CaveToad |
Today in Adventure City, a day like most others, you complete your normal daily tasks and then decide to head over to the Grumpy Griffon, a pub devoted primarily to adventurous types. Their food and drink runs the gamut from cheap and ordinary to exotic and expensive, catering to all types of adventurers. Like most nights, the place is packed, and you manage to squeeze into a seat at a table with a bunch of others. (this is all of you).
Before long an elderly gentleman, who has been quiet most of the night, mostly smiling and chuckling to himself, and appearing already somewhat tipsy rises unsteadily and offers to buy the table a drink if you will hear his tale. He continues forward regardless of the responses and motions a server over and indicates the next round is on him. Without missing a beat he starts his story, somewhat slurred, and very rambling. His name, he claims, is Monty. Apparently, in his day, he was a dashing rogue and master cat burglar, pulling off heist after heist but never caught. Most of the tales seem harmless, and whether he spun it this way or not, his targets always seemed to be evil and corrupt, his liberation of their priceless valuables a mandate. He noted that he often distributed the wealth to those in need. Surely Monthy himself does not seem richly attired, in fact a bit shabby. Each tale becomes more and more unbelievable and you begin to wonder if his entire life isn’t a fabrication. You notice that no one else in the place has even stopped to listen to his ramblings, yet you seem compelled to listen to the stories. After a while, you realize many hours have passed and quite a few more rounds on Monty. His stories seem to become more ridiculous and eventually he finds himself in need of sitting, barely able to stand any more.
He lowers himself to his seat, and smiles quietly, more to himself than anyone. Again mostly to himself, he mutters “One more grand heisht would be appropriate don’t you think? Yessssh, yesssh indeed…”. He looks up and sees you all staring at him. “Oh, I see that you are all in for this too then! Shplennndid!”, he pipes and steeples his fingertips together. “Oh!” He pulls a wadded piece of cloth from his pocket and uncrumples it. “Ooops ssshorry that’s my handkerchief!” he wads the crusty thing back up stuffing it in his pocket and pulls out a different crumpled up piece of cloth. Unfurling it, it appears to be a crude map, drawn with charcoal on a rag. Nothing more than a grid of several city streets, all labelled and with a few squares for buildings. He stabs his finger at one of the squares while taking a huge gulp of ale from his mug. Ale dribbling down his beard, he says, “This hive of evil is our target!” His eyes twinkle more fervently now. “It’s a tower, well guarded, hmm maybe traps, we should probably connshider that posshibBRRAAAAAAAAAAAP!!! Excuse me, many pardons.” “Oh yes nassssshty folk.” He looks at Rigar, “Did you know they raided a temple of Torag? Violated the ssshield maidensssh and shtole the temple artifacts!” and at Jack, “They also dug up the shacred Burial Moundssh of Vogabatar! Ancient relics were taken from their rightful burial place. A tragedy really…” He stares off into space a bit and comes back to reality. “OK, letsss go make thissh right! We can shcale the walls and shneak past or overpower the guards and grab the loot!” A thousand questions whirl through your mind as you find yourself drawn in by this drunken old man. Yet when he rises to stumble toward the door you find yourself following him. A tiny sober part of your mind, deep down, calls for sanity and reason, right before you drown it out with a final swig of your beverage and follow Monty to the exit.
Outside the cool fresh night air hits you and it feels great! You feel vibrant and bold, ready for this scheme that Monty has laid out to you only minutes before. You take a deep breath and let it go, and as everyone is waiting around watching their breath form little clouds of vapor, you realize maybe you should ask some questions or at least grab some gear before raiding the tower stronghold of some evil organization.
Bubo Sraga |
Bubo has not imbibed any liquor, owing to personal preference and his body's uniqueness which he inclined to keep free from any contaminants.
With everyone else dubiously drunk, and their host definitively so, it fell upon him as the voice of reason. He didn't care enough to talk them out of it, however. Too much work.
