The posse barely slows as they approach the doors of the town hall, casting only a scant glance at the notice board. They throw open the double wooden doors with a clatter and an undeniable air of power and righteousness. They step inside, standing all four abreast, and Dom unceremoniously, although carefully enough, dumps Glasstaff on the floor. The poor secretary inside looks up with a start, and upon seeing the bloodied body of the Redbrands' leader, she promptly collapses in her chair, stunned with shock. The entrance room is large, plain but pleasant, with the secretary's desk and chair, a stairway leading up and down, and a couple of doors to offices or closets.
A door upstairs opens and two men come out. The first is a familiar face to all present: Sild Winter, still with the bandages on his head, but otherwise looking much better. The second man, only Dom recognizes: a short, fat older fellow, with jowls aquiver under his bushy gray muttonchops. Harden West is about as soft as they come around these parts, a banker turned politician who's mostly mayor of Phandalin because no one else runs against him. As he looks down at the scene, his face reddens and sweat breaks out along his brow. "What... what have you..."
Whatever he's trying to get out, though, is cut off by an oath from Sild. "Holy Heironeous, hit me now," he exclaims, stepping forward and leaning on the balcony railing. Then he rushes down the stairs and kneels by the mage, turning him to look at his face. "By the gods," he mutters, looking up at the posse. "This is Ian Albrek. He was sent here to serve as Town Marshal. I'd heard they thought he was dead." He regards the mage a few seconds more, then stands. "But if you just... I'll be damned." He shakes his head as the realization hits him.
If this were a face to face game, or if my pacing had been better all along, normally I'd want to stop here to RP out your conversation with Sild (and the mayor), but it could cause more of a holdup here in PbP. So to hit the major points, you inform Sild that this man was leading the Redbrands, and he reveals in turn that this is Ian Albrek, who was intended to serve as Sheriff of Phandalin. Instead, he clearly took the opportunity to take over the Redbrands, probably seeing that as a faster track to greater power... or perhaps there's more to it.
After the revelations are over, the fat man clears his throat, having come downstairs. "Yes, well, that's all well and good, but I can't abide this! These.... these buffoons have taken the law into their own hands, and probably ruined the town in the meanwhile!"
Sild turns and gives the man a hard look. "Harden West. Aren't you supposed to be the mayor? Aren't you supposed to see that your town is safe?" Sild's voice is edged and cold, and it's easy to see the Marshal in him yet. "I think these men just did what you should've done months ago. And you'll thank them for their trouble, proper-like, or I'll do it for you."
West sputters and sniffles, and Sild snorts and turns back to you. "Well, first you save me, then you save the town. I should think a reward is in order. How's a hundred dollars each sound to you folks? Half in bills, half in good coin. We'll have it for you tomorrow, won't we, Harden?" He shoots another steely glare the mayor's way, and the man stops his sniveling in a heartbeat. "And maybe we'll ask a few questions of Mister Albrek, here. For right now, I think you deserve a rest."
Congratulations, all! For successfully capturing Ian Albrek/Glasstaff alive and bringing him to justice, you each receive another 100 XP. You've also now completed Part 2 of the adventure! Feel free to post whatever your characters are up to this day/evening, and kamenhero, bring in your new PC if you like. RP as you please, and we'll get to Part 3 soon!
Alright, sounds good. I'll plan to write that up this afternoon/evening after I get home from work. And Jed, feel free to come in with the new character whenever the moment feels right to you--I'll try and set it up such that you can.
Okay, I was waiting to see if the others wanted to say anything, but we're good to move forward.
Mrs. Kind's suspicious look lasts a few seconds longer, but then she nods and opens the door fully. "Oh, alright. I told Sarah not to go to the police about this, I'm sure Henry's alright and he'll be home soon... Silly me for not saying detectives were off limits, too." She gives a forced, short laugh, and gestures for you to enter. "Please, come in." Her words and her tone don't match at all. Frankly, it sounds like Marci's too tired to really put up a good front.
She leads you into the sitting room you saw from outside, and draws the curtains until only a thin line of light shines through. Once that's finished, she takes a seat and folds her hands in her lap. There's no offer of anything to drink or eat. "So, what is it you want to know? If you're wondering, I have nothing to do with it. Henry doesn't exactly have a hidden pile of money I stand to inherit or anything like that." She laughs again, and this time it sounds more deprecating than forced. "I'm sure I wouldn't even know what his antiques are worth, or where to sell them."
I was waiting on Siann to post something, but it's now been over a week, so let's move on.
When Siann returns with the strange letter, the posse ponders over it for a few moments. Whether or not it's referring to them isn't entirely clear, but it doesn't seem to bode well regardless. Dom peers at the symbol, but it isn't familiar to him--nobody in town ever used a symbol like that.
With nothing more of interest that they know about in these caverns, the party hogties the unconscious mage and hauls him back to the room they found with stairs up to the main level; as they leave the cavern, the strange creature watches them from the crevasse, but doesn't approach. They cross out through the dusty halls of the ruined manor and push open the doors to stand in the sunlight once more, looking down the long lane into Phandalin's town square. Down that road they march, four staunch figures who've cleared out the bandits harrying the town. As they pass by the few houses on their way to the town hall, townsfolk peer out from windows and doors, cautious and unsure.
