Revival of the Runelords (Inactive)

Game Master Cellion

While the crew members struggle with the wand, your team is able to move in to help. Flo's channeled energy floors over the deck, patching small injuries and completely healing the much more severe ones that the unconscious man suffered at the hands of the croc. The man's back arches for a moment as the healing energy enters his body, and a moment after it passes he spews out a stream of river water. He rolls onto his side and begins coughing and retching uncontrollably as the rest of the water clears out of his lungs.

It takes a few more moments for him and the rest of the crew to calm down after the near death experience. While they do so, the elderly matron of the river boat shuffles over to talk to your team. She responds to Flo's blessing with "And may the Wind and Waves bless yours, strangers. It's like ye were sent from Gozreh herself, comin' out a the mists like that to save us. When the fiery dwarf came along to start smacking that big 'un with his hammer, I done thought I'd gone mad." She grins a smile that has most of its teeth missing. "And you saved little Harge too. Thank you!"

She turns to watch Harge get back onto his feet. "What brings folk like you to this sad part of the Yondabakari?"

While the crew members struggle with the wand, your team is able to move in to help. Flo's channeled energy floors over the deck, patching small injuries and completely healing the much more severe ones that the unconscious man suffered at the hands of the croc. The man's back arches for a moment as the healing energy enters his body, and a moment after it passes he spews out a stream of river water. He rolls onto his side and begins coughing and retching uncontrollably as the rest of the water clears out of his lungs.

It takes a few more moments for him and the rest of the crew to calm down after the near death experience. While they do so, the elderly matron of the river boat shuffles over to talk to your team. She responds to Flo's blessing with "And may the Wind and Waves bless yours, strangers. It's like ye were sent from Gozreh herself...."

{Rolls eyes.}

"By her Waves and his Wind, we have been ferried to you. Who's to say which of the Divine brought us together? They work in mysterious ways, perhaps it was both!" Flo says smiling back at the old woman.

"We're passing through, on our way East. And you? I don't suppose you've crossed paths with the Mandulescus? It'd be odd for them to float this part of the river this time of year, but they could have changed their routes since I've been gone," she asks. "Reliza? Dimitru?"

Guiness lands unsteadily on the barge and helps tie the croc off alongside it -- its meat and hide should provide food and clothing (if not armor) for these people. He nods thankfully to Floredana, unwilling to interrupt her greeting of the other people of the river.

Rinsing the croc's blood off his weapons, the sturdy dwarf approximates a smile as the boy recovers thanks to the Lady of the Rivers ministrations.

The elderly woman shakes her head. "No, at least not any time recent. Names sound awful familiar though."

"If you're headin' much further east, be careful of the storms. We came down from Ilsurian, and had to wait out a straight couple of days of downpours. Lucky we didn't get caught out on the water for them, woulda been hell. In Ilsurian, the local clerics said they expected more in a week, maybe even stronger." The old woman brings out a holy symbol of Gozreh and clutches it strongly. "I'm not one to suppose Gozreh's will, but that don't seem right to me."

"The ones we weathered in port were wild as anything I'd seen in my years. Not natural, by my reckoning." She gets a far off look in her eyes before smiling again at Flo. "But that's just this old lady's opinion. You children be careful out there."

I'll give you guys a chance for any final questions and then push us on tomorrow.

"By her Waves and his Wind, we have been ferried to you. Who's to say which of the Divine brought us together? They work in mysterious ways, perhaps it was both!"

{Sighs heavily.}

"If you're headin' much further east, be careful of the storms. We came down from Ilsurian, and had to wait out a straight couple of days of downpours. Lucky we didn't get caught out on the water for them, woulda been hell. In Ilsurian, the local clerics said they expected more in a week, maybe even stronger." The old woman brings out a holy symbol of Gozreh and clutches it strongly. "I'm not one to suppose Gozreh's will, but that don't seem right to me."

"The ones we weathered in port were wild as anything I'd seen in my years. Not natural, by my reckoning." She gets a far off look in her eyes before smiling again at Flo. "But that's just this old lady's opinion. You children be careful out there."

{Takes note.}

"Big storms you say?" Kargas' interest is piqued enough to bring him out of his sulk and he scans the skies as though hoping to see a conjured tempest at that exact moment. "Why do you think them unnatural?"

