Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Pems moves forward and takes 10 or 20 as needed to open the cages.

Tsin opens the next door, or two, should the first one prove unoccupied.

"By all means, shepherd the waifs upstairs, further from the exit, and into the protective services of an opera singer. They should be perfectly safe up there. While you're at it, why don't you have them take a closer look at that oven, in that room we haven't explored." She only rolls her eyes once.

Hektir passes off the children to Quinn to take upstairs.

"You go get 'er, Quinn. Chicks dig dudes who love kids. Bring these to her and she'll be all yours," Hektir wingmans.

He then goes to join Tsin, waiting and on guard.

"Ha, you won't trick me this time Hektir, like you did back when we were cleaning out old Clegg's barn and you sent me on a fool's errand when you found that stash of summer wine and kept it all for yourself. No sirree, we haven't found the witch's stash of mystical liquor and with a few doors to go it has to be nearby. Kids, pay attention, watch us heroes work, Cayden is about to award us with a plentiful bounty!" Quinn also joins Tsin, determined that Hektir won't bogart the booze.

The children cry out in horror at Tsin's suggestion, but then cheer again as Pems' painstakingly opens each cage. As he does so, Hektir finds little of interest on the dead opponent: though his studded leather is high quality, the only other things he carries are three javelins, an ogre hook, a necklace of (small) severed fingers, and 75 gp.

The children mill about, uncertain what to do in the face of the party's indecision.

"You mean we're not leaving?" one asks plaintively.

Pems' face looks pained. "Not yet. But you will leave and alive and well. We have to ensure this tower is free of other threats before our friends can attack from outside. Now, are you children from here? In Whitethrone? How did you end up here?"

Hektir looks over the children, tired of hearing their whines.

"Listen here kids. We've got you out, but now you need to brave. We're fighting to stop those that did this to you...and those that would ever do this again. You," Hektir points at one of the larger children. "Pick up that ogre hook and hold it like you mean it. Just because you're young, it doesn't mean you can't protect yourselves. Now hang on a moment while we finish our work here."

Hektir spits, waiting for the ogre hook to be tended, however poorly.

"Don't forget the marbles. Wouldn't want you to lose your marbles." Tsin sighs as Pems lets the chickens into the yard. At least Zeno can fly himself away should danger rear its ugly head. These ducklings are ripe for savagery.

The children all try to answer Pems' questions at once, leading to a bit of a jumble that would likely have alerted any other enemies that hadn't already heard the battle if it weren't for the noise of the clockworks.

The gist of it is they mostly seem to be from Whitethrone and were either given to or taken by Granny Nan. All apparently are orphans or runaways, except for the dirty girl who threw the marbles, who admits she was just disobedient and her parents gave her to Granny Nan. Oh, and they tell you there's at least one other girl, who was really scared and was taken away earlier in the day!

The girl collect her marble and then snatches the ogre hook from the boy who had tried to follow Hektir's orders.

Hektir opens the door to the east. He lets Tsin go first.

Malavarius taps the butt of his staff on the floor as Hektir and Tsin make haste in opening more doors while there is still a gaggle of children about. "Perhaps I should see the children to safer floors then? Should I set off the signal while I'm up there do you think?"

After getting his answer, the old bearded wizard waves his arms and baggy sleeves about to tighten up the group of orphans.
"Come along then, children. Come along. Let's let those eager folk get on with their work. -Do you know we recently killed a dragon? -Oh yes, yes indeed. It was a mighty dragon too. Full of bluster and guts it was. -What's that? -No, the dragon didn't hurt me. -Why yes, I do happen to be a very old man. But I'm also a wizard and that's worth something when facing down dragons and witches and fey, don't you know. -Why yes, I suppose I am a very powerful wizard. -Yes indeed. You could be one too perhaps. -Come on now, up you go. -Yes, yes, we've all climbed stairs before. -Single file now, there's no sense climbing over one another!"

Malavarius rambles in a similar fashion as he tries to field the almost stream-of-consciousness flurry of questions from the children as he guides them upstairs to Bella.

Mal leaves to escort the children upstairs, but unwilling to wait, Hektir opens the next set of doors.

Fortunately, there's nothing living in there bigger than a gnat: The room contains little more than a bed and a footlocker. The bed, such as it is, is sized for a giant -- soiled sheets and a flattened pillow heaped atop a lumpy straw-filled sack.

