"Kirthfinder" Aviona PBP

Game Master Kirth Gersen

The gnome is pretty well taken care of, but it might be best to have Wolvie drag him out the door first. Now that the fighting and grunting and yelling and crashing of steel has died down, you can hear the timbers in the ceiling groaning, and it's getting really hot on the stairs. There's a lot of smoke coming down from the upper floor, too.

You're not a structural engineer, but it's clear that Town Hall is going to collapse pretty soon.

"Finish off these goons, and leave the rabble in the rubble!"

Caspain attempt to Coup Obmi and retrieve his net.
Blade through the eye
Shortsword 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Damage 1d6 ⇒ 1

Caspian knows that their may be a welcoming committe for them outside.

"No telling who is outside waiting for us!"

Obmi Fort 1d20 + 10 - 3 ⇒ (20) + 10 - 3 = 27

Caspian seems to be poking at Obmi's helmet, without accomplishing a lot.

Kelgan takes out his crossbow, loads it, and puts a bolt straight through Obmi's skull.

CdG: 2d8 + 14 ⇒ (5, 1) + 14 = 20

"Enemies of the kingdom deserve no less."

He gathers up Obmi's pick and hammer, secures his glaive and crossbow, and shoulders his diminutive burden again.

"Best we drag him outside, he's like to have something else useful on him, but I'll not be crushed to death for it."

Kelgan moves to the back door and surveys the area behind the town hall.

No need for me to roll Fort; straight hp damage was enough to kill him. Also, the body burns for 7 more damage this round, just to add insult to injury!

The area behind town hall is mostly deserted. One or two mean-looking hill dwarves, perched behind a trash bin, see you come out; they raise their hands, dropping they crossbows, turn around, and start walking out of town. Looks like the "bandit army" is pretty well done for.

Villagers are standing at a repectable distance, watching the town hall burn.

Status: HP 42/42 AC 32

"That's right, walk away. Tell your friends what happens when you mess with Kelgan Cragbelly, and pray I'm to busy to hunt you down. Cross me again and you'll draw your last breath."

Kelgan carefully sets down Lyssa's body and goes to work with his healer's kit, aware that all his hard work will be for naught if a well-placed bolt puts him down.

Heal, kit: 1d20 + 12 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 12 + 2 - 1 = 28

He digs out the remnants of one of the bolts that struck him - a jagged, twisted bolt-head - and tucks it away, a memento of this vicious fight. Packing the wound with salves and bandaging it tightly, and tending to the numerous other bruises and punctures he'd suffered, he's soon set right, and ready to assist others.

"Caspian, I'm in your debt. If not for your timely assistance, that blackguard might have slain me. It was a near thing, and I'd never been more glad to call you companion. Save that wand of yours for emergencies like the one we just survived and let me mend our wounded."

Heal @ Caspian: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 12 + 2 = 20

Heal @ Miralda: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 12 + 2 = 33

Heal @ Jaegr: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 12 + 2 = 31

Heal @ Cricket: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 12 + 2 = 18

DM Observation: If not for that net reducing his Dex to below the TWF prerequisite, Obmi would have been making twice as many attacks, and quite possibly killed you both, so Caspian definitely saved the day in this case. (14 Dex, +3 from feat aptitude, -4 from entanglement = 13, with a 15 prerequisite!)

Looking ahead, you guys might want to think about some battlefield-control capability before too long, so you can isolate gnomes and mooks while you focus on bigger threats...

After the party evacuates the collapsing building, Miralda looks to make sure the rest of the village won't be set afire. "They made this big, clear area all around the place," she says, "So I don't think there's much danger."

Big Jed, from the bar, comes limping up. He's got his notched axe in hand, and you notice there's blood on it. "Hey, guys," he says, "a bunch more of those bandits were waiting in the Tusk. Me and Bobby and Tim got tired of pouring them free drinks and sort of took care of them. Hope you don't mind too much."

He looks at the blazing building and the plume of smoke rising from it into the night sky, then spits on the ground. "I never liked that place anyway. Too highbrow for a village like this one." He holds out his hand to all of you, to shake.

Cricket shakes his hand and sez:

"I've got an invisible gnome!"

His face breaks from its habitual frown into a wide grin. "Why wouldn't you?"

Alternate response:

[Turns to the rest of the party]

Anyone interested in interrogating him?

"If he happens to tell you where his spellbooks are, I'd sure like to borrow them..."

