Wiki Gaming:Lacundus Drakulum
The DM
Hello, My name is Jeffrey Malcolmson, and I'll be your DM for this game! I have about 13 years experience playing RPGs, though I'll admit, it's been about 10 since the last time I ran a PBP game. (My favorite forum died and I never found a new home for that style of play. Le sigh.) My last successful PBP RP game was Champions of Geyr, in which a ragtag group of heroes- including a flesh golem- went on an adventure across a frozen hellscape to defeat an empress lich, evade her undead army, and save a princess. So, now that you know a little of who I am, here's the general idea of the game and campaign: --Kydo (talk) 05:53, 21 January 2017 (MST)
The Rules
| Table Rules | |
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| 1. | This is a Play-By-Post wiki-format RP based on D&D. We will be using the 5e rules. There will be a variety of significant changes to almost all of the rules in order to accommodate the PBP play style. |
| 2. | This will be an open-world game. That means you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. Be aware that your consequences for doing incredibly dangerous things may be fatal. Realize that the campaign setting is NOT balanced against your character, and there are many things which you simply should not attempt to attack. Use your best judgement, and remember: He who flees and runs away lives to eat another day. |
| 3. | This will be a sandbox game. That means it is like minecraft. If you have the equipment, you can dig trenches, chop trees, start wildfires, build foretresses, build armies, take the throne of a nation, even reshape the laws of physics. You can wreck anything, you can build anything, and you can interact with everything. Be bold! |
| 4. | In-game events are time dependent. Quest givers, villains, weather, politics, and the economy, will not wait for you while you finish every little sidequest. If someone asks you to rescue their kidnapped daughter, you only have so much time before a rescue mission turns into a revenge mission. |
| 5. | You are not required to stay with the party. (Or even encounter them at all in the first place) |
| 6. | You are not required to be a hero. |
| 7. | You are not required to be good. |
| 8. | Your alignment is just a guide to what your character thinks of themselves as and aspires to be. It is not a restriction, nor is it necessarily an accurate reflection of your character's actual alignment. The DM will track the actual effect of your actions on your alignment behind the scenes. |
| 9. | Morality and ethics are objective forces which manifest in real and physical ways. Good and evil are literal things, and are in a constant state of balance. Wherever good appears in the world, an equal amount of evil manifests elsewhere in the world to counterbalance the effect. When an evil person dies, their evil is redistributed around the world. When you do good, someone else does a proportional evil. These forces are beyond anyone's control, and act in mysterious ways. Even the gods are beneath these physical powers. |
| 10. | Friendly Fire is ON. PVP allowed. Be careful with AOEs. Avoid engaging other PCs. |
| Character Generation | |
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The following sources are acceptable character content references:
You may use the following methods for ability score generation:
If you are using any homebrew, please make note of it, ensure the content is available on the wiki, and provide a link to that content from your character's discussion topic on the talk page. Since you are all homebrewers, I will trust you to have reasonable discussions regarding your designs, and be humble if they are identified as dysfunctional. Your characters must have the following properties in order to qualify as being relevant for play:
The setting is a kitchen-sink fantasy world, so go ahead and use tropes from pretty much any high fantasy setting you like most. I can find away to fit pretty much any kind of insanity into this setting. All characters must be approved by the DM before being allowed into play. The DM is not infallible. You may be asked to retcon your build if something isn't working right for this play style. (It shouldn't be necessary though. I'm pretty creative.) If you would like to join in the game, create a character using the preload and post a link to it on the talk page. Review of the character will take place on that character's talk page, acceptance will take place on this game's talk page. Once accepted, the DM will add a link to your character sheet on the front page, create a personal standing orders header for your character, add you to a party list if you are being introduced directly into a group of characters, and make a post providing your character with an introductory scene. You may discuss with the DM where and how you would like your character to be introduced prior to acceptance. Once you get accepted into the game, please be prepared to post at least once a day, if for no other reason than to confirm or agree with a party decision. If you do not, your decisions will be made for you based on whatever is most convenient for the people involved. This is especially important when your character is involved in combat, as 1/day posting will cause combat to take real-life days. If you are in a combat, please at least make some effort to post more frequently, and do everything in your power to avoid or remove yourself from battle if you do not have the time for it. You can leave standing orders to give the caller or DM some guidance as to what decisions you would like made for your character in the case of an unexpected absence. |
| Play Guidelines | |
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| 1. | Recommended writing style for IC posts is first-person past-tense. |
| 2. | The recommended rating is PG for most scenes, and R during combat. Eroticism is allowed, but not the explicit sort. (Nudity and sexuality are fine, sex is not.) |
| 3. | The recommended tone is generally serious. Characters really do live and die, and many mundane issues really are cosmically relevant. There is levity, people still celebrate and make jokes, but there aren't very many people who exist as jokes. It isn't grimdark or anything, just keep in mind that this is a postapocalyptic medievalesque dark age after a golden age of magic. Life is hard, and the world is dangerous. |
| 4. | Please keep OOC discussions on the talk page, and IC play on the front page. This is one of the major advantages of the wiki format; the two aspects of play can be divided without interfering with each other. |
| 5. | Keep the rules debates to a minimum. Due to the medium, this is going to be a highly non-standard game, and trying to stick too close to the rules in every situation will drive us all insane. If you have an idea for a rules interpretation or rules change, just post it on the talk page and I'll CONSIDER it. |
| 6. | Treat me and each other with more than respect. Treat each other with kindness. We may be strangers, but at the table we are friends of circumstance. I am an administrator, and it is possible that some other players may be admin as well. I will not hesitate to eject bullies from my table and the website if necessary. You have been warned. |
| War Room | |
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During combat, it is perfectly appropriate for the players to discuss combat tactics amongst themselves in privacy. To do so, I will provide you with a war room page. Once the campaign has begun, I will remove it from my watch list and simply choose to not access that page again until the campaign is over. (I mean, unless someone tells me admin intervention is needed or something.) This will allow you to surprise me and my monsters just as much as I surprise you. |
| Player Fiat | |
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It would suck if all you got to do in a day was post a sentence or two. As such, I am relinquishing some authority to the players. DM fiat still trumps player fiat. If I disagree with something you added to the game, I will add a retcon section to your post. (I will not replace your original text; it will be under a small header at the end of your post, and will have my signature attached to it.) Player fiat allows you to add any kind of non-mechanical content to the game. For example, when you arrive in town, you could invent an NPC and carry out a conversation with that person to find the nearest pub. You could also invent the pub, describe its interior, and even order an invented drink from an invented bartender! (However, I will be the one to carry out the transaction and give your character the bottle of whatever.) Player fiat extends fully to any NPCs in your service. Mounts, pets, familiars, hirelings, slaves, prisoners, summons, etc. They are all completely under your control- unless I remove them from your service. (IE, they betray you, reject you, flee, get lost, or get killed.) Since these are essentially part of your character, I will only do this for narrative reasons. Player fiat also extends, in a very limited way, to other PCs. This limits back-and-forth posting between players who may not have as much free time. For example, a player could carry out a conversation with another character entirely in their own post. However, any time you use player fiat to manipulate another character, you are opening up your post to be fully and freely retconned by that player if they disagree with what you had their character do. So, for example, if you have someone else's character commit suicide, they are free to retcon your post and have your character commit suicide instead. If you utilize another PC in your post, do so with caution and kindness, be as unintrusive as possible, make sure you are intimately familiar with what that character is like, and understand their background and personality information from their character sheet. Basically, including another PC in a post means you are declaring shared ownership of that post's contest with that character's player. In general, it is only OK to do this if the net effect is either neutral or positive for both characters. If you want to do something which could be negative involving another PC, discuss it on the talk page first, and explain your reasoning. This is a technique borrowed from PBP RPs, and extends ONLY to roleplay aspects of the game. You can not use player fiat to decide another PC's combat actions, for example. You also can not use player fiat to make decisions for another player's character. |
| Called Shots | |
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The PBP format hinges on an extremely descriptive style of play, emphasizing narration and narrative over keyworded commands. As such, called shots are mandatory, so I don't have to make everything up form scratch every time I resolve a round of combat. That said, called shots do not have mechanical effects. |
| Macguyverism | |
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Yes, if you have the materials, you can tie a flask of alchemist's fire to the end of an arrow. I am totally cool with macguyverisms in this game, because I want to avoid the hell out of combat. Macguyverisms involve cool descriptive gameplay, encourage creativity, and resolve problems faster and easier than by adhering strictly to the written mechanics. In any instance where a macguyverism would be better than rolling dice, I encourage you to go for it! I want you to solve problems with your brain, not your numbers! |
| Standing Orders | |
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We want to pack as much as possible into each post we make, and to do that you will each want as much material as possible to work with for each post. As such, standing orders will be an extremely useful tool to you. When your character is accepted into the game, you will be given a header here, in which you may write all of your personal standing orders. When I resolve a round or respond to your post, I will automatically assume your standing orders are taken and give results accordingly- whether your standing orders are successful or not is another story altogether, but it's an effective way to maximize my output of material to you. One important standing order is the position of party Caller. The caller is in charge of group decisions, like which direction to travel while navigating the overworld, or making up group standing orders. You should choose a caller from the group. If you are a caller, you should base your judgements on what your group wants, not just your personal interests. Each party group (in the event of a split party) should have its own caller. If you are isolated from the other characters, you are your caller. Additionally, each party should choose a Mapper. This is the person whose ability scores will be tested for navigation. As with the caller, if your character is isolated, you are your mapper. There are also standing orders for the whole party. Generally, the party caller will be in charge of writing and adding those, but I will do it for you as well if I notice repetitive behavior across multiple posts.
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| Overland Travel | |
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Travel is based on a hex crawl, but that is purely an organizational thing on my side of the screen. You do not need to worry about hexagonal movement. Just use the cardinal directions or refer to landmarks. Travel is carried out in phases, (periods of time equivalent to roughly two hours). While I am vaguely following the guidelines for overland travel pace in the PHB and DMG, I had to augment them for a variety of reasons. Mainly: my world is very small, and I do not want people to walk all the way around it in a matter of months. As such, I am assuming that the travel paces in the core rules are theoretical, like if your characters were walking across an infinite smooth flat plane. As such, it only holds true when travelling on roads. Furthermore, no roads travel straight through a region, even if it is relatively "flat", so while a hex may be 1 mile wide, the road through it may be several times that, depending on how much it is forced to wind around! Additionally, terrain and weather will alter how much time it takes you to travel that distance, in phases. Basically, you are travelling by the hex. While each hex may be 1 mile across, it is not a measure of your travel distance, just a way of dividing up the land for me to generate random encounters. Actual distance travelled and time taken between hexes will vary depending on travel pace, weather, and terrain. My intention is to obfuscate the artificial feeling of a hex crawl, so that you get the immersive experience of dead reckoning and orienteering on the ToTM side of the game. For each phase of travel declared, I will respond with a description of the travel which occurs, and end it with an encounter should one occur. Not all encounters will be combat- in fact, most will not be. During travel, players may divide their posts up into roleplay during the travel portion of my description and their responses to the current encounter if there is one. Travel direction per phase is decided by the party caller. Thus, the pace of travel is strongly dependent on the response time of whoever is in this position. At any point, players may interrupt this process to discuss navigation. You can get lost. At each phase, I will secretly check a combination of DCs against the party mapper, (or whoever seems to be in charge of the group) to see if they become lost. I will give hints if you are going the right or wrong way, but I will not telegraph them. It will be up to you to interpret a hint from fluff. A player may split from the party and begin navigating the overworld at any point. |
| XP and Leveling | |
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XP will be awarded on an individual basis, and everyone starts at first level, even if they just joined in or made a new character. XP rewards are based on the difficulty and apparent challenge presented by obstacles when they have been overcome. XP is awarded primarily for taking risks. The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward. Creative roleplaying might earn you some bonus XP later on, but it is not immediate. You may gain a level any time you are not in combat; it is not tied to resting, civilization, travel, downtime, etc. |
| PC Retirement & Death | |
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You may retire a character at any time. When you do, the character becomes an NPC in the setting. The DM will still defer to your judgement in the character's behavior. Combat has been augmented to be swift, brutal, and easily fatal. You will likely lose a few characters. Be prepared with backups for when this happens. That said, a character's death is not necessarily the end of the game for that character. Your soul is immortal, and death is merely a transition from one state to another. A character will find themselves being taken to the outer planes, judged, and sorted. If you wish, you may use this as the beginning of a whole new adventure. Alternatively, you may decide to retire the character to their afterlife and begin anew. The choice is yours. |
| The Setting |
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Here is a short clipshow I put together representing the known history of the campaign. Lacundus Drakulum is a composite of Latin meaning "Dungeon World Ruled by Dragons". (Though it is spoken in a choppy, ignorant sort of way which would have deeply offended actual Latin-speaking people) The Dragons are the oldest intelligent race, they were the first people to inhabit the world, and they will likely be the last as well. They watched the arrival of the other intelligent races as the gods whimmed them into existence. The first were the elves, followed by the dwarves and orcs, and then finally men and all the other younger races were created. Hundreds of years ago, the people of this world were actually quite advanced. Most of the surface was settled or developed in some way, and magic was as ubiquitous for them as technology is for us. Sadly, it was all destroyed. The details are hazy, but there was a great war, today called "The Last War", which tore all of civilization asunder, and plunged the world into a new dark age, which is the period you are all now living in. The cause was a terrible weapon called the "Almagest Spellbomb", a magic weapon which was used to put an end to the conflict. Once activated, it reshaped the continents, wiped one nation's capital province off the surface of the planet, repositioned the moon, altered the planet's rotation, and cast an antimagic field over the entire globe for over a hundred years. Since the antimagic field collapsed, magic has returned to the world, and ancient ruins and old technology is beginning to reactivate. So much has been lost- and there is so much waiting to be rediscovered. Today, only the very oldest of elves faintly remember the world as it was before The Last War, from their youths. A few dragons also remember such times, though many of the young were slain during The Last War. As a consequence, detailed knowledge about the ancient world is scarce and incomplete. The best records are also the oldest, written by elder elves shortly after the spellbomb was cast. In this new dark age, the Dragons have claimed rulership of all civilizations. Draconic civilization does not work the same as those of lesser races, and so they were not especially involved in the world prior to The Last War. Since then, they have unified and come to the conclusion that The Last War was ultimately their fault due to their own inaction as a race. They believe that they had the capacity to prevent it from ever happening at all. As such, Dragons now organize themselves into a hierarchic governing body, called the Council of Wyrms, who independently regulate the governments of various civilizations. Any nation-states which refuses to abide by their laws are destroyed. They see other races as being beneath them, almost like pets or zoo animals, and they feel that it is their duty to keep these animals under control- to weed civilization as though it were a garden. While this has been very good in many ways, as almost all war has been eliminated, it also means that technological, magical, and cultural progress is suppressed. Any advancements made or past inventions rediscovered, are confiscated, though handsome rewards are given out to people who openly and freely donate such discoveries and inventions to the authorities. This has created a thriving black market for relics and forgotten magic or lore. Every governing system or ruler has a specific dragon councilor assigned to it as Overseer, and they are required to be present during all decision making events. These draconic overseers are supposed to merely be watchdogs, and are not technically supposed to influence national decisions beyond a regulatory scope. However, because there is little oversight above them, and because most dragons have a tendency toward a certain alignment, there is a lot of corruption and espionage behind the scenes surrounding each of them, whether they cause it or not. You are all adventurers, or at least aspire to be. You are either native to, or have just arrived in, a region known as The Rift. The Rift is essentially the crater left by the almagest spellbomb, though only people with a proficiency in history would be aware of such off the top of their head. It is surrounded on all sides by jagged mountains, and there are only three passageways in and out of the region. (Two by land, one by Dwarven low road) The Rift has a complex ecosystem; it is like a patchwork quilt of micro-biomes supported by what can only be assumed is residual magic from its original detonation. (For those who may find this familiar: Yes, The Rift is an adaptation of Thunder Rift. No, I am not using Havard's campaign plan, as I am not converting over any of the official adventures from that setting. I just find the environment extremely adaptable, and so a useful starting area.) 60 years ago, a black drakaina named Ixenusk was assigned by the Council of Wyrms, to be overseer of the newly officiated Kingdom of the Rift. Her reputation is spotty, at best. In her previous assignment, (Overseer of Former Crane, one of the oldest nations, established almost immediately after the last war) she is generally well-regarded, as she led her human nation to victory over a competing nation of hobgoblins in the region. However, as a part of that conflict, she engaged a fellow councilor, red dragon Gixorn, in mortal combat, slew him, ate his remains, and built a new palace for her people out of his bones. The empire of Former Crane is now one of the most stable of nations, and hold a secure military foothold in their region. It is generally agreed that Ixenusk loves her people and cares for her charges greatly- but will be unimaginably cruel to everyone else in the process. She is currently based in the capital at Melinir, where she is now establishing her role in the court since the necessary renovations have been completed. I will eventually be making a campaign page for this game, which will be expanded upon and detailed as we play. I'm still figuring out how I'm going to organize it though. My hope is that once we get going, well be able to work on it together. So, like, if a person uses their fiat to add an NPC to the game, they could do a write-up for that character in the campaign page, which can be used as a guide for others when they interact with him.
