Gm Fanguar's AoW (Inactive)

Game Master Fanguar

indeed agreed sandra after eretyhn trough the poutch

Travigan waits for a suitable moment to interject into Auric's story before inquiring, "So what brings ye ta this mudpit an' away from that shiny arena in Greyhawk, hmmm?"

Ratchet was impressed with his companions yet again. It looked like they had everything under control, so he went to the bar, got himself a good sized mug and set himself in a chair where he could keep an eye out in case things started to go south.

Ulfak joins Ratchet and keeps his scythe as inconspicuous as he can. He doesn't drink he waits to pounce.

If needed.

Initiative 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

The men look at the small stack of coins and burst into raucous laughter. The big half-orc wipes tears from his eyes, "Now what I am supposed to do with that? You ask dangerous men dangerous questions and that's your payment? Tell you what, why don't you go bet on some of the fights and once you've pulled together a reasonable amount, you come back to talk to us."

He turns aways from you, obviously done with the conversation.

@Travigan: Auric turns to you, "Adventure and treasure, my good man. This years championship is still a ways off and the day-to-day bouts aren't worth it for me, unless I decide to take a dive against a kobold. I got me a fat private contract. Solid daily pay and a share of the loot. It's a pretty sweet deal and I get to spend my evenings surrounded by you wonderful people." There's a bit a cheer and applause at the comment.

Not willing to let it end like this

and what would you say would be reasonable amount? she says with a smile

"Oh? Ye've got a contract 'ave ye? Yer boss still hirin' by any chance? HA!" The blacksmith slaps his thigh at his own joke then continues, "Diamond Like in'nt yer typical destination fer fortune makin' is all. I'm sure I'm no' the only one here who wouldn'a mind some solid coin in 'is pouch. In'nt that right, lads?" His last question is to the others in the small crowd with him, affording him a chance to glance over to Sandra and Erethyn and see the thugs laughing openly at them. Travigan's face reddens and his hands instinctively clench into fists for a moment before he remembers himself. Echoes of his wife's chastisement for losing his temper flitting through his mind help him turn his attention back to Auric and the rest of his small audience.

Erethyn looks taken aback but quickly recovers. "Ah, I see my error. You have us at a disadvantage. I took your words for literal truth, when in fact you are far more skilled than that. Come Sandra, we need not bother them right now."

Erethyn swept up his gold and put it back in his bag and turned to head back to his companions. He was more angry than he had been in some time. His profession as a healer had never been so lightly tossed aside before and he felt embarrassed for being so lightly disregarded. He walked over to where Ratchet was and sat at the bar, silently fuming.

Sandra will wait at the table in order the hear the answer to her question

Ulfak joins Sandra to hear that answer and give her company. He does not speak, he waits behind her to listen better.

"Oh, say 50gp a man (200gp total). That seems like a reasonable amount don't you think lads?" Wide grins and nods all around.

@Travigan: Auric smiles politely at the jest, "I think we're all full up, but as for coin. You must know that this area is lousy with burial cairns. There's treasure just laying around waiting to be picked up, if the traps and monsters don't get you first."

We will offer 50gp in total, this not bad for just some information

diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32

we are merely trying to return some bodies to their proper grave and we don't necessarily have that much cash either. I do hope you will take it.

The half-orc shrugs and looks around the table, getting more shrugs in return.

"Throw in that healing and you've got yourself at deal."

Deal then ! she agrees

How many healing spell or channel positive energy do you want us to make off? erethyn can take care off the channel and sandra of the CLW. Of and everone is in for 10 gp a piece.

Sense Motive on the half orc 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

Ulfak's eyes narrow. "What they call you!"

Ulfak has five gold.

Okay that works for me. I'll give them one or two Channels.
Channel 1: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 6) = 7

Channel 2: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7

Travigan only has 6gp. And he's probably not going to appreciate someone promising it to brigands without asking him first =P

its either that or having to fight and that could have repercussion on our standing if we stay in this area. after all its not that bad of the deal :)

Erethyn has more than enough to cover the negotiated price and is willing to pay it all if others don't have enough. 50 gold was actually the amount he had sitting on the table when he set down his coin pouch. So let's assume he pays whatever amount the rest of the party can't and also asks for the directions before moving on.

