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Calon is sure there are no hidden passageways or concealed areas in the room that they can see, but there is something ominous about the trough of water that lines the deepest side of the cavern. If it was big enough to house the large Water Wraith for any extended amount of time, it would make sense that the watery opening is actually quite large and might even form a tunnel into the mountainside -- the shape of the trough, at least, would allow this. The water is took dark and deep to be sure without an underwater investigation.
I still see your characters listed as the active PCs. I tried to remove all the old characters from the campaign as Rouqas alerted me to their presence, but maybe I messed up? I don't know what to fix, though...
The stone seems to have reverted back to its seemingly mundane self: it is cool to the touch and appears/feels like an exquisite ruby. The hobgoblin stirs under Mal's touch, then looks up with calculated distrust. He rubs his hands together thoughtfully, but stays down on the ground this time. "So what will you do with me, then? Tie me up and drag me back to town?"
Mal's bullet takes the hob in the shoulder, spinning him and dropping him like a sack of rocks to the stone floor. A new pool of blood begins spilling, adding to the scorched, gorey mess that's already there. The smoke clears and everyone else seems to be more or less okay: at least you're all alive and transportable. The silence having finally settled... what next?
Initiative order: Mal
As the smoke and shockwave settles, the Hobgoblin springs to his feet and launches into a wild dash for the stone! Malcom is prepared, however, and a plume of smoke floods the air as he fires his pistol.
I just moved to Portland and would be excited to play. I'm living in Sellwood right now, and I might have a friend in West Linn who would play as well. My email is garabbott@gmail.com if you want to send me a message, I'd love to play any of the Adventure Paths or pretty much anything at all.
Gaurm:
You confidently close your eyes and gather the Forgefather's divine presence close, then release the divine magic into the red gem. You first sense something wrong when you feel Torag's smiting power repelled by the stone. It was simply... rejected. Then suddenly, surely by the very will of your patron himself, the divine energy flares up defensively around you in a fortuitous effort to shield you as the gem slips from your fingertips. What follows is a violent, fiery rage, and a booming, raspy voice that you feel reverberating inside your head, speaking angry words in a tongue you do not recognize.
The air around you suddenly grows hot and the smell and sting of smoke pries at your senses. You open your eyes confusedly and see your companions staring at you; then the world blows up and you are blasted back away from where the red stone lay. Gaurm holds the stone in his palm and goes into a meditative pose. He is silent for a few seconds, then you hear him gasp deeply as his shoulders suddenly sag. The stone falls with a clatter to the ground and the room is burst open unexpectedly with furious fire.
GM Screen:
The hobgoblin sighs deeply, closes his eyes, and visibly relaxes himself. Sense Motive 12:
The hobgoblin is obviously not used to this sort of treatment, meaning that he's probably fairly high ranked in whatever organization or militia it is that he's a part of. "I don't know what it is. It's as I told you, I only know that it was stolen by a deserter and I was sent to retrieve the scum and my master's property." "But you can do with me as you please: there is still plenty of time to pay for standing in our way," the hobgoblin gives a bestial grin, showing several sharp, yellowed teeth.
With a growl at overhearing your conversation, the hobgoblin speaks up, "That rock is more than just a rock, it's true. But it's stolen property, and it's my job to bring it back to its rightful owner."
Seeing hesitation once the pile was completed, the hobgoblin asks, "Can I inspect the corpse and its belongings, now?"
Inside the chest Calon finds several more items and large bags of coins and another bag of valuable jewelery. He finds a total of: 320 gp
Kyrra:
You immediately recognize the shortsword and arrows as equipment from the Knights of the Sword and Sickle.
Calon doesn't know what the stone could possibly be, but Malcom detects an evil aura around it.
Calon:
As you cast the routine Detect Magic, you immediately notice something magical in the pile. Focusing down on them, you feel a strange sucking sensation at the edge of your mind. You detect a very strong magical aura coming from only one of the blood-red gems; an almost overwhelming abjuration aura with a weaker side of enchantment.
