Plumes of smoke drifted up into the autumn wind from long, red-bricked chimnies as the last few carts rolled into the city's cobbled streets, the setting sun making the wood glow dark red for a few moments. A small girl of five watched them with a smile, before turning to the old man sitting in the corner by the fireplace.

"The sun's down, grandfather," she said eagerly. "Now can you begin the story?"

The old man chuckled, his blind eyes gazing towards the window. "Begin? But where should I start? With the cruel brigand king, or the lair of the tatzlwurms, their coils wrapped around all the kingdom, or the mad princess and her final stand? Or perhaps you'd like to hear me re-tell the story of the first Pirate's Council, or the War of the River Kings? The Pact of the Nomen Centaurs? You were always fond of hearing about the Flying Citadel?"

"No, grandfather," the girl said, her face serious. "That was mother who liked the Flying Citadel. I want the beginning of the story!"

The old man leaned back in his chair, his face growing somber.

"The beginning, eh? Those were bad times, child. Let's see...as I recall, it all started with a ship, and three very unusual passengers..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:59, Fri 04 Nov 2011.

Captain Niles Trotter peered through his spyglass, frowning. He did that more often of late.

"Aye, there's the Two Sisters, or my eyes be deceiving me. Prepare the boat, Mister Ainslee!" he called out, glad beyond words to see the rocky shoals ahead. He had lost four good men on this voyage already: two in a knife-fight, one to disease, and one to a monstrous eel-serpent that called the river home. He knew that the creature wouldn't be long sated, and had precious desire to remain in the cursed area any longer than necessary.

He turned to face his crew and the three "guests" upon his longship. He had been instructed to guard them as prisoners of the Duchy and keep them chained hand and foot at all times, but he had always prided himself on his good eye for people, and soon the three guests had been put to good use on board the Swallowtail. He was sorry to lose them now.

"Well then, Mister Manes, Miss Francine, Miss Desra, here's where we be parting ways!" he called out. "It's a hard two days' ride to Oleg's Trading Post, but it's the closest the Stolen Lands have to a friendly stop for honest travelers like yourselves. Come, see me in my cabin while my boys prepare your things. I'll answer any questions about the land ye might have. 'Tis the least I can do, after all you've done along the journey."

He stepped into his smoky cabin, waiting for the trio to follow.

Girard looks over at the captain while he finishes coiling some rope.  Putting the coil down he stretches his back, bulging muscles glistening with sweat from a hard day's work.  Waving greetings to some of the sailors he was passing by, he headed to the captain's quarters.

Though glad to be off the ship, melancholy struck Girard as he had come to like the crew.  A stalwart lot, hard working, hard drinking, hard swearing, but above all, honest.  Reminded him of his companions in the arena.

"Captain Trotter?"  Girard called out as he knocked on the door and entered. "Seems we've reached our destination.  I thank you for gracious hospitality onboard your fine vessel.  I was worried that I would have had to spend the whole journey locked up like some beast.  Again, you have my gratitude." Girard beams a smile.

Girard waits for the other members of his rag-tag band to enter, before asking, "What can you tell me of Oleg's Trading Post?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:02, Fri 04 Nov 2011.

Desra tied off a bit of rigging, green eyes looking over her shoulder at the Captain after he called for her and the others.  A few words were given to one of the other crew working those high ropes before she shimmied down a rope and onto the deck, wiping her greased hands off on her leather breeches.

She didn't much like being a deckhand, but preferred it over the alternative of being chained below deck for most of the voyage.

Nimble steps carried the elven woman behind Girard as he made his way into the Captain's quarters, and she stepped out from behind him, her arms folding over her stomach with her hands gently clasping her elbows.

"Gracious is one way to put it.  Certainly, I enjoyed the trip much more once I was out of irons.  Still, you'll be short-handed for your trip back, won't you?"

In reply to Akal (msg #2):

Francine is in rather sicken state. She does not do well on boats and was uncomfortable all the way through. She checks her horse to check to see if she had been doing better. and signal the crew to get her horse on the land as well as her cart. Based on the equipment brought, it is easy to tell she expected the travel. She changes to her clean journey clothes and comes out smiling. She greets the crew and hands out cards.

She finally decides to go to the captain's cabin.
as she strolls in she says
"I would also like to thank you for believing my story. I really think you should talk to the person you get your information from. Chaining up volunteers is unwise. Had I taken it more personally, I would have taken my things and left. I also noticed your ship lacks gun powder weaponry. The Cannon is rather new invention it is a huge version of the musket you saw. A cannon will penetrate the thickest hulls and out range any bow and arrow. Few mages can equal its destructiveness. It is easy to learn and easy to use."

She hands over a card to the captain.

"This is my card. It will give you directions to my family's gunsmith shop as well as give a Francine discount. My brothers will take care of you. Ask for the model "Samson". It is our top of the line."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:15, Sat 05 Nov 2011.

The captain accepted the card graciously, putting it next to his charts.

"A cannon would be fine indeed," he said, smiling broadly. "Still, it's men I need for this trip back, as Miss Desra has said. We'll be short-handed indeed, but with the grace of Desna we shall manage."

"Oleg's Trading Post? Tis a tiny room and board run by old Oleg and his wife. They have a small stock of supplies, a few warm beds, and nets and nails and such for the few trappers and explorers that come through the area. Rumor has it that Oleg set it up because he's on the run from the law, but my hunch is that he did it simply to get away from people. Not much of a social animal, that one. Still, you'd do well to get on his good side - friends in the Stolen Lands are few indeed."

In reply to Akal (msg #6):

"I have heard the stolen lands are very dangerous. What dangers should we expect on our travels toward this trading post. I also am unfamiliar with the terrain. Do you have a map I can use or copy off of?"

Captain Trotter patted the sides of his beloved moustache thoughtfully, considering the question.

"Well, the biggest danger is likely to be bandits, I suppose," he said. "If you follow this river towards Oleg's, you're likely to run into more of the same of what we saw or avoided on the way here. Eel-serpents, lizardfolk, gators, maybe a scrag or two."

"If you strike out through the forest, odds are you'll run into worgs, or some Greenbelt megapedes. And the fey, of course. Grigs, nixies, boggards, will o'wisps - you name it, this forest will have it. Luckily, it's late fall, so odds are good that the owlbears and grizzlies are already hibernating."

"If you head out too far north or east of Oleg's, then things get a bit hairier. Hydras are common in the swamps, of course, and there's centaurfolk and drekaviks aplenty out to the north. In the mountains you'll want to beware of giantfolk, mostly ogres and ettins, but be particularly wary of thrawns, and carbuncles and trolls are of course quite common."

"I'm afraid there's no map I can give you - we're sailing in uncharted waters at the moment. But Oleg’s Trading Post is located at the southern edge of
Rostland, and further south, I hear tell that the green line of the Narlmarches looms only a few miles away. Ye'll likely want to avoid the Narlmarches unless you have good reason to enter them."

OOC: Exposition hooo!

Girard ponders the line-up against him, and does not like the odds. But what other choice is there?

"Sounds like staying on the ship is the safest option. But danger is the road-sign to adventure, and adventure leads to freedom and glory."

Turning to Francine and Desra, a grin on his face. "Come friends, I think most of our equipment has been prepared for departure, let us be off. Every minute longer we keep the Captain here puts his crew in more and more danger.  Death or Glory await us."

As Girard strides to the door, he wishes the Captain the best of luck on the return voyage.  Stepping out onto the deck, he takes a deep breath, the first of many as a free man.

The fact that Captain Trotter was so well versed in the habitat of the Greenbelt and its surrounds impressed Desra, her green eyes were wide and curious, and the tip of one of her long ears twitched anxiously as the man detailed the more.. dangerous elements about.

"Thank you Captain.  Your knowledge is like a lantern in a dark place, warding us from dangers otherwise unseen -- I'm sure such will keep us from grief on our journey." 

A thin smile tugged at the pale elf's lips, and she gave a short, graceful bow before she spun easily on one foot and tapped Girard on the shoulder.

"Well said Girard! I for one can't wait to be off this boat.  As warm and loving as the company might be, I prefer to captain my own fate."

Good to his word, Desra found her equipment prepared, and she slung her sword belt around her hips and shouldered her pack, replacing a few knives on her person from the bag before she moved to disembark from the vessel.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:21, Tue 08 Nov 2011.

Francine curtseys and thanks the captain for his information. Seeing her companions go and ready themselves to travel, she decides to run up and catch a word with them before they run off.

"While I admire both of your bravado in this endeavour. I think we should plan out the route we shall take. I would hope to avoid any unnecessary danger. We know not of this land and we would be at a disadvantage should a danger present itself. Based on the creatures he has mentioned. I believe following the river may be the best course of action. Fey present a much more dangerous threat as only magical weapons will hurt them. Between a scrag, hydra, or giant folk. I would choose the scrag."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Wed 09 Nov 2011.

"Well then, safe travels, and may the wind be at your back!" Captain Girard said his farewells hastily, eager to see the trio off and make his way back up the river towards less treacherous waters.

The rest of the crew stood by while the three discussed their options. Their possessions, few as they were, had been lowered into the boat along with four days' rations each and a few good-luck charms or strips of tobacco from a few of the more friendly crewmates.

Francine's horse and cart would both have to be lowered from the ship into the water, but the current was slow and the boat close enough for the cart to be pulled to land, and for the horse to swim easily enough.

Desra smiled at the young human girl, and she lifted a hand and let two long digits trace the girl's chin for the briefest of moments--as a mother might with a child.

"Oh?  Well, the River is where you'll also find crocodiles, precious.  Do you know how a crocodile hunts?  It waits quietly for pretty, small things like you to walk by before snapping its jaws around you and taking you underwater faster than you can think.  And if not crocodiles, then bandits--and trust me, if there's bandits along the river, there will probably be more than we can handle--just the three of us."

She suppressed the urge to smirk, and she looked out at the trees and riverbank, shaking her head thoughtfully.

"No, I suggest the forest route, there are few of us, and we're traveling light.  We could make our way through the woods without attracting much attention-- and avoid most of the larger predators who hunt close to water. --If its all the same to you, I'd much prefer to avoid any bandit camps.  I didn't want to come all the way out here to make a name for myself as a murderer of destitute men."

Desra paused, and she brought a hand to rub thoughtfully at her cheek, she glanced to the young human woman, and then to the half-elf man before offering a carefree smile.

"Don't paint me sentimental just yet.  What do you say Girard?  With everything said, one road is as good as another." 

Girard ponders the options for a bit, brows furrowed in thought.

"Well, if we take the forest route, we won't encounter giants or hydras, save for the aberrant ones outside their territory.  And if we do, they'll be the runts and sickly ones that have been chased out by the regulars.  While I have no qualms of cutting my fellow man and I truly doubt they are as poor and destitute as you say, dear Desra, but wandering into a bandit ambush might not be the best of plans.  Though we might be able to negotiate out way out of it.  Fey, on the other hand, while they sound scary, it's only if you actually believe they exist.  And if they do, I doubt they could resist a swing of my blade or a shot from your gun, fair lady.

But as the Captain said, most of the large predators should be either getting ready to hibernate or are already hibernating this time of year.  So they shouldn't be much of a presence if we cut through the woods or go along the river. Sounds like the largest danger comes from bandit ambushes then.  While I don't balk at danger, there's a difference in charging the ogre and flanking it."