"Well, if you do meet up with them, tell them their daughter Flo says hello!" she says cheerily. Hopefully they've received my latest batch of letters, but I know how hard it can be to track down river nomads!

Frowning, she waits for a response to Kargas' question. Once everyone is ready to go, she bids the travelers farewell. "Drink deep, think fast!" she wishes them before hopping aboard her own boat then preparing to shove off and set sail.
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GM, for the Read Weather spell, what counts as "your location?" I'd like to have Flo use it for a forecast so that we can determine (to an extent) if the weather is natural or not.

Guiness mumbles something to one of the crew about ‘crock meat’ and ‘good boots’ as he moves back over to his ship, still very self-conscious about his delicate fey wings. As he passes Floredana, he says, ”Thanks for the lift. Together we were able so save all the crew from the croc.”

Kargas' enthusiasm earns a barking laugh from the barge matron. "A feeling is all. A storm too long, too strong, worse than anything I've seen in my years plying the Yonda. If you're lookin' to see it again, I'd lay down a bet you won't be disappointed." She warmly agrees to deliver Flo's message and thanks you again for your aid.

The rest of the crew take turns offering their own thanks, though their enthusiasm ebbs at the conclusion of the farewells. They turn their attention to the remains of the croc, and the remains of their family member in its jaws. (Unfortunately they lost someone before you guys even arrived)
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For Read Weather, your location is exactly your current location. So you can forecast for this specific spot on the Yondabakari. Don't forget that the spell wants a specific focus component that doesn't come from a component pouch.
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Parting ways with the river barge, you continue on your journey toward Turtleback Ferry. For the next couple of days, it seems as though the barge matron's "feeling" is just that. The skies remain overcast and the days misty, but no storms form on the horizon. However, as you get up past Ilsurian and onto the cheerfully named Skull River, you're caught in a sudden and violent downpour that makes sailing all but impossible. The winds howl, lightning strikes dozens of times per minute all along either shore, and the storm lingers. You're stuck in place for a day as you weather the storm, and when it passes, the sky remains dark, as though it is ready to break into another downpour at any moment.

Its in this foreboding (maybe comfy, for Kargas?) weather that you arrive in the town of Turtleback Ferry. The cluster of buildings perches on the rain-drenched north shore of Claybottom lake. Three distinct ferries crafted from the shells of giant turtles sit either in its harbor or on the far western shore, making it clear where the town got its name.

You're able to moor your boat at the ample docks without anyone coming out to bother you. In fact, the small town seems rather quiet, despite arriving in the middle of the afternoon. What few people you see on the streets move about briskly, looking frequently up at the sky.

(Turtleback Ferry map added to handouts)

Colvyn sniffs at the air and studies the clouds, trying to discern if it is a natural occurrence or not. As they disembark, he looks at the village. "Well, not much activities here, guessing those clouds are keeping everyone inside." He tries to find any official looking building or a guard. "Maybe we should announce ourselves this time before we start poking around."

Survival (Weather prediction): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

"Well that was bracing!" Kargas enthuses to the others as the storm breaks. "Probably not a thunderbird, but we can hope, yeah?" What a blessing that would be!

As Turtleback Ferry drifts into few, the half-orc's eyebrow raises. "These people look spooked. Thunder's blood, it's just a bit of bad weather!"

"Yes. And much taller than you would think the people living near the Buckleberry Ferry to be."

Grumbling, Guiness says, ”I just need to get somewhere dry and oil my armor before it rusts.” Shaking some water loose and stepping onto the dock, the dwarf tries to readjust to (more-or-less) stable land.

"I think Colvyn has the right of it. Even if they don't believe us, after what we all went through," Flo says, looking especially at Guiness, "It's worth the effort to try!"

"I don't mind the rain, really, but I can see how this would get old. Everything just looks so... drab."
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After stowing everything that could flap/get blown away in the wind, let's go to their town leader's building!

Grumbling, Guiness says, ”I just need to get somewhere dry and oil my armor before it rusts.” Shaking some water loose and stepping onto the dock, the dwarf tries to readjust to (more-or-less) stable land.

"If you are in need of lubrication, I have a spell for that."

After stowing everything that could flap/get blown away in the wind, let's go to their town leader's building!

Diplomacy? Intimidation?: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12

"You there." Kellek says to an apparent local. "Take us to your leader."

