As Aldon awakes he sees to his mild horror a large chitinous beast that look like a cross between an over-sized lobster and scorpion come scuttling across the beaches white sand at him. It tries to grab him with its claws once its close enough, presumably before sticking him with the stinger that tips the the tail that lashes about above its body, but Aldon manages to roll away from its grasp.
So, if I understand correctly I should state what I'm planning on doing and then you'll slot me in the appropriate initiative. Here goes.
Once Hern awakens, he will race towards the equipment pile and try to grab his weapons. That looks like it will take a full round of movement and provoke an attack of opportunity. Sigh. I doubt the halfling can beat one of these things to death with his fists.
Oh, and in his next round, Hern will try to move to get one of the beasts in flank and then attack with his rapier.
|Fugg the Wild|
Fugg shakes his head as he tries to clear the fog from his mind. He notices the sea creatures attacking the people from the ship.
He looks to Bashhorn and seeing that the beast is okay he turns his attention to the little creatures.
Knowledge(Nature):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Sea scorpions? what a great way to wake up. Fugg stands and steps towards the pile of gear and attempts to find his axe. Meanwhile he gives the command for Bashhorn to attack.
Fugg stands, 5-foot steps to e10, and commands Bashhorn to attack Eu2. Bashhorn charges to d12.
Bashhorn Charge:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Bashhorn Gore Attack:1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Normally I'd put something like AC in here but since that information was already given for the sake of expediency...
- Some sea captains keep semi-domesticated Ochre Eurypterids in their holds to combat infestations by other vermin such as rats. You can normally pick the members of these captains crews by their preponderance of missing fingers.
- A typical Ochre Eurypterid doesn't grow much larger then a large dog, though some as large as small ponies have been reported if sailors are to be believed.
Aldon Dodges the Creature's attack, more on instinct than anything else..
" The beach..? How did we get here?.. Where is Volley? I'll put an end to this damn crab thing.." he thinks to himself
A Quick scan shows a pile of Gear behind him, He rolls toward the gear, away from the Beast, and searches for his beloved Crossbow
"Blast ye' Bug thing! leave me be!"
I 5 foot step back to E8 and look though the pile of stuff for my crossbow.
Across a small stretch of beach a group of passengers from the Jenivere begin awakening. Overhead the sun beats down, its close the midday and the air is still and heavy with humidity. The passengers bodies feel heavy and slow and unsteadily they begin climbing to their feet almost as one.
The first thing the group notices is four lobstrosities, some kind of primal sea scorpion creature with ochre chitin. They're about the size of dogs and seem like they've decided to make a lunch out of the survivors.
Lydran the half-elven wizard backs away from the beasts summoning a small sickly green orb of acidic liquid before hurling it at one of the lobster scorpion beasts. Sadly though the scorpion thing appears to be quick on the uptake and scuttles to the side so that the orb of acid splashes relatively harmlessly into the sand where it begins smoking.
Hern, trying to shake off the effects of poisoning and exposure half stumbles, half runs from the beast that was close to him as he awoke and makes his way to the pile of equipment he can see ahead of him on the beach. Fugg, Gerrick, and Aldon follow his example and make their way to the pile of equipment and collecting their favored weapons.
Following the gestures of his druidic friend Bashhorn charges one of the beasts and tramples over it as her runs out into the surf his tail wagging comically as he goes. Ichor from the crushed chitinous beast washing away in the salt water.
- Lydran moves back to H8 and throws an orb of acid at Eu1 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11 1d3 ⇒ 1
- Hern is attacked by Eu3 as he moves to G10 1d20 ⇒ 5 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0
- Gerrick is attacked by Eu1 1d20 ⇒ 13 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0 as he moves to the pile of gear and it follows him attacking again 1d20 ⇒ 3 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1
- Aldon is unmolsested as he moves to E10 but is then charged Eu4 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1
- Bashhorn splatters Eu2
- Fugg is unmolested while he moves to F10
- Eu3 moves to D12 and attacks Bashhorn 1d20 ⇒ 15 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0
Hern scrambles through the gear, trying to find his weapons. Grabbing his rapier and dagger, he
then darts across the beach, seeking to take advantage of the distraction provided by the hulking rhinoceros to dispose of one of the beasts.
I'm not sure if I can grab my weapons move 5 feet and still attack this round. If I can't . . . well, I'll attack next round (As if the rhino isn't going to smash Eu4 before then). Here are my rolls:
Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 5 (-2 from grogginess. +2 from Flanking)
Damage: 1d4 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + (5) = 6
I see that my particular talent at rolling has followed me here!
