Tenebrae - User contributions [en]

A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement

2011-04-25T22:35:35Z

Karl:

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== Log Info ==
*'''Title''': A Veyshanti Sort of Arrangement
*'''Emitter''': [[Karl]]
*'''Characters''': [[Arissa]] - Sorcerer 3, [[Naerick]] - Bard/Fighter 2, [[Brynn]] - Bard/Fighter 2, [[Wilma]] - Fighter 3, [[Garthos]] - Fighter 2
*'''NPCs''': -
*'''Place''': From Alexandria to Veyshan!
*'''Time''': April 2011
*'''Summary''': A Veyshanti family hires some adventurers to carry a 'jar of ashes' to the family's ancient burial ground...
*'''APL''': 2
*'''Encounter 1''': 3 Small Water Elementals, '''CR 4''
*'''Encounter 2''': 1 Imp, a number of level 1 Ifrit Sorcerers, '''CR 4'''
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The contract that was posted at the Explorer's Guild seemed simple enough; a Veyshanti clan that had emigrated to Alexandria needed the ashes of one of their dead returned to their ancient family burial ground. Unfortunately, said burial ground was a day's travel into the Dune Seas, so they needed some adventurers to ensure it made it there past the dangers of bandits, scorpions, and worse things that inhabited the exotic and sandy regions therein...

"We have already arranged for a ship," said the man who posted the notice, Ghanim, a portly fellow with an elaborate and colourful turban perched atop his seemingly hairless head, his eyes sparkling with a vitality that belies his rotund frame, "And an escort once you arrive - you will just be security, of course, it may not be a dangerous journey at all! The risk, however..." A claywork jar with golden script inlaid beneath the bright glaze was handed over, some two hands in length and broader at the bottom than the top, sealed with a silver stopper. "And please, do not disrespect my sister Bara'ah by opening it."

The ship that left the Alexandrian harbor with the group is a small but fast affair, with striped white and red sails that billow in the winds as it cuts through the Inmost Sea towards the exotic shores of Veyshan. The captain's a bare-chested fellow with a braided beard and a cheerful laugh, with tall tales aplenty to share, and the sun is high in the sky, the salt spray filling the air with its scent and the wind warding off the day's heat. The weather is fair and the ocean sparkles like diamonds.

Hopefully nobody gets sea-sick.

On board ship, Brynn feels at home. She's out on the prow most of the trip enjoying the spray of the sea and the wind in her hair. She was raised by a fisherman who took her out to sea quite often and so she enjoys this part of it all. Though, as she's out there, she thinks back...
Finding the posting was like the will of the gods. Finally! She'd have a chance to meet some heroes and learn their tales. She could fight by their sides and make them immortal in story form. Granted, the stories would -have- to be over the top and exaggerated, but that is how one tells tales of heroes, right? So immediately, she signed up for the trip, placing her blade at the discretion of the employer. Heck, she had no idea who she'd be working with, but she figured that she'd learn what she needed to learn in time!
And so, back to the ship where her pretty smile spreads wider now than it does most times, feet adjusting to the rise and fall of the deck with ease. It's obvious that she belongs aboard a ship at sea.

Having made his round of introductions to those he has only now met, introducing himself as Garth or 'Numbers' (and having nodded with a cheerful smile to Arissa, whom he's already sort of acquainted with), Garthos is now spending his time on deck, sitting on one of the heavy crates and staring out into the nigh-endless waters. He's gotten a little queasy a couple times, but nothing terrible. You see, he's travelled on speed-barges down rivers and rapids before, but never on the open sea. It's fascinating to him!

Naerick catches some contract on the wall of the Explorer's Guild, heh, sounds like fun, might give some muse ideas to sing about someday. He straps on a pack and readies himself for the travel to the harbour for the travel. He climbs aboard and takes a seat giving a nod to the people that must be joining the group "Good day" he says offering greetings to people that follow in.

Arissa was very patient with the job description, offering an understanding reply: "Of course. The depths to which people can fall... targeting even the remains of the departed... you can't risk that. We'll see this through."

Aboard the ship, she's a similarly warm and patient passenger. Garth's smile is quickly returned, and she opts to stay around him for some of the trip... she has questions. "Will you be in Veyshan simply to complete this job, or do you have your eyes on anything else while you're there? If it's alright to ask."
Oh, gods. A boat. Not even an airship, but a puddle-hopper - not that Wilma's stupid enough - anymore - to say that outloud. For most of the trip, the oversized dwarf is as near to the pilothouse as she can manage. Not for her are the sprays of waves, or the salty breezes that fill the sails. And at the mention of desecrating the urn, she just grunts. "We'll be gettin' her there." The friendliest of souls, she isn't.

"No, no plans 'cept this." Garth says to Arissa, shaking his head slightly, scooting over to make her room on the crate he's claimed if she wants to sit, moving that overlarge sword of his aside, too. "Might decide to stick around, though. Never seen the place. Hear it's kinda hot o'er there, though." Yeah, a LITTLE hot.

Glancing back from her spot on the ship's prow, Brynn's blonde hair is caught by the wind and billows about her. She takes a moment to study her erstwhile companions and then strides back towards them. "I be Brynnhildr Eriksdottr." she announces. "Unt you vould be?" Yes, she has a rather thick accent, and is dressed more for the cold of the north. She'll likely be removing layers of furs once we get to such a hot place as the Dune Seas.

"I think it do be fair sailing from here to the coats of the sandsea," Captain Brum calls back in cheerful tones from where he mans the wheel, his baritone voice carried by the winds, "Why, it was in weather like this that I outran the entire fleet of Charn, in fact! I had their Emperor's daughter on board, a fine thing, I think she fancied me, fleeing her tyrannous father..." The tale goes on, completely improbable as it is, and occasionally one of the crewmen call out a good-natured question about the tale to spur him on. "How did we deal with the dragon? Well, obviously, we aimed out course for the Wyvern Rocks..."

Naerick nods "Naerick" he says to Brynn, "looking for inspiration" he jokes as looks around the people on the boat with him. He is sure to keep his bag with himself, a little cautious about being around newer people. He looks out over the sea and smiles ready to enjoy the breeze as they travel.

Arissa replies to Garth, "I wouldn't know... this will be my first time there as well." She's quick enough to return Brynn's introductions, with a soft and warm attitude. "My name is Arissa. You can think of me as an agent of the heavens, if you'd like." She's not much interested in Brum's story thus far, as meeting her peers on this job is occupying her attention just fine.

Oh! Tales of heroism and the like! Brynn is enraptured. After she's introduced herself, she turns her attention to the Captain, "The Wyvern rocks?" she asks, hoping for a bit more detail on the events that transpired, or events that he at least -claims- transpired. In fact, she was about to go into finding out who could do what, and who was good at various things, but she's totally fascinated with the story instead...

"Wilmaethina Poraj Stonesmasher - but if you're callin' me anything other than Wilma, you'll probably not be finishin' up 'til after whatever you're needin' me for is come an' gone," Wilma grunts from her spot in the slight shade. Despite the fact it's hotter than a smith's physique, the dwarf keeps to her armor, running a 'stone over the edge of her greatsword - and half-listening to the Captain's tale with a bit of a smirk.

Garth, having already introduced himself before, just nods and grins at the rest quite happily as they do so as well. He nods to Arissa as well. "Should be interestin' either way." he tells her. "Why y' ask, though? Y' got somethin' else to be doin' out in the desert save this?" he asks her, curious. "If y' don't mind the askin'." he adds after a moment. He's half-listening to the tale, obviously well-aware that its authenticity is... well, not fully there, at best.

"Aye, lassie! The Wyvern Rocks. So named because they're as sharp as a wyvern's tooth, and they spread out to touch one another like wings in places. So we made for the rocks, hoping to lose the great black beast if it couldn't see us from above, and..." There's a sudden ''lurch'' as if the ship had hit something, and the sweep of the waves past the ship halts abruptly. Brum grunts as he's slammed chest-first into the wheel, and the goblin that's up in the crow's nest tumbles out with a shrill scream - catching himself on the rigging just in time, swinging above the deck's surface.

"What by the Leviathan's thundrous coils was that? Why are we stopped?" The question from Brum is a good one. The sails are still billowing in the wind, after all...

"Ve hit something... bottomed out, but this is the open sea!" exclaims Brynn as she rushes towards the nearest railing to peer down over the side. As she does so, she draws sword and axe... pointing her blade down at the water, "Vhatever it ist, it ist obviously vithin the vater. "Doest anyone see anything?!" she calls out as she searches the water for whatever it may be.

Garthos very nearly falls on his face in a clatter of metal. He stops himself.
Instead he falls on his ass. Because that's much better. There's a clanging of weaponry and armor.
He picks himself up, not bothering to dust off, and grabs his sword in one hand. Glances up at the sails. Glances down at the water.
"Say, Arissa... how big can fish get out 'ere?" Garth asks her. She's the spellcasty type, she knows these things. Right? RIGHT?!

Naerick flings forward some trying to catch himself as they slam to a stop. He glances towards the front of the ship wondering what it is that could've cause this sudden jerk forward. He glances over to Brynn and reaches to his rapier drawing it in hand and standing to his feet. "Wha'd we hit?" he says not wanting to get too close to the edge, just in case there was another sudden jolt.

Arissa makes a tiny laugh at Garth's questions about her plans. "I am looking into a few things, yes. We'll see how that goes. I...!" She cuts off as the ship lurches, jolting in place... and mindful to stay on the center of the deck, well away from the rails. After a moment to gather her composure, she smiles and gives a very calm but vague answer: "It could be massive. Even the size of this ship. Or we may have struck barely sunken wreckage, or any number of other things... please stay on your guard." Nevermind that he clearly already is, with his sword in hand.

Wilma is already seated - however, the sudden lurch-and-stop as her almost slicing into her arm, as the wetstone goes sliding off the edge of her sword. "If we've gone aground in the middle a'the ocean, I'm able to climb the tallest bloody mountains!" as she gets to her feet, bared sword resting tip-first on the deck.

"I've bottomed out many a ship, lassie--" Brum bellows, which may not be the most comforting thing to hear from one's captain, "--and that wasn't bottoming out! I didn't hear any breaking of wood, either, and if we'd hit something, we'd have taken some damage... someone get Crewman Treelee down from that rigging before he pisses himself all over the deck!" As he's shouting orders, he's stepping forward to scowl down at the water as well, searching for signs of something down there...

...and then those who are looking see something. The sloshing of the waves against the ship's sides is growing rougher, splashing upwards... and then staying there, in tendrils of glistening water, several waves crashing right up the sides of the ship towards them, gaping mouths appearing in the water with a roar like the rising tide!

Naerick stares at the tendrils and gaping mouths appearing at the edge of the ship he Holds his Rapier up and says "C'mon guys!" then breaks into a song, his voice has a deepness to it, with only a slight rasp, he begins a tale of slaughter to give morale to the people with him. The song is about being surrounded on the battlefield and hacking through the mess and making it out triumphant.

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d8+4: (7)+4: 11

What does one do when a monster appears in their face? Well in Brynn's case, she brings her father's sword up and slices at the beast's tentacles as she spins back, using her axe to ward off any retaliation. "The vater itself attacks!" she exclaims, taking heart that someone could take the time to be musical at a moment like this. Even if to her, it's just noise, she understands the concept and it still manages to inspire her.

Wilma's eyes widen at the sight of the mouths coming out of the waves, and immediately heads towards Brynn and her bit of the ship. "What the hells?" Sword is thankfully out, but this dwarf doesn't even try to charge. She can't swim well, after all - and charging for waves, well. Call her paranoid!

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1: (11)+2+4+1+1+1+-1: 19
GAME: Garthos rolls 2d6+9: (12)+9: 21

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (3)+3: 6
GAME: Karl damaged Garthos for 6 points. 17 remaining.

"Swords work on these fine, yeah?" Garthos asks Arissa, stepping between her and the gaping maws of watery doom like the wall of muscle and armor he's supposed to be. He takes a balanced stance, sword in hand... and soon as one of the beasties slides over, he brings the weapon up and over his head, shouting his fury as he swings it with insane force. The blade goes through the watery shape, leaving one big, big cleft in its semi-mutable form.

The waves crash over the side of the ship like the hungry tide, only to be met with the steel and valor of the warriors aboard. The strike fron Brynn's blade is returned with a wat'ry psuedopod that lashes out her way, but she deftly sidesteps it - less lucky is Garthos, the mighty blade-wielder finding himself crashed upon by the fierce tide itself, or so it seems, battering and smashing him in his armour, even as the one that he struck bubbles away to sea-foam on the deck, spilling slick underfoot.

Arissa reacts oddly to the waves 'coming to life' on the deck. She smiles, eyes glazing over as her hips begin to sway from side to side as Garthos takes position in front of her and hacks water apart. "As you've seen, they certainly do!" She begins softly 'singing' in Celestial, a white circle forming on the deck... magical runes moving slowly within it.

GAME: Naerick rolls weapon1+1: (20)+6+1: 27
GAME: Naerick rolls 1d6+4+1: (6)+4+1: 11

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (12)+9: 21

Obviously Naerick's attack caught Brynn off guard. She has her sword and axe out, and was spinning as she prepared to swipe both at the elemental in her face. When it suddenly falls apart from a stab wound. She's a little confused for a moment before she spies Naerick and then snorts before turning to run towards the other enemy. Of course, her boot slips on the fallen elemental and she's barely able to keep herself on the ship.. weapons in hand.

GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+7: (7)+7: 14

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1: (5)+2+4+1+1+1+-1: 13

Wilma had just almost gotten to where Brynn was facing off with the element. And what does the dwarf find?! Sea-foam! Cussing up enough to storm - though please not now! the dwarf turns, and heads towards the other one. Unable to give forth to her rage and charge across the slippery surface, the be-armoured dwarf swings her greatsword into the mouthy seafoam - injurying it slice, at least if one is to judge by how deeply the blade went in, and came back out.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 4 points. 31 remaining.

The elemental surges back as Wilma's blade cleaves into it - evading, thusly, the next attack that comes for it - and then crashes forward with the roar of the sea on the rocks against the last one that injured it, battering into her, her eyes stinging with the salt of its attack!

Naerick follows up with his song, moving over towards an elemental flourishing a thrust with his Rapier as he presses the blade through the creature. He slides the blade back and gives it a second flourish as he watches the elemental come crashing down into the sea foam.

Garthos lifts his weapon, and is about to swing it when Brynn goes into what looks to him like a very odd Aesir dance. "What the...?" he goes, and in his confusion, the next swing of the greatsword isn't quite as well-aimed as the last. It slices nothing but thin air. He snorts. "Do seas do this often? Attack ships, I mean?" he asides to Arissa.

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (10)+4: 14
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+3: (4)+3: 7

Recovering from her wet deck slippage, Brynn mutters something darkly in her native tongue before she looks over towards Garthos, "Be ye alright?" she asks. "Do you require a healing chant?" she adds as she heads his way, making sure to keep her footing now.

Arissa's incantations move the circle near the remaining elemental, bringing an eagle into the world! It looks mostly normal, though the feathers atop its head are gold. It lets out a screech, then begins pecking and cutting away at the waves, dispersing them! The bird, seeing no other obvious threats, then just stands around pecking a bit at its feathers, trying to shake the water out.

Arissa doesn't immediately answer Garthos, instead speaking in Celestial to the eagle (not that it understands regardless), "(Thank you.)" Then her eyes return to normal, and so does her speech as she responds to the question. "They can. But you're not automatically safer on an airship either... the skies themselves can manifest in similar fashion to attack you. Is everyone okay?"

As the last of the elementals spills away as foam and slickness on the deck, there's another sharp /lurch/ of the desk - that sends the poor goblin watchman tumbling to the deck with a pained squeak as he hits - as the ship begins to move once more, and the captain has to all but lunge for the wheel to get her back under control. "Whoa, there! Whoa, Mermaid's Kiss, where do you think you're going, girl-- alright, alright-- I think we're free of whatever the ''bloody hells that was''!"

There's some superstitious mutterings from the crew, a few coins tossed overboard to the Devourer. The sea rising up to devour you is supposed to be a metaphor, after all!

"Yer kiddin'." says Garthos to Arissa, frowning a bit over her words. He sighs, rubs at his temples. The AIR can attack him. That's kind of depressing, really. "I'm a little banged up. Ain't TOO bad, but..." he answers Brynn. He lifts his shirt, showing that he has a rather large bruise that is also bleeding somewhat from where the elemental struck him. It's roughly equal to the average swordblow, perhaps a bit worse.
Wilma sways alarmingly when the ship returns to its previous course, before shaking her head and -carefully- heading back towards the pilothouse. "Don't know, don't wanna know - as long as they're not draggin' me overboard, I'll be fine." As for the salt in her eyes - that's not an injury! It's not even a fleshwound!

GAME: Brynn casts cure light wounds.
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d8+1: (8)+1: 9
GAME: Karl damaged Garthos for -9 points. 23 remaining.

"I don't usually make jokes, especially about things that can harm others." Arissa replies in a soft, pleased tone. The eagle vanishes in a flash of white light after several more seconds, while Arissa starts to retrieve a wand... then reconsiders as Brynn approaches Garthos instead. In light of that, Arissa simply stands quietly.

"Ach. I've seen bruises like that before. They can be painful.." and she reaches a hand out to lay it gently upon the bruise as she begins chanting a soft sound from her homeland. There's no real -words- to it... just the rhythmic chanting before the bruise begins to fade. "There.." she remarks, "Angoron be at ye side Garthos." she adds before pulling her hand away. "Well, it looks as if ve be under vay again." she says with an approving nod.

Naerick smiles and holds his rapier as he finishes the song "Well I think we make a nice team" he jokes looking as Brynn heals Garthos. As the ship begins moving again he takes a seat once more keeping his sword at the ready just in case there were more of these creatures on the way to where they are going.

"He always is, I should hope!" exclaims Garthos, poking at the newly-healed skin experimentally. He's a fellow Angoron fan, see? "Y'got some talent there, both with the magic and the blades." he says to Brynn, grinning. "Thanks." His next words address all of the other adventurers, as he sheathes his sword: "That was a job well done, yeah." He gives Arissa, who's nearest to him, a very, VERY gentle clap on the shoulder.

Arissa blinks as Garthos casually - albeit lightly - lays hand on her. She gets over it almost immediately, smile returning. "Everyone did well... and thank you. You didn't need to place yourself between me and the elements themselves, but I appreciate it."

"That's bein' one of the jobs of us folks with more brawn than brains," Wilma calls out, "At least for long enough for you to be pullin' an eagle outta your bag o'tricks."

The next hours of the journey pass peacefully enough, if uneasily as the crew (and likely the adventurers) keep glancing overboard, and some flinch at every particularly large swell that crashes to the ship's side. enough to splash over the deck.

Captain Brum's tall tales have even been silenced by the ominous occurrance. Why would the elementals attack the ship, after all, and on a oft-traffic'd route at that? The crew don't out-and-out ''accuse'' the adventurers of having something to do with it, but it lingers under the subtext of things.

Before long, the odd, fan-topped trees of the coastline come into view with a call from the goblin above, and the Mermaid's Kiss is pulling into the harbor of a small, cluttered little town that's a far cry from the tales of the grand cities of the Golden Coast... but then, the Golden Coast is on the other side of Veyshan. Clay buildings half-built upon one another clutter around the small harbor, the lanes and aisles filled with colourful awnings and stalls, and even as the gangplank is lowered, the shouts of merchants can be heard from the markets. Turbans and loose, flowing garments seem to be the norm, and great, shaggy humped beasts clump along here and there burdened down with bags and packages like draft horses. The salt air of the sea mingles with the scents of the city in a unique bouquet.

"Battle, heroes, and magic. A classic combination." begins Brynn. "Now, if ve had any mead, it vould be even better!" She grins to Garthos and shakes her head, "Mein fater taught me the blade... this sword be his before he gifted it to me." she adds before heading back towards the prow to keep a lookout up ahead. She does however get a good grip there so that if there's any sudden stops, she doesn't dive in the drink so to speak.

Naerick watches the waves and turns to Burm as they come in contact with the coast. He looks down and shrugs "Well I guess we are here?" he asks to no one in particular standing up with his blade, sheathing it as he prepares to board land.

"Is just the way I was taught back home - if y' wear armor and use a blade, y' outta protect those who don't." Garthos answers Arissa, shrugging lightly. He retakes his previous seat on the crate, unsheathing his blade and beginning to clean the saltwater from the metal so it doesn't corrode it. "Gives y' breathin' room so y' can blast the enemy, yeah?" he adds, with a grin.

The burly, tattooed man spends the next hours thoroughly cleaning and oiling the weapon, twitching only slightly when waves crash against the ship's hull. Once they arrive at last, the greatsword is once again sheathed, and he stands, stretching, ready to be off the boat - though he isn't running down the plank or anything.

Arissa makes another tiny laugh at Wilma's remarks. "I'd prefer it if you didn't describe them as 'tricks'... but you meant no offense." As the plank is lowered, she waits for the others to be along with them and then speaks up in a more serious tone. "Our employer was not entirely forthcoming with us. /Don't/ open the urn, even with what I'm about to tell you. That urn is magical... very powerfully so. Whatever task we have been sent on is not ordinary. It would probably be best if you don't let on to this knowledge to our guide... please be discrete."

"I didn't?" Wilma asks, a bit bemused as she trundles down the plank to the docks, keeping an ear on the conversation. There's a bit of a grunt at the information, before she turns to spit on the dusty walkway they're on. "Figures."

"And deceipt and double dealing. This has all the hallmarks of a fantastic adventure. It vill be a tale for the ages." admits Brynn as she climbs down from the prow and heads for the gangplank. "But I must admit to curiosity... vhere be the guide vs vere intended to meet?"

Naerick glances over to them and shrugs, giving a look to the other magic-user of the group, the non bard one. He tries to find this Guide that apparently everyone else was trying to find "It's odd, where could he be."

Garth immediatelly gets a sour look from Arissa's revelation, but that might as well be from the heat and sun for the casual onlooker. "I hope y' can tell us more soon, I really do. I ain't keen on potentially causin' some trouble here by bein' a scapegoat in some bastard's plan." he whispers back to Arissa and the rest, but then steels himself and goes to follow them off the ship.

As they make their way off the ship, there's a bit of a commotion from near the foot of the docks - a trio of burdened camels are being led by a surprisingly pale fellow, almost bone-white in skin tone, who's arguing with some official-looking fellow and gesturing up the docks towards the party.

"There's no need to worry," Arissa remarks to Garthos with a warm, pleased demeanor. "I wouldn't let any of you walk into something that can't be handled. It will be fine." Beyond that, she seems mostly content to stay with the group for the time being.

A nod to herself, and Brynn simply walks towards the man with the camels... the one who was gesturing towards the party. But what she says might not be exactly what anyone expects. Her words prove how little of the world she has really seen, "What in the name of the gods, are -those-?!" she inquires, pointing at the camels.

Wilma eyes Arissa for a moment, then snorts again. "Well, given the fella's pointin' at us, I'm thinkin' it's the pale-skinned one with the weird.... horses. Huh." The dwarf pauses for a moment, then shakes her head. "Torn between wishin' Karl was here, or bein' glad he's not - depends on how those beasties got that way."

Garthos chuckles. Arissa's so... motherly! It so doesn't befit her! Or maybe it does. But he's amused, anyway. Not in a bad way, though. "Just like I ain't lettin' any water demons try eat you, eh?" he asks, but doesn't seem to expect an answer. He's happy to walk at her side. He, too, eyeballs the camels. "That's an ugly beast if I ever saw one." he mutters. Shaggy, smelly, disproportionate, awkward-lookin' things!

Naerick glances at the Camels with a curious eye, his mind takes a bit of information in to possibly use in songs sometime. He listens to Brynn ask what the camels are, just shrugging as he adjusts his backpack. "I wonder if that's our guy"

"I don't care if they aren't allowed out on the pier, I am not leaving the camels with you, you thieving son of a flea-bitten-- ah! They are here!" A dismissive flick of the albino's(?) wrist sends the man with the scimitar walking away with a glower at the adventurers, and then he spreads his hands with a broad smile, "You are the fine folk that Ghanim sent, yes! With the delivery? I hope your journey was a fine one - ah! These are camels! Much better suited for travel over the sands. Watch your hands. They bite. And spit. They are ungrateful, horrible monsters of beasts, but very good for travel. I am Dabir, your faithful servant, my good folk." A quick bow, and he straightens, pale blue eyes sparkling, "We have the supplies for many days in the sand sea if anything untoward occurs, have no worry.

He didn't take a breath /once/ through all that.

One of them bites me, we'll see how it tastes after being cooked." mutters Brynn as she narrows her eyes to stare at one of the camels. "Me blade vill bite back indeed." she mutters. "But, ve are here, ya. Vhere are ve headed?"

Garthos just crosses his very muscular arms. He lets the more charming and easy on the eye people do the talking. Gods know there's plenty of those in this group! He listens to the explanation. There's a pause. "Oh, I think I've heard of these before." he says. "The hobs call 'em..." And here he says a word in Goblin. It roughly translates to 'Evil Bastards'.

"Honestly, you don't have to worry about that... whether it's the elements or demons or devils... I won't be defeated." Arissa looks a bit embarrassed by the topic, but drops it as their apparent guide moves to greet them. She return's Dabir's bow with a slight curtsy, her smile nowhere near as wide as his but nonetheless present. "It seems as if you've tended to everything already then. Thank you."
"... an' the Gray was a lovely, excitin' place to live in." Wilma? Negative and grumpy? Never! "Well-met, Dabir - I don't suppose that's includin' ale?" she asks rather hopefully, before eyeing the nearest camel. A dwarf on a camel. Yes. This will end well.

"Very poorly," Dabir informs Brynn sadly, "You will have to trust me on this. I think sometimes that they were placed here upon Creation to humble man, knowing that while he is their master, he must suffer their smelly, obnoxious indignities at the same time. No ale, I'm afraid, but plenty of water!" One of the camels stares right back at her, slowly chewing something in its massive, shaggy maw. As he's curtsy'd to, he clasps his hands and bows again, lower this time. "So! Yes, we must travel out from town, to the burial grounds of old where Ghanim's family are interred. You, ah--" There's a pause, and he looks nervous, "You do have the jar, yes?"

"Be not vorried." offers Brynn as she reaches to jiggle one of her skins. "I brought vater, unt some mead. Vithout mead, no journey ist vorthvhile." she adds with a grin. Then she looks towards the beasts and shakes her head, "I hafe never seen such ugly animals... ve -ride- these?"

Naerick stares at the Camels. " Yeah, do we ride them, or what do they do?" he says not braking the curious gaze.

Garthos cranes his neck, tipping his head to the side to look at the camels. "Looks like it would be uncomfortable to sit on whichever way y' turn it, really." he says. He's HOPING they're not gonna have to ride those things. Otherwise, though, he's letting talkyfolk talk. He's the guy with the large sword.

"Oh, no-- I mean, I suppose that you could, but they need to carry our food and our water," Dabir says with a slow shake of his head, "My coin purse is sadly small or I would have bought horses as well, or riding camels - a thousand pardons, my lords and ladies, but we shall have to walk. Still! A brisk walk in the desert will do you well. Strengthens the ankles, or so I've been told by men with ankles the size of tree trunks, and so, I believe them." Hands clap together sharply, and he smiles broadly across his pale features, "But--ah. The jar?"

Wilma is half torn between relief she doesn't have to ride one - and horror that she's expected to /walk/. In heavy armor. In the burning sands. She's heard the stories. She knows! "Hm? Oh, aye - unless the lass here mixed it up with the mead."

When last we left our intrepid heroes, they had travelled across the Inmost sea on the decks of the Mermaid's Kiss, listening to the tall tales of Captain Brum... at least until the sea itself rose up, elementals crashing over the deck to assault them like the tide smashing to the rocks for reasons as-yet unknown.

Now they stand upon the docks speaking with the oddly pale-skinned camel driver that calls himself Dabir, his hands rubbing together as he looks hopefully at them as he waits for the presence of the jar they're carrying to be confirmed before setting out from the cluttered clay buildings and colourful draperies of the sea port at the edge of the sandsea. The trio of filthy, shaggy camels that stand beside him are laden down with packs and supplies, and as the adventurers watch a monkey scrambles up the side of one of them, grinning with white teeth at the gathered, a tiny red fez perched upon its head.

Garthos is still doing what Garthos does best - looming. There is quite the number of more negotiation-savvy individuals in this group, and he's allowing them their moment of proverbial fame. Hugely muscular arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks down at the ratty camel driver. "Ya seem rather excited about the whole deal." he asides to the man, casually. He deffinitely Does Not Like This very much. He spares the monkey a glance, but that's more or less it.

Wilma doesn't have the jar, at least, not at causal glance. Brynn gets a bit of a smirk, however, before her attention is grabbed by the scampering monkey. With a fez, of course.

"Right, vater." Mutters Brynn as she shakes her head, "One cannot survive on vater alone. One generally needs at least some small amount of mead to make life vorthvhile." That said, she demonstrates by moving one of her waterskins about and unstopping it before lifting to take a swig of her mead. "Anyone else vish some?" she asks afterwards as she lifts it off over her neck and holds the skin out. She has two others with fresh water, ready to go.. but this one is the truly important one.
Mind you, she's almost written the camels off, and is ready and willing to retaliate if they should try to bite or spit.

GAME: Wilma rolls Sense Motive: (14)+1: 15

You paged Wilma with 'While he seems a little anxious - possibly because he's asked three times and nobody's answered him - he doesn't seem at all being dishonest.'

"Given that your employer has also employed me, and that he is paying me a great amount of money to ensure that you arrive at your destination... /with/ the jar," Dabir observes, his hands spreading a bit to either side and then coming together in a sharp clap, "So if you can confirm that that /have/ the jar, my friends, we can be on our way, yes?"

The monkey, noticing that someone is looking at it, gets up on its hind legs and does a little kind of dance. It's wearing a tiny beaded vest, too!

Arissa makes a tiny laugh to Brynn's lament and offer. "Thank you, but it simply wouldn't do for me to have something like that... you keep it, it seems important to you." She has something she deems important in this weather as well, pulling out a gyroparasol - a fairly widespread if expensive gnomish invention - and unfurls it over her head. The monkey gets a warm look from her, then she looks to the others as the jar is mentioned again. "I don't have it on me." Her investigations about it were entirely possible to do while merely near it; magic is handy like that.

"Jar's safe and sound, don't ya worry." Garthos assures the man, and well, he does believe it is. "So I'm good to get goin' when you are." he finishes with an amicable grin. He's never seen the desert! New experiences! If only he knew they don't tend to be terribly pleasant, even with the right supplies.
"What Head-an'-Shoulders says. Your dancer?" Wilma grunts a bit, nodding towards the dancing fez-monkey, shifting rather impatiently from foot to foot, giving a dark glance at the desert sky.

"You do understand, I hope, that I can't simply... take your word for it," Dabir points out with a polite clearing of his throat, "I'm certainly not going to travel that far out into the sandsea and not be certain that I'm actually delivering the merchandise. Not only would it be a waste of my time, and yours, but I would not be paid, and more than likely for breaking my contract my head will be removed by a very large headsman's blade. We are very serious about contracts, here in Veyshan, you see." A pause, and he glances to the monkey, "Hm? No, not mine. It must be--just, anyone's. There are many monkeys here." Back to the others, brows raising hopefully towards the edge of his turban.

