The Shackles of Freeport on the Razor Coast - DM VoV's Piratey Jaunt (Inactive)

Game Master Mark Sweetman

"Same here. Couldn't pronounce the elf's name if I could even remember it and there was a Bloody somewhere in there, but that's all I got."

Rackham stares down the others near the ladder.

Outta the way, now! the usually-friendly sailor throws a serious death stare at any who would cut in front of him.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15+2 more if they happen to be slavers

Quillin and Tipene:

Shrugging the man replies "Right... ye won't mind if the point eared gets the noose for the killin then. If he don't know ye, means he just up and stabbed a man in the back for fun." holding to see whether the potential punishment dropped changed or re-inforced their thoughts.

Also there was a second question asked that neither of you responded to - was that omission on purpose (as in refusing to offer an answer) or an oversight?

Mad Dashers:

Any attempt of Rackham to glare the others out of the way is forestalled when Bloody Bek hip and shoulders him and any other competition physically out of the way to monopolize the path down the ladder.

There still a couple keeping pace with Iscarel at the head of the race, but they choose to duck underneath the boat rather than clamber over. The elf doesn't see any reason why they chose such a path, as his movement is unhindered.

On pause pending resolution of Rackham's spoiler.

Good try though Rackham!

Luck is with Rackham... as his ungainly lunge serves it's first purpose... that is to forestall the ill intent of the grudge-bearer... however his lead foot skitters on the scree of the cliff face and leaves him scrabbling for balance... instinct drives him either t'ward or away...
Reflex save please - to either dive to safety at the top of the cliff... or to turn your ungainly lunge and scrabble into a rapid descent off the cliff. Failed save on either will have you falling off the cliff, while a successful one will either lead to a 'whew I'm safe' or 'totally meant to do that' moment.
You'll still get an action this 'round' but where you are is pending whether you go over the edge or not first.

Bek makes the base of the ladder and doesn't see what's transpired atop it - instead facing the riddle of the upturned boat.

Iscarel's facing a stretch of open water, but the puckish side of him realizes he'll probably have a couple of unsuspecting heads popping up ahead of him soonish...
Race on Swim to continue on the path
Puckish intent Take advantage of fellow racer's distraction coming up for air to put them off... then a Swim check

Swim: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Iscarel's displeasure is clearly apparent as he plunges through the salty water, waiting for the track to reach above ground.

Iscarel's antagonised enough people for now and his swim checks aren't his strong suit. I'll chance it with the decent roll here and try to gain a lead with my stronger skills.

Feeling confident in his element, Bek dives under the boat, kicks, and tries to propel himself through to the other side.
Swim: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

Quillin and Tipene:

Shrugging the man replies "Right... ye won't mind if the point eared gets the noose for the killin then. If he don't know ye, means he just up and stabbed a man in the back for fun." holding to see whether the potential punishment dropped changed or re-inforced their thoughts.

Quillin squints hard at the dim human. "So do you use your ears for something other than storing candle wax? I gave my statement. Do I know why they stopped all a-sudden? No, maybe the effect was short-lived or maybe a little spilled blood sobered them up? Now I get to judge the elf, too? I'd give him a gold medal! He probably just saved my life is all. I told you those thugs just started beating on us and near killed me. If someone was going to die, I rather it not be me. That's the truth, plain and simple."

Going for glory!

James lets the momentum of his lunge carry him forward off the cliff, somersaulting mid-air before landing, but his cracked ribs throw off his balance.

Reflex, charmed life: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 7 + 2 = 13

Yeesh

Acrobatics to reduce falling damage: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

If I survive this I'm donating some money to Desna ;-)

Quillin's belligerent tone draws nothing but a sigh from the elder man "Fine... you know the ginger bearded idjet had the same view as you did." adopting a falsetto "Oh I'm so innocent it was those other bastards that did all the fighting... won't some fecker think o' the children." ending with a cough and spit. "I believe him about as much as I do ye..."

Flexing out his back with a few cracks he shrugs "Suit yersel... since what your sayin don't make sense you're stuck here till the boys in black round up the other two of your mob." moving back out the door and seeing it closed behind him.