Lydran clutches his gut as he gives a sickly burp, barely stopping himself from retching on the beach.
"Wonderful, maestro," he whispers under his breath, "Just wonderful. Your meal sees us all under the table, the ship gods-knows-where, and a trio of sea-scorpions is now poised to be more well-fed than I've been in weeks."
Taking another step back, he crooks his index finger sharply as narrow rod of acid coalesces from the air around him, floating above his hand for a moment before he flings it towards the stubborn thing that scuttled away from his last assault.
Ranged Touch Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Also, I don't want to sound like a dick, but how long do we have in combat before our actions are just decided for us? That could get really frustrating at higher levels.
PS: Sorry, I just remembered we are sickened, which would make my total roll 19, not 21.
Shaking off the sand and nausea, Gerrick looks around frantically before making a dive for his weapon... latching onto his greatsword until his fingers turn white, he holds... uncertain and wary of any who come near.
Run for weapon, grab it and go full defense for the round, should all that be possible.
Drawing a fully loaded Volley' from the pile of Gear, Aldon steps back a bit, studies the creature a bit, takes aim and Fires
kn: nature check to see the creature type, Is it an animal?
5 foot step back to E9 Takes aim at Eu4 and fires
atk (+7 base, +1 point blank shot, -2 sickened)
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
dmg( 1d10 base, +1 point blank shot)
1d10 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
add +2 to hit and dmg if monster is an "animal"
|Fugg the Wild|
Good Bashhorn. Take another one. We eat lobster tonight.
Finding his axe in the pile Fugg turns and brings it to bear on the sea scorpion closest to him.
Fugg orders Bashhorn to attack Eu3
Bashhorn gore:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19
Bashhorn gore damage:1d8 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Bashhorn skewers the lobster creature with his horn.
Fugg attacks Eu4
Fugg greataxe:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Fugg greataxe damage:1d12 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Still dazed by the exposure and poison Fugg is unable to cause any damage to the sea scorpion
The battle on the beach continues for a few moments more as the awoken combatants fight off the horrors from the depths. Hern, the halfing who fought for freedom, grabs his rapier and dagger from the pile of equipment and moves into position to attack one of the lobstrosities. Sadly between the bulk of Bashhorn and the insectile movements of the Eurypterid he is unable to land a telling blow.
Lydran meanwhile, still standing back from the battle summons more acid from the ether and it sprays forth covering one of the beasts quickly turning it into a smoking ruin. Gerrick moves into position beside the pile and collects his weapon before taking a guarded stance. Aldon moves into a better position and takes a shot with his crossbow but misses the creepily agile Eurypterid he shot at.
Finally Fugg gestures at Bashhorn who stomps the beast that has been trying to attack him reducing it into another chitinous pulp before Fugg strikes down the final sea beast as it tries to flee back to the ocean.
After catching his breath, Hern returns to the pile to find the remainder of his equipment. He glances around, trying to find any clue as to what has happened.
"So . . . the last thing I remember," Hern says, turning to the other survivors, "is settling into dinner. The cook's food was rather tasteless and watery. I didn't expect it to poison me. Anyone have any clearer memory of what happened?"
Hern then takes a long look, trying to get his bearings and a sense of where they are.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17
Hern is trying to get a sense of where they are and any other major features. Perhaps where the boat ended up.
|Fugg the Wild|
Fugg remembers nothing after food
Taking a look around to determine where they are, Fugg heads over to Bashhorn and pats him down scraping his sides with the points of his axe to clear away any caked on mud so he can make sure the rhino is uninjured.
Survival: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Handle Animal1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24
I no be sure where we be Fugg says feeling awkward speaking so much at one time. The words stringing together to form a nearly coherent sentence, as Bashhorn emits a low pitched and intimidating rumble that Fugg recognizes as Bash's version of a purr.
Sorry guys still trying to find Fugg's voice, bear with me until I dial it in.
"So, you're as in the dark as the rest of us, Gerrick? Don't remember anything? Does anyone here know enough about geography to figure out where we are? At least we have a couple of big hunters here, so we won't starve, but what sort of chance do we have of being rescued?"
While examining the area, Hern also takes a moment to see if the other passengers seem okay. "No scars, gnome?" he says to Gelik. "Pity. I can give you one if you'd like."
Need rest all of us but much to do. We build shelter. Start fire to boil water. Build traps for food. Fugg hungry so is Bashhorn. Hern knows way around wilderness, you help? Aldon too?
Fugg begins making shelter from scattered broken pieces of ship and tree branches.
Survival:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
Fugg's years of living off the land pay off as he quickly builds a sturdy structure for everyone to escape the sun.
