Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Round 1, Init 4

Tsin slows her breathe, and steadies the pull on the longbow. She takes aim on the woman. Not the same as a deer, is it?
Composite Longbow: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6 for 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 damage

Closer. All I need to do is get closer, and I won't miss as easily. That's the right of it. Tsin positions closer. 45' from Lady Archer

Round 1; Initiative 14
"Eh? What's this? I'm not sure I know who's who any more, but I recognize a lack of manners when I see some crude woman shoot a little boy like that! Harumpf! Once I get up this ridge, by golly..." Any remaining oaths are lost in his mutterings as Malavarius storms up the slope. He raises his staff as he approaches the crest and a familiar shimmering curtain blooms from the head.

Move: move 15 feet up the hill (does this bring me into line of sight with these ruffians?)
Standard: activate Protective Ward - Allies within 10ft of Malavarius gain +1 deflection bonus to AC

Round 2, Init 24

Faced with the decision of chasing his first prey and spoiling the attempts of others by providing cover, Hektir instead closes the distance toward one of the two side archers. Single moving the 15' feet (30' move), Hektir tries to decapitate the side archer.

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23 to hit;
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5 damage.

Edit: Potential Crit:
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9 to hit;
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 damage.

Mal closes on the group, activating his protective magics as Pems loads his sling and Quinn and Tsin let their shafts fly.

Tsin's shot soars over her head as she crumples to the ground with the impact of Quinn's shot.

Hektir charges after one of the other two archers, cutting him badly. He snarls in pain, dropping his bow and stabbing wildly with his short sword.

The other archer continues to back away another 15 feet, moving back toward the trail now ahead of your position, and fires, his arrow hitting Quinn and ripping through the flesh of his arm. 2 hp

Pems trudges 10 feet closer to the action, whirling his sling as he goes, aiming at one of the remaining archers!

Pem's Shot: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4

Round 2; Initiative 14

Malavarius continues to stomp through the snow closer to the retreating archers. His staff gripped tightly in one hand, he wags a long finger with his free hand at the ruffian with whom Hektir is trading blows. "Ah ha! You see that? Do you? Manners! If you had 'em, that man there who's name I'm no longer sure of wouldn't be cutting you to ribbons! Mmmhmm! He's a mean one too, lad. I'd expect it to hurt quite a lot!"

Intimidate (demoralize): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17 vs 10 + target's HD + target's Wis Mod; success = shaken (-2 penalty on attack rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks)

Move Action: Advance another 15 ft
Standard Action: Intimidate (demoralize) @ Hektir's opponent

Round 3, Init 24

Hektir's ears blister as Mal's wagging tongue and finger sets in.

Hektir resists the urge to turn and give Mal a 'look', and instead focuses on making good on Mal's prediction/threat.

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16 to hit;
1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6 damage.

What is *with* the Old Man?

Round 2, Init 4

Closer, closer. Tsin moves another 15', hoping to overcome the disadvantage of distance. Pretend you're Orwyne. Without the ridiculous giggling. Tsin draws in her breathe with her pull, and targets Quinn's archer, fearing to hit Hektir in the back.

Composite Longbow: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23 for 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7 damage
Confirm Critical: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12 for 2d8 + 2 ⇒ (7, 7) + 2 = 16 damage

"Are we ready to call off aggressions yet? I can use the practice, I suppose. Maybe if you turn sideways, reduce your target size a bit, it'll draw this out a bit longer." Tsin enjoys the detached stance of the archer.

Quinn loads his crossbow and waits to see if any foes remain standing after the heavy assault from the party. "Serves them right for shooting Pem like that, he was just being a friendly traveler."

If all the foes appear to be down, Quinn will move to the lady archer, automatically stabilizing her (just in case). Then he'll search her thoroughly for any hidden weapons or objects.

Perception +12: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

Distracted by Malavarius, Hektir's foe is cut down by the tracker.

Quinn's bolt flies wide of the final remaining archer, but Tsin's arrow slams into his chest. He has the strength to fire one more arrow in the direction of the group before collapsing into the snow.

All three appear to still be alive, despite their wounds.
None has anything hidden on them, but they all have padded armor, buckler, short sword, shortbow with a quiver of arrows, 8 gp and 5 sp.

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

"Ah ha! See that, Zeno? Teamwork! Haha, works every time, don't you know. Now maybe we can get down to the business of figuring out how many Hektirs we have in our little band, mmm?"
"How many Hek- there's just the one, you old goat!"
"What? Just the one? I could have sworn there were two just a minute ago. Why yes, yes, that one there and that shorter one there." He then gestures to Quinn and Tsin, "I don't suppose the rough looking lady there is Quinn and the glassy-eyed gentleman there is Tsin now? Do you think they traded names before we met just to confuse me?"
"Did one of those icy creatures freeze your brain?"
"Oh ho ho! It's a clever plan they hatched, Zeno, but I'm too quick for them! Shh, shh! They're looking this way. Pretend you don't know anything!"
"I'm quite sure I don't have the slightest idea what you're going on about, so that shouldn't be too hard."

