The fastest way to The Ledge was across The Caldera, riding the trains and trams alongside the endless stream of laborers who at all hours marched dutifully to or from the factories. After spending the night at Baz's safehouse, the party had left early the next morning, passing on foot through the cobblestoned streets of J.P. Cognelius's manufacturing district.

No literal line in the sand separated the territories of the two brothers, but the difference could be felt everywhere. It was in the movement of the crowds, who fanned out in both directions but rarely passed between the two themselves. It was in the architecture, JP's factories menacing and utilitarian, Crock's grandiose with their arched entryways and flying buttresses.

Almost immediately upon crossing over the Crock's side, they were accosted.

"Kreo!" a voice hissed. "Hey, Kreo! What are you doing on the street? The Cultivated Mind have been asking around about you. It doesn't sound good. But then, when is it ever good with the Cult? You're lucky I didn't know anything to tell them because, well..." The woman, a stout gnome with a round face, wore overalls stained with grease and her curly brown hair tied back in a tight bun. She had been craning her neck up to look the satyr in the eye, but now she lowered it. "Well, they would have gotten it from me. They were... extremely persuasive."

The gnomish woman bore no obvious marks of abuse, but then the Cultivated Mind - Crock Cornelius's answer to his brother's Steel Resolve - were notorious for their magic and in particular for the way they could manipulate the minds of those Crock deemed in need of manipulation.

Kreo, you would recognize Lysandra, the president of one of the unions you helped to organize. She'd be a natural person for the Cultivated Mind to interrogate if they were trying to track you down.

Satisfied that the gnome knew Kreo and wasn't immediately antagonistic, Baern let his attention wander away from the Satyr and his contact and kept his eyes on the crowd.

"Maybe we ought to take this conversation aside if the Cult's been asking questions?" he cautioned out of the corner of his mouth.

Frack always enjoyed riding the train, certainly preferable to the horrendous skiff that shuttled them over the water on the previous day. The sounds of the machinery gave him great comfort, but a dilemma weighed on the goblin just the same. After some time, he consulted Procz for advice. "So I mentioned knowing one of the Remnants. She's a hobgoblin. Kjelga. She saved me once from a band of faceless monks. Can't thank her enough for that. It's just that... well, you know. Things didn't end up that well between us. She thought I was stealing spacklecakes and well, one thing led to another and I had to depart out a window."

Vecaal looked down at Frack's obvious enjoyment of the train ride and snorted in disbelief.  How could anyone look forward to being crammed into a tin can with too many of the unwashed pressed up against you, having to duck your head and refrain from even shifting your weight lest you crush one of the Congenelius' precious little workers?  It was incomprehensible to the big dragonborn.  The trains were a necessary evil at best, he thought, and when they were finally able to spill out into the open air once again Vecaal stretched his arms out wide and relished the reclamation of space.

He nodded to Baern's sensible suggestion when Kreo was accosted, and pointed to a shaded side alley not far away.  "Over there," he motioned with a bob of his snout.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:45, Tue 02 Jan.

Kreo reached reflexively for his holsters when his name was hissed, relaxing when he saw it was Lysandra. He heard her out, nodding with a worried look and then looked around as Baern and Vecaal ushered the group rightly into an alley

"Too right. Let's get out of sight"

When they'd gone into the alley he dropped a half and hugged his gnomish friend, fingers in her hair and trying to steady himself

"I . . . things got out of hand. I'm glad you didn't end up like old Elmo Teasurge."

Elmo hadn't been anyone very special outside the movements, an old halfling who'd seen better times and wanted them again for the children of "UnderCrock" as he'd called it. The Cult's violence was well known to any who'd seen the ragged mangey stray that wore his clothes after they were done, and the pitiful creature had been a children's haunted story at play for a few years after

"That's how we fight, Ly. It hurts, but we can't all know what's going on or Crock and his spitbrain brother know too. Maybe you need to lay low for a few days, you know if the girls at Cheeky's have my room spare still? You can go, drink my booze, til' you get your head right again."

Pausing, as if loathe to reveal too much, Kreo looked back at his comrades in these past days

"I've been working with some of Cinderhorn's crew, as well as a couple righteously aligned small fellas (one's even a guard with a heart and balls to back it up, imagine that!) to put some hurt on a conspiracy that involves the brothers. But you can't know more unless you're gonna promise to get out of sight for a bit, get me?"

As the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels reverberated through the metallic carriage, Procz sat in contemplative repose. Each jolt of the train seemed to reverberate through the recesses of his memories, awakening glimpses of a bygone childhood amidst the slag heaps of the lowest slopes; of his original family, not his human foster parents. Perhaps they were getting near where they had lived. He did not know.

"The slum, a crucible of destitution, shaped the entanglement of my intellect, Mr. Frack. It is in this paradox that the symphony of my existence finds its resonance." Procz often forgot that Frack didn't quite have his vocabulary. Then again, the knight often seemed to give knowing affirmations, as if he understood his meaning and intent perfectly.

"Anyway... I believe that is a predicament that can be solved. I shall be your character witness and we shall show Kjelga your pure soul, steadfast honor and impeccable moral fiber." Procz gave a nod, as they followed Kreo, convinced the matter would be resolved, should they find themselves talking with the hobgoblin at a later time.

Vecaal quickly shepherded the group into an alley where they would be safe from prying eyes. Safer, anyway - you could never say for sure, with the Cultivated Mind.

Lysandra was looking pale by the time Kreo finished speaking. "You think... all that... is necessary? That they would come back for me? Kreo, what did you do?

Nope! Never mind. Forget I asked. Better I don't know, right? But what are you do - no, don't tell me that either. Just get off the street, all right? And I mean... do you need help?"

Although Frack nodded politely throughout Procz's speech, the goblin understood very little following The slum, a... He stared blankly at the constable until he concluded with something about finding resin ants. Frack had never heard of resin ants before and wondered what they looked like and what good finding them might do. It sounded a bit foolish, but if Procz thought finding them was important, it certainly was.


Reassured by Procz's words (the few he could understand, at least), Frack straightened and followed the constable toward the alley. "Thank you, Procz. Your words are kind and I am honored by them... and I will help you find those resin ants, no matter how long it takes!"

"Just passin' through, miss," Baern said, looking back from the mouth of the alley. "I wouldn't fret."

"But if you happen to know anywhere the Cult is poking its nose this fine morning we'd be glad to hear it so we take a different route."

While the others spoke Vecaal kept a watch on the street, his big frame leaning motionlessly against one shaded wall like dusky slab of shale.  His golden eyes peered out from the alley, watching for any undue interest in their little byway and the business within.

In reply to The Tinkerer (msg # 7):

At the question of if he needed help, Kreo smiled an impish smile

"Oh, about all I can get. But don't worry about me, I've got friends in low places to keep me safe."

Giving Lysandra a hug, Kreo reaffirmed his request to his friend

"Yes, it's all necessary, the Cult is not to be underestimated. But like my friend here says, if you can point us in their direction I'm sure we'll give them a wiiiiiide berth. Can't avoid them if we don't know where NOT to valiantly attack"

There were three stations where one could catch a train from Crock's side of the Caldera out to the Slopes. The Cultivated Mind could be expected to have eyes on all three, but they were also all heavily trafficked, such that hiding in the crowd was a real possibility. Lysandra reported that the Cult's presence at Crocklespring Plaza had been light that morning.

Lysandra was wrong. Fortunately, the party was full of folk with experience surveilling and/or being surveilled and recognized the plain-clothed "civilians" who bustled back and forth between the museum, the gymnasium, and the train station, always seeming to be in a great hurry yet never going anywhere.

There's no way to say definitively you've detected all the Cultivated Mind agents in the crowd, but you've certainly detected some.

If you'd like to attempt to blend in with the commuters and board the train, that will require a group Stealth check. Of course you're welcome to use magic, distraction, etc. to try to improve your odds or to suggest alternate courses or action.

Baern cast his gaze across the plaza, or as far as he could see from his vantage low to the ground.

"Right," he said. "Jilted lovers, Ver?" he proposed without looking up at his confederate.

Both the Cultivated Mind and the Steel Resolve were tasked with stamping out any threats to their respective bosses, or the general productivity of Coglinton but everyone liked a good show. And for Coglinton's money there was no better show at morning shift change than a lover's quarrel.

Baern rubbed his eyes, clenched his fists and concentrated. It took only a few moments to effect the change, and when it was done Baern looked for all the world like a middle aged dwarf with a grey streaked beard and a pot belly.

"Are you the cheating scum bag this time, or am I?"

He nodded at Vecaal. "Get the others on the train. We'll catch up."

Frack tried (unsuccessfully) not to stare at Bearn as he transformed into to a dwarf how does he do that?!? He wasn't sure which train to board, so he stayed close to Procz, assuming he would know what to do.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:10, Sat 13 Jan.

Sneaking onto the train made Procz feel dirty. The foundation of any functional society should be based on not having to sneak aboard public transportation. And yet he did. Perhaps, his small stature was an advantage, or maybe someone had been thoroughly informed and were looking for someone of a particular size. So Procz raised his shoulder so that his face came deeper below his raised collar, and moved in between the legs of the taller creatures all around, while keeping Zúm close. He glanced over his shoulder to see Frack and continued aboard. His limp didn't let him move too fast, however.

Stealth 17.

Keeping a watchful eye on Zum, who he was still convinced had it out for him, Frack followed his kobold friend onto the train. The shouting dwarf (who was previously a gnome) made the task fairly simple, although he wasn't sure why either of them was so upset at Vera. She seemed very nice to him, and unlikely to cheat on either the dwarf or the gnome. But who knows for certain when matters of the heart are concerned?

As confusing as all this was, he hoped they'd be able to work it out.

21:44, Today: Frack rolled 22 using 1d20+6 ((16)). Stealth - sneak onto train.