The town hall itself has sturdy stone walls, a pitched wooden roof, and a bell tower poking up from its back. A postboard sits by the front door, with various notices nailed to its wooden surface. Most prominent is a WANTED poster, proclaiming a $200 reward for ORC RAIDERS NEAR WYVERN MESA, complete with the town's seal and an illegible signature, probably the mayor's.
Since Phandalin currently doesn't have a Sheriff--the man Dom knew retired, and their replacement disappeared after going after the Redbrands--the Town Hall is the place to go with a prisoner. Dom also recalls that there's a small but serviceable jail in the building's cellar, the only one in Phandalin. So what's the plan? I was going to go ahead and write up you guys busting in dramatically with the mage in tow, but I figured you may want to do something else.
Alright folks, I said I'd be updating by today, and so it is! I'm hopeful that things will be a little more solid from here.
After some discussion in the office, our investigators decide to check in at the Kind residence first. It seems from the information so far that Henry's wife Marci is the last to have seen him before he went missing--or at least the last to see him that the detectives know about. And as their Doctor points out, she may be a suspect if there's anything unsavory about the disappearance. So they gather up their things, knowing that it pays to be prepared in a city like this and in their line of work. Even in a case like this, where it could be as simple as a man who's lost at the casinos and just hasn't gone home yet... Well, they know better than most that there's always something darker lurking around the corner.
They are Rippers, after all.
(On that note, I realized I may not have made it clear: you are technically an established Ripper Lodge, hidden in plain sight as the Maltese Private Detective Agency. You even have a local Master, Edgar "The Cane" Parker, a member of the Masked Crusaders faction who's mostly retired from field work, as he's nearing seventy. He isn't in at the moment, as he frequently has clerical duties that have him moving around the city, but he rooms in the apartment above the offices, so you can reliably get in touch with him as needed.) That said, the Lodge is relatively new and doesn't have many resources yet, although it can certainly grow with time.
Las Vegas is still an up and coming city, not a sprawling metropolis like they have Back East or even in some places further West; although there are cars and taxis to get around, and even a trolley that runs along the busiest part of town, it's also fairly easy to walk where you need to go. In any case, our investigators get to the Kind house, set off in one of the residential neighborhoods, without trouble or excitement. It's an average Vegas day: as hot and dry as the surrounding desert, with an added cloud of desperation and vice. There's no other place quite like it... and for that, the world is thankful.
The Kinds live in a one-story home, a little small for raising a family but just fine for a couple and his sister. No car outside--either Henry drove wherever he went, or he didn't own one. A wide window looks in on a pleasantly decorated den, complete with several chairs, a fireplace, and a radio.
Shortly after the door receives a knock, it opens halfway to reveal a thin woman peering out with a guarded expression. She looks more the part of the classic dame in trouble, with shoulder-length blonde hair and watery blue eyes. Her plain dress and lack of jewelry don't quite live up to it, though, and the color around her eyes looks to be from tiredness as much as crying. She looks over the strangers at her door, suspicious and hesitant. "Who are you? What do you want?" Marci Kind's voice is thin and terse, unabashed in its brusqueness.
Just want to let you all know in case you've noticed or are wondering: I've updated the other games I'm running on here, but haven't gotten to this one yet. Not to worry, because I certainly will get us moving again as soon as I can! And I'm looking forward to it. My absence and delays and all have happened for a variety of reasons, including starting work at a new job--which has added a hectic element to my life the last couple weeks, especially with training that's been draining on a few levels.
That said, I'm feeling much better now, and should be good for more regular and more frequent posting for at least a while into the foreseeable future. (That said, it's a retail job, so the holiday season may get crazy depending on things.) I'll definitely be updating this when I can, but one of the other updates I just did tonight took longer than I'd expected, and I'm feeling pretty tired and unfocused at the moment. I'm hoping I'll get this going again tomorrow, but if not it'll certainly be Thursday!
Alright, folks, I'm gonna try and get this going again. I think things should settle down a little for me now, so I'm hopeful that I'll be more regular and reliable in my posting.
Dom considers for a moment, but eventually his kinder side wins out, and he crouches down to staunch the mage's bleeding. He's quick enough in his work, and shortly feels confident the man won't be dying before he's brought back to justice. The posse takes the moment to look things over, though, making sure the man doesn't have any surprises hidden on him. Siann also doubles back to the room where they found the bandit leader (figured I'd do this since you've already searched around this cavern once--it's the one with the fissure and the eye creature).
The man himself doesn't have much on his person: just scraps of parchment with scrawled notes, nothing of interest. The only item of note, in fact, is the glass staff that Dom and Drake look over. Neither of them are certain of what it does, although they both figure it's probably magical in some fashion.
In the bedroom, Siann glances at the chest and sees the bundle of scrolls the mage had been grabbing before the posse burst in. She looks over the rest of the room and soon moves to the desk, which is covered in papers and writing instruments. The first few sheets she examines are mundane--orders for magical and alchemical reagents from nearby settlements--but her eyes fall on a different-looking page: a letter, written in a fine, elegant hand.
The Letter:
Lord Albrek,
My spies in Neverwinter tell me that strangers are due to arrive in Phandalin. They could be working for the dwarves. Capture them if you can, kill them if you must, but don't allow them to upset our plans. See that any dwarven maps in their possession are delivered to me with haste.
I'm counting on you, larno. Don't disappoint me.
