You are all members of the Society.
Some of you are fresh, green-behind-the-ears recruits, while others have seen a handful of missions and know the thrill of danger and the risk of life that a campaign for the Society brings.
You have all journeyed to Almas, the capital of Andoran, to meet with Venture-Captain Bracket.
Almas is a large multi-cultural city forged in the hills of Androran's southern coast, with grand bridges stretching over the Tamuth, Kernite, and Moulton rivers. It's enough to make even the most dour, prejudiced dwarven stonemason feel a sense of pride.
The streets are literally bursting with people and trade (population 76,000), and there are so many happy, "free" halfings running about, it would take the Bank of Abadar years to count their teeming numbers.
In addition to the summons to meet with Bracket, another small scrap of paper arrived by messenger bearing additional instructions for your coming assignment. Falling out of the envelope, a smaller sealed packet contained what appeared to be some sort of spores.
**
Free Citizen,
Taldor’s silver tongues have earned a few successes for that decadent empire. One such success is the Treaty of Wildwood, which gave Taldor the cooperation of the druids of the Verduran Forest. As a result, Taldor’s lumber trade in the Verduran Forest is far more lucrative than ours. We need allies of our own in the forest. Briar Henge sits at a nexus of natural energy, and several fey creatures pass through the area regularly. Near Briar Henge—but not so near that the druids living there might take notice — plant the enclosed mushroom spores in a heptagram. If planted correctly, I am told, this symbol will alert the fey of our intentions to negotiate.
For Andoran,
(signature)
Major Colson Madris
In addition to your summons to meet with Bracket, a letter from Grandmaster Torch himself was placed into your hand by a reliable messenger of the Shadow Lodge.
**
My Good Friend,
The northern part of the Verduran Forest harbors numerous ne’er-do-wells. Some of these outlaws were, albeit briefly, affiliated with the Shadow Lodge, and have refused our wise offer to join the Pathfinder Society in the spirit of unity. One of these malcontents is an elven archer named Tavariel. She’s been seen around Wispil, hunting lycanthropes for sport. I don’t have any problem with Tavariel’s vicious demeanor, but her position as a rogue Shadow Lodge agent makes her a thorny problem that must be addressed. If you run across Tavariel, ensure that she survives, but deliver a sufficiently stern message about her unwise decision to reject us.
Best of luck,
(signature reads simply "Torch")
Grandmaster Torch
In addition to your summons to meet with Bracket, you received a second piece of parchment bearing a request from Ambrus Valsin.
Loyal Pathfinder,
Your journey will take you to Wispil to meet with a semi-retired Pathfinder operative named Falbin. Falbin’s erstwhile comrades within the Pathfinder Society include several members suspected of selling our secrets. We do not know whether Falbin was involved in this enterprise. You must find out. Ask Falbin—privately, if you are able—whether his friends Aviniza and Gorbenil ever made it to Sothis. The gnome will know what you mean. When you surprise him with this question, his initial response will show truly whether he knows anything, so long as you are skilled at reading faces and interpreting body language. Pass along whatever Falbin’s response reveals.
In Service to the Society,
(signature)
Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin
The five of you are currently sitting and standing about the venture-captain's waiting room. A casual glance confirms the obvious - you all appear to be members of the Society, and through machinations you have little understanding of, are intended to share in an upcoming assignment.
The five occupants of the room appear to be:
* A half-orc, wearing a chain shirt and holding an intricately carved, runed staff
* A halfling, also carrying a staff along with a sling; a silver holy symbol indicates he is faithful to the Inheritor
* A human, with striking hair and exotic features that seem to indicate he or his ancestors originate from Garund
* A dwarf, carrying a heavy pick with an assortment of flasks and bottles secured to his person
* Another dwarf, whose shirt (to the careful observer) appears to have the slightest evidence of confectioner's sugar sprinkled on it
A bowl of fruit and a decanter filled with clean water sits on a low table.
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The sugar-kissed dwarf enters the room and lets out a loud guffaw at the sight of Benji. "Coz! 'Sgood te 'ave a dwarf in th' pardee. Yer, wud, Clan Muleminder?" Charging at the poor fellow, the stout dwarf attempts a friendly grapple.
