Pass of Thaldor (Inactive)

Game Master OberonViking

Consider my survival skill as aiding others. Jobo walks up the line and inspects the formation stopping near the end of the formation.
"Would anyone like me to check their gear to make sure it is sealed sufficiently against the cold?

Grobnar considers his situation and reluctantly wraps the scarf/blankets he was given he does not find that they look nice but decides to keep it on for the time being deciding it is better than freezing. "Th..Thank you for your generosity." He says in a rather high pitch voice trying to stay polite.

Lorelei is currently walking beside her horse since finding that the wind chilled her more when she was riding up on him. To Jobo's question she replies: "Thank you for your concern Jobo, but I think my gear is ok."

Wulfrid used to live in the cold, while he was a still a pup, raised by a couple of wolves in a forest nearby. But it's been a long time since then, and he forgot how the freezing air can bite.
I'm not particularly protected against the cold, but I have low light vision and I'm carrying a lit torch. Fort Saves and then Perception:
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
What was that? he thinks, while trying not to be distracted by his talkative new companions. Uhmpf, probably nothing.

Grobnar beigin in one of those moods suddenly pulls out his lute and begins to play a tune:

His mithril armor burnished bright,
One gauntlet black, the other white.
His helm alive with brilliant light,
His longsword danced with flame.

This hero faced his greatest test;
This battle would complete his quest.
The shield he carried bore his crest;
Sir Osis was his name.

For courage and for strength he prayed,
To Iomeadae, the god who he obeyed.
His trust and faith would give him aid;
He would not fight alone.

"For honor, and for Iomeadae!", he roared,
And leapt to battle for his lord.
Opposing that unholy sword,
He charged to match his own.

And locked in battle, toe to toe,
He stood against his mortal foe,
Exchanging blow for deadly blow,
A small and savage war.

The damage done by each was vast;
He knew his health was failing fast.
The next exchange might be the last;
He could not stand much more.

And yet he vowed he would not yield.
He stood his ground, and raised his shield,
To win or die upon this field;
The fateful moment neared.

And in his rival, there was doubt.
Afraid that he might lose this bout,
The man of evil's nerve gave out;
The coward disappeared.

His masquerade of honor gone,
With craven guile, this evil spawn
Did soon return, to battle on;
Most foully did he fight.

But at our hero's side now stood
The valliant Flaming Fools, who would,
United on the side of good,
Prove steadfast in their might.

Courageously, they joined the fray,
And only Phillip ran away.
At last the party won the day,
And killed the wicked beast.

Remember well, and heed this tale;
The noble hearted will not fail.
For in the end, the good prevail,
And evil will be greased.

Grobnar often bursts into song like such usually when nervous.

Wulfrid, years of living with walls and ceilings and fireplaces and stews and ale has made you... Soft, relative to your lupine upbringing.
Take 1d6 ⇒ 4 non-lethal, which will 'heal' when you have a chance to rest in a warm space, or magically healed.

Conner walks along quietly in his winter clothing. SInce no one seemed interested in his offer of magical light, he cast light on the front of his own shield before leaving the village.

Upon hearing Jobo's offer of securing everyone against the cold, the druid gently shakes his head no.

Bertholdt has a cold weather outfit. No darkvision or low-light vision.

Bertholdt walks along the dwarven ranger in silence, searching the darkness in vain perhaps, but at least providing ears to listen to the odd noises...

He curses loudly as Grobnar starts to sing, in the distance: "What's with the..! The smallest are always the loudest! Heum... No offence Pedro, really... Not a bad song though, maybe he'll sing our names someday?! Let's put some distance between us and them."

As he distances the group, he can't help but wonder: What rhymes with Berthodt? Perhaps I should learn Dwarven, might have better luck...

[b] "Unfortunately the only rhyme I can think of for Jobo is hobo :=( [b/]

lol Will make you a song right away Jobo :)

"Hey there, Pedro, right? Wanna join me up front?

I'm silent,
But if the moon is not there and bright
Tonight
I'll just bump and stomp
Like a chump!"

He's signing now and extends his hand: [b]"Truth is, I'd prefer the back myself, know watta mean?"

"Sure wherever". "I'm not picky". , He spits another long stream of greenish liquid off to the side of the trail.

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13 Survival

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 Perception

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10 Fort Save
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 Fort Save
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20 Fort Save

"It's bloody cold out here", Pedro whispers to Bertholdt. But his body seems to warm up with the marching, and after a bit the cold seems to no longer bother him. Still a warm fire would be nice. "I should have taken the time to buy some cold weather gear, but I thought for sure those low clouds would bring some warmer weather". "Must be out of practice".

Pedro is wearing his studded leather armor, and has two sacks tied together and slung over his left shoulder so he can drop them quickly.

Suddenly he stops, and puts a hand out to stop Bertholdt. He leans in close and whispers to the man.