At the bottom of the page, in place of any signature, is a curious symbol. It looks like a scorpion, etched in black ink.
Yeah, best of luck and well wishes toward you and yours and everyone down that way, WR. I know this comes a little late, but still hoping you're safe and as well as can be.
Otherwise, my apologies here for my absence. There were a number of factors for it, but that doesn't excuse anything. I'm hopeful to get this going soon, although it may not be for a day or two as this weekend is busy for me.
Glad to see you're with us again, Dom. Hope things weren't too bad in the meantime.
It seems that Glasstaff's spell has the desired effect, as Drake's body betrays him and he remains rooted in place on the stairs. Still, that's only one out of four in the posse, and the others continue to give chase after the mage. As things spill out of the cramped passage into the room beyond--actually the large cavern, the passage's door a cleverly concealed section of the rough rock wall--they spread and attack. Jed's shot catches Glasstaff high in one thigh, causing the man to shriek in pain and stumble forward.
That stumble is just enough for Siann and Dom to leap forward with blades at the ready. Siann's sword slices his arm as he turns and tries to defend himself, but Dom's saber can't be stopped. It hacks straight through his upheld wrist and bites into the mage's gut, and he gives one final shout before collapsing. Blood begins to soak his stomach, from the cut there and the stump at the end of his arm, and the staff rolls out of his fingers. He isn't dead, but he will be soon unless someone works against it.
It's quiet in the cavern, and as the blood begins to pool, Drake feels his body under control once more. The fight's over, and the bandit mage sure isn't the winner.
The dame finishes writing on the provided paper and looks up, her eyes teary again. "This is all I can think of. Thank you for helping. I wrote down our address as well, please come by if you think it would help. And let me know the minute you find out anything!" She gathers up her few things and herself, and soon enough is out of the office to leave the investigators to their work.
The paper doesn't have a lot of information, but it's better than nothing. Overall it speaks of a man who doesn't have much of a social life, or at least none that his sister knows about. The first names are Sarah and Marci Kind, along with their home address. Next is the Herald's office address; only one name accompanies it, Roger Hayes. Editor? is written next to it in parentheses, suggesting Sarah knew the man's name but not his precise relationship with her brother. Finally, she's marked down the address of a bar in town, and noted that Henry's spoken about a friend named Pete who he would meet there.
I'm doing a bit of handwaving here--realistically, there would be some more names and places on there. However, they'd lead to quick searches revealing a bust, and while red herrings are an important aspect of detective stories, totally mundane dead ends are uninteresting and unimportant. Generally speaking, we can assume that you'd follow up on those and quickly discover they don't matter, if you guys don't mind. I know it's a little meta-gamey, but for PbP I think it's preferable to spending several days of posting on completely irrelevant stuff.
When Michael speaks up, Sarah Kind takes his hand and forces a smile. Once he has his pen and paper ready, she takes a moment to think over his questions and then begins.
"Henry is a writer, mostly for the local paper, the Herald? He's written for some other works, too, journals I think, but mostly the Herald. Nothing dangerous, mostly pieces on politics and the history bits. As far as partners, I think it's just whoever he works with on a given story, whether a photographer or another writer. And the editors, of course." She sniffs and shakes her head. "I don't think he has any troubles at work. He's never said anything about it."
She gratefully accepts the water from Jorge and takes a sip. "I don't think Henry ever went to lenders, no. He's never mentioned money troubles. I think he's always won and lost about the same amount." The smile she gives doesn't reach her eyes. "He's talked about selling some of his old things every now and then, but I don't think he'll ever go through with it. He has a small collection of antiques. He's always been fascinated with history."
At the question of an affair, Miss Kind looks shocked and flustered. She sputters for a moment and shakes her head, her cheeks flushing like ripening strawberries. "No, no! My brother is a good man, a kind man, he loves Marci very much. He would never!" She bristles for a moment longer, but a little gentle talk calms her down, and she takes the paper and pen with pursed lips. "I'll do what I can..."
I'll let it there for now, in case you guys want to discuss anything more in the way of plans or if you have any more questions. Should update tomorrow.
Miss Kind looks up at Aaron with a grateful smile. "Thank you. Thank you. I don't know about where he went, he didn't talk to me about that... maybe Marci knows something more?" At the mention of a description, she gasps and nods, reaching into the handbag she's been clutching since she walked in. "I brought a photograph, it isn't much but I hope it helps..."
The picture she produces is cheap and folded, but serviceable with a little added description from the dame. Henry Kind has the look of a man with too many worries and no way to get past them... maybe because his entertainment is the sort that gives you more worries itself. In the photograph he's wearing a cheap suit and a hat that was probably new before the War, and judging by the car near him on the street, he's short as well as thin. His hair and mustache are thin and fair--Miss Kind clarifies them as "blonde, straw blonde"--and the eyes behind his round glasses are "brown, but not dark."
The woman is still teary-eyed as the investigators set about to get her a drink, but Eliza's calming tone gets her to take another series of deep breaths and nods. "Yes. Yes, you're right."
She seems hesitant, but looks at Eliza again, and begins speaking despite the slight flush that comes to her cheeks. "Henry is a good man, but he isn't perfect. He... he liked to gamble. He didn't drink to excess, but he loved going to the casinos, or just to meet with men and place bets. He liked cards and dice, but he'd bet on anything. We actually moved here because he used to gamble on the horse races, and then the casinos opened up..."