Yeah he was very scary. I definitely should have entered the fight sooner, but I was counting on a Jaegr one-round-finisher.

Kelgan returns from dragging Obmi's corpse out of the burning building and pumps Jed's hand with enthusiasm.

"Glad you got the best of them. I don't think this particular gang will be bothering you much, anymore. Their leader is dead," he kicks Obmi for emphasis, "and many of them as well. There's still a few loose ends to tie up, but it looks like your village is well on its way to being curse-free. Care to hang his head at the roadway, as a warning to others?"

Kelgan purposefully searches the dead dwarf for any further valuables, leaving him with nothing but his small-clothes.

"Care to hang his head at the roadway, as a warning to others?"

He has the decency to turn a little green at that. "No, that's okay, I guess."

Your search of Obmi's corpse turns up a suit of chainmail -- in surprisingly good condition, considering Jaegr's treatment of it -- and of course his pick and throwing hammer. He also had a nice pair of iron gauntlets, and a heavy crossbow and some bolts that he didn't seem to put much stock in.

You also, in the bottom of one of his boots, find an old pair of hill dwarf dog-tags with his name on them in dwarf-runes. Closer inspection reveals that the "b" was carved on top of an "r" -- his real name was Ormi, "the Worm." (So it's understandable he'd want to change it, in order to come across as a scary bandit chief.)

"I can't believe those bandits burned down your town hall!"

Pyrotechnics is a battlefield control spell....my meat-shields just haven't learned how to take advantage of both options yet ; )

Pyrotechnics is a battlefield control spell....my meat-shields just haven't learned how to take advantage of both options yet ; )

That's a good point -- trying to fight across two levels of the building at a time would have been a real pain in the neck, so that spell saved you a lot of worry as well.

"Master Kelgan," says Miralda, "And Jaegr and Wyvurn and Caspian and Cricket, I am of course very much in all your debt for helping to bring Lissa back to Fenrift Keep, but I wonder what our next move should exactly be. Meseems we have an invisible captive with us, and possibly also a vampire still running about. That said, I should like to get back as quickly as possible, as it seems we've been gone overlong."

"Suit yourself, I suppose. I imagine word of this fight will get round and serve the same purpose."

Kelgan tucks the dog tags away, and carries the other items over to Miralda.

"And don't forget about the necromancer, Anasovin. I'm not sure if these bandits counted as his 'army of vengeance' but there were enough of them that they could well have been. I'm not keen on leaving loose ends, but I'm not keen on taking on a full-blown necromancer unprepared either. I'd not mind spending one more evening here in town, against the long odds that the bandits might return, or that the vampire will turn up. We can leave for the Keep in the morning."

"Our captive earlier mentioned that Obmi's hammer would return to him when thrown. Sounds like magic to me. Let's see if the rumor is true."

He hefts the hammer and turns it over in his hands, looking at the craftsmanship and testing the balance. He scrutinizes the surface for a maker's mark, or any other etchings or engravings. Finally, he flings it skyward at an angle, and watches what happens.

K.(lore): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

The hammer flies through the air, exactly as a well-made throwing hammer should... and buries itself headfirst in the sod where it lands. Kelgan nods to himself ruefully; he's heard of cases where a man's sword would burst into flame when he himself wielded it, and yet be inert for others -- come to think of it, Wyvurn has mentioned that this is exactly occurred with the town marshal's sword back at Farmwall. Some folk use a single favorite weapon so often that they form an almost mystical bond with it; you suspect that this applies to Jaegr and his pickaxe as well.

Miralda accepts the items and concentrates on them.

1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27

"This murderous little pick is imbued with simple magic to make it strike deeper and more accurately." She lays it aside. "The crossbow and bolts are inert junk, as are these boots... let's see his gloves... yes, the gauntlets have some kind of transmutation spell; they probably make the wearer stronger, or a better hammer thrower, or something along those lines."

She concentrates quite awhile on the chainmail hauberk. "There's a lot of abjuration magic on this. I think it's been magically treated to make it harder, but it also seems to make the wearer hardier as well, and might also exert a slight effort to deflect blows from itself."

Finally, she walks over and lays her hand on the throwing hammer. "Master Kelgan, I don't know if our captive was feeding us tales, but this hammer is not magical."

A portly, slightly older fellow approaches, doffing a brimmed hat as he does so.

"Please allow me to introduce myself; I am Burgomeister Tomassin. The town owes you a debt of gratitude! If you would stay a week, we would like to stage a festival to thank you for delivering us!"

