Castle Amber

Game Master waynemarkstubbs

Celeste Crossbow (Firing into melee): 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 - 4 = 7

Morden, don't forget the -4 for missile fire (acid splash) into a melee without Precise Shot.

That would make Mordans to hit roll only a 15. Putting that whole 1 point of damage in jeopardy!

Without waiting to see the results of Lucia's turn, Corlan attacks again, this time with both swords:

Longsword: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 4 + 1 = 181d8 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 1 = 10
Short Sword: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 1 = 111d6 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 + 1 = 4

Borden at the ready

Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Year

The goatmera, now reduced to two heads, twists and turns as it attempts to avoid its attackers' blows. Morden, casting a spell openly without thinking, conjure a globe of acid that splashes into the eyes of one of the heads, temporarily blinding it. That is all the opening his alter-ego needs, as her claws rip and tear, opening up bloody welts along its sinuous necks. The life goes out in the eyes of another head, which drops limply to the ground.

With swords, spears and crossbow bolts assailing it from all sides, the creature is buffeted and pierced from all directions. It hurls itself to the ground, and tucks its remaining head under one stumpy leg.

"I yield!" it cries. "Mercy! Spare me! In the name of freshly baked bread and the smile on little babies' faces! Quarter!"

Sister will take a step back, a puzzled expression on her face,"Quartered? Aren't you more like a third?"

Lucia temporarily ceases her hacking at the beast to snarl, "If you stuck to a diet of freshly baked bread we wouldn't have come to blows, now would we have?"

Lucia will spare the creature for now but will continue attacking at the first sign of treachery (readying an attack, I guess).

The creature squirms on the ground, in a grovelling manner.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" it simpers. "I didn't know you didn't want to be eaten! The troll told me that there'd be someone much juicer along in a moment."

It sobs "You don't know what it's like, waiting under that bridge, hearing people going trip-trap, trip-trap over one's heads."

It looks up hopefully. "Do you have any cake?"

Corlan turns to his companions. "So, uh, do we have any use for this cabrito? Or should we just barbecue it for lunch? Or I'm thinking maybe a nice curry..."

Although she's not familiar with the term cabrito (or curry for that matter), Lucia assumes its something vaguely insulting that refers to the now one-headed goat monster.

"If we leave it be, maybe it'll devour one of our more annoying hosts," the warrior woman comments with a smirk. "Though with our luck, it'd eat the one nutjob capable of getting us out of this madhouse. I think it's learned its lesson and won't try to eat one of us again...RIGHT??!!"

Although there's an edge to her voice, Lucia tries to reason with the beast...though she's yet to sheathe her longsword.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

"Oh yes! I mean no! Won't try to eat you again, especially if you have cake. Or a couple of buttered crumpets would do. Hot please, with honey for tea. Is it teamtime yet? I never know really, so I can't have crumpets. Isn't that awful? Always afternoon and never teatime."

It sobs again quietly. "Stephen sometimes brought me crumpets, so it must have been teatime once. Maybe it will be teatime again when he comes back."

Corlan speaks firmly. "No crumpets, nor cake nor tea for you until his return, unless you earn them with real information we can use. A map of the East Wing would be a decent start; or better yet, information about how to get old Stevie."

Sister sulks, "Nobody wants to fight me. Are you sure you want to surrender? Maybe we could just wrestle?"

Or you could just let us pass?

The creature grovels in the dirt. "Oh yes, of course, pass, but if you could avoid trippy-trapping I'd be most grateful. I'll put in a good word for you with Stephen when he gets back from being dead. I don't know why he hasn't come already. I mean, his family probably don't want him to, of course, given that his accident wasn't really an accidental accident, if you see what I mean, but I don't see how they could stop him. Anyway, he's probably got something planned - he's clever like that."

It looks up hopefully. "Not even one little crumpet? What about a scone?"

Corlan emphasizes, "Information we can use. Like, if you have details of this 'non-accidental accident.' Or where his body is."

The creature cringes with embarrassment. "Well - we hears things, you see. It comes from lurking under bridges; people talk while they go trippy-trapping over. Not that we eavesdrop - oh goodness no, we would be mortified if anyone were to think... but we can't avoid but hear sometimes you see. Anyway..."

The creature leans close in a conspiratorial manner. It is obvious that despite its protestations it enjoys gossip.

"They say that it was something to to with his brother, and his own wife. Taken a shine to each other they had. Of course, he had preparations - it wasn't the first time he'd met with a bad end, but he had enough magic to return. Only something went wrong. Or was put wrong. And he hasn't returned yet, despite him having been gone ages, even though it was only 5 minutes ago. we think. Some time ago anyway. Maybe a few days, or at least a decade."