She shakes her head and sniffs. The noise isn't very ladylike, and you're glad she didn't blow her nose in the handkerchief. "Marci is Henry's wife, yes. We both love and care for him very much, and I'm sure she's just upset, that's why she said the police won't help." She turns to Aaron. "I saw him Friday at supper, before he went out for the evening. But Marci says he came by the house a short while yesterday morning, late, while I was at the store. But he was gone before I got back, and all night and now today..." She has to pause before breaking down again and swallows like she has a rock in her throat. "So I guess he's only been missing a day, but it seems like so much longer, at least to me. And I have no idea where he'd been or where he is now."
Apologies again for the delay--let's get this moving!
The woman sniffs and nods gratefully to Eliza. She takes the cloth to continue dabbing at her wet cheeks and eyes as Aaron guides her to a bench, where she breathes heavily as she wipes her face dry. She takes the cup Jorge offers her without comment, although she also looks unsure of what to do with it; she seems to clutch it desperately, like she needs something to hold onto, and a shot of tequila will do as well as anything. Her breath hitches a few times more, and when Nilan calmly asks her to speak, she nods, takes a final deep breath, and begins.
"My name is Sarah, Sarah Kind?" She blinks and the offer of anything catches up with her, and she holds out the tequila. "Uhm. I don't drink, or smoke... maybe tea, or just water if you have it?" She tries to smile, but it's pretty weak. "I'm... I'm here for my brother. About my brother, actually. He's..." For a moment it seems like she's going to burst into tears again, but she manages to hold it in.
"He's missing. I live with him, and his wife, and he's always home, even if he's out the night before. Especially a Sunday, he likes to go to church... He's a good man, Henry. That's his name. Please, I didn't see him at all yesterday either, but Marci says the police won't help until he's been gone longer and they won't help anyway even then and, and I j-just didn't know where else to-to go and--" It's all too much for the girl, and her words break down as tears begin streaming down her cheeks.
Time to get this going again. Also, fair enough--with Dom and Drake going after him, this round, things are kind of cramped. Also, as a minor mistake, the stairway goes up, not down.
The posse gives chase into the secret passage that Glasstaff opened, rushing to keep up with the wicked mage. Drake fires a shot that goes over the man's shoulder, ricocheting wildly in the enclosed space. Dom lunges forward, trying to grab the man around the waist to keep him from running, but the mage slips just too far away. Siann and Jed are close behind, but in the cramped stairwell there's no room for a shot.
Glasstaff hisses and keeps running, and when he throws open the door at the top of the stairs, he turns for a moment, his hand once more coming up in an arcane gesture. His eyes lock on Drake's, and as he speaks with eldritch power in a strange tongue, Drake feels his muscles slackening, and his joints locking into place, even as Glasstaff turns and darts out the door.
The posse is up--Drake, you need to make a DC 13 Wisdom save or be paralyzed. Also, as Glasstaff is now leaving the cramped staircase, everyone can come out and attack him.
And here's your Marshal back again! It was likely a false flag, just a crash of my laptop, but I've had bad luck in the past so I wanted to make sure you guys were aware in case of a worst case scenario. As is I should be okay, but if I go dark bear the trouble in mind. Also hoping to update today--I've had Internet issues until now, which is why this week's been quiet.
Yeah, I believe we had everyone as part of the Rippers (or at least the detective agency) at game start. By my count we have five players now, so five characters of note in the office!
Also, my apologies for another delay--my Internet's been in and out all week, which has prevented me from posting or even checking in. It's better right now, and hopefully stays that way for a bit.
It's an average day before the dame walks in. Hot enough to cook a steak on a car roof, sure, but that's normal enough for August in the City of Sin. Las Vegas is a city on the rise; with the construction of the Boulder Dam came thousands of workers, and with the workers came growth. Just three years earlier, the state legalized gambling in the city, and Vegas hasn't looked back since. Now there are a half-dozen competing casinos on Fremont Street alone, and more crime, corruption, and cold hard cash seems to show up in the city every day. The depression that's swept the world isn't absent here by any means, though. In Las Vegas, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, no matter what the casino greeters spin.
Still, it's not a city entirely without hope. Between the mob, the average palookas, the crooked politicians, and the vice-ridden businesses--most of which are a front for one or all of the other three--there's plenty of trouble in Vegas. But there's some good too, from the handful of honest cops to private detectives trying to make a difference. Of course, some detectives are more private than others, and they, too, work for their hidden factions.
So it is with the Maltese Private Detective Agency, located in a two-story brick building by the corner of 7th and Bonneville. The window for the front office proclaims the name, and offers the hope of assistance to wayward and troubled souls of the city. Beneath the surface, though, there's always something deeper. For the Maltese Detectives, it's a history that stretches back hundreds of years. And their need to help goes far beyond finding missing relatives or catching an unfaithful spouse. There are dark things in the world, and it takes a special breed to find them.
Five such souls are sitting in the Maltese Agency's office when the dame walks in. She's a blonde, but that's about where the expectations end; she's no femme fatale type, her gams don't go all the way up, and she's wearing a plain dress--green, not red. Her eyes are red and bleary, and her cheeks have thin tracks running down. She looks around the room with teary brown eyes and a hitch in her voice as she leans against the doorway.
