Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Quinn ducks into the snowy bank of trees, as Mal and Ringeirr steer their cart into the covered alley.

At the same time, Pems and Tsin walk past the mirror man, whose attention suddenly snaps toward them, ignoring the commotion caused by the animals.

It hesitates a moment, but then grates out in a voice that sounds like broken glass, "Where do you think you are going, wolf?"

1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19
1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 23

Whoops.

"Wherever I damn well please, mirror-face. Who are you to stop me?" Pemsworth growls deep in his throat. Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Tsin turns to Pemswolf. "Is there something wrong here, Dear?" She presses the hilt of her falchion into his thigh, from under her Cloak.

If the mirror-sham shows any signs of hostility towards Pems, Tsin doesn't hesitate in drawing her blade up and out.

Hawktir squawks and moves down a bit closer 35' to watch the passing.

Dude, being a bird rules.
Dude, I know. I'm you.
Right.

"I serve Queen Elvanna. Your papers, Wolf!"

"Papers, eh? I have them right here." Pems reaches into his pocket, drawing out the icicle dagger and driving it into the mirror man's chest as hard as he can! Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21, dealing 1d3 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 2 + (2) = 5 damage to the flatfooted mirror man!

Whoops. One small change -- Pems heard its voice in his head; these guys can't speak!

Pems and Tsin go to draw their blades, but the mirror man is even faster on the draw, his sword flashing from its scabbard as he slams it into the transformed halfling's side with devastating accuracy. 17 hp

Despite the pain, Pems' icicle dagger slams into its body, which seems to give softly before it instead of tearing, followed moments later by Tsin's blade, which also seems to do less damage than it ought. It has DR

Rest of the party is up for Round 1

Quinn moves up to the corner of the buildings and observes the action in front of him.

move 40', assuming can reach edge of the building based on map, but doesn't know what is happening until he observes the situation.

perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31

Round 1, Init 13

Hawktir, with a manly screech, will dive bomb (charge) the enemy (the square to the left of Pems).

1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 8 + 2 = 13 to hit (charge);
1d4 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7 damage (talon).

AC 12 (14-2 for charge).

Malavarius, hearing the familiar grunts of Tsin and a shrill shriek from a hawk overhead, sighs deeply. "Blasted fools would get into mortal combat if they were in rooms by themselves!" Knowing his magics would be largely ineffective against the mirror man, Malavarius instead tries to keep any townsfolk in the center of the square from noticing the building melee. After intoning a spell, a glittering and brilliant snowflake appears high in the sky with a thunderous clap.

The range on these fireworks is 600ft, so I'd like to position it maybe 50 feet above the roof-line and 150 feet to the east, so that anyone looking at it would have their backs to the scuffle with the mirror man

Mal launches a huge firework into the air as Hektir launches himself at the mirror man, who deftly sidesteps the plunging bird.

As Ringeirr ducks behind his fish cart Quinn plunges through the heavy snow in time to see the creature plunge its sword deep into Pems chest, the halfling apparently unused to fighting in his new form. 16 hp It takes a quick swipe at Tsin as well, though seemingly more to try to keep her back.

Submit now, slave, and perhaps the Witch Queen will not hold your master's crimes against you. Otherwise you shall find yourself in the Bone Mill, Tsin hears in her head.

Pems wavers on the edge of consciousness, but the idea that this thing would threaten his friends is atrocious to him. Reaching down to the robe, he tears off a patch and throws it at the mirror monster's feet! Using the Pit patch!

If the mirror man doesn't fall in, Pems will push him, using a bull rush! CMB: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21 Pems is perfectly willing to sacrifice himself to save his friends!

As more of Pemsworth's blood spills to the cold ground, another firework explodes in the air where the previous one had been. This time, it takes the image of a snow-laden tree, bent beneath the weight of the snow on its boughs.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

The creature sidesteps as the pit opens under him, and looks ready to strike as Pems prepares to shove him in.

Technically, you can't bull rush the same round you activate the magic item, though someone else can try it.

Could Quinn have had a chance for the Bull rush after hustling around the corner?

Bullrush: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

"Aaarrggg, OOFFF!" Quinn slips in the icy streets, crumpling into a skidding heap as he plunges into the pit just created by Pems.

falling damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1

Round 2, Init 10

Tsin shakes her head as she watches the mirror man gut the halfling, and the pit engulf the half elf. She steps warily around the thing, studying it for any weaknesses.

Knowledge, Arcana? +Monster Lore (for constructs): 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 2 = 10

She secures flank with the falcon.

MW Falchion, Precise Strike: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 10 + 2 = 19 for 2d4 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (2, 4) + 6 + (6) = 18 damage

Round 2, Init 13

Hawktir flaps in place, holding his spot to allow flanking with Tsin...

1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 7 + 1 = 9 fly check to hover...

...and losing his winging to a sudden updraft, Hawktir is forced to move round to get back in position! Total fail...Hawktir provoked...maybe before someone else provoked.