"You most certainly -can- and vill take our vord for it. Had ve not been hired to deliver the package, then ve vould not have known to seek you out. Ya?" asks Brynn before she continues on. "Ve take all the same risks that you take, venturing out into the desert. Ve vill be at your side. So vhen ve tell you that it ist vith us, you vill understand that ve give you our vord that it ist. Now, ve shall get moving, ya?" she asks, trying to kind of pull the diplomacy by simply not accepting any answer other than the one she desires... trick.

GAME: Brynn rolls diplomacy: (15)+7: 22

"You seem like lovely people, but I need to confirm, yes? The worst /you/ will suffer is that you will not be paid," Dabir says with a sigh, one hand raising up to rub against the side of his neck, "The worst /I/ will suffer is that my head will be removed from my shoulders. Please, my friends, can we simply take care of this matter? I am bound by my word, my oath, and my contract."

Wilma hangs her head for a moment. Then, without saying anything, goes fishing in a pouch for a bit of jerky - then moves towards the monkey, shaking the dried meat at the fez'd one.

The monkey lets out a cheerful 'yeep' sound and leaps onto Wilma's shoulder, clambering along her arm and reaching for the piece of dried meat.

Garthos remains silent. Anything he says... or does... would probably be kinda bad and going against Arissa's earlier request. He glances at the heavens-blessed sorceress, then once again at the monkey as it crawls on Wilma, but otherwise decides to keep to himself for the moment.

Arissa begins browsing through her materials on hand, and blinks. "Hmm? Strange..." She digs through a little more, then produces the urn in question. "I believe this is what you were concerned about?"

"Let's get on our way, eh? I feel like an egg on a stove out here." Garthos complains, glancing up at the clear skies and OH GODS scorching sun above. "By the way, how long have you known that guy?" he asks Dabir. "Our employer, I mean." he clarifies.

There was a level of suspicion that was stirring in Dabir's gaze as he looked between the adventurers -- and then the ornate jar is produced, and he relaxes with a sigh of breath. "There we are. Excellent, excellent. I was beginning to wonder if you were the couriers at all..." He brings up a hand to take a hold of the camel's reins, "Keep it hidden and safe, eh? Come! Let us go, there is sand awaiting us, and... sand, and... more sand, and really I'd rather get through all of the ''sand'' as swiftly as possible."

And, turning, the camel driver moves to lead the way through the city, surrounded by the barking voices of merchants beckoning at the foreigners and the scents of an exotic marketplace. The monkey is still on Wilma's shoulder, nibbling meat.

"Of course." Arissa returns the urn amongst her various things, gyroparasol held overhead to ward her against the heat as she follows the guide's lead. "Are there any other matters we need to tend to before leaving?"

Garth scowls a little bit. He... really doesn't like the guide's choice of words there. He does follow along, though - he can't walk away now, can he? And besides, this place is fascinating! The sights! The smells! ... Ugh, the smells. Stupid camels.

Wilma has an companion! How odd - at least, if the glances given to the monkey are to be taken. However, as long as a mob doesn't head after the small group, well, she'll occasionally feed the pest a bit of a snack. "Sand is that annoyin' out here?" She trungles a handful of steps, "I can actually be seein' that."

Apparently, Brynn didn't argue it. She didn't refuse to show the item since she didn't -have- the item. She was busy sipping her mead and eyeing the monkey as Wilma fed it dried meat. As Arissa produces the Urn, she narrows her eyes and mutters something in her native tongue... shaking her head a bit. Something about not trusting this guide... but she proceeds to follow the party for the moment...

"Oh, yes," Dabir replies in long-suffering tones, "Oh, yes, it is. Out here, sand can kill. But have no worries, all shall be well! I have acquired a brace of potions which should protect you all from the worst of the heat, if you like," the guide offers, slapping the side of one of the packs that's bulging with flasks, "Help yourselves! Our employers, may Fate smile upon their fortunes, have paid for them."

The train of camels and adventurers - along with Wilma's new monkey, since the longer she feeds it the longer its staying - reaches the city gates, and Dabir steps over to the guards to show them an assortment of paperwork. And out before them, they can see an endless sea of sand leading off into the distance, piled in dunes and blown by the wind like tides.

"By Angoron.." mutters Brynn as she sees the sand out of the gates. "It -ist- a sea made of sands." She shakes her head, having almost forgotten about the urn now. But the potions seem suspicious to her too. "Vhat ist in these?" she asks.

GAME: Arissa casts Detect Magic.
You paged Arissa with 'It's a bunch of Potions of Endure Elements!'

Arissa regards the supplies with quiet chanting, and after several seconds of this odd display... she smiles. "They'll be more than adequate for our needs. Thank you very much." She takes a share of the potions, drinking one as they step outside the city and then puts her gyroparasol away.

"Ye've made a friend." Garthos asides to Wilma, grinning in friendly fashion at her and her fez-wearing fuzzy companion. She's totally blending in now! At the offer of potions, he glances Arissa-wards, but once she's had one, he takes one as well, raising it as if it were a mug of ale. "Bottoms up." he says, and drinks it.

"You got an extra there, by chance?" Wilma asks, before smirking at Garthos, "I'm not usually bein' all that good with animals. That's usually bein' other folks thing."

"They are Marvelous Mendev's Miraculous Mixtures! They will keep the sun from you," Dabir states cheerfully as he returns, tucking away the precious paperwork in a pocket and reaching over to pull a flask from the pack, uncorking it and downing it as well with a salute to the others. As the potions go down, the heat of the sun begins to fade from everyone and the general atmosphere becomes much more - bearable. The emptied flask is tucked away in the pack again, and he leads the way out through the gates, "And onward, then! Watch your footing, the sand can be quite treacherous at times... and oh, there're a few spare, if something happens!"

"Maybe best shoo him off. Doesn't look like he'll last long out... there." Garth says to Wilma. He does hand her a potion, though, helpfully. "All that fur and all this sun can't possibly be good, eh?" But they'd have fried monkey for dinner? Nevertheless, he's ready for the trip, especially with the potion taking effect.

Well, when i n Alexandria... or so they say. Brynn shrugs and lifts one of the potions to knock it back like it was a shot glass full of some desirable drink. Her face screws up a bit afterwards, and she lifts her mead to wash down the aftertaste of the potion. The effects are enjoyed though and she corks her mead skin before slinging it once more and pondering whether or not to walk or ride one of those foul beasts.

Arissa keeps toward the general center of the group for the time being, willing to march along. She's trying to stay alert... there is a lot on her mind right now, as she's pretty sure that something is up; she just needs to piece together all the details in time for it to matter.

A dose lifted up, ends up only being half-drunk - then Wil's giving the last bit of a swallow to the monkey. Well, why not? That done, however, and it's time to walk - though there's a constant figet, as the dwarf checks various weapons and pouches.

"They say that it was a long time ago that the seas of sand were born... the rulers of the djinn and the efreet warred upon one another, they say, and the land was blasted into one of heat and endless winds," Dabir regales them as they travel, the line of burdened camels led along behind them as they travel away from the town and into the seas of sand, "And deep within the desert, they battle still, warring for control of this land for reasons that no mortal remembers - perhaps that no mortal ever knew..."

And out into the desert they go, hours passing of travel. It takes some time before the adventurers can tell where the 'road' is - it seems almost like sand itself, but it's beaten down, packed from travel long before, and Dabir seems to know where it goes. The monkey seems happy to travel on Wilma's shoulder, and that dribble of potion seems to be enough for the little beast.

Alternating between water and mead... more water than mead in reality, Brynn falls silent. She may not trust the guide, but she's at least letting her ears soak up his stories while her blue eyes flit about the sands to keep wary for potential threats. After all if the man warned them to keep the urn hidden, he likely expects someone to try to take the thing...

"Ya gonna name him?" Garth asks Wilma about the monkey while they walk, grinning. He has to talk - otherwise, it's kind of boring. At first, he would glance around, curious, but... the marvels of dune upon dune upon dune kind of become lost after the 30th sighting of the same thing. His other question is to Dabir, and isn't related to the tale he'd been spinning earlier: "Ya known the guy that's payin' us very long?"

Arissa speaks up, "But it's not the djinn and efreet you worry about on today's trip, is it? You're more worried about matters in the here and now?" She is otherwise keeping decent pace with the group, a light smile showing despite the topic at hand.

"Uhm... probably. Maybe Karl? Has got the hat down, well, lackin' the feather, but I'm doubtin' feathers work well here. What sort of beasties are we likely to be runnin' into?" The questions come from left and right, but that one is from Wilma.

"Oh, no, my dear lady," Dabir looks back, flashing an ivory-toothed smile from his pale face to Arissa, "All sane men and women worry about the genies when they're in the desert. Just look ahead..." He sweeps a hand forward, and as if by magic, over the next dune some ruins come into view - stone pillars and walls half-buried in the sand beside the rough road, "They say this was once a grand city. Now? Mere remnants rising from the sea of sand... and my family has been in service to theirs for many generations, my good man, generations unending. I do not ask questions, I merely worry for their pleasure."

The monkey cheeps happily, seeming to enjoy the new name it's given, tugging at Wilma's hair a little bit and scrambling up to balance on her head, the tassel of its fez bouncing around a little.

"Guess you're naming him after a friend, huh?" Garthos asks Wilma. He's big, but he's no dunce, so even though he's not had the pleasure of meeting Karl - the original Karl, that is - he follows along with the conversation. "But it's a good name, either way. Or he seems happy with it, least!" the burly man says with a smile, watching the monkey use Wilma's shoulders and head as a playground.

At Dabir's answer, Garth just... gives Arissa a glance. Are we still going with the subtle, that look asks.

"Sobering," Arissa quips as they see the ruins. Garth's concerns are already on her mind as she speaks up again, "A little strange, though. Are you concerned they will come after us on such a routine... sentimentally important since we're carrying the remains of the dearly departed, but still 'routine' task like this?"

Genies and the like... Brynn listens intently, content to let everyone else do the chatting. For the moment she is out of her element and she knows it. If not for that potion, she might be distinctly less comfortable than she is right now. One hand rests on the pommel of her sheathed sword out of long habit, but she moves along with everyone else. Granted, she's expecting that at any moment, she's going to be jumped by whatever these... genies might be.

"Well, at least a drinkin'companion. I'm still owin' him a beatdown though," Wilma admits, looking rather peculiar. An oversized dwarf, sharp pointy things in her hair, and a monkey on her head. Despite the fact she's more interested in the monkey and the conversation, she's had enough experience to keep her eyes moving over the dunes of sand and the like, occasionally deliberately kicking at a bit of sand.

"Who can know the ways and motives of the geniekind? I certainly would never dream of thinking that I could. I would not ask questions of such folk," Dabir says with a slow shake of his head, the remnants of the ruins rising up around them like spears of sandstone covered with faded, sand-worn sigils and carvings that are no longer distinguishable. "We but hope that they remain pleased with us and stay out of our way. There are many other dangers, of course. Wandering tribes of bandits, scorpions the size of cities..."

GAME: Arissa rolls Perception: (11)+1: 12
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (7)+3: 10
GAME: Garthos rolls perception: (8)+3: 11
GAME: Brynn rolls perception: (3)+4: 7

Arissa makes a short single syllable of a laugh. "What a sad way to live, constantly in fear that they might make your other cities into little more than ruins. One more problem for me to tend to..." Despite her remarks, she continues to press on.

Glare of the sun reflects off the sand and makes Brynn's eyes water more often than not. The heat isn't getting to her, but the haze and the fact that she's not used to the way the heat rises off the desert... that really is. "How far are ve travelling?" she asks.

"Sure, bandits, but... why would anyone want to steal a person's ashes?" Garth asks Dabir, shrugging his rather wide shoulders. He's just about up to his very tall head with the mystique. Something stinks with this deal, and it ain't just the camels, he's more or less sure of it.

"Folks are bein' weird. An' there's still those who'll grave-rob," Wilma points out, rather grumpily.

"You can as much stand against the geniekind as one could stand against the sun and the wind..." Dabir raises his hand in a helpless getsure, "...but we do not live in fear, my good lady, far from it. We thrive here in the desert despite all..." He's silent for a moment, glancing to Garthos, then sliding his gaze over the desert as if looking for something. His voice becomes hushed, "It is a matter of politics. You see..."

He's cut off, abruptly, as there's a glint of diamond in the air -- and five missiles of force cut through his chest in a heartbeat's time, shattering his ribcage and sending him to the ground in a splattering of blood, a ragdoll tossed to the sands. Ahead, five figures have emerged from behind the ruins, bare-chested figures with red skin and horns spiralling from their heads, scimitars in their hands. One of them steps out into the road, bringing up a hand that crackles with flame. "Surrender the jar, materials!"

Arissa rolls initiative: Roll: 11 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 13
You roll initiative for Ifrits: Roll: 6 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 9
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 14
Garthos rolls initiative: Roll: 19 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 21
You roll initiative for Abd'Aziz: Roll: 7 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 10
Brynn rolls initiative: Roll: 11 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 13

Garth reaches for his sword, but doesn't draw it just yet. His fingers coil around the handle. "Yeah, I really don't appreciate that ya just killed a man for show, there." he shouts at the figures. He's clearly quite upset by this. "Before I go about cleaving ya all in two, ya care to tell me WHY ya want the jar?" he asks.

"... Karl, stay." The monkey is given the rest of the snack she has in hand, then pulls out her sword, resting it in a guard position.

GAME: Arissa rolls Heal: (18)+7: 25
You paged Arissa with 'He's alive, but not for long.'
Arissa pages: Can she drag him out of sight? She'll tend to him next turn.
You paged Arissa with 'Yep, could do that!'

GAME: Wilma rolls Will: (15)+2: 17

"You don't understand," Arissa starts to retort to Dabir. "I carry the very p...!" She cuts off when Dabir is struck down in an instant, staring in wide-eyed shock at his lifeless form...

...Then facing the apparent source of the attacks. Her eyes glaze over, a smile taking hold as they make their demands. "Sorry, but you have no idea what you're opposing..." Despite that remark, her first action is to grab Dabir and pull him aside; he's going to need help.

The five figures step into the road in a rough line, sweeping their scimitars before themselves threateningly, flickers of flame dancing around the fingers of their free hands, heat shimmering from their scarlet hair. None of them are wearing anything more than loincloths. "Either hand over the jug," their 'leader' calls out sharply, "Or you will all die in the heat of the desert!"

Just about then, the monkey perched on Wilma's shoulder leans in to whisper into her ear, "You should give them the jug." Yes, the monkey whispers that. For a moment, the dwarven woman can't think of anything more reasonable /than/ handing the jug over to them. And then she shakes it off a moment later.

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d8+1: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Brynn casts cure light wounds.

Jumping as the bandits make their initial assault, Brynn nods to Garthos's initial question, as if it's one she wants an answer to as well, but she moves to follow Arissa, drawing sword as she heads over that way. When the three of them get into cover she is already chanting in that monotone way of hers... she reaches out and touches the guide to heal him a bit, "Best I can do... he vill not die." she says to Arissa.

"... Karl, you say shit like that again, an' I'm gonna give you to Karl as a stuffed toy!" That said, Wil heads forward with Garthos. Because, well. What else is there to do? Turn around and moon them? Yah, no. That'd be a painful sunburn.

"Dyin' ain't on my to-do list today, but you're welcome to come over and give it a shot!" says Garth, stepping forward and drawing his sword, holding it at the ready. "By the way, I'm up to here with the question-evadin'." he notes. Everyone's been doing it! He's so sick of politics. He HATES politics!

GAME: Arissa casts Summon Monster I.

Arissa makes a tiny laugh to herself as she overhears the latest batch of threats. Hands digging for a potion, she stops when Brynn steps up and tends to Dabir directly. "Thank you," an acknowledgment of Brynn's efforts. "It will be enough. Now there's nothing holding me back!"

Rising from tending to their guide, Arissa's hips begin to sway as she starts 'sing-chanting' in Celestial. She's out of sight from their attackers... and that's just as well, as her current incantation will take some time to complete.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (12)+8: 20
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (2): 2

A nod to Arissa, and Brynn grins a bit. She turns and heads back out into the open as she draws her axe in her other hand. She's not so much jogging as she is stalking forward. "The varriors stood against many, unt they vould emerge victorious. Glory vill be ours my friends, Angoron be vith us!" she announces as she moves forward.

GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 2 points. 29 remaining.

GAME: Karl rolls 2d4+2: (2)+2: 4
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (7)+7: 14
GAME: Karl rolls 3d4+3: (10)+3: 13

GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 4 points. 29 remaining.
GAME: Karl damaged Garthos for 13 points. 10 remaining.

"You need to give it to them! You will all die otherwise," 'Karl' chitters in Wilma's ear-- his tail coming around, and then /stabbing/ into the side of her neck, a thick stinger plunging into the flesh.

"Then die, fools!" A hail of magic missiles rail down the road, smashing into the two fighters heading forward, and then the red-skinned warriors draw their scimitars threateningly, lips peeling back from black, obsidian teeth.

Just then, another two of them leap over a ruined wall behind the group - and sweep their hands towards the camels, sheets of flame rippling out to wash over the baggage, setting the packs afire! Hey, wasn't the water and food in there?

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1: (12)+2+4+1+1+1+-1: 20

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (15)+8: 23
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (2): 2
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 2 points. 27 remaining.
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (8)+7: 15

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+7: (20)+7: 27

"Get OFF her, you freaky demon-monkey!" shouts Garth, swinging his sword at said demon-monkey. His care not to hurt Wilma, however, has him miss the creature as it uses her shoulder for cover. "Can't get that fuckin' thing while it's on ya like that!" he tells the dwarf. Only then does he look down and oh gods, is he bleeding profusely. He gives the dwarf an apologetic look as he retreats into the ruins. "Fuckin' chicken spellslingers. Ya probably can't even use those curvy swords of yours!" he shouts at the enemy from behind the cover.

"What the... you fuckin' little monkey! Get the hells off my back!" As Garthos takes a swing at her head, well, near it, "Hey watch it..... ah, there you are!" She ignores the tail as it stabs her again, grabbing it by said tail to pull it off, and leave it hanging in front of her. Poor little monkey, all fez-less and looking cute and innocent - the abandoned fez fallen to the sand and turning on it's side.

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (13)+4: 17
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+4: (4)+4: 8
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+4: (2)+4: 6
GAME: Arissa rolls 2d4+2: (2)+2: 4

Arissa completes her chant, a white circle forming near their latest attackers. A holy eagle emerges, much as it did yesterday. And just as it did against the water elementals, it goes into a flurry of claws and piercing pecks as it makes avian shrieks, tearing into the ifrit and felling it! Arissa twirls, making a palm thrust at the other one torching their supplies... this conjures a pair of gold-white energy orbs that fly into him, and she scurries away to find another hiding spot in the ruins.

GAME: Brynn casts cure light wounds.
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d8+1: (4)+1: 5

GAME: Karl damaged Garthos for -5 points. 15 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (20)+1: 21
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+7: (12)+7: 19
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (8)+3: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (20)+3: 23
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (8)+3: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (4)+3: 7
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (4)+3: 7
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (7)+3: 10
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4

Seeing the situation developing. Brynn's about to turn back but then the eagle appears and makes mincemeat out of one of the torchers. "Indeed! Glory as I said, vill be ours! They do not know vhat they are doing. Ve vill destroy these cowards unt dedicate their destruction to Angoron!" And she says this as she stalks into cover with Garthos, her voice lowering into that same chant as the other day as she touches the wounds, causing much of the damage to heal. "Be ye battle ready?" she asks with a grin.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (1): 1
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 1 points. 26 remaining.
<OOC> Karl says, "Eagle takes 4 damage."

The ifrits that stand in the road gather the flame in their hands and hurl it forward - rays of elemental flame that dance across the street, scalding sand into glass. One of the blasts skims the side of Wilma's head, leaving her hair smoldering in its wake! "Surrender the jar or perish, all of you! You have no water, no food, the desert will eat your bones unless we show you mercy!"

In the back, the one whose comrade was just slain by an eagle hurls a bolt of force that crashes into the eagle, backing away and drawing his scimitar. The camels are panicking, with the packs on fire, screaming and stomping about as they try and buck the burdens away.

The monkey manages to twist out of Wilma's hands - spreading wings, fur bleeding away to twisted red flesh as the horrible imp flies up into the air, "The Malik Aziz will see you all dead, fools!"

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1+2: (8)+2+4+1+1+1+-1+2: 18
GAME: Garthos rolls 2d6+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+5: (4)+5: 9

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+6: (5)+6: 11

"You can try, but your mother was a honeybee, an' your da was impotent!" Wilma yells at the imp as she slashes into it, doing decent damage - if not actually killing it. Iferts? Where? Imp MUST DIE!

Garthos nods his thanks to Brynn as the healing magic takes effect, peeking out from behind his cover. "Fuckin' spell-slingers... fuckin' demon-monkeys..." he mutters. And, being absolutely sick of said spell-slingers, lets out a roar of fury and dashes STRAIGHT for them. Scary man with sword, comin' through. "RAAAGH!" he... shouts? As he brings the sword around and forward at the end of the charge, impaling one of the horned figures on it and killing it outright. He then gives a glare to the other two, suddenly in their midst and all.

GAME: Arissa rolls 2d4+2: (7)+2: 9

The celestial eagle squawks as it's blasted, beelining toward its attacker with intent to peck fiercely with its beak... and flies just wide. Arissa rushes back into view, winking at the ifrit as she holds a hand overhead. Two more white-gold spheres form and fly forth, striking it down... and leaving Arissa to consider the words about the supplies. They are burning. She needs to deal with that immediately...

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+8: (20)+8: 28
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+8: (8)+8: 16
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d8+5: (1)+5: 6

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (2): 2
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 2 points. 24 remaining.

GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (16)+7: 23

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (4)+3: 7
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+3: (19)+3: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Karl damaged Garthos for 5 points. 10 remaining.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20: (18): 18
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (4): 4
GAME: Karl damaged Brynn for 4 points. 12 remaining.

As the edge of Wilma's blade cuts into the imp, it shrieks out something foul in the infernal tongue--darting back in to stab at her wrist with its stinger, then flying up higher, out of reach. "Bitch! And to think I licked your fingers!" Ew.

The ifrit drop back from the sudden, horrible assault of the fighters - darts of flame hurled from their hands, one of them burning a hole in Garthos's side. The injured one sweeps a scimitar in a slash across Brynn's arm, sneering, "Malik Aziz will see in in brass chains for this insult, wench!"

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1: (12)+2+4+1+1+1+-1: 20
GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1: (12)+2+4+1+1+1+-1: 20
GAME: Garthos rolls 2d6+10: (5)+10: 15
GAME: Garthos rolls 2d6+10: (7)+10: 17

Apparently Garthos -is- battle ready. Brynn just smirks and runs out right after the guy. She is ready as well, her voice still carrying the tale of how this fight will go. Maybe a prediction, maybe just an annoying distraction to the enemy. She's speaking loudly though as she swipes her blade into the side of one of the enemies and she pauses her tale long enough to say, "You are mistaken. Ve are not vithout food or vater.... unt you are cowards."

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (1)+5: 6

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+6: (6)+6: 12

"Get back here, you limp-tailed bit of fluff!" A light hammer is grabbed off her belt and flung at the imp, missing absolutely and almost hitting a camel. "... uhg. I need to wash m'hands - an' hair in acid now," the dwarf groans.

"Oh now you're REALLY pissing me off." Garth says. They just threw fire at him. What a bunch of assholes! He steps in their midst, menacingly, snarling, and the sword is brought around. The swift, powerful stroke the weapon makes eviscerates one of them, and the sheer momentum behind it has it slam into the side of the other one, leaving a deep, DEEP gash. Both collapse in bloodied heaps. "I'm so sick of this place." Numbers mutters to himself, narrowing his eyes at the remaining sorcerers. "Bet you're not terribly happy about deciding to attack us now." he tells them.

Arissa regards the situation at hand; Wilma seems to be winning her battle, the others further down the road seem to be holding steady for now. That means she has to deal with a long-term concern: Their supplies. Arissa points a finger at the blaze, sending a thin beam of ice into it and starting to douse the fire...

In the meantime, the eagle flies forth once more, intent on piercing its beak into the imp... and disappears in mid-flight, running out of time a mere second before it would have made impact.

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+5: (1)+5: 6
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20: (7): 7
GAME: Garthos rolls Will: (19)+3: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (2): 2
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 2 points. 22 remaining.
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (5)+7: 12
GAME: Karl rolls 1d2: (1): 1
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma's Dexterity for 1 points. 1 total damage.
GAME: Arissa casts Ray of Frost.

A sweep of the ifrit's scimitar wards off Brynn's weapon, but doesn't taste blood this time. "Cowards? Hah! This is our lord's land - you will die here in the desert!" Contrary to the claims, the other ifrit sweeps a hand up towards Garthos and spits out a word of magic that rings in his ears - almost dazing him, but he manages to ignore it, even as the sorcerous geniekin turns tail and runs towards the ruins.

The imp dives-- back into Wilma's personal space, tail lashing out to dig another painful sting, and this time the venom that's been collecting from them can be felt as it starts to weary her.

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-1+2: (2)+2+4+1+1+1+-1+2: 12

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+7: (7)+7: 14

And it's not just Brynn's sword blade this time. She's attacking in a one two beat, sword and axe coming from different angles. She might not be connecting, but the display at least looks somewhat cool, with them having to fend off her weapons one after another. "Cowards are proven by their actions, not their vords." she mutters between stanzas of her battle chant.

Wilma staggers, after that last hit. "Damn beasty.... you're an actual fight!" Is that actual respect? Well, probably not. Regardless, doing more than bite annoying like a gnat requires an equal response! The imp in reach, the greatsword swings again, a thrust towards the end lending extra power to its bite - another injury, worse than before, appears on the imp.

Garthos glances between Brynn and the injured Ifrit. "Ye'll be fine, eh?" he asks Brynn, nods. She'll be peachy. "Where do ya think you're goin', sunshine-- OOF!"
That was Garth unceremoniously tripping over a rock JUST as he was about to lop the poor running bastard's head off. He flails and regains his balance, but the Ifrit gets to keep his head. For a little while, anyway. "Tell you what, ya horned bastard." says Garthos to his quarry, "If ya give up, I promise I won't hurt ya."

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 2d4+2: (3)+2: 5

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+4: (5)+4: 9

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20: (9): 9
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (13)+8: 21

Arissa may not have overheard Garth's offer; she strides into view of his foe, arms spread out wide beside her as she spins once more... conjuring another orb in each hand, sending them flying out and striking but not felling Garth's foe.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (4): 4
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 4 points. 18 remaining.
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (16)+7: 23
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (3)+7: 10
GAME: Karl rolls 1d2: (1): 1
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma's Dexterity for 1 points. 2 total damage.

Garthos watches as the two energy orbs slam into the Ifrit. "... Aaaand I'll tell them to stop hurtin' ya, too. Sorry 'bout that." he adds, sheepishly.

The imp flits around Wilma's sword, striking with its tail again, cackling, "Your steel cannot hurt me, dwarf!" Well, it can. It's bleeding a lot. But not as badly as it should be. The ifrit fighting Brynn continues to duel with her, scimitar meeting swords, but either bleed. The one running away, meanwhile, grunts as the orbs of force smash into it - and it cuts off from the road, running haphazard through the ruins.

GAME: Garthos rolls 1d20+2+4+1+1+1-4: (12)+2+4+1+1+1+-4: 17
GAME: Garthos rolls 2d6+7: (9)+7: 16

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15

"You... you.... Die already!" A swing, but one governed by rage, causes Wilma to miss, "You squirrely little rat-bastard!"

"Aw come on." Garth whines at the escaping Ifrit. "Seriously?" Ifrit goes run run run. "... Angoron's ballsack. Okay, have it your way." And charging and leaping across rubble of the ruins Garthos goes, lifting the sword and swinging it at the Ifrit's head. When it looks over its shoulder, it likely sees its life flash before its eyes. Instead, though? It's the FLAT of the blade that meets his head. There's a mildly comical noise and then the strange sorcerer crumples to the ground... unconscious, rather than dead.

Arissa stands near the blaze... far enough away to not mind it, but close enough to finger-point at it and spray another super-chilled ray at the flames and work on containing them. One of the camels will no doubt appreciate this, as it's no longer burning!

GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+5: (17)+5: 22
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d20+4: (15)+4: 19
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d8+4: (3)+4: 7
GAME: Brynn rolls 1d6+2: (4)+2: 6
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (2): 2
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 2 points. 16 remaining.
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (4)+7: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d2: (1): 1
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma's dexterity for 1 points. 3 total damage
The imp's shrill cackle echoes in the air as it darts around her blows, another sting sinking into her flesh, this time in the crook of her arm before it flits around behind her again. "You first!"

Having been swinging and missing and forcing her enemy to retreat and defend, Brynn takes her lumps and keeps coming. She's stubborn at the very least, and eventually her enemy's guard slips and her small axe chops into its stomach before she whips about and takes the head off with her father's sword. That done, she glances about as she works her tale into a frenzy, culminating with the death of the enemies of the party...

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (14)+10: 24
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+7: (4)+7: 11

The dwarf is definately not as swift (a dwarf, swift??) on her feet as normal, once that last stinger is laid in. "What, you think you're weak-ass poison's got enough of an oomph to bring me down? It's as powerful as a bee's sting! No such thing'll ever keep me down!" And to prove it, Wil carves another wound into the stupid little flying thing. Die, already!

"You stay there." Garthos asides to the very, very unconscious Ifrit pointlessly. And then he breaks into a run, sword and armor and all, clanking and huffing. He makes good distance! "Sorry about that, had to deal with something." he tells his companions, catching his breath a moment. Yeah, sorry guys, he had to pee or something. But he's back now!

Arissa looks aside to Wilma's battle with some disappointment... she wants to help, but it's a matter of only being able to aid one situation at a time, as Arissa continues to spray chill at the fire. The camels and supplies are burning, and Wilma... while clearly hurting, seems to be in control of the imp situation. Thus, Arissa simply and quietly continues her work against the blaze...

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (11)+8: 19
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (3): 3

GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 3 points. 13 remaining.
GAME: Wilma rolls Fort: (7)+7: 14

Another painful sting from the imp... and then it grins viciously, its wings fading from view, then its tail, everything vanishing up to its mouth, that toothy grin all that's seen before it, too, vanishes. "The Malik will want to talk to /you/..."

Arissa calls over to the departing imp, "Whether it's death by sword, magic, flames, the desert itself, or seeing them in chains... it's all impossible." A short laugh follows as she proclaims, "I won't allow it to happen to any of them!" By then, the creature appears to be gone... and Arissa continues to make occasional chants and chill-sprays at the blaze, calling out to the group: "Are all of you alright? I can tend to you in just a few moments!"

Moving past the dwarf, Brynn gives a quick glance at her to make sure she's still on her feet and not about to topple over. Other than that, she continues towards the camels where she starts trying to help put out fires. Her bedroll blanket becoming a fire blanket at this point. "I be fine. A small scrape... nothin' t'speak of." she remarks to Arissa, "But I have not the power for more healing chants... not until the morrow."

