DM Oladon's Second Darkness

Game Master Oladon

Current Map - Named Drow


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Moar Mappity

Dot.

Liberty's Edge

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..


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Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

le dot


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Moar Mappity

Riddleport: city of pirates... and thieves, prostitutes, lepers, drug addicts, cultists, beggars, crime lords, and more. In any other city, this morning would be considered dreary and depressing. The damp fog, so typical of Riddleport, lies low across the city, hiding even the mysterious Blot from view.

As the sun rises into the sky, the fog slowly burns away and the streets become busier as outcasts from all over Varisia trudge through their day. Here and there, well-dressed newcomers can be seen; come to study the Blot, no doubt, and don't know enough to try to blend in. The thieves and beggars will teach them.

Across the harbor to the south, the massive and mysterious Cyphergate can be seen, standing silently as it has for—how long? The morning sunlight catches a few of the cryptic runes, and they glimmer almost magically for a moment until the light moves on.

Antal:
Your arrival in the city has not, unfortunately, gone unnoticed. Almost from the moment you stepped foot off the ship, you've been surrounded by beggars, merchants, dirty children... even a few of the local guards seem to have taken an interest in you (or more likely, in your coin purse).

"Good sir, won't you purchase some broccoli? Good for the heart after a long journey!"

"Doves! Fine doves for sale! Only ten gold for a beautiful dove!"

"Hey Mister, can you spare a few copper? M'brother's sick, see? Real sick, and we ain't got no money."

The last speaker is a short but stocky half-orc boy, one hand held out in supplication. With the other he gestures to another boy lying on the ground nearby.

Give me a Perception check and a Sense Motive.

Jametor:
The Blot seems bigger today... but perhaps it's just a trick of the light. People are still talking about it, speculating and arguing, but it's all the same things you've already heard.

This is a world of magic... magical things happen all the time, yet a simple shadow in the sky gets people so upset. It's only a shadow... and nothing has happened yet that would indicate it's harmful or dangerous. The 'sages' in the Arcanamirium haven't felt the need to come investigate it themselves, either.

"It's a long journey," they said. "Too long for us... but you may go in our place."

"It'll be an excellent learning experience for you," they said.

"We'll look forward to hearing all about it!" they assured you.

Now here you are, in possibly the dirtiest, ugliest city you've ever seen, surrounded by dirty humans with none of your kind in sight. "An opportunity," they said.

What would you like to do?

Njord:
Mrs. Croft arrives early, as she does every Oathday. The dumpy, middle-aged woman opens her purse and pulls out three copper pieces. "Now, Mister Nord, don't you go spending this all in one place. I do so appreciate this 'special tea' that you brew for me, though of course I haven't told dear Mister Croft where I get it. Wouldn't do, you understand. Of course you do. He thinks I make it. Now, here's your copper... and do you know, Mister Nord, I hope next week I'll be able to give you a whole silver. I'm going to be rich, yes sir I am, and I'll never want for money again. You just watch."

She taps her ruddy nose with an exaggerated wink.

Randall:
The day begins for you much as any other, with one exception: today is the day. Tonight, you might be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. The colorful fliers, hand-painted and hung from every tavernboard you've passed, call out to you with promise of riches unskimmed by any crime lord... though of course the gambling hall is likely to take a bit off the top.

The fliers first began appearing a week or so ago. The golden image of a goblin is enough for anyone familiar with the area to connect the fliers with the old bronze-domed gambling hall, and the other images... well, no one's going to miss the huge piles of silver coin depicted.

As you make your way quickly through the Wharf district with a delivery for one of the innkeepers, you see a few of Varnal "Split-Face"'s men watching you and snickering. Lucky they don't know you worked for Harvey... though they probably never knew Harvey's name, either.

Give me a Perception check.

DM Only:
FS: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13

Welcome to Second Darkness: Shadow in the Sky.


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Njord moves about his tiny shop with practiced ease, filling the tiny satchel from assorted clay pots with dried leaves and flowers. Ginseng, Goat Weed, Dragon’s Whiskers… The end-result would be the tea poor Mrs. Croft had requested to treat her husband’s ailment. The big man widens the opening on the container and takes a deep breath of the scent coming from the combined herbs – perfect!

