Mydravos "The Harbinger" wrote: Mydravos speaks up after Sven speaks, yes please, if you have any healing we could sorely use it. Our friend was gravely injured and others in our group are injured. Even something small could help greatly.
[dice=diplomacy aid another] 1d20+7
Noting the clockwork servants bearing an unconscious Rowena, the guardsman replies: Aye. It looks like you've had a run in with raiders on your way here. The Towers of Trial are evil places, lair to all manner of rapacious monsters and outlaws! From these six bases, they ride out to raid travelers and homesteaders outside the protection of Pandora's walls, and wage endless war on each other... There is a spa temple some four blocks in on your left off the Promenade. Good luck!
Sven the Shieldbearer wrote: Sven strode up with confidence.
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20+5
”In the name of Thor Oddinson, I have come! I am Sven the Shieldbearer, devotee of the God of Thunder. These are my companions. We seek admittance and directions to the nearest place of healing. The road here is not safe, and as ye can see my companions were injured when repelling raiders”
Well, then... A devotee of the thunder god, eh? You and your companions are welcomed to the Free Citystate of Pandora, so long as you mind your manners and obey our laws and respect our mores. There is, of course, an admittance toll of one shilling per head...
1 shilling = 1 silver piece.
Saleh el'Dinn wrote: Saleh can't fail that check.
"Excuse me a moment." The vampire bows and moves swiftly across the square to confront the guards. It isn't clear what he says, or what he shows them, but the general tenor of his instructions is unmistakable.
[dice=Intimidate]d20+12
The guards slink away submissively from the shrouded Immortal, eyes averted from his dominating countenance...
The expedition and the freed slaves are left alone in the immediate vicinity of the auction stage with the dark figure...
Perception checks vs average Stealth 9 (they are clumsy mooks) to notice that seven city guards are taking notice of the expedition and the obviously distressed Africans...
Cardinal Lucius d'Borja wrote: "Nahn musafirin min 'iisbania , taealawa liziarat masajid abayina." Lucius says calmly, stepping forward to the front of the group. He hands over a small pouch which chinks invitingly as the guard takes. "Barakatih min Allh"
** spoiler omitted **
The guard accepts the pouch of coins from Cardinal Lucius with a smile, and gestures to the open gate.
Marhabaan bikum fi alqahirat , walmusafirina. Barakat Allah ealayk , kadhalik.
The expedition approaches Cairo from the west, and falls into queue behind a long line of Berber traders--twenty Berbers and forty camels laden with trade goods, all of which the gate guards of the western city gate must search for contraband and appraise for tarrifs and taxes. Once this long caravan has passed through the west gate, the guards turn their attention to the expedition...
Idhkr 'asma'ak, wa'ayn 'ant qadim, waeamlik fi alqahira...
As the Desert Jackals pass the guards at the gatehouse...
Knowledge (local) vs DC 20 to identify the outlaw Desert Jackals 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 fails...
...They are able to pass unrecognized by the lazy and bored guardsmen...
Sir Godfrey Bullfinch wrote: Taking advantage of the flanked monk’s distracted cursing at O’Reilly, Sir Godfrey hammers the monk on the head with the flat of his longsword, knocking the thrall senseless! *CLANG!!* URKK!!
The clobbered monk falls to the ground, out cold!
Cutpurse O'Reilly wrote: Flanking a monk thrall with Sir Godfrey, O’Reilly slips his daggers into delicate flesh!
Take that, ye sand-devil! Haha! The Desert Jackals and company be upon ye now!
In Arabic: Ouch! Damn you, you little midget!!
Guardian tiger wrote: Shaka pounces upon a monk thrall with a rumbling growl, choking the monk unconscious by squeezing his throat in his jaws!
GGGGRRRRRRRRAAAARRRR!!!
Struggling feebly in the tiger’s jaws, the monk succumbs to the pressure on his carotid artery and passes out!
UNGH!!
Knocked senseless by the dwarf’s hammer blow, a thrall falls flat on his back next to other unconscious thralls...
The thralls posted on the outer battlements raise an alarm, sounding a gong that can be heard reverberating throughput Safi, including where the Desert Jackals are fighting the vampire spawns at the outflow pipe!
*GGGOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!! GGGOOOOOONNNNGGGG!!! GGGOOOOONNNNGGGG!!!*
Lord Perpireen McGibel wrote: Stealth 1d20+20+1d6
Sneeky Sneeky slowly slowly, into the vampire party we go.
It is around 9:00 AM when Lord Perpireen approaches the monastery-fortress. On the battlements are posted a total of twelve human monks, with loaded crossbows, or short bows, and with vigilant eyes, yet for all their vigilance, the little Fey Lord is far too stealthy for them to possibly detect...
Two more monks with wicked-looking glaives flank the posters gate on the west side, and another two, likewise armed, flank the main gate on the east side, so a total of sixteen human monk guards posted outside the main keep...
Inside, Lord Perpireen finds the main keep virtually deserted... A cook is preparing for lunch in the kitchen, where a cauldron is boiling over a fire pit... A young novice or initiate is sweeping up the mess hall after breakfast... Otherwise, the upper floors of the monastery are eerily empty...
Locating a spiral staircase descending to a donjon and catacombs below, Lord Perpireen flies down to reconnoiter the situation...
Lord Perpireen McGibel wrote: "Well then I best go see what them pasty lads are up ta, Ill be a few hours, but I should know more after"
He heads off to have a snoop around the monastery.
As he approaches the monastery, have Lord P roll a Stealth check to see if he is spotted by the vigilant human monk thralls left to watch from the battlements during daylight hours...
The dozen monks posted upon the battlements continue to watch The Desert Jackals and their gladiator and harem women companions with eyes that seem almost to glow red in the flickering torchlight as the caravan rides south around the monastery fortress toward the quay, where the dhow Alanqilis is docked...
Lord Perpireen McGibel wrote: Lord P can see the numbers up, and goes vertical
These fellers are out to get me
60' up full light, he can move intol stealth in a full move. Acrobatics to evade them 1d20+17+1d6 1 inspiration used
Zipping about like a arrow that can change direction Lord beats a hasty retreat.
Vanish at the end of the move for 5 rounds.
The two vampire spawn monks have no chance of detecting the invisible sprite, so they dash off as silent as shadows to the monastery keep...
The two monk guards inside the gatehouse with Lord Perpireen pause to listen to his words, then hiss under their veils in a rather inhuman, almost reptilian manner... and their eyes seem more feral than human, glowing red in the torchlight! Then they crouch in a predatory manner, more akin to cats than men, poised to pounce on the little Fey Lord!
Shouts of alarm echo from within the main gatehouse as the Desert Jackals pass under the great portcullis and back out of the fortress-monastery, onto the road that circumnavigates it...
The two monks with brightly glowing "haloes" dash back the way they came, up stone stairs and onto the upper battlements...
To Lord P, it seemed that they were approaching the great lever that can be thrown to quickly drop the portcullis, likely planning to throw it before the adventurers could exit the courtyard, trapping them within...but the noble sprite cannot be certain...
Stealth check 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27 vs Perception checks (all of the Desert Jackals inside the courtyard)...
A pair of monk guards creep like cats through the shadows and into the gatehouse of the great front gate...
The vigilant monks posted on the battlements overhead continue to watch the adventurers and their companions with dark eyes from the shadows, dimly illuminated by flickering torches in sconces...
Sense Motive vs DC 21 12d20 ⇒ (12, 3, 3, 11, 13, 16, 14, 7, 2, 13, 11, 4) = 109 with +12 bonus, -2 for distance, -2 for language barrier, = +8 net bonus... Four of the twelve can sense Altin’s mistrust...
Barely audible, indistinguishable whispers are exchanged by a few of these shadowy watchers above...
Altin Karela wrote:
Altin keeps an eye on the guard. He can feel that something is amiss, but can't quite pinpoint it. He gets closer to Wulfgar and murmurs to him in Greek, a language they both share.
** spoiler omitted **
Activating archaeologist's luck as a swift action, and making a bluff check so as to appear to be talking casually to Wulfgar. Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16 fails to beat Altin’s Bluff 21...
