Mexus Navarion's page

Mexus looks over to the goblins and wrinkles his nose as they play some sort of game involving chips of bone and a what looks like the bloody stump of a rat's tail. He then glances to Fahim contemplating his powders and extracts. Mexus then glances over to Honus, taking in his dower and isolated expression, before returning to his quiet contemplation.

Why do I bother? None of them give a damn what the evil infernalist has to say ... maybe after a couple of years, after I save save their lives with the help of a damned soul or two, this sort of blatant prejudice against the demonic will begin to flag ...

Mexus looks from Kella to Honus and back, considering their words while 'Hel rattles his bone box. After a few moments of consideration he nods to Honus and says to Kella, "Honus is right. There are too many people to there to risk a visit. If we need specific supplies, one of us can in to collect them. Otherwise, I think Zaiharahel should head off to find a ferry, and the rest of us can stay here and make ready to continue on to Trollheim." Mexus looks to Fahim, half expecting him to disagree and justify his stance based on the angle of the sun to the mountains on the horizon indicating a predisposition for infernal beings to spontaneously manifest near goblins, or something equally as ignorant and prejudiced.

Mexus continues to press his luck, reloading his crossbow, taking careful aim and ...

Crossbow: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (2) - 4 = -2
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 6

... planting another bolt in a snowbank with great precision and deadly accuracy.

Mexus rapidly reloads and lines up another shot on the wolf to the west.

If I fire enough arrows in their general direction, something is bound to be hit, right?

+2 from Dex, -4 for firing into a melee
Light Crossbow to hit red Ubber-Wolf: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (14) - 2 = 12
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 6

Mexus watches another bolt sail wide ...

Damn, these wolves are hard to hit. If I could just put one to sleep, I could tie it up and bring it with us to Trollheim. There I could train it to be a powerful fighting pet, or maybe I could sell it ...
Actually, that sounds just like the parable of the Enchanter and the Baby Owl Bear. It's probably not worth the work to drag it back only to find that no one in Trollheim would pay me what it's worth. What a silly idea, Mexus ...

Mexus ceases concentration on the portal as his acid misses its mark again. Wheeling around to the east, Mexus pulls out his trusty crossbow and lines up a shot on the southern-most wolf.

I hope that I hit the goblin when I miss. What's it's name Anklechewer? Craptosser? Well, it's not Kella, so it doesn't matter ...

+2 to hit from Dex, -4 to hit from firing into a melee ...
Light Crossbow: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (4) - 2 = 2
Crossbow Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 7

Mexus watches the bolt sail over the goblin ... and the wolf ... and sink into a snow drift.

Well, I'm not finding that bolt until spring ...

Mexus grins at Fahim's remark and calls back over the frey with a chuckle, "Good one, Fahim! You have a devilish wit!"

As the goblins begin to wail and gnash their teeth, Mexus rolls his eyes curses under his breath, "Barmy biters..."

It's not enough that we have to escort them through the cold, but now they're going to try to crawl right into a wolf's maw ...

Mexus concentrates to redirect the portal, sending the coin-sized trans-dimensional rift zooming through the air after the romping wolf pack, dribbling heavenly acid in its wake. As one wolf pounces out of view behind the tent, and another falls into the snow, Mexus sidesteps in the snow, and focuses his aim on the wolf now surrounded by short tasty wolf-treats (i.e. goblins).

+2 for Dex, -4 for firing into a Melee
Acid Dart to hit touch AC: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (14) - 2 = 12
Acid Dart Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

A fanged grimace of pleasure crosses Mexus's face as he watches the caustic celestial solution burn into the wolf's flesh ...

Mexus tears himself out of the tent and circles around the back of the goblin's tent, away from the loudest sounds of goblin jubilation and canine growling and snarls. As he rounds the back of the goblin tent in the cold morning air, he begins calling the necessary will and concentration needed to bridge the boundary between planes. Seeing the three wolves and the potential danger to the goblins that they represent, Mexus focuses on the memory of the baths in the City of Doors from the last time that his former master sent him there to deliver a message. Remembering a whole wing of the building devoted to unusual solutions in which outerplanars could bathe, Mexus concentrates on one large porcelain tub that he could probably have fully submerged himself in, and in which all of the gobos could be easily drowned. He remembers the noxious vapors coming out of the tub, and the twelve-foot-tall yellow scaled draconal Agathion leisurely lounging in the warm liquid. With the memory firmly envisioned in his mind, Mexus releases the energy that he's called up and forms it to make a link between that tub and this frozen waste. After a second of concentration, an indigo portal, about the size of a gold coin opens above the eastern-most wolf, and a stream of acid drips down toward the feral lupine ...

