening air, moans and screams rising into the night. Burning buildings paint the clouds above the hues of the Hells. Craggy mountains take a bite out of the sky.

Blood cakes her limbs. Vomit taints her lips.

Hard rock thuds painfully against her knees---


thunk

---her knees suddenly hit the table with a jerk. She sways where she stands, breath suddenly shallow, ears flushed flat and low. She seizes the nearest cup of water to steady herself.

What the utter frak... More of this crap! Gorrammit. Fookin' hells, no more puttin' off, I need ta grab Brin fer this. Oh, and THAT other thing... tch...

Shaking her head and blinking beneath her hat's shadow, she deliberately focuses on the lord mayor's words and nods, then says, "Hrmm. Ma'am Andosenna. Ain't that a mite stroke o' good fortune."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"Yes indeed, my good Constable. It is most excellent fortune to have our interests align so perfectly, don't you agree?" The Lord-Mayor continues to beam genially across the table at all of you. "Now then. Six places for the lot of you on the evening barge departing tomorrow - yes, I believe that can be arranged. Can I expect everyone to be at the docks by the Silver Shore at the first call of the Night Watch - at the fifth hour past noon? Or do you have other concerns that I may assist you with before departure?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

The tipsy Tian tiefling tilts her head for a brief moment in thought before nodding, "Shalelu-san can take care of herself, it should be no trouble to bring her with us, and I think we will be ready to move on by tonight. I do not think there are many last minute things we need to take care of before we go."

I hate not knowing what I want to say

[Bhaakon]

Brin had been preparing to mount an expedition of her own if this hadn't panned out, so there's not much left in the way of preparations. If anything, she wishes the barge was leaving earlier.

"No, we're ready. We'll be waiting there at the fifth bell." She says.

[jamieth]

"Yes", Naya nods, "We can't waste any more time..." not like anything kept her in Magnimar any longer. Or anywhere at all, for that matter.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"Capital. Most capital, indeed." Grobaras bobs his head, causing all five of his chins to waggle comically. For the briefest of instances, the less soused of you seem to catch a new light in the Lord-Mayor's eyes - something much colder, clean as a knife in the dark - but the instance is over, and all you see is a plump gold filigreed bobble-man giggling as he reaches for yet another slice of cheese in one hand and for his goblet with the other.

"A toast then, shall we say, to the success of your mission? I believe you are already raring to go! Lenardi, if you would be as kind as to fill up the glasses of our honoured guests..."

*****

Day 48: Neth 9, 4707

Just before 1700hrs

Your stay in Magnimar several days earlier had begun with a hurried scamper through the district of Ordellia under the cover of darkness for fear of the guards. Perhaps it is only appropriate then that you now leave Magnimar from the docks on the northmost shore of Ordellia, with the captain of the Watch herself here to escort you off. Fortunately enough for those of you who had eaten and drunk too much the night before, the hour of departure certainly leaves enough time for you to recover from your hangover and appear mostly presentable.

Captain Uriana glowers up at the seagulls circling lazily overhead, shielding her eyes with a gauntleted hand before glancing back down at your group. "Damned flying dung-sacks," she mutters viciously to herself. "They'll follow you for miles up-river. Best to stay off the decks 'lest you fancy washing your digs in the river, and the Yondabakari isn't awful clean at this time of year. Now, bandits - you want to keep a look out for those. You're on a big barge and most scoundrels are canny enough to stay away, but you'll be in the thick of the 'Fens for a day or two and I don't rule out goblin packs desperate enough to try a quick raid or two. Be firm, be quick, and they'll scare off in no time at all."

She nods towards Rico, whom instinct had suggested was likely to be the safest member of your group to leave the Lord-Mayor's purse with, lowering her voice without glancing around. "It's seven-fifty gold for each of you. Don't go flashing that around, hear? Now where's that ranger got herself to-"

The more alert members of the party prick up their ears as salt-swollen planks creak on cue, marking Shalelu's unceremonious arrival on the docks. The elf hardly looks the part of appointed deputy of the Magnimarian government - her golden hair remains tousled with eagle feathers askew, her travelling cloak still caked with mud from the road and her pack coated with the reddish dust of the city's cobblestones, her jaw lean and hard. Only her bow - a beautifully carved darkwood polished to a high sheen - and the haughty carriage of her head give the lie that she might be anything more than just another harried mercenary. Shalelu's eyes gleam as hard as emeralds, though at the sight of familiar faces gathered on the dock, they twinkle as her chapped lips break into a genuine smile.

"Well, well then. I had wondered whom the Lord-Mayor meant for me to escort. My heart is glad to see that he had meant you lot. Though I do see that not everyone remains... Has Taladron lost his heart for the road then? And where is Master Sirus?"

[Bhaakon]

Holding a straight face against the warnings of desperate goblins is a bit of a challenge, but Brin manages. She'd heard how the group had treated the last bunch of the grubby little rotters they came across, and she well knew that she and Naya would fair at least as well. Seagulls...those were a more serious concern. She'd gone to the trouble of having her entire wardrobe laundered and patched up before the trip, and while the Hat could cover up any blemishes, Brin would know about any slimy white streaks hiding beneath the illusion. Spilt wine and grease spots were one thing, but guano was another, far more onerous, matter entirely.

So she's about to heed the Captain's advice and head below when the other elf walks up greets the group. And says almost exactly the wrong thing. "Sirus's physique now reflects his stony demeanor." Brin explains, purposely circumspect. "And Taladron is busy making every effort to remedy that situation."

"You must be Shalelu." She continues, after a pause to let her initial reply sink in. "My name is Brin. I got mixed up with this lot while dealing with a string of murders in Sandpoint, and, well, it lead to here."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

If Shalelu is perplexed or annoyed by the cryptic nature of Brin's reply, she doesn't show it. She merely quirks an eyebrow in faint surprise, canting her head to one side in apparent thought as she takes in the other elf's distinctly human style of dressing. Then, nodding slightly to herself, she raises her eyes to Brin's and - perhaps to the latter's surprise - bows low from the waist with one fist clenched over her heart. "You have the right of that. Shalelu Andosana, I am, of the Crying Leaf village. Kaerol, aelaes moraes. O eisi ei jhyl shae thys si jhal os si Mierani*."

*Elven
Greetings, elder sister. You are a long way from the lands of the Mierani.

Straightening up, she turns her attention towards the others, her voice as husky and wry as ever, with only the faintest traces of an elven accent. "Hello, Rico. Red. Lady of Winds, I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before. But Setsuna - you seem much paler than usual. What happened?"

[jamieth]

"Greetings, miss Shalelu", Naya gives the ranger a small bow, "we hadn't met before, true, but our companions have told me about you - nice to meet you... my name's Naya, formerly of the Sapphire Scarabs exploration team, in Wati - that's Osirion... I've met miss Setsuna, miss Rico, miss Red, miss Brin and others here in Magnimar by chance, and happened to help them a little... and after learning about the threat they're fighting against, just couldn't stay aside. Nice to meet you."

[Bhaakon]

Brin flinches and fidgets as Shalelu uses the elven tongue. She could understand it perfectly, but her fumbling Varisian accent in the ancestral language was more than subtle. During the time she'd spent among her birth-parents' people, that accent had been a constant source of shame. Oh, sure, the Mierani had been nice enough about correcting her, constantly, at length, and with the tone of an adult lecturing a toddler. It was a daily humiliation. One of the many reasons why her stay there had been a brief one. Gah, this is why I hate being around 'proper' elves. At least Taladron had family in Magnimar.

"Brin Zafira." She adds, emphasizing the decidedly Varisian surname. She tries not to let her annoyance at the reminder of her lost heritage slip in to her tone. "And these are my people, at least for now. I've long made my home on the road."

[Desril]

Setsuna

While Setsuna hadn't quite gone through the trouble Brin had of having her wardrobe laundered, there was little need when an adventure was about to begin and a simple magic could clean it far more swiftly, she too was warily eying the gulls. While her elven companion was just leery of a wasted cleaning effort, the tiefling's new attire, her sarashi replaced by the snakeskin peeled from Xanesha's chest, the magic in it reshaping to fit her curves far too tightly for modesty, was hardly decent to begin with and she'd rather avoid needing to bathe in the river before they even left the city. Nor was her own similarity to a marble statue, a racially detested enemy of such creatures as these flying rats, lost on her.

Still, she smiles at the sight of Shalelu. It'd been a while since she'd seen the elf, and she was every bit just as impressive looking to the impressionable tiefling as she was when they'd last met. But when she asks what happens, Setsuna actually seems fairly embarrased. She hadn't gone entirely avoiding that question, but the number of people who asked it were usually few and far between, she assumed most people simply took it for granted that she should look like that due to her obviously inhuman heritage. Shalelu, on the other hand, had seen her before. Biting her lip, she does eventually answer in a quiet voice, "I am still not sure...I seem to have...molted, since I saw you last. It is still strange to me, but I am stronger now than I was too." She makes a resigned sigh, the kind of sigh of resignation that you make when discussing regrettable things that can't be helped and says a single word in her native tongue, "Shishunki..."

Puberty...

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

"Hi." Red nods shyly at Shalelu, giving a little wave of the hand before going back to rubbing the nearest stray cat behind the ears - a ragged-looking brindled moggy missing an eye and most of its tail, with a purr like a rusty saw. They weren't going back to Sandpoint after all. Hopefully Kaye wouldn't mind watching over Kitten for a while longer. Dear Kitten. She'd miss it very much. But the road was no place for a cat, even a bold one that dared to hunt crows. Perhaps there would be cats where they were going to - there always were, in any place with a fishing community.

Still crouching on her haunches, Red uses the knuckles of one hand to stroke the cat along its scrawny neck, watching the exchanges between the others and Shalelu with mild curiosity. Ameiko had always made jokes about how Shalelu was about as blunt as a kick in the shins. Red had needed Rico to explain that one, but it'd made sense too, once Rico had made it out for her. Funny. Brin didn't seem to like Shalelu much. But Naya seemed happy enough and that was good.

And as for Setsuna... Red cranes her neck upward, looking askance at the tiefling, the skin on the back of her neck tingling. She still hadn't quite made up her mind how to feel about Setsuna. After all that. It was probably best to just stick to being friends though. Especially if they were going to have to keep on working together for goodness knew how many more weeks...

*****

GM post

Shalelu accepts Setsuna's explanation with commendable stoicism, peering intently down the length of her nose at the tiefling's glossy hide. "Well. Haven't heard of tieflings going the way of snakes before. But perhaps there is a first time for everything. As the gnomes put it, if naught ever changed, there would be no butterflies. And you, my friend, are worth much more than a little insect."

Patting Setsuna gently on the shoulder, the elf turns once more to Naya and Brin, giving them a brief nod each. "Well met. If you're both as seasoned travellers as you say you are, then I think we'll get along just fine. Time, as I understand from the Lord-Mayor, is of the greatest essence for us. Ah, Captain. My thanks for waiting. I believe you have some effects to hand over to me?" Shalelu's voice is crisp, with an easy tone of command that belies her grubby appearance.

Captain Uriana, whom it seems has been slightly nettled by being thus far ignored, scowls as she thrusts a thick wad of documents bound in waxed paper and a wooden scroll case at Shalelu's nose. "Aye. Yes. Take 'em," she grumbles, folding her hands back across her breastplate. "There's only one of those message spell-things in there. You're not to read it unless it's some huge emergency or something. You're to act as a representative of the Council to escort these fine ladies, nothing more. And," she says aloud, sniffing haughtily and giving the rest of you a significant look as she does so. "His Lordship says that whatever your unfinished business is with the Black Arrows, if you lay as much as a finger on any of them, it will be their turn to arrest you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Don't you worry about that, Captain." Shalelu replies wryly, almost smirking as she idly tosses the scroll case into the air, catching it again with a deft twist of the wrist. "I won't be laying no fingers on his precious Black Arrows, for as long as they do no harm to me. That, I swear by the Greatest of Dreamers. Now, we ready to go?"

Sense Motive DC 16
It doesn't take a genius to realise that Shalelu wouldn't actually need to touch the Black Arrows to do them harm, not when she's reputed to be one of the deadliest shots in southwestern Varisia and is carrying around a massive bow. Still, oath to Desna or not, there's a bitter edge in her voice that you can't quite place. Something in your gut tells you that whatever Shalelu's "unfinished business" is, it's probably something she's not very happy about.

[Bhaakon]

Brin lets mention of Shalelu's unfinished business hang in the air without comment. She really wanted to dislike the woman, seeing as Shalelu's very presence made her feel uncomfortable, reminded her of things she lost and couldn't ever recover, but she was so darned nice. And that idea that she might have some sort of beef with the Black Arrows just made her seem less perfect (which tended to be a plus in Brin's book).

But, gah, she was still a proper Mierani elf.

"Yeah, we should get going. No time to lose and all that." She says instead, and goes to stow her things and stake out a nice comfortable spot to break open her new magic jug. Travel was boring, after all. She needed something to help pass the time.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Despite the political hullabaloo that had resulted from your bloody unmasking of Justice Ironbriar as a crooked judge (and not to mention a certain trip to the local bathhouse that had resulted in Naya and Setsuna unceremoniously returning home without a stitch of clothing on), there are precious few in Magnimar who could actually put a name to your faces. Although the sight of a crew as motley as yours does draw a few curious glances and murmurs, the sight of the Watch captain in full armour planted like a gleaming tree at your side suffices to encourage passer-bys not to linger.

Nor has anyone else come to bid you farewell. Taladron, in his usual laconic manner, had remained behind at Aunt Vera's, content to wave goodbye from behind a massive pile of tomes and a bowl of breakfast oats gone cold. As it turned out, such terse behaviour ran in the family, for Aunt Vera too had elected to remain at her shop counter rather than see you off, limiting herself to a gentle reminder to make sure that the plates were washed and the front door shut before you left. And without his mistress's leave to go roaming, even Qistala had had to make do with a gentle purr in your ear from his perch on your shoulder, the pseudodragon chirruping his wishes for good food and warm sleeping spots wherever you were going.

Captain Uriana, on her part, isn't one to hold back. "First thing you get there, find Mayor Shreed so he'll send a bird our way. He'll let you know what's what. And be safe out there!" She calls after you through cupped hands as the barge shudders away from the dock, borne slowly inland on the rising spring tide. The unwonted screech of frustration that shortly follows suffices to alert you that at least one of the circling seagulls has managed to make a generous deposit on the good Captain's sleeve, reminding those of you still above deck that you should probably head inside as soon as possible to get settled for the week...

*****

Day 51: Neth 12, 4707

Just past 1400hrs.

Despite Captain Uriana's predictions of wild goblins and bandits, the past three days journey up the Yondabakari have so far proved surprisingly dull.

One distinct advantage of having Lord-Mayor Grobaras handle your boat chartering is the quality of the vessel itself. Though the trading barge that you find yourselves on is no pleasure jaunt-boat, it is far sturdier than most of the rickety excuses for boats that you encounter on the river as you sail. Nor are you expected to help out on board as would be the case in most charters, leaving those of you who choose to sit easy free to do so. Still, offers of help do not go amiss. For those who ask, there is plenty to lend a hand with on board - whether it be tending to the team of horses gallantly hauling the barge upriver against the current, keeping the cook from crisping all your meals black in lard, or even helping to shift the cheesecloth wrapped bales and crates about when the barge docked in at the river bank to load and unload more cargo.

Nevertheless, the tasks are mundane, as is the scenery. The bustle and jam of Magnimar's teeming shores had quickly given way to the silence of as-yet unspoiled nature, but also the tedium of the open road. The view to the north consists of the undulating hilltops of the Lost Coast punctuated with the occasional oak-twisted forest. To the south, however, lie the Mushfens - an expanse of primeval marsh as far as the eye can see, draped in sheets of moss and vines, and also smelling faintly of decaying eggs. While the murky pockets of still water and the fetid smell had kept you on your toes for an hour or two, the failure of the promised goblin raiders to appear soon tired those of you ready for a scrap. Even Shalelu, famed ranger that she was, who'd immediately volunteered to serve as lookout in the crow's nest, had been caught nearly nodding off by those of you who'd chanced to look up every so often.

Aside from yourselves, the crew, and someone's cargo of a hundred and twenty-one chickens, the only other passengers are a surly trio with faces almost as sour as the ripe odour of their unwashed clothes. While snatches of forced polite conversation at meal times that gleaned that the man and two women were hunters headed home for Bitter Hollow, a little thorpe even further up the river than Turtleback Ferry, the trio hadn't seemed particularly eager to befriend any of you, keeping to themselves below decks where they took turns with the crew at the oars. The same went for the crew - a six person team led by a grizzled one-eyed Garundi who'd introduced himself to you as Captain Amin and then done his best to avoid you. It's likely that your association with the Lord-Mayor and Captain Uriana has much to do with this reticence; if anything happens to you on the way, it'll be their heads on the blocks, after all.

To be sure, Qistala's parting wish for good food and warm sleeping spots has been a vain one thus far, given the cook's desultory culinary efforts and the difficulty of sleeping in a hammock. But all in all, things were going smoothly enough. Mostly.

Shalelu's whistle over the holler of the man working the horses is shrill enough to rouse you out of your post-lunch stupor. (The soup had been rather bland, with all the flavour boiled out of the beef, which may or may not have caused some of you to go a little too heavy on the dark stout beer that Captain Amin seemed to have in plenty.) Stepping out on deck, you find that the elf has descended from her perch, shielding her eyes with her hand as she gazes at the dark silhouette of some massive creature about half a mile up from where you are, apparently squatting in the river and most definitely blocking your path.

"Giant snapping turtle," explains the elf with a dark air of grim amusement when she sees you approach. "Don't suppose you've got relevant experience in the moving of massive reptiles?"

Knowledge (nature) DC 19
The giant snapping turtle is a very large and very aggressive version of its smaller cousin. Usually found in large lakes, rivers, and inland seas, they are capable of growing up to 75 feet in diameter across the shell. The hooked beak of a full grown adult is capable of smashing wooden boat hulls and swallowing livestock whole, which makes them dreaded banes to smaller communities near bodies of water. It is this turtle from which Turtleback Ferry draws it name - for their use of the sturdy shells of the giant snapping turtle as boats.

[jamieth]

Naya

"Move?" Throughout her brief but intensive career, the sylpf never happened to vitness a living creature of such scale, "you mean this, this thing, can actually move by itself? Well, in that case... I don't think we could force it to move, but... what do these beings eat? Maybe we could bait it... hold some kind of treat in front of it, and... keeping in the air, I could probably evade it easily... maybe?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

It was obvious that the Minkan tiefling meant well, but...it was quickly apparent to everyone that Setsuna's well-intentioned aid was best turned down in more mundane tasks. Maybe it was a general sense of queasiness brought on from being on the boat, but given her ineptitude at cooking with the ingredients available, meals that Setsuna helped prepare somehow came out worse than when the cook was left on his own, horses that she tried to help tend became more prone to slowing down and slacking off while she was caring for them, and her lack of basic physical strength meant that she was more of an obstacle than help in the loading and unloading of supplies. In the end, the only thing Setsuna is capable of doing is trying to raise morale, but given the taciturn nature of those on the boat, even that role is limited to simply having a pretty figure to look at.

Eventually, even the normally optimistic tiefling gave up trying to be of use to anyone on the boat, her efforts only depressing her, so at the sound of Shalelu's warning, Setsuna eagerly dashed to the front of the barge to get a better look at a problem she could finally actually do something about. But there, she simply stops and gazes in awe at the gargantuan turtle, never having seen a creature so large. After a moment, she calls up to Shalelu, "Do you know anything about what we could use to bait this? I know it is dangerous, but if we can lure it away we do not need to kill it, Naya is right!"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"I'm not a giant turtle myself, wouldn't know what they'd consider a treat. But the fat bastards eat almost anything. Fish. Rats. Dead leftovers. Other turtles. At this size, they'd likely eat a cow, easy. Probably Red here, if she got too close to the jaws. She's titchy enough." Shalelu says cheerfully with a careless shrug, oblivious to how Red (who stands just behind her) turns a shade paler at the cheeks. "Don't think Captain Amin will appreciate you feeding it all those chickens down below though."

"Yer damn right I wuddint. Lay yer hands offa de merchandise." A gruff voice informs you of the barge captain's arrival as he lumbers on desk, limping slightly from a bum leg. "Ain't gonna go no further with yon lakposht chummin' up de river. I don't wants de boat bitten in two pieces."

[Bhaakon]

"Red, eh?" Brin mutters, thinking. "Well, I don't know about that, bet it can swim faster than any of us, but I think we can serve up something. Naya...you can float just out of its reach, can't you? Draw it off for a few minutes while we float past?"

"Er...maybe we can do something to make you look like more of a meal." Brin activates her hat, bloating up until she's a decent representation of the good Lord Mayor himself. Pleased with the result, she removes the hat and offers it to the tiny sylph. "Just don't let it catch you. Old Groby might choke the beast."

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Now she wished she hadn't been so happy to help out the boat captain with his chores. The sweeping had been good. Red liked sweeping floors. It reminded her of clearing out the meditation halls with Rathi. But helping with the big wooden boxes and bundles had left her muscles sore and aching; it'd been a while since she'd hurt enough for coins to have to do that kind of work, and her body was letting her know it.

Why did Shalelu have to talk about the big turtle eating her? Wincing inwardly, Red fails to giggle at Brin's best impression of the fat Lord-Mayor, instead nervously glancing over the rails, trying to decide how fast that turtle could move if it was angry. "B-but what if... it catches her? Then what?"

[jamieth]

Naya

"It's OK, miss Red", the sylph replied, "I have a spell to turn into wind momentarily, should it try to swallow me, I'll just - whoosh! - and then, turn invisible, or something..." Naya wasn't nearly as confident as she tried to show; the spell had limits, something too large, or too fast, could still tear through the wind and leave wounds after she solidifyed again... but that wasn't something that Red had to know now, "And I promise not to get too close to it... though I think some protection magic won't hurt?" she looked, questioning, at Setsuna and Brin, then, taking the hat cleric handed to her, unhesitatingly pulled her dress off. "Hold onto this while I'm holding onto your hat, OK, miss Brin?" she smiled before putting the hat on.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Trying not to do anything more than casually glance at Naya as she strips down, Setsuna moves over and offers her wand to the sylph in case she needs it before leaping off to dry land. "I will stay a little ways away from the boat, closer to you, in case something goes wrong," she explains. Though she trusts Naya to succeed, that is a very large turtle, and if she underestimates it, the tiefling would rather be nearby to make it spit her out just in case.


Setsuna is approaching on land but staying a good 80 feet or so back. Far enough that she can get to the turtle in one round if she needs to but that it can't really get to her.

....also it dawns on me that other than Mage Armor and Blur, all of my buffs are Personal so I can't share them, sorry Jamie!

[Bhaakon]

Brin rolls her eyes at her new companion's odd proclivities. Not that she could complain over-much about embarassing travel-mates, given some of her past discretion. Still...


"If you're planning to strip down and oil yourself to escape the thing's grasp, you don't need to worry." She says, somewhat pointedly. "The Lady has just the spell to make sure you slip free if it gets its jaws on you, no grease required."

She goes right into casting the spell, somehow doubting the strange sorceress would take her skivvies back.

Brin casts Freedom of Movement on Naya. Grapple immunity (and more!) for 70 minutes.

[jamieth]

Naya (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=304857)

"It's not that, miss Brin", the sylph shakes her head, looking down, "Though thank you for the spell anyway, of course - but it's just that I fly better when there's nothing between my skin and the wind. Sorry if I'm making it uncomfortable for you, but... oh, and thank you for the spell anyway, I'm sure it'll be useful. And, thanks, miss Setsuna", taking the wand, Naya waves it, summoning a field of force around her body.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Naya's stripping, perhaps surprisingly, fails to elicit as much as a brow waggle from any of the barge's surly crew. Captain Amin merely continues to stolidly chew on some vile-smelling wad of leaf tucked into his cheek, growling out orders to the rest of his crew as they scramble back below the deck to row the barge as close as they dared. (They were river-folk, after all, and swimming in the nude would have been par for the course.) The same cannot be said, however, of the more foul smelling of the women hunters from Bitter Hollow. While her companions retreat back to the mess room, clearly determined that ridding the river of a giant turtle will be none of their business, she seats herself on a nearby barrel where her view of Naya will be unimpeded - a carnal gleam in her dark eyes, a white-spotted tongue swiping along her lips and one hand quite openly massaging the chapped leathers of her breeches above the inner thigh.

On her part, Shalelu grins at Brin's imitation of the Lord-Mayor, dropping her usual reserve as she tries to stifle a snort but ends up giggling wickedly from behind her hand. "Now that is just beautiful, elder sister. I'm not sure I'd want to eat him even if I was a giant turtle, but damn. You've got a good eye for the details. Come on then, ladies. Captain will get us close as we can, but best to have more of us out on shore to back Naya up. You too, Red. You're a better swimmer than me and if anyone goes in the drink. we'll need someone who does more than just bobble about to fish them out."

*****

The smell of the turtle hits you like a brick wall as you approach. If you'd thought the sulpherous eggy odour wafting over from the swamp was bad, that is nothing compared to the moist, foul stench - an eye-watering, choking blast not unlike rotting meat - that seemingly rolls off the pitted ridges of turtle's mossy back.

For all your flurry and preparations though, the giant turtle doesn't seem to have taken much notice of you. It lies nearly perpendicular to the bank with its chin resting on some shallow rocks and its eyes closed, apparently basking in the afternoon sun. Even with most of its craggy body still submerged, you still have a full view of its powerful beak, slimed green with algae and festooned with trailing weeds. That turtle, though nowhere near its maximum size, is still easily capable of snapping a log in two like matchwood. You definitely do not want to be caught in that greenish maw.

"Smells like something died in that shell," mutters Shalelu ruefully, squinting at the turtle. "Shall we wake it up, then?"

*****

Map
Note: We are not currently in combat. Map will be expanded as necessary. All "swamp" squares count as the Deep Bog type of terrain. The barge cannot pass through the swamp, though the turtle can splash angrily through it. The barge needs at least 30 clear feet of space to pass through.
http://i.imgur.com/VdKZY7p.jpg

[jamieth]

Naya (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=304857)
HP 24/24
AC 20, Touch 16, FF 15

"Seems we'll have to", the sylpt hods, "I think our best bet would be to lure it into that swamp on the other bank... well... wish me luck."

Lifting off, she floated towards the turtle, stopping some fifty feet ahead of it and looking at her companions. Her by-now trademark shurikens floated around as she waited for any indication to go along with the plan. Surely a single shiriken won't do enough harm to sent the beast raging... the question was, will it even sense it through the thick shell?

[Bhaakon]

'Urrrrgh" Brin shudders and tries not to think about what the ill-kempt hunteress was doing with her hand. She might even yell at the brazen voyeur if Naya wasn't inviting the attention so blatantly. Instead, she pulls the jug of magical plum brandy from her pack and tries very hard to wash her imagination clean with a long swig. The noises made it rather difficult.

Um...you're right. We should get to the shore. Now." Brin answers Shalelu's suggestion. She'd actually planned on staying on the barge, but recent developments had soured her on that prospect. Needless to say, Brin would not be stripping for the swim.

Once on shore, she has one final word for Naya. "Luring him into the muck is best, but it will be hard to support you there. Maybe you should give Setsuna or Rico their own flight enchantment so that she can come rescue you if things go sour. For my part, I'll ask the Lady to strike it blind if it seems close to grabbing you."

If I don't ask her to blind that pervert on the barge first...

[Desril]

Setsuna

Cheerfully oblivious to Naya's new and very brazen admirer, Setsuna follows along the others up the shore, her face scrunched up in response to the odious scent wafting over them, obviously agreeing with Shalelu's assessment. "That seems like a good plan to me, but we should do it quickly, and move it as far away as we can! It smells nearly as awful as those ghasts did," the tiefling complains before waiting to see if Naya is going to have her enchanted to fly as well.

Initially she didn't want to hurt the poor beast, but after having to smell it, her sympathy began to dry up quickly so she didn't say anything when Naya conjured her electrical shuriken, figuring that they were likely too weak to do more than simply rouse and irritate the slumbering behemoth.

[jamieth]

Naya

"That's a good idea", Naya nods, "Just hope I'll be close enough to renew the spell..."

Casting another flight enchancement on the tiefling, she turns back to the turtle, and lets one of her shurikens towards it. Let's go, then...

Attack: [roll0] vs. Touch
Damage: [roll1] electric

Shurikens left: 3, 6 rounds left

Current position: 40 feet in front (and above) of the turtle, max rtange for shuriken.

[Miraqariftsky]

Cursing herself for having been lulled by the familiar rocking of a boat, Rico tumbles out. Thankful for the preparedness, but still cursing the various aches from yesterday's cargo-hauling and having slept in her full armour yet again, following the noises, she glares into the distance...

...and then takes off towards the clump of her comrades, her odds and ends of piecemeal plate and spear and sword and bags and the rest of her trusty harness.

Having at least the decorum to blush then grimace deeply on arriving, she gruffly says, "Sorry I woke up late. 'Twas... the water, the waves..."

"...right, wot's this, now?" she says while sizing up the behemoth before them. Rummaging in a certain pouch she comes up with a thin paper packet containing half a pound of chilli. Giving it a good squeeze to get the juices going--- and scrunching up her nose while doing so--- she tosses the stuff to Naya, saying, "Here, catch! Reckon ye could shove this down its nostrils?"

[jamieth]

"That's a good idea, Miss Rico", Naya nods, "It'll probably do better for waking the beast up than any random shock... let's see..." a small hurricane forming in front of her, Naya tosses the pouch - untying it first, of course - into the vortex and sends it towards the creature.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

GST's Fort save vs chilli DC 19: (1d20+12)[32] - passed
Naya's touch attack vs... a horrifically low touch AC - passed

Initiative:
GST: (1d20+2)[12]
Naya: (1d20+5)[25]

As Naya swoops off with her handful of crushed chilli in hand and lightning crackling about her nimble fingers, it may have perhaps occurred to the more scientifically inclined of you that even the lightest of electric zaps to an algae-crusted behemoth still dripping with river water was probably going to be pretty potent. Before any of you can raise a word of caution though, you behold Naya's shuriken shatter into sparks across the giant turtle's shell, leaving a leathery crater of flesh seared to ash and adding a pungent marshy odour to the malodorous cloud lingering in the air.

An alien, frenzied hissing - a cross between a kettle's bronze scream and a maddened cat's yowl - immediately issues forth from the creature's chapped beak. Lashing its serpentine neck from side to side, the turtle shakes itself back into wakefulness, fixing beady black eyes the size of dinner plates upon the bobbing form of the sylph sorceress. Even a quick dose of chili up the nostrils does little more than to ineffectually splatter the creature's snout a disturbing shade of red. With a single powerful snort, the turtle expels the irritant substance, its eyes still trained unerringly upon Naya as it bestirs its tree-trunk limbs, lumbering around to face her...

Naya and the GST are now in combat. Other party members are free to join in if so desired. Talking is a free action.

Initiative Order:
> 25 - Naya
12 - Giant Snapping Turtle

It is now Naya's turn.

*****

Combat Map
http://imgur.com/1R5LRXl.jpg

[jamieth]

Naya (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=304857)
HP 24/24
AC 24, FF 15, Touch 20

"OK, it worked... maybe a bit too well..." Naya backs down, keeping her eyes on the turtle at all moments, slowly moving to the swampy side of the river.

Move to E9, Full Defense

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Although Naya deliberately dawdles and takes longer than needed to hover tantalisingly just out of the turtle's reach, it is quite clear to the rest of you watching from the shore that this is not a speedy creature in any sense of the word.

Heaving itself off the riverbed, the turtle ploughs slowly through the river with labourious but powerful sweeps of its stubby legs, its ridged neck taut and quivering as it struggles to focus on the Naya's darting form. Such is the bulk of its massive body that even though it barely makes any progress forward, one simple surge of its high shell immediately turns the waters choppy, raising waves that crash against the bank and shower you with tiny muddy droplets. It is no small wonder that Captain Amin doesn't want this beast anywhere near the barge - not when it could probably upend the entire vessel like a toy boat.

With the turtle now turned broadside, however, those of you on shore now have a full view of the true reason for the choking odour that hangs about this turtle. A terrible crack in its carapace runs along its left flank, with a goodly chunk of scute missing, exposing pale gangrenous flesh ringed ulcerous pink in which the broken-off hafts of several harpoons are still embedded. Shalelu hadn't been entirely wrong earlier on to say that it smelled like something had died - for it certainly looks like the turtle's rotting flesh has marinating away in its own shell, turning the wound putrid, bloated with filthy river water.

Heal DC 12
You've not likely tried out your doctoring on animals before, but it looks like that wound has been festering for at least a week or so.

Perception DC 15
It's a little hard to see amidst the trailing weeds that have gotten tangled up on the hafts, but those of you with your eyes peeled manage to spot that some of the harpoons bear tattered scarlet rags painted with some markings in black. Whoever tried to spear this turtle was likely part of some organised group and those harpoons are way too big to have been wielded by a "goblin raiding party".

*****

Combat Map
http://imgur.com/nRbubn3.jpg

[jamieth]

Naya (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=304857)
HP 24/24
AC 24, FF 15, Touch 20

So far so good... gradually gaining confidence, Naya starts guiding the turtle off-course - or at least trying to, as she turns her course to the swampy right shore.

Let's say... H12, still Full Defense

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico
HP 56/56 AC 17/22
Enlarge Person 10/10


Rico whistles appreciatively at the devastation their azure sorceress is storming down upon the massive monster. One hand rises, adjusting her hat's brim against a gust of wind, and then she catches a whiff of something foul and more rotten than simply river rubbish.

Clomping through the tall grasses of that side of the swamp to get a closer look, she glares through the foulness as she glimpses the great wound rent through the beast's shell. The apparent craftsmanship of the harpoons that had harassed it, however, suggest that its former tormentors were no mere goblin raiders.

Calling out to her comrades, Rico says, "This 'ere beastie's got a right nasty wound. We might be doin' a favour by puttin' it outta its misery. Godda huge rottin' hole in its side..."

"...KOFF." She glares and continues, "Ma'am Brin? Just makin' sure... Can ya give it a scan? Izzit magicked or demonic in any way?"

Nodding sternly, she then shoulders her shield and prepares Xanesha's former spear. Fishing around in her pockets, she takes out a marked vial, pops the cork and quaffs the spicy brew. She widens her legs' stance, her now behemoth boots squelching deep in the muck. She braces and sways as she tries to keep her balance as she swells to an ogre's stature, coming up on par with the beast's size.


