Aubrey's 4e Dark Sun
Game Master Aubrey the Malformed

Correct. Also, Arakan can't make items like totems, only mundane stuff.

"I have escaped before, Arakan and it was not under cover of the dark. I used the natural course of the day and walked out the gates."

She turns to her companions. "I can tell where we are and that is all. The north calls me. I have my staff, so I can protect us a little. But Arakan is right, even if he's not tactful. What can we muster between us?"

Wild talent is Know Direction. She blagged her way into keeping her staff.

She peers out the despised doorway, looking at the guards.

"They won't know or care what a slave looks like, and a veiled guard could take slaves anywhere. We will be the guards. Watch their routines and learn them."

Trained Arcana, Bluff, Endurance, History and Streetwise.

Calla's grandmother hobbles over. She is a beak-faced, weather-beaten old crone, sharp-eyed and stooped. Her skin is burned brown, like a sun-dried prune wrinkled by years of exposure to the desert sun.

"Calla, Gorad, I need to talk to you." She finds a quiet spot to talk.

Calla and Gorad, or Perception DC 10 if you are rude enough to eavesdrop:

Arakan is rude enough, Perception1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7, just not successful enough.

Calla, accustomed from a young age to obey that voice, reaches for the packet and secures it inside her robe. But she shakes her head as she does so. "Impossible," she rasps through cracked lips, "how can we escape?" How can I leave you? How can you ask that?

"Jareen and Irivis say this tower is a place of desecration, and we will all die soon. Unless something distracts the raiders, I think we have no chance." A part of her mind whispers that Gramma will make it right, that Gramma can fix anything. But that whisper is treacherous, leading to undeserved hope, and Calla crushes it.

Irivis waits serenely and continues to contemplate the guards, wondering how to isolate one long enough to grab their clothing.

Calla, accustomed from a young age to obey that voice, reaches for the packet and secures it inside her robe. But she shakes her head as she does so. "Impossible," she rasps through cracked lips, "how can we escape?" How can I leave you? How can you ask that?

"Jareen and Irivis say this tower is a place of desecration, and we will all die soon. Unless something distracts the raiders, I think we have no chance." A part of her mind whispers that Gramma will make it right, that Gramma can fix anything. But that whisper is treacherous, leading to undeserved hope, and Calla crushes it.

"You got a plan?" asks Grandma?

"We're working on that."

OK, I'll be expecting a fully developed, risk-assessed plan with accompanying annotated diagrams for when I get back.

With a full Health and Safety audit?

Come on, guys - two days: nothing?

Not so, oh mighty one. We're plotting on the discussion thread.

"No Gramma, we don't have a plan. I was thinking of dying on their blades to escape the defilers ritual and seek a cleaner death ... but that will not get anything back to Tyr. So I suppose we will have to think harder."

Yes, Calla is getting a little melodramatic. It's not really an over-reaction, given the circumstances.

An irritated look crosses Grandma's face. "Some crappy plan, that is! You're lucky I'm here. Seems to me there's two ways out: that way..." - she points straight up through the hole in the roof - "or that way" - she points at the brush-filled gap in the wall. "I can't see us all being able to climb out the top, so we are looking at the door for most of us."

"There's a small number of bandits out there - they look like a bunch of escaped slaves and elf tribe outcasts. They're going to know each other by sight, so if you are going to try a disguise on them it'll have to be good, or very dark. And they expect us to all be dead in a few hours, so they aren't going to care much about our health. So either we get out by stealth" - she waves at the dispirited and wounded members of the caravan huddled about - "but I can't see that working for all of us. Or we distract them somehow. But it's bad - we aren't all getting out of this, no matter what. They have our weapons, first off."

She squints at Irivis and Jareen. "You two seem to know a lot about defiling," she says drily. "We know it's going to be bad for us - how bad is it going to be for anyone outside?"

"I'll provide the distraction just tell me where and when..."

Jareen looks aghast at being spoken to in this mannor, and by a merchant! He cannot help having a grudging respect though, for the woman's fortitude in the face of certain death.