We're still going, sorry! I was on the road driving and then got caught up in the midst of some "welcome home" parties and jumping around from friend's house to friend's house for a few days... I'm semi-settled now!
The bodies' items are relatively intact, and he retrieves all of the goods and places them on the floor next to the gore. All three bodies have leather pouches filled with some money and other valuables, and each of the bigger bodies had a dagger strapped to it. This is what you find: 2 daggers
The hobgoblin sits impatiently but silently and watches you collect each item into the pile. He stirs briefly when its clear that you've finished, but continues to keep his mouth shut and wait, knowing that he's got little choice in the matter.
Immediately Calon notices that this lizard's skin is thicker and the scales are more numerous and layered than he'd expected -- it must have been acclimated to this temperature some time ago. He slices open the Water Wraith's gut and spills open the contents of its stomach. Through the murky, acidic waste, the shape of three distinct humanoid figures come sliding out onto the floor with a sickening splash. One of them is distinctly smaller than the others, and the hobgoblin snarling says, "There he is, the ungrateful little idiot." He rises and angrily moves to inspect the goblin if you'll allow it. The other two figures are obviously human. Chunks of flesh are ripped out and missing from all the bodies, which were obviously ambushed, drained, and unceremoniously eaten.
Hey everyone, just a heads up that today marks the day that I start my long trip home. I'll be on an overnight train tonight and an overnight plane the next night, so I may not find the time to update depending on where I end up and what I do. As a side note, how is everyone doing with the campaign? Any things you enjoy or dislike specifically? I've seen some GMs write up a whole questionnaire for their players, but I'd rather you guys just tell me what you think and whether things are working for you or if there's something different you'd like to see! Anyway, thanks in advance. Be back soooon.
You believe that the hobgoblin is telling the truth, and you can tell that he's also telling you more than he's supposed to. At Mal's comment, he shakes his head and laughs deeply. "No, you don't get it. We don't have to go anywhere at all. I bet you find your quarry... there," he points a finger at the Water Wraith, and laughs some more.
The hobgoblin nods his head slowly, "Yes they wouldn't have posed much of a problem, I see." "I will tell you when I can. The swine I hunt deserted our company several weeks ago... after stealing something from our leader. He sent out a few scouting parties, most of which didn't return as the coward fled through Ashwood territory, but one party picked up his trail along the Skull River. Goblin tracks hiding in the brush outside Ilsurian, the Human town down the lakeshore from here. My group was sent to scout along the lake, where we... questioned several groups of locals. They talked about bandits accompanied by a goblin. Apparently the little bastard had made some friends. We tracked the fools here, apparently they've been using it as a hideout for the area, but when I got here the place was empty. Only... that," he points at the Water Wraith. "You want my opinion? I think I know where they are, but it might be messy. If you give me a blade, I'll find them for you."
I added some fluff for Warrok. I also noticed the character being replaced was using the same avatar picture that I am -- if chosen, should I change that, to avoid confusion? Background & Information:
Warrok is a tall, burly Catfolk. His truly wild nature is made quite apparent by the ragged furs clinging to his legs and shoulders, many of which are still coated in dried blood from past battles. He clutches a long spear with gleaming tip in his long-clawed paws, and on his back glint the sharpened points of three smaller spears. A large shield hangs over one shoulder, which looks to be made from some large mammal's shoulder bone -- perhaps a bear or large boar. Warrok's spear is always close at hand, but often in the heat of an intense battle, when he is overcome with the primal rage that's always brimming just below the surface, the shafted weapon is discarded and he tears into his enemies with long, vicious, unforgiving claws.
