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Ongoing Objectives: Safeguard Ameiko and the Amatatsu Seal | Get to Minkai
Immediate Objectives: Find and hire a guide | Raid Ravenscraeg

Varisia | Land of the Linnorm Kings | Kalsgard | Ravenscraeg | The Dungeon

Ravenscraeg

Of the words supplied by Lute, 'attack' shows no sign of comprehension and neither do 'stop' (stoppe) or 'hold' but the former is probably due to the fact the statue wasn't doing anything in the first place. 'Guard' and 'defend' seem to be interchangeable (Vak-t) in Skald and do illicit a response. The stone statue nods and stands at attention on the spot.
(To recap, the statues will not attack the bearer of the medallion and will follow her when told. They will not attack as a general command, otherwise Kimandatsu would have used them on the party prior to showing herself. The statues will defend or guard a location. The guards will not act upon anyone carrying a jade figurine. Complex instructions seem beyond what the statues were made for )
Sharadei (I don't know where you are standing so have left you at the entrance to the secret door) tilts her head to one side listening. In her expert opinion, the growls are coming from the first door.

Conditions & Resources used .... Anara: Spider Climb, vanish, see invisibility | Fenra: protection from evil cast - 10 rounds ending round 13, detecting magic | Jeryn: Mage Armor active AC15, Force bolts 6/7, Aggressive Thunder Cloud+ Bonded Item used, Magic Missilex1, Grease, Fireball, potion invisibility??, Slow | Sharadei: | Spivey: CLW, Liberty's Blessing, Lessor Restoration, Healing Channel x5 | Draeven: potion protection from arrows | Rennyn: blur | Lute: HP 13 AC 15, Hand axe 1d6 BAB -2

Jacquelyn strutted on to the stage, her hips swaying in that sultry way which always brings a smile to Ballar's face. Kitty Laverne's Boom Boom Club was packed yet Ballar had managed to secure a table close to the stage. Boom, ba boom! Boom, boom. Boom ba boom! The music's tempo picked up and the crowd of revalors cheer. Jacquelyn's strut reaches the end of the stage and she bends low to blow her favorite dwarf a kiss. Grinning like a boy given the keys to a candy shop Ballar watches her lips move. Did you hear me? Jacquelyn's expression is playful yet Ballar detects a hint of annoyance. The kind women use when they know you're not listening to them. Ballar's grin holds even as his mind begins working out the details, Wha? Why are there no details?! Blast, Ah miss'd it. Should jas nod and smile. Aye, thas it. Ballar nods and smiles at the beautiful construct.
Ballar! Did you hear me? Her lips move again but something's different, that's not her voice. Ballar's grin fades and quickly he looks to the left and right, Boom, ba boom! Boom, boom. Boom ba boom! Oh no, it's that elf's voice, isn't it? Jacquelyn speaks and again in Keryth's voice, Heal her and let's move!
Skreeech! And then the music stops. Ballar turns and, rather sheepishly, nods and smiles in Keryth's direction. Fortunately, Zae's wand flashes and Hannah's limp form stirs. Got it! Moving quickly to the girl's side, Ballar gets to work tending to Hannah's, um, needs.

Wha tha devil?! Ballar's dorn drops to the ground with a dull metallic thud along with is mouth. Am no sure tha's help'n Keryth. Ya plan'n on scar'n tha poor lass half ta death? But the dwarf remains where he is, waiting to see what becomes of the woman and her Shrek like rescuer.

You can do that? Cool.

Whoa, 'old on a tick. Ballar stops at the sound of the heavy door closing and turns, Am no sure tha dobber's com'n thas way. Squinting his eyes the dwarf gathers up his dorn as he tries to make out what's going on, Nivers! Wa ya see'n up thare? Any sign o'tha lass?

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Intuish: Should he turn back?: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (14) + 13 = 27

Leaving the comfort of their room behind, Ballar commands his political servant, Mr. Anders, to accompany him. Upon arriving at the alley, he pauses a moment to let Nivers enter first, Best let tha experts set off tha traps.