One of the camels is covered in a fine dusting of frost, and has collapsed to sit on all fours on the ground, moaning piteously - but the fires are out. Another is dead, its body smoldering in the desert sun, while the third? The third has run off to gods-know-where, still on fire. It's going to take some work to salvage any supplies from this mess.

Garthos stomps on the ground in frustration as the imp vanishes. He'd just GOT here, gods-damn-it. "Stupid demon-monkey." he mutters. What? He can't tell an imp if it stung him in the ass. Far as he's concerned, it's a demon-monkey. "Ya know that horned guy that made a break for it? He's havin' a nice nap over in the ruins. Seemed kinda cheap to just cleave his head off when he was just tryin' to get away. See what we got left for food and water - I'll go fetch him. I'm dyin' to know what this crap is all about." And with that, he goes to fetch the 'sleeping' Ifrit (with a mild concussion).

Wilma stares at where the imp was - then goes into a long flow of cursewords, starting in common, switching to dwarven then delving into goblin and Jotun for the real throatrippers. Then she's stomping - and tripping over more than a few grains of sand - to retrieve her light hammer. Weapons put away, she heads towards the camels. "I vote we string our boss up by his..." she grumbles.

Arissa smiles to Garthos. "That was pretty smart of you. I'm sure we'll all have questions for him. Someone also please retrieve our guide?" In the meantime... there are wounds to tend to. She hands a wand to Brynn and remarks, "Please use this while I work separately..."

And that's when Arissa begins a very strange healing routine; she conjures up gold-white fire into her hands. "I promise you this is harmless. Strike me down if you feel any pain." A consoling offer from Arissa as she begins 'blasting' the party with divine flame. The fire lingers on their form for a moment, judging their hearts... and dissolving into a healing 'mist' of magic particles that feels quite nice, if only for a few moments.

It takes a bit, but Garthos comes back with the knocked out Ifrit slung over one shoulder. Retrieving a length of rope, the man goes about tying the sorcerer up and gagging him. He does the necessary work with no small measure of distaste - clearly, he's not a big fan of having prisoners, but it's necessary, since everyone and everything seem to want to hide information from them in this stupid, sand-filled land. "Can ya wake him up?" he asks the resident healers, pointing at Dabir.

An array of healing is applied to the various members of the party, removing the bruises and burns - and horrible swollen stinger-marks - from the adventurers, and even improving the health of the sole remaining camel. Dabir, too, is roused, stirring up with a groan and rubbing at his face, "By the Gods... what was that? Are we-- is everyone well? Is the jar safe?"

"Everyone's bein' well. Damned imp got away. An' someone has one hell of a lot of explainin' to do," Wilma grumbles, as she finds a place to rest, now that her wounds have been healed.

Arissa makes another of her usual short laughs to Dabir, smiling as she reclaims her wand. "That... was the very gods you speak of, with help from the others here, dealing with the very geniefolk that tried to kill you." She's pretty pleased with the outcome, despite the damage to their supplies. "And yes, it is safe... they demanded it, but got no further than that. However?"

She looks somewhere between happily amused and wryly smug as her eyes return to normal. "We have questions. I'm sure you know what we're going to ask."

"Look at him, still worried about the jar." Garth mutters, finishing off the tying of the Ifrit. He's also tied him to the camel. It'll be REAL hard for him to run for it. He stands up, stalks over to Dabir. Looms. "Jar's fine. The healers stitched ya up. Most of the horned guys are stains in the sand, the demon-monkey got away, and me, I'm a little angry. Ya see, I'm sick and tired of not bein' told the whole story. Now that you're breathin' and your ribs ain't pokin' your insides, I think we outta have a talk." He's calm... ish... for now. Not yet into the REALLY angry mode.

"You call yourself 'the gods'? The tales were true, then, that folk from the north bear their hubris with pride..." Dabir gets up to his feet, grimacing at his bloodied garments, "...and there is no time to talk. If they have found us, then we must move. There is not much time, if the Malik is warned of our errand... we are all of us dead men and women. You said that one of them escaped?"

Arissa clarifies to Dabir, "No... I am not a goddess and would never claim that. However, I am agent of the heavens; their power works through my body to improve this world. With the help of the others here things went well enough."

She begins inspecting the supplies. "There may not be time to talk... but there will be time to march and speak, and I'd like you to answer our questions as we walk. Some of us may have to stand in for the missing camels... or are we close enough that we can leave this here and return for it later?"

"What?" Garthos balks at Dabir. "That ain't what I said. Ain't what she said, either. I--" His voice trails off. He rubs at his sweaty face. "Look, now. We got plenty time to talk. First things first, WHY did a bunch of demon-people and a demon-monkey try to kill us? What the hell is in that jar? I ain't kiddin' here - what is REALLY in that jar?" A pause, to let it sink in. Answers. NOW. "And secondly, we only got one..." He tries to recall the word. Fails. Uses the Goblin term. "<Evil Bastard> left. Bastards set 'em all on fire. Is it enough to make it wherever we're goin'?"

"It should be..." Dabir regards the camel uncertainly, stepping over to gather up the reins of the beast, "...I do not ''know'' what is within the jar. My masters did not tell me; it is my place to obey, not to question. All I know is that Malik Aziz will stop at nothing to get it, and that it will not be safe until we reach the Obelisk of the Nine Winds. You will be rewarded for your efforts, my friends, but we must go now, before the Efreet themselves descend upon us!"

"Ain't terribly hung up about the reward anymore." grumps Garth, hefting the fallen Ifrit over a shoulder and preparing to continue the journey. That camel might be kinda overloaded when supplies that remain on the other one are hefted onto it. "Talk as we walk. Start with sayin' who this Malik Aziz person is. And then explainin' about this Nine Winds place." he asks.
"An' anything else that might be a mit useful. Like how to kill a bedamned flyin' monkey," Wil tosses in.

"Your concerns aren't unfounded," Arissa responds to Dabir as things are set in motion for them to resume their march. "I am not worried about riches or other rewards... I should tell you all that what is contained in here is very powerful. They will come at us again and again until this is resolved." Beyond that, she goes quiet; Wilma and Garth are covering her questions just fine.

"Malik Aziz. One of the great maliks of the Efreet. I know little of him," Dabir says with a slow shake of his head, helping to pack the camels as best he can, "I swear to you by my mother's heart, I know little more! The Obelisk is where I am charged to take you to, it is said that there was once a grand pact sealed there amongst the geniekind... I know not if this is true. One million apologies, my fine friends, but I promise you, I know little..."

Once more, the group begins to move along the road - their guide more watchful and worrying of ambush now, as no doubt are they. The ruins left behind them, it's mere hours later that a spire splits the dying light of dusk-reddened skies. "There," he declares, "Let us make haste, my friends!"

"Okay." goes Garth. There's a pause. "New questions." he says, after a moment. "What's a 'malik'? And also, what's an 'efreet'?" ALL THESE FOREIGN TERMS! He waits for answers, then goes: "Ah, well. Maybe our horned friend here knows s'more." He bonks the unconscious Ifrit on the head to indicate him.

"My head's hurtin' - an' not just because of the desert sun. Need some decent mountains 'round he....re.. that the Winds place?" Great minds think alike - and Garth and Wilma just share words.

"That's fine," Arissa tries to calm Dabir. "None of us are threatening you... if we seemed so, it was only out of frustration. You've told us what you can, and it helps." As they approach the spire, she points out the obvious: "They'll be waiting for us here. It's easier to wait at the group's inevitable destination than try to pursue them in the sands... please be ready for that." Despite her warning, she is ready to proceed as she retrieves a crossbow.

"They would not dare to violate such holy ground," Dabir insists with a shake of his head, spurring their pace more swiftly towards the obelisk, the camel grunting out its displeasure as they move... and then their guide is proven wrong.

A sudden gout of fire erupts from the road before them, leaping upwards some twenty feet in the air, and then sweeps to one side - transcribing a massive ring of fire that surrounds the travelers with an ear-splitting crackling of burning, smokeless fire whose heat can be felt sweltering even through their potion-granted protection. The camel rears up in a panick, and Dabir struggles to control it even as a deep voice booms out, "You came far, little mortals..."

And then he appears, A great figure with scarlet skin and eyes of flame in the air above them, standing on nothing, a great curved blade that glows as if fresh from the forge in his hand. A dark cape flutters in the wind, his armour all of brass, and ornately wrought. Great rings of gold and brass hang from his impressive black horns. "...but this is the end. The jar belongs to me. Bring it forth, or you shall all die here this day. Surrender it, and I may still be merciful."

"...at least that damn monkey isn't 'round," Wil says after a moment of 'wtf' silence. Her sword, less than effective against even the most meanest of monkeys is pulled free, though she takes no step forward. "What the hells is in that damnable jar?!"

"Fuckin' brilliant." goes Garth. He draws his sword. Unlike his player, he's completely unaware an efreet is way out of his level range. "I'm going to make a wild guess and say that's an efreet." he says. "Or a malik. Or both." YEAH! "Look, pal. I didn't see your name on the jar. Maybe ya wanna explain yourself? We don't want trouble - never did, but it keeps jumpin' our way for some dumb reason. And nobody's talkin' any sense." A pause, a sigh, a headshake. "This land's all backward."

"They might yet. I hope you're righ..." Arissa starts to say. Dabir turns out to be wrong, as her gaze turns skyward, wincing at the heat and staring at the figure above them. "You're absolutely right. This is the end." Arissa smiles, her eyes glazing over once more. Her voice lowers as she tries to whisper to Wilma: "You have the jar, I believe. Please step over some distance from us and agree to give it to him. Please trust me."

Arissa suddenly adds in her whispered advice to Wilma, "Only do this if you are willing to face its wrath for several moments. I know a way to save us all, but the fires must fade first... are you willing to try?"

Wilma stares at Arissa, then hisses, "You remind me of far too many folks from the Academy." Well, as well as a dwarf hisses. Then she steps forward towards the horny fella. "What is so bedamned special about this urn," she calls out, almost challenging the big guy.

Garth sort of... discreetly inches towards Dabir. Leans down. "What did your guy say we should do with the jar once we get there?" he whispers very quietly to the guide. "Kind of in a pinch here." he squeezes past his gritted teeth.

Moving into position as Garthos moves, Brynn basically covers the chat the two of them are having. Really just because she sees he's trying to be somewhat subtle. So she figures that worst case scenario, she can help cover that a touch.
Dabir is staring up at the towering figure hovering in the air above him, mouthing silent prayers. He appears to be just shy of cataonic with fear. Not much help here, one's afraid.

The burning efreet thrusts one finger down at the sand at Wilma's feet, demanding, "Lay down the jar and step away from it, wretched child of the storm. And you may still live..."

In the distance, thunder rolls.

Seeing the Efreeti is now singularly focused on Wilma (poor Wilma), Garth shakes Dabir, looking him in the eye, trying to snap him out of his piss-pants-panic. "What did your master tell you to do with the stupid jar?!" he hisses at him. "Get talkin'! Be a hero! If we live, I'm gonna tell your master how heroic ya were here! C'mon!"

Shaking her head as she sees this going on, Brynn snorts. Weapons in hand, she turns and glares at the guide. She figures.. what've we got to lose? She moves in closer and crouches down. Her voice softens a bit and she murmurs, "Dabir... we really need to know what you were told to do with the Urn. We -can- get out of this if you help us. You can be -the- hero... imagine the riches you can trade for that story... the women you could have...." she offers with a bit of a grin. "Please...." and then she has inspiration. If he's terrified, she might be able to shock him out of that, and so she just reaches out to press her lips to the man's cheek gently as she adds, "I would be -very- grateful."

Wilma snorts, "Go ahead, an' try to finish me off. If a bedamned corpse dog can't keep me dead, doubt you can be doin' much better," After all, when all else fails, she'll taunt a second time. That and the mutterings at her back.

Arissa whispers to Wilma, "Thank you." As Garth goes to speak with Dabir, Brynn hoping to obscure view of that, and Wilma distracting the efreet... Arissa's hips begin swaying as she retrieves the jar. Surrounded by fire, their guide paralyzed from fear, and the group towered over by a threat she knows they cannot defeat in head-on battle... she goes for a very bold action indeed.

Jar suddenly pulled in-hand while the efreet is watching Wilma, Arissa laughs and places her hand atop it. "You're quite desperate to get this. I believe I know why. Tell me why I shouldn't open it here and now?"

"I do the only thing I can do," Dabir whispers to the pair trying to encourage him, his eyes on the heavens, "I pray for Padishah Muyassar to deliver us from this fiend of the flames..."

As the efreet's demands are answered with defiance, flames erupt in his eyesockets. "You dare? Filthy spawn of thunder, your ashes will surrender the jar as well as your hands. Your fate is sealed, fools!" One hand raises, an inferno of smokeless flame stirring in it as he brings it up-- and then Arissa produces the jar, and obsidian teeth flash in a grin, "There you are, my precious one... you are mine, now. Open it if you will, mortal, she can no longer hide from--"

"AZIZ!" A voice like thunder crashes over the desert, and a great wind sweeps across the land -- the fires quenched in a moment, revealing beyond them a pale-skinned figure draped in golden chains and fine garments of silk, hair all in long white tails tied with precious gems, his lower body descending into a cyclone of mist. His beard and mustache are long, adorned with the same accoutrements, and he's flanked by two beardless djinn bearing massive scimitars. "This place is not for you! Begone from the lands of the obelisk - these mortals are under our protection now!"

A snarl from Malik Aziz, and he sweeps his sword to one side. "This is not over. I will have my revenge upon you and yours for this insult!" An eruption of flame, and the efreet is gone.

"... ALL backward." Garth repeats. "Nothin' makes sense." he grumbles to himself. "Swords got curves... swords ain't supposed to have curves... fire giants, demon-people, demon-monkeys... and..." Pause. "AND I got sand in my boots like ya wouldn't believe." A deep sigh, and he turns to the Djinn collective. Eyeballs them. "Okay. So. Let's try this again. Maybe YOU guys can tell us what's in the jar?" This is like the fifteenth time he's asked today.

Arissa's hand tenses despite Aziz's remarks. "Very well. As I promised... this is the en- ...hmm?" She's cut off as aid arrives, eyes unglazing as Aziz departs. Her hip-swaying ends right after, hands relaxing. She nods over to Wilma, speaking up more loudly this time. "Thank you for trusting me." It didn't work out quite like she very vaguely explained to the dwarf, but this is certainly close enough.

Then she looks over to their apparent rescuers, making a curtsy gesture. "I take it this," she indicates the now re-secured jar, "Is yours?"

And that's when Brynn looks up from her trying to convince Dabir... the wind blowing up grabs her hair and she stands. Her features are fixated on what she is seeing now. "The vind blows.. the storm abates the flames of evil. The Efreet is cast out by its betters, unt the heroes emerge victorious..." Okay, so she's trying to compose the story the way she is going to tell it from here out.

Wilma looks at Arissa, then just shakes her head. "I'm not talkin' to you 'til I've had so much ale I don't wake up for a week," she informs the sorceress, before stomping forward. "Can we /please/ be deliverin' the jar of doom, so we can be gettin' paid an' go home where folks aren't so damn jealous of a proper storm?" she asks - no demands - of the storm djinn.

"Let it be opened, mortals," Muyassar declares as he approaches the group, "You have done well... defending it against the forces of the Marid, and driving off Aziz's servitors as well. And standing up to him despite his power. You will be rewarded, and in more than gold. And you, Dabir, have served us faithfully as you always have..." A grateful smile curves to his lips broadly, almost beatific, "...you all have my thanks. Let the jar be opened, so that you may know what heroism you have done."

"Sooo... all that 'don't open it stuff' was for nothin'?" says Garth, face skewing up a bit. He scratches the back of his neck. "Or did we have to open it here in specific? Right, well, at least we get to find out what this fuss was all about." the man says, nodding at Arissa. Open the jar, cap'n!

"Vith the threat of annhilation, the heroes did stand fast. Even the power of fire did not sway them." Mutters Brynn softly. She's mostly whispering as she composes her tale, but she does turn her sea-green eyes towards the urn and its carrier.
"Oh, and you're welcome." Garth asides to the leader Djinn guy person. It's sincere. It's only polite, after all.

Arissa demures as Wilma's displeasure is made plain. "And rightly so. Forgive me... really I saw no other way to resolve this without a few moments where his eyes were only upon you. You shouldered a great risk very well, but you're right to despise me for it."

Then she approaches the djinn, jar in-hand once more. "Of course. One moment, please." Then she faces Garth, head shaking. "No, that warning was for a good reason, but it was not universal. This is the right place. I have a very good idea of what... or rather I think 'who' is the right word, is contained in here." She works to open the lid, and waits to see what emerges.

The stopper is removed, and a gout of swirling smoke stirs out in a rainbow of colours, red and blue and white and green, swirling about before the jar and slowly forming into the diaphanous draperies of many-layered silk swirled about a seven-foot woman of perfect proportions, with sharp ears showing through the veils and eyes that glitter like the stars. A sweep of her body bows knee to the djinn, and she exhales in a voice like music, "I am yours, Padisha. The marriage contract has been signed and it requires but your word to ally our families."

A broad smile, and the djinn lord steps forward, reaching to take her hand and help her up, "...and it is accepted. You may thank your rescuers, these heroes from the north that carried you here where Aziz could not detect you until it was too late."

The lady of the Janni turns to sweep a graceful bow, "Thank you, my fine friends who know me not. My family will remember this service, I promise you."

Arissa holds the jar still throughout; this visual is wonderful, but she did indeed have at least /some/ idea what was going to happen, and this wasn't out of line with it. And as the ritual is completed, Arissa carefully sets the jar down and backs away, making another curtsy gesture, smile returning. "As you can see," she faces Garthos. "This would have drawn a great deal of unwanted attention if opened anywhere but here. Your caution and discretion were very apt."

Garth stares. No, really. He stares. "... Okay. Well. I'll put that in my top ten weirdest things I've ever seen." he mutters into his chin. "Along with the demon-monkey." he adds. He smiles, though, at the words exchanged between the ridiculous magic folks that apparently live in jars. "All's well that ends well, yeah? Congratulations on your upcomin' marriage!" He's happy for 'em. Really! He turns to the Janni lady in specific, gives a bit of a salute. "You're welcome. We're happy we could help out. Just... next time, let us in on a little more of what we're actually doin' so we're not stumblin' around in the dark like that, eh?" A friendly grin, there.

Inclining her head, Brynn nods slowly, "A union arranged, a wife delivered... unt the heroes vent home rewarded, the couple left behind to live happily together." She grins a bit and bows formally, "May the mists be kind, unt may you never vant for drink again." she offers. It must be some sort of traditional well wishing farewell from her home village.

"Huh. Feudin' families, I take it..." Wilma muses just for a moment.

A deep, throaty bellow of laughter stirs from the Padishah's belly at Garthos's words. "You are bold, mortal! I like you. We shall be seeing each other again, I think, in the future... but! You need to be home, and thus..."

A sharp clap of his hands, and a cloud erupts around them with a sudden rumble of thunder. It fades slowly...

...and they're all in the Dragon's Den. In Alexandria. And everyone is staring at them.

At the very least, the story should get them some free drinks.

As they return, Arissa looks around for a few moments... and her gaze settles on Wilma, tone very quiet and reserved. "Despite your words... I will make proper apology and compensation to you very soon. I used you to take on a risk I should have made myself, and would had the jar not been in my possession. I feared he would make a move if he saw it before my hands were ready. Nonetheless... it's not how an agent of heaven should treat others. I will set this right as best I can."

Then, she begins to pace for the door; that she's miraculously back in Alexandria doesn't seem to be any immediate thrill.

After a momentary bout of confusion at being forcibly teleported, Garthos calmly grabs a chair... takes a seat... takes one of his boots off... and pours a tiny mound of fine sand from it right on the floor, to the amazement of the patrons, no doubt. Then he repeats it with the other boot. "That is SO much better." he says as he pulls the now sand-less boots back on. "Bartender! Get us some ale!" he calls with a grin. "Have we got a tale to tell..."

"... You all deserve a tale to explain our arrival. Unt I have a tale to tell believe you me!" announces Brynn to the room full of patrons. She climbs up on top of a table and spreads her arms out to her sides as she starts to regale the audience with her version of what happened. In this version, the heroes were more heroic, more successful, and yet the ending is much the same.

Wilma stares after Arissa for a moment, then shakes her head and just stomps to a chair. "Ale - or whiskey, whichever appears first!" Apparently she meant it about getting as drunk as a skunk. After that trip, she needed it.

[[Category:Logs]]

A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement

2011-04-25T22:33:07Z

Karl: Created page with "<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"> == Log Info == *'''Title''': A Veyshanti Sort of Arrangement *'''Emitter''': Karl *'''Characters''': Arissa - Sorcere..."

Recent Logs

2011-04-25T22:29:29Z

Karl:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. A public area is anyplace that's on the main grid that isn't a residence, personal room, or Plot Room.

===How to Post Logs===
Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic (respectively, SPrPs, DCPrPs, and DPrPs). Most recent logs are at the bottom.

If you're unsure how to post a log, see [[How to Post a Log]]. If you're posting a PrP, here is a [[PrP Template]] you can use. If you're unsure what to include in the log, and it is a PrP, check out [[Submitting PrPs]] for a quick list.

'''Be sure to put all pages into<nowiki> [[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>. Thank you.'''

===Our Logs===

* [[Ancestors Pyre|Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[PrP: Teena's Bad Day]]
* [[PrP: Timmy's Uncle]]
* [[PrP: Black Ring Rising]]
* [[PrP: That's not Timmy!]]

* [[PrP: There's Banditry Afoot]]
* [[PrP: Wolves in the Winter]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl]]
* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PRP: Ashenvale Part 2]]

* [[PrP: The Competition|PRP: The Competition]]
* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PRP: Falcon Point - Teeth of the Deep]]
* [[PrP: Chicken Chasers!]]
* [[PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I]]
* [[PrP: Fistful of Chitlins]]

* [[PrP: Watt's Mine is Mine]]
* [[PrP: 3375 Cubic Feet of Terror]]
* [[PrP: Rats!]]
* [[UglyBats|PRP: Huggin' Ugly Bats]]
* [[GrandParade|Dramatic Scene: Machinists Grand Parade]]

* [[PrPALittleBatty|PRP: A Little Batty]]
* [[Dragon in the Garden]]
* [[Bacon Liberation Team|PRP: Bacon Liberation Team]]
* [[Daggers in the Dark|PRP: Daggers in the Dark]]
* [[Adventurous Rivalry|PRP: Adventurous Rivalry]]

* [[The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 1|PRP: Hell's Medicine Part 1]]
* [[Gnap!|PRP: Gnap!]]
* [[Why Did It Have To Be Rats?|PRP: Why Did It Have To Be Rats?]]
* [[Necromancer's Folly|PRP: Necromancer's Folly]]

* [[Tears in Dust Part 1|PRP: Tears in Dust Part 1]]
* [[A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement|PRP: A Veyshanti Sort Of Arrangement]]

[[Category:Admin]]

Veyshan Month

2011-04-15T03:13:25Z

Karl:

==Welcome to Veyshan Month==
<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"><div style="width:100%; background-color:#e7eaea;">
Things are changing in Alexandria's political climate. Merchants already overtaxed in efforts to reestablish contacts and routes, and in competition with new, stronger dwarven companies, now find themselves facing a threat from the land of genies: Veyshan.

It started with one man, as such things do. A stranger in silks and turbans and astride a sleek black charger, he came bearing items the like which the lands had not seen in centuries. And after him, another.

The exotic merchants from the sands trickle inwards with ever-rarer treasures. Tales of uncovered cities, exposed ruins.

And adventures.

So far as anyone can tell, a new series of ruins have been discovered.

Alexandrian Merchants and the Explorer's Guild recognize an opportunity when they see one. Even now, contracts are being issued, and caravans planned.</div></div>

==About Veyshan Month, and How to Use this Page==

Above many others, Veyshan is a land of mystery and exoticism. It is a land if intrigue, of the dangerous and damned blood of genies, of pride and the struggle from the underground for the abolition of slavery.

'''Welcome to Veyshan Month!'''

Veyshan Month will run for roughly 4 weeks, from ''April 17th to May 15th''. During this time, we'll be putting Veyshan in the spotlight. PrPs run with Veyshan as a setting will receive an additional bonus for our PrP Runners as well as Participants. Each PrP Runner may run a ''maximum of twice per week''.

Below are many of the ideas shared last week by our community. You're welcome to edit this page and add additional ones, or make requests for things you'd like to see. If you'd like to use one of the below, be sure to "claim" it with a '''(Claimed by: MyNameHere)''' at the end of its description. Don't forget the ()'s! PrPs are not required to use the ideas listed. This is meant to be a resource and perhaps even a request sounding-board.

As always, inappropriate content will be removed without warning. PrPs must otherwise conform to Standard or Dramatic PrP rules and guidelines. If you've never run a PrP before, check out our [[Introduction to Plotrunning]]. If you'd like some quick information about [[Veyshan]], head over [[Veyshan|this way]].

==PrP Ideas==

===Family Feud===
Amazingly enough, there are those in Veyshan who are of the view that an assassin is not the best way to handle family problems. Of course, there are many who believe that their lives would be considerably improved if certain family members were suddenly and efficiently removed. In certain circles outsiders are preferred for assassinations and kidnappings, as well as protection from the same.

===Confusing say, Money like Sand===
A merchant, noble, etc. invested in some goods from Veyshan. Delivery of these goods was promised X time ago but has been continually delayed. The merchant is now running out of patience faster than the Veyshanti is running out of excuses. The task is to go to Veyshan to secure the goods (or else?). Possible complications include that a group of crooks who are trying to scam any number of merchants. For extra hijinks, the local authorities already have an investigation underway that is ready to be blundered into.

===Warren of Worms===
Legend has it that a group once bled giant desert worms for the remarkable properties of the wormblood. The composition of this group is nearly as varied as the stories, ranging from religious fanatics to fanatical warriors to a secret society funded by the rulers of empires long past. It is said that the first worm pens began as a simple construction, but as they began to be buried by the sand these people built on top of the original construction to prevent it from being swallowed by the desert. This continued over the centuries, creating an ever more complex structure. Some claim that it came to resemble an inverted pyramid while others predict it is a spiral, in honor of the worms they held captive.

The simplest tales relate that these men and women drank the blood of these worms for its drug-like properties. The two most common effects attributed to it are a prowess in battle granted by added strength and the fearlessness gained from becoming insensate to pain, or oracular powers by way of being granted visions of the future. The more effusive (or possibly accurate) storytellers speak of intrigues, complex processes of preparation that may or may not have involved magic and prayer, and end results that could deliver unto the imbiber nearly any imaginable result up to and including immortality. Some even claim that it was through this very process that the djinn were created.

Naturally no such story would be complete without the promise of the worms still being alive and well, albeit trapped, within this Warren of Worms. Indeed, anyone who should find it is all but promised to also find the secret of wormblood and their fortune as the purveyor of a drug of unmatched potency. Or, if the most incredible tales are true, they might gain the power to establish and rule the next Empire of a Thousand Years.

===Tomb of the Earthshaper===
Veyshan was not always a desert land dominated by searing heat and raging winds. At one time, all four elements held dominion in this land, and burried beneath the sand are vestiges of these ancient holdings. One such Vestige is the tomb of the earthshaper, the final resting place of a once proud earth elemental. In times before human memory, the elements turned against one another, and the first to fall was the mighty earth- conquered by the relentless erosion of water, fire and wind. The Earthshaper stood in defiance against this fate and the tomb marks his final resting place, or so the tablets recovered from its altar room claim. Legends also claim that the vast sands of the dune sea are what remains of his physical body.

The tomb itself is a vast underground pyramid- even before its tip was buried by the sands, the bulk of it lay beneath the ground. The pyramid is host to ancient mechanical wonders, wrought from eternal stone, as well as living beings of rock and earth that still guard their patron's resting site to this day. Some say that at the core of this largely unexplored structure the living eart of the earthshaper still beats and shakes the land around it as it does so, while others claim the tomb itself is his heart, wrought by his ancient followers into an immortal bastion of stone.

The tip of this giant structure was recently unearthed by an expedition team, however all attempts to penetrate further than the uppermost level to date have met with grizzly ends, from ancient deadly traps or indomitable stone guardians.

===The Sandy One===
Legend tells that a great spirit will come amidst a tide of foreigners, a broad-hipped spirit of fertility that will arrive in a boat born of the trees and bring about a new green age to the desert. Some djinn believe that they have identified the avatar of this spirit, and hire adventurers in Alexandria to bring her to Veyshan.

==PrP Requests==
[[Category:Player]]

Why Did It Have To Be Rats?

2011-04-04T22:49:32Z

Karl:

<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;">
== Log Info ==
*'''Title''': Why Did It Have To Be Rats?
*'''Emitter''': [[Karl]]
*'''Characters''': [[Adina]], [[Arissa]], [[Colrick]], [[Seanait]], [[Shaelyn]], and [[Wilma]]
*'''Summary''': Under the guidance of a were-rat, rats raid the kitchen... or were they setting a trap? And if so, why?
*'''APL''': 3
*'''Encounter 1''': 4 dire rats, 1 rat swarm, '''CR 4'''
*'''Encounter 2''': 1 Rogue 4 / Fighter 1 Wererat, '''CR 5'''
</div>

The Bloodied Boar Tavern is exactly the sort of place that adventurers tend to linger in. There's a hearth with a minotaur's head mounted over the crackling heat of the fireplace, there's a seemingly eternally-shadowed corner where there's a hooded figure that could at any moment beckon someone over for a job, there's a serving wench that's a deep breath away from exploding the lacings of her corset, and the bar serves a seemingly endless amount of watered-down ale.

In other words, this is an adventurer bar. No doubt there's a fire here at least twice a week, and they pay a goblin a cheap fee to drag accidental bodies to the Vardamans out the back way. Therefore, when there's a sudden bellowing shout from the kitchen, it's not entirely surprising.

Arissa is a poor customer; she hasn't been buying much, instead speaking with paying customers, pursuing various topics... definitely not getting drunk (or even getting started on it in the slightest) and thus probably about to be asked to leave.

As a result of not being part of this place's regular clientelle, the shout concerns her. She starts to pace toward the back, calling out: "What was that? Is everything well?"
Shaelyn is sitting on one of the tables, swigging from a mug of watered down ale as she chats with several other adventurers about their exploits. At the minute, a half ork is talking about the time he headbutted an ogre to death.

Seanait has been sitting at a solitary table, sipping a cup of hot tea. It is not the typical place to find a monk, but it is far harder to find proper tea here in this city. At the bellowing, she blinks, and looks over towards the kitchen with a hint of mild surprise.

Wilma is 'enjoying' the house special - ale that's probably half watered, and a stew that is thick only due to the fact it's been added to for the past week and a half - and of course, listening in to the tales being told over at the crowd of adventures. Until the shout, of course.

Colrick looks the part of the young optimistic adventurer, at least from his age, optimistic smile as he shares an ale with a few boasters at the bar, and relatively scar-free appearance. On the other hand, that military medal on his chest, coupled with the military standard rifle strapped to his back, suggests he's not new to the idea of something trying to kill/eat/destroy him. "... and then what? You don't just end a story with being lost in the Mythwood, covered in ..." he comments to the storyteller, but pauses at the shouting from the kitchen. "Eh wuts thats all about?"

