|Nephre, Sekhmet's Wrath|
Nephre sighed audibly, then telepathically responded, Fine, fine, let them have the fun for now. I'm sure there'll be something to fight in the tomb.
"Well, Ozzie, what're your plans? The countess has gotten bored and left us, not a rare occurrence mind you. I can join you and present as a specialist, though I'm a terrible liar."
|Nephre, Sekhmet's Wrath|
They just left town, like I already said. Nephre's telepathic tone does nothing to hide her irritation.
'Flying suits me, and I do not get tired,' Lehkazeran thinks back to Koro. 'One of undeath's many advantages,' he adds, with mix of pride and a strange tone, as if he's gaging anyone's interest in the idea of undeath...
When the rest are ready to depart, he does so willingly and finds himself happy to be on the move.
It was just a mild fancy to take any useful intelligence they had and cripple them, but I'm not sure we have the coordination to manage escape contingencies. Don't worry about it. Let's just rest up and leave in the morning. We can just as easily catch them with their pants down without trying to thread that needle.
Dymer considers just how much information to give to his team, but understands the leader's need to know all of the information before making decisions. ::My standard walking speed is probably no different than most humans, but I have a couple of abilities that I can use freely to allow me to cover the same distance in nearly half of the time, or a quarter of the time assuming there are shadows or dim light for me to travel through, and I can recover my strength from even difficult marches on my own in just a few minutes to continue on. My only real requirement, generally, is the need to sleep. Do we have an accurate account as to how far our goal is?::
Standard move speed is 40ft. Expeditious Retreat as an at-will brings that up to 70ft. My artifact boots allow a charge through dim light or darker, up to my land movement speed every turn - 140ft. Cure light wounds as an at-will allows me to heal the fatigue and non-lethal damage from Hustling and Forced Marches. Ring of Sustenance means I only need to sleep for two hours per night, so going all out can get me anywhere between 152-308 miles per day.
70 ft = 7 miles/hour, or 56 miles in 8 hours.
140 ft = 14 miles/hour, or 112 miles in 8 hours.
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Lehkazeran looked around the inn as the others slowly gathered their things. Shouldering his pack, he walked besides to the door, tossing a few coins back towards the barkeep to cover his tab and the drinks he'd been feeding the other patrons. Better to ask forgiveness than permission,' he thought to himself.
"Buying some time, I'll be back in a few, or I'll catch up," he muttered under his breath as he walked past Koro in the doorway.
Outside he took flight, gaining altitude safely until he could float and glide in the direction of Nephre's caravan. When he arrived a short while later he took stock of them, and floated a big lower to make himself appear larger, angling himself against the backdrop of the moon, from their perspective. He roared!
With powerful, performative strokes he flapped his wings loudly and wide, snapping them to gain the attention he needed, and then he exhaled a burst of bright red and orange flames in a large cone, wary of his positioning and keeping at an angle so as to maximize his visibility. Roaring again, he dove at them.
Pulling up at the last minute, Lehkazeran made sure to roar his most fearsome roar, intent on terrifying the entire caravan as he skimmed them, before flying back in the direction of Koro.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 41 ⇒ (8) + 41 = 49
Signature Skill, intimidate 10 ranks. [DC 20 will]
|Nephre, Sekhmet's Wrath|
Nephre rolled her eyes at the "little dragon's" antics. Like that would slow them down.
Look. Let's just go. We can pass them up. They want to stop us, we can bust their faces.
Lehkazeran flapped up to Nephre quickly, keeping an eye on the caravan's reaction. "Half the fun is doing the thing," he said. "I find their fear satisfying. It is good to let lesser beings know of us, so they can properly give deference."
The door opens, a man walks in, and conversations pause as he walks by. He looks mostly human, with cinnamon-brown skin and curly black hair, but shows clear signs of being fey-touched...including eyes which seem to melt from green to gold to pink like the shifting of the Northern Lights. His face is painted artistically and he's dressed in an outfit that would look ridiculous on most people (glimmering scarf around his neck, feathers in his hair, tiger-fur cuffed boots, bright aqua cape) but somehow on him look smashing. It isn't his outfit that is stopping conversation though, as much as sheer magnetism.