Move to K2.
Quaff Enlarge Person potion.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red + GM post

Heal check: (1d20+2)[22] - passed

"Those... those are... not so new. M-more than... five days. No- seven..." Red hesitates as old memories flash unbidden before her eyes - a dead village devastated by gnoll raiders, the air sickly-sweet, thick with carrion flies drawn to the festering wounds of those who had lived - then shakes her head, lips pressed tight and a vague tremor as she flares her nostrils. Gods damn it. The ghouls around Sandpoint had stank bad enough, but there was nothing quite so bad as the horrific stink of people rotting alive.

She watches Rico clamber down the bank and gulp the magic potion with undisguised concern. That turtle was bloody huge. Even a bigger Rico would find it a tough fight. She cranes her head to look up at Shalelu, one hand already wandering to the bow she barely used. If it came down to fighting, she wouldn't be of much help. Perhaps Rico oughta just toss her onto the turtle so she could go for the big wound in its side, if that came to that. "S-should we? Kill it?"

"I don't know about that. Much as I don't like the idea of letting that poor beast to suffer, slaying it wouldn't be the easiest of tasks either. Granted, we could choose to heal its wounds instead. But that would get us no closer to clearing it out of the way. Make it more dangerous, if anything. What idiot tries to hunt one of those and doesn't have the decency to finish off the job properly?" Shalelu bears a distinct look of annoyance on her lean face, wrinkling her nose as she studies the lumbering turtle. "I... could try to... reason with it. But turtles are hardly famed for their intelligence. It'd be liable to try to gobble me up as listen to me. How about that then, Brin? What about you, Setsuna - does that wide compassion of yours extend to smelly injured reptiles who want to eat you?"

*****

Rico is now under the effects of Enlarge Person.

*****

The turtle continues its ponderous crawl towards Naya, its front claws beginning to paddle as it wades out into deeper waters. Being grievously injured doesn't seem to have slowed it down much, but it is a turtle after all - and thus unlikely to win any prizes for speed anytime soon. For some reason, it hasn't noticed Rico yet, its eyes still trained on Naya's form.

If anyone follows Rico's instructions to use Detect Magic / Detect Evil
The giant turtle, as it turns out, is most definitely neither magical nor evil. Some of the harpoons fixed in its side do bear faint magical auras though - they've been likely enchanted to deal additional damage, something beyond the ken of a goblin shaman to cast.

*****

Initiative Order:
> 25 - Naya
12 - Giant Snapping Turtle

It is now Naya's turn.

*****

Combat Map
http://imgur.com/YeeVlxj.jpg

[Desril]

Setsuna

Having been completely oblivious to the turtle's wound until Red pointed it out, and even more clueless about how bad it is, the Minkan tiefling bites her lip and frowns. "If we heal it, it may realize that and just leave," she says in response to Shalelu mentioning that it wouldn't get them any closer to doing their job. "We should at least try. It is not as if it means any harm to anyone," she says before looking toward Brin, figuring that the Pharasman would be the only one among them capable of properly treating the infected wound.

[Bhaakon]

"I'd need a willing patient." Brin answers, mulling their options. "Plus a way to get over there and a place to stand. Or an flying enchantment. And you'd have to be ready to put it down if it changes it mind mid-treatment." She sighs, not quite believing she's agreed to this. Hopefully all the condition would put the others off the plan. She rather wonders what giant snapping turtle soup tastes like.

[jamieth]

Naya

Hearing the conversation, Naya realises the plan - if not went off the rails, at least is leaning sideways; "Sorry, turtle, no meal for you today..." she whispers, before speaking a magic word and suddenly disappearing. Seconds later, her voice sounds from besides Brin, "Flight enchantment I can arrange, Miss Brin..."

Invisibility; fly to D3

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico
HP 55/56 AC 17/22
Enlarge Person 10/10 ((<---should I already begin counting this down?))

Are? Ya? Fooken? Meh? Gorrammit.

Rico groans as she hears the plan already being carried out by her kindly comrades even as a dozen entirely legitimate reasons flash through her head for putting this poor beast down.

"Hwat. Een. Deh. Fawk. Arr. Yeh. DOIN"?" she groans once again, then squares herself off, jaw set, crouched, spear hidden and ready just below the waterline. Grating out of the side of her mouth, she says, "Hellgirl, on your head, if this turns into a frak-up. Archers, make ready ta provide coverin' fire..."

Suddenly getting a crazy yet strangely sensible idea, her wolfish ears flick and she grins crookedly then asks, "Rrrrrrred? Iffen this thing turns sour, ye okay iffen I throw ye at it? Save ye a swim, eh?"

Blood in the water. Here we go.

Still, she gives... innocence and compassion... a chance. Slashing her upper lip with a tusk, she spits several bloody globs into the water and stirs up the improvised chum with her spearbutt... but not before taking a step back, anticipating the need for space. "Hey, ya rotten wretch. Treat. Here. Now."

Gorrammit. Why isn't this a horse an' a carrot or summat like that?


Hokay, Wild Empathy, then. Lessee wot we've got. [roll0]

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Shalelu WE check: (1d20+3)[17], -4 vs wild animal with INT 1 for 13, +2 for Rico's AA for total 15
vs Unfriendly Turtle - failed, failure by more than 5 turns Turtle Hostile

Shalelu makes a wry face, glaring at the turtle through squinted eyes even as she pricks up her ears at the unexpected presence of Naya's voice. "You're all far more optimistic than I am. But very well. Sister Brin, if that turtle as much as puts a claw out of line, give it a nice dose of arrow through the skull. Red, whatever you do now, don't let it eat you."

Pacing cautiously along the river bank to where Rico stands, mud sucking at the soles of her boots, Shalelu frowns and narrows her eyes as Rico slices open her lip and spits. "A bold move. Best hope that it won't link you with the smell of prey then." She mutters ruefully, thrusting out her chin as she keeps her gaze trained on the lumbering reptile, both hands raised and open, ready to catch its attention at a moment's notice.

*****

The giant turtle was not having a very good day.

It was tired. It was hurting. It had swum far - oh so very far. For days and days. The shallow mud had seemed like a good spot to rest. To let the sun warm its aching body. To keep far away from two-legs and their pricking sticks.

The two-legs had come anyway. With noise. With fire. So it'd gone after the closest one. The fat one in the air.

But the fat one was gone now. It was still tired. Still hurting. And now, as the faint scent of blood hitting its scaly nostrils reminds it, the instinct coursing sharp as lightning tearing midnight clouds asunder - it was hungry.

*****

Attack: (1d20+16)[33], Damage: (4d6+16)[27]

"Tar osaer, Kaer Oli os si Volaes! Shi tael bai cas..." Shalelu's soothing patter trails off uncertainly as she watches the turtle turn and paddle determinedly towards them, weed-slimed maw already agape and trembling. Wasting no time, the elf sputters a string of shocking curses in Elven and promptly scrambles back, one hand already grasping for an arrow in her quiver as she barks frantically over her shoulder at those of you further up the bank "Setsuna! It's not working! Back us up! Rico? RICO. You need to move. Now!"

Whether from martial stubbornness or the dregs of her nap, Rico doesn't budge from her spot even as the turtle bears inexorably down, snapping like a demon at Rico's shield and shoulders even as it tries to crush her against the river bank with a flailing swat of its heavy front claw.

*****

Combat begins. Rico needs to roll AoO against the GST.

Rico: (1d20+1)[2]
Setsuna: (1d20+9)[23]
Brin: (1d20+9)[24]
Red: (1d20+5)[20]

Shalelu: (1d20+3)[6]

Initiative Order:
> 25 - Naya
24 - Brin
23 - Setsuna
20 - Red
12 - Giant Snapping Turtle
6 - Shalelu
2 - Rico

It is now Naya's turn.

*****

Combat Map
http://i.imgur.com/phCT7et.jpg

[jamieth]

Naya (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=304857)
HP 24/24
AC 20, FF 15, Touch 16

So far for being kind... Naya bites her lip and starts chanting a spell, gathering of electric energy shattering her aerial prism. I really didn't want to harm you, but... you hurt my friend. Pointing towards the turtle, she throws a bolt of lightning at the giant creature...

LIghtning Bolt damage [roll0], Ref DC 19 for half; aiming is trivial. Invisibility down.

[Bhaakon]

"Well...soup it is, then." Brin sighs as the enormous reptile makes its hostile intent quite clear. There was nothing left to do but take Shalelu's advice and send a flight of arrows streaming towards the creatures less bone-y bits.

Full attack with Rapid Shot:

[roll0]
[roll1] + [roll2] electrical

[roll3]
[roll4] + [roll5] electrical

Crit, if needed:
[roll6]
[roll7]

[Desril]

Setsuna
HP 46/46
AC 25

As the turtle opens its maw and moves to take a bite out of Rico Setsuna looks more than a little upset but draws Maethilur in a flash, imbuing the blade with arcane energy and chanting a spell even as she runs to the half-orcess' aid. "I did not want to hurt you, but you are not leaving us any choice!"

Shouting, her black blade now arcing with electricity, the tiefling stops herself from running into the river and converts her momentum into an upward slash. The blade might not do much on its own, but the electricity would leave its mark on the turtle for sure, especially when combined with Naya's lightning.


Swift - Arcane Pool for +1 and Keen for 1m
Standard - Cast Shocking Grasp
Move - to I3 (provoking I assume)
Free (as part of Shocking Grasp) - Spellstrike the turtle

Spellstrike [roll0]
Damage [roll1] + [roll2]

It's been so long since Setsuna had a combat post, I hope I didn't forget how to magus >.>

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico
HP 29/56 (+04/+04) AC 15/22
Enlarge Person 09/10
Rage I/III, 01/10

THIS is wotchuget fer givin' YOU a chance! Nah, no, no good with tossin' blame like 'at.

"Yeah, no!" Rico grates at Shalelu even as the behemoth barrels towards them. "I'll hold it here!"

Whoahcrapfrakagh! Huge but fast! Fook these giant beasties! Gritting her teeth as she anticipates the huge claw coming in, she stands her ground and thrusts the barbed spearhead at the giant turtle's exposed armpit.

"GWAAHH!" comes her breath in a whoosh as the claw clouts her across her own shoulder, thankfully catching it with the edge of her shield. Still it ploughs on, almost knocking her to the ground but she rolls with the blow, or tries to, and forces her battered shoulder into a shrug, letting the massive paw slide off into the muck.

Growling, and cursing her slowness, she sidles to her left, hoping to draw the beast's attention away from the others. One slow, sloshing stride... and then another, and another. She holds her stance, sighting down the length of the shaft, bracing arm loose yet firm, the thrusting arm coiled and ready to strike. Snorting, baring her teeth, she makes eye contact with Red over the fray and jerks her head towards the beast's backside.

Sorry, ya damned beastie. Please die quickly.

She takes a deep breath, waiting for the opportune moment. Once the shot presents itself, she lunges and yells, jabbing right at the poor blighter's face, hoping to put it out of everybody's misery swiftly.

"WWAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!"


AoO!
As of OOC#130
Attack roll: 26
Damage roll: 20

5ft-step to K/L x 1/2. Doing tacmap coordinates this way because of recalcs from Enlarge Person.

And let's toss in an Intimidate like from the Sawmill, eh?
[roll0]

Full Attack:
Power Attack!
[roll1]
[roll2]
+1 weapon +6 PA +12 double-handed Rage Str with Enlarge
Regular Second Strike!
[roll3]
[roll4]

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

The fetid stench of swamp and rotting flesh, a gleam of maddened eyes - and the giant turtle is upon Rico in a snapping, swiping flurry of slimy scales. Smashing against her shield, the turtle seizes upon Rico's shoulder with bone-cracking fury and makes a valiant attempt to saw through her curiass with its beak, only to rear back in agony as its own shoulder is impaled in turn by Rico's notch-toothed spear.

*****

Naya casts Lightning Bolt.

GST's Reflex vs Naya: (1d20+5)[14] - failed

Unable to distinguish between a jolt of electricity intended to get it moving and a jolt of electricity intended to kill, the turtle shudders and flails about in agony, coming dangerously close to shocking Rico as well as it churns up a splashing frenzy of mud and river water.

*****

Brin and Setsuna

GST's AoO: (1d20+16)[31], Damage: (4d6+16)[26]

Pragmatism seems to go down better than altruism with the giant turtle. Even with Naya bobbing about distractingly overhead, Brin's steady aim (over her private musings about dinner) sees her bowstring thrum twice in quick succession, lodging arrows deep in the turtle's fleshy neck.

Setsuna, on the other hand, is not so lucky. Having shut its eyes and instinctively withdrawn its neck partway into its shell from the pain, the giant turtle is nevertheless quick to pick up the imminent threat poised by Setsuna as she makes her battle cry. Hissing aloud from its foul-smelling maw, the turtle pulls its head back into its shell even further, leaving the tiefling with naught but empty air to strike at. Yet even as Setsuna recovers from her slash, the beast suddenly lashes out with malicious speed, striking swift as the viper as it bites down hard on the tiefling's exposed torso.

*****

Red
HP 55/55
AC 23

Move to I4
Swim check: (1d20+8)[28]
Attack: (1d20+12)[18], Damage: (1d4+5)[9] - miss

But Rico, that's too far to jump. My legs... they're too short...

Ruing not for the first time that she was born of Tien stock and was the tiniest in her vertically challenged family, Red furrows her brow and hesitates, digging her heels into the ground, unsure of what to do. She hadn't practiced with her bow since leaving Sandpoint. The kukris, newly enchanted then by Taladron, had been ever so much better to use. (What on earth would Rathi have said?)

Still, upon seeing Rico staggering and Setsuna apparently crushed between the turtle's jaws, she doesn't hesitate. Putting all shame at what her mentor would have said out of her head for now, Red takes a flying leap off the bank and dives headfirst into the river. Gasping as she surfaces from the unexpected chill of the water, she kicks herself over to the turtle's side, her kukri skittering across the wet scales and she tries ineffectually to hack into its leg without getting swatted herself.

****

GST and Rico

Attack: (1d20+16)[21], Damage: (4d6+16)[35] - miss

Setsuna's new tunic, scandalous in appearance as it might be, proves it worth in deflecting the worst of the turtle's serrated bite. To those watching, it might have seemed for a moment as if the turtle had chomped the tiefling into half, but no. For after a few heart-stopping seconds during which one might have sworn they heard the snapping of bone as the turtle saws its jaws back and forth to try for a better angle, the beast spits the tiefling back out, a thin layer of blood coating the sharper edges of its filthy mouth.

Lunging forward once more with its mouth agape, the turtle tries to grab hold of Setsuna, only to be thrown off balance as it is promptly pummeled in the skull by Rico as she tries to stab it to no avail.

*****

Shalelu

Attack: (1d20+11)[14], Damage: (1d8+2)[6]
Attack: (1d20+6)[21], Damage: (1d8+2)[6]

The muted sigh and the head tilt of frustration is sufficient testament to Shalelu's opinion of the situation, even as her own arrows glance off the turtle's bullet head and shell, doing little more than skim algae off the chipped scales.

"Goddess alive, Red, I told you not to do anything to get yourself eaten..."

*****

Initiative Order:
> 25 - Naya
24 - Brin
23 - Setsuna
20 - Red
12 - Giant Snapping Turtle
10 - Rico
6 - Shalelu

It is now Naya's turn.

*****

Combat Map
http://imgur.com/irnf9ZO.jpg

[jamieth]

Naya (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=304857)
HP 24/24
AC 21

"Careful, everyone!" Naya shouts, "It's shell is too tough, leave it to those who have magic, just concentrate on not getting eaten!"

Sayong that, she readies to continue the bombardment of the beast, aiming a couple of more concentrated blasts now, since the presense of her companions nearby makes it tricky to place the large one (and also because, in the stories, mages never win by casting the same spell over and over).

Lightning Ray: [roll0] vs. touch, [roll1] damage
Second ray: [roll2] vs. touch, [roll3] damage

In case either crits, [roll4] vs. touch, [roll5] damage

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico
HP 29/56 (+04/+04) AC 15/22
Enlarge Person 08/10
Rage I/III, 01/10

"Red! Hack into the leg! An' hold on! Don't drown!"

Snorting against the pain, Rico shakes her head vigourously. Slowly but surely she continues her movement to put the beast in a pincer maneuver between her and her comrades.

"COME ON! ISSAT ALL YA GOT?" she growls.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Setsuna wading into the fray and then get chomped on by the huge beast. Having seen the tiefling triumph against worse odds, Rico doesn't worry overmuch there, but rather takes advantage by jabbing at the exposed neck or eye right at that moment.

When the head withdraws, she backsteps again, and once more stabs through the rotting hole in its shell. Or, failing that, she goes for the leg that she'd pricked earlier.

She's RIGHT, ya know. MUCH easier to just let the mages handle things, eh? Then again, if their spells're sapped fer when the REAL problems come in, THEN we're right damn frakked.


Ahem. Hope you don't mind my "spelling out" these damn numbers, ma'am? I confess, I get confused every so often.

5ft-step to MN-12
AoO!

BAB 7 + Rage Str 7 + Enlarge 1 + Weapon 1 + Flank 2
[roll0]
[roll1]

Toss in an Intimidate, eh?
[roll2]

Full Attack:
Power Attack!
BAB 7 + Rage Str 7 + Enlarge 1 + Weapon 1 + Flank 2 - Power Attack 2
[roll3]
[roll4]

NO Power Attack.
BAB 2 + Rage Str 7 + Enlarge 1 + Weapon 1 + Flank 2
[roll5]
[roll6]

[Desril]

Setsuna
HP 22/46
AC 25

Gasping in pain as the turtle's beak crashes into her stomach, Setsuna rears back and takes up a more defensive posture. I'm sorry, turtle, but this is the only way! Without her usual abjurations she feels oddly exposed, or perhaps that's just the new outfit, but whatever the case she quickly reaffirms her grip on Maethilur and makes another strike, continuing to channel electrical energy through the blade but this time with more precision, waiting for the right time to strike.


Attack again! [roll0]
Damage [roll1] + [roll2]
Critical threat (1d20+14)[30]
Damage (2d8+16)[19] + (5d6)[14]
Total Damage: 35 slashing + 35 electric, 70 total (assuming hit)

Parry if attacked [roll3]
Riposte if successful parry [roll4]
Damage [roll5]

[Bhaakon]

Brin Zafira
35/35 HP
19 AC

"Che...you're as stubborn as Belkzen mudwine, but I kept that down, and I'll put you down." Brin hisses, featching another pair of arrowsd to launch at the beast. It was hard to imagine the thin shifts as more than pin-pricks to the turtle, but it has eyes, and arteries, and other soft spots. She just wish she knew where more of them were...

Full attack with rapid shot:

Shot 1:
[roll0]
[roll1] + [roll2] electrical

Shot 2:
[roll3]
[roll4] + [roll5] electrical

Crit, if needed:
[roll6]
[roll7] + [roll8] electrical

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Naya and Brin

Even in broad daylight, Naya's spelled lightning blazes blinding white as it arcs and crackles through the air, striking the turtle on its shell, cracking plastron and searing through the beast's body in agonising pulses. As the choking stench of scorched marsh and flesh fills the air once more, another of Brin's arrows chances to find its mark in the turtle's left eye, extinguishing its crazed gleam in a spurt of clear fluid.

*****

Setsuna

With several of her ribs surely cracked and what tastes suspiciously like blood pooling in her mouth, it is difficult for Setsuna to even muster a returning strike. Yet this time, with forbearance rather than haste, her attack strikes true. With the now half-blinded turtle gaping its maw in a silent scream, thrashing about wildly, all the tiefling has to do is to wait for the right moment - the reptile's neck extended just so - to slash through the exposed flesh and tendon, half-severing its head down the bone and showering herself in a deluge of steaming scarlet blood.

Combat is over. Initiative ends.

*****

Even with its head mostly detached, the turtle continues to twitch and shiver, its beak slowly hinging open and shut in a cruel parody of life while its life blood pools in a dark cloud around the stump of its neck. There's meat aplenty to be harvested from its carcass, should one take the time to crack open the beast's shell, though between its gaping wound and the numerous blackened craters scored by Naya's lightning, its shell itself has been rendered quite useless.

"Well. That was unpleasant." remarks Shalelu baldly, giving those of you closer to her a curt nod of appreciation as she surveys the stinking hulk of dead turtle before her, hands planted on her hips. "Now we just have to decide how to get all this out of the way so the barge can pass. Red, Rico. Get those spears out of its back. We've got our business to attend to, but if I should chance upon another of my kind who guards the lands, it would be good to inform them that such mischief is afoot. Leaving an injured animal to wander and weaken like this..." The elf's face twists in a brief flash of anger, her eyes glinting cold as emeralds.

[jamieth]

"Miss Setsuna!" sylph already starts heading towards the tiefling to - somehow - help her out of the turtle's giant jaws when Setsuna's lucky hit nearly decapites the beast, "Are... you alright?"
Landing next to Setsuna and making sure she can at least move on her own, Naya turns her attention to the turtle. Half-burned, half-skewered, Naya can't help but feel that the majestic beast looks... pityful. "I'm sorry..." she whispers, placing her hand between the turtle's eyes and removing Brin's hat as a sign of mourning, "You didn't deserve this, but we had no choice..."

[Miraqariftsky]

"waddahell... Yo Hellgirl! Are ye a gorram prophet of GORUM?! I mean, gorrammit, WELL-DONE."

Rico's jaw drops at Setsuna's spectacular slaying stroke. She shakes her head in admiration at her comrade's prowess...

...and in pity of the poor beast before them. Striding over to the still spasming creature, she chokes up her grip on the longspear's shaft, puts the point right where the skull joins the neck, then slams it through the skull, obliterating its brain in one go, putting it out of its misery. She twists the spearhead in there, just to make sure. Rico nods gravely in agreement at Shalelu's words.

Wrenching out the spear and tossing it quivering into the riverbank, she takes hold of the edge of the carapace. Heaving, stride by magickally enlarged boot-sucking stride, she hauls it ashore.

Wading back out, she politely coughs before grasping Red and Setsuna by their torsos and getting them safely back to land. Jabbing a finger at the latter and at Naya, she says, "Hellgirl. Stormgirl. Well-done. GET CLEAN."

Snorting at the sorceress, Rico says with a grin, "HAH! She's survived far worse than THIS little thing's taps! Don't worry! Yer alright, aintcha, Hellgirl?"

Swirling a hand at Red, she says, "Arright Red. Do the honours o' cleanin' out any plunder thattaways?"

Unsheathing her Minatan sabre, she sets to at crucially weakened points to saw the shell open.
"What? ---spwehf!--- Who knows if someone was eaten? Could be somebody local, check with missing persons reports!"


As per GM orders:
[roll0]

Edit:
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
NOW! NOW YOU ROLL DECENTLY HIGH? Whyyyyyyyyyy?!

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

"Thank you." Glad to back on dry land and feeling rather foolish at having jumped in like that, Red whispers to her friend over the faint blush of shame spreading across her cheeks, giving Rico an appreciative pat on her extra-large knuckles. Orders to loot the turtle were good too. She would have something to do and wouldn't have to talk to Se- the others. About being a silly bugger.

Trying ineffectually to wring some of the water out of her sodden sleeves, Red shuffles over to where the turtle's carcass lies. It looked a little smaller without its head, somehow. Still, there was work to be done. And this was what kukris were meant to do anyway. Pity about the mess she'd make, but nothing a rinse with soap in a cleaner part of the river wouldn't take care of.

*****

GM post

At her current prodigious size, it is only a matter of minutes before Rico has successfully cracked open the turtle's shell around its harpoon wounds like a walnut, spilling pink muscle and tangled, steaming viscera. Plunging her hands into its cavernous belly halfway up the elbow, it takes some rooting around before she finds and hauls out the wobbling jelly of the turtle's stomach.

The turtle's bloated stomach could easily accommodate half a dozen large cows. Slicing a ragged hole open in the lining causes a wet, sour stench to erupt into the air, the organ spilling forth a massive mulch of half-digested plant-weed and fish that quickly piles higher than Brin is tall. Some stirring of the nauseating pulpy mess, however, does yield what Rico had been looking for - a disembodied hand of some large humanoid, swaddled in leather bindings that have shielded it from being digested so quickly. Most of the hand has already been dissolved down to the bone, though at least two fingers still show the chipped blackened nails and so much matted hair growing on the sallow knuckles that one might have mistaken it for fur.

Meanwhile, Red pauses in the midst of hacking the harpoons out of the turtle's side to hand over the scrap of crimson rag tied to one of the spears. The rag seems to have been torn from what feels like the remnants of some travelling cloak and is adorned with a single black rune, crudely stitched on with what looks a lot like dried animal gut.

Heal DC 18
This hand has probably been marinating in the turtle's stomach for several days, at least. Difficult to tell exactly how long it's been in there for though.

Knowledge (local) DC 15
That's definitely not a goblin hand. Judging from the size - it's big enough to grab hold on any of your heads like an orange to crush at leisure - this had to come from something big. Like a troll, ogre, or giant.

Linguistics DC 18 / Knowledge (local) DC 20
The rune vaguely resembles Thassilonian writing and it is from this clue that you make your deduction - this rune is from the Giant language, representing the sound 'krig', which translate to 'war'.

[Miraqariftsky]

"Thees... ees... abso... fooken... lutely... " Rico grumbles aloud through the labour of slaughtering, her face an unwavering mask of concentration, her sensitive nostrils violently scrunched up... "By the smell an' the look, though... Definite. SEVERAL days old. Been killed an' etten several days away. Though things DO get faster over... an' IN water... so, hmm..."

...then pauses at the foul find. Holding up the hand against her own, her eyes boggle on its sheer size. Squatting over by Shalelu, she asks while offering it to her for further study, "Ma'am, feast yer eyes on this damn morsel, iffen ye please. Wozzisname, I ferget... This damn hand's a good bit larger'n even a bugbear's, looks like?"

"Wait, sorry, scuse me..." she says as she measures Red's head with her fingers, then compares it to her own still sorcerously enlarged noggin. And then to the suspect hand. "...Gorum's gonads, this bugger's HUGE. Gigantic. Huh. Giant. Wossamacallit. Might probably be troll or ogre or some damned bugger like that."

Waving the others over, she points out Red's find and asks, "Wot da fook y'all think o' that thing? Y'ask me, iffen goblin an' Tien traditions're anythin' alike, seems like a warrior's tassel fer that harpoon."


Let's see wot we got, eh? By the way, with the latter two, would Favoured Enemy: Giants apply?
[roll0] Heal
[roll1] Know: Local
[roll2] Know: Local <---SCHEISSE! CARAMBA! TABERNAC! SUKA!

[jamieth]

Naya turns around, unwilling to risk her breakfst at the sight of... "looting" the beast, only daring to look back after Rico's question. "This... I'm afraid doesn't look like any of the writings I'm familiar with. But... you're saying the turtle ate a giant of some kind? are they common enough around here?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

As the turtle falls, lifeless, Setsuna cleans the blood off of Maethilur and resheathes the blade, only to then wince and hold move her hand to hold her bruised ribs. "I am fine, Naya, but I think I might try to avoid heavy lifting for a day or two."

To Rico she only gives a half-hearted smile, not happy about what they had to do, and nods her head. She had indeed survived worse, but usually she didn't feel as guilty about what she had to do to survive, and as the constable and Red start working to pry into the shell and see what the turtle had devoured recently, the tian princess excuses herself. Fighting beasts and animals was one thing, but ripping them apart to see if anyone long dead was in there? No, that was too much for her. "I think I am going to go lie down."

[Bhaakon]

"Careful with that, careful!" Brin shouts, not wanting the bloated guts of the prodigious turtle to burst before being extracted and ruin the meat. There was quite a bit of it there, more than they could possibly finish before it goes bad. But it was worth trying to, if the creature was as delicious as its normal-sized cousins. Kind of amazing for a bottom-feeder, feasting on scum and rot and giant hands at the bottom of the river.

Wait.

"You mean it's been eating thinking things?" Brin mewls, her face screwing up along with her stomach. She'd heard of some people in distant parts of the world who thought it perfectly fine to consume the remains of dead relatives, either cooked fresh or well aged, but her own theological leanings, though unorthodox, weren't nearly so divergent. "Ugh. Maybe we should just leave it here to rot. Even if it's just a giant or ogre, I'd rather not be eating anything talks. Even if it's second-hand."

Her interest in the turtle ebbing, she finally notices the extent of her friends' injuries "Come over her so The Lady can see to your bites." She says, a bit sheepish that she didn't see to them quicker. "Then I'll burn the hand in a decent ceremony. Last thing I want is a crawling hand skittering about, especially one that big."

As needed:
1) [roll0]
2) [roll1]
3) [roll2]

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Heal check: (1d20+2)[20] - pass
Knowledge (local) 1: (1d20-1)[18] - pass
Knowledge (local) 2: (1d20-1)[6] - fail

Red squints at the apparent tassel before shrugging, shuffling as discreetly as she can to one side to avoid Rico from dripping whatever stomach juice that was currently spooling off the half-digested hand onto her. Even if she was already soaked in muddy river water and turtle blood, the thought of getting something that had actually come from a deadder onto her clothing sent her own guts churning.

"It is... from a giant. Maybe. Miss Brin, you should b-burn it." Crouching on her haunches, she picks up one of the harpoons and hefts its unwieldy mass in her palms for balance. Heavy, that was for sure. Its roughly hewn shaft was far longer than she was tall, its three-pronged tip coated with a thick patina of rust. Anyone strong enough to use this harpoon to hunt the turtle could probably also crush her throat easily - like how that demon-wolf thing under Thistletop had done, not so long ago...

Red gently sets the harpoon down, raising a trembling hand to where the unbroken skin of her neck tingles, her dark eyes drawn and troubled.

*****

GM post

"Fortunately for us, giants don't live down here in the Mushfens. Though we are heading into giant territory - Turtleback Ferry's just south of the Iron Peaks. Plenty of bigfolk up there. Hill giants. Stone giants. Ogres. They're the whole reason why Fort Rannick even exists - the Black Arrows protect the village from the meaner varieties of bigfolk, the Ferry gives Magnimar tribute and taxes in return." Shalelu replies to Naya as she stoops to examine the hand, unfazed by its advanced state of dissolution as she peers closely at the putrefying skin and prods the exposed bone with her gloved finger. "If the Black Arrows have really gone silent, then perhaps the bigfolk have come out to play... in the worst possible way. It's not out of the question - this turtle's a big beast. It could have easily escaped a hunting party's spears and fled all the way here. And I can't say I like the possibility of that."

Shalelu's expression is grim as she sucks in her cheeks and frowns, sighing aloud in frustration. "Blast it. Hand's too far decayed for me to tell what it's from. And I'm afraid can't read that rune either. Pity that Taladron's not here, hm? But yes, Rico, I think you're right. It's probably some sort of trophy or tribal marking."

For those of you who aren't busy examining the cadaverous remnants, you are alerted to the imminent arrival of the barge by the distant shouts as Captain Amin bustles about on deck, bullying his crew into getting things moving upriver once more as quickly as he can. Your adrenaline may still be coursing from the fight, but all the surly barge captain cares about is getting his cargo getting to where it is bound - time is money, after all.

*****

The following items are available for looting, should you so choose to take them with you:

5 large harpoons
2 broken large harpoons
1 red rag with a black rune stitched on it
1 disembodied hand from a giant-sized creature
1 hacked open turtle carcase - the meat is still viable to harvest

[jamieth]

Naya

Still depressed about the whole ordeal with the turtle, Naya, looking down, approaches Brin and returns the elf her hat of disguise. "Here, miss Brin, and thank you for lending it to me... I'm sorry it didn't work out in the end." Then, too distressed to think about asking where did the dress she left with Brin ended up when the cleric joined the fight, she floats towards the barge and heads straight into the cabin. There's not much she can help with right now anyway... "I'm sorry it ended that way, miss Setsuna..." she almost whispers, catching up with the tiefling, "if not for that shirt, you could have..." she stops herself, not willing to actually say it.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Having not wanted to watch...or smell...the turtle be dismembered, Setsuna quickly made her way back to their vessel and into her cabin. She can't help but look at the still naked sylph when she comes in though her eyes are eventually drawn back to the floor when she thinks about the turtle.

When Naya mentions the shirt taken from Xanesha saving her though, she shakes her head, "No, it made no difference. I should have avoided that blow. I was...overconfident because it was just a large beast. These enchantments only help me to avoid harm, they do nothing to soften blows...I am just glad Brin is such a capable healer."

[jamieth]

Naya

"Oh yes, indeed... too bad that even though magic can erase wounds, they still hurt almost as much..." Naya sighs, "You have to rest. Honestly, I think so does miss Rico, but I don't want to be the one to suggest it to her", she manages a weak smile. Then, Setsuna's words catch her, "Avoid harm? But in that case, you could just remake it into something like this", the sylph touches a thin line of silver around her waist - or, rather, transfer its power into the one you're already wearing? That way, you won't have to wear that shirt - I thought you didn't like it?" by this moment, a thought occured to Naya that made her smile a little more cheerful, whenever you want to distract Setsuna, be it from depression, or from pain, talking about magical fashion usually does the trick.

[Miraqariftsky]

The orcblood constable's nostrils flare at Shalelu's insight. "I say we assume the worse've it an' things're frakked as usual. Gorum's gonads, gah... We been gettin' whomped on by huge buggers all this damn while, now we're gettin' legit-as-all-hell giants... HMPH!"

IF we be facin' off against friggn giants... can I friggin FLING Red or Hellgirl into their mouths an' they could carve 'em out from the inside? she stretches as Brin's god-juice soothes her aches... "Mh. Thanks fer that as always, ma'am."

...and then drops the giant hand into the priestess' palm.

Hwut dah buggerin' hell is with y'all's sudden mopingness? Rico wonders as she plucks the bundle of five intact huge harpoons from Red's tottering pile of plunder.

Gorrammit, you nekkid-arse mages. she grumbles silently as she plods over to the barge's stern. Yer lucky yer so damned efficient at blowin' things ta bits. Ye make the case fer Guilty: Public Indecency an' Guilty: Grave Scandal an' Guilty: Disturbing the Peace so damn easy.

"AHOY, y'all! Shipmaster, by yer leave, I'll be givin' us a little push. BRACE YERSELVES." she says as she sets her shield against the barge's rear end, the bundle of huge harpoons in the crook of her arm and either poking the riverbed for any possible obstructions or gently steering the barge if it happens to drift off-course.

This she does until the potion wears off...
...and when it does, she leaps aboard before her armour drowns her in the river. There she squats on the nearest coil of rope, panting heavily.