Iscarel makes steady but not exceptional progress, unable to get clear of the two men still at the fore with him as they're stronger swimmers. The shore looms up before them and the flagged trail leads through a short structured gauntlet of spinning wooden arms affixed with weighted sacks.

Charge and Barge Use brute force to Bull Rush through.
Weft and Wend Perception / Int check - to predict which way the bags will spin as you move through.
Third Option Acrobatics - try and either crab walk below or dodge the bags as they spin.

Bloody Bek moves forward also, facing another stretch of open water to pass through. The field is getting well spread out now, one of his fellow chasers falling from the surface of the upturned boat clutching at a bloodied foot; but there is still a nearby competitor about to surface beside him in the water. Do you want to try and slow up your nearest competitor? - or just swim on?

Behind both of them Rackham is left with the stragglers of those still racing as he plummets from the cliffface. Luckily he is able to twist in the fall... but not enough to land safely - instead glancing off a smooth rockface.
1d6 ⇒ 5 falling damage
Catching his breath at the foot of the cliff, Rackham's left facing the upturned boat conundrum... though he can see one man reel off the surface of it clutching at a bloodied foot.

Rackham shakes off the impact and picks himself up, running for the boat and diving under it.

Swim, under the surface--quicker route, if it matters I can hold my breath twice as long as normal: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Flexing out his back with a few cracks he shrugs "Suit yersel... since what your sayin don't make sense you're stuck here till the boys in black round up the other two of your mob." moving back out the door and seeing it closed behind him.

"We've got proof though. You analyze the tin yet? Whatever it was is likely all over their noses, moron! Did I hurt anyone? No. What are you charging me with? Improper seizure! Let me out!"

In the silence that follows the interrogator's exit, Tipene looks down at the gnome and nods his head wordlessly at the door, then sits quietly and waits.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12 Don't want to jinx it, but that's my first roll under a 10 in a while. A sign the winds are changing?

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

Iscarel, heedless of whatever trouble might await, doesn't slow as he approaches the spinning sandbags, hoping to weave through them and gain the edge on his opponents.

As Quillin gets agitated a black armored orc looms around the corner and stares him down. The older gent gestures with his chin "Ye want to stay ornery I can get him to ask the questions... he's a mite less gentle though." letting a beat pass before following with "Tin had some decent snuff in it... rot your nose and get ye heaty aye... but that's about it. Snuff like that don't make ye crazy."

The man pauses to see if Quillin's still going to keep insulting him or whether he's going to calm down... the orc nearby seems to almost be willing Quillin to keep up his verbal assault.

Occurs to me that the path to open air is free at present, which would allow for Smudge to get free if you wished it.

Figuring he has caused enough sour feelings already and feeling magnanimous now that he is at home in his element, Bek puts on a burst of speed to distance himself from his rival.
Swim: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

Tipene gives an involuntary grin at the interrogator's imitation of the red-haired man before returning to a neutral expression and putting up a hand to calm Quillin. "He claimed innocence, did he? And said nothing of where we had seen each other before?" If the truth would hurt us, he would have used it...I think it is time to take a chance. "Here is the truth of the matter. None of us have met before the past day, that is true. I still do not know any of their names, that is also true. We did not attack the redhair man and his, this is another true thing. But they are not the whole truth. We are all of us looking for berths with the same captain. I was thinking the redhair man and his, they would do anything it took to get berths. The gnome and I followed them, saw them take their drug--I thought they planned to do something during the race. Yes? So we set up to stop them--but only if they gave chase. They did, the others who were after a berth got involved, and--" The Tulita shrugs. "That was that. Now, I said little because someone else is dead, and I hoped to avoid the blame. But we all want the same thing. Why does the redhair man not say that? It is an easy thing to believe in this place. Yes?"

Incarcerated Duo:

The man listens gamely to Tipene's explanation and gives a nod and wry smile "He claimed as much... but the lads with him were a bit more free and open with their words." scratching his chin before he measures gaze "Open affray with an unforeseen consequence, cop to that and ye can walk out o' here now. Lads that ran'll likely get a few licks for their trouble, and the elf that lanced him will taste the lash... but given the day I don't think we'd need to take it any further... that's if you both cop to that now?"

He's essentially offering you a chance to get off scot free... but only if you openly admit it was a throwdown between two parties.

