Hello, lovely players.
I still need to catch up on everything, but you all seem about ready to leave the Rusty Dragon (Ready? We were ready days ago!). I presume the stables first?
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Good enough to lasso the poor lad and drag him out of the freezing area.
Rend throws the lamp oil and lands it right at the mouth of the doorway, spreading a slick sheen over a five foot area. As the oil begins to evaporate, and thus cool, the moss underneath it starts to shrink and desiccate. Karid lights a torch and winds up to throw it when Shamus snatches the torch out of his hand, saying, "That's not going to work, Karid. If you throw it like that, you'll just plunk it at your own feet. Here, like this..." and steps forward to throw. The torch sails in a perfect arc and lands on the pool of oil, setting it ablaze. To everyone's surprise, instead of being consumed by the fire, the moss seems to feed off of it. The fire quickly shrinks from a blaze to a gutter and just as quickly the moss grows to fill a wider area than before, crawling down the hallway toward you.
Shamus takes 9 points of non-lethal cold damage: (3d6=9) The room cools further, but the advance of the moss seems to stop at the new edge of Q11 & 12. I'm pretty sure Shamus falls over now, covered in frost and rime.
Hi my lovely players. Sorry I've been so silent lately. Things have been very busy lately. Today, tomorrow and Sunday are also busy, but I should have some time to check in and move things along. Starting Monday I'll be a lot more available. So, kick back, roleplay a little longer or decide what to do from here (the rest of the day, this day after the festival and attack, passes pretty uneventfully), and I'll check in later. Thanks for your patience, peeps.
Sorry. Fell asleep last night. I will need positions from everybody before I can fully adjudicate what happens next. Check the map here, and tell me which squares you're all standing in. Whoever hasn't checked in by later today, I'll pick a square and play this out. And yeah, you guys just can't catch a break. I tried to give you as many chances to catch one as I could.
Ugh. Sorry gang. Busy day yesterday and busy today. I may not be able to post until tonight or tomorrow. I will say that Mitnal and Kinmorn are doing a good job of lifting the mood of the room. And I loved Mitnal's story.
The 19 is more than enough to put the oil right in the center of the doorway (primarily on square R12). Lamp oil doesn't ignite on contact, though. I will tell you that as the lamp oil spreads out over the mold and slowly begins to evaporate, the mold covered by the oil seems to desiccate and shrink. Also, long day today. May not be able to post much.
The walk down to the Rusty Dragon is enough to get everyone nice and damp, so you're all in a fairly subdued mood by the time you get there. Your mood seems to be matched by the sparse crowd inside. The smell of wet campfire seems to saturate the town and follow you everywhere you go. By the time you gather around a table, it begins to dawn on you that it is you who smell like a campfire. The few other people in the common room sit quietly. Nobody really speaks to each other, and mostly when they do, they do so in hushed tones. Kynni approaches the table soon after your arrival. Even she seems subdued, but a smile still graces her face when she sees you. "I can see you bunch are as lively as the rest of these stiffs. Glad to see you're all still here, though. Bethana Corwin lost a nephew in the raid, and one of our guests was killed, along with his wife. They were visiting from Korvosa. Ameiko is right now trying to find someone back there to inform of their deaths, in between consoling Bethana and trying to run the Dragon. Not that business has been that great today..." "Oh, I am so sorry, where are my manners? What can I get you all?"
At least two, you figure, to cut a simple path through the mold. Four minimum to burn it far enough away from the door to not get frostbite.
A single flask of lamp oil is enough to cover a 5 foot by 5 foot area (one square). The brown mold covers about 8 squares or so.
How many bottles of lamp oil can the group muster?