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| Combat | |
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Like everything else, combat will be Theater of the Mind style. Movement will be handled by "zones". A zone is an area that is either physically separated from other areas of the battlefield, such as by layer or a barrier, or barring that is 3,6002 feet (A 60x60ft area). At the start of combat, all relevant zones will be listed by name.
Leaving adjacency provokes opportunity attacks from creatures you are currently adjacent to. Getting out of reach provokes opportunity attacks from all creatures with reach weapons in the zone. Leaving a zone will provoke opportunity attacks from both groups. When moving, you are assumed to be forced to path through any rough terrain in the zone. Rough terrain is measured across its thinnest point, and only affects your speed in a zone for that distance. For example:
Melee weapons can only hit enemies who are adjacent. Reach weapons can also hit any enemy in a zone who has not spent speed to get out of reach or take cover. Thrown weapons can hit any enemy in a zone. Ranged weapons can hit any enemy in a zone, and any enemy in any adjacent zones. We are running on stack based combat. I will roll everyone's initiative when combat begins. The monsters will then all take a group turn. You each get your own turns, and may take your turns in any order. Any NPCs under your control are given their directions on your turn. You have 12 hours to use your turn or you will forfeit it. Once all players involved in combat have taken their turns for the round, I will then decide the actual order of events, and resolve all of the actions, on my side of the screen. For example:
Special Combat Actions:
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| Downtime | |
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| I will be awarding downtime as a currency. You may spend your downtime between adventures, when your characters return to civilization. Downtime is awarded for a wide variety of things, most of which are mundane and circumstantial. If you wish, you may bluebook your downtime, if you make it a sub page of this page, or of your own user page.
If you are not familiar with this style of play, you may go to the Wizards of the Coast website and download their Adventurer's League Player's Guide. It contains an explanation of the system. In addition to the downtime activities provided in the PHB, all of the downtime activities presented in the DMG, (With the exclusion of Gaining a Level) are also available. The following variant downtime activities from the wiki may also be used:
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| Variant Rules | |||||||||||||||||||||
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| A lot of variant rules are being included for the purposes of maximizing how much the players can do in a single post and minimizing the intrusion of combat. As such, combat is modded to be as lethal and punishing as possible, while simultaneously giving creatures more methods to end combat faster. | |||||||||||||||||||||
| Inspiration: | Any time you really like another player's post, you may award them inspiration. Inspiration is not a point system, so it does not stack or accumulate. A player with inspiration may spend that inspiration to gain advantage on an attack, check, or save. It means more hits, so I'm all for it. I never remember to distribute inspiration IRL, so I'm putting it in your hands. Don't betray my trust here. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Hero Points: | Even squandered hero points mean fewer misses, which means shorter combats. You have hero points equal to half your level +5. You may spend 1 hero point to gain +1d6 to an attack, check, or save. It means less time wasted on failed and repeat attempts. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Plot Points: | To supplement player fiat, I'm enabling plot points. You each get 1 plot point. You can spend a plot point to add 1 mechanical thing to the game. You can create new items sold at a shop, or write a stat block for the king, for example. If a player uses a plot point to make something you don't like, it will be retconned away and the plot point refunded. If anyone spends a plot point to do something that I feel is against the spirit of the system or the game, I will retcon that thing and the point will not be refunded. You gain 1 plot point each time you level, and yes, they do accumulate if you have not spent them. They can not be replenished. So, do not squander your plot points on things people hate- you will gain nothing from it. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Feats & Multiclassing: | Yes. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Variant Human: | Allowed. Also coexists with standard human. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Variant Races: | Yeah, you can play a PHB tiefling or a SCAG variant. You could play a DMG Aasimar or a Volo's variant. It's all good. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Variant Backgrounds: | All are valid. That said, be aware that about half of the backgrounds available in Volo's are objectively inferior to identically themed backgrounds available from other sources. Use them at your own risk. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Epic Boon Alternatives: | Yes. If we ever get to tier 4 play and you receive a boon, you may choose to take a feat or ASI instead. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Mixing Potions: | Drink a combination of potions, and turn your guts into a chemistry set! Random chart causes crazy stuff to happen! | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Firearms: | The generic, non-modern firearms are available from gunsmiths, which only exist in capital cities. You can also purchase renaissance explosives from alchemists in capital cities. The only way to have firearm proficiency is to forfeit full martial weapons proficiency during chargen. If you are not proficient in martial weapons, you can not do this. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Advanced Tech: | If you find modern items or advanced magic items, which is likely, we will be using the figuring out alien tech rules. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Background Proficiency: | A character can apply proficiency to any check which their background would reasonably prepare them for. However, they must justify their use of this proficiency in specific terms of actual past experiences that would be applicable to the current situation. Tell us a story. Convince us. It means fewer fails. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Trait Proficiency: | Any time a positive personality trait could apply to a check or save, that player may add proficiency to it, but they must give it some genuine roleplay- chew the scenery a bit. A characters ideals, bonds, and flaws are used, at the DMs discretion, to apply advantage or disadvantage to checks and saves under certain conditions. It means fewer fails. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Success at a Cost: | If a character fails an attack, save, or check by a difference of 0-3, they are considered to have succeeded. However, they will be subject to a consequence. The greater the difference in failure, the greater the complications of their success. (IE: Lifting a rock, DC10, Strength Check rolls 9. "You lift the rock, but pull a muscle. You have -5 INIT until your next long rest.") It means fewer misses, but it doesn't take the sting out of a failing roll. Also, the minor costs give us more material to write about. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Degrees of Failure: | If a character fails an attack, save, or check by a difference of 10 or more, there are additional consequences for their failure. Gives us more to write about. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Criticals: | Any time a character rolls a natural 20 on a check, save, or attack, it is an automatic success. If, even with their modifiers added, they should still fail, they succeed anyways, but any appliccable degrees of failure still take effect. (For example, PC with +5 rolls a 20 on a DC35 check. After modifiers, they should still fail, as 25 is less than 35. However, due to the natural 20, they succeed. Because their result was 10 less than the DC, they are affected by some sort of degree of failure effect, after succeeding at the check.) Any time a character rolls a natural 1 on a check, save, or attack, it is an automatic failure, even if their modifiers would have them succeed. (For example, a character with +5 rolls a 1 on a DC5 check. With a result of 6, he should succeed, but the natural 1 forces an automatic failure.) | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Loyalty & Morale: | I will be tracking the numeric loyalty of any NPCs in your service. If you treat them like crap, or put them in terrible situations, do not be surprised if you lose them. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Fear & Horror: | Whenever a character is exposed to any frightening creature or situation, they must make a wisdom save or become afraid for 1 minute. If a character is exposed to a continuing experience that is horrifying, they must make a wisdom save. A failure inflicts madness for as long as the character is exposed to that situation. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Sanity: | Instead of using a sanity score, use your wisdom score.
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| Cleaving: | If your melee damage exceeds the remaining HP of a monster, the remaining damage will be delivered to another creature within reach. Cleaving through only happens on lethal damage. If you are attacking to knock the enemy out, then the damage does not cleave through. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Hitting Cover: | When firing into a melee there is a chance youll hit someone else. Since Ill be the one rolling up all the attacks as I resolve a round, this only means something to me. For the rest of you, itll happen when it happens. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Massive Damage: | If a creature takes damage greater than half its health in a single swing, it must make a DC15 CON save against the system shock table.
System Shock:
When mixed with injuries, below, this rule will get more creatures out of the fight faster, either by incapacitating them or making them turn tail. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Injuries: | A creature receives an injury each time it takes a critical hit, drops to 0 hit points, or fails a death saving throw. Roll against the following Table to determine effect
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| Healing Kits: | A character cannot spend hit dice during a rest, unless a healer's kit has been used on them. | ||||||||||||||||||||
| Slow Natural Healing: | A characters health does not fully restore on a long rest. They must use hit dice, with the aide of a healers kit, just as with a short rest.
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| Gritty Realism: | A short rest is 8 hours. A long rest is 7 days. |
The Game
Current Time:
| Prologue: Ra-elope is pulled in to investigating a suspicious case of artifact weapons smuggling. In order to acquire some important evidence, he hires help in the form of Xander Ajason, who has just arrived in town with an agenda of his own, at the Wayfaring Stranger. Meanwhile, Olek the dwarf has hired Mad Girty to help find some magicyte, a crystal of frightening power.She signs on to help keep the crystal from being used again, and is uneasy when Olek brings first Xander, and then Ra-elope, on board as well. The pair use the excuse of the prospecting mission to acquire the cart that contains the vital piece of evidence in Ra-elope's case. And now, permits and cart in order, they prepare for the prospecting mission... | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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--Kydo (talk) 12:58, 24 January 2017 (MST)DMA-1 A cool winter day. Haven't had one of these in years. The subtropical clime usually keeps the valley hot and dry when it isn't flooded with warm rain. The sky is a dingy grey, clouded over with only small patches of blue on the horizon over the Eastern mountains. It was raining lightly earlier, and the streets of Melinir are speckled damp. Ra-elope is sitting on a bench along a side-road near the North wall gate, eating his lunch. It's late in the day, but he'd been working that morning and there was a fist fight at the prison which tied things up. He watched as foreign caravaneers slowly shuffled their way in past the guards, frowns turning to smiles as security checks finished their intrusion. Suddenly, there was a shout! "ARTIFACT GUN!" Several guards grabbed the people they were checking, and threw them to the floor, covering them with their bodies! Three dragonborn soldiers emerged from the gatehouse and wrestled a half-elf to the street! He shouted something in draconic at them as they pinned him to the ground and tightly bound his wrists cross-ways behind his back. As they lifted him to his feet, the third soldier carefully removed some shining black steel object from the man's cart. You've seen these before. It's an ancient artifact- a weapon that was designed to allow even the most dim of peasant to kill a wizard or king with ease. The rifles the smiths near the docks make are supposedly based on these, but are considered to be a crude imitation at best. This thing was small enough to hide inside one's pocket! The ancient world must have been quite frightening. These were the most common type of artifacts smuggled- every criminal and his mother wants to get their hands on one. Luckily, they rely on another artifact; ancient bullets are complex mechanical parts, a far-cry from the simple steel shot used by modern rifles. These ancient bullets are almost impossible to find in working condition today... Ra-Elope's thoughts were interrupted as the soldiers lifted a heavy steel crate from the cart and opened the lid. There were thousands of ancient bullets inside, shining, in perfect pristine condition. The leader of the soldiers, a red dragonborn, let loose an animal snarl, drawing his sword, then spied Ra-elope on the bench. "You! Executioner! I'm glad you are here! This man is smuggling enough deadly artifacts to earn himself the death sentence at least ten times over! I will pay you to exact the punishment decreed by the council for us, if you will ensure that he is killed correctly." The elf screeched, "Killed correctly?! I was going to donate those to the authorities for a ransom, not smuggle the things! You never even asked me what was in my cart!!" A guardsman, helping the merchant he was protecting back to his feet, shouted back, "We aren't expected to. Salvagers are required to have their salvage on display and announce it upon arrival. You did neither- and hid your supplies inside a pile of hay covered in tarp. Hiding salvage of any sort is a finable offence." another guard, an elf whose chain hood had fallen back in the shuffle, interjects, "We never had a death penalty in Melinir until this whole monarchy nonsense started, and we never had a problem with artifacts either. According to our traditions, he is still owed a trial by our mayor- er- 'king'." The red dragonborn raised one brow-ridge in an annoyed expression, then looked back to you expectingly. "I already know what he's going to say. And I think the executioner does too." (The soldiers are NOT local. They are soldiers in the Council of Wyrms' personal army. They are here to enforce council law in addition to upholding local law in the process. They're actually a pretty good-natured bunch, and there is very little corruption among their ranks, but their job of merging local and international law is a difficult one, and they frequently make mistakes.) --Kydo (talk) 13:37, 24 January 2017 (MST)DMA-2
6,4,11,5 You've been walking for over a day. You had to camp off the side of the road at the base of the mountain pass and get some rest under the stars. It is a murky day, and your heart sinks half a tone lower as you feel another chilly breeze in the damp morning air. Glancing behind you, you can still see the cheery blue you had been travelling under through the mounatins. Turning ahead again to the Northwest, you can see the walls and towers of Melinir peaking through the trees on the horizon. It has been a very long time since you were last here, just a day's stop while on the road, but the place seems oddly... bigger than you remember it- especially for a walled city. The road is exactly as crummy as you remember it though. Melinir is built on the edge of the dingy swamp ironically known as "Lake" Ganif, and many of the roads are basically a series of low bridges between dry patches. Still though, as you walk, and more roads converge, traffic seems to be growing, and you are slowly surrounded by many other travelers from the local area. After walking six crummy hours along the muddy highway, you finally find yourself alligned with Melinir to the West and get a decent look at the place. The entire Eastern wall has been replaced by a massive white keep. The structure is hideous- a stunning example of draconic architecture to be sure- it is nothing more than a great white block, devoid of windows or embellishments. Not even so much as battlements mar the austerity of its form. Of course not- who needs battlements when you have a screaming dragon to save your hide? It almost appears comical though. Aside from the new fortress, the city has barely grown at all, and its ruddy old red walls seem like a strange juxtaposition against it. The road runs alongside the "lake" shore, though really it's just a change in depth. Your stomach growls as a single rain drop bounces off your forehead and runs down your cheek. On the bright side: Last time you were here, bandits had tried to mug you at least three times. Things seem very peaceful these days. You glance out over the foggy lake and see the silhouette of Mage Island mirrored on the water. To this day, a series of several pillars can be seen standing tall over the trees. You've never been to the island, or know much about it, but it is certainly a sight to be appreciated. Green Dragon (talk) 14:58, 24 January 2017 (MST)HAN-3 Ra-elope stops biting into his lunch, throws the rest of the chicken breast onto the ground behind him, and walks over to the guards.
Ra-elope goes right in front of the half-elf, pushes his snout right against his neck, and informs him
Ra-elope pulls back from the half-elf, and announces to all the people who have stopped and are looking at the commotion.