Girard get's a wistful look in his eyes. "John 'The Cursher' Hlavic never learned that lesson, no matter how many ogres he fought."

Refocusing, "I say we cut through the forest, take the dangers one step at a time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:41, Thu 10 Nov 2011.

(Take us to the forest James!)

The crew crowded close around the trio, wishing them safe travels on their journey. Members of the crowd slapped Girard on the back, slipped good-luck charms into Francine's pack, gingerly patted Desra on the back, and cheered them each on.

Down below, the trio's belongings had been loaded into the tiny boat. The longship swayed gently in the river current, dangerously close to the sharp rocks below. Along with them were a pair of small crates that the captain was sending along to the trading post, filled with cloth, fishing nets and hooks, nails, rope, and other essentials for the few hunters who occasionally visited the trading post.

As the trio climbed down into the boat, the pirates continued to give their farewells. Girard jumped down first, followed by Francine's more careful descent. Desra was the last to step towards the boat's ladder. The longship suddenly buckled towards the shore, and simultaneously Desra felt a pair of hands at the small of her back, giving a sharp shove. A gentle, almost wistful voice whispered to her in broken Elven, "I'm so sorry..."

The deck spun dizzily away from her, along with the faces of the crew, replaced by the river and the sharp rocks below.

OOC: Balance, Tumble, or Jump DC 20 to dodge the rocks [8 dmg]. A roll of 10 or higher on any of those will reduce damage to [6] if she hits the rocks .

Desra waved to the few crewmen she bothered to associate with, but she was all smiles leaving the ship, she watched Girard and Francine make their way down, and she grasped at the railings as she prepared to make her descent.

The sudden jostling of the ship sent Desra's eyes wide, and her hands tried to find purchase on the railing--only to find an even pressure from two hands at her back, shoving her forward.  She made a last ditch effort to grasp at the railing..

(20:36, Today: Desra rolled 22 using 1d20+8. Acrobatics. Success!)

A wide grin blossomed over that pretty face as those fingers caught one of the belayed ropes used to lower the ship into the water.  Deftly, the elf spun 'round the length of rope, turning her green eyes up to her would-be assassin, the most taunting of smiles playing across her face.  She landed as gracefully as a cat in the boat, giving a slight, almost annoyed huff.

(20:41, Today: Desra rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Taunting smile[Bluff]. )
(20:42, Today: Desra rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Perception.)

"Really?  How inelegant.." Was the soft murmur from the elf, her eyes searching amongst those on the railing.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Thu 10 Nov 2011.

Most of the crew stared down at Desna in surprise, their jaws open in amazement. To them, it seemed an incredible act of skilled acrobatics. Only one man among them didn't appear at all shocked. He was the oldest member of the crew, a hale, white-haired man with jet black eyes who went by Dale. He was standing close to where Desra had been a moment before, the line of a single tear tracing its way down his cheek.

Seeing her taunting smile, Dale nodded gently to her, and tossed down a handkerchief, something rolled up inside of it.

The captain roared new orders to his crew, stirring them all to action once more.

"We'll see you again in a month when we come back with more supplies! Good hunting and good luck! Now back to your oars, boys!"

The ship pulled off, leaving the adventurers standing on the shore, alone in a hostile land.

OOC: The handkerchief landed in the boat next to Girard. Francine's horse and cart were safely lowered to the shore as well. When I get the OK from you guys it's on to the forest!

Girard looks back at Desra with an eyebrow cocked.  "Showing off?  I can see you're very light on your feet."

Picking up the handkerchief, he calls out to Desra "Looks like you have a gift from an admirer. Either way, let us be off." He holds it aloft for her to take from him without looking at it's contents. (if it has any contents)

With that said, Girard tightens the straps to the armor over his left arm and pulls a full helm over his head, hiding his features, though still leaving his chest bare.

"Come, savage beast and foul scoundrels thirst for my swallow's blade and I'll not keep them waiting."

"Very well we shall take the forest route. it is just in my experience that the forest are not to be scoffed at. I have seen the dangers first hand. I did not account for bandits i assumed that they would be on trails that head toward the trading post no matter which path we took, but if you know where these bandits set up. I defer to your decision"

ooc> Desra gets shoved

Francine watches Desra and shakes her head at the gaudy display.

"A simple roll would have sufficed. I assume you will be tree hopping when you go into the forest".

Francine walks to her cart and horse and readies them for a long travel.
she hop in the back of the cart and take the horses' reins. She looks back to the other two and gestures the others toward the cart.

"Hop on and lets get going."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:02, Fri 11 Nov 2011.

Dusting herself off, Desra checked her bags and pulled free an oiled leather satchel, unwrapping it revealed a chain shirt fitted for an elven woman more or less her size, and she slung the protective garment over her head and began working tight the leather straps.  A smirk tugged at her lips as she looked over at Francine.

"I don't tell you how to play with your wooden sticks and smelly powder.  Perhaps you'd exercise the same courtesy towards me and my falling habits."

Chain shirt snugly in place, she double-checked her sword belt and slung her pack over her shoulders.  She was ready to go by the time the boat hit the shore, and she stepped onto the shore, relieved to be standing on solid ground for the first time in weeks.

Falling habits.  Really.  The elf mused to herself, and then eyed the handkerchief that Girard was holding, raising a slender brow.

"I don't remember having any admirers. Ah, Girard, I think there is something moving in it.."

Nodding to Francine, he gently declines her offer.  "Thank you for offering, but it has been a while since I've gotten to feel firm ground under my feet, I'll walk for a bit. don't worry, I'll keep up, though I may take you up on the offer later when I've gotten my land legs back."

Stepping off the boat onto the river bank, he looks at the bundled handkerchief. "Huh... so it is.  Well, if you don't want it, I'll give it a look see."

Girard places the bundle on the ground and with the tip of a long dagger in his armored hand, unrolls it, ready to back off or crush whatever was unveiled. It wouldn't be the first time someone had sent him a scorpion in a gift, though that was usually in conjunction with someone wanting him to throw a fight.

Girard's guess as to the handkerchief's contents was not too far off, as when he shook the handkerchief out, it revealed a furious insect!



The bright green praying mantis chirped angrily, waving a pincer into the air at Girard.

Desra blinked, and she blushed for just a moment before bringing a hand to her mouth and shaking her head, stifling her laughter.

"Oh, how precious!"

She grinned, and she moved over to Girard's side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"How adoreable.  We should keep it."

Girard looks at the chirping insect for a moment, trying to remember if there were any poisonous varieties of praying mantises.  None coming to mind, he looks at the others quizzically.  "It's kinda cute... almost want to keep'im.  But I don't have small cage, and I think Augustine might want to eat it."

Upon hearing her name, a little grey and white rat pokes her head out of Girard's pack.

Wrapping the little guy back up in the handkerchief, he gingerly puts it a leather pouch at his side.

"Well, the sun's a wasting, let get a move on!"

Their shoulders squared against the task before them, the trio of adventurers entered the foreboding woods of the Stolen Lands.

The forest consists mostly of pines and firs, some growing to massive heights. Beeches are also common, as are elm trees. The leaves are a brilliant gold and red at the moment: this high up in the mountains, the Stolen Lands are further along into autumn than the River Kingdoms were. The air is chilly and brisk, but the party's fast pace keeps them warm as they go.

You make excellent time as you travel through the woods, and soon it is dusk. Throughout your trip, you've seen nothing more dangerous than squirrels and songbirds.

OOC: Camp & watch order?

As the sun started to rise above the horizon, Francine peered from her cart while shivering a bit with a blanket on her. She sighed in relief as the sun rose from the horizon. Doing one last sweep of the forest. She gently climb down from the cart and went toward the middle of camp and hit her bell loud enough to awaken her companions but not enough to startle them.

While singing
"morning comes to say, Time to greet the day, Time to earn your pay, food is on its way"

as they started to wake. she gathers some broken twigs and leaves to start up the morning fire. She give give some hard flick on the flint and steel and the fire starts to burn. She then starts to cook.

Craft food check + 3 wis modifier. result is 18

Francine gently stir the pot as the morning stew. She add couple spices. and cooks it well to the right temperature and consistency. he warms the stale hard bread as best as she can to soften it to reasonable level. The smell emanating from the pot is like a fine soup from the local tavern. You can make out each ingredient just from the smell. She pours them into bowls and hand them to her companions.

"It is not my best but it will do. It is recipe my father concocted for all the days we traveled. Made eating on the road a more enjoyable experience."

She curtseys

"I will have to take a leave of you both for a moment. I have some other task I require to be done."

she walk gingerly to her horse and give her a bag of feed. she pats it gently. and whisper "that's a good girl, I am counting on you today."

she moves the rest of her materials to the cart.

Lastly she returns to her bowl of stew. She prays before her meal.

"Desna, Goddess of Travel, grant that the travel be uneventful, weather be favorable, the path be clear. Should worst come to bear Erastil, God of hunters, grant that hand be steady, my aim be true, and my legs swift."

She then gingerly take a sip of her stew attempting to do it in the most eloquent style.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:16, Sun 13 Nov 2011.

When the first rays of sunlight fell upon the sleeping elf's face her green eyes slowly blinked themselves open.  Desra had fallen asleep against a tree, her bedroll unrolled and draped over herself like a blanket.  Her nose twitched back and forth, as did each of her long, pointed ears and finally she rose, rolling her bedroll up and replacing it in the straps along the side of her pack.

She spent the next few minutes pacing around the camp, exploring the boundaries of her sight before she moved back to the interior of the camp and found Francine eating her stew.  She looked at the pot, and then leaned over Francine's shoulder to peer at the prepared meal, a hand pulling Francine's hair from her shoulder, long fingers combing through the other's hair.

"A more enjoyable experience?  Well, I'll have to sample it then." 

The elf's green eyes turned to the girl's face, and she gave a thin smile, standing behind Francine, that hand pulling free of her hair to pour herself a bowl of stew.  She sat on the ground and began to sample the Marlin Stew, chewing on it thoughtfully as she let her sleepy green eyes wander.

Girard woke bleary eyed. He was not used to splitting up his night, but he was not one to complain. At least he was waking up somewhere with fresh air and sun, not a dank cell filled with sweaty men.

Smelling the food, he smiles at Francine.  "Thank you m'lady, but hold onto that for a bit, I have a few task I must preform before I break my fast."

Bowing to the ladies, he headed just out of sight. Upon finding a small clearing, he striped down to only a loincloth and preforms a stretching routine.  Once done, he put himself through a series of stances and exercises, a mix of attack, defense and dance maneuvers.

When he was done, he was coated in a light perspiration, limber muscles cooling in the chill Autumn morning.  He cleaned himself with a wet towel, anointed a few drops of scented oil and donned his armor.

Returning to camp, he greets the ladies, sits down and enjoys his meal, feeding morsels to Augustine and seeing if Flavius, the mantis in the pouch, would eat any as well.

"A veritable feast, lady Marlin. I thank you."

The trio feast on Marlin stew, which is agreeable to all of them, as well as Augustine the Rat, Flavius the Mantis, and perhaps even Tanya the Horse.

After finishing, the band continues traveling through the forests in a southern direction. The woods grow thicker and thicker, massive elms and oaks blocking the sun for minutes at a time in some places. Francine is the most woods-capable member of the party, but even she becomes bewildered by the heavy forest, and the party is forced to wait during a lunch break until Girard can climb a tree and report the position of the sun and the nearby mountains, after which progress continues once more. The day is warmer than the previous day, and it promises to be a cool, comfortable evening as well.