Mitnal listens intently but is unsure if he understands what he hears. After Ruano is done, he turns to Shantare and says "So, he means we kill goblins, right?" "It may just come to that," says the mayor, giving the halfling a quizzical look. "But for now, there is still more pressing work to be done. Still, keep your eyes and ears open, and if you uncover anything interesting, report it to myself or the sheriff at once." "But be careful. There are hidden dangers in Sandpoint, and people you don't want as enemies. Don't go poking any hornets' nests with sticks. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. Baelor, with me please." The mayor and the sheriff walk back to the cathedral, leaving you all standing in the boneyard with Father Zantus, who is lost in his own thoughts. As the low gray clouds have been threatening to do all day, a late afternoon drizzle begins to fall.
You were approaching the doorway when you fell. You fell onto the near edge of the carpet of mold. The 9 is enough for you to safely jump back to your friends.
Karid, for his part, seems to be wracking his brain, trying to see if he remembers anything on the subject of molds. So far, he hasn't done anything other than mutter to himself and stare past the ceiling. Karid: Spoiler: I rolled for you on your knowledge check, but couldn't beat the set DC (25). If you can beat that DC with your own Kn: Architecture/Engineering roll, I'll let yours stand, and you can go back and look at the spoiler tag I posted previously and reveal the information therein to your compatriots. Otherwise, the introduction of fire to brown mold is about to commence.
You step close to the substance to try and scrape it away with your spear, but as you approach within five feet, you can feel the air turn positively icy in front of you. As you consider the wisdom of pushing on, and gather the grit to do so, that's when you notice that Rend is within that band of supercold air, and that he is shivering violently and covered in frost.
You step up to the wall to give it a try and, despite its smooth surface, you find finger and toe holds, and start making your way into the next room, getting about five feet up the wall, and moving another five feet along the wall. Confident in your ability to spider your way into the next room, you move another five feet toward the entrance, entering a patch of bitterly cold air, emanating from the brown, moldy substance. That's when the finger and toe holds you're using crumble to powder on you, dropping you to the floor right at the edge of the mold carpet. The icy shock of air that you fall into takes your breath away.
"This can't be good. The goblins who dug up the grave knew exactly what they were looking for. And they had someone with them. Not a prisoner." He indicates the boot tracks. "A prisoner wouldn't have held so still. Someone big." Ooops. He's talking to tallfolk. "Bigger than me, anyway. Goblins have bigkin to boss them around sometimes, right? Bugbears and the like? Or are those just stories for children?" "Oh, they're real enough," says the sheriff. Still, as you say the words, they don't feel right. You look again at the print. Though it is not unheard of for bugbears to wear shoes or boots, this print doesn't seem to match the descriptions you've heard. The foot shape isn't right. "Alright then, can someone tell me about this Father Tobyn?" Gengar says gruffly. Father Zantus sighs. "He was the priest before me. He served as the spiritual leader of Sandpoint for a long time, and was deeply loved. It seemed for a time that he alone held our community together during... the late unpleasantness." Zantus pauses. "He died in the fire the night the old church burned down." He looks at the grave next to Father Tobyn's. "His adopted daughter, Nualia, perished that night as well." The marker, a simple stone covered in dirt from the disturbed grave next to it, bears the name Nualia Tobyn, and a simple inscription: Her beauty in life was unmatched. May her peace in rest be the same. He pauses. "Was the late Father buried with anything important? Perhaps it wasn't the body they were after. Relics? Money?" Another pause. Goblins don't read, but whoever filled those boots and ordered them around might. "Books?" "No," says the priest. "I prepared his body and interred him myself. He was burned quite badly. He was buried in his priestly robes, but aside from that, he left this world as he came into it." No.
Spot easily picks up the scent of the invaders and traces it from the wall, where the ladder still stands, to the gravesite and back. In a straight line. No wandering around. No dithering. No "should we take this one, or that one." The invaders came over the wall and made a beeline to Father Tobyn's grave. As Shantare and Ruano examine the tracks themselves, they confirm what is plainly visible to everyone -- a group of goblins snuck in here to steal these remains. About twelve of them. As they examine the fresh turned earth by the grave side, they both spot one tread in particular that gives them pause and makes them exchange a look. There, in the muddy earth that once covered Father Tobyn is his rest, is an unmistakable print, deep and clear. The goblins that stole the body were not alone. They were assisted by someone human-sized and shod in well made boots.