The monk guard seems no more suspicious than he already was, apparently believing in Altin’s “casual conversation” with Wulfgar...
Bluff check vs Sense Motive 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Something about the way the monk says “safe shelter” and “in our finest guest chambers” strikes Wulfgar as off...sardonic...subtly mocking...
In Arabic: You shall find no evil here, weary travelers... only goodness and succor from the harsh desert... It sounds somewhat insincere to the aasimar bloodrager...
Everyone can roll a Sense Motive check at this time, if desired...
If you wish to be our guests for tonight, we will grant you safe shelter for only a silver shekel donation from each of you to our coffers... Or in return for selling to us your beasts of burden at, say, half the usual market price, we will not only shelter you in our finest guest chambers, but we will pray for Allah's blessing on each of you, throw for you a sumptuous feast, and supply you with provisions for your voyage to wherever your destiny takes you!
In Arabic: No chains or cage shall be necessary if the noble tiger wishes to pass through our monastery... But, of course, you may certainly choose to pass around the monastery to sell your wares in the Safi bazaar, and board your dhow Alanqilis sooner rather than later...
The eyes of several monk guards posted on the battlements overhead can be seen watching the Desert Jackals and their companions carefully...
In Arabic, the same gatehouse guard continues: As for your fine beasts, we monks have little use for them ourselves, but if you offer a charitable price, that we may resell them at a modest profit to feed ourselves and the poor of Safi-town, we would also repay you with shelter for the night and a blessing on each of you...and, bulette meat is a delicacy we rarely have the good fortune to savor... More often, it is the bulette who savors the flesh of mankind! The guard's dark eyes seem to sparkle with morbid humor at this last observation...
The Desert Jackals and their companions and beasts are granted entry through the great main gate, and through the torchlit open courtyard, where a dozen monk guards posted along the settlements above watch them pass below...
The front door of the monastery keep proper is unlocked by a door guard, who silently bids the adventurers and company to enter...
The guards gasp in astonishment at the complaining tiger!
In Arabic: The tiger speaks!?
The two briefly confer, then one addresses Shaka the tiger: A thousand pardons, noble tiger! If you were indeed awakened by the Great Mullah of the Desert, then surely you must be tame enough for us to treat you as a guest! Forgive our rudeness... No chains or cage will be necessary!
Unlike when you last passed through Safi from the harbor side to the main gate and out into Safi town, this time, the great portcullis of the main gate is lowered to block entry through the great archway of the gatehouse, and the two monk guards seem especially suspicious of the large caravan of apparent foreigners, some of whom (Wulfgar, Mwikali, and a few of the gladiators and harem women) appear particularly barbaric or savage...
After Wulfgar reminds the guards who he and his companions are, and announces passengers and livestock to sell, they visibly relax, and wave the caravan to approach the gatehouse...
The great portcullis is raised, and a pair of stout inner doors that had been opened wide during the adventurers' previous passage through swing open once more with a groan of hinges, revealing the open, torchlit courtyard beyond...
In Arabic, one of the guards calls out: Welcome back, captain and crew of The Alanqilis... Forgive our suspicion, but there are far more of you now than before, including many more beasts...and...a TIGER... I'm afraid your tiger will have to be secured by chains or a cage, which we can supply, before you can bring it through!
In spite of seeming more relaxed than at the caravan's initial approach, the guards keep the wicked blades of their glaives pointed at the approaching Desert Jackals and caravan...
Within this flickering illumination can be seen the grim faces of guards posted atop the towers and outer battlements, most armed with bows or crossbows, but some, including two gatehouse guards flanking the main gate outside the monastery, are armed with glaives, or even apparently unarmed. All wear turbans and scarves that cover the lower halves of their faces...
The two gatehouse guards, armed with wicked-bladed glaives, call out loudly in unison, in Arabic: HALT!! WHO GOES THERE!?
A pair of guardsmen approaches the six adventurers to inspect and interrogate them each. One by one, they ask each traveler the same questions, in Italian: What is your name?... Where do you hail from?... What is your profession?... What brings you to Rome?... How long do you intend to stay?