Vecaal didn't think the theatrics were necessary from Baern and Vera.  After all, they were in a huge crowd of workers all streaming to and from different trains like the roiling flow at the Confluence, a point in the sewers where dozens of streams all came together.  Watching for a specific handful of folks in all that hubbub was nigh impossible.  But they loved theatrics, and it wouldn't hurt to lend the constable and his protector a little cover.  The Dragonborn still wasn't too sure about that little pair.

So when the show started Vecaal herded Procz and Frack toward the train, intending to shield the pair from prying eyes with his bulk.  The only problem was, he hadn't accounted for their shorter gait, and after only a few steps nearly brought one broad foot down on Frack's head!  Quickly adjusting to miss the goblin, the Dragonborn lost his balance and stumbled to the side, accidentally bumping into a pair of dwarves and almost knocking a stack of boxes from the arms of an adjacent gnome.  Cursing in the harsh tongue of his kind, he steadied the stack of boxes, brusquely apologized to the dwarves, and then decided to take a different path to the train.

If he had just revealed himself to watching eyes, may as well lead them away from the rest.



OOC:
Total for my "expert" skill?  12
08:54, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 1d6.  Psi-Bolstered Knack (Stealth).
08:53, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 9 using 1d20+7.  Stealth.

Hearing a suspicious rustle behind him, Frack turned in time to see Vecaal as he stumbled, cursed, and then sulked off in a different direction. "Procz," he whispered anxiously to the nearby constable. "I'm afraid Vecaal might be drunk."

Kreo was worried, and more than that was troubled, the spectre of the Cult looming over him as his band approached the station. Hands drawn into his cloak and head down, hood up, the satyr walked with his lopping gait to the train, trying to keep away from the others by a measure or two, in case the Cult descended. They were good people but they weren't needing his pains to be their pains.

Pausing to leave a couple coppers with a bagwoman, the old woman grabbed his hand suddenly, pulling him forward to say something right as the satyr was adjusting his hood, causing it to fall back and to expose his hand with several identifying bangles and rings on it.

OOC: Stealth of 11!

Vecaal's blunder led to some tense moments, but nothing seemed to come of it. Outside the context of the rest of the group, he was just another dragonborn who stopped off for a few drinks on his way home from work. Crocklespring Cognelius's half of the city was officially dry, as the officious gnome believed alcohol corrosive to the bodies and minds of his workers, but it was tolerated as long as it did not interfere with an individual's job nor their considerable off-the-clock obligations to the gymnasium.

Everyone else made it to the station without incident and slipped through one of the many narrow archways between the columns ringing the station. From inside came the grinding of gears, the sharp scents of oil and hot steel but also freshly baked bread from the station's several sandwich stalls, and the complex series of chimes announcing various arrivals and departures.

Kreo was just entering the station when an old woman grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip. “You have a familiar face, child. You remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who was very dear to me.”

A loxodon reading a newspaper on a nearby bench uncrossed his legs and looked up at the commotion.

The rest of you see this and can intervene or not as you see fit. Baern, if you'd like to make a Performance check now (with advantage, as Vera is helping) you can try to create that distraction.

Baern and Vera tailed the group at a comfortable distance, following their progress across the busy plaza without intervening. Despite a few close calls it seemed as though the group might manage without the need for theatrics. Baern was almost ready to concede he'd overthought the situation - until they reached the station. As the 'old woman' reached for Kreo's wrist, Baern knew the window for the group to get away was fast closing. He glanced at his confederate but Vera had her head turned the other way watching the crowd behind them.

"I guess that makes me the scorned lover then..." he muttered. Pity. Vera was the much better actor. Well if he wasn't skilled he could at least be loud.

"You bitch!" he shouted, rounding on Vera. "Filthy, cheating harlot! How could you do this to me? With my own brother no less, you wretched woman! Who else have you been fucking behind my back!? You fucking him too??" Baern thrust his finger towards a hapless bystander who's only fault in life was to be standing beside Vera at exactly the wrong moment and was now transiently drawn into their drama.

"I should break his fucking face!"

Performance 10 with advantage. Higher if he can snag a bardic die off Vera.

11:13, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 10 using 2d20, dropping the lowest dice only.  Performance. – 10

In reply to The Tinkerer (msg # 20):

"I am very dear to many people, grandmother, but I do not think we are acquainted. Here, in memory of our fondly remembered kin."

Kreo pressed two coppers to the woman's hand, playing off perhaps a little forcefully that he was simply placating an old lady, a smile on his lips

"Must be going!"

Frack watched all the goings on with a careful eye, not sure what to make of a drunken dragonborn, a scorned dwarf (who was prevuously a gnome), and now Kreo's grandmother of all people. She looks nothing like Kreo. He considered while adjusting his helmet in thought. He must get his appearance more from his grandfather's side.

With that mystery solved, Frack did his best to blend in.

Having already attracked too much attention with his 'drunken' stumbling earlier, Vecaal did not seek to directly intervene with Kreo but instead kept watch on the scene.  Leaning against a pillar to 'steady' his head, he let the whole of the scene sink in, sight, sounds and smells, and remained poised for action.

The loxodon gathered at least some of his attention, but then again someone of that size always did, didn't they?  Even if they were just reading the paper?

Baern and Vera's theatrics, dramatic as they were, barely registered in the bustling train station. Your average commuter saw worse on a daily basis. Even the bystander pointed out by Baern kept his eyes forward and pretended not to notice.

The loxodon, for his part, had eyes only for Kreo. Though he walked against the tide of laborers hurrying to make their trains, he was not slowed by them. Indeed, he moved as if he knew in advance where the crowd would part or a woman would stop to tie her shoe. As he drew near the satyr, he would be seen muttering what were likely the words to a spell. There were others moving like him, agents of the Cultivated Mind no doubt, two converging from inside the station and two more entering from outside.

"No, Suqaab!" the old woman begged, grabbing at Kreo's arm when the satyr offered her the coins. "Don't leave! Don't leave me again!"

Kreo, please make a Perception check and also could you let me know how hard/violently you are trying to pull away from this old woman? Like, are you willing to risk injuring her to get free? If so, please make an Athletics or Acrobatics check as well. This will determine not only whether you extricate yourself but also how gently you can do so.

The nearest Cult agent is the loxodon, who's about 100' from Kreo. Others are anywhere from 100' to 500' away. For simplicity's sake, I'll say that any of you can move to within 30' of any one of the agents (but not more than one - they are spread out) on your turn if you wish.

The station consists of a main concourse with several sets of tracks, an elevated platform with several more, and an underground level with more still. Three elevators move between the levels, all of which have crystals mounted atop them, near their gear assemblies. You've seen these crystals many times, but you notice they are now glowing faintly green, which you've rarely if ever seen before. They still appear to be moving normally. There are also stairs, but they are a less popular option and so only available at the far ends of the station.

The main whole station is quite busy, but the main concourse is the busiest, as it features shops and cafes as well as ticket booths and other infrastructure for commuters. The line you need is in the basement.

And let's all go ahead and roll initiative, in case that becomes relevant.

While no Florian Windwalker, Frack was perceptive enough to spot more than one suspicious character closing in on Kreo and his grandmother. He trailed the nearest of them as they made their way forward, preparing to intervene with his shield if needed.

Florian Windwalker? Noted monk of the mountain temple? Pretty much everybody's heard of him!
23:40, Today: Frack rolled 8 using 1d20+4.  initiative

Kreo looked around, frozen to the spot as the loxodon started towards him with magocidal intent, tensing his arm when "grandmother" wouldn't let go. A flash in his mind, a bubble rose to the surface. He pictured telling her to let go, the words laced with venom that would injure a Cult agent and likely kill a bag lady . . . he considered threatening her with his pistol. He breathed, the coins dropping to the ground with a clanging noise

"Please. I am not Suqaab, but if you do not let go I will likely die. Or that elephant gent and his friends will. If you're in league with these folk here, let go and you and I can fight. But let go either way."

OOC: Perception of 14, Persuasion (doesn't matter if it's disadvantage the first roll IS the lowest) of 12

"Bollocks," Baern muttered. Either he was too far, or the crowd was too packed for him to draw the Cult's attention. In either case he was now also too far to immediately intervene on Kreo's behalf. Shooting a glance at Vera he hurried off into the crowd, trying to head off the Loxodon.

Do we have the Whispers? Can we communicate at range?

Baern will move to within 30' of the Loxodon if that's possible. He is still disguised as a Dwarf.

Kreo had definitely been singled out, of that Vecaal was certain.  His quick check of their escape routes wasn't inspiring - elevators that were cramped and could be stopped to trap them within, or stairways way down at the far end of the platform, accessible only after pushing through the commuting crowds and whatever agents were skulking within.

He saw some of his companions circling in toward Kreo and Vecaal planned to do the same, but first he picked Baern and Vera from the crowd and established the Whispers with them.  [This might come in handy, right quick,] he announced his mental presence to them.

Then he began to move, sizing up the closest agent he'd been able to spot as he edged closer.

OOC:
Sorry, missed posting IC!  Initiative is in OCC thread.
Baern, I hadn't set up the whispers before, but you got them now with me and Vera, per usual.

Kreo's entreaties did not loosen the old woman's grip. The satyr noticed something strange about her, however. She not only failed to respond, she failed to react at all. There was no flicker of her eyes as he spoke, no sudden tightening or loosening of her grip. It was as if someone else were controlling her body.

In the same moment Kreo came to that realization, someone else attempted to control his body as well. He felt it first as a pressure on his temples, then between his eyes, then as a tension coursing across his entire body, probing for weakness. (DC 14 Wis save or you are paralyzed. You get to repeat the save at the end of each turn, so if you fail, you won't be able to move this round but you can roll a second time to try to break free for next round.)