Sensing the other dwarf's dismay, our wrassler says, "Wud? Have ye nay ken o' yer coz Moblyd? Moblyd Hyrdedottir?!" Breaking the grapple/hug, Moblyd belches deeply and takes a pull from an inordinately large skin full of whisky. 'Ave some?"
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Damvorak (graphic, though he does wear chain in the field), a half orc, strides confidently but quietly into the room and up to the bar. He orders a pint of bitters and a meal and settles to a table reasonably close to the door.
How did I end up working for the Pathfinder Society anyway? What have they really done for Nethys?
He looks around at his companions and wonders where their loyalties lie.
God works through these Pathfinders and so shall I. I must not question my vocation, but embrace it. Embrace it willingly for the greater glory of Nethys and all He knows.
Damvorak gets up from his table and approaches the others with his plate and drink in hand.
"Seems we're to be working together, mind if I join you?"
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The dwarf with bottles and unguents about his person seems put off by the assault of the sugar dwarf.
"Put me down ya oaf! I recognize yer smell from across the room, was just hopin' ye'd bathed before tryin' ta hug me again."
***
"Copperbottom, Benjamin Copperbottom. Have a seat my good half-orc. Watch out for that one."
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A massive bear of a man -- closer to 7 feet tall than 6 and well over 200 pounds -- walks in, muscles clearly straining the seams of his well-worn traveling garb. His smile shows white teeth -- a sharp contrast to his tanned skin and red hair -- as he looks around the room.
"Ah, I see I am not the first one here. But I'm here now, so please, we can begin."
"Friend orc, I see you have food and drink with you. Please, come this way, I shall be pleased to make your acquaintance and help easy you of your burden."
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The halfling is young, almost impossibly so, it's hard to believe he's a member of the Pathfinders. He is dressed in the unassuming garb of a pilgrim, a gray wool robe that hangs loosely over his small frame, but does not hide the modest tan and calloused hands of an experienced farmhand. The weight of Iomedae's shining sword, cast in silver, hangs heavy around his neck, but he carries no weapons on his person, only a thin leather book and various scrolls.
He stares around the waiting room in barely disguised wonder, but stops and stares at his feet as Moblyd's gaze passes over him, silently thanking his goddess he wasn't born a lass. He sets down is book and staff, waddling towards the group and greeting them with a humble bow. "Pleased to meet you, m'lords." he says looking up at the towering figures before him before clambering into a chair. "I am Harrol. Been with the society for three weeks now, I 'ave." with a voice brimming with pride. "This'll be my second assignment, but... you lot look like you've seen a hundred!"
"I, er..." he begins, at a loss as his eyes settle on the drunken dwarf. He shrugs, eyes wavering over the fruit bowl. "Well. Fine enough day for it... I suppose..." he says, trailing off as he bows his head in prayer, clasping his hands as if clutching the hilt of an invisible longsword. ""Bless us, Inheritor and these thy gifts..." he murmurs in near silent prayer before smiling up at the others, choosing the choicest pear from the pile and sinking his teeth into it irreverently. "'ats good, that. Are there any more?"
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Sad Rock enters the room late, a look of sad apprehension on his stony face.
"Sad Rock sorry, late. Was on boat from stupid city with rain."
Sad Rock, a rocky being rarely seen in Absalom (or Almas for that matter), looks for a seat but instead finds a clear section of wall to prevent from falling over.
Sad Rock picks at this leather armor and sniffs the air, giving stinkface to the assorted dwarvenkind in the room.
Oh good. Dwarves. Now Sad Rock not stinky one in group.
Sad Rock looks to ensure that his club is still at his belt and when satisfied that it is, looks for the briefing to start.
Earlier, in the stupid city with rain, someone called Sad Rock a "crusader" and then gave him a note bearing the following instructions.
