Post by TheUdjat on Jun 10, 2009 12:17:39 GMT -5
SEA GREEN
(Ella’s new mount)
We shall see 
Sean and Natsumi peer around, trying to spot the creatures Ella has detected with her keen ears, but to no avail. Sean invokes the power of his new mystical equipment in the event that these are undead, but there is no indication that anything in the area if undead.
Ella urges her brand new mount forward, relying on the weasel’s inherent stealth to help it—though she herself is something of a glaring flaw in whatever hiding and sneaking the creature might be able to do. Still, she advances while Gro-bug watches her back, and Henrick lingers back by Natsumi and Sean, intent on keeping the bards well-defended, his mace brandished warily.
Suddenly, as Ella creeps forward, the brush beneath her mount’s legs suddenly gives way with a sharp, wrenching crack—a trap! The grounds begins to collapse, but the weasel deftly angles out of the way, wriggling back to solid ground as a wide hole opens up in the center of the jungle floor. Crude, jagged wooden spikes line the bottom of the bit some 30 feet down, smeared with all manner of filth—certainly not a pleasant fate.
At that moment the lurking adversaries choose to attack, yelling incomprehensible battle cries from all sides like wild men, firing arrows with deft accuracy. Of the six missiles that streak out of the jungle foliage, four hit their mark. Grobug takes two grazing shots that skirt his arms, one bolt sinks lightly into Henrick’s side, and Ella is caught along the shoulder with a delicate shot—but the magic of her crystal softens the blow so that it is nothing more than a mild bruise.
Reacting quickly, Henrick looks on the foes at all sides, hesitating. He adopts a defensive posture, ready to react to the tactics of his companions.
(Combat Actions)
Initiative: Henrick (23), Natsumi (20), Archers (15), Sean (12), Gro-bug (12), Ella (5).
Map:
Brown squares are trees, impassable/block LOS, cover, etc. They can be climbed at a DC 15. Everything else should be self-explanatory.
(Character Status)
Ella – 77/77 HP; DR 3/- (1 blocked), Lifedrinking 3 (Lance)
Sean – 47/47 HP; Hide from Undead
Gro-bug – 98/100 HP, DR 1/-, 2 fort saves in 10 rounds
Henrick – 65/70 HP, Fort save in 10 rounds
Natsumi – 52/52 HP, Freedom of Movement
Antyca – No damage [Absent]
Dire Weasel (Has no name
) – No damage
DARK RED
With word that the gnome could potentially recreate the Skullsplitter’s enchantments, Gildas and the others are willing to pursue discussion further, despite the curator’s vulgar manner. Gildas suggests retreating to a private place to discuss further—though he elects to find one outside of the university, where he can keep his trusted weapons on him.
The gnome clearly disfavors this line of thinking. “But outside my offices and my lab I won’t have my tools or my books and I-” He gives a frustrated groan. “Fine. Fine, have it your way, we can talk about this at the pub down a level if you’re so antsy about being without your implements of destruction.” He huffs and goes to leave, informing Gildas of a local pub nearby that is frequented by folk from the university that may have private rooms in which to discuss the matter further. In New Ravenshead, bustling metropolis that it is, it’s unlikely that any other quiet spots will be found short of renting rooms at an inn or venturing into the gnome’s offices at the university.
Before leaving, Gildas lays out his plan for dealing with the hooded men, instructing Wanderer, Tyrano, and the newcomer to tail them wherever they go. Tyrano and Norven are easily agreeable to the task, but Wanderer grunts to the negative. “Unless and until we choose to part with it, I go where the Skullsplitter goes.” From the set of his jaw and brow, it’s clear the barbarian will not be moved from this course of action, no matter what Gildas has to say about the matter.
Lockheart also offers to accompany the trio with the gnome. After all, he has no talent for stealth or subterfuge.
Gildas, Lenny-
Walking with the gnome, the crowd reluctantly disperses, perhaps disappointed that there won’t be an outright fight after all. The watch clears a path, urging people to ‘move along now’, and lets the group go—but not without a stern warning to both the gnome and the others to behave and not cause a second outbreak. It appears the watch doesn’t entirely trust assurances of good behavior, either, as a man or two wander in the same direction, keeping a distant eye on them.
