Reign of Winter - DM Twilight (Inactive)

Game Master DM Twilight

Glancing over at Annalísa with a chuckle, Aðvinr mutters under his breath. "Couldn't go any worse than last time." before giving Theora a nod and moving forward, shifting his grip on his spear as the enlarge spell wears off, leaving only his normal 6 foot 7 inch frame.

Mirri hadn't been in town long enough to recognize any of them herself, but the fact that Delilah was suffering from the cold was obvious and not to be taken lightly. Mirri walked up to the woman and said, "Come with me, we need to warm you up and near the fire is the best place."

Assuming that Delilah came with her...
Mirri looked at the others and said, "You can give us some privacy now." She got her bedroll out and said, "Here's what I need you to do, first off we need to get you out of the cold clothes, then I need you to get into the bedroll over here near the fire. Once that's done I'll climb in with you, it's the quickest way to warm someone up and it's important to do so right now before things get any worse."

Delilah eyes the bodies mistrustfully. "N-no, first what we n-need to do is make sure this p-place is safe. Th-there could b-be more of these m-men around. H-have you ch-ch-checked the whole building yet?"

Removing her eccentric pair of snowshoes before stepping inside and briskly closing the doors behind her, Machaera takes a moment to gauge how the earlier arrivals' confrontation must have gone. Impressive, she concludes. As the group falls in with Mother Rowe's suggestion, Machaera quietly exchanges her bow for a sword in the building's close quarters, bracing herself for a surprise from any of the rooms she can see open from the main hall.

Incidentally, are either Theora or Mirri using a cold iron longsword borrowed from a certain wounded guard in Heldren? Machaera's the one who was using it among us new folks here, but if someone else was here before the two groups merged, Machaera will just draw another weapon.

Machaera, we can easily assume that you got the cold iron longsword another way. I know that you guys joined this thread, but it wasn't a 'primary' and 'secondary' sort of situation. There's no need for the joining group to feel like they'd be stepping on toes or whatever. It was just easier to move to this thread because they were slightly further ahead.

Hundur bounds into the building waving his tail in excitement as he sniffs out the new people before moving to scratch and bark at the door behind Machaera.

Annalísa motions to Aðvinr asking him to move to the other side as she advances on the door prepared to kick the door in unless someone gives her a reason not to.

"I suppose you're right, but as soon as that's done we will get you warmed up, believe me, you don't want to come down with the cold heart." With that the snow elf prepared to help clear out the rest of the building.

With a silent nod, Aðvinr moves to the opposite side of the door from Annalísa, his spear leveled at the door waiting for the moment she kicks it in, Ratatoskr at his heels.

Snjórinn, sorry just realized I never got you added to the map. You're there now, in the doorway, put yourself where ever you want to be. Is anyone else moving in to position/drawing weapons etc. in response to Annalísa getting ready to kick in the door her dog was scratching and barking at?

Machaera prepares herself for the instantaneous reaction she might need once Annalísa forces the door, hoping someone inside doesn't have a crossbow trained on the door. Ha! Real professionals here. Those fancy special forces folks don't have a thing on us adventurers. ;)

Delilah pulls out her own crossbow, leveling it at the door and struggling to stop herself from shivering. "R-ready!"

Readied action: Fire at the first thing to move on the other side.

Light Crossbow: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Damage?: 1d8 ⇒ 1

There's a CoCt game I'm in where the party genuinely hit places like a SWAT team.

Door break DC13
CMB to kick in door.1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
If I'm rolling the wrong thing someone let me know.

Annalísa kicks the door open and you are hit with the foul odor of disease. Four men are in this room, they have managed to drag themselves out of bed and take up arms but you can tell on sight that they are deathly ill.

R1
Theora, Pym, Snjórinn, Raider B, Raider R, Mirri, Raider G, Machaera, Zisel, Raider P, Annalísa, Aðvinr

CMB would be a sunder check. Most breaking things that aren't weapons or tactical is raw strength check so your bonus would be 1 lower. Still enough to kick in the door all C.O.P.S. style. :)

Thank you, sir!

Wrinkling her nose, Theora lowers her longbow, looking past Machaera into the room. "Come on, boys, there's no need for that. You're in no condition to fight. How about we just leave you alone and get on our way, mmm?"

Theora will make a heal check and delay. She doesn't really want to fight these guys if they're that ill.
Heal: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Pym readies her bow but waits until a more advantageous moment to fire. She stays near Mirri, watching the newcomers as warily as she does the sick men in the room.

The men do not respond to Theora, instead they continue to try to keep themselves steady and ready to defend themselves.