The party can pay you back ass soon as some loot is sold. Ok lets move on to the next location...

We'll say that the 2 channels are sufficient. On to the observatory

A short distance north of Diamond Lake, on a bluff overlooking an abandoned mine, a crumbling old observatory casts its gaze to the heavens. A wide slit bisects its domed tower, where surely a great telescope once peered into eternity. Now the place bears a dark character, like a sagging tenement broken under the weight of decades of inhabitants. A slim stairway cut into the steep hillside leads to the structure's only door, on the side of the tower's attached one-story outbuilding. The observatory's only windows, along the tower's second and third floors, are tall and narrow, catching what daylight there is to illuminate what is assuredly a dim and dusty interior.

Ratchet had been a ways away in the bar, and rather busy investigating the bottom of a tankard at the time, so he scratched his short beard.

"Cheery lookin' place. What're we doin' here again?"

"We're lookin' for th' burgled bones o' a ghost-boy's fam'ly, Ratchet. Ye did'na have all that much ta drink tha ye already forgot that bit, did ye?" The burly blacksmith wipes his palms on his thighs and looks around with a heavy sigh. "Seems a place perfectly suited ta this morbid chore. Can't say as though I'm growin' any fonder o' the idea though."

"I knew we were doin' that. I jus' didn't know this was where we were doin' it." he said with a shrug.

"Time t' git t' work then." Ratchet moves forward and checks the door open for locks or dangers.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Should we go inside and find out what is going on? she says looking at the structure to see if there light coming the inside

Erethyn watched as Ratchet made his way up, and turned to Sandra. "I believe that is what our friend is making sure we can do safely."

Ha thank you Erethyn. You know half the time i can't understand a word he says.

"Bah! Ah cannae help it if'n ye need tae clean yer ears out."

Heading over to the base of the observatory. The stairway rises to a wide landing and two huge wooden doors. Shot through with dark blue mould, the doors form an enormous round moon carved with a lunatic's jabbering face. Beneath the landing, an unremarkable wooden door appears to lead to a tool closet under the stairs. Applying the softest touch, Ratchet finds both doors to be locked. (No traps detected)

"Looks clear. Gimme a sec."

Disable Device (skeleton key, standard action): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

"Bah! Gonna have t' do this th' hard way."

Disable Device (picks): 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (5) + 15 = 20

Assuming the front door

Ratchet manages to get the door unlocked and eases it open a hair, suddenly a voice begins to speak in bored tones from within the darkened entry room.

"While your persistence is commendable, I am currently unavailable to take callers. Please leave. You have been warned."

So this tower is indeed occupied. Well let's get some answers...

Travigan's axe appears in his hand as the voice carries out through the door. He barks gruffly in reply, "Persistence? Who's that then an' who d'you think we are exactly?"

Ratchet pushes the door open bud doesn't go inside.

"Yer gonna have t' fergive th' intrusion. We don' mean ye no harm. We dinnae even know ye were here. Since ye are though, ye wouldn't happen tae know anythin' bout a young boy who never made it outta a nearby tomb?"

oh common let's all go inside already

Standing in the doorway, Ratchet is beautifully outlined. He catches sight of a crude barricade accross the entryway before a trio of twangs signal a barrage of crossbow quarrels:

Attack1 vs FF AC: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 2

Attack2 vs FF AC: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Confirm: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Damage: 2d10 ⇒ (2, 2) = 4

Attack3 vs FF AC: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 6

Rund 1: Fight!

Round 1

Sandra seeing ratchet on the brink of collapsing on the ground with all those arrows sticking out of him will Cast a CLW and move to touch him with it

CLW: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Erethyn stood there, momentarily dumbfounded at the response Ratchet had received from inside.

Normally would have posted my full action but the bad guys and everyone else goes before me, so I'll wait to see what happens.

Same here, waiting for the baddies to act before I get to smashing things =)

Ratchet grunts, stumbling backwards and lobbing a small cask underhanded through the doorway toward the mostly-unseen attackers.

