Dot for gameplay
A knight is sworn to dot
Her heart knows only RAI
Her blade defends the PCs
Her strength upholds the party
Her word speaks only RAW
Her wrath undoes the BBEG
A golden-haired woman sits calmly upright in her chair, applying a whetstone to her dagger. A fur-line coat hangs off the back of her chair and a very worn pack rests on the floor nearby.
An older dwarf with blond hair strides patiently into the room. An elaborate shortbow accross his back, and a warhammer at his hip.
He speaks softly and slowly.. "My name is Rogar Hammertale. I bid you greetings from the Five Kings Mountains. I am here to answer the call of our venture captain, and in the manor of the Warrior-Skalds of Kalsgard - lend my arm to the challenges ahead while telling our story."
The woman looks up from her dagger. Her complexion is quite young, though her eyes look strangely tired. "Idgethun. Some call me Odd, for short. I hail from Nirmathas, but that was long ago." And best forgotten. "I was not aware a partner would be needed. Do you know what the VC had in mind?"
"As the dwarven ancestors saw through the terrible orc siege of Highhelm through the 25th century, so must we learn the lesson of 'patient as the stone'. The captain knows where to find us."
With that, pours a drink, and sits in quiet reflection.
"Hello, Yvette Blakros. My husband insisted i get out of the house more so i joined his little organization. Its been very exciting." A tall elf introduces herself. Pleasing in the way that elves tend to be, she walks over to the dwarf, "Would you be a dear and hold this bag for me? Its simply too heavy for me and i can't be useful if i have to carry it." She says handing her backpack to Rogar. "Thank you ."
With a simple sense motive you notice that she is treating the party as barely above servant level. So she has the pretense of asking before doing what she wants and tries not to order people around.
She wears a shining mithral breastplate covered in Sylvan wards on top of a deep azure blue dress with golden trim, greaves and gauntlets matching her breastplate. Her strawlike hair is tied up in a formal bun. The heavy wooden shield on her back shows a blue field with three golden crowns, one on top of another. She holds her longsword in front of her with both hands on the pommel, the point in the ground, in a stalwart pose. At barely above 5 feet tall, she somehow manages to cut an imposing presence.
"Greetings, fellow adventurers. In another time and another place, I was once a king. In the future, I may yet be so again. For now, I am merely the knight Artoria Pendragon."
An owl sits on her shoulder. His gaze shows an unusually high intelligence, and his face shows an unusually expressive brow and beak. After it becomes clear that Artoria finished speaking, pecks at her skull.
Artoria covers her head with a gauntlet.
"I forgot...this is Archimedes. He is my--ow!" The owl reaches around a gauntlet to peck at Artoria's skull again. "--Merlin's familiar."
Well so much for that. Said he had something interesting, he did. Hmph. Odd introduces herself to Yvette and Artoria simply: "Odd." She thrusts her dagger back into its sheath at her hip and draws another one, setting the whetstone to it with a practiced hand.
A tall, lean Varisian walks in just in time to hear the introductions. Road dust covers his clothes and gear, which is the usual Varisian mish-mash of colors and styles, right down to the orange, blue and purple kapenia wrapped around his throat. Adorning most of his exposed dusky skin—and creeping down into his clothes—is what must be a not-so-small fortune in expensive-looking tattoos ... another Varisian custom.
He drops a heavy pack loudly on the floor and stands to stretch his back. And when he pauses to give a casual salute, you can just see the tips of elven ears peeking through his dark hair.
He grins, a lopsided thing. "Oh, good," he says, looking at the gathered group, his eyes lingering on Odd, Artoria, and Yvette, "I hate being early. I'm Jal."
His eyebrows rise at the sight of Archimedes, and his lopsided grin widens. "You know you have a bird on your head, right?"
An avianoid entity meanders into the room, with a clip-board bearing... well, to put it nicely... chicken scratch. He is clad in a finely crafted suit of lamellar armor... but the material appears to be darkleaf rather than the typical leather or metal construction of such a thing. A hilt of a masterfully built long blade of some sort rides over his right shoulder, a darkwood bow over his left.
"Note to self. Research precedent in Absalomian case law for percentages of possession, and whether the nine-tenths holds true for--"
He pauses a bit as he looks up, blinks a few times, and shoves the paperwork into his haversack.
