[PbP Gameday IV] GM Alera's Masters of the Fallen Fortress (Inactive)

Game Master Aerdriana

Bert surveys the room and intently searches, then abruptly bumps into Prizm and promptly falls on his small feathered butt.

After dispatching the troglodyte Sigríðr digs through the body looking for any evidence of why they may be here, and to see if they have any gear worth salvaging. Standing up she looks around the room before speaking, "You're lucky that worked gnome. I'd oh-so hate to bring your body back to the city in pieces."

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

A very small smile crosses her lips while she continues to look directly at Prizm, "But at least you weren't dumb enough to open the door without looking at it first. I'd oh-so hate to bring your skewered corpse back to the city."

Yep, trogs are toast. You guys search the room. This is clearly the armory. Most of the few remaining arms in the room have rusted away, making them useless in combat.

Fhlangorn moves his beard to the side to reveal the wound in his shoulder.

"The blasted trap hit me right here!"

better?

Sigríðr looks at the piles of rusted weapons looking for anything of use while quietly muttering something about, "you guys could at least help."

Appraise: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21

She holds up a masterwork dagger and light steel shield from the pile. "Well at least there's something worthwhile in this debris. But a dolphin? What kind of people put fish on their shields?" She points across the room to a crumpled pile of cloth in the corner, "That also looks like it might be worth something. Looks like this trip wasn't for naught after all."

Go-go nat 20!

"Fish people of course!" Krush states, wandering into the room, glancing around at the equipment. He gives his eyes a moment to adjust before looking at the dagger and shield. "Too small, unfortunately. All of it."

He wanders to where Sigrid points, lifting up the banner in one hand, giving it a few hard shakes to clear it of debris and dust. "Fire bird!"

He smiles at the rest of the party and shrugs, indicating he has no idea what it is or what it means.

Appraise: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
"I find your appreciation of it to be incorrect! This "fire bird", thank you Krush, can't mean just anything. There is a great mystery behind this banner, and I'm sure our superiors would be very interested to find out what."

Good. Someone got it, and shared.

"hey Krush! Neat flag! Can I study it for a while? Annnnd... there is this door.. can you .. well you know!"

Prizm slides out of the way and gestures.

"Ah, that's where it hit you. Really, you should keep your beard more neatly trimmed Flaggy. But, Korada willing, you should be healed now."
Casts cure light wounds. 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

"Hey thanks little guy!"

Fhlangorn moves over and inspects the other door for traps.

"Let's get moving... what's behind the next doore? You openning that door, Flaggy?" Glastor is bouncing on his toes, anxious to see what is behind door number two...

"Yes... please do, open the door. I know that those Trogs, in the great scheme don't really exist, as Calistria has shown from beyond the veil of reality, but they have a pungent smell I'd like to escape." He concludes and walks beside Fhlangorn.

Krush moves up and hands over the banner to Sgt Blue, getting his hands back onto his weapon and nodding at Fhlangorn.

"Let's do it if we're going to do it! There's a whole lotta daylight left."

Sigríðr shrugs, "I'd rather do this at night anyway, but whatever, nobody listens." She moseys up to her position by the door and waits for the next trap to spring into the face of the other dwarf.

just waiting on the GM to see if I find anythuming.

I’m assuming the door to the NE.

Fhlangorn checks the door for traps, finds none and tries to open it.

Door opens.

Judging from the shelves lining the walls, this darkened room
might once have been a storeroom, though its contents have
long since succumbed to the passage of time. A crack in the
northern wall has apparently let in some rainwater, which has
collected in a large puddle on the floor.

Fhlangorn notices some skittering movement in the room and sees a dog-sized lizard scurry eagerly towards him.

It has two horns, one on either side of its head, and green scales that crackle with sparks of electricity.

Initiative? Or are you allowing us a surprise round?

While the creature approaches eagerly, it does not appear to immediately attack.

For the moment, it sits 10 feet out, and stares at you expectantly. Its pretty excited though and looks like it might not sit still for long.

Good question, Andy. Go ahead and roll sense motive and knowledge checks if capable - in this case. Then tie that info together with what each of you does with it as this creature is approaching.

Windy, are you going to roll the sense motive for us?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

I got no idea and no Arcana. If possible, if nobody strikes out and it seems to be patient, Krush would attempt Wild Empathy at +1, -4 if it's a Magical Beast

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Sigríðr looks at the beast questioningly, "It doesn't appear to be aggressive. Any of you have some food? I wouldn't touch it though, maybe just on the floor."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

I dunno Sigrid, it looks pretty mean to me, and it's all sparky and stuff. Kinda scary. But then you were right about the trap and stuff.

Fhlangorn rummages in his back pack for some trail rations and drops them on the floor just to the side of the door, inside the other room.

Prizm smiles inwardly and wiggles his fingers while whistling a little tune.

"hgntx fntyi!"

Suddenly a small roast chicken appears near the creature, and leaps onto it's tiny drumpsticks and dances around gaining the beasts attention. As the beast takes notice the delicious chicken plays keep away with the little lizard diving this way and that. All the while keeping the shocker lizard away from the party.

All the while Bert and Prizm giggle at each other.

Provided the lizard takes the bait as it were... I will go in and look around the room while concentrating to keep the game of cat and mouse going.