While the elf does his song and dance routine for a little coin on the side, Ballar sizes up the opposition's muscle. The dwarf keeps his hands on his Dorn and his stance relaxed, positioning himself behind one of the others in the party.

Intuition: Are these guys a bunch of low level mooks or just as dangerous without the crossbows?: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24
Appraise: How much would these bodyguards set this guy's payroll back?: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

Summons unseen servant prior to leaving the room

Gently returning the curtain to its original resting position Gwernach turns to Sasithorn. Although it is clear to the caster that Gwernach is attempting to pass some message along, the weird face and spastic twitching of the dwarf's hands and neck make it nearly impossible to determine just what it is the ranger is trying to communicate. Gwernach's accent probably doesn't help his efforts either.

Seeing the blank look of Sasithorn's expression, Gwernach sighs inwardly and gives up resorting to the universally accepted single finger to the lips gesture.
Skill Check: Secret Message (Bluff): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0

I have clearly been victimized by the dice roller here :P

The thought of a few drinks before dinner draws a sly grin to the dwarf's face and Ballar nods enthusiastically at Bud's suggestion.
But a second later the grin is gone and Ballar glares at the soldier as he confesses, hoping his hard stare will loosen the man's tongue more than the dwarf's question already has. In the end Ballar can't help but agree, ultimately the party's goal should be to ensure the safety of these people and if in the process of finding It'Dupree's mirror the party is able to do so, so much the better.
As the soldier's response comes to a close, Ballar crosses his arms at his chest and stares at the soldier a little bit more as he mulls over the possible likelihood of Melanie actually being a double agent. Does Melanie already sus'pect? We were a'tha Lugubrious Wizard, met thar an came st'raight 'ere. An tha cobbl'r, is he an un'wit'tn pawn in tha girl's sceem? Or does he too y'urn fa someth'n b'yond tha mun'dane? Like sand thro an hour glass...
Returning to his original question, the dwarf lifts up his coin purse and lets the sound of jingling silver fill the soldier's ears, So 10 ta one than?
Intuition: Would a little offering of coin keep these men quiet? Captain Ogalvinjonsen doesn't need to know about us...: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (10) + 13 = 23

IMO opening dozens of hyperspace trap doors to the vacuum of space should have some effect on those in the room, namely those on the other side of the doors, facing the hail of grenades. I mean a hole into space spontaneously opening in front of someone like that can't not have any effect, can it??

Fireworks. Yes, that's what it was like. The hail of grenades launched towards their foe and the sudden appearance of Gemini's bomb disposal protocol droid resulted in an impressive display of pyrotechnics - too bad no one heeded the signs. Not that anything was posted and this did strike Jensens as being odd. Failure to display appropriate warnings in critical areas of a space station is a clear violation of code and the security officer has every intention of laying a grievance with the proper authorities, just as soon as he is no longer a wanted fugitive.
Reaching into his waistband, Jensens removes the 44 Magnum and cocks the hammer back. The long barrel glistens with sweat, but the rest of the gun and its fixed sights are clean. Jensens has no problem lining up the villain Borak and squeezing off a round.
Att. with the 20th Century's most powerful handgun - .44 Magnum vs. Borak: 1d6 - 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 + 1 = 6
Blow a man's head, clean off: 1d6 ⇒ 3

+1 on 4 shots, 3 shots remaining.