Tsin kicks open the footlocker, and explores its contents, should it be unlocked. Otherwise, she calls the locksmith over for another challenge. Following Hektir's door opening, she takes to the final unopened door, and throws it open as well.

The footlocker isn't locked. It contains a number of children’s toys, mostly broken. At the bottom of the chest, beneath all the toys, is what looks like a mummified humanoid's hand and a pouch containing 75 gp.

Tsin ignores the contents of the chest, save for the hand and the pouch. She hesitates touching it, deciding to sift out any evils lingering. Cast Detect Evil

"Gentlemen, we have a hand here. No body to claim it as its own. Would anyone like to get a closer look?"

If it doesn't radiate evil, she picks it up for inspection.

Knowledge, Arcana or Spellcraft?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

It doesn't radiate evil, but does radiate magic, though you have no idea what it is.

"Yuck! Yet fitting for witches and trolls, to have nasty rotting hands just stuffed into trunks. Wonder why anyone, even witches, would keep that though?"

spellcraft: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

Hektir spits as the chest reveals nothing of interest (meat or beer or nudie drawings).

"That one of them witchyhands? Careful where you point that thing," Hektir warns.

Hektir moves to the last door in this room, moving in after Tsin does.

You believe it's a hand of the mage, Quinn.

Tsin tosses the Hand to Quinn, the pouch to Pems, then joins Hektir at the last door, opening it if Hektir hasn't yet.

Quinn hesitantly catches the hand, trying to only touch it with the tips of his fingers. "I think I've heard of these before, they call them 'Mage Hands', though I've no idea why any mage would lop off his own hand? It does look an awful lot like Mal's wrinkly appendages, maybe he can keep it as a spare?"

Desiccated hand distributed, Quinn joins Tsin at the final door.

Pems catches the pouch and stows it away. He draws his ice dagger and gets ready for trouble.

A giant-sized bed sits in the southwest corner of this spacious room, and a large polar bear rug sprawls across the floor. Several small tables occupy the corners of the room, along with a chest in the southeast. Behind it on the wall hangs a large mirror.

As Tsin opens the door, however, she's greeted by a battleaxe slamming into her armor, the massive ice troll in the room apparently aware of your approach and ready for you.

She's still trying to gather herself when the axe hits her on the backswing 13 hp, and the troll's claws catch her cheek 7 hp even as she gets an arm up just in time to keep her fangs from her throat.

Surprise battleaxe: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Party's up for the rest of Round 1, though Mal's still on his way back from escorting the kiddies.

Pems gives the troll an evil eye! Targeting AC!

Round 1

Hektir shies his head away from Tsin's splattering blood.

"Careful now, Tsin! Watch where you are spraying that!" Hektir gripes as he moves into the room (provoking), moving all the way to the troll's right side (setting up flank and taking AoO for Tsin).

When he gets there, he attacks!

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22 to hit; (bladed belt)
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 damage.

HP 53, AC25

Round 1, Init 8

Tsin growls in embarrassment. "That was lazy of me, letting my guard down like that. The pain confirms it." She looks this troll over, and nods in respect. "This one has some fight in it. Not like the wikkawak."

She moves into flank with Hektir, watching him deal with the she-hulk's attentions. She sizes up her opponent, not sure if her armor's side is well-reinforced.

+1 Falchion, Precise Strike: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 10 + 2 = 16 for 2d4 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (2, 2) + 7 + (4) = 15 damage

Round 1

Sure that Hektir has absorbed all the abuse, as usual, Quinn rushes the beast and slaps at it viciously. "I grant you the Slap of Inebriation, swoon before Cayden vile beast!"

Touch of Chaos: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

"Did you hear that one child, Zeno? No respect!" Malavarius' tone is animated and grumpy as he complains to his avian companion.
"Of course I heard him, I'm not deaf after all."
"A dress! He said I was wearing a dress!"
"Yes he did."
"These are robes! That fool boy wouldn't know sense if it fell on him and knocked him out!" He grumbles wordlessly under his breath for a few moments before continuing, "Children don't have any respect any more, Zeno! They're impatient, rude, and- and- and senseless! Why, they're like little, snot-nosed tyrants! Pfah! These are dark days we're in, Zeno. Dark days indeed!"
Zeno merely snickers at this and at Malavarius as the old wizard storms his way down the stairs, ranting above the sounds of the gears and clockwork around him.