As they move deeper into the woods, deer paths become more common, and eventually they happen upon a trail with human-sized bootprints vaguely visible in the mud. The earlier delay has cost precious time, and the sky is darkening to dusk overhead. By the captain's directions and Francine's best estimate, the party is probably within an hour from Oleg's Trading Post.

OOC: Would you like to follow the tracks either further south or further north, or camp outside for another night? Francine or Girard can follow the tracks with a DC 10 Survival check (DC 5 in clear daylight), and a DC 15 survival check can locate the correct direction to the trading post. Note that making checks to following tracks commits the party to doing so even on a failed check.

Looking at the darkening sky, Girard calls a halt.

"It looks as if we are getting close to the trading post.  We can probably reach it by nightfall if we keep going, and I for one feel it is best if we reach the post tonight. I have a lamp so it won't be too dark. The risk, though is if we get lost trying to find this place.  So if you ladies wish to take our time with this and spend another night out here, I will abide by your decisions."

Girard looks at the tracks, than back at the ladies.

Desra watched as Girard as he led them into the woods. Without a word, Desra tried to illicit a response from the uptight young woman by smirking at Francine and nudging her gently with an elbow before giving a suggestive nod toward the strapping young half-elf.

(17:18, Today: Desra rolled 13 using 1d20+6. Innuendo. )


Of course, whenever Girard looked back at them, she was sure to knock off her occasional pestering of the human woman.  Finally, as Girard made his assessment, Desra was quick to agree with him

"I've no problems traveling at night.  I agree, we should make it to the outpost by nightfall, the less time we spend in the wild, the less chance we're accosted by something aggressive."

Francine shuffles slightly over from the overly flirtatious elf clearly uncomfortable with her advances. she sighs heavily and ponders would it better to be next to the over compensating male or the flirtatious woman.

She decides the best course of action is to run up to the Girard and start a conversation and attempt to ignore the elf.

So you were a gladiator. what was it like? were you nervous when you were going into battle?

Francine notices the tracks.

She grabs a lamp from her cart and lights it.
She leans down and examines them. Intending to try to decipher what may lay ahead.

ooc> She examines the footprints rolls a 19 on survival

She determines the footprint are 7-8 people and the tracks were done a week ago coming from the south heading north.

She tell her comrade the details and then places her hand to her chin and thinks if she can recall an earlier adventuring party that came by a week ago.

OOC searching her knowledge she rolls 4

She does not remember any mention of adventuring party prior to theres. but since the tracks were a week old determines that the chances of being a trap are rather low.
she cautions them

"this maybe bandit tracks. and these are heading away from oleg"

She ponders the worst situation.

"well still best to find the trading post. I agree to head out to oleg. Worst case we have a burn down camp. Best case goods and service for the next day."


They decide to follow the tracks. She places the lantern on the cart post to provide light as she tracks, while still holding her musket just in case a danger should show itself.

Survival check 23

Unfazed by the low light and the wearing of the tracks she leads them south along the tracks
This message was last edited by the player at 04:48, Wed 16 Nov 2011.

Following the tracks south, the party makes relatively swift progress along the trail. As the sun's last rays vanish and the party is plunged into darkness, they make out a quartet of faint fires in the distance. As they come closer, they spot a walled palisade that is more akin to a wilderness fortress than a typical trading post.

The building is surrounded by a wooden palisade that stands 10 feet high. At each corner of the palisade are 20-footsquare watchtowers, each armed with a catapult.

There’s one entrance through the palisade—a 30-foot-wide wooden gate.

OOC: As far as you can see, nobody is manning the palisade wall, and the gate is currently closed. It’s a DC 15 Climb check to scale the walls of the palisade.
01:20, Today: Akal rolled 19,19,3 using d20+6,d20+7,d20+2. Perception rolls - palisade walls.

Girard walked up to the palisade walls, hands away from weapons and when in front of the gate, called out.

"Hello in there! Is anybody home?  We are travelers seeking shelter for the night and perhaps to trade for some goods in the morning.  We mean you no harm."

He then turned back to the others, shrugging.

"Well, its better than the alternative, of trying to slip in.  I bet the people here are very wary of strangers and committing a breaking and entering probably isn't the fastest way to gain their trust.  Though if they don't want to open the gates for us tonight, I say we don't kick up a fuss."

"well at least it looks like the place hasn't seen battle so that is good sign".
I will try as well to get their attention as well"

She rings her bell very loudly and follows Girard's lead in trying to get the attention of those inside the palisade.

"My, how quaint.  It looks quite sturdy--and safe.  Even from Hydras I would think, don't you, Girard?"

Desra examined the ten foot walls and the sturdy watchtowers, briefly daydreaming.  Hydras were rather tall with their necks in Desra's imagination, and the thought of one leaning over the wall and snatching up a person and gobbling the poor sod in two bites flitted briefly through her mind.

"Well, maybe not Hydras."

Humbled, the elf sighed and followed Francine to the bell, and once she rang it, Desra gave it another brief ring before she quickly back peddled to stand more or less behind Girard.

A few moments after the party began ringing the bell and calling, the outline of a stout figure became visible from the rooftop, a bulls-eye lantern in his hand. The figure yells back at the party.

"Hey now! No need to break the damn bell, I'll be down in just a minute! The blasted thatch fell through again, and there's a storm coming in tonight, or I'm a grig's grandfather!"

As the irritable figure climbs down a ladder, a motherly voice comes from inside the palisade gate.

"Oleg? Is it them?!"

"We'll know soon enough!" the man yells back irritably.

A few moments later, the palisade door swings open, revealing a portly, balding man, sweating profusely in the cold wind, with a half-dozen thatching tools clutched in one meaty fist. He looks you up and down grumpily.

"Well, you must be the reinforcements. Restov must have really gone to shit, if they're reduced to sending slaves, women, and elf-folk," he grumbled bitterly. "Well, best you'd get inside. There's a storm brewing tonight, or I'm a grig's uncle, and besides, Svetlana's kept the stew going all night, waiting for you. What took you so damned long, anyhow?"

Girard grinned at the irritable man.

"You must be Oleg.  Sorry for the delay, they neglected to give us a map, so we had to find this place by the smell of fine stew cooking inside.  We were making good time too, but then the wind died down.  Well met, I am Girard, my companions are the Lady Desra and Ms. Marlin."

Extending a hand to shake Oleg's free hand, Girard then looks back at the wagon.

"If you're right about a storm coming, which I have no doubt, We should make haste getting this thing inside.  And if you have any need of assistance with the thatch, my service is yours. It's the least I could do in return for your hospitality."

Francine looks up at the sky. she licks a finger a put it up into the air while watching the clouds, she tries to determine if he is on the mark with his weather prediction.

Survival roll 22 weather

She determines that it is going to be nice night out. She gives inquisitive stare at Oleg.

"A storm in this weather? I think it will pretty nice out tonight. the sun set red the day will be nice and there is hardly a cloud in the sky."

OOC> Sense motive 15

She continues the stare and tries to see if he is trying to hide something. She does not determine if he is lying or hiding but presses on.

she whispers

 Is there something you want to tell me? blink twice for yes."

She continues on the conversation, but not leaving her eyes off him in search for a sign.

"Girard, we need not make so much haste. Tanya is very tired from the journey and rushing her now could be bad for her. Oleg while we do have this charter from the Restov. They failed to mention we were needed as reinforcements. We are small group for scouting these lands. However what ever problems you have you can be sure we can handle them. For example should Bandits appear we shall help you dispach them"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:43, Fri 18 Nov 2011.

Oleg snorts grumpily at Francine and Girard.

"Bah, I can handle a little thatching by myself, boy. And aye, the missus and I have been have bandit troubles like you wouldn't believe. Go on and get yourselves in out of the cold, and I'll tell ye about it." Oleg motions to an open doorway at one of the two buildings inside the trading post.

Turning, he takes Tanya's reins from Francine. "I'll see to it that your horse is comfortable in the stables," he offers, waving a hand towards a ramshackle stable inside the courtyard. Another horse whinnies from inside the stable. "For two silver, I'll even rub her down and provide a days' worth of water and oats," he adds.

Inside the trading post's largest building, Girard and Desra are welcomed by a roaring fire and a cheerful "Welcome, travelers!" from a large, matronly woman with graying hair in a bun. The building has five visible rooms: one holds a large table set for six people, and the other doors are closed, though a sign on one says "Office" and another says "Stockroom."

"This is my wife, Svetlana," Oleg says gruffly, as the woman begins ladling a hearty stew into the first bowl at the table.

"Welcome, welcome!" the woman says brightly. "Oh my, we expected more people, but I'm sure the three of you will be able to handle those horrible bullies! Please, sit yourselves down! Will you take some tea, or beer, or wine? Oleg and I brew our own stout and ales, and we have a bottle of Nisroch Red as well."

Francine sighs in relief. and lessens her guard. She slings her gun to the back of her shoulder.

"I will follow you to the stables; I need to fetch some materials from the cart. It is a very kind offer. Tanya deserves a good rub down."

She gives Tanya a nice healthy rub and whispers "Good girl"
She hands two silvers to Oleg.
Looking around the palisades, she notices the catapults.

"I noticed you have catapults. Hefty artillery for the both of you. Unless you have a squad of four per catapult they are just a decoration. I would recommend cannons, an invention that is revolutionizing siege weapons. You could load with just two. Your wife and you could defend the trading post without much need or outside help and unlike the catapult it can defend against even close range enemies"

She hand him her business card.

"Francine Marlin adventurer and gunsmith by trade. If given the materials I could create a cannon that would make any bandit group think twice about...."


She then has a flash of realization. She had forgotten about the bandit problem and was in selling mode.

"But first about these bandits. It is best we be informed of your situation. As part of our charter it is our job to rid these lands of banditry so we will help as best we can. We shall talk trade more when there is a better time."

She grabs her gunsmith kit and alchemy kit proceeds to the tables set out.

"Good Madam, I would like your best stout please"

She shudders slightly at the thought of beer and attempts to brace for the sour taste to come. But bluffs a smile and eagerness.


OOC> Bluff check 4
she thinks ordering like one of the guys would help her sell better. sadly the years of beer drinking have not made her like the stuff. (she really wants tea)

This message was last edited by the GM at 21:46, Sun 27 Nov 2011.

Girard sits at the table and sets his helmet, pack and sword down and beams a smile at the old woman.

"Most gracious Ma'm. This stew smells positively divine.  As for a beverage, I'd hate to impose, but would you happen to have some milk?  Barring that, some tea would be lovely."

Girard will wait till the others sit to eat before starting himself.

"Lady Marlin makes a good point. How many people are actually here? The artillery pieces on the walls suggest there would be many others here to man them.  Also do the bandits attack here often and do you have any information on their numbers?"

Girard pauses for a moment before looking embarrassed.

"Oh, where are my manners. No doubt you do not wish to talk of such unsavory matters at the dinner table.  We've introduced ourselves to your husband, but I am Girard, this is Ms. Marlin and Ms. Desra. Again, I thank you for the hospitality you and Oleg have shown us."