Zeno then flits over to Quinn as he kneels over the downed woman. "Are you alright? That was quite a shot you made to take this one down, Quinn. I'm glad my advice is already helping!"

Quinn smiles cheerily at the lady archer as he kneels over her, "Let us ask you again, since you seem to have ignored Hektir the first time, have you seen some fey with captives, do you know anything about this winter, what are you doing here, and what was that about a chain shirt and dagger? I can save your friends, if they haven't bled out yet, so a quick answer would be best." Quinn continues to smile cheerily, not caring if he's diplomatic or threatening as his real interest is in how the lady archer answers his questions.

Diplomacy or Intimidate - untrained +2: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Sense Motive +7: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

"If I try to retrieve my arrow, he'll bleed out sooner?" Tsin stands above her 'kill', and gently touches the fletch of the arrow still protruding from the archer. "Quite the poetic justice, don't you think? Your aggression turned against you? Should have paused for thought, and a bit of conversation. Master Halfling is quite the conversationalist." Should the archer appear disinterested in Tsin's lecture, she punctuates her points with a tap on the end of the arrow.

Tsin listens for answers, especially from the woman, who appears to be brain of this little operation. "They are just as much fish out of water in these parts as we are. They have nothing resembling furs to protect them from this bite." Tsin thinks a bit more on the situation.

"Hektir, did we inadvertently track these cretans in our pursuit of the captives? Or are we crossing paths with them by chance? Nothing out here strikes me as chance, if I might add." Tsin scans the path for intersections.
Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

Hektir checks the tracks, both of their prey and the humans.

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14 Survival

"I think they know why the cold is here and, what's more, I think they are working for and with those we track. I don't think they should be allowed to live. Let the meat on their bones feed some of the animals of the forest who are having a hard time foraging in this snow."

Hektir coup de graces the archer he just fell.

"Serves them right."

Hektir will gather up what valuables he can carry (mostly the coins), and if the other foes aren't talking is happy to move on.

Malavarius arches a bushy eyebrow as Hektir finishes off one of the archers. "Mmmm. Terrible business, banditry. Always ends bloody for someone. Mmm mmm. A dark and terrible business." He shakes his head ruefully at the remaining pair of archers. He then glances to Pemsworth, "Well lad? They shot at you first, after all. What do you think we should do with them now, hmmm?"

Meanwhile, Zeno zips from Quinn's shoulder to Tsin's, complimenting her use of the bow too, "A fine shot there Tsin. Your first try made me think you didn't know what you were doing and that you were an absolute clutz, but now I see you were just giving these thugs a false sense of security so they'd lower their guard. Brilliant strategy!"

"I don't know what caused the winter," the woman whines, "but maybe it was the fey. My boss cut a deal with them. That's all I know, I swear. Please don't kill me!"

Pem winces as he prods the oozing wound. "Peace, Hektir! A bandit she may be, but such things can be remedied. Take her weapons, leave her with a dagger and let her go. If she takes this chance to become a more upright citizen, so be it and better we are all for it! As my old dad used to say 'Son, even gold's got to be polished before it's pretty!' If she backslides, I'm sure the next time she faces a foe, she'll meet her bloody end. I've no appetite for blood. I've lost enough of my own."

Malavarius' eyes twinkle brightly beneath the shadow of his bushy eyebrows as he regards Pemsworth and a tiny satisfied smile twitches beneath his beard. He settles back to see how the others respond to the halfling's request.

Tsin winks at Zeno. "Yes, that was my strategy all along."

"The woman is pardoned. You are not so fortunate today. Your death will serve to remind her of how lucky she was." Tsin produces her falchion, and coup de graces her downed archer, following the fashion of Hektir. Zeno feels only a slight bob of motion in Tsin's bloody curtsy.

"Rabid dogs can not be reasoned with. Master Tinker, it will be little problem for you to turn your back, and allow me to finish her. I'm at your service." Tsin approaches the woman, blood still staining the falchion.

"Should we at least have from her the name and location of her boss?"

"It's Rohkar, Rohkar Cindren! He's taken over the High Sentinel Lodge! It's about four miles up the trail!"

Note, that will take you about four hours and get you there around 5 p.m., a few hours before the sun sets, assuming no other delays.

Hektir spits on the ground.

"Your captive, your problem." Hektir responds to Pems. "One thing I'd like to know is how these three aren't freezing out here. They don't have much more cloth on them than we do, yet they seem fine. We have magics to keep us warm...why are they fine?"

Hektir wipes off his scimitar in the snow, then finishes the cleaning using some cloth from the one he just finished off.

