The Secrets of the Sunderlands
Game Master GM Netherfire

Holding action while talking

"Please fair warrior, hasn't this sparring gone on long enough? Blood has been shed, and has gone to waste. You have clearly shown that you can defend against many, will you not stop now to keep yourself in pristine condition in order for the pursuit of perfection?"

A small, mocking smile plays over her lips. It looks unfitting on a face made for scowling.
“Ha! You know nothing, pretty boy. I am not made of glass.”
She makes no move to surrender.
Aladdin should roll a Sense Motive.

Simon tries again with his longsword.
Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17 for 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
The warrior priestess is too quick for the young lordling.

Sense Motive 1d20 ⇒ 4

"It's quite obvious you aren't made of glass, but why not continue your training with us? If it's sparring partners you want, we can find plenty for you."

Diplomacy Sexy Smolder1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Is everyone else waiting? You need to say so. Aladdin’s already said quite enough for his six-second round. She doesn’t want to stop fighting, yet.
“Do you want protection from the storm or not? I did not ask you to intrude on my sanctuary. By fighting me, you agreed to the terms I set: The winner of this contest will sleep inside. If you forfeit now, I must send you away.”
By her tone, the idea of sending the adventurers away seems mildly disappointing. As though to emphasize her point, lightning flashes and thunder rumbles over the mountains. The driving rain continues to pelt Aladdin and the outdoors.

Since no one else is moving, stop holding action and casting Acid Splash (Ranged touch attack) 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 201d3 ⇒ 1 I talk really fast in six seconds.

"As you wish, my dear, but know if we do win, I'm inviting you to a warmer bed than the ground outside could provide."

The acid dart sizzles against the stone wall behind the monk as she ducks out of the way.

Bolgrith sits staring into the smoke from the incense bowl. Taking no note of the contest around him he asks; "Young miss, did you by chance happen to see a man about? Dressed like a woodsman, very fine hat?"

"We are not here to talk you toss pots! End this stoic b$&%$!"

Full Defense

Is NO ONE GOING TO HIT HER.???!?!!?

The monk sweeps at Rolg’s feet, and swings again from her injured side. Her fist bangs against the hobgoblin’s shield as he falls to the stone floor.
Trip 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 8 + 1 = 24 Attack 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 6 + 1 = 17 for 1d10 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 1 = 9
“Yes, dwarf. He rests.” She looks to both Simon and Jamie. “I expected too much of either of you. Here, see what you can do.”

Her arms drop to her sides.

Jamie does not hesitate.
Attack 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 for 2d4 + 12 ⇒ (1, 1) + 12 = 14

Simon also lashes out with his blade.
Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 for 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

The noble misses completely, even with the monk’s attention on Jamie. The heavy falchion shears the woman’s already wounded side, but she deftly uses momentum of the mighty swing to knock Jamie onto her back.
Trip 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 8 + 2 = 21

The sellsword releases a litany of curses as she thumps against the ground. The monk's grey tunic is blotched black from the blood that runs from the wounds sustained.

"Well done," she keeps an even voice while smiling smugly down at Jamie. Simon stares wide-eyed at this unusual, perhaps deranged, woman.

You guys are up! Rolg and Jamie are prone!

Fighting Defensively

Rolg picks up his flail and tries to rise to his feet.

"ENOUGH." Bolgrth rises to his feet and looks up into face of the warrior woman. "Are you not content?" He focuses on her wounds. [b]"It looks to me that if you achieve much more 'perfection' you won't be around to enjoy it much. Let them rest now, and allow me to tend you're wounds. Please." He looks into her eyes trying to see what it is she really wants.

Diplomacy 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16

Sense Motive 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20

Another Acid Splash 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21

1d3 ⇒ 1
She flinches as acid burns her leg.

The woman wavers in her stance as she turns a hard gaze to Bolgrith, ignoring Rolg as he rises. “You disappoint me, as one of the faithful. My master taught me The Open Hand was a mistake, and likewise I must teach you.”
She raises a fist and blood runs between her fingers. The fist is clenched so hard it quivers.
“Irori’s Fist needs no one. It is perfect alone. A perfect mind brooks no distraction, and you, dwarf, have stones tied to your feet.”

She shifts to a more defensive posture, and does not attack. Her resolute gaze moves from Bolgrith to the combatants. She tensely waits, slowly exhaling.

Bolgrith roll a Kno: Religion. You guys are up.

Knowledge (Religion) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Bolgrith pulls a large book from his pack and begins to read aloud.
"There are many Paths to perfection, but a mind cannot progress in isolation. Knowing that you are one of many allows the fervent heart to know that it, among many, is one." He rustles the page as he turns to a different passage. "To seek perfection is the highest Path, yet also the height of hubris. One must not forget that divine ascendance is a gift meant to be shared with all. To bring another on your Path, to help when they struggle, it is the greatest honor one can seek while walking the Path."

Looking up from the tome, his face betrays a mix of pain and compassion. He slowly closes the distance between them and gently reaches out a hand, resting it on the woman's arm. "Sister, how long have you been alone?"