"Sonofa!"

Lob Bomb, touch attack, indirect fire ignores cover, aiming for the one in the middle: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Acid Damage: 1d8 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 1 = 9

Splash damage is 6, DC 15 Reflex save for 1/2

Ref 1: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Ref 2: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Kablamo!! Ratchet's bomb explodes in the midst of the clustered undead, sending bones flying.

Combat is over. The room is empty save from the remains of 3 undead and 6 heavy crossbows. There is a side door leading deeper into the observatory.

sandra will proceed with the CLW she had planed during round 1 action

Let's see who goes around creating undead shall we?

"Well... I hope tha' wasn'a Alastor's fam'ly! Ye did'na leave much ta take back if they were, Ratchet!" Travigan laughs at his own joke as he slaps Ratchet on the shoulder. "Good work there, lad." Following the dwarf into the room, Travigan moves some of the bones aside with his foot. "I'm thinkin' these boney things were expectin' trouble. Six crossbows an' only three o' them. So unless Ratchet's little trick there blew a second set o' arms offa these heaps, they were ready for somebody if not us. Tha's troubling."

"Thanks, folks. Godsdamned undead. Hate 'em. " Ratchet said easing the two crossbow bolts out of himself as the healing energies closed the wounds.

"Trav, I think it's yer turn t' take point."

"Har har, Ratchet. Ye need ta work on yer puns, lad." With another clap to Ratchet's shoulder, Travigan makes his way over to the side door, opening it from the side just in case there are more crossbows pointed at this door like there were at the front. Opening the door a bit, he peeks around the corner and into the room beyond.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Travigan peeks into the next room and not taking a quarrel to the face, he moves on through. On the other side is a darkened hallway. Along one wall are a row of monk cells with doors ajar. Following the hallway reveals two doors. One is open and quick peek shows it to be what at one point must have been an office of some sort. A thick layer of undisturbed dust covers the floor and the musty stench of mildew is strong.

The other door is closed, but light can be seen streaming through the gaps where the door no longer fits snugly in the frame.

whispering: shall we find out who is our necromancer? casting Shield of faith on Travigan

"May our actions be guided by the heavens." Erethyn called forth a Blessing on himself and his companions before marching forward. Bow drawn he steadily made his way into the room.

As he gazed on the crumpled forms of the Skeletons, his features hardened and his calm demeanor was replaced with a focus that had been absent up until now.
"Anyone who harnesses the Undead as their servants is surely up to ill deeds in this world... and needs to be dealt with." It was not hard to see the fire in his eyes or to hear the contempt in his voice.

For anyone who missed it before, Erethyn showed immediate hostility toward the ghost of the farm boy. Despite his usually peaceful nature, his attitude towards the Undead and those who control them is cold and unforgiving.

Travigan listens at the door for a moment, holding his hand up for the others to be quiet and still.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

If he hears nothing, he slowly opens the door to peer inside. Contrarily, if he hears movement, he nods to his companions then explodes into the room as suddenly as he can, hoping to surprise whoever or whatever might be on the other side.

The revolting stench of rotting flesh roils from the open door. In the room beyond, ten chairs surround an oblong dining table situated parallel to the door. Along the north wall, a wide staircase leads to an upper floor. A wooden door below the stairs presumably leads to a slim chamber. Two doors line the south. A sagging antique wooden shelf dominates the west wall, looking like it might collapse at any moment.

Three tall candles on the dining table illuminate a sight of terror. With the exception of the place at the western end, each of the chairs surrounding the table holds an awkwardly seated humanoid figure. The nine bodies are in various stages of decomposition. Some sit with splendid posture, paused as if midway through a sumptuous feast. Others slump treacherously close to the floor. Those that can, are turned slightly, almost expectantly to the empty chair.

Heaping plates of apparently fresh food sit before each of the diners, but the empty place setting features a clean plate and a set of utensils. Several bottles of red wine rest upon the table and each of the corpses sits before a half-finished glass. A fly passes nearby, its there-not-there buzz breaking the eerie silence.