EM - [PFS] Baby It's Cold Outside (Inactive)

Game Master Evil Minion

Tchak pecks at his opponent again, hoping the man will fall this time...

to hit: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 1 = 23
dmg if hits: 1d3 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

"Fall down already!"

"Uhg!" Malusha grunts as he falls to the floor. But he manages to stabilize Phoebee. It's clearly not enough. Laying on the ground with her tongue hanging out she looks nearly dead. It doesn't help that the odd lighting in the room casts dark shadows over her eyes; almost as if she had coins or other dark objects covering them. Malusha grimaces. "Ok Phoebee, we need you back." He calls upon his goddesses power and floods Phoebee with healing power.

Spontaneous casting, CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 killed Magic Weapon

Malusha, I'm here reading your post dying laughing.

:-) Just playing with your visualization cause it seemed fun.

Nella hustles around the second splotch of grease, moving to stand next to Tchak. "Come on, give it up already! This is ridiculous!" she exclaims as the two remaining men keep on swinging. "Don't worry Malusha, we're here!"

BotF on Malusha to give him +2 AC :)

Jones pulls out his bow and takes a shot at the man in black (provokes an AoO from purple)

Comp Longbow: 1d20 + 7 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 7 + 1 + 1 = 11

As the shot goes wide, Jones shakes his head and nocks another arrow.

Seeing the ulfen warriors not yielding here, Masym continues his attack stepping forward and swinging at the warrior.

Round 8:
Move to position on map.
Attack the Purple ulfen warrior.
Hand Axe, bless: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 4 + 1 = 25
Crit?: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 1 = 10
damage: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Crit damage: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
.
Status= Studied Target = Hjort.

Nice hit!

Tchak, the chest doesn't move with you, unless you actually pick it up again. =)

With only a couple of the tavern-goers still with some fight in them, the Pathfinders press their attacks, all of them lethally!

Wei Tchak moves up to bite at the last man still fighting with his fists, scoring a severe wound. That is quickly followed up by Masym moving in and hacking the man's arm clean off. Blood sprays everywhere, as the man dies there on the spot, a drunken look of consternation on his face.

Jones decides to pull a bow in a bar fight, but his aim is rushed and he misses his shot.

Malusha, not even bothering to stand up, reaches out to the still unconscious Phoebee with a healing hand. The metephorical coins over her eyes fall away, as she slowly comes back to consciousness, though there is a heavy weight across her chest, making it hard for her to breath.

She will find herself buried beneath one of the unconscious ulfen brawlers

The last remaining ulfen, still fighting the pathfinders, snarls in contempt. "Cowards and murderers." He growls in common. "Hjort was right." He lifts his axe and charges in, refusing to bow down. Though indignation does not make his aim any better.

You are quickly able to subdue him as well.

Not going to drag out the last guy. Combat over!

Jones (-8), Masym (-6, -1 NL), Malusha (-4), Nella (-7), Phoebee (-8)

Around you, the fight in the rest of the tavern seems mostly over. Unconscious ulfens and broken furniture lay strewn about the place. The few bar patrons still aware of their surroundings do their best to salvage what drinks did not get spilled while thumping their chests in victorious drunken bravado, before shuffling off into the cold evening air, their evening entertainment concluded.

Ugh, get this oaf off me Phoebee says as she wakes up.

Masym yanks the unconscious ulfen warriors off Phoebee and helps her to her feet "There ya go." Masym replies as he scans the area for their quarry. "Hjort? Get out here now else I will lose my cool here!"

The half elf throws her arms around Masym and with a big hug and smile says My hero~

The red-headed ulfen does not come out from behind the bar at Masym's polite request.

"We did nothing to you! All we want to do is know why we're being targeted like this and if we can do anything to fix it!" Nella scowls, speaking to any of their attackers that might still be conscious. She quickly works to stabilize the fallen though she otherwise leaves them be. "They'll be alright; this place has probably seen even worse," she sighs grimly. "And you might as well come on out from behind there before Masym or Jones drag you out," she adds to the man cowering in fear.

As everyone picks themselves up she attempts to see to the injuries her friends and herself took, patching them up with her healing wand.

That should leave Masym and Phoebee each down 1 HP and Tchak, Malusha, and Nella at full health. Nella will use Jones' wand on him but I'll let him do the rolls if he likes.

Noticing the tight grip that Phoebee has on Masym, an idea suddenly springs to mind. "You know, Malusha was very brave just now too. He took a dive onto the floor and a boot to the back just to heal you," she explains with a sly smile.

Ha!

The man stays behind the bar, muttering to himself in Skald.

Meanwhile, the one-armed barkeep emerges, and scowls at you, and at all the bodies, and the damage. He then starts kicking the red-headed man hiding behind his counter, yelling insults at him until he gets up gets out from his hiding place. He seems unsure where to go though is clearly trying to figure out how to get past you to the door.