Alright, apologies for the delays, all. It's bene a busy week, and I needed to find and go over some notes. Also wanted to give time for more questions if people had any, but at this point I think it's safe to assume we're good to move on.
Updike laughs at Alexander's response, and claps the Russian on the shoulder. "That's what I like to hear. Yeah, take what you can from the Hun and load up. Check things with Sergeant Waites, there, and we're moving in five." He raises a hand at the few groans from the unit, and his usual cocked grin comes to his face with a wink. "Come on, lads. Nobody lives forever, and we've got a war to win. Let's show the Kaiser how real men fight. And someone get over here for Nikhols's leg!"
So the Triple U disperse throughout the church and the nearby fields, alongside the men of the Companie-Saint-George. They loot the corpses of the fallen Germans, taking ammunition, grenades, any supplies they can carry. There's no time to bury the dead of either side, so the bodies are left when they leave. Together, the units march from the church, and from the pages of history... into something else entirely.
Congratulations on completing the prologue. Now the real game begins.
"Ah, yes. The unfortunate business my gentlemen have had to conduct?" The man gives a singly insincere smile and turns one hand in a gesture of feigned helplessness. "Well, I'm sorry to say, but it was necessary. As is this."
Combat begins! Glasstaff wins initiative.
The mage thuds his staff on the floor, and emits a soft glow and a chime like a bell. A shimmering aura surrounds the man for a moment, but it fades from view even as he begins to move. He turns and dashes for the far wall of the room, where he pushes open what appeared to be a bookcase, revealing a secret stairwell beyond--which he begins to descend, rounding the corner and out of view!
The posse is up! Glasstaff has begun to flee, but you can catch up with a move action since he used his staff. However, the narrow staircase means only two people will be able to see him at a time, as anyone more will just see a cramped hall and be unable to target him.
Alright everyone, at this point I'm calling this game closed. I've enjoyed your characters and interactions, but I'd rather not run a game where I'm waiting days or a week or more for responses from most of the players. I know my pacing hasn't always been excellent, but I'm thinking that interest has panned out here or the game has just sort of slowed down and died. I've seen both happen in PbP before, so I don't take it personally, but I do know when it's time to call it quits.
Thanks for the game while it lasted in any case--seeing as this was an experiment to begin with, even making it this far is good enough in my book. I look forward to seeing you all around the forums in the future, and perhaps gaming again! I'm planning to start one or two new games coming up before too long, so if you're interested, certainly apply!
I'll be marking this inactive this evening or tomorrow.
Even as most of the posse is just moving into the room, Dom strides across the floor to the doorway. He tries to walk as quietly as possible, but just as he turns the knob and opens the door, one of the vials lets loose a particularly loud pop. The noise startles Dom, and he jerks the door open a bit faster than he meant to do.
As the room beyond the door comes into view, though, it's apparent the sudden opening didn't make too much of a difference. The room appears to be a bedchamber, more lavish than most of the other rooms the party's seen: there are clean scarlet drapes on the walls, a desk with a matching chair, and a large bed that looks quite comfortable with a large wooden chest at its foot. Currently crouched by that chest is a human man with a short, dark beard, wearing a red robe and an elegant ermine mantle. He turns to look at the door with wide, anxious eyes; clutched in one of his hands is a beautiful staff that appears entirely made from clear glass, and tucked into his other arm is a bundle of scrolls.
The man quickly straightens after seeing Dom, and he drops the scrolls back into the chest. "Ah, you must be the guests I've heard about. I apologize for any inconveniences you've experienced in my home, but I regret to say I'm at a loss as to the cause for your visit... nor do I have suitable entertainment for you at present. In lieu of such distraction, perhaps you might enlighten me as to your reason for coming here?"
Following this round of belated updates--this week had some craziness, including my phone breaking--I'm letting you all know that I'm going on another trip, starting later today. This is very short-notice, I know, but I didn't know I was going until last night myself. My younger brother is still looking at colleges, but this trip also brings us near my older half-brother who I only get to see once in a great while. (Incidentally, he's the person who got me into RPGs in the first place.) His schedule happens to be open for one of the days of the trip, so I'm going along to get to see him.
Like I said, we're leaving later today, and I'll be back on this coming Tuesday. We're staying in hotels the whole time, so I SHOULD have wi-fi and time to post, but in case I don't, that's the reason why.
Following this round of belated updates--this week had some craziness, including my phone breaking--I'm letting you all know that I'm going on another trip, starting later today. This is very short-notice, I know, but I didn't know I was going until last night myself. My younger brother is still looking at colleges, but this trip also brings us near my older half-brother who I only get to see once in a great while. (Incidentally, he's the person who got me into RPGs in the first place.) His schedule happens to be open for one of the days of the trip, so I'm going along to get to see him.
Like I said, we're leaving later today, and I'll be back on this coming Tuesday. We're staying in hotels the whole time, so I SHOULD have wi-fi and time to post, but in case I don't, that's the reason why.
Following this round of belated updates--this week had some craziness, including my phone breaking--I'm letting you all know that I'm going on another trip, starting later today. This is very short-notice, I know, but I didn't know I was going until last night myself. My younger brother is still looking at colleges, but this trip also brings us near my older half-brother who I only get to see once in a great while. (Incidentally, he's the person who got me into RPGs in the first place.) His schedule happens to be open for one of the days of the trip, so I'm going along to get to see him.