Ra-elope turns around to the guards, and tells the dragonborn who ran out of the gatepost to follow him to the prison with the prisoner, along with his entire cart. Upon entering the prison, Ra-elops locks up the smuggler, secures the wagon and its possessions in the holding bay of the prison, and then informs the guards that he wants a message posted on all the message boards stating:
--Kydo (talk) 15:23, 24 January 2017 (MST)DMA-4
6,4,10,4 An awkward day with awkward weather. Cold wind, warm air, dry wind, wet sky, all together very confused. Girty carefully stepped through a thicket of brush toward a tangled heap of green vines. She carefully looked closely at the underside of the leaves and sighed. More poison ivy. She was beginning to feel that this "dimsweed" was nothing more than an urban legend. Supposedly, the plant closely resembles poison ivy, aside from having a hoary under-petal. The plant supposedly repels the vast majority of insects, and is key to success at traveling the swamps surrounding Lake Ganif. However, three days of searching have given you nothing but itchy red bumps. You can't find anyone who grows or harvests the plant, and none of the local shops or florists sell it or its seeds. For such a supposedly important and vital thing, it seems odd that-- An unusually loud disembodied chord is struck inside your mind as Sehtxis restates an earlier thought. Now, where were you? Oh. Yes. Poison ivy. You tromped your way back toward the road, scratching the remaining itches on your left arm as you go. To the south, you see the familiar high walls of Melinir, and in the distance all around, you can see roads and farmer's fields all tangled together in the rolling, rocky hills. A field of aurochsen lies directly to the east, and you see a farmer's boy directing them back toward the barn assumedly on the other side of the hill. At the bottom of the hill is a wide square pond a couple of stray aurochsen cows are drinking from it. Far to the east, you see mountain peaks and a sliver of blue sky over the horizon. You can't see it now, but you know that from the tops of the hills, you can see the southern stretches of the Gauntlin forest, though the way there is blocked by an unbridged arm of the Drake river. You feel a few drops of rain spatter on your shoulder and sigh again. It seems as though it is about to begin raining yet again. Marasmusine (talk) 16:09, 24 January 2017 (MST)HAN-5 Mad Girty let the raindrops fall on her head and tongue for a moment, then raised her hood. Sat on a rock, she counted her remaining coins. "1 for rent. 1 for father. 1 for the for the, the li... library..." She wondered how much a dog would cost to buy and keep, one with a good nose. Part of her wanted to run, quietly but wildly, towards the forest. Would something eat her, without leaving a trace? Would it let her sketch it first? "5 silver for ointment," she muttered, scratching her hand. She decided to head back to the city, perhaps swinging by the pond to see if there are any interesting critters swimming about.
Salasay Δ 18:02, 24 January 2017 (MST)HAN-6
--Kydo (talk) 23:24, 24 January 2017 (MST)DMA-7 OK! First resolution post! Let's see how this goes!
CHA Persuasion? (18, 9, 11) The guardsmen stared agape, shocked at the headsman's sudden show of force! The dehooded elf turns heel and leaves the building. Even the prisoner seems surprised! The red dragonborn furrows his brow. His compatriots, a blue dragonborn and a copper dragonborn stare at him. The blue dragonborn is the first to speak. "Well? He's the local official. You turned to his judgement! It isn't my fault he's taking advantage of the situation!" The copper dragonborn scoffs "official? He's a man-butcher! Besides, this is the first I've ever heard of a militia. And arming them with submachine guns? That's just asking for trouble! Even with a pile of ammo like that, they'd be strapped foe supplies! Who knows if even half of those things work at all? The red dragonborn puts his hand on the copper dragonborn's chest to silence him. "Nobody can use those weapons. They're to be collected and shipped to a recycling forge. That is the council's decree." The blue dragon interrupts, "How many council dragons do you see in this room? Around here, Ixenusk IS the council. He works for her directly! Bseides, what about The Pale? They used a damn missile to wipe out a harpy nest last year! I was there when the gnomes finally got it to fire!" Their leader grabs him by his collar and screams in his face, "a single artifact used tactically by a team of specialists under direct supervision is not the same as giving weapons of unprecedented risk to a bunch of valley-dwelling yokels!! But you're right about him being above our pay grade. But I have my channels and my duties." He turned back to Ra-elope and spoke gruffly: "I believe this is a security risk. I am not releasing the artifacts to your custody. We will carry out the rest of your plan, and I will make a full report of this incident to Ixenusk, King Soryl, Captain Jarekhat, and the district inquisitor. Brunner, lock up the relics in the tower with the rest of the contraband." The three dragonborn left the building. Aside from the security detail rattling the jail cell doors to check the locks, you were alone with the new prisoner- who was still tied in what is technically a torture posture. He smiled at you as he twisted his back to wiggle his now purple fingers in a "hello" gesture. "I can explain! I swear!" There's a book in a leather sack strapped to the underside of my cart. Get it and I'll have proof of my innocence!"
(Not much to go off of, but I'll manage.) After stopping by the aurochs troph, and noting it to be filled with frogs, she began heading south toward home. It's afternoon now, and even by road the walk will take several hours. It'll be past supper when she arrives! Walking south, the storm finally came, and then went as quickly as it announced itself. (Encounter: Social. Man out of place.) Rounding the bend past the burial mound left by the orcs long ago, she spotted a young Dwarven man, unusually thin, with long blond hair which clung to his ragged clothes in a tangled mass. His pack was tall, including enough gear for at least the beginnings of a small mining operation. He stood in the middle of the road, oblivious to the world, muttering to himself as he rustled a large and unwieldy map.
CHA Persuasion: (7) The guard mulls it over in his head. HD thinks long and hard, eyeing you head-to-toe. He is about to speak, when he is interrupted by the sound of rattling chains. The steel portcullis of the gate slowly begins to lower! "Crap, it's a damn emergency. You're citizens, get inside the walls. Immediately." You and the stranger manage to rush the frightened horse through the gate, and the bars screech into their final position just on your heels. You don't have a moment to think before a scaly hand grabs you by the sleeve and pulls you close. A red scaled dragonborn pokes his snout close to your face and snarls, "you snake, I saw you weasel in your way past the guard! You're only in here because of a technicality! I have half a mind to lock you up with the elf!" The guard puts his hand on the dragonborn's armored shoulder, "relax. Look at him. He's been out in the woods for gods-know-how-long. He needs a beer, not a cage." The dragonborn shoves you back, snorting under his breath, "Riftmen..." As he storms off to the gate tower, he shouts something in draconian at two other dragonborn offloading piles of shiny metal objects from a cart full of hay. He slams the door behind him, and splinters can be seen flying all about from the framework. The man who gave you a ride remarks, "it looks like he needs a beer more than either of us do..." Salasay Δ 00:05, 25 January 2017 (MST)HAN-8
Green Dragon (talk) 06:55, 25 January 2017 (MST)HAN-9 Ra-elope turns to leave the prisoner's cell, but then stops at the last moment. He turns around and removes the prisoner's torture holdings. As the prison slumps to the ground, Ra-elope gives him his warning.
Then, Ra-elope turns to leave the prisoner's cell with the torture equipment, locks the metal door and secures it, but leaves the air escape open for the prisoner. After leaving the prison, Ra-elope heads to the Wayfaring Stranger, tavern. After spending some time socializing around the tavern, Ra-elope sees exactly who he is looking for. "You, soldier" he says as he approaches Xander Ajason.
Marasmusine (talk) 09:28, 25 January 2017 (MST)HAN-10 Girty stopped beside the dwarf and muttered. He looked up with a start. "You startled me, lady!" "I said 'are you lost'"? "'Lost' is not a word used by the Bazastens! I am merely making sure that my destination falls upon my intended path." Girty stared down at his worn boots. "Having said that, do you perchance know of some hitherto unnamed hills near..." The dwarf turned the map over. "There's a forest, with a lake..." Girty leaned in closer. "Let me see..." He snached the parchment away protectively. Girty stood up straight. "Then what are you mining? I'm guessing that's your plan? I've read the propsecting reports for iron, tin..." "No, no, nothing like iron or tin, not a metal per se... anyway, that's not your business." "Well, firstly, you can't just start digging around here, you need a permit, and b) it's quite dangerous to go into the hills alone. You should also stand to one side on these roads if you're going to be so oblivious." "Pah, I'll be fine. Lady, if you could just tell me, there's a forest with a lake, and..." She looked him up and down. "You also look very tired and you need a bath and new boots. I am sorry to say." Bazasten seemed to be a little offended, but decided to let Girty accompany him to Melnir. They walked in awkward silence for the most part, but Girty was able to ascertain the rough location of the dwarf's "destination". She also became intensly curious about his evasiveness about what he intended to dig for. They reached the city's east gate to find the portcullis shut. (Sorry if I'm sometimes short, it takes me a long time to think narratively, and I often don't get a lot of time) Salasay Δ 15:49, 25 January 2017 (MST)HAN-11
--Kydo (talk) 16:22, 25 January 2017 (MST)DMA-12
(You guys can totally interact without my input! I'm in charge of the world. I only took temporary control of your characters at the start to sort of "put" them in the world.) (EDIT: Oh! You are! Oops!)
The dwarf stared up at the steel bars aghast. "MY STUFF! MY INN PAYMENT! My supper... It's all trapped inside of there! What is the meaning of this?!" An elf in chain armor, one of the guardsman approaches the gate from the inside, and speaks plainly to him. "It's temporary. We had an incident and we're confiscating contraband from a cart. We're almost done. Just wait a few minutes. The boxes are very heavy." A red dragonborn, one of the Wyrm soldiers stationed in Melinir for the season, came stomping out of the gate tower and handed several packages to a blue dragonborn Wyrm soldier. He hissed something in draconic to the man, smiled, (DM Correction: He makes a grotesque dragonborn approximation of a smile. Doesn't ring as nicely does it?) and shook his hand. As the last box was lifted from the cart, the blue dragonborn took the reigns, placed the packages on the seat beside himself, and struck the horses to tow into town, turning left immediately toward the keep. PASSIVE PERCEPTION (10) The gate tower bell is struck once and the portcullis begins to rise, screeching as its old metal frame rubs against the rough stonework. The elf sighs, "We can afford a 75 foot tall sheet of solid granite, but we can't afford a bucket of oil for the gate. And they say Riftmen are unreasonable..." and turns to return to his post. The sun is low now, and the shadows are long. It will be soon to sunset, and you can feel another rain coming on. The dwarf slapped Girty mid-back is a gruff thanks, and then imposed himself in front of her. "Look, I can tell you know your way here- heck, you probably already know where I'm trying to go! -and you already showed you know how to tell a dwarf he's going boonie through the soles of his boots. It seems my partner has quit on me, so I have some extra coin if you'll come to dinner and make a deal. I'll be at the Wayfaring Stranger for tonight. Moon-room." He saunters off toward the market, gear clattering as it sways from the sides of his pack. --Kydo (talk) 18:17, 25 January 2017 (MST) 18:16, 25 January 2017 (MST)DMA-13 (Time to paint a picture!)
The Lost Wayfarer is a good establishment. Just off the side of the central market area, it is a 3-story bar and hotel. Before the keep was built, this was where foreign nobles would stay, and sometimes they still do! To accommodate any type of patron, the rooms for sale are not numbered or lettered, but instead have wooden shapes nailed to them. There are, for example, the fish room, the apple room, and the bottle room. Several of these rooms have developed a history. The rat room was used by the long-gone thieves guild of old as a meeting hall, and the bed in the chandelier room was once mysteriously replaced with a mimic! The main dining area is of key importance. It is 15ft tall; a much higher ceiling than the guest floors above. Though generally quiet and peaceful today, in the past it was a very rowdy and dangerous bar, especially back when the thieves guild would frequent the place. There are various burn marks and old weapon damage on structural beams and old walls throughout this main area. There's even some old shortsword jammed in between the masonry of the fireplace hearth! The bar area is currently run by an exposed Doppelganger named Ph, (Though most of the regular patrons call him Phil... for the obvious pun). He is... A strange man. His typical reply to most questions is to lock eyes with the asker and remain silent and still for 15 seconds. He usually takes the form of a fat old man, a coworker from decades ago who passed away recently. When drunk, he likes to take the form of rude nobles he has served in the past and have them mock themselves. Otherwise, he takes the form of the bar's owner or the patron he is speaking to. Tonight, he's feeling down and hitting the bottles under the well. In about an hour, he'll be "King Isonray of Rhumsland reciting poetry about his chamber boy" drunk. Aside from Ph, the owner's daughter, Sil, occasionally runs the bar. She is a tough young woman, with thick arms and legs, and a trunk-like body. Though not given to be especially demure, she often finds herself flattered by the attention of dwarven men, who basically see her as "A perfect dwarven woman, but with more leg than one man can handle!" Needless to say, the owner does not appreciate the dwarven customers as much as they appreciate his daughter's. And the owner? He is rarely if ever seen. He spends his time cooped up on the third floor in the large bedchamber, the one with the green door. Tonight, a travelling minstrel was scheduled to play, but he's nowhere to be seen nor heard, so it seems like Ph will have the stage to himself.
A blade is drawn. Blood flows. Everywhere. So much blood. Not a scream. Just a smile. It's over. Your long journey is finally over. Sweet dreams, fare friend. But not for me. I can't eat now- the feast has only just begun! I am all alone... and there is such great work yet to be done!!! Salasay Δ 20:02, 25 January 2017 (MST)WFS-14
Green Dragon (talk) 22:17, 25 January 2017 (MST)WFS-15
I make an Intelligence check (+3) (do I get advantage because of the ale :P?) to see if I can get any information from the dwarves. I converse with them in Dwarvish. I am specifically asking them if their smithies are manufacturing things relating to artifact guns, what that market is looking like at this point, and if any of them have any personal experiences with them. Also, I want to know if they have recently heard of anything about this market, its traders, and so forth. After I have this information, I would like to make a Perception check (+2) with advantage (Jackalfolk) to try to overhear any new and interesting conversation from the guards, in particular dragonborn ones, at the Wayfaring Stranger. After Xander Ajason finishes his performance, Ra-elope sits down with him again, lets him know that he had a good performance, and he quietly lets him know about the new information from the Wayfaring Stranger.
As things die down, I say good night and head back to the prison. Before going to bed, I check on the smuggler once again. I give him some food and drink from the canteen, once again lock his metal cell door, and then secure it afterwards. Marasmusine (talk) 10:52, 26 January 2017 (MST)HAN-16 Girty unclamped her hands from her ears once the gate stopped screeching. "Yes, I'll, er... " she called after the dwarf, too late for him to hear, "I do need the money." She trudged through the artisan's district, head down as she walked past her father's fur emporium. Home again, home again. She rented the three furnished rooms on the second floor above a pawnshop. She hung up her hide armor and weapons, patted down her clothes, and wiped her face at the basin. On schedule, her little brother Teoth called and wordlessly (but with a polite smile) she passed him 1 gold piece to take to their father. A little while later, she stood nervously outside the entrance to the Wayfaring Stranger. There was some awful caterwauling eminating from within, and the chuntering drone of people talking. Eventually she pushed in her ear plugs and stepped in. She hoped to see Bazasten near the bar or the hearth, but there seemed to be quite a few dwarves around and she felt awkward staring at them. She sat down at the bar near to them, next to some kind of anthropomorphic person, hoping that Bazasten would recognize her. [Perception check +0, with disadvantage from the earplugs, to overhear Ra-elope mention artifact guns and subsequent information] "What'll you have?" the bartender asked her. "Rose hip tea, thank-you, ma'am, and also," she conspiratorially put her hand up to her mouth "is there a dwarf here called Bazasten, staying in the Moon room?" "Aw, hon'," Sif laughed, "by my reckoning we got half the Bezensten clan in tonight!" She points. "The Moon room is yonder if you care to knock." Girty slips away with her tea, just as the performer on stage changes, and the song's melody brings a scratching in the top of her head. "Noo,nonono." she hurries, making it to the stairs, attracting a few laughs. To her relief, the young blond dwarf she met earlier answered the knock and ushered her in. "Glad you could make it, lady, come set your drink down, you're going to spill it." "Please tell me your first name, it seems you have family here, I don't want any..." "Olek", the dwarf interrupted, and grabbed her wrist. "And let me make something clear. I'm not with them. And they're not to know I'm here." (I'm out of time, hope that's enough. Or let me know if I'm wittering too much.) --Kydo (talk) 16:25, 26 January 2017 (MST)DMA-17
OK, this is the last of what I have buffered in my mind for this style of checks. It isn't working the way I'd hoped. I'm switching it up to match GD's proposal. Propose your checks as you have been doing. I will respond with a DC and roll result for each check whenever I have time. You can then complete the scenes, followed by my reaction from the setting once everyone's had their spotlight. Sound good? Good. Commencing info-dump. --Kydo (talk) 16:25, 26 January 2017 (MST) (I do not have my dice at the moment. Please excuse the delay as I rig my random name generator to output numbers as names.)
