"Samuel"'s page

Retcon-

The doppelganger seemed completely comfortable in Lord Vincent's form; and he had adopted the man's mannerisms so flawlessly that it sometimes took a moment to remember that it was not the familiar comrade-in-arms before the battle-hardened group's eyes.

So, your setting out again then? What would you have me do in your absence, hmm? Five days, no more and no less. If your longer than that in returning i'll live a life of lordly leisure in the Boarding House until your back... Khun-Duhn can kept my glass topped up and fetch my supper. I could get used to this noble lifestyle you know.

Samuel had also waited until the Usurer had moved on before congratulating the group on their victory.

Well struck, well struck. I am glad to see you victorious. Those spiteful little balls of hatred had it coming. That blacksmith though... the Usurer, right? Gives me the creeps. Shivers up my spine. And when I tried to pluck his mind... completely stonewalled. Couldn't even get to his surface thoughts. Keeps his noggin' tightly wound he does.

Very well. My role in this will be strictly non-combatant, naturally. We should have a signal- a key phrase so that everyone knows when to strike.

However... we can hardly bring weaponry to the dinner table. Barak's plan has merit in that we will at least have our weaponry close by if we wait for their ambush. If they haven't changed their plan upon recognising my true form...

As Marcus says, perhaps you should simply show force and not risk any preparation they might have. Storm the boarding house, kick in the door and slaughter them?

All one floor, other than the crawlspaces that Samuel has mentioned that run underneath.

The group told the Bender Brothers they would consider their offer, allowing Samuel to make his report. He shrugged nonchalantly as he said, quite casually, in Lord Vincent's voice-

Couldn't read one, but I delved the other's mind. They make a habit of murdering their guests in the dead of night. The camp suspects but have never been able to prove it. They put spoiled rabbit in the evening meal, which causes nausea and diarrhea. Then when one of the guests uses the facilities, he is stabbed to death by the third brother; slain on the toilet from behind the wall; which is entirely illusionary. The other two use crawl spaces; they run beneath the whole structure- and kill the sleeping ones. Their secret brother is quite the illusionist, while the two "public" faces are assassins. Oh, and the illusionist possesses a Gem of Seeing. He will have already seen through my facade as a result, assuming he was able to surreptitiously watch us.

Barak left to speak to Skeribar's Ranger Guides once more as the group slowly drank their ales and talked. A short time after he left, "Samuel" returned. He sat himself down and helped himself to an ale, talking in a low voice.

Couldn't get much out of this half-orc Clantock and his men, but he was very keen on us hiring him. Tightlipped other than that. Read his mind- easy with that one. Something very nefarious is going on. He has allies in the Desolation that he sometimes leads his customers to. Between them they've slaughtered adventurers, explorers and merchants before; and they'd happily do the same to us. Oh, and funny story- theres thirteen of them in the camp, despite their moniker of "Clantock's Furious Fourteen". Their entire group hires for 100 iron bits a day plus the cost of provisions. 110 a day in total. One final thing- I don't think he's afraid of your fighters; even after seeing them take down Gurg. Not with his dozen dastards at his call, at any rate.

Ehrm... Marcus, its a fish... Samuel said with a grumble. He continued, becoming much quieter as he added- If your asking what I think your asking, I haven't been able to...

Samuel didn't even try to hide his confusion.

Ehrm... Not a friend of yours, then?

Samuel explained a little about his ability to Durin.

A little of both. My ability allows me some control over my own strength and agility, but it is primarily cosmetic.

Lord Vincent nodded his farewells and seemed quite happy to man the fort and start the process of restoring it. Samuel seemed near dumbstruck by the wisdom of Barak's words and with a word of gratitude for the Dwarf's advice, took Lord Vincent's form as his own as the group reached the door of the outpost; more of a crude barricade than a functional door in itself.

Day 6, 10AM, 0 Hours Travelled

As the group began their journey back towards The Camp, Samuel began to speak to each in the group, rotating where he was walking in order to speak to someone new. The theme of his questioning became quickly clear; he was asking about Lord Vincent's mannerisms, history, past, quirks and hobbies, in order to "get in character". The sheer detail the Doppelganger seemed able to absorb and emulate was impressive, although having an identical copy of the group's old friend ask about himself was disconcerting to say the least. Barak took point and despite the mists, the group made steady progress. The Dwarf came close to losing his sense of direction once or twice, but his training and knack for such things carried him through.

Barak Survival: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18

Into a hardy looking, fierce-eyed Dwarf, with fearsome sized muscles and a magnificent red beard. The proud warrior looked at the group and introduced himself, in a gruff and distinctly Dwarven voice.

Stronfeur Hammerfell to ye. Mercenary, th' one ye hired in th' camp to protect yer assets 'nd whatnot.

The bandit is caught and unmasked, his small band of men shattered after his capture. The bandit turns out to be Ayles Megesen, sole survivor of the Stag Lords bandits...

Seeing that his lord has fallen, Ayles Megesen leaps over the palisade from the tower.

Running out of time before uni, so no nice description.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
1d8 ⇒ 3

(Total Miss vs Malthir)

I see you! a malevolent voice rings out from the north-east watchtower as Ayles leans out to take a shot at Malthir. The arrow pings harmlessly from Malthir's armour.

1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
1d8 ⇒ 2

Disguise modifier for Kalev-
1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Ayles looks a little uncomfortable as a decision has suddenly been forced upon him.

I dunno Father... Maybe we should get Dovan?

There is a tense pause for a few moments as Ayles thinks.

The passwords old but your goods are too good to pass up- and I think if we shot you and took them for ourselves the lord could be angry to lose such good earners. In you come then, you horrible trio!

Everyone- big shipment coming in the front gate! Ayles yells. A cheer can be heard from around the fort in response, which is quickly drowned out by a horrible, bestial roar- surely the Owlbear Kressle mentioned to you all.

The gates to the fort creak open and the Guardians wheel the wagon in. Stood in the yard are six or seven bandits, including a massive human, a duelist in an ornate chain shirt, a distinguished looking warrior thta must be Akiros- and the Stag Lord himself. Back further into the fort, the common room is clearly visible, with another four bandits apparently dicing.

Still need stealth rolls from Fenna and Malthir. Also, no more OOC discussion between you of what you want to do. You don't have the luxury of unmonitored communication.

I'm making another post, please hold.

1d20 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6 Perception (other modifiers are in play but not revealing them)
1d20 - 2 ⇒ (18) - 2 = 16 Perception (other modifiers are in play but not revealing them)

I like em' feisty Father... I might have to confess some sins to you sometime soon i'm afraid... Heh heh...

Aye piker, we've been out for a week now! Kressle's late with her shipment and some of the lads are saying she cut some of them down. The sweet smell of ale will be sure to perk our lord right up!

Ayles spots Yelena and snickers. Sorry about that, can tell your no lad now I look closer fork-tongue! Yer not half bad-looking anyways hurgh... he says as he makes a crude gesture, earning him a stern look from the bandit stood by him.

Ayles cuffs the older man across the head. Always about the bloody community with you ain't it? Once a priest, always a priest eh...

Halt! cries one of the figures in the watchtower. You know how it works lads... Whats the password? Be quick about it, he's in a foul mood tonight I can tell ya!

Hey, Father, can you smell booze? the man asks the bandit to his left, a much older man.