Like I said, we're leaving later today, and I'll be back on this coming Tuesday. We're staying in hotels the whole time, so I SHOULD have wi-fi and time to post, but in case I don't, that's the reason why.
Having taken their rest, the posse heads back into the room where they killed the drunken bandits, and out the door on the other side. This leads to a narrow corridor with another door opposite; the hall itself leads to some stairs that exit at the cavern with the crevasse and the strange eye being. With only one clear way forward, the group gathers up and opens the unexplored door.
The room on the other side appears to be a workshop of the magical variety, filled with bubbling and hissing sounds. A rat scurries across the floor to take refuge under a large wooden table, set up with all manner of strange devices and equipment, all of them currently steaming and stewing. There are bookshelves crowded with old tomes, as well as scrolls and sheaves of yellowed paper and parchment. The only other door in the room is on the left, currently closed.
The sergeant laughs and nods. "Yeah, that's what we've been hoping for. Show the world what the Aussies are all about, eh?" He extends a hand in greeting. "Sergeant Marcus Waites, gents. Company quartermaster. I 'spect we'll be seein' plenty of each other, so if you need anything, give a shout."
Any questions that raises are soon answered with the return of the Captain and the Lieutenant--still talking in hushed tones. Finally, Updike nods, Saint-George claps him on the shoulder, and they split, gathering up their respective men in a huddle. The Triple U circle up within the church, and Updike leans forward with one foot up on a bit of rubble. He looks around at the men and clicks his tongue before speaking.
"Alright, lads. There's been a change in plans for us. I've just spoken with Captain Saint-George over there, and he's taking his company on a special mission, the sort of thing we're used to doing. He got caught up in Amiens just like we did, though, so we're both a bit low on men. For that reason, and this mission being important for winning the war, we'll be joining up with them." He raises a hand to cut off any potential comments. "Now, don't worry about being ordered off on some fool chase or something. Captain assures me you'll still be my men, we're working alongside. He seems like a good man, though, so listen to him, yeah?"
Updike winks. "Besides, from what he tells me, we're all gonna come out of this one famous. Live a hero or die a legend, that's us, right?" There's a smattering of cheers and shouts, and the Triple U grins. "That's what I like to hear. Now, Captain tells me there's more men on the way here, so we can consider the church secure. That means we're moving out soon as we can. Any questions before you get packing?"
Updike grins at the men as they respond, and he claps Alexander on the shoulder. As he does so, there's a cough from behind him, and he turns to regard its source: a man who's stepped forward from the other unit, with tussled blond hair and a thin mustache and beard. His rank insignia indicates that he's a Captain, and when he speaks, his voice carries authority and dignity--along with an accent curious to many of the soldiers present. "Lieutenant Updike?"
The Triple U chuckles and glances to his men. "Good, a Canuck," he says with a wink. "They're near as crazy as we are." Whether Updike is referring to Australians or his unit isn't clear, but he steps toward the Captain with a grin and an only somewhat sloppy salute. "Triple U at your service, Cap. F*cking brilliant timing, your showing up, if I might say so. Glad to help if I can, since I'm guessing you were sent to assist us."
The Captain, for his part, smiles back and extends a hand. "Jean Baptiste Saint-George, Lieutenant." He gestures for Updike to accompany him as he begins to walk back outside. "I'm actually hoping to speak with you about that..." The conversation continues, but the two men are quickly out of earshot of others, their voices low enough that they don't carry far.
Shortly, everyone is reloading weapons, checking wounded, and generally taking a much-deserved rest after the battle. The new arrivals begin to intermingle with the men in the church. A few stick out from the others, mainly the officers: a couple of lieutenants, one a big man with red hair and a mustache, the other thinner with a black mop on his head. Dances and Desmond also catch sight of a man somewhat by himself who looks like the sniper they first noticed; sensing their gaze, he glances up with icy gray eyes before returning to a field strip of his rifle.
Another man approaches our particular soldiers as well: a burly sergeant with a large pack and equally sizable sideburns. He grins and nods in the direction Updike and Saint-George walked. "So, you know the Triple U, eh?" The man's Australian accent is instantly recognizable. "What's it like serving with him? He as mad as they say?"
It doesn't take long for the unfortunate Redbrand to crack under dwarven pressure--a few threats, a couple cracked ribs, and pretty soon the man's only too happy to talk. Among his words are many sniffles and a good deal of sobbing and pleading, but he has a fair bit of useful information.
Firstly, the man confirms that the Redbrands are holed up in the ruins of the manor, primarily in the cellars of the place. He says there are some nine other Redbrands there, along with their leader, a mage he refers to as Glasstaff--"On account o' his magic staff is made o' glass!" That's not all there is in the cellars, though: the thug also lets on that the Redbrands have had dealings with someone called the Black Scorpion, who's paid them to cow the townsfolk and frighten "adventurous types" to stay away from the area. To assist with this goal, this Black Scorpion sent some extra muscle to reinforce the brigands: three bugbears. He also mentions a monster that lives in one of the caverns beneath the manor, "an awful beast with a big, horrid eye in its head!" Finally, he mentions that in a crypt beneath the house, the Redbrands have some captives from the town, and skeletons help to guard them from intruders.
He comes to a sniveling end and stares up at Tex and Eberac, a broken man. "So," he sniffs, "now what? You'll let me go?"