Humble Crusader,
Mercy is the pinnacle of virtue. Lycanthropes plague the lands around Wispil in the Verduran Forest. But few lycanthropes are irredeemably evil. Many, when cured of their bestial affliction, repent of their evil ways and lead productive lives. Should you encounter lycanthropes in your journey, do what you can to see that they are not slain, but rather are left alive to later receive our ministrations. We understand you cannot ultimately control the actions of your comrades, but you should take the higher path yourself, and encourage mercy in as many of your companions as you can. If the rumors we have heard are false, and it is some other type of creature stalking the forest around Wispil, let mercy guide you still: leave as many of these feral creatures alive as you can, for redemption is Sarenrae’s purest weapon.
In Service to Light,
(signature)
Ollysta Zadrian
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Moblyd approaches the table, sniffs at the food, and.picks up a scone. Sniffing at it, the dwarf's nose wrinkles. Stubby but nimble fingers reach into a belt pouch and produce a much better looking scone—just the right browning, a lacing of dragonberry and kahve chips.
Moblyd is still munching away as Sad Rock enters. "Nay, be not sad, Sorry Rock. Fire beard 'ere says we're awaitin' on 'is bein' here, 'n' 'ere 'e is. So tis certain Cap'in Bracket's on 'is way. Any minute now. Right, Coz?" She lifts her whisky skin in a toast to Benjamin.
Nervous laughter can be heard from within the venture-captain's office, growing louder as the men who are the source of the merriment approach the door from the far side.
As it opens, the venture-captain's assistant, a fetching human woman with long blonde hair stops at the macabre assortment of Pathfinders that have gathered in her boss's waiting room.
Her mouth opens, closes and opens again before she quickly paints on a smile.
A pair of men, adventurers by the look of their equipment continue to chatter away, their conversation seemingly about lost relics found deep within the Mwangi. They seem to share a knowing look as they size up the six of you, almost as if they had been in your same shoes at some point earlier in their career.
"Hurry them in, Esmeralda. We're running late again today."
The woman, flush and appearing on the verge of breaking into a sweat sighs, and motions for you to follow into Brackett's office and seat yourselves once again. She hesitates as Moblyd holds her polite gaze for just a moment too long.
**
With a thump, Venture-Captain Brackett sets a rounded granite stone on his desk. The stone is polished smooth and veined with shallow carvings reminiscent of constellations.
Brackett gestures towards the object, "This is a lorestone, from the depths of the Verduran Forest. It's rumored to hold all manner of secrets of the forest's ancient druids."
The venture-captain stands, appraising the motley collection in his office and clasps his hands behind his back.
Brackett clears his throat, then meets the eyes of his assistant who gives him a questioning look. He nods, and she begins to pour a drink from a small, dark bottle.
"Just over two years ago, a group of Pathfinders recovered this stone. We're not any closer to cracking its secrets than we were the day it fell into our hands, but we've gleaned one interesting bit of knowledge."
At this point, Brackett begins to pace behind his desk. His eyes gaze outside the large window southward towards the vast blue expanse of the Inner Sea.
"The lorestone tells of a lengthy ritual using an artifact called the Atavistic Splinter - a piece of charred bark supposedly touched by Gozreh himself. This ritual... it is supposed to possess the power to turn men into beasts."
The venture-captain returns his attention to the room and leans forward on his desk. He speaks quickly and to the point, a sign that he is not only a busy man, but focuses on the task at hand.
"We believe the artifact is near the gnome town of Wispil, deep in the Verduran Forest. A Pathfinder operative there..."
As he accepts the drink, Brackett begins to gesture with it, approximating the size of a smallish person.
"... a gnome herbalist named Falbin was investigating increased lycanthrope activity south of Wispil. He discovered a cabal of druids in a compound called Briar Henge are using the Atavistic Splinter to perform this ritual, probably to drive out the local loggers. Unfortunately, he isn't able to recover this splinter on his own."
The venture-captain gestures with his hand, as if he were attempting to grab an imaginary object an imaginary object just in front of himself.
Brackett's tone takes on an air of authority and command once again.
"This is where you all come in. You've all come highly recommended, although some moreso than others."
"Go to Wispil. Contact Falbin. He'll provide you with directions to Briar Henge. Then, you must use this information and acquire the Atavistic Splinter from this cabal of druids."
As he concludes his lengthy monologue and resumes sitting, the venture-captain closes his hand into a fist and holds it tight, seizing the imaginary splinter before him.
