Villamar Koth

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71 posts. Alias of Camris.


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Sgt. Omast Frumm

Clover wrote:
Sergeant Omast, do you think anyone might have been jealous of him? At work or in love?

"Hmpf. Not likeelly." Omast said, slurring his words more seriously. "Likes too manny haf orcks. Liked." He suddenly burst into tears.

Then fell forward onto the table, snoring. His mug tipped over, dumping ale all over the table and rolled off to hit the floor with a clump.

Sgt. Omast Frum

Varys wrote:
"Do you think Rodrik was the sort of person to take his own life?"

"...hunh? Nah... just got promoted... 's got a girlfriend... Here's to girls!" He shouted, downing the rest of his mug. He waived at the barkeep for another.

Sgt. Omast Frum

Frum looked at you blearily.
"Heard 'a ye. Outsiders... Goin' around askin' questions... 'bout Rodrik."
He burst into tears and took another drink.
"...poor, young Rodrik, that magnificent bastard..."

Sgt. Omast Frum

Frum hesitated at Clovers words, then nodded.
He worked a knot on his rope and let himself down, barely avoiding a long drop on his head.
Sensing the entertainment was over, the crowd broke up and wandered off.
Thumping to the ground, he struggled out of his climbing harness and dropped it to the ground.
Weaving his way forward, he elbowed his way past you and across the street to a tavern. There he sat down at a table and accepted a mug from the keeper.

Sgt. Omast Frum

"WHAT? I don't need your kind of help! Be off with yer lookey loo selves! I'm busy!" He shouted drunkenly. The force he used in shouting and giving a rude gesture to you resulted in a slow tumbling motion.

Kurst Grath spoke hesitantly.
“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that my brother, Rodrik—you met him last night—was found dead this morning, and I’ve had my hands full since.
"Right now, the official cause of death is suicide, but I just can’t believe that. Something else has to be going on.
"Unfortunately, Rodrik was the best investigator in Trunau; if he were on the case, solving the mystery of his death wouldn’t take long, but with just me left, we might never know what really happened.”
Kurst sighs heavily.
“I simply can’t handle the investigation and tend to my family duties at the same time.
"I may be a patrol captain, but right now, I feel my responsibilities as a brother outweigh my other duties.
"Still, I can’t just let this lie. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted all my other options—the members of Trunau’s militia are competent defenders during siege times, but they’re not sleuths by any means.
"I need your help. Will you investigate my brother’s death?”

Irabeth pointed to a solidly built knight, who looked worn down somehow.
"Lord Sir Aron Kir, Tactics and Siege warfare."
He bowed his head to you all respectfully.

"Uh, we can go a little farther today. Right?" Bard said, turning to the rest of the party.

During the pause for a meal break just outside the ruins, Skald looked around with a puzzled look on his scarred face.
"Hey, where is the Perfessor? I got his food here."

Perception DC20:
Just as you feared, you spot the small figure of Professor Forol near the center of the ruins at a cautious distance from the throne of skulls. He is engaged in a puzzling activity; waiving his arms and legs in a semaphore manner at the figure on the throne, whiche waives its arms back in a similar fashion.
You think you see Tavey Nask a little further back, his pack mounded high with scientific samples.

"Like what? More boarders in the middle of an empty ocean?" Snorted Mallik as you approached. "Nah. I'm thinkin' whoever those guys were, they got what they wanted and cleared out."

At location 2 (main deck)...

You see the First Mate, Marzack Mallik swearing at the handful of sailors on duty. They are briskly swabbing the deck and mending rope and other equipment damaged in the fighting.
He eyes you warily as you come down from the foredeck.

Sir Aaron paced tensely around the tent, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Shut up! It'll work!" He exclaimed harshly.
He stopped abruptly, his face going white.
"Uh, all due respect Commander." He said more softly.

At this point, when you've got everything loaded, Taidel runs up to you.
"Boss! Bad news; they got some full plate Ironfang guy on the bridge! It might be an officer!"

Sir Aaron nodded smugly.
"See? His boss isn't sending reinforcements. He's gotta prove himself now."