PERCEPTION DISADVANTAGE DC 13: (16) As you sit, you overhear a most troubling discussion between two men. You recognize the executioner; he has done terrible things to criminals in public, and you have at least heard some of the things he has done in the name of the overseer. (Maybe you've seen some of his executions too? You decide. He isn't famous, most people don't know his name, but his actions are well known in the community.) What could he possibly be doing, getting himself involved in something like this? Before you can consider much more, your drink is ready. (...) (Oh good! That plays well with what I was thinking!) Olek had pushed the furniture out to the sides of the room and completely unfolded his map. It took up most of the floor, it was so large. It was made out of some sort of animal skin, stiff but flexible. It made crackling sounds and rustled whenever anyone tried to move it, like a pile of dry leaves. "A'right lass, I'm out here to get me my inheritance. Well, really, it's my father's inheritance passed down to me by he. He passed it down, because he couldn't find the blasted hole my granddad put it in! Ol' codger thought fer sure that once the orcs were done with the valley, we'd be takin' back the old lands, but that never happened. It's buried with his great grandfather out there in them hills." Without a pause, you ask the question: "What is it?" Olek laughs, "Oh! You're worried about the whats! It's but a key! A very precious key. Do you know about a rock called magicyte? They say there isn't any left.0 My granddad found a vein of living crystal! Wild! Raw! Natural! It's not a relic, so it's legal! The single rarest stone in the world! We were supposed to use it to rebuild the dwarven holds, but that's already been done, so now I'll be free to do with it as I please. Even just as jewelry-cut stones, a small piece would be worth a royal ransom! You help me, and I'll pay you 20 gold coins now. See me and my key through to the hidden mine to the South, and I'll give you a cut to boot." "Why not get help from your family?" Olek stops laughing and smiling. He pauses for a moment, then stammers, "Well... y'see... if they knew about the inheritance... it'd kind of rather belong to all o' them too. And the problem with that is that theyre all about as willing to share their loot as I am!"
CHA PERFORMANCE: (17) You get a resounding applause from the whole room. In particular, the folks who had to listen to your leading act throw you 12 silver pieces.
INT INSIGHT ADVANTAGE: (20) !!! A collective cheer explodes from the dwarves! They pull you up a seat by their table, and share a toast to you. As the group continues their merry-making, the dwarf next to you changes tone and expression. He gets serious, pushes his full mug aside, and rests his hands clasped on the table, leaning on his right arm to turn and look up at you. "No folk do something like that just for their love o' the little men. You got me by the beard though, I do love me ale. What is it that you're looking for from us grubs?" The moment you say "artifact the tone of the whole group changes. Their laughs become just a little forced. Some of them are quiet. One simply glares at you. The dwarf beside you ushers you in close. "Them's dangerous accusations, friend... But not entirely false ones at that. We got our own overseer up in Hearth Home, you see. He's not in charge of the valley, just our city caverns and our routes to the underdark. Well he ain't too keen on all the council's rules. He thinks your snake wants the whole valley to herself, like what happened to the Northeast in Crane. So he's a-bendin' them rules, you see? He got our factory levels recognized as an artifact recycling forge. But nobody really regulates just what them old pieces of junk get made into... An' nobody audits how much scrap goes in compared to how much steel comes out. The record keeping and auditing is supposed to be the lizard's job, but he just turns a blind eye. See, we ain't told to recycle them, so much as repair them. We take parts from the scrap and use them to fix the best salvage. He's put together an impressive stockpile down there... But the market is bad. Most of the stuff we've made can't be used to hurt anyone- unless you want a crummy club. Criminals will always pay a higher price for the deadly ones than the council will ever compete with. It takes some 10-20 pieces of junk just to piece together one working specimen for some of those things. We can sometimes fix the parts, but it's hard. The steel is more pure than anything we can make ourselves, but somehow stronger as well. It's not magic either, it's just better stuff. When we try to work it, it chips our tools. When we try to forge it, it loses its strength and turns to rust within a day. Your new raptor has made one hell of a mess of me home, son. I can only hope they either talk it out or kill each other so we can get done with this shady madness. Frankly, I don't care which way it ends any more. He's riskin' the future of me people to try and protect his own cowardly hide." WIS PERCEPTION ADVANTAGE: (14) The only interesting conversation you hear is one about some architect's drawings to build a wall along the dockline in case the city is ever attacked by boat. It'd take over a decade to build, and would need constant upkeep because you can't build a solid foundation there. A single fisherman in the room was the only citizen who outright objected to the idea. <Insert forthcoming conversation between Ra-elope and Xander here> You return to the jail and find the prisoner simply sleeping out of boredom. Once awake, he greedily eats his ration as you leave. Salasay Δ 16:53, 26 January 2017 (MST)WFS-18
(Oh. Also. I have some xp to give. And some adjustments to wealth and food to make.) Green Dragon (talk) 09:03, 27 January 2017 (MST)WFS-19 Ra-elope wakes up in the morning, gets breakfast, and then again brings the smuggler some rations. I walk around the prison hearing the prisoner's bindings rattle, people coughing raucously, and the occasional plea of the prisoners as the heavy metal cell doors ring from the prisoner's pounding them. As I walk around I look for a dragonborn guard. As soon as I find one, I ask him.
With this information, I head to the Wayfaring Stranger to meet Xander like we agreed upon. Ra-elope frets about how Xander and Ra-elope will get the sack attached under the smugglers cart. As I enter the inn, I see to my surprise that Mad Girty and a dwarf are siting together with Xander; talking about things. As I walk up to the table, Xander seems to be trying to explain that he is not a soldier for any dwarven families whatsoever. Ra-elope's ears lay backwards a little, and I pat Xander on the shoulder. Ra-elops introduces himself as an execution in Melinir. I get acquainted to the conversation, and to the best of my understanding the dwarf seems to be explaining that he is just looking to do some prospecting work, and that this athletic female has agreed to help him on commission. He re-affirms that he is doing this for a family, he does not say himself, and he just needs to know if Xander is working for a dwarven family already. Ra-elope, confused as to why Xander is talking with these people, proposes to the contractor, Girty, and the dwarf that they can help them get a cart for their prospecting work and that this is why Xander was poking his nose around in their business. I continue the conversation, saying that my work as an executioner has given me channels in the New Keep and its council, and that I am certain they have a cart that we can use. I ask them, if they want to get the cart with us so that they can understand the earnest behind Xander's intervention. I state that we can get this cart for prospecting work, since the council asked for my help on this matter and it is only a fair part of the bargain to help clear up this misunderstanding between my friends, also also to get this prospecting work done, which is something that the council can appreciate too. Proposal: Ra-elope brings the party to the appropriate authorities holding the cart. I make the introductions, with myself as the executioner who is responsible for the recent smuggling proceedings, and with these as my friends who have run into some problems. I inform them that I have also run into some problems with my work, since it looks like I am giving a different description of the council to people, than the guards on duty, since what I told everyone when I apprehended the smuggler is very confusing for many commoners. I am pleased with how hard the dragonborn guards are working for Ixenusk, but I am asking them to clear up my concerns for my work, and to help out my friends clear up our individual problems, through the donation of a cart to help the council and Ixenusk with new prospecting work, for her and our interests as friends.
Ra-elope assumes that Xander can persuade the council to agree that this is a serious prospecting expedition, with him as the soldier alongside it (Persuade). I assume that Mad Girty can demonstrate that she has been classifying lots of items around here, and that she is able to classify all the rocks, veins, and other natural minerals in the prospect. If she shows some of her hard work, this will help us (Investigation). If they let us select any cart that they have, I will ask Mad Girty to cast Mage Hand and check underneath each cart if on that cart there is a sack attached underneath it or not. (just edit my character sheet with xp, wealth adjustments, etc.) Marasmusine (talk) 10:19, 27 January 2017 (MST)WFS-20 Olek and Girty had laid out some groundwork before they were interrupted by the interloper. Firstly, Girty restated that Olek's reading of the map was quite wrong, and that he would be in trouble with both the authorities and the wildlife if he were to just head out and start digging out the fabled mineral. As part of her commission, she would arrange for the necessary permit and for two or three guards-for-hire. She was also quite confident that she could recall the details of the map, so it should be folded up and secured without any further flapping about in the middle of roads. Secondly, Girty is concerned about where the magicyst will end up after it is sold, aware of its part in history. She wants to be able to veto potential buyers, such that the material will not end up be abused. In return, she will use her knowledge of local bureaucracy to deflect any potential governmental interference during the mining. The stuff itself should probably not go anywhere near Melnir. Finally, she wants a small piece of magicyst for herself, for her own studies. Olek scowled and contemplated, pacing the room, not entirely happy with some of the terms, at which point he suddenly opened the door and pulled in Xander. Girty kept quiet as Olek at first berated the half-elf, then seemed to warm to his charm and excuses. Olek eventually relented, describing his "platinum" mining expedition. (Perhaps make an Insight check for this lie), and propositioned Xander for the position of guard. Girty, not entirely sure what to make of this, slunk off home after agreeing to meet them again in the morning. After her morning exercises, she walked to the steward's office to obtain the mining permit. The mine itself may be hidden, but the permit would be useful it they were challenged on the road with all their paraphernalia. (I have guessed 5 gp for the cost of this) Then she returned to the Wayfarer. (I can write more here if you want me to, but it won't be until later)
This puts Girty in a difficult position, because she wants as few people knowing about the expedition as possible, but doesn't know how to express this without drawing suspicion from Xander and Ra-elope. At this point she also doesn't want to divulge what spells she knows, especially to someone who lops off heads for a living. She does say that Ra-elope's plan sounds like some kind of subterfuge, and presses him on the legality of those actions, and could they not just buy a cart. (Honestly can't write any more now, I've got to put the kids to bed.)
Girty knew that the permit didn't reveal important specific details, such as precise location or specific ore being mined, but again can't explain this without appearing suspicious. So, she agreed to the plan on the proviso that Olek is happy with this, and that no city laws be broken. Salasay Δ 11:02, 28 January 2017 (MST)WFS-21
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| Chapter 1 As the Strangers in Melinir ready their gear and purchases supplies, Ra-elope finally gets his hands on key evidence concerning the Smuggling case. Before he can act, however, an adversary sets him up for a crime and only his quick thinking, Mad Girty's hunch, and a massive gamble from Xander keep him off of his own chopping block. The mysterious street urchin, Hail, and Ulysses the Love Cleric are roped in to join the party during the process, each providing their own unique skills to the bunch. Meanwhile, in the far north, (Someone in Klein care to finish this?) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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--Kydo (talk) 23:02, 30 January 2017 (MST)DMA-25
It's a beautiful winter morning, just over the crack of dawn. The sun is bright, and the hills all around are dotted by the paint-pattern shadows of small clouds lazily rolling through the sky. Despite the cool breeze, it is already a hot day- much finer than the damp of the previous night. The cart he was riding in rattled and creaked as its old spoked wheels clattered over the well-trodden gravel road through the hills. Karnyr sat up in the covered wagon, finally waking fully to the day, and poked his head out from the curtain to greet the driver. A fellow dwarf, he'd given Karnyr free passage in return for prayers of protection and prosperity. This was the first in a caravan of five carts heading for Klein, east of the local dwarven stronghold of Hearth Home. He'd arrived there by the low-roads, an unusually dangerous journey compared to must such places, and arrived alive by luck alone. Through his investigations there, he'd happened upon a clue- a scrap of an old legend of a cleric carrying a holy text into The Rift, never to be seen nor heard from again. Compared to the dead ends he'd followed before, it was enough of a lead to emerge from the dark and take to the high roads once more. The caravaneer in charge, the dwarf driving the cart Karnyr was riding now, was a quiet, polite man, reserved and simple, a personality like a shady lot of soft loam, named Oemor. He was both warm and cool, peaceful but full of life, gentle but rich, inviting and earthy. The best kind of man to travel by. As they rode, the caravaneer sung a low but mirthful dirge for a companion who had fallen earlier that year, apparently a very sarcastic person named Oitucrem. Karnyr gave a quiet prayer when he was done, and they sat in silence. As they rounded a bend, two dwarven soldiers passed them coming in the opposite direction. They were each riding a great white aurochs, adorned in chain armor, blazons of Hearth Home's symbol, (A star inside a furnace) and shining bronze blades affixed to their horns, and the soldiers themselves adorned in shining half-plate, each carrying a steel halberd with an exaggeratedly long spearhead extending from the top, and signature bearded axe blade. The caravaneer pointed to the banners attached to the shafts of their weapons- a blue flag with a red ring in the center. "That there's the flag of Klein. They are warriors of peace, a symbol of our kinship with the valley dwellers. A kinship born beyond by great grandfather. A kinship even the dragons could not break." Rounding another bend, you see your first glimpse of Klein on the horizon, nestled between the hills, a sheer wall of mountainous stone behind it. The view gave Karnyr vertigo, but as he looked, his eyes adjusted to the perspective, and he realized that the mountain ranges they had been travelling along beside all this time were not distant mountains at all- but a steep wall of rock seemingly forced into the sky against all natural laws. Less a valley, the Rift seems more akin to some great boot print on the face of the world! Descending from some unseen place high amidst the rocks, and falling seemingly into the center of Klein itself, was an impossibly tall and thin waterfall. Even out at this distance, some four miles away, he could faintly hear the crackling roar of the water, like some distant thunder. Klein itself seemed quite small in this vast landscape, with unfinished walls and isolated towers burning large bonfires at their tops. It seemed almost pathetic against the grandeur of the world it found itself in. --Kydo (talk) 23:42, 30 January 2017 (MST)DMA-26 Hail was hiding again. Hiding and running. Busy streets make it easy to do both at the same time. There are lots of kids just like him on the streets too. Kids who can barely speak, running like rats from one dark corner to the next. The people don't seem to even notice them either, like the children are just some piece of the landscape, moving furniture. Hail ran past a man picking through a bin full of berries and gave him a shove. As the man stumbled forward, he caught himself with the barrel and threw berries all over the floor. Everyone was so surprised by the man, he was the only one who noticed Hail grabbing two fistfuls of juicy red sugar before dashing off again. Later, walking down an alley, enjoying the treasure he had collected, he heard a voice from behind, speaking in common, "I saw you boy. I'm not mad. I've done the same. I can help, or, well, I know people who can help. Will you come with me?" Hail turned around. The man was very tall and very thin. He looked sick. He had dark rings around his eyes, and wore a huge leather coat that kept slipping off his shoulders. He was balding, with grey hair, and a thick moustache covering his mouth entirely. He looked very sad, and was kneeling, his hand outstretched offering a whole sugar-honey-glazed pear. Hail's stomach grumbled at the sight. google image of what glazed pears look like. "I have food and friends. Mostly food. Oh, and a fire." (Just so you know, if you go with him, the stranger uses the assassin stat block from the MM. He is kind for now. His house is a townhouse, one of many all crammed together tightly in a stretch along a side-road. Inside is a mess. It smells like rotting fish. He genuinely wants to help the boy, and gives him access to a closet full of old children's clothes. He feeds you a meal of rice soup with diced pork. If you flee, he simply stands up and continues to look sad. He then proceeds to make stealth checks to follow you throughout the day, fleeing each time you notice him.) --Jonattttt (talk) 00:52, 31 January 2017 (MST)HAN-27 Hail tilted his head, in slight confusion. Not understanding most of what the man said. But the man seemed kind, and he was offering food. Hail was able to grasp the fact that this man wanted to help in some way. "Do you speak any of these languages," Hail repeated this line in 3 different languages, Draconic (a language of growls, roars, and snorts), Celestial (a singsong like language), and Infernal (a quite whispering language like the voices of spirits from the deepest pits of he**). And waited for a reply while keeping his guard up. (He mostly looks surprised, and seems to hesitate, but decides to continue his offer. He doesn't seem to understand. --Kydo (talk) 02:16, 31 January 2017 (MST)) Looking a little annoyed at still not being able to communicate with someone he makes a tsk sound. Then using sleight of hand he snatches, the food offered. Then sniffs it, (Perception check to check for any odd smells). Then nods his head towards the man.