Two of the Cult agents converging on Kreo suddenly blinked out of existence, appearing an instant later on the far side of a crowd and considerably closer to the satyr. With that, they abandoned any pretense of subtlety and ran toward him, shouting at the crowd to make way.

The loxodon is one of the ones who misty stepped, so he is now 10' from Kreo and 60' from Baern. Another one is now 30' from Kreo. The other three are 200-300' away, one still being tailed by Frack. They, too, have picked up the pace and are now running.

OOC: forgot to post it I think but initiative of 22 was rolled back with the Perception and Persuasion. Assuming this is a spell, rolled a 22 on the Wisdom save

"That's . . . not . . . "

Staying in the woman's grip for a moment, Kreo pulled his mind free and focused on the loxodon.

"Release her, or I'll do worse to you."

The threat wasn't spoken all that loudly, but the violet flash inside his mind likely spoke loud enough.

OOC: Intelligence save DC 13 versus mind sliver, failure brings with it 6 psychic damage and a -2 on his next saving throw

Frack lost sight of Kreo in the crowd, but continued to follow the suspicious agent closing in on the satyr. He wasn't sure what the muttering was all about but suspected it wasn't good.

Baern drew up short. There was nothing he could do for Kreo now, and he knew it - nothing short of starting an all out brawl with the Cult and there was no way Baz would approve of such a flagrant display of bellicosity. He tried to catch the satyr's eye from afar and shook his head.

Across the whispers he gave voice to his concerns:

[Kreo's been marked. It'd take drastic measures to cut him loose - we might do better to tail the Cult and spring him in transit.]

[Aye.  Agreed.]

Vecaal's response was a mixture of relief and frustration.  They hadn't been properly prepared for this, and now there was a wrench in the works.  With a snort he stopped tailing the closest agent and instead looked for a good spot from which he could track the movements of Kreo and her escorts, somewhere with a little elevation presumably.

OOC:
16:30, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 7 using 1d20+6 ((1)). lol...sheesh
Vecaal pulls a muscle in his neck looking around for a vantage point!

Frack sped up, trying to look inconspicuous while closing in on the muttering agent ahead of him. Unfortunately for the goblin Shield, his helmet slid down over his eyes and before he could correct it, he had already bounced off one onlooker and into two others. Tears of the hammer. There's people all over the place!

21:06, Today: Frack rolled 8 using 1d20+6.  Stealth. Close in without raising suspicion.

Baern spied Frack making his way resolutely towards the confrontation and made the split second decision to head the stalwart goblin off.

"Easy now," he said, softly. "We see it too. There's nothing for it right now, though. Can't afford a knockabout with the Cult in the open."

He nodded for Frack to follow.

"Vecaal has an eye on them. We'll find a better spot to spring Kreo that doesn't bring the whole lot of them down on our heads."

"But-" Frack turned to Baern with a look of apprehension spread across his goblin face. "He's in trouble..." He looked around for Procz. Certainly he'll know what to do. Unfortunately for Frack, the constable was lost in a sea of commuters, leaving the Shield on his own to decide. His gaze returned to the gnome. He certainly isn't Rom Redshield* when it comes to honor, but he did fight nobly against the clockwork dragon... Maybe he's right.

Frack wrinkled his nose in anguished thought. He adjusted his helmet to help with the decision while a barely audible part-squeak-part-groan escaped from between his teeth. The agents continued to close on Kreo. Frack could hardly look.


*OOC: Rom Redshield was Frack's paladin mentor who first saved him from drowning then couldn't get rid of him after Frack insisted on repaying him for saving his life. From Frack's perspective, Rom is the gold standard for nobility!

"Course he's in trouble. We'll be in trouble too if we make a scene."

"We ain't leavin' him." For one thing, Kreo knew too much. "We're just picking our battle."

Baern laid a firm hand on Frack's shoulder. "Stay close, okay?"

Frack wrestled with the situation in his mind. Kreo had come to our aid a few weeks ago at Owl's end. This seems like the perfect chance to repay that debt. On the other hand... (he actually looked at his other hand while considering this), Baern seems like he knows what he's doing. And he did say we aren't really leaving him, so maybe... If nothing else made his decision, the delay in deciding had put him another 50 feet behind the agent he followed.

Frack sighed and gave the gnome a resigned nod.

"He knows too much to let him go talk to Crock's goons by his lonesome. But I don't want to give up on the Luminescent Athenaeum either. You two go with the little constable. I'll keep an eye on this one." With that, she added her psychic power to Kreo's own, hoping they could at least spare the old woman further indignity as they got themselves captured.

Don't get excited! This is your DM posting as Vera. If we're going to split the party, I think it makes the most sense for her to go with Kreo.

Edit: Fixed Kreo's pronouns. I got hung up on Kreo = Cora = she/her!
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:58, Sat 24 Feb.

Kreo felt his psychic command rebuffed as the loxodon closed on him.

"Not bad," the old woman said, her voice deep now and making no pretense of belonging to anyone other than the Cultivated Mind. "In a different world, we might have been colleagues. Come along, now. We just want to talk. And we've got you surrounded. If you put up a fight you're going to lose, and a lot of innocent people will be-"

Kreo felt a sudden rush of strength, Vera's psychic power added to her own. The jolt pushed the Cult agent from the old woman's mind, and with a wail, she returned to herself.

"Suqaab!" She looked to the looming loxodon and the back at Kreo. "Suqaab, what's happening? Are they going to take you? What have you done?"

The other agents of the Cultivated Mind continued to close in on Kreo and now Veracity, oblivious to the others slipping past them and on to the elevators which would carry them down to the lower tracks.

Kreo, you needn't feel obliged to give up. You're welcome to try to escape as well if you like. You'd know that stopping a train would be extremely expensive for Crock, so the Cult wouldn't do it lightly. And they've given no indication they know where you're headed. So if you can make it to a train, you're home free.

Frack heard the cry of the grandmother and took an involuntary step toward her, then turned to Baern, giving the gnome a pained look in search of what to do next.

Panting and coughing, Procz caught up with the others. A few drops of blood trickled down his nose, telling the story about how he had probably fallen down somewhere in the confusion.

He had gathered that Kreo was in trouble with those Mind folk, but the kobold constable was not ready to give up on Kreo quite yet, in spite of Veracity urging them to make their escape.

In an attempt to help Kreo get away, Procz held off on fleeing with the elevators. He climbed off Zúm and sent his trusty familiar construct forward to deliver a spell on Kreo...

Casting Invisibility on Kreo, if possible, through Zúm dashing back and forth.

Baern could see the struggle playing out on Frack's face. He shook his head gently. Little did he know that Zúm was winding its way through the legs of milling workers, intent on delivering Kreo to freedom.

Frack had convinced himself that Baern was right. Restraint was the wiser choice. The sight of Procz racing toward the fracas on the back of his mechanical mount urging his mechanical mount into action, however, changed his mind completely. "Sorry Baern," he called over his shoulder to the gnome while chasing after Procz and Zum. "But Kreo and his grandmother who looks nothing like him need help!"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:00, Wed 28 Feb.

And then, suddenly, Kreo seemed not to need help any longer. Either that, or he needed more help than a mere goblin could provide. For Procz's mechanical dog had arrived on the scene, racing between the legs of equally started and irritated commuters to deliver a nudge of the nose to Kreo, at which point the satyr simply vanished.

The already distraught old woman turned apoplectic, grasping at the empty air and shrieking, "Suqaab!Suqaab! Let him go, you bastards!"

Neither the Cultivated Mind nor the commuters spared a moment for her sorrow. They all had jobs to do and could scarce afford the consequences of a moment's delay.

Kreo, you're no longer restrained nor even visible.

When Zúm had delivered the spell, Procz guided him back through the crowds. "Now, esteemed associates, I believe the time has come to make our escape." He wiped his nose, finding the trickle of blood had dried, and pushed for the elevator. The kobold held the door for a short minute, in hopes that Kreo could make it inside with them. Not that he could see him, even if it was his own spell.

"Run Vera!"

Kreo's voice rang out from empty air as the invisible satyr bounded and cantered away, heading for the train after surmising the Cult would have their hands full trying to get the much vaunted locomotives to stop at their command

OOC: Acrobatics 19 to move around and over the crowd in the time (hour at most, and concentration of Procz at least) I have. Will brazenly add some mirthful leaps to that alongside my 35ft speed and dashing

He didn't tell the group where he was going, but he hoped they'd keep to the plan. He'd need to shake the Cult first . . .

Frack was beyond confused now. Either Zum had swallowed Kreo whole, which wasn't out of the question, or else the satyr had inexplicably disappeared, leaving his grandmother in a panic. Frack's tiny goblin heart went out to the poor woman, so he continued toward her in hopes of helping her to recover from the traumatic situation she just experienced.

Frack will rush over to the grandmother and lay on hands for 5hp to see if that helps. I realize this complicates our escape, but Frack can't help himself. He's too much of a goody goody to leave what he thinks is Kreo's grandma in such dire straits.

"Don't." Procz called after Frack. "That's not his grandmother. Please come back."

Hearing Kreo call out, seemingly taking another route, that was their clue. They'd meet up with him later.

"We have to go now!"

The sudden commotion baffled Vecaal. They'd had a plan, he and Baern at least, and now chaos ruled the platform.  Voices were coming from several points, telling him to run, screaming about a squab, raising concern about grandmothers.  The Dragonborn struggled to make sense of it all, amidst the ongoing hustle and bustle of the busy platform.  He tried to find Kreo and the loxodon through the traffic but failed, barely spotting the elephantine agent.  Frack had disappeared into the crowd, and only Baern and Procz were nearby.  And Procz wanted to leave, with haste.

[The constable wants us gone immediately.  Are you two agreed?] he sent through the Whispers, while edging toward the elevator slowly.  He wasn't going to leave without them, if tailing a captured Vera and Kreo was no longer the plan.