R1
Theora, Pym, Snjórinn, Raider B, Raider R, Mirri, Raider G, Machaera, Zisel, Raider P, Annalísa, Aðvinr

Am I part of the initiative, or are you just waiting until my readied action to insert me?

Nope! My mistake, I'm so sorry! Sometimes I need people to yell at me or throw stuff. I have everyone else' initiative written down on the sticky note app because I'm too lazy. I just copied and pasted, forgot that there was a new member in there I didn't have down yet. Adding you now.

Delilah's initiative 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

R1
Theora, Pym, Delilah, Snjórinn, Raider B, Raider R, Mirri, Raider G, Machaera, Zisel, Raider P, Annalísa, Aðvinr

And for those of you knew to this thread, no one has asked so I will point out that "Pym" is a winter-touched sprite, much like those that you fought on your way to the lodge.

Delilah?

Sorry, it's been a weird couple of days at work, and I haven't had much more energy than what's required to keep the games I'm GMing running.

Delilah shivers, coughs once, and then stands on the table behind her friends. "L-look, you've no way out of that r-room. Either y-you can accept our offer of aid, or y-you can f-fight. From m-my estimations, w-which aren't th-that good, we have a three-in-four chance of k-killing you all without any l-lasting injuries. I'd s-say you have a 1-in-twenty chance of getting out alive. P-please, j-just throw d-down your w-weapons."

Intimidate: 1d20 - 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) - 1 + (5) = 18

Taking liberties with rounds, since no one's started killing yet. hope it's okay. Also, that's a point of Inspiration used. 3/4 remaining.

Slowly, the bandits begin to drop their weapons and fall back to their cots. Whether due to Delilah's words and being surrounded by armed foes, or simply being too weak to stand any longer you are not sure.

"Help us," one of the men begs.

Aðvinr moves into the room, resting his spear against the wall as he studies each of the sick men.

Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

Slinging her bow over her shoulder, Theora moves in with Aðvinr, helping him look over the bandits. "Now, boys, what's got you like this?" she asks in a gentle, soothing tone. "Anything we can do to help you, mmm?"

Delilah hesitates for a moment before shivering again. Then, she follows Theora into the room, collecting weapons from their brand new captives. "Anything else? No? Alright, l-let's t-take a look, just to be sure." She searches the captives, patting them down gently but quickly and trying hard not to touch any skin if she doesn't have to. After all, she's not healthy herself in the cold.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
Fort Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11 (if it's contagious)

Knowing her talents run to other things, Machaera is glad that Aðvinr and Theora are able to assess the bandits' condition more accurately than she would. Though not unmoved by their plight, she is not - happily, overall, she supposes - as naïve as she may once have been, and though she lowers her sword, she keeps it gripped firmly in her hand, and stands in stern silence, watching as those trained in healing examine the raiders. That's right, she thinks. Let them wonder, keep them off-balance. You are an inhuman cipher of an elf. Use it to your advantage. Despite her self-reassurances, Machaera finds a part of herself in revolt. So it's not just about the magic, is it? You can find a way to use anything like a weapon, now. She takes what comfort she can from the knowledge that this still disturbs her.

While she waited for Delilah to be ready to get warmed up Mirri found a place near Macheara and asked, Elven"I haven't ran across many elves in my journey to this place, it's good to see another face not so different from mine."

Machaera meets Mirri's approach with a smile that reaches her eyes, and happily takes up conversation in Elven. "Likewise," she says. "It's been a few years since I've left home, and a longer road than I expected."

Noting the other woman's coloration and the lightness of her equipment, given the weather, Machaera offers her best guess, "But I've never traveled north to meet any cousins among the snowcasters. Fortune has been pleased to lead me elsewhere; perhaps one day, after I see Kyonin ... I seem to have grown accustomed to travel."

As she returns her gaze to the bandits the others are tending, her smile hardens, leaving her eyes and acquiring an unsettling calculating air, as if she has come to a favourable assessment of the threat the sick men pose.

Everyone in the room make a Fort DC12 check.

Delilah finds no other weapons on the men themselves.

"Everything hurts, and I feel so weak and shaky. I've got fever and I can't keep anything down," one of the men says.

Fortitude 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Pym takes flight from Mirri's shoulder and circles around Machaera. She squints her eyes at the elven woman and sniffs the air around her.

"You are not a sister," Pym says with her tiny little hands on her hips.

"Damn. They're suffering from the chillbane shakes. Just being in this room, breathing the air, we've all been exposed. Everyone out." the shaman says in a tone that brooks absolutely no argument.