"Karasuma Tazou. Barrister. Have you or a loved one been hurt in a Society-incurred situation? Do you feel that the Society needs to expedite the payments to your--"
There's a raucous laughter that erupts from the tengu.
"Sorry, lawyer humor. Karasuma Tazou, call me Kara if we're in combat, I'm your stealthy sort, skilled with security devices and pretty decent on the senses. Please DON'T expect me to front-line, though, that almost ended in tears last mission. Fortunately, they weren't ours."
Jal’s gray eyes swing between Archimedes and Karasuma. ”Tá tú a bheith Dáiríre dom,” he mutters, ”Are we starting an aviary?”.
He gives the tengu a flat look, unthinkingly touching the pommel of a well-made Tien curved blade sheathed across his back. ”We don’t see many of your kind on this side of the waters.”
Heads up, Jal can be a bit of an jerk, but he’s a team player under it all.
He gives the assembled pathfinders a weighing look. ”So Feathers here,” he hikes a thumb at Kara, ”can scout and trap-break. I’ll make sure he’s worth his salt.” He notes Artoria’s armor and weaponry with a smirk, ”Her Highness is our muscle.” He looks at Yvette, Odd, and Rogar, ”What do the rest of you fiontaróirí do?”
fiontaróirí = “adventurers” in Varisian
Rogar takes a slow drink from his ale. "As the ancestors who in their hubris stood alone... fell before the orc onslaught one by one. They thought themselves greater than one another. They quarreled and belittled each other. In the end they were buried together."
He opens his eyes at the end of his story, looking at the Jal. "You would do well to gain allies who will stand before certain death with you rather than allow your hubris to be your personal downfall."
Rogar stands, and almost smiles as he raises his glass. "Roger Hammertale. Story-crafting my trade. While it unusual for one of the stout folk, the shortbow is my weapon of choice. But I am more than proficient with the Hammer as is the tradition of Torag.
”You mistake me, *cara,” responds Jal, holding up a finger to order his own ale. ”I’m just looking to build the best hand here … know the value of the cards, if you know what I mean. No one card wins the pot.”
cara = “friend”, Varisian
”Plus,” Jal says, taking his own pull of ale, ”they don’t keep me around for my flowery words.” He salutes the dwarf with his ale-stein, ”I’m thrilled they’ve sent us one who knows how to use them, though. And an arrow-slinger, no less.”
With another drink, his gray eyes shift expectantly to Idgethun and Yvette.
Artoria glares at Jal.
"I do indeed have a bird on my shoulder. What of it?"
She nods approvingly at Roger's admonition to Jal. "When I stood upon Camlann Field, I saw firsthand what happens when people abandon fellowship."
She scowls at the card metaphor.
"The only thing a person should ever hazard is their life, and only on matters of honor and justice; only cravens gamble with cards for coins. "
Odd is still annoyed about being deceived about this whole business. Her reply to Jal has a slight accompanying undertone that is apparent in its brevity. "I am a servant of the Lady of Bones. I study the wisdom of life and death." Not entirely by choice, since I never seem to die.
Character flaws are a delightful addition to a PbP, I find. Welcome, Jal the Occasional Jerk.
Kara tilts his head and laughs a bit at Jal's running commentary.
"Not only does one card not make a winning hand, but one hand doesn't win the tournament. Slow and steady wins more gains in the long-term, but one mustn't be afraid to go quickly when opportunities arise. And... no, I'm not normally this talkative in the field. Must be the social atmosphere or something."
Rogar, Jal, and Artoria's comments about fellowship being abandoned causes the bird-person's feathers to fluff out a bit, though.
"Just as long as we're not expecting me to win the day by running around in circles shooting flaming skeletons with blunt arrows, I think we can get together and have a meeting of the minds, right?" The tengu shudders.
"Buncha slackers, that crew, figured 'Oh, if we play dead then the skeletons won't kill us...'" The tengu makes a hacking coughing sound that sounds remarkably like another linguistic term for 'bovine excrement'.