If you see something you wish to make a knowledge check on, go ahead and roll a single, unmodified 1d20 and then use [ ooc ] tags to list your various knowledge skills.
For example:
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"Sounds easy enough. Me, the orc and the short lads, here, we'll have it done in two shakes of a tiger's tail. Heck, make that two shakes of a weretiger's tail!" Ramli says, guffawing at his own joke.
He turns to leave, assuming no one will have any further questions, and goes to put his arm around the oread before he realizes Sad Rock is too short and settles for patting the shorter oread's shoulder. "Come friend, why so sad? Surely, it's better to be happy, no?"
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Moblyd's hearty guffawing about lasses turns to timid stammers as the fair assistant enters the room. Turning a bit red, she lets the whiskyskin drop to hang on its sling, and ambles into Venture-Captain Brackett's office.
At the mention of the Atavistic splinter and Wispil, she foggily plumbs the depths of her history lessons, taught to her by her father (Moklok Hyrdessohn, master historian of the clan).
Mostly she just gawks at the assistant while acting as though she's caught in the stare of a dread predator. Her nervousness is broken only by a pull on her whiskyskin.
. . . . .
Later, Moblyd holds out three wands.
"M'pappy, 'e says I should get a priest or wizard t' use these on me. One's fer healin'. This other's fer makin' ghosty armor. 'N' this one 'ere's fer makin' me bigger. Any o' ye 'ave a ken o' wands like these?"
Located in the depths of the Verduran Forest, Wispil is the gnomish city responsible for most of Taldor's supply of timber and much of its wood craft. Wispil provides the timber that fuels the bustling shipyards of Cassomir which in turn grant the Taldan Imperial Navy its power.
Nearly all the inhabitants of Wispil are gnomes, although a fair number of halflings, elves, half-elves, fey and a handful of dwarves live here also. The small number of humans are typically hired by the Cassomir shipyards to oversee operations, although trappers and hunters do make stops in Wispil also. These 'big folk' are welcomed but are often uncomfortable as most furniture, architecture, and utensils are unapologetically gnome-sized.
Taldor has been at peace with the druids of the Verduran Forest for hundreds of years, since the Treaty of Wildwood in 3841 ar.
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Harrol balks as the oread enters the room, and is startled by the assistants sudden entrance. The halfling shuffles into the venture-captain's office suddenly feeling very out of his depth. He smiles sheepishly at the assistant as he passes, unlike Moblyd finding her the least intimidating
"Lycanths!" he says, with a mix of terror and wonderment in his voice. "Don't worry. I'm told the wolfmen can't abide silver. Or... or was that only blades?" he says, clutching his holy symbol tightly. "Not to worry. I doubt anything will cross us with a Stone-giant among us!"
____
"B... bigger?" he manages, looking at the dwarf aghast. "I... if you're looking for a priest, well... look down. Give us a look then."
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Benjamin forgets his joking with Moblyd and attends to the business at hand once the mission briefing begins.
I would love to get my hands on that stone. I wonder what I could learn from it.
"As for those wands, dear cousin, I could activate some of them but it would take me a bit of trial and error, probably not something to rely on."
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Blast, that's no lad. Get your wits about you, Ramli.
"I'll take your wand, lass," Ramli replies, cheeks coloring slightly as he realizes he mistook you for a man earlier. "It'd be my pleasure. I cast a spell that does the same thing, so shouldn't be harder than catching a will o' the wisp at noontime."
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Damvorak moves quickly into the room when summoned and stands quietly during the Venture Captain's spiel. At the end, he thinks about what was said and tries to piece it together with his own knowledge.
"I'm sorry sir, but this is the first time I'm out with the Society. How will we get there from here? I'm not familiar with the region and don't know where Wispil is. Will you be providing a guide or some form of transportation?"
On the druids of the Verduran:
Some druid cabals in the Verduran Forest take a dim view of civilized settlement in the forest, even though settlements are protected by the Treaty of Wildwood.
On lycanthropes:
Lycanthropes are a dangerous menace in the Verduran Forest. As a result, lycanthrope hunters often compete to earn lucrative bounties. Upon rumors of a lycanthrope uprising, opportunistic hunters quickly descend on the area.