Pleased with his efforts, the big northman offers up the tea and collects his coppers.

”Har! Is that so? Rich and beautiful is a dangerous combination! Maybe it’s time for a new Mister Croft”, he says with a playful grin.

”I don’t suppose you’ll be sharin’ the secret of your riches with your favorite ole’ Njord?”


Moar Mappity

Njord

The woman giggles and bats at Njord playfully. "Now Mister Nord, what've I told you before about flattering your customers? No, now don't you try to deny it. I haven't been called beautiful in at least a decade, and you aren't going to convince me that's changing!"

She suddenly leans in conspiratorially, her normally boisterous voice lowered to a whisper. "You want to know the secret?"

Her eyes glinting excitedly, she pauses to build suspense and make sure the big man is listening. With a little grin, she continues. "I'm going to win the big tournament at the Gold Goblin. Ten thousand silver, all mine! Haha! Isn't that something? They're calling it 'Cheat the Devil and Steal His Gold'! Well, I sure am going to do just that! I'm lucky Mister Croft is out of town... just think how happy he'll be when he comes back and we're rich!"

She smiles. "And don't you worry, Mister Nord, I won't forget my friends when I'm rich, no sir. But I'd better be going, I do have other errands to attend to! Be a dear and show me to the door?"

And with that she toddles off, clutching the precious tea in one hand and her money-purse in the other.


Rogue 14 [ HP 36/87 (0 NL) | AC 26 Tch 19 FF 20 | Fort +9* Ref +18* Will +10* | CMD 27, 29 vs steal | Init +9 | Perc +21, vs traps +32, trap spotter | Effects: Haste]

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

The tall brown haired blue eyed elf stared at the innkeeper until he averted his eyes and bowed his head. "Master elf, I am sorry, I cannot tell you who took your clothes, only that it wasn't me or my staff."

The raven perched on the elf's shoulder looked at the innkeeper and then in perfect Common says, "Liar". The innkeeper gasped and started to reply to the raven when the look on the wizard's face stopped his retort at his lips.

"Swiftwing, enough. Well, be that as it may, I am now reduced to traveling clothes and the other items I had on my person. I come to your city to try to find out why there is a dark cloud hanging over it, but I wonder if it's not the judgement of a god of some sort, this seedy underbelly of humanity..emphasis on human! Perhaps a good dose of elven culture could pull this city out of it's filth, but I doubt it. Well, it's probably unnecessary, but I must inform you of my leaving your...establishment. Such as it is.

With that, the young elf spins on his heel and walks out, the raven looks back toward the innkeeper and says, "Liar and thief!"

As the young wizard reaches the street he says under his breath.

"Tyhmä ihmisen luulee voivansa vetää yksi yli minua"

Elven:
Stupid human, thinks he can pull one over me.

The raven cocks her head and then says, "Either teach me Elven or speak Common Jametor."

Jametor sighs and nods. "You are correct, I am sorry Swiftwing. How many times do I wish I had taught you Elvish first. But then I would have to make sure the message you take would arrive at a person who could speak it too. Common is much more useful. Well now we must find some lodging..and safe lodging, we do not have much left to steal, so let's guard it with our lives."

Continuing to walk around the city, Jametor and Swiftwing find themselves in front of the Gold Goblin, an inn that is about to host a grand gambling tournament. Jametor decides it looks clean enough, perhaps he should eat something and inquire about a room. He and his raven enter the Gold Goblin.


Moar Mappity

Randall:
You're pretty sure you're being followed. The slight female halfling just doesn't walk like someone very familiar with the Wharf district... and there's something a bit "off" about her clothing, too, as if she's trying to blend in with the filth around her. Just as you notice her, she seems to realize you've seen her and ducks behind a shop corner.


Moar Mappity

Jametor:
As you enter the Gold Goblin, a lithe woman glances down from where she's perched on a ladder hanging decorations. She raises one eyebrow at you and tilts her head inquiringly. "Well ain't you purty..." She climbs down from the ladder and wipes her hands off on a towel with another raised eyebrow. "What can I do for ya, handsome?"