"Fucking go!" Baern replied, not bothering to send his thoughts through the whispers. He was already making his way through the crowd. "You don't look a gift horse in the teeth."

Racing toward Kreo's distraught grandmother, Frack was convinced nothing could stop him.
Frack stopped. The trusted words of the constable were probably the only thing that could change his mind, and even those were only enough to make him pause for a split second to think.

At this final plea, Frack did an about face and made his way toward his kobold companion, offering a prayer to Tyr for a blessing on the poor grandmother as he did.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:48, Fri 01 Mar.

A goblin wrapped in chicken wire squabbling - or whatever they were doing, no one could be bothered to listen long enough to determine - with a ranting old woman was the sort of thing one saw several times a day riding the rails of Coglinton. It was best not to stare, lest their madness prove contagious. Or, worse, they recruited you as unwilling participant in their drama. And so Frack was able to comfort the old woman unmolested, easing her distress and earning him a gentle pat on the hand as the Cultivated Mind furiously sought their invisible quandary and the rest of the city went about its indifferent business.

[Kreo's good], Veracity assured her associates telepathically. [Get to the train.]

Separate elevators carried the anonymous companions to the platform below, where they spent several nerve wracking minutes awaiting the arrival of the next train as agents of the Cultivated Mind stalked the platform, no longer making any pretense of blending in with the crowd. They seemed to have no idea what they were looking for save an invisible satyr, however, and so at last the train arrived and departed, leaving them fuming at the Crocklespring Plaza Station.

Magical lights glowed to life as the train rattled into the tunnel through the caldera wall, illuminating the interior of the car. Its occupants were tired and dirty, returning from long days at the factories to steal a few hours' sleep at their homes on the Slopes before returning to do it all again the next day.

The Lower Slopes were not well served by public transit, the result of a perverse chicken-and-egg dilemma whereby Coglinton's more respectable citizens feared their largely impoverished and unemployed residents and wanted them kept at bay and the Lower Slopes residents, unable to seek work in the Caldera's factories, remained largely impoverished and unemployed. This was not true all of the Lower Slopes, but it was more true the further out you got, and The Ledge was about as far out as you could get.

No wonder the Remnants lived in shanties constructed from the cast-off construction materials of their wealthier compatriots. No wonder no constables patrolled its muddy alleys, relying instead upon ornithopters whirling away in the skies overhead, hovering at a height beyond the reach of the rocks residents threw at them in hopes of earning the handsome rewards paid by scrappers for such valuable pieces of constabulary tech. No wonder barefooted children scampered over trash heaps seeking treasures that had been missed by the hundreds of hands that combed those heaps before them.

It was possible to pick one's way down The Ledge on makeshift stairways assembled from the rubble, but you had to know what you were doing. The Remnants were as uninterested in visits from outsiders as outsiders were in visits from them, and so the way was lined with traps and dead ends. You had to speak the local language, the series of signs by which they indicated to those in the know where footing was firm and which platforms looked promising but would collapse beneath the weight of any adult.

Fortunately, Frack could read the signs of the scrappers and lead the way down the steep Ledge toward the Remnants village below and sprawling slums beyond, where the Dragonfather's map suggested the Luminescent Athenaeum would be found.

Everyone make an Athletics or Acrobatics check as you pick your way down The Ledge, please.

Well this is embarrassing. Rolled a 1.

11:57, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 7 using 1d20+6.  Athletics. – 7

Baern was used to navigating rockfalls and picking his way through scree choked tunnels, which on the face of things didn't seem terribly dissimilar to the footing of the Ledge. He also wasn't much bigger than the barefooted ragamuffins scampering unconcernedly over the shifting trash heap. It was therefore with considerable surprise that he put his full weight down upon what he was quite sure was a secure toehold only to have it dislodge from the wall and send it, him, and a heap of garbage tumbling down to the ground below...

The surprise rapidly gave way to anger as his descent continued unimpeded - or rather, incompletely halted by jagged garbage and pointed ledges that snatched at his clothes and dug into his flanks without arresting his fall.

If this is a long enough drop, Baern will rage to soak the impact. I'll leave it up to the DM if its worth it.

Frack led the way enthusiastically down the trash stairs, taking special care to ensure Procz stayed on solid footing. "Watch out for this step," he called to the others as he started the descent. "And watch out for this step,"


"Ooooh. And watch out for that step..." Frack grimaced as he watched Baern take the quick way down.

OOC: Frack will help Procz if that's possible.
22:09, Today: Frack rolled 16 using 1d20+4.  Acrobatics, down from the ledge.

Vecaal eyed the way down the slope with slight apprehension.  His weight and clawed feet never seemed to mix well with sharp, jumbled terrain and yet that was all that presented itself.  He might have actually preferred climbing down a cliff face to this mish-mash of refuse the Remnants used as a stairway.  Grumbling to himself about poor choices, he started down the makeshift steps along with the others, wincing each time his foot sunk into the mess under his weight, or he stumbled slightly when a sharp edge dug into his foot.

Then Baern went for a tumble, and watching the gnome tumble away rather than his next footfall, Vecaal suffered a similar fate!

OOC:
14:23, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 11 using 1d20+3.  Acrobatics.
14:25, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 1 using 1d6.  Psi-bolstered Knack.

Total of 12, which I'm guessing is too low to pass.  If the results are severe, could Vecaal opt to invoke his Gem Flight ability to avoid damage?

Kreo paused in his flight once he was sure the Cult had lost him to circle back to the train, trusting that Procz would keep his concentration long enough. Weaving this way and that through the crowd, he took a running leap to into the train at a pocket he could press into and hugged the wall, willing himself small once they let the train leave. He'd toyed with the idea of some great reveal, thumbing his nose at the loxodon taunting him, and remembered he'd made it out by the grace of kobold, thinking better of his fool plan

Slipping through the train he tried to find his companions, staying close and remaining calm if he could until such time as they were in a less crowded area. When the descent along the ledge was beginning he approached his friends and finally spoke, still invisible

"I'm here. Thank you for the save back there, all of you. I was careless, people almost got hurt."

Taking the descent slowly, Kreo's surefooted goat legs kept his balance well

OOC: 16 on Stealth (in case that matters later) and a 17 to descend

Kreo thought to reach out and try to catch Vecaal or Baern, but realized he had little in the way of magic that might help them. He'd have to heal them once they landed, at least.

With Frack leading the way well helping the limping constable, the group slowly descended the hidden, precarious stairway of The Slope. The children scavenging in the towering junk heap went from staring to shouting warnings to those below to laughing when first Vecaal and then Baern stumbled and fell.

Neither was injured, but after another step or two Baern felt a strange sensation on his foot and looked down to see a viscous, coppery slime devouring what remained of his left boot. The sensation he'd felt had been patches of suddenly-exposed skin pressing against the rusted iron platform on which he stood.

A fresh round of laughter rose among the children, though they took no break from their scurrying and scavenging. Down below, a small crowd of scrappers had gathered beneath the makeshift rooves of their shanties and lean-tos, watching the party's descent with wary, unwelcoming faces.

A low murmur in the sky above announced the approach of a surveillance ornithopter, which seemed simply to be following a patrol route and not yet to have noticed the newcomers.

Baern vigorously brushed himself off, scowling all the while as if daring one of the others to say something. It was difficult to tell with his dark complexion, but the deep gnome's cheeks seemed flushed with embarrassment and his nostrils flared like a champing stallion. "Would you look at this then?" he said, angrily gesturing towards his boots. He peeled back the leather with a grunt and tossed it onto the heap before the ooze could take more of his garments. "I just bought those! Weren't cheap, neither. Two quid, gone! Who's going to sell me just one boot, now?"

He started back down the slope in a foul temper.

"Ruddy slime. Ruddy Slopes."

Procz, in his usual weakened condition, struggled to make it down the makeshift stairs. Thanks to the fact that he could lean his weight on Zúm, and all the good advice from his friend Frack, the kobold descended nonetheless.

Acrobatics 11.

He looked at the children, and just like an old smell can transport you back to childhood through a memory, all of this did was well. "I came from the lower slopes, you know. I was born among the trash, slime and fumes, just like these young ones." He gave a little cough.

Procz was supposed to have died here, were it not for his foster parents. Heck, maybe he'd still do. Their little group was heading into danger and possibly their demise.

"Maybe you ought to do the talking then," Vecaal suggested to the constable, pointing to the welcoming committee assembling among the shanties at the base of the slope.  He certainly had no past experience with the scavengers to draw upon.

The dragonborn continued carefully down the trash heap's steps but looked up warily as the sound of the ornithopter reverberated from above.  "The larger of us might want to stay out of view as best we can too," he suggested, thinking Procz, Frack and Baern could be mistaken for Remnants scrambling on the trash pile but he, Vera and Kreo maybe not so much.

OOC:
16:21, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 19 using 1d20+7.  Stealth.  To avoid ornithopter eyes.

Frack winced at the gnome's angry summary of the situation, but offered a glimmer of hope. "Actually, there are a few scrappers who might be willing to trade something of yours for a single boot. Especially if you don't care if it's right or left! They call it buttering." He gave the surrounding rubble a long look. "And it would be a good idea if you got one as soon as you could. There's a lot of pointy things buried in the muck here... and a lot of bugs, slimes, and blood suckers, too." He shivered at the thought. "How good are you at hopping on one foot?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Tue 05 Mar.

"You're havin' a go at me right?" Baern asked, looking sideways at Frack. He struggled to tell if the goblin was being serious at times. He certainly seemed earnest. "Pulling my leg?"

There was no way he was hopping down the Slopes.

But maybe there was something to be said for butter - er, bartering with the scrappers.

Frack gave Baern a quizzical look. "I don't think pulling on your leg will help," he supposed out loud. "But if you think it will, I'd be willing to give it a try."

His attention shifted to the patrolling omnithopter. Instinctively, he ducked, but turned his head slightly in order to keep one eye on it. "The big guy is right," he said with a nod toward Vecaal. "We should probably let it pass before we finish going down."