Those who even slightly follow music in Hyraeata recognize him instantly: the devil-may-care star, Iko Ilue, whose sold-out concerts are the talk of the city.
He pulls up a chair and smiles a smile that makes you feel that you-in-particular are truly special to him, have his complete trust, and his undivided attention (despite your usually better judgement).
"Hey Loves," he drawls and waves, ”Iko Ilue. Sorry I couldn’t make the party at the Crossing House. I had a sold-out gig on Triaxus that night...but I swung by today and Zorbenson told me he had concerns that you Can’t Count on a Countess. As it were.” he gives a broad, relaxed smile. ”And so one planeshift later and voila, here I am. I hear I’ll be front-man for the crew that’s off to persuade Mutalib’s heirs to hire us to raid their own tomb. Is that right? That doesn’t sound so tough; after all, we ARE ‘Xanoff's X-Cavators’, the most esteemed tomb explorers in Cormyr, aren’t we?
“So, what’ve I missed?”
As he speaks, you notice that the butterfly in his hair is real, not an ornament.
Bluff: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (3) + 39 = 42
Bluff: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (11) + 39 = 50
Dr. Craven sits in a seat at a table with his sizable box on the floor at his side. He lowers the tankard he was about to drink from, revealing his multi scarred face, and pushes up his glasses. "...Huh..." he expresses with a bemused expression. "Well, now i can't say he doesn't have a sense of humor." He then shrugs, "Either way, I'm Dr. Craven."
|Voice of Awesomeness|
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
The vast majority of those who make up the caravan are so overcome with feat that they drop whatever weapons they are holding and bolt from the wagons and carts they are accompanying.
A few manage to keep it together, but are frozen in place, unable to truly act. Regardless, it's obvious to both Lehkazeran & Nephre that the caravan is neutralized.
"I'm Rattlebones. People call me Rattlebones because it's my name." You see a male human with slicked sandy blond hair and a clean-shaven face. His eyes are a deep blue, with small flecks of silver near the iris. His skin is fair and pale, with high cheek bones and a strong jaw, but criss-crossed with numerous scars. He is dressed in simple jerkin, trousers, and boots. He wears a dagger at his hip.
"So we came to Cormyr, scared some gnomes, convinced one gnome to help us, learned that there's a caravan of treasure-seekers heading to the same crypt, half went off to scare the pants off them, and the other half are sitting here waiting for the clear signal. In a nutshell." He stops for a moment to look over Iko Ilue's colorful garb. "What kinda... what kinda music you play over there in the big city?"
Dymer's ears perk up when Iko enters the tavern, but he doesn't turn away from his drink until Rattlebones and the doctor introduce themselves. Then, with a quick spin on his barstool, Dymer casts Darkness on his party's table - thrusting the light level in the area nearly into darkness - then uses his affinity for shadows to move himself into the chair next to Iko, and finally dispels the Darkness with a small thought.
Bluff to hide spellcasting from observers: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 33
The midnight-skinned goblin with the burning red eyes seems to melt out of the shadows, the large number of visible crystal vials and steel flasks shifting in their pockets, sometimes clinking together softly as Dymer moves, and he grins widely and sticks his hand out towards the flashy newcomer, intentionally interrupting Iko from answering Rattlebones' question, "The name's Dymer, but you can call me Dymer. I don't mean to sound combative, but how do we know you're telling the truth about why you're here?"
Assuming Iko takes the proffered handshake, Dymer asks the second question while gripping Iko's hand, hard.
Iko Ilue nods at the Doc's intro. "Right then. Good to meet ya, Doc!" he smiles while giving a thumbs up.