Deciding the android can't be all that bad, Jensens follows it around the dock to the questionable alcove. Selecting a plain, standard issue looking Clint-class blaster pistol, the security officer examines the weapon; a long barreled black, six-shot, double-action revolver in the late 20th century style police issue handguns. Hmph, even has the wooden grip. At one time this was the most powerful handgun in the world, blowing heads clean off. However many users found they'd lose count of how many rounds they'd fired after about 3 or 4 and it was replaced by a more efficient Glock Tactical pistol. Considering the Magnum only ever held six, it is a mystery to Jensens how anyone could lose count. In order to avoid headaches, he'd decided man was much more primitive in those days. Jensens pays the droid but makes sure he gets a receipt. He'll fill out a R-T22i when he gets back to the Angel and await reimbursement in next month's pay check.
Too heavy to attach to his Velcro utility belt, Jensens double checks the safety and tucks the revolver into the back of his black pants, letting the tail of his red shirt conceal the grip. When everyone is ready, the security officer falls in behind the de facto captains and heads towards Thirsty's.

Knowledge check: .44 Magnum: 1d6 ⇒ 4

I don't think you've missed much, just Keil messing around with $&*t.

Throwing the rifle to the side, Jensens falls in behind the rest of the crew. Everyone seems to be heading to the food court, Why's everyone heading there? Won't another security detail be heading this way? Shouldn't we be... Jensens stopped himself. He was over analyzing the situation and most manuals recommend not doing that. Besides, analysis was above his pay grade. His role was to follow their lead, offer suppressive fire in short controlled bursts and ensure the safety of the others. His red shirt in tatters, Jensens gets in line beside Zanbabe. Well not beside, beside. Nearby. Perhaps even behind her in line so as not to look conspicuous. But if he's behind her then that means he's in line and people will be expecting him to order something, then what? Starburgers (TM) were good. Perhaps he'll try and fit in.
I'll have what she's having: 1d6 ⇒ 6
Extra pickles: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9 Total

Popping his head around the corner of the passage, Jensens makes a quick check of who's left. With most of the guards either stunned or incapacitated, Jensens holds up fire fingers and signals to the others.
Then just as quick, he continues his suppressing fire striking center chest of one of the guards on the right. A sly grin creases his square jaw and Jensens holds up four fingers.
There's one, set for stun!: 1d6 ⇒ 6

As Riven uploads petabytes of porn at the console next to his, Fours tries to keep an open mind. One flashed scene in particular provides a glimmer of inspiration causing him to exclaim, Ma'am, we could go in through the back door! Sensing a bit of confusion from the others on the bridge the security officer elaborates, We can't beam over because the Gemini's shields are up, but those other ships haven't raised theirs. They're flying in there unprotected. We could send an away team over to one of those ships still in the process of docking, slip through the Gemini's shields and make a run at Borak.

Her eyes are large and solid gold in color (with no “white”)

I think this was the line that threw me off :) Sounds like an android to me.

Ballar stares at Imrael for a moment as the warrior priest begins his thorough examination. When it quickly becomes obvious the 'dwarf' was not a construct but a living being of some sort, Ballar shrugs off the realization of his own mistake, yet keeps silent, giving a humorous look to the others. Leaning in to whisper to Bud, It'll be fun ta see how far Imrael's will'n to go, eh?!

With flaming orange and red hair, a thick beard and bushy eyebrows, Ballar certainly looks like a typical dwarf. But to assume so would be wrong. The flamboyant red cloak he enjoys wearing sports magically embroidered yellow and orange flames along the bottom. Printed on the back are the words, Grande Lucha Libre el Fuego Caliente! Course, these are only visible to those practiced in the arcane. The cloak's hood can be pulled up and over his head. Fitting snugly, it comes with a flap that can be pulled down in front of his face in the shape of a stylized mask with eye holes ringed in yellow flames. Considering his fashion sense, Ballar is not your typical dwarf. While most dwarfs are stern hard cases with no time for enjoying life, much less develop a sense of humor, Ballar is the polar opposite. He knows how to party Cayden style. The crazier, the better.
When not worshiping Cayden Cailean over a good stiff drink, Ballar enjoys MMA. His past vigorous training involved several hits to the head, advanced weapons, head butting, fighting strategy and the rare art of blocking an opponent's attacks with the front, side and back of the head. This experience has left him, well, once you get to know him...