The curator, ever a talking man, prattles on during the walk, though it is unclear just who he’s addressing his words to, if anyone. “Finally, the Skullsplitter. I thought those damn dwarves would keep it locked down for an eternity! Shameful, such a historical piece sitting and crumbling to dust in a mountain. Can you believe it? Something so precious, just sitting in a box with a bunch of bones? It should be in a museum, where all can admire it, know its story, and the man who wielded it!” There is perhaps a hypocrisy in the gnome’s intent to effectively lock the weapon up in another box of a different kind, but he doesn’t seem responsive to such input. “This will go so well with the Purest Star, the Redeemer, and all the others, oh yes. Finally a full collection! Magnificent.”
As the curator continues, eventually the group arrives at the pub, where a doorman eyes the weapons carried by the group but does nothing to prevent their carrying them. Inside the gnome arranges for a back room for discussions, and soon enough a server appears to usher all within. The room isn’t large, with a round table and an earthy feel to it from wood-paneled walls, green-and-brown-and-gold paintings of dryads and other sylvan folk, and expertly carved knotwork on the table’s edge and the chairs surrounding it. Drinks are supplied by the gnome—his first vaguely generous act. As the serving girl lets the door click close behind her, he wastes no time in launching into yet more talk.
“So, here we are, private, no crowds, surely we can discuss this like rational humanoids, yes?” He swigs down some dark ale. “The name’s Harchibaud Rodrick Brendagast, Director and Chief Curator of Modrock University’s Relics and Museums Branch.” He beams, pleased with this mouthful of a title. “And you must be warriors and adventurers, I can tell just by looking at you. Practical, weathered clothes, weapons coming out your ears, armor every which way—definitely adventurers.”
He waves a hand impatiently, dismissively. “Now, it doesn’t matter to me how you came across the Skullsplitter—probably better I don’t know—and it doesn’t matter much how you’ve been using it. For a weapon, the big fellow says, which I guess shouldn’t surprise me.” He frowns sourly. “But we’ve gone over that, yes? The issue’s simple, from my perspective. I want the maul. It’s a valuable relic of the past and could educate thousands of people with its presence. Not to mention studying the enchantments and craftsmanship could tell us so much about the old ages! You simply must let me have it.”
“But you’ll want to be compensated, of course.” He nods rapidly. “I don’t know about these ‘Deathspeakers’ or whatever, but if it’s weapons you want, it’s weapons I can get! I’m an enchanter myself, you know, very adept with items and the like. It’s my research specialty after all! If that doesn’t interest you, the Relics and Museums Branch can also offer gold, always a fair exchange, wouldn’t you say? Maybe you’d like honorary degrees instead, though? Prestige, fame, a good name goes a long way, especially around here!” He rubs his hands together excitedly. “Or is there something else? Just tell me, I’m sure we can strike a deal!”
Tyrano, Norven-
When the crowd starts to disperse with murmurs and subdued words in a dull rumble, Tyrano and Norven quietly get lost in the chaos, lingering behind to keep a better eye on the strange, ominous men. [Hide, Spot checks.] The pair easily get lost in the crowd, the black-clad men instead focusing on the rest of the group, which departs openly.
Watching them, Norven and Tyrano soon spot several more of their number, coming together in a discreet huddle of sorts. The men cannot be overhead, but they speak with alert, keen eyes and expressive tones, the sort of men comfortable with words. Their dress more visible, they appear to be scholars, or perhaps students—though perhaps a bit old for the latter. Nine of the men are assembled altogether, and they appear to decide on a course of action quickly enough—they split up into three groups of three. One group moves quietly and calmly down the street after Gildas, Lenny, and the others, keeping at a lengthy distance. Another group heads onto the university with measured steps, speaking with the watch there in familiar terms, checked for weaponry briefly before being allowed through. The last group, however, moves away from the area altogether, towards the magical lifts that take one down to the lower portions of the city—and they move with brisk, urgent steps.
[Who would you like to follow?]
(Character Status)
Gildas – 69/69 HP
Lenny – 61/61 HP
Wystfalrun – 62/62 HP
Norven – 71/71 HP
Lockheart – No damage
Wanderer – 90/90 HP
(Ella’s new mount)
{The price hurts me bad Udjat. If it could be cheaper I'd be grateful. }
Sean and Natsumi peer around, trying to spot the creatures Ella has detected with her keen ears, but to no avail. Sean invokes the power of his new mystical equipment in the event that these are undead, but there is no indication that anything in the area if undead.