He thinks about asking Monty about the particulars of the operation but realizes it might be exaggerated or wrong and it just wasn't worth the attempt to interrogate a drunken man.
He'd find out for himself when they arrived, he supposed.
Riggar |
Riggar, listens to the drinken fool, and highly doubts that a Torag temple was stolen from. He kills off his Dwarven ale, grabs his gear and heads off to follow the drunk. He doesn't bother to ask questions, he doubts the answers would be helpful.
He gathers his gear, and follows the old man. what's the worst that could happen?
CaveToad |
Most of you have your gear either with you or at the gear check at the pub. Those without it quickly retrieve it and return to the group, still standing in the dark outside. A damp fog is starting to roll in, the sort of chilly penetrating fog that makes one wish they were back at the fireside sipping hot cider. Luckily most of you are warmed by ale, and shrug it off. Monty returns from a nearby alley stumbling about as he redoes his trousers. "Ahhhh, well lets get this started," he says. "The fog will help us." He shambles off in one direction, then changes his mind and shambles in another direction colliding with a well dressed man who knocks Monty to the ground. "Ooof, many pardonssh my good man!" The other man harrumphs and complains, "Drunken lout!". Monty stands and dusts himself off, slipping a ring onto his finger. "Ssshorry my good man." he slurs and bumbles down the street.
Despite his shambling drunken gait, he seems to move quite quickly for all the bobbing and weaving about. After about half an hour brisk walk, Monty stops near a high hedgerow. He sits down catching his breath. He coughs silently and hacks up a big gob of phlegm spitting it into the bushes. He turns to you all, and speaks in a stone cold sober voice, all traces of drunkenness gone. "Ok lads and lassies, here we are, the big game. He produces a small illuminated coin from somewhere and pulls the crude cloth map from his battered shirt sleeve. Cupping the coin he creates a small glowing hemisphere, just enough to see the map. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the hedge. "The tower on the other side of this hedge is our quarry. We need to cross this hedge, sneak across the grounds, scale the tower, break through a trapdoor at the top and descend to the treasure chamber. There will be some guards or some sort of foul minions keeping watch. We will need to deal with them. Then we will rescue the stolen artifacts and return them to their rightful owners, plus maybe some extra for the orphanage." Monty winks and produces a dagger from somewhere with a flick of his wrist. He coughs and sputters a bit, wheezing from the exertion and cold. "A bit chilly tonight, I should have worn my woolen cloak." He hugs himself and rubs his arms. He looks up and goes to speak and then flops forward face down on the ground. After a moment or two you realize this isn't some sort of joke of his. You suspect maybe he passed out, but are unsure if he was actually ever drunk. You turn him over and he appears to not be breathing, and in fact it appears the elderly old man has actually died right there in front of you.
Bubo Sraga |
Might I attempt to discern the cause of death?
"Medically dead," Bubo states before leaning in for a closer look. Quite handy to be already outfitted for forensic inspection with protection from contaminants--one of the perks of being in his line of work.
While working, he talks about the situation the party seems to have fallen into. "Perhaps a coincidence, perhaps not. We'll see. Go through with his plan?"
Taking 10/20 is ideal, but here are rolls:
Heal: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21
Oh, and checking the items for poison and the like before handing the coin and map to, uhh, Kit'Arr let's say for her to look at. Folk seemed to be a rogue so what better than another rogue?
CaveToad |
Given the man's apparent age, and the level of stress, excitement and exertion, its possible he just died of a heart condition or from an imbalance of humours or the like.
The medical diagnosis will be crude and not really like a modern diagnosis, but probably somewhat more informed than what we would expect from a medieval doctor/barber
Riggar |
Hmm, aye hope that not be our fate, he says in a deep baritone voice.
He pierces the magical veil and sees if the ring has any magical properties to it. cast detect magic
If nothing shows, he agrees that progressing would be the correct plan. Even if he was an old drunken fool, he at least faked being a one-time adventurer/theif.