He's earned his title, 'the Wanderer,' for spending so much of his time abroad around his home among the Shadowlynn tribe. His mother died in child birth, so he never knew her, but his father was a great hunter until he was slain during a skirmish with some Human bandits. Since that day Warrok has been led through life by his anger. He rarely speaks of all the misfortunes in his life, and it does not get in the way of his loyalty to the tribe. He looks at the structure of more civilized societies and scoffs -- he rarely even sleeps more than a night or two each week in the tribe. He prefers sleeping in the wild -- up a tree or under a bush, spear in hand, with a practiced eye left open to watch for forest predators. Generally, most of his time is spent wandering the forest, hunting and foraging for food to share with his tribe members. --- Dawn. Sunrise. The beginning of a new day. Warrok's stomach growls to remind him of his duty to the hunt. He grabs his spear and rolls from under the low-hanging branches, standing up and brushing off the forest detritus stuck now to his fur and clothing. Sun barely penetrates the Fierani forest's roof, making a curious orange glow that shines about him. Warrok stops and freezes a moment, listening to the eerie silence. Not even a bird or critter makes a sound... this time something is different. Something is wrong. Warrok follows his uncertainty through the forest, tracking it much as he might a deer he'd gotten some instinctual clue to follow. There are no physical signs, but in his heart and in the pit of his stomach something is calling him, and it's something unnatural and wrong. It's an uneasiness that is far more important than checking his traps and snares, or scanning the soft earth for tracks. Warrok's hand is gripped tight on the shaft of his spear; he advances ever-cautiously forward. He turns south, an inexplicable action even to himself, but still he is drawn away. The morning passes and turns into mid-day, and that turns into afternoon and then evening. The dusk sky burns purple and red just below the tree line, and Warrok's haggard face expresses weariness, but he presses on, withstanding the growing darkness. The hunt has been forgotten, now there is only this gut-wrenching search. It would be foolish to spend another night without returning to the Shadowlynn tribe. They should be warned of this... irregularity. But Warrok presses on. He feels he has gotten close to the thing -- whatever it is -- and suddenly he finds himself at the very edge of the forest. The Tanglebriar waits before him, and he dares not press any further alone. The sun sets while he's standing there, staring dumbly out at the dangerous swampland. Not the first time he's stood like this, considering the possibilities out there, but this time it's different. He was called here. Why? A noise splits the quiet evening air like an axe chopping wood. A noise that is fierce, unnatural, wrenching and mysterious all at once. A cry. Perhaps for help? -- perhaps it is a war cry, or a greeting of two horrible entities. Warrok cannot hope to understand this noise that splits open the forest around him and causes everything to start. A flock of wild birds -- dark ravens that had nested in the low trees of the Tanglebriar -- takes to the sky in response. Dozens of them. Warrok watches them because nothing else dares move after the ominous screech of something surely not of this world. Twenty-seven birds, flapping desperately to escape from that tainted land... but not soon enough. One bird suddenly freezes in midflight, arcs, and plummets to the ground. It lands with a dull thump at Warrok's padded feet. He looks at it, blood seeps from its eyes and beak and between the feathers around its head. An omen, to be sure. Something has changed. Something has gone wrong. The Elders must be warned.
Jazz springs into action, moving toward the mistfiend and the newcomers briskly, sword-in-hand. He runs forward thirty feet, then promptly -- after a quick muttered word and subtle hand movement -- disappears. "I'll be flanking it," he says, loud enough for the newcomers to hear him.
The hobgoblin sits up as the healing energy washes over him. "Thanks," he says gruffly. "Yes, I am telling the truth. What brings you here. What happened to my companions? I don't hear their idiot babbling."
The hobgoblin radiates strongly of an extremely lawful alignment. Mal also detects an evilness to its essence. The hobgoblin freezes, sighs, and slumps back to allow himself to be searched. You find two potions on his belt, most likely healing potions based on the color and the hobgoblin's statement earlier. You also find several masterwork javelins, a dagger, and a coin purse that clinks heavily. "I swear, I'm not working with those fools. I tracked one of my own kind, a deserter and a thief, to this area and found that the little swine was working with some locals out of this cave. I came to claim its life and take back what it stole, but ran into that... thing."