Into the midst of the pleasant getting-to-know-each-other, Venture Captain Adril Hestram had slammed open the door, letting in the sounds of rain and wind from outside. The Captain had been dripping wet. He had nodded around and shrugged off his wet oilskin cloak to hang on a peg, then appropriated one of the tables in the room and beckoned with a big hand for you all to gather close.
"Miserable damn night out there!" he'd grunted. "And I'll need to be sending you all out in it, sorry about that." (He hadn't actually sounded that sorry.)
"Got a message earlier today from a chap named Yargos Gill. Some of you may know him-- he's a historian, and occasionally he funnels interesting things our way. Tonight, it's a codebook he claims to have dug up from some old Taldan military excursion-- one of those times they tried, and failed, to take Absalom. It's several hundred years old, and probably has some insights we'd like for ourselves. Anyway, I told him we'd buy the thing. I dropped by Yargos's house earlier in the day, before this damn weather sprang up, to pick up the book... but he wasn't home. The man's usually as broke as a two-copper nail-- I can't imagine him not making the time to be there and collect his payment. I looked around for him a bit, but I had other business to attend to... though some of the poor wretches that live in the neighborhood told nonsense stories of seeing skeletal figures wandering around in the sea-mist..."
Adril Hestram had hesitated, then dismissed these as probable flights of pure fancy. "Anyway-- I'm a Venture Captain, I have other things to do than hunt for Gill in the Puddles all night long. So you're the lucky ones! Dress warm, but don't waste time-- Yargos probably owes people money, if I know him, and I don't want him knifed before we get that book, at the least. Off with you, agents!"
Without so much as the customary 'Do you have any questions,' Hestram had ushered you out into the rain, causing all of you to wonder just why you worked for the Society back in season 0 anyway. But, dutiful agents that you are, you had embarked down towards the Puddles: one of Absalom's worst districts, a perpetually-sodden section of the urban landscape where poor sewage layout and no tax money to speak of has conspired to make the streets more or less filled with unsavory standing water-- or, on nights of heavy rain, running water. Boards and planks form crude bridges between buildings, but the smartest Puddle dwellers use the rooftops themselves to get around.
In any case, you had asked questions and gathered information despite the miserable weather. Your trail had let you from Gill's own home, to a tavern called the Piper, where a bartender had confirmed that Gill and several of his old, equally penniless scholar friends had been in, having a drink and a game of cards, when half a dozen young toughs had burst in and rudely hauled them out into the wet night. "Looked like they were headed out towards the sea-cliff," the barkeep had timidly volunteered.
Stepping back out into the rain, you had squinted towards said cliff-- to see a handful of figures struggling in the sheeting night-time rain. You had run forward...
...and now you find yourself hearing the boom of the surf below the cliff's edge, with the salt spray and the rain whipped together in a wild wind. Thick clouds scud across the face of the moon, letting in just enough light to see by. A number of brawny young men, all with their heads shaved and gleaming in the rain, are manhandling four old men at the cliff's edge. The struggle is one-sided, and seems more for sadistic fun than anything else. Even as you run up, one of the old man is dragged towards the precipice. There is little time for anything clever-- you must act!
WD Blk Red Purple: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8
WD Bl Grn Yellow: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1
Artoria: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18
Idgethun: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Jal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Kara: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Rogar: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Yvette: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14
The scenario starts you off right into things, so let's get goin'! Initiative order for Round 1:
Normally I'll break up initiative order a bit more, but you beat all the bad guys this time around, so: whole party's up, post in whatever order you like. The map is linked at the top. You can start your PC anywhere within the black rectangle, not necessarily just where I placed them.
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17
Jal wastes no time, jogging forward through the miserable rain as he pulls a shortbow from over his shoulder. 'PUT THEM DOWN OR WE'LL ATTACK!' he yells as he nocks an arrow and fires.
Move forward (drawing shortbow on the way), then attack Red.
shortbow: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17
damage: 1d6 + 3 + 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 3 + (2) + 2 = 11
Since we're acting first, I'm including Sneak Attack and Studied Target (which can be activated on a target as an immediate action when the slayer deals sneak attack damage). So Red is now Jal's Studied Target.