"Fugg is as wise as he is crude." Seeing the half-orc begin to build a shelter, Hern begins to build a fire within a safe distance of the shelter.
Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
"I suppose building this fire won't hurt anyone. I don't really have the tools to build any traps, but I can lend a hand hunting. I've spent more than a few days scrounging for food in my time."
After the sand settles, Lydran takes a moment to spill last night's meal onto the beach, then wastes no time in retrieving his equipment from the pile, immediately ensuring that his spellbook is usable and wiping the water from the blade of his dagger before it begins to rust. He as he sees his soaked bedroll. "Never the right cantrip for the job at hand," he mutters quietly. Wringing as much of the water from his clothes as he can, he takes a survey of the surroundings, seeing if he can locate the Jenivre anywhere - or its cook.
"So all of us are at a loss as to what lead us to this sad scenario? Well, I suppose we'll need to figure out who's responsible for this, but that must wait for later. For now, let us consider who's still alive, and what we can each do to keep ourselves that way."
I want to make sure my gear is relatively undamaged, as well as take a survey of the surrounding area. What lies beyond the beach, and is there anything lying about we might be able to use? Who amongst the NPC crew and passengers are present, who's dead, and who's missing?
It's commonly believed that the shores of Smuggler's Shiv are haunted by the ghosts and ghouls of the sailors who have died on the jagged rocks and reefs surrounding the island.These rumors are supported by reports of several failed attempts to establish long-lasting colonies on the remote island.
When Sargava was first settled, Chelish engineers erected a lighthouse on the Shiv'ssouthwest shore. The light was intended to warn approaching ships of the dangerous waters and, eventually, was to have been the first building in a small colony. The light and all plans for colonization were abandoned just before completion amid rumors of curses, haunts, and cannibalism.
Rumors hold that a group of shipwrecked Chelish soldiers, survivors of an attempted Thrune invasion of Sargava some 70 years ago, were stranded on the island. The rumors claim that they degenerated into a cannibalistic society,and that their descendants scour the isle's shores for shipwreck victims to add to their meals.
As Fugg and Aldon begin setting up a camp at the edge of the beach under some of the shade provided by the jungle's canopy people notice how hot and still the air is. Doing anything heftier then helping to set-up camp for the next couple of hours would be torture under the noonday sun. Over the next half and hour the camp is set-up fairly easily with windbreaks, some shade, a fire pit and a latrine a little distance away.
As Lydran sits down in the newly formed camp he begins checking his gear, nothing appears to be damaged but his clothes are fairly damp and their is quite a bit of sand and grit in his hair. The people that survived appear to be the passengers that were traveling on the Jenivere, all looking a little worse for wear. Gelik in particular looks a little shell shocked at being stranded and is mumbling quietly to himself. Aerys meanwhile is hunched over holding her head and moving aside to throw up occasionally, apparently last nights meal combined with her propensity for alcohol haven't combined well.
Jask is sitting quietly still in his manacles starring north along the shore his shoulder hunched with defeat. Ishirou is sitting watching the fire that Fugg and Aldon with the assistance of the other built and Sasha is pacing slowly apparently deep in thought.
"I'm sorry for bringing this up people but I think we need to find the keys to my manacles" Jask finally breaks the silence "If we are attacked I would not be able to defend myself even if it were something as pathtic as those lobster, scorpion creatures. Perhaps someone could head north and check the ship before it comes loose from the rocks and sinks."
Lydran approaches Jask, his face painted with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
"I may be able to free you," he says, tossing a caustic bubble into the sand to demonstrate, "But first I would know why you wear these shackles - the captain was rather insistent when it came to keeping you sequestered from the rest of the passengers." His brow furrows and he adds "And I would advise you to shed any reticence you might hold towards the discussion of your current plight. We are marooned on a strange island, and our survival depends on our cooperation. Whatever crimes you may have committed, they shall not follow you here, and though I cannot speak for those out of earshot, any judgments I might render I shall keep to myself, at least until we are free of this rock."
Diplomacy roll 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
"Trust me, I understand the situation we currently find ourselves in and am glad that even without the keys I may still attain freedom" Jask replies with a certain gravity to his tone "I know this will seem like the fairy-tail of a guilty man but I am not guilty of what I was charged with in my Sargavan home. While working as a scribe in the temple of Nethys I found evidence of an illicit deal taking place between the temple and some of the "Free" captains of Shackles. Needless to say I immediately took my evidence and fears to the high priest. I'm sure you can guess the rest, I quickly found myself charged with the crime while my high priest fattened his own purse with bribery. I fled the country and lived for more then a decade in the Corentyn, I'd even thought I'd left my own past life behind me but a few weeks ago a Sargavan agent found me and before I knew what was happening I was in manacles being shipped back to face crimes I'd never committed."