Desra was all smiles despite what she perceived as a veiled insult.  Admittance to the fort was a treat,and she looked around, but the artillery pieces weren't of much interest to her.  She looked over the faces of those that were inside, and at the introduction to the man's wife she made sure to give her a polite nod.

Once inside, she stayed close to Girard and Francine, and she took a seat next to her female companion.  Once Girard was seated and she listened to their orders, she chipped in.

"Tea, thank you."

Human tea, she mused to herself.  A wistful look crossed her face and she set an elbow on the table and slouched her chin into it.

Svetlana bustles about, bringing hot lemon tea to all three of the visitors, as well as milk for Girard and a mug of stout for Francine. She returns Desra's nod and Girard's introductions with a wide smile and curtsey of her own.

Francine's mention of a cannon brings up Oleg's interest for a moment, and you see his eyes linger thoughtfully on Francine's musket, imagining the damage that it could do were it a hundred times larger. But then the reminder of the bandits brings him back around.

"Aye, the bandits...they first paid us a visit three months ago. The first time the bandits visited, there were a dozen of them — 10 lower-ranking thugs led by a cloaked man armed with a bow, and a woman who carried two small hatchets. And mark my words, that bi-that woman was dangerous," Oleg says, trembling with anger or emotion. "She almost took my hand off, just for fun, and stole Svetlana's wedding ring right off of her finger!" Svetlana puts a hand on her husband's shoulder as he fumes at the memory. She picks up where he left off the story.

"Since then the bow-man has shown up twice more. Once with six men, and last month he arrived with only four. By now they are convinced that we're completely harmless," she added, which leads Oleg to grimace fiercely. "We half-thought you might be them when you arrived, since they are due in tomorrow," she adds worriedly, wringing her hands.

"I want them dead! DEAD, you hear me!" snarls Oleg, bringing his hand down on the table so hard that the adventurers' soup and tea bounce on the table. "I want to hang their stinking corpses from our walls as food for their vermin friends!" he adds, quieting down as he realizes that everyone is staring at him.

Girard calmly wipes up a bit of spilled stew with his napkin.

"So... do these thugs enter the camp when they arrive and what do they want?  Do they take supplies? Do they... eat anything here? Could we put some nightshade or deathcap in some beer and give it to them.  Deathcap would be best as if they make you eat or drink some, the antidote is raw meat. If they get poisoned and we ambush them, it'll be an easy win for us.  As long as none of them get back to tell the tale, they won't know we're here and that we used a trick."

Girard looks at the rest with a blank look on his face.

"What? When I was a gladiator, people getting poisoned was a common occurrence. Lots of money passed hands between every fight and sometimes people wanted to up the odds of winning.  Why, this one time there was this three-on-three match where everyone on both sides were poisoned, perhaps several times over.  Instead of just slowing their reflexes, it was just six people stumbling around drunkenly throwing up, and trust me, throwing up in a full-faced helmet is not a pleasant thing.  They upped the pre-fight security ever since then.  The arena lost a lot of money paying back the refunded tickets.  Man... good times."

Girard shakes his head with a wistful smile.

"But seriously, We need to ambush them if they are coming tomorrow and while displaying their mutilated bodies is more than they deserve, I'm thinking keeping our presence hidden will be better for us in the long run."

Girard goes back to eating his stew, occasionally chuckling to himself. "Oh man... couldn't get the smell out of that helmet for weeks."

Shock appears on Francine face as she hears Girard's plan.

"I never expected the plan coming from, maybe from Desra but you seemed too chivalrous to do something that underhanded. But I agree we must take all the advantages we can take. a pity about the food tis a sad waste."

Francine looks down sadly and remembers starving a couple times when the harvest and hunts were bad.

 "I disagree with the last part of the plan. I think it is best to keep one prisoner. We need to know where their main camp is and their numbers and patrols. That way we know what to expect and have plans for other ambushes"

She looks around at the catapults.

"I could repair those catapult it would help should be take on a large group. It would be hard to hide maybe if we made a small collapsible shed. Maybe a couple traps like a spike pit..."

Her mind starts whirling with ideas on how to make the trading post a giant death trap. her words become less coherent and become less audible.

After a while and seeing people not listening and maybe a couple weird stares. She blushes and stops. She takes a big gulp of the stout. And tries to cover the disgust. It is at this point she remembers it is night time and they have very little time to set anything up.


"Well I guess it just best to go with the poison route most other traps would take too long but we need to hide Tanya and the cart and good warning system so we can get ready. when they come."

She looks over and directs her question at Oleg.
"Do you have any good hiding places?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:18, Tue 29 Nov 2011.

"Miss Marlin, I am insulted."

The look on her face said she was anything but insulted.  The elf-woman merely smirked and glanced between her companions and brought a finger to tap her jaw thoughtfully.

"While the use of poison isn't entirely chivalrous, if they outnumber us it would only be fair.  Personally, I think anyone killing anyone out here in the middle of nowhere would only be a waste of resources.  You're so scarce with men for the walls, you can't even man your own defenses.  I'm surprised they haven't taken this little fort for themselves.  Perhaps they'd think twice about banditry if you offered to hire them and give them room and board in exchange for their protection?  They would cease to be bandits at that point and Girard here wouldn't have to ra-- kill them all, and you would be much safer at night.  Though I suppose my elven sentiments might be too sensible for a barbarous race like yours."

She gave a shrug, lifted her mug of tea, and gave it a sip.  She was unable to keep this look of disapproval from her face.  Barbarous indeed.  She turned her dark green eyes to Francine, and she whispered to her.

"--Oh, don't deny it.  I've seen you with your cute stick.  You're just itching to blow the life out of a man's eyes with it."

Girard's calm demeanor crack for a brief moment.

"Hire them?!?! Barbarous? My dear Desra, I never took you for such an innocent soul.  If just offering people a job would stop their wicked ways, why this world would be a far safer place indeed.  But no, these people you are talking about are not so easily reformed.  They are predators that prey on the weak and defenseless.  They think 'why work for food and a few grubby coins when you can just take them from others.'  Now I fully understand the law of might, why isn't that what the Nobles and Kings are doing to the common folk the world over.  It is in fact just how the world works.  What you are suggesting, innocent one, is asking these bandits to voluntarily step down from being the 'Lords' of these lands and become commoners.  I doubt they would agree with you.  Besides, I also doubt that our good host Oleg would be willing to hire the very same people that had toyed with their lives not a month ago."

Girard takes a long gulp of milk.

"Besides, they have chosen to live by the sword.  They should know full well to expect to die by the sword.  Don't get me wrong, I too live by the sword, and I can't picture myself at a ripe old age, bouncing my grandchild on my knee.  I fully expect to die with steel imbedded in my flesh.  Just now I get to choose where I die, though it'll probably be in a cold, muddy ditch instead of on the hot sands watched by hundreds.  As for chivalry, perhaps if someone wanted to knight me, I'd let follow their rules, but for now, what matters is who lives and who dies.  The victor can always say he fought honestly after the fact. "

He turns to Francine

"As for taking a prisoner or two, I agree, if we can get them to surrender, there would be less risk in it for us. And the information garnered could be useful as well."

A sour look crossed her face, and she sipped her tea, sighing her resignation.

"There you go, ruining a perfectly good plan with logic."

Her lips quirked upward into a smirk, and she put her tea down before she looked to Girard and wondered aloud.

"But you're right, I doubt they'll be easily swayed by my warm personality and your giant sword."

Those dark green eyes turned to Francine, she was going to make a quip, the threat of it hanging tangibly in the air--though she decided against it.  Best not to ruffle too many feathers at once, she decided.

"Perhaps a show of force and violence here will lead their comrades back at camp to think twice about an offer we might make in the future."

Listening to Desra words, Francine gets a little flustered.

"None of the sort, I only follow the rule of law. By Cheliaxian law the punishment for banditry is death. I wouldn't think of killing a person for the shear fun of it."


She clears her throat and continues
"so it is decided then? poison the food and drink and ambush them. make sure none make it back to camp and take some prisoner to interrogate. I will gather the poisonous plants as i have had quite a bit of experience foraging through forests and that can not wait. You two will need to figure out how to hide our presence and how we are going to ambush them."


She places her kits back into the cart and grabs her backpack, lamp, guns and powder and heads out to search for poisonous plants.

OOC> survival roll 18
This message was last edited by the player at 04:08, Wed 30 Nov 2011.

"They come inside and eat and drink their fill each time, right where you're sitting," Oleg says with righteous anger. "And I haven't got any poison - that's a tool for cravens and women, but might be we have some medicines that could drug a man enough to slow his arm, if he took enough of it."

At the suggestion that he offer to hire the bandits, Oleg's face darkens to the point that it is nearly purple.

"I'd sooner hire the devil himself than trust any of those rogues to spend a night under my roof!" he snarls, storming off to continue working on the roof.

Svetlana smiles apologetically at the others.

"Please forgive my husband," she said, quietly serving some more bread. "He's a proud man, and giving up our hard-earned money to those rogues without saying a word in return has nearly choked him sometimes," she adds.

Francine leaves to search for any poisonous plants in the nearby area. In the dark it is nearly impossible to discern one plant or fungus from another, however, and she returns with a half-dozen different plants. Most are weeds, but her eyes were strong enough to spot a half-dozen amanitas phalloides, pale white mushrooms that are also known as deathcaps. At least, she is fairly certain that they are deathcaps.

Girard looks at the mushrooms for a bit, then shrugs.

"I think these will work. Just slip some into the food that they are going to eat and wait form them to start feeling sick.  One of us should hide outside and block up the front door after they start to eat, perhaps by driving the wagon in front. Our gracious host here should probably escape out the back as soon as they start feeling sick.  An excuse such as fetching more beer or something should keep them unsuspecting. Hell, if we just walk in and tell them they've all been poisoned and we have the antidote, they might just surrender then. Nab them all without a fight. Either way, two of us should hide in the building, probably Ms. Desra and I, while M'lady Marlin could use her firearm through a window. Biggest trick, though, would be hiding the wagon in the first place."


13:49, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 14 using 1d20+4. Survival, identify mushrooms.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:17, Thu 01 Dec 2011.

Desra listened to the plan, and she smiled thoughtfully, sipping the last of her tea by the time Girard was done going over the specifics.

"Efficient and effective, at least in theory.  I will support that plan. It seems to me that we just need a few bandits now."

With her tea finished, she got up and stretched and began to look about the room for the best places to hide.  She looked up at to see the make of the ceiling, if the rafters would be of any use, and then moved over to the bar, looking behind it thoughtfully.

The plan complete, the adventurers went to bed for the night. Early the next morning, they put their plan into motion. The wagon was too conspicuous to hide inside the trading post, so it was left outside, and old Oleg's cart is filled with a few bags of flour to make it a decent barricade. Francine's horse is left inside the bottom left-most stall of the stable - the bandits previously never came with horses, so hopefully they won't check the stables this time.

Shortly after dawn, Francine hides outside, in the stables, while Girard hides in Oleg's crowded stockroom, and Desra hides in his cramped little office. Svetlana hides in her bedroom, while Oleg waits to serve the stew, which is left on a pot on the fire outside, with the mushrooms and a few other ingredients in a basket beside it.

The bandits arrived at the trading post early in the morning an hour after sunrise, almost immediately after the party got into position to hide. The party could hear muffled male voices out in the center of the trading post, and also the snorts and whinnies of horses. They could hear Oleg's voice as well, welcoming the bandits sullenly and apologizing nervously that the stable hadn't been mucked out and couldn't be used.