"You're certainly all welcome to call Sandpoint home," the mayor says. "And I think some, at least, will sleep safer at night..." She is interrupted by the arrival of Naffer Vosk, who lurches over tho Father Zantus and whispers in his ear. What he says to Zantus clearly alarms the priest, as the expression on his face grows graver moment by moment. "Are you sure," he asks the deformed gravedigger. Vosk nods. "That is very disturbing," Zantus says, speaking mostly to himself. "Would you care to share," asks the mayor. "It would seem... It would seem that, at some point over the last day or so, someone has snuck into the graveyard and made off with Father Tobyn's remains." The mayor sits silent for a moment. "Show me," she says. Naffir Vosk leads the entire group out into the boneyard to a hastily dug hole in the ground. Quite a few small, bipedal tracks are visible in the piles of freshly turned earth. Other tracks lead away from the gravesite toward the North Wall. Vosk points north. "I found a ladder propped up against the wall, over where the trees press thick against it." The mayor turns to face the group. "No one is to breath a word of this to anyone. Sandpoint is small enough, I expect it will get out sooner or later, but none of you are to help it along. Nor are you to confirm or deny anything on this matter. You are utterly ignorant of the matter. Am I understood?"
Dungeon flora isn't really your thing, man. However, make a Kn: Architecture/Engineering roll. DC 25 Spoiler: You've heard tell of a certain kind of mold that grows underground on stone and masonry that can produce very cold temperature. You think you remember something about using fire on it being bad.
They're pretty smooth. It would be tricky, but you think that it's possible. It would be much easier with any kind of climbing gear.
Actually, there were six statues. Three remain empty handed. A more thorough examination of the dead grave robber's pack reveals several demolished bits that may have once been three fine miniature sculptures of unknown buildings.
The tomb remains disquietingly empty.
It is not immediately clear which statuette goes in the palms of which statues, just by trying to associate manner of dress or other visual clue. However, by trial and error, you manage to figure it out. When you first attempt to place the grand palace in a randomly chosen palm, it sits in the cupped hands bobbling awkwardly. The column of air is not powerful enough to lift it off the hands. The next statue you try this with lifts the grand palace into the air a short distance, but the palace is unstable and keeps falling off the air jet. On the third try however, you set the palace over the cupped hands and it rises gracefully to a height of about a foot above the palms. With a little more trial and error, you manage to place the other two on their matching statues; each levitating perfectly in the sight line of the figure holding it aloft.
"I'm given to understand that you let yourself be nearly run down in an effort to stop the attack," says the mayor, looking right at you. "You could have been split in two. Or is that not how it actually happened?" She gives the sheriff a sidelong glance as she says this. The sheriff, for his part, gazes admirably at the squawking bird, giving it a nod of approves. "Oh she did it, all right," the sheriff says. "I thought she was dead for sure."
Once you're all assembled, the mayor speaks. "I want to thank you all for coming. I know you haven't had much rest, and I'm sure you're still spent from last night. But I had to meet the saviors of Sandpoint in person." Something about the way she says "saviors of Sandpoint," with a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth, makes you wonder just what she means. "Certainly, many rose to the defense of Sandpoint. Our militia, such as it is, did their duty admirably and well." A shadow seems to cross the sheriff's face for a moment, then is gone. "Others paid in blood. Spilt and spent here in the very streets of their home. "But I wonder how many more would have died in the streets, were it not for the six of you. Aside from Sheriff Hemlock, no other members of the watch were there to repel the goblins' cavalry charge through the North Gate. It is my understanding that none of you save Brother Kinmorn are from Sandpoint. Yet you stood your ground, and showed such courage," she says, looking at Shantare and Jessa. "Such courage. As if you were one of our own. For a moment, the mayor looks very tired. Then she takes a deep breath, gathers herself, and continues. "I want to thank you for what you all did last night. There is still much work to be done. We'll be holding quiet ceremonies over the next several days, burying those we lost. But I wanted to meet you all, and personally extend my gratitude for what you did."