Mekal Magetail |
sorry i just had lasik yesterday so i wasn't able to post at all pretty much slept all day
Well that is not the way I want to go out, I say we keep our eyes peeled for anything strange
Unless the ring comes up magical mekal is going to continue forward as planned.
CaveToad |
The group of you are hunkered down along a tall thick hedgerow that seems to run in both directions as far as the thickening fog will allow you to see. The hedge is about 8' high you estimate, and perhaps 3-4' thick. The hedge is not thorny but it does have lots of small pointy sticky branches. You may be able to wiggle through it with a high escape artist check and a thick cloak. It may make some noise. You could perhaps cut away some of it, which may also make some noise. You could look further in each direction, although you suspect Monty came here for a reason, or perhaps not. He was drunk, or was he? And then there is the matter of his body laying there face down. Luckily the fog and the darkness are keeping the group from being spotted from the street. You are in a side alley of sorts.
The tower itself is across a courtyard beyond the hedge. Due to the fog and darkness you can scarcely make it out. You can somewhat feel it there due to the way the slight breeze and sound of the wind and other night noises seem to echo. You hear some vague noises coming from it as well as some vague light possibly from torches or lanterns diffused through the fog.
CaveToad |
The hedge may support someone light, but someone larger, in armor or with a pack full of gear may find the hedge less cooperative. You might get half way up and the softer less rigid branches up top may give way. This could be a way of just sort of bulldozing your way through for someone heavier and armored sort of getting halfway up and flopping through and over it. The hedge isn't that terrible of an obstacle, its more getting through it without causing a lot of commotion and noise with snapping cracking branches and rustling of the leaves.
Mekal Magetail |
Why dont i just throw grease in the hedge and then we just get a really fast running start and just slide right through the bush, we wont even give the bush enough time to feel our weight HAHA
Mekal is going to to walk up to the hedge and push and look around for maybe a small gap or anything that could make the trip less noticable.
perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
CaveToad |
You would basically have to use a stealth roll to silently cut out a portion of the hedge, hoping that the noise made doing that was worth the noise prevention of everyone crossing it. You can't really determine if crossing the hedge would raise much alarm. You have heard some noises coming from the tower area, but no evidence of patrolling guards or the like. Although for all you know a big guard dog could be snoozing nearby.
Mekal, your initial checks do not find much in terms of gaps that would help. You find a few 'best' spots, but they really aren't that great. For a gnome, possibly passable without issue, but for Jack or Riggar, much more challenging.
Mekal Magetail |
If nobody has a better plan, or wants to do it themselves Mekal will take 20 on stealth for a 24 and try and make a hole big enough for himself to get a peek through the other side to see what is there waiting.
Bubo Sraga |
No other ideas here. Go for it!
While some of the others check the hedge, Bubo further inspects Monty's body before moving it somewhere it won't be stumbled upon.
Also, Bubo will search Monty's body for anything valuable, and perhaps clues to his identity. And then he'll hide the body. Dice rolls? Though I'd rather take 10/20.
CaveToad |
Bubo you move the body further down the hedge and conceal it as best as possible while still being quiet. You find no possessions of interest at all on Monty, which strikes you as strange. He appears to have no money or even minor trinkets that typical people carry around. This seems odd given that he was buying drinks and planned this escapade.
Mekal you manage to get a hole opened in the hedge. I don't think you can take 20 on a stealth roll, since there is a chance that failure could result in something bad. In any event, you manage to get a hole made by twisting and cutting a few branches, enough to squeeze through, and no alarm seems to be raised.
Kit'Arr |
Stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Kit will keep a lookout and also join the group by trying not to make too much noise
Also let me know if we are within 15ft of an unknown person or "thing". She has scent
CaveToad |
With some effort and quite an amount of hacking and rending, the group is able to cut enough the through hedge to get the stout Riggar through. He tucks his beard into his shirt to make sure it doesn't get torn and scrambles through. Taller, but leaner Jack manages to get through easier. Kit, Mekal and Bubo have little issue.