[Desril]

Setsuna

It takes the tiefling a moment to realize what Naya was talking about before a blush comes to her cheeks and she quickly shakes her head. "I could, but I did not think of it at the time, and it is difficult to perform such work while traveling...and even then, I would not want to create any trouble for any one."

When Rico begins to push the ship in her enlarged state, a fact that Setsuna can't miss given the half-orcess' shouting, she can't help but smile and shake her head. Just like her, trying to push the boat rather than leave it to the pack mules.

[jamieth]

Naya

"Yes, working such magic on the road is somewhat inconvenient, I guess... I suppose we could do it next time we get some free time, after this problem is sorted out?" Naya suggests, both leaving out the part in Setsuna's words about 'creating trouble for anyone' and implying, without really meaning to, that "sorting this problem out" won't be the end of their adventures together. "That's... miss Rico, isn't it?" she adds, hearing the ranger's efforts, "She needs rest as well, I think, after that meeting with the turtle's jaws, but... somehow I don't want to be the one to tell that to her..."

I suppose nothing else I want to add to this scene; we can move forward as soon as others are fine with it, I guess

[Miraqariftsky]

Suddenly weary and bone-tired
In thick river mud and gore enmired
Like a shambling mound or bog revenant
Down the deck, for her comrades a-want

The giants' spears cradled carefully
Lest bystanders struck a blow unneighbourly
Or grip be lost and graceless fall into the water
Mucked-up gauntlet claps Red upon her shoulder

Rico snorts wetly, jabs a finger towards their sorceress
Yearning for some quick arcane cleaning, their bodies to bless

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

But you came back. Mister Fox made a deal. To be afraid of dying again... this is not how Mister Cayden would have it.

Red blinks hard, then takes a deep, shuddering breath of the stale river air. No time for thinking now. There was work to be done.

Having made a valiant effort at trying to stack and drag harpoons far too large and heavy for her to handle back down to the bank, Red bobs her head in gratitude as Rico helps her to shift the massive bundle on board. Even if the others weren't interested, there was decent iron to be had off those harpoons. Somebody would pay for that, surely.

Leaving the others to wander as they would, Red lingers on the deck for a moment to watch with faint admiration as Rico, still larger than a bugbear, helps to nudge the barge around the remains of the turtle before shoving it up the river step by grumbling step. A gust of wind quickly sends the young woman scurrying indoors to shuck off her soiled clothes and don something drier, before reemerging with a rough cotton towel and a flask of tepid coffee swiped from the cook room, patiently waiting for her friend to come back on deck.

*****

GM post

Shalelu curls her lip in a grimace as Rico plops the remains of the giant hand into Brin's lap. "The hand is all yours then, sister. Grant it blessings to rest as you see fit. Its owner might well have been a man-eater too, if it came from a giant, but I'll not presume. I shall inform the Captain that you'll need a moment."

Turning on her heel, the elf is about to clamber back down the bank when she catches sight of Red wrestling with her unwieldy armful of harpoons. Cracking a faint grin, Shalelu shifts her attention to the red rag, solemnly turning the tattered cloth over in her palms before tucking it into her belt and proceeding to wave Captain Amin over.

*****

The surly Garundi captain favours your slaughter with a snort and a grudging nod, surveying the bloody mountain of flesh with his remaining eye as he massages his grizzled jaw. Leaving so much fresh meat behind is a sore decision to make, but the man is far too wise to linger and risk the attention of other water predators that a corpse of this size would surely draw. Lurking impatiently on deck until the last of you have returned to the barge, he is quick to wave the barge horses on, saving a half bow of appreciation for Rico as she helps to push your vessel upriver.

With Rico's magically enhanced strength and the renewed efforts of the barge horses as they prick up their ears and whicker nervously at the scent of death, the remains of the giant turtle are quickly lost to sight as you sail on. The corpse, however, as Naya is soon to discover, is not the only thing that is now lost. A cursory glance at the deck suffices to reveal that the dress that she'd so gaily shed is nowhere to be found.

While suspicion might have initially fallen on the vile-smelling fellow passenger who'd been clearly rather enamoured with the sight of Naya's bare flesh, a peek over the stern of the barge reveals the far simpler truth. Without Brin to keep an eye on it, it seems that Naya's dress had been blown overboard. It now rests, rather forlornly and much more shredded from when she'd last seen it, in the jaws of a large swamp alligator who trails in the wake of the barge, gnawing desultorily at this unappetising cloth snack.

*****

Day 56: Neth 17, 4707

1700hrs.

The rest of your journey to Turtleback Ferry, perhaps to the disappointment of the more adventurous of you, is distinctly uneventful. Aside from brief stops at the towns of Whistledown and Ilsurian to unload cargo (including the hundred and twenty chickens) and to take on fresh supplies, the barge makes steady progress, covering dozens of miles a day with a steady rotation of the draft horses. There is plenty of work to be done on the barge for those willing to lend a hand and time passes swiftly enough, whether you are busy helping the crew to haul bales of dried goods or snugly ensconced within the folds of your hammock with only your brandy bottle for company.

The weather, however, grows progressively worse the closer you draw to Turtleback Ferry. A few hours after you'd cast off from Ilsurian and started up the Skull River, the rains had started. And kept on going. And going.

No light drizzle or gentle summer shower this, but a steady, relentless downpour that lashed at every inch of exposed skin as if to drive you back indoors. While the crew trudged on with their outside work clad in thick tar-proofed linens or straw capes, heedless of the fat raindrops slapping at their cheeks and of the gloomy expanse of dark clouds as far as the eye could see, most of you may have been content to remain under shelter for respite from the bone-chilling winds. All the same, the constant drumming of water on the roof is enough to set even the most patient of you on edge after the third straight day of rain, and it seems that everything in the barge not under secure wraps is slowly turning slick with moisture. Without the sun and open windows, the greasy smells of the cook's permanently overdone meals lingers cloyingly in the air long after meals are done, as does the damp sweaty odour of improperly dried clothing. Such weather, as Captain Amin sourly informs you, is quite normal at this time of year and that you'd be lucky to have a dry day or two for the next several weeks until winter is over.

In the rain and the gloom of twilight, it is difficult for most of you to see, but with someone on shore waving an smoking torch energetically in your direction, Captain Amin is able to steer the barge safely to the dock, cursing and shouting at his crew as they hurry to lash the vessel securely with ropes and chains to thick wooden staves.

For those of you who dare to brave the wet deck as the crew moor the barge, you can just about make out the lights and outlines of several low-lying buildings not far from the jetty, as well as the silhouettes of people swaddled in heavy rain gear tramping about. Beyond that, the formless hulk of trees upon trees looms in the distance all around the village as far as the eye can see under a moonless sky clustered with rain clouds.

"Cheery little place, isn't it?" Shalelu looks over your shoulder, the cynical smirk on her slim face at odds with her amiable tone of her voice. "That'd be the Ashwood over to the east and Kreegwood to the north. Thick with wolves and ogres and all manner of spooks. What the Black Arrows are supposed to be guarding them from."

Meanwhile, Captain Amin greets the cowled figure who'd been waving the torch with a grunt and a curt beckoning motion. The figure vaults easily over the side of the barge and approaches him with the practiced rolling gait of one used to the swaying motion of boats, the voice unexpectedly lilting and chipper given your dreary surroundings.

"Bargemaster! Thanks be to the First Hunter for your safe arrival. Father Shreed sends his greetings and asks if your vessel by chance bears any message or letters from Magnimar in return to the one you bore hence three weeks past."

"Naw, Eilnda. No letters. Jus' passengers. That's all the answer de Fat Man gon' give." Captain Amin jerks a rueful thumb in your direction, squinting at you all as he continues to munch on his wad of tobacco.

The figure immediately strides over to where you all stand, her weather-stained cape billowing slightly in the sweep of an early winter wind. From beneath the peak her dripping hood, you can just about make out the face of a pale, freckled young woman as she beams with relief, tapping the tips of her fingers together to make the upward point of the Erastili arrow. "Praise be to Old Deadeye. Are you the ones sent by Magnimar to help us? We've been waiting and waiting, we'd thought they'd never reply!"

[jamieth]

Naya

Day 51

For a second or two, the sylph looks at Rico, confused, but ultimately gets the idea and says a quick spell, gradually relieving the ranger of all the mud and blood and... other nasty things found inside giant turtles. "Here you go, miss Rico - but if you don't mind, stay for a while? You need rest" - why yes, she said she doesn't want to tell that to Rico just minutes ago. It didn't make it any less true.

Prestidigitation, because why not.

Day 56

The loss of her dress Naya endures with stoic calm - and a faint smile for those watching really carefully - and takes no effort to replace it for the rest of the journey, though she does tyr to prevent unfortunate accidents by staying inside every time the barge passes a settlement - and by mostly coming out onto the deck at night in general, having only two hours a day for sleep helping her greatly with that. At the very least, it certainly seems she has less trouble with the rain than most of the others, not having to deal with the sensation of wet cloth clinging to the skin.

As the barge nears its destination, though, she has no choice but to reluctantly lend a pair of stripes of cloth and tie them around her chest and waist respectively - a flimsy outfit like that is unlikely to survive any hardships, but it should play its role of preventing a scandal upon meeting... whoever they're supposed to meet at the Ferry.

"Lord-Mayor was hesitant to act..." she volunteers, stepping forward, "since... wait, did you say you sent a letter to Magnimar three weeks ago? Because the reason we were sent here in the first place is because Lord-Mayor haven't heard any from Turtleneck Ferry for over six weeks at the day of our departure. Captain, sir... that letter of three weeks ago, whom did you hand it to in Magnimar?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

Setsuna spent most of the rest of that week trying not to steal glances at Naya, but as they finally dock she stretches her legs and then, hearing Naya, quickly moves to correct her. "You are mis-remembering, Naya. It was Fort Rannick, not Turtleback Ferry, that the Lord-Mayor has not received word from in some weeks, which we are also here to investigate," she explains for Eilnda's benefit. Turning to the newcomer, she tries to smile pleasantly, a difficult task in the unpleasant weather. "But first, can you tell us what is happening? We would not want to make things worse because the Lord-Mayor miscommunicated."

[jamieth]

Naya

"Oh... sorry. I got confused then... I... never really learned much about geography here..." the sylph blushes furiously, as usual much more conscious of her mistakes than of her appearance. "But then - still, we haven't heard anything about your message..."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

The young woman's smile fades somewhat at the sight of Naya dressed in what appears to be little more than bandages pilfered from some chirurgeon's cabinet, one eyebrow twitching in distinct disapproval and her voice much colder than before. "I'm afraid you have it wrong, miss," she offers with frigid politeness, standing a little straighter than before. "I see that you are a stranger to these parts, but we are Turtleback Ferry, not Turtleneck Ferry. And if you are not the ones sent by his Grace to help us, then who...?"

"Desna preserve us-We are the ones who were sent. That is us that you are thinking of." Shalelu mutters in exasperation under her breath before raising her voice to catch the young woman's attention, already bowing gracefully from the waist with a slight flourish of her dripping cloak as she steps out of the shadow of Rico's hulking shoulder. "Mother Moon, may she shine on your village and light your way. I am Shalelu Andosana of the Crying Leaf village. We come on behalf of his Grace, Lord Grobaras of Magnimar. "

Shalelu's manners are far from the pomp and court that you'd seen at the Lord-Mayor's house, but even this little display of grandeur suffices to impress the young woman back into her welcoming grin of worried relief. "Oh, that is most marvellous to hear, ma'am! I am Eilnda, first acolyte to Father Shreed. He will be so glad to hear that help has arrived, he's been worried sick. It's been weeks since anyone's seen the Arrows. Every patrol we've sent up - they've not come back! It's madness, I tell you, everyone's feeling like something bad's on the way, and the things have just been going from bad to worse, what with the hunters going missing left and right, and the Paradise just upping and sinking like that into the lake - and the rains come early this year too, it's like them ogres up on the Hook done recruited a dragon or something to fly about and stir up the storms-"

"That is... grim. News. We must hear more on this. But perhaps we might do so more comfortably on land, where things are a little less wet than out here. I trust that the good Captain Amin has better use of his time than to watch us dally." To her credit, Shalelu keeps a stiff upper lip in the face of the barely coherent babble, her face betraying neither derision nor confusion as she seizes advantage of a moment's hesitation in the word torrent as the acolyte pauses for breath.

Eilnda nods enthusiastically, her excitement putting the less charitable of you in mind of an eager-to-please puppy. "Yes! Yes, of course. I will head to Father Shreed right now to let him know you've arrived. The inn's just over yonder - Turtle's Parlour - you can't miss it. I will bring you word as soon as I can!"

As soon as Eilnda has bounded off the barge deck and out of earshot, Shalelu turns to the rest of you with a scowl, massaging the back of her neck as she grumbles in a weary undertone. "Should I assume that our generous sponsor, that greasy tight-fisted moneybag, has conveniently neglected to mention to us certain facts about this... situation down here at the Ferry? I was under the impression that I was to merely escort you to the Fort as a condition for my access, and that you were to find out the reasons for the lack of communications from its commander - not help to solve this town's problems, and it sure sounds like there are very many problems indeed. "

[Miraqariftsky]

Previously...

"Hold yer horses..." said Rico, every joint and crease still splartch-ing, every footstep stinking. She grabbed Red and Brin, then nodded at Naya, "...now, please? Efficiency, eh?"