Vecaal was no stranger to evading the clunky surveillance technology of the constabulary, and with his guidance, the party was able to evade the predictable path of the ornithopter's patrol.

The children who had been gawking and laughing at Baern's predicament disappeared following stern glances from the adults gathering at the foot of The Ledge. Roughly a dozen scrappers formed the Welcoming Party, looking rather like Frack as they were decked out in makeshift armaments clearly fabricated from the Caldera's castoffs. There was no telling how many more were concealed in the maze of beams, weathered fabric, and tin sheets that constituted their town.

"You must be lost," said a tiefling who stepped forward as spokesman for the group. "Perhaps I can help." He wore a helmet fashioned of hammered tin, with two holes poked through for his horns, and plates of heavier metal bound to his chest and legs. Small, dark wings were just visible over his shoulders. Wearing such weight, it was doubtful he could fly.

His next remark dispelled any illusion that his friendliness was genuine. "Cognozzle City's back the way you came."

In spite of having suffered as a child on the lower slopes, Procz did not have much in common with these residents. He had been extracted from the slum by his foster parents, and brought up in a much better part of town. The kobold might have been born in toxic waste, but he was practically raised in a library.

His status as a constable wasn't something he could use to benefit their dialogue with the locals either. In fact, it would probably better to stay in cover for the time being. Although his allegience was with the common people (through law and ordered society); he had no method of convincing them of that. His academic manner of expressing himself did not help a bit.

Procz concluded that it would be better if someone else handled dialogue with the locals, at least for their initial conversations, so he remained quiet for now.

Baern peered up at the tiefling, shifting his stance so that Bessie lay easily across his shoulders. He also wasn't an ideal spokesman for the group, but unlike Procz he lacked the restraint to keep his gums buttoned up tight.

"Oh, you're a funny one. Right knee slapper there. We ain't lost though, bub. Come lookin' for you and here you are."

Kreo kept himself back, letting Baern be the hammer and Procz the glove. The people of the slopes needed his help, of course, but needing and wanting were different things, and you could hold a man down and heal his broken leg a lot easier than explain the realities of material . . . err, things, and how the worker needed to band together with his brothers and sisters to unite.

Hard to explain to a man who sees workers with full bellies and a cracked alms bowl before him.

Checking that Procz's focus held on the invisibility, he pinched his components pouch's clasp and opened it, getting ready for if a quick spell would be worth blowing his cover.

A hissing noise escaped Vecaal's snout - a laugh, it seemed.  Though whether he appreciated the tiefling's initial jab or Baern's rejoinder was unclear.  He stood just behind and to the left of the gnome, towering over him in his dusky amber scales.  His tongue flicked out twice, tasting the strange air that circulated this far down the slope.  A small ripple flexed through the spike-like spines running from the back of his head down into his cloak.

"Don't mean no harm," he rumbled, as though suddenly aware of his normal aura of subdued menace.  Tilting his head ever so slightly, he awaited the tiefling's response to Baern's prompt.

"Looking for me?" A vaguely hostile reaction snaked its way through the collected Remnants, with much subtle shifting of feet and adjusting of weapons. This gave the impression, to one as accustomed to collecting debts as Baern, that there was in fact some reason armed outsiders might be looking for the tiefling.

"Well, you've found me. What do you want? Feel free to explain yourself from right where you're standing now."

Kreo, I have not been tracking time closely, but you can expect that Invisibility will be wearing off relatively soon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:18, Sat 09 Mar.

The tiefling's reaction did not go unnoticed by Baern, but he made no direct reference to it as he pressed ahead.

"Sure have, guv. You look like a blood who knows things, and we have things we need knowing," he said, innocently.

"There's a bone pile somewhere further along the slopes, past the Ledge. A bloody great big one I reckon. You know the one. We need to get there. And we're willing to pay for a guide."

"Now you look like a no nonsense sort of fellow so what do you say we cut the crap where you try to tell me you've never heard of no bone pile in the Slopes, or try to send us off to some other bone pile that ain't the one I'm asking about, and just name your price so we can start haggling? I promise you its the fastest way to get us back to Cognozzle City and out of your horns."

Frack had shifted his weight nervously at first upon the Remnant's angry greeting, but when Baern snapped back with such certainty, the goblin's eyebrows disappeared under the rim of his helmet as he awaited the tiefling's response.

As the conversation continued, he noticed the anxious preparations of the group behind their leader and adjusted the grip on his own shield just in case it would be needed.

From the way the Remnants exchanged looks, it was plain to see the tiefling held no real authority; he was merely the one who had stepped forward. Their glances carried an entire conversation without a word spoken between them. Again, the tiefling gave voice to their unspoken consensus.

"We've had some... competition. For what used to be our best harvesting site. You get rid of the monster that's taken up residence there, and we'll show you to the bone pile. But that's it. You don't touch anything, you don't take anything. The foot of The Slope belongs to the Carrion Collective."

At the mention of that name, the assembled scrappers hooted and shook their salvaged weapons.

"You see?" Baern replied, his face splitting in a broad grin. "I knew we could be reasonable about this."

"Tell us about this monster. We don't need nothing from the Slopes. Except a boot. I need a left boot."

He stuck out his foot and wiggled his toes to accentuate the point.

Knowing that Procz focus would only hold a little while longer, Kreo looked around at the mention of the conclave, his eyes peering beyond the veil

OOC: using Eyes of the Grave because sweeping for undead in 60ft seems prudent

Moving to take cover before the invisibility ran out, Kreo waited for the spell to stop, hoping to blend in with the party and not raise questions

OOC: oh hey it's a 10 with advantage. I am very good at my job

"In addition to what he dumps here, that cheap bastard Cognozzle uses slimes to clean up after his factories. Time to time, they get tossed along with the scrap. Most of 'em, like the one you just stepped in, are harmless enough and we leave 'em be. For the more dangerous one, we've got a zapping rod fries 'em up good. 'cept this one, when we zapped him, just split in half and kept coming. Cost poor Ghaston his leg. Blasted thing's taken over the best spots. Gets to all the good stuff before we can.

So... you get rid of it, we can show you to your bone pile."

"Boot's extra," a woman declared, stepping out from behind the tiefling. She was an ashen-faced dwarf, her complexion much like Baern's own, marking her as a duergar. "And you don't want to be walkin' 'round here without a boot."

Her companions nodded sagely.

Edit: Kreo, you do not detect any undead nearby.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:16, Sun 10 Mar.

Baern glanced at his companions and then back at the Remnants. He nodded. "We'll handle your slime."

"What do you want for the boot?"

Baern will barter at Frack's suggestion. He'll offer some of the contents of his Explorer's kit (minus the backpack which he needs to carry everything)

Includes a backpack, a bedroll, a mess kit, a tinderbox, 10 torches, 10 days of rations, and a waterskin. The pack also has 50 feet of hempen rope strapped to the side of it.

I wont bog us down with a lengthy back and forth. Just tell me how many items to mark off. I already presume Baern is taking a loss on this.

To whatever extent they might contribute I've rolled a persuasion and an insight check:

09:47, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 15 using 1d20+3.  Insight. – 15

09:47, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 7 using 1d20.  Persuasion. – 7

Now that bartering was underway, the woman stepped forward, ascending a few dozen feet up the mound of scrap until she was nearly level with Baern and could look him over. "That works," she said, indicating the entire pack. "Yeah, the pack too. Seein's how I'm about to relieve you of the burden of carryin' anything."

She laughed, but also held up a piece of soiled but sturdy-looking leather and a length of twine. Evidently she'd scoped his predicament from her home or workshop and come prepared. "Don't worry, I'll make you a good one. Fit you perfect like. Believe you me, you don't want to be walkin' round here with no shoe."

To emphasize her point, she unlaced her own boot and held up the sole of her foot for inspection. There was a large red blotch near the ball, which appeared at first to be swollen as if infected. But then the bulge shifted, revealing itself to be a living creature - or creatures - that had taken up residence in her foot.

"Got me when I was a girl. Haven't been able to get 'em out since. I think of 'em like roommates now. So what you think, fella? You fancy some uninvited houseguests or a nice new boot?""

Baern accepted the duergar's terms with a scowl and grudgingly handed the entire pack across. "This had better be the best damned boot on the whole Ledge," he grumbled, thinking hard on just how much he'd had to offer for a scrap of leather and some cord.

Having gained a little more trust in Baern as their travels went on, Frack slapped the snirfneblin on the back. "Well buttered, Baern! You're sure to get a fine boot! And I can help carry what it is you need carried."

He paused to clear his throat before continuing, betraying a slight hesitation of conscience. "Uhhhh, when you said we don't need anything from the Slopes except the boot, does that mean we don't think we're going to find the luminous aluminum here? I mean, the Remnants have a certain territory and I'm not sure if it extends past the bone pile, but if it does, they won't take too kindly to us sneaking anything from it." His memory drifted over a former Remnant acquaintance. "I once knew a Remnant and she just about killed me for sneaking a half-stack of spacklecakes... and I wasn't even sneaking them!"

Vecaal scowled at the steep price for a boot and agreed with Baern's grumbled sentiment, but figured things might carry a different value in the scrapyards than they did up in the city.  Plus, they pretty much had the interlopers over a barrel, given that Baern was walking around half-shod already.

As for Frack, the dragonborn gave the little goblin a nudge with his leg.  "We'll show them the same fairness they've shown us," he rumbled, as though that should be sufficient to still Frack's tongue.

Procz weighed the legal ramifications in his head. If this was indeed a slime creature; in effect a monster not people, it seemed appropriate to proceed with this endeavor. Of course, following that thought, there was the question of how dangerous it was. The kobold's experience with slime creatures was solely academic. He thought they came in different types and sizes, but suspected this was a nasty variant, as they wanted someone else handling the dirty work and not doing it themselves.

