Foxy Quickpaw's - Shattered Star AP

Game Master Foxy Quickpaw

you can still use it two handed and with power attack
The swarm keeps swarming Jimmy.
Damage: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 1) = 6
But with the right tool he manages to disperse the swarm.
Damage: 1d6 + 17 ⇒ (6) + 17 = 23
The few constructs that are not smashed or crippled crouch away to clean somewhere else.

And what about the gag? Also perception to notice the moving cat woman on her way to Berkanin

Cat has 17 Stealth + 20 from being invisible for moving around. Not even Tauriell will make that check. Also you can focus on your bound parcel like you're told.

Tauriell looks around where she can find the cat with her bow pulled.
Perception: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (6) + 21 = 27

Now that Jimmy feels he has dealt with what he can deal with, he moves over to the bound man once more, pulls his gag off and asks, "How many more surprises are we likely to be in for?"

Attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12
Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

As Jimmy bows over Berkanin he gets stabs in his back. But lucky for him nothing comes through his armor. With the attack the cat woman becomes visible again.

As soon as the cat woman comes into sight Tauriell shoots a volley of arrows.
Attack Rapid Shot: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18
Damage: 1d8 + 3 + 1 + 2d6 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 1 + (6, 4) = 22
Attack Rapid Shot: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Damage: 1d8 + 3 + 1 + 2d6 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 1 + (4, 6) = 22
Attack Rapid Shot: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Damage: 1d8 + 3 + 1 + 2d6 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 1 + (3, 2) = 14

That is too much for the strongest cat and all nine lives are gone at once. She falls to the floor, dead.

"None. There are no more surprises." Berkanin shouts in fear. The horror in his face as he sees the dead cat woman lying in her own blood besides him. "Just don't move through the house. There are constructs everywhere."

As all obvious threats are gone Tauriell takes a closer look at the harpy and casts detect magic.
Then she takes her waterskin and puts out the fire.
Spellcraft Bow: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (10) + 17 = 27
Spellcraft Leather Armor: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (16) + 17 = 33
Spellcraft Ring: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (7) + 17 = 24

She puts the ring on her own finger and tries the bow. "I'll keep this bow. It looks much better than the one from the toad. Who wants the toad bow? Also if someone needs a magic leather armor."

They are both +1 composite bows with a strength rating of +2

She then continues with the cat.
Spellcraft Ring: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (18) + 17 = 35
Spellcraft Leather Armor: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (11) + 17 = 28
Spellcraft Amulet: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (1) + 17 = 18
For the amulet she identifies it with the pendant.
Spellcraft Amulet Identify: 1d20 + 27 ⇒ (6) + 27 = 33

"I'll keep these safe." she says putting on the other ring and the amulet. The short sword she add to her collection of weapons at her belt. She also takes her mace back. "You should buy yourself some big hammer or something. Just in case."

"Why am I standing here staring at this... dead person?" Gwenhwyfar asks as it now doesn't seen so interesting standing besides her.

"I guess you really liked her song. But now that she is dead the fascination is gone." Tauriell jokes.

"I could probably do with the bow." Jimmy says

"Here, it's your's. Not exactly your strength rating, but it shoots really nicely." Tauriell says as she hands over the bow.

"Why exactly do you bag allthe magic goods?" Abomentolor asks Tauriell.

"Because unlike you I know what these items are. Also there is more of that on Mr. Ardoc here. If you want to unburden him." Tauriell replies. "You might even take his bat wings. They are magical too."

"Why do you take all that stuff from Mr. Ardoc?" Gwenhwyfar asks. "We just need Augustille."

"Because he made us come here to get Augustille instead of finding him at the temple and just pay him a few gold. It's a compensation for our inconvenience." Abomentolor says and pulls the ring from Berkanin's finger and the amulet from his neck. "I can't use any of them. I already have two rings and an amulet."

"How about magic ear rings? You're already wearing more jewelery than most girls anyway." Tauriell jokes.

As the other are not even trying to be a help here Gwenhwyfar flies up to the window and squeezes herself through it. Outside she flies down to the shop where Gav waits for them. "Gav, I need you to buy something for me. I need diamond dust worth 100 gold. Better three pouches of that just in case."

She fetches the coins out of her pouch and hands them to Gav.

"Did something bad happen?" Gav asks his eyes wide as he holds that much money in his hands.

"No, no. The Ardoc guy is tied up and his helpers are dead. But I need to get Augustille's sanity back before I release him from the rack." Gwenhwyfar replies her thoughts still with Augustille pondering if that will really help.

Gav's jaw drops. "You were gone for about five minutes!" Gav exclaims astounded.

"Yes. And now hurry. I need this Diamond dust now. Not tomorrow."

Gav gulps visibly but then does as told and runs through the streets to a shop with mage supplies. He can't hold up with the groups record times to storm and conquer the Ardocs house. But after about ten minutes he is back. Heavily panting he hands over the pouches. "Sorry mam. The shop was full of customers and I had to wait in line."

Gwenhwyfar takes the bags and flies back up and squeezes through the window into the workshop. There she casts restoration on Augustille using up one of the pouches of diamond dust. "How do you feel now Augustille?"

"Who am I? Where am I?" Augustille asks still confused but his thoughts become clearer by the second leading to more plausible questions like "Who are you? And where is that damned Ardoc?"

As he sees him lying bound on the floor he demands "Untie me that I can strangle him!"

"I don't want to argue with you about that." Gwenhyfar states, touches Augustille and speaks a word.
On target: 1d100 ⇒ 62

Appearing with the troll in the midst of the Sorry Excuse. "Hello Mrs. Vargun. Here is your brother back. Please take care that he doesn't do anything stupid. I have some other business with Mr. Ardoc we have to finish first. We will come back to you later."