"Hah! You old hog, I'll cut your porky nose off for that!" sneers the loudest of the bandits. "We'll just leave the horses in your yard, let them shit all over your pretty little porch. Hey shitheads! Start loading the supplies, we gotta move fast, the Stag Lord wants his fucking mutton and stout for lunch."

Oleg says something indistinct in reply as the bandits start loading goods onto their horses.

"Stew? Fuck yes, I'm starving. It's been an hour since we had breakfast. Just gimme that spoon, I don't need no fucking bowl."

A short while later the bandit's voice rings out again.

"Keep working, assholes! You had breakfast an hour ago, you don't need to fucking eat!" A splashing sound follows his snarl.

"God fucking stupid idiots, makes me so angry my head - spinning...SONOFABITCH! You fucking poisoned me, didn't you?! You piggy little shit!"




Bandit locations:
Bandits 1-4 are in the yard between the cart and the gateway, while the bandit leader is standing next to the fire bit (1 square below). Oleg is across the fire pit from him (closest to the doorway to the inn). The stew lies on the ground between their feet, its contents spilled onto the ground. The bandit leader is clutching his stomach with his left hand, and has a dagger drawn with his right. The other bandits are still surprised and haven't drawn any weapons yet.

Bandit 1: HP ??/??, AC 13, touch 11, flat-footed 12.
Bandit 2: HP ??/??, AC 13, touch 11, flat-footed 12.
Bandit 3: HP ??/??, AC 13, touch 11, flat-footed 12.
Bandit 4: HP ??/??, AC 13, touch 11, flat-footed 12.

The bandits are wearing leather armor and are armed with longbows and short swords.

Happs Bydon (Leader): HP ??/??, AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12

Happs is wearing leather armor with a silver amulet over it, and has a composite longbow, a dagger, and some flasks at his side.

Horses (6): HP 15, AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 9

OOC: You all have a surprise round (probably a move action to open a door or move) and then you win initiative. Post in any order you wish.
 
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:29, Fri 02 Dec 2011.

Girard runs out of the store room now that the fat's in the fire.  Running at the door, he slams it open with his shoulder, a quick glance around the courtyard shows him all he needs.  With a few long strides he bounds onto the bench then the table and looms over the foul-mouthed bandit, his Swallow's Blade held above his head as he looks down at the poisoned man.

"Surrender, and we may give you the antidote, we have you surrounded.  Drop your weapons, or you will die.  Either by drowning in your own bloody vomit or by the cold cut of my steel.  Make your decisions quick, for my blade thirst!"

He stands above Happs, ready to take his head at the slightest provocation.

Girard moves to stand on the table next to Happs, readied action to attack Happs with Power Attack if he does anything other than drop his weapon or command his minions to drop theirs.  If Happs tries to move or attack or signal his men to attack, Girard attacks. I've rolled in advance.  Don't let me rolling a crit deter you from having them resist.

23:45, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 25 using 1d20+7. Readied attack on Happs. Potential Crit
23:46, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 24 using 1d20+7. Confirm crit.
23:49, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 26 using 2d10+18. Crit damage.  BOOM HEADSHOT!

With Girard leading the way, Desra was next out of the gate with her elven sword in hand.  Rather than charge the enemy commander, Desra tried to use her charging comrade as a distraction, attempting to hide in the shadow of the barracks as she made her way around the four bandits to put herself between them and the gate.  Another few quick steps brought her behind one of the bandits, and she brought the cool steel of her blade to the side of his neck, clicking her tongue.

00:00, Today: Desra rolled 20 using 1d20+9. Stealth from the Barracks. 6 squares with silent hunter.
00:02, Today: Desra rolled 19 using 1d20+6. R1 Stealth to move Behind Bandits. 6 squares with silent hunter.  12 is adequate to move me along the edge of the barracks and behind anyone on the other side of the cart.

"Shh.  Just drop your weapon, trust me, you don't want to give him reason to get upset.."

00:04, Today: Desra rolled 18 using 1d20+7. Bluff for Bandits to Surrender.

If the bandits attack, Desra will slice the throat of the closest bandit.  I moved her into position directly behind one of them, and since they haven't gotten to act yet, I don't believe they get an attack, even if they do spot her from stealth.

00:06, Today: Desra rolled 17 using 1d20+6. Attack (Elven Sword). Hit.
00:07, Today: Desra rolled 4 using 1d6. Sneak Attack.  They have yet to act and so are flat-footed? Correct me if i'm wrong.
00:06, Today: Desra rolled 7 using 1d10+1. Damage (Elven Sword). 11 Total.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:13, Fri 02 Dec 2011.

Francine busts out of the stables and holds her gun at the ready.

"The leader of your group is dead and so is one of your companions. If you value your lives you will give up now."

22:30, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 4 using 1d20. Diplomacy.

She stammers the words as they come out. She is visibly shaking, this being the first time she ever shot at a human before.

Readies an action to take out any of the bandits that aren't currently engaged that do a threatening action

If bandits move to engage she shoots her musket
20:31, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 15 using 1d20+7. Attack

20:32, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 2 using 1d12. 2 points of damage
the rifle sways slightly as she nervously shoots the gun. She pulls the trigger and the hammers hits down on the steel and a loud bang is heard. For those that have never heard it, it sounds as loud as a person taking a large pipe and banging it as hard as you can against a pot.
"Stand down!" Screams Francine.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:54, Sat 03 Dec 2011.

Happs, the foul-mouthed bandit, snarls and stabs his dagger towards Girard. Swallow's Blade flashes out and takes Happ's head from his shoulders before the dagger even reaches the seasoned gladiator. Whitish foam bubbles from the decapitated head's mouth, slowly mixing with dark blood on the muddy ground.

With their leader dead, the closest bandit tries to tumble away and draw his bow - only to feel Desra's blade draw a crimson smile under his chin. He falls to the ground, bleeding to death.

Francine's bullet only grazes one of the bandit's cheeks, but the loud noise coupled with the unexpected death of their leader and another of their number is enough to panic the remaining bandits. Shouting in terror, they quickly mount their horses (Desra: AOO), and ride out of the gate, racing towards the south as fast as possible.

"And STAY out!" roars Oleg, pumping his pudgy fist into the air in delight.

OOC: Victory! Ranged attacks are possible on the three retreating bandits at a range of 200ft and then 600 feet the following round. The bandits have left behind three horses that are already saddled if you want to pursue them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:39, Sun 04 Dec 2011.

Things were working out for better than Desra could've hoped.  The bandits were taken completely by surprise, and the smell of fear brought a wide, almost evil looking grin to her face.  The bandits chose to flee, and this was fine with her, but she didn't want it to be said she didn't try her very best.

The elf moved to the grazed bandit, moving up behind him as he mounted his horse, and she whipped her elven blade around over her head before bringing it down across the man's back.

Attacking the Bandit grazed for 2 points already.
10:43, Today: Desra rolled 15 using 1d20+6. Attack (Elven Sword). Hit.
10:43, Today: Desra rolled 6 using 1d10+1. Damage (Elven Sword). 6 Damage.

The bandit was badly injured by Desra's sword blow, his leather armor split nearly in half and blood welling from a long laceration down his back.

OOC: Bandit is bloodied but still up

Francine Curses.
The plan was to make sure no one is able to warn the other bandits. Now there are three running away and plan is falling apart.

She shouts to the others,"They mustn't get away!"


She races to one of the horses and attempts an acrobatic flip.

14:04, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 13 using 1d20+5. quick mount. fail

She miss-guesses the flip and awkwardly ends up on just the stirrup on the side. She decides to do a regular mount on the horse, and then mushes her horse to chase after the bandits.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:18, Sun 04 Dec 2011.

"Amon's breath! Don't let them escape! They'll bring the rest of the bandits on our heads."

Girard runs to one of the horses and mounts up. Kicking the animal into motion. He yells out after the retreating bandits.

"Stop, and you will not have to die! You cannot run. Surrender now while the option is still available!"

With a sigh Desra watched as her two companions rushed for the mounts, and she gave an easy twirl of her sword, letting the bandit blood it was soaked in run down along the etched elven grooves and lettering along the blunt end of the blade.  She mounted up and rode after her companions, sword in hand, the other on the reigns.  This was definitely not in the plan.

Will pursue, if possible and if not noticed, will attempt to ghost the bandits once they stop running.

And the chase is on! Girard and Francine charge after the bandits, Desra reluctantly following. The bandits ride with reckless abandon, certain that stopping would mean their death, either at the hands of the formidable trio, the hangman's noose, or their merciless bandit king.

The trio chases far after the bandits, swiftly leaving Oleg's trading post behind. The bandits enter a heavily wooded part of the forest that they are familiar with, and charge forward into it.

"Now!" Yells one of the bandits, and he slashes into the air with his short sword, sending a massive cedar tree crashing to the ground. The second bandit narrowly passes under the crashing tree and continues to race forward, while the third is forced to stop his horse and tumble underneath it, then sprint into the forest on foot.

Francine is in the front, with Desra and Girard only moments behind. She hears the noise and sees the fallen tree only moments before she reaches it!

OOC: Chase scene, round 1!

The rules: See the rules section so I don't explode this post with text.
TLDR rules: Choose 1 of the 2 challenges below and try to pass it to move forward 1, or try to defeat both to move forward three spaces at the risk of becoming mired and spending another round breaking free.

Challenge:
Jump a Fallen tree: DC 15 Ride/Jump
Tumble under a Fallen tree: DC 15 Ride/Acrobatics

Girard, Desra, you both have to make the same choice.

Locations:
0 Desra, Girard, Francine [Fallen Log]
1 Bandit 1 [Bee's nest]
2 Bandit 2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandit 3 [?]
4
5
6
7
8
9
10 Finish

Francine Points at the bandit on foot and signals one of other two to go after that one. She takes a paper cartridge and use her mouth to rip open the pouch  and pour the bullet and powder into her gun. She then suddenly see a fallen tree she quickly go into ride stance and signals the horse for the jump.

Move action load gun
standard jump log
02:20, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 6 using 1d20+5. Ride check

The horse rears up and stop just short of the log and turns around. Francine is just barely is able to hold on the reins.

"Bad boy, whoever your owner is he did not teach you well enough."

Desra spurs her horse onward, and she leads her horse to jump the fallen log.

13:38, Today: Desra rolled 21 using 1d20+6. Jump the Fallen Log. Success.

Her horse cleared the log easily, and she grinned, spurring the horse onward.  She put on speed, coming up on some low hanging branches..

13:40, Today: Desra rolled 26 using 1d20+6. Acrobatics to dodge branches.  Amazing success.

..which she gracefully dipped her head under, zipping past the two bandits in the rear to overtake the leader. ("I'm on the leader.")

She gained quickly on him, her elven sword still clutched tightly in her grip as her eyes narrowed and that willful grin stretched over her lips.  Her green eyes narrowed, the rush of the chase making her blood run hot.

Girard rides hard, and leaps his mount over the log without slowing a step, but then Girard's foot slips from the stirrup and he accidentally pulls his mount to the side as he tries to reorient himself.

"Gah! Damnit. I should've taken those riding classes when I had the chance."



15:37, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 22 using 1d20+2. ride vs log.
15:39, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 14 using 1d20+2. ride.