DM Only:
SP: 1d20 ⇒ 16


Rogue 14 [ HP 36/87 (0 NL) | AC 26 Tch 19 FF 20 | Fort +9* Ref +18* Will +10* | CMD 27, 29 vs steal | Init +9 | Perc +21, vs traps +32, trap spotter | Effects: Haste]

DM Oladon:
To himself, "Well, I wasn't in a hurry. Perhaps she's lost down here and thought I might be able to lead her out. Or something." Shrugging, he heads for where she disappeared, but across the street from the actual corner. That is, if she ducked behind a corner on his left as he approaches, he will come toward it on the right side of the street in hopes that he can look down past the building without literally sticking his head around the corner. He's heard of a con that worked that way, after all...

He will attempt to nonchalantly locate her around the corner or determine where she's gone, but if she's truly departed the area, he will look around as though he'd lost something (rather than someone) and return to his original path, keeping more of an eye on his backtrail than before.

Bluff to disguise his intent: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

I suppose she would count as something intentionally hidden, so his Canny Observer talent might have applied there. I did not include it.


Moar Mappity

Randall:
Randall crosses the street and doubles back, arriving at the corner just as the dark-haired halfling is peeking out from behind it. She spies him just as he sees her, and her curious expression disappears all at once into a practiced blankness. She stands unmoving by the corner, waiting for his reaction to catching her.

DM Only:
FP: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24


Rogue 14 [ HP 36/87 (0 NL) | AC 26 Tch 19 FF 20 | Fort +9* Ref +18* Will +10* | CMD 27, 29 vs steal | Init +9 | Perc +21, vs traps +32, trap spotter | Effects: Haste]

DM Oldadon:
Looking around to see who else might be watching, Randall walk across the street. In a normal voice, he asks, "Good morning! I couldn't help but notice you a moment ago. I hope you don't think I'm being too forward to just walk up and speak to you like this, but I wanted to ask if you had plans today? My name is Randall, by the way."

Smiling and apparently awaiting a response, he whispers, "In my experience, if I'm being followed, someone's in trouble - either me or a friend. Since I've done nothing of late to be in trouble, perhaps it's you. I am always willing to help a friend. Are you a friend?"

Bluff for onlookers: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

Diplomacy for her: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24


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Moar Mappity

I am not old!


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

”Har!”

Njord sees Mrs. Croft to the door and thanks her for her business as she makes her exit.

Once his shop was empty again, the ulfen was left to his thoughts. He had never been a man to derive a lot of pleasure from gambling but ten-thousand silver was a lot. The big man’s imagination began to run wild with daydreams of what could be done with so much coin.

I’ll get a bite to eat and see what the fuss is about.

After putting up a sign in the window noting his absence, Njord grabs his things and hits the streets.

Gather Info about this tournament: 1d20 ⇒ 8


Female Halfling Rog 3 / Sorc 4 / AT 7 [ HP 94/94 (0 NL) | AC 21 Tch 17 FF 16 | Fort +9* Ref +16* Will +14* | CMD 21 | Init +5 | Perc +16 | Effects: none ]

Randall:
The other halfling seems to relax slightly at Randall's friendly tone, and the barest hint of a smile appears on her face. "Plans?" she asks aloud. "Why, no, not particularly... did you have anything in mind?"

Lowering her voice to a whisper to match his, she continues. "I'm not in trouble either... it's just that there aren't many of our sort around here and I've seen you before and wanted to know what you do. My name's Fíriel. I noticed the men watching you... I hope you don't get into trouble with that sort often!"


Rogue 14 [ HP 36/87 (0 NL) | AC 26 Tch 19 FF 20 | Fort +9* Ref +18* Will +10* | CMD 27, 29 vs steal | Init +9 | Perc +21, vs traps +32, trap spotter | Effects: Haste]

Firiel:

Turning on his toe so that he is standing alongside her, Randall offers her his right arm, "It is entirely my pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I happen to be on my way to what promises to be a spectacle of the first order. And, Desna willing, I will get some coin to call my own as a result. Care to join me?"