To Rattlebones, he begins, "Pleasure's mine, Rattlebones. As for my art--
He pauses to watch Dymer. While he easily sees through the attempt to hide the spell, Iko decides there's no need to counter it. He accepts the offered hand and his face betrays no sign of annoyance at the goblin's antics. "Ahhh, sad how little trust we have these days, eh? There are times when one needs to be careful though, so perhaps this invitation will convince you?" With a dancer's effortless ease, his hand slips out of the goblin's grip while he speaks, and holds up the invitation.
'Or perhaps you trust me because Zorbenson added me to your telepathic link?' he continues mentally. 'By the way, if you ask nicely I'll teach you some tricks to conceal your spellcasting less sloppily.'
Turning smoothly back to Rattlebones, "As for my art, I strive to Reveal the Song of the World, and in so doing Change the World Forever--breaking into song, he continues--I sing songs to take people's minds off the worries of the world, or let them dance with ecstacy, or rise to great heights, or see things they never believed possible, or feel a spring in their step they thought they'd lost to childhood...or quiver with fear, or dream the dreams they never dared before."
Spellcraft 45+ reveals that he's using magic; 50+ reveals the particular spells...otherwise it seems there's obviously no spellcasting going on; Iko Ilue's just singing (really really well).
As he sings 'take people's minds off the worries of the world': Any goblins (incl Dymer) DC 25 Will (at -3) or Fascinated
As he sings 'rise to great heights': Rattlebones gains 4 HD (d10+CON THP for each) +4 competence to hit, +3 comp to Fort
As he sings 'see things they never believed possible': All allies (including Dymer, if he chooses) can see everything each other can see. Thanks to Iko Ilue, that includes: sensing all magic, all living beings, and all undead, fey, outsiders, astral, ethereal, or incorporeal creatures within 220’
As he sings 'feel a spring in their step they thought they'd lost to childhood': all allies get +15' to Move
As he sings 'quiver with fear': Dymer DC 24 Will (at -3) or Shaken
As he sings 'dream the dreams they never dared before': Dymer DC 24 Will (at -3) or Sleep.
Sense Motive vs Bluff: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (7) + 39 = 46
Sense Motive vs Bluff: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (19) + 39 = 58
Escape Artist: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (12) + 39 = 51
Escape Artist: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (6) + 39 = 45 Perform(Sing): 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (3) + 39 = 42
Perform(Sing): 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (11) + 39 = 50
Dr. Craven's face turns from bemused to unimpressed. As he shifts his glasses he thinks flatly, "While your singing is quite talented, there is a time and place for that. Do you have any useful qualities? We are on a mission. And, while I enjoy my time away from my cell, I do desire to prove that it can be done more often. Oh on that note, you are with the wrong crew to be wanting trust."
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Dymer lets Iko's hand go with an easy grin indicating that the show was all in good fun, but Dymer doesn't get a chance to respond to any of Iko's statements before he starts singing, and Dymer is entranced from the get-go.
Will vs DC25 or Fascinated: 1d20 + 11 - 3 ⇒ (12) + 11 - 3 = 20
Will vs DC24 or Shaken: 1d20 + 11 - 3 ⇒ (3) + 11 - 3 = 11
Will vs DC24 or Asleep: 1d20 + 11 - 3 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 11 - 3 - 2 = 20
Dymer feels each of the bard's effects wash over him, but he can't seem to muster the energy to respond in any meaningful way. At least until the last couple of verses, when Iko gets his first real reaction, a mere raising of Dymer's eyebrows and the slightest shudder creeping up Dymer's spine. And then the song ends, and Dymer - his eyes already drooping as sleep comes - forces himself to look at the doctor to say, "I like him. He's fun." followed swiftly in the silence after Iko's performance, the rest of the tavern hears Dymer's head hit the table with a loud thunk immediately succeeded by soft snoring.
As Dymer falls asleep, Iko Ilue calls out, "Barkeep, a spiced espresso for my friend here!" The singer then wakes Dymer gently. "Nothing personal, friend. Here, this should help you wake back up."
When Craven expresses his skepticism, Iko Ilue feigns horror.