Sir Aaron laughed.
"And I'll take that bet Commander!
"Think on it. He HAS to come across to hit us now. If he doesn't, well his boss in Drezen Citadel may wonder at his subordinate's courage, or loyalty."

He turned to the tent flap.
"Lady Anevia! Any sign from the Citadel?" He called out.

Mallick, standing outside the door, muttered; "Man, the Mordant Spire is gonna have the Captain's ass fer this..."

Sir Aaron studied the maps intently.

"We would need everything we have to go straight up the middle. It will be a horrible meatgrinder though....
"Could we make use of this ring road around it? It seems to be relatively clear, compared to the hills interior."



When the last body hit the deck, the First Mate flicked the blood off his cutlass.
"ALRIGHT; WHERE IS THE PIRATE SHIP? WHERE AWAY?" He shouted out, running to the rail.


Skald spit out some sand.
"Hell Captain, I can go. I'm a good swimmer; and if'n I kin get my bow, I kin be way more useful than I am now." He said.

Aaron approached the maps and looked at them with a critical eye.
"Aye my lords, I think you have the right of it regarding the bridge and a blocking force.
"Those Schir demons are tough, and entrenched on the high gound at Paradise hill. I would not try that without ALL our forces together. It would take some time to break them, enough time for the South Bank units to come up behind us. But that would leave only auxilliarys to block... IHm.
"The enemy on the South Bank is weaker, and separated to some degree. And the road does not seem barricaded..."

He backed up and looked over the dispositions again.
"My lords, I believe that we should attack the South Bank. With our forces all mounted, we should be able to overrun the Tieflings entirely and move down the South road to the Cultists before they can react.
"Even with no units detailed to block the bridge, I have doubts the Schir demons will abandon the defensive works built with such labor to help the South bank forces. Doing so would make them vulnerable to us if we withdraw from the Southbank to strike them while they're exposed. With our mobility, we can do it if needed.
"The decision is of course yours Commander."
He said, giving a sharp bow.


Big John wrote:
”Come with us if you want to live.”

Will save: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0

The man screamed "No! No! Get away from me!" and scrambled away from Big John, running away into the dark to the West.

'Salt' Leadbeard wrote:
He grabs the attention of a less busy sailor. 'Might I have a word with our cook for the voyage? Probably down in the galley, I'd imagine?'

The sailor looked at Salt as if he were crazy.

"The cook? Yeah, he's up forward in the Galley. Focsle down one." He gestured vaguely towards the bow before putting his back into grabbing a line and hauling more sail aloft.

"The ice trolls and winter wolves frequently contest each other’s authority, particularly in the Howlings, but such disagreements seldom last long.
"We need to get out of their sight. Lucky for us Mortin's place is just around this corner.
"Let's get there fast and smooth."
Ringeirr said quickly.

"Yeah, there is a whole network of neighbors will see that the food is distributed fairly. We'll ditch the cart here too. They'll take it apart and use it for firewood." He said you you quietly.

The adults pause momentarily to thank you all, and their gratitude for the party’s courage and generosity is evident.

"Alright. Now lets get to Mortin and get your papers."

"Let's get out of here!" Shouted Reingeirr, who then led everyone to the cart and started pushing it down the alleyway. "Don't bother hiding the body! Move!"

"We've been made! Get him!" Shouted Reingeirr, who grabbed his club and lashed out from behind it.
Club sneak attack: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 6 + 2 = 26 Hit! for 1d6 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (3) + 2 + (6) = 11 bludgeoning damage. A crack formed across its face.

"Gonna need more spars fer sure Sir!" Said Bonden after giving the ships masts a critical glance.
"Maybe some o' those other ships got some we can use!"

Ringeirr turns pale and frantically motions for you all to step out of the creature’s line of sight.
“That’s one of the mirror men,” Ringeirr whispers. “They’re spies of the Queen. They have some magic way of speaking to the White Witches, who can see whatever the mirror men see.
"We have to hide, get it to ignore us somehow, or kill it.
"But if it becomes suspicious, don’t let it escape alive—or we’re done for, all of us!”