"Do not presume, that my skill with certain, forbidden arts, leads directly to the idea that I have experience defiling. That train of thought is what put me in this forsaken place in the first place.

My studies though, have touched upon similar subjects. From what i can tell, those inside the tower will power the ritual with their life force. There is nothing to be done for them, once the ritual starts. I can see nothing though which would lead me to believe that the defiling which will accompany the ritual will be contained.

Either our captives are unsuspecting pawns, or more likely in my opinion, we shall see most of them drawn off to one side before the ritual begins. Those left will suffer a fate I can only guess at. It would seem risky, but the interval when the body of guards draws off, and before the ritual starts may be our best hope of escape.

"You reckon? How are they going to stop us getting out of the tower if they take the guards away?"

"I didn't say there would be a lot of time between the two events. Also, I don't doubt that at least some of the guards are to be sacrificed. I may be wrong. I hope not to be here to find out."

Irivis doesn't bother to deal with the issue of her knowledge of defiling.

"Nobody will live through it. Escape means the door. I still have my rod. There are advantages to being a cripple."

She thinks a moment.

"Jareen, you created a chasm at the camp. Can you do the same thing but as close to the boundaries of the central area as possible? Make it look as though the wards holding this thing have broken and its activating early? The guards won't want to die and the controllers won't be happy either. I can add some effects to make it more convincing. If we have enough to a distraction, some of us at least can slip out and make a break for it."

It was a daily, so he can't do it again until after an extended rest.

OK, enough talk. Time for action! What's the plan?

Well, bum.

OK. In that case, same principle but using Irivis's Eldritch Blast and anyone else's ranged powers (Jareen?) at a distance to create distraction. Prepare to leg it.

Arakan gets huffy at all the simple solutions, but no one seems to be giving any of the information that he asked for. "Nevermind. Instead of saying 'this is what I can do' all I hear from you is 'what can we do'. The old lady seems to be the only one who truly knows the crunch we are in. They don't care about us out there, and with only my simple tools, and no one else EVEN TRYING to climb these walls, up is not an option." He walks a circle around the inside as he talks, not looking at the others as he thinks aloud staring at his feet. "We probably can't tunnel out, not enough time, and to stand on the sand, the stones must go deep. Looks like we only have the opening covered by the bush. We need them to open it. I can adjust the memory of one of them, to make it look as if I have vanished, if I get one's attention before I do it, then if a disappearing prisoner doesn't get them in here, nothing will."

Pacing the floor in the circle, coming to his idea, he stops and moves to the middle. "Wait, for this to stand it would have to go deep right?" He creates a spade again from his mind, and kneels down in the center starting to dig. "What... are the... chances... that it... goes deeper...there may be... a door." He huffs as he digs with the simple spade, maybe it's just desperation that drives his thinking.

Here's hoping that there is a trapdoor under the sand the slavers are unaware of. Perception? 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Athletics check to dig?

I don't have the energy to cast that effect again just yet. I have other ranged effects, though nothing distracting. I can also affect one of the guards, such that he stops noticing one of us for a period, but it will mean damaging the guard, so will remove any element of surprise.

Athletics 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

It doesn't take hardly any time at all before Arakan tires himself out trying to dig in the sand, obviously not the picture of muscular. "Here, someone try digging." He holds out his crude psychic shovel, waiting for someone to take it.

Ick, I have the highest Athletics modifier, we are a bunch of weaklings, lol.

Yay! Lots of running and jumping to come! Anyone want to assist (though, of course, I could just be toying with you).

1d20 ⇒ 4 - Athletics

Irivis's foot gives way.

"At this rate I'm just going to blast something for stress relief," she mutters angily.

"I've told you all I know, Arakan. I can talk fairly fast, I know where we are, and what's more, I know where we're going to be if we don't get a move on. I'm not digging my own grave this time, thank you."

Given up digging for victory? OK, so what are you going to do?