Looking crossways at Kellek, Guiness suddenly bursts into a laugh for the first time since the dour weather started. Smiling broadly, he remarks, ”You might want to work on that pick-up line before trying it out on a tavern wench.”

Kargas just shakes his head. "Last time someone called my ma a 'wench' she had Uncle Kerchak eat his face. And most of the rest of him, actually."

Colvyn studies the clouds above (and those of the last few days) and feels reasonably confident that the storms are gets the sense that they don't quite seem natural. Perhaps its the way that the wind seems to blow not quite in the direction they're moving, or in how unrelenting the cloud cover is. Either way, he has difficulty predicting exactly how the weather will turn next. The only thing that's clear is that rain is in this area's future.

You spend a bit of time asking around and are swiftly directed to the town's largest building - the temple to Erastil. According to those you ask, the town's pastor, Maelin Shreed, is also its mayor. (The temple is 11 on the map). From the outside, the two story structure is somewhat run down and worn, with moss growing along its roof. As you duck inside however, the interior is warm and well lit, and a comfortable escape from the drizzle outside. The colorful pelts along the floor and the wooden beams above give the temple the feel of a hunting lodge.

A few locals sitting around in rocking chairs look up at your entrance, then over at a gray haired garundi man sitting on a stool. He halts mid-sentence to look over at your group, then offers a tentative "Hello?"

Kargas just shakes his head. "Last time someone called my ma a 'wench' she had Uncle Kerchak eat his face. And most of the rest of him, actually."

"That was your mom? He looked quite young. Not even old enough to shave." Kellek says in a mock-serious tone.

Kellek waits on others to speak to the town witch-wiggler. He just doesn't have much patience for most members of the holier-than-thou crowd.

"Hello! We've just arrive in town by river. We've traveled from Magnimar to speak with Maelin Shreed, on behalf of the Lord Mayor Haldmeer Grobaras," Flo explains, hoping the length of their travel and the name of their sponsor will get them a meeting quickly. Or, at least, be taken seriously. Not really my kind of temple, but Old Deadeye's flock are a well respected group in areas like this!

The older man blinks in surprise, at a loss for words for a moment and then a look of relief crosses his face. "You are? You are! That's..." He smiles "That's wholly unexpected, is what it is. I'd sent my plea to my old friend Jyronn, thought maybe he could spare a cleric to ask Abadar what we should do." He looks at the group of you. "If you're here on behalf of the Lord Mayor, that must mean old Jy managed something else." He rubs at his eyes.

"Oh, where are my manners. I am Maelin." He bows, tucking in his worn shirt to look a bit more presentable. "I'm very glad you came all the way out to this remote corner of Varisia. Welcome to Turtleback Ferry. As you may have heard things have not been well around here recently. "

"You talking about the missing rangers and the storms, or did something else happen too?" Kargas asks, determined to get straight to the point in case this fellow also wants lurid battle stories.

Jyronn? Don't think we've met anyone by that name... "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Flo and these are my friends," she says, gesturing to the others. "I'll echo Kargas' question, if you called for a cleric of Abadar, it sounds like there might be another issue going on here than the one we've come to solve..."

Maelin nods to Kargas' question. "Then you've already heard part of it. I take it that means you're here to help us?" He looks worried for a moment "Wait, is the Lord Mayor making this aid contingent on anything? I've heard some terrible stories about him. Uh, wait, please don't tell him I said that." His eyes go wide. "Please?"

Once everything has been set straight and you've introduced yourselves, he says "In these last several weeks, we've had strangeness after strangeness, misfortune after misfortune. It all started when the Black Arrows suddenly stopped coming down to visit. The rangers had up until recently been coming to visit every week - sometimes even more often. We would bring them supplies, and they would spend some of their coin around town. Rugged men and women they were, but good people."

"Since they suddenly stopped coming by, we haven't seen or heard any sign of them. Not a week after that, than the rains began. Heavy, drenching rain day after day. And despite my communion with Erastil, I couldn't make sense of them. Lately they've become these violent storms. Its as though things are building up to something. It's been putting the town on edge."

"In addition, the wilds nearby have grown more and more dangerous. Wild animals - bears, firepelt cougars, boars - even trolls and strange mossy hounds, all of these have become increasingly common at the edges of the woodlands. Sometimes we've even seen what should be predators run into town, as though they were running from something. I've spoken to a wolf or two, and they tell of ogres out in the woods, on the hunt."