SirSprinkles (talk) 01:17, 31 January 2017 (MST)
Karnyr looked around at the massive city of Klein, before asking Oemor "So, how long until we arrive at the city?", rifling through his possessions to find his coin pouch and whispering a prayer, clutching his amulet firmly in hand. (You can actually jump right into it if you'd like, or just do some roleplaying while you're on the wagon. The Oemor is fairly worldly. You have great freedom to add to and detail the world, and the Northern lands are very ambiguous and undetailed in my mind at the moment. The dwarven soldiers riding war-bulls, for example, was invented by me on the spot in an attempt to communicate their exotic culture and military power, while simultaneously communicating their political relationship in the region. If you'd like to just jump straight to Klein, tell me and I'll info-dump a town description. --Kydo (talk) 02:25, 31 January 2017 (MST))
Marasmusine (talk) 02:50, 31 January 2017 (MST)
(Later, with Olek, ox and cart) Girty explained the terms of the permit to Olek, and her intention to follow them to the letter. He was taken aback by how controlling it was, and again Girty points how how important it is to avoid future trouble. "Furthermore, it's my name on the permit, so I'll take responsibility for that side of things." (If there is a moment where Girty and Olek are alone, she will explain that she chose "platinum" as she believes that raw magicyte might be confused with it due to its lustrousness. There's nothing in the permit saying that the authorities have to check on the operation, but should they do so, we could claim ignorance.) To everyone, she said: "We should stock up on supplies. Unless one of you knows how to hunt, I propose 60 rations - enough for four for two weeks..." (she repeats "four for four two", trying to get it right, but can't) "...and a barrel of water." Among them, they already had 30 rations [Girty, Olek and Ra-elope have 10 each]. "If we each chip in 5 gp that should cover it. We can get some treats with the change. Is there anything else we need?" --Kydo (talk) 03:00, 31 January 2017 (MST)
It has been a lovely morning. The sun rose immediately on the crack of dawn. There was so little important news, the town crier had simply quietly strolled through town in the pale early light. Jonathan was enjoying a cup of tea, an imported earthen-tea (made of dried mushrooms that had been fermented in clay) from the Dwarves. It was... unusual... with a musty, medicinal aroma and dry aftertaste... but overall enjoyable. He was standing at his window now, looking out through its gentle undulations at the streets, slowly coming to life. He could hear the construction workers cutting and hammering together new scaffolds to continue building the town's new defenses. Faintly, he could hear the clinking of one lone mason starting his work early. Jonathan began to get dressed for the day, gearing himself up for the worst, preparing against his own delusion of comfort and security. And then came a knock at the door of his home. Of course. One can never finish a job without at least starting a few more first. Not in the Rift, at least.
As they rode up to town, a small wooden gate stood on the road before them. It had no attached wall, and anyone could easily simply go around it if they wanted. It was manned by Wyrm soldiers though, three dragonborn, a halforc, a human, and a lizardman, all dressed in chain armor. Their postures made it very clear that, though there may not be a wall, there most definitely was a line. Oemor spoke with the Lizardman, apparently the official in charge, who then signaled for the wooden gates to be opened, and the caravan continued on. Oemor began to speak as they rattled their way toward town, past the construction workers hauling blocks to build the new walls around the town. "The scrappers won't be happy. That shipment of salvage they drove all this way to collect never showed up. I bet that wretch they deal with went and got himself killed. Thieving little cheat. It'd probably be for the best if he just stayed disappeared." The scrappers were a pair of brothers from Hearth Home. They were very much unlike any other dwarves from the city. They let their hair grow out so long, they were all nose and beard, with only the occasional twinkle of their eyes from beneath their burly eyebrows. Aside from their naturally smooth black hair, they were filthy little men, poorly dressed and covered in soot. Their hands were covered in tiny scars, as if they had been handling knives by the wrong end all their lives. They were serious and unhumorous. The closest Karnyr had seen them get to laughing, was when he gave them a blessing at the request of Oemor- and it was not a pleasant sort of smile. They had not spoken a word since the wagons touched fresh air. The town was a strange mixture of architecture. Buildings were mostly composed of cobblestone, but here and there were brickwork foundations, and a few buildings even had stone slab walls. Aside from the main road into town, none of the streets were paved. People bustled all about, working to their various needs. A huntsman heading out on horseback with three dogs in tow... a woman carrying lumber for the lunch fire... a patrol of lightly-armored guardsmen joking with the local drunk... All so quiet and normal. The crashing thunder of the nearby giant waterfall cascading into Lake Ostrel, seemed almost completely silent as one spent more and more time within its vibrating rumble. The carts rolled in to a stable yard just inside the construction for the walls. The dwarves began offloading gear and bargaining expenses to park the horses. But not the scrappers. While everyone else was ascting normal, they drove the cart straight toward the center of town without so much as looking back at the rest of the caravan. (They park near a large statue at the center of town and basically just hang out there waiting for their shipment. They are rude and make a scene if anyone tries to interfere with them at all. The city guards have decided they're harmless, and just advise people to leave the grouchy little b******s alone because they aren't worth the effort.) Klein has a LOT of fishermen and ferrymen. Lake Ostrel is the cleanest and purest water source in all of the Rift, and its waters are teeming with life. Flowing South and all throughout the entire length of the valley is the drake river. It is this river which allows easy transport and trade throughout the Rift, without the need of constructing elaborate highway systems. Long ago, the river was considered too dangerous to ferry safely as a career, but since then most of the danger has been relegated to the grakkenwood or expunged from the valley completely. People still avoid the Grakkenwood, they offload onto carts from the river and simply travel by road through the Melinir hills from there to the city. People used to think that the council would build proper highways through the valley, but the closest to this that has happened so far, was an announcement from the cartographer's guild stating, "The Gauntlin Forest Elves have agreed to stop killing us on sight." There is a local market of various farmers selling their wares. Getting particular attention is a professional ferrier with a talented blacksmith for a son. While most of the farmers can tend to their own animals just fine, many of them take advantage of these visits to get the best, at least for a little while. There are no weapons or armor for sale today, no such merchants have come through in over two weeks, and goods seem to cap out at a value of 20gp. (Limit for DMG and PHB item purchases, if you feel the need to shop.) There are two bars, both of apparent equal reputation, and a seedy looking hotel.
Olek: "I have 800ft of hemp rope, 6 lanterns, 2 gallons of oil, 30 torches, 5 pickaxes, 3 wood axes, 5 shovels, and 2 sticks of dynamite." Green Dragon (talk) 07:37, 31 January 2017 (MST)
As we take the cart away from the New Keep's north pocket, Ra-elope proposes that the party get all their possessions together and use the cart to get them and their belongings to the prospecting destination. Ra-elope stays as close as possible to the cart the entire time, and as soon as we are away from any guards somewhere on the streets of Melinir, I whip the ox a few times and make it stop moving.
WIth this, Ra-elope crawls under the cart and undoes the sack which is attached there. I stuff the sack underneath the cart into my sack with copped off heads inside of it. I then inspect the axles too.
Ra-elope waves goodbye the the rest of the party, and heads off to a restaurant, with almost nobody there, to eat lunch which is in a poorer part of town. I go up to the counter, and ask for a glass of wine, and their lunch special. I go over to a table that is secluded from the rest of the few guests, and sit facing the windows. I pull my sack with copped off heads on top the wooden table, and I pull it open so that Ra-elope can get both his hands inside it, places it such that enough light can trickle into it, and he undoes the sack which was under the cart to get the letter inside of it. With the letter, I quickly put it together with the farewell letter of an infamous criminal (or wrongly accused convict) on me. I close up the sack with heads in it, and put it down on the floor with my other possessions that I normally have slung over my back. I sip on my wine waiting for my lunch. After eating, and ordering another glass of wine, I bring the letter onto the table and crack open the wax seal. Ra-elope reads the letter before keeping it along with his other letter. With this information, Ra-elope returns to the prison. (please let me know what the letter contains) Salasay Δ 10:30, 31 January 2017 (MST)
Due to recent events, the details of this post make no sense. Normally we would just roll with the differences, but because of the severity of the departure the specifics actually matter in this case. Continuity errors in the original posting, a statement of intent from Marasmusine, and a general lack of specifics, make clarification vital here. The re-written post will be at the start of WFS-44
SirSprinkles (talk) 13:15, 31 January 2017 (MST)
Karnyr investigates the seedy hotel. After opening the creaky door, he is greeted by a wild-haired middle-aged rock gnome, who hurriedly stuffs a tiny metal contraption under the counter and dashes up to Karnyr with a hand outstretched.
After shaking the gnome's hand, Karnyr asks the gnome.
Almost immediately after talk of a room, Nyrkir chimes, repeating himself several times.
Karnyr looks through his coin pouch and retrieves a coin, passing it to the gnome.
--Kydo (talk) 19:49, 31 January 2017 (MST)
You untie the straps holding the leather bag tightly shut, and pull out three items. Two folded sheets of paper and a hardback leather-wrapped book. The first folded sheet of paper is strange. It is thick, stiff, waxy, and smooth as glass. It is supernaturally white, like fresh sugar. You unfold it and find a map of a place you have never seen before. The map is incredibly detailed, and shows a place dense with highways, roads, and buildings, sprawling out for miles. In red ink, two locations are crudely circled. One is marked as "Vivanti Military Warehouse", the other is unlabeled, but written next to it in red ink is "old projection tower". Both are near the center of the map. Both have arrows pointing to them, with the words, "this is where they were". The second folded sheet of paper is a general map of the Rift. Again, in red ink, two locations have been circled. One is around a prewar structure known as The Monolith. The other is an empty place in the mountains. Both have arrows pointing to them with the words, "This is where they are now." There are a bunch of Xs painted around various locations on this map. At the bottom, it reads "If I'm right, most of the other bunkers should also still be intact. At worst, I could still dig up the buried stockpiles. I'll need a lot of money to get that far into the mountains though." PERCEPTION ADVANTAGE DC 20 (16) The book is just a log of transactions made with Hearth Home officials from the council recycling forge over the last six years. Sure enough, they have been paying him consistently for donations of artifacts. Each entry has two signatures and a council stamp next to it. The last three transactions stand out for their high pay- he made over a thousand gold on the last donation. He really is a professional scrapper! As you flip through the book, a small card of stiff vellum falls out. Written on it, in arcane inks, is a request made by Overseer Othvurgix, a brass dragon. The request asks the scrapper to prevent future robberies of his cart by keeping it covered and disguised while on the road. It is signed, stamped, and dated to seven months ago. Finally, pressed in the back cover is a crude drawing of a small valley. In a clearing, between a thicket of trees, is a strange looking box-like structure, austere like most draconic architecture, with a huge rectangular opening which takes up most of its one wall. When you arrive at the prison, you find three guards, and the smuggler, all killed. Their heads have been removed, and are nowhere to be seen. The place is a mess, and several pieces of furniture are on fire. The prisoner's cell door is still locked. You hear a voice from behind you, deep and rumbling, "I should have known it!" Whirling around, you see the red dragonborn, that senior officer who had the weapons and cart confiscated, blocking the door. He has four other Wyrm Soldiers with him, and they all have their weapons drawn. He points his saber at you, and shouts, "ARREST THIS MURDERER. NOW." (In case you decide to fight, initiative is as follows:
The Wyrm soldiers are juniors and use the Bandit statblock, MM pp.343, with the dragonborn NPC features from DMG pp.282. The senior officer is a Cultist, MM pp.345, also with the dragonborn NPC features. There are 3 zones: Inside, outside, and the hall which runs between the prison cells to the back of the prison structure. The exit to the outside area is currently blocked by enemies. There is a staircase at the end of the hall zone which leads to a second floor. The dead guards have chain armor, short swords, shields, and keys to the prison cells. They all seem to be human bodies.) (GD, I get the feeling you're absent because the appearance of a fight is worrisome. I'd just like to point out that you do not have to fight them. They are only attempting to arrest you, not kill you. They are willing to talk, but not really interested in listening. You can try to fight them if you like, you actually have a pretty good chance of one-shotting a couple of them before being forced to flee; remember, the massive damage rule applies to them as well. The soldiers can easily be kicked out of the fight with 5 damage or more in a single swing. Also keep in mind that, if threatened, enemies have a random chance of just throwing in the towel. The only real threat is the Senior Officer. Given the chance, he can and will defeat you if you fight him. He will not kill you though; he will use a non-lethal finishing hit, leaving you unconscious at 0hp. If you decide to fight them, you can do the same to them, you don't need to strike to kill. --Kydo (talk) 13:05, 1 February 2017 (MST)) --Kydo (talk) 21:33, 31 January 2017 (MST)
You are currently out and about town in the market.
It's just a delicious dessert. The man led Hail to a townhouse and opened the door. It is a scattered mess, and smells like rotting fish. Once inside, the man set to work starting a fire. Hail, covering his nose, began to poke around the place, when the man interrupted, "Those rags are no good. It pains me to see a child dressed like that in the winter. You must have been soaked to the bone at least once or twice now. Follow." He gestured, and lead you to a child's room on the second floor. He opened the closet, revealing many outfits of common clothes for children and smiled. "You can stay here as long as you like. That's what I'm doing. Don't worry, nobody will complain." He then went back downstairs and began scooping rice into a pot of water over the fire. While it boiled away, he "cleaned" the house by shoving piles of detritus from one place to another to make room for them to eat. He left for about 20 minutes, and returned with a small slab of pork, which he diced and dumped into the rice soup. After a few more minutes, he served a bowl of rice soup to Hail, but sat without food or drink for himself at the table. You had watched him make the whole meal, and it smelled delicious. He just smiled. "Oh, no, none for me thanks. I'm not allowed to eat right now. I have a job to do." --Jonattttt (talk) 22:45, 31 January 2017 (MST)
He then cautiously takes a bite, finding the food tastes good he eats with relish.--Jonattttt (talk) 22:37, 31 January 2017 (MST)) The man laughs, a big loud belly-laugh, and slaps the table. "ME?? Heavens, no!" his face suddenly goes blank as his eyes glaze over, "I wouldn't deserve such graces." he then returns to normal and completes his thought, "No, this is a friend's home. He has a boy, but he grew up and travelled off. I'm taking care of the place while he is away. He was rather a slob though. I don't know where to start cleaning." --Kydo (talk) 22:57, 31 January 2017 (MST) The boy relaxes a little.
The man frowns. "I kind of thought as much. No parents to raise you, right? No, I can't. I'm not long for this world you see. But I know someone who can. He will be here later tonight. He is a very good man. He gave my life purpose."
Hail finishes his food then stacks the dishes nicely to make them easier to carry.