"HMMMMMMM." The cleaning done, she took the tin cup and slurps with an appreciative rumble.

~~~~

As they journeyed, something had been niggling at the constable's consciousness. At first, she couldn't quite put a finger on it. But after that long and in such close quarters, she eventually realized...

Have I gotten TOO used to Hellgirl's naked antics? Heck, have WE?

Summin' CAN still be done about Naya, though. An' pretty sure she ain't got no curse ta worry 'bout. The way these folk be lookin', summin' tells me they won't be quite so kind on such shenanigans.

Having little patience to go beating around bushes... her bush doesn't seem so bad, th--- She snarled, then snorted as she resolutely stomped over to her backpack. Then paused in thought as she considered...

...and strode over to their resident sorceress and gave her a folded stack containing a white cotton undertunic, a black leather knee-length pleated skirt and a leather jacket whose red is so weathered it has faded into an exhausted shade of pink.

"Wot? TAKE DEM. Repay if ye feel ye need ta, but take 'em. Not just fer personal-practical stuff. Ye couldn't feel da vibe o' these folk? Ye think we be havin' an' easy time houndin' down leads iffen they're jaw-waggin' an' brow-wankin' about ye? Dem's decent quality clothes, don't worry. Sorry dey ain't fashizzable, but wot works, works."

Presently...

A huge chunk of traveller's cheese happens to be stuck in the orcblood's mouth as they arrive. Unfortunate as this may be for meeting new people, and in a diplomatic capacity at that, she has no choice but to tug and chew and tug and chew.

But as she listens to the tidbits from the locals, even as tidbits of brown and yellow flakes fall across the front of her coat, her constable's sense pricks to something afoot. Leaving the chunk of cheese in her mouth, she whips out her trusty logbook... seventh volume, now... and sets to taking fastidious notes.

[jamieth]

OK then, a slight retcon to the meeting the natives scene

Naya

On the boat

"Well, if you insist, miss Rico..." the sylph sighs, "I don't want to cause problems, just... doing what I like, when I can..."

***

In the town

"It... it seems there was quite a lot Lord-Mayor neglected to mention, miss Eilnda*", Naya nods, leaping off the barge to the shore, "But maybe you could tell us a bit... more? I mean... I understand rain, and missing hunters, and patrols, and ogres, but - Paradise? Drowning in the lake? What do you mean?"

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

"T-the problems. M-maybe... it is because... the B-black Arrows aren't h-here."

Red couldn't tell if she was stuttering as usual or because of how hard she was shivering under her cloak. She'd spent so long down in the flatlands - years, in fact - that she'd forgotten how bitterly cold the temperatures could get up in the mountains even without rain. And after all those years in the monastery too - whatever would Rathi have said? First thing tomorrow, she was going to find whichever store in this place sold warmer clothing and buy up all the woollen things it had.

*****

GM post

"Yes, Red. That might just be it. If the Black Arrows aren't doing their job, then I'm not surprised that there would be all sorts of mischief happening up here. Now I highly doubt there's actually a dragon roaming about. If there was, the Ferry would have been razed to the ground by now, not a soul left - this is a fact, I know it to be true. But this Eilnda mentioned ogres..." Shalelu's voice drops to a worried murmur as she rubs her chin, her green eyes flashing cat-like in the twilight gloom. "Damn it all. Ameiko would've said I jinxed things by thinking that bigfolk had come out to play."

"Still. Standing about here in the cold and rain won't help us find out what happened to those rangers. Let's go find some hot grub and a dry bed, shall we?"

*****

Whether out of a firm intention to avoid the sylph who had offended her eyes or because of the pace she was moving at, Eilnda doesn't seem to hear Naya's question. If anything, the young woman quickens her pace, splashing through wide puddles on a dirt path as she runs towards a large stone building, endowed with what seems to be a three-storied bell-tower, that perches on the very edge of the shore.

Fortunately, the dock carriers, already busy with unloading various bales and crates from the barge, remain within earshot. The nearest one - a burly man with a fiercely bristling moustache - wipes the rain-water dripping from his nose and jerks his stubbled chin gruffly in Naya's direction. "Paradise, lil' missy. She'd be wot you'd call, eh - pleasure boat. For drinks an' cards an' dice rolling. Sank not two weeks ago, middle of the night. Took two dozen souls down with her an' good riddance to bad rubbish. Old Deadeye's judgment, I tell yer, for their sinful city ways. We're a respectable folk, down here at the Ferry." He nods meaningfully at her over his armful of bulging sackcloth and netting, staring at her with baleful blue eyes before turning away and stumping off to the other side of the jetty.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico scowls into the rainy night as stray droplets find the edges of her logbook. She tucks it away quickly, ensconced in the depths of her greatcoat.

Spotting Red's discomfort, without thinking, she pops her hat off and slaps it onto her friend's head. Just as swiftly, she dons her old kettle hat helmet which had long lain just hanging by its straps off her neck. Her ears flick as she rumbles through a shiver.

Huh. It IS cold. Well. Shouldn't be much worse'n a storm at sea, eh?

She stares at Shalelu and snorts, then shakes her head slowly as she says. "Jinx? Don't let your imagination undermine your spirit, ma'am. Do wot we can. Let the evidence speak..."

Then she coughs as she continues in a whisper. "...an' as of now, though as yet incohclosiff, de evidence IS pointin' THATTAWAY, izzennit?"

Agreeing with the needs of simplicity, she follows them towards the Turtle's Parlour, then shortens her pace just enough to slip the Fist of Fox more securely beneath her cloak. Much as she is loathe to cover the Caydenite sigil on her shield, every bit of goodwill needs to be marshalled with these villagers.

Still, within the shadow of her helm, she scowls deeply. Those suspected deaths... and THAT MANY... no matter the drinking or the whoring, those were still LIVES, they were PEOPLE, you arrogant git.

There's sumfink fishy goin' on 'ere... An' it ain't just yer garden variety disagreemefying.

She reaches out puts a hand on Naya's shoulder, heavy yet not hammering. A brief squeeze, to console and steady her...

...then she taps Red and Shalelu's hands, points at her eyes, swirls a finger about. "Watch out.", she mouths.

And then she stops in her tracks as she spots Eilnda popping off towards...
...a belltower.

Acolyte to Father Shreed, she said. Innocent? Nualia was ALL KINDS OF... INNOCENT. And a BELLTOWER! Then again, not all belltowers are evil. But bears investigating, this.

She corrects herself, and continues heading towards the Turtle's Parlour.

[Desril]

Setsuna

One could say what they wanted about Setsuna's fiendish heritage, but it did come with certain perks, one of which being her usual perkiness being entirely undiminished by the chilly rain that seemed to keep everyone else gloomy. It was, after all, just a little water and for her, not the slightest bit cold. Not, of course, that it made the idea of a warm meal and bed any less comforting as she nods her head in agreement with Shalelu.

News of two dozen deaths on a pleasure boat, however, dampen her spirits a little. But it was some time ago, and Setsuna quickly returns to normal, realizing that there's nothing that could've been done, even if she'd been here. Accidents happen, after all. Still, she turns to the dock worker as Elinda storms off. He may say he's glad that they died, but still she says, "I am sorry for your loss."

On the way to Turtle's Parlor, however, she turns to Shalelu, "The Lord-Mayor did not tell us of anything noteworthy happening here either, but since we are here we should help them as best we can. We can not help with drowned people, and my magic can not control the weather, but we can try to find these missing hunters after we figure out if the Fort is safe...but since we have to wait, can you tell me what you know about these 'Black Arrows' that also seem to be missing? If they were keeping this area safe why would they leave?"

[Bhaakon]

Brin

Few investments in Brin's life--long or short, depending on whether you used a human or elven perspective to measure it--had paid off as handsomely as the magic jug of nigh-inexhaustible spirits she'd managed to pick up in one of Magnimar's more sordid quarters. The incredible container had not only furnished an ample supply of accelerant for properly disposing of the half-digested giant's hand, it had lubricated the entire voyage in a manner most agreeable. Why the trip passed so quickly that it seems but a blur in Brin's memory, and the replenished brew works its magic even now, numbing her to the chill downpour and taking the edge off the fresh pile of roadblocks thrown up immediately upon arrival in Turtleback Ferry.

Indeed, the divine elixir is such a balm upon the sting of ill-news as to utterly inure Brin against all disappointment as she listens to the litany of misfortunes befalling the town. Or possibly she's too busy struggling to suppress her lunch's latest bid for freedom to comment until the cadre is already marching towards the Turtle's Parlour.

"Don'na let 'em get to yuh, Naya." Brin claps a supportive hand on the sylph's hand-me-down covered shoulder as she stumbles along--a gesture that is entirely a show of comradely support and absolutely not designed to counter a momentary bout of dizziness. "Bet therez pleny o' people wot enjoyed the view since their floatin' den o' ineq...uh...inde...er...sin sank. Prolly all backed up since the tragurdy. Wuz a pubic service, I say! Public, even!" She nods, quite convinced by her own argument, then glances sidelong back at the puritanical old dock-hand. "'E's juss bittered by a slack yardarm. Too blinded by hissown sad droop to care fer the sorry plight of dead or the hor...uh...ran...eh...concupiscent."

She gives Naya a friendly shake--almost assuredly not the result of an inebriated stumble--then turns to the serious matters at hand. "Prolly all connectered. The missin' patrol, hunters, silence from them Arrows.... Not like to be coin-incidents. 'Specially not wit the letter we found." She states the obvious. "An thuh 'Paradise'...a boat o' greedy souls. Greedy." She nods sagely, sure the others have made the same connection. But they hadn't been blessed with the jug's insights, so Brin decides to spell it out. "Just like Lord Fox-rot an' the Snake Lady wuz collecting."

[jamieth]

Naya

"But... that would mean Fort Rannick really have fallen, just as the letter promised it will?" Naya asks concernedly, "And... if Xanesha's sister operates in a similar way... it's not ogres that we should worry most about, is it? I mean, sure, they're tough and strong, but... they're also large, and, well, let's be honest, noticeable. But if there's a cult here... cultists might be just like regular people - right until the moment they try to kill us, or... something..." she sighs. "I don't think they'll wear something like those masks, would they? Not in public... public here won't let something like that slide, I suppose - they seem rather... stuck up", she smiles weakly, remembering the dock carrier's tirade aimed at the Paradise.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

There had been plenty of time on the barge journey to relate to Shalelu the more sensitive and sordid details of your self-appointed mission to pursue the possibility of Xanesha's corruption reaching all the way to this distant backwater village. (Even if the elf herself had merely cracked a bitter smile with no mirth when queried about her own reasons for paying the Black Arrows a visit.) And while any other person might have dismissed your group's concerns over the siphoning of souls for sin magic as little more than the chasing of wild-geese, Shalelu had actually been there - in the secret catacombs under the Sandpoint Glassworks and in the depths of the Thistletop goblin lair when you'd foiled the mad Nualia's plans - seen the runewell, witnessed Cipriano's brief but glorious return to life.

Thus, at Brin's suggestion that the sinking of the Paradise boat might have been for the purpose of harvesting greedy souls, Shalelu is the first to nod her head in stern agreement. "I hate to say it, but once you've put it like that... Old Deadeye is stern and set in his ways, but blasting a gambling boat to the bottom of a lake is hardly his style. Whoever wrote that letter that you found is sure to be at the bottom of this. It's not going to make the people here too happy, but we're going to need to find out more about that boat and who ran it. Perhaps find the wreck, if we can. But no, Naya, I don't think it's cultists we've got here so far - seems like just good old fashioned devotees of Erastil who don't like city folk very much. Still, best to peek at that letter once we're in and dry. Might give us a clue on what we ought to keep an eye out for. Come now."

It doesn't take long to gather your belongings, except for Brin, whose questionable sobriety combined with the swaying of a moored boat makes even walking about no mean feat. The trio of hunters have already departed, slidling off through the rain on their own errands. While the more polite of you remember to take the time to thank Captain Amin and his crew, the rest of you pace impatiently back and forth on the docks, more than eager to get out of the rain as quickly as you can. Not that this stops Shalelu from tarrying, shortening her strides in order to keep pace with Setsuna.

"That's precisely the problem, Setsuna. The Black Arrows would never leave. They're honour bound to Magnimar and Old Deadeye to hold back the bigfolk from venturing beyond the Ferry and down to the plains. They're supposedly the most disciplined and deadly order of rangers in the entire Varisian south. Only the hardiest of peoples even make it into the ranks. For forty-five years, they've kept their oath. They wouldn't just up and leave. Leastways, I don't think they would... not unless something really bad had happened..."

Sense Motive DC 14
Your ears prick up at a catch in Shalelu's voice as she wonders what might calamity have happened to the Black Arrows - a flicker of hesitation in her usual laconic manner. You hadn't picked it up earlier, but you sense that she's genuinely worried about what's going on with the rangers that she'd been warned not to trifle with.

*****

The common room of the Turtle's Parlour is long and drafty and smells vaguely of damp cabbages. But more importantly, it is dry, save for where muddy water pools at your feet as you shuffle in. A small fire burns sulkily in its grate against the far wall, where a large aged bullmastiff sprawled on a thread-bare rug gazes at you plaintively through its rheumy eyes, whining softly as you enter but otherwise making no effort to investigate your presence. Aside from the dog and the pot-bellied scowling Varisian in a greasy food-stained apron who immediately bustles in once the bell hanging over the entrance tinkles, there doesn't appear to be anyone else staying at the inn right now.

"A fine guard you make, Chavia," grumbles the innkeeper, exposing scarlet chew-stained teeth as he wipes his hands on the front of his breeches, peering over his wiry moustache at all of you with a mixture of undisguised curiosity and hostility. "If you're lookin' to set for the night, it's five gold per head, two to a room. "

Knowledge (local) DC 10
5 gp for a single person for a night is exorbitant, even in a place like this. It's way above the usual 2 gp you might expect to be charged for a simple room with a bed and a pot to piss in.

[Bhaakon]

Brin

There's some concern slipping into Shalelu's voice, a crack in the elf's pleasantly confident demeanor. Brin might feel a sick obligation to pick at it if she wasn't more concerned with the ground's repeated attempts to slip out from beneath her feet. Or if the Shalalu hadn't been so darned nice on the trip. At least Tall-adron had the good taste to act the part of the superior, know-it-all elven wizard. Needling Shalelu actually made Brin feel bad, which just made her more frustrated. But the jug helped wash that away.

At least until she stumbles into the Turtle's Parlour, shakes the extra damp from her auburn mane like a soaked duck hound, and takes in the innkeeper's preposterous demand.

"Manē khabara chē tamē mātra darēkanē apa ḍabala pān̄ca krā'una māṭē ēka sāthī pravāsī pūchō na hatī, tō tamē mākhaṇa cījavastu'ōnō nāśa karavō athavā tē lūṇṭī lēvī dēḍakō." She growls at the man. Unlike her Taldane, Brin's Varisian is nearly untouched by the fat-tongued accent of inebriation. Practice, no doubt. She reaches back into her pack and withdraws a package tightly wrapped in protective oilskins. Lovingly, she unwraps the carved hardwood box and lifts the lid, revealing her venerable set of harrow cards--about her only possession that was older than she was. "Huṁ jāṇuṁ chuṁ. Kēvī rītē huṁ mukta vān̄cana sāthē amārī rākhō cūkavē chē. Huṁ mahāna Zafira sauthī mōṭā putrī, badhā pachī chuṁ. Tē karatāṁ vadhu amārā rōkāṇa āvarī karīśuṁ."

Brin leans in close, holding her left hand to her mouth as if to muffle a whisper, but the move really just displays her spiral palm tattoo to the greasy innkeep as she continues in the same raucously drunken tone. "Jōkē huṁ kadāca tamanē cētavaṇī jō'ī'ē, garama, śuṣka, sārī rītē mēḷavāya bhākhanārā'ō vadhu anukūḷa vān̄cana banāvavā māṭē hōya chē."

"You didn't just ask a fellow traveler for five crowns apiece to double up, did you?"

"I know. How about I pay our keep with a free reading. I'm the eldest daughter of the great Lady Zafira, after all. That should more than cover our stay."

Though I should probably warn you, warm, dry, well-fed diviners tend to make more favorable readings.

Diplomacy! [roll0]

[jamieth]

Naya, fumbling the Common Sense roll hard

Having transitioned from decades in near poverty to a luxurious, though dangerous, life of adventurer way to fast, Naya never really learned the value of money, so the exorbitance of the sum requested goes right by her; not does she understand a word of Brin's outburst, Varisian not being among the languages she speaks even a bit of. So, missing the issue completely, she reaches into her trusty somewhat-bottomless sack and produced a trio of silvery-white coins without much care, looking at Shalelu as she does so. "That means something bad did happen, right, miss Shalelu? Perhaps we should go and see for ourselves... perhaps tomorrow? It's too late to go out today anyway, we won't reach anywhere before dark - and in this rain, it'll go dark early, too..."

3 platinums should cover our lodging with a bit extra

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Orlandi's Knowledge (local) check: (1d20+7)[26] - ... well then!

The innkeeper seems none too impressed by Brin's offer, nor by the potent mizzle of alcohol on her breath. Doing his best to lean out of the blast range of her mouth, he purses his lips together and makes a surreptitious fanning action, clearly agitated as he tries to think of how to politely deal with the crazy woman who seems intent on boastfully shoving the contents of her palm up his nostrils.

"Ēka śakyatā vārtā. Grēṭa Zafira kēṭalāka ḍajhana varṣa māṭē mr̥ta gayēla chē, anē tē kō'ī ēka nānī parī hatī....Tamē dārūnā naśāmāṁ chē... Kr̥pā karīnē ēka bēṭhaka dharāvē chē. Huṁ tamārā sāthīdāra māṭē hājara rahēśē- Ah, now, the rest of you kind ladies. If y'all actually interested in the rooms, then perhaps..." At the sight of Naya's coinage though, the innkeeper's perturbed demeanour abruptly evaporates, shifting smoothly into a barker's practiced prattle as he bows low from the waist - a difficult task, given the size of his paunch. Now this was more familiar ground for him.

"... why yes... then perhaps we could arrange... for one person to a room. More comfortable for ladies, aye? Hehe." Clearly pleased with this development, the innkeeper scratches his nose and gestures at the empty chairs around the room. "Ain't like there's other folks to crowd the halls up these days. Come, lay down your loads. I'll get my boys to heat up the water and get your rooms ready. Lysan! Noramos!"

Having paused to observe the negotiations with some amusement, Shalelu clears her throat as the innkeeper scurries about in his element, hollering at his hired help and barking at someone in the back room to find some clean sheets with all the haughty command of a little emperor.

"Yes, Naya. Something bad has quite likely happened. It's too dark to venture out into the woods now, but perhaps a visit to Mayor Shreed would enlighten us. Or a visit to the tavern - assuming they have one of those in here." The elf frowns at the thin layer of dust on the table, drawing a finger through it and examining the accumulation of grey fluff. "I'm not much for drinking though. What say the rest of you?"

*A likely tale. Lady Zafira has been dead for several dozen years, and she was no elf... You are drunk... Please have a seat. I shall attend to your companions.

[Desril]

Setsuna

The innkeeper's fee seemed a little steep, even to her, but Naya didn't seem to object to it so Setsuna said nothing as the others sorted out sleeping arrangements. She had, after all, slept in the cold and the rain before, so whatever they ended up settling on here was going to be good enough. Instead, her attention was focused on the elven ranger, I do not think she was this concerned even when we were attacking Thistletop...

Still, the tiefling nods her head at the suggestion of visiting the mayor and the tavern. She didn't use to drink very much, but prolonged exposure to Rico and her go-to solution of brandy had given the Minkan princess a newfound appreciation for the state of inebriation that Brin seemed born into. That didn't mean she wasn't at least a little aware of its effects on her though, "We should talk to the mayor first. We did not make a good first impression already, it would not do to meet him after going to the tavern. And we will find out what happened to the Black Arrows and make sure they are okay," she says, trying to be reassuring.

[jamieth]

Naya

"I don't drink myself", Naya nods,
"It's too embarrassing, when people see me drunk... I act like an idiot... anyway, yes, we probably should meet Mayor... wait... Mayor? Miss Eilnda called him Father Shreed, didn't she? I thought he was, a local priest, or something like that?"

[Bhaakon]

"I wuz adoptered..." Brin mutters sulkily as she wraps her cards back up in her oilskin. But she knows better to keep arguing with the group getting what she wanted.

Mention of polling the patrons at the local watering whole does grab Brin's attention, though. The magic jug was indeed wondrous, but variety, it was said, is the mulling spice of life. Or something like that. "Yar. Where ish this tavern?" She asks slyly. "Perhapsh I might put my ears to the bar. Or the floor. Er...whatevers."

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Red gazes first at the mastiff drooling on the rug, then up at the others as she shifts her armful of harpoons, easing herself onto the nearest stool. Perhaps some of the villagers would know where these weapons had come from, if there were many bigfolk up here.

"...I w-will drink. To Mister Cayden. For g-getting us safely here. But we should... see the mayor first," she informs the others solemnly. Looking down at her knees, she gently rubs her hands over the damp fabric, smoothing away beads of water. "T-the mayor... maybe he is also... a priest. In a v-village. It is... common."

[Bhaakon]

"Yeah, itsh more likely than yuh think." Brin slurs, nodding her agreement. "Lotsha moral authority, donashuns to skim, unscrup...er...dishon...uh...crooked use o' their god's gifts." She clucks her tongue with reproach. Temple-bound clergy always seemed to wallow in luxury and collect corruption like an oenophiles collects vintages. Not nearly as trustworthy as a fine, upstanding itinerant holy-woman. There was a limit to how much you could gouge folk when you had to carry your wealth around from town to town. Well, unless you could afford certain transportation magics, like Brin could. But she didn't use her wealth to buy a mayorship, did she?

"OK, letsh see this mayor for ourselves, then. Then thuh tavern."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Your rooms at the Turtle's Parlour, blatantly overpriced as they are, turn out to be more than halfway decent considering that you're over 50 miles to the nearest city. The bedding is woven from rough, undyed wool and your sunken straw pallet has seen better days, but the bed itself is warm and dry. The chamber pots are covered, the water in the copper washing basins looks fresh, and there's even a little earthenware jar on the table filled with what smells like dried tea leaves. If this generosity extends past your first night, perhaps staying here might not be so painful after all.

Eilnda, oddly enough for all her haste, hasn't returned to take you to see the mayor. In which case, taking yourselves to see him remains the better option. Leaving your superfluous belongings in the rooms and donning your still-damp cloaks, you trudge back out into the rain and head for the tall building with the belltower that you had seen Eilnda run towards.

The innkeeper's promise of a hot bath upon your return does little to increase your enthusiasm for heading back outside. With nightfall, the rain seems to have intensified, falling in shimmering sheets of silver that bead down the peak of your hoods and churn the dirt path beneath your boots to sloshing mud. To your left, the waters of Claybottom Lake lap hungrily against the dock, almost invisible in the moonless night. The few locals whom you encounter cast curious glances your way but otherwise seem loathe to linger out in the cold. Nor does the distant haunting cries of wolves somewhere in the forests around encourage them to, as they make a beeline for the glowing lanterns of a squat two-storied stone house just next to the inn that you presume must be the village watering hole.

You squelch through the mud to arrive at the building with the belltower - a large lodge built of interlocking timber logs, with a massive rack of white antlers from what must have been some giant-sized deer on proud display over the front doors.

"That's an Erastili lodge all right," murmurs Shalelu, squinting up at the antlers as she shades her eyes from the rain. "Let's go find our mayor then."

Your knocks at the door go unanswered, so the bolder among you see fit to let yourselves in. Peering into the room beyond, the reason for Eilnda's delay becomes apparent - on the floor lies a crumpled and unconscious figure, several tattered and bloody makeshift bandages wound haphazardly around his head and chest. While the woman in a dripping rain cloak hovering anxiously by his feet looks up sharply at your arrival, Eilnda and the greying, hatchet-faced forester who are busy attending to him do not. Between the flickering light of the smoking torch held by the woman and the stronger glow of a light spell emanating from a leather wrapped quarterstaff held by the old forester, the shadows in the room dance and play on the high ceiling overhead.

As the old forester presses a bony thumb against a hollow in the man's shoulder and grimly presses a palm against a dressing through which dark scarlet seeps, Eilnda looks up and spots your group.

"Well don't just bloody stand there. If any of you know the art of healing, do something!

[Bhaakon]

Slow to process the scene while intoxicate, Brin gapes at the wounded man until Elinda's reproachful order snaps her from her stupor. "Wots thish, the Lord Mayor too busy?" She mutters as she marches forward. "Well, the Lady o' Graves will handle it, then. Take yur bandages off sho I can take a look afore the healing." She says, and examines the man as quickly as she can before beseeching Pharasma to close them.

"Mother o' Shoals, shave this man!" She beseeches. When nothing happens immediately, Brin enunciates slowly and more clearly. "Er...heal him Pharasma. If it's not too much trouble. Please." Finally the wounds begin to knit, and Brin lets out a sigh of relief. Or possibly a noxious belch. Or both.

"What did thish?" She asks once the man is out of danger.

Heal check to figure out what caused the damage: [roll0]

Channel: [roll1]

[Desril]

Setsuna

With the rain being less of a detriment to her than the others, Setsuna has the ability to look a little more sullen at the sight of the antlers. It's not as though there was anything wrong with hunting, but even from just the trophy it left she can tell that it must've been a beautiful beast and is sad to see it dead. But there are more pressing matters, like the injured and dying man on the floor as they enter the room.

Immediately putting a hand to Maethilur's hilt, Setsuna scans the area, looking for anything that might help as Brin moves to perform healing magics. "What happened?"


Perception [roll0]
Sense Motive [roll1] on whatever gets said

[jamieth]

Naya

Naya, conjuring - almost instinctively - glowing nodes, sends them towards the wounded man; from her experience, several lights able to move about often provide better illumination than a single, even brighter, light source, not to mention deal away with the shadows. Unfortunately, there's little she can aid the wounded man - Major? - with, so, trusting Brin to do what's needed, she looks around. "When did this happen? Who..." no, if anyone saw it's happening, there'd be much more activity.

[roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

Occupied once again with another hunk of traveller's cheese
And another round of furious note-taking,
Rico was too slow to sally
To the questioning
And the haggling
Asmodeus' arse, HWAT? That don't seem wise, AT ALL. Hey, hey! Why you not think of security? One person to a room? That's asking to be stabbed in the night!

At Brin's antics,
A nigglement of doubt
Worries behind the constable's eyes
Holy crap. Was I... THAT BAD... back when I was drinking?

Presently, with glowering gaze, she leads the way
No wolf cry nor night cold nor storm's bite
To hold her from the scent
Of deviltry afoot

She casts her glare at windows and walls and doors
Across the floor and even the eaves and rafters
And onto the people within and upon
The bloodied waylaid old man

Bugger this long spear. Tsk!
Shield now bared, and hand on hilt, she squats by
As Brin sets to her work, and then grimaces to her her so...
...reaches into a pouch for some ginger, in her fist crushes it ungingerly
And hands the sudden pungent mash to the plastered priestess
And whispers into her knifely ears,
"Breathe this. Please."


ALSO! IS THE BLOOD GREEN?

Heal! [roll0] Wot did this?
Perception! [roll1] Is there anything amiss in the surroundings?
Sense Motive! [roll2] Is there anything amiss with wot they're saying?

EDIT:
Frak.
Well...
Add #1 and #3 to the lot of Aid Anothers to whoever's getting good in those rolls.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Heal: (1d20+2)[19]
Perception: (1d20+12)[28]
Sense Motive: (1d20+9)[16]

Narrowing her eyes at the sight of the mangled man on the floor, Red edges as close as she dares to the knot of people working frantically over him, drawn by curiosity as much as pity.

Those were horrific cuts the man had. So deep. So many. But not by a blade. And Red had seen more than her fair share of brawls and fights. Even taken part in a few of them with Rico. She could probably tell the difference between a wound from a broken glass bottle and a sword and a...

"... Small anchor. Or big hook. See... the cuts are... short. Deep. Then... not so deep. And the hole... is like..." Unable to think of the right word, Red tugs at Brin's sleeve, then crooks her finger while scratching on the palm of her other hand.

*****

GM post

Heal DC 14
With the man's bandages off, you behold several ragged and frightfully deep but short slashes crossing his torso and arms, as well as two large puncture holes at his shoulder and back. Based on the semi-clotted appearance of his wounds, you might estimate that he was wounded a few days ago, though rainwater and perhaps exertion seems to have reopened several of them.

It looks like these wounds were caused by some serrated cutting implement wielded with great force - like a sickle. That, however, does not explain the peculiar width and length of the slashes, nor the punctures gouged in the man's shoulder and back, which are raw and split at the curve of the hole closer to the man's head. You've only seen wounds like this in one place before - at the markets, on the body parts of pigs and cows and goats, skewered and hung up for display by the butcher on the shop window...

Perception DC 12
The woman in the cloak seems to be a fisherfolk of some sort, based on the tanned leather of her face and the reek of fish offal that reeks from her cloth even when wet. The extra light from Naya's spell also throws the dark splotches on her cloak into sharper relief - it would seem that she is the one who must have gotten the injured man to the lodge.

The man's blood, perhaps to Rico's relief, seems to be of the normal dark red colour.

The old forester seems to have only recently come in from the rain as well, based on the spreading puddle of muddy water under his knees and the droplets of rain clinging to his moustache.

Perception DC 16
As the old forester works to remove the injured man's bandages, you spot the gleam of a tarnished gold chain with angular links from under the collar of his tunic - an clear badge of office in a backwater like this. This man, despite his unkempt and grizzled appearance, is probably the mayor that you have come to see.


"Young lady has the right of it. Them's hook wounds - ogre hooks. Like your regular fish hooks but made-a stone or bone and sized for bigfolk to snag and carve up whate'er catches their fancy. Usually 'nother ogre, but they use 'em on raids and human hunts too. Just like poor Emon here."

The old forester coughs hoarsely into his sleeve, wiping his sodden whiskers with the back of his hand. He glares up at you with eyes of such piercing blue that they remind you of the sapphires you'd seen on Fat Gorby's rings only several days ago, looking you up and down critically.

"So you're the team from Magnimar, eh. Just as well they sent a healer. Too many folk turning up half-dead these days, with the bigfolk gettin' onery. Nevermind all the sickness from the rains come early this year. You sure took your time coming, didn't you?"

As for Emon, once Brin has channeled the healing touch of Pharasma, he groans and stirs, clearly still very much in agony even though he is no longer bleeding to death. Cracking open bloodshot eyes, he blinks and tries to take in his surroundings, his voice a mere croak. "Wha... Where 'm I?"

"Home and snug, old friend." The woman in the rain cloak nods in grim relief, tapping her forehead with thumb and little finger extended - the horns of Old Deadeye. "Found yer by the path what leads to the Fort, crows landing on yer back. Fool lad, don't yer know better than to rile up the Grauls? Yer know they don't take kind to no one straying on their land."

Sense Motive DC 14
The old forester speaks with enough sincerity, though his demeanour be fierce and unwelcoming. You realise that this is likely because he is exhausted, based on the dark hollows under his eyes and the faint trembling of his limbs.

[jamieth]

"We came as soon as Lord-Mayor authorized it", Naya protests, "And... you should take a rest now, sir. No need to worry about young Emon here... miss Brin would pull him from the very' death's door if needed. I can tell that from experience... we all can", the sylph smiles uneasily. "I can see you had a very hard time lately... but it won't do to push yourself any further."

Diplomacy check to improve attitude:
[roll0]
In case of failure by 5 or more, activating Amiable Blunder:
[roll1]
(If first check fails by 5+, I reroll vs. same DC; on success, attitude doesn't change)

[Desril]

Setsuna

"We wanted to be here weeks ago," the tiefling protests, "but we can not change what happened." She looks relieved to see that Brin was able to alleviate the worst of the man's injuries but the relief is short lived when the old forester explains that this is far from uncommon. I've only heard about ogres, I didn't think they were truly this barbaric...

Still, she turns her attention to the injured Emon, "Please, tell us what happened...it might not be related to why we are here, but if I can do something about what ever attacked you I will. This does not seem isolated." Belatedly she realizes that the others may not want to spend their time and energy monster hunting for the town, but it's just not in her to ignore this sort of trouble. I'll just handle it alone if necessary.


Diplomacy to make up for Naya's blunder! [roll0]

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

The old forester merely snorts loudly in response to Naya's overture, though Setsuna's promise to do something about the situation elicits a smirk beneath his bristling whiskers as he gives a sharp tap to the side of his forehead. "Think. Think with your noggin, girl, not your arse. 'tis exactly why we sent for help. We ain't heard naught from the rangers up at Rannick for weeks. Well - clearly, the bigfolk haven't either. Emboldened, that's what. A-roaming outta their dens and indulging 'emselves on whatever humans they can get their bloody big paws on. Whether that's killing or raiding or raping."

At this, the old forester pauses and shoots Emon a dark glance. Emon, for his part, manages a weak shake of the head, rasping hoarsely. "Naw, father. Got lucky. It was just one of the Graul boys, not their mammy. Hurk- Wanted the spoils of my trap - had myself a brace of fat conies... tried to run, but he hooked me good an' prop-"

As Emon is interrupted by a bout of harsh coughing and the woman moves to pat his back, Eilnda nods grimly at Setsuna and the rest of you. "We'd gotten up a little town patrol of our own, see. To help keep a lookout with no word from the rangers and every group we'd sent up to the Fort gone missing. Bethi's one of our finest fishers and trackers. Old Deadeye must've guided her steps to find Emon here - he'd not come back from checking his traps and his poor mother was convinced he'd been caught and eaten. If not by wolves, then by bigfolk. Either those damn Graul half-breeds or the Kreegs up in the mountain... they'd never dare do this if them bloody rangers would just show up!" Eilnda's voice breaks as her nervousness asserts itself, clenching her fists and grinding her teeth.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Even the tiefling catches the dark look that the forester gives Emon and silently waits for his answer with baited breath before sighing in relief at the negative. "We will figure out what is going on. I did not think things would be this bad...As soon as we see what is on at Fort Rannick, if the rangers are not there, we will go find them. If we can not, then I will deal with these 'Grauls' myself."

[jamieth]

Naya

"Not 'yourself', miss Setsuna", Naya shakes her head, "I haven't meet those... Grauls, but from what I heard... they deserve a lightning way more than that turtle did."

[Bhaakon]

Brin chuckles at the old man's cantankerous language. Finally, someone who thought and spoke straight in this prudish backwater. No sidelong glances or back-turned tongue clucks from this man.

"Aye, Setsuner, don't be thinking with your arse." Bring echos, grinning. "We'll all bring the thunder down on them ogres, hopefully wit the ranger in tow. Once we figur out wuts happinen up at that there fort."

"Until then, mebbe keep the hunters an' trappers in town fer a couple days, eh? They might risk attackin' someone out on their lonesome, but I bet them Grauls don't have the balls ter assault the town proper-like."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post / Rico (GM bot)

Rolling for Rico, favoured terrain bonus applies
Perception: (1d20+15)[26]
SM: (1d20+9)[18]

As for Rico, she snorts and scrubs her nose with the back of her knuckles, making a feral noise in the back of her throat. MISCREANTS. RAPISTS. BRIGANDS. MUTILATORS. Her inner constable screams a strident litany of the Grauls' crimes. Oughta clap the load of 'em in irons. Or give'm the old country justice - LIFE FER A LIFE. Still, we ain't in Sandpoint now, make n'mistake...

Ruffling the pages of her trusty notebook, Rico clears her throat and jabs the back of her pencil towards the old forester man. "Iffen please... do enlighten. 'Speffy if we gunna be tromping down these black-heart'd blackguards. Wot exactly be these GRAULS? And think ye mentioned 'nother buncha rats - these... KREEGS?" Then, noting the gleam of precious metal at the clasp of the old forester's cloak, Rico puts two and two together before politely (if belatedly) adding: "Yer honour."

The old forester - or Mayor-Father Maelin Shreed, as it seems - grunts aloud and eyes the half-orc constable up and down with a piercing gimlet gaze, as if uncertain of whether to trust her. Eventually, he sighs heavily, working at an invisible chunk of gristle in his teeth as he speaks. "The Grauls? They're a buncha what you'd call ogre-kin - half ogre, half whatever they could grab long enough to rut with. S'more than one family of the buggers squirreled up in the forest, but the Grauls - their mammy's got the magic touch, see. So they've plunked down just a couple miles from our lands. Usual, they don't bother us, we don't bother them. But cross their path or cross them and they squall and tear at you worse'n two tied firepelts set aflame. Now it's them Kreegs-"

At the mention, Eilnda mutters something darkly under her breath, while the woman Bethi taps her forehead with her heads crooked in the sign of the holy horns once more. Father Shreed ignores the women's superstition and ploughs ahead. "Them Kreegs, they're the real deal. Full-blooded man-eating ogres from up in the mountains. The rangers used to keep 'em at bay. Used to. But without word from Rannick, my patrols say the bloody things've been roamin' closer and closer to town. I've no doubt that something's happened to the rangers. And all our missing folk. And it's gotta do with those bastards, likely riling up the Grauls as well. I don't know about the Grauls missing their goolies, Miss Priest - but you can be sure that with Kreegs egging them on, them Grauls be swaggin' bowlegged around s'if they'd sprouted ten more down there."

Father Shreed makes a spitting motion to his side, while Eilnda pretends she hasn't heard, looking solemnly up at the rest of you. "Kreegs or Grauls - frankly, I don't care. If you can stop those monsters - all of them - we'd be much grateful. You've only to ask - any of us can show you the way in the forest."

For Brin
As far as you can tell, Emon's not over his injuries. If he was left out exposed to the elements for a few days, he's likely to take some time to fully recover, even if you heal his physical wounds.

[Desril]

Setsuna

It wasn't good news, but it was a goal. Something concrete she could do to help people, a direct, obvious objective that the tiefling had been lacking since Xanesha's death. There were plenty of people to help in Magnimar, of course, and she'd done what she could on the barge, but it wasn't the same as knowing there was a monster causing problems. There was still the mission to figure out what was going on with the Fort, but the possibility of Xanesha's sister causing issues was still a matter that required investigation and planning and figuring out what to do, which is much different than news of ogre attacks which just needed action.

So Setsuna looks fully resolved already when she nods her head, "We will stop them. We need to go to Fort Rannick first, and figure out what is happening, but we will deal with these ogres while we are there. I do not want to put any guide at risk though, could you draw us a map instead?"

[Miraqariftsky]

"Damn right." Rico says
"A map would be 'ppreciated, aye."

Forwards the note-taking
Forwards the sudden grumbling
Unbidden hunger makes its presence felt

[Bhaakon]

Brins looks back down at the injured man and frowns. All the talking was distracting, and poor Emon was still pretty well battered, even if he was was out of mortal danger. She sees to healing him further--knit the wounds completely so that the man's body could focus on whatever festers had taken hold before he reached proper care.

Then she nods in agreement with Setsuna. "Thash right, a map would be agreeable. Proverbially one showin' how to avoid the Grawls, on account of me not wanting to witnessh some ogrekin shwinging around a bloated bag o' bollucks atwixt hish knees..."

More heals: [roll0]