The hobgoblin feebly reaches for its sword as Calon kicks it away. His eyes dart up at you, and you can see that he's sickened with pain, but there is something fierce about him. "I'm not a thief," he manages out. "I'm hunting someone: one of my kind -- a goblin. Tracked him here." The hobgoblin collapses onto the ground again; the sound of his bloodied breastplate clanks loudly through the cave. "I have... a potion. Please, I can explain more... I just," he's reaching slowly toward his waist concealed by the folds of a torn robe.
The group suddenly freezes at a new sound. The hobgoblin has moaned and shifted slightly, a bit of fresh blood seeping from his many wounds. He is still alive, just barely, and based on how he's begun to crawl away, he has regained consciousness.
Here is my Catfolk Barbarian as it stands thus far. Not quite finished and no background, but I'll be done by the end of the day methinks. Background & Information:
To be written still... :( Stats:
Warrok, CN Catfolk Barbarian (True Primitive) 1
Initiative: +4 Senses: ? Perception Languages: Catfolk, Common ============ ===DEFENSE=== ============ AC: 15 Touch: 12 Flat-Footed: 13 CMD: 16 HP: 31 (1d12+1 favored class) Fort: +4 Ref: +2 Will: +0 ============ ===OFFENSE=== ============ Melee Longspear (cold iron) +4 (1d8+3) Dagger (cold iron) +4 (1d4+3) Claws +4/+4 (1d4+3) Ranged Dagger (cold iron) +3 (1d4+3) Sling +3 (1d4+3) BAB: +1 CMB: +4 ============ ===STATS=== ============ Str: 16 Dex: 14 Con: 14 Int: 9 Wis: 12 Cha: 9 Feats (1): Power Attack Skills (3): +5 Perception (+7 in forest) (1 rank), +3 Stealth (+5 in forest, -1 armor penalty) (1 rank), +6 Survival (+8 in forest) (1 rank) Cat’s Claws: Some catfolk have stronger and more developed claws than other members of their race, and can use them to make attacks. catfolk with this racial trait have a pair of claws they can use as natural weapons. These claws are primary attacks that deal 1d4 points of damage. This racial trait replaces natural hunter. Cat’s Luck: Once per day when a catfolk makes a Reflex saving throw, he can roll the saving throw twice and take the better result. He must decide to use this ability before the saving throw is attempted. Sprinter: Catfolk gain a 10-foot racial bonus to their speed when using the charge, run, or withdraw actions. Low-light Vision: Catfolk have low-light vision allowing them to see twice as far as humans in dim light. Poverty-Stricken: Your childhood was tough. Hunger was your constant companion, and you often had to live off the land or sleep in the wild. +1 to Survival. Reactionary: You were bullied often as a child, but never quite developed an offensive response. Instead, you became adept at anticipating sudden attacks and reacting to danger quickly. You gain a +2 trait bonus on Initiative checks. Class Skills: The barbarian's class skills are Acrobatics (Dex), Climb (Str), Craft (Int), Handle Animal (Cha), Intimidate (Cha), Knowledge (nature) (Int), Perception(Wis), Ride (Dex), Survival (Wis), and Swim (Str). Weapon and Armor Proficiencies: A true primitive is proficient with hide armor and armors made from bone (see Special Materials). A true primitive is also proficient with bone shields and the following weapons: battleaxe, blowgun, club, greatclub,handaxe, longspear, shortspear, sling, and spear. Illiteracy: A true primitive cannot read or write, and her superstition about such things leads her to refuse to ever learn to read or write, even if she multiclasses into other classes. Rage: 6 rounds. Favored Terrain (forest): A true primitive has a favored terrain representing her native homeland. This ability functions as the ranger class feature, and the true primitive’s bonuses in that terrain improve by +2 at 5th level and every five levels thereafter. However, she does not gain any additional favored terrains. The barbarian gains a +2 bonus on initiative checks and Knowledge (geography), Perception, Stealth, and Survival skill checks when he is in this terrain. A ranger traveling through his favored terrain normally leaves no trail and cannot be tracked (though he may leave a trail if he so chooses). This ability replaces fast movement. ============ ===GEAR=== ============ Combat Gear, Furs, Hide Shirt, 20 gp, 25 lbs. Longspear (cold iron), 10 gp, 9 lbs. Dagger (cold iron), 2 gp, 1 lb. Sling, 0 gp, -- lbs. Belt Pouch, 1 gp, -- lbs. Light Load: 76 lbs. or less
Damn, I was putting together a barbarian too... a True Primitive archetype. Hope that the clash doesn't create any problems. I'll post a concept within a few hours.