'Useful, as in punching or blowing things up? Both are admirable pursuits in the right circumstances (and I can hold my own in melee to some degree) but My Dear Doctor, hopefully you aren't caught in such a limited frame of reference.
'Why, I've been known to persuade people that my greatest wish is their greatest wish. If that's not useful enough, my music can help my allies achieve new heights...and I picked up some Fae trickery in my time in the First World that can make our foes achieve new lows...as it were.
'Do feel free to let me know if you find me to be of insufficient use to you though.' He deadpans, telepathically.
At Rattlebones’s comment, Iko Ilue bows theatrically, says, "Indeed, my rates tend to be quite a bit higher." and then gives his lips a slow, sensual lick, winks, and then barks with laughter.
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"Nobody inspires fear like a dragon, Nephre," Lehkazeran grunts with a prideful grin as the caravan scatters into the night.
"Don't worry though, I'll defer to your better judgment when we raid the tomb...or in matters of ink. Think you're skilled enough to tattoo over undead dragon scales? Amending perfection requires a very talented artist..."
"I see..." Dr. Craven sends, traling off as he gives a very slow nod. After a moment his thought continues, "Well, in case your persuasion is of a magical nature...though...Let me restart and put it bluntly. I encourage you to leave me out of your mental antics. When people start trying to futz with my mind...it stops being my mind." He adjusts his glasses somewhat uncomfortably, "I'd prefer to stay me. And I assure you, you'd prefer that as well. That goes for all of you.
"Well, he finally says aloud, "we're ready to go. You're caught up. Let's go find that noble or whatever and get hired to rob his or her ancestor's tomb."
|Nephre, Sekhmet's Wrath|
"It would've been more fun to start a fight," Nephre pouts. "Oh, well, maybe some 'heroes' will come dragon-hunting, and we can have some fun then."
She considers the 'dragon' sourly. "My tatoos are for more than just decoration. I'm not the type to hand out my secrets."
Nephre turns and starts flying further down the road. Those other adventurers won't be a problem any more. Let's get moving. It's too early to rest, she telepathically 'says' to her half of the group.
'What an interesting question, my Good Doctor. Where do you draw the line? I assure you that my extraordinarily honeyed tongue is no more magical than my elbows...but perhaps these fine bracers make my performances a touch more special. On the other hand, my ability to inspire greatness and courage calls on the Song That Remakes The World, so it is supernatural in origin. Do you think your mind could survive that without changing? If you become you-but-more-hopeful, is the original you gone? I love the question.
Iko Ilue laughs, warmly.
But of course I understand the heart of your question. I'd no sooner manipulate a comrade on a job than I would punch one, or steal from them. After all...
He twirls and his cape flares, briefly revealing folded indigo butterfly wings on his back.
Dramatically, he says aloud, "...Iko Ilue is a true professional."
The air in the tavern becomes stale for a split second, long enough for only the most perceptive to catch. Then, standing without making a sound, is what appears to be a construct. Those of you present when Salvis explained the mission recognize the being as Scrivener.
Mentally, though this does not bypass any protections you have and is only received if you are willing you hear, ::Our employer has pulled me from the reinforcements. He says there was attrition of some description. What is the status?::
The being(?) stands perfectly still as this all occurs.
Craven raises an eyebrow and his mouth cracks a grin once more, "You misunderstand me bard. I was not being philosophical. Nor was I posturing with threats. Put just as simply, if you fidget with my mind I will no longer be me, but someone else, and that person is very dangerous. Test it if you like, but such an action will likely ruin our mission and get you killed. I do not mind this other person because they kill fools. Namely the fools who do not heed my warning. It is entertaining in a way."
Craven then turns to Scrivener with no indication of surprise at their entrance, "Our status is nothing. Nothing has happened. Hypothetically we will be introducing ourselves to a noble, but our...talker just arrived." He is clearly impatient at having to explain it yet again.
::Ah. Very well. Pardon my having not been fully appraised, I didn't scry as I figured it would not give the full picture.::
|Voice of Awesomeness|
It takes you a few hours of easy travel meaning you could make it in less if you decided to push yourselves to reach the manor house of the Mutalib family.