"Well now, how many men does your boss have? Why were you sent out here?"

"There are about a dozen of us," she responds, her eyes fixed on the bloody blade which I'm glad to see you're cleaning.

"He sent us here to make sure no one followed us, or tried to get that lady back."

A closer look makes it clear that she's suffering frostbite and likely has no special protection from the weather.

which I'm glad to see you're cleaning.

:)

Hektir sheathes his blade.

"I got none further use for her and the only thing I ask is that she not go ahead of us to warn her friends. Because we are coming."

Hektir is ready to move on, letting Pems deal with the woman.

"So, if I tally the count, it's now roughly nine of you." Tsin looks to her five Noggin tap- six and tries to glean a bit more information from the woman.

"Hektir, hold for a small spell. She may be able to tell us something of their routines. I am wrong, lady archer? The lodge, does it have blindspots? And do the lodgers have a healer in their ranks, for when the frostbite takes hold?"

"What is your name? And when we meet this Rohkar, would you like us to tell him you're dead?" Tsin eyes Pemsworth with an arched eyebrow. "It doesn't have to be the truth."

"They call me Sarla, and sure, I suppose you can tell him I'm dead. This winter will probably kill me if I can't go back to the lodge, so it'll probably be the truth."

"They keep a lookout to the east, which is the approach to the lodge, though maybe you could circle around, I suppose. There's a gorge to the west, though."

"Saria, such a pretty name for such an ugly occupation. Truly you will die out in this winter, this cold will kill a healthy man and your wounds are serious. I doubt you could even walk the four miles to the lodge now if you wanted to." Quinn gives her the same cheery smile, "But I could heal you, all your wounds, and we'll see what we can do about that nasty frostbite." the smile remains, stretches wider even, "Tell me archer, if we save you, what will you do for us?"

Pemsworth smiles acidly at Hektir, clearly seeing the issue here. "I have no desire to see you dead, Sarla, despite your unfortunate aim. In the future, it would be better to seek a different fortune. A bandit's life seldom ends happily. Quinn, if you'd be so kind as to heal her if she's ready to change her life, leave her her armor and weapons, but be a dear and toss the weapons in a tree. I'd rather not have an arrow in my back to match my front! At least she'll have to take the time to climb the tree before she shoots me."

Her eyes drift down your frame, Quinn, before she looks around the rest of the group standing over her. "What do you want me to do for you, priest?" she says in a resigned tone.

Tsin snorts.

"Well, it will be hard at first, then it will get easier, and it will go against your instincts, but just give it a try ok? We want you to Trust us. See, likely something you've never done before and you'll have to work at it, but let me make it easier for you."

Quinn gathers in the party and expels a healing surge through the group, including Saria.

Channel Heal: 1d6 ⇒ 1

"Ah, hmm, not very inspiring was that, let's try it again."

Channel Heal: 1d6 ⇒ 6

"There we go, now let me get you my travel blanket, Saria, and we'll make our way for that lodge with your guidance."

SarLa, Quinn. Her name is Sarla, with an 'l'. lol

Malavarius continues to watch the exchange with obvious wonderment. As Zeno returns to his perch atop the wizard's staff, he asks his familiar, "What will they do, Zeno? Most fascinating. And who is who? Have you figured that part out yet? Is Quinn Tsin and Tsin Quinn?" His face freezes for a moment, then his expression explodes into one of delighted surprise. "Their names rhyme, Zeno! They rhyme! Ha ha! Fancy that!"

Zeno shoots Malavarius a blank look before abandoning his perch again and flitting over to Pemsworth's shoulder. He ruffles his feathers with an indignant shake then offers, "You know, I think the cat probably killed itself, the poor beast."

Still chuckling to himself, Malavarius suddenly addresses the group, "Ha! What now then? Are we for walking some more today? You know, now that I mention it, I haven't foggiest idea where we're even going. You there - young girl lying down in the snow, is that a question you can help an old man answer? Another would be why are you lying in the snow? It's cold and wet, don't you know."

When Sarla stands, Malavarius will wiggle his fingers at her, a mischevious gleam in his eye. Depsite the playful gesture, all that happens is that Sarla's clothes dry out. He offers the same wiggle to anyone else in the group who might look soggy.

Pems snorts, stifling a laugh into a cough so as not to offend the wizard. "He always was a long suffering cat. I seem to recall he feigned sleep a great deal."

"Ah, thanks," Sarla says. "That does ... wait, go with you? No way!

"They'll kill me if they find me with you, even faster than this damn weather," she whines. "Just follow the trail! You can't miss the lodge. Look, throw my weapons into the trees if you want, but you clearly outmatch me, even when I had help. I'm not so stupid I'm going to attack you again on my own!"