Rogar follows Jal's lead, moving up and pulling his bow - firing at Jal's target if he still stands, or at yellow.
shortbow: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22
damage: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Archimedes taps Artoria's shoulder, a brief flash of golden light passing from his talon into her. He casts guidance on her
Artoria charges forward, drawing her longsword and leveling it at each of the young men.
"I give you this one chance to stand down before I cut you down where you stand, villains! Leave those men in peace lest I give you the peace of the grave."
Karasuma looks at the situation and shakes his head as Artoria charges in.
His approach, though, is a bit more mercenary, or mercantile, as it were.
"Sweetening the pot, ten gold to each one of you if you leave now, no questions asked. I think you can see the alternative. Your call."
Move action 1 move
The tengu slides a hand into his haversack and pulls out a coin pouch that jingles a bit.
"I wouldn't mess with her, she's killed scores on the battlefield. My way, you at least get a bit richer?"
Bluff(For the somewhat embroidered story about Artoria): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
@Karasuma That...really isn't an exaggeration at all, especially if you consider her past life :)
Artoria's face darkens as she thinks of the truth of Karasuma's boast.
"Indeed I have. However, I have never slain those that surrendered in good faith."
Jal: Do you have any ability that lets you deal ranged sneak attack damage past the usual requirement of 30 ft? I don't see one. But you are more than 30 ft from Red, so I'll assume the sneak attack, and the other contingent abilities, do not kick in unless you tell me otherwise.
Yvette: Please indicate your chosen target in the future, as with 6 enemies on the board I won't make assumptions for who you're attacking. Random target roll: 1d6 ⇒ 3 You hit Purple with your magic missile.
Kara: If this were a home game I would love to indulge tactics like that! Unfortunately PFS is what it is...
Jal runs forward and looses an arrow at the front line of battle, so to speak; it catches the unaware thug square in the shoulder. He turns, only for an arrow from Rogar's bow to punch through the light leather armor he wears. He crumples with a curse, and the others shout in fury.
A bolt of energy shoots from Yvette's wand and catches the purple-tattooed bloke in the head, leaving his scalp sizzling.
"What the hell? Who are these bastards?"
"Some girl with a sword and a stupid bird?"
"Get 'em! They killed Kenneth! But first--"
The thug with a yellow headband tied around his head gives a shove to the drenched old man at the end of the line, who goes over the edge of the cliff and into the drink. To your horror, you see a long wet metal chain glinting in the moonlight-- the four graybeards have been chained together, and in short order gravity starts sending them one after the other, with shrill screams...!
The last old man flails frantically, and manages to get hold of a stunted root sticking out of the cliff's edge. As wet as the soil is from the deluge, however, that can't possibly hold them for long.
The rest of the gang toughs turn back to you, spiked gauntlets on their hands glinting in the moonlight. They run forward, closing the distance and beginning to bark and snarl like dogs! They circle, clearly trying to surround you, timing their blows to when they can hit together.
"Tear 'em up! Hounds attack!"
"Hounds!!! ARRH! ARRH!"
Green vs Odd, flank: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 4 + 2 = 20
Black acrobatics vs Artoria CMD: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 Fail, provoking AOO from Artoria:
Artoria AOO, guidance vs Black: 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 8 + 1 = 23
Artoria, AOO damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Black vs Artoria, flank: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 2 = 11
Blue vs Artoria, flank: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 4 + 2 = 8
Damage vs Odd: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
One of the makes the mistake of circling too close to Artoria as he tries to get into position-- she catches him a blow with her longsword that opens a gash across his chest, but he continues to fight on. (Artoria: You got an attack of opportunity on him, which I rolled (using your guidance); let me know if you would prefer Artoria to have not taken that AOO.)
Despite their tactics, only one of the thugs is able to land a blow, his spiked gauntlet catching Idgethun in the ribs. 3 damage to Idgethun
4 damage to purple
6 damage to black
Re: Sneak Attack range ... doh! Just a classic brain fart. Good catch, Dien.
Jal growls out a string of Varisian curses as the old men begin to slip into the water. He reacts instantly, dropping his bow as he dashes forward through the mud and rain.
"I'll get the graybeards!"
Slinging his shield into place, he rushes recklessly right through the press of bodies, mainly trusting his shield and natural athleticism to see him safely past the counter-punches of the thugs.
