DMDM's Hells Rebels

Game Master Douglas Muir 406

Neither option is great. Hence stumped.

Thinking about it some more, maybe we should go after however is attacking and subdue them, then find it from them where the thief could have gone.

Let's recap.

Firstly the cards are gone. Period. Even if we fight our way through, the thief is long gone.

That said, I really don't get the aim of this encounter unless it was engineered with the sole purpose of taking the cards away.

Recapping, we are here because a tiefling asked us to help. No one else would. Upon arrival, no one has been particularly helpful, Zel has her cards targeted (instead of like, money or food) and we are promptly drawn into a lethal ambush and are given no information. We don't know where they are, what they look like, what weapons they use etc. Even if we recover the cards (unlikely) why the heck would we help the tiefling a with their problem, when they almost killed two of us with an hour of arriving.

The cards are important to Zel's character. I can't think of anything else other than us devoting our energies to getting them back somehow.

Also it seems that the tiefling who asked us to help and who asked if we where there to help seemed taken aback when the cards got stolen. But I do agree that it seemed like it was after her cards over everything else and that does seem important.

"Go! I'll make my way back out onto the street." Zeldana said as she groaning in pain and slowly go up. She looked left and right to try and find the way out of the alley.

Can she take a full defense action?

Yeah I actually have no idea where these rocks are even coming from. The ground, elsewhere on the roof?

Yeah I actually have no idea where these rocks are even coming from. The ground, elsewhere on the roof?

You may recall a missed perception check a little while back.

That said, if people are at a nonplus, let's fast forward just a little. A few moments later, as you regroup...

Several strange figures step out into the street, confronting you.

"Good evening, ladies." The voice is soft and mocking. "We don't get many visitors here in the Nursery! But I see that you have dressed yourselves as friends of the disadvantaged and allies of the oppressed."

The speaker is a young man dressed in ragged finery: a claw-hammer coat, a once-elegant linen shirt now grubby and worn, a silk sash, an absurdly tall top hat. He could almost be human. Only a faint blue-ish tinge to his skin and a flickering, forked tongue suggest his otherworldly ancestry.

Zia is stammering behind you. "They're ruh, ruh, they're ruh they're ruh they're -- "

"But I am being rude! Please allow me to introduce myself... and my friends. I believe you have already made the acquaintance of dear Blister."

Blister is the mottled thing you confronted in the alley a few minutes ago. He is lean and emaciated, almost cadaverous, and completely hairless. His brown skin has large patches of bright pink scar tissue -- burn scars, it looks like. He gives you a broad, mocking smile, all sunken cheeks and yellow teeth, and then bows. As he does so, he sweeps out one hand. A trail of fire appears in the air: PHWOOMPH. When he straightens up, bits of blue flame are still running up and down his fingers.

"And nimble little Weevil, of course."

Weevil has come out of the mouth of an alley, trotting on all fours like a dog. (She seems to move that way just as easily as otherwise.) She clutches the top-hatted speaker's leg and rubs herself against it. Her eyes are an absolutely solid black, and when she grins at you, there are multiple rows of teeth, like a shark. You wonder how you could ever for a moment have thought her childlike or harmless.

Stricia, still hurting from before, nevertheless, steps in front of Zia. You are con artists. she says simply.

"But I don't believe you've met sturdy Shank."

The phrase "hulking half-orc" suffers from overuse. And yet, there is no way around it: Shank is a half-orc, and he hulks. He's big and he's broad and he's green and even just standing there, he looms somehow. That said, he also seems to drift along soundlessly and with surprising grace, and there's something coiled and... poised, about him. His dark, deepset eyes study you expressionlessly. He appears to be unarmed.

"And while brave Stomper has made himself known to you, I don't think it can be considered a formal introduction."

Squeak-y, squeak-y, squeak-y go the wheels of Stomper's little cart.

Stomper looks entirely human, though it's hard to be sure, because his features are partially hidden behind long, densely matted hair and a long beard streaked with grey. Both of his legs are missing above the knee. He sits on a small wooden cart which he pushes along with two wooden implements, like blocks of wood with handles on the top. The front of the cart is set up for shoe shining: a footstand, a small rack with brushes, some clay jars that presumably contain boot-black and oil. A single brilliantly shined boot gleams to one side, presumably as advertisement. He is buffing it now with a cloth, lips moving silently, his motions slow and obsessively precise. He does not seem to be paying any attention to you.

Stricia, still hurting from before, nevertheless, steps in front of Zia. You are con artists. she says simply.

1d20 ⇒ 10

"You say so? Then what would that make you? Marks? Gulls? The easily fooled? Prey, perhaps?" Top Hat smiles. Behind the flickering forked tongue, his teeth are white and very even. "But hold! We have not been introduced. You may call me -- "

"Ruh, ruh, ruh," Zia is stammering.

Top Hat takes off his hat and bows. Beneath it, his head is grotesquely tall. It towers easily two feet above his eyebrows, an elongated egg, pale and scabrous with a few random patches of thin hair. "Rooftop," he agrees.

Weevil winds around his legs, back and forth, like a cat. Except not really, because a cat is like a cat and Weevil is like... just wrong. Her joints don't seem to work in the directions they should. She can turn her head far around. Much, much too far around.