Ranged touch attack; +2 for Dex, -2 for Firing into a Melee
Acid Dart: 1d20 ⇒ 4

Acid Dart: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

... but the portal placement is off, and the snow next to the wolf begins to smoke and sizzle as extra-dimentional aqua regia is splashed across it.

A fanged smile appears on Mexus's face as he feels a slight warming towards the wayward archer.

Mexus rolls his eyes at Fahim's stubborn fanaticism. "That's perfectly fine with me. If you would rather die then let me save you, that is your choice." Mexus looks to the other two, "Is there anything left between us that needs to be cleared up, or are we done as well?"

Mexus obviously bristles at Fahim's retort, and his volume increases, "I am no faith-fool that ties his power to some self-proclaimed god-being! And I give nothing to any power, dark or otherwise, when I cast my magic!" Mexus grits his jaw and grapples with his temper. As he attempts to bring himself under control, his face flushes a deep red, and steam readily pours from his mouth and nose as he breathes in the cold air. But when he speaks again, his tone is more even and measured. "Fahim, please stop trying to impose your cultural norms on me. I am very clearly not Qadiran. And infernal magic is forbidden in many prime cultures, because dabblers who don't know what they're doing can end up enslaved to the very demons, and their ilk, that they are trying to summon and control. The danger is very real, as demons are powerful and substantially smarter than most humans. I am probably more cognizant of that fact than you are. But I haven't made any deals with extra-planar beings, nor do I have the intention to do so. I am not bargaining away my free will for my power. And so long as I'm not doing so, implying that there is a greater moral penalty for casting infernal magic than any other magic is nothing more than ignorant blathering born of fear and misunderstanding. Magic, any magic, is no more good or evil than a sword or a shield. It's what you do with them that matters. If you throw one of your explosives and it burns some horrendous monstrosity, it's morally no different than if I gated in fire from an elemental plane, or if I summoned a demon that scorched it with hell fire, or if I gated in a div that engulfed it in soul fire. The results are all the same. The lines aren't drawn as black and white as you want them to be. I have seen a devil and an angel at the same table amicably negotiating over drinks. We are working with evil goblins right now. We live in a complex multi-verse, where sometimes doing the right thing means using unsavory methods, and you are getting unnecessarily irate because I crossed one of your arbitrary lines, which is based on what you were taught as a child. I have trained at my craft, including how to deal with lower-planars and not get tricked into corrupting myself, longer than you have been alive. If I was going to trade my freewill for power, don't you think I would be a little more accomplished than I am after nearly a century of having the opportunity to do so? You know from your own experience with me that I am not one to use any destructive power lightly. If I was summoning fiendish creatures regularly, you would have seen me do it by now. But at the same time, if calling forth a demonic entity under my control was the difference between any of our lives and our deaths, then I would do it without hesitation. And the cost of doing so is no more than any other spell. At no point would I ever sacrifice a sentient being, human or otherwise, to a dark god in exchange for power. And that seems to be what you're most concerned about.