Mad Dash:

Bek powers on with forceful strokes and makes up a bit of time on the leading trio - one of whom joins Iscarel in making it through the gauntlet, while the second is stymied by a smack to the face from a sand filled sack and given pause.
You're on the spinning wooden obstacle with bags - Iscarel and one other racer ahead of you, and on equal footing with a third.

Rackham dives under the boat and surfaces on the other side, facing a stretch of open water ahead.
Swim check to move forward please.

Swim: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

James, sorely wounded, strives to gain some ground on the others.

Bek takes a quick look over the gauntlet of spinning arms and sacks and figures he has little hope of dodging his way through. He considers striking up a song, but settles for a fierce roar and pushes through only to be smacked in the head!
Bull Rush: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
No way that succeeds! I'm guessing that raging song would slow me down too since it is a standard to start.

Bek - you can start up the raging song if you like, I'm considering the race a little bit in wibbly wobbly timey wimey space... so if you'd like to have the song running, feel free to assume same.

Well, it won't make a difference on that one, so let's let it stand and he'll pick it up next round assuming I decide to power through versus thinking it through :)

Escape Artist: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Iscarel, seized by his pursuers after clearing the gauntlet, curses under his breath. Overpowered, but not outwitted, he turns to his captor and grins viciously. "Interrupting the holy rites is blasphemy, you syphilitic bilgerat, I'd think twice... The gods will visit you with the pox if the priests don't string you up first."

Bluff: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

Mad Dash:

Bek's progress is foiled by the spinning arms and bags - misjudging the turn of the arms and being beaten back with a breath expelling thud to the chest. He's joined by the slowly progressing Rackham who makes it onto dry land to face the same obstacle.
You can 'work' together for an auto aid another on the obstacle if you like.

Rackham slicks his hair back away from his face with one hand as he catches up to Bek. He takes a deep breath, then steps into the gauntlet.

What do you say we take this together? Four eyes are better than two, right?

I'm good with coop. I won't add the plus two below, but if Bek wants to work together please add it.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

Quillin pokes a thumb at his companion. "What he said, gang fight got out of control. Can we leave now?" he asks with fake smile.

Frowning at Quillin, the man smirks before lowering himself to the gnome's level. "Sure... you can leave... after you apologize for calling me a moron... and make my friend here think you're sincere about it." pausing for a few seconds before he straightens and adds "It's either that or ye let me give you a clip behind your ear wi' me one good hand for your impertinence. Your choice."

Iscarel casts his eyes back to the crowd, hoping for somebody to intervene, shooting a pleading glance to Rackham and Bek behind. Gritting his teeth, his sham of piety becomes sincere for a few moments, as he clings to the edge of conciousness and silently prays to Cayden for intercession.

Looks like the end of the line. Delaying for now in case Rackham and Bek can catch up.

"The others get the same offer. Yes?"

Quillin and Tipene:

"Others?" raising an eyebrow for clarity before explaining on both options "Ginger and his two boys we'll keep the night... cool 'em down some and make sure this don't go any further... you're shipping out tomorrow aye?"

"As for the elf and the man that ran... already told ye what they're in for."

"Sure, let's work together. You dart. I smash." Bek begins an eerie sea song that sends a surge of energy into his muscles. With the extra push, he forces his way through the obstacle.
Bull Rush: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Assuming Isacarel and Rackam are in range, they could accept the song for a +2 Str/Con, +1 Will, and -1 AC

Tipene nods. "That is what the captain told us."

Mad Dash:

Bull headed and fuelled by insidious rage Bek and Rackham force their way through the spinning arms... well Bek forces his way through and Rackham merely follows in his bullocking and blustering wake, slipping between the wildly spinning arms as he goes. You emerge out the other side and into a scene unfolding...

Grapple: 1d20 + 6 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 6 + 5 = 24 to Pin

A black armored orcish constable has a bloody nosed Iscarel firmly in his grip, twisting the elf's arm behind his back and roughly jamming it upwards while putting another meaty hand upon his neck. The intent looks to be to frogmarch him back off to custody. A second orc narrows piggish eyes at the pair of racers, slightly raising his head and gesturing as though they really should be moving on...