After checking over their immediate surroundings, the posse decides to take what they can from the corpses and hole up in the room they just cleared, taking a breather from clearing out this den of robbers. They spend the better part of an hour resting there, watchful eyes on the doors. It isn't quite peaceful or safe enough to take a nap, but the break lets everyone work out their stiffness, as well as go over their recent spoils.
Said Spoils:
4 outfits, including red shirts
6 revolvers (2 fully loaded, 2 with 5 rounds loaded, 2 with 3 rounds loaded)
1 shotgun (unloaded)
1 big axe (battleaxe)
4 knives (daggers)
2 big knives (short swords)
62 spare revolver rounds
9 spare shotgun rounds
Everyone can go ahead and spend Hit Dice for healing and so on.
Oh! My apologies, Niles. You hadn't posted in a while, and I know the game had been going slowly for some time, so I thought you'd left us. My bad, and no problem. I'm glad to know you're still with us!
So with five people, including our good doctor, I think we're probably set for now. I'll try and get us moving again soon--we've started to have some family coming in for a reunion that's happening in a few days, so things have gotten a bit busier for me. And I think someone moved the notebook with my plans for this game...
You can roll or take half the hit die, whichever is better--so for example, in this case, Dom, you'd be getting 8 hit points for the level (5+3) for a total of 34.
Thanks for letting me know your build plans--if people want to state those now that's great, but you can also hold off until the rest if you want. I would like to hear what your choices (if any) are at some point, though.
Apologies for the delay--I was waiting on Siann, and then lost power for a block of time when I would have posted over the weekend. Drawing or picking up weapons is typically a non-action once per round in 5E, so that's fine.
With just one bugbear remaining, the posse focuses their fire. Jed's pistol misses, but Drake blasts a round that takes off one of the bugbear's ears in a gout of blood and a scream from the creature. Dom dives for the floor and grabs the shotgun, and he brings it up just before pulling the trigger. There's another deafening roar, and the bugbear is nearly knocked off its feet into the wall. It slumps to the ground with a dying gurgle, a mass of gristle and blood where half its chest used to be.
Combat is over! For defeating the Redbrands and bugbears, you each gain 250 XP. This does bring you across the threshold to 3rd level--a short rest will net you your extra hit dice (and hit points), but you need a long rest to gain the class features and other benefits.
The posse decides, ultimately, to drag the remaining bandits to an alley, and after a short search they find one that doesn't look occupied or too close to someone's home. Once they wake one up, Eberac and Tex launch into a bad marshal/slightly-better-marshal routine, and the bandit seems to be somewhat aquiver with fear... but just how much is he about to spill?
This calls for an ability check where the Intimidate skill applies, but you can use Strength, Charisma, or Honor as the ability score, depending on how you're going about things.
I also figure that now is as good a time as any to ask about recruiting new players. It seems we've lost a couple, so I want to put it to you guys: do we want to bring in one or two new players, or stick with our group of four? I'm fine either way.
Sorry for the delay--I intended to post over the weekend, but we lost power Friday night into Saturday and I didn't have time after that.
--Round 10--
The snipers in the tower lift their rifles and fire once more; Dances picks off a German rifleman who was aiming at the lieutenant, and Desmond puts down the final member of the mortar team. On the ground, the overwhelming forces of the Triple U and their new allies drive back the enemy, and with their line fully broken, the Germans begin to retreat, stray gunshots and cheers at their backs. In the cellar, Aaron and Alexander each continue to fire, dropping a couple more Germans. Even as the Russian draws his saber, there's shouting from down the hall, then a scream, and then the muffled blast of hand grenades. When the smoke raised up by the explosions clears, the gunfire has stopped, and there's only the scattered moans of the dying. This battle is over, and the Allies have won.
--Combat Over--
Knowing their commander will likely want to speak, the Triple U begins moving back to the main floor of the church soon enough. Those in the cellar finally get a look at the reinforcements, also Allied soldiers, apparently of multiple nationalities as well. Before long, everyone is gathered above ground, with the Triple U spread throughout the church, and the new arrivals mostly in a mass at the broken wall. The other group's commander will probably speak to the Lieutenant soon, but for right now, Updike is moving among his men, checking with each of them for after-battle reports and noting conditions. To each and every man of the unit, he cocks his hat, winks with a grin, and asks, "You do alright?"
Go ahead and respond to the Triple U, and/or talk amongst yourselves, or really anything else you want to do--I'll be honest, I need to find some notes before I totally move us forward.
There's an alley that could suffice, although Phandalin's a pretty small town--you'd more likely be between two people's houses than businesses, although you could find a spot between a couple empty buildings if you take the time. I'd still like to get some consensus--say, two people agreeing--before taking us there, though. (But if your post is in agreement with a plan that's been put forward, please describe what sort of interrogation technique you're going with!)
Siann comes to just in time to see her attacker collapse in a gory display. Reacting quickly, she draws her bow and an arrow sails out, planting in the thigh of the remaining bugbear. It howls and fires its pistols once more, aiming for the men who just put down its companion. Dom is able to duck back behind his cover just in time to avoid catching a bullet, but Drake isn't so lucky. The lead slams into his shoulder, the impact nearly knocking him from his feet, and he feels warm blood quickly soaking into his clothing.
Drake, you take 12 points of damage, and the party is up! Just one enemy left.