Bertholdt

Drakr nods along to the song in approval. Nothing like a good song about good and justice prevailing to begin an expedition with He thinks to himself.

Kn Engineering: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

10 Fort Save

17 Fort Save
20 Fort Save

Jack Frost whispers into Pedro's ear, Join me in immortality. Your beauty will remain forever, you will not age. Join me in immortality,

Take 1d6 ⇒ 2 non-lethal, which will 'heal' when you have a chance to rest in a warm space, or magically healed.

Suddenly he stops, and puts a hand out to stop Bertholdt. He leans in close and whispers to the man.

Bertholdt
** spoiler omitted **

No pressure, but it would seem we need to see how/if Bertholdt responds.

Just got up.

Bertholdt doesn't say a word but scuttles back, careful to stay low and not make a sound.

Reaching the rest, he waives the group to stop and make silence. He whispers, a cold fog lingering out from his mouth: "Goblin signs. Move ready and silently.Wait one minute."

He then moves back to Pedro and smirks: "They're comin' in a minute. Wanna hunt the thing? I'll cover you."

"Sure". "Sounds like fun". "Let me see if I can sneak up on him...turn the tables as you will". "Be ready though, I'm still a little chilled". Pedro lowers his twin sacks to the ground, and begins to move forward.

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8 Stealth

Grobnar suddenly stops playing his lute after the concern of the goblin comes in puts it away turns to the others and nervously says "If it is lone prayhaps it may come in peace I have met many goblins unlike the rest of it's kind strange types they are." Grobnar likes the idea of talking before shooting suggesting it to the group in his odd may of doing so. He can speak goblin should he need.

Grobnar suggests talking to the goblin, though Pedro and Bertholdt seem keen to catch the little creature first. Perhaps then it will talk.

Pedro and Bertholdt carefully approach the tree where Pedro saw a goblin. The manage to slink off the road like leopards with a Collar of Incredible Dexterity, when Pedro steps cracks a small branch under his foot.

”Eeeek!”

Suddenly the goblin breaks cover and is running away. He is huffing and puffing loudly as he leaps shrubs, barges through bushes, and ducks around saplings. He must be about 50’ away now. You can barely see him through the undergrowth with Darkvision.

He is wearing leather armour and a quiver, has a shortbow in his left hand, and chunky, rusty, nicked, warped, machete-like short sword in the other [which you m.

His Perception was good, he heard you coming, and he had a Ready Action. He has made a single move away from you when you were about 30’ away, almost due-east, deeper into the forest.
Due to the undergrowth and trees you cannot Run, and you cannot charge until within 20’ (unless you have Freedom of Movement or similar. He has Improved Cover due to his size in the undergrowth, and the distance between you.
I’ll be checking regularly over the next 15 hours or so, then I’ll need to sleep again.

Grobnar makes a "tsk" noise after seeing the goblin scuttle away he will run ahead and try to find the gob. "Daan shuulkaan ac haalaan oc huukec kaagaach ogaal'daan ac khruun mar tach shuulkaan duun o." He shouts out into the woods.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

Stealth: 15

Why Stealth? How are you using Stealth? Did you mean Perception?

Grobnar suddenly stops playing his lute after the concern of the goblin comes in puts it away turns to the others and nervously says "If it is lone prayhaps it may come in peace I have met many goblins unlike the rest of it's kind strange types they are." Grobnar likes the idea of talking before shooting suggesting it to the group in his odd may of doing so. He can speak goblin should he need.

Drakr's face screws up in confusion and he jams a thick stubby finger into his ear to make sure it's clear... "Peace? With a Goblin? Who ever heard of such a thing?" he rumbles quietly. Then hearing the scream "Come on every one, our companions may need help!"

"Not much of a talker..." says Bertholdt after he sees the goblin scuttle away. He hurries forth after the impish fleer, grabbing his bow, but waving his hand in a mystic gesture, green energy coalescing around his finger and flying towards the goblin.

Move 30
SLA Acid splash (range touch) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14; 1d3 ⇒ 2
Concealment 1d100 ⇒ 10

The goblin calls back to Grobnar, spitting out the last word "Duan shuulkaan ac nay haalaan oc ogaal'daan ac POODOO.

Drakr calls the party to action against the goblin.

Bertholdt moves through the ferns and shrubs quickly, and releases arcane magicks at the goblin. A ball of acid forms, flying at the goblin. Fortune smiles upon the goblin and he zigs left as the acid-ball is about to hit him.

That's a miss.

"Let's be wary of being led to an ambush."
Jobo sprints after the goblin.

"Let's be wary of being led to an ambush."

Jobo sprints after the goblin.

So which is it, wary or sprinting? Lol.

He's a barbarian, being wary is sprinting into combat =D.

Drakr looks at the situation. I'm not going to be much use running through that undergrowth. I'll hang back with these magic types incase there's anymore goblins sneaking up on us.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15 Looking out for more enemies. Don't want to run off and leave the casters unprotected.