The creature shakes its remaining head in confusion.

"Er... oh yes... his body... well, he had a special hideaway you see. Jokingly referred to as his 'tomb', even though he never stayed dead for long. But noone knows where it is. If, indeed it is anywhere. Anyway, it's not under the bridge or we would have noticed. And there are no scones either."

The creature looks hopeful. "Battenburg? French fancies? Those little cheesy nibbly biscuits?"

Corlan turns away disgustedly. "You can feed it to Sister, if you want," he mutters to Mordan under his breath.

"Do Stephen's brother and wife have names?" Lucia demands of the creature. "And before you just say 'Yes,' I'll have you know that I'm expecting the names as well."

"Well!" harumphs the goatmera, "it's not like we just hang around under bridges all day listening to gossip, is it? But we suppose we may...MAY... have heard that his brother was Prince Henri, and his wife is Catherine. Come to think of it, we haven't seen them for a while - maybe since this morning. Or was it centuries ago?"

It shakes its head in confusion. No-one seems to be certain of time in this place.

"Thank you!" Lucia tells the creature. "Next time we're in the manor--which will likely either be within the hour or sometime in the next century--I'll try to get you some cheesy biscuits and scones."

After crossing the bridge, she turns to Corlan, smirks, and says quietly, "Or charcoal briquettes and stones!"

Lets move on then... which way is out anyway and any other dangers in this garden?

Sorry, had a yucky week. Just catching up now.

Sister will stomp loudly (and petulantly) across the bridge.

Sorry again. Back in the saddle now

"Dangerous?" echoes the Goatmera. "Oh, there's nothing dangerous in the garden, as long as you stick to the path. Oh, and hide if you hear a horn. It'll be Sebastian doing his thing again. Now if you want the East Wing just head directly across when you get to the fountain, or turn left if you want the Chapel. Frankly, we don't know why you would - the East Wing is full of some very strange people. Or so we hear."

It rather sadly crams itself under the bridge, dragging its two limp necks behind it.

----

Across the other side of the bridge, the path continues its meandering way through the luch garden. Occasionally, glipses can be caught of a large building to the east, and a rather tall, severe looking religious building to the north, but the path seems to conspire to hide a clear view.

Gradually, the sound of some sort of music and singing can be heard from up ahead. A woman, dressed in bright, multicoloured garb, is sitting cross-legged in a small glade, strumming on a strange stringed instrument and singing along rather flat and tunelessly. She wears a great many strings of beads, both around her neck and wound around her hair. On her tunic is painted what seems to be some sort of religious symbold - a skull containing a red, white and blue lightning motif. The air is thick with a pungent smell that probably comes from the large paper tube of pipeweed that she and her companion, a human-sized white rabbit wearing a waistcoat, are passing back and forth between themselves. In between puffs, she sings:

The kings of Tyrus with their convict list
Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss
And you wouldn’t know it would happen like this
But who among them really wants just to kiss you?
With your childhood flames on your midnight rug
And your Spanish manners and your mother’s drugs
And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs
Who among them do you think could resist you?

Spotting the newcomers, she pauses her drone, and raises two fingers on some sort of salute.

Borden seems happy to see such a sight... women are some of his favourite things in the world.

Hey there gorgeous... want me to give you a song?

Wouldn't it be great
If no one ever got offended
Wouldn't it be great
To say what's really on your mind
I've always said
That all the rules are made for bending
And if I let my hair down
Would that be such a crime

I want to be
Consequence free
I want to be
Where nothing needs to matter
I want to be
Consequence free
Just sing
Nananananananana
Oh, nananananananana

perform: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

The song is clearly meant to be accompanied by instruments and so his attempt also falls a bit flat.

Once everyone stops singing, Lucia asks the woman if she knows where Madam Zara might be found. "Oh yeah--be on the lookout for a troll; there's one creeping about."

Seized by some strange compulsion, Corlan looks about the garden for some red begonias to give to the woman.

The woman and the rabbit listed intently to Borden's song, nodding along with the sentiment. "Groovy" she finally says as the last strains drift away. "Sit and chill with us, cosmic brother. I am Moonchild Amber, and this guy" she gestures to the rabbit, "is some cat I dreamed up earlier. He's not really there, so don't let him freak you."

She offers the tube of pipeweed to Borden. As Lucia tries to be more businesslike, the woman shakes her head sadly. "Who's the breadhead sister?" she askes, to apparently no-one in particular. "You're a real buzz-kill, lady. You need to kick back and catch the vibe. There's some real smooth rhythms in the air here, and you're worried about trolls? We're all just riding the same great big cosmic wave, sister. Just crystals vibrating to the same wavelength."