In the past, Ballar's preferred hang outs included Jeffry's Emporium, The Shady Dragon Inn and Kitty Laverne's Boom Boom Club of which he is a VIP member and founding member of Jacqueline's Fabulous Fandom Club.

The closer Gwernach gets to the so called sled, the faster his pulse and breathing becomes. Although the dwarf puts on a brave face and manages to get suited up with the others, it is clear from the now deathly pale color of his face that he is NOT looking forward to what must be coming. Orbit he says! Must be mad assa hatt'r! Ya donna need ta bloody well climb ta bloom'n travel 'cross country. Thas wat horses are for!
Looking very uncomfortable in his Vacc Suit, Gwernach's eyes shift uneasily as he "politely" lets the others enter the sled to take their seats ahead of him. Having delayed the unavoidable for as long as he could, the dwarf eventually takes his seat but not before giving it a thorough once over to see that it is as solidly build as dwarven possible. With a death grip which demonstrates just how much the ranger trusts the foreign straps and, in his opinion, mediocre design of the seat meant to hold him in place, Gwernach holds tightly onto the seat's armrests. As the engines growl to life and the sled begins to shake, Gwernach forces his eyes closed tight and prays quietly. His words come with such rapidity it is difficult to tell to which deity he now looks to for protection, but the meaning is all the same, Hev'nlayfath'rwatchov'rme... His prayers continue as the sled roars louder, reaching a panicked frenzy as the vehicle accelerates hard. Feeling as his prayers are failing him, Gwernach turns to cursing. This tactic fares no better than his prayer and they too near what must now be a climax, his words finally and rapidly culminating into an ear splitting scream so high it is possible to be mistaken for a cat having been trod upon. The silence which follows immediately signals the inevitable as Gwernach passes out. He awakens, briefly, several times throughout the journey to Annic Nova, each time lookomg around as though in a stupor before his eyes roll back into his head and his body falls limp once again. It is not until the sled comes to a complete stop aboard the Annic Nova that Gwernach awakens and this time manages to stay awake. With the sled firmly docked and all signs of being 'in orbit' removed from view, the dwarf at last catches breath and after a moment's rest, sets about familiarizing himself with the strange new equipment.

With his eyes rolling into the back of his head, a stream of drool begins to down the fetchling's chin. Groaning in a monotone,"Keil" raises the rapier clumsily as he steps forward to press his attack "Raaa nuurg Ahhhhh sRrR Rrrrrr Ooo rOoOO aHhH aaraaa RRAAa ggRr oRr ggRr RRrOO Aaaaa OrrR AahhH!!!"

Happy New Year guys!

While the goblin stomps down the hall to draw out any intruders, (Just messing around :P ) Keil slips in behind ready to dispatch them.
Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (19) + 15 = 34
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 Oh yeah, on a roll! Now watch me roll ones on the next encounter.

Where I'm from, it's time for Giving Thanks to Komm and everyone else for putting up with my insanity! Gobble.

With the last of the expired nachos expelled of his system, or whatever it was that was bothering him, Ballar calls upon his cloak's magical qualities to help tidy up.
Presti-digi-tacion! Pointing a finger at the obvious mounds of sick upon the floor an invisible force 'erases' it - or something like that. For all Ballar knows it has been instantly teleported away to some distant mystical landfill*. Whatever the case, the dwarf humms quietly as he goes about his business.

*Meanwhile in an especially foul corner of hell (probably on the 3rd plane), a moist pile of retched nachos spontaneously appears over the heads of souls damned there for their lives of gluttony. As the spew falls a chorus of moans fills the air as gravity takes hold sending the mixture hurtling their way, Ewhhhh!