"Just a week ago, we sent a group of volunteers up to try to make contact with Fort Rannick. They were all expert hunters, with good instincts for danger and a fleet foot to flee from things beyond their capabilities. But they didn't return..."

Old Flo might have paled at the news, but at this point in her career she only finds herself frowning even more. "Not that I need to tell you this, Maelin, but that's a dire situation. We are here to help. I wish we could say there aren't any strings attached definitively. All I can say is that the Lord Mayor didn't mention any. We're more the hired help than part of his inner circle..."

"Do you have a map of the area that we could have? Finding Fort Rannick ourselves seems like a clear end goal that would be made easier with one. We aren't civil engineers or anything, but is there anything we can do for your people right now?" she asks, noting his plain desperation.

Turning to the others, she asks, "What do we know about Ogres?" Her eyes rest on Kellek.
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GM, would a Divination spell be appropriate to ask the question "Why has it been raining for so long?" Or a better version of that question?

"Ogres," the word is almost a snarl, and Kargas spits. "Met a few in my time, and the lot of them were vile bastards. Rather meet a troll. Have you had ogres around here before?"

Does Kargas know about ogre tribes in the regions, or if other tribes of non-ogres have taken some in? Can take 10 for a 20 on Lore (Giants)

Guiness asks, attempting to be delicate for their human sensibilities, ”Have there been any unsolved murders recently, perhaps with the bodies...mutilated afterwards?”

You can certainly try a Divination on that topic Flo.

Maelin looks relieved when you speak confidently and start asking questions. "I can certainly find a map for you. Just wait a moment." He heads deeper into the temple and returns shortly with a rough map that shows the major features nearby. (I've added an area map to handouts and labeled a couple of places) "It's a little lacking in detail, but it should serve you. The path to Fort Rannick from town should be simple, a well trod path north out of town follows the river up to an old bridge across the Skull. From there, the path follows the river before winding its way up the mountain foothills to reach the Fort."

To Flo's second question, Maelin shakes his head "The people here are living in fear right now. I can only guess that the missing Black Arrows and the wildlife being spooked are related. If you can solve what happened to them, well, then we can tackle the rest."

Kargas thinks about ogres for a while and remembers stories he's heard of giants and ogres in the Wyvern Mountains and beyond on the Storval Plateau. In days past, ogres likely lived all throughout this land. Its only the efforts of Korvosa and Magnimar that drove them back. The most prominent ogre tribe nearby is the Kreeg Ogres. Though all ogres are horribly twisted creatures, the Kreegs are said to be particularly violent and lustful. While they once lived in the Kreegwood, the tribe supposedly now resides to the north around Hook Mountain.

Maelin answers Kargas' question with "Not while I've been mayor. I've heard that the Black Arrows skirmished with ogres from time to time, but they were a very rare sight down this far south."

To Guiness' question, he frowns in confusion "A strange question. No, no unsolved murders."

"Thank you," Flo says, taking the map and looking it over. "With the Wyvern Mountains to the North, I'd imagine the Storval Deep drains into Claybottom? We have our own boat with a shallow draft, but it isn't a flat-bottom. Do you advise traveling by foot or river?" she asks Maelin. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if we stayed docked here, but even upriver travel is usually easier than hoofing it the whole way. A number of things would stop the Dreamweaver though, rapids, namely.

"Not that you haven't had any hardships, you clearly have, but Guiness' question is based on some darker events we've seen in a few other towns of late," she explains, hoping this Mayor isn't eager to hear the dirty details.

"Is there somewhere we can stay for the night?" she asks Maelin, before directing the rest of her attention to her friends again. "I've a few spells to cast, is anyone opposed to tackling this tomorrow at first light?"
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GM, once she gets the chance, Flo'd like to spend 15minutes preparing Divination for her question above and Sending to relay a message to Captain Korim (I'll get it together in the discussion tab!).

Kargas frowns in thought as he stares off towards the north, where the mountains' outline can be faintly seen. "Ogres probably means, Kreegs. Never met that clan personally, but they're notorious for being the worst of an already nasty lot. Gossip says they used to have the run of the Kreegwood--where the name comes from, most like--but now they lair further north on Hook Mountain."

Kargas nods his assent to Flo's suggestion.