Seemingly satisfied by her philosophy, she accepts the gathered flowers from Corlan, stands, somewhat wobbily, and attempts to weave them into Sister's hair.

The rabbit looks around somewhat confusedly. "If I'm not really here," it asks itself, "where the hells am I?"

Corlan grins at Moonchild, wondering if she's a proponent of the Free Love movement -- then, thinking better of it, he mutters to the rabbit: "I'd be worried you were late for the tea party, but no one can tell time around here anyway, so it's all good."

If Borden isn't taking the pipe Celeste will help herself to a serious hit.

"Don't worry about it," Sister tells the rabbit, craning her eyes to try (unsuccessfully) to keep an eye on what the woman is doing to her hair, "I'm pretty sure I'm not here either."

Borden takes a big hit then passes it to Celeste.

So...*cough*... er, we are missing our groove and want to get back to our errr... bliss? Yeah - back to our bliss. Problem is we are stuck here in castleville, population 'Us'. How do we get outta here? Any clues or anything?

Corlan is of course happy to accept the pipe if it's passed his way.
A voice in his head whispers Colorado's got nothing on this place.

"Breadhead??!!" Lucia echoes angrily. "What the hell does that even mean? And I assure you, we are not all on the same wavelength...whatever the hell THAT means!"

Turning to the wisest person present--which seems to be the rabbit at the moment--the warrior woman growls, "You're trapped within the castle grounds of the Amber family. More trouble than they're worth!"

The pipeweed appears to be rather intoxicating.

Celeste Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Borden Fort Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Corlan Fort Save: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

The deep draw on the pipeweed makes Borden feel like he is floating. It takes him a couple of moments to realize that he is actually floating. His feet drift a few inches above the ground. The shock makes him crash down to earth, but he is able to raise himself up again.

Borden has a levitation spell in effect until further notice.

Meanwhile, Corlan and Celeste take it differently. Colours seem brighter, and they notice details that they normally wouldn't, but they also suddenly notice that it has been a long time since breakfast.

Both have +2 to all WIS-based checks, but are treated as fatigued until they get a decent amount of cookies. Or some potato chips. Or maybe some pizza... This may not improve Celeste's mood.

The rabbit does not look reassured at the comments of Sister and Lucia. "How can we not be here?" it asks, confused. "I mean, you can't 'not be' somewhere. Because you'd have to be there to not be there, if you see what I mean. You can't 'not be' in a garden. Because that's the same as not being everywhere else." It looks briefly panicked, then looks at Corlan. "I think I was meant to go to a tea party, now you mention it. But I think I got a bit sidetracked. Can I have another hit on that?"

Meanwhile, Moonchild has finished weaving the flowers into Sister's hair, and turns to Lucia. "Chill out, my sister." she intones. "You're giving off bad vibes in the neighbourhood. Your aura is terribly damaged, and your chakras are all out alignment. Your energy isn't flowing. You need a good smoke and then one of your pretty boys here to give you some good loving."

She begins to turn slowly on the spot, her arms outstretched, her eyes closed.

"Trapped - that's the word you keep using. Some heavy vibes in that word, but true. The doors are closed when they should be open. We should be vibrating free, one with the cosmic consciousness but the doors are closed. Stephen closed them, but they didn't reopen as he planned. They must be opened so we can ascend to the universal spirit. The locks must be opened, otherwise we will just repeat the eternal cycle, so much that we don't even know that we are repeating it. Only the silver spheres can tell the time."

She opens her eyes again. "We should all get naked, and free ourselves. Catherine did it - tried to ascend. But she's still in the throne room." She giggles to herself, as at some private joke. "Yeah, she's in the throne room. Hehe. But we must align with the universe, and these just hold us back. Let us expose ourselves to the cosmos!"

She tugs at her own clothing, and begins to attempt to undress Corlan.

Corlan, blissed out, passes the pipe to the rabbit and says, "Trix aren't just for kids," with a wink.

As he's being unencumbered, the lizard part of his brain wakes up in a panic, realizing it's * BAD! BAD! BAD! * to be divested of weapons when there are trolls (and goats) about. But the place is getting to him, and the weed doesn't help. Also, he totally digs Sister Moonchild's speech about opening gates, so he figures she must be OK.

(His lizard brain mutters "Even the Devil can quote scripture, chump!" but the rest of him ignores it.)

He thinks about asking the rabbit to hold his gear, then quickly thinks the better of it.

With the last shreds of common sense, he manages to say to Lucia, "If you're not joining the party, can you keep an eye on these again?", handing over his swords. He adds: "Of course, if you're down for the trip, come on along -- give them to Sister."

Celeste makes a call with her imaginary phone to a pizza delivery service, ordering way too many meatlovers and 3 cheese pizzas. Along with wedges and garlic bread and wings.