Pedro is running as fast as he can, but being left behind.

"Gittem boys"

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 Perception

Double move it is

The goblin continues running. He leaps a fallen log, though on landing he slips on wet, rotting vegetation and lands flat on his back.

His training kicks in, and he lies perfectly still, hoping to not be noticed.

Jobo, Pedro and Bertholdt (and anyone else within 30' of the goblin), you see the goblin leap a log, you hear a squeal, then all ahead of you is still and quiet.
Perception DC 17 to find the goblin IF actively looking for him.

The others back on the road can hear some commotion, hear Pedro urging the others. All seems still on the road. The sliver of a moon smiles down upon you.

Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Not spotting him, seems prudent to move at half speed and track him.
If relevant - Survival 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Hearing the commotion up ahead, Lorelei will pull out her crossbow as she keeps walking ahead and scans the treeline in case there is anything else out there. "I hope this isn't just a distraction to split the party before an ambush."

Perception 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Not spotting him, seems prudent to move at half speed and track him.

If relevant - Survival 1d20+6

The Survival check will be a full round action, so hopefully someone makes that's perception check.

Clutching his battered sword to his chest, his knuckles white, his breathing rapid, his heart pounding, he wills himself to get to his feet and run - and yet his training holds him still.

The words of his master bring calm to his (tiny) brain:
It is movement that the eyes seek, especially in the darkness. Hold still in the darkness and all those filthy Men will walk past you. Except Dwarves - kill them before they kill you.

Where did it go?

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
If I can creep up on it, I will, drawing a sword.
Stealth: Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Finally catching up with the group, Pedro takes a look around.

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14 Perception

Unable to see where the wily Goblin went, Pedro just stops moving and tries to access the situation.

Grobnar grunts and runs ahead to join the others in the search. "Tuuc or merthec ac shuulkaan or." He shouts out once again in the goblin tongue. He assist the others in finding the gob too.

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Getting grumpier by the second at missing all the goblin skull cracking fun he kicks at a small stone on the road. After a few seconds of quiet he yells out "Did ya kill it yet Pedro?" and then he mutters under his breath "Bad manners to ambush a group but not bring enough heads for everyone to crack!"

Then as Grobnar runs off he says "Let us know if they need a hand."

Conner watches both sides of the road, wondering if the scout was for an ambush up ahead or just meant to lure everyone way from the road.

Perception without low light vision 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Bertholdt creeps up on the goblin. He finds it, half covered in mud and leaves from his fall. It is flat on his back, his bow broken near his feet, his quiver bent at his hip, his sword in hand at crossed upon his chest.

Grobnar's voice carries through the forest, and the goblin screws up his face. Still unaware of Bertholdt he spits out, "aclac thi jirik!"

Bertholdt, you see the goblin moving to get up. He is prone, flat-footed, and provoking an Attack of Opportunity as he stands, and seems to be unaware of your presence. You are adjacent to him, and have your sword in hand.
Grobnar and Pedro can now see the goblin as he is trying to stand.

Lorelei and Conner and the others still on the road, you see and hear nothing over the excitement around the goblin.

Grobnar spits "Fine be that way." Speaking in common to the goblin knowing it cannot understand him once he sees it he loads an arrow into his bow and aims at the goblin yelling. "Dhekaan daac, dec den dhuur tekaan o shor!"

Hit:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Damage:1d4 ⇒ 2
Confirm:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Crit total damage:2d4 + 2 ⇒ (4, 2) + 2 = 8

two natural 20s Awesome.

Jobo, you were getting close to the goblin - you are 10' away, on the wrong side of the log [which is only 2' high, buts that's a significant jump for a goblin, but all in the stride of a human barbarian]].

Stupid goblin...

Bertholdt is only too happy to slip his blade between the shoulder blades of a rising unaware goblin.

Sneak attack w/ shortsword: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15; 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (1, 6) + 2 = 9
Poor thing is flat-footed and prone...
EDIT: added +1 to hit for masterwork.

If the thing is still alive I'm running the other way

"Dang it"! "That one was mine"!. "I saw it first".

Bertholdt, you expertly slide you blade between his ribs, below the shoulder blade. It should make a smooth pathway through the heart and lungs and out the chest on the opposite side of his sternum - but you hit something solid along the way. You can tell that the goblin is lifeless, and peering over his head to look you see an arrow sticking out of his chest.

Whether it was the sword or arrow that killed the goblin we will never know.

"I killed it! No worries..."

He flashes a smile in the darkness at the small bard. "Thanks anyway. You're a good shot, with the tongue and with the bow!"

"BAH, I will have you know I am an expert shot aand that arrow pierced right though his heart long afore you even got there." Says the little gnome in response he mumbles some and complains quietly to himself before turning back to the rouge "Split the riches?"