Ella urges her brand new mount forward, relying on the weasel’s inherent stealth to help it—though she herself is something of a glaring flaw in whatever hiding and sneaking the creature might be able to do. Still, she advances while Gro-bug watches her back, and Henrick lingers back by Natsumi and Sean, intent on keeping the bards well-defended, his mace brandished warily.
Suddenly, as Ella creeps forward, the brush beneath her mount’s legs suddenly gives way with a sharp, wrenching crack—a trap! The grounds begins to collapse, but the weasel deftly angles out of the way, wriggling back to solid ground as a wide hole opens up in the center of the jungle floor. Crude, jagged wooden spikes line the bottom of the bit some 30 feet down, smeared with all manner of filth—certainly not a pleasant fate.
At that moment the lurking adversaries choose to attack, yelling incomprehensible battle cries from all sides like wild men, firing arrows with deft accuracy. Of the six missiles that streak out of the jungle foliage, four hit their mark. Grobug takes two grazing shots that skirt his arms, one bolt sinks lightly into Henrick’s side, and Ella is caught along the shoulder with a delicate shot—but the magic of her crystal softens the blow so that it is nothing more than a mild bruise.
Reacting quickly, Henrick looks on the foes at all sides, hesitating. He adopts a defensive posture, ready to react to the tactics of his companions.
(Combat Actions)
- Six archers attack from hidden positions (+2 to attack, opponents receive no Dex to AC). 2 attacks each for Ella, Gro-bug, and Henrick. Attacks on Ella vs. AC 22: 18, 25, one hit. Attacks on Gro-bug vs. AC 19 (Uncanny Dodge): 20, 28, two hits. Attacks on Henrick vs. AC 24: 11, 25, one hit. Ella takes no damage after DR, Gro-bug takes a total of 2 damage after DR, and Henrick takes 5 damage. Gro-bug gets to make a couple of Fort saves: 16, 27, both pass. Henrick makes one: 28, pass. Nothing for Ella, since she didn’t actually take damage.
- This brings us to initiative rolls.
- Henrick @ 23 holds his ground and defends Natsumi. (Delay)
- Natsumi’s action.
Initiative: Henrick (23), Natsumi (20), Archers (15), Sean (12), Gro-bug (12), Ella (5).
Map:
Brown squares are trees, impassable/block LOS, cover, etc. They can be climbed at a DC 15. Everything else should be self-explanatory.
(Character Status)
Ella – 77/77 HP; DR 3/- (1 blocked), Lifedrinking 3 (Lance)
Sean – 47/47 HP; Hide from Undead
Gro-bug – 98/100 HP, DR 1/-, 2 fort saves in 10 rounds
Henrick – 65/70 HP, Fort save in 10 rounds
Natsumi – 52/52 HP, Freedom of Movement
Antyca – No damage [Absent]
Dire Weasel (Has no name
) – No damageDARK RED
With word that the gnome could potentially recreate the Skullsplitter’s enchantments, Gildas and the others are willing to pursue discussion further, despite the curator’s vulgar manner. Gildas suggests retreating to a private place to discuss further—though he elects to find one outside of the university, where he can keep his trusted weapons on him.
The gnome clearly disfavors this line of thinking. “But outside my offices and my lab I won’t have my tools or my books and I-” He gives a frustrated groan. “Fine. Fine, have it your way, we can talk about this at the pub down a level if you’re so antsy about being without your implements of destruction.” He huffs and goes to leave, informing Gildas of a local pub nearby that is frequented by folk from the university that may have private rooms in which to discuss the matter further. In New Ravenshead, bustling metropolis that it is, it’s unlikely that any other quiet spots will be found short of renting rooms at an inn or venturing into the gnome’s offices at the university.
Before leaving, Gildas lays out his plan for dealing with the hooded men, instructing Wanderer, Tyrano, and the newcomer to tail them wherever they go. Tyrano and Norven are easily agreeable to the task, but Wanderer grunts to the negative. “Unless and until we choose to part with it, I go where the Skullsplitter goes.” From the set of his jaw and brow, it’s clear the barbarian will not be moved from this course of action, no matter what Gildas has to say about the matter.
Lockheart also offers to accompany the trio with the gnome. After all, he has no talent for stealth or subterfuge.