Then he looks at his hands in confusion like he doesn't know why he performed such an action. The way he tilts his head in confusion makes him seem somewhat like a cute little animal. --Kydo (talk) 23:34, 31 January 2017 (MST)
Jónn had been walking for a very, very long time. Always walking away from a past which always seemed to be just behind him. Now, far away from the place it all happened, he has come to a place that is walled off from the entire rest of the world. A place so isolated, they call it the Rift. Two days ago, he had walked through a Wyrm Army checkstop without any incident, after walking for what seemed like forever through a winding mountain pass. After the check stop though, the mountains ended abruptly in a vertical wall of stone, and Jónn could see out over the new land to some ten miles away, beyond which the hills and forests faded into the overhanging haze and low-flying clouds of the winter season. The road terminated at this cliff face, and gave way to a zigzagging staircase, carved directly from the stone. He stayed the night at a hotel run by dwarves, also carved from the rock face, halfway down. The lhills in the land below were hot and barren, dotted only intermittently with ugly, gnarled, half-dead trees. When it rained, the troughs between the hills turned to rivers of mud. Yesterday and last night had been pleasant though, and this morning he was finally approaching civilization. A town on a lake, at the base of a titanic waterfall. Their walls were still under construction. He passed through another Wyrm Army checkstop, this time they had a report mentioning his presence in the valley, and was walking in to town. --Azernath (talk) 00:07, 1 February 2017 (MST)HAN-38 Johnathan's sight shifts towards the door to identify the new guest. He observe's the source of the door knock to measure the height of the arrival, he also places great attention to the tune of the knock itself, and gaze at the shadow of the guest appearing from below the door which he specially designed to aid in such manner. All this is to identify the new arrival to measure the worth of his attention that he is about to grant to the guest. If all fails to be, Johnathan is already decided his route of escape to avoid the confrontation of any foolish individual who seek to occupy his precious time. PERCEPTION: (10) It is a woman or a very slight man. They are about 5'5" tall. --Kydo (talk) 00:24, 1 February 2017 (MST) Johnathan continues his preparations while intentionally leaving whomever out there waiting for him; however, he avoids keeping the person from waiting more than 15 seconds before he rushes to the door feign signs of both honesty and an apologetic nature caused by him being late to answer the door at duetime. Johnathan continues his preparations while intentionally leaving whomever out there waiting for him; however, he avoids keeping the person from waiting more than 15 seconds before he rushes to the door feign signs of both honesty and an apologetic nature caused by him being late to answer the door at due time.
He spoke with his almost plain face as he opened the door to whomever is outside, yet unsurprisingly to him, she took half way to the stairs before hearing his words. As she turned towards him with simple supprise, she seemed a bit to have found him outright, as if she planed to intercede him before his departure by any means. --Kydo (talk) 00:46, 1 February 2017 (MST)
(OK, I think I understand how the numbering works now?)
The nearest major town with Council of the Wyrm presence was called Klein, to the Northeast. Etch was marching along a trail through farmland, and as he climbed over a hill, he saw his destination. At the base of a waterfall was a city with unfinished walls. This must be Klein. When he neared the city, he saw a wooden gate on the road ahead. Soldiers from the gate were running out to greet him. When they arrived, one pointed a glaive at his face, and sternly demanded, "Halt, warrior. Reveal your face and state your identity." --Sk3tz0 (talk) 03:41, 1 February 2017 (MST)HAN-40
I let out a sigh of relief as I enter through the city gates glad to be able to rest soon, the walk has been long, and the stop off at that dwarven hotel the night before didn’t help me much either, “Bloody cheating dwarves” I mutters to myself, thinking back to the game of Three’s that has now left me without any money. “Should of cut that smug look off that Rock Humpers face, b*stard’s lucky the place was crawling with guards”. In the distance I noticed a town crier walking about shouting out the news for the day. “Hmmm, Bet he’ll know where I can find work in this place” I say to no one in particular as I start approaching the town crier. “HEY YOU!!” I yell aloud “Town Crier!! Come here I want a word with you!!” Turning to see what the commotion is all about the Town’s Crier a small skinny young man, sees Jónn storming down the pathway towards him. “Hey” I shout towards the Town’s Crier, nervous the young man turns to me “Y-Y-Yes… Um what can I do for you, outlander?” the man asks. “I’m new in town, I was wondering if you can point me in the direct of any work. Odd jobs and such,I so that I can get enough coin for a room for a couple of nights and maybe some drink” I ask while leaning in closer to the Crier, “ Or maybe there's someone I can beat up for cash” I whisper with a grin on my face, “been awhile since I punched someone, especially for some gold” Gr7mm Bobb (talk) 08:48, 1 February 2017 (MST)HAN-41
(It feels like the guise was functional, but provoking other results. How odd it is...)"I said for you to identify youself!" the guardsman hardened his expression. (His patience feels smaller than the child's.) I raise my hands passively and take a slow step back. Following the long embedded motions of formality, I carefully lower myself to one knee as I reach for my oathrune. The guard follows me with the tip of his blade as I reach for my belt pouch... (It's gone, my mind races, of all the things to go missing.) I let out a rumble of frustration as the rest of guardsman inhale slightly and ready themselves. (1, 2, 3, 4, 2, 2, 3, 4) I reach for the practiced words for dealing with foreign authority. I speak the greeting as normal and proper, only to be overruled by the glaive brandishing guardsman once again. "Sir if'n you won't speak in a common tounge or reveal you face, you can be detained while we figure it out ourselves, might takes some time though." A pair of gaurdsman in the back can be heard, exchanging small gestures with their words. Conversing of my kinsmen as I hear "..too big for a dwarf.." (Humans, always trying to squeeze several lifetimes into their brief existence. Not their fault for being such. Its just as working a fast cooling piece as it is to have dealings with them.) My words pour forth in halted blows as I reach for the required information and change them to the requested language.
(Even as I near the end of my oath, Vraccus feels fit to test me. I will not fail him) The guardsman seem perplexed, but most of them relax visibly as they exchange looks. I remove my helmet and keep my eyes lowered as I absently trace my fingers over faux plate where my holy symbol is embedded to my chest plating underneath. There is a uniform gasp as the gaurdsman draw iron as breath and steel form a single harmonious sound. "Hold peacekeeper!" a voice pipes from outside my vision of dirt. "Tsk, has that little woman gone daft?! I ask her to discuss notes and she can't even meet in person." I hear the gaurdsman start to speak, but is subdued by the voice of the newest intruder. "Oh come now Larence, it's another one of Milee's toys. Couldn't harm you if it tried, her last one ground its gears to a polish merely trying to walk. I did hear it prattling on, so at least she's advanced their vocal phymaerry AND" puntuated by bony frail hands rapping the back of my head (1, 2, 3, 4...)"-it seems she found use for the headpiece beyond something to look at. Well come on stand proper so I can have a look at my friends newest waste of time." the voice continues. (Curious AND rude, ignorance seems to abound at this settlement. More results of half-measure laws and tradition.) I stand upright and straighten myself out with my helmet tucked in my left elbow. Standing before me is a humanoid with pointed ears roughly shoulder hieght to the apparently flabberghasted and annoyed gaurdsman. (Elf, should've known, but with something else mixed in, an alloy if one may.) "Well you certainly are a tall one." he says as he begins to circle around looking me over. "I keep telling her it'd be simpler to use a ladder, solid construction. But at least she is getting better with the details, not sure what kind of wood that is, but at least it seems to deal with her noise problem." He stops in front of me. Grabbing my chin he reigns my sight to him alone. "Golem, I see you bear tools and what seems to be her latest attempt at branding, are you self sufficient?" (Golem. 2, 2, 3, 4. His ignorance is only worsened by his presumptuous attitude.) With a sigh he fails to hide his exaggerated annoyance, "Fine I'll play her damn game." He shift's his demeanor and practically beams the most sincere of smiles. "Hello, my name is Lot Ionin (Eye-oh-nin) and I am a half-wit fart mage who pales in comparison to the magnitute that is Milee Sparklehammer!" he bows with his leg fully extended before him, his right arm stretched up and to the side with his left tucked in front of him. He holds the ridiculous position for a bit as I cannot help but simultaneously raise an eyebrow and smirk. I hear the gaurdsmen chuckle slightly as they relax once more. "What's this? I heard your little speech, I bet she's in stitches just thinking of how to humiliate me more. Great, the one time she's get's one to talk, and it does it once and then just ... are you smiling at me? You know what, fine Milee, get your childish pranks out. Golem, just follow me so you can deliver the notes and be off. AND put your damn helmet back one, you'll just rile the locals." "Bu-but sir..?" The gaurdsmen stuttered, "No one is to pass without proper verification." Whipping around nimbly mid-step Lot stares up at the gaurdsman with uninhibited fury. "If it was an issue Larence, do you not THINK that I would have handled a malfunct gnomish automotan?! Just go back to harassing farmers and merchants, this is far above your paygrade." his last sentence finishes with his back to us as he storms away. The gaurdsmen look up at me expectantly. I give an honorific salute, right fist clenched and placed to left shoulder, put my full face helmet back on, and lumber forward through the path created in Lot's wake.
Green Dragon (talk) 13:24, 1 February 2017 (MST)
Ra-elope twists around, and my ears lay back and I let out a lard snarl.
11(1d20) + 3 = 14 miss
3(1d20) + 3 = 6 miss
14(1d20) + 5 = 19 hit. 3(1d6) + 3 = 6. The slicing blow cuts through parts of his leather armor, and I see brass blood running out of the stabbing wound in his chest. Free action: Intimate 5(1d20} + 1 = 6 fail Ra-elop yells loudly as the fire crackles throughout the prison.
At this point, the rest of the party has arrived at the prison to collect my gold payment for the expedition, and they see smoke coming out of the prison's tight walls and roof. By the entrance, they see the senior officer blowing fire into the hallway, and they hear Ra-elope's voice:
{whomever takes over this combat, on my next action I will cast a sand-oriented version of ensnaring strike after my normal attack on the strongest dragonborn near me)
SirSprinkles (talk) 13:27, 1 February 2017 (MST)
Karnyr sets off to the nearest tavern, with a sign depicting a bull with writing underneath that read "The Giant Bull". However, on the way, Karnyr heard a shout, and went to investigate, finding a rugged man conversing with the town crier. Salasay Δ 14:43, 1 February 2017 (MST)WFS-32R
WFS-44
Marasmusine (talk) 01:54, 2 February 2017 (MST)
(I thought the ID was supposed to sequence the posts of each group, not one sequence for everyone?) Fire, fighting, shouting. In the cart, Olek scratched his forehead. Girty leaned forward and hurredly whispered "I don't know what's going on here, but we can't afford to get involved in this. Move the cart down there... to Grand Central Avenue, let's just observe what happens." [Persuasion DC 10. Roll 12 - 1 = 11.] Olek nodded. "Aye, this aren't how I expected the day to start. Let's roll over yonder but let's give 'em a moment. If there's trouble, I ain't know 'em." The cart rumbled along the cobblestone, till Olek parked it by a haberdashery 90 feet down the street. (Beautiful. Thank you. Hold that pose. --Kydo (talk) 02:05, 2 February 2017 (MST)) --Kydo (talk) 04:16, 2 February 2017 (MST)
(OK, let's hog-tie all them rampaging loose ends, a'i't??)
(remaining combat events resume to round completion and arrival of party.) The senior officer changes his stance somewhat, taken off-guard by Ra-elope's accusation. "Othvurgix?? The hell does he have to do with--" He is cut short by a shout from the streets. He uses his movement to leave the interior zone for the street. ROUND 2
(This invokes an opportunity attack from Ra-Elope. I will let you decide if you take this attack. Just add your reaction and roll here if you do. I'll update round-end results to match.)
(I now leave your turn to you, GD. The Senior Officer is technically still in the fight, but he is in a different zone, and is fully distracted. He is confident that his allies can restrain and arrest you without his help. Also, he was actually supposed to be a Cult Fanatic, but I wrote the wrong thing. Oh well. Rule of bygones: he's forever an overblown wuss now.)
As Xander hops from the wagon and begins a daring charade, Girty and Olek quietly begin to question their choice in companions as they roll the wagon aside, preparing for the worst.
(Well, I gave you a real shot at least. It wasn't a very fair one, I'll admit, but it would have been truly bizarre if you'd made it!) "Dragonborn?! NO! Wux re ti di wer vethithael vraktor!" He speaks draconic while laughing, pointing at a tiny triangular scar on the back of his left hand.
Xander doesn't understand, but plays it off cool, blinking a convincing expression of comprehension and holding his ground. He continues to speak in draconic, "Wux shilta beli rekimatkur, shar wux shilta ti beli irthir." he then cuts back to speaking in common, "Very well, 'Claw', then I am certain that you are aware that all of the artifacts have gone missing, the soldier in charge of protecting them was found dead in a well last night, and all of their heads were found in a courtier's room earlier today, when we arrested him for aiding in the smuggling operation? Or how about the two gate-keepers who were suspected of complicity in the operation who have not been heard from since yesterday when I filed my reports about their unusually fat coin purses? Very well! Lead me to the stolen weapons I am sure that you and your men have already secured!" His tone is disingenuous and mocking, but also deeply frustrated. Before you can reply, he begins talking agin, this time seemingly to no one in particular. "Othvurgix. Kii persvek wer sjachwielga tira JACIDA ominak confn svern wer klewar yth xoal'si ekess siteli asta gireen...?" (For the newbies, when you see green text like that, if you hover your cursor over it for a second, alternate text will float over top of it. I am using this to hide translations in this instance, because none of the WFS party can speak draconic.)
(Oh my god it's 4:13 am. I need to sleep. I'll flesh these out when I get a chance. --Kydo (talk) 04:16, 2 February 2017 (MST))
(Oh my god it's 4:13 am. I need to sleep. I'll flesh these out when I get a chance. --Kydo (talk) 04:16, 2 February 2017 (MST))
(Oh my god it's 4:13 am. I need to sleep. I'll flesh these out when I get a chance. --Kydo (talk) 04:16, 2 February 2017 (MST))
(Oh my god it's 4:13 am. I need to sleep. I'll flesh these out when I get a chance. --Kydo (talk) 04:16, 2 February 2017 (MST))
After you finish eating, the man gives you a key to the front door. "Come back before night." He then climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. (You can poke around and make up stuff about the place if you'd like. The house has adventuring gear worth a total of no more than 10gp of stuff, I'll let you choose the stuff, but the DC to find anything useful in the place is 18. The basement lock is broken beyond repair, and the door seems to be jammed from the other side. The master bedroom door is locked, DC 15, and you can't hear anything from the other side of the door. His front door opens out to a side road, just off to the side from the market district. If you leave the house, please make a perception check against DC20.)
(Oh my god it's 4:13 am. I need to sleep. I'll flesh these out when I get a chance. --Kydo (talk) 04:16, 2 February 2017 (MST)) Green Dragon (talk) 07:02, 2 February 2017 (MST)
 first 20 Ra-elope, disgruntled by being pushed against the wall and seeing that the dragonborn's Senior Officer has gone outside to take care of something, takes a ready action when the second wyrm soldier returns to the prison entrance. My ready action is an attack reaction if I am stuck again by the guard. Since it seems like the entire situation has changed, I grab the sheathed blade of the wyrm soldier, and pull his arm and the sword to push away the blade by my face and try to twist the guards arms. (since the situation is now new) Ra-elope again attempts to intimidate the wyrm soldiers around him. Natural 20 SUCCESS.
After I shout at the dragonborn, they release me from their grasp. One goes behind me, another in front, and they lead me out of the burning prison. We meet with Xander outside the prison, and the Senior Officer. I reaffirm to them that Ra-elope works here, and did not kill anyone. He was getting the cart this morning for a prospecting exhibition that he wanted to go on! The guard at the New Keep's north pocket can vouch for him even. He just had to finish his work here, and let them know he was going to leave now. He informs them that he as shocked as they were to see the place burning and with all the dead bodies. He understands that they were overseeing the carnage here, as soldiers working for Overseer Othvurgix. A big misunderstanding. At this point, I assume that the burning prison has drawn quite a crowd. If Hail would have come to look at the situation, I think this would be appropriate. I gesture Hail over, and say:
Ulysses translates my message to Hail.