Turning to the others, she asks, "What do we know about Ogres?" Her eyes rest on Kellek.

"A bit." says Kellek calmly. Inside though, he's fuming. How is it that everyone else's problem is somehow always our problem--more specifically--MY problem.

Kargas has a +10 if he Takes 10 he ends up at 20. That's only 3 away from what Kellek could do taking 10 on the same check, so I'll roll this one.

knowledge (local, or maybe nature): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 33 EDIT Little did anyone know that Kellek did his doctoral thesis upon ogres and merrow.

Kellek recalls his doctoral thesis. Ogres are large, brutish humanoids related to giants. They are almost always both phenomenally ugly and dreadfully cruel, getting the highest pleasure from some of the vilest behaviors among intelligent creatures. Nothing is taboo in ogre society, from the most heinous mutilations and torture, to unspeakable perversions of body and soul.

Ogres are known to be slow and lumbering, but alarmingly strong. While generally considered not very intelligent, they can be cunning and crafty both when hunting and when their lives are on the line. You know they can see in the dark, use weapons and armor, and move surprisingly fast with their long, wobbly stride.
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Maelin nods to Flo "You'll likely struggle to bring even a flat-bottom up the Skull, and the bridge across it sits low enough that I think you'd have to moor yourselves and continue the rest on foot." At the mention of other dark events, the pastor asks "Not anywhere near here, I hope?"

And to the question of where to stay for the night, Maelin adds "Oh of course. I'm happy to put you up at the inn if you'd like. You're welcome to stay here at the temple as well. It may be warmer in here during a downpour..." He waves to the furs "But the comfort may not be to your liking."

----

Regardless of where you choose to rest:
Flo's sending to Korim earns a quick response 'Poor tidings. Will pass the news on. Good luck out there.'

After casting the divination into the cloudy night sky above the town (Out of curiosity, what was your offering to Desna?) Flo issues her question. Despite the lack of stars to watch above for signs of the goddess or her servants, Flo feels a faint sense of presence as something or someone turns their attention upon the cleric. There's no immediate response or sign beyond that.

Later in the night, Flo dreams of a lyre playing as words flow to her in a song.

Waking the next morning, Flo finds herself frowning. Again. I don't know if that dream made things better or worse! Sounds like there are even more players here. If the iron crones are the sisters, an iron will is ordering them around. Maybe this rain is swelling a mine or something? Are the marked the murder victims? And what blood well is there? This is all too much. What a way to start the day!

"Kellek, may I use some of your writing stuff to make a quick note?" she asks, writing her guidance down upon a strip of paper, if the Wizard approves.

At breakfast, she repeats the verse to her friends. "Any thoughts on what it all means? I've a few guesses, but I think we're going to have to get closer to Fort Rannick to really learn."
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She'll share her thoughts and the spoilered verse! Prepping spells now, don't think too much will change.

Thinking about the verses, Colvyn shares the only thing that made sense to him. "A scheme resolved to end the marked makes me think of the mark the bodies had on them. That star that they kept carving on them. But now, with the fact that it says to end might mean that the people aren't dead yet. Maybe something to look into."

"Kellek, may I use some of your writing stuff to make a quick note?" she asks, writing her guidance down upon a strip of paper, if the Wizard approves.

Kellek nearly chokes on his acrid-smelling black brew. "Do you have any idea how expensive paper is? Fine." He grumbles, and carefully cuts out a sheet.

At breakfast, she repeats the verse to her friends. "Any thoughts on what it all means? I've a few guesses, but I think we're going to have to get closer to Fort Rannick to really learn."

"'The rain to swell the source of stone' might be a stone quarry."

Using the appropriate knowledge skill he Takes 10 (total = 19-23) to recall if there is a stone quarry in the region (perhaps one prone to flooding).

"Riddles & mysteries, fah! Your magic dream doesn't even rhyme!" Kargas snorts as his finishes off his breakfast. "There's ogres about, let's find one or two and ask them about some 'iron crones'."

Guiness would be happy to stay the night in a sturdy building, as long as it is dry and warm. He will spend quite a while doing armor and weapon maintenance, drying everything out and oiling as necessary. Offering to share his Dwarven Stout, the dwarf is clearly happy to be on stable land, even if it not stone or rock at this point.