A runner arrives for Gengar, Jessa and Shantare at the Rusty Dragon some time in the afternoon. Whether you are up or not, you are are roused and summoned to the cathedral. The smell of smoke on this end of town isn't as strong as it is up on the hill, but it's still there. Some effort is spent trying to figure out how to find Mitnal, before he wanders in the North Gate and bumps into the very runner sent to find him and summon him to the cathedral.
Everyone sleeps until past noon. Some fitfully, some like stone. Eventually all rise, perhaps ealier than you would have prefered -- you all wake feeling as if you could go back to sleep for another three days, but the world calls... Kinmorn and Ruano wake in acolyte sleeping chambers in the new cathedral hearing voices from elsewhere in the building. You wander out into the main chapel area to find Father Zathus confering quietly with the mayor and the sheriff over by the open air courtyard of the stones. A pale gray light filters in from above. The pepper-tang smell of wood smoke is still strong in the air here, accompanied by the cold, earthy smell of autumn. The high priest and his guests are speaking quietly, and you strain to make out their words. "...how many?" "...between sixty and a hundred..." "...how many dead?" "...fourteen souls, several dogs, four horses..." "...can only imagine how much worse..." "...how many of them?" "...at least forty of the blighters... Ah! Your friends are awake at last." The mayor has noticed you two. "Please, come and join us. We were just about to wake you, and send a runner for your friends. Kinmorn, you wouldn't know where to find the Shoanti basketweaver, would you?"
You are quite surprised, then, to find yourself capable of healing that night. Kinmorn too, finds himself able to heal beyond what he thought were his limits. By the end of the night, the two of you, as well as Father Zantus and the two acolytes, are exhausted to the point of collapse. Which you all do about the time the eastern sky is beginning to brighten. You are not alone. The fire brigades work through the night extinguishing fires set by the invaders. The worst fire claimed the two largest wooden structures behind the cathedral. One of them, the largest, had served as the main chapel for the town over the last five years. It, and the temporary staff structure next to it, burned to the ground, despite the best efforts of the fire teams. But due to their efforts, that fire did not spread much beyond those two buildings. Beyond one corner being blackened and scorched, the cathedral was undamaged. The other, smaller fires in town were also contained, and perhaps only one other building, a small, rundown house on High street, that had stood unoccupied for several months, would need to be torn down. Though the sun shows itself briefly at dawn, it is soon swallowed up by the low, pale clouds filling the morning sky. The morning air brings with it a crisp autumn chill, cold enough for people's breath to steam.
So, there remains at least one unexplored room in this sublevel. It's hard to tell underground, but you suspect it's getting late in the afternoon.
Before you can examine the noble, Jessa snatches you up in a fierce embrace, but from what you can see of him, he doesn't seem to be injured. He's covered in mud, and maybe a few blood spatters, but nothing like the rest of you. "Everyone who is able, get on the bucket line." The sheriff puts his hand on your shoulder. "Brother Kinmorn, see what you can do to tend to the wounded. Grab Ruano, and both of you find Father Zantus. Start with those worst wounded that you can save." The sheriff looks you in the eye for a long moment. "Only those you can save, Kinmorn." He looks down at the noble. "You, what's your name?" "Fuh.. Foxglove. Aldern Foxglove." The sheriff points toward Mitnal and Gengar. "Grab those two, and everyone else you can. Get the bucket line organized. Keep it moving. Keep people focused." He looks back at Kinmorn. "I have to see to the rest of the town. See what's happening elsewhere. See to my men. You'll be okay." The sheriff turns and runs out into the night.