Hawktir moves 20' to the north, turning to make another dive or charge.

He will cast call lightning and squawks loudly, calling down nature's power upon the mirror man!

3d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 1) = 11 electricity vs. DC 15 reflex for half.

AC 14

Pems' patch opens a pit, but the mirror man manages to sidestep it as Tsin slips around him and slams her blade home in the strange construct, noticing as she does that its wounds seem to be healing!

Hektir backs off, suffering a slashing wound as he flaps away 6 hp, and then rains down lightning on the mirror man, though he again steps away to avoid the worst of it. It continues quick-stepping to its right, letting Quinn pass him into the pit before lashing out with a pair of quick strikes with its blade at Tsin. The swordswoman's able to deflect the blows, leaving her paired off again with the mirror man.

Meanwhile, Mal fires off another firework.

Malavarius sends a third firework into the air, this one exploding in the sky like a second sun, with brilliant yellow rays radiating out from a central orb. He tries to tug on his beard in satisfaction, then frowns as he realizes he no longer has one.

Turning to the north, he sees Quinn tumble into a hole in the ground as the others continue to seemingly playact at abject buffoonery. With a sigh and grumbling about the foolishness of fools, Malavarius tries to bring a spell to bear against the mirror man.

Spontaneous Immolation (fire): 3d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 5) = 17 + catch on fire; Fort Save DC 19 for 1/2 damage + negates catching on fire

Round 3, Init 10

Tsin sidles by the man of the mirror, and maintains her flank with Pems. "It heals." She swings again, hoping to end this kerfuffle.

MW Falchion: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 10 + 2 = 26 for 2d4 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (4, 1) + 6 + (6) = 17 damage

Round 3, Init 13

1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 7 + 1 = 15 Fly

Hawktir doesn't quite bank the way he intended, unable to turn the full 180 degrees Need a DC 20 but instead slowly rights himself, circling back the right direction.

He sends another lightning bolt at the baddie.

*Squawk!*

3d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 5) = 14 Lightning vs. Reflex DC 15 for half.

Round 3

Quinn painfully rises to his feet, cursing the icy tundra, and struggles to climb out of the pit.

climb on north edge of pit near Hawktir: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Pems staggers with the weight of his injuries, but he keeps up the flank for Tsin, while allowing his hatred for the vile thing to flow through his eyes. Evil Eye hex, Will Save DC 15 reduces duration to 1 round, otherwise 5 rounds; -2 AC

Tsin's blade and Mal and Hektir's magic finally do a number on the creature, as it's too overwhelmed to avoid any of the blows. It falls under the onslaught, lying limply in the street.

Ringeirr looks frightened as he approaches.

"Come. We must hurry or witches will be here soon. Place for food is at house just at end of street," he says, gesturing down the block.

Hawktir stops to pick at the body, using his beak to look for items of interest and squawking when he sees something that should be picked up...like a nice sword or a piece of shiny.

Tsin watches the hawk as it scavenges. Anything it appears to want, she picks up. Once done with the looting, Tsin leverages the body into the pit.

"Yes, let's be gone from here." Tsin follows Ringeirr without hesitation.

There's a nice longsword, as well as four daggers, plus the mirror that made up its "face."

Pems helps Quinn out of the pit, then kicks the dead mirror thing into it. He whistles for Flash, then limps after Ringeiir.

While the others take care of the mirror man's remains, Malavarius sends his last two fireworks into the air. The fourth in the sequence is a tree once more, but rather than wilting beneath heavy deposits of snow, this tree stands tall and snow-free. The final firework is a giant snowflake, like the first. After appearing high in the sky though, this snowflake splits in half. Its two broken halves gradually dissipate as the sparks and embers fall toward the ground and vanish in the wind.

Nodding in satisfaction, the youthful looking wizard follows Ringeiir.

Ringeirr indicates the house at the end of this street as the destination for the fish in his handcart. He knocks on the door, which a brief moment later cracks open just enough for a figure to peer out. After Ringeirr exchanges a few words with the person inside, the door bursts open and a man, woman, and several children stream out and start carrying the fish inside.

Ringeirr explains that a network of neighbors will see that the food is distributed fairly as the adults pause momentarily to thank you; their gratitude for your courage and generosity is evident.

"OK," Ringeirr says. "Let us leave cart here, now we must go to Mortin quickly to get false papers. I fear witches will come soon."

Following his lead, you head back into the center of the district, past the site of the goblin ambush. Moving on, you see two men -- both with white hair indicating they're likely winter wolves -- arguing loudly to your left.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

"Ah, I believe they may be pontential converts, Quinn. Those two are drunk as loons or I'm a gnome. Ha!"

sense motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"Converts? Just because a man breathes the air it doesn't make him a worshipper of the wind lords! Still, maybe their inebriation affords us an opportunity?" Quinn looks to his companions slyly. "What is it they are saying, maybe we can gain an ally or learn something of interest?"