Bert gives Prizm silly look and proceeds to roll around on the floor ... doing his best laugh.

b-b-ert! b-ert! bert!

Perform Dance: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9

Glastor giggles at Prizm's spell. He is pretty sure that he knows what is happening... and he is agreeing with Bert. "Bert ha ha ha! Bert!"

The lizard scurries over, grabs the trail rations and puts them in a little nest in the corner for later. When Prizm’s chicken appears it excitedly chases it. After a while it catches it

gm: 1d20 ⇒ 13

And continues to chase it happily, like a cat chasing a laser pointer.

This gives you plenty of time to search the room, and find nothing.

After some time of chasing and catching the chicken the lizard might eventually figure it out ( get above an 18 on a d20 ), but then it'll just look really confused for a moment and go back to its corner and eat those saved trail rations.

Third floor?

Fhlangorn heads to what he assumes is the stairwell door.

"Onward!" says Prizm.

The chicken suddenly appears and dances in a circle around Sigrid shaking its little butt at her.

With a smile the gnome ceases concentrating only to see the little bird's shoulders slump and it give a rude gesture. In the following rounds it appears to try to rummage around in Fhlangorn's backpack before the magic finally dissipates.

Sigríðr rolls her eyes and looks at Prizm with a look of complete disgust, "If you're done making a mockery of our profession we can move on."

Waiting to hear if the stairwell is blocked. If not, will take it with everybody else, if not will climb Take 10 = DC 13 against knotted rope going from floor 2 to 3).

The door to the staircase opens without issue. You can see that while the stairs down are destroyed, the stairs up appear just fine.

"Mockery? What profession is that? Murder-hobo? No, I think we're better than that. We don't have to kill everything we see, do we?" Glastor just shakes his head. "Bert, that was hilarious. So... Bert and Prizm... those names seem so familiar. There were a couple of fey that I used to know... Bert was the smart one, too..."

Sigríðr grits her teeth, "Little foolish gnome, I did not say that leaving that clearly non-threatening creature alive was a mockery of our profession. I'm no more a so-called murder hobo than any of you. My commentary was that you had to taunt it first and waste our time and resources by casting that thing."

She points angrily at the dancing chicken carcass. "Let's get moving before I forget again why I am here." She starts trudging up the stairs before listening at the door on the next level.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

Fhlangorn follows Sigrid, trying to be quiet, and chuckles under his breath.

Stealth: 1d20 ⇒ 17

Glastor looks at the dancing chicken, and then follows the team up the stairs.

Krush falls to the back, looking in at the happy lizard before following the rest of the group.

I never had a pet before. Why don't animals like me?

You guys head up the stairwell and stop at the door to the 3rd floor.

Sigrid listens carefully at the door.

"xvhgsu jghusn"

*cluck cluck cluck cluck* from just behind Sigrid.

In hushed tones "Sigrid, are you sure you're brave enough to open that door? Or should we let Krush?" the gnome softly giggles.

Looking around at the faces of his companions who are obviously trying to be somewhat silent (at least as quiet as they are able) Prizm frowns inwardly... then lets a small smirk slide.

"Oh fine.. someone just open the door and do... what did you call it Glastor? Murder hobo?"

A look of recognition crosses his eyes as he looks as Glastor.

"Bert and I used to make sure your flowers were healthy and your crops were thriving back at your home. You used to leave us sugar cubes, which were excellent!"

The gnome smiles fondly at the memory.

Hearing the tale, Bert closes his small black beady DoDo eyes and tries to lick his lips at the memory of the sugar cubes.

Then he remembers.... he has no lips...

"bert......."

Bert plops down on the stone floor and pouts openly.

Sigríðr looks over her shoulder and mouths, "Would you just shut up. The look on her face is clear that she did not appreciate the jab.

She shoves the door open, weapon drawn.

You attempt to shove the door open - but it does not budge. Door appears to be locked.

*giggle*

Bert hops up, lowers his head and runs over to Krush. The little bird feebly tries to push him toward the door. Giving up, he looks way up at the giant ranger. Then he runs at the door determined and bounces off with a soft thud.

Strength Check to Bypass Door: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (9) - 4 = 5

Unable to see to the top of the stairs, Krush waits with his hammer on his shoulder. As Bert comes over, he smiles at him, stepping this way and that as he tries to push him. He nods, then looks up the spiral.

"Everything alright? Trouble with the door?"

I do have the 'Muscle of the Society' trait, so doors are part of what I'm built for.

"Your skills are required Mr. Krush!"

Clearly aggitated, Sigríðr repeatedly bangs up against the door.

"I"

THUD!

"do"

THUD!

"not"

THUD!

"need"

THUD!

"a"

THUD!

"man's"

THUD!

"help!

THUD!

Strength to break: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

"Well - I think we can rule out any sort of stealth! Nice thudding Sigrid! Tell you what.. you may not need a man's help.. but what about... a giant man?"

With a smirk "hsdbiz jenzghs!"

Prizm and Bert get out the way to Krush can squeeze by.

Fhlangorn tries the door once in between Sigrid bouncing off.

Strength Check vs Door Break DC: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

And then gets out of the way for Krush as he bounces off.

ASSIT KRUSH!!!!!: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (12) - 4 = 8

And then gets out of the way for Krush as he bounces off.

I will remind everybody we do not yet know the break DC.