The group reassembles on the other side and listens for any alarm. The fog still heavy obscures anything beyond a good 15'. Kit smells nothing other than the normal city smells of trash, smoke from hearth fires, horse dung, and all the other smells of the city. Somewhere near, a stray can meows plaintively in an alley. Vague sounds issue from the tower nearby, but they seems to be internal. Voices, softened and muffled by the thick tower walls come from a height above. Light from lanterns to the left and around the front side of the tower give a halo of light through the fog in the direction.
The group inches closer trying to maintain caution and some manner of stealth. A quick thirty feet through the fog and the group is at the base of the tower in back, hunched near some empty barrels. Monty indicated that somehow the group would be able to scale the tower, lower a rope and gain access through a window or trap door above. the fog obscures the route up the side of the tower, but a skilled climber may be able to make the climb and secure and lower a rope for the rest.
The climb DC is 15 since there appear to be plenty of architectural adornments to use as hand and footholds. Window casements, waterspout fasteners, cracked and broken masonry, jutting support beams all afford pretty decent passage to the heights above.
Kit'Arr |
Climb speed of 20 and a min climb check of 16.
Kit easily climbs up and lowers down a rope for the rest to climb up
If its a very high tower, she will use two knotted ropes if possible, if not, just 1 normal rope
CaveToad |
Kit is able to scale the walls quite easily. At the top of the tower on the sloped, tiled roof is a small access panel that is used for maintenance. You fasten a rope down to the ground for the others. It is only about 40' down, so you can knot it in some places assuming it is 50' of rope. The trapdoor does appear to be secured from within. A disable device DC of 15 should allow you do wriggles a few tools along the edge and work the pins out holding it shut from the other side.
For everyone else the DC to climb the rope is 0, so assuming you don't have a negative modifier to climb you should all make it ok. If anyone has a negative, perhaps someone could use aid another if needed.
CaveToad |
Kit stealthily opens the trap door while Riggar and Jack climb up the rope, so that the group has somewhere to go once they arrive. The trapdoor opens to a small attic like area at the top of the tower. Dust, cobwebs, and bat feces litter the floor. Riggar and Jack manage to get themselves inside while Mekal and Bubo come up the rope next. Taking extreme care and moving very slowly, so as to not bump around and make too much noise on the wooden attic floor, you hear the sound of voices below. Another trap door in here must lead to a chamber below. Light filters up through some cracks and you hear movement. A voice below complains "I can't believe we have to sit here and guard this stuff for two more days, I would rather be out pillaging. Why didn't they leave the other group behind for this?" A second voice responds "Quit your griping, at least this is safe and we are getting paid handsomely to guard these valuables. How often do you get paid to sit on your butt? No one even know this treasure is here." You hear the clink and clank of cutlery, scraping of chairs and smell what must be a cookfire. Apparently whoever is below guarding "the goods" is enjoying a meal as well. Kit, you can smell beef and onions, smoke from oil lamps, the cookfire itself, hints of ale, and sweat. You also make out the smell of urine, probably from a chamberpot.
Bubo Sraga |
Bubo looks around, trying to spot anything in the attic. Perhaps something valuable, perhaps the trap door.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
"Taking them out quietly would be best," Bubo whispers. "We have the advantage here, and run less risk of them surprising us were we to go looking around without knocking them unconscious. No, it's best we be able to investigate freely in my opinion."
CaveToad |
There is nothing of interest in the attic space. It seems no one has been up here in a long time. None of the spiderwebs or cobwebs look disturbed, a good layer of dust is everywhere as well as bat guano.
The trapdoor is the only way down into the room with the two ( or more? ) guards.
Pausing and listening longer and creeping around quietly, you are able to determine there are more people below. More voices are added to the conversation. A woman and two more men for sure. They all speak in the Common tongue. Luckily their chatting and mealtime keeps a fairly consistent level of background noise going.
The biggest challenge will be in getting through the trapdoor quickly and stealthily enough to gain any effective surprise. At best you think one or two people could make it through for a surprise action.