Outraged at his predicament Arakan throws the spade at the wall, vanishing as it's about to hit from his lack of focusing on it. Kneeling, from his place on the sandy floor, he leans back shoulders slumped looking skyward. With a weary sigh he stands, hangs his head, and mumbles "Well, looks like all I can do is try to fight my way out the front door, never thought I would leave this world via suicide."

Aubrey what is the bush in front of the door like? Is it heavy, see through, can I target through it? What are the guards elven, mul, pale people? How/where are they standing as they guard?

Perception in case I need it to answer any of this 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24. With that roll can I hear what the pale people are saying? they seem to be in charge.

Arakan:

Arakan, if you make the Nature check:

Arakan, if you make the Insight check:

Calla watches impassively as Arakan and Irivis abandon their futile digging in the sand. The trap is too perfect, and she cannot believe in such an easy way out. Still, The simple passing of time seems to help clear Calla's mind. Thought stirs once again.

"I thnk," she starts, swallows, and starts again. "I think that Gramma is right. We will not find a way for us all to escape, but we must try something. There is no telling when this dark ritual will begin." And surely better to die trying to escape than to be cursed with unclean magics forever.

"Do we have anything that can serve us as weapon? Even stout branches from the brush-barricade might do, if Arakan can create us an axe to work with."

Calla notices that Arakan is by the brush, peering and listening intently.

"Arakan, what do you see?"

As if a floodgate has opened, more questions pour forth.

"Did anyone notice, as we were brought here, where the Crodlu's were tied up? Did they bring any of the beasts from the caravan - how many mounts good we think to steal?"

"Gramma, you've travelled this desert for so long. If some of us... I mean... when we escape, where should we head? Where might be safe and what terrain will we need to cross?"

Arakan takes a few calming breaths and says softly to himself,

as if remembering a mantra. "I don't know why I didn't see it before, my anger got in the way. This thorny shrub, is often uneaten by the wildlife, as it contains a pungent syrup as a deterrant. This syrup may work for us, as this is Firebriar, and in the hollows of its vines is a highly flammable goop. It will burn fast and hot, maybe no more than a minute."

He walks back toward the center of the tower, "I was also able to find out that we have but a few hours before the ritual, it is intended to be performed right after dark. AFTER the ritual, the elves will leave to their camps. I couldn't quite get what the pale ones talked about, and if anyone has better ears, have a listen."

Jareen, this is where your distance hearing would come in handy. Calla, I don't think you have a Wild talent on your character.

He stops, with a smile on his face that hasn't been seen since before the raid "From what I heard, and was able to work out, there is some bad blood between the humans and the elves, though they all listen to the Mul in charge. I may be able to sow some angst within their ranks, possibly turn the elves against the humans, convince them that they will suffer from the effects of the ritual, and thus the only reason they are kept around. That may be all for naught if they are with the pale ones, and they have setup the ritual."

He walks back toward the center of the tower, "I was also able to find out that we have but a few hours before the ritual, it is intended to be performed right after dark. AFTER the ritual, the elves will leave to their camps. I couldn't quite get what the pale ones talked about, and if anyone has better ears, have a listen."

"Show me which group of people you couldn't hear well, I should be able to help with that."

Aubs, far hearing, as noted, I pick a sq within 10sqs and hear "as though stood there" until the end of my next turn. Pitty I have no fire starting magic....

Jareen concentrates on sending his hearing out into the bandit camp.

My recollection is that you need to be able to see the "pale elves" area to target them, and I think the smaller circle is largely out of sight (and anyway it isn't that easy to see through the brush - only chinks round the edge). But you can pitch your power as near as you can see and try a Perception check. However, unless you can speak Elvish you won't understand what they are saying.

Jareen concentrates on sending his hearing out into the bandit camp.

My recollection is that you need to be able to see the "pale elves" area to target them, and I think the smaller circle is largely out of sight (and anyway it isn't that easy to see through the brush - only chinks round the edge). But you can pitch your power as near as you can see and try a Perception check. However, unless you can speak Elvish you won't understand what they are saying.

I don't speak elvish. Would I be able to relay?

Irivis looks at the briars.

"What kind of spark, Arakan? Flint spark or something stronger?"