"Not exactly," Jessa replies, her lips set in a grim line of determination to hold herself together, "Everyone's been fighting for their lives tonight." Her hands shake from an inability to cope with the adrenaline still coursing through her. "But you..." he says. His focus seems to wander for a moment, as the horrors of the attack start to sink in. He looks back at you. "You're shaking." He says. Something catches his eye. "Your... your blood... You're hurt." He reaches out for you tentatively, as if to comfort you, but is interrupted by Kinmorn's arrival. Once Kinmorn arrives, she gives him a quick hug of relief...both for herself and him. "Is everyone okay? Where did these goblins come from...?" The sun has now fully sunk below the horizon. Gloom has descended upon Sandpoint. Lit by firelight. Most people seem to have fled, leaving few behind to deal with the aftermath, but some people remain, and have already begun forming a bucket line to try and put out the conflagration behind the cathedral. Elsewhere about the town, you all think you can still hear some sounds of fighting -- the clash of steel, a chatter that might be goblins -- but the sounds are faint and distant.
Kinmorn, it's hard to say who is injured most. Everybody is covered in blood, and most of your friends seem injured.
Kinmorn looks to see who is the most injured... Please make a Spot check, followed by a Heal check.
And with the klar strike, Mitnal puts an end to the remaining goblin.
Harlon Spoiler: They may be worth something to somebody. They're not terribly modern tools, and they're pretty old. They're probably not worth much, though.
Jessa finishes her brief incantation and one of the goblins attacking Spot stops his assault and gets a confused look on his face. Shantare tries to run the confused goblin through, but he fends off her attack. Though he's ceased fighting, he's not letting his defenses down. He still knows he's in a fight, even if it's a losing one. Spot snaps her jaws around the other goblin attacking her and flings its limp corpse to the ground. Sheriff Hemlock steps forward and tries to put an end to the remaining goblin, but even he is unable to penetrate the goblins defenses. Hemlock's attack: (1d20+10=13) Kinmorn's spear attack fares no better. The goblin, on his turn, takes no actions, but seems ready to flee the field of battle, if only he could remember how to flee.
Battlefield positions updated from last round. Mitnal sends another dead goblin sailing out into the evening gloom with a hammer blow, then turns and gives the one in front of Gengar a good rake with his klar. Gengar, seeing opportunity in his wounded opponent's defenses, takes the advantage and cuts the wounded goblin down with an axe strike. Ruano slings another bullet into the fray. This one passing close enough to Kinmorn's head for him to hear the stone sail past. Jessa's intended target was cut down by the dwarf, but she redirects at one of the goblins attacking Spot. (To be continued...)
Just waiting on Gengar to declare an action now, I believe.
Mitnal slams the goblin in front of him with a hammer blow, killing him instantly. His Klar swing injures one of the goblins threatening Jessa. Gengar throws his axe and steps up to where Jessa and Mitnal are standing. Ruano flings a stone from his sling. Both of them miss. Jessa, defending herself intently, steps back out of the fray and behind the other warriors. The goblins threatening her try to take advantage of her retreat, but fail. Goblin attacks of opportunity: (1d20+2=7, 1d20+2=13) Shantare takes down the goblin in fron of her with a rapier thrust to the eye. Spot attampts to take down one of the goblins facing her, but fails to get through its defenses. Sheriff Hemlock cuts down the goblin in front of him, adding to the pile of goblin corpses now littering the road at your feet. Sheriff's attack and damage: (1d20+11=14, 1d8+7=10) Kinmorn charges forward to defend Spot, wounding a goblin with his spear point.
Ooh! I take that back. I just checked the math on Gengar, and I believe he included the check penalty. His ranged attack is +4 with the bless. My bad. So, that throw is also a simple miss. No danger to any friends, but it does go sailing right past Mitnal's face, within a few inches, before continuing on harmlessly past the skirmish line..
Battlemap updated again! Now with added Gengar! And fortified with Move Actions! Also, those of you firing into melee (I'm looking at you, Gengar and Ruano), do not forget that you are firing into melee. Gengar, are you sure you want to fling that axe, whose final attack result was actually zero, in the direction of your friends? ETA: Ruano, you may not have realized all goblins were in melee by the time you flung your stone. You too can reconsider, but your attack roll wasn't bad enough to actually endanger your friends.