"Don't you worry about no aluminum, Frack, my lad," Baern consoled the goblin. "Vecaal's right. We've got it sorted."

Frack looked back and forth between his gnome and dragonborn companions, finally deciding to believe them. "Yes. Sorted. I suppose we do have it sorted then."

He sent a look Procz's way, but the kobold constable appeared to be busy with deep thoughts of his own. He wasn't sure, but Frack suspected it had something to do with resin ants, whatever those were.

With surprising skill, the dwarf wrapped the stiff leather around Baern's foot, using the twine to cinch it tight in all the right places. It may well have been the best damn boot on the whole Ledge, not that that was a high bar.

The collection of hovels at the foot of the Ledge could not fairly be called a shanty town, for there was no apparent order or plan to it. In the maze of junk, you occasionally caught sight of a door or window and realized someone lived - or at least squatted - in this particular pile of twisted metal and rotting wood.

The outsiders' presence was felt even by the outsiders themselves, in the way the life of the scrappers warped around them. Children scrambled to keep their distance while claiming vantage points atop piles of rubble from which to gawk. Adults, equally curious but more restrained, lifted tin rooves to peer out from beneath them.

There was no clear path to follow. Rather, the tiefling led them on a route that required much ducking under and climbing over debris until arriving at what appeared to be just another scrap heap. "All right," he said, gesturing with his arm so that his wing fanned dramatically above it. "Get to work."

”That’s it then, is it?” Baern viewed the junk pile with skepticism. ”Alright then.”

Baern tapped Bessie against his palm determinedly and started towards the heap.

”Ever arrested a slime before, constable?” he inquired of Procz.

"Only the figurative kind." said Procz, shaking his head. He walked slowly next to Zúm, holding one hand on the construct familiar to steady himself. "But several of those."

When they reached the edge of the scrap heap and the tiefling indicated they had reached their destination, Procz studied it for just a moment.

Then, instead of moving in between the piles of junk, the kobold used his telekinetic powers to start lifting material (at least the not too heavy pieces) up and away to reveal things that might be hidden underneath. In the back of his mind, he wondered if this display of arcane abilities was something the local children would find entertaining.

Frack had dealt with many slimes in the past, but dealt with meant walking around them and checking his boots when finished. The thought of battling one had never crossed his mind. He circled the scrap pile, adjusting his helmet in thought while Procz disassembled it from a distance.

"So how exactly do we fight this slime? Can't really stab it and they said electrics just make more of them."

This message was deleted by the player at 05:54, Wed 13 Mar.

"Alchemical creatures do indeed have peculiar qualities, Mr. Frack." Procz agreed, continuing to lift light items in the trash. "While mundane physical harm may not be entirely effective, I'm sure our weapons will have some effect. With that said, I'm thinking a combination of heat and cold and other forms of energy and disruption. We'll see how adaptive it is to our efforts. I have a few spells in store for just this kind of thing. And, your channeled powers might in fact be even more suitable than my arcane incantations."

"Well I certainly hope our weapons have some effect because my plan was to beat it like a meringue," Baern remarked.

"I never took you for a chef," Vecaal said drily, as he scanned the junk heap for any signs of this 'slime'.  "Just make sure it doesn't melt your wrench like it did your boot."

Maybe he was too focused on Baern's wordplay, but to the dragonborn the pile of rubbish was impenetrable.  Just a jumble of disparate material and colours with no rhyme or reason.  "We oughtta just blow the whole pile up as high as Cog's castle!" he grumbled.

OOC:
20:27, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 9 using 1d20+6.  Perception.  Looks like garbage to me!

This particular pile of junk was distinguishable from its neighbors by the lack of scrappers sifting through it. Nevertheless, Procz detected some slight shifting of the debris. Telepathic lifting of select rotted beams and rusted joints revealed something viscous and black slithering beneath. It looked like oil but moved against gravity, a tendril of the thick substance dripping up to pool upon something above it. The tendril dragged its prey down into the center of its body, where whatever it was disappeared into the inky mass.

Recalling the tiefling's words, Procz continued shuffling debris about until he found the second such creature - or the second half of the same creature, if that was how it worked - in another part of the junk heap.

The oozes are currently 40' and 60' from the party, with full cover. If Procz uses his action on telekinesis, he can reduce that to 3/4 cover.

"A bloke can have hobbies," Baern remarked, sizing up the pulsating ooze from a distance.

"Think we can draw it out? It'd be nice to tackle one at a time if we can."

"I will attack from range then, I've fire, light and magics of the mind . . . " Kreo watches the scurrying slimes "they might see some effect if I do that, who knows? "

The satyr tried to keep low but his incessant chatter was back now that he wasn't invisible, making up for lost time

"Would anyone like the 'blessing of the worker' as it were?"

OOC: you know it, you love it, offering the Bless spell. Initiative 20!
This message was last edited by the player at 03:08, Mon 18 Mar.

Procz continued telekinetically lifting what material he could, exposing the oozes. His face reflected his mental effort, as if he was lifting some of the pieces of scrap with his own tiny muscles.

"There. You should be able to target them with your ranged attacks." Procz exclaimed. He did not claim the blessing, as he figured it would be more useful to anyone who might have to get closer to the slimes.

Initiative 25!

Baern's relationship with the divine was loose and fairly flexible. The Gods were distant and abstract figures and for the most part he didn't give them a great deal of thought. Of far more immediate concern to the sensible gnome were forces like Fortune and Karma - of which he was personally familiar - and the animating spirits of places and things. Genius loci. That's what the greybeards called them. They were the reason why miners made offerings at the minehead and carried totems with them down into the earth; to appease the spirits and ward off disaster. This mentality was part of the reason why Baern had taken to the Gear Lord especially quickly. If rocks and caves had spirits, it only stood to reason that machines and contraptions should have the same.

All this to say then that if someone was offering up Blessings - be they a God, a sprite, an imp or some other proxy of a beneficent force - Baern was only too happy to accept them even if he didn't much care for the 'how' or the 'why'.

"Over here, guv," he said, sticking up his hand. "I'll have whatever you're doling out."

Initiative 10
19:04, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 10 using 1d20+2.  Initiative. – 10
This message was last edited by the player at 23:25, Sun 17 Mar.

Frack wasn't sure how fast these black slimes could move once provoked, but he figured that a shield in front of Kreo would be a good thing. He approached the satyr, keeping a watchful eye on the slithering slimes within the junk pile as he did. He also noted one or two shiny spots that would warrant investigation later, but for now, he realized Frack the Shield was more needed than Frack the scrapper. Amid all this, he also accepted Kreo's offer."Tyr stands for justice, and what could be more just than the blessing of the worker? I humbly accept the offer if it still stands!"
He drew his scimitar and readied his shield as he moved into position.


16:14, Today: Frack rolled 15 using 1d20+4.  initiative
16:34, Today: Frack rolled 8 using 1d20-1.  arcana - how does one fight whatever is in the junk pile??? –

This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Mon 18 Mar.

"As do I ," Vecaal chimed in behind Frack, in case there was enough blessing to go around.  He hadn't worked with Kreo long enough to gauge the extent of his magical power, but hoped his ask wouldn't overtax him.  Decidedly irreligious, the Dragonborn was still not above gaining a leg up in whatever way was offered.  Hopefully that level of practicality didn't rule him out.

Turning his attention to the trash pile and the brief glimpses of black ooze pooled within, he willed a dusky blade into his hand, its edge barely glinting in dirty amber.  He was ready for the assault to begin.

OOC:
08:51, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 16 using 1d20+8.  Initiative.

"Right then," Baern said, rolling up his sleeves. Stalking towards the nearer ooze he broke into a sprint steps before the mound and fell upon the gelatinous creature in a fury. Bessie hit the mound with a resounding thwack, sending refuse flying in every direction.

Bonus: Rage
Attack hits AC 26 got 16 magical bludgeoning damage and 4 radiant damage

18:43, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 20 using 1d10+4+2+1d6+2.  Damage. – 20
18:42, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 26 using 1d20+6+1d4.  Attack. – 26

Kreo's hands formed a circle and a ball of flame came forth. He reared back and flung it at the furthest slime, trying to burn it.

OOC: attack roll 13, damage 9 fire

Inspired by Baern's heroic charge into battle, Frack followed him with a steadfast determination. He attempted to match the gnome's aggressive style by swinging as hard as he possibly could with his eyes closed. This resulted in Frack hitting an unexpected piece of garbage over the intended target, losing his grip, and dropping his trusty scimitar directly into the slime itself.

22:37, Today: Frack rolled 7 using 1d20+6.  Scimitar vs. black slime.

Aw crap! A one? Vs. a slime/ooze/goo? That's gotta mean I dropped my weapon INTO the slime/ooze/goo, doesn't it?

Vecaal has thought the plan was to draw the slime out, but Baern was clearly too impatient after paying an arm and leg for his replacement boot.  That frustration had to go somewhere.  As the group sprang into action the dragonborn let out his hissing laugh and shook his snout.  Stepping a little to the side to provide an angle, he let fly with his psychic blades at the same target.  Perhaps in bulk they could overwhelm the thing before it split into multiple targets.

OOC:
Move as needed to gain line of sight.
Ranged attack action with psychic blade, bonus action ranged attack with second psychic blade.

Hit AC16 for 17 dmg
11:47, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 13,13 using 1d20+5,1d20+5.  Attack.
11:48, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3,3 using 1d4,1d4.  Bless.
11:48, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 9,5 using 1d6+3,1d4+3.  Damage.
11:51, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 2d6.  Sneak attack damage.  Assuming Baern and Frack constitute threat within 5 ft of slime.