Gildas, Lenny-
Walking with the gnome, the crowd reluctantly disperses, perhaps disappointed that there won’t be an outright fight after all. The watch clears a path, urging people to ‘move along now’, and lets the group go—but not without a stern warning to both the gnome and the others to behave and not cause a second outbreak. It appears the watch doesn’t entirely trust assurances of good behavior, either, as a man or two wander in the same direction, keeping a distant eye on them.
The curator, ever a talking man, prattles on during the walk, though it is unclear just who he’s addressing his words to, if anyone. “Finally, the Skullsplitter. I thought those damn dwarves would keep it locked down for an eternity! Shameful, such a historical piece sitting and crumbling to dust in a mountain. Can you believe it? Something so precious, just sitting in a box with a bunch of bones? It should be in a museum, where all can admire it, know its story, and the man who wielded it!” There is perhaps a hypocrisy in the gnome’s intent to effectively lock the weapon up in another box of a different kind, but he doesn’t seem responsive to such input. “This will go so well with the Purest Star, the Redeemer, and all the others, oh yes. Finally a full collection! Magnificent.”
As the curator continues, eventually the group arrives at the pub, where a doorman eyes the weapons carried by the group but does nothing to prevent their carrying them. Inside the gnome arranges for a back room for discussions, and soon enough a server appears to usher all within. The room isn’t large, with a round table and an earthy feel to it from wood-paneled walls, green-and-brown-and-gold paintings of dryads and other sylvan folk, and expertly carved knotwork on the table’s edge and the chairs surrounding it. Drinks are supplied by the gnome—his first vaguely generous act. As the serving girl lets the door click close behind her, he wastes no time in launching into yet more talk.
“So, here we are, private, no crowds, surely we can discuss this like rational humanoids, yes?” He swigs down some dark ale. “The name’s Harchibaud Rodrick Brendagast, Director and Chief Curator of Modrock University’s Relics and Museums Branch.” He beams, pleased with this mouthful of a title. “And you must be warriors and adventurers, I can tell just by looking at you. Practical, weathered clothes, weapons coming out your ears, armor every which way—definitely adventurers.”
He waves a hand impatiently, dismissively. “Now, it doesn’t matter to me how you came across the Skullsplitter—probably better I don’t know—and it doesn’t matter much how you’ve been using it. For a weapon, the big fellow says, which I guess shouldn’t surprise me.” He frowns sourly. “But we’ve gone over that, yes? The issue’s simple, from my perspective. I want the maul. It’s a valuable relic of the past and could educate thousands of people with its presence. Not to mention studying the enchantments and craftsmanship could tell us so much about the old ages! You simply must let me have it.”
“But you’ll want to be compensated, of course.” He nods rapidly. “I don’t know about these ‘Deathspeakers’ or whatever, but if it’s weapons you want, it’s weapons I can get! I’m an enchanter myself, you know, very adept with items and the like. It’s my research specialty after all! If that doesn’t interest you, the Relics and Museums Branch can also offer gold, always a fair exchange, wouldn’t you say? Maybe you’d like honorary degrees instead, though? Prestige, fame, a good name goes a long way, especially around here!” He rubs his hands together excitedly. “Or is there something else? Just tell me, I’m sure we can strike a deal!”
Tyrano, Norven-
When the crowd starts to disperse with murmurs and subdued words in a dull rumble, Tyrano and Norven quietly get lost in the chaos, lingering behind to keep a better eye on the strange, ominous men. [Hide, Spot checks.] The pair easily get lost in the crowd, the black-clad men instead focusing on the rest of the group, which departs openly.
Watching them, Norven and Tyrano soon spot several more of their number, coming together in a discreet huddle of sorts. The men cannot be overhead, but they speak with alert, keen eyes and expressive tones, the sort of men comfortable with words. Their dress more visible, they appear to be scholars, or perhaps students—though perhaps a bit old for the latter. Nine of the men are assembled altogether, and they appear to decide on a course of action quickly enough—they split up into three groups of three. One group moves quietly and calmly down the street after Gildas, Lenny, and the others, keeping at a lengthy distance. Another group heads onto the university with measured steps, speaking with the watch there in familiar terms, checked for weaponry briefly before being allowed through. The last group, however, moves away from the area altogether, towards the magical lifts that take one down to the lower portions of the city—and they move with brisk, urgent steps.
[Who would you like to follow?]
(Character Status)
Gildas – 69/69 HP
Lenny – 61/61 HP
Wystfalrun – 62/62 HP
Norven – 71/71 HP
Lockheart – No damage
Wanderer – 90/90 HP
)