Adina is working on keeping up her grasp of Yrch-tongue since the war ended, she's standing barside with a mug of ale that looks barely touched. Talking with the ruffians at the bar, she cast a sidelong glance towards the noise. Her shoulder shrugging, its like this all the time here.

The busty bar wench comes /darting/ out of the kitchen with a screech, scrambling up onto the bar and hiking her skirts up to the point that she's not hiding a gods-be-damned thing as she stares wide-eyed back the way she came. "They're back there-- they're back there! Oh, Althea bless, they've got the roast!"

The food is threatened. Uh oh.

Then there's /another/ shout from back there, a hoarse voice, "Help! Help, the-- the cook's gone after them!"

Arissa smiles; an odd reaction given just how alarmed the bearer of bad news is... and so many implications of what it could mean. It could be a trivial problem, it could be something big... but either way, Arissa looks amused. "Understood... leave it to me!"

And with that, Arissa begins to pace into the back of the tavern, into the kitchen area to see what exactly might be wrong.
Seanait hrms and sets her tea aside, rising gracefully to her feet as she moves towards the back as well, not saying a word just yet as she nods towards the barmaid.

"... there's actually a roast back there? Well, we can't be lettin' /others/ get away with it..." Wilma agrees, before disagreeing with Arissa, as she goes to join Seanait to follow to the back also.

Shaelyn grunts. She's already paid for a portio of the roast, and she'll be damned if she'll let anything take it away from her at this point. She stands up, wobbles a bit, and then she steadies herself, grabs her axe and her shield from under the table, and trudges towards the kitchen.

Adina watches the motley crew begin towards the kitchen and the threat to the meat. She puts down her ale, "someone is going to need to keep them intact.." She can't put aside her priestly duties, reaching for a chain out of her pocket, placing her symbol of Dana around her neck as she follows.

Colrick does listen to the barmaid's words, but he is a guy; those eyes do dart downwards at the expansive reveal, at least for a little bit. "My bangers and mash won't be coming anytime soon if the cook's chasing after... they?" he comments with a shrug to the others at the bar. "Excuse me." he says as he hops off the barstool, and follows after the others. "Psst, skirt lower." he whispers to the barmaid as he passes.

The kitchen is a mess, although it's difficult to tell how much of a mess it /normally/ is. It's not exactly the most upscale tavern in the entire city, after all. Still, there's cutlery all over the floor and grease stains and chunks of meat trailed towards the gaping-open door to the wine cellar. Or -- cellar, anyway, since they don't have any actual wine on the menu.

There's a scruffy, skinny fellow that's standing near the door, shaking and pointing down the stairs, "They went that way! The cook chased them-- they were rats! Giant--giant rats!"

The barmaid, for her sake, flushes darkly at Colrick's whisper and crouches lower so her skirt covers more. As the group ducks into the kitchen, the orc that Adina was talking to is leaning over to offer a rather crude come-on in Yrchspeak. Well, she didn't know /those/ words before.

Arissa sees there is little to be deeply worried about. "Rats?" They're hardly the greatest fear of most adventurers, suffice to say. "Then this should only take a few minutes." Smugly confident, Arissa looks back to those following her... she's not about to object to that, and is even quite willing to let anyone go ahead of her if they wish; she paces toward the door and stairs regardless.

"If I were not a priestess.." Adina gives the Yrch a sharp look, she understood the come on, she doesn't complete the thought as she steels herself to face giant rats, "A blessing its not giant spiders." Shuddering from the memory.

"... rats? Well, it could be worse, I'm supposin'. Right - or like crabs." This time it's Wilma who's shuddering.

Shaelyn ponders. "I know a mean recipe for dire rat pie." she says, mostly thinking outload. She moves to take point and head down into the basement. She holds her shield at the ready.

Colrick unstraps his rifle and fetches a paper-wrapped cartridge to load it. "Might need that recipe; not fond of the idea of eating something that's been dragged down a cellar by a big rat." he comments with a chuckle. "I think this is more about rescuing the cook from getting a nasty bite. The food's a goner."

"He said he wasn't going to give the roast away to any vermin, he just-- went running after them with a cleaver! If we get it back I think we can salvage it, though. We've done worse." As the adventurers head down into the shower, the scruffy kitchen helper - or whatever he does, he could just be the corpse collector - follows gingerly after them, although he gives them a good lead, looking nervous as hell.

The stairs head down to the cellar, rows of wooden casks lining the walls except for one, that seems to've been sundered by digging from the other side. The wall's rocks are tumbled all over the floor, and there's a gaping opening into what looks like a sewer tunnel.

Seanait blinks, "Rats. How disappointing." She draws out her kama, holding it easily in one hand as she glances around the basement, "Ah. Another journey to the sewers."

".... right. I'm goin' back to the Ox Tavern. There at least I know I'm just eatin' dog..." Wilma grumbles. "... sewers? Taara's tits, this is gonna be annoyin'."

Arissa remarks to Shaelyn, "By all means, help yourself to such fare... I'm sure most of us will gladly give up our 'shares' of it." Then she smiles to Colrick, not smug but genuinely pleased by his choice of words. "Absolutely. He can't be far ahead of us, however... it will be fine." As the group nears the sewers, Arissa seems far less concerned... she makes a few soft chants in Celestial, air shimmering around her and then fading to normal. "It's nothing that a little cleaning can't deal with."

GAME: Arissa casts Prestidigitation.

Shaelyn frowns. "Always sewers." She complains, but she maintains her position at the head of the group, dwarven eyes quickly adapting to the dark. She keeps them peeled for any signs of the rats, or the crazy rat-hunting chef.

Adina takes a moment to string her bow, before they enter the sewers. "Where else do the rats go to grow giant sized but sewers.."

Shaelyn says, "Caves, crypts, warehouses, basements, laboritiories..."

"The Academy," Wilma throws in.

Fortunately for the adventurers, the passage appears to be one of the maintenance tunnels -- so they won't be wading through the muck directly. The smell of sewage lingers anyway in the air, if a bit weaker than in the outlet tunnels. It's not long down the passageway that a metal door is noticed to one side of the stoneworked tunnel, hanging open. A large drainage room is visible within, narrowing down to a grate, with pipes sticking into it from all directions. The stone is stained with dark lines from water spillage - and there's a figure collapsed atop the grate, a skinny man with a large, puffy white hat. A cleaver lays on the floor not far from his hand.

Seanait tilts her head, "I think that is our chef." She narrows her eyes, glancing around cautiously in case there's anything lurking in wait.

Colrick winces at the unsavoury scents wafting from the sewer entrance, yet onwards he goes as he follows the rest. "<something you don't understand in goblin-talk>" he curses under his breath, as he sees the poor fellow, as he cautiously approaches with his rifle lifted.

Arissa tries to jog over to the man, calm despite the sight. "There you are... are you well? It's one thing to take pride in your work, but chasing after losses needlessly... ...no matter. We can help you back to the kitchen if you'd like?" No caution at all, but why should there be? Nothing seems terribly amiss.

Shaelyn heads over towards the collapsed figure, axe and shield still held ready. When she gets nearer, she will look for signs of life. And possibly poke him.

"Great mother's blessings." Adina exclaims at the fallen figure of the man. She approaches cautiously, reaching for some herbs from her pocket and begins to check the man out.

"... I thought cooks were supposed to be bein' as fat as a cat next to a skinny rat..." Wilma grumbles as she stomps her way forward - though much slower than many, as she pulls her oversized weapon out from its place on her back, there to rest the naked blade on her armoured shoulder. "He pass out from so much runnin'?" she asks, idly.

GAME: Adina rolls heal: (3)+8: 11
You paged Adina with 'He is alive, unconscious. Big bump on the back of his head. :)'
GAME: Arissa rolls Heal: (17)+7: 24
You paged Arissa with 'He's alive, just unconscious. Looks like someone hit him in the back of the head, hard. :)'

"He's not dead.." Adina seems relieved, crushing the herbs in her fingers and apply it to the back of the man's head, "But that knot on the back of his head, its going to smart when he comes too."

GAME: Shaelyn rolls perception: (15)+0: 15

Arissa kneels down nearby. "Unconscious... just as you said," a nod to Adina's assessment. Arissa's complete dismissal of there being any risk to this is now gone as she rises, backing off a step. "We should get him back quickly... we aren't alone. Unless he fell at a truly strange angle, other people did this to him. Not rats."

CLANG.

What was that? That was the /door/ to the drainage room suddenly closing rather sharply behind the party as they examine the unconscious cook.

You paged Shaelyn with 'It was the guy that followed you all down that closed it!'

<OOC> Seanait was keeping an eye out as well.

GAME: Seanait rolls Perception: (8)+12: 20
GAME: Shaelyn rolls perception: (10)+0: 10
You paged Seanait with 'It totally was the scruffy guy from the kitchen that just slammed the door!'
GAME: Adina rolls perception: (3)+8: 11
GAME: Arissa rolls Perception: (12)+1: 13
GAME: Wilma rolls Perception: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Colrick rolls perception: (18)+5: 23
You paged (Seanait, Colrick) with 'There is a chittering and rustling... coming from the grate that the cook is laid on, and that all your healers are clustered around.'

"Lets clear the danger and then get him out.." Adina offers to the other woman, "Perhaps he'll come to before.." She silences as there is a bit of sound.

Colrick points his rifle at the grate and quickly backs away from it. "The rats are underneath it; quickly, drag him away from there." he urgently advises.

Seanait blinks at the noise, then nods at Colrick's words, drawing a pair of shuriken in her free hand and holding those at the ready.

Wilma spins to stare at the door, "What the... " as she heads towards the door to open it back up. Rats? There are rats? "Slap him awake, an' we can get goin' then."

Arissa looks over at Wilma, smiling as if about to scold a comically misbehaving child. "More blows to the head aren't a solution to being struck in the head..." Then Arissa tries to haul the cook away. With purely average strength for her size and vocation however... it may be slow going. Nonetheless, she heard the bit about how he's lying over a pack of nearby rats, and does want to get the cook away from that even as she looks over-shoulder to the closed door.

Adina aids in moving the man, still concerned about the noise, "Get the door open.."

Rats? Oh, yes... there are rats. The good news is, they aren't the giant rats that they were talking about from the kitchen. The bad news? There're dozens of them, boiling up from beneath the grate that the cook was laid out on, fur matted and disgusting from sewer waste and naked tails thrashing around eagerly. It's a good thing that Arissa just dragged the man away, because they look very... very hungry.

Shaelyn grunts, "That other guy closed the door on us. This is a trap." She informs the others, looking around. Surely any moment now the rats will be released, or the chamber will flood, or there will be spinning blades.

Shaelyn rolls initiative: Roll: 10 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 13
Arissa rolls initiative: Roll: 14 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 16
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 16
Colrick rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 17
You roll initiative for Rats: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 6 = Total: 22
You roll initiative for DireRats: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 18
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 24
Adina rolls initiative: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 17

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25
You paged Seanait with 'Two hits!'
<OOC> Seanait sighs. Can't really crit a swarm, can you?
<OOC> Karl says, "No crits on swarms, alas."
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d2+1: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d2+1: (2)+1: 3

Seanait reacts quickly, tossing the shuriken into the swarm of rats crawling out of the sewer grate, looking at the others, "We need that door open, quickly!" She then readies her kama, and if she could frown, she probably would be right now.

<OOC> Karl says, "The rats pursue the biggest meal--which at the moment happens to be Adina, Arissa, and the cook! It can only swarm over two of them, tho, so--"
GAME: Karl rolls 1d3: (1): 1
<OOC> Karl says, "Adina gets off easy."
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (3): 3

GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for 3 points. 10 remaining.
The tide of rats spill forward after their meal, tumbling over the cook's body and gnawing on his legs -- others scrambling up Arissa's legs, a few unpleasant bites left behind. Hungry, gnashing, filthy rats rolling onwards like living hunger.
Then there's a horrid, louder squeaking from the edges of the room as from the drainage pipes crawl massive, bloated rats - four of them, each one the size of a halfling, fur matted and filthy, eyes gleaming black and hungry.

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1: aliased to weapon1+1: (9)+8+1: 18
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d10+1+2: (6)+1+2: 9

"The door?" Colrick mutters in confusion. "The door! Damn it all!" he exclaims, turning to head back. As he moves, he spots one of the aforementioned 'giant rats' begin to scurry from a pipe, and takes a crack at it with his rifle. The thunderous shot is nearly deafening in the tight quarters, something he instantly regrets, but at the very least the rodent is felled and he continues on his way. "I'll open the door!" he shouts, probably louder than needed, as he struggles to hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears.

GAME: Adina casts bless.

The swarm is too much for Adina, steps away from the rats near her as she begins to pray aloud to the earth mother. Grasping her holy symbol. A wash of holiness filling the room, filling everyone with Dana's blessing.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5

Arissa cries out as she's rushed, being bitten all over and stamping ineffectively at the rats with her feet. For all her derision earlier, this hurts and it could become lethal within a minute or less...

...And yet, pain gives way to a distant expression, Arissa's eyes suddenly glazing over as she hops away from the majority of the rats and begins swaying her hips, smiling. Her voice becomes very soft as she calls out in Celestial: "(As if I could fall to the lowest of the low?)" A shout follows that as she raises a hand overhead, swiping it downward and creating a gold-white energy ball. It flies into the swarm, scattering several of them!

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+6: (10)+6: 16

Wilma, as Coldrick heads towards the door, turns back around. "There are rats!... And bigger rats. Damnit." Luckily, her greatsword is already drawn, even if she has the situational awareness of a drunk rat in an ale barrel. And, with the sight of the cook being left all along to the swarm, the storm dwarf sets her sword forward, and charges the cook! Alas, the evil desecrator of stews is saved by the number of rats who throw themselves onto her sword, sending blood and gore and tails to mix with the appetizing odor of the sewer fumes.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8+2: (9)+8+2: 19
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d10+3: (1)+3: 4

Shaelyn scowls, "Kill the big ones and thee swarm should dissipate!" She yells, and then charges towards the biggest of the rats, swinging her axe towards it. She cuts off the end of its tail.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (3)+1: 4
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3

Seanait twirls and slashes at one of the nearby dire rats with her kama, cutting it deeply as she hits twice with the weapon. She then eyes the surroundings, and says, "Status of the door?"

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (1): 1
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 3 points. 22 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (8)+1: 9
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (15)+1: 16

GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (4): 4
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for 4 points. 6 remaining.

The drainage room is full of the squeaking and hissing of the rats - and the sounds of blades and spells on flesh and stone. The twisted mass of long-tailed rats continue to gnaw upon the cook, tugging little bites of flesh from his unconscious form, others squirming beneath Wilma's armour to get bites at her legs, little claws gripping.
The larger rats hiss--lunging at Seanait and Shaelyn to no avail, the uninjured one leaps on Arissa's unprotected calf, nasty teeth digging painfully into her flesh.

GAME: Colrick rolls disable device: (7)+10: 17
You paged Colrick with 'Only way to open the door from this side? Remove the hinges. You can disassemble one of them this round, can possibly get the other next round. :)'
From afar, Colrick has acid. Would that speed it up?
You paged Colrick with 'That would probably slow it -down- actually. Since objects take half damage from elemental attacks. More expedient to disassemble it. :)'
Colrick pages: Then I'll remove a hinge this turn :) need another check for it?
You paged Colrick with 'Nope.'

Colrick doesn't answer Seanait right away, as he assesses the door. After trying the obvious route of pushing at it, and then some searching around its structure, he pulls some sharp tools from his pack and begins prying at a hinge. "Just need... a moment... to work these-" he begins, just as he pulls apart one of the hinges and sends its pin flying against the side wall. "Hinges off."

GAME: Adina rolls 1d8+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for -5 points. 11 remaining.
GAME: Adina casts detect evil. <convert to CLW>

Seeing Arissa take more damage from the swarm of rats, Adina's prayers shift to proper healing. She lays a hand on Arissa's shoulder, Dana's blessing knitting wounds.

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d8+1: (6)+1: 7

Even as she's bitten by a single larger rat, Arissa just keeps smiling and swaying her hips about, eyes still glazed and distant... and adding to the routine by making a twirling jump away from the rat, closer to the swarm thereof. She smiles to Adina's assistance, voice returning to common tradespeak for a moment. "Thank you, but the one who really needs the help is..." She fetches a potion from her belt, brushing aside some rats to pour it down the cook's mouth.

GAME: Arissa used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.

Wilma waits for Arissa to pour the potion down the cook's throat, then leans over and picks up the cook one-handed, shoving him over a shoulder. He flops in the boneless way of the unconcious, then looks at Arissa, "Get to the door, eh?" as she moves herself and the cook towards the door, even though it's not much.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (2)+8+-2: 8
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (17)+8+-2: 23
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d4+3: (4)+3: 7

Shaelyn swings the axe again, this time slamming into the ground next to it. Howeves, she then steps forwards, and brings the shield down on the creature's head, smashing it into the ground, and leeking its brains on the cobbles.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (6)+7: 13
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3

Seanait quickly whips her kama around, burying the blade in the skull of the rat she's been dealing with, then she pulls it free and looks around at the others, seeing how they are faring.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for 6 points. 5 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (11)+1: 12

Although between Arissa and Wilma's efforts, the cook's life has been saved, the sorceress pays the price in blood -- the thrashing mass of sewer rats swarming up around her, biting and clawing, tearing at flesh and fabric both in a frenzy. The only remaining dire rat lunges for Shaelyn, scrabbling at her boot but unable to get a good bite through it.

P-ting! The last hinge pin clatters on the stone. If that sound isn't heard, the louder clang of the metal door falling partially outward into the cellar is certainly more apt at drawing attention. Only thing preventing it from completely falling flat on the ground is the lock, but the opening is enough to get by. "Our way is clear! Let's move!" he shouts.

GAME: Adina casts protection from evil. <convert to CLW>
GAME: Adina rolls 1d8+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for -4 points. 9 remaining.

Ignoring Arissa's words, Adina steps in and helps to knit the sorceresses wounds. Prayers to the earth mother.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4

Arissa laughs softly at Wilma's suggestion. "Normally I would ask why, as we're so...!" She's cut off by dozens of bites, voice returning to Celestial as Adina infuses her with positive energy, some wounds closing. A wink and "(Thank you,)" are given, then she sprints past the doorway with dagger in-hand, twirls around to face the rats once more... and thrusts her free palm at them, conjuring another gold-white magic sphere and scattering several more of the swarm.
Wilma is torn, for a brief moment as the rats dig into Arissa's words. However, the cook groans and that reminds her to her current duty. Grumbling about bony-assed cooks and rats out for revenge, the overly-wide dwarf heads for the door, "Move it!"

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (2)+8+-2: 8
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (13)+8+-2: 19
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d4+3: (1)+3: 4

Shaelyn acks when she discovers a giant rat gnawing on her boot, and she smacks it with her shield, seperating the creature from herself and sending it lamming into the ground.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7

Seanait moves quickly to the last dire rat, and deftly slices the back of its neck, killing it rapidly as she looks over at the open door, "Let's get out of here!"

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Karl damaged Shaelyn for 5 points. 38 remaining.

It's like the remaining rats are in a blood frenzy; surging up and over the corpses of rats near Shaelyn's feet and squirming up under armour and beneath metal plates, biting and tearing in a desperate frenzy. The corpses disappear in short order, almost boned.

Colrick moves past the door, one hand grasping the edge of it so he can quickly slam it shut; the other hand pulls a vial of fiery liquid from his pack and readies to toss it in. "Ladies! Time for an exit!" he calls out.

Adina doesn't hesitate when told to move, after all rat's are Dana's creatures as well, no need to kill all of the,

GAME: Arissa casts Ray of Frost.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (19)+4: 23
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d3: (1): 1

Arissa on the other hand seems quite inclined to be a rat exterminator... still twirling about, still smiling, even as she points a finger at the rat swarm and pegs a few of them with a thin beam of cold, stopping them in an instant even as Arissa hops back from the doorway a little; as swept up as she is in her magic, she at least has the sense to not interfere with others trying to get to safety.

Shaelyn acks as rats scramble inside her armor, and she jogs towards the door. She reaches back, grabbing a rat by the tail from her armor and tossing it to the ground as she goes. She barrels through the door.

Seanait sprints rapidly for the door, leaping over some of the others as she seeks to get clear before things get very explosive in the room.
That vial of viscous fluid is hurled at the ground in front of the door, shattering and splattering everywhere on the ground before erupting into flames. And then with a loud clang he slams the door shut, holding his body against it since the hinges no longer support it. "Uh... I'll need some help to... improvise a way to keep this door shut." he says a moment later. "Going back for the hinge pins isn't really an option."

A horrific squealing and the scent of burning rat-flesh comes from behind the door, the scuttling and hissing finally beginning to die down... and soon, nothing but the fading crackle of alchemical fires.

The party is left alone in the corridor outside the drainage room, which seems to be clear. The cook's breathing and seems stable. The roast must be long gone, though. No more soup today.

Wilma takes a moment to put Cookie on the floor. Sorta gently, sorta, before moving away from the door to look around. "We'll need something to be barracadin' it, I'm thinkin'."

Arissa's eyes return to their normal depth shortly after the door is shut. She's still smiling, but it's notably reduced as she looks herself over. "At the very worst, we could find barrels and the like... I'm sure the tavern has some of those. The real question is if it will have answers, as to who thought to seal us in and why."

GAME: Colrick rolls knowledge/engineering: (5)+7: 12

Shaelyn backs up against the door, and holds it. "Go get something to block the door, I'll hold it shut for now." She informs them then. And then she kicks away a rat which drops out of her britches.

Seanait frowns, "And who exactly would lock us in like that..." She looks decidedly perturbed at the thought.

"Someone who wasn't likin' the menu of the day?" Wilma offers with a rather grumpy look at the unconcious cook.

Shaelyn grunts, "Someone followed us down here." She informs the others. "Maybe the assistant. Might have been a setup."

Colrick leaves Shaelyn to prop up the door, as he begins looking around for anything that might help. However he seems to have given up after sorting through the debris nearby. At Shaelyn's words he nods. "Yeah... who was he exactly?" he pipes up.

Adina looks about for anything besides a fellow member of the party to hold the door, "How was it locked before?" She asks the man who got it open.
The door is still locked, technically. It's a heavy bolting mechanism controlled from the outside.
"... does it really even matter? Let's get the would-be cook back to the tavern, then go an' find a place that cooks /real/ meat. An' serves strong enough ale to be puttin' hair on your chest," Wilma complain-suggests.

Colrick points at the two hinges which were supporting the metal door before, but the pins were removed. "Just needs replacement pins, really. Or something heavy to prop it up and keep it shut for now." he recommends. "But... well... let's head upstairs, see if we can get part solved."

Seanait nods, "Indeed so, let's get this resolved quickly, before any other surprises occur."

Arissa offers her own theory, incredulous. "'Set up'? By someone employing so many rats? They make terrible assassins. I suspect it was the action of someone afraid that the rats would return to the kitchen if not sealed away, and they were not over-much worried about us..."

It isn't a very long march back to the cellar; the shattered rubble of the wall still in sight, a few smaller but less-aggressive rats spotted along the way, scuttling out of the way of the adventurers. Enough to make one nervous, but nothing like the horrors of rodentia that assaulted them earlier. The cellar's empty, just the kegs all lined up and the mess that the destroyed wall made.

<OOC> Karl says, "Perception rolls."
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Adina rolls perception: (11)+8: 19
GAME: Colrick rolls perception: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Arissa rolls Perception: (3)+1: 4
GAME: Seanait rolls perception: (12)+12: 24
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+11: (3)+11: 14

...well, almost empty. There is the slick-furred yet bipedal figure that's clinging to the ceiling just over the door, dropping down with a very /rodent/-like hiss into the midst of the group as they enter. Half human, half rodent, a moon-touched horror with claws flashing in the dim light of the cellar.

<OOC> Karl says, "Init for surprise round. Everyone but Arissa gets to act. (Sorry!)"

Arissa rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 14
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 21
You roll initiative for Wererat: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 8 = Total: 23
Adina rolls initiative: Roll: 1 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 5
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 3 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 7
Colrick rolls initiative: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 21

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Karl damaged Adina for 3 points. 26 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (3): 3
GAME: Karl damaged Adina for 3 points. 23 remaining.

"Y-you should have-have fed my friends," the lycanthrope chitters out in a dire hiss of breath, claws slashing down across Adina's arm, "I won't-won't be as easy-easy on you!"

Colrick works the bolt on his rifle, ejecting the ashen remains of the old paper cartridge and smoothly loading a new one in. All the while his eyes are on the beast, wide-eyed and nervous, having never faced such a thing before.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10

Arissa jolts in surprise as a creature falls in amongst them, staring at it for a few seconds and deciding what to do about it. In the end, she apparently decides that rhythmically swaying her hips around while staring at the creature with glazed-over eyes and a smile is the best course of action. She doesn't even say anything back to it as it speaks, just... smiling and swaying.

This is probably not the wisest choice.

".... why don't you be explainin' how his rats suck, Arissa?" Wilma offers over her shoulder, as she swings the sword from her side towards the rat-man. Alas, her second hand is late to guiding the strike, and she misses. "Damnit!"

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (2)+6: 8

Seanait swings her kama out in an arc, but misses by quite a bit, as if surprised to see a walking talking and apparently pissed off ratman.

GAME: Adina rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Adina rolls 1d6+1: (4)+1: 5

"You foul thing.." Adina steps away from the lycanthrope, calling forth energies from the air itself, her fingers spark, arcing a burst of energy at the wererat. The scent of singed hair unpleasant, even down in the sewers.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Adina for 9 points. 14 remaining.

A pained /shriek/ erupts from the were-rat's throat, and it lunges after Adina as she moves back--all but leaping upon her, claws raking downwards across her torso, digging into blood and flesh as he hisses out, "Foul? I'll show you foul, when you're whimpering at my feet begging me to infect you, priestess!"

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1-4: aliased to weapon1+1-4: (3)+8+1+-4: 8

Bang! This time the gunshot is a lot less deafening in the current surroundings. Unfortunately it ricochets off a far wall before embedding into stone, having gone wide. Colrick feverishly works to load another shot, but is obviously having trouble with aiming into the frantic melee.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+8: (12)+8: 20
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+4: (5)+4: 9

"Hey, Mouseie! Pay attention! Your mama was a catnip toy, an' your da was snake-food!" Okay, so as insults go, they lack a certain amount of cussing... but it's a were-rat. Maybe she should try to step on him?
Wilma, that is.
Wilma, who is hitting him with her sword. Really.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3

"Sorry," Arissa pipes up to the creature threatening them, and her tone drips with wry amusement; she's not apologetic at all. "But I haven't been watching over a survivor of Versis just to let you lay her low!" Starting to twirl in place, Arissa at some point in her routine thrusts an open palm at the creature... and as before, this creates a gold-white ball of energy that flies forth, whipping around allies harmlessly and smashing into the twisted being before them.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (11)+6: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (9)+6: 15
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (3)+1: 4

Seanait swings her kama in an arc, the blade seeming to have no effect on the wererat, as the monk calmly notes, "No, means no."

"The goddess will protect us.." Adina replies, her faith fully intact as she moves away from the wererat.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (1)+8: 9
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 5 points. 17 remaining.

The sudden barrage of spells and blades that strike the were-rat's flesh bring from it a snarl--distracting it long enough for Adina to slip away from his bloodied assault. One claw sweeps out to carve across Wilma's arm in a painful rent, "You can't harm me, fools! The Great Beast has made me immortal!"

Well, maybe not so much, since he's /bleeding/ now.

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1-4: aliased to weapon1+1-4: (18)+8+1+-4: 23
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d10+1+2: (6)+1+2: 9

"If it bleeds, it can die." Colrick states as he levels his rifle for another shot, this time striking true into the shaperchanger's hide, wounding it.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15

"Naw, he just made you flea-bait," Wilma taunts as she moves to flank with Seanait, swinging for the rat - and missing him totally - even his tail! "Maybe immortal food for a cat?"

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5

Arissa continues to dance about in a small area, laughing softly as the group is taunted. "How silly... placing your faith in something so falliable? You should make your peace with the world now." Then another palm-swipe at the air between herself and the beast, another gold-white sphere... a perfect shot to its face, though it remains upright!

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20

Seanait nimbly ducks under the wererat's arm, "Well, if my weapons can't hurt you..." She suddenly grabs the arm, and twists it around in a manner that is rather painful looking, "Perhaps I can just hold you still long enough for the others to deal with you, hmm?"

GAME: Adina rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
GAME: Adina rolls 1d6+1: (4)+1: 5

Our of harms way, Adina once more calls on the goddess to light the spark within, sending another arc of electricy at the wererat. The smell of singed fur seems to fill the room, the priestess coughs a bit.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24

"Let go! Let go, bitch! I'll pluck your feathers and make a nest of them for my young!" The were-rat thrashes and struggles in Seanait's grasp, but gets absolutely nowhere-- the arm-lock unbroken.

GAME: Colrick rolls bayonet: aliased to weapon3: (13)+3: 16
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (4)+(4)+2: 10

Colrick brings the smoking end of his gun to bear upon the were-rat, for the smoking end is attached to a long blade. It finds a soft spot to slide into, sinking into its flesh. "Good job, keep him still while we finish him off." he says to Seanait.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (3)+10: 13

The sight of the wererat being grappled throws Wilma off her game. Pulling her swing at the last moment, she pulls too much - and misses.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3

Arissa keeps bopping about, giggling. "What happened to your vaunted immortality? Do you still rail and rage even as you face defeat?" Another magic-sphere, another modest wound adding to so many others...

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (15)+7: 22

Seanait looks disdainfully at the wererat, "For all your power, you lack discipline." She suddenly sweeps her leg around, sending the wererat to the floor face-first, and she falls on top of him, still holding his arm in a very uncomfortable position while her foot talon rests on the back of his head.

GAME: Adina rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
GAME: Adina rolls 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7

Who knew Dana granted her priests such vengeance, Adina prayers bring sparks. Stretching the distance to the wererat on the floor. Skin scorched.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24

A pained grunt, the were-rat thrashing and twisting, "--ng--bird-bitch! Release--me!"

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1-4: aliased to weapon1+1-4: (13)+8+1+-4: 18
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d10+1+2+1d6: (4)+1+2+(4): 11

"Release? Not the term you wanted." Colrick mutters in disgust at the creature before him, as he loads his rifle and aims at the struggling were-rat, sending another bullet into its oily hide.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16
GAME: Wilma rolls 4d6+8: (16)+8: 24

"Why do that?" Wilma continues to bait the rat, this time swinging with strength /and/ precision, "We're just gettin' rollin' on this," as she sends the head flying. Unfortunately, there's some bloodspray when that happens.

Arissa's eyes return to normal as Wilma spectacularly finishes off the creature... and then Arissa is hit by some of the blood. She winces, then calms down quickly as she invokes magic to lift it off her and her attire, easily cleaning the blood away. And once done with that, she makes a curtsy gesture to the group and their fallen foe, still smiling. "I suspect we've found our answer. Is everyone well?"