Lydran offers a knowing grin. "Foolish, but noble. Wherever you seek refuge once we escape this island, I'd caution you to avoid Cheliax, for neither trait will serve you well there." He glances briefly to Aerys, then to Gellick. "Another level head would certainly serve us well. Place your hands on the ground and spread them - I need a clear shot at the chain." Lydran focuses on the manacles for a moment, inspecting them carefully even as his eyes glaze over, then life springs back into them as a snap of his fingers sends a dart of acid flying towards the chain.
Assuming Jask complies, Lydran casts detect magic on the manacles, and if he finds nothing (which I currently assume), he sends an acid dart its way.
Attack roll: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14 Damage Roll: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Despite their sturdy construction the manacles are not designed to withstand the application of strong acids and after half an hour of steady application are finally weakened enough to be broken by strength of arms.
"Thank you my friend" Jask says addressing Lydran directly and smiling gently "For the first time in many weeks I am a freeman."
I could find a DC for picking the lock of his manacles but nothing for brute forcing them, players always try brute forcing a lock :)
Returning back to the group after some quick checking of the particular layout of the land, Gerrick returns to the makeshift camp to share the findings.
"Good news, everyone! I'm pretty sure I know where we are! We're on an island just north of Eleder, called the Smuggler's Shiv. Nobody's settled here, so we may be on our own for finding our way to our actual destination. Now.... aside from scorpion lobster creatures... I do know that evidently the shores of this island are all haunted. Dead sailors and all the usual rumours. As well... we should be on the lookout for cannibals. I don't think they're going to be in a position to offer us much aid. ANYWAY... I do know that somewhere on a southwestern beach should be a lighthouse. I read about it one time. Not sure if it'll be of use to us, but hey... it's good to know. Personally, I feel a lot better knowing where we are, and that we're not as doomed as it would have originally seemed."
Hern watches Lydran blast the prisoner's manacles with acid over and over again. For a moment he considers offering his help, having picked through the locks of numerous manacles in his days with the Bellflower Society, but eventually he just shrugs and continues to examine the tracks that he discovered on the beach.
After Gerrick shares his knowledge about the island, Hern points out the tracks and markings he has found:
"Look here, at these footprints and drag marks. It appears that one person moved us and all of our equipment to this beach. I'm not quite sure what to make of that. Though, since that person left all of our equipment, I would suspect that he was acting as our savior. That explains why we are no longer on the Jenivere. That still leaves us with several mysteries: Why don't we remember anything of last night and what happened to our savior. I propose that we investigate the ship," Hern points it out to anyone who has overlooked it, "and see if it can answer any of our questions. At the very least, it may have some supplies that we can take advantage of. Anyone have any better ideas?"
After recovering his Gear, and Helping Fugg setup camp, Aldon sits down and checks over his Crossbow again..
"Blasted wreck... got the string all wet, no wonder I missed.."
Aldon looks around, Thinking to hiself, letting his survival training kick in.
" The beach makes a Fine camp for now, but we should move a littel most inland when we get a chance, After mid dya of course, the sun will sap the strength from our limbs. Is everyone alright? no injuries?"
"Nothing serious that I can see, at least physically. Our storyteller seems more than a little shaken up though." Lydran takes another quick look around the area. "Moving the camp is a good idea. I've no intention of spending the remainder of my days on this island, but it might take days or weeks for someone to happen across us, and we'll need shelter until that time."
He looks to Gerrick. "It seems that an active lighthouse would attract ships rather quickly, as a beacon if nothing else, perhaps we should head there. For now, though, I think Hern's idea is a good one. We might not need the manacles any longer, but we ought to salvage anything we can from the ship before the sea claims it entirely."
Lydran's cold emerald eyes move from one castaway to another as he considers their abilities. "It would seem prudent to establish a makeshift camp until we know what lies deeper in. We should split into three groups - one to salvage what we can from the ship, one to guard the camp as well as those too shell-shocked to contribute, and one or two people to scout the surrounding area. The question now is who shall do what."
Glancing back at the Jenivere, he rubs his temples in frustration. "The Jenivere must be a priority. Though I'm no accomplished swimmer, I'd like to see what I can glean from the wreckage. Take an hour to prepare, and we'll assemble a team to explore the debris."
|Fugg the Wild|
We should hunt first. No trust ship food. While food cook we go to ship, others stay and cook. We eat when we return. Even before that we must find water.