It's a large three story building situated on a high cliff that overlooks a vast hilly valley. In the distance you can barely make out what is likely the entrance to the vault you have come to plunder.
Gathered out front is what is obviously an expedition team along with what you can surmise are the descendants of Hakan Mutalib. They appear to be negotiating.
Ozzie jogs down the stairs in quite the pleasant mood. He had a lot of reading material. Some of it seemed like it might be useful, some not so much. He was
His human suit reflected his mood. Gone were the raggedy cloak, and pulled down hat, and instead was a return to an emerald vest over a blood red shirt and dark pants. The closely shaven aristocrat was back and almost dancing with his imagination. Even if the geological information proved a bust, he planned to order from the security innovators for his own personal use.
Approaching the Dymer's table, he paused, noticing the tense postures. Even with the vaguely bizarre doctor seemed on edge. All eyes seemed to be on the outrageously dress olive-skinned man. Ozzie flipped a chair and slid beside him.
Appreciating the man's color choice, the goblin couldn't decide if he actually managed to pull it off. "So, are you the kind overlord's latest watchdog, or were you too busy bargain hunting at the flea to reach your sentencing?"
Iko Ilue looks over their new mechanical ally, and begins to sing approvingly,
To Ozzy: The rock star grins "It isn't easy to look this fabulous, but you'd be surprised what an earnest search through the flea markets can do, if you're willing to put in the work.
"If you're looking for a makeover...well, I'm a bit busy at the moment but give me a call after we get back from this heist."
With a grin, he adds, "And yes, I was off expanding the minds of thousands at a sold-out gig on Triaxus during Zorbenson's little fête, but I stopped by when I got back and he persuaded me that you ducklings were lost without me, so...voila!"
When Iko Ilue and team get near enough to take in the scene, he takes a few seconds to shake his wrists, to do a stretching-strutting-dance, and then to scratch his head theatrically.
::Gentlemen, allow me...::
"Now what do I know about those fellows?", he wonders aloud. "Ahh, of course..."
Knowledge(any/all): 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (9) + 39 = 48
Knowledge(any/all): 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (16) + 39 = 55
1. Activate 1/day Glibness SLA from Bracers
2. Begin Pageant of the Peacock, which lets me substitute Bluff for *any* INT-based check (which I think is especially fitting for Iko Ilue, who's connection to The Song That Weaves The World is such that he lies so well that sometimes his lies turn out to be reality).
I'm particularly interested in details about our competition, but relevant tidbits about the Mutalib family are welcome too!
|Voice of Awesomeness|
The group before you are the famed Sun Falcons, adventures hailing from Calimport. They are well known delvers, having excavated several tombs and ruins in Shining Sea region. They've been together for roughly five years and have cleared almost a dozen dungeons.
From the stories you've heard about their escapades, you know they are rather accomplished, seasoned explorers. Should a fight break out, you aren't entirely positive which way it would go.
::OK team, those are the famed Sun Falcons, adventures hailing from Calimport. They are well known delvers, having excavated several tombs and ruins in Shining Sea region. They've been together for roughly five years and have cleared almost a dozen dungeons. Likely not slouches if we have to fight’m...but I suspect that won’t be necessary::
Brushing his hair, he suddenly takes the form of a (still dashingly handsome) elf in delving attire. As he walks up, he takes in any magic auras, as well as unseen living creatures or spirits. 220’ range sense magic (like detect magic with no concentration), lifesense, and spiritsense (undead; fey; outsiders; and astral, ethereal, or incorporeal creatures)
Approaching, he calls out in a clear voice, ”Hark, honored Mutalib family. It appears we have arrived just in time to help you safely recover your birthright.” With a bow, he adds, ”May I introduce you to Xanoff's X-Cavators. We hail from Cormyr, but are the finest, most dependable delvers-for-hire within a thousand leagues.”