In the morning, Guiness is in a good mood with the prospect of adventuring on (somewhat) dry land, with clean armor and dry clothing.

Kellek isn't aware of any quarries in the region. The local towns and villages are simply too small and too far away from major population centers for a quarry to be profitable.

As you emerge from your rest the following morning, you find the overcast sky roiling with dark clouds. A cold, light drizzle fills the air, coating buildings and clothes in a wet sheen. The breakfast Maelin arranged for you sits warm and hearty, but its clear from the weather that the day will be far from comfortable.

What's the plan?

”Morning, all,” says Guiness, his mood darkening with the miserable weather in store for the day. ”Anything else we need to do in town before we head up to the fort to see what has happened to the Rangers and the last search party?”

Turning away from the foul weather, Guiness tucks into the warm breakfast with gusto, knowing he will likely need his strength in the days to come.

"The fort seems like the obvious place to start, yes." Kargas says without looking at the dwarf, his gaze focused out the window at the roiling clouds.

Flo shakes her head. "I've done what I needed to do. Maelin says there isn't anything to really do in town for the people, so I think the best thing we can do is, as Kargas said, start with the fort," she says, rolling her eyes at the Half-Orcs complaint about her vision.

"And how do the mighty Tunderbirds send you a message, hmm?" she asks, poking him playfully.
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I think our best bet is to just start hoofing it. Mechanically, I don't know how to protect against rain, or even if there is anything to prepare against.

Alright, feel free to make any final prep you'd like, I'll move us forward in the mean time.

Once you're all geared up and ready, you take the northern path out of town. The trail you take can't quite be called a road, given that it is little more than a muddy dirt path up along the side of the river, but its well enough trod that there's no worry about losing it. The morning's drizzle continues as the terrain very gradually gets steeper and the Skull river becomes narrower and rockier.

After about an hour and half of trekking along the increasingly muddy path, you reach an old wooden bridge that stretches over the now surging waters of the Skull. Though the structure must be over forty years old, there's signs of diligent repair and upkeep, as well as initials carved into it all along the inside. You cross over to the western bank and continue along the trail up toward the Fort, a wild and untamed forest to the west.

Not more than ten minutes after you've crossed, Flo hears the piercing yowl of some kind of beast emanating from the woods, likely close by. Colvyn and Kellek both recognize the yowling as coming from a large cat of some kind, obviously in serious pain and distress.

"As much as I don't like to leave a creature in pain, don't large cats eat meat? It seems almost silly saving it only to become its next meal," Flo says to the others. It must be suffering though...

"Maybe, if it isn't too far out of the way, we could kill it out of mercy?"

”We should check it out at least, Lady of the River,” replies Guiness, turning to the source of the sound and peering into the woods.

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29

"It might be good eating, too." Kargas fans out a bit, scanning the underbrush for the source of the wailing.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Following the sound of the yowls, you push on into the woods, hacking through thorny brush as you go. It takes a few minutes of travel before you emerge into a misty clearing criss-crossed with old tree roots across its rough rocky soil. To the south end of the clearing, you spot the source of the yowls. A black and red pelted feline creature thrashes and twists piteously, its leg caught in a particularly wicked looking bear trap. It appears the trap is anchored by a chain to stake driven most of the way through a nearby tree.

At the sight of your group, the feline slows in its attempts to free itself, splitting its attention between watching you with wary interest and trying to work the jaws of the trap open with its teeth.

Handle Animal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

"Be careful, where there is one trap there may be more," Guiness cautions, unsure what to do about the feline but wary of stepping into any traps himself.

Perception versus any nearby traps: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29

Handle Animal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Looking at the trapped animal, Colvyn approach slowly. "Hey there little fellow. Let me see if I can get you free." Colvyn moves toward the trap, his arm lowered on is side with his hands open, trying to look as peaceful as he can. Once next to the traps, he starts looking at it and do his best to free the firepelt mountain lion.

Disable Device: 1d20 + 21 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 21 + 3 = 37

"Hold a moment, Colvyn." Kargas moves wide around the cougar, drawing the adamantine longsword. Sticking the blade's tip through the chain connecting the bear trap to the stake driven through the tree truck, the half-orc twists the hilt until the chain-link snaps.

"Would this help?" Kargas reverses the sword and holds it out hilt-first towards Colvyn just as the ranger pops the trap open (presumably). "Oh. Nevermind then."