Voice low, "Firiel is a lovely name. Those fellows laugh at me because I'm trying to make an honest living, an idea they cannot fathom. Speaking of which, I need to deliver something for one of the innkeepers. You wanted to know what I do? Come, I will show you."

He will quickly realize that he doesn't need to half-step to let her keep up, which he finds intriguing - he's never met another halfling that moved as quickly as he did.

Keeping his voice low still, "So, my new friend, I have not seen many like us here, either - what do you do here? Just visiting, taking in the sights?" He smiles faintly at the idea.


Moar Mappity

Njord:
Just over an hour later, after traversing what seems like half the city, Njord finds himself wandering through the Leeward district, following the obscure and often brusque nods and pointed fingers which have answered his inquiry thus far.

Passing in front of the grandiose Mystery of the Gate inn, Njord notices a sign on the tavernboard outside. It depicts a ruddy, horned creature standing protectively over stacks of silver coins, with the heading "Cheat the Devil and Steal His Gold!" The tournament, it says, takes place tonight at the Gold Goblin gambling hall near the Wharf district. It costs 1gp to enter, and the top stake is 10,000 silver, just as Mrs. Croft said.

The tournament starts at 7pm, and it's about noon now. What would you like to do in the interim?

DM Only:
1d4 ⇒ 1
1d100 ⇒ 45


Female Halfling Rog 3 / Sorc 4 / AT 7 [ HP 94/94 (0 NL) | AC 21 Tch 17 FF 16 | Fort +9* Ref +16* Will +14* | CMD 21 | Init +5 | Perc +16 | Effects: none ]

Randall:
Tilting her head politely, Fíriel accepts the proffered arm, though she seems surprised. As they set off, she smiles. "What sort of spectacle? You're not one of those who meet lovely ladies on the street and try to steal from them, are you?"

Her smile is warm, but her eyes glint a little dangerously as she studies the other halfling. "No, no, you'd not do that to one of your own kind, certainly, even if it were likely to work." Her smile has turned into a mischievous grin at this point, though her expression returns to one of curiosity as she continues. "So you're a servant, then? I'm just exploring. We moved here some time ago, but there's a lot to see... it's a big city."


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Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Curious, and not quite done with his lunch, Njord tries to learn more about the tournament from the locals – what kind of competition will be involved, etc.

Maybe it’ll be wrestling or better yet, pie eating!

Gather info!: 1d20 ⇒ 20


Rogue 14 [ HP 36/87 (0 NL) | AC 26 Tch 19 FF 20 | Fort +9* Ref +18* Will +10* | CMD 27, 29 vs steal | Init +9 | Perc +21, vs traps +32, trap spotter | Effects: Haste]

Firiel:
Looking somewhat offended, Randall places a hand to his chest, "My dear, you wound me! I would never do such a thing!" Dropping the act, he adds, "Certainly not to one of us..."

They walk a bit further and he spots one of the posters plastered all over the city. "There. I'm referring to the gala event they advertise thusly. I'm not much of a gambler, but gamblers expect to lose money, yes? I hope to find some. It could be a perfect match." He shrugs, "If their guards are overly perceptive and I dare not try, it's only a gold to get in. And I might double or triple it. I could certainly do worse..."

"Oh, I'm more of a contractor than a servant. There are parts of the city that a good employer won't send his butler if he wants to keep him. So they hire out to runners and deliveryboys. That's what I am now. I'm trying to leave the other life behind me. With Desna's help, I'll leave Riddleport, too, but that takes money. In the meantime, I survive and keep my head down. I'd be happy to show you the Riddleport I know - maybe you can show me the neighborhoods I haven't seen in return?"


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

DM Because all the cool kids are doing it:
Jametor stops for a moment looking around to see if he was the target of the compliment. Seeing no one else, he bows to the woman and says, "Well met, my name is Jametor, and this," he motions to the raven sitting on his shoulder, "is Swiftwing, she's clean and intelligent. I am hoping she won't be a problem here. First, we would like something to eat and then perhaps lodging, if your inn has better security than your competitors. I've come from Absalom to study your dark cloud."