Bluff: 1d20 + 39 + 20 ⇒ (9) + 39 + 20 = 68
Bluff: 1d20 + 39 + 20 ⇒ (7) + 39 + 20 = 66
Note, if someone else tries to bluff me in return, I have Warleader (Verbal Counter):
While outside of combat, whenever a creature makes a Bluff check against you that involves speaking, you can make a Bluff, Diplomacy, or Intimidate check opposed by their Bluff check; upon making a successful opposed check, you can force them to either tell the truth (as far as they know) about the subject or take a -5 penalty on Charisma-based skill and ability checks (this includes Bluff, Diplomacy, and Intimidate, even if the target uses an alternate ability score to determine their bonuses with these skills) against everyone who listened to them speak for 1 day.
* their choice as to whether to tell the truth or take the penalty.
|Voice of Awesomeness|
A finely dressed woman, who you assume is the matriarch of the Mutalib line, arches an eyebrow at Iko's statement. "Well met, but as you can see, we already have a team assembled. They have assured me of their capabilities, and are reasonably affordable as well. However, I would be foolish to not at least hear you out. Tell me, fine sir, what sort of counter offer can you make?" She's clearly well educated and has a sound business sense. You get the feeling this will be a lively negotiation.
Standing somewhat behind the woman is a grizzled veteran of a warrior, likely an older brother.
For now, the members of the Sun Falcons stay silent, obviously having dealt with similar situations before.
Hooboy, there's a lot of magic auras. I'm not going to bother listing it all out, but everyone present radiates some form of magic aura(s).
All are alive, and nothing triggers your spirit sense.
|Voice of Awesomeness|
Team Dungeon Delve
It's several hours past noon by the time you arrive within sight vault. It is built into an irregular, steep-sided mesa 200 feet long and 150 feet wide. The mesa is higher at the southern end, and a tall, slowly rotating spire rises 100 feet from the highest point. This spire is topped with a steel symbol 15 feet across that resembles a gear or a stylized sun.
The only entrance to the vault is on the northeastern side of the mesa. Three massive columns support a portico of smooth stone, shielding the metal door leading into the vault.
You are about 1,000 yards away from the entrance. Please tell me how you approach, and give me a perception check, as well as any other checks as you desire.
Iko Ilue walks up to the woman and and greets her with a smile.
"And if you decide hiring the Sun Falcons is in the best interest of your family, then by all means go ahead...but I appreciate the wisdom of your choice to hear us out first.
"We are the delvers who successfully recovered the magestaff of Alassra Shentrara "the Simbul" herself, centuries after it was lost, and returned it her her rightful heirs. We're the ones who cleared out the haunted tomb of Horustep III, allowing the pharoah of Mulhorand his much-deserved rest. And we..." as he spins tales about accomplishments (each of which is notable, but far enough away to be difficult to verify) he attempts to walk her just far enough away that he can speak to the matron of the family in confidence.
"The Sun Falcons are quite talented as well--I can't argue that--but have you heard what happened when the Satrap of Lapaliiya contracted with them to recover the Elixir of Eternal Youth, which had been stolen from him by yuan-ti and hidden in their foul temple? I have it on the Satrap's authority himself that they left him with a fake while they took the real elixir for themselves. By the time he'd discovered their trickery they were long gone.
"He didn't want to publicize the fact that he'd been bamboozled, but he told me that he'd rue the day he gave that contract to them for the rest of his--now, sadly, not eternal--life."
Bluff+glibness: 1d20 + 39 + 20 ⇒ (3) + 39 + 20 = 62
Bluff+glibness: 1d20 + 39 + 20 ⇒ (9) + 39 + 20 = 68
While the latter half of what he says is whispered, he passes it all on telepathically to his teammates.
While Team Persuasion of course know that what he's saying are lies, they somehow sound like the most earnest and reasonable statements of truth that you can recall.
|Nephre, Sekhmet's Wrath|
Nephre glides in for a landing in front of the entrance. She sniffs disdainfully at it.