Profession (Priest) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

A grim look covers her face as she shakes off Bolgrith’s hand. She replies darkly, “Since I defeated my master ten years ago. You will find that your compassion is misplaced, dwarf-”

She pauses as she looks down at her wounds, as though noticing them for the first time. Her face pales. “We are done here. I am beaten. Enjoy the shelter for the night, I expect you to be gone at sunrise.”

Rolg looks to Bolgrith to speak for the group as he certainly has no idea what to do with this religious talk.

Aladdin spoke up. "Will you stay in with us? There's more than enough room for all. And why not hone your skills traveling with us? Surely it will do you well to travel with a brother of the faith." Diplomacy?1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

The woman shakes her head, though a small smile breaks over her face when she looks to Aladdin.
“No. I must honor the agreement. And I must stay to train –it is clear I am far from perfection…”

She walks away from Rolg, Simon, and Jamie. The woman crosses the room to the rough-surfaced wall where stairs were once in place.

“I will return with your woodsman friend. Magician, we can discuss the future when it draws nearer.”

A few minutes later, she returns with the limp body of Balion and rope. She lays him near the edge of the opening. She begins to pray, and a blue flame roils over Balion’s bruised body.
Cure Light Wounds 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4, Cure Light Wounds 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7. Balion is healed 11 points of damage, I think that brings you conscious at 0 hp. You gain the staggered condition.

Balion’s eyes blink open. Before the ranger can act, the monk sternly instructs. “Stop. Take this rope. I will lower you to your companions.”

And assuming Balion cooperates…

Balion is lowered onto the stone floor. The warrior woman calls down in a monotone voice.
“I shall rest on the roof, under the rain.”

"I look forward to the future then." Aladdin whispered up the fleeting shadow.

"Well now chaps, how about a few more lessons from Rolg here on how to smack things with those sticks?"

“Not me, I’m tired,” Jamie growls as she rolls to her feet.

“I, uh, can’t hit a lady. Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t hit her. I just wanted to make her worried so she would stand down,” Simon stammers, clearly embarrassed. He looks to Rolg.

Rolg rolls his eyes at Simon.

"It's ok to say she was better than you. Just train harder for next time."

Simon sheathes his longsword. “I’ve better luck with a bow. Though, I guess your sister in the faith has a point, Bolgrith. Always working to improve, or something like that? Yeah…”
The young noble brandishes the dull tourney blade and meets Rolg’s eye, grinning. “That is, if she didn’t take the fight out of you…”

Again, we don’t have to go hit for hit if you don’t want to, IF you want to train with Simon.

Rolg doesn't catch Simon's intent at first as he moves about the keep gathering up his strewn weapons. When he finally turns and sees the boy-man standing sword-in-hand, he sighs and smiles slightly.

"Very well, but you should know I'm not in a very 'teachy' mood. I will not hold back this time."

Rolg scoops up the other blunted sword and raises his shield.

Initiative 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Balion slumps to the floor ignoring the party entirely, wrapped in his cloak he begins to snore obnoxiously loud. As sleep entered his body a complete relaxation flowed over him.

Just realized that Simon is going to have a hard time beating my initiative, so...

Rolg charges Simon who sits unprepared on flat feet and tries to sweep his legs from under him with the flat of his sword.

Trip 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Bolgrith watches the two at their dueling, only speaking up during the breaths between blows. "Aye the line goes: Always seek to improve oneself," Taking a seat at the edge of the room his eyes slowly begin to drift. "Though the more important part is the second half; 'in everything'. One cannot reach perfection by only one skill alone." The dwarf nods to Rolg as the dancing continues. "There are a great many things one can accomplish with a blade. But so too there are things only won with the mind." With this the Priest taps one finger to his bald scalp. Leaning back once more Bolgrith, called the Faithful, closes his eyes and listens to the clang of steal on young noble.

Eventually he rises and walks over to the sellsword woman. "If I may." he asks as he begins to examine her wounds. Retrieving his medical kit from his traveling pack he says a quick prayer and goes to work as his hands begin to glow.

Cast Guidance on self.

Heal on Jamie 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 7 + 1 = 22

Doing as much as he can for the girl he moves over to where Balion snores shake the foundations of the keep. Careful to not wake the slumbering ranger he tends him as best he is able.

Cast Guidance on self. (AGAIN!)

Heal on Balion 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 7 + 1 = 21

Initiative 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Simon grunts as he falls flat on his back. Despite the closeness of Rolg’s blunt sword, he eagerly vaults back to his feet and slashes away.
Attack 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 for 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
The young noble springs too far forward. His attack whiffs through the air and his stance is very off balance.
Rolg gets to include an attack of opportunity with his turn. Simon is flat-footed (what he gets for rolling 1).

Jamie mutters a bitter thanks, and turns to ready her bedroll for the night.

Balion is healed for 2 points. Huzzah!

Also everyone: THIS IS MY 1,000TH POST!!! WOOOOOOOOT!!

AoO Trip Attempt 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Rolg tries to take Simon to the ground again.

If he does...

Rolg raises his sword in readiness. Ready to strike if he does not surrender.

"Stay down!"