Drop shortbow. Double move forward, ending two squares south of Yellow and adjacent to the closest old man (I have no map access currently, can someone update Jal's position?). He'll ready his Quick-draw shield on the move as a swift action, so between that and Mobility, his AC vs AoO's resulting from his movement, is 27. A 23 AC vs regular attacks.
I've moved you, Jal. Two attacks of opportunity coming your way:
Is it a nat 20?: 1d20 ⇒ 12
Is it a nat 20?: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Jal darts through the throng, leaping over the rain slick rocks and easily deflecting the blows of two of the growling gang.
Rogar circles around Kara, and takes a shot at the already wounded thug black
shortbow,pb: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 6 + 1 = 25
damage, pb: 1d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 2 + 1 = 7
"As my ancestors stood back to back against the Gnoll incursions, follow their advice - Let yourself not be surrounded by dogs."
Kara drops the bag and shakes his head. "You really should have taken the coin option, but hey, customer is always right, right?"
Risking AoO from Black (if still alive), Purple, and Yellow. AC 24 vs the attacks, Acrobatics vs. Purple's AoO.
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15
"Be there in a second, Jal, that looks like a two-person job."
Artoria would have definitely taken the AoO since they have clearly shown they won't take her offer. She will save the guidance for her attack roll this round, though, as she will be power attacking on this attack
Artoria breathes deeply as she settles into her stance, both hands on her sword. Picture reference
"Very well. Know that you have forfeited your lives. Pray I am merciful."
She swings at the man that tried to circle around her, then steps to the side with practiced footwork.
Attack on Black with MW CI Longsword (power attack+furious focus, guidance): 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 8 + 1 = 23
Damage (2h power attack): 1d8 + 3 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 6 = 11
"I'll handle this lot then," Odd grumbles as her companions go bolting past. Pharasma, be my judgment and guide my blades. Fervor for swift casting of magic weapon.
Dagger @ Purple: 1d20 + 7 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 7 + 1 - 2 = 11
Damage: 1d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 1 = 6
Dagger @ Purple: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (4) + 7 - 2 = 9
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
A poor interest in fighting results in half-hearted strokes. Odd steps south for better positioning.
Rogar's arrow drops the chap with the black jacket, and Yvette sends a second bolt of pure force into the fellow with the purple tattoos. A few seconds later, Karasuma nimbly slips past the tattooed fellow, though the man with the yellow headband takes a swing at him.
AOO vs Kara: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19 Though it's well-aimed, Kara is too deft to be struck.
Artoria's blade crashes into the man with purple tattoos (Black's already down when it's your turn), and bears him inexorably to the ground.
Idgethun takes two swipes at one of the remaining foes, but her knives do not connect.
(Purple and black both drop)
The old man who is managing to keep the string of himself and his fellows aloft looks panicked. Even as Jal and Karasuma run up to him, the old man's withered fingers lose their grip on the stump! With a hoarse shout, he falls, the noise echoed by the others as they plunge down from the cliff and into the banging surf thirty feet below! Jal and Kara can clearly see them flailing down in the water, trying to stay afloat...
The remaining thugs swear as several of their fellows are quickly dropped. "Come on, let's drop this chickie!" one sneers, pointing at Idgethun. "I already got 'er once! We drop one, things'll even up!"
With unearned optimism, the two step in to flank Odd and try to hit her with their "claws."
Blue atk vs Odd: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 2 = 14
Green atk vs Odd: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 4 + 2 = 24
The one who spoke, a fellow with a green sash at his waist, gets lucky a second time. Damage to Odd: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Mr. Yellow Headband growls at Kara and tries to slice him with his clawed gauntlet...
Yellow atk vs Odd: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
...but has no luck.
For those planning on going into the water: you can jump in and take no damage with a successful Acrobatics or Swim check.
Artoria's eyes widen as she sees the prisoners fall off the cliff. Without hesitation, she drops her sword and runs after them, diving off after them.
Swim Check to Reduce Falling Damage: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23
That should only take one move to get off the cliff, so she will try grabbing onto the men. What would I need to roll for that? I'll roll a swim check just in-case.