After all these questions are answered to the guard's satisfaction, a gate toll of one silver piece is demanded from each traveler before entry to the city is granted...
The six guardsmen hustle over to the cardinal and the thief with a clank of chainmail hauberks and rattle of spears.
Veni con noi, ladro! barks one of them, pointing at the thief with the business end of his spear...
The guards haul the struggling and protesting thief to the gates and vanish through a side door in the right gatehouse tower...
The Duke is here on a 1 or a 2.... 1d6 ⇒ 5
Nay, Squire Alphonse of the Erm Lusty Fools.... He is elsewhere at the nonce, but if ye wish to leave him a message, or await his return, ye may do so....
Halt! Who are ye, and what brings ye to Greenwich Manor?
This guard is armored in half-plate and armed with a halberd in hand, longsword in scabbard, and light crossbow slung across his back....
Iommi-Tyr Magnusson wrote: I am Magnus Sverreson from Norway and was commanded to do some research on behalf of my master's House, Duke Charles the Bold of Lorraine and his Lady, the Duchess Margaret -- friends of great Henry VI.
Sir, here is 5 pieces of gold to deliver my message to your superior, that I may study in the Tower.
Iommi-Tyr Magnusson will give the guard's superior 50 gp and allow the guard to speak my request (so I won't, hopefully, have to make more Bluff checks).
[dice= Inspired Bluff]1d20 +6 +1d6
[dice=Inspired Diplomacy]1d20 +10 +1d6
The average guard couldn't Sense Motive higher than a 24 with a natural 20, so....
The guardsmen of Middle Gate happily take "Magnus's" gold and escort him and his motley crew of companions across the courtyard to the majestic White Tower, the central fortress that serves as royal home, government office, and prison....
The Lusty Fools are escorted past many other men-at-arms, guards, jailers, clerks, and other inhabitants of The Tower on their way to the library within the White Tower.... Once they arrive, the guardsmen promise to deliver "Magnus's" greeting and any messages he may have for their superiors, and leave The Lusty Fools to do their research in privacy....
The guards at The Tower reveal to The Lusty Fools their general suspicion that the wererats have a lair somewhere down by the River Thames near London Bridge, possibly on the Southwark side, or maybe on the north side in one of the many old warehouses or dockhouses along the quay.
Seems to have come along with the coming o' the great fire dragon, Conflagratius, about two years ago.... London always had its rat problem.... But soon as the dragon came, it was wererats....
Very well.... Welcome to The Tower of London....
The gatehouse guards raise the portcullis of the Middle Gate....
As they approach the Middle Tower gatehouse from the west, along the north bank of the Thames, The Lusty Fools are challenged by the gatehouse guards....
'Alt! Who goes there! State your name and profession, and what business ye 'ave at The Tower!
A pair of pasty-faced guardsmen meet The Lusty Fools at the first of several impressive stone gatehouses....
In bored English: 'alt.... 'Ho goes vere.... State yer name 'nd business in vuh City o' London.... D'ye 'ave anyfing t' declare?
Hah! Had a bit more ale than is good for ye, I see, O'Reilly! Come on, then....
The guard claps a pair of manacles around the halfling's wrists and hauls him off in the direction of the gaol....
A couple of the other guards give a second, suspicious glance at Nacht before shrugging and following their captain off to the gaol....
Seven city guards rush up onto the scene....
Ho there! What's going on here!? .... Ah! Cutpurse O'Reilly, is it? Finally found a purse you couldn't get away with, did you? Hehehe!
Ah, a fellow Englishman! Welcome to Calais, Alphonse Veritas and company!
The guard signals some other, unseen guard down inside the gatehouse below, and a moment later, the portcullis is raised with the clinking of chains, and the great doors are opened wide to accept The Lusty Fools....
A stout stone wall encloses the city of Calais, with a fortified gatehouse on its south side....
A portcullis is lowered to bar entry into the port city, and a pair of strong wooden gates that have withstood countless sieges stand behind the portcullis....
From the crenelated ramparts of the gatehouse, a helmed guard calls out to you in English:
Hark! Who goes there! .... State your name and business in Calais!
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