Fort save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Fortitude: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

With a last look over her shoulder, Theora follows Aðvinr out of the room. "Is there anything we can do for them?" she asks in a low tone.

"Best case.....they're strong enough to survive it would be at least two days before they're free of the disease, with care. Something we don't really have time for. Worst case they remain sick or it gets worse, maybe develops into chillbane fever." Aðvinr says quietly.

Pym takes flight from Mirri's shoulder and circles around Machaera. She squints her eyes at the elven woman and sniffs the air around her.

"You are not a sister," Pym says with her tiny little hands on her hips.

Machaera is surprised but amused by the sprite’s impertinence. She nods to Pym in acquiescence, and answers lightly, “I shouldn’t think so. Our shared branch is probably further down the family tree.”

Before she can say anything else, Aðvinr’s gruff warning comes through the doorway the elves are standing beside, and Machaera shakes her head as she catches Theora’s question once everyone inside has bustled out and the door is closed. “Could we leave anything for them from out of your healer's herbs once we’re done here? Bandits or no, just leaving them to take their chances with sickness is rather more ruthless than I would like, if we can help it.”

Surveying the rooms that open off the opposite wall, Machaera adds softly, “I wonder what else is happening here.” She’ll step around the table and try the door opposite, if no one thinks that’s a terrible idea.

Annalísa moves with Machaera towards the next door, her sword ready. Hundur follows along but doesn't seem to respond to the door as he did the other.

"I doubt they'd have done any better for us, but do as you wish," Annalísa says.

Pym huffs and shakes her head at Machaera who obviously doesn't understand. She flies off to examine the other newcomers, pulling at thick locks of Delilah's hair before trying to comprehend Snjórinn's mask.

When the door to the next room is opened, it is found to be empty save a bed and a small locked chest.

"Whether they deserve mercy or not will depend on the condition of the woman we came here to rescue." the shaman says as he moves in behind Annalísa, shifting his grip on his spear. " Anyone care to try the chest?"

Anyone able to pick locks?

I can, but can't meet even the most basic DC without thieve's tools, which I don't currently have unless I missed something.

The DC is 20 so you could give it a try if you wanted. Looks like your Disable Device skill is at an 8 so there is a good chance.

Yeah, but I read somewhere that without proper tools the DC increases by like 10. Ah well, here goes.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Delilah takes her time, studying the box for a good minute before even working on the lock. When she does, though, she moves with confidence and speed, spinning a bit of metal around in it and trying to catch the tumbler.

IDK maybe. I'm not keen to complicate things though, you're good.

Delilah opens the chest carefully lifting the lid. She finds a healer’s kit (5 uses remaining), a belt pouch with 25 sp, and a potion (of lesser restoration).

Aðvinr looks at the contents of the chest. "It's possible using this I'd be able to give them a better chance at surviving the disease, but I'd honestly prefer to make sure someone more deserving doesn't need that aid first."

Still keeping an eye out as Delilah opens the chest, Machaera murmurs abstractedly, "I know there are spells for this sort of thing, but they're not something I've had occasion to study. It's good to know we won't have to resort to the frustrated, curious witch expedient of taking an axe to the thing."

Seeing some of Pym's other antics, and wondering just what the sprite was getting at so that she made the wrong inference herself, Machaera glances over her shoulder at Mirri on her way to the door at the other end of the room, as if to ask silently, If you know what she's talking about, I would love to know. Setting that question aside for later, Machaera opens the door and looks into the next room.

Mirri chuckled in amusement as she went to follow Machaera and said, "She means you're not connected to winter like I am Machaera. She considers us Sisters because of our shared touch of winter's cold and I have to admit, it's nice having a sister for a change."

Delilah raises an eyebrow at Machaera. "This? It's a s-s-simple enough lock. W-w-when I w-was on the job in Op-p-p-para, some of m-m-my clients had n-n-need of things like th-this." She flips the coins out of the box first, then hands the healing kit to Aðvinr. "I c-c-c-can hang on to the p-potion, unless s-someone n-n-needs it. Or s-s-s-someone else w-w-wants it."

She looks toward the winter elf, shivering again. "L-let's get this p-lace safe so I c-c-can get warm again. What's n-next?"

"Agreed. We clear the rest of this place, see if the Lady is being kept here and see to your chills. We can decide what to do with them after that." Aðvinr says nodding his head toward the room with the sick men.

Annalísa nods and moves to the next door, waiting for someone to move to the other side of the door before opening it. Hundur sniffs around the door in boredom.