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.