The Deceiver's page

"Me name..."

There is a long pause while he thinks about this.

"Eastwind Wetsands Leads Hunting Group."

"Greetings Cordoba Leads Big-bigs Travel Desert."

"Honor to you and your tribe, Eastwind Wetsands Leads Hunting Group."

The Deceiver sheathes his sword and he holds up his hands to show that they are empty. "Greetings, effendi. You may call me Cordoba. What may I call you?"

Init (1d20+7=22)

"We come in peace! We just need some water! We'll be on our way then!"

Diplomacy (1d20+7=19)

Ready action to move to the trees at the first sign of attack

The Deceiver notices the humanoids hiding in the bushes for the first time. "Make no sudden threatening movements."

Bhuka? From Sandstorm?

Fortitude Save (1d20+3=22)

Perception Check (1d20+7=8)

Seems the Deceiver has a lot on his mind and is not paying attention to his surroundings.

The Deceiver enters the oasis with his sword drawn. He thinks it better to be prepared for anything.

"Jon, you notice those irregular marks in the sand? You know what they are?"

Perception (1d20+7=26)

Just got back to the office. CBA Negotiations are hell.

"Be alert. We are not alone." The Deceiver draws his sword from its scabbard.

Greetings, effendi.

"He's not so bad. He did come back from hiding to fight off the ants, didn't he?" The Deceiver pauses for that to sink in then continues, "In any event, Book's on everyone's list and we need to cooperate to deliver Book to justice. Time enough for personal affairs later." The Deceiver looks directly at Katella, "Understand?"

"Very good answer. Turin, your share of Book's stash shall be yours. My word on it. Now, we must beat Book to his destination."

"You still consider yourself part of Book's crew, Turin? Consider carefully your answer before opening your mouth." The Deceiver peers directly into the eyes of Turin, his hand at the hilt of his sword.

"We must make haste. Book must not escape."

As the crow flies.

"Turin, help Ryor do inventory."

"Syd, can you help me scout out the area?"

"We rest for now... besides, everyone's personal gear, what are our supplies?"

"Ryor, you have a keen eye for detail, perhaps you can take charge of doing inventory? Unless, of course you're not up to it...."

"Tomorrow Qiang. I'm tired."

"Did they let you go?"

The Deceiver wrote:

"I prefer to think they're testing us to find out if we are of sufficient moral fiber."

"Yeah maybe...but the men we murdered what about thier gods?

"Who says they have any?"

"It's alright Cordoba...gods be pissed with fury at us!"

"I prefer to think they're testing us to find out if we are of sufficient moral fiber."

"Oh well... Let's try again tomorrow."

"Hey Cordoba can you heal me up...would be most grafeful". Says Ryor lookin at his badly mangled thigh.

Turn Healing. Roll 1d6 Ryor.

"Let's see what we can do about that."

Eyes Cordoba's sword and dagger.

"That's some fine steel you has, Cordoba. Can ole Turin haves them when ye dies?"

"That's an impossibility, Turin... the signs in the heavens says that you'll go before me."

Turin dives under the mouth of the bottle as Cordoba pours it out, trying to consume as much as possible. He finally chokes and begins gasping just as he did when he first woke on the beach. Wine comes out his nose.

"AAAAHH! That was Andoran cherry wine! Ye just poured a hundred gold pieces unto the sand!"

"You need help, Turin."

Ignore my last post. Just deleted it.

"I'll go look for some water. Give me some container."

Thereafter, the Deceiver sets off to look for water. He is wary, as Book and company have been seen on the island.

For Pharasma

After sometime, the Deceiver returns with some water.

The Deceiver flicks his rapier blood splattering on the ground. "Everyone alright?" The Deceiver looks around for other threats.

Perception (1d20+8=13)

Since the ant in J19 is disabled, the Deceiver moves to P14.

We're not doing evil, but we do have a Rad bordering on sinister

I thought I was doing cute and lovable.

With the ant distracted by Katella, Turin is able to drive his rapier deep into the ant's thorax. Stinging viscous liquid sprays across his face.

Attack, damage: (1d20 3=21, 1d6 1=3)

Confirm, damage: (1d20 1=15, 1d6 1=7)

The ant looks seriously wounded.

Lucky thing I gave him a weapon.

This is my readied action.

The Deceiver draws his rapier and attacks the ant that just crossover the rocks.

Attack and Damage (1d20+4=15, 1d6+1=3)

Round 2 action

Attack and Damage (1d20+4=10, 1d6+1=3)

The Deceiver steps back after his flurry of attacks against the ant.

"This is foolish! Behind the rocks, you! The ants will outflank you without a solid anchor."

Readies action to attack any ant that passes the rocks.

The Deceiver moves to F18.

"This way!"

Can we assume that everyone has recovered and equipped themselves with their respective gear?

"Remember what I told you, Turin."

After taking his gear, the Deceiver tells Turin, "A share of Book's stash is yours if you'll help us against Book."

"Sure why not... but first the box. No funny business now. I am irritable and kill without provocation."

"Alright I'll give you chance to earn your sword."

Hey Kruelaid... hate to admit it but I got a hangover, so the Deceiver might be a little slow replying to your posts.

"Yev gots a sword to me throat, Cordoba. Can't a feller tells a little joke?"

"I don't like jokes unless I get to deliver the punchline." The Deceiver's eyes glint mischievously. "Ryor, leave our comedic friend over here with one of his daggers. The rest we keep for the moment."

"Would you trust anyone who would swear by a demon?"

"An interesting choice to swear by. Now hold up your hands while my friend Ryor frisks you for weapons." The Deceiver watches Three Fingers' monvements, his rapier never far from Three Fingers' neck.

"Ok. Three Fingers, we'll let you live but you have to swear by all that you hold dear that you'd not betray us. I don't have to describe to you the consequences of treachery. You have the look of a smart fellow."

"Ryor that thing is locked for a reason. Now is not the time to tamper with it."

"You think that black-hearted bastard is still alive?"

"That is if we can get to them, right?"

The Deceiver wrote:

"Don't make any sudden moves."

"Don't kills me, Cordoba. I knows stuff."

"That is Mister Cordoba to you. And what stuff?"

2 CLW (1d8+1=2, 1d8+1=6)

The Deceiver kneels on the beach in prayer. His wounds close until only but a light bruising on the skin could be seen.

The Deceiver draws his rapier and places its point on the neck of the near-conscious pirate, "Don't make any sudden moves."

Already made known my objection to sinking the Intractable.

1d20+6=11, 1d20+6=16

The Deceiver reopens his wounds but manages to swim for the surface.

"The fellers upstairs ain't sleepin' beautiful. Killin' you is right inconvenient at the moment is all."

"We'll be more than inconvenient for you and your lot, Book. We'll be downright unhealthy for you."

"Why am I not surprised, Book? Worth their weight in gold, are they?" Flashes Book a smile filled with malice.

"Those jaded gentlemen of the Southern markets would really be pissed if you'd failed to deliver on time, eh?"

"Ennnn. Well Cordoba, congratulatins', yev heard the lads talkin' about the curse. That feller I ran through broke the code an' cursed me when I killed 'im. But curses can be got rid."

"So what does ye want. What's this parlay fer?"

Anyone who can show me a natural 20 on a Deception roll to detect motive let me know; Book was born to play poker.

Just rolled a 19.

Locks gazes with Book, "What would any person in our position would want? Freedom, of course, and passage to the nearest port of call."

"But enough of us... Book, what do you want in here that is so important that you'd be willing to parlay with us, the Code notwithstanding?"