Colrick literally hops backwards a few steps as that fatal blow is landed, and the gory spray is emitted. "Gah!" he exclaims, having avoided most of it, save some on his boots and pant legs. "Tonight... I'll just have the soup and bread, I think." he states.

"If you can eat after that.." Adina looks green at the gills from the blood. "We have to make certain his disease is not spread further.."

Seanait does finally release the arm, now that the wererat is minus one head, and says simply, "One should also have better manners if one wishes to be released." She almost seems to smile, then, as she looks at the others, "Indeed. A vile abomination."

".... ale. Lots an' lots of ale. ... see any barrels down here? We could be takin' one up a'fore they water it," Wilma votes.

The were-rat lies still--dead, unmoving, defeated by the intrepid adventurers, although plenty of their blood stains the floor of cellar and sewer both. Still, questions linger...

...but so does ale. One expects most of them need a drink.

Why Did It Have To Be Rats?

2011-04-04T22:46:15Z

Karl: Created page with " <div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;"> == Log Info == *'''Title''': Why Did It Have To Be Rats? *'''Emitter''': Karl *'''Characters''': Adina, Arissa, ..."

<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;">
== Log Info ==
*'''Title''': Why Did It Have To Be Rats?
*'''Emitter''': [[Karl]]
*'''Characters''': [[Adina]], [[Arissa]], [[Colrick]], [[Seanait]], [[Shaelyn]], and [[Wilma]]
*'''Summary''': Under the guidance of a were-rat, rats raid the kitchen... or were they setting a trap? And if so, why?
*'''APL''': 3
*'''Encounter 1''': 4 dire rats, 1 rat swarm, '''CR 4'''
*'''Encounter 2''': 1 Rogue 4 / Fighter 1 Wererat, '''CR 5'''
</div>

The Bloodied Boar Tavern is exactly the sort of place that adventurers tend to linger in. There's a hearth with a minotaur's head mounted over the crackling heat of the fireplace, there's a seemingly eternally-shadowed corner where there's a hooded figure that could at any moment beckon someone over for a job, there's a serving wench that's a deep breath away from exploding the lacings of her corset, and the bar serves a seemingly endless amount of watered-down ale.

In other words, this is an adventurer bar. No doubt there's a fire here at least twice a week, and they pay a goblin a cheap fee to drag accidental bodies to the Vardamans out the back way. Therefore, when there's a sudden bellowing shout from the kitchen, it's not entirely surprising.

Arissa is a poor customer; she hasn't been buying much, instead speaking with paying customers, pursuing various topics... definitely not getting drunk (or even getting started on it in the slightest) and thus probably about to be asked to leave.

As a result of not being part of this place's regular clientelle, the shout concerns her. She starts to pace toward the back, calling out: "What was that? Is everything well?"
Shaelyn is sitting on one of the tables, swigging from a mug of watered down ale as she chats with several other adventurers about their exploits. At the minute, a half ork is talking about the time he headbutted an ogre to death.

Seanait has been sitting at a solitary table, sipping a cup of hot tea. It is not the typical place to find a monk, but it is far harder to find proper tea here in this city. At the bellowing, she blinks, and looks over towards the kitchen with a hint of mild surprise.

Wilma is 'enjoying' the house special - ale that's probably half watered, and a stew that is thick only due to the fact it's been added to for the past week and a half - and of course, listening in to the tales being told over at the crowd of adventures. Until the shout, of course.

Colrick looks the part of the young optimistic adventurer, at least from his age, optimistic smile as he shares an ale with a few boasters at the bar, and relatively scar-free appearance. On the other hand, that military medal on his chest, coupled with the military standard rifle strapped to his back, suggests he's not new to the idea of something trying to kill/eat/destroy him. "... and then what? You don't just end a story with being lost in the Mythwood, covered in ..." he comments to the storyteller, but pauses at the shouting from the kitchen. "Eh wuts thats all about?"

Adina is working on keeping up her grasp of Yrch-tongue since the war ended, she's standing barside with a mug of ale that looks barely touched. Talking with the ruffians at the bar, she cast a sidelong glance towards the noise. Her shoulder shrugging, its like this all the time here.

The busty bar wench comes /darting/ out of the kitchen with a screech, scrambling up onto the bar and hiking her skirts up to the point that she's not hiding a gods-be-damned thing as she stares wide-eyed back the way she came. "They're back there-- they're back there! Oh, Althea bless, they've got the roast!"
The food is threatened. Uh oh.

Then there's /another/ shout from back there, a hoarse voice, "Help! Help, the-- the cook's gone after them!"

Arissa smiles; an odd reaction given just how alarmed the bearer of bad news is... and so many implications of what it could mean. It could be a trivial problem, it could be something big... but either way, Arissa looks amused. "Understood... leave it to me!"

And with that, Arissa begins to pace into the back of the tavern, into the kitchen area to see what exactly might be wrong.
Seanait hrms and sets her tea aside, rising gracefully to her feet as she moves towards the back as well, not saying a word just yet as she nods towards the barmaid.

"... there's actually a roast back there? Well, we can't be lettin' /others/ get away with it..." Wilma agrees, before disagreeing with Arissa, as she goes to join Seanait to follow to the back also.

Shaelyn grunts. She's already paid for a portio of the roast, and she'll be damned if she'll let anything take it away from her at this point. She stands up, wobbles a bit, and then she steadies herself, grabs her axe and her shield from under the table, and trudges towards the kitchen.

Adina watches the motley crew begin towards the kitchen and the threat to the meat. She puts down her ale, "someone is going to need to keep them intact.." She can't put aside her priestly duties, reaching for a chain out of her pocket, placing her symbol of Dana around her neck as she follows.

Colrick does listen to the barmaid's words, but he is a guy; those eyes do dart downwards at the expansive reveal, at least for a little bit. "My bangers and mash won't be coming anytime soon if the cook's chasing after... they?" he comments with a shrug to the others at the bar. "Excuse me." he says as he hops off the barstool, and follows after the others. "Psst, skirt lower." he whispers to the barmaid as he passes.

The kitchen is a mess, although it's difficult to tell how much of a mess it /normally/ is. It's not exactly the most upscale tavern in the entire city, after all. Still, there's cutlery all over the floor and grease stains and chunks of meat trailed towards the gaping-open door to the wine cellar. Or -- cellar, anyway, since they don't have any actual wine on the menu.

There's a scruffy, skinny fellow that's standing near the door, shaking and pointing down the stairs, "They went that way! The cook chased them-- they were rats! Giant--giant rats!"

The barmaid, for her sake, flushes darkly at Colrick's whisper and crouches lower so her skirt covers more. As the group ducks into the kitchen, the orc that Adina was talking to is leaning over to offer a rather crude come-on in Yrchspeak. Well, she didn't know /those/ words before.

Arissa sees there is little to be deeply worried about. "Rats?" They're hardly the greatest fear of most adventurers, suffice to say. "Then this should only take a few minutes." Smugly confident, Arissa looks back to those following her... she's not about to object to that, and is even quite willing to let anyone go ahead of her if they wish; she paces toward the door and stairs regardless.

"If I were not a priestess.." Adina gives the Yrch a sharp look, she understood the come on, she doesn't complete the thought as she steels herself to face giant rats, "A blessing its not giant spiders." Shuddering from the memory.

"... rats? Well, it could be worse, I'm supposin'. Right - or like crabs." This time it's Wilma who's shuddering.

Shaelyn ponders. "I know a mean recipe for dire rat pie." she says, mostly thinking outload. She moves to take point and head down into the basement. She holds her shield at the ready.

Colrick unstraps his rifle and fetches a paper-wrapped cartridge to load it. "Might need that recipe; not fond of the idea of eating something that's been dragged down a cellar by a big rat." he comments with a chuckle. "I think this is more about rescuing the cook from getting a nasty bite. The food's a goner."

"He said he wasn't going to give the roast away to any vermin, he just-- went running after them with a cleaver! If we get it back I think we can salvage it, though. We've done worse." As the adventurers head down into the shower, the scruffy kitchen helper - or whatever he does, he could just be the corpse collector - follows gingerly after them, although he gives them a good lead, looking nervous as hell.

The stairs head down to the cellar, rows of wooden casks lining the walls except for one, that seems to've been sundered by digging from the other side. The wall's rocks are tumbled all over the floor, and there's a gaping opening into what looks like a sewer tunnel.

Seanait blinks, "Rats. How disappointing." She draws out her kama, holding it easily in one hand as she glances around the basement, "Ah. Another journey to the sewers."

".... right. I'm goin' back to the Ox Tavern. There at least I know I'm just eatin' dog..." Wilma grumbles. "... sewers? Taara's tits, this is gonna be annoyin'."

Arissa remarks to Shaelyn, "By all means, help yourself to such fare... I'm sure most of us will gladly give up our 'shares' of it." Then she smiles to Colrick, not smug but genuinely pleased by his choice of words. "Absolutely. He can't be far ahead of us, however... it will be fine." As the group nears the sewers, Arissa seems far less concerned... she makes a few soft chants in Celestial, air shimmering around her and then fading to normal. "It's nothing that a little cleaning can't deal with."

GAME: Arissa casts Prestidigitation.

Shaelyn frowns. "Always sewers." She complains, but she maintains her position at the head of the group, dwarven eyes quickly adapting to the dark. She keeps them peeled for any signs of the rats, or the crazy rat-hunting chef.

Adina takes a moment to string her bow, before they enter the sewers. "Where else do the rats go to grow giant sized but sewers.."

Shaelyn says, "Caves, crypts, warehouses, basements, laboritiories..."

"The Academy," Wilma throws in.

Fortunately for the adventurers, the passage appears to be one of the maintenance tunnels -- so they won't be wading through the muck directly. The smell of sewage lingers anyway in the air, if a bit weaker than in the outlet tunnels. It's not long down the passageway that a metal door is noticed to one side of the stoneworked tunnel, hanging open. A large drainage room is visible within, narrowing down to a grate, with pipes sticking into it from all directions. The stone is stained with dark lines from water spillage - and there's a figure collapsed atop the grate, a skinny man with a large, puffy white hat. A cleaver lays on the floor not far from his hand.

Seanait tilts her head, "I think that is our chef." She narrows her eyes, glancing around cautiously in case there's anything lurking in wait.

Colrick winces at the unsavoury scents wafting from the sewer entrance, yet onwards he goes as he follows the rest. "<something you don't understand in goblin-talk>" he curses under his breath, as he sees the poor fellow, as he cautiously approaches with his rifle lifted.

Arissa tries to jog over to the man, calm despite the sight. "There you are... are you well? It's one thing to take pride in your work, but chasing after losses needlessly... ...no matter. We can help you back to the kitchen if you'd like?" No caution at all, but why should there be? Nothing seems terribly amiss.

Shaelyn heads over towards the collapsed figure, axe and shield still held ready. When she gets nearer, she will look for signs of life. And possibly poke him.

"Great mother's blessings." Adina exclaims at the fallen figure of the man. She approaches cautiously, reaching for some herbs from her pocket and begins to check the man out.

"... I thought cooks were supposed to be bein' as fat as a cat next to a skinny rat..." Wilma grumbles as she stomps her way forward - though much slower than many, as she pulls her oversized weapon out from its place on her back, there to rest the naked blade on her armoured shoulder. "He pass out from so much runnin'?" she asks, idly.

GAME: Adina rolls heal: (3)+8: 11
You paged Adina with 'He is alive, unconscious. Big bump on the back of his head. :)'
GAME: Arissa rolls Heal: (17)+7: 24
You paged Arissa with 'He's alive, just unconscious. Looks like someone hit him in the back of the head, hard. :)'

"He's not dead.." Adina seems relieved, crushing the herbs in her fingers and apply it to the back of the man's head, "But that knot on the back of his head, its going to smart when he comes too."

GAME: Shaelyn rolls perception: (15)+0: 15

Arissa kneels down nearby. "Unconscious... just as you said," a nod to Adina's assessment. Arissa's complete dismissal of there being any risk to this is now gone as she rises, backing off a step. "We should get him back quickly... we aren't alone. Unless he fell at a truly strange angle, other people did this to him. Not rats."

CLANG.

What was that? That was the /door/ to the drainage room suddenly closing rather sharply behind the party as they examine the unconscious cook.

You paged Shaelyn with 'It was the guy that followed you all down that closed it!'

<OOC> Seanait was keeping an eye out as well.
GAME: Seanait rolls Perception: (8)+12: 20
GAME: Shaelyn rolls perception: (10)+0: 10
You paged Seanait with 'It totally was the scruffy guy from the kitchen that just slammed the door!'
GAME: Adina rolls perception: (3)+8: 11
GAME: Arissa rolls Perception: (12)+1: 13
GAME: Wilma rolls Perception: (6)+2: 8
GAME: Colrick rolls perception: (18)+5: 23
You paged (Seanait, Colrick) with 'There is a chittering and rustling... coming from the grate that the cook is laid on, and that all your healers are clustered around.'

"Lets clear the danger and then get him out.." Adina offers to the other woman, "Perhaps he'll come to before.." She silences as there is a bit of sound.

Colrick points his rifle at the grate and quickly backs away from it. "The rats are underneath it; quickly, drag him away from there." he urgently advises.

Seanait blinks at the noise, then nods at Colrick's words, drawing a pair of shuriken in her free hand and holding those at the ready.

Wilma spins to stare at the door, "What the... " as she heads towards the door to open it back up. Rats? There are rats? "Slap him awake, an' we can get goin' then."

Arissa looks over at Wilma, smiling as if about to scold a comically misbehaving child. "More blows to the head aren't a solution to being struck in the head..." Then Arissa tries to haul the cook away. With purely average strength for her size and vocation however... it may be slow going. Nonetheless, she heard the bit about how he's lying over a pack of nearby rats, and does want to get the cook away from that even as she looks over-shoulder to the closed door.

Adina aids in moving the man, still concerned about the noise, "Get the door open.."

Rats? Oh, yes... there are rats. The good news is, they aren't the giant rats that they were talking about from the kitchen. The bad news? There're dozens of them, boiling up from beneath the grate that the cook was laid out on, fur matted and disgusting from sewer waste and naked tails thrashing around eagerly. It's a good thing that Arissa just dragged the man away, because they look very... very hungry.

Shaelyn grunts, "That other guy closed the door on us. This is a trap." She informs the others, looking around. Surely any moment now the rats will be released, or the chamber will flood, or there will be spinning blades.

Shaelyn rolls initiative: Roll: 10 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 13
Arissa rolls initiative: Roll: 14 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 16
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 16
Colrick rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 17
You roll initiative for Rats: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 6 = Total: 22
You roll initiative for DireRats: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 3 = Total: 18
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 24
Adina rolls initiative: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 17
===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------
24 Seanait
----------------------------------------
22 Rats
----------------------------------------
18 DireRats
----------------------------------------
17 Colrick
----------------------------------------
17 Adina
----------------------------------------
16 Arissa
----------------------------------------
16 Wilma
----------------------------------------
13 Shaelyn
----------------------------------------
========================================

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+5: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25
You paged Seanait with 'Two hits!'
<OOC> Seanait sighs. Can't really crit a swarm, can you?
<OOC> Karl says, "No crits on swarms, alas."
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d2+1: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d2+1: (2)+1: 3

Seanait reacts quickly, tossing the shuriken into the swarm of rats crawling out of the sewer grate, looking at the others, "We need that door open, quickly!" She then readies her kama, and if she could frown, she probably would be right now.

<OOC> Karl says, "The rats pursue the biggest meal--which at the moment happens to be Adina, Arissa, and the cook! It can only swarm over two of them, tho, so--"
GAME: Karl rolls 1d3: (1): 1
<OOC> Karl says, "Adina gets off easy."
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (3): 3

GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for 3 points. 10 remaining.
The tide of rats spill forward after their meal, tumbling over the cook's body and gnawing on his legs -- others scrambling up Arissa's legs, a few unpleasant bites left behind. Hungry, gnashing, filthy rats rolling onwards like living hunger.
Then there's a horrid, louder squeaking from the edges of the room as from the drainage pipes crawl massive, bloated rats - four of them, each one the size of a halfling, fur matted and filthy, eyes gleaming black and hungry.

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1: aliased to weapon1+1: (9)+8+1: 18
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d10+1+2: (6)+1+2: 9

"The door?" Colrick mutters in confusion. "The door! Damn it all!" he exclaims, turning to head back. As he moves, he spots one of the aforementioned 'giant rats' begin to scurry from a pipe, and takes a crack at it with his rifle. The thunderous shot is nearly deafening in the tight quarters, something he instantly regrets, but at the very least the rodent is felled and he continues on his way. "I'll open the door!" he shouts, probably louder than needed, as he struggles to hear his own voice over the ringing in his ears.

GAME: Adina casts bless.

The swarm is too much for Adina, steps away from the rats near her as she begins to pray aloud to the earth mother. Grasping her holy symbol. A wash of holiness filling the room, filling everyone with Dana's blessing.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5

Arissa cries out as she's rushed, being bitten all over and stamping ineffectively at the rats with her feet. For all her derision earlier, this hurts and it could become lethal within a minute or less...

...And yet, pain gives way to a distant expression, Arissa's eyes suddenly glazing over as she hops away from the majority of the rats and begins swaying her hips, smiling. Her voice becomes very soft as she calls out in Celestial: "(As if I could fall to the lowest of the low?)" A shout follows that as she raises a hand overhead, swiping it downward and creating a gold-white energy ball. It flies into the swarm, scattering several of them!

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+6: (10)+6: 16

Wilma, as Coldrick heads towards the door, turns back around. "There are rats!... And bigger rats. Damnit." Luckily, her greatsword is already drawn, even if she has the situational awareness of a drunk rat in an ale barrel. And, with the sight of the cook being left all along to the swarm, the storm dwarf sets her sword forward, and charges the cook! Alas, the evil desecrator of stews is saved by the number of rats who throw themselves onto her sword, sending blood and gore and tails to mix with the appetizing odor of the sewer fumes.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8+2: (9)+8+2: 19
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d10+3: (1)+3: 4

Shaelyn scowls, "Kill the big ones and thee swarm should dissipate!" She yells, and then charges towards the biggest of the rats, swinging her axe towards it. She cuts off the end of its tail.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (3)+1: 4
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3

Seanait twirls and slashes at one of the nearby dire rats with her kama, cutting it deeply as she hits twice with the weapon. She then eyes the surroundings, and says, "Status of the door?"

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (3): 3
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (1): 1
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 3 points. 22 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (8)+1: 9
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (15)+1: 16

GAME: Karl rolls 1d4: (4): 4
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for 4 points. 6 remaining.

The drainage room is full of the squeaking and hissing of the rats - and the sounds of blades and spells on flesh and stone. The twisted mass of long-tailed rats continue to gnaw upon the cook, tugging little bites of flesh from his unconscious form, others squirming beneath Wilma's armour to get bites at her legs, little claws gripping.
The larger rats hiss--lunging at Seanait and Shaelyn to no avail, the uninjured one leaps on Arissa's unprotected calf, nasty teeth digging painfully into her flesh.

GAME: Colrick rolls disable device: (7)+10: 17
You paged Colrick with 'Only way to open the door from this side? Remove the hinges. You can disassemble one of them this round, can possibly get the other next round. :)'
From afar, Colrick has acid. Would that speed it up?
You paged Colrick with 'That would probably slow it -down- actually. Since objects take half damage from elemental attacks. More expedient to disassemble it. :)'
Colrick pages: Then I'll remove a hinge this turn :) need another check for it?
You paged Colrick with 'Nope.'

Colrick doesn't answer Seanait right away, as he assesses the door. After trying the obvious route of pushing at it, and then some searching around its structure, he pulls some sharp tools from his pack and begins prying at a hinge. "Just need... a moment... to work these-" he begins, just as he pulls apart one of the hinges and sends its pin flying against the side wall. "Hinges off."

GAME: Adina rolls 1d8+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for -5 points. 11 remaining.
GAME: Adina casts detect evil. <convert to CLW>

Seeing Arissa take more damage from the swarm of rats, Adina's prayers shift to proper healing. She lays a hand on Arissa's shoulder, Dana's blessing knitting wounds.

GAME: Arissa rolls 1d8+1: (6)+1: 7

Even as she's bitten by a single larger rat, Arissa just keeps smiling and swaying her hips about, eyes still glazed and distant... and adding to the routine by making a twirling jump away from the rat, closer to the swarm thereof. She smiles to Adina's assistance, voice returning to common tradespeak for a moment. "Thank you, but the one who really needs the help is..." She fetches a potion from her belt, brushing aside some rats to pour it down the cook's mouth.

GAME: Arissa used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.

Wilma waits for Arissa to pour the potion down the cook's throat, then leans over and picks up the cook one-handed, shoving him over a shoulder. He flops in the boneless way of the unconcious, then looks at Arissa, "Get to the door, eh?" as she moves herself and the cook towards the door, even though it's not much.

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (2)+8+-2: 8
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (17)+8+-2: 23
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d4+3: (4)+3: 7

Shaelyn swings the axe again, this time slamming into the ground next to it. Howeves, she then steps forwards, and brings the shield down on the creature's head, smashing it into the ground, and leeking its brains on the cobbles.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (6)+7: 13
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3

Seanait quickly whips her kama around, burying the blade in the skull of the rat she's been dealing with, then she pulls it free and looks around at the others, seeing how they are faring.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (6): 6
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for 6 points. 5 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (11)+1: 12

Although between Arissa and Wilma's efforts, the cook's life has been saved, the sorceress pays the price in blood -- the thrashing mass of sewer rats swarming up around her, biting and clawing, tearing at flesh and fabric both in a frenzy. The only remaining dire rat lunges for Shaelyn, scrabbling at her boot but unable to get a good bite through it.

P-ting! The last hinge pin clatters on the stone. If that sound isn't heard, the louder clang of the metal door falling partially outward into the cellar is certainly more apt at drawing attention. Only thing preventing it from completely falling flat on the ground is the lock, but the opening is enough to get by. "Our way is clear! Let's move!" he shouts.

GAME: Adina casts protection from evil. <convert to CLW>
GAME: Adina rolls 1d8+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Arissa for -4 points. 9 remaining.

Ignoring Arissa's words, Adina steps in and helps to knit the sorceresses wounds. Prayers to the earth mother.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (3)+1: 4

Arissa laughs softly at Wilma's suggestion. "Normally I would ask why, as we're so...!" She's cut off by dozens of bites, voice returning to Celestial as Adina infuses her with positive energy, some wounds closing. A wink and "(Thank you,)" are given, then she sprints past the doorway with dagger in-hand, twirls around to face the rats once more... and thrusts her free palm at them, conjuring another gold-white magic sphere and scattering several more of the swarm.
Wilma is torn, for a brief moment as the rats dig into Arissa's words. However, the cook groans and that reminds her to her current duty. Grumbling about bony-assed cooks and rats out for revenge, the overly-wide dwarf heads for the door, "Move it!"

GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (2)+8+-2: 8
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d20+8-2: (13)+8+-2: 19
GAME: Shaelyn rolls 1d4+3: (1)+3: 4

Shaelyn acks when she discovers a giant rat gnawing on her boot, and she smacks it with her shield, seperating the creature from herself and sending it lamming into the ground.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7

Seanait moves quickly to the last dire rat, and deftly slices the back of its neck, killing it rapidly as she looks over at the open door, "Let's get out of here!"

GAME: Karl rolls 1d6: (5): 5
GAME: Karl damaged Shaelyn for 5 points. 38 remaining.

It's like the remaining rats are in a blood frenzy; surging up and over the corpses of rats near Shaelyn's feet and squirming up under armour and beneath metal plates, biting and tearing in a desperate frenzy. The corpses disappear in short order, almost boned.

Colrick moves past the door, one hand grasping the edge of it so he can quickly slam it shut; the other hand pulls a vial of fiery liquid from his pack and readies to toss it in. "Ladies! Time for an exit!" he calls out.

Adina doesn't hesitate when told to move, after all rat's are Dana's creatures as well, no need to kill all of the,

GAME: Arissa casts Ray of Frost.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d20+4: (19)+4: 23
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d3: (1): 1

Arissa on the other hand seems quite inclined to be a rat exterminator... still twirling about, still smiling, even as she points a finger at the rat swarm and pegs a few of them with a thin beam of cold, stopping them in an instant even as Arissa hops back from the doorway a little; as swept up as she is in her magic, she at least has the sense to not interfere with others trying to get to safety.

Shaelyn acks as rats scramble inside her armor, and she jogs towards the door. She reaches back, grabbing a rat by the tail from her armor and tossing it to the ground as she goes. She barrels through the door.

Seanait sprints rapidly for the door, leaping over some of the others as she seeks to get clear before things get very explosive in the room.
That vial of viscous fluid is hurled at the ground in front of the door, shattering and splattering everywhere on the ground before erupting into flames. And then with a loud clang he slams the door shut, holding his body against it since the hinges no longer support it. "Uh... I'll need some help to... improvise a way to keep this door shut." he says a moment later. "Going back for the hinge pins isn't really an option."

A horrific squealing and the scent of burning rat-flesh comes from behind the door, the scuttling and hissing finally beginning to die down... and soon, nothing but the fading crackle of alchemical fires.

The party is left alone in the corridor outside the drainage room, which seems to be clear. The cook's breathing and seems stable. The roast must be long gone, though. No more soup today.
You clear initiatives.

Karl has cleared initiatives.

Wilma takes a moment to put Cookie on the floor. Sorta gently, sorta, before moving away from the door to look around. "We'll need something to be barracadin' it, I'm thinkin'."

Arissa's eyes return to their normal depth shortly after the door is shut. She's still smiling, but it's notably reduced as she looks herself over. "At the very worst, we could find barrels and the like... I'm sure the tavern has some of those. The real question is if it will have answers, as to who thought to seal us in and why."

GAME: Colrick rolls knowledge/engineering: (5)+7: 12

Shaelyn backs up against the door, and holds it. "Go get something to block the door, I'll hold it shut for now." She informs them then. And then she kicks away a rat which drops out of her britches.

Seanait frowns, "And who exactly would lock us in like that..." She looks decidedly perturbed at the thought.

"Someone who wasn't likin' the menu of the day?" Wilma offers with a rather grumpy look at the unconcious cook.

Shaelyn grunts, "Someone followed us down here." She informs the others. "Maybe the assistant. Might have been a setup."

Colrick leaves Shaelyn to prop up the door, as he begins looking around for anything that might help. However he seems to have given up after sorting through the debris nearby. At Shaelyn's words he nods. "Yeah... who was he exactly?" he pipes up.

Adina looks about for anything besides a fellow member of the party to hold the door, "How was it locked before?" She asks the man who got it open.
The door is still locked, technically. It's a heavy bolting mechanism controlled from the outside.
"... does it really even matter? Let's get the would-be cook back to the tavern, then go an' find a place that cooks /real/ meat. An' serves strong enough ale to be puttin' hair on your chest," Wilma complain-suggests.

Colrick points at the two hinges which were supporting the metal door before, but the pins were removed. "Just needs replacement pins, really. Or something heavy to prop it up and keep it shut for now." he recommends. "But... well... let's head upstairs, see if we can get part solved."

Seanait nods, "Indeed so, let's get this resolved quickly, before any other surprises occur."

Arissa offers her own theory, incredulous. "'Set up'? By someone employing so many rats? They make terrible assassins. I suspect it was the action of someone afraid that the rats would return to the kitchen if not sealed away, and they were not over-much worried about us..."

It isn't a very long march back to the cellar; the shattered rubble of the wall still in sight, a few smaller but less-aggressive rats spotted along the way, scuttling out of the way of the adventurers. Enough to make one nervous, but nothing like the horrors of rodentia that assaulted them earlier. The cellar's empty, just the kegs all lined up and the mess that the destroyed wall made.

<OOC> Karl says, "Perception rolls."
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (20)+2: 22
GAME: Adina rolls perception: (11)+8: 19
GAME: Colrick rolls perception: (12)+5: 17
GAME: Arissa rolls Perception: (3)+1: 4
GAME: Seanait rolls perception: (12)+12: 24
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+11: (3)+11: 14

...well, almost empty. There is the slick-furred yet bipedal figure that's clinging to the ceiling just over the door, dropping down with a very /rodent/-like hiss into the midst of the group as they enter. Half human, half rodent, a moon-touched horror with claws flashing in the dim light of the cellar.
<OOC> Karl says, "Init for surprise round. Everyone but Arissa gets to act. (Sorry!)"

Arissa rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 14
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 21
You roll initiative for Wererat: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 8 = Total: 23
Adina rolls initiative: Roll: 1 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 5
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 3 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 7
Colrick rolls initiative: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 5 = Total: 21

===== Current Initiative Order =========
----------------------------------------
23 Wererat
----------------------------------------
21 Colrick
----------------------------------------
21 Wilma
----------------------------------------
14 Arissa
----------------------------------------
7 Seanait
----------------------------------------
5 Adina
----------------------------------------
========================================

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (9)+8: 17
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Karl damaged Adina for 3 points. 26 remaining.
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (3): 3
GAME: Karl damaged Adina for 3 points. 23 remaining.

"Y-you should have-have fed my friends," the lycanthrope chitters out in a dire hiss of breath, claws slashing down across Adina's arm, "I won't-won't be as easy-easy on you!"

Colrick works the bolt on his rifle, ejecting the ashen remains of the old paper cartridge and smoothly loading a new one in. All the while his eyes are on the beast, wide-eyed and nervous, having never faced such a thing before.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10

Arissa jolts in surprise as a creature falls in amongst them, staring at it for a few seconds and deciding what to do about it. In the end, she apparently decides that rhythmically swaying her hips around while staring at the creature with glazed-over eyes and a smile is the best course of action. She doesn't even say anything back to it as it speaks, just... smiling and swaying.

This is probably not the wisest choice.

".... why don't you be explainin' how his rats suck, Arissa?" Wilma offers over her shoulder, as she swings the sword from her side towards the rat-man. Alas, her second hand is late to guiding the strike, and she misses. "Damnit!"

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (2)+6: 8

Seanait swings her kama out in an arc, but misses by quite a bit, as if surprised to see a walking talking and apparently pissed off ratman.

GAME: Adina rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Adina rolls 1d6+1: (4)+1: 5

"You foul thing.." Adina steps away from the lycanthrope, calling forth energies from the air itself, her fingers spark, arcing a burst of energy at the wererat. The scent of singed hair unpleasant, even down in the sewers.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (14)+8: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (1)+3: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Adina for 9 points. 14 remaining.

A pained /shriek/ erupts from the were-rat's throat, and it lunges after Adina as she moves back--all but leaping upon her, claws raking downwards across her torso, digging into blood and flesh as he hisses out, "Foul? I'll show you foul, when you're whimpering at my feet begging me to infect you, priestess!"

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1-4: aliased to weapon1+1-4: (3)+8+1+-4: 8

Bang! This time the gunshot is a lot less deafening in the current surroundings. Unfortunately it ricochets off a far wall before embedding into stone, having gone wide. Colrick feverishly works to load another shot, but is obviously having trouble with aiming into the frantic melee.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+8: (12)+8: 20
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+4: (5)+4: 9

"Hey, Mouseie! Pay attention! Your mama was a catnip toy, an' your da was snake-food!" Okay, so as insults go, they lack a certain amount of cussing... but it's a were-rat. Maybe she should try to step on him?
Wilma, that is.
Wilma, who is hitting him with her sword. Really.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3

"Sorry," Arissa pipes up to the creature threatening them, and her tone drips with wry amusement; she's not apologetic at all. "But I haven't been watching over a survivor of Versis just to let you lay her low!" Starting to twirl in place, Arissa at some point in her routine thrusts an open palm at the creature... and as before, this creates a gold-white ball of energy that flies forth, whipping around allies harmlessly and smashing into the twisted being before them.