Well I guess I was just nervous because I hadn't seen it done, yet, though I've been on these forums for years. But if it's that common elsewhere, I won't feel bad :). I think he might actually be able to pull through, anyway... especially if they do a quick search of the area (I'd written in a body with some potions on it nearby). They've got more like 4 rounds instead of 1 or 2 -- I'd miscalculated earlier.
Initiative:
25, Kyrra
24, Water Wraith 21, Calon 6, Mal 2, Gaurm
Kyrra's speedy reaction wounds the Water Wraith as it turns its anger on Gaurm, and shortly after Mal scores a direct hit on the side of the lizard's massive face. Soon after, Kyrra's sickle slices deeply across the lizard's exposed throat: a nearly-fatal blow. Though it is suffering heavy wounds, the creature thrashes about, still attached to Gaurm and clawing desperately with its front four claws. The enlarged half-giant takes two telling blows and the Water Wraith's jaw remains latched onto Gaurm's shoulder. As Gaurm falls unconscious, he is thankful to see -- just before the blackness closes in -- Calon plunge his rapier up to its hilt in between the Wraith's ribcage. The lizard relaxes its grip on Gaurm and slumps to the ground, unmoving.
GM Screen:
Is anyone there? I'm curious about something... has anyone ever had/witnessed a PC death in a PbP? I'm wondering because there is a high chance a PC in my homebrew campaign is about to die... and I dunno if I should take things a little leniently or not. They're level 2, it was an ambush by a CR 2 Water Wraith, and the poor guy's been enlarged by the party which lowered his AC and now he'll be con damaged and ravaged by claws and teeth to within 1 or 2 hp from death -- and the party doesn't have anyone else with the Heal skill, nor any potions or healing spell capabilities. It looks bleak. I'll think about it, but maybe I'll just be a little lenient on the con damage penalties to give them a few more rounds to try. I've just never seen an actual death in a PbP. Have you guys experienced it before?
I actually have thought about this sort of thing a bit. I actually even wrote up a bit of a Call of Cthulhu campaign that took place on the Oregon Trail... but just a bit and it didn't really end up going anywhere. Anyway, I like the concept. Depending on the rules/character creation/etc, I'd definitely be interested.
Gaurm puts up a valiant struggle, but the Water Wraith clings on. Its clamped teeth produce an ugly ripping noise at the effort, which draws forth a pained gasp and makes Gaurm's vision dim white for just a moment.
Is there still room for this? I don't know if you're doing a first come first served kinda thing or if there's more of a deadline for putting in characters. I'm very interested in the idea, I'm thinking something rather roguish... or perhaps a blasty sorcerer who just realized his powers and is a little blown away (get it?) by the whole thang. I'll keep an eye out, but probably won't write up a full statblock unless I'm told to :P
Calon:
This creature is a Water Wraith -- you read about it some months back in an obscure book about amphibious predators. Normally native to the Mwangi Expanse, this specimen seems to have adapted to the cooler Varisian climate. You've never heard of Water Wraiths in the area before, and are rather surprised to see one here.