An aside to his friends....
"I don't think this is all over but this town needs a break in the tension and we need some rest."

"Thank you." Offers Caspian though he is a second class citizen socially he has alot on both the goblin and hobgoblin, and possibly the dwarves considering who the nature of the bandits.

"If you might have a place for us to rest?"

He grips Miralda's hand
"This noble lady needs a fitting place to lay her head."

Seeing that no one else appears to be interested in his (invisible?) unconscious gnome, Cricket slaps him around.

Hey, freak, where are your spellbooks?

When the Burgomeister arrives, Cricket accepts his gracious hospitality and sez:

I love festivals. Anywhere in this town I can take a bath?

Caspian fights back a laugh knowing exactly what the bath-house bandit is thinking....though he is the cleanest and freshest goblin Caspian ever recalls seeing.

Caspian thinks certainly this deserves a song....he begins to work up some lyrics in his mind.....

Raw material

The Burgomeister seems pleased at your enthusiasm and beams at Caspian. "We intended to build a grand hotel, suitable to persons of your stature -- er, that is, of your, ah, might and importance -- but with the Town Hall now in need of, ahem, repair, that project will have to be postponed. However, I'm sure that Bobby, at the Boar's Tusk, will be pleased to offer you food, drinks, and accommodation!"

He chews his mustache for a moment. "I seem to recall that the, ah, bath facilities there consist of a bucket of water, a bar of soap, and a stretch of grass in the back yard... I suppose one could use the facilities at my residence, although they are not large and are fit for only one person at a time..."

Meanwhile, the gnome has become visible again, and is cringing in terror of the goblin. "Spellbooks, master? Surely one of your perspicacity can understand that such a vile, uncouth bully as Obmi would not permit a lowly one such as I to encourage the bandits by example to engage in such unmanly pursuits as reading books..."

Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

"Thanks for the hospitality."

Caspian starts a little tune on his bagpipes trying hard to rework a bath-house bandit song.....

So fresh and so clean clean...

When Herr Burgomeister turns aside to shake someone's hand and maybe kiss a baby, Miralda squeezes Caspian's hand and whispers, "We should somehow get news back to my cousin sooner, rather than later. If he hears nothing I fear he will do something rash, like march on the necromancer's keep..."

Jaegr sighs as the fight finally ends, the thrill of battle leaving him feeling tired. When Big Jed comes over to announce the death of more bandits Jaegr shakes his hand and congratulates him on taking them out on their own.

When alone with the others he says, "I'm not sure it is a good idea to stay here a whole week for a festival. A day or two to recover from this fight is fine, but we have bigger things to deal with than waiting around a week."

@Burgomeister
"Ah yes we have need of a hearty and trust-worthy messenger, as this raid upon your fair town is only a small part of a much larger picture and we must send words."

@Jaegr
"Of course not! A dwarf can only be at war, or in a drunken state, or debachery, or crafting a fine item to spend that much time at it." As he states each item in turn he counts them off on his fingers...

@ Wyvurn, Kelgan
Caspian waves his hand over toward Cricket and his new bath-time buddy

"Can you help Cricket with that gnome, I must have hit him with a rock much harder than I thought. I suggest drawn and quartered by dwarf should restore his memory."

The Burgomeister chortles briefly. "I'm sure we can send a swift messenger. In fact, my son Chadros is quite light on his feet; I'm sure he would be quite glad to run along to wherever you men send him."

Meanwhile, the gnome has become visible again, and is cringing in terror of the goblin. "Spellbooks, master? Surely one of your perspicacity can understand that such a vile, uncouth bully as Obmi would not permit a lowly one such as I to encourage the bandits by example to engage in such unmanly pursuits as reading books..."

Bluff: 1d20+1

I don't recall the counter skill to Bluff in Kirthfinder, but here's Cricket's role.

1d20 ⇒ 9

If it works off of Wisdom, Cricket should beat the freak's role and will continue slapping him while getting directions to the Burgomeister's bath. If not, Cricket sez

Oh. He doesn't have any spellbooks, Miralda.

I don't recall the counter skill to Bluff in Kirthfinder

In a freakishly uncharacteristic display of simplicity on my part, Bluff is opposed by Bluff.

Miralda looks unconvinced, but you're not particularly sad, since the Burgomeister is telling the group which house is his, and that if you pull the little rope to ring the doorbell he'll have his houseboy show you to the bathroom.