I'll update the round shortly.
Just to help track, I have second round moves from Ruano & Spot, Mitnal, Kinmorn and Jessa. I still need them from Shantare and Gengar.
Spot struggles with the overgrown rat she dragged down. It's dead. I'll apply the rolls to one of her new attackers instead. Ruano does his damnedest to take down one of the goblins, but he probably missed. Yep.
Without thinking, without hesitation, the group leaps into action to protect the fallen noble. Mitnal tosses his fishcakes in a high arc, landing them precisely where he wanted. Gengar flings an axe at the nearest goblin rider, catching him in the chest. Ruano orders Spot into combat and casts his spell. Jessa, heedless of the danger to herself runs right up in front of the farthest charging rider and casts her spell. In fact, as she completes the arcane ritual, her eyes get big as the goblin aims its cruel halberd right at her chest and she can feel the hot breath of the goblin dog on her face. Then a brilliant burst of harsh, colored light blasts out in a fan in front of her, causing the goblin, his mount, and the three goblins behind him to collapse to the ground. She even has to take a small step back to avoid the limp mass of the goblin's mount as it slides to a stop at her feet, carried by the momentum of its charge. Shantare Steps up beside Mitnal to strike at the remaining goblin dog, piercing it in the shoulder, but failing to bring it down. The unexpected arrival of blockers causes the goblin to pull his mount's charge up short. Spot charges in to attack the goblin's ugly mount, grabbing it by the leg. The rat dog struggles to resist, but ultimately succumbs to Spot's viscious tug and tumbles over, spilling his rider to the ground. Goblin dog trip resistance: (1d20+6=18) Hemlock runs up to the fallen rider and cuts the prone figure down. Kinmorn casts his spell and looks up to find the calvalry riders have been taken down, but the remaining phalanx of goblins is still charging in to attack.
The goblins are so focused on riding down the nobleman, it takes them a moment to react to the newcomers: Goblin initiative: (1d20+4=11) Everyone on the good guys' side moves before the goblins.
Next person to post, please make an initiative roll for the group.
You give the goblin another nasty crack to the head, this time dropping him. Spot, defending as much by instinct as command, turns to face Ruano's new attacker, leaping at the bobble-headed cretin. Spot clamps her fangs around the goblin behind you. She gives it a shake and a toss with her head, sending the lifeless goblin flopping up into the air to drop back to earth in a crumpled heap. The sheriff swings his longsword at the goblin in front of him, cutting it in half. Hemlock's attack: (1d20+11=23)
Kinmorn, deciding to whittle down the goblin numbers before attempting anything with his bow, lowers his longspear and charges at the goblin that the halfling and his dog are fighting. With his spears reach, he thrust past Ruano to skewer the goblin. Before you can begin your charge, you watch the goblin you had intended to attack fall beneath Ruano's club. Another one attacking Ruano is mauled by his riding dog, while one of the two facing the sheriff is cut down by longsword. One remains fighting the sheriff, however, and feeling the blood rush of combat upon you, you charge that one instead, spitting him through the chest. The goblin warchanter with the whip takes stock of the fight and realizes that she is the only one left standing on her side. Spitting a curse in the goblin tongue, she drops her whip and flees the battlefield. The three of you (plus spot) stand for a moment catching your breath, covered in the blood of your enemies, as Mitnal (and probably Jessa and Gengar) come running up to join you. "We're going to lose those church buildings," says Sheriff Hemlock. "We need to get a bucket brigade going." Before he can say another word, however, a cry for help from over by the North Gate pierces the gathering gloom. "Help! HELP ME!" A noble and his hunting dog come running down Church Street from the direction of the White Deer, chased by two goblins riding ugly, rat-like dog creatures, and almost a dozen more on foot. "HELP! HEL--" He stumbles in the mud of the street and plunges face first to the ground, as one of the goblins rides up and cuts down the hunting dog with a blow from a large, cruel sword. |