GamerAim (talk) 09:37, 2 February 2017 (MST)
By the time she'd arrived, the battle had already ended, and she saw three Dragonborn guards escorting a fur-covered prisoner, his hair singed by fire, out from the smoking jail. Hi, dov dein vahlok! Nonvul kaali ahrk sonaaki se Drog Ulysses. Komeyt dreh heyvi ahrk haasu kaaz mun. she shouts as she runs to intercept the dragonborn and Re-Elope. In a tone of disgust, the senior dragonborn guard responds, Naal him heyv, hi haasi krii mun zaam? Komeyti haasu nunon hi heyv laas haas dov dein vahlok kaaz mun ahraan. Dov dein vahlok deinu. Ulysses nods her head, Heyvi. Kogaan, drog. and lays her hand upon Ra-elope, and a glow of healing light emanates from her hand, healing his skin and repairing the hair that was burnt (healing 6 HP). Ra-elope quietly thanks her and she nods humbly in return, before running into the jail. The site of the jail as she entered was unlike anything she'd ever seen - despite all her training, she'd never actually seen a dead body before, much less one that had been murdered. But more important than that, she saw a dragonborn guard wounded, leaning against a wall for support as he held his wounds together. Not wanting to stay in the jail any longer than she had to, Ulysses simply muttered, "Blessing of Saint Ulysses, heal this man." as she looked upon the guard and saw his wounds begin to stitch back together seemingly miraculously (healing 8 HP). Her job now done, she sneaked back out of the jail before the guard saw her who had healed him. --Jonattttt (talk) 22:45, 31 January 2017 (MST)
Hail left the house, making sure to lock the door behind him. Perception:17 Hail decides to take a stroll and as he's wandering he happens to notice a big crowd infront of the prison. A large cloud of smoke is still still billowing from the windows. Hail shoves his way to the front and sees several dragonborn, a short and stout bearded man, a couple of humans and a wolfman come out. One of the humans (Xander) seems to be talking to a dragonborn who doesn't look to pleased. Then the human (Xander) looks to the crowd and yells at Hail. "You look like a good person at running errands! Can you please get the guard at the New Keeps's north pocket to come and vouch for us this day?" Hail then tilts his head in evident confusion. "...Don't speak good common." Hail than says " tir wux kampiun nomeno ooble. Xander after hearing Hail speak Draconic asks the dragonborn to translate. The dragonborn doesn't seem happy but he does and so Hail goes to the keeps North Pocket to find this guard because its not like he has anything better to do. --Jonattttt (talk) 03:02, 3 February 2017 (MST) Salasay Δ 14:48, 3 February 2017 (MST)
--Kydo (talk) 17:34, 3 February 2017 (MST)DMA-51
The senior officer hesitates, then is brought out of thought as wizards and clerics from the fire fighting brigade arrive to clear the prison. "I will not arrest anyone here today if you can provide this evidence and verify your alibi. That child should return soon. Do you have your evidence?" Ra-elope, without speaking, simply presents the leather bag containing the scrapper's affects. The senior officer passes the maps to his two partners, while he looks over the logbook himself. All three of them take on shocked expressions at about the same time. "Vi woari katima wineva ekik svanoa wer arux jahus xurwka." stammered one, looking up from the maps in terror and disbelief. The officer turns to them, signed vellum card in hand, and says in common, "Worse, the conspiracy isn't happening here- and he was just a pawn." he then turns to the crowds of people and shouts, "LEAVE. ALL OF YOU. THERE IS A FIRE IN THIS CITY, AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO PUT IT OUT." finally, he turns to the adventuring group. "My name is Vuthamorne. I am a senior officer of the third Melinir garrison, and former captain of the fourth garrison. I have been stationed here for almost thirty years now. What kind of an expedition are you going on? Tell me you are staying as far away from those places marked on the dead man's map as is mortally possible." At this, Olek chimes in, "I have hired these people to help me on a platinum prospecting expedition! I know my trade, but am no fighter. I didn't plan on getting involved in some huge crime!" Vuthamorne nods at him. "Give me your identities and the details of the expedition. And your permit." (The permit is valid, but he grumbles about a spelling error on the most recent block stamp they're using. If Girty or Olek attempt to give the details about the platinum expedition, the DC to deceive him is 16. If anyone else tells him about the expedition, they automatically pass because there is no sign of doubt- they don't know they're lying. However, they must pass a charisma contest against him to satisfy his inquisitiveness. If they fail, he will ask for further details from Olek. If he figures out the truth in any way, he will demand to send an accompaniment of two wyrm army soldiers with you, both dwarves, at no expense. He recognizes the potential danger of such a discovery- and how important it would be for the young kingdom's economy to have exclusive access to the only magicyte mine in existence, even if they didn't personally own it.) (The DC for Hail to find the guard is 18 vs. perception. If found, he is drinking himself into a silly coma at a rundown bar in a commoner's basement near the North lot. He agrees to follow only because he thinks it will be funny. Vuthamorne is nowhere near as entertained. If you fail to find him, Vuthamorne fines Xander 1 platinum coin, to be paid within one month's time, and logs the fine in a small book he keeps on his person. He gives the fine with a warning, "A silver tongue like that is worth as much intact as it is when removed.") (If anyone tries to get to know Vuthamorne better, they can converse with him, (Pass a DC10 CHA check) to learn any one detail below.
(Once you guys are done sorting through all that, nothing further interferes with you leaving the city, but the sky has darkened with incoming clouds, and a cool wind has picked up again.)
A man is watching the scene unfold. He is fat, short, and bald. He is pale and sickly looking, with blued lips, blackened gums, and sleepless eyes. His pointed nose stands out, a stark contrast from his round features. He is dressed in a pressed white shirt of very fine cotton, but it is filthy. His dirty brown pants are held up by rawhide leather suspenders. His hands are stained and crusty with blood. Watching the strange people ruin everything, he grinds his teeth. As he turns to leave this disappointing scene, he licks the dried blood from his thumb.
She is also a tabaxi. She is wearing many layers of cloth, capes, robes, scarves, and veils to cover her body. Only her eyes, ears, and the top of her head is clearly visible from the scarves she has wrapped around her collar. She blinks, wide-eyed at you. `"Perhaps this was a mistake. I have no idea who you are! I'll... I'll just leave now. Goodbye." and she began to flee down the stairs. (If you follow her, you'll need to beat her in a dexterity contest. She just has the cultist statblock with wood elf NPC traits. (I feel too lazy to write up tabaxi NPC traits. Sorry. Wood elf is close enough for this.) If you catch up to her, she is clearly frightened. If you fail to catch her, you find a gold chain necklace with a jade whorl as a pendant, at the foot of the stairs. Either way, if you leave your home now, the next time you return, you will find the door hanging open, and several random items missing from your home. If you stay, make a DC20 perception check and continue on with your day as you wish.) If you catch up to her: She is clearly afraid, but not of you. She wants to say something, but is afraid to say it. She wants to make a request of you, possibly hire you, but she's only going off a rumor. It must be something bad. She hasn't gone to the police yet. I will leave the rest up to you. I can run with whatever mystery you invent. I just need her to be an effective catalyst to get you out in the world. (There are several things I have planned around your character, but I need to see which way you play it before I decide how they interact with each other. Fair warning: Like Ra-elope, your character is being targeted.) (You live in the apartment building across the street from the one Etch is about to enter. You probably at least know of whoever owns the tower apartment. In any case, there's a good chance you will also witness the *POP* and blue smoke fiasco.)
The town crier nervously points you toward a building with a sign labeled, "The Giant Bull" and stammers, "th-th-th-that's the only place you'd get money for b-brawlin' in town, s-s-sir!" before cowering in a nervous fit. Suddenly, a strange armored dwarf approaches from the side of the road. Before he can speak, you are all distracted by a loud crash, as a scrawny drunken man is thrown out through the Giant Bull's front door. A voice can be heard shouting from within, "NO BETTIN' IN THE RING!" The crier lets out a short cry and flees the scene. A pair of dwarves on a cart next to a statue near the center of town point and laugh at the crier as he passes them. (The place is a fighting club. They do not allow sharp weapons in the ring. And, obviously, you can't make bets while you are personally fighting. That's all I have decided. I like the name BTW. Very tongue-in-cheek!)
The day has been eventful and confusing- though the only people confused seem to be those you try to talk to. Leading you into town, the half-elf brings you to a large structure, like many small homes crammed together in one big box. Extending from the side of the building, on the third floor, was a thin, crooked tower of jet black cobblestone, with a terracotta tile pointed roof. It seemed to be an addition, built out from one of the homes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get on inside to the apartment! These machines of hers... It's always two steps forward and one step back with that girl!" Suddenly, a loud *POP* can be heard from the top of the tower, followed by a feint shriek, and blue smoke billowing from the tower's topmost windows. (Great character oriented roleplay! I like this half-elf a lot. I can't wait to get comfortable in the driver's seat and play out some snyde self-aggrandizing snobbery! I was going to make up the girl for you, but I had to do something about a glitch on the map I uploaded. Congratulations! You are about to visit a living glitch!) --Jonattttt (talk) 00:01, 4 February 2017 (MST)HAN-52 Perception: 22 Hail got lost trying to find the guard, but that actually helped him locate him. Though the downside is it took a while to explain the situation to the guard with Hail's limited vocabulary. Afterwards they hurried back to the prison, the guard having a stupid grin on his face like he thought this was all very amusing. Hail being in a bad mood because of the wasted time from his lack of knowledge of the common language, was seriously tempted to punch the drunk guard in the crotch and maybe sew his mouth shut to silence the idiotic laughter he would make from time to time. Sk3tz0 (talk) 01:36, 4 February 2017 (MST)
I make my way towards the Giant Bull’s front door, within the doorway stands the tavern’s bouncer a large hulk of a man build like a giant bull and probably just as well educated, “No weapons” grunts the bouncer, as he raises his tree stump of an arm to stop me from entering. “Sorry ol’ friend but we do not allow any weapon on the premises, House rules ya know” came a soft high pitch voice from behind the man, looking down I notice next to the bouncer a half-ling, the half-ling seems to be the more intelligent one dressed in business-like attire. “Please check all weapons with Dalton over here, I’ll give you a ticket stub and you can get it back once you done.” he says. Reluctantly I hand over my Short Sword and Hand axe to Dalton “Here you go, better not lose those buddy” I tell Dalton as I handover my weapons. “ok” says the Halfling while writing out a ticket stub, “so that’s 1x Short Sword 8gp, and 1x Hand axe 3gp, there you go sir”, the half-ling hands over a ticket stub, “this ticket stub you can use as cash value based of your weapons to either bet with or otherwise just keep it and hand it over when you leave to get you weapons back. Taking the ticket from the half-ling I enter the tavern. The smell of blood, sweat, ale and sawdust hits me like a Rocktroll in the face, I smile broadly as the atmosphere reminds me of the Summer Festivals my tribe use to have when I was a child. The tavern is much larger inside than it appears on the outside, in the center of the room is a makeshift fighting ring though very small, inside the ring are two middle aged men currently fighting, by the sounds of the on looking crowd, one of the men seems to be fighting dirty. I approach what I can only assume is the bar, “barkeep!” I shout over the roar of the crowd motioning the barman to closer, “tell me how does all of this work?” Green Dragon (talk) 08:32, 4 February 2017 (MST)
CHA check 14(1d20) -1 = 13. PASS I know the second point, 2(1d8), about Vuthamorne: "He thinks of his fellow soldiers as being equivalent to siblings and parents all at once. His feelings are clearly confused- but strong, and he is proud to be a member of this family." Ra-elope apologizes again for the fighting, saying that he was mistaken and he is glad that everything is now out in the open. After getting the maps and book back, and with the translating help from Ulysses Ra-elope mutters.
