“So what’s the deal with you and Hairy MacStupid over there? Is it all just words, or will there be a final showdown at some point?”
“So what’s the deal with you and Hairy MacStupid over there? Is it all just words, or will there be a final showdown at some point?”
"Eventually i'll hae tae kick his crease. But reit noo eh'd raither avoid th' task. Bin faytin' enuff aready."
“So what’s the deal with you and Hairy MacStupid over there? Is it all just words, or will there be a final showdown at some point?”
They'll convert for 10% to gems.
They gotta make a living....Pharsia: "Bel, can I have some money?"
Bel: "how much?"
Pharsia: "how much you got?"
She takes 75 g.p.; buys some nice stuff.
To Stovie: "Sick feckin' bastert."
To Beldan: "Aye, mammy MacHammar 'as a beart. No moustaches though thank Moradin."
Post 4,000!!!
"So, Stig, is this how the Mæch'Hæmmærs and the Pudgworrnaigchs pass their time, trading insults and accumulating little grudges? Seems a little... odd to me. Don't you lot have better things to do?"
Pharsia: "Bel, can I have some money?"
Bel: "how much?"
Pharsia: "how much you got?"
Pharsia: "Bel, can I have some money?"
Bel: "how much?"
Pharsia: "how much you got?"
"So, Stig, is this how the Mæch'Hæmmærs and the Pudgworrnaigchs pass their time, trading insults and accumulating little grudges? Seems a little... odd to me. Don't you lot have better things to do?"
"Under 'e groond life is sloow. Ye hae tae dae somethin' when yoo're nae diggin' ur killin' gooblins, giants an' oorcs. Sae we hack each other doon noo an' 'en an' it keeps uir skills sharep.... T'all started wi' a peeg. Aye. A feckin' peeg."
There's a distinct possibility that Stovie Pudgworrnaigch is in Saltmarsh for no better reason than he got wind that Stiggy is there, and like every empty lot across the street from a McDonalds, a Burger King or a Wendy's will soon be there to join in righteous economic combat.
Relax, Gittik, no one is planning on touching your Jane.
1215 g.p. each.
Allrighty right right righty! Whenever you guys are ready to go, I'm ready.
That's what I'm thinking.
The group heads east on the old coast road at about midday. The sun is high in the sky, and it's a lovely early summer day. An hour into the trek the wind whips up and the thunderheads start rolling in from the sea to the south. For two hours the party trudges through a constant heavy drizzle.
Beldan looks to Pharsia; she ain't complaining but she's getting pissy about it.
Three hours out, the party reaches part of the road that starts winding up into the hills. There's a place up ahead where the road tops a rise, about 200 feet forward.
A surly group of humanoids stands about there; one is a man of gigantic proportions, 9 feet tall, ogre-sized; in spiky half-plate, shield, with a wicked morningstar slung lazily over his overly broad shoulders.
A bugbear, sleek and skinny unlike most other bugbears, as well as albino, stands next to him. He huffs and hacks, wet and miserable in the drizzle.
4 half-orcs with greataxes hover over a miserable lot of prisoners, squatting in the mud, about 7 of them on a chaingang lead.
An extremely hideous hairy gnome jumps, gesticulating and cursing, and pointing at the oncoming party.
One of the wretches, a human, is walking down to you, with his hands raised high in the air.
"Parley, oh,...Cuthbert and Pelor! Mercy on me! Parley, good sirs."
It's a young man; his clothing looks like it was of a good quality at one time, but is of course extremely disheveled and tattered now.
His head is bandaged in bloody linens.
“Well maybe you should have bought a cloak with that 75 gold…” mutters Beldan, but when Pharsia is well out of hearing. He’s not that brave.
“Here you are babe, take my cloak” (mutter, mutter)
(later)
Beldan looks with concern at the party on the road ahead. “Pharsia, hang back here,” he murmurs, as the ill character of the strangers becomes apparent. “If things get out of hand, run, hide … but don’t worry, we’ll take care of this.”
He turns to Altai. “I’ll be … around,” he says vaguely, gesturing out to the rain soaked hills. “Keep an eye on Pharsia, alright … and give a yell if things get messy.” With that, he slips away from the road, beginning to circle around the hill, keeping low to the ground, hidden in hollows and behind bushes. If this turns into a fight – and he suspects it will – he wants to be an ace up the sleeve.
The rise on the road is girdled by boulders, and higher hills on both sides.
Bel is able to get into a position within 30 feet, behind a 3 foot tall slab of rock.
The parleyman keeps advancing...
"Please, Pelor,....don't shoot..."
What's going down?
The rise on the road is girdled by boulders, and higher hills on both sides.
Bel is able to get into a position within 30 feet, behind a 3 foot tall slab of rock.
Cool. Real quiet and slow he'll load his crossbow, then aim it at the bugbear, readying an action to shoot.
A half-orc kicks one of their miserable charge. Another one laughs.
The gnome, the ugliest gnome you ever saw, scrambles around hyperkinetically like a raccoon on crystal meth. Foam and spittle coats it's beard; nothing it says makes sense. The language isn't even identifiable.
You can see black geometric patterns tattooed on the albino bugbear's skin, under the drenched pelt of the beast.
"Greetings and salutations, fellow. That's some rather strange company you keep, if you don't mind me saying so."
