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A word on future encounters - E6 is a little more forgiving towards the 'high tier' play of E6 than perhaps a standard game where if you haven't picked up the right feats, stats, items etc then by the time you hit 10+ you don't function at the same level as more optimised characters.
You've also likely noticed that this is a pretty item light/treasure light game to date when it comes to permanent items. It will improve but won't ever be magic item heavy. Even with that in mind you'll still be competitive.
It is near 9am Father Toth, reports the corpulent councilman. Remember too that the Sheriff will need your statements too - that will take some time.
Again, the offer is there - IF you feel it must be the case, to delay trial until Moonday - call it a recognition and a balancing of the scales - it could be done, but at that point we must press on with the trial!
Hmmmm... there is a desire to have this cleaned up among the Council - tongues wag like the tail of an dog with the palsy. We do not need any additional trouble in Ravengro.
He considers thoughtfully.
But we owe you a debt of obligation of sorts - IF, and I say IF it be something that you feel must be put aside for the greater good then I... we... will consider your service not long after your arrival and your service since a convincing argument to delay the trial, to say.... Moonday?
Baradlon"Nighteyes" Vontarfonel wrote:
I like it
I do understand your...errr... point of view of course, he nods, many chins wobbling but..., he holds his hands out awkwardly. Your companion did find the tracks after all, and ummm, then there is the matter of who opened his dwelling - in some parts, thats reason enough to attack those who enter.
I'll go now, of course but the evidence is compelling but not damning - the trial will be later this afternoon, 1pm and its best for all if we put this behind us. Cleanly.
I'll assume that unused CLW from Elidal are used to bring her to max but no mental stability recovered
There is a knock at the door as you clear your breakfast plates. Kendra, somewhat hopeful at the noise opens the door but returns downcast.
Its Councilman Hearthmount.
Terrible business! Terrible! Who'd have guessed how things have played out! - We're determined to have a trial today, justice, after all MUST be done. And Quickly by the gods!.
He scratches at his jowls nervously and then pulls out an inkwell, pen and paper.
I've heard many stories - can you tell me what you saw happen? I, errr... have the dubious honour of defending Gibbs and I have to do my duty by him. If you just want to give a single statement, then we can drop by and see the Sheriff.
Some one needs to baby sit a rather depressed and confused Kendra - Lament would fit the bill. I would, however, love to see a return if things so allow later - I'll not kill you off for a while yet, giving you plenty of time to return. It may also be that if the adventure wraps up, that Lament collects her money and goes into semi retirement.
For the rest of you, 4 would seem a good amount to finish this off if you all feel you've the focus for it. Otherwise do you want me to get another player? We'd have to give them one of the faceless villagers that I set up at the outset.
Unless there are any side tracks, you head back to the house.
Kendra is deeply upset by Viligances' murder and you see that she seems a bit lost, as if looking for a source of support that is no longer there.
You head back to bed and sleep until well past dawn, where you can see the weather has again turned to a soaking constant drizzle of rain from black and overcast skys.
Trestleblade gathers up Gibbs and slings him over his shoulders with a grunt and heads off to the towns prison. The Sheriff and Elidal sweep the cottage. There are a lot of empty alcohol containers, and a good amount that are partially full.
At length his dirty heavy mattress, which is on the floor, is pushed up to reveal a small stash of coins. 37 coppers, 25 silvers and a respectable 40 gold coins - a healthy sum of savings for a semi retired soldier. None of the coins are the sort that Jominda gave to you - they are all typical of the coins commonly found in Canterwall.
I'll take 10 of those gold coins to pay for your friends Coffin and customary funerary offerings. The rest we'll take into storage. If Gibbs found guilty then I suppose it will form a 'Weregild' for your friend, otherwise they'll be returned.
I don't think there is anything else to do this early in the morning - The funeral for your friend and Deputy Leromar is tomorrow. I do hope that you can preside over the rites but let me know later today. I still think one of you should watch over your friend tomorrow night but if you can't then I suppose watching two bodies is much the same as watching one.
He's right - it would be about 1am and you are all still weary. If you get to bed now and sleep in you will still be able to recover your full strength for magic and for your health... albeit not your sanity.
The sheriff still seems a bit out of it but shakes himself and focuses.
He hesitates then talks to Jaru in a low voice.
I'm... We're... All a bit sorry for what happened to your friend. We got to find out that he was some sort of investigator... And that's nearly like a watchman or a town sheriff, right?.
We're burying one of our own tomorrow. If... If you want, we can have the funerals together 'less he has some kinfolk who want to get the body. If you want, you can do the service. Old Father Grimburrow probably wouldn't mind and we'd not say any worse for you saying the words over our friend either .
Baradlon slashes at Gibbs, hitting him along the throat in a cut that is an eerie echo the cut that felled Vigilance.
Gibbs drops his razor and claps his hands awkwardly to his throat as blood pumps through his fingers in crimson spurts. He drops to his knees but his expression is a malicious smile before his eyes roll back into his head.He slumps to the floor, bleeding out.
Yep sorry... Gibbs has yet to act, and the sherrif
Still shaken from the Wizards charm, Gibbs attempts to cut down the elf.
I'll be wearin' yer ears, yer wick bastard.
Gibbs 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 6 - 2 = 21
Nighteyes sways back to avoid the cut at his neck.
Finally Sheriff Caeller raises his ever present crossbow to his shoulder and shoots.
Crossbow 1d20 + 4 + 2 + 1 - 4 - 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 2 + 1 - 4 - 4 = 17.
The bolt slams into the door frame near Gibbs head, an impressive shot. Wooden shards fly around the mans face as it splinters.
Trestleblade closes, heavy club in hand. The town deputy pulls not his blow - he is trying to take down this man, hard. You'll not hurt her you prick!, he snarls.