The sound of Dwarven curses echoing up the stairs signal the imminent arrival of the cleric...or the soon arrival...sometime in the near future? Eventually, Ballar struggles up the last of the steps. Panting he takes a moment to rest at the feet of the Saint maiden Barbaralee and wipes the beads of sweat from his visage. After a few moments, he furls his red brow and stands up. The sound of Zae and the big cat draws his attention to those accursed stairs and he realizes no one remembered to close the door down there and by simple deduction replace the wooden bar locking it and whatever was or might have been behind it, Aa! Fa Cry'n out!

Ten minutes later...the sound of a few new Dwarven curses echoing up the stairs signals the imminent arrival, again, of the cleric...or the soon arrival...sometime in the near future.... Fatigued, Ballar makes his way to where all the antiques are stored, and Keryth, where he manages to catch his breath.

Ballar shuts and locks the door downstairs with the wooden bar then rejoins Keryth and the party while Niversal searches the halls.

Drawn back to reality by the sound of incantations and Keryth's rapid commands, Ballar turns to see a cloud of smoke where he'd thought Niversal should have been and a phantom menacing the chamber. Taken aback, the dwarf's bushy red eyebrows furl in confusion, Oi! Did tha think jus'speak in our comm'n tongue?!
Leaving his question to hang in the air, the dwarf moves to close the distance between himself and the wizard while sternly addressing the wraith, Well, tha's no way ta treat ya guests spirit! Taking up his silver tankard with his free hand, the dwarf raises the mug and depresses the lever thereby opening the ornate lid, May Cayden's breath edify tha error o'ya poor manner's! The crisp refreshing sound of the first bite from an apple cuts the air quickly followed by a fragrant, yet chocolaty bouquet of brewed malt (plus a special mix of grains), which fills the room. Oh, tha's a new one tha! Can ya smell tha wee hint o'cocoa? Mmmmm.
Channeling: 3d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 1) = 13

SA Channel positive energy 6/7 remain

Round 2 Init 8
With a mischievious grin, Keil grabs Grezzor by the collar and turns to Mazlii, "That'll do Malzii, that'll do. Now hit the one at the back." The fetchling nods his head toward the man hugging the wall as he drags the unconscious goblin away from the fray.

HP 8/8 | MA Grab Grezzor | MA drag Grezzor

An evil grin creeps across Keil's mouth and it begins to water as the trio pass by him unawares. Falling in behind, yet still out of sight, the fetchling draws his short sword. Already the shadowy man can see his blade plunging into the man's back, feel the hot red sanguine and hear the women's screams... Screams! Keil can't wait for their screams. His thoughts race ahead, Killing the man will be easy. Next the woman... Keil's footfalls fall in time with the trio of humans. His heart begins to race with excitement... They'll stop in their tracks, scream, then slash! slash! Down she goes, hehehe. One by one they'll fall; perhaps the others will be there to finish it. Mmmmm, delicious!
But then Komm's words come rushing forward, Avoid any contact with anyone from Zelkor’s Ferry... and the pit of Keil's stomach drops, Blast! Where are these ones from? Chances are...Zelkor. Naaah! Robbed of his quarry the fetchling gnashes his black teeth in frustration and almost spits. Slowing his pace, he stops stalking the group of humans and looks now for Brok and the others, Cursed humans, if these disappear others will miss them and when man kin are missed, their kind start to look. We can't have that! Where's Brok? There can be no ambush this day...
Stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25
Send secret message to Brok and others: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19 - Abort! Abort!
Keil aborts his ambush in favor of not drawing future attention to the group's presence here. He drops out of sight and looks for Brok and the other to stop them from ambushing (secret message) by holding up his hands to show stop.