On Briar Henge (related):
Briar Henge is constructed with living walls of spiky briars. If the druids have allied with fey, they might have good relations with twig jacks, malicious fey creatures made of thorns.
On the druids of the Verduran:
Some druid cabals in the Verduran Forest take a dim view of civilized settlement in the forest, even though settlements are protected by the Treaty of Wildwood.
On lycanthropes:
Lycanthropes are a dangerous menace in the Verduran Forest. As a result, lycanthrope hunters often compete to earn lucrative bounties. Upon rumors of a lycanthrope uprising, opportunistic hunters quickly descend on the area.
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Sad Rock leaves his protective wallflowering to get closer to the stone. Sad Rock likes stones...they remind him of home.
"Sad Rock like rock. Just like Sad head." He walks over to the stone and puts a granite fist on the Splinter.
Stone:
Splinter:
Sad slowly backs away from the Splinter and moving slowly within striking distance of the peeled carrots.
Brackett nods at the half-orc's question, but provides little elaboration beyond a basic answer.
"It'll take you a couple of weeks to get to Wispil. I've arranged transportation for you overland to Bellis, then across the Sellen by riverboat and finally along logging trails due east to Wispil itself."
"Consequently, you'll want to pack for a long trip."
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"Thank you venture captain. I will prepare."
Damvorak turns to the others. "We should be careful, some druid cabals in the Verduran Forest take a dim view of civilized settlement in the forest, even though settlements are protected by the Treaty of Wildwood. Further, Lycanthropes have a strong immunity to weapons unless they are silvered. Unfortunately my staff is not silver..."
He thinks a moment. "I suppose I could blanch it, but that would only work for a couple swings, and I'd need some time to prepare it before the fight. Not terribly useful. If there's time, I'll buy some silver bullets for my sling so I'm not completely useless in combat against any were-creatures we may face."
Brackett's face changes to one of impatience as the six of you begin to discuss the finer details of the foray amongst yourselves.
"My assistant can provide you details as to the caravan you will accompany overland. If there are no further inquiries for me, I suggest you make the most of your time as you will be departing first thing tomorrow."
The venture-captain rises and nods to his assistant.
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"Silver bullets, yes..." he says, staring up at the towering half-orc with an almost reverent awe. He nods. "When the Inheritor ruled the city of Kantarina she held off the were-creatures for a year and a day with a blade of pure silver." he recounts, grinning. "I'll pray that we're at least half as successful."
______
As the venture-captain rises Harrol does also, but it only serves to highlight their difference in height. "Gods keep you, captain." he says, voice brimming with all the earnest sincerity of a true believer before turning for the door. "I'll need food. And a bedroll." the halfling mutters, "...and one last trip to the temple. It will be the lumber caravan I assume? I wonder if they'll part with any honey. Nothing quite like Bellisian honey..." He turns to the others. "Does anybody know of a good bakery?"
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Damvorak thanks the Venture Captain and departs agreeing to meet the party in the morning. He stops at the weapon shop and picks up some silvered bullets for his sling (10 bullets= ~21gp). He will also buy 10 silvered arrows for Benjamin as well (10 arrows = ~21gp).
He'll then acquire some additional rations for the trip, and maybe an extra waterskin as well before meeting back up with the party.
When he gives the arrows to Benjamin, he says, "Please, you'll honor me if you accept my gift. I'll feel better with your bow at my back if we must face a lycanthrope. Please take them. Besides, I already bought them and have no bow of my own. If you don't take them I don't know what I'll do with them."
The two week long journey from Almas to Wispil flashes before your eyes, feeling like it only took a few minutes rather than the several weeks that actually passed.
Wispil is a bustling town built on a small scale — although humans and elves walk the streets, most buildings are built to accommodate the gnomes who live and work in Wispil. The scent of fresh-cut lumber wafts through the town.
Falbin's home is not difficult to find. It is situated on the south edge of the town, with a large garden spreading out behind it. Most of the garden is obscured by high growth, but the sound of a violent argument carries into the street.
Although it is not yet dark, firelight glimmers from within the garden walls.