Simon sees the attempt, but his poor footing keeps him from reacting in time. The back of his head smacks the stone floor. He blinks, and then drops the tourney blade to display his palms. “Okay, you win.”

When the hobgoblin backs away, Simon stands and begins to unpack his bedroll.

The storm rumbles outside the keep all night. When the adventurers wake the next morning, they find themselves more capable of overcoming the challenges ahead. As Rolg readies his pack, he finds Bolgrith’s shield among his things, moreover, the hobgoblin’s coin purse seems much heavier than before. When Balion wakes, he cannot find his wonderful hat, and every gold bit in his pack is missing. Bolgrith rises to be missing his shield, and to his amusement, finds a shaving kit in his pack. As Aladdin gets ready to go, he finds a familiar, high-quality hat with his things, and without his shaving kit. The amount of gold Rolg finds and Balion is missing is 1614 gold bits.

You guys leveled up! Advance your characters to level 3. Remember that you heal your number of hit dice (now 3) when you get 8 hours of rest. Also see Discussion.

Rolg packs his things as before and leaves the extra gold and Bolgrith's shield neatly on the floor.

Rising with the sun, Bolgrith heads out into the yard for his morning stretches and a moment of meditation. Feeling refreshed and loose for the day, the bald Priest heads back inside when he hears the normal morning noises of camp breaking. Donning his armor, Bolgrith sorts his pack before hefting it to his shoulders. Finding the razor and cream, a small smile takes his face. "My thanks to those who wish to help me with my upkeep, but I'll tell you true, a dwarf with a beard is a far less upsetting sight than a dwarf without a beard." Smiling fully now, he stands and holds the shaving kit up for the benefit of the joker.

Stowing the rest of his gear he makes ready for the door, it is only then that he notices the absence of his shield.

"Has anyone seen where my shield is? I must have misplaced it last night."

Aladdin looks bewilderingly at his things and deposits the wonderful hat on Balion's head stating, "I believe this belongs to you. It seems someone had fun during the night switching things around." He packs up his things and then meditates in the corner to summon Squall.

Will level when I get home.

Squall appears, looking noticeably pale.

Knowledge Planes 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18 Knowledge Arcana 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Is Aladdin leveled?

No, Have to paste in the physical bbc code when i get home

Failsian...

Balion stares at the odd wizard who just placed a hat on his head, but says nothing a cold look creeps over his face. Walking to the center of the floor he grabs his gold and carefully rolls it in a clothe before placing it in his pack. After adjusting his hat he walks out of the keep and places his mace above his head. Holding his mace firmly in both hands he shouts at the top of his lungs, "I AM COMING FOR YOU FOUL ENCHANTRESS!"
The Ranger stands there a moment before lowering his mace and waiting for the rest of the party to depart. His gaze fixed on the horizon.

The adventurers step out of the aged stone tower to see the lady monk sitting crosslegged just past the gate, her eyes closed in a meditative state. She is looking significantly healthier than last night, and her blood-soaked tunic, washed by the rain, is grey with light brown stains. Before her lie three coils of rope, and behind her a thick tree branch free of leaves and shoots, straight and ten feet long and six inches thick. She calmly opens her eyes at Balion’s outburst, whose voice echoes off the stone-walled ravine over the morning quiet.

“I believe these belong to you,” she states curtly, rising to her feet as she gestures to the rope. She picks up the branch.

“I find it odd for four of mankind and a dwarf to be this far north,” she inclines her head to Rolg, “though your northern kind have made repeated attempts on this keep."
"Brother, when your mind is cleared, you are welcome to return as my apprentice. I hope to never see the rest of you again –” she stops suddenly, glancing at Aladdin.

“Well, most of you, that is,” she amends.

"Would you leave me with a name that I might come back to, fair one?" Aladdin asks as he gives an elegant bow and hand twirl to the lady monk.

She spares a small amused smile. “I haven’t had use of a name for many years,” she pauses, “call me Sorah, magician.”

Jamie spits.

"Don't show dishonor to someone who clearly was superior to you. Take your inferiority some place else. Learn from Rolg, and maybe one day you'll be half the warrior Sorah is. We invaded her home, and she laid out her rules for the house. Show some respect worthy of a so called warrior" Aladdin retorted to Jamie's show of disgust.

Sorah’s smile turns smug as she regards the pit fighter. She hefts the lumber onto her shoulder and strides toward the Oldkeep.

“Safe travels, brother,” she says to Bolgrith. She catches Aladdin's eye, "Stay out of trouble."

After the gate closes, the adventurers can hear the rumble of wood sliding into the bar slot. Jamie scowls. The party is left outside the stone tower.

The tall mountains around them keep the rays of sunrise from reaching them, but a mist over the mountaintops makes for a cool, serene morning in pinks and blues. The chirp and twitter of birds can be heard, and the bends in the path taken thus far conceals the realm of the Ytramond Commonwealth. With exception of the tower, and the vague, overgrown resemblance of a path at the bottom of the pass, this part of the island looks to be completely untouched by civilization. Ahead, the pass weaves between steep, grassy and tree-dotted slopes that graduate into sheer stone face. It is impossible to see further ahead than two hundred feet, as the pass turns around stone or dense wood.