When Jametor finishes speaking, Swiftwing caws softly, which sounds almost like a chuckle. Jametor glances at her, making sure she remembers not to speak while in the presence of strangers, especially those they just met. Swiftwing bobs her head, letting him know she isn't planning on speaking, just yet.


Moar Mappity

Njord:
Finding out more about the tournament ends up being tougher than one might think, and Njord earns more than one dirty look just for asking. Sometime in the afternoon, the Ulfen stops a boy on the street with his well-rehearsed question. The boy looks up arrogantly and holds out a dirty palm. "Fer a copper I'll tell ya evrythin' about it."

He glances around surreptitiously, seeming nervous about something, but keeps his hand held out demandingly.

You can give me a Sense Motive if you'd like.

DM Only:
1d4 ⇒ 4
1d100 ⇒ 85
1d100 ⇒ 23
1d100 ⇒ 48
1d4 ⇒ 4
1d10 ⇒ 4


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Not normally one to be strong armed by children but admiring the boy’s spirit, Njord fishes out a copper piece and holds it aloft.

”I’m listening.”


Female Halfling Rog 3 / Sorc 4 / AT 7 [ HP 94/94 (0 NL) | AC 21 Tch 17 FF 16 | Fort +9* Ref +16* Will +14* | CMD 21 | Init +5 | Perc +16 | Effects: none ]

Randall:
Fíriel laughs lightly at the other's words and studies one of the posters. "I've played a few games of chance with Papa's butler, but never for much, just trinkets or desserts. Ten thousand silver isn't much, but at least it might give me a bit of a break from Mama's and Papa's insistence that I find a job or apply to an Academy."

She sighs dramatically. "Can't they understand that I'm young and want to see the world first? I want to get out of Riddleport. They don't see the things I do—yuck!" she exclaims, as she dodges nimbly around the contents of a drunk's stomach from the night before. She recovers and grins at Randall. "I'll take you up on your offer. I'm not sure I can show you much you've not already seen, but I'll do my best. Have you ever been inside the Cypher Lodge?"


Moar Mappity

Jametor:
The woman laughs raucously. "Sher do talk funny," she comments, tilting her head as if to better examine the wizard. "Got some ears there, too. Don't got to talk all formal-like for me, honey. Now come on, we'll get ya set up in our nicest room. Only six gold a night, and yer bird can stay with ya as long as yer here."

She turns and leads the way across the gambling floor toward a door partly-concealed by a folding screen. Opening the door, she leads Jametor into an atrium, floored in white marble and with a marble statue at its center. The statue seems to be that of a robed maiden holding a harp, though its head and one arm are now broken away and missing. To the north is another door, which the woman opens and stands next to.

"Have a good look, handsome..." she says with another of those unusually-human smiles. Beyond the door is a large anteroom with a chaise lounge and two chairs. A king-sized feather bed sporting a slightly worn canopy sits in the opposite corner, and a few other modest furnishings complete the room.

"Well," says the woman's voice, sounding a bit strange, "whatcha think?"

You can give me a Sense Motive check if you'd like.


Moar Mappity

Njord:
He seems afraid of something and not entirely honest.

The boy jumps in an attempt to swipe the coin, and his face takes on a bit of a pout as it's held out of his reach. "Aw, fine. Listen, they always play Ghoulette and umm... some other games... fine, fine, they play Dragon's Eye too! And don't tell me I'm too young to know, 'cause just 'cause they won't let me in don't mean I don't know!"

He glances around nervously, jumps a bit, and his voice takes on a bit more of a pleading tone. "C'mon, mister, gimme the money..."

Perception.


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Njord frowns a bit. What was all the secrecy about? The tournament was public enough. Something about this didn’t add up.

”What’s the problem boy? Is someone hurtin’ you?”


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

GM:
I was heading to that inn because it mentioned it in my trait.

Jametor stares at the woman after he examines the room.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 2

"Well this is definitely a very nice room, but I don't really need all this room and such. I nice clean room will be more to my liking. I am a simple man. Jametor gives the woman his best smile.

Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 6
Just in case the raven can sense motive too.
Sense Motive by Swiftwing: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Yay, let's get the bad rolls out of my system ...also le sigh


Moar Mappity

Njord:
Visible having just come around the corner are two older boys carrying cheap weapons and looking unhappy. "There he is!" exclaims one of them, pointing in Njord's general direction. The boy to whom Njord's been speaking squeaks slightly and reaches for the coin one more time, then gives up and turns to run the other way, dodging behind the big Ulfen in an attempt to buy a few more precious seconds. The older boys begin running straight toward Njord, their eyes fixed behind him on their prey.


Moar Mappity

Jametor:
The woman seems offended. Swiftwing recognizes that she's disappointed for some reason that's probably not altruistic.

The human woman's bottom lip curls downward a bit, her chin dipping simultaneously in a rather sad expression. "Aw, honey, this is our best room... but I guess you'll wanna see our others, hmm? You just follow me."

She leads the way through another door off the atrium and into a hallway. The floor here is wooden planks covered by a thin and somewhat worn carpet, and the doors in the hallway open to simpler rooms. The woman precedes Jametor into one of them and sits down on the end of the bed. "How bout this room, darlin? One gold a night; best rate you're gonna find anywhere in town."

The rest of the furnishings consist of a table and chairs, and a fireplace.

Swiftwing can tell that the woman is not being truthful.

DM Only:
1d20 ⇒ 6


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Njord frowns again as the older boys come into view. Children scrap, gods above knew he’d bloodied plenty of noses himself when he was a boy, but he didn’t like the vicious look of this lot. The big ulfen took a wide stance and held up a meaty hand.

”Hold on just a minute pups. What’s this about. What’s that boy done that requires sticks and clubs?”

Diplomacy!: 1d20 ⇒ 10


Rogue 14 [ HP 36/87 (0 NL) | AC 26 Tch 19 FF 20 | Fort +9* Ref +18* Will +10* | CMD 27, 29 vs steal | Init +9 | Perc +21, vs traps +32, trap spotter | Effects: Haste]

Firiel:
With a shake of his head, Randall answers, a bit chagrined. "I haven't been anywhere except the wharf. Well, my mother and I walked along the streets by the nice houses a few times, but that's been several years," he pauses, "that was before Desna took her on her final journey."

He recovers, "So you've been in the Cypher Lodge? I've delivered to it once, I think. And an academy? You must be very smart. I'm afraid this is the only school I've ever had." With a sweep of his left hand, he gestures to the streets around them.

"If you have a gold piece, you can come to the tournament, too. Maybe we will both make some money!"


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

GM:
Jametor chuckles as Swiftwing squawks a few times.

"The best rate? I think not. Why that's 10 times what I paid for the other rooms and while they weren't exactly great, they weren't that far below this one. I suppose we best move on Swiftwing. Perhaps we should apply for membership with the cyphermages. I know that we would be a great addition to their Order. What say you Swiftwing?"

Jametor looks at Swiftwing who nods her head up and down and caws gaily.

Bluff: 1d20 ⇒ 7 OMG I apparently got the bad dice curse...le sigh


Moar Mappity

Njord

The boy carrying a whip says, "Out of our way, fatty. It's none of your business."

Simultaneously, the other boy begins "Run away's what he's done, and he's going to get..." He breaks off when he hears his fellow. "Yeah, none of your business!"

The first boy lashes out with his whip at the Ulfen warningly, the end cracking just short of Njord's shirtfront. "Now move!"

DM Dice:
Njord Init: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8
Boys Init: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (18) - 2 = 16
Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10


Female Halfling Rog 3 / Sorc 4 / AT 7 [ HP 94/94 (0 NL) | AC 21 Tch 17 FF 16 | Fort +9* Ref +16* Will +14* | CMD 21 | Init +5 | Perc +16 | Effects: none ]

Randall:
"I'd like that a lot," answers the girl, smiling. "I don't know if we'll win anything, but it should be fun nonetheless. The Cypher Lodge is weird... all these magicians and such, but they're very different from Papa and Mama... they're really political, and I've heard that you can get thrown out just for using the wrong form of address. But they do have pretty furnishings... I'll take you there sometime."


Moar Mappity

Randall:
Anything else you'd like to take care of before the tournament?