The barkeep curses at him once more, then goes back to scowling at the Pathfinders.

"Alright, not complete panty-waists I suppose." He mutters grudgingly. "Well, except maybe those two." He adds, pointing at Malusha and Masym.

He yells something at two of the still mobile patrons, and the three of them start going about tossing all the bodies out onto the frozen street. You notice they don't even bother to check if they're breathing... but do stop to check their pockets.

Occasionally the barkeep will right a table or chair, and as long as it stays up on its own, seems content to leave it at that.

Nella will find that most of the ones that attacked them have managed to stabilize on their own, except for the one Masym killed outright, who is well beyond such aid. The ulfens throw them all out into the cold.

Jones, a little frustrated at himself for fighting so poorly, hollers at the man cowering behind the bar, "You'd better get out here now! I've still got a few swings left in me, and I'm bound to use them on you if I have to go back there and get you myself!"

Wand of CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

He did? she asks at Nella's comment.

Giving Masym a good bye pat on the rump she goes up to Mashula Thank you! she says as she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Tchak walks over to the bar and peers over it at the red-headed man hiding there. "My friend told you to come out of hiding... don't make me teach you why we call it a pecking order."

Hearing the tengu's comment the bard rolls her eyes and a scowl appears on her face.

Malusha's face immediately goes bright red in embarrassment when Phoebee kisses his cheek. "Uh. Miss Phoebee. Uh. I was just doing what any.. uh... anyone would do." Malusha is stunned and not quite sure how to respond. "So thank you. I mean you're welcome. For healing you."

Masym awkwardly returns the bard's hug and is more than relieved when Phoebee turns her attention to Malusha. He does not respond verbally to the barkeep's jibe, instead giving him a stoic look. He slowly sheaths his axe and awaits Hjort to show some backbone here.

Does Masym look like the profile pic?

Masym will be waiting a long time.

Once the man is chased out from behind the bar by the barkeep, he looks more afraid of the Pathfinders then anything else, especially once he sees all the bar patrons laying around unconscious (or worse).

His eyes go wide, and he holds up his hands. "Don't kill me! I'm not Hjort! Honest!" He cries, cowering back towards one of the nearby tables. "He just paid me to sit here, cause I looked like him." He picks at the scar on his cheek, as it has started to peel away, obviously fake. "Well, mostly." He adds.

"Said you'd come lookin'."

So you are responsible for the attack upon us and these people getting killed?

Does Masym look like the profile pic?

Not exactly, I would say he is quite a bit younger than what the pic shows but the general look of the pic is pretty accurate.

Masym glares at the fake Hjort. "Good call there. Now where is he hiding?"

"What?! Me, I didn't do nothin'!" He nods towards Masym. "He did that." He glances nervously towards the dead body on the floor and gulps... then suddenly starts to backpeddle. "I mean... um... No one said to kill no one. This was Hjort's idea. Said you guys was the murderers and had a beating coming." He does his best not to look at the dead man on the floor any more, clearly believing Hjort was accurate in his assessment of you and not wanting to be next.

"I was just s'posed to sit here." He moans. "Let a typical night at the Helm keep ya busy while they..." He gulps, and stops talking for a moment.

Jones takes a step toward Not Hjort and cracks his knuckles, "While they, what?"

The man flinches.

"I dunno!" He exclaims quickly, before Jones can start beating on him. "I just overheard stuff. That's all. I ain't part a it, honest!" He repeats. "Him and some foreign lady... a few others... they're off at one a Darkwine's armories."

He fidgets nervously. "Something about pretendin' ta be you lot and assaultin' the place somehow."

"Said with what ya done before, it'd show all a Trollheim who ya was." he swallows hard and holds up his hands again. "Said something about gettin' all a ya run outta the entire country. Hunted and cut down like ya deserved."

"Their words, not mine!" He adds hastily.

"Oh boy..." Nella breathes as the imposter's words sink in. "We've got to do something and fast or all this will be the tip of the iceberg!" she exclaims, gesturing at the blood and furniture spread all over the floor.

"Darkwine's armories? Where are they? How many?" she asks, firing off the questions in rapid succession.

He gets a tic under one eye, that twitches with every question fired his way. Clearly not the sturdiest of ulfen specimens.

"I... I ain't sure." He whines. "I think the one over by the south gate, maybe? They destroy that, will make the Castellan look weak. Which gets him challenged and killed soon enough."

"But before that," He adds. "Darkwine'll want yer heads on a pike for sure if he thinks you done it. And the rest a the country will want the rest a ya, soon after."

He can, and does, tell you where the armory in question is located.

"Can I go now? You guys don't need ta kill me! I helped. Right?"