Hawktir squawks at Quinn in response.

"**squawkity squawk Squawk chirp squawkity squawk Squawk peep squawk Squawk squawkity squawk Squawk squawkity chirpity chirp squawk Squawk squawkity squawk peep peep Squawk!**"

That's exactly what I would do. It's perfect.

It's quite clear that Hawktir is saying very important and intelligent things of dire importance and directely related to matter at hand.

Finishing his point, Hawktir spits hacks up a feather.

"No, it's that way!" one of the men growls.

"No, we already been that way," the other snarls.

They seem to be trying to figure out how to get home.

They notice your interest and both turn their attention to you.

"What're you looking at, slave boy?" the first calls out.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22

Tsin tightens her jaw consciously, as the word 'slave' is uttered again, this time aloud. Although she is at full strength, and the blood warms her hands, she defers to the talkers to see what can be plied from the wolves. She looks down at her hand, a little surprised to find that her weapon has already been sheathed.

She turns towards Mal and Pems, expecting the very best diplomacy in the face of obvious drunkenness.

GM Motte, how long has it been since the last encounter?

Hawktir circles overhead, ready to dive, wondering why the party hasn't enacted the brilliant plan he outlined.

Probably they don't have enough ground turmeric and baby swaddles.

Probably about 10 minutes.

I forgot to roll, but Pems would have used his healing hex on himself and downed a CMW potion before exiting.

Healing Hex: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 and 2d8 + 3 ⇒ (5, 5) + 3 = 13 healing!

HP 21/35

Outside

Pems pulls Tsin away, smiling wolfishly at the men-wolves. He randomly points at one of the men. "He's right, you know. That way." And pulls Tsin away, leaving the men to their argument.

Tsin smirks as Pems throws kindling on the fire, and takes his lead, keeping brisk pace with the no-longer-short-legged locksmith.

She keeps an ear out for the conversation to attempt to drag them back into it.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

She whispers to Pems. "Nothing but dodging falling boulders ever since our arrival. Each ripple in the pond is another chance for the wi...llows to notice our passing. You are likely right to avoid another confrontation."

Walking past the two, you can hear them calling insults after you as you leave, but you ignore it.

You can't ignore, however, an Ulfen man, who barrels directly into Pems as he runs pell-mell from the east. He drops to his knees, panting with exhaustion. Out of breath, he gasps, “My master’s... in a rage.”

You can post a round's worth of actions.

Ah crap. Do we still have the mirror man's face mirror? If we do, Pems grabs it, slaps in on his own face, pulls his hood up to cover his hair and everything except his mirror-mask, draws himself up and stares straight ahead.

Bluff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Disguise: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Intimidate: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

No one actually ever said what you picked up, so I'm going to leave it to chance. High means you do have it.

1d100 ⇒ 79

OK, you do have it. However, everyone else can tell you that you look like a man wearing a mirror on your face, not a mirror man.

I'm assuming all locals speak Skald? So Quinn would have no idea the large wolf approaching is the man's master.

Quinn looks curiously at the exhausted man, then looks down the way the man ran from wondering what could be chasing him.

perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31

The mirror falls off Pems' face and he shrugs. "Well, worth a shot." He slips the mirror into a pocket and looks at the man. "Act entranced. Look dazed. And stay behind me." Once again he draws himself up and waits to see what this Master looks like.

"'Look dazed', master Pems? Surely we can do better than feigning." Tsin flicks a dismissive hand at the Ulfen man, trying to bring about Pems' vision of the first encounter with the master.

Daze, DC 12 Will Save against the Ulfen man

Why didn't they swaddle! Swaddle! It was key to avoiding all this!

Hawktir squawks in frustration, his plan ruined.

He will dive bomb ahead of the party, trying to get them to see the approaching danger.

No attack, just going down to 15' or so of the XXX, then flying back to 30' up.

As you try to collect yourselves, a huge white wolf rounds the corner and skids to a stop in front of you, eyeing you and the man.

He turns his head to Pems and growls in Common: "I am Korgin. This man is part of my household, or was, until he decided to question how I manage my affairs. I’m sure you understand. Sometimes you just can’t break that defiant streak, and they’re good for nothing but a bit of sport."

Hawktir considers snatching up the man and flying away with him.

How much could the manliest hawk in all the lands carry?

Quinn grinds his teeth and allows diplomacy to prevail despite his desire to stab the wolf. Looking to Pems to carry the conversation, Quinn will assist in any way he can in his role of 'guest' to the 'noble' Pems-wolf.

diplomacy assist: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Pems nods graciously, as if acknowledging 'yes, good help is so hard to find.' He gestures to the man's dazed expression. "Indeed, I suspected as much. I have taken the liberty of correcting his behavior for you. It's a form of mind magic. He will offer you no more such resistance and will become a model servant. If he ever strays, all you need do is snap your fingers and he will resume his training as if he never erred. Of course, if you wish, I could purchase him from you? I am in need of a strong back to carry items."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20