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (11)+6: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (9)+6: 15
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (3)+1: 4

Seanait swings her kama in an arc, the blade seeming to have no effect on the wererat, as the monk calmly notes, "No, means no."

"The goddess will protect us.." Adina replies, her faith fully intact as she moves away from the wererat.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (19)+8: 27
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (1)+8: 9
GAME: Karl rolls 1d6+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 5 points. 17 remaining.

The sudden barrage of spells and blades that strike the were-rat's flesh bring from it a snarl--distracting it long enough for Adina to slip away from his bloodied assault. One claw sweeps out to carve across Wilma's arm in a painful rent, "You can't harm me, fools! The Great Beast has made me immortal!"

Well, maybe not so much, since he's /bleeding/ now.

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1-4: aliased to weapon1+1-4: (18)+8+1+-4: 23
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d10+1+2: (6)+1+2: 9

"If it bleeds, it can die." Colrick states as he levels his rifle for another shot, this time striking true into the shaperchanger's hide, wounding it.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15

"Naw, he just made you flea-bait," Wilma taunts as she moves to flank with Seanait, swinging for the rat - and missing him totally - even his tail! "Maybe immortal food for a cat?"

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (4)+1: 5

Arissa continues to dance about in a small area, laughing softly as the group is taunted. "How silly... placing your faith in something so falliable? You should make your peace with the world now." Then another palm-swipe at the air between herself and the beast, another gold-white sphere... a perfect shot to its face, though it remains upright!

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+8: (7)+8: 15
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (13)+7: 20

Seanait nimbly ducks under the wererat's arm, "Well, if my weapons can't hurt you..." She suddenly grabs the arm, and twists it around in a manner that is rather painful looking, "Perhaps I can just hold you still long enough for the others to deal with you, hmm?"

GAME: Adina rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
GAME: Adina rolls 1d6+1: (4)+1: 5

Our of harms way, Adina once more calls on the goddess to light the spark within, sending another arc of electricy at the wererat. The smell of singed fur seems to fill the room, the priestess coughs a bit.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24

"Let go! Let go, bitch! I'll pluck your feathers and make a nest of them for my young!" The were-rat thrashes and struggles in Seanait's grasp, but gets absolutely nowhere-- the arm-lock unbroken.

GAME: Colrick rolls bayonet: aliased to weapon3: (13)+3: 16
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d6+1d6+2: (4)+(4)+2: 10

Colrick brings the smoking end of his gun to bear upon the were-rat, for the smoking end is attached to a long blade. It finds a soft spot to slide into, sinking into its flesh. "Good job, keep him still while we finish him off." he says to Seanait.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (3)+10: 13

The sight of the wererat being grappled throws Wilma off her game. Pulling her swing at the last moment, she pulls too much - and misses.

GAME: Arissa casts Magic Missile.
GAME: Arissa rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3

Arissa keeps bopping about, giggling. "What happened to your vaunted immortality? Do you still rail and rage even as you face defeat?" Another magic-sphere, another modest wound adding to so many others...

GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (15)+7: 22

Seanait looks disdainfully at the wererat, "For all your power, you lack discipline." She suddenly sweeps her leg around, sending the wererat to the floor face-first, and she falls on top of him, still holding his arm in a very uncomfortable position while her foot talon rests on the back of his head.

GAME: Adina rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
GAME: Adina rolls 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7

Who knew Dana granted her priests such vengeance, Adina prayers bring sparks. Stretching the distance to the wererat on the floor. Skin scorched.

GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24

A pained grunt, the were-rat thrashing and twisting, "--ng--bird-bitch! Release--me!"

GAME: Colrick rolls rifle+1-4: aliased to weapon1+1-4: (13)+8+1+-4: 18
GAME: Colrick rolls 1d10+1+2+1d6: (4)+1+2+(4): 11

"Release? Not the term you wanted." Colrick mutters in disgust at the creature before him, as he loads his rifle and aims at the struggling were-rat, sending another bullet into its oily hide.

GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16
GAME: Wilma rolls 4d6+8: (16)+8: 24

"Why do that?" Wilma continues to bait the rat, this time swinging with strength /and/ precision, "We're just gettin' rollin' on this," as she sends the head flying. Unfortunately, there's some bloodspray when that happens.

Arissa's eyes return to normal as Wilma spectacularly finishes off the creature... and then Arissa is hit by some of the blood. She winces, then calms down quickly as she invokes magic to lift it off her and her attire, easily cleaning the blood away. And once done with that, she makes a curtsy gesture to the group and their fallen foe, still smiling. "I suspect we've found our answer. Is everyone well?"

Colrick literally hops backwards a few steps as that fatal blow is landed, and the gory spray is emitted. "Gah!" he exclaims, having avoided most of it, save some on his boots and pant legs. "Tonight... I'll just have the soup and bread, I think." he states.

"If you can eat after that.." Adina looks green at the gills from the blood. "We have to make certain his disease is not spread further.."

Seanait does finally release the arm, now that the wererat is minus one head, and says simply, "One should also have better manners if one wishes to be released." She almost seems to smile, then, as she looks at the others, "Indeed. A vile abomination."

".... ale. Lots an' lots of ale. ... see any barrels down here? We could be takin' one up a'fore they water it," Wilma votes.
The were-rat lies still--dead, unmoving, defeated by the intrepid adventurers, although plenty of their blood stains the floor of cellar and sewer both. Still, questions linger...
...but so does ale. One expects most of them need a drink.

Recent Logs

2011-04-04T22:45:45Z

Karl:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and consists of a mix of scenes, grid, and PrPs. Here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. A public area is anyplace that's on the main grid that isn't a residence, personal room, or Plot Room.

Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic. Most recent logs are at the bottom.

If you're unsure how to post a log, see [[How to Post a Log]].

<center>'''Please be sure to put all pages into<nowiki> [[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>. Thank you.'''</center>
* [[PrP: Teena's Bad Day]]
* [[PrP: Timmy's Uncle]]
* [[PrP: Black Ring Rising]]
* [[PrP: That's not Timmy!]]

* [[PrP: There's Banditry Afoot]]
* [[PrP: Wolves in the Winter]]
* [[Ancestors Pyre|Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl]]

* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PRP: Ashenvale Part 2]]
* [[PrP: The Competition|PRP: The Competition]]
* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PRP: Falcon Point - Teeth of the Deep]]
* [[PrP: Chicken Chasers!]]
* [[PrP: Brothers of the Storm Part I]]

* [[PrP: Fistful of Chitlins]]
* [[PrP: Watt's Mine is Mine]]
* [[PrP: 3375 Cubic Feet of Terror]]
* [[PrP: Rats!]]
* [[UglyBats|PRP: Huggin' Ugly Bats]]
* [[GrandParade|Dramatic Scene: Machinists Grand Parade]]
* [[PrPALittleBatty|PRP: A Little Batty]]

* [[Dragon in the Garden]]
* [[Bacon Liberation Team|PRP: Bacon Liberation Team]]
* [[Daggers in the Dark|PRP: Daggers in the Dark]]
* [[Adventurous Rivalry|PRP: Adventurous Rivalry]]
* [[Hell's Medicine Part 1|PRP: Hell's Medicine Part 1]]

* [[Gnap!|PRP: Gnap!]]
* [[Why Did It Have To Be Rats?|PRP: Why Did It Have To Be Rats?]]

[[Category:Admin]]

Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep

2011-01-02T21:34:24Z

Karl:

== PRP: Falcon Point - Teeth of the Deep ==

'''DM:''' Karl

=== Party (APL: 2) ===

Syrivan - Dawn Elf Wizard 2

Wilma - Storm Dwarf Fighter 2

Mogrinaar - Orc Fighter 2

Seanait - Eaglefolk Monk 2

Freya - Human Rogue 2 (Left Early)

=== First Encounter ===

2 Medium Giant crabs - CR 4

=== Second Encounter ===

Crab Swarm - CR 4

The surroundings for the encounter included lit torches, that I ruled would do 1d6 fire damage to a swarm when used as weapons. The party was also allowed to do double damage with this when grease was cast on the crabs, for one attack.

== Chapter One: She Might Be A Witch! ==

Whether by word of mouth or advertisement, the adventurers have been drawn in to the employ of one 'Dirty' Richard, a man who runs a cheap eatery down by the docks predictably known as Dirty Richard's, frequented mostly by sailors and those who don't mind their seafood both cheap and slightly overcooked.

"So's after we got back from the misty place," Richard explained, the dangerously skinny and scarecrow-tall fellow wiping greasy fingers on his apron, "I sent George - you know George? No, 'course you wouldn't know George - down to this place we usually get our crabs from, you know, Falcon Point? It's down the coast. Anyway, George hasn't come back, and while I wouldn't think that's unusual, neither've the crew I sent with him. So's I'm wondering if there's anything weird going on, so I'd like you to go down there and get the crabs, and then I'll have your money."

"Uh, and George if it's not too much extra trouble."

A short trip down along the coastline in a small boat stopped not far outside Falcon Point, and they now stand outside the town's limits. If it can even be called a town. A winding foot-path of beaten earth leads up a steep hill towards the steeples and high peaks of a half-dozen clustered buildings, windows shuttered and nary a light to be seen in the grey twilight. Clouds stir overhead, threatening rain, while dark shapes wheel in the skies. Gulls, likely, but one can't really be certain.

Freya had kept her tools of her trade wrapped in oilskins during the trip, and was quiet, her bouts of speaking frightfully short, but she seemed to quick to sign responses, and before long, she'd start dicing it up with her peculiar Aesirian tainted speech of the mercenary persuasion, it's only when the party is thrust onto the shore line of this small 'town' that she'll begin speaking. "Five years is a long time, alot can change. There should be more lights, and a town guard, now more then ever." She says in her tainted tongue, starting to load her firearms as she looks up the foot path. "I will go ahead, and make sure we're even at the right proper place..then come back down." She offers.
Mogrinaar stands tall looking around at the others gathered. His nose wrinkles a bit but the emerald skinned warrior merely snorts the waft of cool moist air. "So we are to get crabs and look for a crew eh? Seems simple enough." As Freya speaks he nods his head. "Sounds good to me. Shout if you need us to come on after ya." His arm rests on the hilt of his Falchion, as his black hair waves in the breeze.
Wilma spends most of the trip down the coast very still, with hands gripping the boat, because after all, 'Dwarves don't swim!' - at least, according to her. Once they are back on terra firma, however, she's looking about, then up towards the building-covered hill. "... if you're likin', I suppose. Think they have any decent brew? After that trip, a bit'a warmin' up wouldn't be bad."

Wrinkling his nose, Syrivan looked around the place. It was ... not the most pleasant of establishments. But then, sometimes you need to experience discomfort to get what you need -- or want, as the case may be. After listening and following the others to the location at Falcon Point, he looks around, wrinkling his nose a moment, and then observes quietly, and asks Wilma, "Why do they not? Is it cultural, or due to their body composition?" That wasn't what she expected, most likely. Once on solid ground, he begins to look for people, helping the others, though he's not the best at it by any means.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (14)+4: 18
GAME: Freya rolls perception: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls perception: (20)+1: 21
</pre>

''You paged Syrivan with 'There's faint traces of smoke rising from chimneys here and there, so it's easily assumed there's /someone/ in residence.'''

''You paged Mogrinaar with 'There's faint traces of smoke rising from chimneys here and there, so it's easily assumed there's /someone/ in residence. You also have the most unnerving feeling that you're being watched...'''

"I see smoke," the slender elf observes, "So unless someone started a fire and left--which would be kind of stupid--there's some folks about," he says after a moment. He considers, "Might as well go and see, maybe it's something simple like they got drunk..."

<pre>
GAME: Freya rolls stealth: (16)+9: 25
</pre>

Mogrinaar notes, "Theres smoke so there are obviously people lining here." he approahes Freya "Careful. We are being watched as we speak, could be an ambush."
Freya cocks the hammer back on her blunderbuss and begins to blend into the dying light, she seems very good at this, barely leaving a foot print behind as she begins to work her way towards the town..

"Well, one - I sink, an' that's without all the armor an' such," Wilma lightly pounds a fist on her armor. "Two, haven't ever learned how to not-sink." Wil pauses a moment, and looks from Mogrinaar to Freya. However, if she was going to say something, the dwarf took too long to say it, and instead puts herself to just keeping an eye on the town and the surrounding area, nervously fidgitting with a pair of new throwing hammers, looped into place at her waist.

"Watching us? Well, they could just be cautious." Syrivan likes to be positive-minded. Even when he probably shouldn't be. Then again, he's also cautious. He watches Freya slip off, and stands there, leaning on his staff and looking around with a slight frown of curiousity.

As the rest of the party lingers down at the foot of the path that winds up the steep hill, Freya continues on; keeping low and blending in admirably well with the dry, dead scrub bushes that scatter along the hillside, and soon she's slipped into the town of Falcon Point proper.

It's a very /quiet/ little village, although with so few buildings it can barely be called a village at all. The buildings are all made of weather-stained wood painted in dark hues of deep browns and midnight blues, the windows all shuttered - although here and there, one has come loose, and the wind makes them clap against the wood. As she lurks at the edge of the circle of buildings, she can see a scaffolding at the heart of the town where a large fish - a shark - has been suspended and is being bled into a heavy bucket, presumably before being butchered. Just when she's starting to wonder if there are any people in town at all, she sees a woman in a drab grey dress with a shawl wrapped about her head emerge from one of the houses, hustling across towards what looks to be the town's chapel - at least judging by its steeple and the stained glass window of blues and greens high above the front doors.

Freya will wait for the woman to get a bit of a lead before following after, making sure no doors are opening up behind her, planning to find out who all is in the chapel, though she's slowly getting a sinking feeling about the entire situation. Strange town, strange disappearing crews. It's like a bad silver coin novel is coming to life.

Wilma kicks at a lump of sand, then drops her hands to her side. "So... wonder what else they're sellin' here, 'sides crabs. How much do crabs go for, anyway? An' why does anyone even /want/ crabs?" As any five year old knows, without even tasting the veggies, so too does Wilma know she doesn't like crabs. Ignore any stews she may have eaten dockside.

"Crabs are used in a great deal of recipes. I doubt I'd want to eat anything at our /employer's/, mind you," Syrivan murmurs to Wilma, "But there are some rather flavorful dishes that can be served." Just don't ask him to make it. He eats it. He's no cook.

The chapel's windows are all shuttered, but just as the rest of the town is in poor repair, so too are these--one of them flapping in the wind, allowing the scout to sneak up upon them and peer through. The roughly-built temple has a score of pews within it, with three other folk within knelt and praying. Where an altar should be, a large font of water rests, and the woman that she'd watched enter into the chapel shuffles along towards the front and pulls out a small bowl from within her arms, tilting its contents - whatever they may be - into the font before kneeling, making an obscure blessing with one hand, and then rising to depart.

Freya will retreat from this chapel, to a darkened spot along the path the lady had taken before, going into hiding. Why? Prisoners are a good source of information, and she's fairly confident this old lady won't argue with a bayonet pressed to her throat.

It's not long before the shawl-draped woman makes her way back out of the chapel and starts to cross back to the house that she'd emerged from, head down and steps shuffling beneath the hem of her long grey skirts. And she begins to pass the space between two buildings where Freya is hidden...

Wilma waits, rather impatiently, down with the others. "Well, she hasn't started to scream yet. Is that a good sign, or a bad? An' if it's a good sign, who's it bein' good for. Huh. This is why I don't like skulkin' about. No patience for it t'all."

Mogrinaar paces alongside the others looking at the town and watching where Freya and the woman went to. A chapel. He shrugs, perhaps its some sort of special ceremony or some sort or they are keeping with some religious belief that has them so quiet. Stranger things have happened, but eh. The longer it takes the shorter his patience becomes. He snorts.

All unknowing that Freya is about to commit assault, Syrivan looks towards Wilma, "Good. Unless they're so good they surprised her, killed her, and are presently eating her alive." That was supposed to be a joke. Unfortunately, Syrivan has a rather dark sense of humor in these situations. He is way too creative for his own good.

Freya clicks the hammer back on her blunderbuss as she sweeps up on the woman. "Scream, and you become a casualty." She says in common, still being very quiet, but if the old lady does any thing foolish..well, things will get loud. "We're going to walk down to the beach, and talk with some friends of mine, then you can go home, and go to that nice warm bed." She promises.

A brief, startled sound escapes the woman's throat as she's suddenly ambushed by a woman with a very large gun--her hands flying up, thick fingers trembling, the shawl's edge slipping away from her face as she stares at Freya with big limpid eyes. Her mouth is thin and wide, lips barely existant, opening to scream and then closing again. "I... I.. don't's hurt me, missus..."

Freya begins to quietly march the old woman down to the beach, keeping her firearmed aimed at her back, and having no further discussions. "I brought a prisoner. Prisoners always have information." She says, clearly in the belief she did her part and got some thing useful and some one else can interrogate.

Syrivan blinks. He blinks again. Stares. "Wait. You took some poor little old woman /hostage/?" He asks. He's staring at Freya. "How could you -do- that?"

Wilma turns to face Freya and... the little...old... ugly... woman. "... she's a shifter of shapes, right? Eatin' leg of human, an' is just tryin' to pull our legs...er.. off... or somethin', right?" Because this, she wasn't expecting. "... an' if she wasn't, stop pointin' that damned gunblade at her spine."

A closer look suggests that she's not that old.. although she isn't exactly pretty, limp and washed-out blonde hair tucked under the shawl, her flat nose and wide mouth contributing to a relatively homely appearance. She wrings her hands as she looks around the group with those big, bulging eyes, "P-please don't hurt me, lairds, missus... I's didn't do nothing..."

Freya narrows her eyes a bit at Wilma and Syrivan. "They have a chapel I've never seen before, not that I've seen them all, but they were pouring things into a fountain of bubbling water. Sides, she might be a witch, or she might know what happened to the crew that came to pick up the crabs. Do you know where they are? They never came back, so where are they?" She snaps out.

A soft sigh escapes Syrivan's lips, "Still. Unless there's an obvious danger, you don't go around /taking people prisoner/," He says to Freya. Shaking his head, he murmurs to the young-old woman, "It's okay, miss. Can you tell us about the church and what you were doing? We won't let the woman hurt you, I promies."

Mogrinaar looks down and he is an intimidating sight. "Ma'am. We just want some questions answered. Why is everyone holed up in town....where are the folks who were sent here to pick up some crabs....?"

Wilma peers at the woman. "She doesn't have any warts. Witches are havin' warts, y'know.." the squat dwarf says, as she peers up at the poor woman. "We're here to be findin' some dirty crabs. I mean Richard's crabs... wait - that's not soundin' right. Well, anyway, we're lookin' for a crew'a'folk with a fella named George who's lookin' for a load of crabs. They show up here?" Wilma starts to ask as Syrivan actually does a better job. Not that she doesn't still tack that on at the end of Mogrinaar's statement. Because having all three of them join in on the fun won't be confusing at /all/.

Despite the attempts to calm her down, it's clear the poor woman is absolutely terrified as she huddles still in her dress, wringing her fat-fingered hands together and glancing from one to the other - trying not to look at Freya, or the weapon at her back. "Church? Chapel of the Leviathan... wh-why? What is wrong with... the folkses looking for...? They went, went to's the crabs. The crabs." She points one thick finger back at town, "Other side of--of town, the beach. Please don'ts hurt."

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Knowledge/Religion+1: (14)+10+1: 25
</pre>

''You paged Syrivan with 'Easy one. The Leviathan is one of the names of Rada, the sea god. Often followed by sailors, fisherfolk and others who live by the sea, placated to keep storms away, etc. He's a neutral god, neither benevolent nor malevolent.'''

Mogrinaar waves a hand. "You arent going to get hurt. Though if you have any other information bout the folks who went crabbin, it would probably be in your best interest to let us know. We aren't here to cause trouble, just need to get them back home. You can understand that right?"
Syrivan says dryly, "Leviathan is another name for Rada. He's not an evil god." He shakes his head with a slight sigh, adding, "Crabs? They went that way, miss?" He asks her. "Did anything happen to them, did they leave?" He wonders.

Freya doesn't seem to know who Rada is either, nor Leviathan. Fortunately, she isn't interested in learning either. "Ah, so it is wise I didn't bare the chapel's door and start it on fire?" She asks Syrivan.

"Ha. Ha." Syrivan says deadpan to Freya.

"They went down--went down to's the crabs, I told's you" the woman almost whimpers, glancing to the others, "Please don'ts hurt me. I's never did anything wrong..."

Wilma just stares at Freya. Then drops her head into her arm. "....bloody troll nuts." After a long moment of dwarven curses, Wil looks up. "Freya. Move the becursed blade from her back a'fore I'm tryin' to do it for you, so we can go an /do what we were paid for/. Which isn't tormentin' townfolk an' the like."

Freya seems to suddenly realize some thing they've all over looked as she steps past the group towards the ocean. "If this is the dock, where is their ship? We should have seen it on the way in, even if they docked on the far side, which would be considered suicidal for a ship of any size when the tide rolls heavily." She says, gesturing with her gun along the shore line. "No ship, no crew."

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Sense Motive+1: (7)+4+1: 12
</pre>

"She seems to be telling the truth," Syrivan says with a frown. He pauses, "She has a point though. Why would they dock over there, instead over here, where there's better access to the water?" He asks.

Mogrinaar says, "Somethings fishy"

<pre>
GAME: Freya rolls Sense Motive: (19)+5: 24
</pre>

''You paged Freya with 'She's legitimately terrified at the moment! She also seems to be holding something back, but that may be because of the aforementioned 'terrified out of her wits' thing.'''

"Here's bein' an idea," Wilma starts, "Why don't we go an' /look/." Apparently subtly went right out the door with the taking of a hostage. Also, that blade seems to be mighty attractive to dwarvenkind, what with the way that Wil just stares at it, hands clenching and releasing, repeatedly.

Freya cradles her blunderbuss in a neutral two handed grasp, letting her eyes drift towards Wilma. "Fine, you can lead us there, and wake up the whole town whilst we're at it." She says, watching their prisoner, Freya's eyes flash a bit, she doesn't seem inclined to believe or trust her yet. "I did say I'd let you go, now scamper off to your home, but cross us, and I will let you taste the fury of my kind." She says, that tone? It's not a threat, it's an Aesir winter's promise of the coming cold.

Shaking his head, Syrivan sighs slightly. "I agree with Wilma. Let's go and check." He gestures for the old-young woman to lead them, "Let's go."

A hesitant step back, a glance between the adventurers, and then with a wailing cry the woman turns and starts to run along up the path to Falcon Point - stumbling on rocks now and then as she flees up towards the village . Well, Freya did tell her to 'scamper off'.

Mogrinaar continues to grip his falchion hilt and then frowns. "Well so much for her leading us. She ran off like a bat out of hell." he snorts. "Lets move, I tire of this game. Lets meet whatever challenge head on." he begins to move.

A mutter under his breath, "Some humans..." Syrivan shakes his head with a sigh, simply walking with the others.

Wilma just continues to spew in dwarven, with the occasional goblin and jotun curse tossed in. And when Mogrinaar moves forward, she does too, towards that indicated side.
Freya will step in behind Wilma and Moggie, why bother exposing her self to any thing that might be literally thrown at them?

By the time the adventurers reach Falcon Point, there's no sign of anyone at all--at least in the open. There's shutters cracked a bit and the feel of folk peering out at them, but all the doors are closed, and there's a hush across the town that isn't even broken by the cry of gulls.

As the old woman had said, though, there're some stairs down the other side of the village towards the rockier, shallower waters that presumably they do their crabbing and fishing in. The faint light of torches can be seen on the beach, although not clearly.

Freya will diverge from the group once they spot this new beach, starting to ascend towards it in a sneaky manner, towards one of the torches, blunderbuss held in a ready position to deal with any surprises.
Wilma just sort of glares at the shuttered buildings, her bad mood rather unfortunately communicated to those behind the dubious safety of the rickity buildings. And then, without bothering to wait for discussion, starts to go down the stairs towards the rockier beach. Theorectically.

Syrivan simply moves behind Wilma, following. He's still shaking his head. And he's letting her take the lead. Do you really think he's going to take the lead? Him? He'd break in half in a strong wind, right?

== Chapter Two: A Crabby Night ==

When last we left our intrepid heroes, they had disembarked from their boat not far outside the small village of Falcon Point, perched atop a finger of hilly terrain stretching out into the waters of the sea, searching for the supply expedition that hadn't been heard of since it came here to pick up crabs. Freya had scouted out the strangely quiet town, and marched a homely woman back to the group at gunpoint - to the horror of the other adventurers - who told them between whimpers of fear that the others had gone to the crabs, on the other side of town, where the water was shallow and rocky.

But it wasn't possible to anchor a ship there, so where had it gone?

The town had grown disturbingly quiet after the woman fled back with word of her assailant, and Freya stayed behind to keep an eye on things as Seanait rejoined the group from her own scouting. Down, down the rocky stairs on the other side of town towards the beach they've gone, torches lit at the base of the stairs, and others sitting upon some sort of rickety watchtower on the beach proper. A man can be seen pacing back and forth on the tower's platform, reachable by a rope ladder that dangles past its wooden legs. Old crab traps and a couple of rowboards of dubious repair sit on the beach here and there.

"Well, there's someone up there," observes Syrivan to the others. "Perhaps we can ask him about the situation." A pause. "Without taking him hostage, please," he adds with a hint of dryness.

Wilma gets down the stairs, and looks about. Upon spotting the tower, the dwarf lets out an annoyed hrmph! then starts to trudge her way over the sand, her footing not allowing for her customary stomping. Once to the base, she leans back and peers up. Then looks at Syrivan, and gives a nod. "Hey! You! Fella on the tower! We wanna talk to you, if you're bein' George! An' even if you're not."

Mogrinaar follows along looking down the beach and keeping a wary eye back towards the small town just in case. He remains at the foot of the stairs as if standing guard, leaving the chatting to the others.
Seanait glances at Wilma, then shrugs a bit, not particular with grounded diplomacy it seems. Her gaze cants upward towards the man in the tower, taking careful note of him there.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls Perception: (3)+11: 14
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls perception: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (9)+1: 10
</pre>

<pre>
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 16
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 17 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 18
You roll initiative for Crab1: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 17
You roll initiative for Crab2: Roll: 18 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 19
Mogrinaar rolls initiative: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 16
Syrivan rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 6
</pre>

"Wh-- no! Look out! They're down there--" A startled, panicked shout from the man on the tower, who rushes to the edge and grasps the side, looking down with shaggy hair and an unshaven and scraggly beard, "They're all around you!"

What's all around them? Well, everyone except for Mogrinaar sees it as the sand begins to sift off of something emerging from the sand to either side of the tower... squat, dwarf sized monstrosities with broad shells, stalk-like eyes and massive, snapping pincers as they turn their attention towards the group.

Well, that explains why he's still in the tower.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
</pre>

One of the gigantic crabs shakes further sand off of its shell, trundling sideways in a scuttling pace in the direction of the nearest prey - Wilma - one big set of pincers snapping at her, just glancing off her armoured shoulder in a near-miss.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+4: (4)+4: 8
</pre>

Wilma turns, as the crabs shake the sand off and trundles towards her. She pulls the greatsword free, an effort that takes more time then it should, but the effort is worth it! Whereas the crab fails to pinch, she manages a solid hit on the creature, cracking it's shell and having liquid ooze. ".... still not seein' the attraction of crabs," there's a pause, then she shoots a glare towards the tower. "You couldn't have warned us earlier?!" Never mind who charged forward without looking for issues.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (16)+4: 20
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4+2: (2)+2: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 4 points. 21 remaining.
</pre>

"I didn't see you down-- look out!" A panicked shout from the tower, just before the other crab scuttles in and snaps out - grazing against Wilma's leg, crushing down against her calf in a painful squeeze before she manages to jerk away from its grip.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (5)+6: 11
</pre>

Seanait moves over to stand next to Wilma, her kama coming out and slashing rapidly at one of the crab-beasties. Unfortunately, both swings fall wide of their mark, as the egalrin looks rather surprised at the appearance of such things, "What /are/ these creatures?"

Mogrinaar is busy looking backwards towards the town to make sure the group doesn't get jumped by some kind of trap, when there is a big kerfuffle on the beach. He looks over and his eyes widen surprised. "Big crabs..." he states as he whips out a shiny Falchion.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Knowledge/Nature: (7)+10: 17
</pre>

''You paged Syrivan with 'They /are/ giant crabs! They are amphibious but will eventually need to go back into the water - but that probably won't be for hours, so isn't super useful at the moment. They've been known to pick up halflings, gnomes, and goblins and carry them off into the water. Fortunately you have none.'''

"They're giant crabs, of a particular kingdom. I haven't seen one of this size before, but I've read something about them," Syrivan says to Seanait. He moves towards her and murmurs a few words. A barrier of force appears around her, fading from sight. "That should help at least," he murmurs to her. "Not much to worry about for us...if we were halflings, we might have some issues, they carry small prey to the water to drown."

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (20)+4: 24
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 2d4+4: (3)+4: 7
GAME: Karl damaged Seanait for 7 points. 11 remaining.
</pre>

Suddenly besieged from two sides, and with a rather impressive gash in its shell, the giant crab heaves-- snapping harmlessly out at Wilma with one of its pincers, the other one finding softer flesh as it snaps through an area not covered by the mystical armour granted Seanait, coming away bloodied.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+6: (14)+6: 20
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+7: (6)+7: 13
</pre>

Wilma isn't able to act when that claw heads towards Seanait - the abortive movement, however, may suggest that was her thought. The claw that snaps harmlessly, however, focuses her ire. "If he's wantin' crabs, by Angoron, I'll give him crabs!" And then she takes a step in and uses the momentum to swing the two-handed sword in a great, slightly uncontrolled arc. By the time the blade swings free, the crab's shell is smashed beyond redemption, and the insides taste of sand. "Are you bein' alright?" she asks, eyes moving towards the one still alive.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (12)+4: 16
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 5 points. 16 remaining.
</pre>

As the first crab's shell is sundered, there's an excited shout from up on the tower. "That's how you do it! Get those hors o'-- look out!" Again, dwarven blood stains the sands as the second crab's pincer snaps against Wilma's arm.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (12)+6: 18
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (5)+1: 6
</pre>

Seanait doesn't wince at the strike, though she does gasp from the wound on her arm, "I'll be alright." She then spins and moves around Wilma, striking at the crease in the shell with her kama, cracking into the hard carapace as ichor burbles out of the crab. "Where will there be a pot large enough for these?"

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+8+2-1: (16)+8+2+-1: 25
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 2d4+8+3: (4)+8+3: 15
</pre>

"If there were this many, there are likely more. Crabs live in colonies after all," murmurs Syrivan. "If so, I'd be careful. There's likely more." He looks around, keeping close to the others. He's fragile, after all! All elves are! Ahem.