These eight-legged amphibious lizards have the ability to change their color at will. This chameleon-like ability, combined with their superior intelligence, has made them often coveted as exotic pets or guard animals for generations. Water Wraiths tend to rely on their ability to change color by hiding in water and waiting to set up ambushes; when these fearless hunters strike, their webbed claws propel them quickly forward either on land or in water. Once their toothy, eel-like mouths attach to victims, water wraiths quickly begin to bleed them dry, rapidly draining the blood from their victims in a painful, messy way. The hobgoblin on the ground has likely suffered this fate. Usually in captivity, these creatures are deliberately kept underfed and rarely grow beyond 2 feet in length. Water Wraiths encountered wild, or kept on an unrestricted diet, can grow to even more massive sizes than the one before you, however. You were curious to note that the Water Wraiths' color-changing powers are not just an automatic defensive response, but can be a matter of self-expression, or even strategy and tactics on the part of the creature. Water wraiths often express likes and dislikes with an outward display of color: bright red is frequently associated with hunger, and dull green represents dislike or lack of interest. Black, on the other hand, represents anger -- often caused by a territorial dispute. When hunting, however, Water Wraiths will turn to any color that might better suit them for an ambush. Interestingly enough, Water Wraiths find full-blooded elves to be unpalatable, but show no aversion to their half-elven cousins: this would explain the giant lizard's sudden focus on Gaurm. However, remember that just because a Water Wraith won't eat. Unfortunately, you don't know of any particular weaknesses the creature might have, but you know that it's defenses aren't particularly impressive and it can be slain as easily as any other creature of its size.
The lizard turns suddenly away from Calon while he struggles to recall information about this creature. The deadly maw snaps out instead at Gaurm, who raise his shield against its teeth but not quite fast enough. Brutal pain shoots through the half-giants side when the giant hunter crunches down, and you immediately feel a warm sensation in your very blood flow -- you're being drained. Distracted by this sudden, vicious attack, Calon does not see one of the lizard's front claws slash across his front, which deals a painful but not devastating blow. GM Screen:
As Calon and Gaurm advance towards the crumpled body, they begin to see that it is heavily armored. A beautiful large sword lies on the ground next to it: you recognize it by size and shape to be a bastard sword. Blood seeps slowly from several vicious wounds in its sides, meaning that the wounds are fresh. When you get close enough to identify the creature, you recoil briefly when seeing a rough, grotesquely greenish brown skin. The creature is a hobgoblin, a species of larger brethren of the goblins outside. Before you can truly react to the situation, however, there is an explosion of water from the pool nearby! Something huge, what looks like an eight-legged lizard the size of a horse, has launched itself from the water and now lunges directly for Calon, an ugly row of serrated teeth lining its gaping, round mouth. The elf, despite being taken completely by surprise, cowers back and is saved from the massive lizard's gaping maw by the magical force of his Mage Armor spell cast earlier. The lizard stands before Calon and Gaurm, its long tail swishing back and forth angrily at being denied its meal -- though his eyes immediately narrow in an almost intellectual way, and begins to snap its jaws menacingly at Gaurm instead of the elf.
GM Screen:
initiative charge
There is no light in the cave, but from Calon's torchlight a curious scene unfolds. The tunnel into the cave stretches for some distance, but after about a hundred and fifty feet, it widens into a large, rectangular chamber approximately 30 feet wide by 50 feet long. The stone around the walls of the cavern was obviously worked many, many years ago from its natural form. Several empty torch bearers scatter the wall, but they are covered in cob webs and obviously haven't been used in a long time. There are several weather-worn, beaten-down pieces of furniture stuffed up against the wall on the right: a bookshelf, a table, some chairs, and a locked, rotting chest. The most curious feature of the cavern, however, is that the far wall's entire length is hugged by an oversized trough-like feature, ten feet wide and raised off the ground a good three feet high. Incredibly black water fills the long, wide trough: a motionless pool, the water laps at the very edge of the trough, as it is filled to its maximum. As you take all of this in through the flickering torchlight, you also notice a few alarming features as well. The ground here is slick with dark water and, at closer inspection, what appears to be a grotesque amount of blood. There is a crumpled humanoid body next to the trough on the left-hand side. Perception DC 20:
One single bubble of air softly breaks the surface of the trough's still water, next to where the unidentified body lies. Something is in there.