While Francine narrowly avoids crashing into the log, Girard leaps his mount over the log, but then has to slow his mount dramatically to re-orient himself, and Desra sails past both of them effortlessly, her eyes narrowed on the fastest of the bandits.

Head bent low over her mount, Desra races past the second bandit, noting for a moment that he is running in circles, chased by a swarm of bees.

While Francine was stuck at the log, the wounded bandit was moving very slowly in his attempt to escape, and as Girard catches up on his mount, he realizes why: only twenty feet away, a bear cub is standing up and looking at them curiously, making queer growling noises. The bandit is trying to cautiously back away from the group, moving around the bear cub and keeping an eye on the nearby cave, making his way towards a series of rocky outcroppings.

Head bent low over her mount, Desra races past the second bandit, noting for a moment that his horse's saddle and pack are stuck in a patch of poison ivy, and the bandit has jumped clear of the patch and is sprinting away, leaving his horse. She catches up to the third bandit briefly, only to watch in frustration as he spurs his mount on even faster, riding straight ahead towards a part of the woods that smells delicious and strangely familiar. As he rides, the bandit hacks at some strange growths with his shortsword, and a moment later Desra realizes why: he is stirring up a massive swarm of bees!

The cloud of insects momentarily blinds Desra, and when she has a moment to breathe outside of the swarm, she sees a man in brown robes with a bee-keeping hat and gloves, looking at her in bewilderment.

OOC: The Race, Round 2

Francine Challenge:
Jump a Fallen tree: DC 15 Ride/Jump
Tumble under a Fallen tree: DC 15 Ride/Acrobatics

Girard Challenge:
Sneak past the Bear's Den: Stealth DC 10
High rock route: Climb DC 15 (lower with rope and grapple or similar)

Desra Challenge:
Bee nest: DC 10 Will to ignore
Bewildered-looking bystander watching the chase: DC 15 Bluff or Diplomacy to ask for assistance

Locations:
0 Desra, Girard, Francine [Fallen Log]
1 Bandit 1 (Wounded), Girard [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 Bandit 2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Desra [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4
5
6 Bandit 3 [?]
7
8
9
10 Finish

Francine whips the reins and attempts again to jump the log.

01:06, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 15 using 1d20+5. Ride check.
01:09, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 20 using 1d20+8. Acrobatics.
But instead The horse goes under while Francine does a flip through the air. She lands back on her mount and mushes the horse on.

"I have alot of distance to make up".
This message was last edited by the player at 06:50, Wed 07 Dec 2011.

Desra called out to the bystander on the trail, "Clear out!"

23:30, Today: Desra rolled 22 using 1d20+6. Diplomacy. Success.

Without losing the slightest bit of speed, she rode forward, the words finally clicking in the man's mind, and he dove clear of her as she rode past him and into.. a swarm of bees!

23:31, Today: Desra rolled 5 using 1d20. Save vs Bees.  Failure.

The insects clouded her vision, some even tangling in her hair.. she tossed a bit, blowing the insects from her face and eyes, her distracted motions causing the horse to slow a bit.  She managed finally to get clear of the angry insects, and she frowned, looking up ahead as the bandit gained in lead.

Girard rides by the bear cub, and when it was about to cry out, he holds up a finger to his mouth and shushes it quiet, with the bear cub clamping its mouth shut and fallin on its ass. He then rides past, pointing at his eyes, then the bandit in the 'I'm watching you' motion.
As he rides by a rocky outcropping which would be a great short cut, he tries to jump up and climb over, but this time, instead of his feet slipping out of the stirrups, they keep him sitting in the saddle, and all Girard has to show for it was slapping his palms against the rocks.

00:00, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 17 using 1d20-2. stealth.
00:01, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 9 using 1d20+2. climb.

The mad pursuit continues! Francine flips over the log while guiding her horse under it, then spurs her horse past Girard and the wounded bandit, catching up with the second bandit, who just waded through a patch of poison ivy, only to find himself confronting a hive of angry bees. Needless to say, this is just not his day. Francine soon loses sight of the bandit within the furious yellow and black swarm, as the beekeeper looks on in horror.

Girard meanwhile charms the bear cub with his raw animal machismo, but is stymied by the rock wall and his well-made stirrups. Hearing a noise behind him, he turns to see the second bandit sneak past the bear cub in the opposite direction, before the bandit starts to sprint again. Girard spurs his horse to pursue the bandit, and quickly catches up, before a sudden clap makes his horse jump in fright! On the ground is a spent bear trap, its wicked jaws half-rusted. Ahead of him is the bandit, picking his way gingerly through the forest, trying to avoid both bear traps and poison ivy.

"Maniac!" shouts the bystander, wiping mud from his shoulders and face as Desra races past him. The bees scatter before her, and she launches after the bandit, following him into denser woods. The woods that the bandit has escaped into are dark, with massive trees blocking most of the sun, and are filled with sharp, thorny vines that claw at Desra's cloak and hair. She can hear the bandit close by, but there are two sets of horse tracks visible in the wet leaves and mud ahead of her, and she pauses for a frantic moment to guess which one to pursue.


OOC: The Race, Round 3!

Francine Challenge:
Bee nest: DC 10 Will to ignore
Bewildered-looking bystander watching the chase: DC 15 Bluff or Diplomacy to ask for assistance

Girard Challenge:
Bear trap: DC 15 Reflex to dodge or trigger harmlessly
Poison ivy: DC 10 Fortitude to ignore

Desra Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 Bandit 1 (wounded), Girard [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandit 2, Francine [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Desra [Vines, tracks]
5
6
7 Bandit 3 [?]
8
9
10 Finish

Girard leads his horse around the bear traps, but he was so focused on the traps that he didn't notice the ivy hanging from a branch.  Brushing against his bare shoulder, he winces in pain and steers his the mount off the road to see how bad he was hit, not too bad.  As he sighs in relief, he remembers that he should still be on the chase.

"By Buer's hooves! Surrender already, I promise you leniency if you'll just end this farce of a hunt!  Tenebrous take you if you try my patience any longer!"

12:16, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 7 using 1d20+4. fort.
12:15, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 20 using 1d20+4. reflex. actually 18, only +2 but still pass.

Desra finally managed to get hold of her horse, and her eyes searched the trail ahead of her, she'd lost site of the bandit and had to reaffirm which trail to follow.

17:52, Today: Desra rolled 8 using 1d20. Survival. Failure.
17:54, Today: Desra rolled 18 using 1d20+4. Escape Artist. Failure.

Picking the wrong path, Desra rides on, only to ride into low hanging branches and vines.  She tried to spur her horse onward and duck low to avoid them, but the foliage was simply too dense, and her horse slowed considerably as she tried to work her way out of the thick brush.


Desra is mired down in the chase and spends her next full-round to free herself up.  Don't wait for me to post doing nothing, keep it rolling.

Francine rides into the bees.

22:55, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 18 using 1d20+3. BEEEEESSSSSS.

She swats around her face hoping not to get stung, but she continues at speed

Once her view is clear again she sees the beekeeper standing in the way.

"Dodge to the left!"
She screams.
23:03, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 18 using 1d20.

Francine steers her horse to the right slightly as the beekeeper jumps to left and she continues at max speed trying to catch the lead bandit.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Fri 09 Dec 2011.

While Desra finds herself entangled and lost in the woods, Francine makes up for lost time, shooting past Desra and nearly catching up with the last bandit. Along the way she nearly runs down an increasingly bewildered beekeeper, who is beginning to wonder just how far into the hydra-infested swamps he needs to move before he won't be in danger of dying to a horse race.

Girard meanwhile makes his way steadily forward, yelling at the increasingly terrified bandits.

This is an unpleasant time to be a bandit on the run, as the bandits spend the entire round trapped in poison ivy, bees, and a cesspool respectively.

Girard comes upon the hapless beekeeper and his furious BEEEES, which are swarming around one of the bandits and are ready for more!

"I surrender!" sobs the bandit. "Just get these bees off of me!"

Francine meanwhile spots a small gap over a ravine that would bring her nearly within sixty feet of the lead bandit. As she nears the gap, however, her horse spots something out of the corner of its eye, and rears in fright!


OOC: The Race, Round 4!

Francine Challenge:
Small gap: Jump DC 10 to jump and pass ahead of the bandits!
Spooked horses: Ride DC 15 to get the horse under control and continue onwards!

Girard Challenge:
Bee nest: DC 10 Will to ignore
Bewildered-looking bystander watching the chase: DC 15 Bluff or Diplomacy to ask for assistance

Desra Challenge: (Stuck)
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 Bandit 1 (wounded) [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandit 2, Girard [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Desra [Vines, tracks]
5
6 Francine
7 Bandit 3 [?]
8
9
10 Finish

Francine sees the small gap and again positions herself and steers her horse to do a jump.
"alright boy it is time to redeem yourself"
00:25, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 9 using 1d20+8. jump. WORST FAILURE EVER

The horse again rears up its legs and fails to respond to Francine's commands.

Just as it unresponsive it gets spook by something.
 Francine attempts to control her horse.
00:27, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 10 using 1d20+5. Ride.


The horse is bucking hard and Francine try her best to stay on. She spends the next turn calming the horse.

Girard Rides up the the bandit, lighting a flask of lamp oil and shattering the container of flaming liquid near the bees. The sudden flash of heat and smoke scares the swarm off the poor thug.

Turning the the bee keeper, he tries to get him to tend to the bandit and keep him there, but it seemed that there was just too much going on and the poor man wanted nothing to do with the whole insane set of affairs anymore

Turning back to the now swelling bandit, Girard calls out as he spurs his horse onward again.

"If you value your life, and perhaps some ointment later on, stay here.  Try to flee, and by Paimon's bloody dance, I'll cut your legs off.


22:05, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 5 using 1d20+2. Diplomacy on Beekeeper.
22:03, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 13 using 1d20+1. will.

The wounded bandit finally extricates himself from the patch of poison ivy, and staggers over to see his companion lying on the ground, dozens of bee stings covering him. While the beekeeper watches him curiously, the wounded bandit staggers on, determined to reach his lady's camp or die trying. Taking pity on him, the beekeeper points out a mountainous shortcut that should buy him some time in catching up with the others.

Girard meanwhile catches up with Desra, and the two begin hacking through the thick underbrush together, both of them searching for tracks on the ground.

Francine's horse, meanwhile, is spooked by a strange noise. Despite seemingly failing, it does barely manage to make its way over the tiny gap. From the gap she spots the lead bandit, making his way through the woods at good speed. Riding hard, she comes upon a series of fallen trees and swampy marsh.

The only area dry enough to cross is dominated by a large midden, long-abandoned, and now half-sunken into a swamp. The stink from the rotting trash is enough to nearly knock her off her feet. To the side of the midden on the remaining stretch of dry land, she sees a pair of skunks, delightedly feasting on the garbage. At the sight of her, both animals look up in alarm.


OOC: The Race, Round 5!

Francine Challenge: A horse has a +11 bonus to acrobatics for jumping from its 50ft speed and its strength, so let's assume it made that jump.
Pool of filth: Fortitude DC 15 to get you and your horse straight through it
Skunks: Handle Animal DC 10 to pass without getting sprayed

Girard Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction
Note: If you'd prefer, you can spend your round to give a +2 to both checks to Desra instead.

Desra Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction
Note: If you'd prefer, you can spend your round to give a +2 to both checks to Girard instead.