Hektir, undaunted, rushes into the room behind the troll, nearly loses the top half of his head as the axe slams into him as he goes, the blow drawing a roar of laughter from the ice troll woman. 22 hp

Her laugh ends as his blade just penetrates her own guard, drawing blood from a small wound that begins to heal even as Quinn and Tsin enter the room. The former infuses the creature with chaos, but Tsin can't take advantage, her sword clattering off the creature's armor.

She swings again at Hektir, but slips slightly as the bear skin rug bunches under her quickly moving feet, throwing off her strike.

Round 2, Init 8

Tsin holds her position, not pleased that the troll wench is able to muster laughter while she's being surrounded by wolves. "Please, let me return the favor, trollop. You hit hard, but I can match you at least. Then, I only have to watch you bleed out, as your brethren did in the other room. Imagine, we slew five already, what is your one head by comparison? Consider dropping your weapon, at least, even if it's only to inspire one more laugh from your good lung. I think I collapsed the other."

+1 Falchion, Power Attack, Precise Strike: 1d20 + 10 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (16) + 10 + 2 - 2 = 26 for 2d4 + 7 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (1, 1) + 7 + 6 + (5) = 20 damage

Round 2, Init 14

Hektir grunts as the axe penetrates his defenses, cleaving him nearly in two.

That could have gone better.

Hektir spits, mans up, and strikes again..

1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 8 + 2 = 22 to hit;
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 damage.

"You'll have to do better than that to take down a real man, troll!"

Pems sends another evil eye at the troll, this time targeting his attacks!

Quinn continues his slapping assault upon the beast, "Take that you brute!"

slap of chaos: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

"Well done, master Pems. Also, keep an eye out for Mal. And, other trolls. We may actually be done of this place before too long."

Malavarius scratches his head at the bottom of the stairs, "I say, Zeno, I feel like I'm missing something."
"Besides a brain, you mean?"
"Yes, yes besides a- No no no! Blast it all, Zeno, this is hardly the time!"
Zeno chuckles quietly to himself as his wizard is stirred up into a bluster, then points with an outstretched wing toward the room the others had been in when he left with the children. "Alright, alright. Calm down. Why don't we worry about what you've misplaced after we see if there are other trolls our friends are dealing with?"
"Other trolls? Nonsense! Tsin pointed it out herself, we've dealt with as many as we found beds for. I'm sure the others are fine and dealing with decidedly non-troll problems at the moment. Do those blighted fey creatures sleep? It could be fey. Bah! Blast and bebother all these troublesome, frosty fey!"

Quinn continues his slapping assault upon the beast, "Take that you brute!"

There is an audible sucking down as Hektir's manhood crawls back up inside, so embarrassed are they by the lack of manliness in Quinn's actions.

Mal continues his descent as Hektir and Tsin land blows against the woman, who growls in pain. Pems again levels his curse, though the latter seems to not bother her overmuch.

Quinn's touch seems to have its desired effect, though, as she swings wildly, her axe teeth and claws catching just fabric as they barely miss Tsin's flesh. Feh; lots of wasted rolls there, thanks to that slap!

Round 3, Init 8

Tsin watches Quinn goose the troll woman, and breathes a little easier for the pain avoided by the wild blows. "Ah, good! Wind up, so I can duck your blows more easily. Yes! Keep that up, and we'll be done all the sooner. There! There it is. Ooo. You shouldn't have swung your arm so high..."

+1 Falchion, Power Attack, Precise Strike: 1d20 + 10 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (19) + 10 + 2 - 2 = 29 for 2d4 + 7 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (4, 1) + 7 + 6 + (1) = 19 damage

Confirm Critical?: 1d20 + 10 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 10 + 2 - 2 = 22 for 2d4 + 7 + 6 ⇒ (3, 4) + 7 + 6 = 20 damage

Pems casts cure moderate wounds, holding the charge and takes a five foot step forward.

if the troll is still standing after Tsin's attack, then Quinn will slap again, otherwise...

Confident that Tsin sliced through some organ of importance, Quinn sets to retrieving a tindertwig and candle from his backpack. "It's not the size of the fire, it's the will of the spark!" yells Quinn as he sets to lighting his candle.