Lucia gives Corlan a puzzled, indecisive look when he asks her to either join the party or hold onto his weapons. Then her expression hardens and she says tersely, "I think this is a terrible, short-sighted choice you're making, but if you're intent upon going through with it...I'll watch over your weapons."

To Mordan, Sister, and Border he growls, "I don't like this. Stay sharp!"

Sense Motive (on Moonchild): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

As is becoming something of a habit, Corlan gets naked. Moonchild, having divested herself of her clothing, but not her beads, begins to lead a strange, undulating, hypnotic dance, with lots of spinning, raising of arms, and making little butterfly movements with her fingers. She makes halfhearted attempts to get the others to join in, offering the pipeweed in turn to Lucia, Borden, Celeste, Sister and Mordan, and encouraging them to "remove any barriers between them and the universe, and face the cosmic vibe pure and reborn".

If anyone else wants to strip off, she will hug them, and attempt to involve them in the dance. Anyone who doesn't, she will ignore after a while.

She leads the way through a little wicket gate to another clearing, where a large number of blankets, beanbags and cushions have been spread on the ground around a large, smoking hookah that appears to contain more of the intoxicating pipeweed. A nearby trestle table bears a number of jugs of iced wine, crystal glasses, and a large platter of exotic fruits and pastries.

Anyone smoking more of the weed will need to give me another Fort save please.

[dice=Sense Motive (on Moonchild)]1d20+6

She seems utterly mad to Lucia. So pretty normal for this place.

Borden doesn't take anymore weed and while hedonism REALLY appeals he's woken up broke and naked one too many times to go to the extremes.

What he does do is help himself to the fruit platter with a vengeance.

Fort: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Yup, that happened.

Between mouthfuls of pastry Celeste has another puff on the pipe, enjoying the lack of whispering voices in her head that it's giving her.

Sister looks at the floating pair speculatively.

At his deepest, most essential level, Corlan is a hunter. He can get temporarily sidetracked onto new projects, but it's hard to get him to stop chasing altogether. So, aware that the Hippie Rabbit Party is a potentially fun, but temporary, side project, he passes up another hit on the pipe, wanting to see where things go and wrap them up, rather than becoming totally blotto.

He also wants to, if possible, avoid getting hypnotized by the dance. The temporary +2 to Wis-based stuff ought to help with that!

The intoxicants, the wine, the delicious pastries, the music, the drumming, the sweet-scented smoke, the dancing, the horizontal dancing - all seem to have a seriously disorienting effect, even for Lucia who wasn't really partaking. Time seems to stop and you feel yourself falling, yet staying still, in a way curiously reminiscent of when you arrived at the Chateau.

=================================

You are lying on a table. You cannot move, but you can feel the cold metal beneath you, and your head feels heavy, as though something is attached to it, like a heavy helm.

Bright lights shine overhead, blurring your vision, and making you blink. You get the distinct impression of figures moving around the room where you are, but cannot turn your head to see.

"Failure in the realization circuits. It's those new parts that came in from Aperture last week."

"Damn, we're losing insertion. The paradox is too high. They're rejecting it."

"Unusual - normally the orgy is the subjects' favourite part. Remember the group who tied up Isabel and Valerie and..."

"Total insertion failure. We've lost the matrix."

"Switching to backups. Rebooting matrix at timestamp plus 11. Reinsertion shortly."

"Will they remember any of this?"

"Unlikely. There may be some minor resets to defaults in the matrix though. That might confuse them a bit. Reinsertion in 3... 2... 1..."

=================================

The sun is shining through the trees of the glade, and you have a curious sense of time having shifted, as though you have been asleep for too long. There is no sign of any of the Ambrevilles or any other inhabitants, but the members of the group appear to have fallen asleep after an elaborate game of dress-up which none of you can remember.

Corlan and Celeste appear to have swapped clothes, while Lucia is now dressed in the scanty silks of a tavern dancing girl. Borden is naked except for a flowerpot on his head and a pair of riding boots. Mordan is still wearing his burnt clothing, but his hair is now long, bright green and tied in up a pair of very fetching bunches. Sister sits nearby, looking very much unchanged except for a sparkly collar and an eyebrow piercing.

Looking around, you can see your normal clothing and gear scattered around the clearing, sometimes in places where you'd swear it wasn't when you looked there mere moments before.

Corlan, blearily, lifts his head up and says, "That stuff must have been a lot stronger then we thought."

"I hope you haven't stretched my expensive new bustier?" Celeste asks Corlan. "I bought it new in Abasalom and it's the most comfortable under armor I've found."

She dubiously eyes his clothing on her frame and decides not to think about how it happened.