Round 2 Init 13
The sound of several violins striking up at once tells Ballar that the rogue has been lynched, If there's ever a time fa some fiery explosions Keryth, thas would be it!
Taking up his Holy tankard of Cayden, the dwarf drops a few grains of iron into it then calls upon the deity for some divine intervention, Time ta put on ya big boy pants lad! Cracking open the lid again, a streak of bright blue light shoots across the hall striking Niversal square on the head. Instantly, the elf begins to grow in stature to twice his normal size.
20% Concealment: 1d100 ⇒ 70 - Just in case

Casts Enlarge Person on Niversal, duration 4 minutes

Looking around, Tarcious checks with his cat. Too busy licking his paws, the cuddly feline chooses to ignore his master's request and Helios' presence. Squinting into the darkness, Tarcious' elven eyes see the familiar outline of Helios standing in the shadows. The rogue has one finger pushed up against his lip as his other hand points north. Casting his gaze ahead, Tarcious realizes all too clearly what his fellow elf is pointing at...three creatures, their discoloured bones clearly visible from beneath aged armor. Swaying back and forth, the creatures stare at you.

Both of you have low light vision (see spoiler). If I remember, Razar has the torch. Although he is separated from you, I'm going to rule the light from Razar's torch is casting just enough light for the two of you to see most of the chamber. Go ahead and check the map (posted at the top of this thread). Unfortunately, Razar's torch is also illuminated the two of you enough for the creatures to see you. Please roll your initiatives and get ready for combat. You can click HERE to review how this is going to work.

# of Doors: 1d20 ⇒ 2
1 Door – on the left (1-6), on the right (7-12), or ahead (13-20). If ahead, the passageway ends
Where?: 1d20 ⇒ 10
Right then.
What type?: 1d20 ⇒ 15
A Strong Wooden, (locked 1-8, trapped 1-8)
Locked? Trapped?: 1d20 ⇒ 4
Not my job to know...

Ballar eyes the wizard and an evil grin grows beneath his thick red beard. 'Ang on, Rummaging in his pack the dwarf retrieves a small bottle of dark crimson powder. A worn label depicts a crude drawing of what looks like a seed pod next to several other symbols representing a lit torch, a humanoid head suffering some sort of alchemical corrosion and a skull and cross bones. Opening up his bag of nachos, Ballar carefully removes the cork from the bottle and sprinkles a few grains of powder into the bag. Grinning mischievously, A litt'l goes a'long way.
He replaces the cork, returns the small bottle to its place and begins to shake the bag of nachos. Reopening the bag, a faint cloud of the crimson dust gently erupts filling the immediate area with the strong smell of pure Capsicum. This small cloud immediately assaults the senses (5ft range).

Fort save DC 15 just for smelling them. Failure results in excessive tearing up of the eyes and a burning sensation of your nose until you move 5ft back :P
FoRt Save vs. spicy Nacho cloud: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Offering the bag to Berenwyr the dwarf cautions,Careful not ta lick ya fing'rs af'twords.

Consuming the nachos is a DC 29 Fort save or suffer execessive tearing of the eyes, a running nose and an intense burning sensation of the mouth preventing speech for 1d4 rounds. For every three cups of water consumed, recovery is reduces by 1 round. PCs licking their fingers after eating these nachos must make another save of DC 29 or suffer the same symptoms plus the loss of using their fingers for the same amount of time. Care to take a handful?

Ballar raises his arms mid-air and shrugs, Tha's wha I thought ya said, but ya do have a'wee bit o'fan accent. As he puts his arms down, a small orb of acid drops from his cloak and splatters across the floor. Oh, so tha's wa'tha does!
Drops Acid: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

SA casts Acid Splash from cloak | Mage Armor Active on Jim for another 59 minutes

As the cry of Roran fills the room, the old man hobbles past the door and looks up. The confusion on his face is genuine, A battle cry?! Tha wasn't part o'tha, baahh! Where 'r tha girls.... Catching his daughter's eyes, Gwernach gives them the signal to cover their eyes and raises his silver band. With a snap of his fingers the band sings and instantly emits a blinding flash of light filling the room.

Initiating Surprise round | SA to activate Blinding Flash DC 10+1+3=14 | Disguise still active

BRAVE SIR ROBIN is only a click away...

Patiently waiting....but Keil may get up and help himself to seconds...