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Father Shreed squints suspiciously down at Emon as Brin bends over the stricken man once more, still scowling away as she expends a little more of her goddess's blessing for the day. Nevertheless, at the sight of the man's cheeks growing ruddier as the pallor of his several days of exposure to winter rains fades, he gives a grunt of grudging appreciation and directs his nod towards Brin. "Aye. If you won't take a guide, then I'll draw the map meself-"

"There's nobody who knows the Kreegwood better!" Eilnda breaks in, looking meaningfully up at all of you, her voice brimming with local pride. "Father was raised in these parts, man and boy. He's trained all our local lads to hunt and set a trap. Why, he's more of a ranger than that lot up at the Fort-"

The old forester's scowl deepens as he holds up his bony palm before his acolyte. "As was sayin'. I'll draw the map. Most folks here know our signs and the paths, so we ain't got no maps lying 'round. But it been a long day that drained me and you lot saved Emon here. Come by 'gain 'fore noon-meal on the morrow. Best to spare all you ladies the sight of the Graul boys too, if it's diseased goolies you're lookin' to avoid. Now, which one of you's the emissary Eilnda spoke of?"

Shalelu steps forward, offering a short bow from the waist. "That would be me. If you could spare a moment, sir, I would speak a little of how our journey from Magnimar went and hear a little more of your more recent troubles. I'm afraid that the Lord Mayor may have sought to soften the impact of your troubles when he appointed us to help..."

*****

It is now 1900hrs.

Leaving Shalelu to appraise Father Shreed of recent events, the rest of you depart the Erastili lodge - or is that the town hall? - and splash through the mud towards the building with the glowing lanterns that you'd seen earlier. For if Shalelu isn't hungry for something more than the bland stews and sour beers that had been the staple on Captain Amin's boat, the rest of you are, and the local watering hole would be just the place to go.

Even on a wet and windy night such as this one, the tavern seems packed to the rafters, its glass windows fogged with steam. As you approach the stone building that you'd espied earlier, you can already hear the muted buzz of several dozen voices in animated conversation, punctuated by the occasional roar of laughter and the clink and thump of cutlery. It's certainly a cheering prospect in this otherwise dour village that you've encountered so far.

Stepping by the large weathered carving of what looks like the rear end of duck - feathers and webbed feet and all - with the words "BOTTOMS UP" cheekily branded into its rump, you take a deep breath and push open the door. A bell chimes merrily above your head and you are immediately greeted with a gust of hot, moist air, greasy with the crackle of roasting pork. Though the conversation barely dips at the sound of the bell, it is clear that many of the patrons are eyeing your group with undisguised curiosity, making little effort to hide their interest at the newcomers.

After all, as a quick glance around suffices to reveal, the other patrons are largely dressed in the drab browns and greens of hunters and trappers, with a few thick-shouldered farmers still in their stained labouring clothes. While a handful of them have brought their bows and almost every man and woman sports a hunting dagger at the hip, Rico's massive greatsword and Setsuna's katana plainly mark your group as trained warriors. Moreover, as a second, closer glance confirms, there are no other elves or half-orcs in the room, let alone a tiefling or a sylph - which makes your group stick out like a coin in a coal scuttle. Turtleback Ferry's population, if the dinner crowd is of any indication, is nowhere as diverse as Magnimar's, or even Sandpoint's. It seems to consist mostly of humans, a sprinkling of wild-haired gnomes, and - surprisingly enough - halflings.

In fact, there is a broadly grinning one hustling in your direction right now - a towheaded, snub-nosed fellow with a server's tray tucked under one arm like a discus - going as fast as he can wend his way under elbows and around pushed-back chairs. Panting slightly as he elbows someone's buttock out of the way, he draws up short in front of Naya and bobs his head, beaming from ear to ear.

"Fresh blood and new faces, hey? The name's Yads and you're most welcome to me and Thany's little cosy corner. It's full house tonight - but it's pissing buckets out there and me and Thany have never turned no-one away if we could help it. If you don't mind standing, we could find you lot a spot at the bar. And if you want something hot, there's boar on the spit or trout cakes. Or all the lovely warm cider you can drink while my bigg'uns at the bar tells you all the latest jaw 'bout town. What d'you say?"

*****

For Noman only
Your arse hasn't been this sore in years, damn that bony old nag of a horse that you'd spurred all the way to Illsurian. You're quite sure that the ferryman who'd sailed you up the river, upon sniffing out your urgency to get to Turtleback Ferry, had charged you more than the usual fare too. So had that greedy fart of an innkeeper next door. Might his smallclothes drawer be filled with dire fleas to plague his nethers with the itch for a thousand years.

But you were here. The Lady of Graves has always been true in her visions to you - though she's certainly never made you dash about so much before. And so you'd waited at the bar, sipping from the chipped clay mug in your hand, one eye on the door, half-expectant, half-grumpy at all the damned legwork you'd had to do.

When the bell above the door rings this time, you feel it in your body. A faint prickling of hair at the neck. A tingle down your spine and the jump of a muscle in your jaw. Aha- these ones. These are the ones she'd sent you to seek.

Now maybe the bloody dreams would stop.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman, cheep wine in hand and mud on his clothes, keeps trying to rub his aching back, with very minimal success. He grumbles almost inaudibly and seems to be having an one-sided conversation with someone in the sky, even shaking his head. All this has given a somewhat wide berth in the inn, friendly though the locals are.

" grumple...grumple... From my cold pavement to Sandpoint and from there back to Magnimar and then here. If you wanted them so much, you should have found them yourself, my Lady of the Graves. And could I have some nice dreams for once? Just once would be nice... grumple...grumple"

But then the door opens and suddenly the man known as Noman almost freezes, making his already weary neighbors even more weary. For a few seconds, he just looks the party coming in, his eyes darting about. And then he approached them, strangely fast for one slightly limping. As he approaches, he goes from Yuki, to Rico, to Brin, to Naya, to Red, as if he is trying to memorize their faces.

"You! You! Fire in the blood, the Weave on your blade!The Naked Sword!
And you! Strong in the arm, strong in the heart! The Lawmaker!
And you! Drunk, and bloody and the Spire trembles with your steps. The Apostate Beloved!
Here! The Weave in the soul and the storm in your hands!The Daughter of the Wind!
And you! Wait, I know you! The sister of that crazy, deadly cat burglar from Magnimar! You are the Dextrous Steel!"

He stands a bit, closes his open mouth, drinks from the pitcher of wine and looks again. He steps even closer, not threatening, but as if trying to make sure. And he then looks at the sky as if continuing a conversation.

"Happy now?"

Noman shakes his head.

"What in the name of the Spire are you doing here? I rode all over Varisia trying to find you. And my saddle was not even broken in yet.

But I am here. At last. I don't know why, but I was sent here. My name is Noman. No other name. I came to find you and help you."

Gulps some more wine.

"Damn if I know with what."

[Bhaakon]

Brin sidles up to the bar, relieved to find something to lean on. It was getting rather difficult to stand without weaving about like a drunk. Surely on account of spending too long sitting on that barge and atrophying, and channeling the Lady's gifts always did take something out of her, too. Weakened the haunches. Yes, that explained it.

"Oh...boar!" She explains as the publican explains what's available. "A platter pleashe, and yur biggesht mug o' cider to warsh it down." The jug had done its work well, but it had gotten a touch monotonous. Besides, it was rude to bring your own liquor to a tavern. Everyone knew that.

While waiting for her order, the weirdo steps up and starts yammering some kind of poetry about searching and...destiny, maybe. It was hard to parse after a long day of travel and healing. Certainly not on account of inebriation. But she got the gist of what the man said, and slits her eyes in suspicion.

"Yer been followin' us, then?" Her right hand rests not-so-subtly on the stave of her bow. "Alwaysh got to be looking out from smooth-talkers, I shay. And a hint, yer not getting anyone in a bed by showin' the fruit of yer stalkin', eh. Ish right creepy, knowin' sho much 'bout a body when I ain't never heard nor seen no man like yer."

[Desril]

Setsuna

There wasn't much left to be said to the mayor, and the tiefling is happy to trust Shalelu with working out the details and filling them in later on everything that the Lord-Mayor neglected to mention, and so Setsuna smiles as they head back out into the rain in search of warmth and shelter. A smile that turns into a chuckle at the tavern's entrance, the word play on the duck's rump amusing her.

The wind and rain and chill did little to bother the Tian tiefling, but the warmth and merriment of a happy tavern was always a comforting thing to enter. "There are more people here than I expected," she says quietly to the others, having figured that the rain would've kept most people in their homes tonight. Still, she was hardly upset. She was always happy to socialize, a fact that only became more true as she embraced her relatively newfound love of strong liquor. Though seating did seem to be a problem, which the newcomer halfling, Yads, confirmed. But before she could respond to him, they were approached by another stranger, this one eager to meet them, almost as if he'd been waiting.

Figuring that out could wait though. It had been a long journey and the rain may not've bothered her that didn't mean that there weren't more comfortable situations to be in, and so the foreign princess handles the second newcomer as diplomatically as she can, smiling and introducing herself in response, "Hello, Noman. I am Setsuna, but you will have to excuse me for a moment," she says before glancing toward her companions, "I will get our drinks."

Then, smiling down at the halfling, "Thank you for having us. We will try not to make too much trouble," she says with a curious shift of her gaze toward Noman, not knowing what to make of the man, "And standing at the bar will be fine."

Leaving the odd situation to the others, Setsuna swiftly makes her way to the bar, letting Yads guide her to a spot if necessary, listening for anything unusual her comrades might be interested in, assuming they don't all follow along. Learning about the town and making friends would have to wait a few moments though. First thing's first; Ordering the strongest alcohol they have for the tiefling, and whatever her companions were interested in. It wasn't as if gold was a concern at this point, not for the little things in life, and Setsuna was happy to cover everyone.

[jamieth]

Naya

Naya steps into the tavern with uneasy feeling. She, honestly, has no business to do here; maybe only if to keep an eye on Brin... but then, the elf somehow manages to avoid scandals even when drunk. Legendary elven grace, must be.

Anyway, placing an order for a piece of a boar, the sylph heads to the bar when a unfamiliar voice calls out for them

Daughter of the Wind... she ponders that name for a moment, deciding she actually rather likes it; still, it doesn't make the situation any less... strange. "Hello, Mr. Noman - but, I'm sorry, but you seem to know us rather well, but I don't think we - I, at least, don't know you, that's for sure... not that we don't need help, if we're going to head against those ogres, but - perhaps you could explain a bit?'

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"A whole platter! Milady knows her game meats well. A platter it shall be, milady. I'll tell the servers to pile that boar on as high as it'll go." Bowing towards Brin, Yads beckons the rest of you to follow him, clearing the way back to the bar with more weaving, elbowing and at one point, the use of his tray to mischievously smack the prominent rear-end of a grey bearded farmer. It's bold behaviour from one who claims proprietorship of the tavern, but nobody seems to mind to give the halfling anything more than a good-natured swearing, which Yads gamely returns with the cheekiest of winks.

You find yourselves quite literally squeezed in at the far end of the bar by the wall, hemmed in by a group of trappers who nod respectfully and shift their stools about to give you a bit more room to stand. Brin's platter and any other food you order, as Yads cheerfully informs you, shouting to make himself heard over the din before he trots off to greet another patron, is going to take a while. But the cider is served almost instantly - a Varisian-looking barkeep with her hair done up in intricate micro braids under a tasseled headscarf of gold and scarlet pushes brimming clay tankards filled with dark amber towards you, the heady aroma of rich cinnamon and honey already palpable from across the counter.

It's excellent cider - as those of you who manage a sip affirm to yourselves before that scruffy man pops up out of nowhere. Though it doesn't seem that you're going to get to drink in peace until you figure out what he wants...

*****

Setsuna

At the other end of the bar, you find Yads's partner - Thany, holding court behind the counter with an imposing array of bottles and casks behind her, a pencil balanced precariously on pointed ears bristling with heavy sliver rings that tinkle softly as the halfling tilts her head at you, squinting doubtfully up and down with her beady eyes.

"Our strongest, ye say? We do have a bottle or two... of the special stuff. Traded for it years ago. But 50 gold pieces for a bottle ain't cheap, lil' missy. And it is awful strong. Ye sure ye woman 'nough to handle that?"

*****

Red

Des-trous? Isn't that a word for a big horse? Sister? Red stiffens at the mention of Chanda, instinctively thinking of the neatly-folded kapenia she'd stowed in her pack, back at the inn. Chanda had found her, given it to her, three nights before she'd left Magnimar. One of their mother's, she'd said. Apparently Chanda had swiped the more precious of their mother's things when she'd passed, before their father could have sold the lot for coppers. Not that Red could even remember what their mother had looked like anymore.

If yer grown enough to be farting about like a fighter and breaking yer big sister's nose, yer grown enough to own this now. Take it. She would've wanted yer to haves it, anyways.

Red still hadn't decided how she felt about that. Chanda being nicer now that she'd been beat up. Rico had seemed preoccupied recently. Talking to Setsuna was out of the question these days. Perhaps it was time to learn to think about things on her own. But there was still the question of who this man was...

"H-he is... a disciple. Of a... gutter priest." Suddenly remembering that humid summer night years ago, when Chanda was still teaching her the trade and had started trading insults with an old man living in a wooden box by the main plaza, Red blushes a darker shade than her hair. Those had been some very salty insults, all right. And this one... he'd been there too, in the alley behind the box, hadn't he? When Chanda had started laughing and offered to buy them all a drink...

[Desril]

Setsuna

Pouting at the implication that she's not up to the challenging, Setsuna puffs out her cheeks and nods. "I am sure I can handle it, but if it is special then everyone should get something," she says, reaching into her pouch to dig out fifty-five gold coins. "For the 'special stuff' and a round of cider for everyone," the tiefling isn't exactly quiet about it, but she doesn't raise her voice to make a scene, genuinely just trying to do something nice for the crowd rather than buy their favor.


50gp for the strongest they've got, and 5gp covers the 4gp cost to get cider for everyone including the cooks and bartenders with an extra 1gp tip

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

At the very mention of sweet-talker, Noman looks as surprised as if someone called him a three headed butterfly.

"Well, I never... I haven't been so surprisingly insulted for years! Now, these folks have the right of it: Suspicion, guarded cordiality, remembrance of my time with the gutter priest -which is a refreshingly insulting way to speak about the greatest theologian of this era- this is how it should be!"

Then, the mention of the free drinks hits the room and Noman smiles, revealing an ugly, toothy smile

"That's more how I like it! Innkeeper! One round on everyone's table of your cheapest wine! But swiftly, before the other woman's order, because I want them to appreciate before tasting the good stuff."

Noman throws some gold coins to the nearest table and then lowers his voice.

"Humans and demihumans alike are stupid. They will drink everything.

As for your questions: You all have the right of it. I am Noman, a dog and all around unlikeable person. I tend to say the truth, you see, and enlighten the unwashed, oblivious masses. But first and foremost, I have been pledged to the Lady of the Spires herself that I will do what others cannot or will not do. Demihumanity is stupid, but is all we have.

The thing is, the Lady knows and the Lady sees all. And for the last few months, your images, your auras have been intruding upon my dreams night and night again. The Lady can be as subtle as sledgehammer sometimes. So I have been trying to find you. She wants me here, though now that I see you up close I am not sure why. You seem rather capable to me.

Nevertheless, here I am. It is my pledge, my askesis, and the only thing a dog of a person like me is worthy of doing."

When the drink arrives, he takes a long hungry pull out of his wine.

"I have forgotten how thirsty work is to talk so much. Now, I can stalk, I can follow, I can see when people are lying -which is all the time- and, more importantly, I can shoot arrows. Lots of them. And since the Lady wants me here, here I will stay"

Another drink. And then he says with a satisfied smile.

"This stuff is truly mediocre. "

[Miraqariftsky]

She'd bowed her appreciation
But for further coordination
Tomorrow still remains
Delays... such pains.

On entering the tavern
Supper's scents do burn
Up Rico's nostrils flaring
Nods at Yads in brief greeting.

"HRRRmmm. Smallbeer. An' lotsa milk.
Bit o' boar. Woteva veggibles an' bready stuff. Iffen ye please."

She glares at the madman in some concern
Should his gaoler-to-be soon yearn
For the mental ward or just
The drunk tank, must?

On hearing Noman further
Her ears stand straighter
Nostrils flare a breath rocked
Amber eyes stare wide, shocked

She glares but for now, observes
Holds her tongue for now, energy conserves
Grabs at Setsuna before she goes
Gives her a grimace that into a small smile grows.

"Hellgirl. Wotchadoin'. Is good. Don't forget the... prayer to Cayden.
An' GORRAMMIT, be fookin' CAREFUL wit' yer drinkin'. Wossa-wossa, just right's just fun, but to excess is too much, as good ol' Fox said."

She turns back to the strange-speaking stranger. Doesn't scoff.
Had similar visions as well, might be time, procrastination to doff.
She sets her glare upon him again and drums her gauntlet on the table.
Sets him a little test, in part from sentimentality, in part to see of what he's able.

"Arright, dreamer. Ye SEE anythin' else 'bout a priest o' the Lucky Drunk? Or a COUPLA schmott as all hell wizards? Or a brave punchy guy, Pharasmin like ye?
Hmm... How about... an old guy wi' knives in 'is hands, nuts in 'is head and doin' searchin' likewise, just like YER doin'?"

[ProudGrognard]

She'd bowed her appreciation
But for further coordination
Tomorrow still remains
Delays... such pains.

On entering the tavern
Supper's scents do burn
Up Rico's nostrils flaring
Nods at Yads in brief greeting.

"HRRRmmm. Smallbeer. An' lotsa milk.
Bit o' boar. Woteva veggibles an' bready stuff. Iffen ye please."

She glares at the madman in some concern
Should his gaoler-to-be soon yearn
For the mental ward or just
The drunk tank, must?

On hearing Noman further
Her ears stand straighter
Nostrils flare a breath rocked
Amber eyes stare wide, shocked

She glares but for now, observes
Holds her tongue for now, energy conserves
Grabs at Setsuna before she goes
Gives her a grimace that into a small smile grows.

"Hellgirl. Wotchadoin'. Is good. Don't forget the... prayer to Cayden.
An' GORRAMMIT, be fookin' CAREFUL wit' yer drinkin'. Wossa-wossa, just right's just fun, but to excess is too much, as good ol' Fox said."

She turns back to the strange-speaking stranger. Doesn't scoff.
Had similar visions as well, might be time, procrastination to doff.
She sets her glare upon him again and drums her gauntlet on the table.
Sets him a little test, in part from sentimentality, in part to see of what he's able.

"Arright, dreamer. Ye SEE anythin' else 'bout a priest o' the Lucky Drunk? Or a COUPLA schmott as all hell wizards? Or a brave punchy guy, Pharasmin like ye?
Hmm... How about... an old guy wi' knives in 'is hands, nuts in 'is head and doin' searchin' likewise, just like YER doin'?"

His drink in his hand, Noman addresses the warrior.

"By the Spire, ain't you big?

No. I don't see anyone else anymore. I used too see other people. The Lady of Judgement can be cryptic at times. There was once the the Knight of Pharasma, early on, but he faded some weeks ago. And I used to see the Brave Drunk. But he faded too, right after I tried to catch you all in that small town, how was it called...

Sandpoint. Yes that it.

I don't know what it means that their auras do not come anymore. And I still don't know your names! Or what I am supposed to do here, and I have been travelling on horseback for many weeks.
But now drink, on me. Money is an illusion created by assent, but assent is a powerful force on its own. This is the best worst wine you can find in 30 miles direction"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Setsuna

For a second or two, Thany blinks and squints even harder at you, then raises her brows and flashes silver coated teeth at you, reminding you for a brief second of sharks that you'd seen hung up for sale at the coastal markets. It's a gesture you've seen often enough in your travels, perhaps too often. It was the smile that people made when they weren't quite sure what to do with the crazy foreigner but had decided that your coin was as good as any other. "Your death wish, young lady. That's awful generous of you, either way. Eh-up!"

Snatching up a ladle from the counter, Thany bangs it vigorously against the base of the various cast iron pots and pans hanging from the wall and ceiling. Amidst the resultant clang and clatter, a small cheer immediately goes up from around the tavern's main room, with several patrons craning their necks down the long tables towards the bar and all three of the barkeeps raising a slow fist to the ceiling in acknowledgement - a practiced gesture, it seems, to signal the purchase of a round for everyone in the house.

Shouting instructions in Varisian down the bar, Thany then proceeds to ignore you, slipping off her stool and toddling off towards the cider barrels, armed with several large tankards and jugs in her meaty fists. Instead, it is the Varisian-looking barkeep who had served the cider who materialises in front of you, holding a bottle wrapped and knotted with plain silk in one hand and a jug of cider in the other. Giving you a quick nod of the head, she proceeds to set both bottle and jug down on the table, but not before noting your katana and the rest of your outfit with cordial interest, craning her head over the counter so that she can get a closer look.

"Minkan, are you? Konbanwa, then." Bobbing her head in a cursory bow, the barkeep stoops to retrieve a large pot of honey and from under the counter, whistling tunelessly to herself. "The lady boss said to serve you and make sure you don't pass out. Or worse. Last person to order the special nearly ended up going for a midnight swim in the belly of a gar," she says cheerfully, reaching for various nearby spice jars and an empty mug. "First time taking the green fey then?"

Knowledge (local) DC 13
Turns out that you've just ordered a very, very expensive bottle of absinthe. Which you probably should not try to drink neat.

*****

Setsuna owes the bar 55 gp. Noman owes the bar 2 gp 4 sp. Anyone who's ordered food pays 4 sp to Yads. Drinks are currently free (since Setsuna and Noman have ordered cider and cheap wine for all), but if you order anything more, you'll need to pay for it yourself.

*****

Red

He knew. He knew about Sirus and Mister Fox. Red frowns, narrowing her eyes as she cups her share of cider, appreciating the warm curve of the ceramic under her palms. But anyone who had asked around in Sandpoint would surely know about them. That still didn't prove that he could be trusted. Maybe he was a spy from the fat mayor. And was pretending to be stupid by saying that he didn't know what they were doing here.

But there was something she could ask. If this... Noman... was really dreaming dreams sent by the Lady of Graves, he was really here to help them, then he should know.

"... M-mister Noman. If you have seen... the B-brave Drunk. Then you will... know what he d-did?" Red looks up abruptly at the grubby stranger, her jaw set and a spark of defiance flashing in her dark eyes despite her stutter.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman frowns and takes another gulp.

" I don't know what you are talking about, Steely. I haven't seen him. But I do now that something is strange with you. In my dreams, your aura was strange. Like you owed Fate her dues, if that makes sense. But the Lady in the Spire had a hand on it, I wager, because she doesn't mind.

You are a strange group. And I am used to be the strangest person around.

So what is it that brings you here?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

The Minkan tiefling smiles at the Varisian woman, bowing slightly, pleasantly surprised at being greeted, if only briefly, by her native tongue. "Minkaian o hanashimasu ka?" As nice as it is to use the language of her home, however, she quickly reverts back to Common, "I am sure I will be fine. It is just a little drink," she says fully confident in her ability to handle it and any rogue fish she might decide to drunkenly pick a fight with.

Nodding her head, "It is. Usually I am offered brandy, or whiskey, but I wanted to try something stronger." It wasn't her fault Brin made her think about mutant, over-sized ogre ball sacks. The fact that she didn't know what ogres looked like did nothing to improve the mental image. But it was definitely an image she wanted to drink to forget, and this seemed like a fun solution. There was something else to do first though. Rico is right. We should honor his memory.

"But first, we should thank the Lucky Drunk...a friend taught me a prayer once," she says, thinking back to Ciprianno. It was strange, she'd known the Caydenite priest for only a few days, but his loss still hurt her to think about. At least until she remembered that he sacrificed himself to give Red another chance, and that he'd want them all to be happy. It's in his memory that she recites a simple prayer, honoring Cayden Cailean and her fallen friend.

Once that is done, however, Setsuna quickly proves that she has no idea how strong this 'green fey' is, and tries to pour herself a cup without any attempt to dilute it.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

He knows that too.

The tips of Red's ears tingle as she exchanges glances with Rico, wonder and worry mingled in her eyes. If this Noman could see the deal that Mister Fox had made with Pharasma, to give up his life for hers, then maybe he was really sent by the goddess. It was a funny story he had told them. But that was how life could be at times, couldn't it? And if Chanda, suspicious bitch that she was, had liked him enough to share a drink with him and his master-in-a-box...

"We are h-here to... look for the rangers. At Fort R-rannick. They may be... in trouble. W-we killed c-cultists. In Magnimar. T-the Fort was... m-mentioned in... ah, c-cultists' things." Red says aloud, looking down at her mug, then up at Brin and Naya, wondering if that was all right to say. He didn't need to know about the souls and Xanesha and the runewell thing yet, did he? And if he was lying... well, there were more of them than him.

"A-and my name...is Red. N-not S-steely." Picking up her drink, Red offers Noman the edge of her mug, making an effort to look the man in the eye. Handshakes could wait until he had proved himself. "T-to Cayden. And his f-faithful."

*****

GM post

Setsuna

The barkeep laughs and shakes her head when Setsuna tries addressing her in Minkan, the micro braids under her scarf swaying as she retrieves further glasses and vials from the shelves behind her. "Nah. I only know a few words here and there - enough to say hello, order some food, swear... which is all you really need, hey? Used to travel all over the world with the family wagons as a kid."

Watching as Setsuna unwraps the slim bottle of poisonous green before trying to uncork and pour on her own, the barkeep grins and leans over the bar to pluck it back out of the tiefling's hands, resting a gentle hand on Setsuna's own to forestall any attempts to get it back. "Easy there. The green fey's little, but she's something fierce. You gotta meet her proper. With ceremony. Watch."

Bardic Performance - Dance (Fascinate): (1d20+16)[23] vs Setsuna's Will save: (1d20+5)[18] - performance succeeds

With a deft twist of her wrist, the barkeep sends the bottle of absinthe pinwheeling high into the air. For a split second, anyone watching might have expected the drink to crash and splinter on the floor - but no - for she snatches it back out of the air with deceptive ease, only to send it whirling back upwards, this time with a coloured vial of fiery orange grasped in her other hand. Indeed, the bottle nearly seems to float as the barkeep tosses and spins it around her person with trance-like calm, bouncing it first with the edge of her elbow, then balancing it on the flat of one palm while her other hand swiftly twirls and mixes spices, upending the contents of the vials into the cider jug in a miniature blaze of colour. By the time she lets fall a single honeycomb cube into a small brimming brass cup beaded with cold and pushes the lot towards Setsuna, she has gained a small audience of patrons, who clap and whoop appreciatively.

"Now you drink. Go slow, mind. If that don't get extra blessing from the good old Lucky Drunk, I don't know what will." Almost chuckling, buoyant with adrenaline, the barkeep sweeps up stray strands of hair that have escaped from her scarf during the performance with her fingertips, smiling dreamily at Setsuna.

Hey, I'm allowed to make an NPC juggler archetype bard for the bartender. Just enjoy. :smallsmile:

*****

Everyone else

For those of you who haven't gotten distracted by the small show that Setsuna is getting over at the other end of the bar, the arrival of the food you'd ordered is a pleasant enough diversion. Yads hadn't been lying about piling up food on Brin's platter - Brin's plate is easily twice the size of the rest of yours, nearly spilling over with pork ribs crisped with garlic and pepper, leaving almost no room for the side serving of herbed potatoes cooked in their skins.

"Kiani's really something, eh?" pipes up Yads happily at Naya's elbow, jerking his thumb towards the barkeep serving Setsuna. "Business was so bad last several months with that Paradise boat around, me and Thany were crackin' our heads trying to think of how to get folks back to our little place. Then she and her family passed through, looking to shelter for a while and make some coin with the shows. Had to pay her a pretty penny to stay behind, but she picked up the drink mixing quick. Well, Paradise's sunk now - good riddance to foreign rubbish. And Kiani gives folks something to cheer about. Pity them rangers ain't been showing up... you'd think a pretty girl who can put on a show like that would get those stiffs outta their cold fort and down to town, even with the Paradise gone, no?"

[jamieth]

Naya

Looking worriedly at Setsuna, sylph wonders whether she'll have to make sure the tiefling won't cause a scene either... How did it happen that I became the responsible one, anyway? - but then the bartender's show makes her lose that trail of thought. Seems miss Setsuna's in good hands, she nods to herself, reaching into her relatively bottomless bag and fetching a handful of coins. Two little hurricanes conjured in quick succession deliver four silvers to Yads, and the rest of the stack - with a single platinum in there by occasion - to Kiani, accompanied by a smile and a cheering gesture.
So after paying 4 sp for the food, I found myself sitting at the ugly sum of 5013,4 GP, and decided there was no reason not to round it down to something more manageable :-) BTW, Fascinate was only aimed at Setsuna?

Turning her attention to Red and Noman, she nods, approaching them and joining the conversation, "And it's possible the orges are working with... or for... the cutl's leader... though even if not, they deserve a good lightning for what they've done to people here. And a good blade, and, well, a good arrow as well, I think", she extends a hand to Noman for a handshake.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Whether it's the bartender's cute face, smile, or literally magical performance that does it, Setsuna can't help but stare while the drink is mixed and nod her head at the suggestion to drink slowly. She does have the entire bottle after all, there wasn't any particular need to guzzle it down, and she could use this as a chance to gather information too. It was, after all, at least part of why they were here.

Thanking Kiani, whose name she still didn't know, "So what can you tell me about what has been happening lately? We have heard a little and we are going to Fort Rannick tomorrow, but is there anything to watch for other than ogres?" While waiting for an answer she takes a drink, slowly, as instructed, and her eyes go wide. Even watered down it was much stronger than the cheap brandy that Rico usually offered her, and it tasted far better. Normally she drank to get drunk, but this one she was going to enjoy the journey too. Smiling, "This is..." she blinks, struggling for the right word and eventually settling on "really good, please you should try some, you made it," she says, offering the bartender a drink.


Diplomacy to gather intel/flirt! [roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

Huh. Well. We're already inside a building out of the rain. Looks like I'll hafta ask Red to return that loaned hat later.

Hmm. He didn't dream of Mandraiv, Taladron an' Simatzu. Hmm. Cipriano an' Sirus are spot-on, though.

Well... dunno if Sirus IS well-an'-truly dead, but... close enough?

Sombre, Rico stares at Noman and touches the brim of her wide helm, nods respectfully and says. "They's dead. They died heroes, fightin' against incredible foes, savin' their comrades an' countless innocents. Peace be on 'em."

"On you, eh?" Rico nods slowly, then raises her goat's milk in a toast, then quaffs half the flagon right off. "To absent friends. Never forget."

"Speakin' o' not fergettin'..." She frowns as she slides a dagger towards Noman, hilt first. "...no offence meant. Seriously. But please. Gimme a little couple little cuts on yer arms. I ain't cruel 'nuff ta ask fer cuts on yer hands, dem's bad fer business. JUST need ta see if yer blood is red.

What? We tangled wi' face-stealin' fiends a while back. Tis de blood wot tells."


Not quite subtly, her left hand quirks towards the ominous bulk of some massive weapon, still shouldered, still strapped, but not entirely safe. She smiles thinly, meeting his gaze, showing him her sincerity.

She nods slowly towards Red and Naya, saying to Noman, "Aye, wot they said. Der's a whole DAMNED lot o' hellwankery thattaway, but dey's said de gist of it."

Snorting over the edge of her tall glass of goat's milk, she says, "The name's Constable Rico. At yer serv..."

Spotting Setsuna's sensational debauchery from the corner of her eye, she groans and stuffs her gob with gravy-soaked barley bread, the while, massaging her throbbing temples. Is THIS the right time to tell them? Hellgirl deserves to hear it too. But, holy friggin' hellsteeth. Being sober, or trying to be... holy crap, waddaheck. Lookin' at her an' Brin now... Was I =THAT= bad?

Getting up, and cradling her tankard of smallbeer in one hand, she stretches, rolling her shoulders. "KOFF. 'Scuse me, sorreh. Need me a little fresh air."

Passing by Red, she leans close to her scarlet-framed ear and whispers, "Dunwurreh. Just... a little favour iffen ye please. Tell the others we needs ta git a little bit o' serious meetin' done afore we all pop off ta sleep tonight. Thanks."

When she finds Yads, she presses one gold guilder into his hand. "Thanks fer the food. Commlimends to da chef."

Pausing, she says, while fishing out one more gold piece. "Keep de change fer THAT, dunwurreh. But could I get THIS one broken down? Silvers, iffen ye please."

Outside, just within the fortunate shade of the awning, she leans back against the wall and sighs, simply staring at the pouring rain, basking in the numbing cadence.

Funny. Used ta worry with the rain. Nice contrast, though. Helps ta forget. Though... FUNNY. Might well be that I'd helped lead Setsuna down 'er sottish path. Buggerin' hell.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

The barkeep, catching sight of the glint of metal in the air, scoops up Naya's coins and acknowledges the sylph's generosity with a flamboyant blown kiss. Turning back towards Setsuna, she quirks a slim eyebrow and demurs with a firm shake of the head. Perhaps it is simply the alcohol, potent as it is, going to Setsuna's head. Or the lingering allure of the performance. But the barkeep was unusually pretty for a Varisian - lithe of limb, smooth of skin, a sleek, angular cast to her face, and worst of all, eyes the colour of warm brandy that you could lose yourself in if you stared at her for too long...

"Would be bad form to drink my own work while on duty, darling. But I'll take that cider you bought for the house." Drawing herself a half mug, the barkeep takes a careful sip from before setting the cup down again and studying Setsuna intently, tapping her fingers on the countertop as her gaze lingers on the tiefling's collarbones. "So you're the help from Magnimar, I'll take it, if you're heading up to thataways. 'fraid I can't tell you much. I'm new enough to the Ferry myself. Would go out for walks when I'm not working the bar, but Thany's insistent that I don't go wandering until the rangers come back. Too many folks gone missing in the past weeks and all that bad luck with the Paradise sunk to the bottom of the lake... I can tell you, my da' wrote me first thing once he heard of all that. Said he'd had my nan read the cards and that things were all murky, told me to come back to the caravan. But I don't believe in all that superstition - do you?"

[Desril]

Setsuna

Briefly feeling guilty about her offer, the rejection being perfectly logical, Setsuna listens but bites her lip as she tries to answer. "We are, but the Lord-Mayor did not tell us how bad things truly were here, and I still do not understand why he delayed us for a week," she sighs before turning her attention to Kiani's question. "And I know that true seers are rare, and their warnings are...cryptic, but they should be listened too...but we have dealt with worse things than ogres, and I already promised to deal with them as soon as we find the rangers," she explains while continuing to drink. "What is in this?" she asks amazed at the concoction, mentally kicking herself for not having experimented more with alcohol over the last two years.

[Bhaakon]

The platter of boar wasn't going to eat itself, nor the vestigial side-offerings squeezed onto the edge of the plate for that matter. No, Brin had ordered a double portion, and she planned to devour the entirety before the group passed out this evening. And the way Setsuna was throwing back the expensive stuff, that might be sooner rather than later.

Brin herself, an experienced enthusiast of strong beverages, hardly ever indulged in the top shelf offerings on her own coin. The bottom shelf stuff got you just as drunk for a pittance, after all, and with plenty left over to spend on, say, roasted boar. She watches Setsuna experiment with the local liquor with some amusement as Yads brings food and the free round. If she were slightly more sober, she might wonder if the tiefling was about to do something that would get them all thrown out of the tavern, much like how they weren't welcome in a certain shop in Sandpoint anymore.

"Fanks a lod, Thethuna." Brin looks up from gorging herself on aromatically spiced ribs and swallows down her mouthful of meat with one long pull of cider before offering a belated toast. "To toplessh warriors and bottomlessh drinks!"

But something the barkeep said reminds Brin of what they're doing in town. Specifically, that letter they'd found. The newcomer's odd sense of fate and aura and what not demanded attention, but there was some pressing business at hand first.

"Er, Master Yads. The Paradishe, whose barge wuz it, anyway? Don't suppose the owner survived the sinkin', or any of them who worked the boat?"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Brin (and anyone else listening in)

"Nay, milady. Took the entire crew and all the souls on board down with her. Good two dozen folk, may the gods have mercy on 'em, none got out in time. In a village this small, you feel the loss of everyone worse." Yads sighs heavily and draws a perfunctory Pharasmin spiral over his jacketed breast, before leaning in towards Brin with a conspiratorial air.

"Now her owner you say? Foreign lady from Cheliax. Called herself Lucrecia, but Cayden turn me wine sour if that was her real name. Real strumpet that one - just showed up over a year back, strutting 'bout town with flesh showing and tarting herself up and down the main street. Drove Father Shreed nuts, but she wasn't breaking no laws by Old Deadeye's count. And that gambling boat of hers was right popular too - even had some of those Black Arrows down 'most nights."

Sense Motive DC 14
Yads doesn't really seem all that cut up over the sinking of the barge. And he really doesn't like this Lucrecia. Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that the Paradise, as he mentioned earlier, was a direct competitor for business.

*****

Setsuna

"Honey. Cinnamon. Anise. Cider... And you're lucky that your barge was carrying fruits for us to juice." Counting the ingredients off on her fingers, the barkeep cants her head to one side and grins, folding her arms. "You're a cocky one, all right. I've lived on the road most my life - ogres are just about the one thing you do not want meet on a dark night. And you say you've met worse? Do tell."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Making note of everything in the concoction, a note that will likely be drowned by the alcohol, Setsuna smiles and nods, "I would be happy to, but some of them might require some background."

Thinking back, she briefly wonders where to start, but ultimately there was really only one area that made sense. Her trip across the Crown of the World was actually pretty boring, all things considered, but ever since she arrived at Sandpoint it's been one adventure after another. "Well, first, about two months ago, Sandpoint came under attack by goblins. They are not threatening, but since I had to fight in the middle of town without my top and it was how I met my friends it stands out in memory," she admits. "And that they were being led by an aasimar who was empowered by Lamashtu and her comrades, they and the yeth hound that was with them were more dangerous than a couple of ogres...I tried to stop her without a fight but it did not work," she says with a hint of regret and takes another drink before continuing. "But they were just trying to reach a barghest that the goblins were worshiping that was trapped in a secret room on the island...we fought him too, but..." pausing she takes a long look at her drink, "If not for a friend's sacrifice we might not have survived. Maybe if we were to fight it now things would be different, but we were too weak then."