Mogrinaar grips his Falchion in his hands and his brow furrows. The behemoth crouches down and then charges forward, the tip of his blade cutting a line in the sand as he stomps forward. "Dinner that can eat you.....a novel concept hah." When he reaches the crab, he lifts the sword up as if he is hitting a sand wedge and slices the crab in two. "Any more of the buggers?" he asks.

"Are they... are they gone?" George peeks down over the edge of the low wall around the platform of the watchtower, his wild gaze cutting to the water's edge in the deepening shadows of twilight, the torches smoking around him, "We need to-- need to get out of here, um, can someone-- can someone hold the ladder? I'm, I'm afraid of heights--"

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls perception: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (4)+4: 8
GAME: Seanait rolls Perception: (20)+11: 31
</pre>

'’You paged Wilma with 'Some of the coloration on the crabs' shells appears to be /artifical/, as if someone had smeared designs on them with some sort of natural dye.'''

'’You paged Seanait with 'Oh, yeah. Someone has been painting designs on these crabs' shells in natural dyes. Also... there's something stirring in the water, a frothing near the edge that doesn't seem to be from the crashing of waves.'''

Wilma slowly turns around, looking for more crabs, before she lowers the sword to rest the point in the sand, then looks at her arm. "Damn - those things tore through armor almost like it was bein' waste paper... Anyone else bein' up there with you? An' where's the cargo?" she tacks on as an afterthought, one foot going out the kick at the corpse, before she frowns. "Hey now. This ain't lookin' normal, and I knew Toulouse, so I'm known not-normal. Looks almost... painted on."

"Painted on?" Syrivan asks curiously. "Hmmm?"

Seanait frowns, "She is correct. Someone has been painting these designs on the shells." She pauses, glancing over towards the waves, "Watch the water, there's something stirring over that way!" Her eyes narrow as she drops to a guard stance, holding her kama at the ready.

"Okay, that's odd," Murmurs Syrivan. Or starts to. At Seanait's words, he turns towards the water, looking towards it curiously.

Mogrinaar looks around as if clueless. Must be sand getting in his eyes. "I hate the beach." he snorts as he raises his Falchion and looks in the direction Seanait points.

"Guys? Uh... girls? Whoever you are, do you think yo... oh, by the gods. Daeus preserve us, they're coming back!" The last a despairing call from George, "Run! Run while you still can!"

The frothing and foaming at the water's edge pours forwards until it hits the sands... and what emerges are crabs. Relatively small, palm sized crustaceans with tiny pincers, enough to hurt or draw blood but not actually cause any serious damage.

Unless there's tens of thousands of them moving as one, swarming over one another like a moving carpet of chitin and claws and fury pouring across the beach towards the adventurers just as the sun sinks its last beneath the sea in the distance.

"The teeth of the deep are coming!"

== Chapter Three: The Teeth of the Deep ==
'''Subtitle: The Martyrdom of the Demon Pony'''

<pre>
Mogrinaar rolls initiative: Roll: 18 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 19
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 21
You roll initiative for Crabswarm: Roll: 3 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 5
You roll initiative for George: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 0 = Total: 13
Syrivan rolls initiative: Roll: 8 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 12
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 18 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 22
</pre>

Seanait hrms, "Anyone have any oil...?" She then quickly ascends the rope ladder, her wings balancing her rather well as she goes towards the side of the tower, looking at the compact horde of crabs, then she looks at the various torches around the beach, and the tower.

"Might best be to stay up the..... damnit all. Why did it have to be bein' /crabs/." Wilma looks around, then up towards the tower. "Good idea! Grab torches an' toss 'em down! I bet that'd be roastin' them right proper!" Then the dwarf moves forward, halfway down the base of the tower, not /quite/ getting into the incoming tide's face.

Mogrinaar snorts looking at his weapon and the mass. "Might as well step on them if it werent for all this damn sand." He shrugs and yells "Hey George, toss me one of the bloody torches so I can at least try and fend them off a bit.

"The torches...?" George, huddling on the tower's platform in torn, wet clothes and looking half-maddened, peeks out from between his fingers, "Of course-- of course! The torches!" He all but leaps to the edge of the tower, jerking one of the oil-soaked torches from its mooring and leaning way over to hold it down to Mogrinaar, "Here! Burn them, yes, yes, burn the deeps!"

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts grease.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (17)+4: 21
</pre>

"Crap, they didn't fall. Oh well," Syrivan says. He then turns and climbs up the ladder. He's not as fast as some, but he's not staying on the ground!

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (8): 8
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 8 points. 8 remaining.
</pre>

The writhing mass from the sea, shells now glistening with grease and leaving an iridescent trail over the sands, swarms over the sands and around the storm dwarf's feet and legs - shells clacking, pincers digging in, crabs burrowing into her boots and under her armour. Blood streaks the living swarm from the deep, pattering over the sand as sacrifices to whatever God is worshipped by crabs.

<pre>
seanait's inititave total changed to '20'.
</pre>

The plan! isn't exactly the plan that Wilma was thinking of. However, after her toes (and everything else) get well gnawed on, Wilma isn't yelling for a torch. Nope. "I /hate/ swarms!" And turns and runs towards the stairs heading up. Also, where there's more torches.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (12)+6: 18
GAME: Seanait rolls 2d6: (6): 6
</pre>

Seanait grabs a torch, and waits for Wilma to get clear before she flips the torch down. It lands in the midst of the crabs, causing many of them to ignite and catch on fire. However... there's still a lot more swarming around, unfazed by their burning comrades as Seanait looks over at the wizard, "I don't suppose you know any explosive spells?"

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d6: (5): 5
</pre>

Mogrinaar grunts. "Come on lets get some more torches on these things!" He stomps forward and holds the torch in front of him clearing a swath of crabs who sizzle and pop like crab popcorn. "A little help here..." he states.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts grease.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
</pre>

"Did it--did it get them?" George pulls back into the middle of the tower, crouching there and looking back and forth over the tower's top, "Are they gone?"

He's probably been up here for awhile.

"I'm afraid I don't have many spells that would work, but this might help again..." He trails off, and then Syrivan says to the others, "Light them on fire, again," as grease rains down upon the creatures!

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (8): 8
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for 8 points. 13 remaining.
</pre>

The pinching pincers of the thousand crabs swarm up around Mogrinaar's feet and legs now, making him nearly vanish to the ankles, crawling his pants and biting, pinching and shedding blood as they go, tearing into flesh and muscle. The swarm is much smaller from when it emerged from the water, but still moving, soaked in grease.

Wilma isn't looking behind her. Nope. She's running as fast as her stumpy legs can take her, which isn't very. Also, her feet hurt. Go figure. Dwarven curses fill the air again.
<pre>
seanait's inititave total changed to '18'.
</pre>

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12
</pre>
Mogrinaar tries to shake off the bloody creatures from his boots and is surprised how they can even breach his armor. "Dag blasted..." he snorts and moves back trying to whiff fire at them. His whiff misses, but he is out of the swarm for now. "Need more fire down here...." he states the obvious.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d8: (2): 2 (‘’Scatter roll’’)
GAME: Seanait rolls 2d6: (7): 7
</pre>

Seanait shouts, "Get clear, otherwise the swarm will wear you down!" She then throws another torch into the midst of the swarm, frying more of the greased crabs... but the swarm is still far from done.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20+4: (5)+4: 9
</pre>

And so Syrivan shows how skilled he is at throwing things! He throws the torch. And almost hits Seanait's hair as the torch goes flying by. He mutters, "Oops."

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (7): 7
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for 7 points. 6 remaining.
</pre>

As the smoldering remnants of the swarm - almost a quarter of its original size - continue to wash over Mogrinaar's feet and legs, he's beginning to feel the effects of bloodloss and torn muscle, the crabs burrowing in under the plates of his armour and cutting away in a frenzy that seems almost unnatural.

Wilma skids to a stop in front of the torch-bracketted path up to the town. Spitting out something in goblin, the dwarf grabs the nearest torch, spins, and heads back towards the tower. And the swarm.

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12
</pre>

Seanait spreads her wings, eyeing the remaining torch, "Remind me to invest in some oil the next time I am in Alexandria." With that, she jumps off the edge of the tower, wings spread wide as they catch the wind. Though she can't actually /fly/, she does glide a fair distance, landing far closer to the remaining torch by the stairs than she did to the crabs, at least. And leaving Syrivan all alone in the tower with George.

Hopefully crabs don't know how to climb towers.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts summon monster I.
</pre>

"I'm totally out of useful spells. Unless you want to talk to them, and I don't think crabs have anything interesting to say!" A pause. "Well. I have one idea. What with the height, it might do something. But it's mean." A pause. "Well." Syrivan frowns. He starts casting, pulling out a bell and a candle. He lights the candle, ringing the bell. A horned, fiery-looking pony appears. "I'm sorry about this, fellow," he mutters. He pushes the pony off the building, and it lands among the swarm. "Buys you some time at least," he calls as the crabs swarm the pony. He adds. "And I feel SO MEAN. At least it's evil." That makes it okay, right?

The pony looks at Syrivan with a confused expression for a moment before it's shoved /off/ the edge, letting out a whinneying neigh before hitting the ground with a sickening /crack/ of impact as a leg snaps in half. The crabs, suddenly presented with hot, warm flesh, swarm over the demonic pony in an orgy of snapping pincers and spidery legs, one maddened eye all that's visible before it's popped by a pincer's thrust.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d6: (1): 1
</pre>

Wilma turns to watch the Pony get thrown under the tower. There's a swallow, as some things are too much for wards, before she lifts her torch like it was a mace, and charges across the sand. Apparently it gives her some speed, for she crashes right into the mass. Swinging for all her worth, a few handful of crabs die - but no where near the effect of flaming grease.

Mogrinaar moves backwards and heads towards the stairs. His movements are slightly wobbly. He doesn't say anything which isn't normal for the brute.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts Ghost Sound.
</pre>

"You know, this is getting silly. It almost makes me wish I were into physical conflict," mutters Syrivan. He considers. Then casts one spell. And over to the side, away from the group, comes a horrible chittering-screech. As if some crab were being torn asunder. Who knows. If nothing else the sound might do something. But then again, they're dumb, it might not do a thing!

Once enough of the pony's flesh is devoured, the poor creature disappears back to its home plane; leaving a bunch of very confused, angry, hungry crabs that's looking for another prey. As that horrible clattering echoes through the air, the crabs don't seem to react much, but neither to they move just yet, trying to figure out where the pony went perhaps.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13
</pre>

Wilma tries to take advantage of the pony to strike more damage into the swarm. Alas, well.. the pony disappeared - and her swing swished air. Does she talk to her mum with that mouth?

Mogrinaar considers using his arrows by wrapping some cloth on the ends and lighting them on fire, but without any real fuel other than the cloth, its a tough sell. He grunts scratching his head.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
</pre>

Seanait finally completes the circuit, having grabbed the torch from the stairs. She spins the torch down at the swarm, but fails to burn them at all with the weapon.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20: (19): 19 (‘’Aid Another’’)
</pre>

"I need to learn a few more spells," mutters Syrivan. "Maybe something to conjure..." He trails off, muttering. When he's five or so feet up, he dangles his leg down. Some crabs come chittering towards him, and the group follows. And then he climbs back up. "Using myself as ..." You don't want to know what that word means in Draconic. "...bait."

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (4): 4
GAME: Karl damaged Seanait for 4 points. 7 remaining.
</pre>

The 'Teeth of the Deep' as they were called by the maddened crab procurer atop the tower surge forward once more--clattering and snapping around Seanait's feet as she sweeps the torch at them, plucking out feathers and cutting tiny slivers of flesh!

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7
</pre>

Wilma watches as the wave of crabs goes for Seanait and Syrivan, and immediately steps and swings forward. "Hey now! They've no meat on them, skinny bastards that they are!" Unfortunately, her swing is about as effective as her words.

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d6: (5): 5
</pre>

Mogrinaar shakes his head looking around for an answer. "What the hell! FOR BLOOD AND HONOR!" he grits his teeth and wades into the fray, snarling with a charge that torches some more of them.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d8+1: (7)+1: 8
GAME: Karl damaged Seanait for -8 points. 15 remaining.
</pre>

Seanait leaps out of the swarm with the aid of her wings, tumbling free of the crabs as she moves a safe distance away. Once there, she reaches down with her free hand, pulling out a small vial which she drinks without much preamble. Her cuts and wounds seem to knit and heal rather rapidly, leaving her nearly at full strength.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20: (17): 17 (‘’Aid Another’’)
</pre>

"Sure. You're a freaking set of bait," mutters Syrivan. "I swear, I need to get more alchemical supplies. Next time..." He trails off. Again, distracting the swarm.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (11): 11
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for 11 points. -5 remaining.
</pre>

Snapping and clawing, the crabs flow around Mogrinaar once more—and he starts to collapse beneath the severed muscles and torn flesh, armour slick with blood as only his orcish fury keeps him on his feet…

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10
</pre>

The sounds of cursing is starting to be be as standard as the sound of the surf against the beach - especially as Wilma can't hit the crabs, just the same.

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d8+1: (6)+1: 7
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for -7 points. 2 remaining.
</pre>

Mogrinaar is taken to the brink of death. Just then a surge of adrenaline hits his veins and he reaches down, pulling out a potion. He quaffs it and is renewed with vigor, just enough to have the sense to get the hell out of dodge. "Crabs...." he coughs moving away.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6: (3): 3
</pre>

Seanait twirls her torch as if it were a staff, then shouts... well, it's not so much a shout as it is the screech of an eagle. Then she charges in, and thrusts her torch into the midst of the swarm, burning quite a few of the crabs as the swarm looks significantly thinned out.

Syrivan. Professional bait. Let's hope this time, Seanait manages to kill the damn swarm.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20: (7): 7 (‘’Aid Another’’)
</pre>

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (8): 8
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 8 points. 0 remaining.
</pre>

The crabs swarm up along Wilma's legs once more, deprived of their delicious orc flesh--and this time, Wilma's starting to stagger on her feet, more dwarven blood on the sands than is currently in her veins...

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d6: (1): 1
</pre>

Wilma staggers, but not away - no, this is a dwarf who doesn't know the meaning of caution! Well, not once her blood is spilled! Instead, she heads /into/ the swarm of crabs, and brings her torch down on a mass of crabs, hitting them square and washing them with flames! When the torch comes back up, to reveal most of the crabs still there, her curses sound almost more frustrated than angry. Dwarves don't have tantrums, damnit!

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+3: (19)+3: 22
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d6: (2): 2
</pre>

Mogrinaar looks around as if for an idea. The normally headstrong Oruch is not stupid however and knows that brute force wont win this day. Looking down at his wounds and then at his comrades, he sighs as his body shudders in pain. He raises the torch up high waving it in the air and then hurls it like an olympian onto the last of the crabs, sending them burning and crackling. "............." he remains silent falling to one knee.

There are a few scattered crabs left alive and un-scorched, but they're no longer a coherent swarm; most of them burrow away into moist sand or scuttle across the beach in all directions, leaving the adventurers standing in the midst of a blood-splattered beach from fighting nothing more than palm-sized crustaceans.

George sobs audibly from atop the tower. "They're dead, they're all dead, I know it, I'll be up here forever..."

"Finally," mutters Syrivan. He drops to the ground, approaching the group, "Let me help," he says, "And good show," he adds. He digs into his bag, pulling out bandages. See, he's prepared. He just doesn't prepare for hordes of evil bity things. He will in the future!

Seanait climbs up the tower through the ladder, and ahems at George, "Not quite, though it was a close thing. You can come down now, if you like." She then drops back down, wings spreading to break her fall.

Wilma decides now is a good time to sit down. "... if I'm ever seein' another crab again, it'll be too soon."
There's shock on George's face, and then a terrible relief--he's actually /weeping/ as he lunges for the ladder, clambering down with only a brief yelp from the height. He falls the last couple feet, landing on his ass in the sands.

Mogrinaar inhales tryingn to get his breath back from him. His wounds are great, much greater than he would have liked for such an adventure. He snarls, "We better be getting paid well for this fiasco!" he snorts through chortles of blood.

"I certainly hope so. I'm not exceptionally tailored to fight lots of tiny creatures," the young elf says dryly. He shakes his head, then chuckles, "If nothing else, it was a learning experience. I need to carry more alchemical mixtures."

"Fire, oil, and blasted potions... forgot how much those are comin' in handy..." Wilma groans, before looking at George. "Hope you have that cargo your boss was wantin'...." she grumbles, before looking at the mess. "... if any of this mess is bein' salvagable, we should be lettin' the old woman know 'bout it. Sorta compensation for gettin' kidnapped, or some such."

Seanait nods, "Some alchemist fire, yes... something I think I shall have to acquire." She looks at George, "I would hope that you have it as well, just so this excursion was not wasted."

"We... we... we can get out of here? We can get away from the-- from the crabs?" George straightens slowly, still trembling, and he waves a hand vaguely at the cut-up and burnt crabs. They /were/ sent here for the crabs, after all. And one of those big ones would provide a feast!

Then he /hugs/ Syrivan, as the closest person to him. "Thank you thank you oh gods bless you--"

"Oof," Syrivan says, "Careful, careful." He wrinkles his nose. The guy probably hasn't bathed in a while. "Relax." A pause, and he points at Wilma, "She likes hugs." Yes, he does have a sense of humor.

"You bastard."

[[Category:Logs]]

Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep

2011-01-02T21:32:40Z

Karl:

Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep

2011-01-02T21:28:52Z

Karl: Created page with "== PRP: Falcon Point - Teeth of the Deep == '''DM:''' Karl === Party (APL: 2) === Syrivan - Dawn Elf Wizard 2 Wilma - Storm Dwarf Fighter 2 Mogrinaar - Orc Fighter 2 Seana..."

== PRP: Falcon Point - Teeth of the Deep ==

'''DM:''' Karl

=== Party (APL: 2) ===

Syrivan - Dawn Elf Wizard 2

Wilma - Storm Dwarf Fighter 2

Mogrinaar - Orc Fighter 2

Seanait - Eaglefolk Monk 2

Freya - Human Rogue 2 (Left Early)

=== First Encounter ===

2 Medium Giant crabs - CR 4

=== Second Encounter ===

Crab Swarm - CR 4

The surroundings for the encounter included lit torches, that I ruled would do 1d6 fire damage to a swarm when used as weapons. The party was also allowed to do double damage with this when grease was cast on the crabs, for one attack.

== Chapter One: She Might Be A Witch! ==

Whether by word of mouth or advertisement, the adventurers have been drawn in to the employ of one 'Dirty' Richard, a man who runs a cheap eatery down by the docks predictably known as Dirty Richard's, frequented mostly by sailors and those who don't mind their seafood both cheap and slightly overcooked.

"So's after we got back from the misty place," Richard explained, the dangerously skinny and scarecrow-tall fellow wiping greasy fingers on his apron, "I sent George - you know George? No, 'course you wouldn't know George - down to this place we usually get our crabs from, you know, Falcon Point? It's down the coast. Anyway, George hasn't come back, and while I wouldn't think that's unusual, neither've the crew I sent with him. So's I'm wondering if there's anything weird going on, so I'd like you to go down there and get the crabs, and then I'll have your money."

"Uh, and George if it's not too much extra trouble."

A short trip down along the coastline in a small boat stopped not far outside Falcon Point, and they now stand outside the town's limits. If it can even be called a town. A winding foot-path of beaten earth leads up a steep hill towards the steeples and high peaks of a half-dozen clustered buildings, windows shuttered and nary a light to be seen in the grey twilight. Clouds stir overhead, threatening rain, while dark shapes wheel in the skies. Gulls, likely, but one can't really be certain.

Freya had kept her tools of her trade wrapped in oilskins during the trip, and was quiet, her bouts of speaking frightfully short, but she seemed to quick to sign responses, and before long, she'd start dicing it up with her peculiar Aesirian tainted speech of the mercenary persuasion, it's only when the party is thrust onto the shore line of this small 'town' that she'll begin speaking. "Five years is a long time, alot can change. There should be more lights, and a town guard, now more then ever." She says in her tainted tongue, starting to load her firearms as she looks up the foot path. "I will go ahead, and make sure we're even at the right proper place..then come back down." She offers.
Mogrinaar stands tall looking around at the others gathered. His nose wrinkles a bit but the emerald skinned warrior merely snorts the waft of cool moist air. "So we are to get crabs and look for a crew eh? Seems simple enough." As Freya speaks he nods his head. "Sounds good to me. Shout if you need us to come on after ya." His arm rests on the hilt of his Falchion, as his black hair waves in the breeze.
Wilma spends most of the trip down the coast very still, with hands gripping the boat, because after all, 'Dwarves don't swim!' - at least, according to her. Once they are back on terra firma, however, she's looking about, then up towards the building-covered hill. "... if you're likin', I suppose. Think they have any decent brew? After that trip, a bit'a warmin' up wouldn't be bad."

Wrinkling his nose, Syrivan looked around the place. It was ... not the most pleasant of establishments. But then, sometimes you need to experience discomfort to get what you need -- or want, as the case may be. After listening and following the others to the location at Falcon Point, he looks around, wrinkling his nose a moment, and then observes quietly, and asks Wilma, "Why do they not? Is it cultural, or due to their body composition?" That wasn't what she expected, most likely. Once on solid ground, he begins to look for people, helping the others, though he's not the best at it by any means.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (14)+4: 18
GAME: Freya rolls perception: (5)+5: 10
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls perception: (20)+1: 21
</pre>

''You paged Syrivan with 'There's faint traces of smoke rising from chimneys here and there, so it's easily assumed there's /someone/ in residence.'''

''You paged Mogrinaar with 'There's faint traces of smoke rising from chimneys here and there, so it's easily assumed there's /someone/ in residence. You also have the most unnerving feeling that you're being watched...'''

"I see smoke," the slender elf observes, "So unless someone started a fire and left--which would be kind of stupid--there's some folks about," he says after a moment. He considers, "Might as well go and see, maybe it's something simple like they got drunk..."

<pre>
GAME: Freya rolls stealth: (16)+9: 25
</pre>

Mogrinaar notes, "Theres smoke so there are obviously people lining here." he approahes Freya "Careful. We are being watched as we speak, could be an ambush."
Freya cocks the hammer back on her blunderbuss and begins to blend into the dying light, she seems very good at this, barely leaving a foot print behind as she begins to work her way towards the town..

"Well, one - I sink, an' that's without all the armor an' such," Wilma lightly pounds a fist on her armor. "Two, haven't ever learned how to not-sink." Wil pauses a moment, and looks from Mogrinaar to Freya. However, if she was going to say something, the dwarf took too long to say it, and instead puts herself to just keeping an eye on the town and the surrounding area, nervously fidgitting with a pair of new throwing hammers, looped into place at her waist.

"Watching us? Well, they could just be cautious." Syrivan likes to be positive-minded. Even when he probably shouldn't be. Then again, he's also cautious. He watches Freya slip off, and stands there, leaning on his staff and looking around with a slight frown of curiousity.

As the rest of the party lingers down at the foot of the path that winds up the steep hill, Freya continues on; keeping low and blending in admirably well with the dry, dead scrub bushes that scatter along the hillside, and soon she's slipped into the town of Falcon Point proper.

It's a very /quiet/ little village, although with so few buildings it can barely be called a village at all. The buildings are all made of weather-stained wood painted in dark hues of deep browns and midnight blues, the windows all shuttered - although here and there, one has come loose, and the wind makes them clap against the wood. As she lurks at the edge of the circle of buildings, she can see a scaffolding at the heart of the town where a large fish - a shark - has been suspended and is being bled into a heavy bucket, presumably before being butchered. Just when she's starting to wonder if there are any people in town at all, she sees a woman in a drab grey dress with a shawl wrapped about her head emerge from one of the houses, hustling across towards what looks to be the town's chapel - at least judging by its steeple and the stained glass window of blues and greens high above the front doors.

Freya will wait for the woman to get a bit of a lead before following after, making sure no doors are opening up behind her, planning to find out who all is in the chapel, though she's slowly getting a sinking feeling about the entire situation. Strange town, strange disappearing crews. It's like a bad silver coin novel is coming to life.

Wilma kicks at a lump of sand, then drops her hands to her side. "So... wonder what else they're sellin' here, 'sides crabs. How much do crabs go for, anyway? An' why does anyone even /want/ crabs?" As any five year old knows, without even tasting the veggies, so too does Wilma know she doesn't like crabs. Ignore any stews she may have eaten dockside.

"Crabs are used in a great deal of recipes. I doubt I'd want to eat anything at our /employer's/, mind you," Syrivan murmurs to Wilma, "But there are some rather flavorful dishes that can be served." Just don't ask him to make it. He eats it. He's no cook.

The chapel's windows are all shuttered, but just as the rest of the town is in poor repair, so too are these--one of them flapping in the wind, allowing the scout to sneak up upon them and peer through. The roughly-built temple has a score of pews within it, with three other folk within knelt and praying. Where an altar should be, a large font of water rests, and the woman that she'd watched enter into the chapel shuffles along towards the front and pulls out a small bowl from within her arms, tilting its contents - whatever they may be - into the font before kneeling, making an obscure blessing with one hand, and then rising to depart.

Freya will retreat from this chapel, to a darkened spot along the path the lady had taken before, going into hiding. Why? Prisoners are a good source of information, and she's fairly confident this old lady won't argue with a bayonet pressed to her throat.

It's not long before the shawl-draped woman makes her way back out of the chapel and starts to cross back to the house that she'd emerged from, head down and steps shuffling beneath the hem of her long grey skirts. And she begins to pass the space between two buildings where Freya is hidden...

Wilma waits, rather impatiently, down with the others. "Well, she hasn't started to scream yet. Is that a good sign, or a bad? An' if it's a good sign, who's it bein' good for. Huh. This is why I don't like skulkin' about. No patience for it t'all."

Mogrinaar paces alongside the others looking at the town and watching where Freya and the woman went to. A chapel. He shrugs, perhaps its some sort of special ceremony or some sort or they are keeping with some religious belief that has them so quiet. Stranger things have happened, but eh. The longer it takes the shorter his patience becomes. He snorts.

All unknowing that Freya is about to commit assault, Syrivan looks towards Wilma, "Good. Unless they're so good they surprised her, killed her, and are presently eating her alive." That was supposed to be a joke. Unfortunately, Syrivan has a rather dark sense of humor in these situations. He is way too creative for his own good.

Freya clicks the hammer back on her blunderbuss as she sweeps up on the woman. "Scream, and you become a casualty." She says in common, still being very quiet, but if the old lady does any thing foolish..well, things will get loud. "We're going to walk down to the beach, and talk with some friends of mine, then you can go home, and go to that nice warm bed." She promises.

A brief, startled sound escapes the woman's throat as she's suddenly ambushed by a woman with a very large gun--her hands flying up, thick fingers trembling, the shawl's edge slipping away from her face as she stares at Freya with big limpid eyes. Her mouth is thin and wide, lips barely existant, opening to scream and then closing again. "I... I.. don't's hurt me, missus..."

Freya begins to quietly march the old woman down to the beach, keeping her firearmed aimed at her back, and having no further discussions. "I brought a prisoner. Prisoners always have information." She says, clearly in the belief she did her part and got some thing useful and some one else can interrogate.

Syrivan blinks. He blinks again. Stares. "Wait. You took some poor little old woman /hostage/?" He asks. He's staring at Freya. "How could you -do- that?"

Wilma turns to face Freya and... the little...old... ugly... woman. "... she's a shifter of shapes, right? Eatin' leg of human, an' is just tryin' to pull our legs...er.. off... or somethin', right?" Because this, she wasn't expecting. "... an' if she wasn't, stop pointin' that damned gunblade at her spine."

A closer look suggests that she's not that old.. although she isn't exactly pretty, limp and washed-out blonde hair tucked under the shawl, her flat nose and wide mouth contributing to a relatively homely appearance. She wrings her hands as she looks around the group with those big, bulging eyes, "P-please don't hurt me, lairds, missus... I's didn't do nothing..."

Freya narrows her eyes a bit at Wilma and Syrivan. "They have a chapel I've never seen before, not that I've seen them all, but they were pouring things into a fountain of bubbling water. Sides, she might be a witch, or she might know what happened to the crew that came to pick up the crabs. Do you know where they are? They never came back, so where are they?" She snaps out.

A soft sigh escapes Syrivan's lips, "Still. Unless there's an obvious danger, you don't go around /taking people prisoner/," He says to Freya. Shaking his head, he murmurs to the young-old woman, "It's okay, miss. Can you tell us about the church and what you were doing? We won't let the woman hurt you, I promies."

Mogrinaar looks down and he is an intimidating sight. "Ma'am. We just want some questions answered. Why is everyone holed up in town....where are the folks who were sent here to pick up some crabs....?"

Wilma peers at the woman. "She doesn't have any warts. Witches are havin' warts, y'know.." the squat dwarf says, as she peers up at the poor woman. "We're here to be findin' some dirty crabs. I mean Richard's crabs... wait - that's not soundin' right. Well, anyway, we're lookin' for a crew'a'folk with a fella named George who's lookin' for a load of crabs. They show up here?" Wilma starts to ask as Syrivan actually does a better job. Not that she doesn't still tack that on at the end of Mogrinaar's statement. Because having all three of them join in on the fun won't be confusing at /all/.

Despite the attempts to calm her down, it's clear the poor woman is absolutely terrified as she huddles still in her dress, wringing her fat-fingered hands together and glancing from one to the other - trying not to look at Freya, or the weapon at her back. "Church? Chapel of the Leviathan... wh-why? What is wrong with... the folkses looking for...? They went, went to's the crabs. The crabs." She points one thick finger back at town, "Other side of--of town, the beach. Please don'ts hurt."

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Knowledge/Religion+1: (14)+10+1: 25
</pre>

''You paged Syrivan with 'Easy one. The Leviathan is one of the names of Rada, the sea god. Often followed by sailors, fisherfolk and others who live by the sea, placated to keep storms away, etc. He's a neutral god, neither benevolent nor malevolent.'''

Mogrinaar waves a hand. "You arent going to get hurt. Though if you have any other information bout the folks who went crabbin, it would probably be in your best interest to let us know. We aren't here to cause trouble, just need to get them back home. You can understand that right?"
Syrivan says dryly, "Leviathan is another name for Rada. He's not an evil god." He shakes his head with a slight sigh, adding, "Crabs? They went that way, miss?" He asks her. "Did anything happen to them, did they leave?" He wonders.

Freya doesn't seem to know who Rada is either, nor Leviathan. Fortunately, she isn't interested in learning either. "Ah, so it is wise I didn't bare the chapel's door and start it on fire?" She asks Syrivan.

"Ha. Ha." Syrivan says deadpan to Freya.

"They went down--went down to's the crabs, I told's you" the woman almost whimpers, glancing to the others, "Please don'ts hurt me. I's never did anything wrong..."

Wilma just stares at Freya. Then drops her head into her arm. "....bloody troll nuts." After a long moment of dwarven curses, Wil looks up. "Freya. Move the becursed blade from her back a'fore I'm tryin' to do it for you, so we can go an /do what we were paid for/. Which isn't tormentin' townfolk an' the like."