I'm assuming the sea is saltwater? If that's the case is there anything I can boil water in? If so I'll set up a small distillery over the fire with water boiling and a piece of leather tied above to catch the steam and allow condensation. Won't be enough for all these people but will keep us going at least long enough to find fresh water, if there's cannibals here then there is fresh water.
I'm assuming Fugg knows more about wilderness survival than I do, but if you want me to roll for the distillery design then I will.
"A fair point, Fugg, but the game isn't going anywhere. The Jenivere, on the other hand... Every moment we wait is another moment it sinks further beneath the waves, and there may be more to salvage there than just food. If one night of hunger is what I must endure to get answers, then it is a price I will happily pay."
"I have some rations with me. It's wandermeal, so it's not too nourishing. I wouldn't subsist on it for weeks if I had the choice, but it's enough to tide everyone over for a night or so. Plus, we have those lobster things, if they're edible. I'm afraid I have to agree with Lydran, we need to explore the ship before it breaks up. But, I see no reason why some of us could get some hunting done here while others explore. I doubt that rhino will be of much use on a listing ship. I'm eager to get on board."
Survival check on the edibleness of the lobsters: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
"I have a few rations of my own to throw into the pot, if no one minds soggy jerky. So Hern and I shall examine the wreckage, though I don't think another volunteer or two would be unwarranted. Fugg, it seems, shall take his beast and see what he can discern of the local flavor. What of our camp sentries? Ishirous, Sasha, Jask? Actually..." He arches a brow as he turns back to the Jask. "You mentioned you worked within the temple of Nethys, but are you a priest, Jask? Can you make your god's power manifest in a tangible sense?"
"Aye, I can work the divine though I haven't in many years and my skills were never that great" Jask answers.
Now that things have settled a bit you begin to notice the sounds of the jungle returning, hoots and howls of wild beasts, the buzz of insects and the afternoon winds beginning to rustle the canopy. The constant sussuration of the ocean against the beach provides an even lower undercurrent to the sounds of the jungle as people brush midges and flies away from their damp bodies.
|Fugg the Wild|
I go with you to ship. Bashhorn stay here guard the camp. Then we hunt.
boy you can tell I don't play casters often. I have create water as a 0-level spell, and it's even prepared, not to mention purify food and water.
Seeing his makeshift distillery not working to well Fugg gives up on the whole thing and instead chants in a ancient primal language waving his hands over the water as it bubbles intensly for a few moments then cools to ambient tempeture.
This water safe to drink. We should drink much before we go.
"Very well then... I shall venture forth in an attempt to scout around for anything we can gather for food supplies, or if there's angry cannibals looking to make food supplies out of us. Anyone who wishes to join, is free to do so. I say that should one of us not make it back by nightfall, it would be a clear sign of danger lurking about, correct?"
"Perhaps," Lydran whispers to Hern as he looks about the camp, "But I think that some of the other survivors may be more of a liability than an asset, at least until they regain their bearings. We must take who is able, but if we leave the brawler-wench and the bombastic gnome on the beach alone, well... Perhaps we should speak with them first?"
The half-elf straightens his robes as best he can and runs a hand through his dark hair, combing a few grains of sand out before approaching the campfire and raising his voice loudly enough for all to hear.
"If I might borrow your attention for a moment - we now find ourselves in dire straights. We are an island steeped in mystery and notoriety for the ships and crews it has claimed, and we do not know how long it shall be before rescue arrives, and if we are to survive until then, we must work together. Now is the time for us to begin - most of us have agreed our first order of business must be the exploration of the Jenivere. It is rapidly moving deeper beneath the sea, and we must salvage what we can. A team is being assembled to that end, and if we are to maximize our chances of success and minimize our losses, we must be familiar with our capabilities. We have shared little more than idle banter on our voyage, but we are now called upon to make a greater commitment. We must know what we are each capable off. No asset must go unexploited."
Lydran stops his pacing and pats turns to the rest of the survivors, patting his spellbook. "I am Lydran Entelios, a mage from Cheliax. My studies in the library and in the field have imparted upon me a familiarity with history and matters arcane. I know a selection of spells that should serve us well in many respects, though I know little of survival in the wilderness. I have shared with you my name, my strengths, and my limitations, and I would entreat you all to do the same."
Diplomacy roll: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
|Fugg the Wild|
I Fugg. I was raised by nature, and as her son she gave me power. This is Bashhorn. Wilderness is our home. I can get food for all. I can use the wild against our enemies. Fugg blushes, not a particularly good look on his grey green skin, as he realizes so many people are watching him. He then walks over to Bashhorn and makes himself busy taking care of him.