As you work your way up the dirt path to the home, you all detect that the firelight does not appear to be controlled, but rather that the gnome's garden is on fire!
The three of you notice a gnome laying face down (F on the map) in the northeastern flowerbed next to a scarecrow.
Round 1
24 Benjamin
15 Harrol
11 Damvorak
10 Ramli
8 Sad Rock
8 Moblyd
4 Enemies
Now Up: Everyone!
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Round 1 Init 24
HP = 11/11
Speed = 20'
Weapon Equipped = None
Bombs = 4/4 (1d6+3 DC 13)
Alchemist (Grenadier) Spells Prepared (CL 1):
1 Shield, Cure Light Wounds
"What the...?"
Unsure why the men are torching the farm but seeing their contact asleep (or dead) in the field, Benjamin draws his longbow and fires at the closest man.
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Sad Rock says little during the trip, but does make time to introduce himself to everyone.
He spends a lot of time moping around, looking a rocks and sighing.
Occasionally, he will pull out a wooden cup and cry softly into it.
* * *
Round 1, Init 8
Sad Rock sniffs the air...smoke? fire? cooking?...and moves a litte faster, certain that wherever they are going is preparing a BBQ feast for them.
Sad stops short as he realizes there is no special BBQ happening in his honor and sniffles a bit.
Awhhh...I didn't want stupid delicious BBQ anyway...
Sad moves 30' to L12 and casts Create Water at the fire in N12, putting on 4 gallons of water onto the fire.
"Fire bad!"
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Mobled brings with a pack laden with food stuffs and a cooking kit that she puts to good use during the party's journey. She proves especially adept at making delectable, delicately caramelized griddlecakes. Her deftness with cooking stands in contrast to her almost thoroughly coarse manner in almost every other sense. She does tend to swig while she cooks, and a bit of the whisky finds its way into the griddlecake batter.
She also carries with her a long chain with a silvered ball on the end. Into the ball's surface is etched a relief of a rose—Shelyn's mark on a wrecking ball.
Round 1, Init 8- {>K10}
AC 14 (10 +1 Dex +3 Wis)
CMD 18 (20 grapple)
CMB +4, +6 grapple
HP 21/21
Fort +7 Reflex +3 Will +5
(+3 v. spells, spell like abilities, poison)
Weapon Equipped unarmed strike & dorn dergar
Rage 0 of 12 rounds used
Stunning Fist 0 of 1 used
"Ye boggin' bawheids. Ye're daft if ye think ye'll be bleetin' after I'm done wit' ye." Mobled moves up to engage the nearest arsonist, unfurling the long chain of her dorn dergar as she goes. With a whirl, she sends it flying at the brigand's face.
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Round 1, Initiative 11, Location: H16->J11
Weapon Equipped = Staff
Conditions = none
Judgements = 1/1
Spells
Cantrips DC 13: Create Water, Detect Magic, Guidance, Stabilize
First Level DC 14 (3/3): Command, Cure Light Wounds
"Hey, stop that, stop that at once!"
Damvorak moves along the fence with his staff out . He then readies an action to attack any of the hostiles if they get close enough.
for
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Ramli spends the day trying to cheer Sad Rock at first, but realizing eventually that it's an impossible proposition, he'll look for someone cheerier to spend his time with -- most likely, Moblyd. Hefting a third whiskeycake, he'll declare, spitting out crumbs, "Theezh are really goood."
As he enters Wispil, he looks around with bemusement. "Small sort of place, here. All you lads sure fit in, but me and Dam, not so much, eh?" He elbows the half-orc good-naturedly.
AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10
Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +2
CMD: 13
HP: 8/8
Effects: 1 ray of fire
"Ho, ho, a bit of a barbecue, but I think we'll not have gnome on the menu! Let's try a taste of your own cooking, eh?"
Moving over to get a clear line of fire, he makes a quick gesture and sends a gout of flame rushing toward the attackers.
"Blast," he curses as he realizes he rushed his attack and the flame goes well wide of his target.