Club 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18.
He swings at Gibbs head and then skillfully reverses the blow and slams the club into the town bully's gut - winding him. It seems the ex-solder is made of stern stuff because he is still upright.
And remember "Only failed combat maneuvers will provoke an attack of opportunity if the character has not bought the Improved feat for the attempted maneuver if the attacker chooses to take a -2 to their Combat Maneuver attack. This encourages characters to try new options but characters should also look at combat maneuver feats as well"
Elidals attempt to to disarm Gibbs puts her in harms way and he lashes out at the Changeling.
Gibbs 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 6 - 2 = 7
His attempt misses.
In her mind Lament is convinced that the weapon that he is using is very likely the one that not only did for Vigilance but also Old River too.
Its a vicious cut but the man throws himself against the door jam - avoiding what would have been a lethal blow.
Flavour text - the HPs are Non Lethal, ie exhaustion, positioning, being out of breath etc. If he hits 0 or a crit then we get to description like Lament got
Heh, Gibbs exhales in amused pain.
The picks were back at the house but hey, lets assume that she ran back to get them and then ran to join the party with her new picks. I could soooo see her doing that
Lament gets to work with her picks and the simple lock clicks as it unlocks. She pushes it open with a shove... and Gibbs rushes out the door at her - slashing at her with an overly sized straight razor.
I tole you, I'd be havin' you, you little whore!
War Razor 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Initiatives Round 1.
Gibbs 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Nighteyes stalks through the night and out of sight of friends and constabulary. He has a chance to slip off into the mist. That said you have darkvision and not low light visibility and running through the mist would not be a great idea.
The rest of you can find your way through the mist and town easily enough but visibility is crap and slows your movement
Nighteyes goes to work, tracing every movement, every object with Lament doing a sweep and then another sweep of the area... Then he spy's a familiar boot print - one he tracked not so long ago. Then another and a spot of blood.
While the sheriffs desire for clean evidence slowed things down before, the print itself, the length of stride, the height and power of the cut that ended his companions life, the strength needed to drag the corpse from its place of death to wear it lays now in a pair of smooth movements, Hells - even the writing on the monument made with a pair of thick fingers... In his heart he knows it could be no other.
Trestleblade looks sad as he starts mumbling at Elidal.
Jus doin' my patrol - I foun' 'im like this not long after the bells rung. I got the Sheriff an' the rest... well. He stops awkwardly then says But I dint touch nothin' - so maybe you can find sumthin', right?.
The monument bears not one but two large bloody letters. 'S' and 'O'. In smaller writing at the bottom of the names of the guards who died in the Harrowstone fire is written 'Vigilance', also in blood.
Jaru notes that whatever cut him was razor sharp. At a glance, Nighteyes concurs. Heal 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10. Jaru is unable to gauge the time of death. He figures within the hour but its the best he can guess - the damp fog may have lowered the Teiflings body temperature or interfered with the congealing of his blood so there is some margin for error.
He starts searching the area and finds signs of a fight. Vigilance came from out of hiding... encountered someone... and in the fight got his throat cut open. On the ground he spies the Investigators rapier - its tip stained with blood. Survival 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 or 15 at Take 10 Its recent but like Jaru he is unable to tell how recent - an hour give or take. The pool of blood on the ground and a bloody trail leading to Vigilances current position seem to indicate he was killed a few feet from the monument from a single vicious cut and then dragged to where he now lays.
Combat Gear potion of cure light wounds; Other Gear lamellar (leather) armor, rapier, alchemy crafting kit, backpack, masterwork, flint and steel, ink, black, inkpen, parchment (5), thieves' tools, trail rations (4), waterskin, 6 GP, 9 SP
That will be his leavings to the group when all is said and done.
"Lament" Duskbreeze wrote:
I was hoping for somber gravity rather than 'what size are his boots' :) but its part of the fun.
His kit is mostly back at the house. The tools will be there.
Trestleblade looms out of the mist.
Errr... we din' walk around it much, knowin' how much you want tracks clear an' all, he mutters.
You push past him and see a figure, legs sprawled out at an old angle, in a leaning sit against the plinth.
His throat has been cut open to the spine, his head against the stone of the monument with blood staining his chest red-black in the pale flickering torchlight.
He shakes his head at further inquiries... there are still a few people, less now to be sure but they are still moving about the town in the mist.
He leads you down towards the Lorrimor house and your feelings of dread grow and then turn to confusion. He leads you past it... and down towards the monument.
There are stories of old artifacts having special meaning to the spirits of those who owned them and stories about how they were sometimes used as weapons but as to how to use this lot, you are not sure.
Some other means inquiry may yield information.
Father Grimburrow prepares the brief ritual with an ease born of years of practice. He kneels and prayers then asks his question.
Oh Lady of the Graves and Judger of the Dead, I believe these items were once possessed by the spirits of those who haunt Harrowstone prison in life and specifically those who were once known as The Lopper, The Mosswater Marauder, The Splatterman, Father Charlatan and The Piper of Illmarsh. If this assumption would bring us benefit then make this known unto me.
After a contemplative moment he rises from floor stiffly.
The answer is 'Yes' - they belonged to these prisoners - that they can be useful to you seems evident to me as well but the method... the way they can be used? I cannot say.
There is a knock at the door and the senior acolyte enters at Father Grimburrows invitation. There is a whispered consultation and the old priest looks both saddened and tired. He bows his head silently and prays then dismisses the Acolyte with a nod.
Best you leave now... The Sheriff is waiting outside and has some news for you. All I will say now, is that I am sorry for your loss. First Lorrimor, and now this... go, go now, he sighs passing a weary hand over his eyes.