Rooftop puts his hat back on, much to your relief. With the hat on, you could think he's good looking: features regular if rather sharp, large dark eyes with lovely long lashes. He has a small dagger at his hip, and carries a cane, which he waves for emphasis. "Introductions thus complete, I may ask... ladies... just what business or pleasure brings you to this, our beloved Nursery?"

Blister giggles softly as the blue flames run up and down his fingers. Stomper keeps shining the boot, lips moving silently. Shank just stands there and looms.

"See, this is why people don't help anyone any more." Zeldana said with a sigh as looked to her friends. Then crossing her arms she answered the question laid before them. "To do what others won't because they don't care." Zeldana answered. "We came to figure out who is murdering people here and stop them. We'd just began looking around when we ran into your group... now, I shall asked nicely. Please return my harrow cards, they are all I have left since my parents where taken away for Desna worship."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

"We came to figure out who is murdering people here and stop them. We'd just began looking around when we ran into your group... now, I shall asked nicely. Please return my harrow cards, they are all I have left since my parents where taken away for Desna worship."

"You want to find out who is doing the killings? How interesting! So, too, do we.

"Just how badly do you want to help, Zeldana Amaria? What would you be willing to do, actually"? The tiefling's voice is soft but his eyes are cold.

1d20 ⇒ 1 pffft. Nothing to see here, move along.

"If it something I can stop, I will." Zeldana said as she held her hands out and stated once more. "Now return my cards to me. I use them for many thing, spells included. I cannot help if I am next to defenseless." Zeldana pointed out. "and you can call me Zel, I know my name is a bit of a mouthful." Even with her rising anger, Zeldana was trying to be civil... for now.

This is very dramatic Stricia says bluntly But it is a waste of time. This killer could strike again while you are being impressive. Return what you took and we can work as allies to stop the threat.

Sera taps her food impatients.

"This is a waste of time. You base yourselves here and still don't know who is killing tieflings. In fact, they had to get outside help, thats us by the way, to figure out what precisely is wrong. If you want to sabotage us, thats perfectly fine but in the long term, thats really only going to hurt everyone present."

"and you can call me Zel, I know my name is a bit of a mouthful." Even with her rising anger, Zeldana was trying to be civil... for now.

This is possible but difficult. The absence of your cards is like... when you were a child, and lost a tooth, and your tongue kept going to the empty place? Like that but worse. I won't make you roll a Will save, but it is somewhere between irritation and rising panic.

The top-hatted tiefling smiles at you. It's a very mirthless smile.

"Dear ladies! We're happy to share information with you... seekers after truth.

"Nothing connects the victims except this: they were all outdoors at night. Three were alone; one was abandoned by his companions as soon as he started screaming. Before you ask, they saw nothing. He was shouting something about his fingers, and his fellow drunkards fled in terror.

"People are figuring this out. Our fellow Nursery Children are many things, but not stupid. So the streets are empty now after dark. But I have given this some thought -- " he taps his malformed cranium -- "and I don't believe it's going to work. The killer has been picking off easy victims. We know that he moves easily through the night, unseen even by our dark-adapted eyes. Now he -- or it, or they -- will simply start coming indoors. That will make him even harder to catch."

Zeldana's golden eye began to twitch as her request was ignored once again. "That is good to know, we'll keep that in mind. Now I will ask this one final time before I get very, very, angry." Zeldan said before taking a deep breath. "Return. My. Cards. To. Me. NOW" Zeldana ensured her voice was raised just enough to be more than heard by those here but not enough to draw too much unwanted attention.

"You have stolen from me and yet you seem to want to help. You actions are in such polar opposites that I am starting to believe you just want whatever it is to keep killing innocent people. Because you are making it very very difficult for me to care the longer you ignore my request, which is not an absurd request as, they are my cards!" She spouted off. "This is the final time I will ask, and I assure you that if you do not comply, help will be the opposite of what I will give you." She warned. "I came here to help innocent people who are possibly being murdered because they are different, or because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I don't know. But I had planned to find out. The longer you keep my cards from me, the more likely that is to change."

Warning to fellow players, this is the last time she will ask before she becomes violent...

That's fine. Stricia will back you up.

Stricia nods. We will take back what you stole, by force if need be.

Zeldana's golden eye began to twitch as her request was ignored once again. "That is good to know, we'll keep that in mind. Now I will ask this one final time before I get very, very, angry." Zeldan said before taking a deep breath. "Return. My. Cards. To. Me. NOW" Zeldana ensured her voice was raised just enough to be more than heard by those here but not enough to draw too much unwanted attention.

Zia, the tiefling girl, is tugging at your arm. "No, no! They, they're Rooftop's gang! You c-c-can't fight them! They'l k-kill you! Please!"

Rooftop smiles. He seems more amused than anything else.

"You want to help innocent people! A noble goal. And one we, of course, share. We are, after all," he gestures around at his colleagues, "the protectors of this little corner of Heaven. Self-appointed, to be sure. But if we don't do it, who will?"

"But as to your cards. I have it on good authority, Lady Zeldana, that you are not so much the owner of these cards as their... ah... caretaker. And you don't seem to have taken very good care of them, I must say."

"But let that bide. If you truly want to help the innocent, we have a bargain to propose."