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandits 1 and 2 [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Girard, Desra [Vines, tracks]
5
6 Francine [Garbage/skunks]
7
8 Bandit 3 [?]
9
10 Finish

Francine sees a pool of what she consider some the worst smelling things she ever had to pleasure of smell even worse than her town's outhouse. She take in a deep breath pinches her nose and attempt to go straight through it.
13:20, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 8 using 1d20+4. Pool of filth.

she doesn't make it through the smell becomes to overpowering and she vomits over the side of her horse and turns back.

She then spots a skunk.
"oh no, now be a nice skunk and don't do it. I ain't here to hurt you"

13:28, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 10 using 1d20. handle animal.

The skunk ignores Francine and her horse.
She takes the long way around the pool of filth still attempting to reach the lead bandit.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:32, Sat 10 Dec 2011.

Escaping the mire of tangles, Desra tries to maneuver out of the brush.

12:11, Today: Desra rolled 9 using 1d20. Survival. Failure.
12:12, Today: Desra rolled 8 using 1d20+4. Escape Artist. Failure.

Mired for another full-round after this one.  Just skip me.

She fails, and gets mired in more tangles.

Girard sees Desra going down a path and follows her, but soon realized that this isn't the right one. Catching up to her, he calls out.

"Hoy! M'lady Desra, I think this is the wrong trail, we should head back."

13:17, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 8 using 1d20+4. survival. seems NO ONE CAN MAKE THIS!  Not going for the double success gamble as I can't actually make a DC20 escape artist check due to armor check.  So no miring, I just don't move this round.

Side note, I was going to aid Desra to get through, but Alex posted before me.  Could I have done that instead this round and thus get Desra back in the chase already?

Girard followed Desra into the grove. Frantically looking through the grove with her, he spotted an open spot in the grove with clear footprints running out of it. The spot was far too small for him to squeeze through, but with his help, Desra makes her way out of the thickest brush, and moves on.

Desra sees the evidence of the chase clearly ahead of her. A small river lies ahead, with a log lying conveniently across most of it. Francine and the last bandit had apparently forded the river without major issue.

Francine meanwhile edges around the skunk, and, escaping the marsh, finds herself on the edge of a vast poppy field. The seeds lay cracked and broken on the ground, lending a queer scent to the area. At the edge of the field is a high cliff. The last bandit has crossed the field, and is heading the long way up a ridge towards the top of the cliff. He seems to be slogging through heavy rocks from a recent mud slide.

While one bandit remains on the ground, his compatriot heads off doggedly towards Girard and Desra, only to get lost before he even reaches it.

OOC: The Race, Round 6!

Francine Challenge:
Poppy field: Fort DC 10 to full-out sprint through the field as quickly as possible. (Horse can make check instead)
High cliff: Climb DC 15

Girard Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction

Desra Challenge:
Log bridge: Acrobatics DC 10 to use the log to pass most of the river and then walk through the last bit.
Small river: Swim DC 10 (or horse Swim/Jump DC 10/15). Just skip the log and dive right into the river. Or attempt to use the log for most of it and then breast-stroke the last bit (full round double).

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandits 1 and 2 [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Girard [Vines, tracks]
5 Desra [Bridge/river]
6 [Garbage/skunks]
7 Francine [Poppy field/cliff]
8 Bandit 3 [?]
9
10 Finish
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:34, Tue 13 Dec 2011.

Girard suddenly puts both hands firmly on Desra's butt and heaves her through the vines. He cuts her off before she can voice a protest.

"Get going! Chase the last one down and make him hurt.  I'll find my own way through!"

Girard runs back to where he saw a likely path and hacks his way through past, soon seeing a river between him and his quarry.

17:34, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 11 using 1d20+4. survival.

Francine sees the poppy field and pushes her horse forward

"My word, poppies! we could make a tidy profit off that."

22:05, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 16 using 1d20+6. fort the horse.

then she see a tall cliff and see that her horse would be unable to climb.
She jumps off and climbs it.


22:11, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 13 using 1d20. CLIMB FTW...failure.
she fails and gets stuck on the cliff and can't find a way higher.

The harsh shove knocked Desra free of the brambles, and the strong hands she felt on her posterior brought a blush to her cheeks.  Glancing over her shoulders at Girard, she gave him a determined nod.

"Girard, I owe you a pint!"

Clear of the entangling brambles, she drove her steed onward toward the log bridge.  She led her horse at full speed along the bridge before leaping the last bit of it, the horse getting its hooves wet for only the last brief few steps as it reached the far bank.

22:49, Today: Desra rolled 18 using 1d20+6. Acrobatics/Jump(same skill). Success.
22:51, Today: Desra rolled 18 using 1d20+3. Swim. Success.
Desra moves ahead 3 spaces!

Girard learns the hard way that grabbing asses leads to free beer, though it leaves him stuck in the grove. As he ponders the tracks, he sees one of the other bandits doggedly making his way towards the grove...and then the bandit stops and stands in place, scratching his head in confusion.

Desra, meanwhile, rides her horse straight along a log floating in a river, jumps the log, and then speeds straight on. Taking her chances, she rides through the swampy grounds near the midden, and charges past the poppy field without issue. She reaches the cliff at nearly the same time as Francine, who has made it part-way up the cliff through a series of ledges. The rest of the way up is blocked by a massive mud slide down most of the ledge, making passage painfully slow. Part of the cliff is short enough to climb easily...except that many of the rocks alongside the cliff are sharp and jagged, and would likely slice through the strongest of gloves and boots if one attempted to climb them.

Yet one man was foolhardy enough to brave the Glass Cliffs. Leaving bloody handprints in his wake, the last of the bandits scaled the cliff, not even stopping when he slipped and slammed his face into the side of a jagged rock, leaving a bloody wound running straight from his forehead.

OOC: The Race, Round 7!

Francine Challenge:
Mud: DC 10 Escape Artist to wade through the mud in good time without getting entirely mired.
Climb through sharp rocks: 2d4 damage. The climb is simple enough for adventurers such as yourselves - but the rocks are obsidian, and easily draw blood. The last stretch is especially painful, as it requires pulling yourself up on dagger-sharp rocks. You can attempt both by wading through mud part-way to reach a higher starting point on the cliff.

Girard Challenge:
Grasping vines: Escape Artist DC 20 to ride straight through and escape without getting entangled
Momentarily Disoriented: Survival DC 10 to find the right direction

Desra Challenge:
Mud: DC 10 Escape Artist to wade through the mud in good time without getting entirely mired.
Climb through sharp rocks: 2d4 damage. The climb is simple enough for adventurers such as yourselves - but the rocks are obsidian, and easily draw blood. The last stretch is especially painful, as it requires pulling yourself up on dagger-sharp rocks. You can attempt both by wading through mud part-way to reach a higher starting point on the cliff.

Locations:
0 [Fallen Log]
1 [Bear's den/High rocks]
2 [Poison Ivy]
3 Bandits 1 and 2 [Bee's nest/innocent bystander]
4 Girard [Vines, tracks]
5 [Bridge/river]
6 [Garbage/skunks]
7 [Poppy field/cliff]
8 Francine, Desra [Obsidian/mud slide]
9 Bandit 3
10 Finish

Francine sighs as she see the next obstacle. Mud not just any mud deep mud.
"This just isn't my day"

22:01, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 4 using 1d20+2. MUD.

About half way through the mud she tires out and just can't continue on. backs out and attempts the rocks.

"Really Really not my day"
She painfully climbs up the cliff. scratching herself up some as she continues onward after the other bandit.

22:03, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 3 using 2d4.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Wed 14 Dec 2011.

Girard makes his way over to the other bandit, blocking off the route forward, making no attempt at stealth.  He slowly draws his blade with deliberate emphasis.

"You are lucky as something nice just happened, so I am feeling particularly generous tonight, and am going to give you One... Last... Chance...  Surrender or become the rust upon this blade.  Make your choice, for as ever, my sword hungers."

If the bandit surrenders, I make my survival check to keep moving. If he does not, then keep reading and enjoy my second critical hit.
19:26, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 24 using 1d20+4. Survival if the bandit surrenders.

As the bandit turns to flee, Girard spurs his horse into a gallop. Right before reaching the bandit, he stands up in his stirrups, his blade swings down vertically but too early.  But when the blade reaches level with the bandit's head, it suddenly changes direction, like a swallow in flight.  Before the bandit knew what happened, Girard was already riding past, slowing down, bring his sword into a resting position.  The bandit turns to look at Girard, thinking that he had missed, but as he turns his head it slides from his shoulders.

"Do not begrudge me, your fate was in YOUR hands, YOU had a choice.  Therefore, blame no one but yourself."

19:13, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 28 using 2d10+18. damage. Dead... Sooo Dead
19:07, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 19 using 1d20+8. Confirm crit. Confirmed!
19:06, Today: Girard Viticus Manes rolled 26 using 1d20+8. Charge. Potential Crit!

Desra's gaze narrowed as she stared at the bandit attempting to make his assent, and she tried to maneuver the mud pit on her steed over to the wall to make her ascent.

21:40, Today: Desra rolled 16 using 1d20+4. Escape Artist. Success.

Her horse brought her right up to the obsidian rocks, and Desra jumped from the saddle and began to climb up the sharp rocks, scrambling up on her hands and feet with surprising grace--though her ascent was costly, ever few feet up causing another cut along her fingers and arms as she scrambled to overtake the bandit.

21:42, Today: Desra rolled 7 using 2d4. Damage taken.
Desra wins!

Bloody but grinning, and standing atop the heap of obsidian, the elf drew her elven blade and readied it at the throat of the foremost bandit, raising a brow as she lifted his chin with the blade.

"Ah-ah.  You led us on a merry chase, but the chase is over now." 

Sadly, the bandit facing Girard lacks the gift of foresight. He moves to draw his blade, and nearly pulls it out of its sheath before Girard's blade severs his head from his body. Girard is riding off around the grove before the bandit's head even hits the ground.

At the cliffs, Desra maneuvers through the mud and pulls herself straight up razor-sharp rocks, arriving moments before the bandit would have finished scaling it. Her blade pricks blood as he raises his hands wearily in surrender.  Francine arrives a few moments later, climbing up the painfully sharp rocks as her horse watches placidly below. Giard arrives about five minutes later.

OOC: Ching, who are you bribing at RPol for those insane rolls?

Anyhow, the chase is now complete! The two surviving bandits are thoroughly beaten and demoralized, and will answer any question as if they were Helpful to the party.

Through the chase's progress, you have also found some notable landmarks that you might wish to return to at a later time, such as the bear's cave, the hermit/beekeeper, an abandoned cabin next to the trash heap, and the Glass Cliffs, which have an excellent vantage point of the area near Oleg's trading post.

Francine paces in front of the two captured bandits.

"You two are guilty of banditry. The crime as by Chelaxian law punishable by..."

She pulls out the charter and reads it out loud, while making sure to place emphasis on each word.

"Execution by sword or rope."


"but we are very negotiable people. Should you answer truthfully to our questions. You will live and be prisoners with chance at freedom should you conform your ways. However, silence and lies will be met with agonizing retribution from the man you have scorned and the this lady."

she point to a very angry Oleg and the very Bloody Desra.

"Both are not to fond of your escapades and given by their temperament that they would enjoy ending their frustrations on you"

"Now then, Where is your camp? How many people are in your group of bandits excluding the deceased? What are your bandits plans? What path did you take to reach this trading post?"