Swim Check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Once in the water with the chained men, your options as written are to open the crude lock (Disable Device) or to simply break the chains (they're rusty-pig iron, and not much to speak of) with a STR check. However, I'll certainly allow Swim checks to basically help hold the prisoners' heads above water and give them something to cling to, which will mechanically extend the rounds before they have to worry about drowning. So we'll rule that's what you're doing right now-- you have them and are helping to keep their heads up.
Per PM discussion of move: Yellow takes AOO on Artoria- Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 (Miss)
Artoria pushes past Mr. Yellow Headband and leaps off the ledge without a second thought, executing a rather graceful dive all things considered. SPLOOSH! She pierces the water cleanly and immediately finds the old men, her strong arms helping to drag them above the water's surface, her legs treading water.
Not minding the knicks, Odd finds better positioning and buries a dagger in one of the mysteriously motivated thugs.
Dagger @ Blue: 1d20 + 7 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 7 - 2 + 1 = 21
Damage: 1d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 1 = 6
Dagger @ Blue: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 7 - 2 = 6
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Rogar continues to patiently step forward, launching arrows at the thugs Blue if he still stands, Green if not
Shortbow, PB: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 6 + 1 = 8
"I'll handle this guy, you go get them out of the water, Jal!"
Karasuma attacks the guy near him in yellow, in a guarded fashion.
"Bring your puppy claws, then!"
+1 Cold Iron Elven Curve Blade(Fighting Defensively): 1d20 + 8 - 4 ⇒ (2) + 8 - 4 = 61d10 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
As first the old men, then Artoria go plummeting into the churning waters, Jal gives Kara a quick shrug. "Sounds good," Jal says as he drops his shield, "I needed to rinse the rest of this road dust off, anyway."
He pauses one more moment to slip his pack from his shoulders, which he drops into the mud at Kara's feet. "There's some rope in here, Feathers," he barks before following Artoria over the cliff and into the water.
Drop pack (move action, I believe), then dive in.
Acro: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
As he surfaces, helping to make sure the geezers stay afloat, he shouts over the white noise of rain-on-surf. "Very brave, Sir Highness. Give me a few minutes and I'll slip their chains."
The man with the green sash takes a blast from the wand, and one of Idgethun's dance partners gets nicked, but other than that our heroes do little damage to the gang members.
Down in the surf, the old men cling to both Artoria and Jal, their robes quickly water-logged and the length of metal chain doing nothing helpful as far as keeping them afloat-- but at least they're not sinking to the bottom.
The brute in the yellow headband sneers at Kara and swings with his "claw" at him... Vs Kara: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13 ...to no effect.
Idgethun's friend takes a swing at her... Vs Odd: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 ...but this time she collects no new scratches.
The green-sashed fellow looks around, considers the battlefield... and tears across the open ground towards the woman in the back, with her magic stick that she just burned him with. She seems an easier target than armored warriors, after all.
Vs Yvette: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Confirm? Vs Yvette: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
His theory paid off for him-- he closes the distance, and slashes the elf across her upraised arm!
6 Damage to Blue, 3 damage to Green
Im assuming we'll need round-by-round swim checks in order to accomplish anything. Ignore this if it's unnecessary.
Swim: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Jal kicks powerfully, keeping his head above water (I'm assuming) as he pulls some tools from a pouch at his hip. In no time, he's trying to beat the locks holding the men to their chains.
"Which one of you bookworms is Gill?"
Retrieve thieve's tools. Can I take 10 to disable the lock?
Disable Device: 10 + 13 = 23
Odd continues her dance with one of the thugs, make a couple of sloppy swings that bite only air.
Dagger @ Blue: 1d20 + 7 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 7 - 2 + 1 = 10
Damage: 1d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 2 + 1 = 5
Dagger @ Blue: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 7 - 2 = 8
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Seeing the thug green break off and go after Yvette, Rogar takes careful aim and fires at him.
shortbow, pb: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 6 + 1 = 17
damage: 1d6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 2 + 1 = 4
+1 Cold Iron Elven Curve Blade(Fighting Defensively against Yellow): 1d20 + 8 - 4 ⇒ (11) + 8 - 4 = 151d10 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
The tengu barrister continues to keep the blade defensive, a somewhat slower wall of cold iron as he protects himself from the onslaught.
"Careful now. You could still walk away from this..."