Round 3, Init 14

Hektir keeps fighting, mindful of how tough trolls can be.

1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 8 + 2 = 22 to hit;
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 damage.

Mal reaches the far door just in time to see Hektir prick the troll, attracting her attention and setting her up for Quinn's touch of chaos and finally Tsin's blade, which nearly severs the troll's head from her neck. I'm going to assume you can manage to apply some fire or acid to end the regeneration.

A search of the body reveals a key, which opens the chest in the room, revealing what seems like a nearly endless pile of coins! A later count reveals them to be 767 gp worth

It also holds a beautiful human-sized greatsword, a potion, an iron nose ring and a collection of 12 brightly polished human skulls.

Tsin sighs, enjoying the balance of resistance and shear forces. "Mal, you really did fine work on this blade. I patiently await a time when we can lend it fire, so Quinn can keep his candle in his pants."

She supervises the burning, cleaning her blade of troll blood, before examining the greatsword.

It's +1

Hektir spits as the troll falls and grins happily as it burns, hardly turning his head from the stank. He's used to the Quinn's stouty morning beer flatulence, after all.

"Nice work, Tsin" Hektir notes. 'You're really cleaving today, ain't you?"

Hektir begins to count on his fingers...

"One...two...three...four...uh, five?...Six? I think we've slain seven of these childennappers. This has been a good day. Today they faced real men defending their young...and thats a good thing."

Hektir helps store the loot and readies to move on.

"Now we get the children out? We run past those nasty witchy-statue-sword-breakers?"

Tsin lifts her chin, a smile and a nod in noting their good fortune through this last push. "Thank you, Hektir. We are finding our stride quite nicely, I think. I hadn't pictured fighting so much within building interiors, but it's so much better than snow and ice." Tsin sheathes her falchion, and weighs the greatsword with both hands.

"I'll try this out for a little, but I think it's too much. Quinn, you're quite the expert on overcompensation. What do you think? Is it too much?" Tsin waves the blade a little too close to the priest's shoulder, surprised at its center balance.

"If anything, I might swing this blade against the columns, if need be. Are we going to leave the columns to the others? Oh! Speaking of the others, we really, really should fire off the signal fireworks. From the top floor, or once we're clear of the columns?" Tsin considers.

"I think we could do both, don't you? Send off one from the roof, the other from ground level?"

"Ah! Just in time, I see. Excellent. Glad I could help." Malavarius nods sagely and strokes his beard as he considers the dead troll. "I knew it! Another troll! See? I told you, Zeno!"
"What? You said there were no more trolls!"
Malavarius taps the dead troll's body with his staff, "Exactly, Zeno. See? No more trolls."
Groaning with dismay, Zeno buries his face in one wing before retreating to Quinn's shoulder.
"If there are fireworks to light, I happen to be an expert at such things. Now, who has them?"
"You do, you bearded buffoon!"
"What's that? I do? Oh! So I do! Oh this should be fun!" Malavarius rubs his hands together excitedly and bounces his eyebrows as he looks to the others.

Hektir scratches his chin, pondering.

"We got them statues at the front. Tsin and I can distract them, while the rest of you get the children out. *Then*, after the children are safe, we can start the dangerous internal attacks that will surely endanger us all."

Hektir spits, collecting his thoughts.

"I don't want to break this fancy swordbelt, but I'll find a way to fight."

Hektir points at Pems, Quinn, and Mal. "You guys get the children and the damsels. Me and Tsin will go prepare to handle the trolls."

Hektir seems unmindful of the huge, deep, and bleeding gash on his chest from the troll. HP 31/53

Pems shakes his head and uses his held charge of the cure moderate wounds on Hektir, healing 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (1, 2) + 4 = 7 worth of damage.

"I'm not sure we have to worry about your 'dangerous internal attacks' so soon after our fireworks go up. The dangerousness focuses squarely on the forces seeking to fight elsewhere, giving us distraction to enter the forest unimpeded. And by 'trolls', you mean the statues, right?" Tsin moves to the front doors, and opens them slightly, to inspect for positioning of the statues. Just as quickly, she closes the door.

"Do you think we could avoid the statues altogether, if we left through ground floor windows?"