As Mexus enters the party's tent, he pulls a vial of alchemist's fire from a pouch and proffers it to Fahim. "I apologize for the brief delay, but I had to negotiate with Kella to keep her from hurling this at the other goblins. I assumed that she took it from your stores." Here his mood reverts to his previous dour and pessimistic demeanor. Mexus looks to 'Hel, obviously trying to sleep, but being awakened by the dispute, "I'm sorry that you were awakened, but you should probably be part of this discussion as well. To acquaint you with the details of the dispute, when I went to check on the goblins, Kella was suffering extremely from the falling temperatures. So, I cast a spell to alleviate her condition. As you all know, I am not a priest of any sort. My powers are limited to moving energies and creatures between locations and planes. After the tragic loss of Alahazra on our last mission, when I returned to Absalom, I did some research into what I potentially could have done in order to save her. And during that research, I stumbled across a spell that allowed the caster to temporarily steal a demon's natural healing capability, and bestow it on a wounded individual. Contrary to Fahim's previous claim, such magic is not illegal, especially not outside of any civilized settlement, in the middle of the wilderness ... in a snowstorm. However, Fahim is quite right in espousing that the spell is infernal, as it temporarily steals a demon's power, and it is most definitely evil. Contrary to Honus's claim, it does not in any way affect the soul of the individual on which it is cast. It, in no way changes the individual, aside from temporarily granting them a demons regenerative capabilities, and temporarily filling the target with a sense of palpable evil."
Here Mexus pauses to take a deep inhalation and replenish his spent breath before continuing. "Now, I assume that everyone is in agreement that my general inclination to prevent Kella from meeting Pharasma was acceptable, and that the objections lodged against my actions are in reference to my methods, rather than my motives. In defense of my actions, I offer two brief arguments. The first, based on the outcome of my actions, is that Kella is healed, and still very much alive, otherwise unchanged in her condition. She was evil before I healed her, she is still evil after being healed, and she is generally pleased with the outcome of the situation. So, I cast a spell that agreeably aided an individual in our care that is important to completing our mission. Given Kella's reaction, I see no way in which anyone can reasonably claim that I harmed her in the least."
"The second, and more nuanced, argument that I offer, deals with the morality of my actions. I postulate that the morality of a given action is determined by a combination of its intent and its result. We have all taken actions that, without context, could be classified as wrong. For example, we have burned archers to death, slashed mercenaries to death, exposed opposing lords to lower-planar environmental conditions, and scared goblins by firing arrows in their general direction. We have, in our own various ways, terrorized our enemies and cut down our opposition. But we justify all of these actions to ourselves by claiming that we are fighting for a nobler cause. We are working to build a better society, and a better world, where individuals get to make the choices that they want, rather than the choices with which the powerful leave them. Honestly, I think we are right to make that careful distinction. On this mission, we are trekking through the wildness with an equal number of evil beings at our side, and we are sheltering them through numerous dangerous trials, because we believe the end result of their intelligence will help our side win a complex military and political victory, which we hope will translate into a better world. During this trip, in which we are illegally ferrying evil beings between warring nations, I cast a spell utilizing demonic energies to keep one of these evil beings from death, and that's crossing a line?"
"Saving another being from death is what's morally objectionable?"
"If you want to worry about the moral toll that casting such a spell is taking on my soul, I am truly touched by your concern, and I am grateful to call you friends. But before you condemn me for using the power at my disposal to save Kella's life, ask yourselves what the cost would be if I just let her die. I've already watched one of our friends be eaten before me. I'm not going to sit back and let anyone in my care die as long as there is one damned thing I can do to stop it. So, you might think me a monster for borrowing dark powers to save Kella's life, but I think I would be a much more vile monster if I let her die instead. What I did was done with good intentions, and had a positive outcome. So, as far as I'm concerned, I used a nefarious tool to bring about a better world. No different than cutting down a tyrannical lord with a poisoned blade."
With that, Mexus raises his hands before him, palms upturned in a questioning gesture.

"Fair enough. Stay here and keep the other Gobos in line. And make sure that one," here Mexus points to Dunghurler, "washes his bum before we set out when the storm ends. I have to go convince the fat man that saving you was good. I guess he wanted you to freeze. When I get done talking to him in the other tent, I will come back and we will begin your training." With that Mexus turns to leave.

Dexterity Check to Catch the Vial of Alchemist's Fire: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Mexus's prehensile tail darts out like a whip to easily catch the vial and wrap itself twice around the girth of the pyrogenic weapon. He looks to Kella with a disapproving shake of his head. By the time he speaks, his tail has tucked the vial safely in a belt pouch. "I'm half demon, Kella. Fire doesn't burn me. You would have only lit your tent on fire and roasted yourself and the other gobos. Do you have any other weapons?"

Sense Motive to gauge her response: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

Mexus making post number 666 was highly coincidental. Don't read anything into that ...

How bad could a goblin with Prestidigitation really be? Besides, she's probably not smart enough to be able to comprehend how it works anyway. Still, if I'm swearing by my name, I'm actually going to have to make an effort to honor this one ...