And with that and another word Gwenhwyfar is back at the hanging manse.
On target: 1d100 ⇒ 61

"Great. You ruined the option of feeding our Ardoc here to the troll." Tauriell complains.

"I can burn him to coal instead that's no problem. Or burn down this whole house. That would probably solve the problem of the remaining constructs too." Abomentolor suggests.

"This is not Abomentolor's little kingdom. I'd be fine with letting the troll have his revenge but we have no business with this man."

"In some more civilized town there would be a guard and some judge to take care of this. But how is it in this town? How are criminals judged and by whom?" Tauriell asks the Ardoc with a grin.

"There is no general system for all of Kaer Maga." Berkanin answers evasively.

Gwenhwyfar notices that Jimmy is heavily bruised. She comes closer and takes a look at the wounds.
Heal: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (16) + 15 = 31
"Ewww. There is all kind of filth in your wounds. We have to take a close look on that. Not that you develop a filth fever."

She casts cure light wounds on it.
CLW: 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
CLW: 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

"You know I haven't actually gotten sick in ages. I wonder why." Jimmy says thinking

Nice way of reminding me of your immunity :P

"I hope your luck persists. Filth fever is no fun." Gwenhwyfar says.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

"Looks like someone doesn't want to tell me whom to call to get him judged." Tauriell concludes. "What do you say. Shall we persuade him to tell us or shall we simply ask our guide to tell us how this works here in Kaer Maga?" she asks her companions.

"I wouldn't mind having you look after me in bed for a while though." Jimmy whispers to her

"Don't be ridiculous. If there were someone they wouldn't hire us to get that troll back. I'm judge now!" Abomentolor proclaims.

"And the sentence is given in number of fireballs the culprit will get, right?" Tauriell asks, rolling her eyes.

sorry. missed your post.
"You can have that without being ill. Gwenhwyfar whispers back.

"There are more ways than one to kill someone with fire. But I'll take your idea into account. Can we now go? It's getting boring here." Abomentolor complains.

"Why not. Are we going through the house, or are we simply disappearing by magic?" Tauriell asks.

"I'm out of disappearing magic." Gwenhwyfar replies.

"We could leave through the window still. But that would waste a lot of magic to get everyone through these narrow windows." Tauriell ponders the options.

"Why should we. That guy can give us a tour through his house." Abomentolor states.

Tauriell picks the Ardoc up and puts him on his feet. "So you give us a tour on the way out." and pushes him in direction of the stairs.

The first room down the stairs is a bedroom. This bedroom is large and airy, with thick, expensive rugs and windows overlooking the district. A massive bed sits against the northeastern wall, next to a wardrobe and a metal staircase that twists up through a hole in the ceiling. In an entryway to the southeast, one door stands ajar, while in the southeastern wall, a lever protrudes from a mechanical box by another door.

The door to a bathroom - large and elaborately tiled in white and forest green - stands open. In addition to two immaculate porcelain privy seats,
the room contains a standing washbasin and a claw-foot tub big enough for several people at once, both with copper spigots and drains for running water. A large silver mirror takes up most of the eastern wall.

Over a wide masonry catwalk with railings on either side slopes downward to an open archway in the manor’s southern tower from the balcony in the smaller northern tower. Above, open windows in the northwestern tower flicker with flashes of colored light.

On this level are found a small office with a window looking out over the garden and district. A desk holds stacks of documents, blank paper, and other writing materials. A large silver mirror hangs on one wall.

Then a room in which the air is a heavy mix of perfume and animal stink. In one corner lies a mass of fine blankets and pillows that have been slashed and raked into a crude nest. In another stands a vanity with a tall mirror and an impressive array of crystal perfume bottles. Between the two, a wooden trunk sits against the wall. Feathers and streaks of white litter the floor.

And last a small chamber. Against the far wall stands a small shrine made out of interlocking gears, topped with an artistic mask of a female face formed from metal plates. The two walls to either side hold long tapestries, one of a naked clockwork woman reaching down from a cloud to lift up a young man in robes, and another showing the same man standing triumphantly on the shoulders of an enormous humanoid machine as it stomps across a crowded marketplace. A mat sits on the floor before the shrine, a bowl of incense overturned in front of it. Both the tapestries are ripped and askew, and the shrine itself is dented.

Down another flight of stairs is the first floor already. This large room has several overstuffed armchairs facing each other on a large and ornate rug. Along the walls stand various cases or hangers displaying an assortment of strange trophies, such as a spear with a glass reservoir at the end, a small mannequin elaborately carved from bone or ivory, a marble lion head, and a number of framed schematic drawings.

There are - besides the large entrance room with the two destroyed constructs - a storeroom which is packed with crates and bins flled with bolts, cogs, chains, tubes, bricks of clay, and other supplies seemingly suited for an artist or mechanic. On a table in the middle of the room lies a pile of three round, eyeball-shaped constructs with spindly arms, all of them broken and battered.

Also a room which's ceiling and two outer walls are made entirely of panes of glass. The light coming through the windows seems amplified, and the room is as bright as noonday. Several tables and racks stand covered with green, leafy plants in pots, as well as four identical marble busts of the same young, clean-shaven man. A plain wooden chair sits in the center of the room, facing a small desk with a mechanical arm protruding from the top. Part of the wood is scarred and stained.

A long corridor leads to the rest of the rooms in this house.

Tauriell follows through the house with detect magic up all the time. As they come to the room with the plants it is obvious that the whole room is magic.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (6) + 19 = 25

"Well. A room with a desk, a protocol arm and a chair with a zone of truth on it. What might that be used for?" Tauriell asks rhetorically.

"How about we play court here?" she suggests. "Would you please seat Mr. Ardoc here into the chair?" She asks of Jimmy and takes a seat behind the desk herself.