Moar Mappity

Jametor:
Maybe that means I'll roll decently, yay! :D

The woman studies Jametor for a few seconds silently, and sighs. "Look, sweetie, I can drop the rate to five silver and give you a free entry to our tournament tonight if you'll just promise to keep the bird quiet and not make trouble. Oh, and you'll still have to sign the contract, and you don't get no special service."

You and Swiftwing get the impression that she's being sincere.

DM Only:
Can't you read?! It says DM only!
1d20 ⇒ 17


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

GM:
Jametor nods to the woman as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold piece. Handing it to the woman, he says, "That would be fine, here is enough for two nights. Perhaps I might be of service for the tournament, as a freelancer? Now, perhaps we can discuss a meal and it's price for me and the raven?"


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Njord sucks in a breath as one of the boys attacks him.

"Why you rotten little whelp... I'm gunna teach you a lesson!"

Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

You forgot the le sigh


Moar Mappity

Njord

"Yer a fool, old man! An' now you'll pay fer gettin' in our way!"

The speaker takes a swipe with his club as the other boy swings the whip again.

Bonk!: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Kerpew!: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (18) - 3 = 15
Nonlethal: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Does kerpew work as a whip noise?


Moar Mappity

Jametor:
The woman takes the gold piece and bites into it to check its authenticity. When she's satisfied, her smile returns and she nods as she tucks it into her belt. "We'll get you fixed right up with some food, honey. We don't need no lancin' though... whatcha think this tournament is, some kind of knight's contest? Ahahahaha!"

Her raucous laughter evidences her amusement at her joke.


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

GM of the low rolls:
Jametor smirks as Swiftwing hopes down on the floor and starts looking around the room.

Raven perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

"Thank you, perhaps I can have a few minutes to settle in, should I meet you somewhere?'


Moar Mappity

Jametor:
"Oh, sher, come on over t'the kitchen when yer ready, sweets."

She saunters out of the room, her hips swinging unnaturally. Swiftwing finds a small piece of silk under the bed, but other than that the room seems fairly clean and empty.

[spoiler=DM Dice]1d100 ⇒ 83


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

Njord grunts in pain as the whip cracks against his skin.

"Ow! That's it. I've had enough of you."

With a growl, Njord steps toward the boy with the whip and throws a meaty punch.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Damage: 1d3 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8


Male Elf--Drow (Jamleus) Wizard 14| HP 80/80 | AC 15 | T 15 | FF 11 | CMD 22 | Fort +7 | Ref +10 | Will +11 | Init +4 | Perc +20 | Sense Motive +18 |Effects: Mage Armor +4 AC

"So Swiftwing, what do you think? I think we could have gotten the room cheaper, but I am just so tired and this place looks....safe to a degree. I really need to find an alarm spell, or something similar. Keep an eye out for it, if you would."

Jametor sits on the bed, determining that he's slept on worse beds. Swiftwing flies up to the back of one of the chairs and looks around before saying,

"We've been in worse places for sure. You really need to find a good paying job, I liked the look of that first room.

Jametor nods then stands. "Let's go get something to eat."

As they leave, Jametor takes a piece of hair from his head then carefully closes the door, with the piece of hair sticking out just where the door closes. This has, in the past, worked as a poor man's alarm spell.


Moar Mappity

Njord

The young whippersnapper goes down like a sack of potatoes, and the other boy's eyes widen considerably. He lowers the club and backs away, glancing down once at the other boy before turning tail to run.


Coldborn Ulfen 13 - 134/134 hp + 120 stoneskin, Init +0, AC 21 (26 with buffs) [touch 12, FF 20], Fort +17, Ref +13, Will +10; Perception +19
Resources:
Bombs 10/10 | Healing Factor 35/35 | Martial Flexibility 4/4 | Bear Form 2/3
Extracts:
Shield x4 | Cure Light Wounds x1 | True Strike x1 | Barkskin x2 | False Life x2 | Heroism x2 | Orchid's Drop x1

After picking up the boy's weapon and slicing it apart with his dagger, Njord crouches down to make sure he didn't hurt him too badly.

Heal?: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

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