"Oh, them? Just some guys I've been palling around with. They look nasty, but once you get to know them, they really have no redeeming qualities whatsoever." He smiles. A little. A trickle of rain and blood eases down from his temple.
"They sent me to parley with you...they want 1,000 g.p. worth of tribute, and you can pass unmolested. Or, they said they'll take the girl and 500 g.p. worth of tribute."
Pharsia looks shocked.
"I know, miss; I think you're worth a whole more than that too."
"That offer is, as they say, deeply unsatisfactory, insulting, even. I fear we might have to stomp them badly for making such a pitiful attempt at commerce. Now, what's the bugbear's shtick?"
"He, uh...I've seen him throw fire from his hands; it's eerie though. It's purple, or black fire somehow. I've seen it, and I know that doesn't make any sense. I'm sorry. I don't understand that kind of thing, I'm sorry." He looks at his hands. "I'm just a sculptor."
"Huh. I'll keep that in mind." Altai turns to the other party members. "I'll barbecue the bugbear. Riese'll help me with that. The rest of you focus on the giant. How's that for a plan?"
"Huh. I'll keep that in mind." Altai turns to the other party members. "I'll barbecue the bugbear. Riese'll help me with that. The rest of you focus on the giant. How's that for a plan?"
"Dat works jes' fine fo' me chere'." The long silent elf speaks up, stringing his bow with a string he has kept dry in his pocket. "I'll coveah yeh, den circle behin' when it gets tight." He finishes as he draws an arrow and knocks it to the bow.
"Ready when ya'all are." He says, rolling his neck to loosen it up.
The racial hatred bred into all dwarves begins to burn in Stiggy's loins.
The racial hatred bred into all dwarves begins to burn in Stiggy's loins.
"Yeah - me get stiffy too just before fight."
Take Pharsia! Beldan fires at the bugbear, the bolt flying true … pending any supernatural protection of course.
"Huh. I'll keep that in mind." Altai turns to the other party members. "I'll barbecue the bugbear. Riese'll help me with that. The rest of you focus on the giant. How's that for a plan?""Dat works jes' fine fo' me chere'." The long silent elf speaks up, stringing his bow with a string he has kept dry in his pocket. "I'll coveah yeh, den circle behin' when it gets tight." He finishes as he draws an arrow and knocks it to the bow.
"Ready when ya'all are." He says, rolling his neck to loosen it up.
It's all good.
The racial hatred bred into all dwarves begins to burn in Stiggy's loins."Yeah - me get stiffy too just before fight."
Viagra=bottled combat?
Take Pharsia! Beldan fires at the bugbear, the bolt flying true … pending any supernatural protection of course.
The bugbear reels with a crossbow bolt in his thorax. You were going for a heart blowthrough; you stuck him in the liver. It's a slowkill shot, and he's still in the combat, but there's one of them reconsidering this whole escapade.
You guys totally won initiative.
Setup:
A-L across the top; 1-42(?) down the side.
The enemy is:
bugbear f1
giant g1
gnome h1
halforcs at f2, g2, h2, g3.
Bel is at A1...
The road rolls down from the rocky hillside from f-h1 to f-h42 and off the map. at a10, either side of the road is rocky, boulder-strewn and hilly; the road cuts through a gradual saddle; either side is inclined upwards. To the right, about 50-60 feet, is gradual slope to the sea; at a10 across to t10 there's hill, and a dropoff at 60 feet (out around t-10) cliffside where the sea is. The seaside cliff is shorn off; it gradually increases in height from a few feet at t10 to 10-20 feet at T1.
You guys start at about f-h 40, give or take 1 square.
Call positions and do your do.
Seeing the bugbear reeling, Altai decides to finish him off.
The bugbear reels backwards and drops, sliding over the back of the rise. Beldan can see him roll down the road and come skidding to a stop in the muddy road, motionless.
"Hah! One down!"
(uggh! they're 200 or so feet away so scorching ray won't reach right yet.
I effed up; magic missile shouldn't reach either. Oh well; it's a freebee.)
Oh, and anybody rolling in to the game late;
don't assume that the fact that combat has commenced that the conversation with the parleyman is totally over;
if you wanted to ask him anything go ahead and do so, because you guys weren't around last night when the pre-combat foreplay was commencing.
Mage Armor up before the fight, Readying an action to cast Riese's Firebolt when someone gets within 130'.
Run Action to F28.
His belly bounces furiously inside his plate armor, chafing a little. His loins yearn to rend the giant.
Tenser trots along about 15 feet behind.
The ugly gnome is giggling now, jumping up and down pointing at Stiggy;
"Blibli blaah....bleblibla byow bow....Ble blibli blaaah!"
Beldan lets out an internal cheer when the bugbear goes down … then suddenly realises that he is out here alone with a group of bad-guys thirty feet away … and decides to hightail it.
Naah; half movement til off there oughtta suffice. If you get to the road, or to rank 11 (a11, b11, whatnot) you're back to normal movement.
"YOU NO TOUCH JANE!"
The parleyman looks at Gittik:
"Wha-you're going to fight them? Omipelor....but he's so little!"
Somebody wanna n.p.c. Harvak?
Naah, he's there.
I thought he was back, but then he was gone again.