00:29, Today: Francine Marlin rolled 12 using 1d20. Diplomacy.

The bandit who surrendered at the beekeeper's is too ill to respond to interrogation, and so it falls to the last of the bandits, who volunteers that his name is Juno, of Saveros. Juno is a tall, dusky-skinned man with large black eyes and a slight Eastern (Qadiran) accent.

"On horseback, our camp is about thirteen hours away if you cut through the forest. We usually go around it though, it takes about sixteen hours but we don't risk upsetting the fey. There's usually fourteen of us in the camp, or eleven leaving out the three you killed, though one or two groups of us are usually out hunting or...practicing, how do you say, banditry...so there's only four or five of us in the camp at any given time, yes?"

At her last question, Juno scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"Well, my own plan is to get enough money to sail back home someday, yes? Most of the boys just want to enjoy the easy life out here. I guess the boss wants to get herself made second in command over at the castle. And the Stag Lord? Kezno's Flames, these days it looks like his "big plan" is finding the bottom of a whiskey keg."

Girard, who was spending the whole sitting in the corner sharpening his blade, then lifts it up, examining its gleaming edge.  Without looking away from his blade, he speaks, his voice oddly introspective.

"The sane man is not ready to die, and these bandits are no exception, they wish the easy life.  This fact makes it easier for us.  While they have steeled themselves for the prospect of dying which allows them to fight, it is only because the Specter of Death is shadowy, vague in their imagination.  Solidify this image of mortality. In their minds, make the risk of fighting go from possible death, to certain death, and their will to fight will be sapped.  Have them think of death, of what could, will, happen to them, at all times. Give them a choice and they will take the easy way out, the safe way, the sane way."

Girard whips the blade over his head, testing it's heft, then brings it down towards the bound bandit, stopping it before cutting.

"Now then... How do we instill the dreadful fact of their mortality into the minds of our enemies that yet remain?  It would need to be a sign, a symbol that we can display.  Something that when they see it, it will conjure an irrational fear in them... hmmm... Make it so that if they face us, they don't think they're facing mortals, but un-slay-able demons. Demons that have been giving them nightmares for the past fortnight."

Girard ponders for a bit, walking away from the bandit, sheathing his blade, then stopping.

"Does anyone here have a skinning knife?"

Victorious, Desra didn't seem to have much to say with the job done.  With the bandits disarmed, she merely followed and looked smugly content.  If she had an opinion, she didn't voice it, though she remained cursorily interested in her companion's actions.

At Girard's question, she blinked, and then reached to her boot to pull out a short, sharpened blade.  She used it for her wood carvings, and she looked at Girard curiously, as if to ask if it would suffice.

Francine looks in confusion at Girard.
"Why the cryptic words Girard. They have agreed to talk to spare their lives. I don't not see the point of scaring them more. In any case, we should try to ambush the bandits as they leave for for their pillaging"

Girard takes the knife from Desra.

"The ones here are safe, of course, but what I'm worried about are the others we've yet to encounter.  They are going to be on alert now that this party failed to return.  If we fight them head on, it will be a hard fight. So yes, ambushing them is a good plan.  What I'm suggesting is that we also rattle them up a bit first."

Girard walks to where the dead bodies have been piled and picks up the severed heads.

"During my stay in the arena, I made friends with a Grundi barbarian.  Before he died on the sands, he told me much of his culture and tribe, also of the warfare between other tribes.  In particular pertinence to this situation, are the intimidation tactics his tribe employed on their enemies.  Pardon me ladies, but this might get a bit gruesome. You all might want to return inside."

Girard then starts skinning the severed head.  When done, he will toss the bloody skull into the fire, so all the flesh on it chars.  When it's properly charred, he polishes the teeth white again, then sews the skin back over the skull, so that it hangs loosely from the blackened bones, but the teeth are still white and strongly contrast. The person would be unrecognizable until closer inspection. Girard will do the same for the other dead bandits.

"And now we just need to find a nice spot where they will see it.  Take the cloths from them, I don't need the bodies. I'm going to lay out their cloths by the heads.  Make them wonder what happened, and that wonder will turn to fear. Oh! almost forgot, we need a message, I say leave it in their mouths. Though I know what to leave for this one."

Girard cuts off a sliver of soap from his pack, and puts it in Happs' mouth.

"One shouldn't use such language."

Francine looks away in disgust.
"you would desecrate the dead? I do not see the point to this. Do as you wish but I will not have a part in this barbarism."

She talks with Oleg

"We need an area such that we can imprison these two. I can make it more reinforced so that there will be no escape. We will be civil to the bandits."

She walks off to the designated place and gets to work to build a prison.

Girard looks at Francine, a hidden eyebrow raised under his helmet.

"Desecrate the dead? Why, Miss Marlin, you are absolutely correct.  I am, 'desecrating' the dead.  The only difference is, you see this as a man, a person, someone with a family. Father, mother, hopes, dreams, aspirations."

He holds up the headless body for emphasis.

"He thought about things, he cried, laughed, sang, that is what you see.  But me?  No, save your honor and respect for the living.  Those that still live and breath deserve your thoughts.  But see this? This was a man, but now... this is a thing. This is an object, nothing to hold sentimental value for.  What ever this was, is no longer of any matter, it is nothing but a lump of meat and bone, no more important than a slab of beef.  Actually, you can eat a slab of beef, so it's actually less important.  All that I need is that the bandits still think of it as a person."

Girard drops the corpse.

"All we can do to give it 'honor' is to give it purpose.  What purpose can it serve other than feeding worms or scaring our enemies?"

Girard mounts up on a horse with the heads and clothing in a sack.

"Honor the living but also the dead. Is not one who fights for their life deserving of honor? or does one need to be alive for it to matter? We preserve the dead in the best possible shape so as to ensure that the dead may rest and such that they will going to the Gods waiting arms. Are not ghost or spirits or undead but a disturbed soul with a grudge? A corpse holds the soul and its journey to the afterlife should be unhindered."


Francine points to the Sky
"We are being judged by the gods. Your actions now will reflect the afterlife when it is your time. I follow my Gods teachings and they do not condone this action. You may do as you will, but you should know many gods frown upon your action."

Synopsis

The dead bandits are buried with their hands and feet separated from them in a small, unmarked grave about a mile from Oleg's trading post.

The party then rested at Oleg's trading post, and after a few days encountered Kesten Garess and his three rosy-cheeked guardsmen, who agreed to guard the Trading Post and keep a watch over the surviving two bandits, who are hard at work repairing the post's walls. Apparently Garess had some lady troubles back in Brestov and was disinherited as a result. His band will work for 5g a week, with the first two months paid for in advance. While they rested, Francine crafted an explosive flamethrower shell for her gun, and started working on one of the post's catapults.

The trio then left to map out the surrounding area. Scaring off a wild thylacine, they then encountered several kobolds gorging themselves on wild moon radishes. The kobolds were slain and the radishes brought back for a hefty reward and a delicious bitter soup.

The band then traveled to the plains south of Oleg's, where they discovered a large plains, filled with holes. The holes hide vicious trapdoor spiders as big as a man. One hole in particular held the corpse of a bandit and a crude map with a distinctive forked tree and an 'X' marked under the tree.

After returning to the post, the band encountered Jhod Kavken, also known as Old Deadeye, a traveling hunter and priest of Erastil. He told them of his visions of a forgotten temple to Erastil and a crazed or diseased bear that guards the temple, and agreed to provide free clerical services to the party until they locate the temple or his wanderlust leads him to continue his search alone.

Traveling further south, the party stumbles onto riches beyond their imaginings: a vein of almost pure gold, hidden among a dozen near-identical hills. Quickly marking down the spot, the band continues south, where they found an ancient sycamore, over a hundred feet tall, slowly dying at its roots.

Investigating the roots, the party discovered a clan of mites - evil, vermin-loving fey - living inside, slowly torturing the tree to death. They rescued a kobold (Mikmek) from the mites, who revealed that his clan was at war with the fey after their holy statue of Old Sharptooth was stolen. The party further investigated the lair, killing a giant whip-tail centipede that nearly murdered Girard. With Desla scouting, they discovered the leader and his four followers, as well as a massive blood tick the size of a black Labrador. Francine's dragonbreath cartridge unleashed a massive firestorm that killed all five fey instantly, and a bloody melee ensued with the blood tick, which left Girard diseased and barely standing.

Having recovered the statue, the party then returned to Mikmek the kobold at the entrance to the tree, who had promised to take them to the Sootscale lair in the south.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:03, Fri 30 Dec 2011.

"Well then, I think that's enough of a tale for one night!" huffed the old man, who had coincidentally just noticed that his pipe was all out of pipeweed. The girl, who had been staring off into the window dreamily, snapped back to attention.

"Wait! You haven't even talked about the four drakes guarding the medicine for the sick princess!"

"I did so! That was the four kobolds and the turnips!" The old man glared over at the girl's mother. "Just what kind of nonsense have you been filling her head with, woman? You're ruining the historical veracity of this tale!"

The woman simply shook her head, handing him another packet of pipeweed. She was in the middle of cooking dinner, and had only half-paid attention to the story so far. "Oh, father, it's not like I changed the story about the kobold's lair at all..."

"Hrmph. I should think not!" he snorted, filling his pipe once more.

"So, Mikmek was waiting at the entrance to the giant tree...?" prompted the girl hopefully.

"That's right! "Death to Tartuk!" Cheered the kobold, before suddenly clapping his hands over his mouth!" The old man continued...

"Death to Tartuk!" Cheered the kobold, before suddenly clapping his hands over his mouth. He was watching the statue of the scaly devil with a combination of reverence and fear.

"Eek! I mean, Long live Tartuk, revered shaman of the Sootscales!" The kobold said quickly, his tail drooping below his legs in sudden fear.

Francine roll her eyes and gives a stern look at the kobold and draws her gun and points it at the kobold.

"So, You will explain yourself to us or you will die. Why do you want to kill your shaman, Tartuk?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:49, Fri 06 Jan 2012.

Girard, presses on his bloody bandages, swaying a bit in his saddle.

"While I'm all for returning their holy relic and possibly slaying a shaman, I must warn everyone that I don't think I'll be of much help if a fight breaks out.  Also, I seem to be running a fever. But don't let my concerns slow you down.  But if we do head back to Oleg's, I suggest we bring the kobold with us."


OOC: I think I'm at one HP and am in fact diseased. Not sure what it's going to do to me, but if I have to make a fort save to resist con damage, you guys just have to carry my back.

"Eek!" Squeaks Mikmek, dropping his spear as soon as Francine points her gun at him.

"I didn't mean anything by it, really! Tartuk is good and wise! Every Sootscale knows this! Those who don't know it die in painful ways and their scales drop off from Old Sharptooth's curse! And then Tartuk takes their gold and makes it his!"

Mikmek regains a bit of his courage after saying that. "But..but...maybe Tartuk doesn't need to know about Old Sharptooth yet? Maybe give it to Chieftain Sootscale, instead?"

"my word is are in much worse shape then I thought. We must get back to camp at once get you healed"


"Seems there is more to this problem than meets the eye. I agree we shall take the kobold back for now and determine what really is going on here"
She ties up the kobold and place him on her horse.
once ready dresses up Girad's wounds with some bandages

ooc: to the camp good james!