"Finally," she grumbles, then glances back at the others. "If none of the rest of you are good with traps, you'd better stand back."
She cautiously steps forward, looking warily for signs of traps.
Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (13) + 13 = 26 +5 vs. traps
Dymer offers to the group some light healing to recover from their movement to the temple, but doesn't particularly expect anybody to really need it. He spends some time considering the distance between their current location and Nephre's question before providing an alternative. "I was never one for traps, myself, but I've got a nifty little extract in my list of formulae that lets me spring them and get by them without any issue. If you're going to walk through and hope to tank the ones you can't see, letting my other self go first might save you some hurt. The only downside is it's short-lived and I've only got one of them prepared currently."
Ozzie knows that Dymer is referring to Vomit Twin. Dymer won't tell anybody straight out what the spell is, hoping to get some sort of disgusted reaction out of people. He loves that part.
|Nephre, Sekhmet's Wrath|
"What, do you think I'm an amateur?" Nephre growls. "This isn't the first tomb I've raided. There's just always a chance I'll miss one."
Nephre has trapfinding, just not a lot of wisdom to go with her perception skill. :D
Dymer shrugs and raises his hands in a placating manner, "Hey now, it was just an offer. Don't get your feathers in a twist. I'm sure you're plenty capable, otherwise you wouldn't have been brought on board by our benefactor." Dymer waits for Nephre to continue her search before calling out again, good-natured humor obvious in his voice, "Though if you actually do miss one, I reserve the right to make fun of you for it!"
"If we're lucky, we'll all be able to get a little fun. Now, let's see if they brought anything of value first."
Ozzie moved forward quickly, not bothering to leave tracks. Looking at the cliff face, he tried to second guess where he might hide a secret, back entrance to a personal museum.
Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (19) + 14 = 33
Engineering: 1d20 + 27 ⇒ (4) + 27 = 31 plus any bonuses for looking over the security architecture materials from the market
General Int check: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
Stealth: 1d20 + 28 - 5 ⇒ (9) + 28 - 5 = 32 full speed penalty
If we reach the entrance w/o trouble, I'll set up a couple of evenly spaced trip mines, DC 29 perception to discover
2x Stink bombs 10' splash, 13 damage, DC 24 Ref for half fire
1 round fog cloud (10' radius)
DC 24 Fort nauseated 1d4+1 round from leaving
Lehkazeran flaps over behind Nephre, keeping a safe distance behind and quietly watching her inspection progress. He'd promised to yield to her expertise even they arrived, and so yield he would. That didn't alleviate his curiosity any though, and deep in his being his kobold heritage cried out in excitement at the prospect of discovering the workings of the tomb's defenses.
Peeping at anything that is uncovered, Craft Trap: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31
Scrivener stands as still as a statue, waiting for discussions to be over.
Rattlebones has juuuust enough self-awareness to avoid sticking his nose in diplomatic relations. Unless diplomacy fails, of course, then his nose turns into a bear snout and he sticks it wherever he darn well pleases.
|Voice of Awesomeness|
"As you say, Lady Alara. There is no guarantee a snake that's bitten once will bite again...but why risk it, when there's a better, more reliable option right before you? You strike me as a fine judge of character. Tell me, who do you feel you can trust more, with your family's heritage?"
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (1) + 39 = 40
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (1) + 39 = 40 <-- Wow. Good thing 1s aren't autofails on skills. Even so, using my Motif Belt's ability to reroll a 1, yielding: Diplomacy: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (10) + 39 = 49 Attempting to improve her attitude toward me.
As they talk, Iko looks at her face and wonders, What would persuade this woman? And is she more likely to award a contract to someone who charges slightly less or slightly more than the competition?...and how much exactly do I suspect the Falcons would charge for this?
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (20) + 39 = 59
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (9) + 39 = 48
dice=Appraise? or K.Local? to know what the Falcons might likely charge: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (5) + 39 = 44
Appraise? or K.Local? to know what the Falcons might likely charge: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (2) + 39 = 41