Jareen, you have Mage Hand at your disposal. You can pick up rocks.

She sounds much happier now that Arakan is calmer and Calla is coming out of her shock.

I don't speak elvish. Would I be able to relay?

No - it all sounds like gibberish.

As if a floodgate has opened, more questions pour forth.

"Did anyone notice, as we were brought here, where the Crodlu's were tied up? Did they bring any of the beasts from the caravan - how many mounts good we think to steal?"

The mounts from the caravan have been taken - they are down at the camp, where the goods are being looted. The enemies' crodlus are in the same place.

"Gramma, you've travelled this desert for so long. If some of us... I mean... when we escape, where should we head? Where might be safe and what terrain will we need to cross?"

Grandma rubs her whiskery chin. "The caravan site was a few days south of Grak's Pool - that a fortified oasis. If we get out of here, we should head there. But the water isn't free - Grak's a mercenary sod. And we'd need to get past the canyon lands between here and the road - you saw that they are a maze."

"Thanks Gramma," Calla almost smiles, "now I think I know the answer to this one, but. Can travellers on foot, with no food, no water, no supplies, tools, or shelter, with wounds, survive a march of several days through the canyon lands to Grak's Pool?"

Almost like the old days, talking with Gramma about trading, about surviving, about desert travel. Almost like.

"Because if not then we need to hit the raider's camp for mounts and supplies. And that changes the plan, perhaps dramatically."

"Without supplies? Very hard. Night marching might make things easier with limited water, but then there are the dangers of not being able to see and predators."

Arakan decides that his part in the plan has been set, and he knows what he must do for now. Trying to move carefully, he attempts first, to dislodge one of the spikes fromthe bush, giving him a crude weapon.

He then works his magic, whispering through the cracks at the guards.

Diplomacy 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14, Bluff 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (14) + 11 = 25, Intimidate 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9. All three for whatever it takes. Of course there had to be a fumble, it wouldn't be my rolls without one. Maybe at least in Intim they won't see me as a threat at all.

One of the elves peers back and sneers.

Elven:

Diplomacy 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28, Bluff 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24, Intim 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10. Woot, my Intim went from a 1 to 2, I'm just not a scary guy with my 8 Str I guess. lol

Calla waits out of sight for Arakan to give some signal of success, or failure.

The elf snorts and turns his back on Arakan, but he and the others look troubled. He then seems to think for a moment, mutters briefly to his comrades, and walks off. He returns shortly with two more elves; one of them is the one Arakan "befriended" before. The other newcomer nods and the elven guards partly pull aside the brush. All seven elves stand there looking tense, hands on weapons.

"Speak plainly, half-breed. What do you know?" snaps the seeming leader in Common.

For reference, the relevant skill is Diplomacy.

Arakan stifles a sneer when the elf approaches, wishing he didn't have to play victim to this one of all of them. He looks around, making sure he shows signs of mistrust towards the humans and pale ones behind the elves he now speaks to. "The group of us were discussing what we were dealing with when we arrived. That is when we noticed the signs of the ritual and what the intentions were behind it. Some were able to see that the ritual is one designed to reach a different place, but that isn't the real issue. The way the thing is prepared, all the crystals in the middle circle are intended to expand the area that is being drained, to include those of you guarding us. Now, I don't know who brought you in on this venture, but they didn't intend for you to make it out. You are just more fodder, fodder that will do their bidding first for some false promise, either of payment or deed. Either way, you are as much their victims as we are."

Diplomacy 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20. Anyone that can assist would be helpful since he's speaking common. Either a Diplomacy, or maybe a Arcana check would count to make it sound more authentic. What say you Aubrey?

EDIT: Also anyone that can perception or anything now that the 'door' is open and we can see the area better. Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 - Diplomacy
1d20 ⇒ 16 - Perception
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26 - Arcana

To concerned by the situation to demonstrate any kind of tact, Irivis points firmly at the circles.

"Look at them. You can see for yourselves this isn't going to be confined to some small area. You're doomed."

She looks anxiously out, trying to see where the other guards have gone.