Then, almost like an afterthought, she continues. "...and after that we were attacked by a large group of ghouls and ghasts while hunting for a ghast that retained his mind but went insane, although I think maybe the haunted house was more dangerous than he was."

Shaking her head to ward off the bad memory that just hit her, "The ghast was just being manipulated though, so we tracked down the leader of a cult that was controlling him from Magnimar...there were several things there but I suppose the only ones that were stronger than ogres would be the leader and the backup it had when we fought her. That was a difficult fight," she says with at least a hint of modesty, thinking about how badly some of the others had been injured, and how hurt she was by Xanesha earlier that morning. "While the others fought an angry flesh golem and gargoyles, I fought the lamia matriarch that was leading them," she explains, describing the details of that fight as she recalls them, though of course she remembered the specifics of her duel with Xanesha in more vivid detail than what was happening with the others, and she neglects to mention the encounter she'd had with the lamia earlier that morning.

Having continued to drink all through her explanations, and into the story now, the tiefling continues on revealing a bit more than she probably should, "And after we dealt with her, we found a note in the lamia's room from her sister who said she was here, but the Lord-Mayor delayed us for a week or we would have been here sooner."


I'm bad at talking up fight scenes. Dice, save me!

Diplomacy [roll0]

And I assume given the amount she has there to describe and that she was drinking the whole time now she needs a save [roll1] (+2 more if alcohol counts as poison, which I argue it does)

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Overhearing Brin talking to Yads, Noman 's ears almost twitch as he feels the undercurrent of what was actually being said. Turning to Yads, he says

"You don't seem that distressed with the Paradise 's sinking. I know, competition is never good, but was it something else too? And about the Black Arrows, you say there were some there? Did they also get lost when the boat sunk?"

[Bhaakon]

"Prolly lost a buncha regullurs when it sailed into town, eh?" Brin adds. "Shame they cannae sidle back up tur the bar. I'd offer a shurvice, but wiffout no bodies...." She lets her words trails off. Not really having much more to say on the subject, she grabs another rib to nosh on. It takes some serious will power not to suck on the bone once the meat was entirely gone, but she manag...oh, dear, no, she's gnawing on the bone. A part of her notes how unsightly was was. She quiets that part by licking her greasy, garlicky fingers.


"Anywash, yur right to distrust one wut wanders into town dishplaying her wares like that." Brin says, once she's done cleaning her digits. Belatedly she glances at Naya and recalls her own previous advice, if a bit hazily. "Least if she's also selling sumfin. Now free ish another matter entire. I means, if shompfin needs...lewd entice-o-mation to sell, itsh prolly a scam."

[jamieth]

"Why do people care so much about what one wears..." Naya mumbles mostly to herself, "As long as it's comfortable... It's how one acts what matters... but", she adds louder, "How did the Paradise sunk? I think... well, you said it yourself, Master Yads, whatever disagreements you had, Lucrecia wasn't breaking Erastil's laws, so why would He sink it just like that? And otherwise, boats rarely sink on their own... even if it was poorly built, and start leaking water, well, it would take a while, won't it? Certainly long enough for someone to escape... Of course, if there was a fire... but in such a weather, I don't think it could start on it's own - surely it takes effort just to keep firewood dry... or if something... or someone... hit it underwater, strong enough to make a large hole... what I'm saying, what if it isn't an accident? If only there was a way to get there and look at what remains of the boat..." the sylph shakes her head, "No, no. Orges are more urgent case. And the Black Arrows... we'll head to Fort Rannick first thing tomorrow. Right?" she looks over her companions - including Noman, an ally unless proven otherwise.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Setsuna

Kiani's Sense Motive: (1d20+10)[28]

At first, when Setsuna goes on about goblins and yeth hounds, the barkeep's grin stiffens, the condescending quirk of her brows as she looks down and studies the back of her fingernails giving lie to just how much credence she gave to that sort of tall tale. However, as she speaks of Cipriano's sacrifice and of her own regret, something in her earnest yet pained voice seems to catch the barkeep's attention and breaks through the professional demeanour of brisk yet polite indifference. Shifting her weight from heel to heel, the barkeep now watches intently, her gaze by turns concerned or impressed as Setsuna describes her battle with Xanesha in all its intimate gory detail and continues to throw back her drink with abandon.

Finally, when Setsuna breaks off in the midst of revealing her true reason for being in Turtleback Ferry, the barkeep chuckles, dusting an imaginary speck of dust from the counter and unable to entirely disguise the slight tone of nervousness in her voice. "I'd ask if you were making all this up, but you're an open book, darling, and I don't just mean the colour of your skin... A lamia, huh. Now that's something to brag about, all right." Leaning in closer across the bar, the barkeep's eyes gleam the dark amber of smoked whiskey as she studies the hollow in the tiefling's throat where the pulse flutters, taking in her trim waist, her slender shoulders. "You don't look strong... but forgive me. The strength of the warrior lies not in her arms but in her heart... is that not a saying from your country?"

As she speaks, she rests a hand cat-like on Setsuna's arm, raising goosebumps where her fingertips trace skin.

Sense Motive DC 10
Why yes, you are being seduced. The barkeep is probably more interested in seeing you with your clothes off than in hearing more about Minkan sayings.

Setsuna also fails Fort Save, gets more drunk. She gets a +2 morale bonus to physical stats for [roll0] hours. Any additional alcoholic intake within this time requires Fort saves at a -2 Morale penalty.

Player to also make a Perception roll in OOC thread, results will only be given if DC is met or passed.

*****

Everyone else

"Competition is never good - why friend, tis' sheer understatement. That stinking Lucrecia and her bloody boat nearly bled me and Thany dry. Can you imagine this very hall, without all the people, without all this food, empty for months and months? Less than a dozen of me neighbours who felt sorry for me, taking the cheapest beer? We definitely lost all them regulars." In his excitement, Yads forgets for a moment that he is trying to be discreet, making an expansive sweep with his arms at the room around you and pounding the counter with the flat of his hand so hard that Brin's plate of ribs rattles. "Orlandi - that's the innkeeper next door - he and I were on the verge of packing up and moving to Illsurian. That's how bad it was," he mutters with an exaggerated shiver, his affable patter lowering to something approaching a growl.

"I wouldn't know if any Arrows were lost that night. Fact is, if it weren't for some of our crack hunters tromping home real late at night, we wouldn't have known it was a sinking - no fire, no screams. 'cording to them, 'twas at the Shimmerglens across the lake at the third hour, got to shore just in time to see the last lanterns on the Paradise going out and the boat sliding under with this god-awful gurgling noise like some big creature burping after a banquet-like. You're right, missy. There's a handful who say that it's all Erastil's judgment, but I call all that porky-pies. Good Old Deadeye's got better things to do than strike down some city girl who's flashing more breast and leg than a fat chook. If you ask me, some monster - Pinkeye the gar or even that Black Magga - was what dragged that boat down to the bottom of the lake. We did try to send some of the fisherfolk - our best divers - down to the wreck to see if we could get the bodies back up for burial. But they kept getting attacked by giant gars... damned fish. They make tasty eating for dinner, but the giant ones druther have us for dinner as well."

Sighing aloud, Yads mops his forehead with a crumpled blue handkerchief, before using the same to dab at a wet spot on the counter and looking up at Brin. "Don't suppose I could get you lovely ladies and gentlemen more cider?"

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman drinks a bit more and then starts rolling a cigar, with tobacco as fool smelling as was his wine. He light it up and says wonderingly.

"Mighty strange, though, to have a whole ship sink and not hear a sound or a cry for help. Someone should have been aboard, no?

I wonder if perhaps we should pay a visit to this ship, now or after the Fort. Strange things are being set up. First the sinking ship, then these ogres I keep hearing about and now the rangers vanishing. I can see at least two of these things being connected, the rangers missing and the ogres getting more confident, but the ship... I cannot fathom."

[Bhaakon]

"Aye, aye, more cider!" Brin answers, downing the last third of her mug in one gulp to make room for a refill. She waits for Yads to go fetch the next round before she turns back to the others. "Well...I wassunt gonna check, but tis true that's mighty propitious. I s'pose I could ask the Lady to let ush go an check the wreck first thing in the mornin'. Nuffin like a bracing shwim and some hair o' the dog to warsh away a night o' revels."

She was pretty sure as to what she'd find there, of course--this 'Lucrecia' probably performed that sick ritual before scuttling the barge--but maybe pulling up the bodies, whatever little remained of them, would buy some good will in town. And if not, maybe it would get her back in with Pharasma. The failure of her last harrowing still stung a bit, and the newcomer's claims of prophesy were squeezing lemons over that wound.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Even with the alcohol running through her, Setsuna's enchanted tiara made it easy for the tiefling to notice the barkeep's more overt flirtations. Blushing, she nods her head and repeats the phrase in Minkaian, trying to remember that there's another reason to be in this bar than drinking and losing herself in the eyes of the pretty bartender. "And there is more to strength than being able to punch hard," she says, puffing out her cheeks and pouting at the implication that she looks weak. "Speed and precision matters more."


Setsuna doesn't know how to react, and is drunk, clearly I have to have her look foolish :smalltongue:

I'm assuming I failed that perception but I'll edit otherwise.

[jamieth]

"Well, miss Brin... I would think the barge won't go anywhere for the next few days... of course, ogres likely won't go anywhere either, but there's a difference - the barge... likely already killed as much as it could, so leaving it alone won't make matters worse. Orges, on the other hand..." the sylph sighs

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Swiping a leftover potato from Rico's plate, Red gnaws it and considers their options, tracing circles on her knee to help her keep track.

They could go look for the wreck of this Paradise boat, which definitely didn't sound as though it should've sunk on its own. She could swim too - it'd been one of the few pleasures of childhood. And she could swim good. But they weren't here for that, they were here for the Fort. All this ogre business... Shalelu had been saying so since they'd ran into that giant turtle that all of that was no doubt tied up with the missing rangers. She'd rather not have to handle both ogres and missing rangers at the same time. But if that's where they were going...

"I think... we s-should go to the Fort. But i-if we are g-going to look for the boat... I can swim, so I will help... with that.." Though Red is barely tall enough to see over the rim of her mug, her voice catches in her throat, faint patches of colour rising to her cheeks as a chance turn of the head allows her to catch sight of Setsuna's antics over at the other end of the bar. What in hell-?

Somehow, she didn't think Setsuna was going to go to whatever meeting Rico had in mind for later. Or even back to the inn. Unable to quite hide the flash of rage that fleets across her face, Red chucks what's left the potato back onto the plate and nods at the others, anger honing her stutter into unusual coherence. "I think I will go back first. Tomorrow will be a long day. Good night."

Ignoring the sharpness of her tone and quite forgetting to mention Rico's meeting, Red downs the rest of her cider so fast that it spills down her chin and drips onto her collar. Recklessly tossing her dues to the bar on the table, she turns her back on the others and stalks out the tavern, relishing the bite of the cold air and rain outside as she slams open the door.

*****

GM post

As Red leaves, Yads toddles back with a brimming jug of cider, evidently pleased enough with your attention to have decided to serve you himself. Heaving the jug onto the counter next to Brin with a grunt, he proceeds to clear the dirty plates, giving an appreciative whistle at the sight of how clean Brin has picked the ribs.

"Say, if you lot are gonna go a-roaming, you might want to nip by missus Wenda's store on th'morrow. Rains came bloody early this year and it's a good five hour hike up to the Fort. Seven hours, if you've got me kinda legs. You don't wanna be caught without good preppin' - happens every year, someone gets delayed and stuck out there for the night. We've got all manner of wolves and beasties out there, not just bigfolk."

*****

Setsuna

"Why, do you have another story about that? Still, you're not wrong. There's more than one way to win a fight. And not all fights are on the battlefield, after all."

The barkeep brushes a stray strand of hair behind her scarf, still holding Setsuna's gaze with her own. As she speaks, her fingers drift up Setsuna's forearm with agonising lightness, following the path of her veins.

"I don't suppose... you're willing to hang around a while? It's damned busy here at the Bottom these days. But if you can wait, we could talk some more later, once I've helped Thany close up for the night?"

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

"I can swim, but bows do not work all that well underground. And I don't like being wet all that much. Just saying. But after the trouble I went to find you, I will be damned to Grotus if I leave you of my sight"

Noman spends the rest of the night eating, drinking cheap wine and smoking, observing the banter around him but making little contributions, apart from snide remarks and too-straight answers. At last, he curls just in font of the fireplace with his satchel as his pillow and falls fast asleep right next to a dog. The dog seems to not mind the company.

[Miraqariftsky]

Having had a nice stint in the evening air
To dispel the alky-scents sending
Her nose into disrepair
Rico re-entered, stretching

She took the scene at a glance, understanding quickly.
Hellgirl, you moron! The FRAK are you...?
She'd groaned and reached for Red in passing. Missed horribly.
Not cared one whit 'bout Red's feelings, didja? FRAK. Hope you BLOOD-CHECK her, AT LEAST.

Knowing that the last time Setsuna'd come closest
To outright perishing was by Xanesha's subterfuge
Rico took it on herself to step in,
Grabbed her by the scruff
Whispered harshly,
"Hellgirl. Sayin' dis as a friend. Yer dun... stupid. In more ways'n one...
...But iffen yer rilleh gunna do dis... do a gorram blood check at least. Who was't who near killed ye last an' ain't ye learnt yer bloody lesson? Do we need Sirus dyin' again afore ye learn some minimum proper paranoia?"


Fixed the barkeep with an ever-doubting glare
Briefly considered smashing a bottle over Setsuna's head
Then snorted and lumbered out into the grey weather's fare
Worried for her friend, briefly considered knocking on the door of Red

But decided it's better, for now, to let tomorrow judge
Still not trusting the locals, set her spear against the door
Midway through trap preparation, realized she could do yet more
Talk with Naya, maybe, and guard her door...

...but felt the grey weather dragging at her bone
She set herself down to armoured slumber, with a groan.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Either too drunk or too distracted to care about Rico's less than pleasant warning, Setsuna just waves her off, telling the larger half-orcess that she can take care of herself and offering her a cup of her own, much stronger than simple cider drink, "You have to try this, it is...really good! Will make you less nervous," she says before turning her attention back to Kiani and nodding her head. "We were going to head out in the morning so I am free tonight."

[Miraqariftsky]

Setsuna

Either too drunk or too distracted to care about Rico's less than pleasant warning, Setsuna just waves her off, telling the larger half-orcess that she can take care of herself and offering her a cup of her own, much stronger than simple cider drink, "You have to try this, it is...really good! Will make you less nervous," she says before turning her attention back to Kiani and nodding her head. "We were going to head out in the morning so I am free tonight."

Previously still, apparently!

Having darted to the offered drink, Rico's eyes had widened in surprise at Setsuna's retort. A sad little shadow at the back of her mind shakes its head at how far the tiefling's vaunted compassion and empathy had fallen.

She licked at her lips. Her throat ached for the offered liquor, the thirst stronger than ever. Then she coughed harshly, panting shallowly, breathing heavily.

Nervous my arse! Who the fookin' hell wouldn't be nervous or afraid after all we've been fookin' through?! YE. STUPID. LITTLE... gaaaaahhhh!

Eyes like yellow moons narrowed into a dark glare. Her nostrils flared as she snorted in Setsuna's face, blowing the latter's fringe askew. Her teeth grind as she represseed a seething rage she'd hardly ever felt for a friend.

"Fine. Be it on yer own damned head.

Ma'am Maethilur. I bid ye a good evening."

Her hand darted for an empty stein...
...then crushed it into a little mess of pot shards.

"When the flip-flying-frig-frakkin' arse-monkeyin' hellwankery was the last time I fookin' drank in fookin' earnest? I've been gorram sober fer nigh on two months now! Red's right. Dis ain't worffit."

She turned and flipped a gold guilder carelessly behind her as she left. "Harriers fer the cup. Keep the fookin' change."


HMMPH!

Damn.

Just when I thought we had a quiet 'nuff night.

Just when I was screwin' up ta TELL "EM... well... THAT. Frak everything. Tch!

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Everyone else

Judging from the faint creases above his brow despite the perpetual beaming smile across his face, Yads is none too pleased about Rico breaking one of his cider mugs. Still, the gold coin to pay for the damage doesn't go amiss. Bowing low with his tray hugged to his chest, the halfling proprietor wishes you all as excellent an evening as the buckets of rain pouring down outside will allow and makes his escape, quickly scurrying over to serve yet another massive plate of ribs to a table of apparent regulars.

For those of you who chose to linger in the tavern over your mug of cider rather than turn in for an early night, you find the villagers of Turtleback Ferry to be a friendly enough if rather reserved bunch when it comes to strangers. Perhaps it is the general suspicion that those of the Erastili faith seem to have towards city dwellers, or perhaps the recent spate of tragedies has simply put people on edge - all those missing patrols and hunters that Father Shreed spoke of, not to mention that most suspicious Paradise sinking, would add up to several dozen people to be presumed dead, after all.

With the glaring exception of Yads and his barker's patter, the villagers are content to converse cheerily and raise glasses with each other, leaving you to huddle over your own drink in silence. As the crowd begins to disperse for the night, you can't help but notice that when they rise to leave, they go in groups of three or more - never alone - and with every person armed with either stave or dagger in hand as they don their cloaks.

*****

Day 57: Neth 18, 4707

0700hrs.

Red

Sleep hadn't helped, hard as it had been to come by. Meditation - the way Rathi had taught her, thumbing her rosary beads, focusing on calming her breathing - hadn't helped either. Red had woken in an agony of tense muscle, her neck stiff and her heart still clenched tight in her chest, her blanket tangled about her legs. Turning onto her back, she stares up at the ceiling of the small room, hair rumpled and her hands already half-curling into fists.

She shouldn't be this upset. A woman had the right to choose, after all. There was no use in getting mad over something like this. Even if Setsuna had lied a little. And what good would it do to be angry?

Red makes a feral noise in her throat and closes her eyes, feeling her pulse throbbing above her brows. There was only one way she knew how to feel better when every fibre of her being screamed and wanted to hit something. And that was to actually go out and hit something.

Hauling herself out of the relative comfort of the warm bed before she can change her mind, Red stumbles towards the water basin, scooping up water in her palms and knuckling at her eyes. Ten minutes later, she stands outside Rico's door in full armour, rapping as loudly as she dares at this hour in the morning. When the door does open, Red merely looks up wordlessly at her friend's sleep rumpled visage, holding up her sheathed kukris in a silent plea.

*****

Everyone else

It is now about 0800hrs.

Unless you were that soused with drink the previous night, the incessant drumming of rain on the inn's wooden roof and windows had made difficult to fall asleep, leaving you to toss and turn uneasily in your bedroll. No matter how you might have told yourself that it was only rain and extraordinarily heavy rain at that, there is something almost sinister about this constant vibrating patter that rattles the window panes, punctuated only by the mournful sigh of the winds through the trees. Without any way of stopping the sound, there is little for you to do but hunker down into your pallet, waiting for sleep to take you. (Or in Noman's case, to curl up a little closer to the comforting warmth of the innkeeper's aged bullmastiff, oblivious to the stench of wet fur and the dog's bad breath.)

When you do awaken the next day, the first thing that you notice is the silence, pouring into your ears, like a balm so soothing that it takes you several seconds before you actually comprehend the reason why. As a quick glance out the nearest window will verify - the rain has indeed stopped - for now. Though the storm clouds still cluster grey and menacing over the village of Turtleback Ferry and thick grey fog wreathes the surrounding forests, at least now you can see the village itself - a cluster of pine-built cabins and stone lodges scattered along the rocky shoreline and bordered by fields of cold, hard earth. Beyond the rickety dock where you'd landed last night, Claybottom Lake gleams the colour of a polished blade and despite the early hour, a single ferry already plies its way across the wind-ruffled waters.

Should you venture downstairs to the main room of the inn, you find the innkeeper - by name of Orlandi, if you recall Yads' gossip from last night - busy attacking the floor with a besom of heather switches, though he takes care to sweep around his slumbering dog (and Noman, if he's having a lie in). Upon seeing you awake, he creaks his jaw into a toothy smile and absent-mindedly uses the dirty rag tucked into his apron string to wipe his hands.

"Your elf friend was up and about. She went off for a walk, I think. Eh, hot drink and some grub for you? There's tea and dark beer, bread and fresh fish, if you fancy it."

Sense Motive DC 14
The innkeeper seems rather more genial and in fact, oddly sheepish, compared to last night. He seems to be feeling a little guilty about something.

All players, please make a Perception check in your next post. Except for Setsuna.

*****

Setsuna

Setsuna awakens in a bed that is most definitely not the one in the room that Naya had so carelessly paid for her to occupy last evening.

It takes a moment for events to fall into place for the tiefling. And then the answers to the questions - of why her head hurt so much, where exactly were her clothes, whose tanned arm was so casually draped over her bare hip, and just what what was this terrible soreness and dried slickness between her thighs - hit her all at once, with a speed that leaves her heart pounding so fast that it feels like her ribs might shatter and explode outwards.

Next to Setsuna, the barkeep mumbles indistinctly in her sleep and snuggles in a little closer under the wool blanket.

The barkeep - no, her name was Kiani. The tiefling had breathed the name often enough last night - in the midst of breathless, almost pained whimpers that had built to a crescendo of sobs, teeth clenched, fingers digging into the sheets and into the pillow of a muscled thigh. It is difficult to remember everything - just how much of that excellent drink had she had? Moonstruck laughter, stumbling to Kiani's room, the tremble of lips - warm breath down her neck, between her breasts, along the scar at her belly - fumbling at her hakama straps - the tease of a skilled tongue as her back arched and she'd writhed on the bed, moaning, pushed her in for more -

Ah. There you are. Alcohol does have a tendency to dull your connection with me. You did know that, did you not? Maethilur's voice rings more than a little frosty and it's not just the effects of the terrible hangover.

Even with the blatant disapproval of the black blade and the ache in her head, it is difficult for Setsuna to ignore the stunning beauty of the woman breathing softly next to her, legs still entwined in hers. Kiani's body, save for the red marks clawed into her shoulder, is flawless in its smooth, olive skinned glory - the regal face, the firm arms, the taut belly - and it'd been all hers for a night. The tiefling cannot help but gaze, eyes travelling almost greedily over the woman who had taken her maidenhood, until she spots it - at the joining of the collarbones, just above Kiani's breasts, is a small tattoo of a familiar seven-pointed star, no larger than a platinum coin.

Come on. Do you really need the GM to identify what that symbol is by now? :smallamused:

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

As the man Orlandi starts sweeping, Noman shoots up, bleary, looking at him. He composes himself, pats the dog and is ready to go freshen up and have the cheapest breakfast he can when Orlandi speaks to him. Noman then approaches him, his eyes having a sudden and rare intensity.

"You are being sheepish and sound a bit guilty. What happened?"


Noman has a Vow of Truth and a Charisma of 8. This I depict by being straightforward to the point of rudeness, and unmindful of basic necessities, both physical and social. Just saying!

[jamieth]

Naya

The sylph spends her night mostly staring out the window; not that there's lots to see, within the narrow range of her nocturnal sight, besides the rain gradually slowing down, but it's not like she has anything else to do... and the side effect ends up being that, by the morning, she's eager to do something - anything - just for the sake of doing something. Still... "Miss Shalelu left? I wonder... well, she can handle herself... tea would be nice, thank you very much", she smiles, looking around to check if anyone else is up.

Sense Motive rolled in dice thread; 7
Perception: [roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

There are few things more relaxing
Than a good sweat in the morning
Moreso if 'tis with an old comrade
Clearing out the cobwebs of sad

Ironclad walks beside 'nother
Light on her feet and a-saunter
Rain's cease--- an unbidden relief
Belly grumbles 'gainst hunger's grief

"G'morn. Good brekkist. Sky clearin'. Eh..."
Rico smiles thinly, scowling at the sky still grey.
"Hope this don't jinx it... But I wonders when the next crap'll come."
At their host she nods. Waiting for the meal, her fingers on the table do drum.

"...Hmm. 'Round how long ago'd she left?"
When he comes again, she asks, gnawing mystery's weft.


W'elp! Sonnet! That was fun.

Sense Motive? [roll0]
Perception? [roll1] <---ARE YA GORRAM FOOKYEN KEEDEENG MEH? Hawly cwap!

[Desril]

Setsuna

The rest of the night was a blur, and when Setsuna finally woke up, things still weren't very clear. Were she of sounder mind, Setsuna might have taken the first moment she opened her eyes that morning only to be blinded by the ambient sunlight through the window to have sworn off drinking altogether. Instead, however, she simply winced in pain and moved to cuddle up against the woman next to her, ...Wait...

Her eyes go wide before she hears Maethilur's voice and starts to remember the more intimate details of the last night. A million thoughts and none clash around inside the tiefling's head as she stares at the bartender, trying to figure out what to do in this situation, and where to go from here when she spots it. The Sihedron?! Why, no, there has to be a reason! She was far too hungover and distressed to be subtle though, and she quickly shakes Kiani awake, all worries over what happened last night pushed away by the more immediate concern. And though she doesn't shout, Setsuna's question manages to hurt her own ears and she promises herself she'll go find some alchemist's kindness as swiftly as possible, "That tattoo, why do you have that?!"


I spent way too long trying to figure out how to respond here. I'm not proud of it, but I didn't want to leave it until tomorrow.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Everyone else

Red's Perception check: (1d20+12)[31]

Returning from the kitchen with steaming cups of tea and a communal platter of fried trout cakes at Naya and Rico's orders, Orlandi winces a little at the intensity of Noman's stare. "Eh, good sir. No need to rag on a fella like that," he mutters, lowering his head as he carefully steps around Noman to set the food and drink down. "Well... truth be told, yeh. I... could've charged the rest of you good folk a little less last night. It's usually two gold sails for a room, see. Business has been just so damned bad without the Arrows down to visit... but Yads came by late last night. Had a word with me. Didn't know you lot were the ones from Magnimar. Wouldn't have been so hard on you all then. I'll just count the five gold from the fair lady as good for two more nights, hey?"

The innkeeper grins nervously as he speaks, wringing his hands on his apron. The bullmastiff, having been roused by Noman's petting, limps over to its master on arthritic limbs and nuzzles his knee, a thin whine keening from its throat. Stooping to rub its smelly ears, Orlandi nods appeasingly at Naya.

"Ah. Your elf friend, she was up just before sunrise. Said not to go nowhere without her, she did."

For Noman and Red
Orlandi's hand gestures have tugged his clothing awry. As he bends to rub the dog's ears, his tunic rides up, exposing the flabby roll of flesh at his paunch and allowing you to catch the barest glimpse of what appears to be a poorly done tattoo of a seven-pointed star.

Red should know what this is by now. Noman saw this last night on someone else.

*****

Red

It'd been a while since she'd sparred with Rico. Sure, she'd been pummelled good and proper - it'd always be hard for her to fight, being so small. Rico had blatted her aside with the shield like nothing, like she'd been swatting flies almost. She ached all over from being hit. Like she'd been punished. But for some reason, that felt right. Felt good. She'd take that for what it was.

Steam rising from their bodies as they enter the inn, Red almost smiles at the innkeeper's suggestion of a hot breakfast. She is already reaching for one of the trout cakes when she spots the ink on the innkeeper's hip and her heart skips a beat.

Leaving the trout cake where it is, she instead grips Rico's arm, squeezing just a little too hard in warning. All the same, her voice comes out more worried than harsh.

"M-mister. That t-tattoo... where did you get it?"

"What? Tattoo? I'm sorry, I don't get what you mean." Orlandi immediately straightens up, tugging his tunic back into shape as discreetly as he can.

Sense Motive DC 10
Already feeling guilty about having overcharged all of you, Orlandi's bluff doesn't go so well this time. He's clearly not telling Red the truth.

*****

Setsuna

At being shaken, Kiani frowns and growls under her breath, releasing her embrace of Setsuna to clap her hand over her ear instead. Cracking open an eye, the tiefling catches a faint glimmer of annoyance before the barkeep firmly shuts her eye once more, intent on getting back to to dreamland.

"...Ehhh. You never seen a Varisian with tattoos to Desna before?" Her voice is thick with sleep, clearly none too interested in the question or its importance.

Roll for Sense Motive.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman is satisfied with the explanation. So, he lied and overcharged. That is humanity for you. But then, several things happened.

"That tattoo, the seven pointed thingh? I saw it yesterday in that other fat man. Does it have some significance?"

He turns to breakfast, eating steadily, quite determinedly and almost mechanically everything, as if someone has threatened to take it from him. At the process, he makes sounds of contentment.

"This Shalelu, she is the ranger that came with you? I can try and track her if you like. The rain yesterday would have made the ground easy to leave tracks"

Then, the innkeeper speaks again and Noman stops eating and focuses on him again.

"He lies. Again. He knows something."

[Bhaakon]

It takes an effort of will and strength for Brin to pry open her eyelids. She knows from experience that the light, whatever filters into the room through the drapery she hopes she closed the night before, will sear her retinas and drill back into her skull. She also knows that the gummy concretions of an inebriated slumber seal and cements her lids in place.

Eventually she manages to drack one open just enough to grope for her jug. Just a sip. That will calm the pounding. She tells herself, before hauling the crockery vessel up to her lips for a lengthy guzzle.

Most of the events of the previous night are a haze, though she vaguely recalls a rather forward stranger with an obvious pseudonym and some suspicions about a sunken ship. And boar ribs.

After much reflection and stretch, she eventually extricates herself from the bed, dragging her carcass to the water jug for a long pull and a quick wash before her morning prayers. She loads and lights her pipe, the usual censer for the calming influence of her preferred fragrance. Having refilled her supply in Magnimar, she isn't cheap with the leaves.

And hour later she emerges from her room, her advent framed by a billow of stale smoke, and saunters downstairs to pick over whatever remains of the morning meal.

She hears Noman speaking as enter the common room. "The Sihedron? That's the symbol of the ones we've been chasing. The cult of killers, monsters, necromancers." She says. "Why where'd you see one, er...No-name, was it?"

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Wordlessly, Noman gives the suffering Pharasmin an Alchemist's Kindness.

"Never travel without them. No self-respecting drunk does."

He then focuses back on track.

"So that is the Sihedron. This is the second person since I got here that has it. Are they all cultists? He does not look like one to me."

[Miraqariftsky]

"Good job, Red.

W'elp. KNEW quiet's too good ta be true."

Rico rises in a clatter
Into the table, gouging grooves
She snorts like thunder
And towards Orlandi, like a storm, moves

Though part of her crows about finally
Having caught the enemy wrong-footed...
...There has yet to be overt hostility
Nor must hospitality be first violated

"Orlandi. Please. Remain. CALM. We... NEED... to TALK with you."

Suddenly listens to a niggling realization
Flips out her trusty notebook
Leafs through the logs of bloody investigation
Groans at a certain truth, nigh-forsook

"Brin. Partial correction. Tis their sign, arright, but not on the perps. On their vics. Their gruesomely murdered vics."

Rico composes herself and carefully sits
Between Orlandi and the door
Not a suspect, but still keeping up their wits
In case he bolts, can't let things get wrong more

"So. Master Orlandi. Let's talk us some tattoos, eh? Tell us about yours. Please.

All y'all else... Is everybody accounted for? Well... gorrammit. Where the frak is Hellgirl? ...dammit. Hope she ain't gettin' murdered again."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Unfortunately, this wasn't the sort of situation in which shrugging off an answer with an obvious lie as Kiani attempted would work. "No, it is not! That is a Sihedron! It is how people were being marked for the ritual to siphon their souls! It is half of the reason that I am here!" she exclaims, the hangover taking a backseat to the more immediately dire issues, "Why do you have that?!"

Should the barkeep express disbelief, Setsuna quickly scrambles out of the bed, rutting around through her hastily discarded belongings to find the medallion she'd been wearing, taken from Xanesha's body.

I do not know how to play a hangover >.>

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Everyone else

GM rolled for Rico - Diplomacy: (1d20+2)[20]

Most, if not all, of the talk about cultists and the Sihedron goes over Orlandi's head. Like a rat in a trap, all the portly man can focus on is the most immediate danger in front of him - that is, one looming half-orc female clad, cuirass clanking ominously with each step, who looked as if she could crush his skull under her armpit like a melon.

"Fine! Fine- I do have a tattoo. Just a little one." The innkeeper spreads his hands in what is meant to be a conciliatory gesture, somewhat assured by Rico's words though still clearly alarmed at how she sits between him and the door. "Got it several months 'go, when that bloody Paradise boat first sailed upriver. Like - at first I'd gone over to see what's what and to make nice, see. Figured that we'd get more business all round with something new and exciting in town. Owner - city woman, name of Lucrecia - she told me that if I paid a bit more upfront, I'd get this bit o' ink. Just flash it at the door and I'd skip the cover charge. And get first coupla drinks on the house. Said it was only for special patrons. By Erastil's horns, I never oughta have got the damned thing. Had no idea that big breasted bitch was gonna steal all the customers and bleed me and Yads dry."

Snorting ruefully, Orlandi scowls and massages the back of his pudgy neck, eyeing the rest of you with a shamefaced grimace. "You all weren't meant to see that. It's just me and my two boys now, with the wife lost to the ogres last year. There's others about the place with that same ink. Didn't want my boys to know that their papa's been gambling and allsorts. Nothing to do with murders, eh?"

*****

Setsuna

GM's note: I checked the relevant post (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=21532375&postcount=149). Setsuna made no mention of the Sihedron or the ritual or the runewell process, and I doubt it would have been part of her fight with Xanesha description.

"Darling. I got no idea what ritual you're talking 'bout. Besides. It's my body. I get to decide what ink I want to put on it. You don't get to question that."

Kiani cracks open her eyes again, this time distinctly irritated as she shoots Setsuna a withering glare, her voice flinty. "Look here - my first shift at the Bottom starts at the lunch hour. I need to sleep. Asmodeus can have my soul if Thany finds me late. So either keep it down, or get back to your own bed."

Wow. You are not very good at this, are you? There is the faintest trace of a snigger in Maethilur's voice, which does not help alleviate the pounding headache that Setsuna is experiencing one bit.

[jamieth]

Naya

"So... you're saying every regular of the Paradise got tattoos like these?" Naya asks, "That mean people who were on board that night... they were sacrifices. But... but... it doesn't fit - if that woman, Lucretia, was in a cult, why would she kill herself together with the rest? That is, if she really died... as I understand, no one saw the bodies, did they?"

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman has been following doggedly the discussion. Despite his less-than-stellar appearance, he was not a fool and in fact was wiser than most priests. He started to make the connections: Runes. Cultists. Tattoos. Sacrifices.

Someone has been funneling souls. No wonder the Lady has been involved. His face becomes a bit grimmer. He turns to the others.

"Strange this happening here. I thought you came for those rangers."

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

"We were... But this is... bigger. Than just the rangers." Sighing inwardly, Red finally picks up the trout cake, tosses it from hand to hand to cool it down, then takes a tentative nibble. Then another bigger bite. This was a pretty good trout cake. If the innkeeper had poisoned it, she'd die well fed, at least. But he didn't look like the sort.

"Miss Naya. He said s-special patrons. Not... regulars." But just how many people in town had this Sihedron tattoo then? "Rico... do you have that letter? The one we found... b-back in Magnimar."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Shutting her eyes tightly for a moment to try and blot out the returning pain in her skull, Setsuna groans and tries to explain. "No! It is not....argh," trying to find the right words while emotional and hungover is not easy, and the tiefling struggles for a moment to remember what Kiani does know. "The lamia, she was using that symbol to mark her victims and we came here because we found a letter saying that her sister is here! You are in danger, everyone who has that mark is!"

This doesn't add up though...Xanesha had the Sihedron cut into people and then murdered them, why a tattoo? Unfortunately, the naked Tian princess is hardly in a proper state to figure out their enemy's plans, "You have to come with me, we need to figure out what is going on!"


Diplomacy? [roll0]

[Miraqariftsky]

HNNRRRRR

Partway through the spiel,
An unpleasant upwelling ,
Did the resident orc feel.
Turned on her heel, wobbling.

GANGWAY!

Guarding the "person of interest" forgotten,
Forsook the chamberpots inside.
Too far to be easily done,
Lurched out... made vomit's broadside.

HMBLOOOARRGGH.
gwaaaahhggh.
swaa-HNNNgggghGWWAUUAnnnnBLAAUUUGGHH.
hhhfff... hfff... hfff...

Leant on her thighs.
Retched up a reek.
Bemoans former food's demise.
Stumbles back in, food does seek.

UuuuUUUuuhhnnnggGGGhhh...

Rico frowns deeply, blinking blearily, wiping her face wearily.
Seizes a new breakfast, eating doggedly.

"Sorreh 'bout the interruption. An' sorry 'bout the mess. Sorreh I only got ta tell y'all. Like this. You know the hell we been through the past few weeks. Though. Surprised. Y'all didn't hear. All those other times. Aye, iffen I ain't spellin' it out 'nuff fer ye. I'm pregnant.

SNARF GNARF NOM NGRHF WHARF

Gorrammit. Arright. So...Sorreh fer askin' this...

Roight. Wha'd I miss?"


Rephrased with OOC humour: Sorry for the delay!

Other OOC joke that I missed dropping: "Hey? What do ye have against big-breasted women, eh?"

OOC joke the third: While I do admit to not having read ALL the Sonnets... HAH-HAH! Is there any sonnet out there that incorporates vomit narrative?

[jamieth]

OOC: to save us time, I'll post under assumption Rico does indeed have the letter, and willing to produce it for evidence examination :-)

Naya

"Letter, miss Rico... one we found in the tower? There was something..."" the sorceress was mosty concerned with the part of the letter claiming a soul-gathering operation was going on in Turtleneck Ferry, and only skimmed the part sender spent belittling Xanesha's methods - and still... "Here! Are you still carving sihedron on them as they expire? How crude! My method of marking is so much more elegant." she finished reading. "And, sure, miss Red... special patrons. So... maybe not every regular. Still... likely most people who were on the barge that night were "special patrons"... She, Lucretia, could only do that once, so she likely chose a night the most... sacrifices could be gained..." Naya pulled her legs up on the seat and hugged her knees, contemplating, "A-anyway... those with the marks are in danger... not the danger themselves. But Lucretia... if she's Xanesha's sister - she could look like anyone right now... how do we find her?!"