”Try to keep one of them alive so we can see what they’re about!” he yells
Move action: Move to J12
Standard action: Attack the arsonist at J6
Ray/ranged touch:
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Young Harrol will try to put up a pleasant front, utterly failing to hide his discomfort around such tall and otherworldly creatures. He has never met a dwarf before, let alone an orc-blood or "stone giant". However he's soon to warm to the others, taking to Ramli's friendly demeanor and to Moblyd's cooking.
Each morning he will construct a shrine and spend an hour in quiet prayer, but aside from the odd well-wishing blessing and occasional proverb does not speak of his goddess, preferring to speak through actions, not words.
___
"By the goddess!" the halfling exclaims, taking in the inferno with a look of horror on his face. "We have to... We have to..." he begins, before coming to his senses and dashing through the gate to I7, propping himself up on the fence to squint through the smoke at Falmin's form before ducking behind the fence again. "Gods preserve you, I'm coming..." he mutters, clutching his holy symbol. "Don't you bleed out on me!"
The six Pathfinders recognize the danger and spring into action.
Benjamin and Ramli both attack, yet bow and magic ray are unable to find a bandit.
Mobled fares better, stepping up to one of the men, who wears a look of surprise on his face as a shiny wrecking ball comes to kiss it.
Sad Rock knows danger comes from fire. Sad Rock puts out a fire.
Round 1
24 Benjamin : Draws and fires longbow, missing
15 Harrol : TBD
11 Damvorak : Moves to J11, readies an attack
10 Ramli : Moves to J12, misses with ray
8 Sad Rock : Moves to L12, extinquishes water in N12
8 Moblyd : Moves to K10, attacks with reach, hits for 12 dmg
4 Enemies
Now Up: Harrol and then the enemies.
Harrol rushes into the small cabin's courtyard, yet no matter how tightly he grips Iomedae's holy symbol, it's not enough to protect him from the unshaven man who steps up to him and glares at him at eye-level.
"Foolish little-folk. Ye shoulda kept yer nose t' yerself."
The bandits shortsword slashes across Harrol and the man chortles.
"Haw! Bleeed just as good as a lycan!"
Another thug, his skull significantly lumpier thanks to Moblyd, reaches up in a panicked attempt to stop the bleeding and flees into the secluded garden next to the scarecrow. He can be seen desperately searching his body for something.
The final man takes several cautious steps forward, drawing his own pair of twin-bladed silver shortswords and gives Moblyd a come hither gesture.
"Gods yer an ugly one. Alright c'mon laddie. I'll cut yah just like I did the gnome."
The fires continue to crackle and spread quickly.
As the taunting man sees this, a wry grin spreads across his face at the destruction he has caused.
Round 1 Recap
24 Benjamin : Draws and fires longbow, missing
15 Harrol : Double moves to I7
11 Damvorak : Moves to J11, readies an attack
10 Ramli : Moves to J12, misses with ray
8 Sad Rock : Moves to L12, extinquishes water in N12
8 Moblyd : Moves to K10, attacks with reach, hits for 12 dmg
4 Hunter #1 : Withdraws back towards scarecrow, away from Mobled
4 Hunter #2 : Advances, drawing a pair of shortswords and readies his standard action.
4 Hunter #3 : Takes a 5ft step, draws pair of shortswords and strikes at Harrol for 8HP.
Now Up: The entire party for round 2!
for
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Round 2, Init 8
Sad Rock continues his rugged desire to put out the fires.
"Fire bad!" Sad Rock iterates, in case anyone was still unclear about Sad's feelings about the bad field fires.
Sad moves to O10, creates water, and douses Q11.
My fiancée was made of water. I miss her. A bit more water runs down Sad's sad eye.
I missed this sentence:
.. before ducking behind the fence again ..
And just read:
.. propping himself up on the fence ..
Given I thought you were standing ON the fence, I didn't add cover originally.
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Round 2 Init 24
HP = 11/11
Speed = 20'
Weapon Equipped = None
Bombs = 4/4 (1d6+3 DC 13)
Alchemist (Grenadier) Spells Prepared (CL 1):
1 Shield, Cure Light Wounds
Lycans? They think the gnome is...
Seeing the fleeing half-faced man attempting to fumble something out of his pants and fearing the worst for Harrol, Benjamin fires at him.