Zakgrob wrote:
He trundled over to the big yelling guy after the guards were gone. "Hey..."

Is all Zakgrob is able to get out when the big guy lets out a girly shriek and jumped up on the capstan.

"It's a Goblin! Get it! Get it! Look fer the others! There's always more!" He shrieked out in a panic. "Get the torches! We'll burn 'em out!"

'Salt' Leadbeard wrote:
'I think it may be best we shove off, the Mermaid looks like it's going to get crowded soon.' He calls out to anyone with any authority.

"Keep yer pants on mister!" Roared back the big sailor. "We're about to!"

You aren't sure what the guards told the big guy, but you could sure hear him.
The guards tensed, mulishly standing their ground and their hands inching towards their weapons.

A big wild haired man emerged from belowdecks. He glanced about the deck with a look of authority.
At the sight of the two guards, he gave a double take.
"HEY! YOU LOT! WHAT'RE YE DOING ABOARD HERE?" He thundered, grabbing a belaying pin from a mast and stumping threateningly towards the guards.

"Wait. Wait!" Said Reingeirr, waiving his hands as he looked around frantically.
Seeing no witness, he shrugged.
"OK then, I guess we're out of sight of the checkpoint.
"Let's get your stuff and drag the bodies out of sight under something heavy. Under Whitethrone’s laws, we're all guilty of murder."

After he gets his own stuff, he gets everyone on the cart again.
“Once we deliver the food,” he promises, “we go straight to get your papers. Then I’ll take you on to the Shrine of Milani.”

Warily, Ringeirr returned the girl's glare.
"Sorry Greta, but I need 'im a while yet. You know how her nibs likes fresh fish available, and I need him too bad fer the work." Ringeirr said carefully apologetic.

"Fish delivery as ususal Greta." Ringeirr replied patiently. He sounded almost bored. He waived Ten-Penny's forged documents apparently as an afterthought.

The next day dawns.
After breakfast a grinning Ringeirr hauls out a pile of peasant clothing.
"Alright! Time ta put on more appropriate clothing ladies and gents!"
The clothing is grimy and reeks of old fish.
Once your new duds are donned, he breaks out an old pushcart and has you all push it down to the warehouse.
Things are calmer today. People are going about their daily lives, working, fixing the damage you did yesterday, arguing...
Ringeirr pays for a load of fish, then he has you push it back to his shack. There he has you wrap your clothing and equipment tightly in oilskin and concealed way under the fish.
He stops you when you (whoever has it) are about to put the Rimepelt in with the rest.
"Hold on there! You ought to keep that out. That could be handy..."

Your guide, clearly spooked, came up to you.
"Well yer honors, we're pretty close to the Hambley place now. Just a bowshot up the path here and on the right.
"If'n yer worried about the Volkmans, I can take 'em back ta town from here."

When you appear, the proprietor Kimroth Otai nervously brushes off your clothing, commands you to wipe your feet and hisses "Don't embarass me!", before ushering you into one of the smaller dining rooms.

"Hey my stuff!" Exclaimed Ringeirr as he pulled out a set of masterwork leather armor (with glamour), a couple of daggers, a masterwork sap, and a belt pouch.

Gondork wrote:
"Ringeirr, you don't happen to have any javelins lying around we could use?"

Ringeirr shook his head.

"Nope. No javelins. Got a harpoon or two you can have though."

Ringeirr shook his head.
"Not even gonna happen. What you're ALL gonna do is take off your old clothes and equipment, ESPECIALLY your armor, and conceal them in the two day old fish along with the supplies I'm already smuggling. You'll don these old peasant clothes, also smelling of old fish, and you'll help me push the carts through the checkpoint. The smell of decaying fish will prevent the noses of the Winter Wolves from detecting you from being other than a slave.

Gondork wrote:
I suppose they don't sell fancy dresses here?

"Hey now, non 'o that fancy dresses for you lot!" Called out Ringeirr as he came in with a load of peasant clothing. They reek of fish.