Behind them the race opens up a bit to a sprint up a rising incline and switchback in the streets.
If you move on, you can either jog (no check) or sprint (Con check).
If you stay... tread carefully *meaningful DM stare*

Looks like the elf's luck has run out. Not much I can do for him now--maybe spring him before they string him up...

James spares Iscarel a glance, shrugging with a brief look of empathy in his eyes.

He nods to Bek, and starts jogging up the incline.

Good job back there--Bek, right? Wonder if we're going to have enough hands to crew the ship, with so many of us in custody. Shame they got the elf--I was just beginning to take a liking to him. He breathes heavily, barely standing from his wounds.

Quillin and Tipene:

"Ginger and his two boys we'll keep the night... cool 'em down some and make sure this don't go any further... you're shipping out tomorrow aye?"

The gnome who's been glowering perks up with the news that they'll get a head start. He doffs his hat and bows. "Well then, I do apologize. You've obviously got the sense to keep an eye on those miscreants overnight. I thank you and guarantee that you won't be seeing me again!"

The older man gives a measured nod "Good enough... and aye, here's to not seeing you again." moving out of the gnome and tulita's way. The black armored constable similarly steps to the side.

Plans from here?

"So where are the others??" Quillin mutters under his breath to his companion with a quick glance back to see if they're being followed. He gives Smudge a boost into the air to see if he can find them.

Quillin recalls the mention by the others of the competition they were missing, and wagers it a fair chance the Mad Dash was their destination. A peek behind shows no attempt at pursuit or following, though the gnome realizes that he'd likely need to take a side route and double-back to be really sure.

Smudge is easily able to pick out the hubbub of the crowd along the length of the Mad Dash - as well as the larger grouping of the same.

Well looks like that's all she wrote.

"The finish line, if they are able."

With his blood up, Bek powers through the final turnstiles to see the trapped elf. Rackham's words reach him through the red haze and he grunts back "Well, let's finish strong and maybe we can find a way to get him and the others back." Feeling a surge of energy, he pushes on, faster than ever.
Con Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Edit - of course he snipes me by less than a minute. Post incoming below.

Duo:

Freshly freed the pair of Tipene and Quillin begin to make their way towards the end of the Mad Dash. As they trudge a sprinkling of offers of booze and food come from the vendors that thought better of abandoning their goods to go race watching - mostly varieties of ale and a variety of salty snacks that go along with aforementioned ale.

Quillin eyes the snacks a moment, but curiosity wins out as he rushes forward, short legs pumping away, to see what has become of his missing potential mates.

Quillin and Tipene:

Making your way through the streets you come on to what's marked up as a finishing line for the Dash. Fortuitously it looks as though you might be in good time as it doesn't seem as though anyone's crossed over the finish line just yet. It doesn't take long to find a point to settle into and wait... a distant hubbub suggests that the racers might not be too far away.

Mad Dash:

Bek ignores the companionship offered by Rackham and forges onwards and upwards the slope - lungs beginning to burn with lactic fire by the end of it, but managing to catch up on the one other racer in front of him. Rackham on the other hand finds his slower pace kept manageable from his side - but it does let a doughty half-elf catch pace on him.
To make it clear Bek +1 in the lead; then Rackham a bit further back +1.

The end of ascent breaks into the final set of obstacles for the Dash - the finish line within eyeshot ahead of you. First and foremost is a pair of heavy hessian sailcloths hanging down on the track from crossspars, followed by a stretch of street strewn with caltrops... and finally a narrowing of the race track to a single man width... just within the field of view from this distance you can see a couple of men with padded shields lying in wait...

Over to you guys - it's a three part gambit which we'll resolve as a one-er. First barrier is the sailcloth, second is the caltrops, third is the gauntlet. Choose the manner and how of your approach to each section (c/w an appropriate roll) and I'll take it from there

Quillin finds a perch and squints into the distance then shakes his head and sends his parrot up to make sure his new acquaintances are in the race.

Thread poke for Rackham and Bek - if no post by tonight my time then I'll DMPC the last wee bit.
If I could also get a confirm from Iscarel on what's in the spoiler.

I apologize--I thought I posted this!

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1

James runs up to the sailcloth, leaps, and grabs hold, trying to swing over the caltrops.

Profession Sailor?: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

As he approaches the gauntlet he tries to dart from side to side, avoiding any attacks from the shields.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17