Cricket the Sexy Goblin Druid wrote:

I don't recall the counter skill to Bluff in Kirthfinder

In a freakishly uncharacteristic display of simplicity on my part, Bluff is opposed by Bluff.

That's what I was afraid of.

He doesn't have any spellbooks, Miralda! Can we kill him now?

Miralda shrugs. "He's no use to me, then."

She thinks a second, then adds, "But don't wood elves go for burning people at the stake or making them run the gauntlet or some other suitably barbarous spectacle?"

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Bluff : 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

"Bath time for Bonzo the Gnomo!....He's lying so when he says he doesn't want a bath that's a lie too."

Caspian searches the gnome and uses detect magic.....

Caspian is sure if the gnome escapes he Will not be enthusiastic about attacking the obviously insane bath house bandit or his posse anytime soon....

"Just to be sure cut out his tongue.....and teeth a gnome bite could infect you with yard paralysis!"

The gnome, caught between Miralda's coldness and Caspian's glee, doesn't stand a chance. He removes his hat and turns it upside-down, then reaches in nearly to his elbow and removes a thin travelling book, which he carefully places on the ground.

"Gleed is your servant now, O mighty slayers of Obmi. Gleed will be a faithful and loyal minion. Please indicate what infernal gods I must swear allegiance to this time."

Old Mother Tree!

Cricket instructs Gleed in the service of the Tuelvi pantheon.

Wyvurn agrees with Jaegr.

"A brief rest would be in order, but I'm for moving on as well."

He then pulls the wand he took from the elf and hands it to Caspian.

"You or Miralda may have some use for this. Hopefully I did not damage it when I stabbed that idiot in the face."

Miralda looks unconvinced, but you're not particularly sad, since the Burgomeister is telling the group which house is his, and that if you pull the little rope to ring the doorbell he'll have his houseboy show you to the bathroom.

Ooh, I missed this before.

After giving Gleed a quick pat down for hidden daggers and other possible dangers, Cricket is delighted to give Gleed a bath. Looks like he has some wounds, too, poor baby. Cricket directs Gleed towards the Burgomeister's house with his quarterstaff, giving the freakish gnome swift taps if he lags or falters, only interrupting his homilies and parables from the teachings of Old Mother Tree to whistle for Wolvie.

When he gets to the front door, he pulls the rope.

An adolescent wood elf -- turtle clan, you're judging, although he lacks the turtle tattoo he'd have on his chest as an adult -- opens the door for you. Seeing your Tuelvi shamanistic trappings, his eyes open wide. Seeing the small gnome you're prodding ahead of you, he struggles to hide a giggle.

Aside from his mirror and a pathetically small dagger, Gleed is free of contraband.

Cricket [redacted redacted redacted redacted]

Then he [redacted redacted redacted redacted]

After that, he [redacted redacted redacted redacted]

Cricket sighs with satiation and softly sings to himself

Ain't nobody dope as me...So fresh and so clean!

He rejoins the party.

@Burgomeister
"If you can fetch your son and provide us the use of some parchment a quill and ink we will prepare the correspondence."

Winks at Miralda

redacted

Thank God.

@Burgomeister

"If you can fetch your son and provide us the use of some parchment a quill and ink we will prepare the correspondence."

Herr Burgomeister turns to one of the villagers and asks that his son be fetched. Before too long a lanky-looking young guy with floppy hair shows up and says, "Yeah, Dad?" The Burgomeister instructs him to follow your directions.

It should go without saying that if you send this poor kid to Fenrift Keep by himself he'll be eaten by monsters before he gets 1/3 of the way there.

In a less scrupulous party, I'd take the over for "1/3 of the way" on that wager

@Herr Burgomeister & son.
"Yeah.....we wanted to send a message to Fenrift Keep, so maybe we should reconsider our options."

"Let's not be hasty in sending a message. While keeping the Duke waiting can hazardous to one's health, it is better to be certain of what one is saying. Let us retire to the Tusk where there is a needful discussion to be had."

Kelgan will take his own advice, requesting that the party be given some privacy. One aired of such, he will reveal the jewel encrusted egg he flashed during the fight.

"This is undoubtedly what the necromancer seeks. I have some idea of what it might be, but I would hear from our arcanists. Certainty before speculation, as I previously mentioned. Lissa's loss is undeniably a personal tragedy for his Grace, one I intend to avenge personally. The necromancer's days are numbered."