"This be good enough fer slaves!" He said, dropping it in a pile.

Ten Penny wrote:
What I do mind, however, is entering the city without a back-up plan.

"Well Miss High and Mighty, what is YOUR ingenious plan to get into a city guarded by high walls, Winter Witches and Winter Werewolves? I've been in and out dozens of times and MY way WORKS!" Ringeirr snapped with irritation.

Ten Penny wrote:
When Ten-Penny tries to forge identity papers for the city using one of Ringeirr's.

"Hunh. Yer... not bad lassie. Maybe even better than me. Still only good enough for slave status, but now I don't have ta do 'em!"

Gondork wrote:
Say Ringeir, what about familiars and other agents of the queen? Is there anything we should be paying extra attention to?

"Hm. Can't say I'm familiar with that kind of thing. If'n anything needs hunting down, they usually use their were winter worgs."

Ringeirr fixed you with a steely glare.
"That's my deal. Will you take it?" He growled.

Ringeirr sat and stared at you for what felt like a long time. Then he seemed to come to a decision. He glanced over to Nadya, who nodded encouragement.

"I had a wife and child once. After they... died, I was lost for a long time. I don't remember how long; years at least just fishing and selling my catch."
He stood up and peered out through a dim window.
"Then. Then I was contacted by an underground resistance group called the Heralds of Summer’s Return. They're resistance fighters in Whitethrone; part of a secret cult of Milani who have a hidden shrine to the goddess somewhere in the city.
"I found a new purpose then. Helping the oppressed people of Whitethrone in their fight against the White Queen. I am an agent of the Heralds now; smuggling the desperate out of the city and bringing in needed supplies to the resistance."

He turned and smiled.
"Looks like you came to the right boy for your little problem."

When Ringeirr returned, in fresh clothing though still limping, he sat down with a sigh and a grimace.
"Well now, I thank ye kindly fer the rescue, but I don't think ye came ta get me outta the goodness of yer hearts. Why don't ye tell me what brought to to see me?" He stated, looking at you expectantly.

After consulting with the command team, Sir Aron quickly sketches out a plan for Arthas.
"To sum up sir; While holding our main body back out of sight, we send out a small squad of paladins into the middle of the floodplain in front of the old town. They are all polished, white cloaked, pennons flying, glowing with light spells, make them gem encrusted if we can.
"Then have them stop and mill about in a disorganized, militarily ineffectual manner. Like helpless puppies as much as they are able.
"Then we shout the challenge out to the demons themselves! We use magic to enhance the sound if we have it, we use the Abyssal language, and we stir them up as hard as we can!
"If done right, the demons'll go berserk, break their handlers leash and charge out at the bait. Even odds the Tieflings charge out after 'em. Then the main body of OUR army charges and we have them! Either one at a time or all together, they'll be on cavalry ground this time!
"What do you think sir?"
He asked anxiously.

Arthas wrote:
How are we matched as ranged opponents? If we control the cliffs can we rain death down on them?"

Sir Aron Kir shook his head.

"Aside from a few Elven Knights and Knight/Rangers, we are woefully lacking in ranged firepower."

He pointed out on a hastily drawn military map of the area.
"Consulting with the command team, we feel our best bet is to detail a squad to keep the north flank pinned while the rest of the army gallops up to the old town, dismount just short there and press forward as infantry.
"We were overwhelming in the last battle versus the tiefling cultists, and I think, despite the defensive advantage the enemy has, we will still prevail by a good margin using the Standard strategy.
"This is our recommended tactical plan."


"Keepers Canyon? Well sir, you just take this road here north east up the Sellen River about fifty miles or so. There's a canyon that cuts through the west hills there along a dry riverbed. That's Keeper's Canyon."

Christoph wrote:
He nods to the driver, "No matter, we can go on foot from here. You'll wait here for us for the return trip?"

The driver tugged at his cap.

"Yessir. I'll just unhitch the team an' turn the coach about right here. Do ye know how long ye goin' ta be? It's gettin' ta be sunset right now."

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