Freya seems to suddenly realize some thing they've all over looked as she steps past the group towards the ocean. "If this is the dock, where is their ship? We should have seen it on the way in, even if they docked on the far side, which would be considered suicidal for a ship of any size when the tide rolls heavily." She says, gesturing with her gun along the shore line. "No ship, no crew."

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Sense Motive+1: (7)+4+1: 12
</pre>

"She seems to be telling the truth," Syrivan says with a frown. He pauses, "She has a point though. Why would they dock over there, instead over here, where there's better access to the water?" He asks.

Mogrinaar says, "Somethings fishy"

<pre>
GAME: Freya rolls Sense Motive: (19)+5: 24
</pre>

''You paged Freya with 'She's legitimately terrified at the moment! She also seems to be holding something back, but that may be because of the aforementioned 'terrified out of her wits' thing.'''

"Here's bein' an idea," Wilma starts, "Why don't we go an' /look/." Apparently subtly went right out the door with the taking of a hostage. Also, that blade seems to be mighty attractive to dwarvenkind, what with the way that Wil just stares at it, hands clenching and releasing, repeatedly.

Freya cradles her blunderbuss in a neutral two handed grasp, letting her eyes drift towards Wilma. "Fine, you can lead us there, and wake up the whole town whilst we're at it." She says, watching their prisoner, Freya's eyes flash a bit, she doesn't seem inclined to believe or trust her yet. "I did say I'd let you go, now scamper off to your home, but cross us, and I will let you taste the fury of my kind." She says, that tone? It's not a threat, it's an Aesir winter's promise of the coming cold.

Shaking his head, Syrivan sighs slightly. "I agree with Wilma. Let's go and check." He gestures for the old-young woman to lead them, "Let's go."

A hesitant step back, a glance between the adventurers, and then with a wailing cry the woman turns and starts to run along up the path to Falcon Point - stumbling on rocks now and then as she flees up towards the village . Well, Freya did tell her to 'scamper off'.

Mogrinaar continues to grip his falchion hilt and then frowns. "Well so much for her leading us. She ran off like a bat out of hell." he snorts. "Lets move, I tire of this game. Lets meet whatever challenge head on." he begins to move.

A mutter under his breath, "Some humans..." Syrivan shakes his head with a sigh, simply walking with the others.

Wilma just continues to spew in dwarven, with the occasional goblin and jotun curse tossed in. And when Mogrinaar moves forward, she does too, towards that indicated side.
Freya will step in behind Wilma and Moggie, why bother exposing her self to any thing that might be literally thrown at them?

By the time the adventurers reach Falcon Point, there's no sign of anyone at all--at least in the open. There's shutters cracked a bit and the feel of folk peering out at them, but all the doors are closed, and there's a hush across the town that isn't even broken by the cry of gulls.

As the old woman had said, though, there're some stairs down the other side of the village towards the rockier, shallower waters that presumably they do their crabbing and fishing in. The faint light of torches can be seen on the beach, although not clearly.

Freya will diverge from the group once they spot this new beach, starting to ascend towards it in a sneaky manner, towards one of the torches, blunderbuss held in a ready position to deal with any surprises.
Wilma just sort of glares at the shuttered buildings, her bad mood rather unfortunately communicated to those behind the dubious safety of the rickity buildings. And then, without bothering to wait for discussion, starts to go down the stairs towards the rockier beach. Theorectically.

Syrivan simply moves behind Wilma, following. He's still shaking his head. And he's letting her take the lead. Do you really think he's going to take the lead? Him? He'd break in half in a strong wind, right?

== Chapter Two: A Crabby Night ==

When last we left our intrepid heroes, they had disembarked from their boat not far outside the small village of Falcon Point, perched atop a finger of hilly terrain stretching out into the waters of the sea, searching for the supply expedition that hadn't been heard of since it came here to pick up crabs. Freya had scouted out the strangely quiet town, and marched a homely woman back to the group at gunpoint - to the horror of the other adventurers - who told them between whimpers of fear that the others had gone to the crabs, on the other side of town, where the water was shallow and rocky.

But it wasn't possible to anchor a ship there, so where had it gone?

The town had grown disturbingly quiet after the woman fled back with word of her assailant, and Freya stayed behind to keep an eye on things as Seanait rejoined the group from her own scouting. Down, down the rocky stairs on the other side of town towards the beach they've gone, torches lit at the base of the stairs, and others sitting upon some sort of rickety watchtower on the beach proper. A man can be seen pacing back and forth on the tower's platform, reachable by a rope ladder that dangles past its wooden legs. Old crab traps and a couple of rowboards of dubious repair sit on the beach here and there.

"Well, there's someone up there," observes Syrivan to the others. "Perhaps we can ask him about the situation." A pause. "Without taking him hostage, please," he adds with a hint of dryness.

Wilma gets down the stairs, and looks about. Upon spotting the tower, the dwarf lets out an annoyed hrmph! then starts to trudge her way over the sand, her footing not allowing for her customary stomping. Once to the base, she leans back and peers up. Then looks at Syrivan, and gives a nod. "Hey! You! Fella on the tower! We wanna talk to you, if you're bein' George! An' even if you're not."

Mogrinaar follows along looking down the beach and keeping a wary eye back towards the small town just in case. He remains at the foot of the stairs as if standing guard, leaving the chatting to the others.
Seanait glances at Wilma, then shrugs a bit, not particular with grounded diplomacy it seems. Her gaze cants upward towards the man in the tower, taking careful note of him there.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls Perception: (3)+11: 14
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (13)+2: 15
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls perception: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+1: (9)+1: 10
</pre>

<pre>
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 12 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 16
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 17 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 18
You roll initiative for Crab1: Roll: 16 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 17
You roll initiative for Crab2: Roll: 18 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 19
Mogrinaar rolls initiative: Roll: 15 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 16
Syrivan rolls initiative: Roll: 2 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 6
</pre>

"Wh-- no! Look out! They're down there--" A startled, panicked shout from the man on the tower, who rushes to the edge and grasps the side, looking down with shaggy hair and an unshaven and scraggly beard, "They're all around you!"

What's all around them? Well, everyone except for Mogrinaar sees it as the sand begins to sift off of something emerging from the sand to either side of the tower... squat, dwarf sized monstrosities with broad shells, stalk-like eyes and massive, snapping pincers as they turn their attention towards the group.

Well, that explains why he's still in the tower.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
</pre>

One of the gigantic crabs shakes further sand off of its shell, trundling sideways in a scuttling pace in the direction of the nearest prey - Wilma - one big set of pincers snapping at her, just glancing off her armoured shoulder in a near-miss.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+4: (4)+4: 8
</pre>

Wilma turns, as the crabs shake the sand off and trundles towards her. She pulls the greatsword free, an effort that takes more time then it should, but the effort is worth it! Whereas the crab fails to pinch, she manages a solid hit on the creature, cracking it's shell and having liquid ooze. ".... still not seein' the attraction of crabs," there's a pause, then she shoots a glare towards the tower. "You couldn't have warned us earlier?!" Never mind who charged forward without looking for issues.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (16)+4: 20
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4+2: (2)+2: 4
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 4 points. 21 remaining.
</pre>

"I didn't see you down-- look out!" A panicked shout from the tower, just before the other crab scuttles in and snaps out - grazing against Wilma's leg, crushing down against her calf in a painful squeeze before she manages to jerk away from its grip.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (5)+6: 11
</pre>

Seanait moves over to stand next to Wilma, her kama coming out and slashing rapidly at one of the crab-beasties. Unfortunately, both swings fall wide of their mark, as the egalrin looks rather surprised at the appearance of such things, "What /are/ these creatures?"

Mogrinaar is busy looking backwards towards the town to make sure the group doesn't get jumped by some kind of trap, when there is a big kerfuffle on the beach. He looks over and his eyes widen surprised. "Big crabs..." he states as he whips out a shiny Falchion.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls Knowledge/Nature: (7)+10: 17
</pre>

''You paged Syrivan with 'They /are/ giant crabs! They are amphibious but will eventually need to go back into the water - but that probably won't be for hours, so isn't super useful at the moment. They've been known to pick up halflings, gnomes, and goblins and carry them off into the water. Fortunately you have none.'''

"They're giant crabs, of a particular kingdom. I haven't seen one of this size before, but I've read something about them," Syrivan says to Seanait. He moves towards her and murmurs a few words. A barrier of force appears around her, fading from sight. "That should help at least," he murmurs to her. "Not much to worry about for us...if we were halflings, we might have some issues, they carry small prey to the water to drown."

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (20)+4: 24
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Karl rolls 2d4+4: (3)+4: 7
GAME: Karl damaged Seanait for 7 points. 11 remaining.
</pre>

Suddenly besieged from two sides, and with a rather impressive gash in its shell, the giant crab heaves-- snapping harmlessly out at Wilma with one of its pincers, the other one finding softer flesh as it snaps through an area not covered by the mystical armour granted Seanait, coming away bloodied.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+6: (14)+6: 20
GAME: Wilma rolls 2d6+7: (6)+7: 13
</pre>

Wilma isn't able to act when that claw heads towards Seanait - the abortive movement, however, may suggest that was her thought. The claw that snaps harmlessly, however, focuses her ire. "If he's wantin' crabs, by Angoron, I'll give him crabs!" And then she takes a step in and uses the momentum to swing the two-handed sword in a great, slightly uncontrolled arc. By the time the blade swings free, the crab's shell is smashed beyond redemption, and the insides taste of sand. "Are you bein' alright?" she asks, eyes moving towards the one still alive.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (14)+4: 18
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (12)+4: 16
GAME: Karl rolls 1d4+2: (3)+2: 5
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 5 points. 16 remaining.
</pre>

As the first crab's shell is sundered, there's an excited shout from up on the tower. "That's how you do it! Get those hors o'-- look out!" Again, dwarven blood stains the sands as the second crab's pincer snaps against Wilma's arm.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (12)+6: 18
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6+1: (5)+1: 6
</pre>

Seanait doesn't wince at the strike, though she does gasp from the wound on her arm, "I'll be alright." She then spins and moves around Wilma, striking at the crease in the shell with her kama, cracking into the hard carapace as ichor burbles out of the crab. "Where will there be a pot large enough for these?"

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+8+2-1: (16)+8+2+-1: 25
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 2d4+8+3: (4)+8+3: 15
</pre>

"If there were this many, there are likely more. Crabs live in colonies after all," murmurs Syrivan. "If so, I'd be careful. There's likely more." He looks around, keeping close to the others. He's fragile, after all! All elves are! Ahem.

Mogrinaar grips his Falchion in his hands and his brow furrows. The behemoth crouches down and then charges forward, the tip of his blade cutting a line in the sand as he stomps forward. "Dinner that can eat you.....a novel concept hah." When he reaches the crab, he lifts the sword up as if he is hitting a sand wedge and slices the crab in two. "Any more of the buggers?" he asks.

"Are they... are they gone?" George peeks down over the edge of the low wall around the platform of the watchtower, his wild gaze cutting to the water's edge in the deepening shadows of twilight, the torches smoking around him, "We need to-- need to get out of here, um, can someone-- can someone hold the ladder? I'm, I'm afraid of heights--"

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls perception: (1)+1: 2
GAME: Wilma rolls perception: (16)+2: 18
GAME: Syrivan rolls Perception: (4)+4: 8
GAME: Seanait rolls Perception: (20)+11: 31
</pre>

‘’You paged Wilma with 'Some of the coloration on the crabs' shells appears to be /artifical/, as if someone had smeared designs on them with some sort of natural dye.'’’

‘’You paged Seanait with 'Oh, yeah. Someone has been painting designs on these crabs' shells in natural dyes. Also... there's something stirring in the water, a frothing near the edge that doesn't seem to be from the crashing of waves.'’’

Wilma slowly turns around, looking for more crabs, before she lowers the sword to rest the point in the sand, then looks at her arm. "Damn - those things tore through armor almost like it was bein' waste paper... Anyone else bein' up there with you? An' where's the cargo?" she tacks on as an afterthought, one foot going out the kick at the corpse, before she frowns. "Hey now. This ain't lookin' normal, and I knew Toulouse, so I'm known not-normal. Looks almost... painted on."

"Painted on?" Syrivan asks curiously. "Hmmm?"

Seanait frowns, "She is correct. Someone has been painting these designs on the shells." She pauses, glancing over towards the waves, "Watch the water, there's something stirring over that way!" Her eyes narrow as she drops to a guard stance, holding her kama at the ready.

"Okay, that's odd," Murmurs Syrivan. Or starts to. At Seanait's words, he turns towards the water, looking towards it curiously.

Mogrinaar looks around as if clueless. Must be sand getting in his eyes. "I hate the beach." he snorts as he raises his Falchion and looks in the direction Seanait points.

"Guys? Uh... girls? Whoever you are, do you think yo... oh, by the gods. Daeus preserve us, they're coming back!" The last a despairing call from George, "Run! Run while you still can!"

The frothing and foaming at the water's edge pours forwards until it hits the sands... and what emerges are crabs. Relatively small, palm sized crustaceans with tiny pincers, enough to hurt or draw blood but not actually cause any serious damage.

Unless there's tens of thousands of them moving as one, swarming over one another like a moving carpet of chitin and claws and fury pouring across the beach towards the adventurers just as the sun sinks its last beneath the sea in the distance.

"The teeth of the deep are coming!"

== Chapter Three: The Teeth of the Deep ==
'''Subtitle: The Martyrdom of the Demon Pony'''

<pre>
Mogrinaar rolls initiative: Roll: 18 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 19
Wilma rolls initiative: Roll: 20 + Bonus: 1 = Total: 21
You roll initiative for Crabswarm: Roll: 3 + Bonus: 2 = Total: 5
You roll initiative for George: Roll: 13 + Bonus: 0 = Total: 13
Syrivan rolls initiative: Roll: 8 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 12
Seanait rolls initiative: Roll: 18 + Bonus: 4 = Total: 22
</pre>

Seanait hrms, "Anyone have any oil...?" She then quickly ascends the rope ladder, her wings balancing her rather well as she goes towards the side of the tower, looking at the compact horde of crabs, then she looks at the various torches around the beach, and the tower.

"Might best be to stay up the..... damnit all. Why did it have to be bein' /crabs/." Wilma looks around, then up towards the tower. "Good idea! Grab torches an' toss 'em down! I bet that'd be roastin' them right proper!" Then the dwarf moves forward, halfway down the base of the tower, not /quite/ getting into the incoming tide's face.

Mogrinaar snorts looking at his weapon and the mass. "Might as well step on them if it werent for all this damn sand." He shrugs and yells "Hey George, toss me one of the bloody torches so I can at least try and fend them off a bit.

"The torches...?" George, huddling on the tower's platform in torn, wet clothes and looking half-maddened, peeks out from between his fingers, "Of course-- of course! The torches!" He all but leaps to the edge of the tower, jerking one of the oil-soaked torches from its mooring and leaning way over to hold it down to Mogrinaar, "Here! Burn them, yes, yes, burn the deeps!"

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts grease.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (17)+4: 21
</pre>

"Crap, they didn't fall. Oh well," Syrivan says. He then turns and climbs up the ladder. He's not as fast as some, but he's not staying on the ground!

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (8): 8
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 8 points. 8 remaining.
</pre>

The writhing mass from the sea, shells now glistening with grease and leaving an iridescent trail over the sands, swarms over the sands and around the storm dwarf's feet and legs - shells clacking, pincers digging in, crabs burrowing into her boots and under her armour. Blood streaks the living swarm from the deep, pattering over the sand as sacrifices to whatever God is worshipped by crabs.

<pre>
seanait's inititave total changed to '20'.
</pre>

The plan! isn't exactly the plan that Wilma was thinking of. However, after her toes (and everything else) get well gnawed on, Wilma isn't yelling for a torch. Nope. "I /hate/ swarms!" And turns and runs towards the stairs heading up. Also, where there's more torches.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (12)+6: 18
GAME: Seanait rolls 2d6: (6): 6
</pre>

Seanait grabs a torch, and waits for Wilma to get clear before she flips the torch down. It lands in the midst of the crabs, causing many of them to ignite and catch on fire. However... there's still a lot more swarming around, unfazed by their burning comrades as Seanait looks over at the wizard, "I don't suppose you know any explosive spells?"

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+7: (16)+7: 23
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d6: (5): 5
</pre>

Mogrinaar grunts. "Come on lets get some more torches on these things!" He stomps forward and holds the torch in front of him clearing a swath of crabs who sizzle and pop like crab popcorn. "A little help here..." he states.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts grease.
GAME: Karl rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
</pre>

"Did it--did it get them?" George pulls back into the middle of the tower, crouching there and looking back and forth over the tower's top, "Are they gone?"

He's probably been up here for awhile.

"I'm afraid I don't have many spells that would work, but this might help again..." He trails off, and then Syrivan says to the others, "Light them on fire, again," as grease rains down upon the creatures!

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (8): 8
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for 8 points. 13 remaining.
</pre>

The pinching pincers of the thousand crabs swarm up around Mogrinaar's feet and legs now, making him nearly vanish to the ankles, crawling his pants and biting, pinching and shedding blood as they go, tearing into flesh and muscle. The swarm is much smaller from when it emerged from the water, but still moving, soaked in grease.

Wilma isn't looking behind her. Nope. She's running as fast as her stumpy legs can take her, which isn't very. Also, her feet hurt. Go figure. Dwarven curses fill the air again.
<pre>
seanait's inititave total changed to '18'.
</pre>

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12
</pre>
Mogrinaar tries to shake off the bloody creatures from his boots and is surprised how they can even breach his armor. "Dag blasted..." he snorts and moves back trying to whiff fire at them. His whiff misses, but he is out of the swarm for now. "Need more fire down here...." he states the obvious.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+6: (1)+6: 7
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d8: (2): 2 (‘’Scatter roll’’)
GAME: Seanait rolls 2d6: (7): 7
</pre>

Seanait shouts, "Get clear, otherwise the swarm will wear you down!" She then throws another torch into the midst of the swarm, frying more of the greased crabs... but the swarm is still far from done.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20+4: (5)+4: 9
</pre>

And so Syrivan shows how skilled he is at throwing things! He throws the torch. And almost hits Seanait's hair as the torch goes flying by. He mutters, "Oops."

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (7): 7
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for 7 points. 6 remaining.
</pre>

As the smoldering remnants of the swarm - almost a quarter of its original size - continue to wash over Mogrinaar's feet and legs, he's beginning to feel the effects of bloodloss and torn muscle, the crabs burrowing in under the plates of his armour and cutting away in a frenzy that seems almost unnatural.

Wilma skids to a stop in front of the torch-bracketted path up to the town. Spitting out something in goblin, the dwarf grabs the nearest torch, spins, and heads back towards the tower. And the swarm.

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12
</pre>

Seanait spreads her wings, eyeing the remaining torch, "Remind me to invest in some oil the next time I am in Alexandria." With that, she jumps off the edge of the tower, wings spread wide as they catch the wind. Though she can't actually /fly/, she does glide a fair distance, landing far closer to the remaining torch by the stairs than she did to the crabs, at least. And leaving Syrivan all alone in the tower with George.

Hopefully crabs don't know how to climb towers.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts summon monster I.
</pre>

"I'm totally out of useful spells. Unless you want to talk to them, and I don't think crabs have anything interesting to say!" A pause. "Well. I have one idea. What with the height, it might do something. But it's mean." A pause. "Well." Syrivan frowns. He starts casting, pulling out a bell and a candle. He lights the candle, ringing the bell. A horned, fiery-looking pony appears. "I'm sorry about this, fellow," he mutters. He pushes the pony off the building, and it lands among the swarm. "Buys you some time at least," he calls as the crabs swarm the pony. He adds. "And I feel SO MEAN. At least it's evil." That makes it okay, right?

The pony looks at Syrivan with a confused expression for a moment before it's shoved /off/ the edge, letting out a whinneying neigh before hitting the ground with a sickening /crack/ of impact as a leg snaps in half. The crabs, suddenly presented with hot, warm flesh, swarm over the demonic pony in an orgy of snapping pincers and spidery legs, one maddened eye all that's visible before it's popped by a pincer's thrust.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+9: (14)+9: 23
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d6: (1): 1
</pre>

Wilma turns to watch the Pony get thrown under the tower. There's a swallow, as some things are too much for wards, before she lifts her torch like it was a mace, and charges across the sand. Apparently it gives her some speed, for she crashes right into the mass. Swinging for all her worth, a few handful of crabs die - but no where near the effect of flaming grease.

Mogrinaar moves backwards and heads towards the stairs. His movements are slightly wobbly. He doesn't say anything which isn't normal for the brute.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan casts Ghost Sound.
</pre>

"You know, this is getting silly. It almost makes me wish I were into physical conflict," mutters Syrivan. He considers. Then casts one spell. And over to the side, away from the group, comes a horrible chittering-screech. As if some crab were being torn asunder. Who knows. If nothing else the sound might do something. But then again, they're dumb, it might not do a thing!

Once enough of the pony's flesh is devoured, the poor creature disappears back to its home plane; leaving a bunch of very confused, angry, hungry crabs that's looking for another prey. As that horrible clattering echoes through the air, the crabs don't seem to react much, but neither to they move just yet, trying to figure out where the pony went perhaps.

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13
</pre>

Wilma tries to take advantage of the pony to strike more damage into the swarm. Alas, well.. the pony disappeared - and her swing swished air. Does she talk to her mum with that mouth?

Mogrinaar considers using his arrows by wrapping some cloth on the ends and lighting them on fire, but without any real fuel other than the cloth, its a tough sell. He grunts scratching his head.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11
</pre>

Seanait finally completes the circuit, having grabbed the torch from the stairs. She spins the torch down at the swarm, but fails to burn them at all with the weapon.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20: (19): 19 (‘’Aid Another’’)
</pre>

"I need to learn a few more spells," mutters Syrivan. "Maybe something to conjure..." He trails off, muttering. When he's five or so feet up, he dangles his leg down. Some crabs come chittering towards him, and the group follows. And then he climbs back up. "Using myself as ..." You don't want to know what that word means in Draconic. "...bait."

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (4): 4
GAME: Karl damaged Seanait for 4 points. 7 remaining.
</pre>

The 'Teeth of the Deep' as they were called by the maddened crab procurer atop the tower surge forward once more--clattering and snapping around Seanait's feet as she sweeps the torch at them, plucking out feathers and cutting tiny slivers of flesh!

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7
</pre>

Wilma watches as the wave of crabs goes for Seanait and Syrivan, and immediately steps and swings forward. "Hey now! They've no meat on them, skinny bastards that they are!" Unfortunately, her swing is about as effective as her words.

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d6: (5): 5
</pre>

Mogrinaar shakes his head looking around for an answer. "What the hell! FOR BLOOD AND HONOR!" he grits his teeth and wades into the fray, snarling with a charge that torches some more of them.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d8+1: (7)+1: 8
GAME: Karl damaged Seanait for -8 points. 15 remaining.
</pre>

Seanait leaps out of the swarm with the aid of her wings, tumbling free of the crabs as she moves a safe distance away. Once there, she reaches down with her free hand, pulling out a small vial which she drinks without much preamble. Her cuts and wounds seem to knit and heal rather rapidly, leaving her nearly at full strength.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20: (17): 17 (‘’Aid Another’’)
</pre>

"Sure. You're a freaking set of bait," mutters Syrivan. "I swear, I need to get more alchemical supplies. Next time..." He trails off. Again, distracting the swarm.

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (11): 11
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for 11 points. -5 remaining.
</pre>

Snapping and clawing, the crabs flow around Mogrinaar once more—and he starts to collapse beneath the severed muscles and torn flesh, armour slick with blood as only his orcish fury keeps him on his feet…

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (5)+5: 10
</pre>

The sounds of cursing is starting to be be as standard as the sound of the surf against the beach - especially as Wilma can't hit the crabs, just the same.

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar used a Potion of Cure Light Wounds.
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d8+1: (6)+1: 7
GAME: Karl damaged Mogrinaar for -7 points. 2 remaining.
</pre>

Mogrinaar is taken to the brink of death. Just then a surge of adrenaline hits his veins and he reaches down, pulling out a potion. He quaffs it and is renewed with vigor, just enough to have the sense to get the hell out of dodge. "Crabs...." he coughs moving away.

<pre>
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22
GAME: Seanait rolls 1d6: (3): 3
</pre>

Seanait twirls her torch as if it were a staff, then shouts... well, it's not so much a shout as it is the screech of an eagle. Then she charges in, and thrusts her torch into the midst of the swarm, burning quite a few of the crabs as the swarm looks significantly thinned out.

Syrivan. Professional bait. Let's hope this time, Seanait manages to kill the damn swarm.

<pre>
GAME: Syrivan rolls 1d20: (7): 7 (‘’Aid Another’’)
</pre>

<pre>
GAME: Karl rolls 2d6: (8): 8
GAME: Karl damaged Wilma for 8 points. 0 remaining.
</pre>

The crabs swarm up along Wilma's legs once more, deprived of their delicious orc flesh--and this time, Wilma's starting to stagger on her feet, more dwarven blood on the sands than is currently in her veins...

<pre>
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25
GAME: Wilma rolls 1d6: (1): 1
</pre>

Wilma staggers, but not away - no, this is a dwarf who doesn't know the meaning of caution! Well, not once her blood is spilled! Instead, she heads /into/ the swarm of crabs, and brings her torch down on a mass of crabs, hitting them square and washing them with flames! When the torch comes back up, to reveal most of the crabs still there, her curses sound almost more frustrated than angry. Dwarves don't have tantrums, damnit!

<pre>
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d20+3: (19)+3: 22
GAME: Mogrinaar rolls 1d6: (2): 2
</pre>

Mogrinaar looks around as if for an idea. The normally headstrong Oruch is not stupid however and knows that brute force wont win this day. Looking down at his wounds and then at his comrades, he sighs as his body shudders in pain. He raises the torch up high waving it in the air and then hurls it like an olympian onto the last of the crabs, sending them burning and crackling. "............." he remains silent falling to one knee.

There are a few scattered crabs left alive and un-scorched, but they're no longer a coherent swarm; most of them burrow away into moist sand or scuttle across the beach in all directions, leaving the adventurers standing in the midst of a blood-splattered beach from fighting nothing more than palm-sized crustaceans.

George sobs audibly from atop the tower. "They're dead, they're all dead, I know it, I'll be up here forever..."

"Finally," mutters Syrivan. He drops to the ground, approaching the group, "Let me help," he says, "And good show," he adds. He digs into his bag, pulling out bandages. See, he's prepared. He just doesn't prepare for hordes of evil bity things. He will in the future!

Seanait climbs up the tower through the ladder, and ahems at George, "Not quite, though it was a close thing. You can come down now, if you like." She then drops back down, wings spreading to break her fall.

Wilma decides now is a good time to sit down. "... if I'm ever seein' another crab again, it'll be too soon."
There's shock on George's face, and then a terrible relief--he's actually /weeping/ as he lunges for the ladder, clambering down with only a brief yelp from the height. He falls the last couple feet, landing on his ass in the sands.

Mogrinaar inhales tryingn to get his breath back from him. His wounds are great, much greater than he would have liked for such an adventure. He snarls, "We better be getting paid well for this fiasco!" he snorts through chortles of blood.

"I certainly hope so. I'm not exceptionally tailored to fight lots of tiny creatures," the young elf says dryly. He shakes his head, then chuckles, "If nothing else, it was a learning experience. I need to carry more alchemical mixtures."

"Fire, oil, and blasted potions... forgot how much those are comin' in handy..." Wilma groans, before looking at George. "Hope you have that cargo your boss was wantin'...." she grumbles, before looking at the mess. "... if any of this mess is bein' salvagable, we should be lettin' the old woman know 'bout it. Sorta compensation for gettin' kidnapped, or some such."

Seanait nods, "Some alchemist fire, yes... something I think I shall have to acquire." She looks at George, "I would hope that you have it as well, just so this excursion was not wasted."

"We... we... we can get out of here? We can get away from the-- from the crabs?" George straightens slowly, still trembling, and he waves a hand vaguely at the cut-up and burnt crabs. They /were/ sent here for the crabs, after all. And one of those big ones would provide a feast!

Then he /hugs/ Syrivan, as the closest person to him. "Thank you thank you oh gods bless you--"

"Oof," Syrivan says, "Careful, careful." He wrinkles his nose. The guy probably hasn't bathed in a while. "Relax." A pause, and he points at Wilma, "She likes hugs." Yes, he does have a sense of humor.

"You bastard."

[[Category:Logs]]

Recent Logs

2011-01-02T21:13:34Z

Karl:

[[Category:Logs]]
Roleplay is central to Tenebrae, and here you may read some of the logs our players have posted, or wanted to share. This page may also be used to post logs for PrPs, to share an item for staff review, or to tell players about a great scene. Just remember to ask folks in the scene if it's alright before posting (if it's a DM'd scene, ask the DM). Remember too, if you're RPing in a public area, a log may end up on this site. A public area is anyplace that's on the main grid that isn't a residence, personal room, or Plot Room.

Please prepend PrPs with PrP: Name of Log. This includes all kinds of PrPs; Standard, Death Consent, and Dramatic. We stopped this for a while, but are reinstituting it just to keep files a little clearer. Most recent logs are at the bottom.

If you're unsure how to post a log, see [[How to Post a Log]].

<center>'''Please be sure to put all pages into<nowiki> [[Category: Logs]]</nowiki>. Thank you.'''</center>

* [[Ancestors Pyre|Ancestor's Pyre]]
* [[Back At The Ranch|Back At The Ranch...]]
* [[Boy Meets Girl]]
* [[Ashenvale Part 2|PrP: Ashenvale Part 2]]
* [[PrP: The Competition|PrP: The Competition]]
* [[Falcon Point: Teeth of the Deep|PrP: Falcon Point - Teeth of the Deep]]

Recent Logs

2011-01-02T21:13:20Z

Karl:

Character Pages

2010-12-02T20:34:28Z

Karl: /* K */

Emblem of Ea is home to a number of colorful and interesting characters. In order to make a page, you will need to be logged in with your forum ID. If you're having trouble logging in, please see the [[Help:Editing|Wiki Help]] in the [[Getting Started]] section.

For help on making a character page, please see [[How to Make a Character Page]].

<center>'''Be sure to put all pages into <nowiki>[[</nowiki>Category: Player<nowiki>]]</nowiki>. Thank you.'''</center>

{{CompactTOC}}

[[Category:Player]]

==A==
[[Abrahil]]

==B==

==C==

==D==
[[Darshan]]

==E==

==F==

==G==
==H==
==I==
==J==
==K==
[[Karelin Andarin]],
[[Karl Mattock]],
[[Kylie D'malthyae]],
[[Koszhey Urvald Malinovyi]],
[[Kyra Smith]]

==L==
==M==

[[Myrana Jn'Rajh]]

==N==
==O==
==P==
==Q==
==R==
==S==
[[Lady Sandiel]], [[Hailee Serene Tigriil]], [[Lady Sienna Meribeth McBane]] [[Siseroa Shurik]]

==T==
[[Thaim]],[[Teena Longshot]]

==U==
==V==
==W==
==X==
[[Xenarchy Malzash]]

==Y==
[[Ylva]],
[[Younger, Bruce The]]

==Z==
[[Zerridwyn Angosil]]