Procz's telekinesis opened a narrow aperture through which magic, weapons, and magical weapons could slip. Baern's hammer smashed into the black goop, which ultimately splashed back to burn his leg. Even so, he felt something substantive at the center of the slime, something that squished satisfyingly beneath the blunt force of his hammer. (Baern, you take 4 acid damage)

Frack was not so lucky. His scimitar caught the edge of an old pipe as he swung it down, and the weapon leapt from his hand to land in the black sludge. The slime quickly absorbed the weapon, which vanished from sight. (Frack, you are minus one scimitar)

Vecaal's psychic blades, guided by Kreo's blessing, did was the satyr's fire failed to do, piercing and burning the mucous body.

The wounded slime retaliated, launching a tendril of black ooze at Baern, but the miner easily evaded it. As for its cousin (sibling? twin? clone?), it had disappeared from view.

That Bless made a huge difference! The slime's AC is really poor, so even with 3/4 cover, it only gets to 16. Bless got several attacks over the line!

Same deal for next round: the slime has full cover, which Procz can reduce to 3/4 with his telekinesis. The other slime has presumably burrowed deeper into the pile and is nowhere to be found. Anyone who wishes may spend their action on a Perception check to try to locate it. Procz got advantage when he made this check because of his telekinesis - I'd consider the same for someone else if they have a similarly useful skill/spell.

Baern took another swing at the ooze, driving his pipe-wrench right into the middle of the slime.

"Its for the best, mate," Baern said over his shoulder to Frack. "Don't want to split it up even further! Find something to squish it or burst it! Here."

Baern pulled one of the spring loaded javelins off his belt, flipped the catch so it sprung into place, and handed it to the plucky goblin.

Rage/Reckless/Bless
Attack hits AC 20 (before bless) for 18 damage

10:05, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 18 using 1d10+4+2+1d6+2.  Damage. – 18
10:04, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 20 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack. – 20
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Fri 22 Mar.

Vecaal waited for Procz to repeat his telekinetic legerdemain and then flung two more of his dusky blades at the slime.  Both seemed to fly true, though gauging the damage (or lack thereof) was more than a little difficult.

"Are we getting anywhere?" he called out to Baern and Frack, who presumably knew best standing beside the oily puddle of goop.

OOC:
Hit AC 24 for 12 dmg, and AC 16 for 4 dmg.

20:33, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 24,13 using 1d20+5,1d20+5.  Attack.
20:33, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 1d4.  Bless for second attack.
20:39, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 9,4 using 1d6+3,1d4+3.  Damage Reroll with correct dice.
20:34, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 2d6.  Sneak attack damage, assuming Baern and Frack are threatening slime.

Kreo lined up another shot, snarling and snapping his finger to fling a fire bolt at the troublesome ooze to free up time to go pursue the other one

OOC: 25 on the roll, crit. 9 damage normally, 12 if crit

Procz continued lifting pieces of scrap and flinging them aside. The effort was giving him a headache, but it was better than being engulfed by acidic slime. He held two fingers against his head right in front of his temple. Somehow, strangely, it made it easier to focus on using telekinetic powers.

"Tears of the hammer!" Frack cried as he watched his one and only scimitar dissolve in the slime puddle. He froze momentarily, unsure of what good his bare fists would do against the cunning slime before him. Baern's javelin suddenly appeared in his hands, however, and his next step was immediately certain. With a quick nudge of his helmet, he stepped forward and stabbed at the slime with his newly acquired weapon.

Action: Using inspiration and Fury of the Small* to hit AC21 for 6 piercing damage. Will use as a melee weapon if possible (instead of throwing). Yes, this might cause damage to Frack, but he doesn't want to lose another weapon!
Reaction: Interception (1d10+2 on any attacks against an ally within 5 feet of him (Baern?).

00:38, Today: Frack rolled 17 using 2d20+1, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 16,7.  Javelin vs. black slime (using inspiration).
00:42, Today: Frack rolled 4 using 1d4 with rolls of 4.  Bless bonus to attack roll.
00:43, Today: Frack rolled 6 using 1d6+3 with rolls of 3.  Piercing damage (1d6 - 1 + 4 Fury of the Small if possible).

*Assuming the slime is size medium or bigger.

Another round of hammer blows, javelin strikes, and psychic attacks exploded the party's slime of foe in a blast that sent acidic black ichor splattering onto Frack and Baern (1 acid damage to Baern, 6 to Frack). They had rid The Slope of that particular scourge, but its other half had seeped into debris and was now nowhere to be seen.

"Anyone see where the other one went?" Baern asked. He sauntered over to where the other ooze had last been seen and began rooting through the pile with his wrench.

"Yeowch," Frack yelped as he wiped frantically at the vestiges of slime still on his person, managing only to smear it more thoroughly over himself. "Even after it's dead this stuff is still deadly!" He searched the trash pile for a piece of cloth to wipe off his hands, finally settling on the remains of a sack that he suspected (based on the smell) had been used for carrying either skunk pelts or bat guano.

"Thanks for the javelin, by the way," he nodded to Baern. "Your generosity is both noble and noted." Seeing the gnome sorting through the debris, he decided it best to thank him by joining in the search. He lifted what was left of a small slab of rusted metal, revealing a myriad of beetles that scurried into the nearest crevice and out of sight. From there, the goblin picked haphazardly through the pile. "Watch out for bloodsuckers," he warned. "And toe rotters. Get one them down your boot and you'll end up hopping on one foot looking for a healer for sure."

"Do we know what these things eat? Perhaps it will come out for supper and we can ambush it?"

Kreo had stayed back but moved with Frack and Baern to help with the search for their gear and necessaries

"Boots and scimitars?" Vecaal offered as he cautiously shifted his weight on the junk pile, the accumulated detritus sagging beneath the weight of each footfall.  The Dragonborn had no idea how to flush an ooze out from the massive scrap pile if it didn't want to come out.  What they needed was an industrial flamer that could spew naphtha and remove the whole of the junk pile in one go.

"Burn the whole of it to ash?"

Frack cringed at Vecaal's suggestion. "Oooooh - I don't think we want to do that! There's a lot of good stuff here! Like..." He scanned the scrap heap for an example, but nothing caught his eye. Nonetheless, he kept looking for proof of his point, his sentence still dangling in the air, implying a discovery at any second.

Certainly there's some good stuff here somewhere. This is a good pile!

This was indeed a good pile. In addition to the usual factory scrap, it contained tools - salvageable pieces of tools, anyway - some sturdy iron gears, and even some imperfect automaton arms and legs. It was plain to see while the Remnants wanted the slime out of there before it devoured the lot.

Speaking of which, Baern caught sight of it just as it was sneaking up behind Frack. He shouted out a warning, but not in time for the goblin to leap away from the lashing pseudopod, which attached to his leg with a wet slap. When he pulled the limb back, he found the chicken wire corroded and a good chunk of his leg along with it.

The slime, for its part, slurped back into the junk pile.

Assuming a 19 hits, Frack takes 7 physical damage and 27 acid damage. The slime would have had advantage on the attack if not for Baern's warning, but it still rolled pretty well.

Procz: Factory owners often use these slimes for refuge disposal, and occasionally they get loose and become the constabulary's problem to deal with, so you've had some training if not direct experience. You know that when struck by slashing weapons or electric damage, they divide into two. You also know they're deaf and blind and detect nearby prey primarily by their movement and vibrations.

Once again, the slime currently has full cover but you do know where it is so Procz can use telekinesis (or anyone else can spend their action lifting debris) to reduce that to 3/4 cover.

"Here!" Frack called triumphantly, finally spotting a sturdy iron gear that was still whole. "This would fetch more than a few copper-" The joy of his first discovery was cut short by another: that of a sinister lobe wrapped entirely around his leg.

The goblin squealed, flailing ineptly with both shield and javelin. As the flesh all along his leg began to sizzle audibly, he turned a pale face to his friends. "Hey - I found the slime." His helmet sank down over his eyes and he collapsed atop the junk pile, leg still fizzling softly.

20:20, Today: Frack rolled 11 using 1d20.  Death saving throw. Just made it!
20:21, Today: Frack rolled 3 using 1d4.  Juuuuuuuust in case Bless is still active.

"Behind you!" Baern tried to shove Frack bodily out of the way, but the slime was faster. Seizing Bessie in both hands he brought the wrench down in a brutal blow sending slime spattering in every direction.

"Vera! He's hurt!"

Rage/Reckless/Bless

Critical hit for 29 damage

08:48, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 29 using 2d10+4+2+2d6+2.  Damage. – 29

08:47, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 26 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack. – 26

Kreo touched his shield and looked at Frack

"On your feet Sir Frack, there's work still left in the day."

OOC: Grave cleric, so healing word at 2nd gets you 10hp popped up

Rearing back, his hand ignited and he flung another bolt of fire at the slime

OOC: and cantrip for fire bolt, attack roll of 15, 8 fire damage

Frack sat up, shaking his head to regain his bearings. "Whaaa?... Oh. Thank you Kreo!" He was still foggy as he rose to his feet, but the sharp sting all across his thigh reminded him of the slime's treacherous attack and what must've been Kreo's restorative handiwork thereafter. When a gentle breeze increased the pain, he  realized his leg was exposed. A lot of his leg! So much, in fact, that his face blushed to a reddish greenish hue.

"Tears of the hammer!" he gasped, moving his shield in front of him to protect what little was left of his dignity. "You can all see my breeches!"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:26, Tue 02 Apr.

Procz watched his friend going down and immediately continuing lifting what scrap he could with his telekinetic powers to expose the oozing culprit. Fortunately, Kreo came to the rescue as Barn made a crushing blow against the thing. "There! Attack the abhorrent creature before it can make its escape again!"

As soon as Procz had partially exposed the slime Vecaal sent his dusky blades spinning toward the viscous creature, both striking true.  Combined with Baern's mighty blow, the dragonborn hoped that would be enough to avoid another setback like the one suffered by Frack.