Rolls:
Pistol v. Dom:1d20 ⇒ 15 Pistol v. Drake:1d20 ⇒ 20Damage:2d8 ⇒ (3, 7) = 10
Just letting you all know that I'm leaving for a camping trip for a couple of days with my family--I know, it's another short-notice absence, but it is what it is. My apologies, but if it's any consolation I may be able to post on this one. I'm not sure exactly what the situation at the campground will be, some have wi-fi these days and some don't, but if I get the opportunity I may even use my phone to get a hotspot and check in if I can. In any case, I'll be back on Wednesday, and I'll update as soon as I can. Thanks!
Just letting you all know that I'm leaving for a camping trip for a couple of days with my family--I know, it's another short-notice absence, but it is what it is. My apologies, but if it's any consolation I may be able to post on this one. I'm not sure exactly what the situation at the campground will be, some have wi-fi these days and some don't, but if I get the opportunity I may even use my phone to get a hotspot and check in if I can. In any case, I'll be back on Wednesday, and I'll update as soon as I can. Thanks!
Just letting you all know that I'm leaving for a camping trip for a couple of days with my family--I know, it's another short-notice absence, but it is what it is. My apologies, but if it's any consolation I may be able to post on this one. I'm not sure exactly what the situation at the campground will be, some have wi-fi these days and some don't, but if I get the opportunity I may even use my phone to get a hotspot and check in if I can. In any case, I'll be back on Wednesday, and I'll update as soon as I can. Thanks!
-Round 9-
Desmond takes steady aim in his tower, drawing a bead on the German crawling away. The man is low to the ground, but the sniper's eyes are fixed on their target...
In the basement, Alexander moves once more, playing the madman as he has since joining the Triple U. Again the trench gun catches a German soldier, spraying blood and flesh across the wall, and again a grenade blasts through a group, leaving men wounded and staggering.
Overall, it seems the Germans are well and truly routed at this point, and they only continue to fight because they have nowhere to run. The men trapped in the cellar fire wildly, expending what little ammunition they have left, but to no avail--no man in the unit is harmed, as the bullets chip off walls and pound into the ceiling. On the surface, the enemy line begins to waver and finally break. Although the new reinforcements don't make a push, Desmond and Dances can hear Updike himself give a holler of cheer, and a moment later they see the half-crazed lieutenant rushing forward from cover, leading a small charge with his pistol raised. It isn't the first time they've seen such behavior from the man, and like always, he seems defiant and invincible in the face of what should be fatal danger. Bullets just never seem to quite touch Lieutenant Updike--supposedly because they fear him as much as the men who shoot at him.
Round 10, and the last one. The party is up (Aaron with a Joker), as the battle is almost finished; the tides have turned, and now it's mostly some clean-up and a final chance to make your name. As a side note, Aaron, you'd already acted in Round 9 so I didn't count your Aiming--and between this being the final round and the Joker, I'm guessing you'd rather do something else.
Rolls and Draws:
Versus Aaron:3d6 ⇒ (2, 4, 2) = 8 Versus Alexander:3d6 ⇒ (2, 2, 3) = 7 Versus Desmond:1d8 ⇒ 1
INITIATIVE
Aaron: Joker
Alexander: Ace Diamonds
Dances: Jack Clubs
Desmond: 6 Diamonds
Germans: 8 Diamonds
(To speed things along I'll use a block again.)
Just posting in to let you know that I'm waiting on Siann--it's no problem, don't want to call you out or anything, just letting you guys know why I haven't updated here.
Apologies, Aaron, I totally forgot about the Joker when going over things. You did indeed hit a man.
-Round 9 Mid-Round Check-
In the tower, Dances in Smoke reloads his rifle and tries to keep an eye on things. The Allied reinforcements are pressing hard, but strategically--the overwhelming numbers seem to be doing more than any particular strategy for gaining ground. If anything, most of the men seem to be moving conservatively, maintaining small-group tactics while part of a larger unit. The exception seems to be the sniper who first spotted the Triple U's men in the tower--he's maintained a position well in front of the others, and is now knelt behind a small boulder, aiming at the enemy lines.
In the basement, Aaron leans out to fire once more, hoping to find someone who looks like they're in charge. Most of the Triple U have become somewhat familiar with German rank insignias, but it's hard to tell in the dark and smoke and flames. The engineer spots one man who's waving a pistol and shoots on the off chance it's an officer--his target staggers and collapses, another dark smear trailing behind him down the wall.
Indeed, only the bugbear with two revolvers remains. Also, just so you all know, I'm going on another brief trip the next couple days. I should have plenty of time and ability to post, but I'll probably only be able to check in once a day or so.
As Jed dives to heal Siann, the other men both turn their pistols on her attacker. With two roars of gunfire, the bugbear's head is blasted to bits, and it topples backwards to paint its sickly blood on the wall and floor of the hallway.
Siann, you do get an action this round since you're awake again--you would've dropped your sword when you fell unconscious, although that's not a big drawback for you, being a monk. Dom, it's a double-barreled shotgun, and the bugbear only got off one shot with it, so assuming it was kept fully loaded it would indeed have a round left.
No, you took 19; I'm not including modifiers on my rolls, to preserve some element of mystery to the rolling ;) (Although you can usually figure out the modifiers with a little guesswork, which I don't mind.)