Kyrra's sickle soars wide, but her short sword snaps up in a deadly stroke, hewing brutally into the goblin's chin and continuing up from there, killing it instantly in a crimson spray of gore. Almost at exactly the same time, Calon's sword dance is so intricate that the goblin freezes at the sight, utterly confused, and in a second it is skewered directly through its little heart, and it slumps to the ground, dead. A silence settles, broken only by your collective heavy breathing. The passageway that enters the rock waits ominously before you.
Round 1 Kyrra hisses and advances on the goblins, slashing out with her short sword at the one standing in front of the others with its sword at the ready. Attack Her sword swishes viciously but the short goblin stoops lower and sneers, dodging the blow. Calon retaliates against one of the goblins, blasting it carefully and precisely with a telekinetic blow that leaves it nearly senseless, though it still stands. The other goblin with a short bow is not so lucky, and as it is drawing another arrow for its second shot, Malcom's shot rings out and a bullet blows the goblin's forehead through the back of its skull, and it's flung back and down onto the ground dead. Gaurm moves ahead after Kyrra, coming up alongside the same lucky goblin, who turns just in time to see the giant man's hammer hit the ground next to it. Round 2 The badly wounded goblin drops its bow, draws its sword, and steps in to Gaurm to attack, but its sword blow glances smoothly off the half-giant's shield. However, the other goblin's attack, which comes from the side as he is distracted by the first one's sword, sticks painfully through some links in his armor into his side. GM Screen:
Initiative Order:
Goblins 25
Kyrra 13 Calon 13 Malcom 12 Gaurm 1 The party rounds the corner and with swift aggression immediately comes on the offensive. Kyrra hurls a throwing axe but it sails over the goblins' heads. Calon snaps off a shot with his short bow, but the arrow skips off a rock face and misses its target. Malcom's fired pistol sounds out loudly and a puff of smoke issues forth, a bullet shattering some stone directly above one goblin's ear, but the goblins remain unharmed. Two of the goblins retaliate, firing well-aimed shots at the party, while the third goblin steps forward and yells something to its allies and draws its rusty, jagged shortsword with a swish. One arrow pierces Calon's shoulder and the other thuds dully into Kyrra's upper thigh. Goblin:
"Bam, bam, good shots! Where is boss? Maybe when we kill these idiots he'll finally believe in us as mighty warriors." GM Screen:
The trail straightens around the bend and is still pretty well-paved. The goblins are taken completely by surprise, and shrink back in fear as the party rounds the corner aggressively. Initiative Order:
Goblins 25
Kyrra 13 Calon 13 Malcom 12 Gaurm 1
Malcom's fingers slip on the rock and for a split second he is free falling through open space, but Guarm's rope is dropped just in time and he snatches it and holds on tight. Together, Calon and Guarm heave on the rope as Malcom climbs, and soon the shaken Deputy is back on the ledge in safety. Continuing down the trail, you are surprised to see that the higher you get the more stable the trail becomes -- something Kyrra had never expected, and for that reason had never explored the trail specifically. Even more surprising, it becomes clear that the trail at this point was once a paved pathway, complete with ancient cobblestones and stone reinforcements to keep the path from collapsing. The beginning of the trail must have been wiped out by erosion, but up here it seems a bit more sheltered from the elements. Perception DC 15:
You hear the chattering voices first, but as the cliff trail rounds the edge of a jutting cliff-face, you spot them just before swinging around and into full view. Three ugly little goblins are standing at what is apparently the end of the trail, because there is a ragged, hanging sheet over a cave opening in the rock. Darkness waits behind them, but the goblins are apparently not going inside and "stand guard" outside, but really they are just sitting around tossing rocks in the air and bitterly arguing with each other over something.
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