Knowledge, Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Masym turns to his fellow Pathfinders. "That plan would not hurt the Society too badly, but it would certainly lead to our deaths. We need ta get moving!"

"What do we do with him?" Nella asks, pointing at the cowering man. "If things keep getting ugly, we might need his testimony...for whatever good it may or may not do."

Malusha considers the information he just heard. "I think it is clear that we need to get to the armory right away and see if we can stop these guys." He looks at the cringing ulfen. "I'm not sure that he will be able to help us. Not sure that anyone would believe his testimony."

Then Malusha catches Phoebee's eye and starts to color again. He moves to the other side of Nella so that she is between him and Phoebee.

Jones smiles at Not Hjort, "What made you think we were going to hurt you? Thanks for the information." Turning back to the group he nods at Masym, "We need to get to the armory quick. I say we just let the coward go, he's of no use to us anymore."

Let's go to the armory and stop these dastards! she says with a smile winking at Malusha but walking up to Masym and complimenting him on how brave he is and how virile.

After some discussion, the Pathfinders quickly head out, hoping to stop whatever misdeeds the real Hjort and Runa are up to. The Fake Hjort gives a sigh of relief as you leave.

Outside, the unconscious bodies of the bar patrons litter the snowbank, some of them coming around, many of them not, a few staggering off into the cold winter night.

The directions to the armory lead you across market towards the southern gate of Trollheim. Although dark out it is still relatively early evening, though there are few citizens about as the air has turned chilly once more.

When you finally locate the building in question, it is a large, blank wooden structure straddling the line that leads into a secured residential district. Everything seems quiet in the crisp air, though you see a group of guards speaking quietly in Skald to one another out front.

Behind the guards, the front door of the building is constructed of heavy, thick wood and bound in iron. At several points across the door, visible cracks and splintered wood can be seen. The battered door stands slightly ajar, opening inwards towards the dark interior.

One of the guards notices your approach, and instantly goes on the alert calling to the others, causing them all to turn to face you, weapons ready.

One of them says something in Skald with a stern voice, a command of some sort.

"Why thank you Phoebee, you are too kind..." Masym stammers as the pretty half-elf showers him with compliments. "We should get moving though."

Once the party arrives at the armory , he makes sure to keep his hands away from his weapons as he waits for the translation.

Does any one speak Skald?

"Um...drat, I have no idea what they're saying!" Nella sighs as the guard rattles off something in his native tongue.

Add one more language I need to learn, if we survive that long.

She slowly raises her hands in the air, showing that she holds no weapons and that she's not making any moves to use magic either. "Do you speak Common?" she asks.

Lawl, no one here knows Skald it looks like.

Luckily for you, these guys actually have a rank in linguistics... unlike some of those you've run into!

As Nella starts replying to them in Common, the four guards seem to get more tense. One of them says some rapid fire comments in Skald, and the others nod.

"Foreigners!? We should have known!"

"Whatever plot you have going here, has failed!" He exclaims, motioning back towards the damaged armory door. "Lay down your weapons and surrender!"

Wei Tchak observes them cluelessly... "Plot?"

Plot? What plot are you talking about?

Knowledge(local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

"These are all Darkwine's men," Malusha says quietly to his friends. "It looks like Runa's people have already been here."

He speaks louder so that the guards can here. "We are not the ones who did this but we know who did." He holds his hands up mimicking Nella.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

At Malusha's words, one of the guards says something accusatory in Skald. The others don't seem swayed either, as all of them grip their weapons a little tighter.

"So you are in on it! And there's more of you?!" The guard who seems to be in charge says in reply. "We don't know what you expected to accomplish here, but we're putting a stop to it! You foreigners should have stayed out of Trollheim!"

They start fanning out a little.

alas, they are starting out hostile. So you will likely need a higher number then that to talk them down. (though others can aid)

Jones takes his quiver off his back and slowly places it on the ground, and calmly speaks to the guards, "We were just ambushed by those trying to frame us. One of the conspirators told us of the plan to frame us for breaking into this armory, which looks like has already happened." Jones looks past the guards at the broken door as he speaks the last part.

Aid Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16

There is no need to get upset, we are all friends here. We mean no harm and you mean no harm,in my homeland we share stories with friends would you like to hear a story? It is about battle and heroic activities like saving damsals, pillaging the towns and wanton and rape?

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23 aid other in diplomacy

"I knew we shoulda dragged that coward with us!" Masym mutters to himself as he sets his spear down on the ground. "It is as he says good men. We do not wish to fight you, we just want to clear our names!"

Diplomacy, Aid: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (6) + 0 = 6

The half-elf will whisper to Masym Pretty you are, articulate, well not so much. Just be eye candy and let the diplomatic ones be diplomatic. she says with a wink.

"Aye, how could we have broken in here, when we just arrived?"

diplo aid: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14