[Bhaakon]

"Well, there are some spells I could ask the Lady for, but they really only work if I have a suspect who I can actually look at." Brin sputters her lips in frustration. "Maybe if we just start removing those marks from people, she'll show herself? But I don't know any magic that can do that easily--not without cutting them out and healing the damage, but even then I'm not sure. Erm...has anyone new showed up in town since the sinking? Other than us, I mean?" She asks Orlandi.

Then inspiration hits. "That man I healed last night...did he have the mark, too? My memory is a touch fuzzy for some reason."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Setsuna

Kiani's brow furrows in annoyance at Setsuna keeps up the attempt to drag her out of bed. Scowling, she pulls the blanket that the tiefling has recently vacated over her shoulders and wriggles under, clearly determined not to move anywhere for the moment.

"Darling - no. I don't actually have to go with you just because you say so." The barkeep's voice is kinder this time, though the rough edge of impatience remains as she narrows her eyes at Setsuna. Even now, the tiefling cannot help but notice the Varisian woman's beauty - the regal tilt of her jaw, the intoxicating simmer of her eyes. "You're here to find a lamia that nobody's seen, fine. Go do that. I'm here to earn some coin at the bar. Let me do that. If a funny cult person jumps out and tries to kill me, I'll be sure to stick 'em in the craw first. But I'm staying right here."

Sense Motive DC 13
She's not saying so directly, but your gut tells you that Kiani doesn't particularly buy the part of your story that there's a lamia in town. Nor does she seem the type who would volunteer to do something about it even if it were true, if the past minute or so has been any indication.

*****

Red

When Brin mentions the man from last night, Red touches the side of her head, eyes squeezed tight as she tries - and fails - to recall what she'd seen amidst all that blood in the dark. They hadn't been looking for a tattoo last night, after all.

Shaking her head, she glances sidelong at Brin and reaches for another trout cake. Best to eat up, it sounded like this was going to be a long day as well. "No... I did not see. B-but... his wounds. They w-were not... like the ones in Sandpoint."

*****

Everyone else

By now, Orlandi has begun to pick up the gist of what you are all talking about and is clearly rattled by what he hears.

"Wh- How d'you mean by sacrifices? What cult? Do you mean that bloody woman ain't dead at the bottom of the lake with the fishes gnawing on her eyes?" Orlandi's pudgy face turns a distinct shade paler as he totters for the nearest chair, one hand unconsciously reaching for the spot on his hip where Noman and Red had spied the tattoo. Pulling out his dirty rag once more, the innkeeper mops his brow, glances down at the damp spot of perspiration, then anxiously back up at the rest of you.

"Um. No. Nobody new in the Ferry, at least. Last person before you lot would've been Kiani, I guess. That's Yads's barkeep - he picked her up from her papa's caravan 'bout two, three weeks before the Paradise went down." Worry had deflated most of Orlandi's bluster. Wringing his hands, he blinks, then ventures a hopeful smile. "I don't suppose... you could get rid of the er- ink with a spell or sorts? I could pay for that..."

It is at this moment that the door of the inn creaks open and Shalelu trudges back in, her boots caked with fresh mud, eagle feathers in her air askew from the wind, her cheeks ruddy from cold air. The elf arcs a slim brow in mild confusion at the scene before her - breakfast going cold on the table, the innkeeper slumped in a chair and looking worse for the wear, a scruffy newcomer who smelled strongly of wet dog, and the rest of you looking a little grim.

"I was going to say that I'd been around the forest edge of the village and I'd met the tracker from last night - Bethi. She's pointed out the shortest way to the Fort. Said we ought to call on the Father right away for the map he promised. But... you all look like breakfast just curdled in your bellies. What's happened? And who's this?" She nods politely in Noman's direction, one hand resting casually on the leather-wrapped hilt of the shortsword at her hip.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman eyes the elf, for a second his gaze taking a frightful intensity

Perception [roll0]

He then continues breakfast. As he chews, he says

"This is the ranger? And she has feathers in her head. I am Noman. I came because I was asked to come. Now, are we going to the ship or moving on? It seems the ship is right in our doorsteps, but it will be here afterwards too. Does anyone know any tricks to help someone dive or breathe underwater? I am a fair swimmer but arrows do not work very well underwater."

[Desril]

Setsuna

"You can not---it is--" Groaning, but at Kiani's stubborn refusal to come with her and at the pain flaring in between her eyes, the naked tiefling is exasperated, "Fine! I will prove it! Just keep yourself safe!"

Even Setsuna could see she wasn't going to get anywhere in her state. Hangovers weren't something she was accustomed to dealing with, nor lover's quarrels though one would be hard pressed to refer to what was happening as such, but she could still recognize when her words were being written off. In a whirlwind of cloth and steel the tiefling quickly redresses as best she can and nearly walks into the door before stopping in time.

"Please stay safe, we need to talk," she says before darting out the door and moves to try and track down the others, blushing as she realizes she's going to have to explain where she was last night.

It is late...maybe the bar? Someone there must have seen them at least.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Noman's Perception Check
There is little about this elf that escapes your eye. She is young in the eyes of her people and comely enough despite the flint-like set of her face. This is one who is no stranger to hardship, for her leathers are worn, the pommel and cross-guard of her sword nicked and scratched, a visible callus on her palm. She's had martial training for sure, if the pride in her stride and smooth concert of muscle under her muddied cloak is any indication. Definitely someone who'd be good to have at your side in a fight, rather than to have her coming at your throat instead.

She's probably telling the truth about where she's been, given the grass seeds caught in the threads of her cloak and the faint scent of damp earth on her person. (You do wonder about the bow over her shoulder though - it's immaculately cared for, to be certain, but is of much more intricate make and quality than you'd expect to see on an itinerant elf wanderer. It's probably an heirloom of some sort.)

"Aye, I am the ranger. The feathers are to honour my mother." Shalelu says with a solemn voice, giving Noman a hard, questioning look of her own. Apparently deciding that he can't be of harm if none of you are objecting to his presence, she turns her attention to Orlandi, whose smile seems to have frozen in place.

"Good sir, a cup of hot tea and some more bread would not go amiss. Nor would you find me ungrateful if there was honey to go with it."

Shalelu presses two coppers into the innkeeper's doughy palm and gently but firmly nods towards the kitchen. Taking the hint, Orlandi lumbers to his feet and scurries off, his brow still knitted with worry. Once he is gone, Shalelu turns to the rest of you once more. "Ought I presume that there have been, to borrow a phrase from our good constable, developments on our situation?"

*****

Setsuna

Setsuna gets little more than a muffled grunt by way of farewell as Kiani takes the opportunity to burrow back grumpily beneath the covers, not bothering to get up to lock the door even as the tiefling tries (and fails) to shut it quietly behind her.

It is not as late as the tiefling believes it to be. Upon staggering down a short corridor and shoving open another heavy door, Setsuna finds herself at the top of a short flight of stairs, leading down to what would seem to be the backyard of the Bottoms Up tavern. The rain, thankfully enough, has stopped, and the chill of the bracing autumn air helps a little to clear the throbbing fog in her head. Aside from a shaggy hunting dog with a thick chain collar about its neck, guarding a door of a stores shed, there is nobody here to behold her emergence from her night of decadence.

The inn is just over there. A hundred paces to your right. In case you'd forgotten from last night. Maethilur adds, somewhat tersely.

[jamieth]

"There were, miss Shalelu", Naya nods, "We... know why the barge sank. But... it doesn't explain the thing about the rangers at all, and... and we might not have much time... I... don't know. The Fort, and the Lamia - they're both important, but... we can't split our strength. If she's anything like Xanesha... we'll need all out strength to face her. Can't allow anyone else to be turned to stone or... worse... or..." she blinks, "Wait... the last newcomer to the town was that barkeep Miss Setsuna went with?" the sylph jumps up and hurries towards the door, "We have to warn Miss Setsuna!"

[Desril]

Setsuna

Frowning, at the air given the difficulty one has when attempting to frown at a sheathed sword at your own waist, Setsuna tries to respond but her words catch in her throat every time. Eventually, she manages to eek out, "I...did not mean for this to happen...and I did not know that alcohol dulled our connection..." It's not an apology, or even an excuse, really, but it's all she can say.

But there are more important things to deal with. Romantic prospects would have to wait until Xanesha's sister was slain, and so Setsuna swiftly made her way back to the tavern to look for her companions. Luckily, they were easy to spot and Shalelu had just dealt with the potential eavesdropper, so the tiefling wastes no time in delivering her news, "We have a problem! Kiani--I mean, the bartender last night, she has a tattoo of the Sihedron...I think she is in danger, but she will not listen to me."


It probably won't take much of a sense motive check to notice that she seems confused and that any jumpiness or eagerness to act is likely just her trying not to think about something.

[jamieth]

Naya

"We know, Miss Setsuna", Naya lets out an obvious sign of relief seeing the tiefling alive and well, "Those tatoos, they were a mark of a regular at the Paradise... a special customer", she quickly adds before Red would correct her again. "We... think that Lucretia sunk her own boat... and no one knows where is she now... and what she looks like. I... was going to go look for you... I suspected Kiani might be Lucretia. She... she's the only stranger in town, besides us..."

[Bhaakon]

"Lady bless my eyes, that I may see clearly." Brin looks hard at Setsuna, one eye wide and the other squinting as if that would somehow give her a better view of any lingering auras of enchantment. "You don't feel confused, do you? Like, um...your memories don't add up? Something like that? We know that Xanesha wasn't above using charms, magical and otherwise to get the upper hand."

Then she remembers, and glances away quickly. "But I don't need to tell you that. We should see Kiani first, before we do anything else."

Even, sadly, finish breakfast. Brin stands up from the table, favoring her half-eating plate with the mournful stare of a soldier marching away from a young family she'll never see again. Sighing out the whimper of a hungover sailor leaving port on a dry ship--doomed to months at sea without a tipple stronger than stale cask water--as she takes the first step from her morning meal.

She reaches back and snags a pair of trout cakes for the road.

Detect magic on Setsuna, just in case...

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post / Red

Brin's Detect Magic
You do not discern any traces of magical auras on Setsuna's person. If the tiefling has had any magic cast on her since last night, it was not of sufficient power to leave a lingering trace.

It was pretty clear to Red where Setsuna had been last night. But she'd trashed all that out with Rico and she didn't intend to go back to that issue any more. Leaning forward, she tugged on Shalelu's sleeve, her voice low but urgent in its insistence. "The innkeep... he too, had a mark."

"That so. This Lucrecia has certainly been around, it would seem. Especially if she's half as popular as what I've been hearing about. Bethi was telling me - hustlers, con-men, Sczarni looking to make a quick coin, all descending on the town and giving their little volunteer watch patrol groups a big headache. Even pulled up one or two gnomes from the Shimmerglens." Shalelu folds her arms and scowls, her jaw raised and thrust forward. "Bees to a honeypot, moths to a flame. I'll admit that I still don't understand all of this runewell and soul business, but I'm guessing if there was any intent to round up all the greedy bodies in the region... she got them all good, all right. But we don't have time for that now."

Plucking forth the dirty rag that Rico had espied atop the war harpoon embedded in the turtle's side several days ago, Shalelu spreads it across the tabletop with her fingertips, as if afraid to dirty her hands. "We had a good talk last night, the mayor and I. Family business. As it turns out, he is also conversant in the Giant language and was able to tell me the meaning of this." She stabs a finger at the clumsily stitched rune in the centre. "Krig. It means to fight. It also happens to be the war-chant and banner of the Kreeg ogre clan that roams these parts. We already guessed that the bigfolk up here might be causing a ruckus if they were getting organised enough to set up a hunt on that scale. But Father Shreed agrees with me here - if the Kreegs have this banner out, the rangers aren't just silent - they might be as good as dead. Kreegs terrorised this region for years enough to have the forest named after them, before the Rannick rangers pacified them for the past decade, and if the ogres are on the move, with even half-breeds like the Grauls feeling bold enough to start attacking villagers..."

Shalelu pauses to let the implications of this sink in, before taking a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen to ensure that Orlandi hadn't returned yet. "Sihedron markings popping up around the town, it's a sure sign of Lucrecia's mischief, all right. But if we don't make contact with the Fort quickly and find out what happened, there might not be a town to defend at all. Because as good as we might be at fighting, there's no way the six- hm, seven of us can defend this Ferry against an all out assault from the biggest ogre clan in central Varisia. That's why I was out and about this morning. There's little more than a wooden palisade on the borders - a hungry bear could smash through it in minutes, never mind a horde of determined bigfolk with their hooks. When I spoke to Father Shreed, He agreed to do what he could to muster stronger patrols about the town. And for us, we need to get to that Fort - and hurry."

*****

It is now 1000hrs.

There isn't much to do in the way of preparing to go to the Fort. A quick poke of your head out the door is sufficient to appraise you of the fact that there is but one general store and one smithy in the entire of Turtleback Ferry. And neither, if you judged by their ramshackle weathered exterior, would have anything in supply that you weren't already carrying or would be carrying anything worth your time to seek out and purchase right now.

Orlandi the innkeeper does not object when those of you hungry enough to do so snag the breakfast leftovers for the road. Having scurried back in with Brin's requests, the man is too dejected and worried, on top of feeling guilty, to continue pestering you. Upon laying down his tray's contents, he slumps back into the kitchen, from where you hear the occasional clang of an iron pan and the odd heavy thump. (Anyone curious enough to sneak a peek through the swinging doors to the kitchen finds that the thumps are a result of Orlandi pressing his head against the wall in a theatrical gesture of despair - it's almost enough to make those of you annoyed with him for overcharging you feel a little twinge of empathy.)

Once everyone is ready to hit the road, you emerge from the inn to find that the village has finally bestirred itself and risen to work. Out on Claybottom Lake, a cluster of small fishing boats bob up and down, while the bronze clang of a gong in the distance sends a turtleshell ferry boat with outriggers clamped to the shell scudding through the waves with firm, even oar-strokes. The streets remain mostly empty - anyone strong enough to work would be out in the forest or on the waters, after all - with only a tangle of young children playing a skipping game on the porch of the Bottoms Up tavern and some older villagers watching you carefully from the docks, passing a smoking corn-cob pipe between them.

As you squelch your way down the muddy path that runs through the village, you have a surprise courier with the promised map of the land - Father Maelin Shreed himself. By daylight, he appears even more grizzled than ever, his eyes an unearthly shade of sapphire blue. Thrusting a crumpled roll of parchment at the nearest one of you, the old man grunts and gives an arthritic nod towards Brin. "Emon's doing better now, Pharasmin. His wife has much to thank you for, as do I. We don't have much here in the way of spellcasting, there's just me and Elinda, who ain't grown out of her britches yet as far as following Old Deadeye goes. But if you needs a blessing or a little holy magic, or anything in the way of path-finding, we'll do our best. Ask me anything. 'wise, I've got some patrols to see to... gotta make sure them bloody ogres ain't up to no good 'round town."

He give Shalelu a knowing, grim nod.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Shalelu seems quite competent in her assessment. This was good information, and he nods his appreciation to her. Noman is ready to go at a moment's notice. As they go out, he instinctively looks at the sky and the weather. Not bad, not bad at all.

Taking out his bow, strung, he starts to move on, limping very slightly, but somehow moving fast.

[Bhaakon]

"Well, you don't look ensorcelled." Brin sighs after giving Setsuna a thorough eyeballing. She pauses and pops one of the fish cakes into her mouth, chewing the over-large mouthful rather boorishly. "So I guess it can wait until after we see to the fort." She adds, reluctantly agreeing with Shalelu. It was hard to argue against haste with the possibility of an entire ogre clan stirring up trouble. "How many of them Kreeg do you suppose there are, anyway? I mean...are we talking a small army here, because I don't know about taking on whole mod o' giant-kin without sending back to Magnimar for proper reinforcements.

-----------------------------------------------------

Outside, Brin keeps picking at her traveling feast, as many tasty-looking odds and ends as she could wrap up in a large handkerchief. Not that it stayed bundled for long, what with the exertion of traveling from the inn all the way across the modest township, and the sight of people putting in a hard day's labor had always sent her appetite into overdrive. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all, all the more after a three day binge with the attendant hangover. Brin thinks hard on dipping into her jug again, but no, she'd need to be clear-headed for whatever they found at the fort. So the wrapped package of snacks dwindles quickly, a necessary sacrifice to keep her hands, mouth, and mind distracted.

"Erm, thaff's good tur hurr. The words barely make it past a mouthful of honey biscuit, which she hastily washes down with a swig of quickly cooling coffee before continuing. "Let's hope I don't have to take you up on offer, uh, Father." Titles had always given Brin the fits, even relatively informal ones, and she nearly stumbles over Maelin's. "Or provide further...services." Of course, for a Pharasmin that usually only meant one thing.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"No idea. He said it could be anywhere from a dozen to five times that number. Said they breed, I quote, worse than flies on blown carrion." Shalelu replies to Brin, making a grimace at the thought of rotting flesh. "Still, the quicker we move, the sooner we can get a drop on them. They might outnumber us, but I'd wager we'd be able to spy and scout them out all the better then."

*****

In the present, Father Shreed inclines his head gravely in Brin's direction as he steeples his fingers before his heart, a shade of his usual acerbic manner reasserting itself. "I would hope not too, with the Father of Hunters guiding your path. I trust that Lord Grobaras would have sent us canny fighters, not jumped-up nobs what can't tell which end of the filly goes where. Just don't leave the trail I've marked out for you on yon map. You don't want to be running into them filthy Grauls half-breeds now."

*****

Map of lands surrounding Turtleback Ferry (for players' reference)
http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/181767/Turtleback_Environs_Map.jpg

It is now about 1100hrs.

The crinkled map that Father Shreed is limp to the touch, with the sharper-nosed of you catching a whiff of some beast's musk each time you lean in for a closer look. But the marks that that old man has pencilled onto it are clear enough, as is his spidery, stilted handwriting.

"He could've mentioned that it's a trek enough for most of a day. We'd better hope the rain stays off. Good thing you packed all that food, sister Brin," remarks Shalelu, gazing reproachfully at the vistas of slate grey clouds overhead, shielding her hands with her eyes. "Three miles to the nearest bridge and then it's all the way uphill. With any luck, Erastil really will bless our path and we won't have to scramble about in a mudslide."

You set off along the rocky coast of the Skull River to the north of the Ferry, ducking easily through a fungus-eaten gap in the wooden palisade surrounding the village. ("If those ogres attack while we're gone, the whole place's doomed," mutters Shalelu darkly as she stoops and angles her bow to fit through.) The prospect of an imminent long uphill climb after the wooden bridge is hardly a pleasing one, especially to those of you still working through the tail-end of your hangovers. Nevertheless, the going remains manageable for now, as you scramble over ancient lava slag and moss-wreathed driftwood as you make your way upriver, leaving behind the bare patches of farmland that provide the Ferry with its fresh produce.

By the time you reach the bridge - which is little more than several tall conifers with their branches lopped off that have been lashed together and braced on either bank with shallow stone buttresses - most of you have worked up a good sweat, your breath lingering as small clouds of fog before your face. The swirling waters of the Skull River gleam a frigid blue as you clamber over, your nostrils flaring with the scent of crushed pine and damp earth under your hands. The so-called bridge seems sturdy enough to your boots and hands, but you've seen the size of the boulders that lurk beneath the roaring surface of this swift river and it would be best not to fall in.

"Sixteen more blessed miles and we'll find out what happened to our rangers, aye." Thumbing a bead of sweat off her brow, Shalelu readjusts the eagle feathers in her hair and glances at those of you who are catching your breath. "We're by the Kreegwood now. Perhaps we'd best go in formation, make sure nothing gets us by surprise."

GM-rolled Perception checks
Setsuna: (1d20+5)[16]
Rico: (1d20+13)[15]
Noman: (1d20+18)[28]
Red: (1d20+12)[24]
Naya: (1d20)[3]
Brin: (1d20+16)[22]

Shalelu: (1d20+14)[25]

Noman only:
As you leap nimbly from the bridge, your ears prick up. There - on the wind - that animal scream. It puts you in mind of the gutter-cats you've heard serenading each other in the drains and alleys of Magnimar, though the high-pitched note of this yowl is of pain and fear rather than amorous intent.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

Noman spent the journey fidgeting, looking at the sky, stopping to drink water and surprisingly, bemoaning everything but the actual trek. Despite his erratic behaviour, he manages to stay easily at the front of the march. He also develops the habit of using nicknames for addressing people, even when they glare at him... or particularly then. The ranger Shalelu, was the first to be named Feathers. Brin followed with Sliteyes, to underline the fact that her eyes seemed closed after her hangover. He seems undecided about the rest.

As soon as he touches the ground, Noman almost freezes, his fidgety expression leaving his face for one of blank-looking intensity. He turns at the others, making them stop.

"Did you hear that? Something in the wind, like an alley cat in pain. Something... strange."

He takes three arrows out, holding them deftly in his fingers.

He has no Nature points.

[jamieth]

Naya

"I... don't hear anything..." the sylph shakes her hand, "Want me to fly there and take a look?" she looks at the group, waiting for a decision, "If I turn invisible, there shouldn't be any danger..."

[Desril]

Setsuna

The tiefling was uncharacteristically quiet and reserved for much of the trip, rarely speaking up and straying further back and isolated than she usually was, frowning and lost in thought, paying just enough attention to keep up with the group and ocassionally looking guiltily at the ground, Mae, Red, and glancing back toward the town. What am I supposed to do? The grueling trek was actually somewhat pleasant in comparison to the guilt about last night and the uncertainty about the future, since it forced her to keep her eyes on the path and focus, and the brisk air helped in culling her hangover.

So distracted was she that she didn't even realize that Noman was with them until he called out a warning and drew his bow. Making a mental note to ask the others who he was later, Setsuna put a hand to Maethilur's hilt and took up a defensive posture, her face oddly more relaxed than it'd been all morning, relieved at the prospect of a fight where everything was simple and she didn't need to deal with difficult thoughts. Turning to Naya, "No, what if we need to fight today? We will not be close to town, you should save your power...if it is just an animal being hunted we should just move on, but if not we should hurry across," she says looking toward the bridge.

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

It was good to be out and about, to be on the road again. Too much time in that damned boat with the stinky crew. The spar with Rico had gotten her blood up and Rico's shield had knocked the anger out of her. Thus, even with the occasional skid on a slippery rock and the mud pulling at her boots, Red stalks along the riverbank with a faint smile pulling at the corners of her mouth and traces of a skip when she leaps over fallen trees, hardly at all bothered by Noman's constant patter of complaints.

When Noman warns of a sound, Red strains to hear what he hears, glancing with some apprehension at the bristling array of pines ahead of them. "... I hear nothing. W-was it... a wild animal? We should... not split up."

*****

GM post

"A cat? In these parts... a firepelt cougar, I'd guess. Not likely that you'd have anything smaller. Your normal housecat would get eaten by wolves - or worse - in no time at all. Where did you hear the sound? Firepelts aren't aggressive, but running into a hungry one won't do us any favours. Otherwise, Setsuna is right to say we should not tarry."

Shalelu eyes Noman's bow but refrains from unslinging her own for the moment, merely laying a hand on the pommel of her sword as she glances about her with a sharper eye than before.

Perception checks

Setsuna: (1d20+5)[19]
Rico: (1d20+13)[21]
Noman: (1d20+18)[22]
Red: (1d20+12)[22]
Naya: (1d20)[13]
Brin: (1d20+16)[32]

Shalelu: (1d20+14)[15]

For Rico, Noman, Red, Setsuna, and Brin only
No sooner has Shalelu finished speaking when your ears prick up at the sound - the frightened, almost angry cry of a feline in distress. But this time, it is followed up by the distant barks and howls of what sounds a lot like a pack of hungry wolves, presumably on the hunt for this feline.

Knowledge (Nature) DC 12
There is something not quite right about those howls. For one thing, wolves are supposed to be silent when hunting - any one of you who has lived on the road and been reassured by haunting, ululating wolf-song that the pack was far away from your camping-spot would know this.

For Brin only
It might just be the voices that always mutter at the back of your mind when you've been down in the cups for too long. But you would swear that you can actually hear someone singing - a burst of terribly off-key garble that accompanies the howling, too indistinct for you to make out the words.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman


Noman, his bow still almost drawn, looks at the others almost accusngly.

"Well, tell me something, you tree-huggers. Aren' t wolves supposed to be silent and cautious? Because this sounds like more like a Magnimarian tavern fro equines."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Ears twitching at the noise, Setsuna turns to face the woods and puts a hand to Maethilur's hilt, more terse than usual, "Go, hurry across the bridge. I can hold them off if they come this way."

[jamieth]

Naya

"Whoever it is, we really need to get going!" Naya almost runs across the bridge and stops on the other side, facing the rest, waiting for them to follow, "If anything comes after us, better to have them cross the bridge under fire, isn't it?"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"I don't hear anything myself, and I don't know how good your ears are, sir. But caution is always well-advised. Come all. If our newest friend has heard wolves - or worse - then we'd best be on our way. It would not be good to leave Naya alone on the other side. Setsuna, I have your back."

Beckoning the closest of you, Shalelu takes up position next to Setsuna by the log bridge, one hand finally notching an arrow to her bowstring as her eyes scan the surrounding trees. As Noman passes, the elf is careful to meet his eyes and jerks her chin towards the front of the party; she might have picked up nothing herself, but she is clearly taking no chances with the fact that she might have missed something. All the same, when the last of you is across and it is Setsuna's turn to cross, Shalelu leans in closes and mutters low: "Keep an eye on that one. He might be trusted, he mightn't. If he is, every extra pair of eyes and hands to keep us safe on the way to Rannick is a welcome one. And if he isn't... well, you're the swiftest of us. I trust you're not too addled from drink to take him down, are you?"

Clapping a leathered hand on the tiefling's shoulder, Shalelu nods grimly and gives Setsuna a nudge. "Come on, up and over you go."

*****

No wolves or other wild creatures boil forth from the trees to savage your group as you cross the log bridge, nor are you assaulted by ogres as you finally set foot on the winding path leading up to Fort Rannick. (For Noman and anyone else bothering to listen, both the feline cries and the howling seem to have stopped with your crossing. A comforting fact for those who prefer their troubles out of sight and mind, but perhaps more worrying for those of you who prefer to know where exactly you might expect to find your fangs in the dark.)

From here, the beaten dirt trail begins to wind upwards, skirting the edge of the Skull River. The ground here is slippery, kept moist by the constant spray and splash of the river as it surges and eddies against the rocky banks. You feel the flex of the cold earth, slick beneath your boots as you climb, arms out to steady yourself as you push aside curling ferns and stray branches. Fortunately, for the less agile of you, the path soon veers away from the river and into the forest, the roar of the river fading from hearing, to be replaced with the soft chirp of crickets and the wet crinkle of leaves underfoot. The sun has not yet risen high enough to release these woods from the shadow of the massive Hook Mountain, with mist still clings to the tops of the trees, though your path remains mercifully clear for now.

"Imagine if it was raining. We'd probably get washed down the path and all the way back to the Ferry," remarks Shalelu wryly, squinting up into the tops of the trees as some unseen bird bursts into panicked flight at your approach, steam rising from her lips as she speaks.

This time, there is no mistaking it. No sooner has Shalelu finished speaking when you hear the mournful wolf howl, not more than a few hundred paces to your left off the path. Though in these woods, the echoing cry makes it sound more like several dozen of the beasts rather than just one.

[jamieth]

Naya

"Say whatever you may, there's something wrong here", the sylph shakes her head, "Mr. Noman's right, wolves aren't usually that noisy... and, let's be honest, if it's really volves, we... we can handle them. We handled worse. And it's close enough... we'll lose barely any time if we check it at least."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Holding her black blade at the ready and carefully watching the treeline for any sign of movement, ears perked up to listen for the sound of anything coming closer, but thankfully nothing seems to be coming to them, and so she sheathes Maethilur again as Shalelu whispers into her ear and nods her head, "I am...still not entirely sure why he is here. But I do not think he is an enemy...but if something happens, no, I am fine...it is not the alcohol that is distracting me anyway," she answers quietly, still not sure what to do about the Kiani situation. There was nothing to be done about it here and now though, so she shakes her head, "I will keep an eye on him though."

*****

The next leg of the journey is easier, but then she heard the wolves howling. "Naya is right...we should at least see what is happening."

[Bhaakon]

Exhausted by the march--and absolutely not by the throbbing, angry, cold pain beating about inside her noggin--Brin trudges along with the other as she can, doing her best to avoid reaching into her pack for a hit off her jug. The supreme exercise of will keeping her from doing so become a bit easier as the auditory hallucinations start. Singing...no, just wolves and wind. I should relly lay off for a few days, maybe...

And it's a good thing she does, because cross that log bridge and climbing the treacherous path would have been something slightly more dangerous than a simple inconvenience if she were staggering drunk. But staggering hungover isn't quite as bad. She can at least walk straight if she concentrates. It just takes actual concentration, which inhibits her ability to otherwise pay the wolves much mind until their howls seems nearly on top of the the group.

"No...uh...maybe I can take a look without actually going in person." Brin cuts in, then reaches for her waterskin and takes a sip. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes.

Use Remote Viewing ability to scan the area of the howls, if possible.

[ProudGrognard]

Noman

His face suddenly expressionless, Noman turns to the others, bow unslung.

" Would you like me to go have a look?"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post / Red

Red swipes her hair away from her eyes with the back of a fist, giving Noman a firm shake of the head when he offers to go alone. "We should... not split. You are right. Wolves... should not be n-noisy l-like this. Something is... not right."

Brin casting a spell would be a good break from climbing uphill, anyway. Biting at the mouth of her waterskin, Red takes a hurried sip. Being hunted by wolves wasn't a good thing. But compared to everything they'd fought in the past months... wolves weren't so scary anymore. All the same, she'd feel better once they'd sorted out what was going on.

*****

Brin uses domain power Remote Viewing.

The pulsing at her temples and behind her eyes doesn't help Brin to focus as she gathers herself, ready to send her mind's eye in the direction she'd remembered the howl coming from...

For Brin only
Perhaps it is the hangover. Perhaps it is simply the effect of seeking to see from where you have yet to set foot. But your vision wavers even as the outline of the forest shudders into sight, shadows flickering at the corners of your mind's eye, light bending and warping, leaving you with the feeling of stepping into potholes and falling off balance...

There is a wolf. Or at least, fading in and out of focus, it looks a lot like one. A massive beast, bristling with wiry hair. You catch the flash of maddened crimson eyes as it stalks forward, circling, watching.

There is also a man. Trussed up, half-naked and hanging from a tree with his hands bound with thick rope, his ebony skin beaded with dried blood.

[Bhaakon]

Brin blinks back as the vision fades. "What... who would?" She stammers, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs. "There's a man strung up like and offering and...well, something that looks like a wolf. Mostly. I'm not quite sure what it is, but we need to hurry." She explains as quickly as she can as she charges in the direction of the vision.

[Desril]

Setsuna

As soon as she heard the words 'strung up', Setsuna already started to move in the direction the noises were coming from. "We will figure out what it is when we get there," she says in regards to the comment about the wolf-like creature.


Not much to do here other than charge ahead

[jamieth]

Naya

Nodding silently, the sylph rushes after the tiefling, too concerned to remember she can fly. Then again, 'looks like a wolf' can mean so many things. Better not to waste magic.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

For those of you who hurry after Brin, Shalelu's cry to be cautious is barely heard above the rustle of branches whipping at your arms, twigs cracking underfoot into the moist earth, filling your nostrils with the sharp scent of pine sap. Above you, unseen birds twitter in alarm at your boisterous approach and whir into flight. It's hardly the most silent approach, but a man's life - if it isn't already gone - is at stake after all.

Even with the lingering traces of her own hangover, Setsuna remains the more fleet of foot. Nimbly edging past Brin as the latter crashes noisily through undergrowth, the tiefling is the first to arrive on the scene. She bursts into a forest clearing, breathing hard and with her sword at the ready, the rest of you spreading out behind her as you come closer.

Brin's vision hadn't told false. Strung up from one of the taller trees like a hog for market is an unconscious man, haggard and clad in little more than black smallclothes. His dark skin is filthy with dried blood and mud, muscles crisscrossed with thick rope-like welts and bruises. And just several feet from where the man's bare feet hang limp, paces an exceedingly large wolf with wiry grey fur, its muzzle wet with slaver. At your approach, it whirls with uncanny speed, red eyes gleaming and black lips writhing as it barks furiously and snarls, apparently intent on defending its prey.

Map will be provided if / when the need arises.

Heal DC 14
The man's wounds are similar to that you saw last night on Emon. He's likely been at the receiving end of an ogre hook fairly recently - within the past week or so, judging from the scabbing on his wounds. Judging from the gauntness of his face compared to the rest of his body, he's likely been starved as well.

Knowledge (arcana) DC 14
That is no true wolf - the crimson eyes are a dead giveaway. This is a worg - a larger and much more intelligent canine cousin. Capable of man speech, worgs are cunning hunters and have been known to collude with other monster tribes, usually goblins, for their own ends.

Perception DC 13
It takes a bit of squinting - difficult to do with the ravenous beast still before you - but you spot no traces of the Sihedron symbol on the man's body, whether in the form of a tattoo or a wound. Unless he's sporting the symbol under his underwear, on his buttocks or nethers, he's not linked to the Paradise fiasco back in the Ferry.

Perception DC 30 (make another roll)
You almost miss it through the thick carpet of fallen leaves and branches, but just below where the man dangles, you note where the leaves have been overturned, the wet soil just a shade lighter than the rest of the forest floor. There is almost definitely some sort of trap hidden just under the man, though you can't be quite sure of what kind from where you're standing.

[Desril]

Setsuna

Keeping her hand on Maethilur's hilt but not drawing the black blade, Setsuna quickly glances from the strung up man to the worg before him. They were vicious and cunning creatures, but they were intelligent, and that meant they could be reasoned with. Intelligent didn't mean smart, however, so the Tian princess tried her best to keep a calm, level voice, as if trying to keep an animal from being spooked when she spoke up, "There is no need for us to fight, worg. We are going to help this man, but we do not want to harm you, if you leave now in peace there will be no trouble for either of us," she says, hoping the beast takes her up on the offer, hoping Brin hurries over to heal the man before his wounds get the better of him.


I roll to seduce the--:smalltongue:

Diplomacy [roll0]

[jamieth]

Naya

"It's as Miss Setsuna said", Naya nods, seeing that Setsuna realized the beast for what it was, "We won't allow this man to come to more harm, but we don't want to harm you either", she says, raising an empty hand towards the worg... which might not fully convey a meaning of 'I'm unarmed' when coming from a sorceress, but still.

Diplomacy [roll0]; treat as Aid Another attempt?

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Sweet words don't seem to be having any effect on this beast. Ears flattened and its tail stiff with defiance, the worg continues to growl menacingly, even stalking a deliberate step forward in Naya's direction.

"There's no point reasoning with these furred blighters. It's a worg. Whatever it's up to, it's up to no good. And there'll be more of its kind close by - you heard the howls." Shalelu's voice from behind you is cold and brisk with anger. Hurrying up from behind Red, she nocks an arrow to her bow and sights down at the worg's head, ready to shoot at a moment's notice.

[Bhaakon]

Brin squints through bleary eyes at the battered man in shorts barely better than rags, and immediately takes note of a familiar detail--and not the wiry thews highlight by his emaciation, or a lucky glimpse through his torn drawers. "See how ragged the flesh is 'round his wounds? That's the work of an ogre hook, just like the man I treated last night." She whispers. "And he's been starved, long enough for it to show. Why are the ogres keeping prisoner and leaving them tied to a tree in the woods, eh? Some kind of offering? Or are they laying bait for a hunt? Or is it just a game?"

"Something about this stinks fierce, I say. But I don't know what to do about 'cept cut the man down and ask him. And that mutt is in the way." She clears her throats loudly. "You, worg! You going to get your food doled out like scraps tossed to a whimpering lapdog, or do you fill your belly with a proper hunt, eh? Have some pride and begone."

"And if he don't wanna go..." She mutters, unshouldering her weapon.

Hey, it might work... yet another Diplomacy! [roll0]

[jamieth]

Taking what was said in OOC as canon...

As the party's collective call to the beast's common sense makes the worg back away, naya immediately rushes towards the prisoner, and starts untying his ropes.

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post / Red

Red's Perception checks:
(1d20+12)[29] - passed
(1d20+14)[16] - failed! :smalleek:

Naya's Reflex save vs pit trap: (1d20+7)[10] - failed

Shalelu's Attack: (1d20+12)[27], Damage: (1d8+1)[7]

Something in Brin's candour seems to rattle the worg. Even as it curls its black lips and continues to growl through bared fangs at the lot of you, hackles raised, its tail twitches and lowers to the ground - a giveaway semaphore. It takes an uncertain step backwards. Then another. Shalelu, however, is not as willing to continue negotiations.

"Vel, o thyr pyl-" Muttering through clenched teeth, her green eyes glinting cold as jade, Shalelu looses a single arrow at the worg. The feathered shaft strikes the beast squarely in the rump, causing it to yelp in pained alarm. Shying sideways, the worg promptly bolts for the cover of the forest, not even pausing to give a parting snarl.