Mexus hesitates for a second and then agrees, "I swear by my name, Mexus Navarion, to do my best to teach you magic if you give me the bottle in your hand, and any other weapons that you have."

Mexus grins, "I serve myself. My power is not granted by a god. I am not as strong as the gods, but I don't have to do anything for them either."

Mexus's eyes narrow, and then he continues the bluff, again, slowly. "I don't serve Asmodeus. Swearing by his name would be meaningless. I merely stole the power of one of his servants to heal you with it. If you give me the vial, I will do my best to teach you magic."

Mexus's eyes go wide for the briefest of seconds while Dunghurler readies his ammunition, but he ultimately decides its best to simply ignore the situation and try to make his exit before the stench reaches him. Mexus turn to Kella and replies slowly, in a consoling tone, like he would to a child, or a slow-minded zealot ... a very corpulent, slow-minded zealot, "Kella, give me the vial, and I will let you be my apprentice."

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

Mexus clearly isn't convinced that this conversation is going anywhere productive, but he acquiesces to the request for an explanation. "Alright. Let's return to our tent, as Kella and the others need time to rest, and the nuances of our party's philosophical disagreements don't concern them."

Mexus raises a questioning eyebrow and then sighs. When he replies his tone and manner are that of a weary and jaded sophist that has had this debate a thousand times or more. "You both speak from a stance of absolute truth, and you both have adopted a mantle of moral outrage, yet I question on what you form the basis of your beliefs. If you want to have a reasonable discussion about what happened here, and why and how I saved Kella's life, I will be happy to do so. But I have no interest in verbally or physically engaging with closed-minded zealots about their mistaken, green, prime-centric view of the multi-verse, and what always seems to end up being an irrational hatred of demons, devils, and all those related to them. So, what is it going to be, gentlemen? Do you want to stow your anger and have a conversation, or would you rather finish this trip in stoic silence and seething hatred, and we can simply go our separate ways when we return to Trollheim?"

Mexus ignores Kella's words as he turns to face Fahim fully. Gesturing behind him to Kella, he replies, "See, she's fine now. I made sure she didn't die from freezing. So long as we keep an eye on them through the storm, we should all survive this ordeal relatively intact."

Mexus looks to Fahim over his shoulder, and replies matter-of-factly, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm saving her life."

Mexus is obviously less than thrilled at the terrible turn of the weather, but he doesn't complain aloud. Instead, he simply ceases speaking altogether, aside from answering questions posed to him with incredibly curt and minimally useful responses. He seems to ignore the goblins altogether, not reacting to anything that they do, say, suffer, or enjoy.
With Mexus again taking the first watch, he leaves party's tent at regular intervals to make the briefest of patrols to ensure that dire bears or the like haven't wondered into the camp and eaten the goblins. His 'patrols' are short, rarely lasting more than two minutes. However, when he checks the goblin's tent to ensure that the goblins haven't attempted an escape, he finds Kella in her torpid, pallid state.
Mexus glares at the goblins, as he's obviously in a foul mood, and barks, "You fools! Kella is the only thing keeping you alive. If she dies, we will tie the rest of you to a tree and leave you for the cold and the wolves. Move back so that I can call upon the dark powers to restore her life!"

Bluff (as Mexus has presented an substantially false suggestion as to the party's likely course of action): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23

Once the other goblins shuffle back to the far end of the tent so that he can cast a spell without concern that they'll do something disruptive or larcenous, he turns her face up, and his tail pulls a metal flask with the symbol of Asmodeus etched into the stopper, from his spell component pouch. As he opens the top, he frowns to find that the water in the pint flask has partially frozen. He tips it back and forth, feeling some liquid still sloshing about beneath an icy crust. So, Mexus concentrates for a moment and mutters a brief incantation to open a small, fist-sized portal to the elemental plane of fire in the air before him. He holds the flask towards the portal entrance as small tongues of flame irregularly lick out of the portal and caress the metal flask. After a minute or so, the flask is warmed enough to have melted the frosty crust within, and Mexus closes the portal. He then proceeds to anoint Kella's forehead, chest, and stomach with a small amount of the water, each time, drawing the symbol of Asmodeus on her. He then chants, "Hoch pong 'Iw 'Iw, chaq vor neH rIQ pong joH Hurgh HoS!"

Mexus looks over at Zahariel as he halfheartedly searches the tower floor.