"Now now, Sara, you will die out here in the cold, so dying is no excuse for not going to the lodge. And likely we'll kill them when they backtalk to Hektir and the Butcher, so then you'll be safe and warm in the lodge. It's a win win situation, Salla, you just have to Trust us, remember, we talked about this? Really, Sally, I'd hope your memory was better than that."

Hektir spits at Quinn's words, anxious to be moving on, but trying to be patient.

"It's true. Hektir abhors backtalk. For me, I'd prefer to dislodge your boss. This cold is wearying. If what you say is true, then your boss deserves death by winter more than you do."

"That may be true, lady, but I know he can take me easily. You want to go to your death, be my guest, but I'll take my chances out here, I suppose," she replies.

Tsin nods at Sarla, almost in the same way as a parent dismisses the irrational rebuttals of a toddler who won't eat their curds and whey. Let her make her own decisions here. Declaw her first, then think no more on her.

"A warm lodge awaits us, gentlemen. I suggest we tarry no longer here." Tsin turns back to Sarla. "The lookout. Do they rotate, or is there a keen eye at the post? We'll want to take him or her before they can alert the others. So that nine can become eight, and so on."

Tsin picks up a branch and hands it to the girl. "Be a dear. Before you freeze to death out here, draw us a map that'll lead Hektir and Quinn right up to that lookout post." Tsin cleans her blade slowly, hopefully while the girl sketches.

"Your choice, Sarla, backtrack our trail and never stop moving for two days and you may live, good luck with that." Quinn moves away from the archer in the snow and joins Tsin, ready to seek out the lodge.

Hektir leads the march to the lodge, aiming for the west side, rather than the east approach.

would Hektir or any of the other locals know of this lodge?

Following Hektir, Quinn does his best to follow the map and directions of Sarla.

Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

The entire time, Quinn keeps looking for hidden archers that Sarla failed to mention, despite the party's kind treatment towards her.

Perception +12: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31

Tsin waits for an hour, making sure there is distance between the party and Sarla, should Sarla decide to double back and follow them. The snow continues to dampen her spirits.

"So, what's the plan? Do we tackle the lookout, or approach sideways? These bandits, making deals with fey, what do you make of that? Are we facing more than humans when we arrive there? Oh, like those sprites!! Oh."

Hektir shrugs at Tsin.

"My plan is to get there and not die on the way. If anyone has a better plan, let's do that."

The lookout usually sit by the eastern windows," Sarla replies as she draws the map. "They may be distracted because they know we're out here, but they're usually keeping a pretty close watch..."

Hektir thinks she's probably talking about the High Sentinel Lodge at the top of Red Run Gorge in the Border Wood, home to an organization of Taldan rangers called the High Sentinels charged with guarding the forest against Qadiran aggression, lest Taldor’s ancient enemy use the wood to hide another invasion force.

The map is easy enough to follow as the trail in the snow leads the same way. After several hours of walking, you see a clearing ahead of you.

Map (only visible is what you can see from your vantage point at the head of the trail to the northeast.)

Tsin secures all the items about her, trying not to let metal touch metal, and tucking the longbow out of the way of her swing and back swing. She looks to the others as the party assesses the best approach to the lodge. A rear entrance, perhaps? Avoid the eyes, and not raise alarms, yet.

She produces a small rectangular pouch, bats it about her hands, yielding a small whitish dust that stays on her palms. She tucks it away, and draws her falchion.

Hektir snorts.

"Yeah, I know the place. I did some..." Hektri squints at Quinn as he finishes his sentence, "...service here during my brief time in the Taldan Trackers. I might have made it further in the organization if..." Hektir's squint at Quinn gets angrier.

Hektir tries to lead the group to a southwest approach.

"Oh, It's that lodge." Quinn look disappointed all over again, just like after the mention of the chicken incident with farmer Dansby. "So, Pemsworth can call himself Hektir in these woods, but you're still angry about the time I did that? I didn't know she was his sister, she was into those Trackers and had heard of "Hektir the Ambitious", it was just a bit of fun we had one evening, no reason for the Captain to get so upset. And you can't blame me for sneaking away afterwards, he would have just punished us both." Quinn follows the tracker, determined to somehow prove his worth in the face of Hektir's criticism.

"By all means, you two. Get it all out. Sun's almost down, but I bet if you continue to suss out your difficulties, we'll find out which of you loved your mother more, before the sun rises again." They're worse than Opparan ladies at court. At least they bicker to each others' faces.

Tsin makes motions for Hektir to continue around. Let's have some genuine warmth for a change. This lodge will be a welcome respite.

Malavarius helpfully adds to the discussion, "I say, I would love a cup of tea just now."

Though the snow makes it incredibly difficult to walk through the woods around the lodge -- the trip around takes probably about three times as long as it would normally -- it does provide excellent cover from anyone watching in the lodge and you're easily able to circle the building to scope it out.

Map

The two squares to the southwest are insets, which is why they're covered. It's more woods under them.