As soon as the way is clear, Naya rushes forward to deliver the bound man of his predicament, failing to notice in her haste the unnatural disturbance of the leaves just below the man. No sooner does she tread within ten feet of the man, the sylph feels the earth beneath her feet somehow flex and then abruptly break beneath her feet, the world suddenly going dark, filled with the awful din of the snappingand splintering of twigs.

For the rest of you, standing too far to reach, you can only watch in horror as the ground underneath Naya gives way - plunging the sylph into the gaping maw of some cunningly disguised pit.

"M-miss Naya!" Too stunned to even berate herself mentally for having failed to spot the trap, Red barely gasps out the sylph's name. Stumbling to the edge of the pit, she hesitates, then peers over, fearing the worst.

Naya casts Feather Fall as an immediate action.

GM ruling on the use of Feather Fall vs Camouflaged Spiked Pit Trap
According to the PFSRD:

The affected creatures or objects fall slowly. Feather fall instantly changes the rate at which the targets fall to a mere 60 feet per round (equivalent to the end of a fall from a few feet), and the subjects take no damage upon landing while the spell is in effect.

GM will take this to mean that Naya does not incur the 5d6 falling damage for falling 50 feet. But she is still falling nevertheless, which means the spikes in the pit still get the attack roll against Naya. GM has rolled that there are (1d4)[4] spikes in the pit. Since Naya is falling slowly, GM will allow Naya an additional reflex save at DC 12 against each of them to avoid, i.e. 4 reflex saves.

Rolls are all in the dice thread, but basically, Naya is very lucky. Perhaps panic sharpens her agility - she manages to dodge 3 of the 4 spikes but still takes damage as follows for the last spike.

Attack: (1d20+15)[19], Damage: (1d6+5)[11]

[jamieth]

The moment ground disappears from behnd her, Naya brely registers as a threat; she wasn't afraid of falling since she was barely a toddler. So, she only gave an encouraging smile to her companions as she slowly drifted down... and didn't even bother to check what exactly she was drifing towards. A sharp pain in her leg reminded her of the extreme stupidness of that decision... "Ouch! Eh, Miss Red, don't worry, it's not so bad!" she quickly chants a spell and darts up the pit, "We were lucky it was me... if someone actually fell all the way down here..."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Frowning as Shalelu hits the retreating worg, there wasn't a point in being hostile since it was already leaving, but such concerns paled in comparison to Naya's sudden fall. Gasping, she rushes over to the edge of the pit alongside Red to see if the sylph is ok, sighing in relief when Naya calls out. I should've been paying more attention, if I'd seen the trap I could've warned her!

Still, there wasn't a point in kicking herself for long, there was a dying man and a trapped friend to rescue. Unfortunately, she didn't have any rope handy for Naya's sake, so turning to Shalelu and Red she asks them to help get Naya while she and Brin get the man down. The cleric's healing abilities were probably going to be needed, after all. Noman she leaves out only because she doesn't know what he can do and isn't sure where he can help out best, but doesn't object to him volunteering.


Some of you already know this but my computer died last Thursday, so I'm SOL until I get a new motherboard. Will be posting on laptop until then. Sorry for any dip in quality in the meantime :smallsigh:

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post / Red

Red takes 10 on Climb check for 20.

The half-smirk of satisfaction that fleets across Shalelu's face as her arrow strikes the worg abruptly vanishes at Red's cry of alarm when Naya falls, causing her to immediately spin with another arrow readied to the string, cursing guiltily under her breath. Nor does seeing the sylph float back out of the pit a few scant seconds later do much to ease the elf's tension.

"Damnation. My apologies, Naya. This is precisely the sort of thing I should have spotted before you had a chance to walk into it. Sister Brin is right - this whole thing stinks, and the smell's getting worse the more we linger. I've no doubt that ogres are mixed up in this somehow." Giving Naya a brief nod of relief, she immediately glances back at the knot of trees that the worg had vanished into. "I'll stand guard. Get that man down and see what he's about."

Moving the man to safety takes some awkward wrangling - with Naya having sprung the pit trap under him, the poor sod now dangles over a 10 foot wide hole. It is only when Red shimmies up the tree with kukri in hand to cut his bonds and haul him by his wrists out of falling range, that those of you trying to rescue him are able to get him down.

Even in the crisp cool air of late autumn, the stink of sour perspiration and unwashed body hits those of you close enough to the man like a slap in the face. A weeks-old beard stubbles his chin, his wrists raw from the chafing of the rope and some of his scabbed wounds beginning to bleed anew from having been cracked open as you all struggled to get him down. For those of you who think to check his person for signs of the Sihedron, the search turns out negative - aside from older, faded scars, the man's body is free of tattoo marks.

[jamieth]

Naya
HP 13/24

"No, no, miss Red!" Naya protests, landing in front of the pit, avoiding stepping on her wounded leg - and ultimately resorting to floating several inches off the ground, at least for the next several minutes, "I got too careless... A former tomb explorer should no better than to run forward before traps expert okays it! And I did know better, just..." she sighs, "Need to get old habits back, I think..."

"Anyway, whoever left this man here to die... didn't do it for the cult, it seems. Still... that means there's at least two groups making human sacrifices around Turtleneck Ferry?" the sylph shakes her head in disbelief.

[Bhaakon]

Brin hardly takes any time at all to look at the man's wounds before she's busy plying her wand to close them. Only when that first task is done does she splash some water in his face to rouse him. Should could try and dribble it down his throat, but he was like as not choke and cough on it.

"I don't know about a sacrifice. The man was clearly bait for that trap. The question is whether it was meant for that worg or if it was meant for people like us." She responds to Naya as she attempt to wake the man. "Maybe he can answer, if I can get him conscious again. He'll probably be famished." She ruefully withdraws what little remains of the snack she'd taken for the road, one and a half of the delicious fish cakes, and prepares to offer it up along with some water and stronger beverage if the man desires. Well, they were cold anyway.

Spend up to three charges off the wand for now, unless fewer will top him off:
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Under Brin's ministrations, the worst of the man's wounds knit and close, dried blood flaking away to reveal raw flesh, pale stripes on his dark skin. Coughing feebly as Brin splashes water in his face, he cracks open his eyes, squinting up at the elf's nostrils for several bleary seconds before turning his head to peer suspiciously around at the rest of you.

"... Yer not from Turtleback. Who are ye?" The man's voice is hoarse with disuse, his dry lips cracking afresh as he speaks, doing his best not to look at Brin's proffered waterskin. "Did yer escape the halfbreed and his worgs?"

[jamieth]

Naya
HP 13/24

"When we found you..." the sylph shakes her head, gradually settling back to her two feet, "There was only one worg... we drove it away... but what is halfbreed? We... heard about ogres nearby, but..."

"Oh", she adds, "We were sent from Magnimar to find out what happened to the Turtleneck Ferry... apparently there was some kind of communications failure... And you - are you from the village too?"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

The man grimaces as he tries to sit up, only to wince and glance down at the half-sealed gashes on his belly. "Halfbreeds. Ogrekin. Whole bloody family of them. The Grauls - did no-one warn yer? One of the fat bastards strung me up here, gods alone know why. Styles himself a crack hunter, hangs out with worgs..."

Unable to desist any longer, the man snatches the waterskin from Brin and takes a good long swig, water spilling over and dripping in rivulets down his tangled beard. Coughing as he mops his mouth with the back of a grimy fist, he gives a curt shake of the head in response to Naya's other question. "Nah- not Turtleback. I'm a Temros. Vale Temros. From Rannick, born and bred up at the Fort. Me whole family's with the Arrows. Though there ain't no family left alive now, nevermind the Arrows or the damn Fort."

[Desril]

Setsuna

She'd left the man's care to Brin, knowing she'd just be in the way, but that doesn't mean she can't speak to him and she can't help but react to that last comment. "What do you mean? What happened to Fort Rannick?"

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

The man - apparently called Vale - takes another greedy swig from Brin's waterskin, but nearly spews the contents of his mouth out in shock at Setsuna's question. "Yer don't know yet? Could've sworn I'd been caught for weeks - why, the Fort, it's gone. Run over by them Kreegs ogres. Damned fullbloods..."

From where she stands several paces away, those of you who happen to be looking in Shalelu's direction see the elf grow pale, her fair skin blanching a pallid grey as she gazes at the man with an expression of mute horror.

Vale passes a hand over his eyes, his shaven brow furrowed and knitted with inner pain. For those of you who are close enough to hear the involuntary catch in his voice, Vale seems to tremble, retreating inward into himself. "Gods. I was just out with my patrol. Same old trail circuit. When we came back, the place was swarming with those bloated bigfolk bastards... Captain Gareth, his head swinging from the gate by his hair... We could hear the screaming from behind the walls - our people. Tried to storm the place, Kreegs routed us into the woods, Grauls hunted what was left of us down..."

All PCs to make a Perception check.

[Miraqariftsky]

"GRrrrrrhhrRRRMMMM." Rico rumbles from the area's perimeter. Her lip curls in a snarl, nostrils flaring, ears standing in outrage. "Sorry fer yer loss."

She doesn't say it aloud, out of respect, but has to struggle to keep herself from crowing,

Why ain't I friggin' surprised. BAH! Knnnnnnew it!
Damn that we're too late, though.

"United front, looks like." she says, glaring into the woods beyond. "On the warpath. Somebody's holding their leash, I warrant."

Hmmmmmm. Wouldn't be surprised neither iffen they've got some insider traitored them out.


Perception, eh? +2 if this wood happens to be on a mountain or highland of some sort. +2 if we're dealing with Giants or Fiends.
[roll0]<--- Are you friggin' kidding me? FIIIIIIIINE. thaaaaaaaaanks.


The orcblood constable's glare narrows, then she spits as the hairs on her nape prickle in a sudden wave of paranoia kicking in. "Vale. Can ye stand? Brin, cover 'im. Hellgirl, on point! Red, cover the right. Naya, git ready ta fry summin'."

"I seriously frakken hope I'm mistook an' y'all gunna laugh at me... but m'fraid... he was BAIT, an' we're the fish."

[Desril]

Setsuna

Hearing the man's words, Setsuna looks troubled and her gaze hardens somewhat, but as Rico starts to bark out orders she does as bid and moves to a forward position in case this is a trap. Keeping an eye out, "If the fort has been taken, we should take it back. We can handle ogres, and if it really has fallen then the people at Turtleback Ferry are defenseless."


Perception 14 in OOC

Sorry, short post, not much to do here until the trap is sprung >.>

[jamieth]

Naya

"Besides... as long as there is at least some chance that someone could still be alive..." the sylph looks at the ranger, "Mr. Temros, we can't waste any time... if you could tell us about the Fort? Maybe there's some secret tunnels, or something - so we won't have to storm it directly... flying everyone over the walls will take too much power..." she starts calculating their options.

Perception [roll0], not that I can beat Rico's roll

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post / Red

"My patrol. We were fifteen. We knew the Fort, inside out. And we didn't stand no chance. What makes yer lot think yer can take it back?" At Setsuna and Naya's talk of taking back the Fort, Vale knuckles at his reddening eyes and sniffs aloud, though his face remains dry of tears. All the same, he seems to calm down at the idea of striking back, making a deliberate effort to still his body, breathing out slowly through his mouth in deep huffs.

"... Aye. If yer were to plan an assault... tell me more... I might be able to think of somewhat to get us in." Vale speaks deliberately, eyeing each of you with mild suspicion, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "But secret tunnels and such... only the leaders would know. They're all dead, now. 'cept for Captain Sovark. Poor man was still barely alive when I got dragged out here. But those wretched Grauls have like slit his throat by now, just like they did with the rest 'o us-"

"Sovark- Jakardos Sovark, do you mean?" Shalelu cuts the man off with a broad wave of her arm, momentarily forgetting her watch post as she strides over to where he lies prone. A curious urgency animates her every move, lighting up her solemn green eyes with some blazing inner fire.

Vale, momentarily stunned at being interrupted thus, blinks in confusion. "Why, yes. That's him, Jak Sovark... Yer know him, lady?"

Shalelu ignores the question and glances up sharply at the rest of you. "If this man is alive, then we must save him."

*****

Red's Perception check: (1d20+12)[23] - passed

Only Red and Rico pass the Perception check

Cautiously fanning out from where the man lies, Red sniffs the air, letting most of what the man says pass over her head as she scans the forest around them.

So the rangers were all dead then. From bigfolk. That wasn't surprising. Shalelu had said as much. Red slips one of her kukris from her belt, wishing she knew exactly what she was looking for. Taking back the Fort sounded really difficult though. Weren't forts supposed to be really tough? Made of stone and defended, like little castles? And just how many ogres was this man - Vale, wasn't that a kind of plant thing? - talking about anyway?

Pricking up her ears at the sudden but faint yip of what sounded a lot like a wolf, Red looks over at Rico and sees from her friend's furrowed brow that it hadn't just been her imagination. "... We are being... hunted. Something comes... maybe the worg. We should go."

[Bhaakon]

Brin's expression turns increasingly dower as Vale speaks. She shouldn't have been terribly surprised about the fort's fall--such a threat was why they'd come, after all--but confirmation was still a punch in the gut. Taking the place back with just a handful would be...well, they'd faced long odds before. Maybe not quite so long, but if they managed to get surprise on their side and pick off the ogres a few at a time. The beasties were supposed to be stupid, after all. Also, big. Very big.

Well, Shalelu was correct. If the Grauls had a yet-living prisoner, that was a more manageable problem that had to be addressed soonest. And whether Red was right or not about the worg--or something else--stalking nearby, it made sense to move anyway.

"You can lead us to the Grauls, then?" Bring asks, though her tone is rather close to a statement. "Tell me if you can't walk and I'll see about fixing that. Red's right, we shouldn't just stand here waiting for the worg to come back. We should be moving to find your captain. Running, maybe."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

"Yeh, I can walk. Point me to the river, I'll take yer to where those halfbloods been squatting." Spotting the cold fish cakes by Brin's side, Vale snatches up one and devours it with frightening speed, heedless of the flakes of fish flesh that speckle his chin and palms. "Worgs'll track us down quicker than a halfblood though. This be their neck of the woods. You got any way to lose their scent?"

[jamieth]

Naya

"Maybe the river itself?"[/b] sylph suggests, "flowing water loses scents, isn't it? And it's close enough that we'll lkely won't have to care about the worgs before we get there..."[/b]

[Desril]

Setsuna

Oblivious to whatever it was that Red and Rico seemed to have noticed in the air, the tiefling perhaps wasn't as on guard as she should've been, but was still watching for possible worg attack as she nods at Naya. "The river may be the fastest option, but the water here is not calm, it will not be safe unless every one is a strong swimmer," she says glancing toward the still injured man. She'd practiced swimming with Red before coming here and was more confident in her ability to stay afloat compared to when she'd first arrived in Sandpoint, but she couldn't speak for the others.

[Miraqariftsky]

"We are..." Rico begins, then snorts. "...but armour fraks that up."

She turns, already striding towards the river, but keeping her pace slow enough for Vale to be able to keep up.

"Speakin' o' frakkin' up..." she pauses, then tosses a couple of pouches to Naya. "...More chilli. Mess with their noses. If'n ye please, spread this all over. Throw 'em off our scent fer a while. An' could we also depend on ye ta smooth out our prints as we go, hmm?"

"Don't let's go TOO close ta the water. If they hits us there, they could slam us INTO the river, advantage ta them." Leaning against a tree, waiting a while for their garnish trap to be laid, she squints at Vale and asks, "Ya reckon ye can still fight? Wot's yer preferred arms? Would pike an' hatchet suffice ye?"

[jamieth]

Naya

"I caould do that, sure..." the sylph nods, "spread the chili, I mean. The prints, though - I'm not sure wind could do that easily... not here, in the forest. Back home, in Osirion, sure... not that sand holds prints in the first place... and yes, sorry. I don't consider it'll take actually getting into the river to remove our scent..."

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Vale blinks in surprise at being addressed by the towering half-orc, staring first at her mottled skin then at her oversized incisor teeth with unabashed suspicion. Nevertheless, it takes him a few seconds before he realises what he is doing and coughs hastily.

"Yeh, I can cut those buggers up good if yer let me. I'm an axe man. Pike'll get caught in the trees. Give me that one, first halfblood I see, I split his damn skull for my momma's gravestone." He staggers to his feet and takes a few tentative steps to test his legs, glancing at Naya as she sprinkles the leaf-littered earth around the pit trap with liberal scoops of the chilli powder from Rico's pouches. Standing upright, the peak of Vale's bald pate easily reaches Rico's chin - even with his recent starvation, he is a tall, strapping man. In his Black Arrow armour and with his muscles filled out, he would have cut a magnificent figure.

Vale reaches out a grimy hand for Rico's hatchet. "Come on, we'd best hurry. Yer kitchen spice won't slow them for long."

*****

Doubling back towards the river and down the dirt path you'd just climbed, Vale limps along as quickly as he can manage, making a good deal more noise than perhaps some of you are comfortable with as his feet scuff up stones and dried leaves. Already weakened from his presumably long confinement, he is soon panting so hard from the exertion that he wheezes in the cold air, goose-pimples raised on his flesh. While the more charitable (or worried) of your group might voice your concern, the man refuses all offers of help, insisting with a proud flash of the eyes that he can manage just fine, thank you.

"Ain't gonna wear no cloak but an Arrow one, now. And anyone helping me walk is one less pair of hands when we get into a scrap. Yer all just keep a lookout for those worgs or any bigfolk."

Shalelu seems satisfied enough with the change in direction, given that its purpose is to rescue the man whose name she'd found important. Leaping lightly from rock to rock as she brings up the rear of your group, with an occasional backward glance to check for pursuers, she nevertheless seems lost in her own thoughts, her brow furrowed as she retreats inward. In the end, it falls to Red to keep a more careful look out (difficult as it is at times for the tiny rogue to squint back uphill when there are large boulders and trees blocking her line of sight).

Near the wooden log bridge where you'd crossed the Skull River, Vale veers off the dirty path and into the woods. For those of you more experienced in the ways of the forest, you recognise that the man is following a poorly-maintained trail - patches of earth trodden bare, almost impossible to pick out from under the profusion of ferns and shrubs that manage to grow under the conifers.

"We'd no idea those bastards had even moved so close to the Ferry, see," he grunts, shifting Rico's hatchet to his other hand. "Our patrol trails take us up and 'round the forest, and we'd always figured that if any halfbloods or their sort came close to man-land, we'd have bodies turning up in no time at all. Turns out they were smart enough to hold their hooks off-"

At this point, Vale's explanation is cut short by a chorus of howls and barks from somewhere behind you. Scowling, Shalelu immediately plucks forth an arrow from her quiver and glances sharply at the man. "They'll be on us soon. How much further?"

"Few hundred paces, as the crow flies." Vale seems much less perturbed than the elf at the prospect of combat as he hefts the hatchet and nods imperceptibly to himself, feeling its weight in his callused palms.

Shalelu tosses her hair back with an impatient shake of the head, looking over at Rico and Setsuna. "If they catch us before we get to this ogrekin lair, we'll be trapped with hostiles on both sides. And it'll be their territory, on their terms. I say we greet this hunter fellow here and put an end to him and his dogs."

[Miraqariftsky]

A bushy brow rises,
Rico groans, then shrugs.
Takes a piece of driftwood
Of the sort with myriad little branches
As they make for the river, sweeps it behind them good
Brushing away tracks, to fool the eye
While the packs of spice, to the nose, shall lie

((Ach! Sleep's got me. Sorry I didn't get the latest IC. Will revise accordingly!))

[jamieth]

Naya

"If that's the case..." sylph asks, "Why did we ran in the first place? I mean, we could as well give fight at that clearing... would give us a few minutes to set an ambush, maybe set a trap of our own... less chance of them getting a reinforcement, as well... But, what's done is done; and I agree it's wiser not to let them get us in pincers. So... let's get ready for a fight, and show that ogre who's the prey here!"

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

"Miss Naya... Rico's s-spice... sweeping our tracks. It should have worked. But if it did not... then m-maybe that m-means... that what hunts us. They are cleverer... than us."

Or stronger. Or more numerous. Red quails inwardly at the thought, but holds the grim expression on her face, unwilling to let her misgivings show. Being scared wouldn't make the worgs any less awful to face. And if it was going to come to a fight...

Pushing her hair out of her eyes, Red draws her kukris and nods towards the undergrowth by the trail.

"S-some of us s-should hide. Take out as m-many as we can... from the side. I am small. Worgs... t-they will... go for me first."

[Desril]

Setsuna

As talk turns from getting away to confronting their pursuers, Setsuna frowns. What'd happened with Xanesha had made her want to live more in the moment, but that didn't mean she wasn't still fairly reckless, and when Red expressed concern, the tiefling put a hand on her shoulder, "There is no reason for us all to fight. Keep going, I will buy you all time...if they are not here in a minute I will be right behind you, and if they are then I will deal with them and catch up."

There wasn't much else to say, but she still calls out, "Shalelu-san, keep going!"


I think we could probably just keep running, but if we're going to stay and fight...well, up to you all if you want to stick around or leave this to me. Worgs and ogrekin aren't that threatening, I'm confident Setsuna can win (or stall them and escape). I just can't resist having her offer to hold the line :smalltongue:

[Bhaakon]

Brin levels a suspicious gaze at Setsuna. "You been siphoning off my jug when I was distracted? Because surely you're still three sheets to the wind, suggesting we split up. If there enough of them to be a problem, then we'll need to all fight them to stand a chance. If there are enough for you to beat alone, then seeing us all here might make them run off with their tails between their legs."

[maggie_mcknife]

Red

Brin wasn't the only one who didn't think Setsuna was making any sense. Stiffening a little when Setsuna places a hand on her shoulder, Red closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Miss Brin... is right. The last time... you were alone with the enemy... you were hurt. Badly." She closes a firm hand over Setsuna's wrist, her fingers digging in a little harder than she'd meant to as she shrugs the tiefling's hand from her shoulder. "We... will face them together."

As Red moves away from Setsuna, she manages to catch Rico's eye and jerk her head towards Vale. Best to keep an eye on that one, really. Just in case he turned out to be another shapechanger in disguise or a turncloak or something. There were just too many of those running about these days.

*****

GM post

Noman has been botted to have been sent back to Turtleback Ferry to warn the locals while the party was on its way to current location. He will be considered to have left the game until further notice.

The instant Shalelu mentions combat, Vale seems to perk up, visibly standing a little straighter with a curious glimmer of grim satisfaction lighting up his eyes. Loosely swinging the borrowed hatchet in his left hand, testing its weight as he flexes his wrist, he limps his way towards Setsuna and offers her a nod laced with unmistakable glee. "Don't be facing these beasts alone, ma'am. Worgs - they're mighty cunning in their own way. The more of us, the better off we'll be. It'll be my honour to give those bastards a mighty good bashing at yer side."

There is little time to make further preparations of your own. A few scant minutes later, the first worg arrives on the scene - a hulking, black-furred wretch that yelps aloud and quickly backs up to the shelter of the nearest tree in a scuffle of claws on dirt, barking aloud. (For those of you with sharp enough eyes, you glimpse that the creature bears a raw, inflamed nose, with a comical trickle of yellowish mucus that clings to its muzzle. Rico's chilli powder, apparently, has not been much to the snuffing pleasure of this worg.) And at once, the surrounding bushes along the trail where you'd recently trod comes alive in a fury of growls and angry, guttural voices.

"Goblin. They speak that tongue. They curse us to the Demon Bitch" remarks Shalelu calmly, with an arrow already nocked on her bow string as she sights down at the tree that the worg had vanished behind, ready to shoot it at a moment's notice.

Instead of a charging worg, however, what next stomps down the path is perhaps far larger and uglier than most of you had anticipated. With a shuddering of tree branches, a massive barrel-chested swag-bellied monstrosity nearly eight feet tall, with filthy mud-mottled skin slathered with violet war paint, lumbers into view. Clad in little more than a tattered loincloth and a patchy cape that reeks of rotten meat, the creature curls the lips of a mouth that is far too wide and sneers at you, piggy crimson eyes gleaming beneath a bulging, hairless brow. Within the oversized knuckles of one hand, it grasps both a longspear and the scruff of a lifeless, bloodied firepelt cougar with its eyes gouged out; its other hand is but a fused mess of bone with a single withered finger sticking out pathetically atop like a crude joke.

"Nowt who's been 'urting me pup-pups an' meking 'um ha-choo? An' let down me man-bait before he got ripe? Leave 'um and scrum, less I 'urts yous back." The creature - evidently the ogrekin hunter that Vale had spoken of - brandishes its rusty spear point in your direction for emphasis, causing the firepelt's broken body to swing violently back and forth. Throwing back its head, the ogrekin laughs raucously, exposing its jagged, broken teeth and a spotted tongue as the worgs slowly creep up and wait just behind its heels.

[Miraqariftsky]

Rico,
Mage Armour'd
HP 56/56
AC 23/22

((Playing! A little bit! Of! Catch-up! Sorry! I was! Away!))

"Axe. H'alrighty, then." Rico said as she unclasped the spike-backed hatchet and presented its grip to Vale. The head is scored from use, but still bears the signs of Chelish make. The haft is old oak, and partially bound in leather wrap. It smells of oil and sweat, maintenance and use.

Looking at him askance, she can't help but wonder if he'll make it out alive, under-armed as he is. She catches Red's eye and nods, staying her hand from offering the

She tilts her head at Shalelu's words and slows down, nodding. "TCH. Yer right, ma'am. If THAT place's enemy territory now, we'll be hammer-an'-anvil'd atween 'em."

The heck've I come to, now?

Ugh.

Then again, every little bit helps.

A brow rises at Setsuna's touch on Red, and a gauntleted hand as well. But she holds herself back. Neither the time, nor the place. And Red knows how to handle herself. Still. Ye gods. After THAT, and STILL?

Rummaging in her pouch, she fishes out two of the vials she was looking for and tosses Vale and Red another couple of potions. Longspear leaning on her shoulder, she takes one down, but pauses with the other still corked as her ears twitch at something coming from the underbrush.


Stocks down:
Enlarge Person, down to 8. ---not yet imbibed
Mage Armour, down to 8. ---IMBIBED
Both should last for... er, however long they're good for? "One minute per level" and "One hour per level" respectively.


She hefts her black spear above her head, takes a deep breath and...

...gets her stride interrupted by the entry of the enemy. Her nostrils flare and she scowls at their foulness.

And notices that they are... foolishly packed close together. Her hand darts for the rope handle of one of her amphorae, gives it one whirl, then hurls right at the ogrekin's chest. "HEY, ARSEWIPE! DRINKS"RE ON ME!"


[roll0]
1 Dex + 7 BAB + 2 Favoured Enemy [Giants] + 1 Throw Anything
[roll1] BOGGGG! KRUNCH! KEESSSSHH!
[roll2] (+10 damage to adjacent targets) SPLOOOFF!

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Rico attacks in what the GM will consider a surprise round.

The cluster of worgs yelp in sudden panic as the caustic liquid within Rico's homemade pottery bomb splashes over their stinking pelts. Whining piteously, they swipe at their faces, rubbing their muzzles along the ground in an attempt to soothe the stinging with the clamminess of moist earth. As for the ogrekin himself, however, a quick upward jerk of his fist had swung the limp body of the firepelt between him and Rico, causing the amphorae to shatter on its bloodied hide rather than on his chest. His makeshift animal shield suffices to shield him from the worst of the explosion, even as raw scarlet welts instantly bubble up on his bloated belly and thighs from where the acid had splashed and dripped.

"Yous oughta had run, orc-meat! Now I catches yous and the man-baits all fer mammy! She cooks yous all inna pie, see if she don't!" With a bestial roar, the ogrekin flings the now-smoking corpse of the firepelt against the nearest tree. With a maddened glow in his eyes, he clutches his spear and glowers at Rico, jabbing his spear towards her forehead.

"Ey, pup-pups! Rippout that one's throat fust!"

*****

Combat begins.

Party Initiative:
Setsuna: 17 in OOC
Naya: 16 in OOC
Brin: (1d20+9)[24]
Red: (1d20+5)[24]
Rico: (1d20+1)[15]
Shalelu: (1d20+3)[21]
Vale: (1d20+1)[17]

Enemy Intiative:
Rukus: (1d20+6)[19]
W1: (1d20+4)[12]
W2: (1d20+4)[9]
W3: (1d20+4)[17]
W4: (1d20+4)[24]
W5: (1d20+4)[14]
W6: (1d20+4)[19]

Initiative Order:
> 24 - Brin
24 - Red
24 - Worg 4
21 - Shalelu
19 - Rukus Graul
19 - Worg 6
17 - Setsuna
17 - Worg 3
17 - Vale
16 - Naya
15 - Rico
14 - Worg 5
12 - Worg 1
9 - Worg 2

It is now Brin's turn.

*****

Combat Map
http://i.imgur.com/bM1vW6F.jpg

GM note: Trees and shrubbery are not obstacles to ranged attacks except where there is a tree trunk (look for where the branches converge on a point). Movement through a square that is 50-100% occupied by trees or shrubbery will reduce movement speed by half.

[Bhaakon]

"Cover your eyes!" Brin snaps, pointing right at the sore-speckled mound of flesh that constituted what must be a Graul. "Lady, see fit to snatch their site away and scorch their pelts!" Brin shouts. Bright light explodes within the midst of her foes, burning retinas, blistering warty skins, and and turning greasy fur to smoke as it burst forth in a blazing halo.

She'd be a fool to expect that alone to stop the charge, though. She readies her bow.


Standard to cast Burst of Radianc centered on J-k/6-7. That should hit 2, 3,5 and Ruckus. Ref DC 15 or blinded for [roll0] rounds. If successful, dazzled for [[roll1] rounds. If evil, take [roll2] damage, no save.

Move action to draw her bow

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Brin casts Burst of Radiance.

Reflex saves:
Rukus Graul: (1d20+4)[8] - failed
W2: (1d20+8)[19] - passed
W5: (1d20+8)[16] - passed
W3: (1d20+8)[16] - passed

The sudden flash of shimmering violet light sends the worgs into a frenzy of scream-pitched whimpers. Already tormented by chilli-inflamed nostrils and the recent shower of acid that seared right through fur and flesh, further pain hones their sense to needle-point as they violently shy their heads away, whining and mewling in agony.

Their bloated master, on the other hand, is less lucky. His malformed hand with its single pathetic finger, as it turns out, makes for a poor cover from the Lady's light. As the radiance pierces his eyes, the deep guttural scream that tears forth from the ogrekin's oversized maw is loud enough to feel in your bones, birds startling out of the nearby bush as he paws frantically at his face, bawling and blubbering.

"Beetch! Whatchu do me eyes? MEEE EEEYYYYEEEES?!!!"

Rukus Graul is now blinded for 2 rounds, Worgs 2, 3 and 5 are dazzled for 2 rounds.

*****

Red
AC 23
HP 55/55

Move to I7, staying out of Rukus's reach to avoid AoO
Power Attack vs W2
Attack: (1d20+11)[28]
Damage: (1d4+7)[8]

Wincing a little as her ears rang, Red risks a glance under her arm. Whatever Brin's spell had been, it must have worked. That bigfolk was screaming loud enough to wake the dead. He also couldn't see. It'd be best to stick him now. In the armpit or the neck. Or even across the belly, in his groin, which would easier to reach. Except...

... except that he was huge. Really huge. Even blind, if he got her with that spear... or if the worgs circled in on her.

The worgs then. The worgs were still hurting. And there were one-two-three-four of them.

"...R-rico. Us both. Together." Skirting out of the bigfolk's reach, Red dashes forth and hacks at the jaw of the nearest worg with a powerful backhand that nearly carves the beast's neck in two, the spurt of hot blood lashing across her face and chest like a baptism.

Worg 2 is now dead.

*****

Worg 4 and Shalelu

W4
Move to N10
Attack vs Shalelu
Attack: (1d20+9)[29]
Damage: (1d6+6)[7]

Confirm Critical - Attack: (1d20+9)[18], Damage: (1d6+6)[12] - failed

Shalelu
Stays where she is, full attack with PBS
Attack: (1d20+12)[22]
Damage: (1d8+1)[7]
Attack: (1d20+7)[12]
Damage: (1d8+1)[8]

Even as Red races to deal with the worg pack before you, Shalelu's shout of fury alerts the rest of you to the fact that not all of the worgs have gathered behind their master. For those of you who whirl at the elven ranger's cry, you find her squaring off against the black-furred worg that had been the first to appear, blood welling up from a deep bite in her thigh.

Shalelu's eyes glint a poisonous emerald green at having been caught off guard. Even wounded, the elf moves with a marvelous dexterity, dancing lightly, almost mockingly on her feet as she dodges the worg's further advances. Snatching up another arrow from the quiver at her side, she plants the sole of her boot on the worg's muzzle and takes aim at the squirming, snarling beast.

"Daan ghac al'duul. Druun maan kegaan?"* The crude speech of the goblins rolls harshly enough off Shalelu's tongue. But for those of you who have never heard a worg's black speech aloud, the beast's defiant reply is a terrible rasping sound to send shivers down the spine.

"An ghaan khruur, ol'daac tol. Dar ar A magaan okhaac mel-"

The beast's reply is cut short into a choked yelp as Shalelu, her face set like stone, releases both of her arrows at once, one of them striking the worg deep in the throat.

Translation
*The man alpha. Does he live?

** Ask me not, elf scum. What if I have eaten him-

*****

Rukus Graul

Stays where he is, uses Intimidate vs Setsuna
Intimidate check: (1d20+12)[30]

DC is 10 + the target’s Hit Dice (6) + the target’s Wisdom modifier (-1) for DC 15
Rukus's Intimidate check succeeds, bypasses DC by 30-15=15, for an extra 3 rounds of duration

Being blinded seems to have driven the ogrekin into an even greater paroxysm of rage. Bubbles of bloodied spit froth at the corners of his cracked lips as he shrieks and stomps at his unseen tormentors, tramping the ground beneath his massive bare feet to a swampy mess. He scrabbles frenetically at his nethers with his malformed hand, semi-coherent abuse still streaming from his foul mouth even he jerks back and forth.

"Beetch! BEETCH! Damn yous! Jes yous waits, JES YOU WAITS. Imma mek yous scream, open yous purty mouth wide an' choke. Gunna stick it to yous til yous break-"

As fate would have it, it is not Rico or Brin that the disgusting blinded ogrekin happens to be directly facing, but Setsuna. Between the nauseating stench of rotting meat on his breath and the sudden realisation up-close that the prickly patches poking up on the brute's cape looked a lot like human hair and the obvious tumescence now bulging beneath his scraggly loincloth, it is difficult for the young tiefling to keep her focus on the battle as her thoughts, unbidden, stray to mind visions of violence and fear.

Setsuna is Shaken for a total of 4 rounds.

*****

Worg 6

Moves to G10
Attack vs Naya
Attack: (1d20+9)[22]
Damage: (1d6+6)[9]

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dirt trail, Naya becomes suddenly aware of a fleet grey shadow lurking in the undergrowth just beyond. No sooner has she done so when the worg, sensing that it'd been spotted, decides to dispense with stealth and go instead for an all-out rush against the sylph. Crashing wildly through the bushes, the worg leaps for Naya's throat, its fangs bared and flashing.

GM note: I'm aware that Naya has Windy Escape prepared. Will she use it here or save it for later?

*****

Initiative Order:
24 - Brin
24 - Red
24 - Worg 4
21 - Shalelu
19 - Rukus Graul - blinded
19 - Worg 6
> 17 - Setsuna - shaken
17 - Worg 3 - dazzled
17 - Vale
16 - Naya
15 - Rico
14 - Worg 5 - dazzled
12 - Worg 1
9 - Worg 2 - dazzled

It is now Setsuna's turn.

*****

Combat Map
http://i.imgur.com/5VyDpF8.jpg

[Desril]

Setsuna
HP 46
AC 25

With Maethilur drawn and at the ready, Setsuna had been about to charge the ogrekin until it spoke up. The image came unbidden, the thought of the monster following through with its threat, her allies routed or slain while she...gagging at the thought of that thing in her mouth, the tiefling hesitated, her feet failing to move and nearly causing her to trip before she regained her balance. Shaking her head in an effort to chase away the thought, No, he wouldn't, she does her best but the sight of the human-like hair is enough to make her realize that the creature bellowing out the threat was half-ogre...and given how they were born, it was a very real threat. Unfortunately, the threat alone was enough, the damage was done, and the Tian princess' imagination was starting to get the better of her, distracting her, making her movements unsure.

But still, with an effort of will she steps forward, ducking under the reach of his spear and eliciting another gagging sound, enchanting Maethilur even as she swings the blade in an upward arc. And whether it was because of the threat, the unwanted images assailing her mind, her recent experiences with being too forgiving, or just simply the fact that there was nothing else one could do with an ogre, the tiefling doesn't hold back and actively moves to kill the Graal, rather than merely render him unconscious, and stammers out the incantation to electrify her blade.


And now Setsuna is being haunted by horrible images. Rico have anything strong to drink after this is over?

Ruckus was described with a spear so I don't think he threatens adjacent to himself so I shouldn't need the concentration check to cast defensively. If I'm mistaken I'll roll it in the dice thread.

5ft step to K8
Arcane Pool (+Shocking and Keen to Mae)
Shocking Grasp Spell Combat Spellstrike

Shocking Slash [roll0]
Damage [roll1] + [roll2] +[roll3]
Confirmation (1d20+12)[22]
Damage (2d8+14)[21] + (1d6)[1] + (5d6)[19]
(36 slashing + 46 electric for 82 total damage if crit confirmed)


Attack [roll4] (+3 if the above misses)
Damage [roll5] + [roll6] (+ the 5d6 above if it missed the first time)



If he attacks; PARRY [roll7]

And Riposte [roll8] (+3 if the two attacks missed)
Damage [roll9] + [roll10] (+ the 5d6 if both of the above missed! It'll stick around 'til it hits him!)

[maggie_mcknife]

GM post

Naya uses Windy Escape to avoid taking damage from Worg 6.

*****

Setsuna

Fear numbs Setsuna's mind and weights her arms with lead. Yet in the end, it is the sheer, sharp edge of a blind terror that she hadn't known herself capable of that wins out. Moving almost from instinct rather than conscious thought, Setsuna forcefully swings her katana upward in a ragged arc, the black blade catching the ogrekin in the crotch before sawing through his tumid belly in an explosion of black blood and steaming viscera.

For a moment, Setsuna's world is all hot breath and screaming - the dull ring of Maethilur's edge as it jars and scrapes on bone, her hands frantically tugging at the now-slick handle, the syllables of power filling her mouth with the sour tang of iron and filling the air with the whispering crackle of electricity, almost choking on the acrid stench of burning hide-

-and then it is over. The ogrekin twitches at her feet in a widening pool of his own body fluids, split from groin to sternum like a slain boar being dressed for the slaughterhouse, even as the forest echoes with the panicked howls of the worg pack as they turn tail and flee. The scent of raw meat and feces hangs heavy in the air, as does the choking waft of ammonia as what remains of the ogrekin's bowels loosens, its contents soaking rapidly into the forest floor.

Just out of arm's reach, Red stares unblinkingly at the tiefling, her expression inscrutable from behind its fresh mask of crimson - and now black-speckled - blood. A quick look around by Setsuna suffices to confirm that most of the ogrekin's insides did indeed splatter onto any of her comrades who were unfortunate to stand close enough, while a glance downwards finds her own body so drenched in black blood and fragments of flesh (not to mention unidentifiable lumps of fat and fried organs) that it is difficult to even see the marble paleness of her skin.

"Woah." From somewhere behind Setsuna, Vale clears his throat, his tone reverent and clearly very much awed. "Um. That's. Just woah."

Rukus Graul is now dead. All remaining worgs flee. Combat is over, initiative ends... (unless the party chooses to give chase).

[jamieth]

Naya

Naya stares at the half-ogre throwing horrible words at Setsuna, ready to rush to protect the tiefling should the threat break her - and then, with a mix of terror and amazement, witnesses the Tian princess retaliate with incredible force, blending her blade and her magic together. That sight makes her miss the approaching worg entirely - but at the last moment, tomb... explorer's instincts kick in, and the sylph momentarily dissolves her body into a whisk of air, beast's jaws not even managing to scratch her . Before she can retaliate, the worgs, demoralized by the death of their master, turn to flee, and Naya sighs in relief; the beasts are, after all, just beasts, even if they run away, they can't...

At that moment, something finally clicks in her head. "Worgs!" she calls out to her companions, "They can talk, if we let them flee, they can warn other ogres!" and, setting an example, shoots a pair of thin lightning charges into the fleeing creature.

Lightning Ray at W6 (if still within 40 feet):
Ray 1: attack [roll0] vs. touch , damage [roll1] electricity
Ray 2: attack [roll2] vs. touch , damage [roll3] electricity