Maybe if it was a bit cleaner ...

After a moment, Mexus mutters a quick incantation and exerts a minor effort of will, as he calls into being a ring of white motes of light on the floor maybe five feet across. As he continues to concentrate, a flickering bluish portal forms within the ring, and a slight breeze begins to fill the bottom floor of the tower, as the portal begins to suck dirt, dust, and detritus into it. After about a minute of concentration the five foot area is clean, and Mexus concentrates to move the portal five feet over.

While the portal is cleaning the floors, Mexus looks about what's left behind.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

I hope no one in Elysium is is picnicking in the field that all this gobo crap is going to ...

Mexus takes up a defensive position at the base of the southern tower with his crossbow drawn and ready. With no obvious signs of danger presenting themselves, he takes a careful look at the interior of the tower, looking for any signs that more than five goblins made camp here. And with the idea that part of a larger goblin force is out hunting or on patrol in mind, he starts keeping a very close eye on the northern tower ...

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Mexus jogs over to the entrance of the southern tower. He keeps a wary eye on the gobos as they climb down the ladder on their way to “the fat longshanks.” Not hearing any sounds of combat, Mexus calls up to Honus, ”If they’re not dead yet, make them that way fast. They won’t stay asleep much longer …”

Mexus glances to Zahariel and replies, ”If it was later in the day it might make sense to take the towers and camp here, but we still have good road ahead of us and we need to cover as much ground as quickly as possible. Once we dispatch these goblins, we need to keep moving. … None of them are flailing over the edge yet; he must be putting them to the blade.”

Mexus grabs his loaded crossbow on the ground next to him as he kneels down to throw his pack over his right shoulder. As he begins jogging with a pronounced limp toward the southern tower, Mexus carefully passes his crossbow to his tail, while he pulls his pack over his left shoulder. By the time he's covered about half the remaining distance to the tower, his gear is all back in place, and he reclaims his crossbow from his tail.

It's as cold as a gelugon's caress out here! A sharp stick to the leg and you forget about that for a few minutes, but a lapse in the action and the cold comes roaring back ... on the up side, it seems to be dulling the ache in my leg. I hope Honus throws the one that shot me over the wall. He deserves to wake up a second from death. On second thought, I hope Honus makes sure he doesn't have anything breakable on him before he throws him over the wall. It sure would be nice if he had a healing potion or the like on him.

Mexus rattles off the scroll he bought in Absalom, as he tries to force the goblins to slumber again.

DC 15 Will Save on all goblins (up to 4 HD) within 30' of the ones Mexus can see atop the tower. Failure causes the creatures to sleep for 10 rounds.

Being a paragon of inductive and deductive reasoning (Int 18), and a master of shadows (Darkness Racial Spell-like Ability) Mexus supposes that the way that minimal amounts of light play through the North tower's doorway indicate that there is a small cooking fire that has likely burned down to embers. Mexus couples this with the obvious observation that there is virtually no vegetation in the vicinity of the towers. So, unless the goblins had the forethought to bring wood with them, they're likely using peat as a fuel source for the fire. However, burning peat produces approximately eight times as much smoke as an equal amount of wood, which Mexus knows first hand from his apprenticeship with Master Barnebus "The Wanderer" Akrin, who once conducted three years of research in Ice Spire on the summoning of denizens from the Para-Elemental Plane of Ice. Thus, Mexus deduces that if their are internal floors within the tower, the first floor would have to be substantially higher than ten feet, or the smoke from the peat fire would quickly fill the lower level and force the goblins out. When this is coupled with his perception of small cracks in the tower's outer structure, where mortar has been worn away by years of cold hard wind and seasonal freezing and thawing, Mexus has worked out that it's unlikely that either turn-pike or corkscrew stair designs have been employed for an entry level with such a high ceiling, as their structural integrity would wear down as the weather took its toll on the outer structure that they're attached to. So, the only obvious means of gaining access to a higher floor would be a ladder, which Mexus has read is a common feature of Irrisenian architecture in military installations. However, Mexus also assumes that if his deductions are incorrect, that Honus has sufficient wit to ignore his suggestion and not try to remove the goblin's staircase.

Mexus calls out, "Honus, take their ladder!"