(Vuthamorne: "Yes. They are also the most dangerous ruins in the world. The reason we don't bother to guard them, is because they do a better job of guarding themselves than we ever could. Their security is entirely non-magical, but somehow circumvents every known magic we've attempted to use to gain access. At each bunker's location on the ethereal, shadowfell, and feywild planes, is a massive sphere of solid lead, apparently to prevent a crossing point or indirect access via planeswalking. Their halls are are patrolled by non-magical automatons the ancients called robots. The only "successful" expedition into one returned only two living scrappers, and they were both naked, insane, and nearly starved to death. Whatever is down there was meant to stay down there, and no matter how valuable it might be, I think it SHOULD stay down there. So, for the sake of your continued existence, I recommend you give those bunkers wide berth." --Kydo (talk) 09:13, 4 February 2017 (MST)) After Hail returns with the guard, we clear the situation up with the two soldiers. Ra-elope thanks Xander and the rest of the party for arriving just at the right time, and helping to stop the bloodshed. Ra-elope pays 5 gp to the expedition. Ra-elope tells Hail and Ulysses that he would like them to join the expedition, since someone who can heal wounds is of the utmost importance in the Rift, and he wants Hail there in case there is information which someone like him could more easily get than the party from the small hamlets and thorps which are scattered throughout this part of the Rift. He lets Hail know that his family would more easily respond to someone like him, than someone like Ra-elope. If the party ever wants to get to the dwarven forges which Ra-elope was told about in the Wayfaring Stranger, or the old artifact sites of the spellbomb which he has on his map, they will need the kind of infiltration work that Hail is good at. All together now, and with a few new rations for Hail and Ulysses we all leave Melinir together, Xander, Mad Girty, and Olek riding together on the cart and leading the bull. Ra-elope walks on the left side of the bull. Hail is sitting utop the bull, and trying to teach Ra-elope some Draconic. Ulysses is walking on the other side of the bull, laughing at Ra-elope trying to learn Draconic, and helping him try to understand Hail. (If anyone has a different marching order that is fine just change it of course) |
| Chapter 2 | |||||||||||||||||
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Jonattttt (talk) 12:29, 4 February 2017 (MST)
"...Sorry can't, old man said come back night..." Hail said. Then he turned and ran back to his new home. When he got back he opened the door with the key the man gave him and locked it behind him. Leaning against the door he let out a long sigh. Marasmusine (talk) 03:14, 5 February 2017 (MST)
In the cart, Girty put her hands to her head, literally unable to comprehend where all these people were coming from, and beginning to suspect some kind of conspiracy. She reached out to Olek's thoughts with her awakened mind. "Listen, this voice in your head is me, Girty, don't say anything and look at me, I'm nodding." Olek gasped and surreptitious looked to his right. Girty was nodding. "Can you think without moving your mouth? Think instead of speak and I'll hear it." "Moradin's whiskers!" "Yes, quite, I'm sorry to communicate in this way. No-one else can hear us if we do this. Listen, it's good that we've got what appears to be a small army to help us on our way, although I can't help but wonder how they all came to us the day after you showed me your map." "Well, ye said we needed a couple o' guards..." "Then discuss with them their pay. Remember you are their employer, and if they don't like that, send them on their way. Offer them 2 silver per day each and see how they react, be suspicious if they accept quickly. Keep your map hidden, trust me to get us there. By then perhaps we'll know who we can trust." (general Charisma roll = 10 - 1 = 9.) "And don't ye ferget that yer my employee, don't you get bossy wit' me, lady." Olek thought back, scowling. Girty slumped back, quietly, but she could see the dwarf was thinking about what she'd said. (am I right in saying that Hail isn't with us?) (Ya Hail stayed behind) Sk3tz0 (talk) 08:56, 5 February 2017 (MST)
“Well now” said the old barkeep as he spits onto the bar counter trying to wipe off some old blood stains “It’s pretty straight forward ya see. Names of them fighters are written up on this board here behind me, and you just pick your fighter who you think gonna wins. House pays out Evens on the winner, Entry fee to fight is 3gp, ya gets 1 round of 3mins ta beat each other senseless, last fighter standing wins and gets the losers entry fee, Winner gets to take on next challenger.. - oi you! No tossing bottles at the fighters!” the old man yells as he throws a stone ashtray with precise accuracy for a man his age at the culprit “bloody hooligans, so what will it be sonny?” he says as he absent minded continues to swipe the same bloodstain on the counter “You betting, drinking or are you fighting?” I look up at the lists of names, current champion been going at it for a few rounds now. He bound to be tired and beaten by now, yet there no name for next challenger after this fight. “Wouldn’t be much of a fight if I joined in now.” I think quietly to myself, “Although it would be easy pickings to just finish him off, and collect the gold” ‘I’ll fight!, Names Jónn sign me up” I say as I hand over my ticket stub to the elderly barman, a wide grin on my face as I think about how easy this is going be. A cheer of excitement bursts out around me, I turn around to see that the current champion has been knocked out, now motionless on the floor and a fresh well-built fighter towering over him. “Well Jónn you up next” Gr7mm Bobb (talk) 19:58, 5 February 2017 (MST)HAN-58
 Hoping it wasn't a waste I follow the self proclaimed mage through the town as one straight road curved into the next in an array of discord whose key was only held by it's inhabitants. The town's foreman has undoubtedly been seared of his facial tattoo's and properly exiled. I keep to myself following behind Lot as the common folk flow about like a rock in the center of a stream. This Lot fellow is quick and demands authority that seems at least partly recognized, a promising sign. The journey leads through an "a-part-ment" which seems to live with the a-part descriptor. We pass through the buildings doorway that hides the cramped spacing inside. The walls feel close and I am required to move sideways more than once to pass through the narrow passages. The stairs are a hodgepodge of materials and each of my steps are met with audible protest. Lot is anything but quiet, prattling away from one complaint to the next. From basic security to safety hazards of uncovered lanterns exposed to drafts, his mind raced from one thorn to hang itself on to the next. Two more sets of protest are squeezed from beneath me as we scale the side of the house box with that has a tower haphazardly stabbed through it. "...waiting for? Get on inside to the apartment! These machines of hers... It's always two steps forward and one step back with that girl!" I'm pulled from my personal scrutiny of the structures slapped together design as Lot's newest thorn seems to be sprouting from me. (Machine...1, 2, 3, 4. His ignorance may need a swifter correction than I'd prefer.) "Lot? Is that you?" a voice squeaks through the small door frame. "You know it's rude to keep a girl waiting!" There's the patter of ... foot? The sound of a tender footfall is followed by an oiled and muffled clink of metal in a one-two repeat as the voice draws near. "Now listen here you" Lot exclaims charging into his hole "I have had enough of your games Milee! You can't just send your-" (I wonder if he's noticed his doors latch assembly is half missing) A small female gnome strides around the corner. She has bright hair who's prismatic coloration shifts with the dim lighting of the a-part-ment. A set of goggles resting on her forehead with far too many lenses interrupts the almost enthralling pattern. She's wearing a bright green blouse with an apron hanging from her neck that is anchored at her waist by a sizable tool belt. Over her shoulder clings a spider-like contraption that seems to be fighting desperately against her undulating movements to stitch her torn left sleeve together. From the bottom her apron sprout a single worn boot with steel tips and a cogwork appendage with leather wrappings. (Explains the odd footfalls...) Suddenly, a loud *POP* can be heard from the top of the tower, followed by a feint shriek, and blue smoke billowing from the tower's topmost windows. I extend my right arm out as a vase crashes over. The shield slides of its along its rack down my arm and into my waiting grasp as I sidestep through the door and place myself shield first towards the doorway, looking around the cramped overstuffed a-part-ment (13 perception to assess threats and other entry points). "Hey, wait, STOP! You blunder-" I reach back and place my left hand against his chest and pull a finger up vertically to the middle of my helmet's faceplate. (Now is not the time to complain of thorns.) Mind racing, I try to look and listen intently as Milee starts to mumble and rummage about nervously. (Perception for outside sounds, NAT 20 total 23, hopefully it wasn't a waste)
--Kydo (talk) 14:10, 6 February 2017 (MST)
(Just so you all know, there's a few things left unattended to...
I'm going to be posting game play again tonight, so it would be appreciated if we could cover any unfinished points before I do.)
Has Ulysses joined? He just asked if everyone was OK, and then stood around... I assume we're waiting on his next play post? Can I safely assume he joins up? --Kydo (talk) 01:56, 7 February 2017 (MST)
Salasay ♄ 15:00, 6 February 2017 (MST)
Pleasantly surprised, though quite off-balanced, by the pleasant turn of events, I relax the tension I hadn't noticed knotting up my shoulders. I paste a faint smile back in place, gathering my bearings again, just as Olek chimes in.
As Vuthamorne replies, I see a flash of concern on Girty's face, though stoic Olek is less revealing. I rise to my feet and maneuver to stand directly between them, but still out of the line of conversation for the moment. Olek might know more than I, but in assuaging concerns it's best to be confident, not necessarily to know all of the explicit details. That's why politicians give speeches, not technicians and wizards. Girty hands over the permit right away, at his request, and I take the opportunity of his perusal of the document to step into the line, blocking Olek out of the conversation for the moment. When Vuthamorne glances up to see me, he gives a twisted, reptilian expression reminiscent of a raised eyebrow. I assure him that I too know the details, explaining my intervention due to Olek's "tendency to get excited and ramble on about mining." (Rolling: Me, 16 +3; Him, 2 +0. Success!) Satisfied, Vuthamorne dismissed us by turning back to Ra-elope. I gather up my discarded gear and carry it over to the cart, where I re-equip myself. The fresh trembling in my hands gives me difficulty on sword belt, but a few deep breaths help calm my nerves. Kitted out again, I walk back over, where Vuthamorne smuggler's stuff as evidence.
I nod in acceptance, returning again to the cart.
SirSprinkles (talk) 21:59, 6 February 2017 (MST)
After the large human barreled past him into The Giant Bull, Karnyr set off to look for a place to gather supplies for the treacherous journey ahead. From what he'd heard on his way to the Rift, its winters were damp and cold, and that only a fool would travel its wilds without thick clothing and a warm tent. Wading through a crowd, he spotted a shop with faded red letters above the doorframe, faintly spelling "Garrin's General Store". Figuring it to be worth looking at, Karnyr walked through the door, a tiny copper bell tinkling as he did so. The shop was small but clean, and wares of all descriptions lined its shelves, from simple foodstuffs to bottles of lamp oil. A plump female halfling with short brown hair stands behind the counter, perking up as Karnyr enters.
After thinking for a few seconds, Karnyr responds.
GamerAim (talk) 08:13, 7 February 2017 (MST)
Thoughtfully, I bow to Xander and turn to walk away. After a few steps, I pivot back around and smile at him.
Sensing that Xander is uncomfortable talking about combat, I look around and change the subject, having remembered what I came back for.
Just then, Ra-elope approaches Xander and Ulysses.
I nod and clasp my hands behind my back as I await the return of book and map. (I hope this didn't mess with the timeline or anyone's portrayal of their character. I was mainly trying to flesh out my introduction to the group, but I can't do much more until Kydo figures out the deal with getting our evidence.)--GamerAim (talk) 08:13, 7 February 2017 (MST)
--Kydo (talk) 09:45, 7 February 2017 (MST)
(*claps hands once loudly, then rubs hands together, cracks knuckles.* OK, let's get this wagon on the dang road!)
Ulysses approaches Vuthamorne, smiling. "Hello, good sir. I am Ulysses, named after the saint, and am a squire of Lord Thondir Repennan. Is it truly necessary to keep all of the evidence to absolute exclusion of all involved?" Vuthamorne sighs deeply- or maybe it was a hiss of anger? "I have no idea what part you are playing in all of this, but I can assure you that the originals must be kept secure." Ulysses, not missing a beat, then replies, "Absolutely, but could there possibly be any harm in making copies? After all, the crimes are already done. Having duplicates in case of tampering would be useful, right?" Vuthamorne, annoyed, considers it. CONTEST: ULYSSES: PERSUASION (5+2=7) vs. VUTHAMORNE: WIS: (19+0=19) FAILURE. %>10: ADDITIONAL CONSEQUENCE. CONTEST: ULYSSES: PERSUASION (20+2=22 CRIT) vs. VUTHAMORNE: INT: (Irrelevant.) PASS. Vuthamorn makes a rapid string of clicking noises before replying, "Those maps are as dangerous as the ruins they mark, inaccurate as they are. The only thing the maps can be used for is to get yourselves- or possibly everyone in the world- killed. I think they should be destroyed after I have presented them to the Overseer. His logbook, however... Yes, we could easily duplicate that, though without the verification stamps. It's just a list of dates and payments, anyways. Any attempt to replicate Othvurgix's letter to the scrapper would be an unlawful impersonation of an Overseer unless carried out by his personal clerk, so that is strictly forbidden." After some time passes, as the new band of adventurers ready themselves again with the cart, a human soldier returns with a package tied with twine and wrapped in in butcher's paper. Vuthamorne hands it over to Ra-elope. "This is the copy of the scrapper's financial returns." Finally ready to leave, the party rolls out the gate down the road toward the Melinir hills. Ra-elope makes no effort to navigate the local area; they are simply following the main road Northward up into the hills, passing villagers and traders on the road as they go. It's pretty hard to get lost with the keep directly behind you and visible for miles. As they walk, Girty explains to Olek that they need to first travel East on the road to Torlynn, and that he had missed that turn and wandered far out into the Orcish burial mounds further North. To find his ancestor's tomb, they need to go to the original Dwarven ruins, which were in the foothills of the mountains to the East, all around Torlynn county. ENCOUNTER: EXPLORATION: INTERESTING BRIDGE As they head North toward the eventual turn to Torlynn, they come to a bridge over an irrigation channel. It was originally wooden, but it is currently under construction, and a team of bricklayers are replacing it with small carved stone blocks. Next to the out-of-service bridge is a ferryman with a large raft. The irrigation channel is shallow enough that you could all wade through it, but then the cow, most of the wagon, and anyone who chooses not to ride it across, will be quite wet. (Not that it matters much, it is definitely about to rain, as thunder rumbles from the other side of the nearby looming mountains.) The ferryman offers to take you across for 2 silvers. (Commoner statblock. Can be Persuaded down to half price vs. CHA)
The house is as quiet as before, and as stinky, but something has changed. The furniture has been rearranged. One of the chairs has been smashed into splinters in the main room of the house. There is a bowl half-filled with water sitting on the table. You can hear shuffling noises from somewhere in the house. CHECK: PERCEPTION: (19+2=21) vs. DC 15 PASS. You hear a muffled "splosh" noise come from the basement beneath your feet, followed by more shuffling sounds.
Jonn steps into the ring, his next opponent glaring at him with a grin. "I just won all his winnings. You want that coin?? Come and get it, boy!" he is bronze-skinned, bald, shirtless, and very sweaty. Around his arms and legs are raw-hide wrappings and straps. He has multiple bruises slowly darkening on his chest.
INITIATIVE:
ZONES:
SPECIAL RULES:
(I need to build a Kleine market. For now, use the NPC general store from Melinir for the transactions, and just roleplay your NPC in their place.)
(I'm not sure what happened at the end of your post.)
"Milee! My laboratory! What madness have you left unattended now?!" shouted Lot, flailing his arms uselessly over his head, flapping his sleeves in the air. Milee puffs out her chest, pouts angrily, and puts her fists on her hips, "Unattended? I'm right here, and it's doing exactly what it should be doing- the same thing it's been doing all morning!" Lot rolled his eyes, and pinched his sinus as he closed his eyes shaking his head, "filling my house with giant blue clouds of gods-know-what poisons is hardly a worthwhile-" Milee cuts him off by laughing and running to the stairs, "Poison? No way! Well, maybe only to a grouch like you!" Then she put on a devilish grin and squinted her eyes, "Come upstairs and see... IF YOU DARE!" she then ran up the stairs, feigning a comically evil belly-laugh. "MUHU-MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAA!" Etch's shield retracts to its normal position with a clank. as he looks down at Lot. "Tsk. Look at that. She probably spent months working on you, and she's already so distracted she's forgotten to bother with you at all!" Well, I suppose you'd best follow along until I can get this mess sorted out. And bring that broom with you! Might as well try to be useful!" Lot turned to climb the stairs. What you sense from the critical perception check: You can hear tiny screaming sounds, like little fireworks. You hear a fire and a loud bubbling, like a pot of boiling stew. Mixed in with the screeching noise, you can almost hear violins and drums being played.
(No activity... I'm not sure what to do here. I... Guess he stays inside and lets the woman flee?) --Jonattttt (talk) 18:38, 7 February 2017 (MST)
Stealth: 17+2=19 Hail grabs a broken leg of a chair, ready to use it as a club. He proceeds quietly down the stairs and takes a peak through the ajar door. Perception: 19+2=21 Green Dragon (talk) 12:21, 8 February 2017 (MST)
 Proposed route After loading the cart onto the ferry along with people from our party, and people on the road, we cross the river on the floating wooden platform. The ferry operator calls this a ferry, but with the depth of the river here even some horses are trotting across alongside us he pulls the floating wooden platform along the thick rope to the other side of the river. Ra-elope looks up at the horizon, and he sees the rolling clouds, the black sky ahead, and the faint sunset setting away from the approaching storm. Although the colors are magnificent, Ra-elope warns the party that it is time to make camp on the other side of the river. After leaving Melinir late in the day, Ra-elope is totally exhausted and ready to crash into a tent away from the approaching thunder and gusting rainfall ahead. After everyone gathers on the other side of the river, we continue a little bit along the road until there is a open campsite on the side of the road. We pull the tents out from the cart, and quickly set them up. Ra-elope tells Xander that he should sleep alone since his PTSD is starting to act up, and this may be good for him. Ra-elope covers the cart with a tarp, and attaches the ox to a nearby tree. Ra-elope agrees to take the last watch. As the storm rolls into the camp, everything is secured down and the party is split up into the tents. Ra-elope eats some dried jerky and fruits, with a little bit in wine, grapes, cheese and crackers on the side together with Ulysses. Ulysses and Ra-elope also share a sausage together, before saying good night and going to bed. Ra-elope wakes up after getting shaken by the fourth watch, and goes outside into the center of the tents to watch out and watch over the small fire that was made after the storm died down and the rain stopped. Ra-elope gets some more firewood from the cart, and gets the fire rolling. Before everyone wakes up, he makes some tea and coffee for them as they come poking out of their tents. While the other party members are drinking coffee and tea, and frying eggs and bacon from a saucepan in the fire, Ra-elope tells the party what has been going on in his mind.
In my mind
Marasmusine (talk) 13:52, 8 February 2017 (MST)
Mad Girty's curiosity was roused about the prospect of Xander's "PTSD starting to act up", and offered to take the other watch. During her watch, when the rain eased down from harsh buckets to a penetrating drizzle, she crept up to his tent and peered inside, hoping to observe and take notes on any stress-induced disturbances. [Day 3, Morning]. Girty woke to find Olek using her stomach as a pillow, and pushed him off. "Ah, sorry lady, was I roamin'?" She nodded to Ra-Elope's plan. "That sounds logical." She was beginning to warm to him. Yesterday, he just appeared to be a meddling brute with an axe, but it turned out he was quite hospitable around a campfire. "I'd rather not speak to those elves at all, although there is one from that clan, Aditi, whom I met near the pool for the purpose of trading spell components."
Salasay ♄ 21:14, 8 February 2017 (MST)WFS-67
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