Tracking a few steps sideway to improve his vantage, Vecaal began gathering more shadows within the palms of his hands.

OOC:
Two hits for a total of 15 dmg.

10:13, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 19,24 using 1d20+5,1d20+5.  Attack.
10:14, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 8,4 using 1d6+3,1d4+3.  Damage.
10:15, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 3 using 2d6.  Sneak attack damage.  Augh, 3rd time in a row I've rolled 3 on 2d6!  At least I'm hitting, I guess

Attacks rained down on the exposed ooze, smashing and singing it and provoking some acidic splash back on to Baern (8 acid damage). With a last, spiteful, ineffective lash of its pseudopod, the creature retreated again into the depths of the junk heap.

Perception checks won't cut it here; even if you spot it, you won't be able to get down to where it is without baiting it back to the surface. You know from Procz's arcana check that it responds to movement and vibrations, so you may be able to do something with that, and you're welcome to try other things as well.

Baern angrily (and ineffectually) slammed his wrench into the trash heap, one, twice and then a third time before giving up in a huff.

”Think it can give us the laugh, does it?”

“We’ll show it.”

He turned and stalked away from the pile.

”Back off. Let it think we’ve given up. And then, constable, why don’t you send your metal dog in and let it think another scavenger has found the pile.”

Vecaal growled in frustration as the slime oozed away beneath the pile of waste and debris, but grudgingly followed Baern's instruction and clambered away from where they had last seen the slimy thing.

"Bringing the dragon here is looking better and better," he grumbled, before looking to see if Procz was willing to dangle his mechanical friend out as bait.

Frack backpedaled with his shield guarding the revealing hole in his trousers. After about twenty feet, feeling outside the immediate view of the others, he removed his backpack and dug furiously for his spare shirt. He let it hang in front of his waist like an apron, tying the arms in a knot behind his back. Once this was completed, his rejoined the others, unaware that the back of his trousers had been equally compromised, revealing a healthy share of his green, goblin hindquarters.

OOC: Assuming this may take a round or two, but Frack would insist on covering up first.

Procz was apprehensive about sending in Zúm. The dog was made from metal, but that didn't really make him less vulnerable to a creature oozing acid and corrosion. The kobold constable had another idea, however.

"If this specimen has a distinct and volatile reaction to vibrations, I'll make a clangour that will attract it by sending reverberations throughout all this material. Stand back, please. And stand ready."

Procz made a quick incantation. The arcane words were much like draconic as they left his scaly lips. A sphere of energy left his hands and exploded over the area they had last seen the ooze in a thunderous blast.

Casting Chromatic Orb (thunder). While not aimed at the creature, as it is out of sight, I'm not looking to damage it, just attract it to the direction of the sound waves (vibrations).

"Yikes!" Frack cried as the thunderous orb scared him nearly out of was left of his trousers. "When you said clanker, I thought you meant a little bell or something!"

He continued to tie a knot in his makeshift apron, hoping to be respectably covered before he needed his shield and javelin.


OOC: Still covering up, then closing to melee range.

20:14, Today: Frack rolled 14 using 1d20+6.  Stealth.
20:15, Today: Frack rolled 2 using 1d4.  in case bless is still active?

This message was last edited by the player at 01:20, Sat 13 Apr.

Procz's booming magic reverberates through the junk pile, and sure enough, tendrils of black ooze can be seen probing the impacted spot not long after.

My understanding is only Frack is within melee range. The ooze currently has 3/4 cover. Frack could reduce that to 1/2 by using his action to further uncover it, or Procz or someone else could use telekinesis or the like for the same purpose.

"That done it," Baern said with a look of devilish satisfaction as he raced back to join Frack in the fray.

Move/Dash up to 70' to get back in melee range

"I see it! I see it!!!' Frack reached down to lift a door off the junk pile to further reveal their gooey adversary. He struggled with it for a moment before finally tossing it down at his side. The slightly better look he earned as the result of his actions formed a lump in his throat. He remembered the previous attack that left him near death's door. Perhaps I should've left it covered!

Action: Lift garbage to turn 3/4 cover into 1/2 cover.
Reaction: Intercept attack on character within 5' of him (1d10+2...Baern maybe?).
Bonus Action: Consider recent life choices and wish that he'd done some extra healing over the past few rounds instead of covering himself up for the sake of modesty!

The kobold constable decided to ration some of his spell power, opting to launch a minor bolt of fire at the ooze. It might not be as effective as other options, but it was better than nothing. With a flick of his wrist, a little mote of flame zoomed through the air towards the amorphous creature.

Attack roll hits AC 12 (without factoring in cover)
Please ignore the typo in the die roller. That's 9 fire damage, not 69.

Kreo summoned his own fire and threw his fire bolt at the ooze as well, though the bolt careened close to debris

OOC: attack roll 11 with 7 fire

Once Baern was close enough to distract the ooze with his formidable presence, Vecaal loosed two more of his smoky blades.  The first struck true, the second skittered harmlessly off a piece of corrugated steel.  Still, the dragonborn hoped he'd had some effect.

OOC:
14:52, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 19,9 using 1d20+5,1d20+5.  Attack.  Assuming 1 hit.
14:52, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 8 using 1d6+3.  Damage.
14:52, Today: Vecaal Alifras rolled 7 using 2d6.  Sneak attack damage.

No sooner had the ooze extended a few curious tendrils toward the rumbling ground than bolts of fire and psychic daggers hurtled toward it. Clouds of acrid black smoke billowed up from the debris as the creature's body burned.

What remained of the ooze flailed a parting shot at the charging svirfneblin as it retreated back into the pile of cast-off metal and broken tools. Its aim was off, however, as Baern had not yet drawn near enough to be struck. So great was the pounding of the barbarian's feet that it confounded the ooze's tremorsense.

Baern and Frack, you may each take Opportunity Attacks as the ooze retreats. It will have 3/4 cover for the purposes of these attacks, as it is already partway submerged again.

Baern's ire had abated, and with it some of the heft of his swing, but Bessie's head still carried a weight all of its own and when it found its mark it left an impression.

Reckless attack hits AC 25 for 11 damage

18:02, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 11 using 1d10+4.  Damage. – 11
18:02, Today: Baern Snagglehorn rolled 25 using 2d20+6, dropping the lowest dice only.  Attack. – 25

The ooze could not retreat quickly enough to escape Baern's wrench. Bessie struck the creature a killing blow, causing it to explode in a burst of black ichor that sizzled on every surface it touched, including the gnome's skin. The only thing spared was Bessie herself, whose steel surface shone as brightly as ever after Baern wiped it clean of acid.

Baern, you take three acid damage.

Muted clapping arose from the Remnants, more of whom had joined the crowd by hanging out of what passed for the windows of their hovels. A few barefooted children whooped and cheered. The most intrepid of them made immediately for the hopefully-no-longer-ooze-ridden junk pile and began digging through it. Their daring was rewarded with large scraps of metal and sturdy wood, passable tools, and in one child's case the head of an automaton, wires still dangling from its neck.

"Thank you," the tiefling said, showing a hint of emotion for the first time. "This will be a great boon for our village. My home is as humble as you imagine, but if you need a place to rest up and bandage your burns, you are welcome to it. When you are ready, I can show you the way to the bone pile you seek."

"Yeah, alright," Baern said, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. "I reckon that would be fine." He looked to his companions for general concurrence, but after watching Frack take a felling blow in the midst of the encounter he imagined there would be scant objection.

Frack winced when he saw the black slime explode, but was relived to find Baern had withstood its final act. The spattering of applause brought with it the realization that they were being watched, so he re-tightened his apron in front of him to make sure he was covered (at least as far as he knew). In spite of his clothing predicament, he was able to find joy in the spirited children as they washed over the junk pile. It reminded him of his own youthful days combing through the scraps near his home. Instinctively, he scanned the pile himself, seeing a few good treasures that the children had so far missed. While tempted to pocket one or two items for himself, scavenger law (while unwritten) was abundantly clear on this point: no visitor to the pile had a right to anything found there. That included the hilt of his own trusty scimitar, which he spotted on the pile where he had previously fumbled it. "Gonna miss you trusty scimitar, but maybe one of these kids will find you. You'd still be good for a door handle. Or maybe some kind of candle holder."

He nodded in agreement with Baern as he accepted the tiefling's hospitality. Once on their way, he couldn't help but ask "Is there any place here that can repair my armor? And how much would it be for a goblin-sized pair of pants?"

Procz gave a half-smile as they succeeded, to scattered applause. He watched the local scavengers enter the junk pile in search of valuables; although that word was not really descriptive. No one should by necessity have to live off junk. In a well-functioning society there should be enough for everyone. As a constable, his job was to make sure no one took what was not theirs, but he was painfully aware that there were people receiving more than their share within the confines of the law as well.

He gave his companions a nod and climbed up on Zúm to follow the tiefling home.

Vecaal was nonplussed by the applause, for it meant others that might have helped had simply been sitting there watching them, as though they were the daily entertainment.  It was denigrating, and the dragonborn harrumphed through his toothy snout as he shook his head.  Crunching past the youngsters scurrying toward the freshly opened scavenge pile, he nodded toward Baern.

"Yeah, all right.  Let's get our crusader some pants," he agreed, slightly rolling his eyes at Frack's predicament.

Kreo approached Frack, unbuckling his dagger belt and holding the weapon out to the goblin

"Good sir, I've this for self-defense in a pinch, perhaps it would better serve you for now?"

He looked around at his companions

"Anyone need the help of the working man before we move along?"

Frack straightened in surprise, first at being called good sir, and then doubly so upon understanding Kreo's offer.

"Thank you. I- I don't really know what to say. People don't usually give me nice things. May Tyr smile upon you!"

He pulled the belt as tight as it would go and drew the weapon, making a few pantomime jabs with it.

ooc: Frack will gladly take your free dagger, Kreo. thank you for the offer!!!