Mexus rolls his eyes as he quickly unshoulders his pack and sets it before him. He rapidly unbuckles the top flap and pulls out a scroll tube marked with a large "Z" stamped into acid-green sealing wax.

Hel has a point. If it worked once, it should work at least as well again ...

Mexus stands ready to use the scroll of Sleep on the goblins as soon as one peaks out from the crenelations.

Mexus readies an action to cast Sleep as soon as a goblin becomes visible.

Searing pain lances through Mexus's thigh where the small arrow bites into it. He grits his teeth to bite back the expletive that wells up from the burning recess of his mind. Motherless Mephit!

Mexus drops to a knee, where he lets his crossbow carefully fall beside him.

You want to play with the art, Finger Painter?! Let's see if you can swallow your own giant's pace!

As Mexus rises, he concentrates, exerts a significant effort of will, and pulls a handful of colored sand from his component pouch. As he angrily growls the incantation, "Nam ego vos, de malorum daemonum!", Mexus calls into a being a 3-foot, irregular, acid-green portal atop the battlements, directly over the goblins. The upper half of a hazy, incorporeal humanoid form pours out of the portal for a moment, its arms spread wide, and a soft shower of sand pouring forth from its arms to fall about the goblins.

I may not have enough mastery to fully summon an Animate Dream yet, but I can definitely borrow its power for a moment!

Mexus casts the Sleep Spell, prompting the goblins to make a Will Save at DC 15 or fall asleep for 10 rounds.

After a moment, the hazy humanoid form pulls back into the portal, which then collapses on itself, to finally wink out of existence altogether.

Mexus summarily reloads his light crossbow, and charges forward.

Someone needs to bring down that sandman before he starts shouting ...

Mexus scrambles forward as the goblins charge from his side.

I've got to bring down those goblins before the archers kill are cargo ...
Now remember this time, correct for wind ... aim ... squeeze ...

Mexus brings the crossbow to in line with his shoulder and looks down the length of the bolt to aim. He corrects for wind, aiming just a little low, and corrects for the new angle. Finally he squeezes the trigger ...

Light Crossbow: 1d20 ⇒ 5
+2 for Dexterity, -2 for Range increment

... but this time he fires between wind gusts, and the lack of updraft takes his bolt directly into the side of the tower. The bolt snaps against the sturdy stone walls.

"For the Mazes!", Mexus exclaims.

I earned a page with Alahazra's death, I'm not going to earn a book watching these two walk into the Lady's shadow ...

Mexus aims his crossbow at the center mass of one of the goblin archers. He hesitates for a second ...

Aim. Keep aiming. Now squeeze it, don't pull it ...

After what seems like an eternity, but is merely a couple of seconds on the Prime Material, Mexus tightens his grip to loose the bolt. With a mighty twang, the crossbow fires, and the bolt streaks through the air. As the cold wind blows, it carries the bolt towards the tower ramparts ...

Light Crossbow: 1d20 ⇒ 6
+2 for Dexterity Bonus, -2 for Range Incriment

... and as the bolt approaches the ramparts, a mighty updraft roaring up the tower wall catches the bolt and lifts it higher and higher until it eventually sails over the tower altogether.

Alright, correct for wind next time ...

Mexus studies the walls of the pass in apparent confusion while Fahim mixes his concoction.

They keep saying "flank," but given the configuration of the pass and towers, I think they really mean "rear" ...

When Fahim has finished mixing his protective solution, Mexus nods once and chants, ”Da mihi auteum arma de daemoni.” As he does, he makes a series of warding gestures before him, while exerting a sizeable effort of will. For the briefest of moments, the air shimmers around him and an encompassing indigo nimbus a few inches from his body appears in the shape of a translucent suit of plated armor, complete with a horned great helm, winged pauldrons, and overlapping plates down his tail. Then, as quickly as the image appears, it simply vanishes. Then, Mexus pulls a light crossbow from under his furs, pulls the string back to cock it, and then carefully loads a bolt. As the pair begin to move forward, Mexus keeps begins scanning the tops of the towers and the pass walls for movement, ready to fire at anyone (or anything) that threatens his companions.

Mexus casts Mage Armor, and then readies action to fire on anything that attempts to attack either Fahim or Honus.

Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Mexus raises an eyebrow in response to Honus's declaration. "A moral imperative? To remove brigands from a remote mountain pass? Sir Gisborne, your sense of civic duty is commendable. And while I certainly have no objection to the wholesale slaughter of any that threaten our lives or the lives of our charges, you may wish to consider that whomever is occupying the towers has the advantages of cover, height, and preparation. If they bar the doors, or trap the space between the towers, we may have little ability to affect any sort of justice on these presumed brigands. I believe that our first course of action should be to devise a plan to get our new friends past the towers unharmed. And then, if the opportunity presents itself, we take the towers and dispense justice. But if they are prepared for a siege, we have neither the time to wait them out, nor the ability to bring down the tower walls. However, I have every faith in your tactical acumen to devise a method that leaves us safely on the far side of this obstruction. And with a fanged smile, Mexus awaits suggestions for a plan.

Mexus considers for a moment, "Most of the spells I have prepared were selected for dealing with the inevitable complications caused by the goblins. If I can see an individual on one of the towers, I can try to put it any anyone near it to sleep, but that would potentially leave the whole of another tower for us to deal with. Also, if I can see a target, if they speak a civilized tongue, I can communicate with them at a great distance ... I might be able to convince them to let us pass unmolested. However, depending on who and what they are, that may be quite a stretch."

I have discovered the discussion tab. I feel like I'm a little late to the game on this one ...

Mexus's eyes narrow and he speaks in a stage whisper, loud enough that everyone within 15' can hear him, but not so loud that it will carry up the pass or to the towers. "Gentlemen, I believe that those towers are occupied. Given the position in which they were constructed, and the care that has been taken to conceal their use, I believe that the famous quote from Admiral Ach'ber, commander of Demon Lord Dagon's fleet applies here; 'It's a Trap!'"

DM fiat suggests that Mexus should now fail a Diplomacy Roll.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

Gasp! Failure!

Mexus does what he can to keep towards the middle of the group, and he tries to keep a wary eye out for danger. He seldom speaks to the goblins, except when absolutely necessary, and even then, he speaks only to Kella. When he does speak to her, he uses simple sentences, yet somehow always manages to offer her something if she behaves and gives her a thinly veiled threat if she betrays the party in any way. When Kella behaves well, Mexus makes a show of using Prestidigitation to spice her food to whatever inevitably god-awful flavors goblins prefer.

Survival to Aid Honus: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
No aid there ...

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

Bluff to Keep the Goblins in Line: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Mexus nods to Zaiharahel. "I need to get a solid eight hours of sleep, so if you take the first watch, I'll take the last ... in eight hours or so."

Mexus rolls his eyes as his tail twitches.

This reminds me of my first lessons in politics. Perhaps this 'gobbo' encounter will teach the other three the most basic appreciation for manipulation, subterfuge, and control. And just maybe by the end of this escort mission they will appreciate my tact and start following my lead, rather than bumbling about upsetting my plans ... well, one can dream."

After a moment of contemplation, Mexus states matter-of-factly, "If you have no interest in transporting our charges during the night, it would be best if we find a place to camp nearby so that we can setup before nightfall."

Mexus turns on Kella with stern, narrowed eyes. He speaks slowly, and more directly than usual, like he would to a child ... a very dangerous child that was holding a wand of wonder. "Kella, you will eat first. If you follow our directions well, I will give you food that tastes better. We do not want to hurt you, but we will if you make us. If you try to hurt us, or steal from us, or try to escape, we may have to hurt you. You are the gobbo leader. So, if you and the other gobbos obey us well, you will get extra food that tastes better than what they get. Likewise, if any of the other gobbos try to hurt us, or steal from us, or try to escape, we may have to hurt them AND you. We don't want to do that, but we will if you make us. Above all, Kella, if any of the gobbos pick up a weapon, we will kill them, and we may kill you too if we think you ordered them to do it. Do you understand?"

While Mexus has no intention of physically punishing any of the goblins, or killing them except in the most dire of circumstances, he hopes that his offer of rewards for good behavior and threats for bad behavior works well enough to convince them to fall in line.

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

Mexus nods in agreement. "As long as the Humans don't have too much trouble with it, I think traveling at night will be our best bet with this lot."

Mexus watches the goblins interact with a look of skepticism. Then he glances back to Lightfoot and asks, "What is a 'longshanks?'"