Aubrey's PF Dark Sun (Inactive)

Game Master Aubrey the Malformed

Grea pads up the stairs. She reaches what seems like a rough-looking throne room. A large wooden seat is against the far wall, and seated upon it is a large man. He wears leather armour and carries a long, jagged sword of bone that he clearly knows how to use. But the most remarkable feature is his head, clad in a large, full-face horned helm of some shiny grey material. Although Grea has never seen him, she recognises him from descriptions she has heard - Zeburon, leader of the Black Sand Raiders, the worst of an evil bunch. His helm, which it is said he never removes, is reputed to be made of iron, a fabulously rare metal.

Zebulon sprawls in the chair, but even without being able to see his face it is clear he is listening intently to the man who is speaking, the blue-clad rider who Grea saw arriving a few hours before. He is tall and bony with pointed features, accentuated by a carefully-tended grey beard. His clothes are made of rich, shimmering material and even Grea, with her limited experience from beyond her village, can tell they bespeak of wealth, privilege and the city states.

The visitor seems to be negotiating with Zeburon and another man - small, scrawny with dark skin lined by years of exposure to the harsh sun. His hair and clothing are festooned with small bone festishes, not all of them entirely clean of flesh, and he exudes an aura of uncleaness that is not entirely natural.

"We agreed the price, Zeburon. I'm disappointed to arrive here and discover that you wish to renegotiate."

Zeburon doesn't reply, but the small man does. "These children are clearly valuable to you, or you would not brave the dangers of the desert to be here personally."

Try a Knowledge (Local) check to work out who the little chap is, and another to see if you can work out anything about the visitor. Also, try a WIS check.

know local,untrained: 1d20 ⇒ 19
know local,untrained: 1d20 ⇒ 10
wisdom check: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

Grea stares at the scene before her. Food, water, iron, soft clothes. Her eyes narrow on the little man, despoiler. How long does she have? She lives in seasons and spans of sun movement.

The children that Jareen, Arakan, and Cahel want are here. She will wait one more exchange of the conversation.

Like Zeburon, she recognises the little man by repute - Fevik, a defiler and Zeburon's right-hand man. The man in blue she doesn't know.

Grea realises she is fast running out of time and needs to get away before her magical invisibility itself disappears.

The man in blue sighs. "So what did you have in mind?"

Sorry, Aubs, a little confused by your post. Their inits don't line up with the rolls, and then you say S1 attacked Morthak, but I'm guessing it's supposed to be S2?

Arakan jumps back with a start, but takes no time blaming someone else for what they now face, "Look what you've done with your complaining. They wouldn't have found us if you'd just be quiet." His irritation still directed at Danet. In the common act of self-preservation above all, Arakan jumps back to be surrounded by the rest of the group, drawing his widow's knife as he does so. With a quiet "Here goes nothing.", he calls on a little extra luck to try and see him out of this as he attacks the one nearest Morthak.

Free, 5' to P9
Move, Draw weapon
Swift, Activate Luck (For rounds 1-3)
Standard, Attack S2 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 2 + 1 = 22, damage 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Gonna guess, Knowledge Religion 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 9 + 1 = 20

Cahel will have to spend his turn changing back to his normal form, which is a standard action that doesnt provoke